#president of the shit dad club

[ruindunburnit]

[96buzz]

PROMPT,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I THOUGHT I WAS USED TO BEING ALONE."

She chuckles,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎it's short and almost bitter but there's something warm within it:‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎the black sheep of the team,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎no one would expect her to connect so deeply with @warpainte‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(it's funny how fathers work,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎how they give you half your blood and red strings that tie around your neck).‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Loneliness is not simply the physical state of being locked in a room,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎because they can look around with their tired eyes right now and see teammates scavenging and shaking no matter how hard they try to hide their hunger.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Slowly,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎they're becoming a single unit:‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎outside of a team,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎there's so much more now that binds them.

Together,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎they sit in a locked room,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎together,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎they are lonely,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎but only when you look at each individual can you determine the absolute gnawing isolation that tears their psyche.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎At least Mikayla gets them,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎in some ways that's enough for a few seconds at a time.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You'd think us being locked up in a shitty cabin with all our teammates would make us feel less lonely."‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎But I just feel like shit,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎she nearly says,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎but instead,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎there's a forced huff:‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎a note to themselves to shut the fuck up.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"At least back home we had music or movies or shit.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The deck of cards doesn't even have any queens in the deck,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎so fuck solitaire."‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Green eyes glance over to Mikayla,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎and for a moment she tries to bite back a grin.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"At least we get the entertainment of seeing how fucked up our teammates can be."

[fanficimagery]

The Nanny

When babysitting your neighbor's kid, trouble seems to find you.

Author's Note: SOA AU - No Tara, Clay, or Gemma. Trigger warning for violence! This was supposed to be up for Valentine's Day, but as you can see... that wasn't the case lmao.

Charming, California is one of those picture perfect little towns where everyone tries to be prim and proper, and act like their shit doesn't stink. And in the short time that you've lived here, you quickly realized that the law-abiding citizens hated the fact that Charming was home to a MC, the Sons of Anarchy.

It doesn't bother you to see them riding down the streets as you're out and about, but you do find it hilarious that a majority of the locals either gasp in outrage upon seeing the bikers or avoid them at all costs. You find the bikers very easy-going, but then again the club president is your neighbor.

Jax Teller had taken it upon himself to introduce himself when you were moving in, carrying boxes for you and flashing a rather charming smile as he pumped you for information about yourself. You knew what he was doing, and it was rather laughable, but you had nothing to hide and were a rather boring person, so you gave the information freely. Between the two of you, he was more interesting as a MC president whereas you stayed home and lived off the money your brothers made. Jax seemed interested in what your brothers did for a living that they were able to provide you with the life you have, but you explained they made their money because of the family business that provided private security for celebrities and individuals with a high profile. You helped them with scheduling, but they still did a majority of the work.

Finding out Jax has a son (Abel) makes your heart warm towards the biker, and then warm up to the club when his brothers visit every now and then. Juice was really just a goofball when he wasn't doing business for the club, Chibs was a secret sweetheart, Tig was a little crazy, Happy was hard to read, but it was Opie who was the most normal of the bunch.

You settle into your home quite nicely, working from your little office when your brothers need help to prevent any scheduling conflicts. Then in your downtime, you either have a book in hand or waste time on your gaming system. Jax and his brothers have been over a couple of times, drinking a beer to wind down or eating whatever leftovers you happen to have after you've already eaten.

This morning, however, you've just finished making breakfast when there's a knock at your front door. With a strip of bacon in hand, you answer the door and are surprised to see Jax and his son Abel standing there.

"What's up, Teller?"

He immediately smiles and your eyes narrow. "I hate to do this on such short notice, but my nanny canceled. Do you think you could watch Abel for the day?"

You glance down at the blonde boy, shrugging. "Is he cool staying with me?"

Jax glances down and nudges his son, but Abel merely asks, "Do you have more bacon?"

You open the door wider as you chuckle. "Sure, kid. You want some eggs and hashbrowns too?"

"Yum."

Abel walks into your house without a care in the world and you meet Jax's amused gaze. "So are there any rules I should abide by? Are you one of those dad's that limits screen time or bans sugar?"

"Nope and nope. No allergies either."

"Cool."

"Thank you. I owe you."

As Jax starts to walk down your porch steps, you say, "I'm a slut for food, Teller. Bribe me with food and I'll say yes to anything."

"Anything?" He peers over his shoulder and arches an eyebrow. You scowl at him.

"Almost anything."

Jax laughs. "Don't cook tonight then. I'll bring some cheeseburgers and fries from this diner that makes pretty good food."

"Alright."

. .

. .

When Jax returns later that night, Chibs and Happy follow after learning he was picking up food from the diner. What surprised them, however, was that while Jax parked in his driveway, he started taking the food to his neighbors house. But Chibs, nor Happy, said a word and followed their president with their own food when he didn't protest.

Jax is poised to knock on the door when he hears, "Don't you- don't you dare do it, kid. If you do it, I will personally wait until you turn seventeen to kick your little ass." The words give Jax pause because what the actual fuck! But then Abel's giggling makes him grin.

"Did she just threaten to kick Abel's ass, Jackie?" Chibs wonders, smirking.

"I think so."

"No, no, no! You blue-shelled me?! You're like two. How do you even know how to play this?!" Jax snorts and finally knocks. The trash talking suddenly ceases before… "It's open! If you're friendly, welcome! If not, I got a little ankle biter in here and I'm not afraid to sic him on you!"

Jax laughs some more and enters the house, walking to where he hears all the commotion. Walking into the living room, he can't help but smile at the sight of YN and Abel sitting side by side on the couch, attention focused on the TV where they're apparently playing Mario Kart.

"You bring the goods, Teller?"

"Burgers and fries as promised."

"You are currently my favorite Teller." Still your attention is on the TV, your trash talking his kid being kept very polite all of a sudden. Jax, Chibs, and Happy have no idea what's going on, but suddenly one of the characters is spinning out because of a banana peel and then Abel's giving a long, suffering sigh as the other character passes the finish line. "Yes!" You jump up, pointing down at Abel. "Sucks to suck, kid. Now come on. Your pop's got the goods."

When you finally look up at Jax, you momentarily freeze when you see Chibs and Happy there as well. "Oh. Hey, guys. Kitchen's this way."

Everyone follows you into the kitchen and you immediately grab drinks from the fridge. When you turn around, Jax is divvying up some food for himself, Abel, and you. You pass out the beers to the men and you have cans of Sprite for yourself and Abel. Then as you take the last remaining available seat since Jax kept Abel on his lap, you thank Jax for the food before digging in.

"So did you have fun today?" Jax asks his son.

"Yeah. I got to color and watch TV and play games."

Jax glances at you and you shrug. "I made do. I would have gone to the store to pick up some stuff for him, but I didn't know if you'd feel comfortable with me taking him anywhere."

"I appreciate that."

"So what about you? Is your nanny good or will you need another favor?"

"Uh, she actually might be out for a few more days."

You nod. "I can do it. Is it cool if I take him to the store with me tomorrow morning? I forgot how much little kids snack throughout the day."

"Yeah. I have an extra car seat you can use and I'll leave you some cash."

"Nah. Don't even worry about it. I'll be snacking with him, so I can front the bill."

But still, cash ends up thrown onto the table from both Chibs and Jax. You have a feeling it'd be useless to argue, so you say nothing.

After dinner, Jax helps you clean up before they all take their leave. He tells Abel to tell you goodbye and your heart absolutely melts when you crouch down, and Abel hugs you.

You visibly melt as you hug the little boy back and then pull back to tweak his nose. "Okay, you're officially my favorite Teller again."

Abel smiles at you as Jax laughs and then you bid everyone goodbye at the door.

Abel ends up preferring your company to that of his nanny, so Jax ends up splitting his son's time between the nanny at his house and you at your own house when you have nothing going on.

On this particular day, after a lunch of sandwich and chips, you and Abel are lounging in a kiddie pool right in the middle of your front yard. You even went as far to put up a canopy to have the pool half in the shade and half in the sun, and are soaking in a sports bra and a pair of black tights that look like shorts.

You're sitting in the shade, sipping on a juice box as Abel stands on the other side playing with water blasters. You hear the rumble of a motorcycle, unsurprised to have Jax checking in.

As the blonde walks up, you smile innocently as he laughs. "Where did the pool come from?"

"The store." You shrug. Abel takes the moment to load up his blaster with lukewarm water and shoots his dad with it. Jax doesn't bother dodging the stream. "We saw a commercial for the waterpark and since we can't go there, I brought the water to us."

Wiping water from his face and using it to slick his hair back, Jax crouches next to the pool and asks, "How much do I owe you?"

"Not a cent, Teller." You sip on your juice, grinning. "I haven't been in one of these since I was a kid. This is for me as much as it's for Abel. He just gave me the excuse of getting one and chilling in it without looking like an idiot."

"Well I don't know about that���"

He trails off and you gasp in mock outrage. As he laughs, you say, "You're lucky I respect the kutte and the fact that you have a phone in your pocket somewhere. If I didn't, I'd drag your butt in here with us."

"Next time." Jax splashes his son and then stands before Abel can shoot him point blank with water. "Am I grabbing dinner tonight?"

"Nah. Abel already made a request. He wants chicken tenders and fries."

"And what the little man wants, he gets?"

"Obviously." You roll your eyes playfully. "Plus, it's an easy meal and I enjoy it too."

"Alright." He chuckles as he starts making his way back towards his motorcycle. "Don't stay in the pool too long."

"Yes, sir." You mockingly salute him, lips twitching when you see him momentarily tense before relaxing once more. "See you later."

. .

. .

It's past Abel's bedtime by the time Jax makes it home, and already he's prepared for his kid to either be bouncing off the walls or very cranky. But as he nears YN's house, he notices that it's mostly dark. All the lights are off with the exception of the porch light and a couple of lamps he can see through the windows that peer into the living room. And the TV, of course.

Instead of knocking, he lets himself right in. It's almost too quiet, but he can hear the TV playing rather low in the living room. Heading there, he walks up to the sofa and can't help but smile at the sight that greets him. YN is laid out across the sofa with Abel on her chest, his back to her front. Both are knocked out cold.

Without second guessing himself, Jax pulls out his phone and snaps a quick photo. Chuckling to himself, he then walks around the sofa as he pockets his phone and crouches down. "Hey. YN," he gently calls out while shaking her shoulder.

It takes a few shakes before you wake, sleepily humming until Jax's voice coaxes you until you're fully awake. Your arms wrap around Abel on instinct and when you notice Jax's smirking presence, you relax. "What time is it?" You mumble.

"A little after ten."

"Really? Fuck. I guess the sun really did kick my ass if I'm this sleepy."

"Yeah." Jax chuckles and then carefully starts to gather Abel in his arms. "Sorry about showing up so late."

"Don't even worry about it." You sit up, rubbing your eyes and yawning. "You know I adore your kid." As you follow Jax to the door, you remind him about going away for a week and not being able to watch Abel, but that you'll have your phone on if Abel wants to talk.

Jax laughs. "I swear, my kid loves you more than me sometimes."

"It's only because I'm a better cook," you muse.

Jax opens his mouth to argue, but ends up shutting it and shrugging. "You're not wrong there."

As Jax then exits your home, you bid him goodnight and watch until he disappears into his home.

When you explained to Jax that your brothers made their money because of the family business that provided private security for celebrities and individuals with a high profile, you weren't lying. Nor did you lie when you also explained you helped them with scheduling for said high profile individuals.

What you chose to leave out, however, was that your family had such a great record with security because no one wanted to fuck with a family who had connections to two different cartels through your dearly departed parents.

However, before you settled into the calm life of personal security, your brothers made a name for yourselves as ruthless hitmen amongst the cartels and you… you were a little unhinged when you were caught up in the moment as one of their torturers. You worked for the cartels when they needed you to, but when you and your brothers wanted to distance yourselves, it was the cartels who helped set up your security business.

The week spent with your brothers is just to visit and catch up with those who all three of you came to see as uncles. It was most definitely not supposed to end up with you being caught off guard by a fist to the face. Someone who didn't know all what you were capable of took advantage of the fact that you were a woman who was close to big names within the cartels. They thought you to be easily taken down and used as leverage, but what they didn't count on was you hiding daggers on your persons. The fight was dirty and bloody, and by the end of it you were spitting mad.

You have the urge to carve into someone that your brothers are trying to quell for once when your phone rings. You pull out your phone mid-pacing, and then freeze upon seeing Jax's name on the screen. But it's not a normal call- it's a video call.

"Fuck."

"What?" Your elder brother asks. "Who is it?"

"It's my neighbor. Most likely his kid Abel since I babysit him most of the time." Your brothers glance at each other and you roll your eyes. "I've told you about them. Now toss me my hoodie. I can't let them see my face like this."

Before the call ends, you answer it but make sure to angle the camera away from the bruised side of your face. "Hey, Jax, give me one sec," you say. Your brother tosses you a hoodie and you quickly pull it on after setting your phone down. Then you take a seat at the kitchen table, turning off a few lights so it's a little darker and you can hide within your hood. Picking up your phone and keeping only half your face on camera, you smile. "Hey, guys, miss me?"

Jax's smile falters, but Abel immediately starts talking, telling you all about his day with his dad. He tells you he misses your food and play time, and you assure him you'll be home soon. You tell him about hanging out with your own family and even make your brothers wave at the camera when you switch it on them. Abel's little voice telling them hi makes you smile and then Jax is telling Abel to go watch some TV before bed.

Left alone with Jax on the phone, his smile vanishes. "What happened?"

"What do you mean?" You refuse to meet either of your brothers' gazes as you can feel them staring at you. "Everything's fine."

"Bullshit." Your brothers snort and you huff. Very reluctantly, you pull your hood down and maneuver the camera so it catches your full face. Jax's expression hardens. "Fuck."

"Don't worry. It looks worse than it is."

"What the fuck happened?"

You shrug and quickly glance at your brothers, but they're back to doing their own thing. "Went out drinking with the family and got caught in a brawl. It's been handled."

"So I don't have to gather the boys and kick some ass?"

His words make you huff a laugh. "Nah. I'm pretty sure I put the guy in a hospital."

"You took down a dude?! Now that's hot. I wish I could have seen that."

Uncaring that they're eavesdropping, your brothers burst out laughing and you sigh. You can't help but smile and you end up rolling your eyes when Jax laughs too. "Whatever. How's Abel really doing? Is he driving his official nanny insane yet?"

"Not really. He's just moping around."

"Aww." You coo. "Well I should be home soon. I'll take him to the park or something."

Jax's teasing smile turns genuine. "You know, I've never told you this, but I appreciate everything you do for Abel. You don't have to do anything, but you still treat him like family."

"What can I say? I like kids." You shrug. "And my idiot brothers will never give me any nieces or nephews."

"Hey!" Both your brothers protest.

You grin at them before looking back at Jax on your phone. "I should get going though. We have a meeting with the uncles here in a bit and I need to get ready."

"Alright. No more fights unless I'm there to avenge you. I can't have my favorite girl looking like she's in an abusive relationship."

Snorting, you say, "No promises. Tell Abel goodnight for me and to come up with a plan for what he wants to do when I get back home."

"Will do. See you soon."

As soon as you hang up, your brothers start making teasing kissing noises. "Oh shut the fuck up."

Valentine's Day has never been a day that you really cared for. Sure it was sweet to see teenagers and kids swap gifts and/or cards, or to buy candy half off, but it didn't bother you to have a significant other on this day. But you do remember how good it felt to get a gift as a kid, so you want to make sure Abel has a good day.

With your time spent with Abel, you've come to know that he loves certain fruits and chocolate. So after heading to the store for a quick shopping trip, you return home with strawberries, bananas, and melting chocolate. Then after cleaning the strawberries and chopping up some bananas, you dip them all in the ooey-gooey chocolate before letting them harden while fixing up a white dessert box with edges that say Happy Valentine's Day.

You've just filled the box with chocolate covered fruit when your phone rings and you can't help but smile at the name. You're no stranger to how handsome Jax is, but you know better than to go there with him.

"Hey, Teller, to what do I owe the pleasure of your hot voice?" You immediately answer.

Jax's laughter meets your ear before, "While it's nice to hear you like my voice, I'm actually calling on behalf of Abel."

"Aw. What does my favorite Teller need?"

"You know I'm your favorite Teller, YN." You hum, not denying his words. "But Abel is requesting your appearance here at the shop because he has a very important question to ask you."

"A very important question?" You muse. "What does Abel have to…" You trail off, the amusement in Jax's voice suddenly making something make sense. "His question doesn't happen to coincide with what today is, does it?"

Jax chuckles. "I am not ruining the surprise."

"I swear to God, Jax, if I end up crying I'm going to kick your ass."

"I look forward to it. Now get pretty and get your ass over here. Do not break my kid's heart."

"Never. And I'm always pretty, Teller."

"...yeah. You are." Your eyes widen at his words, but you don't say anything. Jax then clears his throat. "I'll see you soon."

