#extremely questionable timing but I guess it was supposed to do with the fact that the helicopter was very old

[knxfesck]

the president of iran DIED??

[zriasstuff]

Way too close-Theodore Nott x reader

Forced proximity between Theodore Nott and fem!reader (2k words)

Some tension needs to be resolved… (not 18+ content though, this is SFW)

If someone would have told you earlier today, that if you went to tonight’s Slytherin party you’d be stuck in an old closet with the Theodore Nott later on, you’d have never went.

But here you were, stuck beside Theo in an old closet used for storing rags and brooms, which smelled extremely unpleasant. You could practically feel a broom stabbing you in the back, but you didn’t want to move because you’d have to get closer to Theo in the process. He was facing you at the moment, but you weren’t looking him the eyes, instead you stared at the dusty closet floor.

It’s not that you absolutely hated Theo, although he hasn’t been exactly the nicest to you in the past. He always believed that he was entitled to do whatever he wanted without thinking about the consequences, especially the ones that would be inflicted on other people.

You remembered that a year ago, there was this huge rumor that your boyfriend at that time had made out with another girl. It wasn’t true though, and Theo had been the one that spread that lie. You guys broke up anyway, you just weren’t meant for each other, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that Theo had put a huge dent in your relationship and had made you feel so extremely humiliated.

It was a thing of the past, you moved on, but something about him still made you feel uneasy. And besides, he just had this overall intimidating, dark aura around him, as if he’d start a fight with you any second. Perhaps it’s just the way some people are.

You had originally thought that he’d refuse to spend 7 minutes in heaven with you, when the spinning bottle had landed on you, but to your surprise he was quite alright with it. Maybe not happy, definitely not unhappy though.

“What are you thinking about”, he asks you, disrupting the silence that had lasted for a solid minute already, while curiously looking down on you.

“Nothing, really”, you reply.

“Well you look like you got a stick up your ass, what’s with your weird posture?”

Rude. Were you really standing that crookedly, you ask yourself.

“If you must know, there’s this broom digging into my backside and I can’t stand properly without…”, you go silent, hesitating to name him the reason. Why would you, it would only be another six minutes.

“Without what?”, he further questions you in a demanding tone.

“…without practically leaning onto you” Fuck, you said it, and you knew you were blushing so hard right now. Why had you even said that? It was not like it made the awkwardness better. Luckily, darkness surrounded you, masking your intense blushing. What would he say now? You couldn’t possibly imagine a response.

“Then I guess I don’t want you to be uncomfortable now, do I?”

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Was he being sarcastic? He certainly looked serious.

“What are you waiting for, move”

You definitely did not know where this was going, but after a bit of hesitation, you decided to do it, since he was so insistent. Although you were still confused on why he was so comfortable with having you lean on him. You think probably because he’s used to having girls all around him.

Moments later, finally lean onto him, pressing your body closely against his. Faces only inches away from touching. The warmth of his body immediately spreads to you, and you feel his breath on your skin. There was this awfully weird tingle going through your entire body.

His intense stare stuns you so much, that you feel your knees going soft for a second. It’s like you couldn’t focus on anything else besides his electric touch, it made you melt. Meanwhile, you also realize you’d never been this close to any guy before, ever. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all…

“Better?”

“Yeah, thanks”, you dryly reply.

This could be nice, you start to think to yourself. Perhaps you could start some small talk with him, to make the position you were in less full of tension.

“So-”

“So, do you wanna make out now?”

WHAT. What the hell, that came out of absolutely nowhere, and your mind starts to spin. Making out with Theodore Nott after just 3 minutes of talking ? Why in the hell would he even suggest that? He must be out of his mind.

He barely knew you, and now he wanted to make out? So many questions were circling your head, but not a single, coherent response left your mouth.

“uhm- wha, what?”, was all that escaped your mouth in a stuttering manner. It was all you could come up with.

“Clearly, you are not very experienced with party games, so let me explain“, he just so nonchalantly says. “Seven minutes of heaven is for making out. And it doesn’t hurt when the person you’re stuck with is really hot. So, since you’re more comfortable now, can we make out?”

He really had no sense of shame you thought to yourself.

All that left his mouth so matter of factly, that you barely had time to process what he said. Did he just call you hot? Not that you had much more time to overthink it because his lips smashed against yours already.

He used one hand to hold your waist, to keep you close to him, and the other to grab your head. Every single one of his touches sent electric waves through your body, and the kiss itself was so unexpected, yet so gentle. He knew exactly how to make you feel good, and his lips were so soft and they intertwined with yours in such a magical way. It ignited a growing desire in you, that you also clung onto him tighter, wrapping your arms around his neck. Every aspect of this made you want to get even closer to him, but no.

He can’t just do this all of a sudden. You barely know him, besides from the thing he did to you in the past. Plus, this was such an intimate moment, and there was no way you were going to experience it in a dusty closet, so you pull back, as much as you want to continue locking lips with him.

“What do you think you’re doing?”, you flip the mood around 180 degrees. That may have sounded ruder than you’d expected, which you didn’t mean to. But you still had to confront him.

“Listen, I know you make out with like 10 girls a week, and this game may be an excuse for you to make out with another one, but I barely know you, and the things that I do know of you aren’t exactly nice”.

There, you’d confronted him, the most intimidating person you know. Seems like you were still pretty hurt by what he did, even if you told yourself it didn’t affect you all that much anymore.

“Playing hard to get huh?”, he raises an eyebrow at you while saying that. “You know, seconds ago, if I recall correctly, you seemed to enjoy the kiss a lot too. And now you wanna act like I forced myself on you, so what’s up with that?”

He was right, you did enjoy it too. It wasn’t fair to blame him completely. What if you had just shut up and enjoyed the kiss? There was no turning back though at this point.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t just pretend the kiss was all you. But I meant the part about you not being such a nice person”, you correct yourself.

“Now, what’s not nice about me?” He asked that in an accusatory tone, but he actually looked genuinely interested.

“Do you not remember what you did to me a few months back?”, you had hoped he would have some sort of memory about that.

“I barely remember what I do during any day, so no. I swear I’ll make it up to you though”, he replied honestly.

“You spread a rumor about my ex cheating on me, which wasn’t true by the way, never apologized, made me feel humiliated for days, and now you want to make out?” When you hear yourself speak those words, it really just made the situation seem even worse.

After not blinking and thinking for a few seconds Theo comes up with something and says “I didn’t realize it was that hurtful, but you gotta know do a lot of stupid stuff”

“I still don’t hear an apology”, you clap back, “and you doing stupid stuff often isn’t an excuse to be a bad person, maybe you should just quit doing stupid stuff.” What came out of Theos mouth was the lamest excuse you have ever heard, and he deserved to be knocked down a peg.

“So you’re seriously not gonna make out with me?”, he asks, sounding almost annoyed.

You didn’t think he could be any more of an asshole than he already was, but here you go. Theo wasn’t even worthy of a reply, so you just rolled your eyes.

At this point 7 minutes must’ve already passed you think because there was no way that 7 minutes were this long. You raise your arm to knock on the closet door, to signal to someone to unlock it, but before you could, Theo stops you in your tracks.

“Wait, wait, wait”, he said while holding onto your wrist, “I’m sorry, I know I come off as a jerk right now and most of the time too, but I do like you and want to make it up to you for having hurt you in the past.”

Even though he sounded halfway genuine, you didn’t fully believe he was sincerely sorry. He had also just completely changed within seconds. You just wanted to get out now, forget everything that happened, but there was no way of avoiding his gaze, that was scanning you right now for an answer.

“And how will you do that?”, you challenge him, to see if he really means it. It would be nice if he did make it up to you after all this time. Better late than never you think. You just didn’t want him to play a stupid trick on you instead.

Theo takes some time to think about his answer again. In the end he replied with “I’ll take you on a nice date.” He sounded way too cheeky saying that.

“That’s kind of selfish don’t you think, I don't believe a simple date will make it up to me”, you retorted at his proposal. Not that you wouldn’t enjoy it, the amazing kiss was still on your mind. When you thought of it, it made your stomach all fuzzy again. You just wanted him to be genuinely apologetic.

When you looked at him again, he was smiling for some odd reason. He countered with “Well, how do you know that it won’t make it up to you, if you don’t even give it a try?”, he did have you there. Perhaps it was his cheeky, yet charming smile, or the kiss, but you saw his point. There was no way of knowing before actually giving him a shot at redeeming himself. Theo continued smiling and he knew that he had somehow convinced you.

To give him a date wouldn’t be the end of the world, so what’s the point of making it more complicated than it is.

He was still patiently waiting for an answer, so at last, you gave him the satisfaction and agreed to a date. It was a huge relief on both of your sides, and you could hopefully finally put the past to rest after the date.

After a bit of more talking and banter, someone finally unlocked the closet doors and apologized for having forgotten all about you. Theo chuckles and flashes a grin at you before saying “Don’t be sorry, I thank you.”

[mingtinys]

" i would do anything for you "

pairing : lee chan x gn!reader

"13 ways to say "i love you" with seventeen"

warnings : traffic violations ( for a good cause ! )

word count : 0.6 k

a/n : it's bittersweet posting this last part of the series :( i'm so sad for it to end cause i've had so much fun , but i couldn't be happier with how it turned out ! thank you to everyone that showed this series so much love and support <3 next up .... an nct series !!

Maybe you're just being paranoid. Perhaps the scratching at your back door wasn't some crazed killer messing with you before the inevitable. In fact, it's extremely likely you've simply stayed up too late and now your brain is playing tricks. But are you willing to take that chance? Absolutely not.

The fifth scratch comes and you're picking up the phone to dial the first person you can think of.

Chan reaches your home at a speed only possible by violating a few traffic laws. Armed with nothing but a broken broomstick and his dinosaur bedroom slippers. You're not even sure he's entirely awake. But he marches his way through your home and straight to the back door with conviction, advising you to stay back while he handles it.

He lowers his voice a few octaves as he speaks. "Whoever is out there, you better knock it off!" The scratching noise picks up. "I'll come out there!" Chan warns, though sounding a little unsure. Yet the scratching never ceases.

At this point, the genius thought to call the police finally enters your panicked brain. Something that probably should have been your first instinct. But it's too late, you can hear Chan thrusting the door open. "Alright, you asked for it– oh..."

When your savior returns, a fluffy orange creature in hand, you feel your face drain of all color. Your friend's cat. The one you were supposed to be sitting while they were away on a business trip. You'd forgotten you'd even let him outside to explore hours ago.

Chan points to the cat with a mock-serious look, "Is this guy bothering you, babe?"

Though severely embarrassed, you let out a sigh of relief. "I'm so sorry, Peanut," you coo at the cat, carefully taking him from your boyfriend's arms and carrying him over to his food, which you're certain is what he was scratching to get in for.

When you spin back around, Chan's arms are crossed over his chest, an expectant look on his face. "You know, usually the knight in shining armor gets a kiss for his bravery."

The playful tone in his voice alleviates some of the guilt you feel for calling him over at two a.m. to defend you from a killer cat. A gesture for which you're more than happy to reward with a kiss or two. And once he's claimed his prize, Chan happily gathers you in his arms. He rubs circles into your back, soothing any remaining anxiety in your muscles.

"I'm sorry you came all the way here for nothing," you mumble into his shoulder. "I guess I watched one too many crime shows and sort of panicked."

"You don't need to apologize. It's my job to be here whenever you need me." He pulls back and takes your face in his hands, holding your gaze with genuine eyes. "I would do anything for you."

That confession earns him a second kiss, causing him to break out in a dopey grin. "My hero," you tease, although he looks rather proud of himself for it.

"One question though?"

"What's that?"

"If you thought someone was trying to break in, why didn't you just call the police?"

Trust, Chan is over the moon to be the person you call in a time of need. But realistically, what was he supposed to do? Fight to the death with his bare hands and a broomstick to save you? He absolutely would... doesn't mean he'd win.

You pause. "I don't know, I guess I just panicked and thought of you first."

Chan is probably going to be riding that ego boost for the rest of his life.

taglist: @matchahyuck @dontwannaexsist @minnieminshi @myfavoritedelusion @armycarat2612

[queermasculine]

Okay this is a stupid question. But. How do you… define butchness outside of doing good in communities? I’ve been personally over the “chivalry” thing for a while, but I have spent a lot of time building an internal identity around needing to be active in my community and then… being upset when I can’t do that. Your post really made something click but like. I don’t know what I have left, then. I feel very butch but I don’t know how to embody that anymore. Idk I guess im not really asking for a solid answer because you obviously can’t give me that— but I guess I’m just kind of trying to explain to someone who gets it

not a stupid question! you sound like a good person and i hope my post didn't give you (or anyone else) the wrong idea. my point was not that it's in any way wrong or regressive to express butchhood through selflessness or community good, not at all, in fact i find that extremely admirable – my point was simply to challenge these things as expectations we place upon ourselves (expectations that later come to haunt us when we don't measure up) and to gently expand the narrow notion that butchhood can only ever be about service, when there are as many meanings to butchhood as there are butch hearts out there. 

butches throughout the ages have formed identities very much like your own; based on not just appearance but on actions, their active roles within their communities and/or relationships profoundly intertwined with their identities as non-conforming women – the tradition you continue is a beautiful one, and although it's not one we share, you should never feel the need to change anything if you don't want to.

as for how to define butchhood outside of service, personally i've always thought of "butch" as being sort of like the masculinity that isn't supposed to exist, yet exists anyway. but we must all find our own meaning

[copperbadge]

i was thinking of you the other day and your discussions of your ability or lack thereof to visualize things in your mind, because someone asked me who all had been at a gathering, and i answered them by calling up the room in my memory and looking around it to see who was there. and it occurred to me after the fact that i suppose probably not everyone can do that? but i could even tell you at least approximately what everyone was wearing (color, cut, maybe not precise pattern, but the general style, sure). and while i can’t swear to you that it’s 100% accurate because i don’t have a picture to compare it to, i think it’s pretty close.

but now i’m curious - what would your thought process be if you were asked the same question? if you can’t just look around the room in your mind, is the memory interaction-based? or like… voices you remember hearing? or something else?

Well, bear in mind that I haven't got a great memory to begin with -- possibly the ADHD at work, but also there's a condition that's frequently comorbid with aphantasia called Severely Deficient Autobiographical Memory -- people with SDAM have trouble recalling huge chunks of their lives and when they do have recall they often remember it as if they'd been told it, they have no emotional sense attached. For example, I remember a trip I took where I had to do some hard shit and it was really scary, but I don't remember the feeling of being scared, I just remember that I was. I have no idea how long the trip was, no memory of the hotel room, very little memory of doing the scary thing. I know I did it, but there's not a lot of attachment there.

This is not ALWAYS the case -- for example I have extremely fond memories of certain other trips -- but I don't really seem to be able to switch it on or off. Like when I was in Europe, I stayed in an AirBNB in London, but by the time I got to Rome like, five days later, I couldn't remember what it was like. I ended up spending a little time one evening kind of calling up memories of where I stayed in London and in Paris to try and hard-code them into my memory, and that worked, but I also needed the help of photos and tumblr posts I'd made to achieve it. ("What did it even look like? Well -- wait, I cooked some pizzas in the microwave while I was there. The microwave was on the counter, opposite the bed, and -- oh, okay, I remember now.")

So like, I would have no goddamn idea of the majority of people at any given gathering where I attended, but is that SDAM, ADHD, a function of my anxiety in social situations, or the aphantasia? Difficult to say.

I hosted a get-together on Sunday and because I was host and there weren't that many people in attendance I could name them off, but I couldn't tell you what they wore. The last party I attended, a week or two previously, was at a friend's house and it was mostly folks I was at least passingly familiar with, but I am bad with names and so couldn't NAME a lot of the people there -- but for example I could say "Well, the hosts were there, and I spoke with X, Y, and Z, so they were definitely there, but I also spoke with like four other people whose names I didn't get. I dunno what any of them were wearing even though it was a costume party." But yeah to even come up with that I would have to think about when I arrived, walk myself through whatever I remember of the event in linear order, and just note down who I spoke with. If I didn't speak with them, or if I didn't know them well, they didn't exist for me.

So I guess the answer is that my memory isn't visual and also just kinda...isn't there a lot of the time. It's not like amnesia, or the profound brain damage you read about where the person only remembers the last ten minutes or doesn't remember anything past a certain date in their life, but I just haven't got much memory for things. It's why I use a lot of lists and spreadsheets and make yearly photobooks.

My photo archive on my computer goes back to about 1998, and it's sorted by year, but the top level folder all the years are stored in is simply titled "Where I've Been" 'cause I probably wouldn't remember, otherwise.

[mybworlds]

Sex with stranger, p. 2 one-shot

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: You, your beautiful sociolinguistic teacher, in his office.

rating: 18+ MDNI

warning tags: porn with lil plot, no use of Y/N, no outbreak, use of 'you', age difference not specified, smut, use of pet name, dirty talk, f & m masturbation, unprotected P in V, oral m & f receiving, if I miss smt please write me.

Before to start... it wasn't supposed to be a sort of second part of my previous one-shot, but I woke up with this idea and here it is, I don't know what came out of it, I hope it doesn't suck.

Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner

How the fuck is this even possible?

