#the other day a woman told me i look 13 like no the fuck i do not

[crybabydaydream]

How can grown ass men working at gas stations be openly flirting with me and then when i try to buy a lighter they dismiss me like 'i cant sell you that' not even 'i need to see an id for that' like you're mid thirties at the absolute youngest and you were JUST being very flirtatious with me and now you're just blatantly exposing that you think i look so much younger than 21 that you don't even need to bother asking for an id to tell me you cant sell me something?? You basically just admitted that you're knowingly and openly creepy and sexual towards teenagers how has this happened to me more than once its the i couldnt tell how old she was excuse in reverse you were intentionally being creepy at me bc you thought i was a teenager wtf man

[atopvisenyashill]

Is Lyanna really as terrible as some people portray her as?

no, not even a little bit.

the absolute most important thing about lyanna is that when she dies she is only 16. i am someone who works with kids - i work in a library so i spend most of my days cleaning up after tweens and asking teenagers to please stop doing dumb shit- and the first thing anyone who has ever worked with kids and especially teenagers is that they may look like adults but they are NOT. they don’t understand boundaries, they have next to zero impulse control, and every bad thing that happens feels like the worst thing ever because it very likely IS the worst thing they’ve ever experienced bc they have not been alive that long!

and this goes for every single teen & tween character in this series, not just lyanna! shit, i am someone who feels an immense amount of sympathy for joffrey! on one side he’s got his mother telling him he can do anything he wants with no repercussions and on the other he’s got his father hitting him so hard that stannis thought joffrey was going to die. and then he is given unchecked power and told not to abuse it! EYE cannot even guarantee that i wouldn’t use unchecked power to do shady shit and i am a fully grown adult, not a traumatized, irrationally, and deeply vindictive 13 year old boy.

but honestly the most important thing about lyanna is that we have ZERO CONTEXT for what happens between her and Rhaegar. What we have is

Ned’s sparse & guilt ridden thoughts about Lyanna and one (1) comment about Rhaegar

Robert’s angry, entitled, and grief ridden outbursts about Lyanna and Rhaegar

Barristan’s incredibly romanticized, guilt & grief ridden take on their relationship

Meera’s second hand account of Lyanna, told to her by a father who is likely just as guilt & grief ridden as the others, who likely has his own view of Lyanna

What’s important to note is that our view of her is heavily filtered through the eyes of the men that knew her. Robert loves an idealized version of her that never existed. Barristan never actually knew her. Ned is not only viewing her under 200 layers of guilt and grief, but very obviously does not understand his sister, or why she made the choices she did, and struggles constantly with knowing that he will never know her the way he wishes he could, the way he thought he did. Given the way Meera describes Lyanna, I actually think Howland is our most accurate look at her but even that is buried behind years of grief & a fair amount of hero worship and affection (“that’s my fathers man you’re kicking howled the she-wolf” is a line that makes me WEEP for this exact reason; Howland sees Lyanna as his hero above all else!).

All of that to say - we don't even know what Lyanna did that was so terrible! Even if she was a grown woman capable of making rational decisions, we have no idea what her decisions were. She could have been lied to, misled, kidnapped, threatened, just as surely as she could have walked into the situation with open eyes. Even in the show, with a slightly aged up Lyanna - we get, what, just Sam's opinion on Rhaegar and Lyanna being in love because they got hitched? Completely ignoring the fact that we had several women in this series get married not because they were in love or willing but because someone more powerful decided on it and that was that, so there's still no evidence that Lyanna had enough information about the situation to make any sort of informed, consensual decision.

so no, i do not hold lyanna responsible for anything at all that happened regardless of how it happened because she was not mentally mature enough to understand what the hell was going on. a 15 year old is just not mature enough to think “if i run off with this married man, it’s going to cause a cascade of political issues that could have disastrous consequences.” what she’s probably thinking is “this man says he can help me and i am fucking miserable and no one else will listen.” it’s why we don’t throw 15 year olds who run away to meet up with old dudes they met online in jail when they’re caught (or theoretically why we don’t punish them at any rate). There is one person and one person only who is responsible for the massive fuck up that is the Elia-Rhaenys-Aegon-Lyanna-Jon mess and that is RHAEGAR, the person with the most amount of power who used it in the dumbest way imaginable and got himself, most of his heirs, his wife, and his teenaged mistress killed. The only other people responsible are the Kingsguard who kept Lyanna under lock and key while she lay dying and pleading for her brother to come save her.

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 13- Step Bro!Dazai/Reader/Step Bro!Fyodor

Notes: I think it's a little ooc, but i really couldn't decide which characters to go with so yeah.

also, uhm, that fyodor header picture has nothing to do with the actual story, i just though he looked so fucking hot with that gun(also yes, ik im using the step silbing/dad concept twice but its just so sexy to me yaknow*)(*and also, if your wondering, i actually have a wonderful relationship with my father)

Ever since you can remember the house had been cold. You didn't call it your house, even though you had lived there all your life. No, it was more akin to a creature unto itself, a perfect reflection of your childhood. You were born in this house, the only child Mother, or Cecilia as she insisted upon, didn't abort. You spent your younger years with a nanny, who cared for you the best she could. She taught you to read and write, and you excelled especially at math. But Cecilia didn't care. She never cared. And the house reflected her disinterest.

The nanny, a kind woman named Martha, had been disposed of when you turned eight. Cecilia decided you were old enough to function on your own and fired the waste of money. You spent your years after that in the library, absorbing information, reading fanciful stories with mothers who loved their daughters. You wondered why Cecilia never loved you. 

When you turned ten, Cecilia brought home a man. She introduced you, and you stood like instructed, pretty and well behaved. He patted you on the head, but never spared you a glance. He was tall, blond and very, very young. Much younger than Cecilia. And he was much too enamored to care for you, Cecilia's little child. Cecilia encouraged this behavior, and although the number of people in the house had grown, you were all alone. You were always alone. But it was ok, you were used to the silence. You sat in your large playroom, and cried into your pillow, muffling your feelings in the silk. Cecilia didn't need your burdensome feelings. 

The summer you turned eleven, Cecilia brought another man home. And this man was kind to you at first. He gave you candy and treated you with kindness, luring you into his trap like a spider. The first time he hit you, you had cried defiantly for Cecilia. And of course Cecilia had not come, for she would rather believe her boytoys over her own flesh and blood. Humans were cruel things, ready to hurt others at the drop of a hat. And Cecilia was the cruelest. Nothing comforted you for ounce as you cried into your comforter, as unloved as before. 

The summer you turned fifteen it was clear you had inherited Cecilia's peerless beauty. You spent the rest of the summer mastering makeup and when you arrived at your private school you were instantly popular. The makeup just elevated your already peerless beauty and people, both boys and girls fell at your feet. You reveled in the popularity, the love. A different kind of love, but love all the same. The house congratulated you, but Cecilia didn't care. She never did, after all.

Your grades never fell however, you simply could not let them. If you were proud of anything, it was your intelligence. It was wholly yours, unlike your beauty, inherited from Cecilia. You hated that you were her creation, hated it with your entire very being. You loved your intelligence, however. It came from your father, you were told briefly by Cecilia, and because you had never met him it was easier to accept his qualities. The house was from your father, his money at least. A gift to Cecilia. 

And the one gift he had ever gotten you was a ring, a gorgeous piece of silver and emeralds that Cecilia had taken, stoll right from your pudgy two year old hands. You had never even gotten to hold it as an adult. You didn't miss it, not really. But you hated the trait you shared with Cecilia, a sense of selfishness, and a love for jewelry. 

 It was on your sixteenth birthday, sitting at a table alone as you were blowing out the birthday candles, that you truly cried without the comfort of your pillows. Cecilia was out, and as you eat your cake, you soon come to realize that you had grown up too fast. You had been an adult since the moment Martha was fired and you had sat in the cold walls of your beige playroom, crying and crying for comfort, something that would never find you again. You were a shell, a puppet, a beautiful china doll empty of  love. You were Cecilia. The house laughed at your plight, as you sobbed into your pillow, muffling your feelings into the comforting silk. 

It was a hot summer day, a few weeks after you turned seventeen when Cecilia broke the news. You were sitting by the pool, sunbathing in your swimsuit. Cecilia simply walked in, spared you a glance, and informed you she was getting married. You felt a small shiver of surprise run up your spine. Cecilia had had many boyfriends, yes, but she never married them. This man had to be different. Or maybe it was her age, and her fading looks. You hated the spike of happiness that pillaged though your heart, you hated how feelings of hatred turned you into a spiteful shrew, just like Cecilia. Cecilia had cracked open a beer, flipping through her magazine, sparing you one last glance. “He has sons, two of them.” She had said, closing the screen door behind her. 

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“There you are, Name. You're late.” Cecilia said, giving you her usual faintly disapproving stare mixed with disgust. You still quail under it, even though it's the same one you’ve seen for years and years and years. You still fear her disapproval, even after all. 

“I'm sorry Cecilia.” You say, straightening your spine. You're still in your school uniform, and the bus was late but you know better than to give excuses. Cecilia doesn't care for those. The little skirt and blazer combo is one of your favorites, and the only thing you truly love about St. Catherine's private school for young ladies. The walls of St Catherines are barren and cold, but not as cold as your own. Cecilia flips her hair, looking perfectly put together as always, although her age is beginning to show around her eyes. She hates it, you know, and you love it. You can't wait for Cecilia to wither away, her personal worst nightmare. 

“Don't embarrass me, Name.” Cecilia says, her cold eyed stair rooting you to your place. “Just smile pleasantly and entertain your step brothers, alright Sweetheart?” She says. The pet name reeks of disinterest but her disinterest is preferable to her anger. For when Cecilia angers the foundations of the very house shake. You nod, and Cecilia takes that as enough. A knock sounds on the door, and any ugly expression is gone from her face as she flies for the door, opening it and hopping into the arms of the man behind it. 

He’s your mothers usual type, tall and handsome, but several years older than you would have guessed. He spins her around, and they kiss. You look away. There are two boys standing behind him on the doorstep, and to your surprise they also look away from the torrid display. Their strange boys, both around the same height, but that is the only thing they share in common. They don't even really look related, but who are you to judge? Done with their display, Cecilia and her new husband step through the door, still attached at the hip. Cecilia throws you a glare, and you put on your customary smile, a smile so fake you feel like a barbie doll. 

“My daughter, Name.” Cecilia almost imperceptibly grimaces at the word daughter, gesturing at you. You smile. “Hello.” You say, feeling like a fake. The man gives you a smile, gesturing at his sons, who have stepped through the door, and now stand on either side of him and Cecilia. “My sons, Fyodor and Osamu.” The one on the right smiles at you, the other one simply gives you a nod. They're so different, you’d almost think them adopted. But you can see their features in their father. 

The smiling one, Osamu, has short wavy brown hair and sparkling brown eyes. He gives you a tiny wave, and you feel your smile become genuine for a second, before you catch yourself. The ones who smile are more dangerous, you had learned long ago. They lure you with kindness and hit you with force. He’s dressed in a wrinkled button down and uniform pants, his posture casual with his hands in his pockets. A matching tie hangs crooked on his neck. It's the uniform for your school, or the boys school across the street. St. Catherines school for young ladies and St. Andrews school for young men share a single campus separated by a metal fence. 

The one on the left side is pale, almost sickly pale, with dark circles to match his long dark hair. It looks soft, his hair, and brushes just below his jaw. H’s eyes are dark, and they run over your face, almost as if they're checking for cracks in your composure. He’s dressed in the same uniform, but his appearance is more neat. His tie is tied correctly, and he wears a black jacket over the rest of his uniform. They are strange boys, but you are very used to strange after all. 

“Name? Entertain your new brothers, Sweetheart.” Cecilia says. You wince at the nickname. You hate that nickname, you hate it so much. “Yes Cecilia.” You bite out, smile still in place. You feel empty, like a porcelain doll. A tool Cecilia can use and discard at any moment. You feel disposable. You hate it. 

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Your new brothers are kind, if a little strange. The quiet one with pretty hair, Fyodor, is a year older than you. He plays cello and dislikes Cecilia, which makes you like him a lot. Fyodor treated you with an amount of distance at first, but slowly warmed up to you when he found out you play piano. He had informed you one day, when he was helping you with homework, that his mother was a Russian supermodel. And he’s handsome, you're not really surprised. He’s kind in a quiet kind of way, less teasing than his younger brother. You also notice how he subtly moves forward, shielding you whenever Cecilia is angry. You love him for it, that protectiveness. 

Osamu is younger than you by about six months, and loud. He quite clearly makes it his goal to be the loudest person in the room and you love how it annoys Cecilia every time he steals her thunder. He’s a very touchy person as well, unlike his brother. He would comfort you with jokes when he saw you were down, and could not cook for the life of him. His reaction to Cecilia was the most reactionary. He taunted her, shot smart alec remarks in her direction, or just plain ignored her. And every time he got a reaction. Cecilia’s face would flush red with anger, and she would strike out, just to be dodged with a snarky little comment. And the more angry she got, the more pleased Osamu became

And they hate each other, the brothers. At first you had thought they got along well, but then you noticed the snarky little comments they would trade back and forth, the glares behind their parents back. Everything is a constant competition, be it a board game or report cards they make it their goal to beat the other each time. And you don't really mind, the house feels warm and full of life, and you feel included. To them, life seems a game, and the people who live it merely pieces, to be moved to and fro to their pleasure. You must assume yourself a spectator, not a piece, but if you were a piece you would like to be the queen. Cecilia didn't like your new brothers, that much was obvious. But she still used them to belittle you every chance she got.  

“Your brothers got all A+.” She would say, pinning you with that faintly disgusted expression she used as default. “And you got an A.” You would surrender to your room to cry in peace, away from Cecilia's proud eyes, and the prying ears of your much to perceptive brothers. 

But if they shared anything, it was a sense of mystery. Because each of them never allowed you to get too close, keeping you forever just a length away. You tried not to take it personally, but you still shed a tear or two. 

But for the first time in many years, you were happy. The house congratulated you, as its hallways filled with laughter to replace to silence, its rooms with color to replace the beige. Cecilia was as unpleasant as ever, but she was busy with her husband, and left you and your step brothers to their own devices. But still you feared it would all go away. That soon, they would tire of you, that they would never let you close, that Cecilia would grow tired of her husband and toss out the trash as she always did. It was a nagging fear that came back to haunt you in dreams, until you woke up in a cold sweat. 

And there's an odd tension that hovers in the air, whenever you and the brothers interact. A strange tension that makes your blood sing with excitement, that leaves you on your toes with anticipation. When Osamu slings his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a loose hug of sorts. When Fyodor pulls your hair behind your ear, his cold fingers brushing your face, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It's a tension you’ve felt before, a tension you don't want to give name to, a tension that scares you. But then, you're sure it's just you, that your new brothers simply treat you as a sister, like how you should treat them. You should not desire your step brothers, Cecilia had told you the night before they moved in. But then again, Cecilia had never been a very good role model. 

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It's raining, big fat drops pattering against the roof, wind splattering the droplets against the window panes. A faint clatter can be heard from outside, as if the wind itself is crying, banging at the doors. The wind sounded lonely. It banged on the doors of the world, begging to be let into the light, much like you had when you were young. You wanted to comfort the wind, to hold her in your arms with the warmth you had never been given, but everyone knew you could not hold the wind. So you simply told her to stay strong, and let the night and rain embrace her for you. 

You would always read when it rained. You remembered a book you had read long ago. It had been the one to solidify the wind as lonely, and had been oh so impressionable to your young mind. ‘Keep strong wind’ it read, ‘keep strong and soon the rain and night will hold you in their comforting embrace, will keep you warm and happy…’. You had always seen yourself in the lonely wind, and had dreamed of your rain and night to comfort you. The library had long been your only comfort, and you begged for human comfort, human warmth.(You didn't dare to hope that your step brothers could be your night and rain, because you knew god would hear you and laugh in your face. Because god loved Cecilia, not worthless you.)

Cecilia and her husband are gone, on a weekend trip to Hawaii. You were not invited, because of course not, and neither were your brothers. 

The house is almost silentand with Osamu out at book club the house seems to sigh in relief, giving itself time to relax before the loudness returns. 

You are curled up on the couch with a book, listening to Fyodor as he practices his Cello. It's a cozy evening, the fire crackling in the grate, the strains of the first movements of Brahms – Cello Sonata No. 1 floating through the cozy atmosphere. You hear the piano part along with him unconsciously, fingers tapping your things in rhythm. You can never quite beat the musician out of you, it's embedded into your very being at this point. 