"Y-Yeah. I'll be there in ten."

You can feel yourself blushing as you hang up, but quickly put it out of your mind as you hurry to your room to get dressed. You pull on a black sundress that's covered in sunflowers, the flowy skirt hitting right above your knees. You step into some black wedge sandals and quickly tie your hair up in a messy ponytail. You apply the basic amount of makeup and spritz some perfume around your body.

Heading downstairs, you throw all your necessities into a purse and then grab Abel's box of chocolate covered fruit before heading out.

The drive to Teller Automotive isn't a very long one, and you're soon parking in the lot. You leave your purse in the car, but you keep your box of fruits in hand. You get several wolf whistles as you cross the parking lot, but you merely laugh off Tig and Chibs' teasing.

Before you can enter the auto garage, Jax walks out, a smirk in place. And then before you can ask him what he's smirking for, your gaze is drawn downward to Abel who walks out behind him… and oh. You fuckin' melt.

Abel's hair is slicked into a faux hawk, a red bow tie is clipped to the very crisp white button shirt that's tucked into a pair of tiny faded jeans. In his hands he's holding a teddy bear that's adorned with a miniature Sons of Anarchy kutte, and a red carnation. The adorableness of it all makes you melt and tear up at how cute he is.

"Oh my goodness. You look so handsome," you tell him.

As you crouch so you're more at his level, you make sure the skirt of your dress still covers everything. Abel blushes as he asks, "Will you be my Valentine?"

"Hell yes I will." Abel smiles as he hands over your gifts, and Jax and the others- who were apparently listening in- whoop in celebration. "And as my Valentine, it's only fair that I give a gift as well. Strawberries and bananas covered in chocolate. Your favorite," you tell him.

Abel is so ecstatic over his gift that he nearly knocks you over as he hugs you. When Chibs ask him what he's got, he's more than happy to run off and show his uncles what you've given him. Jax offers you a hand up and as soon as you're steady on your feet, you notice him looking at you in a certain way.

"What?" You huff a laugh, carefully wiping away your tears that never fully fell.

"You are amazing, you know that?"

"Hardly. Tiny Teller is just adorable as hell." You can feel yourself starting to blush so you glance down at the teddy in your hand. "Where did you find a tiny kutte anyway?"

"It's actually Abel's. The guys had it made for him when he was born and he wanted your teddy to have it."

"I'll take extra care of it then." When you glance back at Jax, you ask, "So does Abel have to stay or can I take my valentine out on a date?" You have no idea what Jax had been thinking, but it's like your words make him snap. From one second to next, he goes from staring at you in awe to gently grasping your face and pulling you into a kiss. You gasp but quickly return the sentiment. And when Jax pulls back, still cupping your face in his hands, you ask, "So me wanting to take your kid out on a date really did it for you, huh?"

Jax barks out a laugh and you smile as he leans in for another quick kiss. "Been wanting to do that for a while actually."

"And you waited until this moment to do it," you muse. "Jokes on you though. You gotta stick around and listen to your boys tease you about this while I take Abel out all on my lonesome." You kiss him for a third time and then step out of his reach to holler, "Little Teller, let's go! It's you and me, buddy. Whatever you wanna do."

As Abel approaches with a lot less fruit, he asks, "Can we eat pizza in the park?"

"We sure can. Now say goodbye to your dad so we can go stuff our faces."

Dating Jax Teller is rather thrilling. You do not care to know what goes on in the club unless it pertains to any woman trying to sleep with him, or when Jax needs someone to vent to. Then, and only then, do you let your opinion be known about what goes on with the MC.

But while you have nothing against the MC, you still prefer to spend a majority of your time with Abel. Sure you'll show up to some parties so all the other women know Jax is off limits, but you're content to do activities with little Teller wherever he wants to be for the day.

You thought it was cute Jax tried to shield you from the violence the club was capable of, but never pressed him for information when you noticed he looked stressed about something. This time, however, you wish you had pressed him for information when he asked you to stay in with Abel.

It's nighttime, and you and Abel are relaxing in front of your TV as you watch some new Pixar film about dragons and their riders. The two of you are dozing off when your front door is kicked in, which then makes you jump into action. But you're not just defending yourself, you have a little boy to think about. So before you can find a proper weapon, you're left standing in front of Abel who is now clinging to your leg as he whimpers in fear.

"Jax Teller chose a pretty one this time."

"Fuck off."

The men all chuckle in front of you. "Take her."

. .

. .

The Sons of Anarchy roll up to a subdivision that's still in development, cautiously dismounting their motorcycles and arming themselves. A new MC had established themselves in a neighboring town, looking to make a name for themselves, and they thought knocking down the Sons a peg or ten was what they ought to do to establish their foothold in the MC world for good.

The encroaching MC took to ambushing the Sons whenever and wherever, and the people of Charming were starting to become afraid of strolling their pristine streets. Even the Sheriff was looking to the Sons to end the conflict, but they could only do so much. Unfortunately, one of the fights involved a chase on motorcycles as the Sons were making a run, and the son of the enemy President took a bullet to the right side of his chest and fell. His injuries then resulted in a coma which set off to this little meeting.

As they creep through the eerily quiet streets of the deserted subdivision, Opie flanks Jax. "I don't like this, brother. Something feels off."

"I agree," Chibs says. "We should have put the club on lockdown before ridin' out."

Jax sighs. "Too late now."

Juice, Happy, and Tig jog up to homes still under construction, trying the doors or looking for any signs that someone's been there. It isn't until they get to the end of the block that they notice one home has been vandalized and they know that's where they're supposed to go.

Every Son cautiously enters the house, nose wrinkling as the state of the house. But in the middle of the living room, there's an odd clearing around a small round table. And on that table sits a folded notecard.

The Sons seem to freeze, but then Jax is marching towards the note. Snatching it up, the words written make him tense as his world starts to tilt. "Fuck. They're going after Abel."

As the note flutters to the floor, the Sons all race after their President as he flees the house.

The note read, [A son for a son.]

On the way to YN's, Jax instructs half the Sons to break off and check on the club, while also making calls to get everyone on an official lockdown. Jax, Opie, Chibs, and Happy race to his neighbor's house.

When they pull up, a few neighbors are peering out their doors looking a bit distraught. Immediately, they know something terrible has happened, and that feeling is only intensified when they spot the broken down door.

Rushing to park in YN's front yard, guns are pulled from the back waistband of their jeans. Jax takes point as he enters the house and his heart drops to his stomach. The house is an absolute mess, furniture and glass broken.

The TV is still playing some cartoon movie and when he walks further in, he curses at the sight of a body laying in a pool of blood.

Happy peers over his shoulder. "Now we know she can hold her own."

"Find them. Now."

. .

. .

Sitting in the bathtub, Abel clings to you as his face hides against the side of your neck. Your face hurts from the numerous punches you took, your lip is split, your arms have multiple lacerations, and there's blood dripping into your eyes. But your worst wound is definitely the bullet wound to the left of your abdomen, and you're grateful that Abel's weight is putting pressure on the towel you had pressed against the wound.

It's been quiet for what seems like forever, but suddenly you hear movement. Shakily raising the gun you'd taken from one of the intruders, you take aim and dare the next motherfucker who enters to be someone intending harm on you or the boy in your lap.

The door gently swings open, but no one is there. Your arm hurts from holding the gun up and then you see someone try to peer around the door jamb. You can only partially see his face, but the voice- you recognize the voice even if you rarely hear it when you're at the club.

"Baby girl?"

"...Hap?"

The stoic man steps fully in the doorway, putting his gun away as you drop yours in the tub. Abel shifts as he whimpers and you wince. "Jax! Upstairs bathroom!"

Abel realizes his uncle's voice and dad's name, so he moves to turn. Happy is quick to lift him, his eyes widening at the blood soaking his clothes. "S'fine. My blood," you tiredly tell him. "I didn't… I didn't let them touch him."

"You did real good." Happy's assurance makes you smile, but you're just so tired. As your eyes slide shut, you hear, "Hey! Don't do that. Stay awake, YN."

"Tryin'…" Pounding footsteps race up the stairs and it isn't long until Jax, Chibs, and Opie are pushing their way into the bathroom as well. Jax takes Abel right away, eyes scanning the room before they land on you. Happy and Opie move to help you out of the tub, but Chibs is quick to point out your bleeding wound. The last words you say are, "Call my brothers," before darkness consumes you."

. .

. .

Jax is pacing the hospital waiting room, blood covering his shirt and hands from where he carried Abel. Chibs had taken Abel back to the club to clean him up and fill in the others about what was going on, but now he's back and filling in the Sheriff about what they had walked in on at YN's house. Thankfully Jax and YN's neighbors liked them, and were honest about hearing gunshots before the Sons had frantically rolled up.

Opie and Happy are the only two sitting patiently, but their attention is drawn to a large group of men entering the room. Two men in particular glance around before making a beeline for Jax, but the others hang back by the door. It's evident these men mean business as they stand guard, their suits standing out among the scrubs, kuttes, and regular clothing of the others sitting in the waiting room.

When Jax notices the newcomers, his shoulders sag at the sight of YN's brothers. But his interest is piqued with the suited thugs behind the brothers, tattoos visible along their hands and neck.

The brothers quickly introduce themselves as Noah and Theo, both of their expressions grim.

"What happened?" Noah asks. He's the elder of the two, his muscled torso covered in a button down with their sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

"They were after my kid," Jax immediately tells them, voice low. "She took a bullet for him and she's in surgery right now."

Both brothers' jaws clench.

"Do you know who they are?" Theo asks, tapping away on his phone.

"Yeah. It's another MC. They attacked us on a run and the son of the President took a fall off his bike. He's in a coma, so the President went after my kid in return."

"And your kid was in the care of our sister," Noah realizes.

"Yes."

Noah sighs, running a hand down his face. Then after a few more taps and texts, Theo grins. "Found them."

Jax frowns. "Found who?"

"The people responsible for putting our sister in the hospital."

Jax then tenses. "This is club business, man. We'll handle it."

Both Noah and Theo tense, but end up chuckling. Jax's jaw clenches, but he keeps his anger in check.

Noah says, "If you think it'll remain club business when YN wakes up, then that means my sister hasn't confessed the family secret."

Jax freezes. "What secret?"

"We had to get our start somewhere when our parents died," Theo tells him. "And it just so happened that each of our parents came from very powerful, very wealthy families. We worked our way to the top of the food chain and became rather notorious until we wanted out and settled into the business we currently have."

Noah starts to smirk. "Your club business just became cartel business, my friend. And our uncles are livid that their little girl was attacked."

Jax glances at his boys, but says nothing.

"We'll find them and keep them occupied," Theo says. "When YN is released, she'll be out for blood."

"And she'll get it," Noah muses. "After all, she is quite the little torturer."

When you wake up, you're unsurprised to find Jax by your bedside. You are surprised, however, to learn that he knows about your past thanks to your brothers promising bloodshed. You groan, but then remember Abel. And after assurances that Abel is fine, you relax.

You're anxious to know where you stand with Jax as he explains why you ended up in the hospital. He feels guilty for not telling you what was really going on or putting you on lockdown, along with the club, but you don't blame him for what happened. Dating the President of an MC, you were bound to be pulled into the violence sooner or later, and with your past you knew you could handle it.

When he runs out of steam, it's your turn to start apologizing for not telling him about your life with the cartels. You make sure he knows that you would have never endangered Abel, and if your past had come calling, you would have made sure that they were protected at all costs. Jax assures you he's not mad, but he did wish you would have told him given you knew about the roles some of his brothers played in the club.

But what's done is done, and Jax is more interested in what you plan on doing since your brothers have gone quiet after calling him to inform him that they've got a majority of the MC tucked away in a building that no one can hear the impending mayhem.

"They broke into my home and put a bullet in me just to get to Abel and send a message to you," you say, expression turning thunderous. "The one who shot me doesn't get to walk away. Hell, the ones who fuckin' raised a gun in Abel's direction are lucky that they'll be limping away after I'm done."

"Limping away?"

You slowly smirk at him, lowering your voice. "I'm not gonna draw out my punishment, but my brothers and my uncles' men sure as shit ain't gonna sit back. They're gonna make sure they get the message that they fucked with the wrong people."

Jax huffs a laugh and then ends up staying for as long as the nurses would let him, only leaving when YN's brothers came or he had to go pick up Abel so he'd see that YN was fine for himself.

Then after two and a half days, you're released.

You're still sore, but you've got nothing but vengeance on your mind. When your brothers send you the address of where they're holding several individuals for you to interrogate, you get dressed and head for Teller Automotive.

Some of the guys are surprised to see you up and about, but you wave off their concern as you continue towards the club portion of the shop.

The usual sweetbutts are milling about, cleaning up and most likely getting ready for a party since it is a Friday. You spot Jax and Juice at the bar as Juice taps away on a laptop.

"Boys," you greet as you walk up behind them. "Whatcha workin' on?"

Jax turns in his seat, eyes subtly widening as he stands. "You're out! Why didn't you call me?" He's quick to carefully take you in his arms, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

"Because if I'd have called you, you'd have taken me home and coddled me."

"Well yeah. You were shot."

"I got shit to take care of, Teller, and I'm not wasting another day."

"Then what are you doing here?"

You shrug. "I just thought that you'd want to see the MC face their consequences."

"Now? You're going to do that now?" He asks, his gaze darting down to your covered abdomen.

"Yep. "My brothers procured a place just on the outskirts of Charming where we won't be interrupted. You in?"

"Well, yeah. Obviously."

"Good. Then gather whoever's in and follow me."

As you sit in your car, you watch Jax as speaks with several of brothers to see who he's going to leave in charge. And after everything is settled, only five follow Jax to their motorcycles- Opie, Happy, Juice, Tig, and Chibs.

You start your car and start to drive, pausing by the gate until Jax and the others start to roll out. You take off, keeping your speed down as you drive through the town. But the moment you get to the road leading out of Charming, you step on the gas and race towards the location your brothers sent to you.

You drive along an empty stretch of road until you turn down a dirt road which is surrounded by empty crop fields that have seen better days. The road leads up to a dilapidated farmhouse, a very rusted horse corral, and behind all that is a barn where several vehicles have parked.

You park and get out, waiting for Jax to find the perfect spot to park their motorcycles. Once they do, you wait until they gather around.

"I know this started off as club business, but now it's cartel business. I can't have you questioning me in there."

"This is your playground," Jax says. "We're just here for a show."

You nod and then turn towards the barn doors, pushing them open with the help of Chibs and Tig when they get stuck. Inside, several men are hanging about on turned over crates or bales of hay, some even sitting at a small wooden table playing cards. Music plays softly in the background, but it's cut off the moment your presence is noticed.

Immediately, every man and woman scramble to their feet as you approach.

In the middle of the barn, there's a line of eight men with burlap sacks over their heads sitting in chairs with their wrists tied down to the armrests and ankles tied to the legs. Walking down the line of men, you snatch the sacks from their heads.

"Wakey, wakey, motherfuckers." Each man is clearly exhausted, agitated, and pissed off.

You save the MC President for last, smirking as he sneers at you. "Stupid bitch." He seethes. "Let us go. Right now."

"Bitch," you muse. "If you're going to insult me, at least call me a cunt. Or whore. Those words have much more of an impact."

"Cunt."

Your fist whips out, striking him across the face so hard that his head jerks to the side. He turns to glare back up at you, spitting blood that lands on your pant leg. "Now, now. If you're going to insult me again, at least be creative about it. Your lack of creativity is sorely disappointing." He roars at you, trying to free his wrists and feet, but you merely laugh and continue to pace in front of his men. "Now I'm sure you're all wondering why you're here and it's quite simple, really." You stop pacing, expression hardening. "You fucked with the wrong woman."

Then like a switch has been flipped, you go back to smiling and pacing, gesturing wildly as you talk. "Normally I wouldn't touch MC business with a ten foot pole, but you fuckers messed up. You broke into my home and went after a child under my care- a child that I hold very near and dear to my heart. So, now your piss poor attempt at taking over territory that doesn't belong to you has now come under cartel jurisdiction, and I will make sure that any stupid motherfuckers who dares to come after the Sons of Anarchy will pay a price."

"Fuck that. We didn't cross any cartel!"

"Oh honey," you mockingly coo as you come to a stop in front of the one who spoke. "I am part of the cartel." Turning around, you walk towards a long table and lift the cloth laying atop of it. Beneath the cloth, there's a variety of weapons. You tuck a glock into the back waistband of your jeans and then grasp a dagger in your dominant hand. Then turning to walk back towards the bound men, you smirk. "Now what I want are the assholes who attacked me and dared to point a gun at a child. You give me those men and the rest of you can walk out of here."

Silence.

Dead fuckin' silence.

"Nothing?" You chuckle. "Come on, guys. Give 'em up. I swear it's not worth protecting them. I mean, I can probably figure it out. Eyes are windows to the soul and all that rot. You might have been wearing masks, but I still remember those cowardly glints very well."