You keep telling yourself, as you try to take notes as much as you can while straining to forget that you are listening to the man you fucked and he fucked you not even two hours ago and that fucking man is your professor, that professor, not just anybody, your sociolinguistics professor and now how the fuck are you going to follow his next classes and take the exam?

Is he going to be thinking the same thing?

Hard to say, he has an impenetrable look, his words roll off his mouth with a fluidity that enchants you, you should forget that with that mouth he addressed you quite vulgar words and even licked your nipples, you sit in the chair feeling uncomfortable taking notes on Saussure and structuralism.

"Well, class is over. But if ya need clarification, I’m in my office. The door is at the bottom left, thank ya." says Dr Miller dismissing you, as he begins to arrange the books and papers he showed in class.

Everyone goes down the stairs, someone comes to him to ask when he receives, others just to thank him for the class, you stay in the middle of the stairs holding the book and the notebook to your chest, you have to tell him that his class was enlightening? Or you must be as cocky as you were in the elevator?

You used to be allowed to be, you fucked a stranger, but now that you know you fucked Dr Miller is different, does that affect your college GPA? You’re gonna fail on this regardless?

"Class is over." says a voice, his own, bringing you back to reality "D' ya want some clarification?"

Do you want it? Yes.

" Yes." you just answer looking him in the eye.

"Well, follow me," he tells you taking his bag and walking out of the classroom, you follow him. He doesn't say anything nor do you know what to say to him, your footsteps echo in the hallway, you pass a few students from time to time, and Dr. Miller waves to colleagues by raising his hand in greeting. You arrive in front of a door on which there is a plaque with his name on it, you see him slip the key into the lock, turn it, and finally open the door.

"Come in," he says to you and you comply. The office interior is extremely formal, clean and neat just as he looks, you turn back to him and see him turn the key, when he looks up he realizes that you are watching him "So no one bothers us," he adds by way of clarification, you nod.

"It doesn't bother you…" you are about to say, but your words get stuck as you see him move closer to you and close the distance between you and him, he pounces on your lips as with his hands he slides your jacket down your arms again.

"No," he answers you guessing your question, "in fact it turns me on even more." he says towering above you.

For a moment you wonder if he fucked other students before and then dumped them and flunked the exam and that's why they call him a bastard or an asshole, but you don't have time to wonder because feeling his moist lips on your neck makes you stop thinking.

"Aren't you afraid someone will hear us?" you ask him, closing your eyes as he fumbles with the buttons on your shirt, moving away from your neck and looking into your eyes.

"D' ya want clarification on today’s lesson, right?" he asks taking off your jacket and shirt and you guess the game.

"Yes." you reply swallowing.

He leaves you another quick kiss on your lips, then says, as he unzips your skirt "Well, tell me about the notes you took," you are already almost completely naked in his eyes and speaking will be very difficult "I know you have a good memory, I'm listening." he adds starting to kiss you on your breasts still covered by your bra feeling your nipples hardening in response to his mouth.

You close your eyes and swallow feeling your heartbeat going fast "Saussure is considered the father of modern linguistics, he was born in Gen…" it's so difficult to concentrate on your words when his mouth is on your breasts and his hands on your hips holding you still against his desk "Geneva" you manage to say biting your lower lip "in 1857 and died in 1913, he was a linguist and semiotician, he's most famous for his study of structuralism…" you interrupt yourself because he makes you sit on his desk and lay down, oh God… you will never be able to speak if he…

"Go on." he says lowering your briefs showing you to him, he brings your legs over his shoulders and you stare at the ceiling without really doing so, you close your eyes and swallow and then resume "He proposes the study of the language understanding" your voice rises a pitch as you feel his fingers open your folds and his tongue explore inside you "Oh, fuck! " escapes you as you feel his tongue inside you and touching that little bundle of nerves with his angular nose, a louder moan escapes your lips and he pulls away from you "As much as I love to hear you, you must be quiet." he admonishes you looking into your eyes veiled with desire "Rather, you were saying that Saussure proposed the study of the language as an autonomous system, right?" you nod looking at him "Well, go on," he adds lowering himself between your legs again taking you back to let you see stars behind your closed eyes from the strong pleasure you are experiencing.

"It is a system of signs that emphasize the system rather than the individual elements, in fact…. " you stop and a sigh escapes from your lips, feeling his expert tongue fumbling in your folds and his hands on your hips make you gasp, your vision blurring, as you feel the orgasm mounts more and more over you, his hands that reach your breasts freeing them from the bra cups and begin to tease deliciously your nipples turning and twisting them between his fingertips are a coup de grace, you come pressing your hand on your mouth.

Fuck, you came between his lips and it was beautiful.

He helps you sit up on the desk and kisses you overwhelmingly, feeling your arousal on his tongue sends more rushes of pure lust down your spine.

"Are you turned on too?" you ask him looking in his eyes.

He grins, "Judge for yourself." he replies, you look down and see it, it's still covered by his pants, but his huge erection is clearly visible.

"You're making me wet again," you say slipping a hand through his dark hair and kissing him again "You're way overdressed," you add as you begin to undress him by getting off the desk.

"I thought you wanted clarification," he tells you as you slip off his shirt and then move to the waistband of his pants.

"You just gave 'em to me," you say looking at him with a complicit grin, "You are so big," you add as you fully release his erection.

"Seeing and hearing you come turns me on," he confesses.

"And what else turns you on?" you ask as you kneel down and look up into his face.

"Right now?" he asks looking down to you.

"Right now, generally," you urge him, kissing his mushroom tip of his cock and licking along his evident vein.

"Have power over others, see a beautiful girl kneeling in front of me as you are doing now, take you from behind, see the effect I have on you, I want to see your face while I fuck you this time." he responds panting as you begin to suck and lick his huge erection, it's wonderful.

You place your hands on his hips as you begin to pump his erection feeling it if possible grow even bigger between your lips, he begins to moan softly and this sends more rushes of lust making you even wetter.

"How many blowjobs have you had in your life?" he asks as he slips a hand through your hair and pushes your head even further toward him, you are almost afraid of choking, but at the moment you don't care. You look up at the totally distorted features of his face and that pushes you to suck and lick even harder, he moans and growls louder and louder until he puts his hands in your hair letting out a long loud moan, "I'm gonna..." he tries to say, but you know what he wants to say, streams of hot seed invade your mouth and partly on the sides of your mouth, you moan swallowing every drop of him.

"Oh, fuck." he groans closing his eyes.

You turn your lips away from his cock breathing deeply, then he helps you up and takes you to a couch where he makes you lie down. You open your legs to welcome him and he immediately accepts your invitation, he lays his hands on the sides of your head caging you, but you are not at all afraid nor do you pull back, you are too involved, you want to feel him sink inside you. He kisses you languidly a couple of times, then probes your intimacy with his fingers feeling how ready you are for him, you moan closing your eyes.

Oh his hands are so expert.

He kisses your neck while he touches your pussy with three fingers, you moans louder and louder.

"I knew it was even hotter see your face while I was fucking you, little girl." you can't reply, all you can do is receive his touch and feeling your orgasm mount again.

He replaces his finger with his cock inside you. Both of you hold your breath as his cock sinks easily into your flesh.

"You are so soft and so wet," he whispers to your ear.

"You are so big, fuck," you whisper biting your lower lip.

He immediately starts pumping fast inside you, you don't think you will last long, your vision is blurred and you moan without restraint forgetting what he told you earlier, but he does the same, he tries unsuccessfully to stifle his moans and expletives.

Suddenly, Joel holds you by the back of your neck and tilts your head down to make you watch while he fucked you.

It's too much, you're fucked out.

You see his eyes become darker as he looks at your face, your watering eyes and your tits wince at his thrusts.

His thrusts are stronger, deeper as he buries his cock between your soaked folds.

“I love your cunt, 's so tight, so wet for me.” he says while the only noises you hear are his cock sucked in and out of you and his heavy balls against you.

You're totally fucked out, brain foggy as you stare up at him with glazed eyes.

"Oh, fuck I'm cumming." he warns you in a broken voice.

You wrap him by tightening your legs against his hips and making him if possible sink even deeper inside you "Fuck, fuck, fuck," you curse again and again as you feel streams of his hot seed invade you again while you surround his neck with your arms.

You moan in unison as you close your eyes.

"You are an incredible fuck," he comments with his eyes closed placing his sweaty forehead against yours. You would like to retort something, anything, but at the moment words fail you, "Come to me whenever you want."

[flower-boi16]

Hellaverse's World Building Problems (100 Follower Special!)

World-building is one of the most important things in any fantasy show, it fleshes out the setting the characters live in and tells you how things work. Unfortunately, Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss have several issues when it comes to they're world-building that harm both series and in this post, I'm going to discuss them.

1. Obsession with Pride

An issue I have with Hellaverse's world-building is that, for some reason, sinners aren't allowed in any other ring outside of the pride ring. So, this creates a few problems. The first is that Hazbin Hotel can now only use one setting rather than the other six it has because the characters are forced to be stuck there, so we'll have to use the same exact setting in a world with six more.

This wouldn't be such a problem if it weren't for the fact that the pride ring itself is an extremely boring setting, it just looks like our world except red, and there's nothing unique or interesting about it aside from there being demons there.

The only place in the pride ring that has any potential to be interesting is cannibal town, and even then, it just looks like a normal town, there isn't exactly any cannibalization in it to be seen.

The other rings at least have interesting themes to them that make them distinct from each other, the pride ring is just some boring city painted in red. Then there's the issue of why sinners are even kept in the pride ring at all?

I'll go into this more later but the hierarchy in hell is very inconsistent at times. Imps are supposed to be lower class than sinners yet they have access to all the rings while sinners can only be in one. So why would Lucifer keep the sinners in the pride ring and only in the pride ring? The show doesn't bother giving an explanation for this at all.

I've seen the argument go around that it makes the exorcists do their job more effectively which while does make sense...it also doesn't exactly do very well for Lucifer as a character if he intentionally kept his own people in one ring so killing them would be easier. It loses a lot of sympathy points for him for me.

Besides, the show itself still needs to explain these plot holes rather than forcing fans to make fan theories over it. Seriously, I searched this question up on Google and I found so many people asking this, and all of the responses to the posts were people just making educated guesses because the show itself never bothered to actually EXPLAIN this.

So it's not even all of Hell having an overpopulation problem, it's just the pride ring specifically because sinners are confined there forever. If Charlie wants to solve Hell's overpopulation problem, why not ask her daddy to let sinners into other rings? (Assuming she doesn't know the actual reason why Heaven does this which totally does create serious issues with the show) Again, it's just the pride ring having an overpopulation problem, not all of Hell, so why Charlie never figured this out is beyond me.

But confining the characters to the pride ring creates more issues than just that, because now the show can't flesh out the other rings because it forces the characters to be stuck in just one.

So, you get the next issue with Hellaverse's world-building...

2. Packing World Building in a spin-off

Because Hazbin Hotel can't flesh out its world itself, it needs to rely on its spin-off, Helluva Boss, to flesh it out instead. This becomes a problem when you look at Hazbin as a stand-alone show separate from Helluva Boss; if you did not watch Helluva Boss, Hazbin's world-building would come across as fairly underdeveloped due to the characters being confined to one ring, so the other rings wouldn't get much fleshing out or development causing Hell as a setting to feel underdeveloped.

Hazbin Hotel is the main series of Hellaverse, it should be able to stand on its own as a stand-alone show and should not need a spin-off to flesh out its world-building. A new viewer should not have to watch a spin-off show to get more out of the main show's world-building, the main show should've fleshed out its world itself rather than rely on a spin-off for it.

This is why confining the characters to just the pride ring is a bad idea, the show can't flesh out its world now and it has to rely on a spin-off series to do that, so in order for a new viewer to experience more of the other rings, they would need to watch a spin-off show which is entirely supplemental material that one normally does not need to watch to understand things about a story.

Without HB, the other rings in Hazbin are very underexplored and underdeveloped, because we never get to see them or flesh them out. It needs to rely on its spin-off to flesh out its world, and that's bad because a spin-off is SUPPLEMENTAL MATERIAL. A viewer should not need to watch supplemental stuff to understand things about the main show, it should not be a required watch to get more of the world-building fleshed out.

Though, if anything, Helluva Boss just creates more world-building problems within the franchise, such as...

3. Hell's Hierarchy

So, in the Hazbin Hotel, there is a hierarchy in Hell. The order from most power to least is...

Lucifer

Charlie and Lilith

The Seven Deadly Sins

Ars Goetias

Overlords

Sinners

Hell Borns

Imps and Hell-Hounds

The problem here is that Hell's hierarchy is constantly ignored or broken by both of the shows. For example, Sinners and Overlords are confined to only the pride ring, meanwhile, Imps and Hell hounds, who are LOWER CLASS than Sinners and Overlords, are allowed to go to any ring that they like.

Then there's Beelzebub, whose mere existence causes issues. Let's get the obvious out of the way; why is a HELLHOUND one of the deadly sins when those are supposed to be just as lower class as imps? This could work if Beelzebub specifically had the least amount of power of the sins, but she doesn't.

FURTHERMORE, once we just ignore the fact that Beelzebub is a sin despite being a hellhound, we then have to open the can of worms that is her having a boyfriend who is also a hellhound, and...nobody cares about this?

I'm sorry, if a sin is perfectly allowed to date a hell hound in public, then why is it such a big deal when Stolas and Ozzie are caught fucking imps? Do the other sins not know about this??? Does Lucifer not know about this??? If so, why not??? Surely one of them being in a relationship with a hellhound would get they're attention...right?

And if they do know about this then again, why is it such a big deal that a Goetia Prince is sleeping with an imp and a sin, who is ABOVE HIM IN TERMS OF POWER, being in a relationship with a hellhound, who are just as if not MORE lower-class than imps, not? It's a confusing inconsistency.

Also, and I JUST REALIZED THIS, but what even happens when a sin or goetia is found out to be fucking an imp or hell hound? Seriously, what consequences does that sin or goetia even face? Stolas has been exposed for fucking Blitz ever since the end of season 1 yet he has received NO consequences at all, and like I said, Beezlebulb is allowed to be in a relationship with someone who is on the SAME LEVEL AS IMPS.

So why would Ozzie even need to hide his relationship with Fizz at all? What are the consequences for being in a relationship with a hellhound or imp? So far, there appears to be absolutely none! So why is it even that big of a deal when Stolas gets found out? Why does Ozzie need to hide his relationship with Fizz if there aren't going to be any consequences for it?

These plot holes hurt my BRAIN to think about. There is no consistency here, Hell's Hierarchy barely fucking matters in either of the shows, and characters higher up in the hierarchy are allowed to do SEVERAL things with lower classes and face no consequences despite the show trying to say they would. Oh, but all of what I just mentioned are just issues with HELL's world-building, now it's time to get into...

4. Heaven

I already talked about the problems with Heaven in the show so I won't dwell on the issues I've already talked about too much, however, Heaven still has many world-building issues like Hell does. For one, as I've already pointed out, we don't even know how Heaven even WORKS.

I already asked these questions before but like. How does one get into Heaven? What are the requirements for what make a good or bad person? We don't actually know and we never will because Heaven for SOME REASON doesn't have it's own criteria for what does or doesn't make a good person...

...WHY??!? Why don't they have this??? So how does one even GET into Heaven at all???? We have no idea of how Heaven works because the show never actually bothers putting in the effort to explain that.

Who even decides whether or not to get into Heaven??? Who is in charge of that??? Answer: We don't fucking know. Sera mentions the "divine judgment", which, after a quick Google search, says "the action of God's retributive justice by which the destiny of rational creatures is decided according to their merits and demerits"

So basically god decides who goes into Heaven or Hell, which would make sense...if it weren't for the fact, from what I've heard from other blogs...Viv said that god doesn't exist in HH or HB...so...

...divine judgment by WHO EXACTLY???? The lack of explanation of what does or doesn't get somebody into Heaven is made worse with Pentious getting into Heaven in the season finale.

I have already complained about this multiple times but like. HOW DID PENTIOUS GET INTO HEAVEN???? WHY DID HE GET INTO HEAVEN???????? He literally got killed by Adam! He should be a bunch of energy right out according to the wiki! Yet he makes it into Heaven anyway???? WHY????? The show never explains this at all! The only thing resembling a logical explanation I could find was on the wiki and even then the article was just speculating because again, the show didn't bother to actually explain this.

Viv. Can you PLEASE for the love of god (no pun intended) actually explain the rules of your world and its world-building? People should not have to create theories to patch up plot holes in your world-building, actually, EXPLAIN this shit for once.

Oh, and I'm still not done, because now there's the fact that the entirety of Heaven and most of Heaven's higher-ups except for Sera never knew of the exterminations, which creates MORE plot holes.

Did none of Heaven's citizens or other higher-ups question why the exorcists had BLOOD on them when they came back from Hell? Wouldn't have any of them put two and two together and think "Hey so they are probably killing people down there". Did none of them even question what was the point of the exorcists at all? How was Sera able to hide this stuff? Once again, the show doesn't answer ANY OF THIS.

Oh, and I'm STILL not done, because now, it's time to open the can of worms that apparently does not exist in this universe.....WHY?!?!? According to Google, the angels were created BY GOD. So, if he doesn't exist, how did the angels exist either? Who created them??? Heck, who even created HEAVEN ITSELF?????? Removing god from this universe creates so many issues and breaks the entire show. sigh, ok, I think that's enough....