Brahms – Cello Sonata No. 1, the first movement is a deep piece, and slightly depressing if you're being honest. But you love the melancholy that surrounds it. It creates a certain air, allowing the instruments to tangle together beautifully almost as if the melodies are dancing together. They twist like lovers, the parts, dipping one then the other, a beautifully teasing medley of pure emotion, something you could never truly give in life. It would be nice to dance with Fyodor, he was such an elegant human being, from the way he walked to his looks. You imagined the two of you would sail across the floor of the ballroom, his gloved hand on your waist, twirling you and spinning you and only looking at you. You wanted him to gaze upon you with reverence, much like the men your mother married gazed upon her. You want to be loved.

The Cello part comes to an end, and you sit silently for a moment, hesitant to break the spell. Then Fyodor's accented voice, still slightly hushed, breaks through the atmosphere. “How was it?” He says. You love his accent, it feels all full and warm. “Good, good as always.” You say, putting a finger in your book and looking up. “You were a bit sharp on the first note of measure twenty seven.” You're reading Pride and Prejudice, again. You’ve always loved it, and have read it some many times you’ve simply lost count.

Fyodor sighs, leaning back in his chair and resting his cello back into its case. “You always catch my mistakes. What would I do without you, Name.” He says with a small smile. Your heart warms at the praise, your smile threatening to break out of its confinements, all together and split your face in two. You tamp it down, putting on a face of disinterest you're not sure he believes. You always get the vague feeling that your brothers know you better than you know yourself.

You flip through the channels on tv, happy to have control of the remote. It's all the usual, sports games and real housewives and spanish game show episodes. You put on a random movie, which sounded interesting. ‘Essential object of enjoyment,’(is a title that to anyone else would scream softcore porn film, to you, still a sheltered girl of seventeen years old, it seemed as innocent as a daisy. You were not a virgin, but inexperienced and somewhat oblivious, so at odds with your calm adult attitude.) Fyodor plops himself on the couch next to you, a tedious foot away. He seemed too far away but all at once to close, the heat of his body a tease beside you. You clench your legs together, pulling in on yourself.

The film is about a young woman named Maria, who is taking a vacation on a very sketchy manor in a strange small town. It's a low budget film, with crappy acting and even crappier scares, but it's entertaining and you find yourself settling in against the couch, slowly leaning closer and closer to the warm human beside you. And soon, as Maria decides to ignore all the advice of the locals and enter the abandoned church late at night, you're so close your shoulders are almost touching, and finally, you dare to lean into him. 

He lets you, slinging an arm around your shoulders with an excuse none of you are listening to anyway, and pulls a small blanket over your bare legs. “You're cold aren't you?” he says, voice hushed in your ear. You shiver, with a nod. You arent that cold, but you want to be close to him, to feel his heat, his warmth. You're sure he knows this, and you let yourself feel hopeful for once, curling into his body like a pedigree cat. 

And as you watch the movie, heart pounding in your throat, it dawns on you that something is very clearly wrong. The budget is too cheap, but the camera work is too advanced, the camera’s to expensive. The acting is too bad, but the actress has professionally done makeup and hair. And then, as you watch Maria get tied up by the clean masked man, it all makes too much sense. It's softcore porn. You move for the remote, fishing around for it on the couch, desperately. You're already flushing, your thighs rubbing together as you reach around for it. The idea of watching a porn film with your step brother is humiliating and embarrassing and frustratingly arousing. 

“Do you need something?” Fyodor says, rubbing little soft patterns in your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. You nod. “The remote, gonna switch channels.” You're already flushing, but have stopped your frantic fishing for the remote. He frowns in disappointment and you automatically tense, so used to Cecilia’s disappointed or angry stares. “Can we leave it, I'm actually enjoying it.” He says. You glance at the screen, where Maria is now being threatened by a knife. You desperately want to say no, but the people pleaser in you insist you agree. And so, you sink back into his touch, flushing. 

‘Where is it? Where is it?’ The masked man is saying to Maria. The film takes a moment to focus on the actress’s bountiful chest, and you try not to writhe with embarrassment and jealousy. You bet Fyodor likes big boobs, Cecilia said all men like big boobs. Her’s are fake, but you don't feel the need to protest and get a slap. 

The bad guy of the film is a man in a purple mask. He’s thin in stature, and tall, overwhelming Maria’s small frame. He reminds you distinctly of the man sitting beside you, with his face hidden like that. He has a russian accent in the film as well, just like the man beside you, and as he whispers in her ear it does stuff to you. 

‘Tell me where it is or there will be consequences.’ the man in the mask says. 

‘I will never tell you!’ Maria says definitely. You watch in horror as the masked man's thin fingers slip between her thighs. The camera cuts to her face of surprise. It's clear that this is where the actress’s true chops shine, as her mouth drops open in a little oh of surprise. 

You feel hot, biting back a whimper as you press your thighs together, hoping that your step brother doesn't notice. 

‘Your such a slut for my fingers aren't you?’ The man in the mask bends Maria over a table, the camera now showing a cut of his hands pulling her thighs apart. All you can picture in your mind is you as Maria, and the man in the mask as Fyodor. When the man in the film speaks all you can hear is Fyodor’s voice, his teasing lines, him all him all him. 

And then, the other bad guy of the film appears. And honestly it should shock you out of your dirty fantasies, but the other man, this one in a teal mask, sounds very similar to your other step brother. 

You can imagine yourself in Maria's place, bent over a table like that, fingers shoved up your cunt, dick keeping you silent. And most of all, pretty praises falling out of your step brother's mouths. ‘Such a pretty girl, such a smart girl, so good for us, such a slut for us—’

Fyodor’s eyes are on you, you can feel them even as you focus resolutely on the screen. He speaks near your ear, a pur, a whisper, a tease ment for seduction. “What are you imagining, darling?” He says. He speaks like he already knows, and through your haze of arousal clouding your brain you let the words escape before you can stop them. 

“Fingers in my cunt.” You say, your voice a whimper. Maria on the screen begins to moan, loudly. The volume goes down on screen and you're too lust clouded to question why Fyodor had the remote. 

“You want fingers in your pretty cunt baby?” Fyodor purrs in your ear, his long pale fingers teasing the edge of your uniform skirt. “You want my fingers stuffed up that tight cunt of yours? Would that feel good?” You whine, head falling back against his arm, eyes falling closed. 

“Oh yes, please.” Your voice is embarrassing, all breathy and whiny. This whole situation is illogical, and if you were able to see through the haze of lust in your brain you would have backpedaled immediately. But you're horny and in love and he’s encouraging you. 

His fingers caress the edge of your panties, teasing you with glances of touches, driving you crazy. You grip his arm, the one teasing your pussy and shove the hand against your drooling cunt. The man beside you bites back a groan, muffling his pleasure, but you hear it. It reassures you that he wants you too, but also drives you insane, craving sweet relief with his touch. 

Fyodor’s fingers find purchase, clever musicians' hands pulling back the crotch of your panties. He chuckles as you clutch his arm, still clothed in his loose white turtleneck and jeans. “You're so wet darling, your little cunt is absolutely drooling.” he says, his accent doing things to your brain, to your pussy. Your eyes catch on the dirty picture. He drags his fingers through, collecting a fair bit of wetness and popping his fingers in his mouth. The picture is nasty. He keeps eye contact all throughout, sucking his fingers wetly, the dirty slurping sounds filling the room. 

“Here darling.” He holds out his wet fingers, dripping with a mix of saliva and your own arousal. “Suck.” He says. You take them in your mouth obediently, tasting the mix of arousal and saliva. The very idea that you're tasting him, that you're tasting his very being, makes your abandoned cunt clench around nothing, the nasty slurping sounds you make only fueling the arousal perfuming the air. At some point Fyodor had turned off the porn, and now the only sounds that fill the room are from the two of you. A different kind of music than that you're used to, a symphony of debauchery. 

His fingers leave your mouth with a pop, and you open your eyes. He smiles at you, all hazy eyes and spit slicked lips. “Good girl.” He says, and then shoves both fingers in your cunt. You arch off the couch at the abrupt intrusion, clenching down hard around his fingers with a scream. ‘Oh, oh god Fyodor!” You say, panting. He looks vaguely proud as he scissors you open, watching as you thrash around on his fingers, bucking desperately. 

The sound of the door slamming penetrates the haze, and you grip Fyodor’s fingers, trying to stop him. He just continues to fuck you open, grining all the while. 

“Man, fuck you Fyodor.” It's Osamu, looking less surprised and more annoyed. Fyodor just continues grinning as you moan on his fingers, drooling pussy on display. “I consider this a win then?” He says, smirking. Ah, another one of their competitions. You would pay more attention but your being fucked open by Fyodor’s long relentless fingers. You keen as he adds another one, gripping his arm with a nasty whine. 

Osamu speaks to Fyodor, but his eyes are fixed on you. “It's not over yet, you fucker.” He says, slamming his backpack down on the floor and sauntering over to you. “Name declares the winner. Deal?” Fyodor, now rubbing a thumb on your clit nods, holding out his other hand to shake. “Deal, that sound good darling?” You nod around your moans, not truly comprehending what that means. Osamu sends you a rather scary looking grin and pounces. 

They move you into a doggy position first, Fyodor replacing his fingers with his cock. You're already so close, and as you feel the large intrusion bully your walls apart you cum right there, your head falling against the couch cushions. “Oh, oh, oh god, ‘m coming!” You scream, drooling onto the couch. Fyodor grunts behind you. “You're tight.” He coos. Osamu grips your jaw, draggin you off the ouch to look at him. “So pretty too, just perfect aren't you.” His dick is already hard in his jeans, you can see the bulge as Fyodor begins to move, fucking you through the overstime. You whine in pain, the sharp pains of overstimulation mixing with the blinding pleasure they give you. Dazai chuckles. 

“We’re going to fuck you do good darling.” He says, running a gentle hand through your hair. “Make you feel our love.”

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It's when you're three orgasms deep, and you're hung over the couch backwards, a dick down your throat and cum dripping from your pussy, that you maybe start to have second thoughts. Their stamina seems endless, and they bring to the edge relentlessly, their competitive natures making them drive you to orgasm after orgasm. The world is hazy at this point, and all you feel is pleasure, all you hear is their voices, all you want is them, them them. 

“Switch her around Osamu.” Fyodor says, his accent rough though the haze. You feel yourself hoisted up, and now you're folded into a mating press and Fyodor’s fat cock is bullying your walls again. Cum leaks out of all your holes, the loud squelching sound letting you know that you're thoroughly ruining Cecilia's favorite couch. You're covered in sweat, completely naked and makeup ruined, and to the boys you’ve never looked so pretty. They tell you at length, compliments showered on your exhausted form. 

And as you cum yet again, clenching around Fyodor’s dick with a weak cry, you feel so loved, so appreciated, and so optimistic. 

And then you bended into another position, Dazai’s dick lodged into your ass, Fyodor’s in your dripping cunt.

⋆｡ °✩

“So, which of us won anyway?” It's Dazai, and he sounds plenty exhausted. You sigh tiredly, holes dripping cum onto the carpet and exhausted. “Draw.” Is all you manage to pant out. 

Fyodor beside you chuckles. “I guess we’ll have to have a rematch then.” You're exhausted, but you feel your pussy clench tiredly at the mention of that. “Yeah.” You sigh out tiredly. The boys chuckle beside you, each pressing a kiss to your cheeks. 

“Love you Name.” You hear them whisper in your ear. You smile as you drift off the sleep. 

End Notes: I am actually a piano player, and every time I listen to classical pieces nowadays I feel really bad because I haven't been practicing lately because my piano teacher is taking a break because she had a baby. 

[cloveroctobers]

HOLD UP — Roman Reigns x black! Reader

A/N: not me attempting to write for this man and I’m supposed to be on a writing break?? I had a storyline in my head, heard this song from my girl (finally), and I’m about to go on a SWAT binge-watch once this season is over so that’s my excuse for all of this. Hope you have your popcorn ready!

WARNINGS: language, famous reader, slight cross-over with another show hence the tags, hint of toxicity, infidelity, crime, + me not knowing much about wrestling or S.W.A.T. but winging it! It’s only fiction!!! 😉

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊

“You know what? Fuck her and fuck you too!” You yelled, smacking the food that was already prepared right towards where Roman stood.

It didn’t have to be like this.

What could have been a great normal Saturday evening, turned for the worse all because a man, who was supposed to be your man turned around and played you. How? By sleeping with the “friend,” (turned assistant) he told you not to worry about. You were just getting into a pretty solid choreo to Beyonce’s, “Tyrant,” over a steaming pot with the headphones blasting into your ears when your phone started going off more than your version of usual.

It was to the point you were ready to put it on Do Not Disturb but your gut told you to get into it. Sure it could have been anybody: your family, your manager, publicist, or even some friends…in this case? It happened to be the whole damn universe.

The headlines is what really got you:

“Entrepreneur Tribal Chief Roman Reigns Sex-Tape Leaked!”

Along with the shady subtitles underneath: The multi-business owner’s intimate moments at what seems to be one of his places of business the casino half hotel: “The Medallion,” have been leaked! By the looks of it, it doesn’t appear that the woman in the video shares any resemblance to girlfriend and actress…but does look a whole lot like his personal assistant Celosia “Losi,” Darlington. Perhaps they aren’t as secure in their relationship as actress…claims! See below for the steamy video.

At first you didn’t want to believe it, firmly wanting for your girl delulu to kick in but unfortunately you knew this time you could believe the headlines. The declined calls you had to keep hitting as you took a breath to just play the video. You had to see with your own eyes what had been done, it’s always about actions more than word of mouth and Roman showed you exactly who he was.

A no good piece of shit.

You met him back in ‘13 after taking on an action role, which would be filmed at the newly built casino: The Medallion. That same place of business that always got him into some shit—yet he always knew how to polish everything up so nicely regardless of any heat that went his way. Of course there was some attraction that formed over the six months of filming although he didn’t have a major role on screen versus behind it, his presence was surely felt. It took two years after that at the premiere of another film of yours for any relationship besides professional to form and sometimes you wished you would have stayed away.

This was one of those times.

To be in a relationship since mid 2015–minus the minor breakups just for it all to truly crumble now was the biggest punch in the face. And you may not be one of his Bloodline fighters but you were sure about to hand him one.

When he enters the house, not long after you’ve been going into a deep dive of everything from watching the video to various gossip websites and landing on Twitter of all places, you place the phone down face up as you rest your hands on the island counter. He pecks your cheek multiple times as he holds your hip, not picking up on the tension just yet before he takes a place on the other side of the island. Your jaw was set as you used the sleeve to wipe his kisses from your skin, eyes burning flames at the clueless man across from you.

“Smells good as hell in here. How was your day?” Is the first thing he says, finally looking up from his phone.

And you can’t help but to scoff at this, “it was going well baby, until I found out that you and your dick went swimming at The Medallion.”

Which lead to a heated stare from Roman, “…What’re you talking about?”

“Stop being stupid, Joe! Unless you can’t help it. Everybody knows including me! Y’all played in my face for who knows how long and you thought coming in here all regular was gonna be cool?” The pointer and thumb finger were jabbed right in his direction as you spoke before you were gripping the island so tight, it should have snapped but only quality was allowed in this house.

Roman kept his face straight as he clips, “I think you should start with watching your tone and talk to me with some sense.”

“Why? When you don’t have any?” Your head was tilted to the side, just begging for him not to continue to get smart with you because things will start to fly in a minute if he kept it up.

His big ass included.

Roman clenched his eyes shut in frustration before replying, “i honestly don’t know what you’re talking about, so please feel free to enlighten me.”

Humorless laughter bubbled past your lips as you decided to play this game just for a bit, “honestly, when’s the last time you saw Losi?”

His shoulders lifts, “a day or two ago. She’s taking personal time off, why?”

“Sure she is! Right on time for everything to unfold like the messy bitch that I told you she is.” You exclaim with your hands up in the air, “was this y’all plan all along? To humiliate me?”

As the silence filled the kitchen, it was shortly interrupted by the vibrating of your phone which rattled on the counter and finally the pinging from Roman’s own phone. A quick glance Roman sends to the device, it was a simple text from Losi herself which read: “I’m so sorry ro!”

He’s truthfully had a blind eye to what has been happening. Roman’s been back and forth between the casino and the ring along with a few meetings in between that he barely looked at his phone until he walked through his home’s front doors. There’s a furrow of his brows then at Losi’s text but it doesn’t take him long to figure it out when he thinks back to the accusations that you previously just thrown in his face combined with your attitude.