"Fuck you! I ain't no coward."

"Bingo!" You shout, pointing the tip of your blade at the culprit. Walking up to the guy, you can't help but laugh as he realizes his mistake and clamps his mouth shut. "One down, one more to go."

"I ain't telling you shit."

"No?" Switching the dagger to your other hand, you pull the glock free from behind your back. You step close to the man, taking aim at his crotch. "Are you sure about that?"

He cruelly smirks. "You're all talk and no-"

BANG!

The guy immediately starts screaming, his buddies struggling in their chairs, and you laugh. When you glance around the room, you see those you consider family chuckling and the Sons cringing in sympathy as they cover their crotches. You walk around so you're standing behind the screaming fool, swapping the dagger and gun in your hands so the dagger is back in your dominant hand. "Going once… going twice…" He continues to scream, and you sigh when no one else speaks up.

And then before anyone can comprehend what you've done, you've dragged the blade across the guy's neck.

As he gurgles on his blood and his friends shout obscenities at you, you walk around so you're standing before them once again.

"That's three of my men you've killed already," the President says. "I think fair's fair."

"I want the last one," you say. "One last guy and you're good to go."

No one says anything, but the President's expression hardens. There's a cold glint in his eye that you're very familiar with, and you know that should he walk out of these barn doors, he'll do anything and everything for revenge. "Samuel. I sent Samuel."

The Samuel in question squawks and you smile beautifully at him over the shoulder before staring at the President once more. "Harsh. Selling out your own guy like that." You saunter up to him, sighing. "But he's the thing; I hate snitches."

Then before the President can blink, you take aim and pull the trigger. The bullet hits him right between the eyebrows.

The struggling, bound men all seem to cease movement and you turn towards them. "Now that that's out of the way…" You walk back towards Samuel, scoffing at his whimpering. "You might get to live today, Sammy, but not without something to remember why messing with the Sons a big no-no."

"And w-what's that?"

You slowly smile. "Open your fist, Samuel. Lay your hand flat against the armrest."

His eyes widen as he whimpers, but he hesitantly does as you've said. Then when his hand is nice and flat, you drive your blade through the back of his hand, pinning it to the arm rest.

As he screams, you sneer at him and then start to make your way towards the Sons. On your way, you hand off your gun before coming to a stop in front of Jax and pasting on a smile as you glance at each Sons. "Who's hungry?"

"Marry me," Happy grumbles.

You laugh at him, winking, and then glance back at Jax. "You're a little psycho," he says.

"Only when the occasion calls for it. But seriously, can we go get food?"

Jax laughs as he sidles up to your side, sliding an arm along the back of your shoulders. "Do burgers sound good?"

"Burgers sound marvelous. I also want a vanilla milkshake."

"Good. We'll go grab some and surprise Abel. He's been itching to go to your house again."

"Ugh. Your kid is so adorable. But maybe let me settle in before you grab him. My abdomen is on fire and if we tell him I'm sick, maybe he won't be so hyperactive."

"Let me see."

Begrudgingly, you lift the hem of your shirt and glance down. Sure enough, you've bled through your bandages. "New plan; No Abel."

"What? But-"

"Nope." Jax squeezes you to his side as you sigh. "You're gonna go home, Chibs will follow to patch you up, and I'll go pick up some food. Abel can go one more day without seeing you."

"Boo."

The Sons chuckle.

"What about us?" Juice asks, gesturing between himself, Tig, and Happy.

"I don't care, Juice. Do whatever you want."

As they head towards their motorcycles, Jax walks you to your car.

"So, are you really okay with this?" You ask. "Okay with me and all that I'm capable of?"

"Yeah." Jax nods. "More than okay, actually. It's good to know that should shit find its way to your doorstep again, you'll handle it."

"Damn right I will." You swing around so you're standing in front of Jax, arms wrapping around his waist as his go around your shoulders. "I will protect Abel with my life again and again. Never doubt that."

"Just Abel?" His eyebrow arches.

"You're a close second," you muse. Leaning up on the tips of your toes, you peck his lips. "Now seriously. Food, Teller. I need food."

"Yeah, yeah." He kisses you again. "Go home and get settled. I'll be there soon."

[sceletaflores]

Advantage, Duncan.

pairing: stanford!tashi duncan x fem!reader

summary: tashi duncan doesn’t get on her knees for anyone, but she did for you. after that night she knew there wasn’t a chance in hell she’d let you slip away from her.

—or: tashi needs you to understand that she doesn't give a fuck about patrick.

word count: 2.7k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, girl kissing, oral (fem!receiving), fingering (only barely but fem!receiving), somewhat public sex (in a locker room lmao), cheating but not really, love confessions kind of, lowkey manipulative!tashi but barely, patrick getting shit on like always, porn with a dash of plot, no use of y/n.

author’s note: back on my wlw cheater bullshit! so glad to be here! i centered this whole fic around a locker room sex scene. it just sort of spiraled into this cause you know i love being messy. once again no one requested this i'm being selfish lmao but i need more tashi fics on my masterlist! hope you love it! okay bye mwah xoxo.

Tashi’s sneakers squeak quietly as she makes her way back to the locker room. Sweat drying on her brow and adrenaline still buzzing in her veins despite the match being over. It was an easy win, Northridge had been slipping down the ranks the longer the season went on and the girl had a shit backhand.

The first thing Tashi did after shaking hands and posing for pictures was text you. She left the locker room door cracked open for you. The thought of you sitting there alone waiting patiently for her behind that door made her almost giddy enough to skip the rest of the way down the hall.

This was something like a tradition for you guys now, meeting in the locker room after her matches. Something that started a little after the two of you met a couple months ago. It was the last tournament she had before the fall semester started. The court was owned by some snobby Northern California country club that your dad happened to be president of. He stuck you in the ball crew for the summer so he could watch you keep you busy and make sure you stayed out of trouble, joke's on him. 

You were the first thing she noticed the second she stepped on the court, but how could she not? You in your cute flowy linen shorts and matching white top. A light blue visor strapped to your head. Tashi immediately got why guys have that primal, desperate urge to impress pretty girls they just met. She showed off more in that match than she had in a long time, running the girl on the other end of the court ragged.

Tashi wanted you to notice her, to see how dominating she was, to be impressed by her. Every time she hit a perfect shot, her eyes would dart to you, checking if you were watching, and you were. 

You were practically gawking at her, eyes all wide and admiring as your head snapped back and forth with every smack of the ball. 

It was perfect, you were gravitating towards her more with every new set exactly like she wanted you to. By the time she won you were watching her with stars in your eyes, gaze trailing after her every move like you were a sunflower and she was the sun. And even though lots of people have looked at her that way, you were the only one she looked back at. It made Tashi’s skin buzz with something she’d never felt outside of tennis. 

She was swept away for pictures and press before she could talk to you, but there was a party later that night thrown in honor of the players at the club's banquet hall. Tashi was standing at the bar when you slid up next to her, introducing yourself with adoration swirling in your eyes and a shy smile on your glossy lips. Tashi let herself smile right back as she shook your hand for a little longer than normal.

Two hours later and she had you in one of the hall’s many bathrooms with your Dior dress hiked up around your hips and her tongue on your pussy. She can still remember every detail of that moment. The fruity notes of your perfume, the way you tasted, how sweetly you moaned her name with your voice so breathy and desperate.

Tashi Duncan doesn’t get on her knees for anyone, but she did for you. After that night she knew there wasn’t a chance in hell she’d let you slip away from her.

Now, as she pushed open the locker room door and saw you sitting on the long bench in the center of the room, just like always, she felt a surge of possessiveness and longing. The sight of you waiting for her, so patient and devoted, made something dangerously close to love burn hot in her chest.

“Took you long enough,” you tease, standing up to greet her. You’re wearing one of her shirts, DUNCANATOR stretched across your chest in blocky red letters.

She dropped her bag at her feet, quickly crossing the room until she was close enough to pull you into a tight hug, burying her face in your neck. She was still sweaty but you didn’t care, arms coming up to wrap around her shoulders.

“I missed you,” she murmured, her voice a little too intense, her grip a little too tight. 

You laugh, your hands giving her shoulders a tiny squeeze. “It’s only been like an hour, Tash.” 

An hour felt like a whole year to her at this point. Tashi hated being away from you, hated not knowing what you were doing, who you were with, what you were thinking. She wanted to be the center of your world, just like you were so quickly becoming the center of hers. Steadily elbowing tennis inch by inch just to try and make enough room in her heart for something else. 

Tashi pulled away from you, taking a second to scan her eyes over your face. You were so beautiful, so perfect and sweet for her. She raised her hand to cup the side of your face, thumb swiping across the skin of your cheekbone a few times. You were flushed from sitting out in the sun, skin warm and soft to the touch.

She leans in without thinking, pressing her lips against yours. You taste like coconut lip balm and Pepsi. Tashi’s hand tightens its hold on your waist, pulling you in impossibly closer. She felt you sigh contently against her lips, lazily kissing back as easy as anything. Tashi felt like if she focused hard enough, that she could feel your heartbeat pounding where your chest met hers.

She swipes her tongue across your bottom lip, her hands making their way down to the small of your back to slip her fingertips under the waistband of your shorts. Your lips parted the slightest bit before you were pulling away with a small whine, pushing off her shoulders to create distance between the two of you. Tashi let her hands fall from your body as you take a small step backwards, immediately missing the warmth you took with you.

She was confused by the sudden shift in your mood until she saw the look on your face. The absolute picture of guilt, your brows furrowed enough to make a tiny crease in the middle of your forehead with your lip drawn between your teeth. Your eyes are droopy and sad as you wearily gaze at her from a few feet away. Tashi suppresses the overwhelming urge to sigh, brow raised as she stares back at you, waiting.

“I…” you trail off, wrapping your arms around yourself slowly. “I actually needed to talk to you, Tashi.”

‘Here we go.’ She thinks dryly, internally rolling her eyes. She can already tell she’s going to have to talk you down, again. She really should have expected this, you bringing up Patrick, you’ve done it enough times to be a trend. It’s been so long since the last time you said anything she was hoping you finally dropped it, apparently not.

Tashi doesn’t respond right away, just tilting her head slightly as she watches you. You shuffle uncomfortably in place, your eyes looking anywhere but her. She can see you take a steadying breath, trying to hype yourself up before you speak again.

“This is wrong,” Your voice is unconvincing, meek and soft. Tashi would laugh if she didn’t want to hurt your feelings. “What we’re doing, it’s wrong. It’s not fair to poor Patrick.”

It’s almost funny, how genuine you're being, how bad you truly feel for Patrick.

Poor, poor Patrick. Yeah fucking right. 

‘Poor Patrick’ is on tour right now probably sticking his dick in anyone that’ll let him. He’s nothing. A momentary lapse in judgment when you and Tashi went a few weeks without talking. She was hurt and vulnerable, two things she’s not used to feeling. She needed to feel in control of something again to stop her from going crazy, Patrick was easy enough.

When the two of you started talking again, she shut that shit down immediately. She was reminded of what a monumental waste of time Patrick is and pushed him to the furthest, most unimportant corner of her brain. She didn’t need him anymore, not when she had you again.

Tashi finally lets out a small sigh, more out of impatience than exasperation. She steps closer, her gaze hardening. "You really think he cares?" Her voice is low, controlled, but there's an edge to it. "Patrick doesn't need your pity. He's fine. He always is."

Your eyes widen at her words, the guilt on your face deepening. "But—"

“No.” Tashi cuts you off sharply, jaw set stubbornly. “Listen to me, Patrick is nothing. He’s just dick. He’ll never be more than just dick.” She takes another step towards you, closing the gap you made. “He doesn’t care about us, about this.” She motions between the two of you, her voice raising slightly as she speaks.

You swallow hard, arms tightening around yourself defensively as you stare at her with watery eyes. 

Tashi's whole demeanor softens, the anger draining from her body at the hurt look on your face. She would never speak to you like that, it’s just Patrick that really pisses her off. He’s not even here and he’s still managing to fuck with her. She steps even closer, her hand reaching out to gently lift your chin, forcing you to look at her. 

Your name falls from her lips, warm and wrapped in velvet, her thumb traces along your bottom lip slowly. "We have something real," she whispers fiercely, grip tightening on your chin just a fraction. "Something he could never understand. Don't let him ruin that. Don't let him ruin us."

You nod slowly, eyes big and shiny with unshed tears. It’s not good enough, Tashi can tell that you’re still apprehensive. You’re still worried, still guilty even with her reassurance. She can’t have that. If she doesn’t get you to drop this, you’ll let it consume you enough to try something stupid, like leaving her. Tashi refuses to let that even be an option.

If she can’t convince you with words, she can convince you through her actions. 

Tashi needs to drive home the point that sparing Patrick’s feelings isn’t something you need to be worried about, clearly tough love isn’t going to work on you. If she has to get on her knees to help make you understand, then she will.

She leans in slowly, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your breath catches slightly, held for only a second before you finally relax. Not completely, just enough for her to feel it. She keeps going, dragging kisses from your cheek up to your ear.

“Patrick is nothing compared to you.” she whispers directly into your ear, dropping your chin to start sliding her hand slowly down your front. “You’re so much better than him,” her hand stops at the hem of your shorts, tugging the button open with one sharp yank. You gasp sharply, hand flying up to grip her bicep tightly. Your eyes flick to the door, open and unlocked, but you’re not pushing her away, not trying to stop her. 

Tashi leans down, trailing kissing across the soft skin of your throat. “You’re everything.” She slips her hand into your shorts and down the front of your soft panties, her fingertips barely graze the slick skin of your pussy before you’re moaning.

“Fuck.” your hand squeezes her arm tighter, nails digging little crescent moons into her skin as she slides her index finger through the wetness gathering at your entrance. 

You’re so wet, completely drenching her hand in seconds. She teases you, barely pushing her finger past your tight hole as she licks a dirty stripe up the center of your throat. You whine, a desperate, too loud noise that bounces off the walls. Slowly, she breaches your entrance, sinking her finger up to the knuckle in the tight warmth of your pussy.

She watches you, takes in the needy look on your pretty face. So worked up for a single finger, so desperate for it that your hips cant down to get her deeper inside you. The wet squelch of her finger thrusting in and out of you sounds even dirtier, amplified by the room's echo. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Her tone is soft but final, like she’s stating a fact. She stares at you as she fucks her finger faster in and out of your fluttering pussy, gaze intense and unwavering. You stare back like a deer in headlights, silent except for the sharp pants falling from your slick, parted lips. That’s okay, you don’t need to do any of the talking anyway.

Tashi nips at the sensitive skin of your collarbone once before she’s dropping to her knees on the cold concrete. Her greedy hands gripping the waistband of your shorts and yanking them down your legs roughly, your lilac panties quickly follow. You gasp sharply, the cool air of the room hitting your bare pussy. “Tash-” 

Tashi cuts you off, leaning forward to slip your clit between her lips. You throw your head back, your loud moan echoing through the room. She swirls her tongue over the sensitive skin of your clit, exactly how you like it. You’re already so worked up, she knows this won’t take long.

Her mouth works you over expertly, licking and sucking and mouthing hungrily at your dripping pussy. She teases the tip of her tongue along your clenching hole, so desperate to be filled by the strap sitting in a old box on the highest shelf of her closet. Her thighs clench at the thought, you bouncing on her dick, wrecked and spent on the sheets of her bed. She pushes the idea to the back of her mind, you always have later for that. Right now, she’s focused on making you come on her tongue. 

Tashi can tell you’re getting close. Your breathing changes, gets heavier, even more little moans and whines falling from your lips each time her nose presses against your clit just right. Your fingers slide into her hair as you start to roll your hips, chasing her mouth. 

“God, Tashi–!” Your thighs shake on either side of her head, hands twisting her hair in your grip roughly. “Shit, yes–fuck! I’m gonna come–” Your hips start to grind against her tongue even faster as you got closer to the edge.

Tashi lets you use her face to get off, her hands sliding up and down the side of your thighs soothingly as you come. She works you through your orgasm, her tongue sliding along your sensitive skin until you’re physically pulling her away.

Tashi presses one last kiss to your hip before she stands, pulling your shorts and panties back up your legs as she does. You’re still trying to catch your breath, leaning up against the lockers as she buttons your zipper for you. Your face is flushed and sweaty, your eyes are glossed over and hazy. She smiles, giving you a soft kiss with your release still coating her lips and tongue. You kiss back regardless, slow and sweet like molasses. 

Tashi pulls away first, giving your cheek a quick tap before stepping away to pick up her bag up off the floor. “Come on,” she offers you her hand, nodding her head towards the door. “Let’s go get frozen yogurt.” 

You smile, making your way across the room to slide your hand into hers. Tashi goes to push the door open, but you stay in place, tugging her hand back. When she turns to face you, there’s a look on your face she hasn’t seen before. “You’re everything too.” 