5. Conclusion

So, Hellaverse's world-building has MANY issues. There are a lot of plot holes and thoughts about it that don't get answered, as well as hell itself, specifically the pride ring being incredibly boring visually. Not to mention a lot of the world-building is packed into a SPIN-OFF SHOW. So...ya, hope you liked my post, and thank y'all for 100 followers! So...bye.

[max1461]

What does this question even fucking mean?

I apologize to this random reddit user, who I'm about to put on blast, but this question is such nonsense and it's nonsense in a way that is extremely common, especially on r/askphilosophy (where this was posted) but also just in general, and I want to talk about it.

First of all, as the top commenter points out, a "philosopher king" is a hypothetical type of ruler discussed by Plato, not a real category of king that actually existed. But I can forgive this user for not knowing this is where the term comes from, because it's just a piece of factual knowledge that they might not have. That's fine. The reason I find this question so dumb is because, like... suppose that "philosopher king" was a real category of ruler that existed in antiquity. What the fuck would it mean? Like, did this asker ever stop to think "what question am I asking? This category that I'm inquiring about, what defines it?"? No, they did not. They just heard a term and started using it without thinking about what it actually refers to. This is the ur-problem of like 80% of all bad thinking: speaking first and figuring out what you mean by it later.

Is a "philosopher king" just a king who happens to also be a philosopher? If so, then surely you can answer your own question about the existence of "philosopher presidents" by just googling around for world leaders who happen to also have philosophy degrees or whatever; I imagine that information is easily available. But if this is what you mean by "philosopher king", then the question doesn't seem very deep or interesting, right? I mean a king is just a guy, and a president is just a guy, so of course it might be the case that sometimes these guys happen to also write philosophy.

I suppose if the question was framed this way—"are there any recent world leaders who are also philosophers?"—I wouldn't find it so silly. But the way it's phrased sort of suggests that the asker believes there's some kind of like, underlying pattern they're noticing, or deeper meaning they can ascribe to this. Like a "philosopher king" is some special ontological category of ruler, beyond just "king who also happens to have written philosophy", and so the existence or not of "philosopher presidents" is like a fascinating and puzzling topic to ponder instead of just an incidental question about whether any world leaders who use the title "president" also happen to do philosophy.

Right? Do you see what I'm saying? It's like this user heard king Solomon or whatever the fuck referred to as a "philosopher king" once, and didn't even bother to try to parse what that means. Just went "I guess there's a special type of king called a philosopher king, I know this piece of information know". It's like an abdication of actually thinking about what anyone is saying to you.

Of course I'm inferring wildly based on a small amount of information here, but this is the general type of error that I see all the time, so I'm not really concerned with being appropriately epistemically cautious about whether this exact thing is what lead this user to ask their dumb question on r/askphilosophy. I'm riffing on this guy's question to articulate a broader point, and pattern matching it to a common thinking error.

I will say, though, r/askphilosophy seems to attract people who say shit that is dumb in exactly this way (as opposed to all the other ways you can be dumb), and so this has served me well as model for what these people are doing wrong.

Anyway, this is actually the root cause, one suspects, of the asker's knowledge gap that I mentioned at the beginning of the post. A "philosopher king" is not in fact some special category of king that really existed, but an idea discussed by Plato in the Republic. It's fine that this person doesn't know this, but if they had tried to figure out what "philosopher king" actually means before saying it, they probably would have learned this fact.

If I could give one piece of advice to everyone on Earth and have them really take it seriously, it would probably be "think about what you mean before your say it".

[steddieas-shegoes]

wrong date

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'wrong date'

rated t | 890 words | cw: mild language | tags: famous corroded coffin, jeff's dad finally accepts he has a rockstar son

🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻

It was supposed to be a special show, not even part of the regular tour. A stop in Indianapolis in a small venue, only 250 tickets sold, a shortened set with a new song list just for this crowd. They'd have merch available specific to this show.

It was a bit of an anniversary show, marking the ten year anniversary of their first time playing in Indy, which is the show that led them to signing their first deal.

It wasn't even a real tour date.

But when their merch arrived for it, they went into panic mode.

"How did they mess up the back?" Jeff was yelling through the phone on the bus, something he never did. "We were clear that this would have the art submitted with the date and location of this one show. It can't have the same back as our tour shirt!"

Frankie and Eddie watched Jeff from the couch as Gareth sat on the counter by the fridge. Normally, Jeff was incredibly calm when faced with a problem, especially one that could definitely be fixed. This could be fixed, though it would be cutting it extremely close to the show date.

"No. Fix it. Get them overnighted. I don't care if it costs you more money. Not having the merch we told fans we would is gonna cost a lot more." Jeff hung up, immediately banging his head against the cabinet in front of him. "It's so simple. They fuck up the simplest thing."

"You good?" Gareth dares to ask while Jeff is having a breakdown.

"How many times do I have to fix shit they fuck up? Why do they even get to be in charge of things if they can't handle it?" Jeff continues, ignoring Gareth's question. "We need a better manager."

"You mean like the last guy we had?" Frankie snorted. "Maybe we could call him in prison and ask him for help while he serves time for tax evasion and embezzlement."

"At least he got us the right fucking shirts!" Jeff argued, but quickly deflated. "I just want this to be perfect."

Gareth made eye contact with Eddie and Frankie before hopping off the counter and standing in front of Jeff. He placed a comforting hand on Jeff's shoulder.

"This wouldn't normally bother you this much. What's goin' on?" He asked.

"My dad's gonna be there."

It all made sense now.

Jeff's relationship with his dad had been...rocky. Not always. In fact, as a child, he was incredibly close to him, and they spend countless hours playing together, taking fishing trips, going to concerts.

But when Jeff started taking music more seriously than school, planning for a future on stage instead of in a college dorm, his dad had a lot of things to say, and none of them were positive. It broke Jeff's heart to lose his support, but it got easier to deal with the more successful they became.

When their recent album debuted at number one, Jeff's dad reached out to let him know he was proud of him. He didn't apologize, or even admit he was wrong, but he was trying a little. It was enough for Jeff from a distance.

But apparently it wouldn't be at a distance anymore.

"He's your VIP ticket?" Eddie asked.

Jeff nodded. "Him and my mom. They heard about it and insisted on coming to see what all the fuss is about."

"Who said there's fuss?" Eddie joked. "No fuss here. Just a lot of people who wanna sleep with us or be us."

"Yeah, I guess they wanted to get the experience without going to a regular show."

"We'll have the best show ever, then. Gotta show them how fuckin' cool you are, right?" Frankie said as he pulled Jeff into a hug.

****

Jeff's parents were the first ones backstage after the show, somehow beating Gareth's parents, Wayne, and Frankie's mom by minutes.

He gave his mom a hug, but hesitated before holding a hand out towards his dad.

Everyone watched as his dad looked down at it, then back up at Jeff.

Jeff dropped his hand, and only his closest friends in the world could see the disappointment on his face.

But his dad's arms wrapped around his shoulders, and the entire room breathed a sigh of relief.

"Proud of you, son. I'm glad you didn't listen to me."

"Really?" Jeff asked against his shoulder, voice wet and rough like he was holding back a sob.

"You're a true rock star. Can't say I ever thought it was possible, but seeing you up there, I know that's where you were meant to be."

When Jeff pulled away, he noticed both of his parents were wearing the shirts that had only arrived at the venue the day before.

Everything was correct this time.

When Jeff's dad turned around to say hi to Frankie's mom, Jeff looked at the date on the back.

"You're fuckin' kidding me," he groaned.

"What?" Eddie asked, watching the door for Wayne.

"They got the date wrong!"

Eddie laughed. "I guess our encore technically played on June 20th, so that's gotta be at least a little right."

"We have to fire our manager," Jeff shook his head. "Today. I'll hire someone off the street. Only qualification is knowing what a calendar looks like."

[therabbitthatpostthings]

Timeline isn’t gonna match up or make sense so don’t think about it. This was for an OC I didn't care enough to fully flesh out. Kinda sorta post-canon (all Hashira alive). Little OOC so don't think about that either. Might do a part 2 with background. She/Her pronouns (I'm sorry. I'm lazy)

(Masterpost)

Tomioka Giyuu isn’t what you would call, active. In fact, the thought of him having a life outside the Demon Corps never crossed the Hashira’s minds (mostly because they didn’t think he had one IN the corps either).

He was early. Extremely early, actually. Tomioka was not the latest Hashira by any means but, up so early was, off, to say the least. Shinobu noted this when saying her ‘hellos’ to present Hashira. Tomioka, of course, stood off to the side, not making an effort to interact with anyone aside from a simple “Good Morning.” Even for the ever stoic Tomioka this behavior was weird.

“I guess he remembered us after all.” Shinazugawa hissed coming to the group. It was true that the last three meetings Tomioka had missed (granted they’ve all missed meetings due to work but never three in a row) and the thought of Tomioka slacking off and getting off scotch free added on to Shinazugawa’s ever-growing list of reasons to hate Tomioka.

“It must have been a hard mission.” Kanaroji chimed in.

This didn’t sway Shinobu or Shinazugawa. Shinobu knew it couldn’t have been missions for the last three months, Tomioka hadn’t stopped by the Butterfly Mansion once, not even to get ointment for aches and pains. Strong as they are, the Hashira are not invincible. In fact Tomioka hadn’t been badly injured since last spring. Shinobu knew all this. Even outside of missions Tomioka had just been missing overall. It’s like the silence was even quieter without him there. She peered over to Rengoku and Himajima who looked notably tired well- as tired as they possibly could -as they both lightly chatted with amongst themselves. Tomioka would say something back to them and then go back to staring blankly at the porch.

“He’s finally starting to slack off.” Obanai hissed from up high, the group now noticing he’s been here. “I hope he doesn’t think getting here early will absolve him.”

“Obanai you don’t mean Tomioka got here before you?” Shinobu teased

With a fluster shifting of his eyes, Obanai chose to glare at Giyuu rather than return her gaze. “I saw him coming from inside. Maybe Master snapped on him.”

Though they all doubted Master Ubuyashiki would ever raise his voice, the thought did fill Shinazugawa with momentary joy.

With the final Hashira, Muchiro, walking into the garden it was only a matter of time before the Master appeared. With the opening of the door, everyone’s head snapped up and voices hushed. Shinobu snuck a glance at Tomioka who seemed slightly off. He stood a little too straight and struggled to not ball his fist. Obanai’s theory suddenly seemed more plausible.

—

With the meeting concluded you could practically hear the sigh escape Giyuu’s lips as he walked to the porch. He could feel all the eyes on him as he stepped up there only to be stopped by Hinaki.

“I have to ask that you wait here.” She said calmly.

“But me and Hiro-“

“OI! Have some respect Tomioka!” Shinazugawa yelled. He approached the porch. “Who do you think you are to go around ordering people?!”

He caught Giyuu’s glare from on high. His unchanging eyes shifting back to Hinaki only angered Shinagawa more. “He’s looking down on me,” Shinazugawa thought this an act of war.

Glaring back at him, he said “It’s one thing for you to skip meetings but to disrespect the Master’s family.”

“I’m not disrespecting her, I had a question.” Giyuu replied plainly. He was feeling slightly annoyed and very fearful now. This was not how today was supposed to go. He turned back to Hinaki, “Please, we must be on our way-“

“You bastard.” Shinazugawa was already reaching to pull Giyuu off the porch (not wanting to beat him on the porch, that would be disrespectful). Giyuu was ready to draw his sword when the sound of footsteps alerted them all. Out from the door burst Kiriya and another small child. They maneuvered around Giyuu and Hanaki before Kiriya had tripped taking the small boy with him. Before they could launch themselves off the porch Giyuu caught one under each arm and held onto Hinaki’s collar to keep her from falling over.

He set the children down gently, “Forgive me please, Ubuyashiki-san.”

“No, thank you Tomioka-San.” Hinaki replied, graceful as ever. Lady Ubuyashiki was quick behind them to collect her son. Giyuu apologized once again.

“Hiroshi,” Giyuu turned back to the small boy. He stood slightly behind Kiriya with his head low in shame. Giyuu knelt down, “You should apologize to Lady Ubuyashiki and Hinaki.”

Big blue eyes filled with embarrassment the boy complied. Lady Ubuyashiki smiled kindly, “Please be careful next time you return.”

“He can come back?” Kiriya asked

“As long as Tomioka is okay with it.” She smiled kindly

“Of course.” Giyuu replied as the three kids waved off. “Come on, we’re going home.” The boy followed behind Giyuu quietly. He had a small round face and wild black hair sticking out in all directions. Following along, Hiroshi started to sniffle and finally stopped on the bottom step, tugging on Giyuu’s haori.

“What’s wrong?” Giyuu asked

“I’m sorry Papa.” He cried softly as Giyuu picked him up in his arms trying to soothe the boy.

“It’s okay Hiroshi, I know it was an accident but there’s two of you and only one Hinaki. She could have been hurt. Please be more careful.”

The boy nodded sniffling into his fathers shoulder.

The remaining Hashira stared in astonishment at the action. By the time he got his son to calm down Giyuu had finally noticed that he never left the garden and out the front of the home as intended. Still holding Hiroshi, Giyuu bowed his goodbye and left the garden. Before the rest of Hashira could finish processing what just happened Rengoku and Himajime also left quietly behind him.

—

The next meeting came about a month and a half later. This time Giyuu entered at his normal time with Muichiro coming afterwards. He actively stood apart hoping they all would have forgotten (they didn’t), and suffered silently as the many eyes bore into his head. 

It wasn’t just Giyuu, Shinobu was also shooting her glance to Himejima and Rengoku. Himejima was holding up well (surprisingly) but Rengoku was going to pop. Unbeknownst to everyone else, Tengen spent the last week and a half trying to break whatever secret Tomioka had about the same child out of him. An unstoppable force and an immovable object and all that. 

Giyuu was silently praying for this meeting to end soon and end this mental game all the Hashira were taking part in. He had already prepared an exit tragedy to get out with the least amount of questions. He looked at Rengoku and Himejima. The game plan was set and they just need to be ready to go.

You could feel the tension ease when Master Ubuyashiki called the meeting to a close. They all stood quietly, paitiently waiting for him to go inside before all hell broke loose. And just as the door closed Lady Ubuyashiki called out, “Tomioka-San. A word please.”

Rengoku was screaming on the inside as Giyuu looked over to him briefly. Tengen hardly waited for Giyuu to take a single step, “How come you two got to know but we didn’t?”

“A secret child Tomioka?” Shinobu called out “You must not like us if we didn’t get to know.”

“It’s not that…” Giyuu finally broke his silence. He reached for the door when it suddenly swung open and the little pitter of footsteps was heard. Giyuu jumped back and was quick to catch the small figure barreling towards him, “Hiroshi!? What are you doing here?”

“Mama hurt her feet.” Hiroshi replied like it was obvious. All heads snapped to the door and out stepped a woman on a pink kimono.

“(Y/N)?” He looked surprised.

“Ah, Giyuu!” She peered up walking over to him 

“What happened?” He stepped closer to hold onto her waist.

“Just some sores and aches. Lady Ubuyashiki has been so kind.” She turned to both of them “It’s been in honor in your presence.”

“The pleasure is ours, Lady Tomioka.”

And that’s what broke the string holding all together. The family wordlessly walked off the porch and headed to leave..

Shinobu called out “T-Tomioka?!”

“Yes?” Said (Y/N) and Hiroshi as all three turned to face them.

“Oh! Rengoku-San, Himajime-San! So good to see you both.” (Y/N) smiled

Himejima finally exhaled as both men walked over to greet (Y/N). Both of them gave Giyuu an apologetic look. Hiroshi looked over their shoulders to the remaining Hashira still in a daze. Looking at them side by side there was no denying it. Hiroshi is identical to Giyuu, just smaller and with the cutest round face that Mitsuri just had to gush over.

“You are so cute! Like a mini Tomioka!” She squealed. 

“Your hair looks like mochi!” Hiroshi stayed proudly. “Mama, can we get mochi!” 

(Y/N) smiled, “That sounds like our que. It was an honor to meet you all.”

The family walked out the garden, with Rengoku and Himejima sneaking out with them.

“What the fuck just happened?” Shinazugawa broke the silence.

—

The next meeting was well over two months and the pillars were determined to not let Giyuu go without answers. Especially since he’d recently had to heal up at the Butterfly Mansion while Shinobu was out. Before he could even think of leaving they had him cornered, Obanai watching over Rengoku and Himejima.

“When were you gonna tell us you were married?!” Uzui shouted

“No one asked and I’d rather have a small wedding…” Giyuu answered plainly.

“What about your ring then?”

Giyuu pulled down his collar to show a silver ring on a chain tucked into his undershirt.

“How did you two find out then?” Obanai hissed.

“Tomioka requested I accompany him on a mission so he could be home earlier,” Himejima stated.

“I had an urgent matter with the Master and happened to meet them all as they were leaving.” Rengoku said.

“Wait so Master knows too?” Mitsuri asked

“Yes, they were at the wedding.” Giyuu replied.

“You are unbelievable.” Shinazugawa muttered. “How were you able to get married?”