Your head was still tilted as you cooed with petty intent, “Uh oh…doesn’t look like there’s a smile on your face now when reading anything Losi says.”

Roman runs his hands down his face in exhaustion and guilt. When he opens his eyes, yours are still glaring at him. This conversation was going to be bad tonight whether he wanted to have it or not. He made this bed so now he had to lay in it.

“Babe—

“Na uh! Don’t start that shit now because you’ve been caught.” You held your hand up in the air, “Weren’t you the one who told me that you didn’t want to fuck her? Then you went and did it! When?!”

Roman runs his tongue over his bottom lip and bites down on it, “I don’t even—a few weeks ago? It didn’t mean shit though and I want you to know that. I don’t and won’t ever love her the way that I love you. I fucked up and i can admit that.”

If this was love then this man can keep that shit forever. Never did you ever think at this point in your relationship that the downfall would be Roman’s attention turning to another woman for a night.

“You can? Were you ever going to if this didn’t come out? You’ve been sitting on this for weeks and she’s been smiling in my face and more chatty—ohhh.” You knocked your finger into the air in realization, “she’s been plotting on this moment.”

Roman blinks with a shake of his head, “what? No.”

“You let the balloon stuffed booty fool you, baby.” You clapped, “along with the cute shy office siren thing she had going on the outside. I been knew she was feeling you and I couldn’t be mad at that! I knew what I had. As long as she didn’t try anything but it only took a year for you to fold right when everything was falling into place.”

He had another personal assistant who’s been working for him since The medallion began to stay consistent in flourishing, Ms. Charlene, who was older in her mid-fifties and actually good friends with your aunt. She was probably the best one Roman was ever going to get but she decided to retire early? And moved all the way out to Liberia but still did her original role as a tax preparer on the side but you didn’t hear that from me—your narrator.

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it, joe. The gym just had its successful grand opening after its bombing a month ago, you just announced that you were expanding the medallion to be worldwide with plans of doing the same for Bloodline. I’m hosting the Tony awards, you’re planning to propose, and Losi is trying to start her own business by creating some plant spa, which gives her just enough motive to leak the tape so she’s financially taken care of while we’re here looking dumb as fuck.” You deeply exhale while Roman pressed his tongue into his cheek in thought.

He didn’t want to believe that either but one thing about you? Your mind was always going and connecting the dots. He knew that there was something about Losi that you didn’t rock with and he didn’t see. When it came to his businesses he wanted to be the only one running things and sure he never wanted to make you uncomfortable yet he and Losi went way back and her resume was top notch. Overall Roman believed that the two of you could just coexist at some point, although Losi put in more effort to be friendly with you, you weren’t feeling it.

Ultimately you had to agree to disagree on the subject. It wasn’t a big problem until it unfortunately became one of course. He didn’t have the ring and it’s been in the works since last year but he knew what he wanted it to look like based on your preferences and kept the sketch secured and out of sight…so he thought.

He knew he wanted forever with you but he allowed himself to get stupefied by someone he thought was a friend and should have stayed in that place.

“Nah Lo’s not like that, she’s a good girl.”

Roman didn’t know if he believed that himself anymore but it still came out of his mouth.

You felt your eye twitch, “you keep telling yourself that and that’s probably what you praised her with when you were hitting it from behind too right?”

“Relax,” his stare is hard from underneath his eyelashes, as if he’s attempting to command you in doing so, “I didn’t know she was filming us, Alright?”

That much you could tell.

“Yeah okay, so that makes it better?!”

“No it doesn’t! And I’m aware of that. I want to marry you which you somehow know—

“Then why do this to me? To us?! We were doing so well and came so far just for you to ruin it all like this was for nothing.” You tried to focus on your breathing but from Roman’s stance he could see that it was more of a panting from you, to keep from crying.

The last thing you wanted was for him to comfort you but he did find himself reaching his hand out some over the island, just in case. He hated that this was happening, that he was causing you pain and not the fact that this was biting him in the ass, he knew what he had done and had to pay the price, he could take that but he didn’t like the twist in his chest at the sight of your anger, your pain, yet he didn’t really have a reason to justify this. There was no justifying the infidelity or the past gaslighting of your concerns you expressed once Losi came along. You had dreams and took that as a sign just as much of what you witnessed in person. Roman would always reassure that it was just your mind lying to you and being paranoid until he proved everything to be true.

“It’s not for nothing…we’ve been through so much shit together that we can get through this too.” Roman states with determination in his eyes, “I don’t know what exactly you want to hear from me but I’m telling you that choice I made that night meant nothing. It happened once, I was on one that night, should have known better than to let my guard down and I told her we won’t ever do that shit again because I’m in love with you. I need you.”

It was your turn to bite down on your lips and nod your head, “that sounds nice, really but there’s no way you expect me to just leap back into your arms just because you’re looking at me that and all the sweet nothings you hand over will magically make this okay when it most likely won’t be.”

He swallows, “What are you saying?”

“Look around! You can’t have that much trust in her to believe this wasn’t calculated can you? I mean you trusted her enough to not let your hot steamy night get out but look where that got you. A tape! You had that girl in my face, in this house, trying to get us to be besties long before and this is what y’all go and do? The disrespect is so real so…you know what? Fuck her and fuck you too!”

Roman dips in his head in understanding, even if he has to make a jump back from the plates of sides that are sent his way but that doesn’t mean he has to take it. “I get that you’re in your feelings but I’m telling you right now, I’m not gonna take any more of you talking crazy to me tonight. It’s been a long day.”

“Excuse me?!” Your brows are raised, “I’ll call you every name until the sun comes back if it makes me feel better—

“But that’s the thing, it won’t so why waste your breath?” His chin is raised in such arrogance.

It’s your turn to be wide eyed now. Did Roman expect you to just not react like he was good at doing? You studied him then, noticing how stoic he was but his eyes said different before he tightened his stare. He was letting his ego come out to play and that was a dangerous game.

“Hmm let’s see what will? Should I dump this gumbo right in your face? Mess your precious house up? Or get in touch with Jey to see if he has any insight to how quickly the success of Bloodline got back up and running. He’s been quiet since the grand opening and that’s not like our boy.” The smirk on your face was enough to get Roman to charge over to you and get in your face.

Jey was family, always would be no matter how ugly the business got. First it was his twin, Jimmy who Roman kicked out and you knew Jey was feeling not only a way about that but also Roman’s big headed authority. It was only a matter of time before Jey stepped down and you knew it was coming based on conversations you had. Roman also had a feeling that you knew more than what you were saying and withholding information was a huge negative, although you weren’t part of the business you would be if you took that title of being Roman’s wife.

You stared up at Roman sweetly while he pressed his forehead harshly into yours, “you don’t scare me and you don’t want to ever cross me, love of my life or not.”

Running your hands up Roman’s clenched torso and up over his biceps to grip his shoulders tightly you say, “well…this old love of your life, is about to show you just how much you’re gonna lose and I know how much you hate to lose.”

He squeezes your neck pulling you so that you’re nose to nose, “if that’s how you want to play, then you better not miss.”

“Great talk, baby. Now let go.” Her nails dig into his shoulder blades while it’s Roman’s turn to tighten his jaw.

Eventually he lets go, running a palm over his mouth as you get back to breathing although your insides want to ache but you numb it down. You crack your knuckles before reaching forward to wipe the crumbs off the counter into the sink and turn to leave but not without glancing at the contents on the floor.

“Hey, I think I would have loved being your wife but the world is always turning right? Better luck next time I guess.” You shrug your shoulders, “and you might want to clean that up before you get some ants that look like Losi. See you soon, Joe.” You explain with a cold wink that reminds the man to breathe after you leave the home for good.

Roman didn’t know what he was going to do just yet or what you had in mind but for right now, he had to sit on his loneliness over a meal that you prepared which he didn’t get to share with you at the end of the table this time around.

[2 weeks later…]

The saying April showers brings May flowers could apply here, depending on how you looked at it. It was difficult being back in your own space, once sharing it with the Cane Corso, “Atonga,” that Roman gifted to you last year for your birthday and what you sent back days after you left his house. You were ready to send everything back (or donate) but Roman wasnt having that, anything that got sent back to his place or his businesses he redirected most to your parents with the power for it not to be sent anywhere else.

As for Atonga, he was waiting for you on your doorstep one morning with a simple message attached: he’s closer to his mom.

The gift of Atonga was for protection and you built a strong bond with the dog, overall you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss the boy so you didn’t put up much of a fight when it came to him. As for the outside noise? The paparazzi followed your every move even more so now, you didn’t keep your head down but you kept it on mute with every outing. You didn’t need the advice of your publicist on what to do because regardless you had your own media training due to previous work and would ultimately do what you felt.

You didn’t have to offer the world a damn thing.

Your relationship with Roman was one of the most trendiest relationships to talk about and it was killing them not to know much more of what was going on. However Roman gave some crumbs on the recent interview he was on and spoke some with the paps that followed him around but it was enough for people to speculate you have broken up again.

A relationship that had so many sides to it was stuck on being face up at this time.

Over these two weeks you weren’t cooped up in the house crying over this mess, you got to deep cleaning, self-care appointments: nails done, hair done, everything did, spent time in the gym mostly with a personal trainer that Roman never cared for but he mercilessly stopped responding to your meeting requests after the second day, which left you to train with the twins and Naomi instead, and being in the club with the widest of smiles.

After all that you were slowly getting back into work. Thankfully your manager agreed to put a pause on the work load until you were ready, where you got the outline on paper on how award shows were meant to run, then you would make the trip in a few weeks to see how the stage was in person.

“YO,” Jey calls out your name from downstairs, his voice echoing all throughout the house that you forgot he was even still here. Probably eating up all your food while watching ghetto ass Tubi or BMF—they were the same thing honestly.

Getting so wrapped up in the outline, you push yourself off your bed and head out into the hall and call back, “what I tell you about using your outside voice in my house, jey?!”

The barking that sounded as you got to the steps made you frown, actually making you put more speed in your steps as you went down them. When you peered up on the second to the last step, you spotted a familiar face standing at the front entrance of your home while Jey stood off to the side holding Atonga back.

There stood Miguel Alfaro, a ex-boyfriend of yours who sported his dark SWAT attire.

“You got company,” Jey muttered as he eyed the pale buzzed hair guy.

Deeply exhaling you step down and make your way over to the men and fold your arms, “Miguel, what’re you doing here?”

“Can’t be anything good,” Jey adds while he continues holding Atonga by his collar.

Miguel blinks at him and then the dog, “Mind if you put him away so I can have a civil conversation?”

Jey sucked air between his teeth with a grin, “oh this little guy? He’s a sweetheart.”

Miguel raises his brows in disbelief, one hand that was resting on his waist moved to where his firearm was, which the two of you noticed. Jey met your eyes and with a nod of your head, he quickly pulls the dog away to one of the guest rooms for a moment before making his way back.

“You don’t look that happy to see me,” Miguel attempts to joke with a raise of his hands, “that kinda hurts my feelings.”

Lifting your shoulders you reply, “I can’t say the expression on my face would be any different if you didn’t have that monkey suit on but—

Jey snorts out a laugh, which he clears his throat afterwards once Miguel sends him a sharp look before Miguel turns his attention back to you.

Miguel shortly exhaled through his nostrils, “Right, this suit is actually doing you a favor so I’d be a little more thankful.”

“Whatchu mean by that?” Jey clasps his own hands in front of him, defense mode was activated now.

You exhale, “Miguel, I don’t have time for this push and pull shit you commonly like to do, so just spit it out so you can get out my house.”

“I see your attitude still hasn’t changed. I thought we squashed our beef and it was all love?” Miguel’s mockery was still there and highly irritating.

Tilting your head to the side you cackle, “was that before or after you trashed my character to the tabloids over a little relationship when we were what? Eighteen?”

Miguel frowns, “I wouldn’t call my first serious relationship of three years to be little. Which is why I said what I said, if things don’t benefit you then you couldn’t care less. Maybe that’s why Roman did what he did and you didn’t give enough.”

“You don’t know me you spineless bitch!” And you stepped to him but an arm goes right across your torso from Jey before he shields you completely from Miguel.

Jey shakes his head while Miguel breathed out a laugh as he pinches at his straight nose, “I think you should stop instigatin’ and just say what you need to say, bro.”

“That’s officer to you, bro.” Miguel clarifies with a sharp stare but Jey just mockingly nods his head back and forth.

“My fault, officer pig.”

You grip Jey’s wrist and move to stand beside him, meeting his eyes to show him that this was mainly your problem not his.

Miguel ran his tongue over his teeth in annoyance but to your surprise he takes the higher road, “you’re right, I apologize.” He starts but directs that apology mostly at you, “I didn’t come here to start shit, I truthfully came to tell you something that’ll benefit—that’ll be useful to you.”

Clapping your hands together you rolled your hands about, awaiting for him to just say what needed to be said since he first opened his mouth to you.

“It’s Roman.”

Both you and Jey felt your blood run cold at this.

Miguel flicks his eyes from the both of you as he says his next words, “He’s been out in Florida this past week and recently made a purchase on a building to potentially expand either The Medallion or Bloodline. Miami’s team been watching him since he’s touched down in their city but a major red flag went off after recent events.”

Both you and Jey shoot confused glances at each other.

“Don’t tell me you two aren’t aware that Celosia Darlington was found dead yesterday night off route 41?” He deeply scans their faces for any changes in their expressions, “It appears that she was in a hit and run accident, she was thrown from behind off her motorcycle and it’s being investigated by my team.”

Jey has his eyes in slits, “and you think Roman had something to do with it? You just said he was in Florida when this happened.”

“Correct, yet a vehicle registered to him was found on surveillance…which leaves us to believe that he knows what happened and who was driving his vehicle.” His eyes lingers on you for some time before carrying on, “Also the building he purchased in Miami belonged to Celosia’s step-brother, who has been missing since March.”

Massaging the space in between your brows you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “What does Celosia’s step-brother have to do with Roman?”

“Roman loaned Celosia’s step-brother the funds to purchase that exact building back in January and her step-brother has a history of money-laundering.”

“Fuck.” Jey hisses.

This was bad, real bad.

Roman wouldn’t just loan a large amount of money without purpose, especially to someone he couldn’t trust. If he did this for Celosia’s step-brother, there had to be a reason and if he was missing? Then things really were turning to shit and it’s possible that Roman had something to do with it. However you and Jey both would never reveal that.

Miguel continues, “He’s been arrested and flown in to us. And I’m here to let you know that you’re also being suspected. The team will be here in the next fifteen so…that’s just a tip from me to you.”

“Why are you looking out for me?” You suddenly ask.

“Because believe it or not, I really loved you once upon a time,” Miguel disclosed with a soft sigh, “I want you to win and don’t want to see you get hurt any further. Especially if it’s at the cost of a grown ass business man who goes by: The tribal chief.”

“Aye, watch yourself. You’re not part of what we got going on, so you wouldn’t get it.” Jey warns while Miguel raises a hand in surrender, although he wants to laugh in the bronzed skinned man’s face, thrilled he could return the favor of striking a nerve.

Miguel looks at you one last time affirming, “fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen minutes.” You dip your head, “Thanks, Miguel.”

“Ah, don’t mention it.” He winks, “but also don’t forget it.”

Which makes you roll your eyes although a small smile appears on your lips which Miguel mirrors with a crooked one. Jey breaks that up real quick, waving the swat member towards the door, followed by a forceful close of the door after Miguel takes his sweet time whistling along and eyeing the downstairs of the home.

Jey blows out a breath, “I see your type is assholes.”

“Jey, now is not the time.”

“I know sis.” Jey grips the back of his neck feeling some stress coming on, “I think I need to slide, hit up Jimmy, Sikoa and check on bloodlines where the rest of the family is most likely at.”

“Yeah you shouldn’t be here when they get here but please be careful…they’ll probably be on all of our asses now.”

Jey nods and steps forward to grip the side of your neck and place a kiss to your forehead while you hold your hand on top of his. “Can I take Atonga with me?”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re trying to steal my dog.”

“What can I say? Everybody loves uncle Jey!” He pops his collar with a grin while you fan your hand at him as a signal for him to do so.

Fifteen minutes gives you enough time to set a timer, change from lounge clothes to another set, have a cup of raspberry lemonade, and have your bag near by ready to go once that knock came at your door. You kept offline because you’re sure anything you did up to the time swat came to your door, would be monitored.