Your tone is so sincere, so genuine that she feels her heart grow three sizes. Your eyes sparkle as you stare at her like she’s a God. It’s exactly what she wanted. She smiles, giving your hand a hard squeeze and finally dragging you out of the locker room.

Duncan: Game, Set, Match.

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[cottoncandybitchfuck]

Riz Gukgak, a little rogue from a single-parent household. A natural detective, going nights without sleeping and worrying his mother to death. He was looking for his babysitter who had gone missing, he didn’t care about friends. He was the briefcase kid, he was used to getting bullied. He gets thrown into a trash can and called “The Ball.” He stole a teabag in the name of getting clues and got detention. He brought a gun to his first day of school. He killed a monster, making the worst but smartest choice of jumping into the corn monster. He joined the A.V. club with some gross people just to solve a mystery. He started taking care of a random rat just because he could. He used his suitcase as a skateboard during combat. He shot Coach Daybreak when he was unconscious just to make sure he was dead. He knew they weren’t done yet despite the cops having the palimpsest. He took 7 damage to try to save someone from a palimpsest. He shot 2 of his classmate’s fingers off to get him to answer their questions. He holds the sword of shadows. He kills a dragon and then eats him. “Fury of the Ball” He becomes a licensed investigator. He lied about having a partner, and it manifested and kidnapped him. He comes clean immediately. He gave up a secret only to save his friend he never thought he would have. He tried to help Fabian feel better after the fight at the Row and the Ruction. He helped save Adaine, helping take down a Plyon. He found record of the coin from the Nightmare King in Kalvaxus’ Horde. He was also the first to find out about the Shadow Cat.  He represented Fig in a legal trial in Hell. He met his dad and almost thought he was bad. He became part of the Lower Planar Reconnaissance Task Force. His biggest fear was getting left by his friends getting in relationships. He came up with the way to destroy Kalina. He used magic to be able to drive. He ran over Fabian. He joined every club he could and became a campaign manager so that he could go to college since his mom couldn’t afford it. *His principal cast Hold Monster on him…  He didn’t hesitate to protect Fig from the moon by throwing her into his briefcase and jumping in after her. His nightmare followed him, it attacked his friends. He got away again. He learned to talk shit. He hid so well and helped with the Last Stand so much. He found the rogue teacher, he solved so many points of the mystery. He killed another dragon! He is so protective of his friends, and he hated what the rat grinders stood for. “Make sure to cut his head off so he can’t be revived.” He submerged in lava just to throw Kipperlilly off.  “Very good on paper but… no practical application.” He apologized to Fig and Kristen for pushing them to do school when they didn’t want to, as well as made sure Kristen actually wanted to be president. He is Riz Gukgak, The Ball, and he is a huge part of the bad kids despite being so small. And the one thing Porter was right about? Riz is a “Little Shadow” and he is good at it too. 

It took me three hours to write this because I had to condense and cut so much. It’s 1am (12:14) in a warehouse in the middle of the sea (a dorm room) and I am finally done with this style of post. At least 4 more Bad Kids posts are coming, and then I’ll be normal again (posting about other fandoms and dnd shows)

*I said this was important! He used dominate person on Ruben, so that was a choice Grix made, there are no mechanical reasons for monster to work vs person

[retrotrait]

Ep 5 Previously

Elizabeth: Oh god, the nerves are suddenly kicking in

Elizabeth: I think this is the main office

Mrs. Bleacher: Lin, the answer is no and that's final

Lin: [pouting] but Mrs. Bleacherrrr

Mrs. Bleacher: [turns towards Elizabeth] and what do you want?

[Elizabeth looks over at Lin thinking, is she okay?]

Elizabeth: Oh err, I'm Elizabeth Ryan...I'm new here

Mrs. Bleacher: Oh yes, you're late Ms. Ryan, Here's your schedule. [hands schedule] Lin here will take you to your locker, she's on her way out

Elizabeth: [Turns towards Lin] Hi Lin, nice to meet you

Lin: [shakes Elizabeth's hand vigorously] Hey there, Lin Nishidake, president of the student government and debate club. Welcome to Copperdale high, it sucks here but it's better than Moonwood High!

Mrs. Bleacher: Get out

Elizabeth: Jesus, is she always like that?

Lin: No... she's worse

Lin: So, what brings you to Copperdale?

Elizabeth: Oh, my mom, she got a better job here

Lin: Ah, and your dad?

Elizabeth: He passed...a year ago, it's just my mom and I

Lin: Shit, I'm so sorry. I have the bad quality of being extremely nosy, I shouldn't have-

Elizabeth: It's okay, really, you didn't know

[stops at locker]

Lin: Here's your locker

Elizabeth: Thanks!

Elizabeth: So Umm, anything I should know about the school?

Lin: [looks around] hmm, let's see

Lin: Like any other school you have your popular kids. Our queen bee is Alisha, head of the cheerleading squad. Your stoners, The foreigners, The goths, the jocks....

Elizabeth: Oh, I meant like classes but-

Lin: ha! right. Classes are classes, same as every other school

Lin: Oh, and that's Caleb, steer clear of him, he's not very friendly

[School bell ringing]

Elizabeth: Oh, I intend to

Creator note: I just want to say thank you so much again for those of you who submitted sims to be in this little story! It really warmed my heart seeing all the amazing sims you guys made. To everyone else who submitted but their sims aren't here, know they are definitely in the story and will be appear soon!

[ronancecats]

My opinions on EVERY romantic stranger things ship (at least the ones I could think of, if I missed a ship you care about let me know and ill tell you what i think)

And of course, these are my OPINIONS and aren't that serious 🙏🙏 you can ship whatever the hell you want as long as it's not illegal.

I love making posts like these and sharing my opinions so please keep it respectful even if I don't like your ship, thank you :)

Mileven (Mike x Eleven): solid 8/10. I think they're cute in the 1st season and they have their moments, but their chemistry is definitely feeling more forced recently and I just don't see them working out.

Byler (Will x Mike): definitely a 10/10, it just makes sense. Byler proof is so thick and it's so obvious to anyone who actually cares to look. I'm not a hardcore shipper or anything but they're happening.

Willel (Will x Eleven): get this shit out of here bro, -10/10. Like Will is gay and they're practically siblings 😭

Wheelson (Dustin x Mike): there's nothing wrong with this ship, I just don't see it and I haven't seen enough content to base my opinion off of that so 0/10.

Wheelclair (Mike x Lucas): again, just don't see it and haven't seen enough content. So 0/10, however, I feel like their dynamic could be cute in both a romantic and platonic sense.

Byclair (Will x Lucas): I don't see it ever happening but oh my lord y'all the fan art and content for them is so cute so they get a solid 3/10 purely for the cuteness.

Byson (Will x Dustin): I've never seen any content for this. Like at all. I don't think anyone ships this. 0/10 only because I haven't seen anything to make me want to ship this.

Henclair (Lucas x Dustin): y'all... they're so cute. Here me out, the fics, the fan art, the dynamics, it's amazing. They get a 5/10.

Lumax (Lucas x Max): 10/10, angel babies, would die for them. I need them to have a happy ending and if they don't, I won't have a happy ending

Elmax (Eleven x Max): they're so stinking cute, 9/10. As much as I love lumax, I think the dynamics of this ship and just the thought of it is perfection.

Madwheeler (Max x Mike): eh...no. 0/10. They are like the same person and would kill each other in any other scenario. However, platonically? Yes please!

Henfield (Max x Dustin): 4/10. They have potential but they both have such better ships.

Duzie (Dustin x Suzie): 9/10. I am a SUCKER for nerd x nerd ships and I need them to have at least one scene together. Just one. Like please duffers, I need to see them just once.

Jancy (Jonathan x Nancy): 1000/10 YES YES YES YES. MY BABIES, I LOVE THEM SO MUCH. PLEASE DUFFERS, MAKE UP ALL THAT FUCKERY IN S4 AND GIVE THEM A HAPPY ENDING!!

Stancy aka Stanky (Steve x Nancy): -10/10. I hate this ship so much. Nancy "I don't think my parents ever loved each other. My mom was younger and my dad was older with a cushy job and made good money. So they got married and bought a house at the end of a cul-de-sac and started their nuclear family" Wheeler would EVER settle down with 6 kids. Ever. There was 0 reason to bring back the love triangle. Let Steve move on and let Nancy be happy, Jesus 😭

Ronance (Nancy x Robin): 100/10. There's a reason this page is called ronancecats. I love them so much and even though they will never happen, it's fun to think about. Every piece of ronance fan art is gorgeous and the fics are everything to me. Plus, Natalia is like the president of the ronance shipping club. "All hail Natalia Dyer," we all say in unison.

Rockie/Rovickie (Robin x Vickie): 6/10. They're cute but they literally made Vickie an exact carbon copy of Robin and it's boring. I really hope they build on Vickie's character next season because they are boring and lack depth.

Stobin (Steve x Robin): absolutely not. Get out. -100000000/10. Robin. Is. A. Lesbian. She. Likes. Boobies. Not. Greasy. Men. They. Are. Platonic. Soulmates.

Steddie (Steve x Eddie): 4/10. Their fan art is cool and the dynamic I like, but I just can't get past it. I don't like them all that much.

Harringgrove (Steve x Billy): no thank you, no toxic ships here. 0/10.

Stonathan (Jonathan x Steve): hell yes. 9/10. I'm not even sure why but they are just perfect in my mind. The dynamics are there and the fan art is perfection, plus I just think the idea of them fighting over Nancy but then turning to each other is kinda cute.

Jargyle (Jonathan x Argyle) 8/10. I don't think about them much but whenever I do I love it. They're idiots but two idiots that are better together idk about y'all.

Neddie (Nancy x Eddie): Eddie can NOT handle all that (but I can) 0/10.

Reddie (Robin x Eddie): 0/10. Both these bitches are gay so get out.

Hellcheer (Eddie x Chrissy): gives me the ick. I'm not ever sure why but they do and all their scenes just feel like there's no romantic undertones, at least to me. So 2/10.

Buckingham (Chrissy x Robin): this is what I'm talking about. A popular cheerleader having an existential crisis when she realizes she's a lesbian and not only that but realizes she's in love with the social outcast? Hell yes. 9/10. Give it to me.

Bancy (Nancy x Barb): 6/10. They are tragic.

Jopper (Joyce x Hopper): 10/10. My parents fr, they raised me. Everything about them makes me happy and I love them.

Boyce (Bob x Joyce): 7/10. Cuties and it's so obvious Bob cared about her and the kids. Jopper will forever be better but I can't ignore their cuteness.

Jaren (Joyce x Karen): okay y'all, hear me out...8/10. I love the idea of this so much and every single fic I've read is so well written and incredible. Lesbian Karen Wheeler truthers unite.

Murlexi (Murray x Alexi) 7/10. I like the idea of them and I will support any content I see of them even though I'm not a hardcore shipper.

Murray x Joyce (what are they called?): 0/10. Nope, nope, nope on a rope.

Okay, anyway y'all those are my opinions on a bunch of stranger things ships that I've seen. Please be respectful even if you don't agree, these are literally opinions about a FICTIONAL show and FICTIONAL relationships with FICTIONAL characters and aren't that deep.

[lliminall]

carino

[giorno giovanna/reader]

word count: 6.9k

tags: fem reader, NSFW (minors do not interact), giorno being smitten with you, fingering, teasing, giorno is older than you by about 10 years, sappy sweet sex for the birthday boy. giorno is charming but he’s also a bit of an intense weirdo and I wish we would talk about that more

It occurs to you, as your shoulder is clipped for the third time this night and you almost spill your drink again, that you should learn to get more comfortable with saying the word no.

No, Chiara, I don’t want to go clubbing with you tonight. No, I’m tired and I’ve got work in the morning and I’m really not that thrilled at the thought of spending my Sunday night surrounded by people several tax brackets above me.

Ah, but as your drink sloshes in your glass and you bite back a sharp fuck, Chiara leans against you and laughs wholeheartedly, and you remember why you can’t ever seem to deny her anything. For all the trouble she gets you into, she’s your friend.

And she’s got a credit card with her dad’s name on it that she whips out every time she drags you to these upscale venues. That certainly helps.

“God, your clumsy tonight,” she laughs. “I told you not to wear those shoes.”

“What, and ruin this outfit with my sneakers?” you say, gesturing to your dress and heels. Around you people mingle and dance, wearing clothes from brands you see in fashion magazines. And here you are among them, in your bargain rack best.

“True,” Chiara concedes. “Well. At least you look pretty.”

Before you can thank her, her eyes blow wide and her shoulders go rigid as she catches sight of something behind you.

“Oh, god,” she says with dread, and you follow her line of sight to see none other than her father, seated at a table on the balcony overlooking the floor. She gasps.

“Oh, god,” she says, with even more dread, as her father catches sight of her and waves her over. She whips around to face you.

“Shit. I didn’t know he was going to be here,” she whispers.

“I mean, I guess old men are allowed to have fun, too,” you tease.

“No,” she hisses. “That’s not what he’s here for. Don’t you see who he’s sitting with?”

You peer over her shoulder to look at his table again. Through the crowd you can just make out bits and pieces of men in fine suits, a man in a bright red hat, and…someone else. Someone who certainly stands out from the rest with his long blonde curls and the low cut of his pink suit. The set of his shoulders and the hard line of his gaze as he converses with the man in the hat communicates clearly that he is someone important. Someone who’s used to being treated as important.

“The blonde?” you ask.

“The blonde?” Chiara repeats, incredulous. “The blonde? You don’t know who that is?”

You tilt your head at her. “Uhm, should I?”

She stares at you for a moment, thinking.

“Right,” she says. “I forget that you’re not…well. I guess you wouldn’t know. Just, uh, be polite. Really polite. Like you’re talking to the president.”

She takes your hand and begins to tug you to the stairs.

“Sorry, what?” you hiss. “Who’s up there?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she says quickly. “Don’t worry about it, we’ll just go up and say hi to my dad and leave.”

“Don’t worry about it?” you argue as she drags you up the stairs. “You can’t make a huge deal out of it and then tell me not to-“ your voice trails off as you realize you’re coming within earshot of the table, and Chiara’s face breaks into a grin as her father waves the both of you over.

“Ah, mia principessa,” he greets her as she leans over his chair to kiss his cheek. “How fortunate to see you here. You never visit your poor father these days.”

“Papá, I told you I’ve been busy,” Chiara groans.

Her father says your name warmly, and offers his hand for you to take. In the few times you’ve met him, Signore Alessi has only ever been kind to you. “A pleasure to see you, as always. I trust you’re keeping my daughter in line?”

“Trying to,” you say, letting him clasp your hand in his. “You know how it goes.”

“Indeed I do,” he says, and motions to two men who immediately pull out a chair for each of you.

“Oh, we don’t want to interrupt,” Chiara says, and tries to wave one of the men away.

“Nonsense,” her father replies. “I was just telling Don Giovanna about you, anyway.”

Chiara laughs nervously and takes her seat. You follow suit.

The seat you’re offered places you next to Chiara, and across from the man with the red hat. At the head of table, beside him, is who you assume is Don Giovanna.

“He had only the best to say of you,” Don Giovanna says with a low smile. Signore Alessi couldn’t look more pleased, and it occurs to you that this man, although younger than him, is clearly the one with the most influence at this table. The honorific title of Don only confirms that he’s someone of great social standing here. Your gut twists uncomfortably with anxiety; Chiara really has brought you out of your league with this one.

“Your father tells me you’re studying sociology?” Don Giovanna continues.

“Ah, yes,” Chiara stutters quickly.

“What would you like to do with it?”

“Social work,” she answers.

Don Giovanna nods his head. “That’s an admirable goal,” he says. “We could certainly use more compassionate workers in the social services.”

And because Chiara is apparently uncomfortable with the amount of attention on her, and because you’re the most convenient victim, she says, “thank you, Don Giovanna, but really I only chose to do it because of my friend.”

She motions to you, and the Don’s eyes, and every other pair of eyes at the table, move to watch you.

“She’s always there for me, even when I don’t deserve it, and she’s the kindest person I know. I just want to be able to become that kind of person for others.”

You think you could cry at hearing such genuine praise, if you couldn’t feel Chiara nudging your heel under the table to shake you out of your headspace. The table full of important men is awaiting your response (and, conveniently, no longer pinning that attention on Chiara).

You don’t know what to say. How do you even respond to such high praise? You don’t know what to say but you need to say something. Anything.

“Oh, uhm. Fuck.”

Ok, well. Anything but that.

The table bursts into laughter. Chiara covers her mouth and snorts as her father claps his hand to his chest in a full belly laugh. The man in the hat cracks the first grin you’ve seen from him yet, and even the Don is stifling a low smile. You don’t know whether you should be relieved or even more embarrassed.

“(Y/n) has been a wonderful friend to my girl,” Signore Alessi says, saving you from having to recover yourself with a response. “I’m grateful that my daughter has such a good influence in her life.”

As Signore Alessi goes on, gracefully rescuing you with a change of subject, the man in the hat catches your attention.