Giyuu didn’t seem to have an answer. It’s something he thought to himself many times but when (Y/N) smiled at him he always forgot about it. Before he could try to answer, he heard (Y/N) calling out to him. The Hashira were surprised to (Y/N) walk up in a demon slayer uniform and golden checkered haori. She smiled and bowed to the Hashira, “Hello, I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“No, I'm done here.” Giyuu replied.

“Wait, Tomioka!” Shinobu called as they turned to leave.

“Yes?” They both answered to Shinobu’s annoyance. They did it again.

(Y/N) nudged Giyuu forward as she assumed they meant him. Uzui cut in, “We only wanted to officially meet you, Lady Tomioka.”

“Oh!” (Y/N) smiled “I’m honored to meet you all, I am Tomioka (Y/N), (Y/N) is fine.”

“It's so good to meet you! How long have you and Giyuu been together?” Mitsuri asked, the only genuine person in all this.

“I’ve known him since I joined the Corps, we met while I was on my way to a job, it was in separate areas but we met up on the way back.” (Y/N) answered recalling their younger years.

“We’ve been married for five years.” Giyuu answered. The Hashira took note that their son looked about that age. It took all of Uzui’s strength for him to not comment on it.

“How sweet!” Mitsuri cheered “I had no idea you had such a happy family Tomioka!”

“We try not to talk about it,” (Y/N) smiled. A lot more open than Giyuu but (Y/N) also enjoyed their privacy. “Up until now, only Master Ubuyashiki knew. Hiroshi and Kiriya became good friends.”

The Hashira had a million other questions but they tethered on inappropriate or just plain mean. Out of respect for Lady Tomioka, they held themselves together. The strangeness of the situation wasn’t lost on either of them. They were happy though. The couple said their goodbyes and turned to leave. The Hashira saw the tension lift off Giyuu’s shoulders as he smiled with his wife.

“Why must we question Tomioka,” Himejima spoke once they left. “Lord Uzui is married with three wives.”

“Yeah but that was before he joined the corps,” Sanemi said “We didn’t know him then, we know Tomioka- barley. He’s a fucking buzzkill and he has a sweet woman that not only married him but slept with him at least once!?”

With those “graceful” last words they parted for the evening.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

So you've talked a few times about how Plagg and Tikki failed on a fundamental level as mentors, and how Fu wasn't even really a mentor at all, but I don't think I've seen you bring up Su-Han as of yet, and I'm curious to know where you fall on that particular character.

I personally feel he could've been useful for expository purposes, and/or served as a catalyst for Marinette's growth into the role of guardian/team leader (you know, if the show were interested in character growth, or suggesting it's protagonist isn't omni-capable), but instead he showed up in four episodes, caused several problems, raised more questions than he ultimately answered, and honestly makes me question why he was included in the first place.

The order of the guardians is back after 170+ years and the most lasting impact this has on the story is... they teach Jagged Stone Kung Fu? Were you on the writing team, how would you make effective use of this plot point (Or was it a bad idea to begin with?)

Su-Han is an incredibly weird character. I'm honestly not totally sure why he exists, but I'll give you my best guess and then we'll talk about how he could have been used because I do think that he had potential.

It feels like they only introduced the guardian temple back in season three because they wanted to explain how the peacock and butterfly got lost - even though their explanation just raises even more questions if you know anything about archology - then they realized, "Oh shit, we probably need to address the guardian's return somehow, don't we?"

But if they let a whole mystic order descend on Paris, then we don't really need our two heroes, so instead we get one rando who walked (or I guess jumped?) from Tibet to Paris in order to be the writer's whipping boy because that's really how Su-Han is used. He's not here to help or to be a mentor. He's here to voice audience complaints so that the writers can shut those complaints down with nonsense logic.

For example, this exchange from Ephemeral is what kicks off Marinette's awkward and concerning plan to lie to her partner about an identity reveal:

Su-Han: This really takes the cake! Ladybug: Grand Master Su-Han? Su-Han: Nine! You used nine Miraculous to defeat a single villain, when Cat Noir could have just used his Cataclysm! Ladybug: I had to. Cat Noir was missing! Su-Han: What do you mean "missing"? You can't just let the holder of the one of the most powerful Miraculous go about as he pleases! What if he started making his own decisions, or act it out? Like Shadow Moth?! Ladybug: Cat Noir? Act like Shadow Moth? Wow. Are you blowing this out of proportion just a little? Su-Han: Not at all. In fact, you should find out who Cat Noir really is, so you can have better control over him. Ladybug: What?? No way! We can't know our true identities! It would be too dangerous if Shadow Moth got a hold of one of us! Su-Han: I. Don't. Care!! Deal with this problem quickly, otherwise I will take back his Miraculous as soon as he shows a whisker! And I'll choose the new Cat Noir myself! Ladybug: Okay, okay, alright. What if you knew who he was, would that work? Su-Han: I... I suppose so. But I'm warning you, if you don't succeed— Ladybug: I get it. Cat Noir will be replaced.

Does Su-Han read like an Adrien salter to you? Because he does to me! He's presenting a valid argument in the most obnoxious and inflammatory way possible by making it about controlling Chat Noir instead of having the argument focus on the issue of, "Hey, maybe more than one person should know who has this extremely powerful miraculous just in case something bad happens to that one person?" An argument that holds more weight than he could possibly know because of the whole senti issue making Chat Noir a potential perfect sleeper agent.

And at the end of the episode, we get this exchange even though none of Su-Han's concerns have actually been addressed:

Su-Han: So, do you know who Cat Noir is yet? Ladybug: No. Su-Han: What? I thought I had warned you— Ladybug: I don't want to know. I've proven to you a hundred times that I'm a good guardian, and Cat Noir and I have proven to you a hundred times that we were exceptional superheroes, and you! How many times have you told us that we were messing up, when that was totally untrue? You're judging us based on your own fears, and not on our actions! Su-Han: (groans) You're right, little Ladybug. Perhaps I'm worrying over nothing. What's for sure is that one doesn't come across a guardian like you every century. (reaches out his fist) How do you say again? Ladybug and Su-Han: Pound it.

You can tell that the writers wanted Su-Han to be the bad guy here. That his pushing for an identity reveal was at fault and you - the audience - should feel bad if you ever agreed with him, but his base argument is never actually addressed. Marinette just says he needs to trust her and so he does for some reason? Remind me, which of these two is supposed to have years of experience and which of them has been a hero for less than a year and in that time has totally failed to even try to retrieve the miraculous that she's supposed to be recovering? Writers, please stop saying that Marinette is the best guardian ever when you don't let her do anything that feels all that special. I'm not saying that she's terrible, she's doing what was asked if her, I'm just concerned that this is considered way above average quality.

On top of that nonsense, there's also the problem that Marinette's counter argument would have worked right from the start, so her rushed deception plan doesn't feel like a true act of desperation like it was clearly supposed to be. Instead, it just makes her look like a horrible person even though that obviously wasn't the writer's intent. This is what always happens when they speed run these complex what-if or backstory episodes. It never works out like they clearly want it to.

Chat Blanc did it by making Adrien look bad for hiding his identity so that he could date Ladybug. Derision did it by making multiple characters look unhinged and/or evil. Ephemeral does it with the frankly baffling lie plan which is only there so we can have a proper identity reveal moment between the leads. That's literally why the episode is written like that, btw. They wanted to let Adrien confess his identity in a big romantic moment, so they forced a scenario where that would happen even though it makes Ladybug look terrible.

Anyway, back to Su-Han.

If Miraculous was allowed to have serious plot lines that spanned multiple episodes, then Su-Han could have been a great edition to the cast. Season four is a pretty big tonal shift for the show. Things start to feel a lot more serious in this season with the Ladynoir conflict and Marinette struggling to be the guardian. It also comes right after the season where we learned that Master Fu wasn't a true guardian. All of this is the perfect setup for a true mentor character who shows up to fix things and maybe even give out some new powers!

Imagine how much better this season would have been if it was about Su-Han helping Ladynoir! If he saw the conflict and stepped in to guide them through it. You could even have him be closer to Adrien than Marinette to balance Marinette and Fu's relationship.

For example, what if the guardians didn't have the wacky staff that tracks down miracle boxes but not miraculous because then Gabriel would be defeated too easily? What if Su-Han just shows up and Marinette doesn't trust him, but Adrien does? And so Su-Han helps Adrien the most while Marinette keeps Su-Han at arms length just like she does Adrien because that's what Fu taught her to do and Fu was wrong about everything! This could still lead to the season four ending, but instead of it being a nothing burger where season five continues all of the same problems, instead season five is where Marinette embraces Su-Han and really starts to understand what it means to be a guardian and a partner? Things Fu never taught her because he kind of sucked at his job.

That's just one way to make Su-Han work. A way that keeps canon intact up to the start of season five because, while I hate season four's writing and "conflict" resolution, I can admit that there was potential in the base idea. You could also scrap all of season four and rewrite everything to keep things more light hearted while still letting Su-Han be a total upgrade.

You could even go the exact opposite direction and set Su-Han up to be the next big bad! Why have sentimonster freedom be a conflict (even though it really wasn't) when you could make everything about Kwami freedom? It's a really natural progression to go from defeating Gabriel to fighting for... institutional changes(?) in how the miraculous work. Let Kwamis pick their holders and remove their bonds so that Gabriel never happen again!

I really do mean it when I say that this show is bursting with potential. I wouldn't be so enthralled by how bad it is if it didn't have potential to be amazing.

[cupids-chamber]

𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐒

Hi, so I'm going on an indefinite hiatus. This is a impromptu decision, so I don't know if I'll come back in like a day and correct myself. But I've been debating on this decision for a long time, so yea.

[ below the undercut you'll find some of my reasons for this decision, and etc, I'd be grateful if you take your time reading it. ]

I don't feel comfortable as 'Cupid', I guess it's because 'Cupid' was never supposed to be my persona, she was just an oc who's running this blog, and it was supposed to be fun, mini lore bits, or whatever, and I thought the idea was really cool back then. . up until people started calling me Cupid.

I guess overtime, I never made a serious effort to correct it, so like it just became me? But like as shit went on and on and on . . It felt weird, I guess a sort of imposter syndrome or like identity crises started forming? I . . didn't feel like myself, I guess I felt like whatever 'Cupid' was.

And as months passed with this sort of identity crises, I started questioning my personality, my interests, if my friends here truly liked me, or if I was more open or idk myself? If they'd still like me? I'm not a chronically online person, in fact I've realized pretty recently that I hate staying in one place, I love the outdoors, and if I could I'd socialize more, but I also overthink and get embarrassed easily. I don't like being on my pc 24/7, yes it's something I still do, but I feel terrible after doing so.

I actually picked up certain interests I've had in the passed again, and I've felt more like myself. I don't know, I think I've realized that my relationship with this blog has been unhealthy, it's always been unhealthy, and my identity crises was the least extreme problem I've had due to this blog.

Actually, the game, the controversies, the fights, everything I've experienced on this blog, has left lasting physical damage on my body, I can't handle anxiety, I can't handle stress, and it's because the moment I get anxiety, stressed, or begin to overthink, I get immensely nauseas, I'm stuck in the bathroom, and if I don't throw up it feels worse, I can't eat, I'm unproductive for hours if one things ticks off my anxiety. I feel unlike myself, and the thing is, I can't fix it, it's just how I'm now. I have pills I have to take for this itself, and honestly they've not been 100% helpful.

Alongside abundance of other problems, mental breakdowns, and so much more shit, this blog has truly done nothing but make everything so much worse for me. If I had one good day or week with this blog and the people around me, I can expect a month of bad in return, and there comes a point where I genuinely cannot fake confidence out of it.

I genuinely think I need to dissociate from 'Cupid', she's not me, I'm not her. As I'm typing this, I genuinely wonder, what am I truly? Up until now my identity, was what I formed through 'Cupid', and honestly I don't even know where I'm going with this, I genuinely am just . . done. I'm tired. I've tried, I have not succeeded in overcoming any problems this blog has caused me.

I think a part of me is so attached to this blog, because of 'Cupid' and of course because it helped me out of my depressive pit, but as these last few weeks pass, and I edge closer to my final year before university, I feel myself returning to that depressive pit, worse than ever . . so at that point, I can't help but ask myself, what was the point of me staying on this blog despite the clear signs and warnings for me to leave?

I really don't know where I'm going with this, but I'm really grateful for everyone who has followed this blog, who have given me the chance to improve my writing. I guess it's time for a genuine goodbye? Because as I'm writing this, I don't really plan on coming back and that's the honest truth, with every hiatus I try and dance around a final goodbye but after this week I genuinely think this is the best decision for myself.

Note : Kindly do not call refer to me as 'Cupid', or anything if you plan on responding and if you do want to remain in contact with me, please message me for my new discord account. I probably won't respond fast as I try and maintain a distance from this account and don't bother contacting me on discord, I'm taking a break from the account as well <3

[artist-issues]

You're my new favorite blog! You have no idea how I wish I could peck inside your brain like a chicken. 😭😂😂 I am a Catholic and a recovering agnostic. I struggle with letting go of my old way of life and philosophy constantly, I have been struggling with it since the day I decided to revert - that was back in 2017. (I think you would like to know my journey back to the Faith started after watching HBO's The Young Pope! 👌🏼) At this point I don't know if I'll ever be the person the Lord wants me to be, oh well, I'll die trying and I know that will mean something.

I just know I can't go back to being a non-believer, because as Carl Young said, now I don't just believe, I know. The irony is my struggle to believe in something I know to be objectively the Truth.

I have a question for you though, actually I hope for some advice from you. How do I reconcile with the reality that I haven't become who I dreamed to become (like career wise), but now that a new career has been shoved upon me (a career my parents wanted for me - and they valued safety and stability over "following my dreams" I suppose)? ...which isn't necessarily a bad thing, because it is an extremely noble profession and it pays quite well.

The thing is, as much as I try to accept my new career, I keep telling myself and to others that I'm doing this for my parents and not because I want to be here. I feel terrible about it. But, again, it's not like I am unfulfilled (I am unhappy though, but that comes with the work culture/environment, I feel like I am surrounded by 40+ year old teenagers); as a matter of fact, I do think I know - objectively - in my heart that this is exactly where the Lord wants me to be? But I keep fighting against it, keep struggling against this sense of vocational calling that I'm feeling towards my new job, instead I desperately wanna give into my want to go "live the life I want." Like throw this all away, get new training and start all over with the career I wanted all those years ago.

I want to be better, to be sacrificial like Christ on the Cross. I've always known I had a little depression (comes with my disability from a young age and this whole dream thing); I have been suicidal over this, I actually used to joke with myself that I'd kill myself if I don't achieve my professional goals by the time I turned 25. I will turn 30 this September and even though I haven't been literally dead, I feel like I've been in a vegetative state - mentally - ever since the day I turned 25. I hope that makes sense.

I started seeing a therapist 2 weeks ago since my mental health started affecting my new job - she did say I have depression and is trying to help me but I just don't know if I want to be helped at all, because I am unable to do the exercises she tells me (like create a routine, exercise well, write down good thoughts, etc.) I feel like I'm failing myself, my parents and, most importantly, my Heavenly Father.

I apologise if this is nonsensical, I apologise for dumping all of this on you - random stranger on the internet - but idk I felt like maybe you'd have something wise to tell me to knock some sense into me (without a bump to prove it hehe).

Thank you and God bless! 🥰

You’re very kind, and I’m glad you feel comfortable enough to share all this with me! I really never have anything good of my own to say, or any wisdom to offer, except what I “steal” from God…and I guess what I mean is, if I ever say anything helpful or good or true, I’m just the messenger. I didn’t come up with it. On my own I have zero wisdom or good things to offer.

Anyway, I was surprised reading this because I have gone through (been going through) a similar sort of mindset. I went to school for the career I dreamed about (still dream about) and I worked hard and I wanted it more than anybody around me (very Mike Wasowski in MU of me) and it hasn’t happened the way I planned, or in my timetable.

I mean, in all humility: I work with a studio making a tv show, but it hasn’t got off the ground yet, and I work for a company that writes movie reviews, but neither of those things pay my bills. I have a third job, working with therapists, that’s nothing like what I always wanted to do. That’s my “career,” but it’s not the career I’m passionate about and working toward. And I wonder if I’ll ever do anything “major” in the line of work I love and went to school for. And when I do, I have gotten into some really dark mental places.

Forgive me for not using the words “depression” or “suicidal.” I hate using those words because they’re overused and romanticized and flooding the culture. But more importantly I hate using them because the only thing I identify with is Christ, not any mental struggle I try to slither back into, like a snake trying to put back on old skin. I’m not my overthinking—I’m not my depression—I’m not my suicidal thoughts or emotions—I am one with Christ. Those are things inside me that are defeated and dead—the teeth have been knocked out of them. They just gum me from time to time. So I want you to know I empathize with you, but that’s my point and that’s how I want to answer you:

The only thing about you that really matters is Christ.

Who He says you are, what He has done and how He lived, which is applied to you because He said it is, by grace alone, through faith alone. No matter how you feel.

And I say that to you, as the answer, because I think you and I focus too much on what could be and what “should be” as if God has a set path for us, and if we don’t figure out what it is and walk it, we’ll have a less-fulfilling life. “If I stay at my therapy job and just work with teenagers and write on my blog for the rest of my life, I’ll be fine, but I won’t be as good as I could be.” Or for you. “If I stay in this career I’m in, the one my parents backed me into, I’ll make it, I’ll be fine, but I’ll never be as happy as I want to be.” We’re both thinking, every once in a while, “This is career is what God wants for me, and all my misery is coming from not submitting to it, and if I could just wrestle my contentment into place and give up the thing I want, and submit to what God wants, I’d be fulfilled.”