You kept calm as those fifteen minutes came around quickly and took your time getting to the door once the harsh knocks sounded. Turning the tv down, you take some seconds before getting to your feet, remote still in hand as you head to the front door, eyes fixated on the tv as you pull the door open.

Turning to the familiar three faces you meet each of their eyes in faux surprise, “Hondo, Deacon, Tan? I’d say it’s good to see you but I’m sensing this isn’t a friendly visit.”

Hondo dips his head to confirm that as he says your name, “hey…we’re gonna need you to come with us.”

You blink, “okay…and it takes three of you to do that?”

“It’s a special situation,” Deacon tells, “involving your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend? Roman Reigns and his personal assistant Celosia Darlington who was murdered last night.”

They all watch your face at this news.

Sucking in your cheeks you answer, “Well…I guess you’re right then, it is a special situation.”

Tan and Deacon share a glance at your words.

“Target the people that had the most interactions with the deceased.” You nod.

Hondo tries to ease how this appears to make it sound better but he knows you’re smarter than to believe his attempt to smooth over the truth of your words.

Tan is the one to speak next, “You know it’s nothing personal and how this goes.”

You give a tight lipped smile, “right so…which one of you is going to watch me grab my bag or…do one of you want to grab it for me?”

How did you have ties to SWAT? Your father was part of a team out in Long Beach back where you grew up and did some work with the twenty division in his remaining years before a serious injury left him paralyzed ending his career. You ended up following in his footsteps at twenty-one, working for the LAPD and working your way into the S.W.A.T. field before you gave that up to…you guessed it! be a full-time actress once you caught your big break.

And sure they still liked to give you shit for “abandoning,” them but it was evident that’s not where your heart laid, although you proved how big of an asset you were for the short time you were part of S.W.A.T..

“You’re not being charged with anything so that’s not necessary.” Hondo states with a hand for you do so.

Tan mutters, “Yet.”

Which earns him a warning glance from Hondo while Deacon does in fact, keep his eyes on you. You’re turning off the tv, reaching for your bag, then heading back to the front door, and hold up a finger to step back and grab your keys off the side table by the door. They give you time to lock up your home before you follow them to the charger.

You’re quiet on the ride to headquarters and the men aren’t sure what to make of that but they decide to not press you on the ride.

There would be enough of that once you’re in the questioning room.

Holding onto the strap of your bag, your eyes are looking all around the building seeing how much has changed and what hasn’t. There’s mostly new faces that already made up their minds as they eye you on your way by.

Guilty.

When you see Roman in passing, in handcuffs being lead in the opposite direction by the commander, it feels like many films you shot before with this moment being in slow motion. Roman can’t take his eyes off you and you see just how everything was taking a toll on him. He may appear collected to everyone else but you saw the stress underneath his eyes, along with the longing for you in them and how his hair was left hanging instead of neatly slicked back into a bun.

You don’t owe him any comfort but you’re not sure if you want to see him suffer either. When you love someone, that means you open up your heart but what happens when you open it up too far and that person leaves it badly bruised?

Start looking out for yourself and hold your own, that’s what.

Shifting your head, you carry on as Roman is almost breaking his neck watching you leave from his sight yet again. He was waiting on his lawyer and had nothing else to say, which meant he was being sent right back to the holding cell while it was your turn to speak your peace.

“Colombian?” You quiz Tan who slides a mug your way with a plastic cup full of ice on the side.

Tan is half sarcastic and half joking, “only the best for our superstar.”

You snicker, knowing just how to get underneath his skin for simply existing before he leaves you alone with Hondo.

“Given the circumstances, you can already guess why you’re here.” He starts as he watches you carefully plunk the ice cubes into the mug before using your pinky finger to spin the contents together.

You sip at the homemade iced coffee, “Losi’s been murdered and the sex tape she made with my—Roman was leaked. Did anyone find out if she was behind it?”

“We can confirm that she was and was supposed to receive $25,000 for it but only received $10,000.” Hondo responds with his hands clasped on top of a folder.

You snort, “tough titties.”

“How so?”

“It’s evident that she was money hungry.” You notify, “I don’t get involved in Roman’s businesses but I know he had to be giving her a good amount since he didn’t have a separate assistant—that I know of—to take care of the gym business. Bloodline has much more value to him than the casino.”

“Right…because he comes from a family full of fighters except for his mother.”

“Yup.” You answer and add more sugar, stir, wipe your finger clean on a near by napkin and take another sip.

Hondo opens the folder and spins it to face you before spreading the crime scene photos along, “Was the money the last straw for you? Enough to make you so angry to chase Celosia down the freeway, run her down, get out the car, and finish her off with specific shots to the body: one to the Radial Artery as she pleaded for her life, one to the Aorta, and right to the head to end it all? Did it make you feel any better?”

You swallowed the coffee as you looked away from the photos to meet the bald man in front of you, “It’s real tiring, hearing how everyone dictates how I should feel or questioning how I am feeling because of some shit someone else did. I get by and no I wasn’t expecting to hear how tragically Losi’s life ended, yet I can’t say I’ll shed a tear for a snake.”

“A snake that also asked you for money over the phone after the tape got leaked and you laughed at her.”

You lifted your shoulders not bothered that they knew this information, “what else was I supposed to do? I didn’t owe that girl a damn thing after she slept with my man.”

“Then you killed her.”

You stare up at the ceiling in frustration thinking about how it was once upon a time on the other side, “I’ve played a criminal in a few movies, doesn’t mean I am one in real life.”

Hondo pushes his lips out with a shrug of his shoulders, “Sure but you’re also dating a crime boss.”

You laugh, “Hondo, are you forreal? No. Innocent until proven guilty.”

“You’re still covering for him.” Hondo sighed with disappointment, “we know that both the medallion and bloodline partly stands for some underground organized crime and if we can’t get Roman for the murder of Celosia then he’s going down for the disappearance and presumed murder of her step-brother. Along with drug-trafficking, aggravated assault, and conspiring to commit money laundering. When he goes down, so will everyone else involved with him.”

You nod, “that’s the thing…I’m not involved with him anymore and I don’t have any clue about any of what you just mentioned. I’m also innocent.”

“Bullshit!” Hondo slams his hands down on the table, “you know, I’d hate to see everything you worked so hard for go right in the trash because of someone like him. I thought you let go of Swat to have a different safe life but you’re in just as deep. On the wrong got damned side! Are you sure Roman ever loved you because if he did? You wouldn’t be sitting here.”

Those words had weight especially training underneath Hondo. It stung but one can’t forget, you were also part of this team not too long ago, so you would never show just how much it did.

“Hondo…are you charging me or am I free to go?”

Funny, Roman said the same thing pretty fast with the request to call a lawyer and they had more on him than on you.

“I think you should keep that seat warm a little longer and I’ll be back.” Hondo advises with a stern look before he scrapes his chair back to exit the room.

In the quiet you sit, one hand on the cup of coffee while the other rests on your lap. It’s parallel to Roman who sits in the cell, elbows buried in his knees as his wavy hair curtains his face. He couldn’t believe he was here, how everything was slowly crumbling all because of a screw up, although he’s had many voices tell him before that everything would catch up to him at some point.

He didn’t think he’d see the day, not when he was just getting started. It was just like you said, he wasn’t good at taking any loss and he hasn’t yet. If he had to lose it all then he was damn sure determined to build it back up again with his bare hands if he had to. And every king needed its queen no matter which way she decides to play her own cards.

Roman’s played defense before and his queen wanted to be offense. There became more than one head of the table (secretly) when he met you so perhaps now was the chance for you to make some shots, not all.

Lifting his head, he closes his eyes and cracks his neck before clasping his hands together.

And he waited.

The door behind you opens, revealing heavy footsteps that tap rather than clunk as they make their way around the table. A small smile forms on your lips at the rim of the mug as you swallow, lowering the cup back to the table.

The man in the tan suit chooses to sit on the edge of the table and sends you his award winning smile as he says your name in greeting.

“Rock,” you address the burly man, “what took you so fucking long?”

His body lifts in laughter, “I’m a busy man lady but I always make time for family.”

Which lets you know he’s made a visit to the bloodlines first. You didn’t call him but you knew who did.

“So how can I help?”

“Can you go back and make joe not stick his dick in Losi?”

Rock exhales, “wish I could but you and I both know that was a Roman move not Joe.”

Which you already had time to think over. You had your own stage name and persona you had to put out into the world. Except you didn’t do too much in the public where it’ll reflect badly on who you were behind closed doors.

“I know,” you breathe out reaching over to rest your hand right on top of Rock’s who turns his own to squeeze yours warmly, “doesn’t make it hurt any less though.”

He pats your hand with his other, “we’ll get through this, we always do. Just hold on.”

“Always do, my grip is vice.” You wink while Rock nods his head, getting back to his feet.

“So I’ve heard, and that’s why you’ll always classify as a bloodline and if you ever want a career change—

You snort, “ha! I think I’ll choose early retirement before I change anything else.”

“Hold up, what’re you?! Thirty-one? You’ve got more fight in you than you say, this I see. So c’mon and continue to give ‘em hell so that they’ll never underestimate what the vice is all about.” He rests a free hand on your shoulder, giving it a squeeze before the door is pushed open, revealing Hondo and Deacon.

Rock fixes his suit jacket, “my client and I are finished here.”

“Wait a minute, aren’t you going to stick around for further questions?” Deacon’s eyes are in slits, clearly finding this suspicious.

Rock sends them his beaming smile, “you must have forgotten how well she’s capable of handling herself. You have nothing on her and all of this is just theories. I give you the next thirty to forty-five minutes to release my client and if you’re not done by then, I’ll remove her myself.”

“You have no authority here.” Hondo bites.

Rock’s smile never falters although a brow threatens to arch, “ah, so you haven’t checked my credentials yet…huge error on your part don’t you think? Gentleman.” He bids his farewell and Deacon follows him out with a clenched jaw.

Hondo turns back to you, resting his hands on the cool table as he leans towards you, “the hell are you all playing at?”

Wiggling your fingers in the air you sit back against the chair, “I’m just an actress.”

“Yeah…well we’ll see how good of an actress you really are.” Hondo snaps as he begins pacing before folding his arms, “now start talking, from the point you found out about the tape.”

Rock got a head start away from Deacon, sneaking his way into the holding area which is empty besides the person he’s looking for. He’s whistling now, shades covering his eyes as he strolls through the quiet area. He knows he has to be quick but he also knows that Deacon has lost sight of him. Rock makes his way over to the cell, still whistling as he spins, pressing his elbow against the cell before tossing his arm back with a white slip in Roman’s direction.

“Uce,” is all rock says before he circles back around, still whistling and then exits back out of the area unseen…well that’s until they look at the cameras later.

Roman waits for Rock to leave his sight before he pushes up to his feet, walks to the space where the white paper is resting, covering it with his foot before he shuffles all the way back to the bench. Once seated, he bends an arm down to pick at the edge of paper underneath his shoe and carefully unravels it.

His eyes quickly peers over the words and a smirk appears on his lips.

Offense: 1

S.W.A.T.: 0

Defense: ?

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ ᗢ

[panda-writes-kpop]

I'll only stay with you one more night ~ j. hjn.

a/n: two weeks between posts will probably become the new normal as I struggle through this semester 😭 don't worry, school's going fine, I'm just busy as hell right now with work, school, and familial obligations. So don't worry if there's a week or two between uploads, I'm totally fine!! 🫶

tw: a bit pg-13 with some of the description (my bad yall, i just want to make out with jeon heejin y'know), mention of booze, reader is a romantic yet a bit depressed but we love them for it ❤️

summary: a precarious dance between you and heejin threatens to end as she lures you into her thralls yet again, but you won't break this new normal between the two of you. neither will she, so you're stuck in this limbo of 'not-quite-friends-but-not-quite-lovers'.

♡ Masterlist ♡

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Jeon Heejin eyes you, warily, as you approach her in the kitchen.

“You thought parties weren’t my… thing?” She draws out the last word, inviting a rebuttal from you.

You’re too smart to take the obvious bait, but too stupid to leave the conversation alone in its entirety.

“Didn’t think you were one to shoot vodka straight.” You gesture to the red solo cup in her hand - you’re a foot away from her, but you can practically taste the liquor in the air.

The smell makes you wish that you had drank something before starting this conversation. It’d help you feel less bad about what happens afterward.

“Maybe I like the way it tastes.” She teases before lifting the cup to her lips.

You’d almost believe her, if you didn’t know her so well, but the ghastly grimace on her face gives away her true thoughts about the drink.

“No person drinks vodka because they like the taste. What’s on your mind, Little Miss Perfect?”

Heejin scowls at the nickname - a long standing tradition between the two of you. You’d call her a role model or a perfect princess, and she’d respond by calling you a jackass or rolling her eyes at you.

Two people, perfectly molded to be each other’s opposite.

So why are you here, at this party, with her of all people?

“Would you believe me if I told you?”

“No,” Your response falls from your lips, immediately, and a teasing grin appears on your face, “but I’m willing to hear you out anyway.”

“You’re a liar.”

“It’s my charm, really.” You shrug before leaning against the fridge. “Are you in the mood for confessions or not?”

“Well…” She trails off, an unreadable expression on her face.

She leans against the counter after setting her drink aside. Her shirt lifts up, perfectly showing her well-defined body.

Why does she play this game with you, again and again? You’re both losers in the end.

Heejin is a perfect calamity of a woman - her eyes a whirlwind of emotions, a smile that is genuine but never quite reaches her eyes, her gestures as icy as they are warming.

You can’t tell if you want to slap or kiss that shit-eating grin off of her face.

And, based on your previous encounters with her, it’s most definitely going to be the latter option.

“Like what you see?” She winks at you before grabbing her drink again.

Her eyes study you, just as she studies her materials in class. Brutally methodical, looking for any errors or opportunities to pounce on.

She wants to lure you into her trap, into her clutches - you wanted her first, right?

“Fuck you.” The words would sound malicious coming from anyone else, but they’re oddly playful from your lips.

“You told me you wanted to know what’s on my mind…” Heejin strolls towards you with an unmistakable amount of confidence, the type that comes with experience.

She’s got you right where she wants you - as she does every time.

When she lands right in front of you, one of her hands lands on your abdomen. Heejin leans in close, close enough for only the two of you to hear.

“You. I’ve only had you on my mind, and it’s ruining my day.”

She leans back, a playful pout on her face.

A lioness with her prey in her claws - so much for her façade of innocence.

You should resist, push her hand away and let yourself get some air. Maybe it’s the booze in her breath that’s making you drunk, or maybe you’re just drunk on her.

Either way, that fleeting thought of rationality doesn’t seem to stop you from chasing Heejin’s lips as you kiss her with the pent-up frustration of her teasing.

Her hand leaves your chest as you place your hands on your lips - if you’re letting this happen, you may as well be in control of your actions.

You know you want this, as does she. You’re both just scared of the after.

The eternal after, the words you two should tell each other.

I love you. I miss you. I want you. I need you.

But you’re stuck in this charade, this mess where you push and pull against each other, hoping one will give before the other does. 

Heejin’s too prideful, and you’re too resistant to the idea of “us”.

But you’re both content, especially as she pulls at your shirt for more as her lips continue to meet yours.

Why should you deny her of you, of the things that make you both content?

Maybe next time will be different.

It won’t be. 

You know this.

She knows this.

Yet you’re still kissing her, and she’s still kissing you.

Forever in limbo.

Forever two souls together, but not quite intertwined.

[mvskedxrtist]

Such a Bad Laozu

Wᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: PwP, Mommy Kink, Creampie, Slight Overstimulation, Choking, Slight Bondage

Nᴏᴛᴇ: I have lots of drafts saved up that I'm writing and waiting to post for you guys. I'm also adding one last fandom if you noticed my main masterlist. So, my planning, you'll see later but for now enjoy this small request

Lan!AFAB!Reader x Wei Wuxian - Such a Bad Laozu

Wei Wuxian... The Yilling Patriarch, the Yilling Laozu, demon spawn, Baba, Wei Ying, Ridiculous, many bad things.

Lan Y/N... The older Pearl of Gusu, Top three fighters, Mama, Ice Queen, the Gusu Princess, many good things.

Two completely opposite people, yet everyone saw them together most of the time during Gusu Lectures. No one knew of how Wei Wuxian was able to befriend the ice queen, not even her brothers knew... Well except Lan Xichen, but she made him promise that he didn't tell their little brother. And he's kept that promise, even to this day of how Wei Wuxian was in Mo Xuanyu's body. Lan Y/N could instantly tell it was her beloved. He wasn't able to fool her that easily.