“Is that an accent I’m hearing?” he asks.

“That obvious?” you say sheepishly. “Yeah, I moved here a couple of years ago.”

“Your Italian’s very good, but I can always clock a foreigner,” he says. “And I’m also guessing this isn’t the type of place you usually hang out in.”

God, you’re going to kick Chiara for this later.

“Uh, no. I mean yes, you’re right. This wasn’t exactly my first choice for tonight.”

“Ooh, well don’t tell my boss that,” he says with a teasing lilt, nodding his head towards Don Giovanna, who is listening attentively to whatever story Signore Alessi is in the middle of. “He kind of owns the place.”

Beside you, Chiara sighs. “What she means to say is that she’s a homebody who doesn’t know how to party. Of course the club is lovely.” She kicks you under the table.

“Hey, no shame in that,” the man says. “Between you and me, I’d rather be at home with a beer right now, but duty calls.”

“Oh, are you in real estate like Signore Alessi?” you ask. The man stares at you for a beat. Chiara shifts in her seat beside you.

“Yeah,” he answers at last. “Real estate. We were just meeting about uh, property and shit, you know how it goes. Boring stuff.”

As Chiara is folding and unfolding her hands, you notice that her eyes have flicked to the Don, and you also notice, in your peripheral, that the Don’s eyes have flicked to you. There’s a sense that something is going over your head here, like being on the outside of a joke everyone else is in on, but as soon as the feeling appears the man in front of you is speaking again.

“Anyway! I haven’t even introduced myself. The name’s Mista.”

You offer him your own name, and he orders drinks for you and Chiara, insisting that you stay and chat with everyone. Their meeting has wrapped up anyway, and he would never turn down the company of two pretty girls, he explains.

Mista is easy to talk to. Easygoing and genial, he quickly has you relaxing into a friendly conversation. Your anxiety from before melts away as you tell him about your home country, about the ridiculous situations Chiara has dragged you into (which she responds to with a groan), and as he answers with a laugh and a funny story of his own. You are so wrapped up in conversation with them, that you pay no attention to the eyes watching you quietly from further down the table.

You’re laughing with a half-empty glass in your hand when Chiara tugs on your wrist and excuses you both from the table for a moment.

“Oh my god. He’s checking you out,” she whispers as she pulls you into the bathroom.

“Mista?” you ask, feeling your cheeks warm. “I mean, he’s sweet but-“

“No!” she interrupts, and leans into your space conspiratorially. “The Don.”

Hah. The Don.

“Ok. Sure,” you say.

“I’m not joking,” she says. “God, you’re so clueless. He’s been watching you this whole time.”

“I haven’t even spoken to him,” you say. “And he’s like, 10 years older than us, at least. And rich.”

“And he was watching you,” Chiara huffs. She says your name lowly and levels you with a stare. “I know these things. Remember the last time I caught someone checking you out?”

“The guy who showed up to our date with an ankle monitor on?”

“God, that’s not the point. I told you he was flirting and I was right.”

Sensing that this conversation is not about to go anywhere else, you concede with a halfhearted “ok” and push the door open to leave.

You push the door open into the Don’s face.

He catches it smoothly with one large hand and doesn’t flinch as you squawk.

“Sorry! I didn’t see you there,” you squeak.

“No worries, Signorina,” he says. In the small space of the hallway, you notice that his voice is rich, masculine, smooth. “Is everything all right? Your friend seemed to be in a hurry.” Has he sounded like that all night? Has he been looking at you like that all night?

The hallway to the bathrooms is small, and the the placement of his hand on the door has his arm and body hovering over you in a way that’s almost…intimate. You notice, not for the first time that night, that Giorno is handsome. Very handsome. You decide that you’re reading into things too much because this isn’t a romance novel and things like this don’t happen to you, of course.

“Everything’s fine,” you answer, looking over your shoulder to see that the bathroom behind you is empty, which means that Chiara has hidden herself in one of the stalls.

“My friend was just”-you think of telling him she has a headache, and then remember how embarrassed she made you earlier-“throwing up. A lot. I told her she should have eaten something before coming out and drinking.”

Giorno’s brows pinch in concern. “Ah. Is she…all right? I would be happy to call someone over to check on her.”

“Nope,” you answer. “She’ll be fine as soon as she gets it all out. Last time we went out clubbing it took-“

“Actually!” Chiara’s voice rings out behind you, the stall door flying open with a thud. “I think I’m sick, because I can handle my alcohol just fine, actually, so I’d like you to take me home now, please?”

She sidles up beside you and pinches your side, politely excusing the both of you from the Don as you say “ow.” He makes a face somewhere between quizzical and amused as you’re dragged back to the table for Chiara to kiss her father on the cheek and tell him goodbye.

“So good to see you, principessa,” he says, and turns to you. “Tell her to come visit her poor father sometime, and bring yourself along while you’re at it.”

You smile. “Of course, Signore.”

It seems that the rest of the table is ready to call it a night as well, as Signore Alessi and the others stand and begin to give their goodbyes. You down the rest of your drink quickly, finishing just in time to see that Don Giovanna has come back to the balcony—and that his eyes are on you again, for the second before Signore Alessi is calling for his attention.

You decide that you should leave before he can ask about your poor, sick friend again.

The wash of cool air is more than welcome as you step out of the building and into the street. Your skin must have been flushed for half the night, between the embarrassment, the laughter, the drinks, and…whatever that was with the Don.

“Thank god that’s over,” Chiara sighs beside you, whipping her phone out to call an Uber. “I’m remembering why I always skipped out on dad’s dinners when I was a kid.”

“Oh, I didn’t think they were that bad,” you say. “Especially for a bunch of middle aged-“

The door swings open behind you, and Mista strolls out alone.

“Good, I caught you before you took off,” he says. He nods at Chiara and then looks at you expectantly. “I’ve got a little favor to ask. Could I get your number?”

Oh. Oh no. Mista seems sweet, really, but-

“For my boss.”

Oh. Oh.

Over Mista’s shoulder, you see Chiara’s mouth fall open as she holds herself back from giving you an immediate “I told you so.”

Don Giovanna wants your number. The Don wants your number. You have to be misreading this. Maybe he’s just got an open position for an intern that needs filling. Maybe he’s just very polite and wants to check up on your supposedly nauseous friend later.

“He would’ve asked you himself, but he got a little wrapped up, as you saw,” Mista goes on with a laugh.

“Yeah, sure,” you say before your brain can catch up to your mouth. You enter your number into a phone Mista hands you, and he turns to enter the building again as your Uber pulls up to the curb.

“He’ll probably call you sometime tomorrow,” he says with a wave. “Great meeting you guys. Ciao!”

You watch the door click shut behind him. Chiara is going to be so obnoxious about this. You dive into the car before you can see how smug her expression is and look very pointedly out the window. Incredibly, she says nothing as the driver pulls up to her apartment just a few blocks away, and the both of you trudge through the lobby, into the elevator, and through the doors to her apartment. You’re tugging your dress over your head to change into your pajamas when she finally speaks.

“I’m booking you an appointment with my Brazilian waxer,” she says.

You would smack her with a pillow, if you didn’t know that she was also offering to pay. And with the way your nerves are already beginning to act up, it’s an offer you may want to take her up on.

—

The next weekend, Chiara comes over to help you get ready for your date by laying in bed and watching while you put your makeup on and offering such useful suggestions as “are you sure you don’t want my push-up bra? I would want a push-up bra.”

You don’t bother to respond, because you think your boobs look fine in the mirror, and because you still can’t make yourself believe this date will end up in that direction anyway. Giorno, as he asked you to call him, had been nothing but polite over his texts to you. Brief, formal, but polite.

He did specifically call it a date, which defeated your theory of a job offering, but it all still feels so…unbelievable.

“I still can’t believe this is happening,” Chiara says, as if reading your thoughts. “I mean, of course he’s into you, because you’re beautiful and smart and nice, but-“ she sighs. “God. You have no idea how big this guy is. This is so insane.”

“What, is he the prime minister’s landlord?” you laugh. “I can handle some big-shot real estate mogul.”

Chiara looks at you the way she might look at a dog with three legs. Sweet, but pitiful.

“You are so, so clueless,” she says. “You should probably stay that way.”

You don’t have time to wonder what the fuck she’s talking about, because your phone pings with a text from Giorno. He’s pulling up to your apartment complex.

—

It’s drizzling as you push past the doors of your apartment building. You didn’t think to bring an umbrella down, you hope this doesn’t smudge your makeup—and the worms have already begun to wriggle onto the sidewalk.

Poor things. The skies will be cleared up and the sidewalk will be bone dry again in just a couple of hours. They don’t even know that they’re about to die slowly and horribly.

It’s just as you’re picking up the last one that you hear a car pull up to the curb behind you. You pray that it isn’t Giorno, come just in time to see you crouched in a puddle with a worm between your fingers, but you can’t imagine that anyone else in this grubby apartment block would be driving a Ferrari. He steps out just as you’re placing the little guy into a soft patch of grass.

“Buonasera,” he greets you as he takes in the scene. Your hands are dripping with mud water and worm slime, and suddenly you’re very worried about getting dirt in this car that probably cost more than you’ll make in years.

“Buonasera,” you say. “I was just, um. The worms-“ you trail off as you realize you don’t have an explanation that doesn’t make you feel a bit silly, but Giorno’s face breaks into a soft smile. He produces a handkerchief from his pocket and takes your dirty hands in his.

“I can see that,” he says, rubbing your hands gently between the fabric, brushing it between each finger and over every knuckle. His hands are warm. Your skin is clammy. “I’m sure they appreciate the effort.”

He opens the passenger door for you and escorts you in with a hand on your arm, and your cheeks begin to warm with that familiar heat.

The restaurant he brings you to is easily the nicest you’ve ever stepped foot in. Certainly nicer than the boutique cafes Chiara (and her dad’s credit card) often treat you to. Giorno hands his keys to a valet and leads you up the steps with a hand on your lower back, through a set of heavy double doors and into the lavish building. Elegant decor, low lighting, floor to ceiling windows overlooking Naple’s skyline and the bay…this definitely has ankle monitor guy beat. Regretfully, you do have to give this one to Chiara.

The hostess looks up from her station as you approach, and upon seeing Giorno, immediately gathers a couple of menus and motions for the two of you to follow her. He must be a regular here, you think, or maybe it has something to do with what Chiara was telling you earlier. Something about Giorno being a bigger deal than you understood.

The hostess seats you at a table in the far corner of the restaurant. Quiet, secluded from the other patrons. Giorno pulls your seat out for you and takes the jacket from your shoulders. He orders a bottle of wine with a name you don’t recognize and the hostess leaves you with your menus.

“I hope the restaurant is to your liking,” he says. He must be joking. Everything about it is beautiful, if not a little intimidating for someone unused to such luxury.

“It’s very pretty,” you say, looking out across the bay. The sun is beginning to set, casting vivid red hues across the seawater.

“Do you like to watch the ocean?” he asks.

“From a distance, absolutely,” you answer. “Up close it gets a little…scarier.”

“Scary? Are you not a fan of swimming, then?”

“Oh no,” you say quickly. “I saw Jaws when I was a kid. Never been the same since.”

The corner of Giorno’s mouth quirks. “I can assure you no one here has died in a shark attack for a very long time.”

The waiter returns to set a wine bottle and two glasses on the table, pouring it out for both of you. Giorno takes a slow sip of his and you pick up your glass to do the same. You aren’t usually one for wine, but you’re not about to offend him by rejecting it. You take a sip and try not to make a face that says “ew.”

“Do you enjoy wine?” Giorno asks.

“Yes,” you lie. “Your friend said you own the club we met at?” A smooth change of subject.

“I do, as well as a couple of others in the city. My business partners and I often hold meetings there, as you saw.”

“Meeting about uh, real estate things?” God, you’re bad at this.

Giorno smiles. “No, not quite. We were actually discussing an upcoming charity fundraiser.”

“That’s nice. Chiara always said her dad’s coworkers were-“ you realize you’re about to put your foot in your mouth yet again, and change course. “-great people. Really generous.”

Giorno takes another slow sip from his glass, and fixes you with a look you can’t quite place. “That very kind of her, but things haven’t always been this way. I do try to keep them in line now that I’m in the business.”

“What charity are you fundraising for?”

“A few,” Giorno begins. “Most of them supporting children and families affected by substance abuse.”

Ah, Naple’s infamous addiction issues. From what you’ve heard, the problem has lessened in severity since the last decade, but an issue with roots so deep can only be uprooted so quickly.

“I’ve heard about the addiction rates here,” you say. “Is it something you’re passionate about?”

“Absolutely,” Giorno says, and his gaze becomes intense, even more so than it always seems to be. “You could say that my life’s work has revolved around it. To threaten the well-being of these people, to pollute these streets with drugs-“ he turns to gaze through the window, at the sidewalks and people below. “-it’s unforgivable.”

You aren’t sure how to respond to such a speech, at first. Giorno’s intensity is brilliant to the point of intimidation, firm and absolute in this conviction he’s shared with you. You realize that this is the same assuredness you’ve seen in him since you met him that night, in every small interaction you witnessed (and shared) with him. In the way he’s looked at you, even after only just having met you. An absolute certainty in what he wants, and the absolute confidence to pursue it. You have no doubt, somehow, that he’ll have it.

“I like that,” you say simply. “I mean, you must be very proud. It seems like all your work is paying off.”

“I am,” he says, with that intense gaze fixed on you. Bright. Brilliant. “Thank you. You would be surprised at how much…resistance my work has been met with. It isn’t something one receives thanks for often, in my circle.”

You can’t imagine an apparent philanthropist being so deprived of something as basic as genuine praise, but the look on his face is achingly close to something you’ve seen before. In kids who were never told enough how good they were, in quiet classmates who’s work never seemed to be noticed. It’s uncomfortable, almost, to see pieces of those people in the man in front of you. It’s intimate, too intimate, and Giorno is still pinning you with that look, so you decide now is a good time to veer the conversation onto a different course.

“Well, if your whole real estate business doesn’t work out, I guess you could always ask the local mafia for a job,” you say.

Giorno’s mouth quirks again. “Oh?”

“My friend says they’ve really cracked down on the drug trade around here,” you explain. “I bet you’d fit right in. Be like a real Dark Knight type of situation.”

“Was Batman in the mafia?” Giorno says, matching your playful tone.

“Uh, maybe? He broke a lot of laws, right? So basically the same thing.”

“Mm,” Giorno hums. “Yes, I suppose it is.” Something in his smile is unplaceable to you. It reminds you of the night in the club, when you were pricked with the feeling that something was going over your head. That Giorno is in on some private joke you’re oblivious to.

“But if I was spending my evenings fighting crime,” he begins. “I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of meeting you.”

Warmth spreads through your cheeks, now from more than just the wine. Giorno is easy to talk to. Charming, witty, polite. The food he orders for you is delicious, of course, and you don’t realize until your plate is cleared and the sun has set that Giorno has managed to keep you talking for the entire evening. To think that you had been so anxious about this date, and just a few hours later here you are, chatting like you’ve known him for months.

When Giorno leads you outside the moon has already begun to rise, cool night air brushing past your flushed skin. His hand is warm on your lower back as he escorts you down the steps, firm under your fingers as he helps you into the car. When he slides into the driver’s seat and his own door clicks shut beside him, the bustle of the street and chatter of the crowds melts away, an intimate silence filling the small space of the car.

“Have I told you that you look beautiful tonight?” Giorno says, his eyes dipping briefly along the curves of your face, your neck, your…they flit back up to meet yours. Your skin prickles.

“Mm, maybe a couple of times,” you say.

Headlights from passing cars bathe Giorno in fleeting streaks of light, glinting off the rings on his fingers, illuminating his face and the skin of his chest where his unbuttoned shirt parts. He brushes his fingers over the soft skin of your hand, watching your face intently, as if testing the waters for your reaction. You curl your fingers into his, feeling the warmth of his palms, the slick metal of his rings.

“Thank you for taking me out,” you say softly.

“The pleasure was mine,” he says, his thumb making slow drags across your knuckles. “You’ll have to allow me the chance to do it again. After all, I need to redeem myself with a drink you actually enjoy.”

You huff sharply at the mischievous edge to his words. “You noticed.”

He smiles, teasing as his fingers brush up and down yours. “It was very kind of you to try to spare my ego, but I did notice.”

“And you were just going to let me suffer through it?” your smile back.

Giorno leans into your space, your twined hands close enough to his face that you can feel his breath on your fingers.

“Do you know that you scrunch your face when you drink something bitter?” he says. You’re suddenly very aware of the drool pooling underneath your tongue, and swallow hard. “It’s very endearing, (y/n).”

You can’t seem to push a response through your lips. The two of you sit in a charged silence, watching each other, feeling the warmth radiating from his body.

He says your name in a low voice. “May I kiss you?”

Oh, he may. He absolutely may.