But how do we know any of those thoughts are true? How do we know God wants us in these boring old careers we wouldn’t have chosen—didn’t choose? Or, how do we know these boring old careers are what we’re stuck in because we didn’t take the plunge and work harder for our “dreams,” which were what He really wanted us to do? How do we know either of those things?

We don’t. We don’t get to know. That’s the point.

Because that’s not how God works. Not from what I can tell in the Bible.

“And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.”. Colossians 3:17.

Whatever you do. Not “the one specific thing you figure out He wants you to do.”

My mom described it to me once when I was in a really dark place trying to figure out what He wanted me to do, paralyzed with indecision, afraid He wanted me to do something I just didn’t want to do, like this: “God doesn’t hold out one flower and say, ‘this is the one I want you to have, so you can either take it or take something worse.’ God makes a field of flowers, and He says, ‘Which one do you want? Pick one, and do it with excellence for Me.’ Then just trust Him to make it good.”

It sounds like you’re in a career, but you are wrestling with whether or not to pick it, now that you have some autonomy as an adult, or to pick starting over. Well. Pick one. Just pick one. And trust God to take care of you. Trusting God looks like thinking it through with excellence, then making the decision—and making the decision means letting go of worrying about the thing you didn’t pick. “Take every thought captive in obedience to Christ.” Once you make a choice, make it all the way, and don’t let your mind wander anymore to “what if this blows up in my face? What if I should’ve stayed back there at the crossroads, or gone down the other path?” It’s going to be hard and God is going to take care of you, no matter what you pick. So don’t let your mind go to those places where you worry; acknowledge the worry, and every time, ask God to help you remember that He’s got you.

Because here’s the point, here’s the thing: He does have you. Because ultimately, your career really doesn’t matter. It doesn’t, it doesn’t, it doesn’t. Neither does your dream. Not ultimately. And now I’ll say “our” because I need to hear it too. Our dreams and careers are not the point of us, and our dreams and careers are not what God means when He says “I’ll take care of you.”

What He means is, “I’ve already taken care of you.” Because the most important thing isn’t our job or our dream. The most important thing is, we’ve been rescued out of eternally being trapped in our broken desires, and now we get to live for Christ, Who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. That’s the major. And that truth is where our fulfillment is supposed to come from, what our lives are meant for, our purpose. As long as we pick one, and do it with excellence to make the name of Jesus famous, with that goal in mind, we’ll be emotionally fulfilled. We’ll be satisfied. Because that’s the goal. Not making movies, or whatever it is you want to do. Not having secure means of living. Just…living our lives to make who Jesus is famous. We can do that wherever.

So then the choice? It becomes a minor, not a major, and the pressure of “will I be happy?” is off, because happiness isn’t found in that stuff. And whenever I forget, and start looking for happiness in my dreams, goals, career, that’s when it all starts to feel dark and stressful and hard and crushing. Because it was never meant to give me happiness or fulfillment—that’s a need only Christ can fulfill.

Don’t misunderstand me. He cares what you do. He cared about every decision you make, and He does have a plan. But that’s going to happen anyway. So just pray, consider which option is a) wise to go for and takes care of the responsibilities God has entrusted you with, b) which option you genuinely want, when your wants are not influenced by fears, and then c) step out and do it in faith. And do it with the mindset of, “I’m doing this, and I’m not thinking about the alternative if I can help it, and I’m also not putting all my happiness-eggs in this basket, because even if it crashes and burns, hey, I’m still one with Christ and I can still make Him famous no matter what road my career goes down.”

I hope this helps. It’s a subject I’m hamster-wheeling around in my mind right now a lot—but when I just fix my eyes on Christ and think about how the most important things, the things that give real joy and happiness, are already and forever taken care of and I can’t mess them up—then can get off the hamster wheel and enjoy the life He’s given me, right now, today, without worrying about the future.

[sulumuns-dootah]

Hiiii. I've been seeing and liking all your headcanons until now.

I was wondering if you can do a short fix with Bael or Mammon with a s/o (or mc however you want) who is extremely insecure about all her assets?

I've been struggling with this for forever and I'd like some reassurance from either of my favourite demons.

But ofc if you don't want to I understand.

Have a great day/evening/night. :)

A/N: Thank you so much! I'm glad you like my writing and I hope you like this one too. ^^

Mammon, Bael w/ Insecure s/o

⟡ Masterlist ⟡ 

Characters: Mammon, Bael

    ༺☆༻

Mammon

“Oh treasure, you can't be serious.” Mammon hoarsely laughs when you confess your insecurities about your body to him. His laugh only falters the moment he sees your hurt expression with glossed over eyes threatening to spill tears at any moment.

“Treasure, you are serious?” His question sounds more like a statement, which both of you know is true. The evident remorse in his voice made you feel better, seeing that he didn't mean to disregard your insecurities.

“I'm sorry. I thought that knowing what you do to me, would be enough to prove to you how truly divine you are. I suppose, I haven't expressed my appreciation enough.” He pulls you in for a tight hug, making sure to drag his hands slowly from your thighs to your lover back. Following all the curves your body has to offer along the way.

You can't help but bury your face into his perfectly sculpted muscles and breathe in the scent that can only be described as ancient.

“I might've been somewhat hasty in showing my adoration of such exquisite piece of art. Would you allow me show it properly this time?” Mammon says pulling back after a while, extending his hand for you to accept or reject his offer. You look into his eyes only to see them silently beg that you let him show you, how beautiful you truly are. As you take his hand in agreement, he leads you to his bedroom to make sure you never forget the way he sees you.

    ༺☆༻

Bael

“What is it, dearest? I'm kinda busy at the moment. The King ran away again and these papers need to be done by midnight.” Bael says completely engrossed in a mess of papers. Beelzebub had long time ago taught him his handwriting, so he can spend more time out and about.

“It's nothing. It's just that I don't feel good about my body.” You confess, only able to guess his reaction as you can't bring yourself to look up at him from the ground.

“That's not nothing. Did anyone have any negative remarks towards you?” He turns on his chair towards you, or at least you presume since his feet are now facing your way and his voice sounds less distant.

“No, nobody said anything.” You shake you head slightly, daring to look up higher to see his legs. Just from the way his legs are positioned, you can tell he's worried.

“Good. I was worried, I'd have to send Naberius or Stolas to some ill-minded demon, who had a death wish.” The way he sounds relieved makes it hard for you to continue. Before you get to speak up again he turns back to his work mumbling about how he's never gonna let Beelzebub live down the fact he left him so much last minute work.

“It's me who has these thoughts. But I'll let you get back to your work I guess.” You turn around and start walking towards the door leading out of the office. But before you can fully open the door, it's forcefully slammed by Baels hand and you're turned around to face him. He pushes you up against it and takes your face into his hands. You finally dare to look him in the eyes and see that he's more worried than he seemed before. His thumbs swipe away tears you didn't notice slipped from you eyes.

“Care to tell me all about these thoughts then, so I can disprove every single one of them?” He licks his lips and lowers his head to get a whiff of your sweet scent from the crook of your neck.

“But what about the paperwork?” You shakily breathe out, still surprised from all the things that have happened in the past few seconds.

“That can wait. You are more important.”

[thesparklingwriter]

@venexus | 𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔

tags: fem!reader, newborn baby, zhongli is getting bullied by his wife and infant daughter, xiao gets a cameo, fluff, fluff, and more (you guessed it) fluff

word count: 1080

an: i have tried to post this five times and tumblr keeps deleting it and i am on the verge of tears and i can’t take it anymore the spacing won’t stop being weird and

Zhongli knocks on the front door a couple of times, holding the warm bundle of joy you’re bringing home close to his chest. He hasn’t relinquished the baby since you woke up from your nap, arguing that you deserved your rest, and as much as you’d like to argue against that, it’s true. You’re exhausted.

“You can just give her to me, you know.”

Zhongli shakes his head. “There’s no need for you to be putting unnecessary pressure on your body. You need to rest, and if I have to force you to do it, so be it.” The baby whines softly, pressing her face into her father’s chest. “See? She’s more than happy here. You should rest.”

You sigh, about to complain some more, when your door is slowly pulled open. Zhongli, being the cautious man he is, suggested that you both stay somewhere closer to doctor Baizhu should something happen during the birth of your child, and hence you found yourself away from home for almost two weeks. You’d come to miss home, even though you were slightly anxious about the doctor not being a few minutes away.

“You’ve returned,” Xiao mutters. He wasn’t entirely overjoyed to be stuck on the detail of house and dog-sitting, but you’d been kind to him, and he figured returning the favour was the very least he could do. “I’m glad you’re well.” he says to you. Despite the fact his voice is somewhat monotone, you know he’s sincere.

“Thank you,” you smile gratefully. “And thank you for keeping an eye on Amber for us.” Xiao seems to become uncomfortable with the earnestness in the air, unsure of what to say, so he nods carefully, excusing himself as you crouch down to pet your dog. She wags her tail excitedly, following you as you try to track your husband down.

Sometimes, you end up missing your baby. Zhongli’s so insistent on making sure you don’t strain yourself that you really only end up holding her if you’re sitting down. Which, you suppose you’re doing a lot since he’s handling pretty much everything else.

You find him in the bedroom, putting her down for a nap. He’s singing softly under his breath—as lullaby he often sings to her that seems to hail from centuries before you.

“You never told me what the lyrics of that lullaby mean,” You say to him, wrapping an arm around his waist as you watch over your baby. He reciprocates, lifting an arm to stroke your hair as he kisses your forehead.

“I’m not sure about the direct translation.” He says carefully. “Something along the lines of growing up strong and annihilating all your enemies.”

“How sentimental.” You sigh.

“How are you feeling?” Zhongli asks you the same question every day, more than once. If it weren’t for the fact that you knew he had reason to be worried, you’d be complaining right now.

You contemplate for a couple of seconds, humming lightly to yourself. “I’m hungry.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

“I feel perfectly fine. Amazing even. So now you can let me hold my own baby without being worried I’m going to keel over.”

Zhongli laughs at that. The baby smiles too, something in her dreams bringing fond memories to light.

“See, it’s a sign.” You grin, leaning forward to stroke her cheek. “You should stop being so paranoid, you know. I’m not going to die, I promise.”

“I am not concerned about your death. I am simply concerned about you over-exerting yourself before you have the strength to do so.” He says. “I suppose you have a point though.”

~

Having a baby at home is vastly different to what you expected it to be. You expected it to be pure chaos, nappies everywhere, laundry piling up to the ceiling, the house trashed from every corner. In reality, it wasn’t that extreme. Yes, maybe you ran the laundry twice as many times than usual, and yes, sometimes little Jingmei would manage to leak through her clothes. But as she got older and you all fell into the swing of things, if anything, having her around was less stressful than life was before her.

“What do you want for dinnner?” Zhongli asks you. Jingmei, old enough now to have the slightest inkling of a personality, babbles thoughtfully in response. Amber hops onto the sofa beside you both, and Jingmei’s babbles become more passionate. “Jingmei, my love,”Zhongli smiles. “Can you please enunciate your words? I can’t understand you.”

You scowl at Zhongli. “She’s trying her best. I can understand her perfectly fine. She’s saying she wants to go to Wanmin restaurant and eat so much she empties your wallet.” You grin at her, pressing your nose to hers. “Aren’t you, baby? We can even go say hello to Tao Tao, can’t we?” Jingmei giggles, the sound of her excitement even making Amber jump up in anticipation. You turn to look at Zhongli with a mischievous smile on your face. “You can’t say no now, Li. Even Amber’s excited.”

“I wasn’t going to.” He chuckles. “I had accepted the proposal the second you said it.”

“Lies.” You smile, standing up to face him head on. “Jingmei and I both know you’re lying.”

“The fact that you’re using a child who can barely speak to further your point lessens its validity. You are aware of that right?”

“You are just one big party pooper. You know that, right?” You hand Jingmei, who has been relentlessly making grabby hands at her father, to him, turning on you heel to go upstairs. “I’m going to get ready. Do not, under any circumstances, tell her any more stories about you thrashing your enemies in the Archon war please. She keeps trying to reenact them with me.”

“I’m training her in the ways of the world. She finds the stories entertaining. That’s all that counts.”

“I don’t find her pulling my hair out entertaining. If you’re going to tell her stories, can you please tell her age-appropriate ones? Like about princesses befriending dragons and becoming doctors.”

“I’m glad you have grand plans for our daughter.” He scoffs. “Ignore your mother.” He says to Jingmei, and she giggles at the mere thought of disregarding your words. “I’m going to regale you with the tale of the time I cleared Liyue of pests.”

[theitgirlnetwork]

Better

Ch. 13: I've Got It

Note:....Been a while. I know boooo, it was very shitty of me, and I'll spare you the sob story but I'm back. Thank you all for the continued support, I am extremely grateful to everyone who gave and continues to give this story a chance. I am ready to get back to work. This chapter is a long one as the beginning of my apology. As always, feel free to reach out to me with any questions or just to chat, but all in all, it feels good to be back. Happy Valentines Day, babies <3

Warning: Toxic Family Dynamics, anxiety, angst and strong language.

“Now we wait.” 

Lip rolls his eyes as he sits on the bed in his and Charlotte’s room at Kev and V’s house, crossing his arms. “This is fucking stupid.”

V’s sharp elbow goes into his side as Kev shushes him, facing the opposite direction. 

The three of them are sitting and waiting outside of the bathroom door, straightening as Carol emerges from the room, blue and white stick in her hands and Charlotte in tow. “Auntie Carol, I told you I’m not pregnant-” 

“Hush, little girl, stop whining.”

“But Mama,” V tries, rubbing her head tiredly. “She just had her period.”

“You shut up, Veronica, you were supposed to be watching her, not letting her shack up while you did, lord knows everything but take care of your cousin. Now I’m gonna hear shit from her father and his wife the whole time they’re here.” The older woman huffs, squinting at the test, snapping her fingers and pointing to the bed, gesturing for Charlotte to sit. “The least we can do is make sure she’s not pregnant when they get here.”

Lip rests his hand on Charlotte’s thigh as he tries to hide his annoyance with the whole situation. The call with Charlotte’s dad had been disastrous, as he suspected it would be. The older man had cursed him to high heaven before demanding Charlotte be on the next flight home. When Lip heard that he’d panicked, snatching the phone back from his wife and hanging up. All they’d received since then was an eerie message that they were on their way. Because he’s him and he has literally no control over his own brain, he had no choice but to question why she hadn’t told her parents about them, about him. It seemed like her dad hadn’t even expected to hear from a boyfriend let alone a husband. They’d at least been together long enough that her parents should know he exists.

In fact that’s all he can think about, aside from the fact that he may have lost his job. And how the two may be related. 

“Fuck!” Lip growls as he punches the wall in the hallway. He’s unconcerned with what Fiona will say about it. He’ll just blame it on Frank. 

Charlotte’s head pops out of the bathroom with a freshly bathed Liam on her hip, both looking as innocently confused as ever. Liam claps his hand, squealing, mumbling out an excited ‘fuck!’ as he meets his brother’s eyes. “No, Liam, that's a bad word. Phillip didn’t mean to say that. He meant to say darn, right Phillip?”

The blond is in too foul a mood to concede for cuteness sake and instead squeezes the boy’s cheek and gives his wife an appreciative pat on the ass before scooting past. “Nah, I meant fuck.” 

Charlotte pouts as she bounces the child on her hip a little before taking him to sit with one his other siblings as she goes to figure out what’s wrong with her spouse. She’s noticed that Phillip has been on edge since her parents’ message, but she was beginning to think that wasn’t all that was bothering him. 

She finds him spread out on the couch, staring up at the ceiling with a scowl on his face. Her pout deepens as she climbs over the side of the couch, laying her body over his, pressing her chest to his and offering him a bright smile. “Talk to me, bubba.” 

“I’ve just got shit to figure out I guess, I gotta handle it or we’re fucked.” he huffs, rolling his big blue eyes, as she smooths the lines between his brows with her soft fingers. 

“Shit like what?” Charlotte asks, tilting her head lightly. 

“Watch your mouth.” He murmurs, softly, dragging his thumb over her bottom lip before pushing it into her mouth, humming with quiet satisfaction as she simply closes her mouth around it, brown eyes staring up at him intently. “That shit at the party, lost my cool, cause that fucker is trying to fuck you-” 

“Don’t want him.” she says around his finger.

“I lost my cool and sorta might’ve cost us a good thing.” Lip sighs, smoothing his other hand over her hair. “Daddy wants to talk to me in his office later this week. Fucked it up, sorry baby.” 

It almost feels worse. How quickly she shrugs off his failures. She doesn’t tell him he fucking sucks, or that he ruins everything. She doesn’t huff and push off of him. She offers him a soft smile, kisses him deeply, and tells him ‘they’ll figure it out’. They’ll do it. Another thing he just can’t do for her. He feels helpless. He loves her, and this job was the biggest step he’s made in showing her that. He might beg. He might literally have to set his pride aside and beg. 

That was part one in the hardest lesson life has taught him. Phillip Gallagher is not good enough for Charlotte Gal…Fisher.