So when Lan Wangji brought Wei Wuxian to Gusu those first few nights, you decided to have Wei Ying sleep in your palace because it made more sense then have him room with your brother. Mo Xuanyu was known for being gay so wouldn't him rooming with a woman be the best way so he's behaved? Everyone in Gusu thought so, especially Wei Wuxian.

"Wei Wuxian! The fact that you now come back here after all these years and yet decided to hide from me is shameful!" You yelled at him and pushed him onto your mat while the male looked flustered and chuckled softly. "Y/N..I know I shouldn't have."

"Oh that's definitely an understatement, Mr. Lazou. For leaving me alone these past 13 years, you will take all of my brunt." You smirked as you pulled his robes off. He looked a bit excited from your sudden change of attitude but he should of expected it. He left you alone for 13 years, he would definitely be pent up as well after finding out that his loved one was alive.

You used your Lan forehead ribbon and tied Wei Wuxian's hands up with it tight as you were on top of him. "Wow Mommy~... You better hope your brothers don't try to come in..." He teased you a bit while watching you take your robes off, getting back on top of him and wrapping your hand around his neck. "They won't. Xichen definitely won't and he'll make sure Wangji doesn't either. Now shut it."

The next few hours that went by were spent by you and Wei Wuxian fucking each other senseless like bunnies in heat, loud moans coming from the both of them. He couldn't really tell what time it was or how long they were going, he just knew that being with his pearl was amazing. "Fuck yes, Mommy~" He groaned while you were bouncing up and down his cock for probably the nth time. Squelching sounds could be heard from their hips connecting together, one look in your eyes told Wei Ying everything. He's gonna be exhausted when the sun rises.

And exhausted he was, he didn't even knew that Y/N had this much stamina until she made him cum inside of her ass for the fifth time. He could feel himself get sleepy, there probably only was a few hours left until it was time to get up yet you still wanted more from him. "Cmon, one last time, Wei Ying.." You panted softly while increasing your speed, moaning from how deep he went in you.

"B-but Mommy~ I don't think I can..~" He whined under his breath, tears in his eyes because of pleasure before you pulled his hair a bit, grabbing the ponytail. "But I know you can, baby~ Unless you're being a bad Laozu and refusing?.."

[mommahughes19-23]

Close as Strangers - B.B

“Through the tears I can hear that I shouldn't have gone, every day it gets harder to stay away from you”

summary : Brock’s playing in the stanley cup with the team. He looses and you tell him how you really feel. you’re a nurse and you’re overwhelmed and miss him.

A.N : Wrote this on my break, edited. enjoy tho. xoxoxo,M

You stand over your last patient of the day, an elder woman who on any other day you would feel bad for and have way more compassion than you do at this current moment. You live in Minnesota and you’ve known the Boeser family since you and Brock were in diapers, born a week apart and your mom’s both attending the same ‘mommy and me’ group. You are currently interning at Minnesota State Hospital as part of your last year in grad school, and to say it was overwhelming was an understatement. You and Brock typically spoke every night despite the time difference, yet lately you guys spoke maybe 5 minutes per week with the busy life you both had. Brock was still in Vancouver as the Canucks were still in the playoffs, you worked 12 hours 5 days a week.

“Miss Nurse, can you give me my meds and be gone” the patient you had just given meds to not less than 5 minutes prior had dementia and again any other day you would be more calm, but after getting thrown up on, slapped by an older patient also with dementia you had had it. “I just told you I gave them to you!” you raised your voice and huffed out. Your coworker looked at you as if to say he would finish up and you should head home for the night. You walk to the center reception desk and clock out not bothering to say anything to anyone, grabbed your bag and walked out to the elevator. You felt your phone buzz to life as you were prohibited from carrying it during your shifts as it was a distraction, 13 missed calls from Brock… You click his name and call him back though it’s only 5am your time so 2am his.

“Hey bug.” he says through the phone, “Hey sorry B, I was at work what’s up?” you tried your best to hold in your emotions but you had been so ready to let the tears flow once you got to your car it was like a leaky faucet that just got worse. “Well we lost, we are out of the play offs. The guys probably hate me for not playing.” you honestly felt numb for a moment, trying to process how you would comfort your best friend and suppress your own emotions. You thought you would be able to just pour your heart out through the phone to Brock like you used to and he would say all the right things like he always did, 6 weeks or 6 months since he’s been away. Hockey and the idea of the Canucks not making it through to the finals were the least of your worries. None the less you responded “I’m sorry to hear that B, not your fault though, you need to remember to take your health seriously. You’re of less use hurt than you are on the side for a little. The guys understand.” you say shaky as you comfort him in the way you longed for him to do for you.

“I know but this blood clot thing was the last thing I needed and it just sucks that I couldn’t be there in person to cheer them on.” “I hear you but you can’t focus on the what ifs. But uh- is it uhm - is it cool if I call you back in a little. I just- just got off and I’m gonna head home.” you say slightly hiccuping trying not to let the tears fall.

“Bug, are you ok? You sound like you’re about to have a panic attack, and don’t say you’re fine I can tell you’re not.” He responds. You let the tears start flowing and you’re honestly scared that you may not be able to stop. “I don’t know Brock, I want to be a nurse so bad and I have worked so hard but these long hours and missing you and not having you here to comfort me I just don’t know how to do it.” You say in one breath. “I don’t want to give up because all my work will have been for nothing but, how the FUCK do i get through this lack of sleep and pressure”. “You miss me?” he says as if he is oblivious to you’re hints you have been dropping for months now. “Yes of course, you’re the only one who knows how - how - how to help me when- i -i am like this. I think I love you.” you say through your sobs.

“Forget the stanley cup we can mourn my loss later, baby I can tell through the tears that I shouldn’t have gone to Vancouver, and I want you to know it gets harder every day to stay away from you. I want to fly you out to all my games and I want you to wear my jersey and I want to call you mine baby. What do you say, I’ll be back home in a few days, can you wait for me a little longer and we can talk in person?” “I’ll wait forever for you, I can’t wait to have you back home.” “I love you bug.” he says, you smile so big and wipe the rest of the dried tears. “I love you more.”

“6 months since I went away, and to know everything has changed, and tomorrow I’ll be coming back to you.”

Tags : @skylershines @puck-luck @quinnylouhughesx43 @noahkahansorangejuice

gimme feedback thanks. will edit around 8 my time.

[morgana-larkin]

Me again lol I was wondering if u could do Melissa x reader where reader is autistic and has an autistic meltdown or struggles with change in routine and Melissa helps her (lol sorry I keep requesting fics but your writing is sooooo good I can’t get enough and as always no pressure and look after yourself 🫶)

Hey, thank you for the prompt! I literally just moved 2 weeks ago from one end of the city I live in to the other so I wrote that reader moves since its really relatable to me right now. And feel free to send as many prompts as you want, it’s not a problem😉. Hope you like it!

On another note, I was going to post this tomorrow but kept seeing people like my other fics so I figured I could just post it now lol. Also I can’t believe how many people are liking my fics! Especially ‘her poco sole’ , that was the one I really didn’t know if people were gonna like and it’s the most liked one which surprised me. I’m gonna try to get another one shot to a prompt I got a few hours ago and the next chapter of Worth It. I do have my acting workshop tomorrow and a role on Sunday but I’m gonna try!

Overwhelmed

Warnings: reader has a meltdown

Words: 3.1k

You’ve always done things a certain way, you planned your day ahead of time and you don’t like changes.

You got diagnosed with Autism when you were 13. Your parents knew nothing about it but were super supportive and researched it to better help you. They also liked to ask you questions about what you prefer to help you even further.

You all realised that routine is very important for you, and if something changed then you would need a bit of time to calm down from your mini freak out. If it was small changes like having to wear a different shirt or a friend wants to meet up at a different store, those you can deal with. But big ones like if a friend you were going to hang out with cancelled last minute or a family member dropped by unexpectedly or you moved.

That last one you didn’t experience a lot thankfully. You only remember moving once, and it was moving out of your parents place and in with a friend you’ve known since first grade. The next time would be when you moved in with Melissa.

You got accepted for a job to be a teacher's aide at Abbott Elementary. You walked in at 7:30 and went to the principal's office to get your badge and to know who the teacher you’ll be helping is. You liked being a teacher's aide instead of the teacher. If there was any big changes to the day then the teacher mostly has to deal with it and you just do what you’re told.

You got introduced to the principal, you didn’t understand how she got the job with how she acts but you don’t ask, it’s your first day after all.

« so the teacher that you’ll be an aide for, her name is Melissa Schemmenti. I’ll bring you to meet her now, she’s in the break room. » Ava said and you nodded your head. You followed her there and walked in the room and all the teachers there looked up and looked at you and you blushed a bit. You got nervous when you felt put in the spotlight with a bunch of people you don’t know. « Hey Melissa, your new aide is here. ». She told someone and when Ava moved out of the way your breath caught in your throat. A pair or beautiful green eyes were on you and they belonged to the most beautiful woman you’ve ever met. And then it hit you, she’s the teacher you’ll be helping. You’re either really lucky or really fucked. You then remember that you should introduce yourself.

« Hi, my name is y/n y/l/n. You must be Melissa Schemmenti. » you tell her and she nods then looks at Ava.

« She better be better than the last one Coleman. » she says and you look confused. She already had an aide that she didn’t like?

« I don’t know, I didn’t pick her, the school board did. » Ava says then leaves. And you just stand there not knowing what to do until one of the teachers stands up to greet you.

« Hi y/n it’s nice to meet you, my name is Janine Teagues. I’m a second grade teacher. » she says and is practically bouncing in your face and you lean back a bit, a bit surprised by her energy and enthusiasm.

« Hi. » is all you say, you never really know what to say to someone new.

« Alright kid, follow me, I’ll bring you to the classroom. » Melissa says as she gets up and you nod as you follow her out of the break room.

You stare at her little bit, you don’t know what to think of her yet other than she’s stunning and you oddly feel safe around her. Which is different, it takes you a few times of getting to know someone before you even feel comfortable. But it seems this woman has the power to make herself go from being a complete stranger to all the way to feeling safe around her.

« You’re really quiet. » she says to you as she bends down a bit to unlock her door with her key around her neck.

« Sorry, just nervous. » You tell her and she motions for you to go into the room.

« I didn’t say it was a bad thing, definitely a nice change from the last one. » she says and you want to be better than the last one so you can’t help but ask her.

« What did the last one do that you didn’t like? Just so I don’t repeat it. » You tell her and she looks at you curiously.

« She disrupted the class more that the students did. She made it worse more than she helped. » she simply said and leaned against her desk and folded her arms. And that’s when you get a look at what she’s wearing. Black leggings with a pink top and black leather jacket. Oh. You always found a girl who wears a leather jacket hot. « Do I scare you? » she says as you haven’t said anything.

« I don’t know you yet. I’m just nervous meeting new people and never know what to say. I’m autistic so I’m not as good with social interactions as other people. » You tell her and she nods.

« Well this is the classroom. I have a split class. » she says as she takes a seat on her desk and puts her hands together on her lap. « I have 20 second graders and 10 third graders. »

« Oh fuck. » you say and she laughs.

« That was my reaction too. Do you have any questions? »

« Um » you say and think about it. « What will you be needing me to do? »

« Just stuff to help really. Like photocopy papers, hand out tests, help them with some class work. Might need you to sometimes teach the third graders a quick lesson in the back of the classroom. » she says and you nod. This sounds like it’ll be good, you think. « any other questions? » she asks.

« Just mostly wondering how you’ve been doing this mostly by yourself. You must be a hell of a teacher to have 30 students in your class. » You tell her and she smiles.

« It was hard at first I’ll admit. I even punched the head of a cardboard samurai right off before I asked for an aide. » she says and you laugh.

The two of you talk for a bit before students start arriving. Melissa has you helping the third graders with some work while she teaches currency to the second graders. She gets you to grade some tests for most of the morning then has you help bring them to the cafeteria at lunch.

« You were a great help today so far, keep up the great work. » she says with a smile and you beam.

A month goes by with you helping Melissa and she’s less stressed now that she has an aide that’s helpful and you’ve settled in nicely with the class and some of the teachers. Until you get home from work one day and your friend tells you that her work transferred her to another city and she’s moving in a month and your smile falls. You can’t afford the rent by yourself, that means moving.

The next day at school, Melissa can tell something is bothering you since you seem distracted and in your head a lot. During her prep period, she asks you about it.

« Hey, what’s going on with you? You seem distracted this morning. » she asks you and you look up at her.

« I’m sorry, just a lot on my mind. » you tell her.

« You wanna talk about it? » she asks and you shake your head, you don’t really want to put it on her.

« You sure? »

You sigh and put your chin on your hands. « Just found out last night that I have a month to find a new place and move. And I looked a bit last night and there’s nothing I can afford by myself and very few people are looking for roommates. » you tell her and she doesn’t say anything. « Sorry, I didn’t want to bother you with my problems. » you tell her and she shakes her head.

« I offered remember. And plus I was actually going to start looking for a roommate. » she says and you look at her. « I have a spare room I’m not using and wouldn’t mind some extra cash. » you look at her confused, wondering if she’s saying what you think she is. « I guess what I’m saying is , if you need a place, you can move in with me. »

And that’s how you got here. The day you’re moving in with Melissa. And you’ve been freaking out about it for a week, your friend has been trying to help you pack and comfort you the best she can. You move your things into her place all day, you don’t have a lot of time to think about it until you’re standing in your new room, and it hits you all at once. Everything changed, different room, different house, different roommate, different end of the city. It all changed and you crumble to the ground and bring your legs to your chest and hug your legs and start rocking to comfort yourself.

« Hey y/n I made dinner and was wondering if… » Melissa comes by your room and sees you. « Y/n? You ok? »

You don’t say anything, you feel like you can’t talk right now, it’s all too much. You end up shaking your head and she comes over and sits on the ground next to you. She doesn’t say anything, she just wraps her arms around you and brings you in for a hug. And that’s when you break and start crying and Melissa rubs your back in a circular motion. The repetitive movement and the physical contact of someone you know soothes you. After a minute you pull back and wipe your tears off. And she just sits next to you for a few minutes, letting you calm down « Thank you. » you tell her when you feel like you can talk again.

« Not a problem. I know it can get overwhelming. But I can help you settle in so it’s not so scary. You like knowing about things right? » she asks and you nod. « Ok, well today I can show you around the house so you know where things are. And then tomorrow I can show you where I shop and you can decide if you like it or not. Then I can show you all the best places to get a bite to eat around here and anything else you want to know. » she offers.

« You’d do that for me? » you ask and she nods. « Why? »

She shrugs. « Because you’re a good person who just needs a bit of help. » she says and you smile at her.

« You know at first, I was a bit scared of you. » You tell her and she laughs.

« I knew it! » she says with a smile.

« But after getting to know you, and seeing how you are with the students, I realised how much of a softie you are. » You tell her and she glares at you.

« Don’t go telling anyone that! » she tells you sternly. And you put your hands up in surrender.

« Don’t worry I won’t, I know you got a reputation to keep. » You joke with her. « was there something you needed btw? » You ask her, remembering she was asking you something before she saw you on the floor.

« Just that I made dinner and wanted to know if you wanted something. I always make a lot. » she says and you beam. You’ve heard great things about her cooking but haven’t had any yet.

Turns out what they say about her cooking didn’t live up to how great she actually was. It was better than you thought. She did give you a tour of the house after supper and you felt a little better. You ended up watching tv with her and she stayed right beside you so that your arms are touching. She knows that close proximity with someone you know helps you calm down and process things.

For the next week you barely say anything. You’re more quiet than normal and you hide in your own head, in your own little fantasy world that you have complete control of.

Melissa has no idea what’s going on with you, and that’s when she starts actually looking up autism and how it affects the person and how they act and how to help them. She sees that if they’re dealing with a lot of big changes, they get overwhelmed and they either repress it and pull away from people or have a meltdown, it also says that they can repress it then have a meltdown. And that’s exactly what happens with you. Melissa was prepared in case it happened, it’s just how it happened and what you end up doing after, that shocked her.

You came home after going grocery shopping and slammed the front door. Melissa was dusting her table with all her pictures when you came in.

« You alright there sunshine? » Melissa joked and you glared at her. Melissa came from an Italian family, so glares didn’t even faze her. She went and leaned on the side of the couch and crossed her arms.

« I’m fine, just they didn’t have some things I wanted so I just walked out. » You said, trying to take your jacket off but it got stuck when trying to take your arms out and you let out a huff.

« Need help? » she asks with a raised eyebrow.