“Yes,” you breathe. His hand untangles from yours to slide up your shoulder, your neck, under the line of your jaw and into the thick of your hair. His fingers curl into it there, the pressure on your scalp tilting your head back and pulling a sharp exhale from your lips.

“Can I ask you a question?” he says, his breathe fanning across your mouth. You answer with an “mm,” too woozy with anticipation to put together anything more.

“How long have you wanted me to do it?”

Oh, he is cocky. Most frustrating is the fact that you can’t say it’s undeserved; Giorno is gorgeous, and charming, and right in front you, and you do want it. You have wanted it since…you think back to the first time you felt this familiar heat around him.

“Since you cornered me. Against the bathroom door in the club,” you tell him.

From this close, you can see the tiniest pull of a smile on his lips. “Hm,” he says. “That long?”

He’s finally worn out your patience. Your hands fly to his face, cupping the sharp lines of his jaw, threading into his hair and tugging him into you, covering his warm mouth with your own. He hums into it, returning your kiss with equal pressure, and as quickly as you’ve kissed him you realize he’s already taken back the reigns.

Giorno’s mouth works against yours slowly, surely. You cede control to him happily, letting your hands slide down the hard lines of his neck and shoulders. The fabric of his jacket is like butter under your hands, fine and delicate over his sturdy form. You nudge it to the side as your hands wander, the skin of them pressing into the bare skin of his neck where his muscles work as he takes your mouth over and over again.

His other hand presses into your waist then, encouraging you over the center console and closer to his chest. You let him pull you wherever he pleases, one hand dropping onto his leg to steady yourself as you’re dragged nearly on top of him. With the distance closed, his hand slides to wrap his entire arm around you, pulling you further into his chest, close enough for his mouth to wander down, down to your neck and the sensitive space where it meets your shoulder.

Your breathing has picked up. Enough that the window in front of you is beginning to fog, and you can feel your chest brushing up against his with every gulp of air. He runs a hand down your back in soothing strokes.

“Easy,” he coos. “I’ve got you.”

He pulls away just enough for you catch your breath, but close enough still to leave his grip in your hair and his arm around your body, making steady, steady strokes. It isn’t like you to get so worked up so quickly. But then, none of your dates before now have been…well, Giorno.

“Giorno,”you breathe. Your fingers find the skin of his shoulders again, scratching lightly them, and the sharp breath it pulls from the man pressed up against you is delicious.

“I’m here,” he says. Is his voice getting huskier? “Is there something you need?”

There is, but it isn’t something you normally ask for. Not on a first date, and certainly not from a man your hardly know.

But Giorno has made you feel nothing but safe in the short time you’ve spent with him. It’s irrational, how much you want to trust him despite practically being strangers, but you cannot deny this quality about him that just makes you feel…safe. That coaxes you gently into placing your faith in him.

He says your name again. “You don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. I can take you home now, if that’s what you want.”

But you do want it. You do want him. The hard part is asking for it. Giorno is older than you, wealthy, gorgeous, wildly successful, and a dozen other things that make insecurity coil tightly in your gut. But he watches you so patiently while you deliberate, his gentle hand making circles on your back, and to assume that he would look down on you for any of those things feels as if it would be an insult to his character.

You swallow hard. “No, I want it.”

That smile on his lips again. “Want what?”

Your head drops to his shoulder and you groan, taking a fistful of his undershirt. “Please don’t tease me like this.”

Giorno tucks his head into the space between your neck and your shoulder, his breath fanning over your ear. “Tell me exactly what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”

You whine into his shoulder and only feel a bit embarrassed at the childishness of it. “I can’t,” you tell him.

He places one of his hands into yours and you take it in your grasp. “Then show me.”

Splaying his hand out on your ribs, he waits for your guidance. You intertwine your fingers again, feeling the size of his hand under yours, the metallic edge of his rings. He squeezes your fingers back, but makes no other move. He really is going to make you ask for this.

You let out a long, shaky breath. You want this. You want him. Tentatively, you begin dragging his hand across the plane of your body. Up your ribs, just underneath the swell of your breast, where his thumb brushes curiously over the underwire of your bra. You linger there, moving his hand in short arcs under the curve of your breast, breath hitching as his thumb travels closer and closer to the stiff peak of your nipple…and then you drop your hand, dragging him away from the soft flesh.

His mouth curls into a smile against your shoulder. “Teasing me?”

You laugh breathlessly as you guide his hand over the dip in your waist. “Only since you seem to like it so much.”

His hand slides appreciatively over the meat of your hip, kneading it firmly. You follow the cut of your hipbone inward, underneath the plush of your belly, to the crease between you thigh. Blood rushes hot through your ears, making you almost dizzy with want. Anything you ask for, he said. Anything you ask, he’ll give.

The heat of his mouth attaches to your neck again, and the feeling is so wonderful against your buzzing skin that you feel your eyes flutter close. He’s encouraging you, you realize. Gently coaxing you into confidence. He wants you, too.

Inching him down, you guide his hand to brush over the mound between your hips. Your breath catches. You’ve never had to ask for this before.

You think of the men you’ve been with in times past. How they practically threw themselves at you, taking absolutely anything they could get from you, hungrily, without restraint. This is foreign. It makes you feel almost desperate with need, to be so close to having what you want, but to be so nervous to reach out for it.

Sensing your hesitation, Giorno opens his mouth and presses the wet heat of his tongue flat against your neck, dragging it up along the line of your jaw to the sensitive skin below your ear, and this time your eyes do roll back. The wet trail he leaves on your skin chills in the night air, and you moan for him.

“Che brava ragazza (what a good girl),” he praises you. “You can have it. Just ask me for it, you can have it.”

He squeezes your hand gently, reassuringly, and you don’t have the patience to be bashful anymore. You slide him down to the bunched up hem of your dress, under the fabric, and flat against your aching core. The meat of his palm is firm against your folds and he rewards you immediately with a strong grip around your pussy.

“Good, good girl,” he says, making short strokes with his whole hand up and down your center. He pulls away from your neck only to drag you into another kiss, harder than the last, and you abandon his hand against you to fist both of yours into his hair. The moan you let into his mouth is wanton, embarrassingly so for someone who’s only barely been touched. You can’t bring yourself to care. The pressure between your legs is so, so good.

Deft fingers slip under your panties and you gasp as he slides the pads of his fingers along the wet of your lips.

“All this? Already?” Giorno says airily.

“You make—fuck,” your voice clips as the pads of Giorno’s fingers dip into your entrance, dragging your slick up to the nub of your clit. “Mmmm fuck, you make me feel good.”

Giorno groans, a low rumble in his chest, and you drop your head to his shoulder as his fingers make quick circles around your clit. His pace is steady, pressure firm, as he works you closer and closer to a peak that is quickly approaching.

You take the hand still tangled in your hair and drag it to rest flat on the meat of your breast, which he kneads greedily. The temperature in the confined space of the car has risen, high enough that you can feel sweat starting to gather on your skin and dampen your clothes, but you don’t care. You might be about to squirt all over the interior of Giorno’s nice car, but you can’t bring yourself to care about that either when he’s pulling you so diligently to your climax.

“You’re so worked up,” he says, and his voice is definitely shot now. Deep. Gravelly. A little bit desperate. “Are you going to cum for me?”

You are. You are you are you are, and his fingers pick up their pace under your panties, and the hand on your breast finds the soft peak of your nipple underneath the pad of your bra and pinches, and you squeal. The pressure between your legs is hot, hot, hot.

“Yes, I’m gonna cum. Fuck, I’m gonna cum, please please please-“ You collapse into his chest, thighs shaking underneath you, and moan into the fabric of his suit as the pressure in your hips finally releases. With the arm around your waist Giorno holds you upright while you go practically boneless against him, hips stuttering into his hand as he works you through the length of your orgasm, his chest rumbling against you as he praises, “brava, brava ragazza, proprio così (good, good girl, just like that).”

As the rush begins to sizzle out, his fingers continue in their persistent slide against your clit, until you’re pushing at his hand with an “ah, ah” that has him laughing airily. The car is filled with the sound of your fluttering breaths, and of the quiet, soothing noises Giorno makes above you.

“Good thing I don’t have a night job fighting crime,” Giorno teases you.

You laugh breathlessly. “Yeah, good thing.”

You wrap your arms around his broad chest, sinking into the warmth of his body, and he envelops you in his arms. Stroking your back as you shiver, carding fingers through the tangles of your hair. As the fuzz begins to clear from your head, you feel the faintest warmth in your belly again as you realize you aren’t quite finished. Your fingers slide along the edge of his belt, playing with the buckle before he scoops your hand into his and brings it to his lips for a kiss.

“Not yet, amore,” he says. “Not here.”

Your shoulders slump with your disappointment and he laughs against your hair.

“When I fuck you,” he speaks into your ear. “I’m going to do it properly.” You shiver against him.

He lets you rest against his chest until you’ve caught your breath. “Do you have work tomorrow?” he asks.

You shake your head. “No.”

“Then come home with me,” he says with a smile and a kiss to your head. “And I’ll let you have whatever else you want.”

You pull back to look at him. Cheeks flushed. Hair tousled from the work of your fingers. The collar of his shirt pushed wide open against his chest. You want, you want, you want.

“Ok,” you answer, and press your lips to his warm cheek. The car starts with a low rumble, and you fix yourself in your seat. Your skirt is bunched around your waist, your hair a mess, your makeup smeared, no doubt. Giorno pulls away from the curb and you roll down the emptying Naples streets. “But only if I get to tease you this time.”

He meets your eyes with that look that promises absolutely nothing good. “Of course,” he says, pulling your hand to his mouth for another kiss. And another.

“Anything you want.”

[remuslupinsdaughter]

Protection

Part two

Summary: just a story I thought of where a young girl of around 12 runs away from her abusive father and goes to the sons for help

Warnings: trigger warnings for this one, abuse, swearing, physical and mental abuse, lots of angst, hints of sexual abuse

Charlie was sat on the benches whilst the bikers were inside the clubhouse, a woman she now knew is called Gemma was sat with her, “we’re gonna take care of you honey, don’t worry” she said kindly whilst another woman handed Charlie a glass of juice, she shivered again, “you cold honey?” Charlie nodded shyly, “you got a coat or anything?” Gemma asked, Charlie shook her head no, Gemma quickly went inside and returned with a samcro blanket, she wrapped it around Charlie.

The guys walked back outside making Charlie straighten up, “what’s your name kid?” The president asked, “Charlie” she replied, “well Charlie, we’re taking you in, you can stay here tonight then you’ll stay with Jax” he said pointing at the long haired blonde man who smiled kindly. Charlie nodded, “thank you”, she says, then looks at the prospect, “can I have my backpack?” She asks, he looks to the president her rolls his eyes, the prospect hands he the backpack, Charlie takes it and hugs it close to her. “Come on honey I’ll get you set up for the night” Gemma says extending an arm, Charlie follows her inside, Gemma leads her into a dorm room, “I’ll change these sheets for you real quick” she says and grabs some sheets from the cabinet, “I can help” Charlie says walking over to help, Gemma smiles, they both change the sheets and Gemma smooths them over, “ok, Jax is on a run early tomorrow so he’s sleeping here tonight, he’s in the next room over so if you need him you go get him” Gemma says, Charlie nodded and Gemma left the room.

Gemma walks down the hall, “poor kid” she says, sitting next to Clay and leaning into him, “we got her, we’ll take care of her” he says and kisses her forehead.

Charlie listens to the conversation die down as everyone goes home, she shuts her eyes and tries her best to get some sleep.

The next morning she was woken by loud chattering, she got changed and was pulling on a sweater when there was a knock on the door, she startled and squeaked out a “come in”, it was Jax, “hey you sleep okay?” He asks, Charlie nods nervously, “come on I’ll introduce you to everyone”.

Charlie followed him out where everyone was sat smoking and drinking coffee, “that’s Clay our president, his old lady Gemma, who’s also my mom” he turns to more of the bikers, “this is Tig, Chibs, Juice, Happy, Bobby, Piney and Opie” the guys all nodded hellos, she smiled shyly at them. “You want anything to eat honey?” Gemma asked, Charlie didn’t realise how hungry she was, she hadn’t eaten for two days, Charlie nodded, “if that’s ok” she said shyly, Gemma smiled kindly, “of course sweetheart let me fix you something” she said a disappeared into the kitchen.

Charlie tucked into the sandwich Gemma made, “we’re gonna pay your pops a visit today” Clay said leaning against the bar, Charlie tensed and stopped eating, she nodded, “you go to school or anything?” Clay asked, Charlie shook her head, “no my dad pulled me out when my teacher noticed bruises , haven’t been for three years”, Jax clenches his jaw angrily and shakes his head, “ok let’s head out”.

The club pulled up to the butchers, they walked into the shop, “clear everyone out” Clay says to Tig who nods then starts telling the few people in the store to leave and turns the sign to closed. “Can I help you gentlemen?” “You Brian Hansley?” Clay asks, Brian nods, “in the flesh” he says with a grin that makes everyone cringe, “little birdy told us you beat on your daughter” Jax says, Brian’s face drops, “I uh, have no idea what you’re talking about” “oh I think you do, get a little drunk, come home, kick the shit out of your twelve year old little girl” Clay says, Brian stutters, Tig rounds the counter and grabs Brian by his hair and drags him round, “your kids with us now, you try file a report, we know about it and we show them all the little bruises you littered her body with you sick fuck” Jax says and punches him straight in jaw.

“Let’s go” Clay says, the guys shake their heads at Brian then walk out, stepping over his groaning form.

[n04s]

Okay. Actually this is completely wrong

Rusty's misery isn't because he can't live up to his father. Maybe in season 1? But at the end of that season he gives up all hope of ever becoming like his dad and passes the torch on to his brother, Jonas. Which imo makes him a happier person... somewhat.

Rusty's ACTUAL misery is because nobody loves him and he loves no one. He's too self absorbed to love anyone (and the closest thing we ever get is his fan club president...), not just because he's a narcissist but also because the shit his father did to him in his childhood was incredibly damaging and he was never able to move past it.

In the episode "Assisted Suicide", we get a direct view of Rusty Venture's mind, and, to me clearly solidified the fact that Rusty Venture has alters due to childhood trauma.

We first meet "Id", who is portrayed as a narcissistic child. This is the Rusty we see in most of the show. He has a collection of women that have all fallen for him. Yes, Rusty Venture DOES get laid (many times actually?). However, this part of him only cares about women as "trophies".

Next, we see "Ego". This is an adult Rusty, but he's too preoccupied trying to fix his child self from all the shit that happened. Focused on looking at the past, unable to connect with anyone while in his spiral of misery. His problems are only momentarily solved when the "trophy" women are brought in. Yes, this part of Rusty is equally misogynistic, and only sees women as "mother" figures for himself. We see this Rusty when he is at his most vulnerable.

Finally, we meet "Superego", who had been locked up in mind-jail. When the crew meets him, he says that nobody has needed him for a while. Also, he looks like his dad. Ring a bell? YES! This is the Rusty we have only seen in season 1, the Rusty that WANTS to be like his dad, who's CONFIDENT.....and who's also the most evil bastard Rusty of them all. Immediately after the main cast sets him free, Rusty has one of his most morally dubious episodes ("What Color Is Your Cleansuit?"), the likes of which he hadn't had since Henry Killinger tried to make him a supervillain.

Anyway. Back to my original point. Nobody loves Rusty. Except women. And he is so misogynist that he might as well be gay. Or maybe he is genuinely gay, but no men like him? Still misogynist.

His sons also love him, but children are not able to provide love to their caretakers the same way a true friend could. Plus...well this could get long but tl;dr he is the shittest dad imaginable.

He pushes away people. His rare moments of vulnerability are met with awkward silence and avoidance. He's utterly and completely alone, due to forces on both sides--internal and external.

[atmilliways]

Wrong On The Money (1-3)

parts 1, 2, & 3 of ?? | 888 words | Teen+

Blackmail fic on Ao3 | on tumblr

Summary:

Wayne is sick and they don't have the money for the treatment he needs. Eddie, desperate and spread thin between school, a part time job, and dealing, spots Steve outside of a gay club and opts for blackmail. Steve, who has heard about Wayne through Dustin... just sort of lets him.

I started writing this while Ao3 is down. Haven't quite finished it yet, but I've got 6.7k written so far, so I should be able to do daily posts for at least a while!

Now also posted on Ao3.

Quick note, if it helps anyone who might be hit too close to home by Wayne's serious but relatively brief health scare. First, he's going to be fine. I love Wayne, I wouldn't do that to him. Second, Dustin's mind goes straight to cancer when he hears that it's serious serious, but Wayne's illness is never specified. The only symptoms described are basically a cough and general weakness/fatigue.

1.

Dustin is really upset one day after school, the day he tells Steve about his dad. 

Steve had never asked, alright? It was family shit, and that kind of thing was. . . . Well, not sacred, he can’t even think that and keep a straight face, but definitely private. There could’ve been any number of reasons why Mr. Henderson wasn’t around. 