“Yay, Debbie!” Charlotte screams , clapping along as Ian whistles. The family was gathering for Debbie’s first soccer game of the season and it was…not going well. Turns out Debbie’s team sucks and she doesn’t respond very well to the rules and restrictions of soccer. She was currently focusing more on digging her heel of her cleats into the shin of a kid who’d accidentally kicked her hand while the ball rolled past her. 

“Fuckin’ kill ‘em, Debs.” Mickey calls, lighting his cigarette. His brows furrow at the looks the parents around him send him. “I fuckin’ meant, metaphorically.”

“Figuratively.” Lip corrects, smacking away the middle finger that gets waived in his face. He sighs as Charlotte knocks his own cigarette out of his hand before he can light it, slapping her thigh, pulling her leg over his as she giggles in his ear. Lip relishes in the closeness and warmth he gets from this moment. His wife leaning into him, absently toying with his fingers as she cheers for his little sister. 

It makes him think. He thinks about the future. Doing this with his kids. Their kids. Kids he didn’t even think he wanted. Not until her. Just the idea of her opens a world of possibilities he hadn’t even factored in. It feels good. It would feel great, if some fucking idiot wasn’t staring at her like a piece of fuckin’ meat-

“Can I fucking help you, fuck face, or do you wanna keep starin’ at my wife?” He demands, standing immediately. Ian and Mickey are following suit soon enough, the latter, lifting Charlotte and placing her on the opposite side of all of them. 

“Woah,” the guy lifts his hands in surrender, eyes darting between the men nervously. “I just was trying to figure out where I know her from, I don’t want any issues.”

“Let’s just say you don’t know her from anywhere and you get to keep your teeth, alright?” Mickey growls. 

The three men settle back into their seats and return to the game. Charlotte waves off Debbie’s confused look that she sends to the stands. She whispers into Lip’s ear that everything is fine. That the guy probably frequents the bar she works at. But from the way she shifts uncomfortably in her seat, zipping her jacket up to her neck and crossing her arms over her chest, hoping he wouldn’t notice…Lip fucking hates himself. He really does. He hates the guys at the club that pay to see the love of his life essentially naked. He hates that they go around thinking about her after they leave the fuckin’ seedy ass building. He hates that she works there, because despite the fact that her body is beautiful and he’s glad she’s comfortable in it, his insecurity is making her insecure and now they can’t be at his sister’s soccer game, or the grocery store, or the park or the club without someone fucking eye-fucking his wife, pissing him off and making her uncomfortable in her own damn clothes. 

But mostly, mostly he hates himself for not being able to make her like the women sitting on the opposite side for the other team. The soccer moms who have husbands that take care of fuckin’ everything they need and have shit to spare to give them what they want. He hates that she’s not sitting here with one of those fancy, stupid ass purses that they all seem to fuckin’ have. He hates that while they got to drop their kids off at a nice ass school after they kissed their husbands goodbye and then went shopping or drinking or whatever upper middle housewives do with their days Charlotte was helping clean his shithole house. He hates that after the game he’s gonna drop her off to the club where she’ll meet more creeps who get off thinking about her and eye-fuck her in his face. He hates that he’s too pussy to go into the club because then he’s worried he’ll steal one of Mickey’s guns and air the bitch out and Charlotte’ll be forced to visit him in jail for the rest of her life. 

So Lip grinds his teeth and finishes watching the game. Leg jumping as he tries to soothe his temper. That’s part two.

Charlotte’s parents arriving is the nail in the marital coffin for Lip. They go pick them up from the airport in the attempt to make a good impression. The couple borrows Kev’s car and the whole ride their Charlotte tries to keep him in a good mood. He knew he must be walking into the lion’s den from how she’d been acting. They’d had sex twice that morning, and before he could start to offer to make her breakfast for her…efforts, she was pulling out the ingredients to make him pancakes. In the car, she didn’t whine about his music, just humming softly as it played, rubbing his arm as his hand rested on her thigh. He wants to be able to leave it at this. He doesn’t want to interrupt the great morning by asking the dreaded question, but he’s him and he can’t let it go.

“So, we haven’t really gotten to talk about it, but I need to ask…why didn’t you tell your parents about me?”

Charlotte takes a deep breath, staring straight out the window as they pull into a pickup spot. “They’re parents…you know, they didn’t exactly send me here to get married in three months.”

“They won’t approve. Fuck.” he nods.

“Bubba, it doesn’t matter.” Charlotte turns to face Lip, pulling her knee into the seat beneath her. “It doesn’t matter, I approve. I’m more worried about what you’ll think of me. My parents aren’t the nicest people, and…I’m not good with navigating them.”

“Charlotte, there’s literally nothing short of murder you could do that would make me change my mind, you’re not the one we need to worry about.” Lip pushes his tongue into his cheek absently, nervously drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, the reflection of the simple ring shining on his hand. 

“This is temporary, right?” Charlotte murmurs, leaning over the console and placing her hands over Lip’s. “They’ll come, and see how good you take care of me and they’ll go home. ‘Kay?”

The blond man just nods quietly, pulling her hand to his lips and kissing it, savoring their bubble one last time before they get out of the car.

“I hate the airport, it's dirty and busy all of the time.” 

Lip rolls his lips together as he drags his in-laws bags over to the car, listening quietly with Charlotte as her mother and father talk about how miserable their flight has been. Her dad, Victor, had given him a curt nod in introduction and held his arm out for Charlotte to obediently place herself into a hug that Lip could tell she didn’t want. Her mother Cynthia had kissed her cheeks in a European way to where they never actually touch. Both people looked polished, and barely tried to hide their wince when Charlotte said, “This is my husband, Phillip.”

Lip’s wife’s pretty brown eyes haven’t lifted from ground level since they met her parents at the terminal, an absent look on her face as her parents drone on and on with pleasantries.

“...and, honey, don’t you think it’s a little too cold for that outfit?” her mom finishes, as the three of them stand back and watch Lip load the car.

“‘M warm.”

“I am warm.” Her mother corrects.

“I am warm.”

“I don’t know how you could be, with this frigid Chicago air. Hopefully you’re not getting sick. Phillip, you always have to watch her, she never wants to wear a coat, always trying to walk around half naked and expect not to get sick-”

“We’d better hope she’s not having hot flashes.” 

“Victor!”

And that too. The snide remarks. Glances down at Charlotte’s stomach, and positioning himself between her and Lip as they walk back to the car. The muscle in Lip’s jaw jumps in irritation as her father continues to insinuate that the only reason he’s here is because he’s some white trash deadbeat that knocked his daughter up. 

“I’m not pregnant, Daddy.”

“As you’ve told me.” The older man grunts, sliding between his daughter and the car, climbing into the front passenger seat the second the lock clicks open, not even sparing her a glance. 

“Are you guys, uh, hungry? We could stop and get something to eat.” Lip sniffs, glancing up into the rearview mirror to get a look at Charlotte. She’s in the back, toying with her fingers as she stares out of the window. That is until her mom swats at her hand to get her to stop, and she takes to biting her lip instead.

“No thank you, young man, the hotel should be fine.” Victor huffs again, for the fiftieth fucking time since he’s been in the car. “Charlotte, I made you a doctor’s appointment for tomorrow, since you never took the time to find a physician yourself. Your mother will take you after we have breakfast. I assume you’ll be joining us, Phillip.”

Charlotte manages to look up at that, her voice resigned as she addresses her father. “Of course he will, Daddy, we’ll be with you bright early.”

The car goes silent for a moment before Victor mumbles under his breath, ‘you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.’

“Daddy?”

“I’m sorry, are we supposed to pretend that this is okay? Cynthia, I tried, but this is fucking ridiculous!”

“Victor! Please.”

“Okay.” Lip grunts, pulling the car into one of the hotel parking spots in the far corner of the lot. 

“No, Charlotte Andrea Fisher, you are 19 years old. You are away from home for the first time, against my better judgment. You have been away for only 3 months. You are naive, and impulsive, and for some reason want to be like your cousin Veronica so damn bad. You are going to take your ass upstairs to the hotel room your mother and I got you and you are not shacking up with this boy-”

“He’s not a boy, he’s my husband, Dad.” Charlotte whimpers from the backseat. Lip grinds his teeth and unbuckles his seatbelt, catching her mother roll her eyes and rub her forehead as he climbs out of the car.

“Oh, god, the waterworks-”

“You are a little girl, and that is a boy. You’re talking about marriage, that sham is getting annulled, if it was even legal-” Victor follows suit, climbing out of the car and slamming the door, opening his wife’s before walking, meeting Lip at Charlotte’s door. The older man goes to tug it open, only to be stopped by Lip’s hand. “Move.”

“No. My wife is coming home with me.” he says calmly.

“Your wife? Your wife, she’s my daughter, and she’s coming with me and her mother-”

“Her mother and I.” Lip says smugly.

“Oh.” Victor cocks his head, taking a step closer to an unflinching Lip. “You think you're tough, boy?”

“You tell me, we’re from the same place.”

The older man glares past him to the car window again. Shifting his attention to Charlotte. “Charlotte Andrea Fisher-”

“Gallagher.” Her muffled voice calls from behind the cheap glass. “My last name is Gallagher now, Dad.”

It’s quiet. Soft. Her voice waivers. But still. She said it. And still, it fills Lip up with pride as he leans against the car door, using its keys to click it closed as he watches her mother drag her husband away. Forcing him to the hotel.

After he watches the fancy, sliding double doors close behind them and the yelling becomes a little more faint, Lip unlocks the car. The way she falls into his arms crushes him. The tears, the shaking, the sobs of ‘I thought they’d give us a chance’ that part hurt. 

Lip Gallagher has watched his parents abandon his siblings. Hit them. Steal from them. Lie. Everything in the book of bad parents. He’s been watching it his whole life. He’s numb to it. It’s life, he tells them. Doesn’t matter, they don’t matter. Frank and Monica. They’ve never been anything to them, and never would be.

But watching this. Watching Charlotte lose her parents in front of him, because of him, he’s never seen anything like it. He’s sad for her. He watched them rip her to shreds with words and disapproving looks. They came here and broke the love of his life within an hour and a half.

This wasn’t the final straw.

No, because Lip’s girl is sweet. This is something he’s always known, and in anyone else he’d call it a flaw. She’s like Debbie, but less vengeful. She forgives. Gives second…third…fourth chances. Hell, its the only fuckin’ way he’s been able to keep her, and normally, he’d thank whatever shitty higher power that’s up there that dropped this woman in his lap for him to hoard to himself but not today.

“She says she wants to say sorry for him. I’m not gonna talk to him, just her. She promised.”

“Bunny, I’m not gonna tell you don’t see your mom-”

“Good!” Charlotte chirps as Lip watches her tug on some notably baggy jeans over her shapely legs, and pull an oversized sweater over her head.

“‘M gonna tell you it’d be pretty fuckin’ stupid though.” he finishes, grabbing the edge of her sweater and pulling her into his lap as he sits on the bed. 

Charlotte smoothes her fingers over his cheek before leaning her forehead against his. “Hm, like threatening your boss's son?”

“Fuckin’ defendin’ your honor.” he grunts, tilting her toward him and patting her ass.

“My hero.”

“Exactly, and now I’m the fuckin’ dragon, lockin’ you up in the tower so the evil people who made the princess cry yesterday don’t get to do it again.”

“That’s really not how fairytales work. And dragons can’t lock doors.”

“Fuckin’ smartass.” Lip breathes, connecting his lips to hers, kissing her deeply. He squeezes her tightly, trying to wring every negative thought out of her head. “They hurt you.” he whispers against her lips.

“They’re my parents. They think they’re doing what’s best for me. They’re not. But that’s what they think.” she whispers back, pressing one more kiss to his lips before pulling away. “So, I’m gonna go to this doctor’s appointment. Do another pregnancy test. Show them we’re married because you loveee me. And then, I’m gonna tell my mom our love story, leaving out some key details. And I’m gonna make her love you like I do, Bubba.”

Lip sits back and takes in her words. Because maybe that is what she’ll do. Maybe Cynthia will reconsider and maybe that will make things better. Maybe they’ll understand their situation and that they love each other and he’s pretty sure they won’t fuckin’ love him but maybe they’ll understand that he fuckin’ loves her. “Hopefully not like you love me. You’d have some competition.” she gasps at that, smacking his arm. “What? You look alike!”

The plan was clear. Charlotte was supposed to go and charm the pants off her mom on Lip’s behalf, he was supposed to be at home, hold down the fort, and figure out what the hell he was going to say to his boss, to get his job back. 

Lip had set up shop. He’d plopped back on the run down couch in his house, and pulled one of his little siblings toys from underneath his ass and started rolling a joint on the table. It was time for him to play his part. Think. For him, and for his family. 

But then there was the knock. And then it turned into knocking. It was incessant.

“Fuck! Hold on. ‘M fuckin’ coming!” He calls, tripping over the plastic bat on the floor when he makes his way over to the door. “What-”

“Phillip.”

“I…what the fuck are you doin’ here? Come to yell at me s’more?” 

Victor Fisher stands with his arms crossed. Polished with a neat sweater and ironed pants, looking wildly uncomfortable and out of place in his own old neighborhood. “No, I…think I did enough of that yesterday. At least that’s what Cynthia tells me.”

“Okay,” Lip shrugs, leaning in the frame and catching Victor’s glance at the chipped paint. “Well, she tell you that she and Charlotte are going to the doctor?”

“Yes. It was my own idea to come down here and ask you to come get something to eat with me while we wait.”

The blond’s eyes narrow as he laughs incredulously. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.” 

“Not at all.” Victor sighs, crossing his arms. “I am extending an olive branch. For Charlotte’s sake. Grab the other end.”

For Charlotte’s sake.

“So tech. Good business.” 

“Technology and science are languages that I’ve always been able to speak. It pays too.” Lip shrugs, pushing a forkful of eggs into his mouth. 

“Well?” Victor asks without looking up. This has been their breakfast so far. Short, stilted conversation. Lip answering the questions Victor fires at him. Trying to gauge his reactions to everything he says. Pretending he wasn’t starting to hate this man.

“Gettin’ there.” 

“How many siblings do you have, Phillip?”

“Uh, five.” 

“Smart like you?” he asks, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“They’re smart.”

“But not like you.”

“Uh, no. Not like me.” Lip shifts in his seat, suddenly unable to follow the conversation.

“Hm.” Victor reaches to the side of the table, pouring more coffee into his cup and then into Lip’s. “Charlotte is an only child, you know that?”

“I know everything about Charlotte.”

“So, you know why we want her to go to the doctor so badly?” 

“Fuckin’- yes!” 

“You know she’s got chronic pain? That she suffers from sickle cell? She told you that?”

What?

Lip tries to keep a poker face as all of the wind is knocked out of his body. A thousand questions are swirling around in his head. His chest hurts. He didn’t know, why didn’t he know? He should have known-

“Do you know what happens when people who suffer from sickle cell go into crisis? What a flare up of chronic pain looks like for her?” Victor sighs, fully removing his glasses this time. “Probably not, you’ve known her for three months. But it happens, and it's bad. She…she can’t move. Barely eats, loses weight rapidly. The pains. The shakes. The crying. Are you prepared for that?”

“Yea-yes-”

“I’m sure you could. You’re a man. I understand that. You grew up here. You’ve had to be a man long before you were supposed to and that is unfair and I’m sorry that happened to you but the reality is, Charlotte is a girl. You two are a year apart, but you’re a man and she’s a girl. She grew up in a nice house, with me and her mother. She went to nice schools. We knew she was pretty, too pretty for her own good, so we protected her from the boys not worth keeping around-”

“Fuck you.” Lip scoffs.

“No, I’m not implying you’re not worth anything, Phillip. Boys like you from this area are diamonds in the rough. Just like me. I was just like you. And I got the girl. You have Charlotte, I had Cynthia. I know how it feels to hit the lottery.” Victor pauses to take a drink of his coffee, gesturing to the waitress for the check. “But Phillip, I don’t speak to my siblings. My parents. They were deadbeats. My siblings stayed here. I left them behind. They hate me. All of them. And over time, I’ve learned that I don’t care. I chose Cynthia. I chose me. They were holding me back. I let them go. Because you’ll learn, Phillip, that getting there only gets there, when you can focus. You can’t keep two families afloat.” 

Lip works his jaw irritably, feeling his skin heat with irritation as he weighs what his father and law says. “What are you trying to say? I should abandon my family?” 

“No. I’m saying it's not too late to choose them and annul your marriage. We both know you can’t take care of Charlotte. Not the way she should be. Not for a long, long time. So give her back to people who can. People who can make it worth you and your family’s while.”

“I…” Lip grits his teeth at the sound of his voice cracking. “I love her. I take care of her.” “She’s been living here, working as a stripper under your care. Want better for her, Phillip.” Victor says, snapping his checkbook closed as he slides the piece of paper across the table. The waitress comes over with the bill, dropping it between the two men and Lip absentmindedly reaches into his pocket to find some money, pausing when the older man holds his hand up to halt him. “Don’t worry, son. I’ve got it.”

Sending the message was hard, but it was the only way Lip knew how. 

He knew he couldn’t look Charlotte in the face yet. No. He needed more time. Time to think. Time to decide he was doing the right thing. Time to finish talking himself into this. 