« No. » you snap and continue to struggle. « Ugh why is nothing going right! » Melissa walks over to you and pulls at the arm of the jacket and you’re able to take it off. You slam your jacket on the ground « stupid jacket! Stupid grocery store! » You half scream out.

« Hey it’s alright » she tells you and puts a hand on your shoulder trying to comfort you.

You gasp and turn to her with a glare before shrugging her hand off. « Don’t touch me. » you snap at her then try to calm yourself down. Melissa tries again, knowing that physical contact helps you and read that doing things that helps that autistic person calm down helps during a meltdown. « I said don’t touch me! » you tell her and back up to get away. You end up backing into a wall and you feel like everything is too much and you grab your hair and start freaking out.

« Y/n it’s alright » she says and you barely hear her. She wraps her arms around you from behind you and you scream at her to let you go and try to push her off but she hangs on. And then you start crying and fall to the ground and she follows you, still hugging you. You put one of your hands on her hand and lean into her. « it’s ok y/n, you’re ok. » she says, still hugging you from behind. She rests her chin on your shoulder and you relax more into her. After about a minute you sit up a bit and she removes her head from you. You turn around and in a wave of confidence, you lean in and kiss her.

She kisses you back and she feels you smile. You pull back and look into her eyes. « R u ok y/n? » she asks you after it seems you’ve calmed down.

« I think mostly, it’s still a bit hard for me, I’m still processing everything. » You tell her and she gets an idea. She helps you back and tells you to stay there for a second. She goes over and turns on her Bluetooth speaker and it connects to her phone. She opens her Spotify and clicks on a song. The song starts playing through the speaker and you instantly recognize the song, it’s the Macarena.

« Come on I’m sure you know the moves. » she tells you when you raise your eyebrows at her. She pulls you away from the wall and goes behind you and moves your arms to the music with the moves. You start laughing at her goofiness but eventually you start getting into it and she lets your arms go and does the moves with you. At the end of the song, your both laughing and having a great time, then the next starts playing and it’s ‘can you feel the love tonight’ from the lion king. Melissa just goes with it and holds out a hand for you to take. « May I have this dance? » she asks you and you giggle and you take her hand.

She brings you close to her and puts one hand on your shoulder and moves her hand in yours to the proper position and you put your hand on her waist. She starts doing the waltz with you and you’re surprised. She ends up being a really good dancer.

« You seem surprised. » she tells you.

« I am, I’m wondering if there’s something you can’t do. » you tell her and she laughs. « I’m being serious, you’re an amazing teacher, your meals taste like heaven, you can waltz really well. I wouldn’t be surprised if you knew a second language. » you tell her as a joke but looks at you with a smile.

« Conosco Italian. » she says and you look at her. « That means I know Italian. »

« I was actually joking but at this point I’m not surprised. » You tell her and she giggles. The song ends but both of you don’t pull away. « thank you btw. You’ve helped me so much. » You tell her with a smile and she smiles back at you.

« of course mia carina. » she tells you.

« Ok now you’re just showing off. » You joke and she laughs. Then she puts a hand around your neck and kisses you and you kiss her back. It’ll take time but Melissa is willing to help you with all the changes and to make her house feel like home to you.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

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If you want to be added then let me know!

[117luv]

THE PARENT TRAP — LHS | CHAPTER 13

synopsis: jungwon and ni-ki met each other at a summer camp and found out they were fraternal twins. this leads to events where the two ex-lovers, heeseung and yn, are reunited after 14 years by their children.

genre: exes to lovers, smau, fluff

pairing: lee heeseung x fem!reader

warnings: cursing, poor attempts in humor, grammatical errors, marriage, pregnancy, parenthood, miscommunication

taglist: CLOSED!

a/n: hi darlings! im back (FINALLY) again apologies for the super late update (a month later DAMN) but now we are finished with the flashback, ne ways enjoy this chap and love ya!! <3

masterlist | previous | next

Her mom was fuming after learning her "perfect daughter" had been ruined by a nobody. She kept telling her to avoid the boy, but now she is going against her by marrying him. She furiously went to their place and asked to talk to both of them. Fortunately, the twins were sleeping with Heeseung's parents that day, or it could have been worse. Yn looked at her mother, filled with anger and resentment. The older woman spoke up, which broke the silence. "Yn. I'm telling you this once, and once only. If you don't divorce him, I will put up the twins for adoption," she said. "You can't just do that, Mom. I'm their mother, and you can't tell me what to do with our children," she said while holding his hands.

She couldn't believe her ears; her daughter is now answering back to her. "I don't care. I will do everything if you don't listen to me. All I asked was for you to date a decent man, but you settle with him instead," she said. She was torn between being with her first love and being with their children. She looked at his face again and told him that everything would be fine. In return, he assured her that whatever choice she made, he would accept it. As she took her breath, she made her final decision.

"Fine. I will divorce him, but we will keep the twins. I will have Jungwon while Heeseung will have Niki. We will promise to never see each other after everything," she said. Her mom finds it amusing that she came up with such a deal, but if it means that her daughter will be away from Heeseung, then she will take it. "Okay, I will let this slide. But do know I'll be watching you two closely," she said while walking out of the door. After she left, Yn fell to the ground. Her sobs filled the living room, and Heeseung immediately hugged her as he comforted her. She wished to be woken up from this nightmare.

Anyone who might hear her thoughts might think she is fucked up. No daughter should be happy for their own mother's death. Yn had never felt more at ease than right now. It was like a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. All the years that her mother had controlled her life had ended. The same woman who took the people she loved dearly away from her. Sure, she appreciates the things her mother did to her, but her control over her life was much greater. She is happy that she is gone. A sentence that she never thought she would ever say.

She flew from Canada back to Korea for her mother's funeral, where she met her younger brother, Sunghoon, and her father. She doesn't resent her father as much as she resents her mother, but she chose to be estranged from him after accident years ago. Sunghoon had been the best throughout everything; he had her back when no one was there. She couldn't thank him enough for his presence. After staying for only two days, she came back to Canada.

Her and Jungwon lived in Canada until he was 14 years old. By this point, it has been five years since her mother died. She had finally made the decision to go back to Korea. This was a step in finding the two missing people who are part of her broken puzzle piece, Heeseung and Niki.

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[batwritings]

Kinktober Day 13 - Hate Sex

Part of me regrets writing for Graves...but that jawline tho-- /hj Enjoy!~

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

When you got the call about what had happened, you were beyond pissed. And with the call of him being captured, you didn’t know whether to be relieved or even further in your lividity. But you knew one thing for certain: you were going to give him absolute hell when next you saw him.

“Oh hell…” you could hear as you entered his holding cell. You sincerely hoped he knew that Hell wouldn’t save him anymore than Heaven would from your anger. Graves looked like a wreck and as much as you wanted to fall for that old Southern smile and “heyyy babyyy,” there was absolutely zero chance of that happening.

“You have twenty minutes,” comes a voice over the intercom. Laswell, you’d been told her name was. The woman who told you about your lovely commander of a partner being pulled into captivity. Hell, she went as far to provide you with an escort when she heard your rage on the other side of the receiver. 

All was silent for a moment, just you glaring daggers at your lover with your arms crossed over your chest. Just as Graves opened his mouth to speak, you took the initiative. “What the absolute fuck were you thinking?” You asked, voice not quite a yell. “What was the one thing I asked you not to do before you left last?”

“Darlin’ listen, I–” 

“What was the ONE thing Phil?!” Your temper was beyond through the roof and you were in no mood for a single one of your lover’s excuses. You wanted answers and you wanted them now.

Graves sighed heavily, knowing there was no way he could win or defy you and what you wanted. “...not to kill anyone unless absolutely necessary,” Sapphire eyes couldn’t meet yours as the man looked away. The two of you knew there was going to be blood spilled on this mission, no doubt about it. Even if you didn’t know the severity of what he was walking into, it was still a possibility every time your man walked out the door.

Yet each time you always made him go through the same routines of a promise. You had him swear two things to you; one, that he would return to you, safe and sound. Perhaps a few new cuts or bruises, but never in a body bag. 

The other was that nobody was ever to die needlessly. You knew the line of work Phil worked in wasn’t exactly fool proof and death was inevitable. But if it could be avoided? All the better. So the fact that you heard of the despicable things he’d done in Las Almas…needless to say, your anger wasn’t exactly misplaced for a broken promise.

A million and one different words wanted to come out of your mouth in that moment. But instead, you acted on impulse. “You must’ve been real messed up in the head to have done what you did,” you murmured, more to yourself that him. “So much emotion and energy that they didn’t deserve to have on them.”

You were quiet for a moment before you spoke again. “So I’m going to do the same to you,” you watched the confusion on Graves’ face as he looked up at you finally. You were quick in your movements, knocking the chair back so your lover’s head and back was against the floor. Living with a soldier did give you the opportunity to learn to defend yourself.

Your pants and underwear were gone in the blink of an eye, much to your partner’s confusion “You’ve got fifteen minutes to make me come,” you told him harshly. You sunk down to your knees, one on either side of his head so your sex was positioned just above that mouth of his that he loved to run. “Make it count.”

Without much more hesitation, you lowered yourself further to where you knew he could easily reach you. Now as much as it may have seemed like it, Graves wasn’t an idiot. He knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. Aka, he knew it would probably be a very long time before he would get to do this again.

You sighed in relief as your lover’s mouth go to work, licking and sucking in all the spots he had come to know would drive you wild. “How come…mmh!” You whined a bit as Graves turned his head to bite at your thigh, his scruff burning your sensitive spot in a lovely way. “How come you c-can do this so well, but not keep y-your promises?” 

Your anger did nothing to still your now moving hips. You rocked back and forth, slowly at first, not wanting to come undone too quickly. You could see a tinge of sadness layered in Graves’ sapphire eyes as he focused his tongue on one particular spot. 

Your hands were quick to fly into his hair, using those sandy locks to tug him ever closer. Not that the man seemed to mind, moaning softly. He always did like a bit of pain in his intimacy with you and it seemed that hadn’t changed.

The moaning from him, even as he struggled to breath served as pleasurable vibrations against your sex that had your mind going blank. It wasn’t long before your whimpering and whining grew louder and you were coming undone over Graves’ face. Though, the pleasured moans falling from him showed he didn’t exactly mind.

You held yourself up despite the intense orgasm so that the man below you could catch a breath. You met his gaze, a mixture of lust and love coating those baby blues you’d fallen in love with. A quick glance at your phone and you realized it wouldn’t be long before the two of you were not alone.

You pulled yourself to your feet, slipping back into your pants and underwear, albeit with a bit of struggle. You hauled Graves up next, using his own button-up to wipe the slick and cum from his face. You opened the door to Laswell who gave you a questioning look. 

“I’ll see him when he gets out.”

[theitgirlnetwork]

Better

Ch. 13: I've Got It

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

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

“Now we wait.” 

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

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

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

“Hush, little girl, stop whining.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They won’t approve. Fuck.” he nods.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘M warm.”

“I am warm.” Her mother corrects.

“I am warm.”

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

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

“Victor!”

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

“I’m not pregnant, Daddy.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Daddy?”

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

“Victor! Please.”

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

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

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

“Oh, god, the waterworks-”

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

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

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

“Her mother and I.” Lip says smugly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This wasn’t the final straw.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My hero.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Phillip.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

For Charlotte’s sake.

“So tech. Good business.” 

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

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

“Gettin’ there.” 

“How many siblings do you have, Phillip?”

“Uh, five.” 

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

“They’re smart.”

“But not like you.”

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

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

“I know everything about Charlotte.”

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

“Fuckin’- yes!” 

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

What?

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

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

“Yea-yes-”

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

“Fuck you.” Lip scoffs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lottie.” V interrupts, “Didn’t Lip-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mornin.” 

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

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

“My…my stuff? Phillip-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Knew it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“M’not.” 

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

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

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

“S’fine. She is. Fuckin’ beautiful.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh-kay.” 

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

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

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

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

“No?”

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

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

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

“Okay so-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

“Well, that seems-”

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

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

“Gallagher kids? Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

Until her phone rings.

“What’d you even give him anyway?”

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

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

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

“Get the fuck off me, I’m married.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Phillip-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m..I’m sorry?”

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

Oh. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Good for him.

“I know you’re mad at’me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But she’s weak, and he’s everything. 

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

“Charlotte.”

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

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

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

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

“I fucked up, Bunny.”

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck them too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.” 

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

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

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

[rorywritesjunk]

I can’t tell where the journey will end But I know where to start

Prequel to my Kid Buggy fic, set about 11-ish years before that story.

Buggy meets you by chance when he needs his buttons sewn back onto his jacket. He’s young, up and coming, and he thinks everyone should cower before him wherever he goes, but all you do is smile at him.

Rating: PG-13ish just for some swearing. Warning: Buggy’s in his early 20s. He’s an asshole. He just is because I wanted to write him loud, demanding, everything. Chapter warning has drinking, a drunk and all over the place Buggy, and Sunny just quietly being "what the fuck". Also it's Buggy's birthday. A/N: I have no idea when Buggy became a Captain, so he’s a fresh faced captain in this. No clue how long this fic will be. I actually have started rewriting it after chapter 5 because I realized I wanted to change some things up.

Title comes from “Wake Me Up” by Avicii.

TAGLIST: @lostfirefly @ane5e @kingofthemfingpirates @the-angriest-angel @tiredemomama @valen-yamyam16 @i-reblog-fics-i-like @plethora-of-fickleness @uhnanix

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11 + Chapter 12 + Chapter 13 + Chapter 14 + Chapter 15 + Chapter 16 + Chapter 17 + Chapter 18 + Epilogue

Chapter 6

“I think she’s heartbroken.” Benji said as he and Miss Pins watched you stumble around the shop, looking through stacks of fabric and spools of thread looking for your tailor’s chalk that was tucked up in behind your ear. You had been acting… odd since you told Buggy to leave the shop three weeks ago. You managed to sew a customer’s order to your lap, sewed cuffs inside out on another one, and just now you spent the last hour looking for the blue piece of tailor’s chalk that you tucked behind your ear. 

“Oh?” Miss Pins replied, head resting in her hand as she watched you look through the same stack of fabric again. “You’re a kid, how do you know about heartbreak?”

“I was in love with a girl and she broke my heart.” Benji told her as you finally found the chalk and set it on the table. “We were 12. She told me she wanted someone nicer, which was dumb. I am nice. I just voice my opinions.”

“Well, don’t get hung up on that young romance. Someone else will come around.” The old woman said as you started looking for your scissors next. They were in a cup in front of you along with other tools. “This is really sad. Did she like the idiot that much?”

“I think so.” Benji frowned. “I didn’t like him.”

“Neither did I.” Miss Pins sighed. “So of course Sunny would.”

“Why did she like him?” Benji asked. Miss Pins shrugged.

“She’s always been kind, ever since she showed up here all those years ago.” Your boss replied. “No matter who someone was or how awful they were, she would just be nice to them.”

You finally found the scissors and held them up triumphantly before pausing and staring down at your work. It took you so long to find the tailor’s chalk that you forgot why you needed it and the scissors. You were distracted, half expecting Buggy to come bursting into the shop any moment now with some silly little thing to fix on his jacket, but you were quite firm when you told him to leave that one day, so he must have taken it to heart. You weren’t going to see him again.

Was it fair you got upset because he couldn’t remember your name? But at the same time, the way he reacted was more hurtful. Something stupid like your name. It repeated in your head nonstop and you wished it wouldn’t. He was just so mean about it. Sure, he had been rude and a bit of an ass since you met him, but it was never mean. 

You remembered what you were working on. A customer wanted his jacket to have reinforced stitches in the sleeves but more room in the shoulders to allow him better movement when he used his sword. He had come into the shop and while you even thought he was handsome, you didn’t hide your disappointment that it wasn’t Buggy. Miss Pins gave the job to you and the man paid ahead of time, so you immediately started working. 

Maybe Buggy would show back up.

~

You had been fast asleep until you were woken up by someone yelling outside the shop. You heard your boss shouting from her bedroom window at whoever it was, but you got up to see what was going on. You heard her shout Dammit Buggy! So you headed downstairs to the shop and opened the door. 

Sure enough, Buggy was standing there, glaring upwards at Miss Pins’ window. He swayed where he stood, a bottle clutched in his hand before he raised it up.

“You’re loud too, Miss Pins!” He shot back before shrieking and jumping out of the way. Miss Pins had dumped a cup of water on him. “Hey!”