Turns out it was cancer.

And . . . it’s not insensitive to wonder, right? Steve doesn't know if it’s an anniversary or if someone’s been giving him shit at school about not having a dad or something. So, after a few bumbling questions about why this is upsetting him now, an explanation comes tumbling out.

The leader or president or whatever of the nerd club Dustin joined at the start of the year had to cancel their game this week. “Eddie never cancels, Steve,” Dustin insists, eyes red from crying and voice gone all squeaky. “And we were giving him shit about it, we all were, even the upperclassmen guys, and he. . . he j-just broke, Steve. Said his uncle is r-really sick, bad sick, and I know what that means. They don’t have the money for treatment. He’s Eddie’s only family, and he’s probably going t-to. . . .”

Steve regrets dropping Robin off at her house first today. She might not know what to say either, but at least they’d be in this together. “Dust, that’s. . . . That’s awful.”

Turns out he doesn’t have to say anything else, because Dustin thumps against him and bawls his eyes out. 

2.

“It was awful, Robs,” Steve says, rubbing a hand over his eyes as he talks into the phone. “I haven’t seen him like that since after Starcourt, when we had to tell him about Hop.”

Robin’s wince is audible in her reply. “Yeah, that's. . . . That’s pretty bad.”

“Yeah.” He heaves a sigh, hoping it’ll get some of the constricted feeling out of his chest. It doesn’t.

“Steve? Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.” It’s just, he hates it. Hated it then and hates it now, because both times there’s no way for him to jump between Dustin and this thing. “Everything was starting to sort of feel okay again, and then suddenly there's Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson and his uncle, who I’ve never even seen in my life—”

“It’s not about the Munsons, Steve,” Robin says gently. “You and Dustin have that ‘you die I die’ thing. He’s like your kid brother who annoys the shit out of you, but you love him to death anyway. And right now he’s sad but you can’t do anything to help.”

Lifting his face from his hand, Steve looks around the room. He’s on the big comfortable couch in his big fucking house with too many rooms, all empty except for this one. His parents are never home, always away on business trips that got way more frequent after Barbara Holland disappeared from a party he’d hosted. They send money—not an allowance, not since he didn’t get into any of the colleges he’d applied to. But the utility bills are always paid up, and a gardener still comes around to do lawn maintenance every other week.

He wonders how the cost of maintaining a house they don’t live in compares to the cost of whatever kind of treatment Munson’s uncle needs.

Doesn’t let himself wonder if it would make a difference, but he knows that treatments don’t always work. It hadn’t, apparently, for Dustin’s dad.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees heavily. “I know.”

3.

The nice thing about being done with high school and working weekends at a shitty retail job is, Steve can do whatever he wants on some weekdays. As long as he doesn’t have a shift that starts before noon the next day, anyway. Which he doesn’t.

So, a few days after Dustin’s revelations, Steve drives up to the nearest outskirts of Indy. Eventually he ends up in one of those clubs that he and Robin have been researching how to find.

He tells himself that he’s scoping it out before he brings her, but he wants to get lost for a while. Empty his head out of things he can’t do a damn thing about—the Upside Down, the monsters, the Russians, the Munsons, the memories of Dustin crying and, just for funsies, of Nancy calling him bullshit. Because that’s always somewhere in the mix, these days.

Fill it back up with music and movement. Not with drinks, because he still has to get himself back to Hawkins in one piece.

He goes and he dances and he sweats. Sometimes guys dance with him, and Steve goes with it. Who cares? No one knows him here, it doesn’t mean anything.

Turns out, it does mean something after all. 

When Steve finally stumbles his way out of the club, he finds none other than Eddie Munson sitting on the hood of the Beemer he’s been buying off of his parents in installments. (Their idea. It’s a ‘pay for it or lose it’ kind of deal.) 

The buzzing under his sweat-tacky skin—satisfaction at successfully getting out of his head—fizzles out. He keeps walking and stops when he draws even with the car. 

Eddie Munson, looking tired and prickling with restless energy, and exhales a cloud of smoke and vapor into the chilly air. “Hey, man. What’s a nice boy like you doing in a place like this?”

[wannaeatramyeon]

Lookism... working actual jobs + contributing to society

Hey listen up troublemakers! Your days of terrorising the community is over. These guys have aged out of crews and shit and are forced to actually work and contribute to society like the rest of us losers

Eli Jang: Lord bless this man with a rich and wealthy partner so he can be a stay at home dad. His hairdressing skills are going nowhere fast and being feral isn't really a useful life skill.

Johan Seong: owns a dog rescue, doesn't let anyone adopt them. They're all his babies. It completely defeats the purpose.

Jake Kim: great leader, inspires loyalty and passion. Would do far better than his dad as an actual politician, but he leads grass root organisations instead to improve the neighbourhood. Keeps things simple after Big Deal, but can't help but be a natural leader.

Samuel Seo: did a pretty good job as president of 3rd and 4th Affiliate before it all went to shit, let him be CEO. It's the profession with the most psychopaths afterall. Might have a meltdown similar to Elon and burn the company to the ground (but literally).

Eugene: business consultant. management consultant. some sort of corporate consultant. Days filled with buzzwords and powerpoints. Disrupting the industry and growth hacking blah blah. Posts shit on LinkedIn all the time.

Gun Park: will forever be a menace to society. Likely start a real life Fight Club. Has an arrest warrant out not for assault, but causing public damage during his fights and on the run from police.

Goo Kim: ultimate girlboss. Silver tongued and charming when he wants to be. Has the most profitable pyramid scheme this side of South Korea.

[krisstheidiot]

1-Character Intros 1.0

A/N:- It's a lot but I thought this would be more of an effective background and context than in pics so yeah spare me guys I wrote this with half my usual braincell lol

@series directory

Name: Y/N Holmes

Age: 18

Year: Freshmen (Fall Sem)

Major: Double major in Computer science and Film Studies with a minor in Fashion Design.

Extracurriculars: Student Rep in the student council, Tennis, Theatre, Writing.

Vibes: Chaotic Academia, Occasionally casual chic, Smiley, Crack most of the time, Spontaneous, Very Indecisive, Sarcasm goes undetected as jokes, Every word is laced with sarcasm so good luck, history is full of how to pull off crimes but its for research nothing much.

Background: Part French(Maternal) and part British-Korean(Paternal), Skipped two years when she was a kid but then took a gap before applying for college, met Seungmin and Han in 7th grade, Mom is a famous fashion designer, Dad a surgeon, during the gap she took she had gone on a trip around Europe with her mom and made friends in France during the month she stayed there.

Name: Kim Seungmin

Age: 20

Year: Sophomore

Major: Double major in Journalism and Media Arts.

Extracurriculars: Treasurer(Student Council), Runs the campus newsletter, Photography club, Baseball.

Vibes: Smart Casual look, Citycore, Straightforward, does not believe in delulu, Sarcastic mean but funny in a way, will sassy shit on people who bother the people he cares about, pretty smile, is very sentimental inside, book boyfriend coded to the T. (*Mom I want one*)

Name: Han Jisung

Age: 20

Year: Sophomore

Major: Double major in Audio Engineering and Music Technology

Extracurriculars: Extra curriculars head(student council), Music, Part of the band called 3racha on campus, Also the campus radio show host with the other two from 3racha called "Racha Talks"

Vibes: Grunge, graphic tees with blazers, Beatles, Chaos, Very shinchan coded lol, Sirius black outfits, Emo boy x Indie, funny but the stupid kind, Will snort at a funeral, under the surface he is very feeling like very, likes anime, will force you to watch silent voice and then proceed to cry like a baby though ofc you would too, Taps his knee to calm his anxiety.

Name: Bang (Christopher) Chan

Age: 22

Year: Senior

Major: Double major in Music Production and Audio Engineering.

Extracurriculars: President(student council), Music, Part of the band called 3racha on campus, Also the campus radio show host with the other two from 3racha called "Racha Talks".

Vibes: Black, Casual Neat, Comfort is fashion core, Protective, Nice, sweet, Caring, will smile at you for no reason at all, Cry and the person who did it will be 6 feet under, Mans is a walking green flag y'all, Father of 7, Aussie Aussie Aussie, Kangaroo, Very huggable.

Name: Lee Minho

Age: 21

Year: Junior

Major: Major in Dance and Minor in Culinary Arts

Extracurriculars: Vice president(School council), Dance team, Volunteers at the animal shelter.

Vibes: Casual comfortable, does not like being extravagant, add cat fur on every piece of clothing, Convenient chic fashion, Sass in a very aggressive manner, Mans has evil written all over that attractive ass smirk on his face but in a good way ofc, Will not take anyone's shit, prefers cats to humans but honestly who doesn't, Cat butler to his three fur babies(we Stan).

Name: Seo Changbin

Age: 21

Year: Junior

Major: Music technology and Production

Extracurriculars: Secretary(Student Council), Music, Part of the band called 3racha on campus, Also the campus radio show host with the other two from 3racha called "Racha Talks".

Vibes: Black again, But make it more edgy, beanies, gym buddy, will fight someone for you, Mans is strong and fit, intimidating at first look but girl don't kid me he is the sweetest when you get to know him, Badtz Maru but slay, will bring you to eat with him because why the hell not.

Name: Hwang Hyunjin

Age: 20

Year: Sophomore

Major: Fine Arts and Dance.

Extracurriculars: Arts, Dance team, Soccer team.

Vibes: Artsy light academia, Fancy, luxury, part times as a model(flex), Sassy, Judgy sometimes, Side eye 10x, Fears Minho, Sad eater, Seungmin biased, Procrastinates too much, Laughs at every thing you say, Laughing while clapping 100x.

Name: Lee Felix (Yongbok)

Age: 20

Year: Sophomore

Major: Culinary arts.

Extracurriculars: Gaming club, Dance team, E-culture club.

Vibes: Fancy, colourful, pastels, bright, Deep voice baby face, So sunshiney all the time that you might melt from the warmth he radiates, mans is fixated on levelling up in his games, will help you build your pc, rgb went brr, streams a lot on twitch, shouting ensues whenever he is playing headphones recommended to protect your eardrums.

Name: Yang Jeongin

Age: 19

Year: Freshmen(Spring Sem)

Major: Fashion Design

Extracurriculars: Soccer team, Theatre(Costume design), Campus volunteer for extra merits.

Vibes: Modern chic, very stylish, ootd's all the time, very confident somehow and will judge people just because, Sass king, Baby bread, is very much the maknae on top even if he isn't the youngest in a setting, also models part time yay!, this guy will bully you about your height ofc in association with Seungmin.

Name: Simon Daneu

Age: 25

Occupation: CEO of a company specialising in Games and Software called Solyx.

Background: Y/N's Cousin brother but is closer to a real one because of their bond, Part French(Paternal) and part American-Korean(Maternal).

Vibes: Formal casual, Polo shirts, Button ups, corduroy pants, very chic, very overprotective as well, will spoil with no hesitation, still will bully as well with no hesitation whatsoever, likes mocking his younger sisters and brother, will pull out his card even you need the most trivial things because with him no one pays.

Name: Noelle Daneu

Age: 20

Occupation: Famous chef/baker, Owns a line of cafes and bakery/patisseries called 'The Dusk' around that are viral for their desserts and specials, also a model.

Background: Simon's younger sister, Y/N's cousin sister but is closer to a real one because of their bond, Part French(Paternal) and part American-Korean(Maternal).

Vibes: Light academia, Boss girl look, Is very funny, will spoil her younger sibs, Y/N is her baby sister and will be spoiled to bits, besties, Is very sassy which is very much a family trait honestly.

Name: Theo Holmes

Age: 9

Background: Y/N's lil brother, is a elementary student, lives in Seoul, very much rich kid but the good kind.

Vibes: Whatever mom buys lol, acts way too smug for his won good, will get bonked if he doesn't behave, finds it funny when y/n is annoyed and it makes his life a bit better to see her irritated, will tease y/n and then will whine when faced with retaliation, fights like they were enemies and then the very next minute will be giggling around like idiots.

Name: Amelia Wallis

Age: 19

Background: Y/N's bestie from Paris(met when y/n was on the Europe trip)

Vibes: Confident, cool, fashionable, always looking out for y/n, will hit someone for her.

Name: Mattheo Grey

Age: 20

Background: Y/N's bestie from Paris(met when y/n was on the Europe trip)

Vibes: Dark academia, poems, research papers, theatre kid, Hamilton.

Name: Elliot Wesley

Age: 19

Background: Y/N's bestie from London(met when y/n was on the Europe trip and then proceeded to become friends with Mattheo and Amelia)

Vibes: Smug, confident, bold, proud, country club fashion, tennis partners with y/n when she was in London, is very annoying when he wants to be.

Series Taglist:- @hyunverse , @nujeskz , @queen-in-the-shadows , @phtogravi , @authentic-65 , @rylea08 ,......

[alex-knits]

D&D Dice Bags !!

We got a ton of dice for D&D club, so I’m knitting bags!

The dice (and random shit on the table) ^

So, this isn’t a D&D blog. It’s for crafting. A while back, I made my dad a bag for his dice. It’s just a simple rectangle sewn together into a pouch and a drawstring added. The simplicity of the pattern makes it easier to make quite a few bags relatively quickly.

Now, onto the bags. I made one more (so far) today, with a rainbow yarn I have never had a real use for. It’s been sitting in my stash for quite some time now, but I think I’ll make at least one more bag with it.

The bag and dice I paired with it ^

Ugh, I’m awful at taking pictures (I’m not a product photographer, I take pictures of people/sport games (kinda, my family has me take pictures at any game I’m not playing in)), so the quality is not the best. Once I get a better way of taking these pictures, I’ll get better ones and post a big post for them.

Soon, I hope to make the rest of the council bags as well. I would tag all of them, but only Apollo (our former president) has a Tumblr

@ap0110-and-c0, opinions?

Lots of love, stretch your hands, rest your wrists <3

[juancarlos-ortiz]

Marked for Carnage - Chapter 5 (Juice x OC Fic)

Marked for Carnage Masterlist

A/N: Chapter 5 is here. Sorry if this isn't the best - I wanted to get it uploaded and haven't had a lot of time to edit. More Juice and Ronnie 1 on 1 time is coming I promise!

Word Count: 2774 words

Ronnie shakily brought the glass of water up to her lips that Jax had bought over to her. Taking a large gulp, she closed her eyes and tried to calm her racing heart. She could hear the men in the room beginning to speak, trying to piece together what was happening. "Who's Mark?" Tig asked. Ronnie only shook her head, her tongue a dead weight in her mouth. "Her piece of shit ex," Opie explained for her. "Used to smack her around. He's the reason she left Charming." Piney's grip on his daughters shoulder tightened. "And why is this jerk off still breathing?" Tig continued. "Because…" Ronnie exhaled. "He's a low level drug dealing shit stain, but he's not worth going to jail for murder over." Ronnie stood abruptly, beginning to pace. Opie, Piney and Jax all began protesting and arguing over what should be done, but she ignored them and rested her hands on the edge of the bar. A hand on her shoulder made her jump. She turned to find Tig looking down at her with a soft smile on his face. "Hey Tiggy," she smiled, her eyes still glassy. "Didn’t even know you were back, kid," he said, and pulled her into a brief, one-armed embrace. "Didn’t want it to be a big thing," Ronnie shrugged. "Now you know why."

"I want someone on Ronnie's house," Ronnie heard Piney say, his gruff voice sounding over the fray. "No dad," Ronnie began. "I don't want to take anyone from the club. I can handle my shit, he just freaked me out." Piney shook his head, Opie agreeing with him. "He doesn’t even know where I live," she continued. "Wouldn’t be hard for him to find out," Jax said. Piney looked to where Clay was sitting. Clay shrugged. "I don't got the numbers at the moment. I can give you the Prospect." Piney growled, adjusting the cannula in his nose. "Not happening," he chided. "Seriously it's fine, pops. Look, I'm sorry to burst in like this, Clay," Ronnie turned to the President. Clay waved a hand in her direction. "All good, kid. You’re family," he shrugged. Ronnie smiled flatly and made her way out of the clubhouse, Piney and Opie following her.

"Dad's right," Opie began. "You should have someone stay with you." Ronnie whirled around to face her brother. "You're really giving me whiplash here, Ope," she threw her arms out in exasperation. "Last time we talked you nearly ripped my head off, and didn't want me anywhere near the club." Opie scoffed and folded his arms. "Those were different circumstances. And you’re my little sister Ronnie," he reached out to mess with her hair, Ronnie pushing his arm off and glaring at him. "No matter how pissed I am at you, I'll always worry about you." Ronnie sighed and shook her head. "You heard Clay. He doesn't have the numbers, so…". "I'll stay with you," Piney said. "I'm not called up for much action these days anyway. Go and let, Clay know," he said to Opie. "I don't have a spare room dad," Ronnie attested. "Not gonna be sleeping," Piney grumbled, and walked towards his bike. "Stubborn old man," Ronnie shook her head and walked to her car.