Victor told him what he needed to do. Bend her heart, not break it. Neither of them wanted to see her broken. Just hurt her enough that she’s prepared to go home. Charlotte’s stubborn, so she won’t just give up. She won’t run to her parents so easily. So Lip would need to be able to hold out long enough that she would give up. Get tired. Realize it was over and go home. 

And Lip would be able to pay the bills in the house, for the next three months. One month for each one he and Charlotte had together. He would be able to get his family a car. He would have something to drive back and forth to work in. A real car. Not a run down busted up car barely off the junk lot. A real car. One that he could keep for years.

So, he came home. Her mom kept her out a long enough time, clearly in on this plan to write him out of Charlotte’s fuckin’ life. He went to his house. He looked his siblings in the face and told them that he was ending things with Charlotte. And they were fuckin’ pissed. The kids weren’t talking to him. Debbie said she hated him. But she’d get over it. That’s what Victor had said when he’d told him how they loved Charlotte. 

Carl mumbled something about a ‘waste’ and shoved past him. Liam doesn’t understand. And Lip knows that he’ll feel horrible when his baby brother wakes up tomorrow asking for her.

Ian and Fiona were the worst. Ian started rattling insults immediately. Telling him what a piece of shit he was. He knows. Telling him this is the only chance at something good, at love he’ll actually get. He fuckin’ knows.

Fiona just asked so many questions. Why? What happened? Are you sure? 

That all stopped when Lip shrugged, schooling an emotionless expression onto his face, dropping the check onto the kitchen table and snapping his phone closed as he finished his message. “It’s done.” 

All of that hurt. It fucking sucked and he felt like blowing his brains out when the flood of text messages started rolling in. But nothing could beat the crying. The begging. 

“Bubba, please.” Her voice is small on the opposite side of the door, the whining lilt to it has his entire body tense as he leans against the wood, staring at the wall over Ian’s shoulder, refusing to make eye contact with any of his siblings. “I love you. Why are you doing this?”

“Lip-” Fiona starts, cutting herself off when her little brother looks up at her, wide blue eyes watery with tears, an exhausted look on his face, jaw clenched so hard she worried his teeth would crack. She thinks this is a mistake. She loves Charlotte, and even more, Lip loves Charlotte more than anything, but this was his decision, and he was her brother. 

“I love you, what did I do? M’sorry.” she whimpers, soft thump letting the three siblings know she’d slid down the door. “Please, I love you. Please…st-stop.” 

The three eldest Gallaghers stand there in a stalemate. Ian shifts on his feet, quietly shaking his head as he looks away. Fiona watches her brother struggle somberly, wondering if she could have done anything that would have avoided this. 

And Lip, silent, straight faced, completely devoid of emotion as he rests his head against the door, staring forward. The only indication that he feels anything at all is the few tears that managed to escape down his face. 

It goes on like this for an hour and a half. At 40 minutes, Ian scoffs, mumbling under his breath as he storms his way up the stairs, slamming his room door closed, causing his sister to flinch. Once the standoff reaches 1 hour and 15 minutes, Fiona sighs, scrubbing a tired hand down her face before patting an unmoving Lip’s shoulder, retiring to bed herself.

The sobbing and constant knocking at the door had slowed to quiet pleas, still making Lip’s chest hurt just as bad. He’s doing what’s best for her. He knows that. It hurts now, but she’ll recover from this. She’ll be better, she’ll have a chance to do better than him. 

Lip will never recover. He knows that too. He knows that this is his better. His best. Being with Charlotte is everything. That’s why he doesn’t deserve it. He should’ve never tried to drag her down with him. He can’t give her the life she deserves, or the things she should have access to. He could only offer her hard work, and being bound to mental illness and alcoholism. Trapping her with a baby, forcing her to live in the fucking slums and dance for a couple of bucks from creepy frat boy fucks and drunk limp dick losers like his father. 

Soon he can hear footsteps approaching the doorway, Charlotte is immediately riled up by the presence of whoever it is. “No, no, no, he needs to talk to me. Something is wrong, I don’t know what I did- Phillip, please.” 

“C’mon Lottie, let’s go home.” Lip recognizes Kev’s muffled voice from the opposite side of the door. After some quiet arguing, he finally releases a breath when he hears the wood creak under the weight of them walking away. 

The man ignores the crushing feeling in his chest, the gut wrenching pain that comes with the realization of what he’d just done. A numbness spreads over his limbs as he hazily makes his way over to and up the stairs, breathing shakily. He reaches the doorway of his dark room and stops there. He wants his bed. He wants to climb under the covers and pretend he didn’t just blow up his fuckin’ life. But he can’t make it over the threshold. 

This is her room too. He didn’t think this through. She’s touched everything. How was he supposed to lay in the bed that they laid in together? Her clothes are still in the drawers. Pictures still taped to the mirror and walls. Fuck. 

It’s humiliating, the way he breaks down. Strong shoulders shaking with stronger sobs. Body curling over until his knees simply give out, he sits on the floor next to the crack in the wall where Carl had drilled a hole to hide drugs for Frank. The sound of miscellaneous toys left out squeaking under him. Lip pulls his legs to his chest and cries, because it’s all he can do. Despite every ounce of his being telling him, ‘stop being a bitch,’ ‘the fuck are you cryin’ about, pussy?’ he can’t help it. And he doesn’t stop. Not when his throat started getting sore, or his back started to hurt. Not when the sun starts to peak in through the half broken window in the hallway. Not when he feels his little sister lay a blanket over him before sitting beside him, quietly resting her head on his shoulder.

Charlotte doesn’t fare much better. She finally fell asleep with V rubbing her back, sleeping in her cousin’s bed while Kev slept downstairs. When she wakes she has a pounding headache, her eyes are puffy and burn. She wraps one of the blankets around herself before dragging to the bathroom, brushing her teeth and splashing water on her face. 

She’s hurt. Heartbroken and confused. She knows why he’s doing this. Her parents said something. Did something. Something that made him decide she isn’t worth the trouble. 

But she wasn’t going to give up without a fight. She loves Phillip. She loves her husband, and she didn’t take their time together lightly. She pulls on one of Phillip’s sweatshirts and jumps her way into a pair of jeans before looking at herself in the mirror. 

“Hey, honey,” V’s soft voice comes from behind her, Charlotte’s cousin appears over her shoulder, wrapping her arms around the younger woman. “I didn’t think you’d be up.”

“I’ve gotta,” she sniffs, combing her fingers through her hair. “I’ve gotta take Liam to daycare. And um, make sure Carl remembers his science project. See if Phillip wants me to have lunch with him at work today, I could…I could make him something-”

“Lottie.” V interrupts, “Didn’t Lip-”

“He’s confused.” Charlotte says sharply, swinging her purse over her shoulder, holding her hand out to her cousin expectantly. “My key to their house is in our room. I…don’t normally need it.” 

“Charlotte, listen. I’m not saying this to hurt you, but that boy left you crying on the porch in the cold, that sends a message. Don’t you think you two need space?”

The younger woman shakes her head stubbornly, looking forward to the door, refusing to look at V. “No. Space will let him spiral. My parents made him doubt me, I’m gonna show him that they don’t know what they’re talking about, that I’m what he wants and needs, no matter what they say.”

Determined, Charlotte makes her way next door, unlocking the door with V’s keys and gets to work immediately. Frank is passed out on the couch, so she nudges him awake with a beer at the ready, guiding the drunken man out of the door so he won’t be there when everyone wakes up. Next she starts on the bacon and eggs, brewing a cup of coffee before climbing the stairs to grab Liam, changing and dressing him. “G’morning Liam, did you sleep well?” she coos, pressing kisses to his cheeks as she makes her way back down the stairs. 

When she gets down there, Fiona is sitting at the table, eyes going wide as she sees her sister-in-law. “Lottie? I…when did-”

“Early this morning. I know yesterday was really weird, and I’m sorry you guys had to see that-”

“Hey,” Fiona smiles, taking Liam from Charlotte’s arms. “There’s no embarrassment with family. Gallaghers know no shame, girl, and you’re one of us.” 

And she means it. Fiona watches as a wave of relief washes over the girl bustling around her kitchen, dumping fresh bacon onto a plate. “Thanks Fi.” Charlotte tucks some hair behind her ear, sliding a bowl of cheerios in front of the toddler. “I’m sorry to even ask you this, but did he talk to you about anything? Like something they said or s-something I did-”

“Mornin.” 

The deep voice makes Charlotte’s heart drop to her stomach. She turns slowly, as if she’s approaching an animal that’s likely to scare. And there he is. Standing there in his pajamas, hair mussed, bags under his eyes. But still handsome as ever to Charlotte. “Phillip.”

The blond pauses for a beat. His blue eyes are cloudy for a moment as he takes in the girl before he slips past her, ignoring her extended hand, offering a mug of coffee, opting to open the fridge and grab the orange juice instead. “Hey, you come here to pick up your stuff?”

“My…my stuff? Phillip-”

“I uh, gotta get to work.” he sniffs, grabbing his bag from it’s place on the kitchen floor, slinging it over his shoulder with his jacket in his hand.

“But-” Charlotte flinches as the door slams shut, shoulders tense as she stares after her husband. Fiona quietly slips behind the girl, resting her hand on her shoulder, apologetic for her brother’s behavior, but unable to do anything about it. “He means it.”

Charlotte had whispered so quietly that her sister-in-law didn’t catch it, leaning in for clarity. “What?” 

“Phillip, he’s leaving me, and he means it.” It was like a rock landed in her stomach, both painful and grounding, Charlotte steels herself. “Fine.” she huffs, grabbing her own bag and storming out of the house, slamming the door shut behind her.

Phillip’s day had been absolute shit so far. He woke up to his boss’s daddy’s assistant calling him in for a meeting. No doubt calling him in to fucking fire him for beating the living shit out of his pussy ass son. Lip doesn’t regret it. Not really. But he regrets losing his fucking job. 

On top of that, he came downstairs to see the one person he couldn’t handle seeing. She looked so damn pretty, mixing up in his kitchen, bein’ with his family and shit. The hopeful look in her eye as she saw him enter the room. He didn’t deserve for her to fuckin’ look at him like that. He wanted to kick his own ass for how broken her pretty little face looked when he dismissed her. He loves her. That’s why he’s doing this. Her eyes were pink and puffy. She’d been crying for him. The fact that he was fighting with himself not to like that…he’s a sick fuck. Like he’s said, he doesn’t deserve her. 

Lip doesn’t even bother asking Kev to use his car to get to work, opting to take a walk to the train station to clear his head. He was in no real rush to be fired. As he blows into his hands to warm them, he lets his mind wander to the last place it needs to, but the only place it seems to want to go. 

“So, what the fuck are they mad at her for? They don’t wanna do the band shit anymore?”

Charlotte giggles, running her fingers through his curls as he lays his head on her lap, scowling at the television. She was educating him on Disney movies; it seemed that in the process of raising his siblings along with his sister, he’d never gotten the chance to experience sitcoms and original movies that were formative for her childhood. He’d said, ‘I’m not watchin’, put your shit on and I’ll take a nap’ but here he was, watching intently with a wonder that made her heart ache. “Guess they don’t have your work ethic, bubba.”

Lip hums contentedly, bringing her free hand to his lips, absently pressing kisses to her palm as he continues watching the movie. “Yeah, I know you liked her little rapping white boyfriend.”

“Um, excuse me? Even though he’s cute-”

“Knew it.”

“And you happen to also be a white, blonde with blue hair, most of my exes haven’t been white, I’ll have you know.”

He tried to swallow down the comment, really. But he fuckin’ couldn’t hold himself back, sue him. “Yeah, how many exes are we talkin’ about?”

He expects for her to get offended, or be evasive. Tell him to fuck off. That’s what any of his sorta exes would’ve done. Hell, that’s what he would’ve done. With anyone but her. He’ll tell her whatever she needs to know. But Charlotte has soft edges. Even when he’s being a dick, she has softness for him he’d never experienced before. 

“Not many, baby, just like, five.” She smiles gently, smoothing her hand over his hair again. “You’re the only one who matters now, Phillip.” she takes a deep breath, leaning down to press her forehead against his, and Lip can’t help but lean up to meet her, eyes trained on her face as hers slip closed. “Love you.” she mumbles.

She’s everything. “I love you, Bunny.”

With that, her brown eyes open, staring down at him with joy, she wrinkles her nose. “Ew, you like me?” she teases, squealing in his ear as he pushes himself up, grabbing her thigh and tugging her down on the couch.

“Fuckin’ brat.” he chuckles breathily against her lips, slapping her thigh lightly as he descends on her, her giggles ringing out into the air.

“Fuck.” the blond huffs out, roughly wiping at a stray tear before storming up to an abandoned car, left on the frozen grass and kicking at one of the doors, denting it slightly. He breathes heavily, shaking his head and turning to go back to his path to the train. Her laughter. That fuckin’ pretty ass laugh that she’s gonna end up giving to someone else makes him feel like he could vomit. He could hear it. In his head. It used to be nice. Now it feels like his heart is being wrenched from his fuckin’ chest. Damnit! 

Lip drops his bag onto the ground, lifting his leg and kicking the car again. And again. And again. Until he stops. Then, he starts punching the windows, his knuckles start getting bloody as the glass shatters and breaks under his efforts. But he keeps going. He just keeps punching, and kicking, and screaming…? When did he start doing that? 

He was so focused on what he was doing that he didn’t even notice someone approaching him.

“Lip…?” A familiar voice calls out. Familiar, but not the one haunting him now. “Well, it’s been a while, I can guess how you’ve been.”

He stops, turning to look at the person intruding on his break down, brows furrowed. The blond reaches in his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, raising it to pluck one into his mouth before offering it to them. “The fuck are you doin’ here?”

“Needed a nice bed, and food. Came to check on my mom. Aren’t you gonna ask me how I’ve been doin’?” 

To say Charlotte was pissed off was an understatement. Hot, angry tears stream down her face as she swings open the door to V and Kev’s house, throwing her purse on the floor. She tries to level out her breath as she pushes into the bathroom. Charlotte rests her hands on the sink as she watches herself cry in the mirror. Sobs racking her body she doubles over with the force of her crying. She was glad no one was home to see her like this.

She doesn’t even know what she’s doing when she climbs into the tub, bringing her knees to her chest. She raises her left hand to look at the small ring on her finger. It’s not what she used to picture. When she was younger, she would envision her life. She would dream about what her ring would look like. What her husband would be like. 

It was always a ring like her mother’s, a large house like she grew up in and the some faceless prince who spun her in circles but surprisingly never spoke. 

This life she was building with Phillip was nothing like that. They live in a small house with his siblings, he’d shared a room until he was 18 and got her ring from his drunken father. It was small, and wouldn’t pass as a kids toy where she came from. Phillip was quiet compared to his siblings, but generally loud, crass, and aggressive. With everyone except her at least. He was a prince. He does spin her around, and hug her, and kiss her and look at her like she’s everything. The life he gave her was better than she’d imagined. 

But he’s ready to throw it away. And it hurts. Charlotte is tired of being the one being hurt. 

She sits in silence for a few moments, staring at the tiles on the wall before she can distantly hear her phone chiming in her purse outside the bathroom door. She tries to ignore the clench in her chest, the little glimmer of hope that it’s Phillip, calling to say sorry, that he’d changed his mind and he was coming over so they could make up. Charlotte pushes out of the tub at the third chime, walking on unsteady legs over to the bag, sniffling and tucking hair behind her ear as she squints to read the messages.

It’s her manager from the club, asking if anyone was interested in working the day party for today because the promoter’s entertainment fell through. Normally, she’d turn this down. She knows how Lip feels about her new job, and for her it was only a means to an end. They were discussing alternatives until this shit started. But maybe working a party would be a good way for her to get her mind off of things, and make some extra cash. Especially since it seems she’ll be doing things by herself for now on. 

“So you got married? That wasn’t a joke?”

“Uh, nope, real shit.” Lip takes a final swig of his beer before sailing it into the street, smiling softly at the glass shattering before opening another. 

“Hm, never thought you were the marrying type.” 

“M’not.” 

Karen shrugs, sipping her own beer and looking up at him. “Must’ve been pretty though, to get you down the aisle. Or pregnant. Both?”

“Not pregnant.” He says, opening his phone and showing her a picture of Charlotte. He supposes he’s gonna have to stop having those at the ready, if he’s gonna move on. As if he could. 

“Damn, she’s sexy.” Karen’s eyes widen as she grabs the phone. She remembers the current situation and bites her lip. “Sorry.”

“S’fine. She is. Fuckin’ beautiful.” 

Karen looks out into the road again, hesitating for a moment before nudging Lip’s shoulder. “Want me to take your mind off of it? It’s been a while.” 

Before Lip had even met Charlotte he had told himself he’d never fuck Karen again. She’s better now, sure, but she also almost fucking ruined his life multiple times. Once he had met Charlotte, he hadn’t even thought of it. He really didn’t consider that he’d ever fuck someone else again. A realization that surprised himself more than anyone, considering he’d never been the monogamous type. 

But now he’s in pain. And he doesn’t think he’ll ever be with Charlotte again. That makes him feel cold in a way that he’s never felt before. Lip, desperate for any kind of break he can get from what he’s feeling, rolls his eyes to the sky. “Yeah, fuck it, why not.”