“Buggy?” You stepped out of the shop and closed the door behind you. His eyes lit up when he saw you and he had a big smile on his face. His face was flushed and he looked so happy to see you.

“Su-Sunny! You’re still here!” He slurred, grinning as he dropped the bottle and threw his arms around you, catching you off guard. “I thought maybe… maybe you left and never wanted to see me again!”

Oh, this was a happy and drunk Buggy. You could smell the alcohol on his breath as well coming off of his clothes. You wondered how much he had already. It was best to send him on his way, to not get involved, but you worried what sort of trouble he would get into if you left him alone, so you called up to your boss’s window that you’d be back later, you wanted to make sure he got back to his ship safely. You picked up the bottle and put your arm around his waist, keeping a firm hold on him to keep him from wandering off.

“‘S my birrrrthday!” He announced as he slung an arm over your shoulder, laughing loudly as you made your way down the road and toward the docks. “I’m… I’m two months… After you. I’m younger.”

“You definitely are.” You mused as you tightened your arm around him. He looked at you with a smirk.

“You’re touching me.” He lifted his arm to have another drink and realized he didn’t have his bottle. “Where-”

“I have it, Buggy.” You told him, holding it up to show him. “No more, okay?”

He looked grumpy until his hand popped off and grabbed it from you, bringing it back to himself. Smirking triumphantly, he raised the bottle to his lips and continued drinking. You weren’t opposed to drinking at all, but you also didn’t want to be around a drunk pirate right now. You wanted to be home and sleeping.

“Which one is your ship?” You asked when you came to the docks. He lowered the bottle and frowned as he looked at them before pointing to one furthest to the right. You hoped he was right as you walked with him to the ship, still keeping a hold on him. Once you dropped him off you’d head back home, but he turned to you with bright and excited eyes.

“Have a drink with me!” He pleaded. “It’s… it’s my birthday.”

“I know it’s your birthday, you told me.” You reminded him. “And I don’t want a drink, Buggy. I need to get home.”

“Please?” He asked as he stopped in his tracks. You kept your arm around him and looked over at him. The happy and bouncy Buggy was gone, replaced with someone different. He looked unsure of himself right then as he asked you, turning his gaze to his feet. You were going to regret this but you sighed and nodded.

“One drink.” You told him, and before you knew it, he was smiling again and taking hold of your hand, leading you up to his ship with his chest puffed out proudly, looking quite happy once more. You followed after him, shaking your head as he led you to what you figured was the captain’s quarters. One drink, that was it, then you’d head home.

He finally finished the bottle and tossed it aside before stumbling over to a cabinet for more. You took a seat on his bed, watching him as he rummaged around before pulling out two glasses and a bottle. He grinned at you, wagging his eyebrows as he brought you a glass and opened the bottle, but you took it from him.

“The birthday boy shouldn’t be pouring his own drink.” You told him as he plopped down beside you. You didn’t trust him to not spill it everywhere so you poured him a glass before your own, setting the bottle out of his immediate reach (which was silly because he could still grab it with his Devil Fruit powers). “Cheers, Buggy.”

He smiled brightly and let his head rest on your shoulder as he gripped his glass tightly. “You’re nice.” 

“I’ve been told that.” You chuckled. “Thanks.” 

“No, no, no, you’re so nice.” He continued gushing. “And… y’know, I’m gonna marry you. You’re so nice, Sunny, and I’m not married, y’know, so we should get married.”

You choked on your drink and set the glass aside, coughing a bit before clearing your throat. Oh, he was so drunk. You reached up to pat his cheek gently. “You’re not going to remember any of this tomorrow, so don’t propose marriage to me yet.”

He tossed his drink back before giving you his glass. You put it beside yours, not wanting to fill it back up. The moment your hand was free he took it in his own, entwining his fingers with yours as he continued his drunken rambles.

“We’ll get married, because you’re so nice to me, and I’ll be so happy.” He continued as he turned to look up at you. “I want to be happy with you, Sunny.”

“Buggy, I want you to be happy too.” You told him. “I don’t know if marrying someone will make you happy, however.”

“Is it because I was an asshole on your birthday? Is… is that why you won’t marry me?” Buggy asked with a frown. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry I was mean. I was an asshole. I like you a lot and got scared ‘cause I couldn’t remember your name, and you have a nice name, and I didn’t get you a present.” He suddenly dropped your hand and stood up, marching back over to his cabinet. “Wait, I wanna sh-show you somethin’!”

Oh, Drunk Buggy was just a bit everywhere. Happy, excited, emotional, and apologetic. It was kind of fun to see in a way. He rummaged through the cabinet before hurrying back over to you, tripping over his own feet before falling onto his bed beside you. He held up something and you took it. They were photographs of two young boys, one with a straw hat and red hair, and the other had to be Buggy going by the bright red nose and scowl. 

“That’s me,” He pointed to himself in the photo. “Wasn’t sure if you knew. And that’s Shanks. We… we were best friends on a ship together and then we weren’t.” He frowned. “Haven’t been for a few years.” He sat up on the bed and leaned into you again. “You’re really nice.”

“Thank you for apologizing for my birthday, Buggy.” You told him as you looked through the photos. There weren't many, and they were old, showing their age in their wrinkles and fading color. Buggy certainly was a cute little kid. “I’m sorry I was rude to you.”

He straightened up and put both of his hands on your cheeks, turning your head so you faced him. He glared at you and you wondered what was about to happen, but his gaze suddenly softened and he looked down at his lap, his hands still on your cheeks. “Don’t you ever apologize because you’re perfect and have done nothing wrong ever.”

You put both of your hands on his and moved them off your face. “Buggy, I think you need to go to bed.”

He turned red suddenly and pulled away from you, looking down at his lap as you got to your feet and removed his hat, setting it down on a nearby trunk. You noticed he went quiet but decided not to say anything as you looked for some kind of sleep clothes for him, or did he just sleep in his everyday clothes? When you looked back over at him he was struggling to remove his shirt. You sighed and went to help him get free of it. When you saw his face again, he looked away once more.

“What’s wrong?” You asked as you knelt in front of him to help take his boots off. You didn’t trust him to do it himself, afraid he’d topple over and hit his head. 

“I never… with… with anyone before.” He mumbled as he gestured between the two of you. For a solid minute you stared at him as you tried to process what he was thinking, and when it hit you, your face burned as you set his boots aside. “So um…”

“Neither have I, Buggy, but that’s not what I said.” You told him firmly. “I told you it’s time for bed. For you, not me. You need to get some sleep.”

“Canyoustaythenight?” He blurted out. “Please? I don’t… want to be alone.”

You stared at him for a moment, trying to wrap your mind around this. You didn’t intend for any of this to happen. You were just going to bring him home before going back to your place to crawl into your bed, but he managed to get you to stay for a drink (that you didn’t finish) and now he wanted you to spend the night. 

He was looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered in his world right then. It was a little hard to say no, but you did want to make sure he would be okay, so you removed your own shoes before putting your hands on your hips. “Where are your pajamas?”

He shrugged as he fell back on his bed, stretching out across it. His entire body separated for a moment before snapping back together and honestly, it was momentarily horrifying to see it all happen at once. You needed him to explain this but not when he was drunk. You sighed and nudged him to get under the blankets, which he did, watching you once more with bright, excited eyes as you got into bed beside him. Almost immediately he wrapped himself around you, resting his head against your chest as he closed his eyes and sighed happily. 

“So nice, so soft, warm.” He mumbled quietly. You took the chance to remove his bandana, pleasantly surprised to see how long his hair was. Why did he keep it all hidden? You ran your fingers through it as he made himself comfortable against you. “I don’t wanna be away from you again, please, ‘msorry.”

“Get some sleep, Buggy.” You told him as you pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Okay? No more talking.”

“Imma marry you.” He sighed. You rolled your eyes and wondered what you needed to expect the next morning.

[allwaswell16]

Happy Fan Fic Writer Appreciation Day 2023!

In honor of this day, here are the first lines of fics written by some of my favorite One Direction fan fic writers! This post gets longer every year, but we are incredibly lucky to have such talented writers writing fic for our fandom. I truly just had to stop somewhere though. (You can find previous year’s lists and my other recs here.)

Harry stretched in bed with a smile. 

“Ah!” Louis hissed when the needle touched his finger.

Wanted: Dog Walker.

Harry’s stomach growls as he walks down the pavement toward Mercury Chicken. 

Louis woke up to someone grabbing his ankle and tugging lightly.

Everyone is expected to be back in the office a minimum of two days a week starting the first full week of December.

Harry is drunk.

Louis is late.

Harry leans his forehead against the thick glass window, peering into the nursery, trying to figure out which one of the babies is his.

The first time Louis sees him, it’s from the stage. 

Oli can't remember a time when Louis Tomlinson wasn't an integral part of his life. 

“This is really good, mate.” 

Harry had always fantasized about being in a romantic comedy.

If you had told Louis Tomlinson a year ago that he would be celebrating his birthday by kissing the man who has turned out to be the love of his life on a Church Street park bench in Burlington VT (where he now lives) as the snow drifts softly down, he would have told you that you were extremely imaginative. 

He was back.

Louis Tomlinson is in a foul mood.

“Doctor!” Harry’s voice calls from deep within the recesses of the TARDIS’ vast wardrobe, the room shaped like a massive wagon wheel with a lounge in the center. “I think I found it!” 

When Harry hurt himself in front of all of his coworkers, he thought his Christmas Eve couldn’t get any worse.

Louis surges forward, his arm shooting through the automatic elevator door on a reflex when he sees a familiar looking woman striding towards the elevator. 

Louis opened the door, carefully pushing against the old wood on its rusty hinges. 

It was a once in a lifetime storm; a hurricane had come to the Mediterranean.

Louis is running late for coffee with his mates.

“Don’t.” 

Thunder cracks through the inky sky as Harry scurries into the bar. 

The studio lights were bright. 

“Are you fucking with me?” Louis wails, then metaphorically claps a hand over his own mouth. 

Seven.

“Lou, I have an idea and need your help.”

Louis is three pints in when he notices someone looking in his direction.

They’re about to be caught. 

If there was anything people needed to know about Louis, it was that he was not a morning person. 

It was a nice normal day.

Louis fidgeted in his seat, his knee bouncing from the force of his pent up energy.

Observant.

Louis slams his tray on the slightly sticky table and pulls back the chair.

It starts, as any great story starts, at a dinner party. 

Harry relaxes in the bathtub, sliding down so the water covers her shoulders. 

Louis nervously tugs at the collar of his shirt.

“Thanks for shopping at Victoria's Secret. Have a great day!”

Harry couldn’t breathe.

Louis has been single for 369 days, and the last place he wants to be is at a wedding.

The moment Harry clocked in, he was already rolling his eyes and wishing he could clock out.

Louis was so fucked.

Harry hummed along with a song he didn’t know the words to as he changed Max’s diaper before bed.

♥ Thank you writers! ♥

@lululawrence @nouies @louandhazaf @haztobegood @greenfeelings @londonfoginacup @disgruntledkittenface @pocketsunshineharry @kingsofeverything @jacaranda-bloom @thedevilinmybrain @laynefaire @uhoh-but-yeah-alright @phdmama @absoloutenonsense @neondiamond @crinkle-eyed-boo @evilovesyou @brightgolden @sun-tomato @becomeawendybird @fallinglikethis @jaerie @littleroverlouis @sadaveniren @ladyaj-13 @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed @2tiedships2 @perfectdagger @all-these-larrythings @alwaysxlarrie @reminiscingintherain @homosociallyyours @skipperxao3 @greenblueish @waterloux @beelou @daggerandrose @itsnotreal @lunarheslwt @loveislarryislove @thinlinez @hellolovers13

[ourtearsofrain]

Slow It Down (D.R.W/S.F.K)- Chapter 13

Pairings: Danny Wagner x Sam Kiszka, (barely a mention of) Josh Kiszka x Male O.C.

Genre: angst, brotherly fluff, hurt/comfort

Word Count:  2.1k

Warnings: Josh reality checks Sam and gives him lore about himself that is ouchie

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

August 21st, 9:49 AM

“Hey, man.” Josh prods Danny in the ribs after he doesn’t respond, having been zoned out staring at the small tray table before him, his legs folded uncomfortably in the small airplane seat so that his knees were touching the bottom of the table. “Danny?”

“Hm?” He rips his eyes from the surface, turning his head slowly until Josh’s face twisted with concern comes into view.

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You aren’t acting like it.”

“I’m just tired, didn’t get good sleep last night.”

“Bullshit.” Josh says the word louder than he intended, receiving an angry look from an elderly woman across the isle from him. “I know you snuck off with Sam last night, and he came back at like three AM with red, puffy eyes. He wouldn’t tell me jack shit though, and he- he didn’t get up to say goodbye to me or Jake before we left.”

He didn’t even say goodbye to his brothers? “Fine.” Danny’s voice cracks as his memories of the night before flood his mind, tears beginning to brew at his waterline. “He told me he loved me.”

“What did you do?!”

“I told him I loved him too and- and we kissed.”

“That’s fantastic!” Josh smiles wide before his mind catches up to him, wiping it from his face instantly. “Why was he crying then?”

“He- he told me we could make long distance work. I can’t do that, not after already waiting all these years to just hear him say those words. I begged him to come with me to New York, but he chose Frankenmuth over me.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah.” Danny puts no emotion into his tone, his voice flat to prevent his tears. “I yelled at him, said so many mean things but- but we both knew that I wasn’t wrong.”

“Talk to him, please.”

“No, Josh. I tried that and look where that got us. Besides, I told him not to bother calling or texting cause I was blocking him.”

“Have you?”

The question completely blindsides Danny, his eyes wide as he looks at Josh before an expression of anguish passes over his face. “No. I’ve tried so many times but I can’t- I can’t bring myself to do it.” He dissolves into a fit of tears as his hands move to his face, muffling his cries on the packed plane.

“Oh, Danny…” Josh moves immediately, putting the arm rest between them up to wrap his arms around the other man and pull him into a comforting embrace. His hands move up and down Danny’s back as he holds him, saying nothing more and letting him shed all the tears he needed. Finally, Danny pulls away, his face red as he wipes his cheeks dry. “Do you want me to talk to him?”

“No.” Danny shakes his head frantically, his hands gripping one of Josh’s. “Please, please don’t. We- we had our final fight, and now I need to move on. I can move on now, but I can’t do that if he’s still in my life.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Alright… I promise I’ll stay out of this, I won’t call him about it. I’m- I’m sorry it ended this way, Danny.”

“Me too.” The pair say nothing more for the rest of their flight, barely speaking a sentence or two to each other as they leave the airport in New York. As soon as Josh locks the door of their apartment behind him, Danny’s already escaped to his room, his own door closing quietly as Josh’s shoulders drop.

What the fuck am I going to do about this?

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

September 19th, 1:20 PM

It had been four weeks and two days since Danny had spoken to Sam. Four weeks and two days since he had felt fully whole. And four weeks and two days full of regret. Danny didn’t regret saying what he said to Sam. In a way, it was as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders. This time, it wasn’t his actions that he regretted, it was Sam’s.

Every time he saw something that reminded him of Sam, he felt a pang in his chest, like he had left his heart behind in Frankenmuth. This ranged from having his day soured from his professor barely mentioning Star Trek, to cursing himself out when he passed a small boutique he knew Sam would love; a loose silk button up in the window that just screamed his name. Danny finally snapped when he ran home to sob in his room after he spaced out on the subway and ended up under Grand Central’s ceiling of constellations. In truth, Danny was barely keeping it together, motioning through his lectures and assignments mindlessly. If he allowed himself to think, his mind always wandered back to Sam.

Through all this, he hoped and prayed that Sam felt everything he was feeling a thousand-fold. He hoped that Sam couldn’t leave his house without crying as he passed the Wagner house, looming over him like a dark cloud every time he had to walk past it. He hoped every time he brought a cigarette to his lips, he would think of the one they shared camping. That he would taste Danny’s lips. He wanted to follow Sam for the rest of his life as a reminder, a ghost, of what he almost had. What he could have had. Danny knew one way or another that he would never be able to fully get rid of Sam, he could never make himself forget no matter how hard he tried. He just hoped that one day, his memories wouldn’t hurt this much.

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

September 23rd, 12:33 PM

“Josh, I fucked up.”

“What happened to, ‘Hello, O brother of mine, I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye before you left again even though we spent every day of the summer together’? And yeah, you did. What’s wrong with you? Why’ve you waited over a month to finally talk to one of us?” Josh’s voice is flat, trying to keep his frustration at Sam out of his tone.