-----------------------------------------------------

Ronnie smiled as she handed out bowls of chili to buyers. Much to her disdain, Clay had told Gemma about the Mark incident and Gemma had insisted that when she wasn't working at the hospital or at home with Piney, that she should stay close to the club to make sure she was safe. That was how she was wrangled into helping Gemma at the Taste of Charming fundraiser. She didn’t mind helping out, but shovelling out chili and making small talk with people who claimed to remember Ronnie when she was a child - but she had no recollection of them - was becoming monotonous. She had seen Jax briefly and would look over to where Bobby was entertaining kids with his Elvis act to break up the routine but even that was becoming dull. Casting her eye out over the crowd, she spotted her brother, sister-in-law and niece and nephew. "Hey Gem," she called over her shoulder. Gemma turned from the pot of chili she was stirring. "Yeah, baby?" "You mind if I go hang out with Ope's family for a bit?" Gemma smiled and patted her cheek lightly. "Sure, sweetheart."

Ronnie made her way across the throng of people, stopping where Opie and Donna were sat watching the egg toss. "Hey," she said awkwardly. Opie and Donna turned to her. Donna smiled grimly, but didn't say anything. Ronnie refrained from rolling her eyes. "Hey Ron," Opie greeted. "Everything ok?" Ronnie nodded her head. "Yeah all good. Although I think Gemma is being more protective now than dad." Opie huffed and smiled. "Yeah well, you were always the daughter she never had." Donna watched the conversation between the siblings with a frown on her face. "The kids off playing?" Ronnie asked. "You here to try and buy their favour again?" Donna questioned. Ronnie remained impassive, ignoring Donna's jab. "Donna," Opie wearily said. "We spoke about this. Drop it." Ronnie's eyebrows raised at her brothers intercept. Was he finally coming around?

"I'll be right back," Opie suddenly said, making a beeline towards an old indoor gym. "Oh," Ronnie looked between her brother and Donna awkwardly. Left alone with her sister-in-law, Ronnie shuffled from one foot to another, cracking her knuckles. "Donna," she began. "I know you seem to really not like me, but know that I'm serious when I say that I am trying to make things up to Opie. I know I can't replace the last decade. But I don’t want to waste any time from now on. Opie seems to understand that. I hope you can to." Donna only looked at Ronnie for a moment, before turning back to watch Ellie play with her friends. Ronnie sighed and made her way back to the chili tent.

-----------------------------------------------------

Juice rubbed at his neck where Clay had grabbed him. He'd been longing to get home from Nevada after the week away and now he felt like he'd really fucked things up by bringing Cherry with him. Pulling his phone out of his cut he woke it up, hoping to find a missed call or text from Ronnie. She had tried him a few times since the situation with Piney had gone down but over the past two days it seemed she had given up. The thought made his stomach turn to lead. He wasn't meaning to stonewall her, he just didn’t know what to say. The whole situation was messed up, and he didn’t want to hurt anyone's feelings. But these few days away and not hearing from her had shown him that he wasn't done with her yet. Their kiss was on his mind any time he was on his own, the memory of her lips against his, the way her hands slid across his skin, her scent. He never went near any croweaters, even when they offered the most lewd things he had ever heard. He just couldn’t get this girl out of his head. Pulling up her contact he sighed and pressed dial. Pulling the phone to his hear, he waited as it rang, his stomach roiling. After the fifth ring he was ready to hang up but then he heard her.

"Juice?" His pulse picked up. "Hey, Ronnie," he smiled, scratching at his jaw. "I thought you might have been finished with me," she admitted, and Juice could hear her caution through the phone. He rolled his lips into a line and shook his head. "Nah, I don't think I'm done yet," he said. He heard her sigh in relief. "I'm so sorry, Juice seriously. I wasn't trying to hide it from you, I just didn’t know when it would be a good time to tell you about my family. I know whatever this is, is casual but I never wanted to make things awkward for you." "Yeah, I know," he replied. "It's all good. I don’t want to stop hanging with you, but maybe we can take things slow? Be friends at first or something…" he gulped. Ronnie laughed through the phone. "I mean yeah, I would like that," she said, sending relief flooding through Juice. "It's not that I'm not into you, cause I am really into you, trust me. I just really respect your dad and brother so I don’t wanna be on their bad sides ya know. This club is kinda all I got," he admitted. "It's fine, Juice," she assured him. "I get it, seriously. So, friends then?" He smiled, his spirits lifting for the first time all week. "Yeah Ronnie. Friends."

-----------------------------------------------------

The next day, Ronnie walked from her kitchen to the living room where Piney was sat on her couch, his shotgun placed on her coffee table. Handing him a cup of coffee, she perched on the couch next to him. "The guns a bit of overkill, don't ya think pops?" she asked, sipping on her own drink. Piney raised an eyebrow and surveyed the room. "Are you not armed?" he asked. Ronnie rolled her eyes. "Of course I am, dad. I just don't have them out on display today." The old man grumbled and turned back to the television. The sound of a Harley rang down Ronnie's street, making her an Piney glance at each other curiously. When the bike cut out in front of her house, Ronnie stood and walked to look out the peephole. "It's Opie," she muttered, watching her brother walk up the path to her door. She pulled it open when he got close. "Ope? Everything ok?" she asked. "Pops needs to come down to the clubhouse. You too," he informed them. Piney stood and made his way over to his children. "What's wrong?" he hesitated. "You need to lay low. ATF are sniffing around after what went down with Nate yesterday. You and me are going to the cabin. Dropping Ronnie off at the clubhouse on the way," Opie clarified. "Wait what? Why?" Ronnie asked, crossing her arms. "Because dad isn't here to watch out for you," Opie said, annoyed . "Ok fine, but can't I drive myself?" she asked. "No time, you can ride with me," Opie said, already turning around and making his way back to his bike. "That doesn’t even make sense," Ronnie mumbled under her breath as she turned to lock her front door.

-----------------------------------------------------

Ronnie's knuckles were white as she gripped the back of her brothers bike tightly. They pulled into TM and as soon as the bike was turned off she ripped herself out of the seat, jamming the helmet into her brothers chest. "I hate those things," she pointed at his bike before she began to stalk towards the clubhouse. She had seen enough MVAs involving bikes to not want to go near them. She slowed down when she saw Juice sitting at one of the tables near the boxing ring. "Hey Juicy," she called out, making him look up from his phone. He grinned brightly at her, sending her blood scorching through her veins. "Hey, Ronnie," he stood and made his way over to her. He began to reach out to grab her hand but stopped himself short when Opie trailed after her. He sent Juice a withering glare and Ronnie rolled her eyes. "Chill out, Ope. I'm allowed to have friends." Opie ignored his sister, turning when Piney caught up with them. "How long do I have to stay here?" Ronnie asked, miffed about how her morning was shaping out. "I'll stay with dad until tonight, and then I'll come get you. You can stay at my place for the night and we reassess tomorrow," Opie explained.

Ronnie scoffed. "No way. I am not staying at your place while your wife still hates me." Opie rolled his eyes. "Donna will be civil. And you have no choice." "Actually, I do have a choice," Ronnie remarked. When she didn’t elaborate Opie gestured for her to continue. "Juice can be on watch at my house," she stated. Juice whipped his head in her direction, his eyes wide. "Wait, what?" he asked at the same time Opie barked "not happening". Ronnie huffed and looked towards Piney, hoping he would step in and help her out. He shrugged. "Clay got you doing anything?" he asked Juice. Opie sneered. "You've got to be kidding me." Juice just shook his head, answering the old man. "Not at the moment. I'm free as far as I know." Piney shrugged and looked at Opie. "Let her go home. She's got protection." Ronnie stepped up to her dad and hugged him. "Thanks dad," she kissed his rough cheek and Piney smiled down at her. Juice felt like he was intruding so he walked to his bike, grabbing out the spare helmet and starting it up. "Relax Opie. He's just doing it for you guys. That's all this is." She turned and made her way to Juice. Opie watched as his sister put the helmet on and climbed on behind Juice, his annoyance intensifying when she wrapped her hands around his waist. "You sure about this?" he asked his father. Piney just shrugged. "Can't tell her what to do. Only gonna push her away. I don't know about you but I'm not losing her again."

-----------------------------------------------------

Ronnie grinned at Juice as she took the helmet off, handing it over to him. The ride back to her house had been the most enjoyment she had ever felt on the back of a bike. Her anxiety about the danger completely melting away. The way it felt to have Juice between her thighs, her arms wrapped around his waist and her face pressed against his cut. When they were pulled up at a set of lights he had dropped one hand from the handlebars and gripped her knee briefly, his thumb running over the denim of her jeans. She didn’t know how she was going to go with this friends business when all she wanted to do was have him close again. Opening the door, she let him into her house, trying not to think about the position they had been in last time he was there. "Can I use your bathroom real quick?" Juice asked. "Yeah, sure. Up the hall, second door on your left," she told him. Ronnie made her way to the kitchen, scanning the fridge and pantry to see what she could offer to make them for lunch. She stood up quickly when she heard a sharp knock on her door. Peering down the hallway she saw the bathroom was still occupied and wondered who could possibly be paying her visit now.

Opening the door she was shocked to find a woman smartly dressed with sandy brown hair and an ATF jacket standing at her door with a smirk on her face. "Um, can I help you?" Ronnie asked. "Veronica Wilson?" the woman questioned. "Who wants to know?" Ronnie countered. The woman smirked again, looking down her nose at Ronnie. "Veronica, I'm Agent June Stahl, ATF. I'm here to question you about your fathers whereabouts. Do you know the current location of Piermont Winston?" Ronnie just shook her head, leaning against the doorframe. "I have no idea, I haven’t seen him in a couple of days," she shrugged. Stahl hummed, narrowing her eyes. "And are you aware of the activities undertaken by the outlaw motorcycle club that your father and brother are currently members of? Any illegal interests you may be privy to or aware of that you could make known to us?" Ronnie raised a brow and crossed her arms. "As far as I'm aware the whole bike and club thing are a hobby for them. That's all. Nothing illegal," she attested. Stahl smiled and nodded her head. "Sure. That's why your brother just got out of prison for a botched arson attempt, right? Had nothing to do with the club, did it?" she pushed. Ronnie huffed. "Listen, Agent Stahl, the only connection I have to that club is my last name. You're barking up the wrong tree." Stahl's eyes strayed from Ronnie and landed on something behind her, narrowing. Ronnie turned and saw Juice standing a couple of feet behind her. His jaw was set, but his eyes were on her, filled with worry. She smiled sheepishly and turned to Stahl. "Just your last name, huh?" Stahl mocked. She put her glasses on and turned to leave before looking back over her shoulder. "Reach out if you hear from your father, Veronica."

[whomadewaffles]

Pjhazel incorrect qoutes Part 2!

this one feels more pj-centric so...sorry to the haters, but I think she's amazing so.

As last time, long post under the cut, sorry for not citing the sources, bad language and raunchy humour abound ect ect.. enjoy!

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Hazel: Pspspsps

Pj *walking over to her*: What are you doing idiot, trying to call a cat?

Hazel *frantically taking notes*: Holy shit it worked

*note: to me, Hazel is dog coded, and pj is very cat coded*

-------

*Hazel has a date with a girl at school, and pj is having a normal one about it*

Josie *gasps*:...You're JEALOUS!

Pj *clearly jealous*: I am NOT jealous. And I'll tell you why I'm jealous - Because I'm not jealous!

josie: You're not making any sense.

Pj:  - Oh and all of a sudden you're the President of Things that Make Sense?!

-------

Pj *talking to Mr .G with the club about the next meeting or something*

Pj: Cool, thanks, dad

*everyone staring at her*

Pj: Why is everyone staring at me?

Isabel: You just called Mr .G “dad”.

Pj: *scoffs* No, I didn’t, I said thanks, man.

Mr G: Do you see me as a father figure, girl?

Pj: No! If anything, I see you as a bother figure cause you’re always bothering me.

Josie *not one to miss out on messing with her best friend a little*: Hey! Show your father some respect.

Pj: I didn’t call him dad!

-------

Hazel *carves "pj + Hazel" into a tree*

Pj: What a nerd.

Pj *adds "4ever"*

_______

Hazel: We should get you to a doctor for a check up immediately. What if it happens again, and there isn’t anyone around to help you? What if it’s congenital? Oh my God! Was it me? Did I hurt you?

Pj: …You realize any other person that made their partner pass out in bed would simply feel really proud of themselves, right?

--------

*Hiking*

Hazel: Mother nature is beautiful

Pj *panting trying to catch her breath*: MOTHER NATURE IS A WHORE!!!!

-------

Pj: relax, Principle meyers won’t be able to trace this back to us.

Josie: Are you for real? He traces everything back to us! He traces things we haven’t even done back to us!

-------

Pj: You're wearing make-up.

Hazel: Oh, it's just eyeliner. Do you like it?

Pj: ... Looks okay... I guess.

*later*

Pj *freaking out to josie later*: she looked so good.

Josie: I know.

Pj: I'm so gay.

Josie: I know...

---------

Pj: Being horny 24/7 and a virgin is not for the weak.

------

Hazel: Do you even have a self-care routine?

Pj: "Keep going bitch" said to myself in different accents.

--------

Pj : Going overboard is basically 75% of my personality.

Pj: I'm a gorgeous hot mess.

--------

Hazel: Sometimes I worry I'm being awkward, but then I remember it's half my charm, so I redouble my efforts immediately.

--------

Hazel: Things look a little tense.

Pj: Don't worry, I'm gonna open with a joke.

Hazel: Please don't.

-------

Pj: But now they come for my girl?

Pj: My sweet, defenseless hazel?

Hazel: ...

Hazel: …I know how to make bombs.. I have 16 taekwondo medals, and I'm the best fighter in the club?! I killed someone with a football helmet?!

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Pj: Good news! I didn’t screw up!

Hazel: …

Pj: I screwed up less badly than usual!

Hazel: …

Pj: Screwed up with less immediate consequences than usual

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Pj: *drunk and hitting HEAVILY on Hazel*

Hazel *blushing*: Usually, I would love to take you up on the offer, pj, but you're too drunk to consent...

Stella-Rebecca: Aww, that's sweet, Hazel. I'm sure pj appreciates that you don't want to take advantage of her.

Pj: THE HELL I DO!

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*pj driving with hazel in the passenger seat*

Pj: I'd be really lost without you, Hazel.

Hazel: Pj! That's so sweet, I'd be lost without you aswell.

Pj: No, no, literally, where the fuck are we.

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Pj: Would you still love me?

Hazel: ...If what?

Pj: *voice cracking* No, that was the question..

*note: its pj's abandonment issues coming through*

_______

Pj: the power of women's history month is coursing through your veins

Mr.G: Women's histordeez nuts!

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*Warning: this is an ANGSTY one, my friends- don't worry, they work it out. As a sidenote; watch the scott pilgrim show if you haven't already. It's so good*

Pj: the truth is, I was too afraid to face you and my feelings

Hazel *angrily*: So you left without a word?!

Hazel: You made me feel like nothing.

Hazel: You we're afraid? Good for you!

Hazel: All I ever wanted was for you to see me.

Pj *holds back tears knowing she fucked up badly*

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Hazel: No, I'm not tired of being nice. Yes, I still just wanna go apeshit. These things can coexist, stop asking me.

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Hazel: my kink is saying something incredibly corny and watching you speed run the five stages of grief as you realize with horror you still want to fuck me.

Pj *pillow over her face*: I am begging you, Hazel, please get a new kink…

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Pj: Hazel figured out she can sneakily stick a note on someone’s back.

Pj: But she doesn’t know they should say things like “kick me”, so they just have cat facts on them.

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Hazel: You idiot!

Pj: I’m sure you’re right, but why?!

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Brittney: Can you come collect your freak of a girlfriend please, she's doing things

Hazel: No.

Hazel: I set her loose on purpose, she needed enrichment.

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Isabel: Ever since you started dating, you've become really nice and kind to Hazel. It's sweet

Pj: Well, duh, I'm not stupid. You don't bite the hand that fingers you, or whatever the saying is.

_______

Pj: I need bitches, how to I get bitches wise one 🙏🙏🙏

Rhodes: Well, first off, you gotta stop calling them that, girl.

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Pj: It's nice to see you again.

Hazel: Are you talking to my cooch?

Pj: Yes.

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Pj: Vulnerability is like so hard. If I told you anything sappy, Hazel, please know that I had to do hand to hand combat with seven layers of embarrassment, regression, and abandonment issues.

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Hazel: Pj, people love you and care about you whether you like it or not. I love you whether you like it or not. And no matter how hard you try to push me away, I'm not going anywhere. So just get used to it, okay?

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Pj: I guess I’m just a bad person.

Hazel: No, you’re not a bad person. You’re a terrific person. You’re my favorite person. But sometimes you can be a real asshole.

_____