“Gee, you used to be a lot more excited for me to get you off.” she mumbles against his cheek before leaning in to kiss his lips.

Lip turns his head away, pulling his mouth from her reach, “Don’t um, kiss me.”

Karen looks at him for a moment before laughing. “Okay, kissing used to be your thing, not mine.” As she kneels in front of him, Lip finds himself squirming uncomfortably, looking everywhere but down when he feels her unzipping his pants. “Um…are you…is it like, too cold?”

“Uh, no, I’m…gimme a second.” He feels like he can’t breath, the ring on his finger feels like it’s literally fucking scalding his skin. 

“Oh-kay.” 

A few more moments pass and Karen speaks again. “Do you want me to help you? Is there anything I can do?”

“Nope, no, not at all. Just, shut up for one second, please.” He brings his hands together, tugging the ring off and putting it in his pocket and prays.

“You can think of her if you need to. I don’t mind.” she tries again. 

“Um, yeah, maybe.” He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, and lets the images of Charlotte that he’s racked up over time run across his brain. It feels good to think of her. To sift through the memories of her smiling up at him, holding him close, crying out his name. But he couldn’t trick his mind or body. He’s in love. Still. And she’s not the girl on her knees in front of him. “No, no.”

“No?”

“Yeah, sorry, I can’t I’m…I don’t think I can fuck someone who’s not my wife. At least right now.” Or ever. Shit. I’m never gonna get my dick wet again.

“Jeez, that’s serious.” Karen says. She hops up, tucking her hands in her pockets. “What is she? A contortionist?” Lip just looks at her and she sobers, her smile dropping. “Sorry. I’m serious. I’m talking to you as a friend, talk to me. Your wife is hot, and nice, and clearly has a hold over your dick, so what’s the problem, why’d you leave her?”

“She’s perfect.” Lip sighs, lighting another cigarette, the muscle in his jaw jumping as he works back the lump in his throat. He’ll be damned if he cries about this in front of Karen.

“Okay so-”

“She’s perfect. She’s everything, she deserves everything and I am stuck here. I live here. I was born here, I’m gonna live and die here and I don’t want her here to do it with me. So I can’t have her, that’s fine I’m teaching myself that it's fine but it fuckin’ sucks! It fuckin’ sucks Karen, and it’s fuckin’ worse because she’s willing to stay. I hate her for not making this easy!” He roughly throws the bottle into the street, barely missing a parked car.

“Oof. Okay. Clearly, you need to get your mind off of things.” She says, scooting the remainder of the six pack the pair of them bought from the liquor store across the street away from him. “C’mon, let’s get you a real drink and some recreational drugs.”

“You’re making some good tips out there girl, they’re loving you at this party.” 

Charlotte smiles briefly before leaning over the vanity, reapplying her lip gloss in the mirror. 

“Of course they are, they’re actually seeing her. Normally, guests only get a glimpse of the back of her head, before she runs into the back again to check in with her man.” 

“Well, he won’t be checking in today, so-”

“What?”

Trish leans back in her own seat to look at her friend. “Did something happen with you and Lip?”

Charlotte tries to ignore the quiver in her lip and stare forward into the mirror, focusing on the pink she’s applying on her lips. “I dunno, he’s doing his own thing, I’m doing mine, I guess.” 

“Well, that seems-”

“Girl, about time!” Kelsey, one of the girls Charlotte met through the club, claps, pushing her way into Charlotte’s seat. “All you talk about is that man and his gaggle of kids. Now, we can invite you to do fun stuff. We can go out!”

“They’re his siblings, first of all and they’re good kids.” Charlotte sighs, smoothing her hands over her hair.

“Gallagher kids? Okay.”

Charlotte’s eyes narrow, her mouth opening for her to ask her co-worker what the fuck she meant by that, something she would’ve never done a couple of months ago. But Trish beats her to it, patting her arm and shaking her head. Instead of telling her other coworkers about herself, Charlotte settles for rolling her eyes and mumbling, “We could’ve always gone out.”

“Please, the way you used to all but trip over yourself running out the door to climb back on Lip’s dick? When would we have the time to ask?” 

“There’s nothing wrong with the girl loving her man, Renee.” Trish intervenes, leaving her arm tossed around Charlotte’s shoulders. Was she really that pathetic? Did she really spend all her time running behind Phillip? She supposes that she never took the time to think about it while it was happening, but is this what everyone thinks? “Just because you don’t have one.”

“Well,” Kelsey shrugs, rubbing more glitter lotion onto her chest and meeting Charlotte’s eyes in the mirror. “Doesn’t seem like Lottie does either anymore. So, Lottie, have you dislodged yourself from Gallagher’s side or not? Are we going out”

Charlotte fully plans to say yes. For the first time since she’d met her husband, she thought that maybe this is what she should have been doing. She’s only ever had two identities in her life. Mr. and Mrs. Fisher’s daughter, and Phillip Gallagher’s wife. She’s never been Charlotte. Not when she left home, not when she got her first job, she just went from being one person’s possession to another. Maybe this is all a sign that she should focus on being alone. However miserable that sounds. That’s why, whether you believe her or not, she was going to say yes. 

Until her phone rings.

“What’d you even give him anyway?”

“Don’t fucking make it sound like that, it was just some weed and booze!” 

“Fuckin’ weed and booze, he’s on his fuckin’ ass Karen! Fuckin’ idiot!”

“Fuck you! How was I supposed to know he drinks and smokes like a little bitch now?” the blonde girl huffs loudly as she turns back to the drunk man in front of them, barely intelligible as he slams his hands down on the bar again, demanding to be served another drink. “Lip, seriously, we need to fuckin’ go-”

“Get the fuck off me, I’m married.” 

The bar owner emerges from the back again, his cellphone in hand, a scowl on his face. “Aye, Gallagher, she’s takin’ too long, he’s scaring the real customers, get him outta here before I gotta call the cops.”

Ian groans, running his hand down his face, “Yeah, good luck cleanin’ up all the coke you’ve got on these tables before they get here. Fuck off, your place is a dive, Billy.” Turning back to his brother, the redhead, tugs his arm, making the shorter brother stumble but ultimately not moving him at all. “Lip, come the fuck on man.”

“Just fuckin’ leave me alone. Not listenin’ fuckin’ idiot-” he slurs, shoving Ian a little before grabbing a half drunk beer from the bar and downing it. 

“God-fuckin’-damnit-” Ian growls snatching the already empty bottles. His brown eyes catch on something over at the door and his tense stance settles. “Thank god.” he mumbles under his breath.

Karen’s eyes follow his over to a woman who looks just like the one Lip had shown her earlier, a tense, concerned look on her pretty face. Her cheeks dimple as her lips turn down into a frown upon spotting the spectacle in front of her. Her hair is tied up into a clean bun, her body covered with a matching sweat suit. Her eyes look exhausted. So that’s the wife?

“Phillip-”

“Bunny, you’re here, come drink with me, baby.” The blond offers her a crooked, drunk smile that has the same knee weakening effect on both women. His muscled arm shoots out, wrapping around the girl’s waist and tugging her to him, all but dragging her into his lap. 

“No, Phillip, it’s time to go home. Let’s get you up.”

Big blue eyes roll closed, his forehead falling forward, uncoordinatedly thunking against the woman’s forehead. She doesn’t flinch, just keeping her tired, sad eyes on him as he inhales deeply, breathing her in. “We gonna go home together?”

It’s the softest voice Karen has ever heard the eldest Gallagher son use. He’d spoken to her softly before. They’d been best friends, lovers. He was always scared of her leaving…rightfully so. But this, it was like he was scared that she was going to break if he rose his voice too much. It was like he was whispering a secret that’s just for them and everyone else in the room is intruding. Karen hadn’t ever seen anything like it. She likes this for him.

The girl was ordering water, grabbing a straw from over the bar and guiding it to Lip’s mouth as he stayed close, rubbing his hands along her hips and mumbling about missing her between gulps. She hadn’t even looked at Karen, her eyes had locked on Lip since arriving. “Um, I’m Karen by the way.”

Big brown eyes finally take her in. There’s no disdain behind them. No hate. She doesn’t look at her like every other girl who’s ever loved Lip has looked at Karen. She just offers a tired look. Glossed lips parting briefly, snapping shut again when she feels the Lip’s head droop forward onto her shoulder, quick hands shooting up to cup the back of his curls. “I’m Charlotte. I’ve got to get him home, are you okay?”

“I’m..I’m sorry?”

Charlotte bites her lower lip in determination as she pats his cheek, getting him to stir awake again. Her eyes never return to acknowledge Karen. “Up, Bubba, up. Are you okay to get home? I…need to take him home, are you okay?” 

Oh. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Okay, Ian, can you please help him, help him stand?” Karen watches as this woman, Charlotte helps hoist Lip’s weight onto Ian, the redhead slinging his brother’s arm over his shoulder, nodding at Karen as they make their way out of the bar with her…ex? Best friend?

She can’t help but compare herself to the girl. She knew that they were both pretty, generally attractive in different ways. Both short. Big eyes. Round faces. Their difference physically was glaringly obvious, but that wasn’t what mattered. It was in the eyes. Everything is in the eyes. Not the color, but the looks.

When the evening started to turn sour, Karen had been fucking annoyed. She hates babysitting. Hates having to take care of people. That’s why she’s always loved being around Lip in one way or another. That’s why they’d been such good friends. He was the caretaker. He takes care of people. His family, neighborhood kids, her. He doesn’t ask for anything for himself aside from the occasional blowie, and it was mostly a joke. 

Until he asked for more. Until he asked for love, attention and care and a partner. Things that Karen had no interest in. Things that crazy bitch Mandy wasn’t able to give him. He needed too much. He went from something easy to do, someone easy to be around to being this person who needs things. 

It was hard, too hard. Being with Lip is exactly the daunting task people think it would be. But Charlotte, his wife, she’s doing it. She looks exhausted, pissed off, and just caught her husband hanging out with his ex. But she came. She managed to unclench her jaw and offer him a soft look and kind voice. 

Karen had been poison to him. She knows that. She was bad for him, and to be honest, she’d thought that even with the time had passed he wouldn’t have been strong enough to get her out of his system. But, she should have known better than to underestimate Lip Gallagher. He found something good. Someone for him. 

Good for him.

“I know you’re mad at’me.”

“Shut up, man, you’re just gonna make stuff worse.”

“M’talkin to my wife, motherfucker, you shut up.” Lip slurs as Ian all but drags him down the street. “Sweetheart-”

“Phillip, please.” Charlotte begs, voice cracking as she refuses to turn around and face him. Her arms are wrapped tightly around her own form, walking several paces ahead of the Gallagher brothers up the dark road. “Please.” 

It had been going on since they started walking. He keeps trying to talk to her. He keeps calling her all of these sweet names and they fucking hurt. They hurt like him telling her that they could get their marriage annulled. They hurt like him telling her to go with her parents. They fucking hurt like him let her sit on his front porch crying and begging just to see him as he sat on the other side of the door. And now, she understands that he’s drunk or high or whatever, but she needs him to stop talking. 

Her plea is answered with the silence she asked for. Shocked that he actually went silent, Charlotte whips around to see if he’d fallen asleep, but is met with big blue eyes with dilated pupils, brows softened as he meets her shaky gaze. 

The woman turns around so he can’t see her chin tremble as she leads the group onto the streets. Another voice breaks the silence, over the sound of three sets of footsteps, only one set steady, the other two, sloppy and wavering. “Lottie, what do you wanna do?”

She knows what he’s asking. They’re rounding their homes. Where should he put him? Is she going to stay with him? And she immediately feels shame wash over herself. She knows the answers to all of those questions. She should be embarrassed. This man has treated her like shit over the last 24 hours. She hates how he made her feel about herself. She didn’t understand how he could be both the man who strolled past her as if he didn’t know her this morning and the one who was just looking at her the way he did. 

But she’s weak, and he’s everything. 

And she’s already shifting his weight from his brother's arms into hers, stumbling a little under it as she guides him toward her cousin’s house.

“Charlotte.”

“It’s okay.” she breathes. “I’ve got him.”

And she struggles getting him to the door. He tries to help, she can tell. But he’s too fucked up, his motor skills are lacking and only set back any progress she makes. She grips the railing with her spare hand as she helps him up the last step. She tells him to watch his step as she leads him through the doorway, eyes locking V’s as the wooden floors creak under his steps. She ignores the disappointed look on her cousin’s face as she guides her husband to her room. Their room. 

But as she pulls the shoes from his feet and helps him into bed, she’s confident in one thing. Charlotte knows she loves this man. It doesn’t matter what everyone else thinks the breaking point should be, or who they envision her with. She wants him. And she was going to keep acting like it.

Charlotte feels a tightness around her waist as she wakes up in the chair she’d dragged into the bedroom once she’d gotten Phillip settled. Her eyes are already watering as they peel open, burning from tears and exhaustion. 

“I fucked up, Bunny.”

“Yeah,” Charlotte sighs, sniffling a little and letting her head drop back against the wall. “How bad?”

“I fuckin’ hurt you-” his voice is muffled against her stomach, his arms tightening around her, fingers squeeing and releasing the fabric of her shirt. 

“Yes.”

“I hate that. M’just fucked up, y’know? But m’sorry, baby, m’sorry.”

Charlotte is annoyed by the sob that leaves her body involuntarily, causing him to pull her even closer to him, her butt almost hanging off of the chair. She’s even more annoyed that she’s wondering if his knees hurt from kneeling on the floor in front of her. She shouldn’t care. “You left me outs-side alone.”

“I know, baby, I know.” she feels a wet spot forming on her shirt and tries to stop her lower lip from shaking. “Fuckin’ supposed to be taking care of you. I’m a shitty husband, you deserve better. And I’m trying to be that, I swear, Charlotte I fuckin’ swear. I…I’m gettin’ to keep my job, and m’gonna save more, gonna get us some more money, just gimme a little more time, sweetheart. I know this fuckin’ sucks, but I’m gonna do better-”

“You’re hurting me.” Charlotte mumbles, staring up at the ceiling, letting the tears freely fall down her cheeks. 

Suddenly his arms are gone from her waist and he’s staring up at her, frantically running his hands through his curls. “M’sorry, I was holding you too tight-”

“Have I done anything to make you believe I won’t wait? Have I cheated on you? Made you feel bad about not having a house for us? Buying a car right now? Anything? What did I do to deserve you telling me you didn’t want to be with me anymore? Stop hurting me!” She finishes with a stomp, feeling childish. Lip is quiet as he listens to her, his hand running along her thigh in soothing strokes.

“You’re perfect. You didn’t do anything, Charlotte. That’s why I was fuckin’ tryin’ to do the right thing.” Lip huffs, clenching his jaw anxiously. “I was tryin’ to give you up. Because there’s somethin’ wrong with me Charlotte. I can’t get out of my head. Everyday I wake up and hear how too fuckin’ good for me on loop in my head, and then people remind me, and I can say fuck ‘em, they’re not you, I don’t care what they think, but then your parents came-”

“Fuck them too.”

“No,” Lip pushes up off the floor and paces in the room. “Not fuck them, because yes, they’re fuckin’ assholes, but they made you, and you’re fuckin’ everything, so they are pretty much the authority on what’s good shit and what isn’t. I don’t deserve you, they know it, I know it, for some fuckin’ reason, you don’t know it, so let me make this clear for you, Bunny. This shit shouldn’t be so hard. I’m hurting you. That’s not what being in love with you feels like for me. My love for you isn’t good enough, because it’s making you suffer. Being in love with you gives me a fuckin’ reason to breathe. So I was trying to be fuckin’ good. And let you go.”

Charlotte watches as he finishes, standing in front of her. Blue eyes bloodshot. The veins in his neck popping out, his chest rising and falling with effort. He looks so serious. And all she can do is laugh. Literally, put her head in her hands and laugh. 

“Um…what the fuck?” he asks incredulously, watching her shoulders shake with her laughter. 

“You’re such an asshole, Phillip.” she giggles, wiping her wet cheeks, gasping in an attempt to stop her own laughter. 

“I’m really not fuckin’ gettin’ the joke here.”

Charlotte shakes her head, crossing her legs as she sits up fully in the chair, trying not to break at the confusion on his face. “Don’t you think it’s a little too late for you to decide that you want to save me the trouble of being in love with you? You pursued me, you asked me to marry you, you made me love you and it's too late. I’m stuck. You leave, I’m still hurt. You stay, you can choose to man up, make good on your promises, stop feeling sorry for yourself and be a good husband. You want to stop hurting me, then stop hurting me. Stop talking about me deserving better and be better.”

The couple stares at each other from across the room, nothing but white noise from the house fills the air as Charlotte’s challenge hangs between them. A few beats pass before Lip begins slightly nodding his head, the same focused face he keeps when he’s working on a project from work, or doing people’s taxes for extra money. Lip smooths his hand over his jaw, clearing his throat. “Okay. I’ll be better.” 

“Okay.” 

“Can I…uh, hold on a second.” The blond murmurs, crossing the floor and places his hand on her jaw, dragging her up into a deep kiss, absolutely breathing her in as he nearly pushes her chair back with the force he pushes against her. He breaks away only lightly, his lips against hers, as he speaks. “I love you. I’ll be better.”

“I love you too.” she smiles. “And I know.” 

This is good…this is better. I’ll deal with the rest later.