“I’m sorry about that. I needed- I needed time to process everything. And Danny told you?”

“Yes, Samuel. Danny fucking told me. What were you thinking?!” He spits, trying to keep his voice low, afraid that Danny would hear him across the apartment. Technically, Josh wasn’t breaking his promise. Sam had called him first, not the other way around. And for once in his life, Sam was the one to start the conversation topic even though it was so personal and serious, even if it had taken him over a month.

“I don’t know! I didn’t expect him to actually reciprocate feelings and I- I thought we could make long distance work…”

“Sam.” Josh lets out a frustrated sigh, bringing his hand to his temple in an attempt to keep himself calm. “I know Danny already ripped you a new one, so I won’t yell at you.”

“Thanks.” He can practically see Sam rolling his eyes over the phone, knowing that even though HE had been the one to call Josh for help, he was bound to get annoyed at his advice no matter what.

“Wanna know what I think?”

“Please do enlighten me, Joshua.”

“Cut the sass, I’m trying to help. If you didn’t want my opinion, you shouldn’t have called me. Anyway, I think you need to grow a pair and leave Frankenmuth. And fucking apologize to Danny. Face to face.”

“Jesus Christ, again with the leaving. You both know I can’t.”

“Why?” Josh doesn’t try to hide the frustration in his tone this time, not caring enough anymore to keep his feelings from Sam for his sake. “Give me one good reason that isn’t just ‘I can’t’ and I’ll never try to convince you again.”

“I-” Sam cuts himself off, his words failing him as he tries to find any reason, any reason at all, to stay.

“That’s what I thought. You’ve never had a reason to stay, Sam, you’re just too goddamn stubborn to change your opinion after all these years.”

“I thought you said you weren’t going to yell at me.”

“I’m not yelling, you don’t want to see me yelling. I’m just giving you a reality check. Why do you keep refusing to leave?”

“I- I feel bad. Leaving mom and dad, everything and everyone I’ve known. And I’m scared, what if I fail, what if I don’t like it and I’m just not cut out for the real world?”

“Did I ever tell you how it felt when I left? When I got into an out of state college before Jake did?”

“No? Why?”

“Of course I didn’t.” Josh takes a deep breath, preparing to tell him something he had never told anyone else before, not even Jake, Danny, or Austin. “I cried myself to sleep every night in the months leading up to leaving. And for months after I moved here too. I felt like I was abandoning everyone I loved most. Jake, Danny, mom and dad, and- and you. I felt like a horrible person for knowing I needed to get out of Frankenmuth. I hated myself for so long, Sammy. Every single goddamn day until I realized that no one was mad at me. While you all may have been upset and sad I was gone, I knew that- that in the end, you all would be happy I took that step. And I realized that I did the right thing, no matter how much it hurt. As much as I love Frankenmuth, I knew that I would never have a future there, a career, a life. I feel like you know that’s true for you, too. If I hadn’t moved here, I couldn’t have found a major that I loved, and that’s setting me up for an amazing job here. I wouldn’t have gotten so unbelievably close with Danny, and I wouldn’t have met Austin.”

“Do you have any regrets?” To Josh, Sam sounded utterly broken, his voice worn and uneven as if he had been crying for hours. Josh knew that his words finally made Sam understand that he needed to leave, and he knew from experience how that felt; like his entire world was collapsing right on top of him.

“No. I’m broke, still looking for a job I can apply my degree to, and I will probably never be able to afford housing alone here. But I’m happy. I’m- I’m so happy here, Sammy. I’ve made this my home, I’ve found a family. I have all I could ever want, and I know that it’s more than I could have ever found in Frankenmuth.”

“What do I do?” Sam’s voice breaks as he begins to sob, sending a lump to Josh’s throat as he listens to his little brother’s pain, trying to keep the tears from his own eyes.

“Take control of your life, Sammy. Live for you, not anyone else. If you want to move to New York, then we’ll be right here for you. But make that choice on your own, not based off anyone else’s opinions of where you’d be happiest. This is your life Sam, you have control of where it goes. And you need to start living, not just existing or surviving.”

“Ok-” He takes a heavy breath, sniffing before the sound of rustling filters through Josh’s speaker, as if he were moving around to dry his tears and pull himself together. “I- I need time to figure it out.”

“Of course. This isn’t something you can just figure out overnight, take all the time you need. And I’m here for you, whatever you need. I’m always gonna be here for you.”

“Thank you. Can I- can I visit soon? Stay at your place? It might help and- and I need to apologize to Danny, face to face like you said.”

“Please do. Whenever you find time, we’ll make it work. I’ve been wanting to show you around the city for so long, introduce you to Austin. You’re gonna love him, Sammy.”

“I bet. Ok, I’m- I’m gonna go think, work out a way to get to you and when. I’ll text you when I figure that out.”

“Sounds good, like I said we’ll make anything work.”

“Thanks. And Josh? Thank you, for everything you said. I needed it, it helped more than you can know and I’m- I’m so grateful and lucky to have you as a big brother.”

“Oh, fuck you, I was holding it together until now.” Both men laugh through their tears, letting themselves fully feel this calm after the storm for a moment longer until the reality that Sam had major decisions to make sets into him, stifling his laughter as anxiety creeps into his mind.

“Alright well, I should go, like I said I have so much to think about.”

“You got this Sammy, it’s not as scary as it seems. I’m here if you need, any time, any day.”

“Thanks again, I love you, Josh.”

“Love you too, Sammy. Hope to see you soon.”

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

taglist: @gretnavannfleet @aioba1503-sdm @jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka @milojames16 @sanguinebats @theres-a-tvjoe @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @currentlyfangirling10

[charmingsoa]

✶ Where the Wild Things Are: Prequel ✶ ■ 1960s Sons of Anarchy story ■

⌃ Jax Teller/ OC x Thomas Teller/OC ⌃

Warning: Please read with caution. This story will include: drug use, physical, verbal, and sexual abuse. miscarriages, sexual content, alcohol use, homicide, cursing, etc. ★ If You would like to be tagged in future updates, simply leave your username in the comments.

When I look back on my life – I often wonder if I made the right choices when I was younger. I obviously got to my place in life because of what happened all those years ago in California. Hell, there were times when I didn’t even think I would make it out alive. Growing up, my parents were very strict – almost authoritarian. My father had fought for his country in WWII and my mother was your typical housewife. The picture-perfect look was what they strived for – putting my brothers and I in whatever activities they could. There were structured rules that were drilled into our heads from day one.

No elbows on the table Respect your parents and your elders Girls and woman are to bow down to menfolk and do what they’re told. Women are forbidden to wear pants or short skirts. Girls can attend secondary school but will not be allowed to attend college. Marriage, motherhood, and the act of obeying your husband is the most important role in a woman’s life.

I distinctly remember my father telling me that if I wanted to dress like a whore, I can plant myself on the side of the highway and start making a living for myself. I spent most of my childhood bowing down to everything my father said. He instilled that fear in me as a young girl – always being on the back end of his belt or switch if I was “bad” enough. I was the only daughter – I needed to be picture perfect and like a doll. My mother would stand idly by as he inflicted his abuse on me – only doing so because he loved and cared about me.

Total bullshit if you ask me.

I guess you can say with all the structure and ruling that fell at the hand of my father – you wouldn’t be surprised to hear that I rebelled. Starting at the early age of 13, I snuck out of the house to meet the boys from the wrong sides of the tracks. We would listen to the devil’s music as my father called it – getting high as kites.  My flower-patterned dress would be hiked up above my waist – my legs wrapped tightly around the guy’s hips – as they pounded into me. My mother always preached that a girl should stay pure until the night of their wedding -giving the gift of virginity to their awaiting husband.

 I lost that gift behind the First Methodist Church to a kid three grades ahead of me. It was meaningless and hurt like hell, but after that I couldn’t get enough.

By the time I hit 16, I had fucked half the senior class. I gained a reputation as the 10th grade slut – willing to do anything and anyone. Now, was this true – partially. I didn’t care if you were the ugliest guy in class – if you had a dick then I was ready and willing. I was never one to seek the guys out first. They would come to me and a couple minutes later they would be making me cum. There were rumors that I was a child prostitute – my parents were less than thrilled to hear that be brought up during a meeting with the principal.

At that point, I was pulled out of the school and sent to an all-girls catholic school about 45 minutes from home. My father made sure to drive me every day and would stay on the premises until school was over. Even if I wanted to ditch class and run away, Roy Landry was watching like a fucking hawk. I managed to mellow out a little once I graduated high school – I guess being locked up like Rapunzel will do that to people. I wasn’t allowed to go to prom – parties thrown by the other girls - I was isolated in my room. While my brothers were living their lives, I was stuck watching Walter Cronkite on the CBS Evening News with Brenda and Roy ever night.

I’m sure you’re trying to figure out where I’m going with all this information – I swear it’s important given the truth you’re about to hear.

A girl who hitchhiked all the way to California- fell in love with two brothers who despised each other – watching as they both fell into the pits of hell by creating the most dangerous motorcycle gang in Northern Cali – my story has to start somewhere, right?

[grapecaseschoices]

OC in 15: Kendis Crawford-Louel

rules: share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

I was tagged by @deepinifhell and am woefully delayed in getting on this.

Tagging: @thedeadthree @thee-morrigan @nat-seal-well @nightingalesighs @laufire @lusavors @cypresswrites @thelittlestspider @mt07131 @roxaro @quaxorascal @tuomniia @andthatisnotfake @sunshineandviolets @sapphic-story [tagged fifteen peeps! i think! and as always no pressure!]

Most of the dialogue from old rp stuff repurposed for this meme, some from unposted stuff, and a few I made up for this. (As warning: some cussing)

-----

1] However, strangeness of the situation proves that the metal gates aren’t fully down around the castle, because she bites out, bluntly, “No! No. I’m not okay.” Her breath hitches. “Don’t. D-don’t follow that up with another question. I thought we talked about this.”

By ‘we’ and ‘talked’, she meant the time she summarily shut down his last attempt to dig deeper. It should’ve been obvious by now that Kendis didn’t like accepting what they insisted on dishing out.

-

2] "Yook, Kenny, yook!"

"What'm I lookin' at, teeny tyke? --- Well, now. Look at that! Is that me? In fact, I know that's me. That's the second prettiest person in this entire art of prettiness. And is the one right next to me you? It's got to be 'cause that's definitely the prettiest person in this."

"You siwwy, Kenny. Boys not be pretty!"

"Am I? Well, if you're sayin' that's right then I'll consider it. But being silly doesn't mean I'm wrooooong~. Boys can be very pretty, kiddo. People can be whatever they wanna be so long as they're --- kind, yeah? And you're the kindest, prettiest, most talented teeny tyke, I've ever known. Oh, now you're laughin' at me, huh? Well, Ima show you 'bout that teeny brat."

-

3] "Who invented white allosexuals, like for real? Someone return this woman to sender."

-

4] "We're not even four days into a fucking New Year and this shit stain is stinkin' up the place."

-

5] "And I get that it's different things for different people. But I rather lose a place, than lose the people that matter with it."

-

6] "I know you've probs been lied to lately. But you're really not cute."

-

7] "He obvi picked bad pics on purpose, you Italian booger."

-

8] "I'm like Siri. Except better looking, smarter, much louder, and not an AI slave to a hegemonic hell-hole that stole the name of one of the best fruits. Like ever."

-

9] "Um, excuse you. I'm not reckless. What 'bout me screams the self sacrifice type?"

-

10] "Hey. Hey! Look at me! That's it ... slow breaths. I've got you. Do you -- you're okay, slowly ... Do you remember what I told you last week? Just nod. I've got you. I've got ya. You remember this? That's my pinky. We pinky promised -- the biggest and most bindable way to lock in a promise, yeah? And you may not know this about me, but I don't make promises that I can't see through. I said you're gonna be okay. And I mean that. I'm gonna make it happen, okay? I'll -- I'm here now and I'll be there at the end. Prommy, prommy, prommy, prommy, pro -- oh, a laugh, huh? Ha. That's what I like hearing. Leave the worryin' to me, dude."

-

11] "If this human version of a mutated ingrown armpit hair follicle don't get up off my face in the next 10, 9, 8, 7, …."

-

12] “Ow! Fudging snowcaps! That bitch hur –” They stopped mid-yelling but simply began complaining underneath their breath.

-

13] "I'm --," Kendis gestured sharply with their right hand as if orchestrating their feelings or encouraging Morgan to jump in. Not that they gave her much of a chance when they quickly added, "You know."

"You're?" Morgan smirked, "You know? I don't think I do."

"Yes. You do."

"Nah, nothing's ringing a bell."

"Well, that's probably all the brain damage you got from the last fight."

"Right. I remember that. The fight where I got stabbed instead of you."

Kendis' nostrils flare and their jaw clenches so tightly Morgan almost feels a sympathy twinge in her own teeth.

-

14]

“Then why won’t you tell me you love me? Maybe a little reward so I can be brave?”

“‘Cause a face full of kisses wasn’t enough? Wow.”

“Sure,  it was nice but this is a big deal. I think I deserve a bigger reward.”

“Aren’t rewards for after you actually do the stuff?”

“You’re right. How about you say ‘I love you’ just because you do!”

“You look cute when you pout an’ you’re gonna be late.”

“Please, Kendis? We’ve been dating for a while now and … That is – Unless – You don’t.”

“I don’t what?”

“You know you are always avoiding it, saying how you feel about me, and you’ve never come close to saying the words .. and sometimes I’ve wondered … I’ve been very patient the last several months –”

“Then keep on with that.”

“Okay. Okay. Kendis. Do you love me?”

“Can we talk about this later? This ain’t as black an’ white as you’re making it look like.”

“But it is.  It is a very black and white question with a very black and white answer. Do you love me?”

“Austyn. Austyn? Stop that! What’re you doin’?  Don’t. You’re – fuckin’ –”

“These are the notes I wrote you. Look at them. Look how far they reach on your floor. Look!”

“No”

“You never even wrote it back. I kept saying it and writing it and you never gave anything back … B-because … because you don’t.”

“I never gave – We’re not doin’ this right now. Again. Why’re you doin’ this right now? We don’t even have the time to really get into -”

“What is there to get into?  It’s yes or no,  Kendis! If you say that, then it will be all settled.”

“Maybe stop cuttin’ me off an’ let me speak.”

“You cut me off first! And don’t you start raising your voice at me!”

“You started that shit first, yourself! What is with you?”

“Why are you acting like I am overreacting? I’m not! It isn’t wrong to want to know whether or not my best friend is in love with me. It isn’t wrong to know if you really see a future with us together or if you’ve been just tagging along because I’m one of the very few other out girls in school.”

“You called me your best friend.”

“What?” 

“You should know how I feel. You say I don’t give you nothin’ back but that’s a damn lie an’ you know it.”

“Then why don’t you say it? I say it all the time!”

“But are you really meanin’ it?”

“Uh - Wha – EXCUSE ME!?!!” 

“Are you? How can I say those words to someone that's not a sure thing? You talk a lot about a future that ain’t here but what you really got to say for the now.”

“Wow. Asshole.” 

“Takes one.”

“Fine. Don’t love me. I think it’s best if we take some space right now and reconsider our priorities.”

“Austyn. I didn’t mean – Austyn this is silly.”’

“Is it?”

“Why're we even doin’ this right now? What about the formal?” 

“Don’t call me unless I call you.”

“Austyn!”

“Don’t.”

“You know what? Fuck you.”

“Apparently not even in the next few months, asshole.”

-

15]

Kendis narrowed her eyes but forced herself to take a deep breath, “You. Bumped into. Me!” Honestly, that was a generous and kind assessment. If Kendis had been human, she doubted she would’ve been able to stand with only a headache and a bad mood to show for it.

“Yeah, because you slowed down when you weren’t supposed to! I was keeping pace with you, speeding by the way, and then allva sudden –”

“I know you’re not blaming me for any of this, let alone your speeding, you Stranger Things reject.”

“Excuse me?”

Kendis felt that anger again – no, they could almost taste it. It was just wafting off the air from the shifter in front of them. It was churning up their stomach like sick, this anger that wasn’t their rage.

It was restless, like her’s was, but was also too hard, too cold.

Not right, not right. The warning blared in Kendis’ gut. Something was off and they needed to leave.

“Don’t!” They warned when the person reached out to grab at them, clearly making Kendis ready to skedaddle. The sharp yell struck out like a roll of thunder, loud and final enough to make this person hesitate, before Kendis’ voice dropped into a growl, “Don’t. Touch. Me.” [x]