#this is THEIR FAULT!!!!!!!!!!!! they should face consequences to fix it

[pizzabox-box]

Ah this is cringe as heck for me, but screw it, the last ask you got about a person not feeling much sympathy all for Peppi-No really was great, kudos to the OP of that comment since it really got me thinking, why even if I agree what the dude is doing is awful... I actually feel pretty fucking bad for him XD.

Like, I think we can all agree we've done shit in our lives that wasn't great, and that doesn't diminish the harm done or the fact other people have gotten hurt from our own stupid decisions. I also just think sympathetic villains are so interesting. (when done right, and hell you could argue even if he is the protagonist of the DMW AU, Peppi-No is a bit of an anti-villian) it really makes you think about the fact its so normal for people do try to avoid the consequences of their actions. I'm sure everyone has done something bad and instead of admitting fault have doubled down and tried to save face because they were SURE they could "fix" it without getting hurt from it.

Sure most of the time, (...I hope) its not as bad as murdering a person and taking on their identity... I think there is something really human about wanting to not get hurt, and feeling like shit about regrets we've had.

I think that Peppi-No even if what he doing is wrong, still... I dunno I can empathize. I mean.. he's sooo sowwy 🥺, its kinda pathetic, like a more extreme version of a puppy that just destroyed something important to you. Like "awww... you asshole, you're so cute though but goddamn it..."

I both am loving the angst of this AU and know its going to be so cathartic to see Peppi-no finally deal with his lie blowing up in his face and suffering MORE >:). I feel sympathy yes but I also love angst hehe.

(sorry if that wasn't super well worded? I don't normally send things like these >//>)

I assure you, it’s not cringe! It’s nice to see both sides voice their opinions!

Personally, I’m pretty divided on how I feel about Peppi-no. Part of me wants to strangle him for what he did (and what he might still do*cough* ), but at the same time, he’s,like you said, a sad, pathetic "sowwy" puppy, and I can’t help but feel bad for him.

When he took a piece of Peppino, he may have gained a conscience but not emotional maturity. He’s like a kid who just realized he fucked up in the worst way possible and is terrified of the consequenses. And fear can drive people to do terrible things, after all. Before that, his entire existence was just scrambling around, making pizzas out of whatever he could find: pigs, other clones, pizza monsters. He ended many lives, that but never faced any sort of repercussions. Never got a chance to learn "murder bad" ,

Then he takes a bite out of one of the kind Peppino—bam! Conscience, coherent thoughts, and memories of the guy he killed flood into his head. Can you imagine the whiplash, the shock, the stress? I certainly can’t.

Obviously, I’m not some dough doppelgänger pretending to be someone I killed. That would just be silly… no, really, I’m not.. But I can relate a little to what Peppi-no’s going through.

And let’s be honest, how many of us would have the absolute balls of steel to admit we killed someone’s friend in cold blood? Sure, it’s the morally right thing to do, but… you know. I’m not sure I could. (Once again purely hypothetical scenario)

Peppi-no's actions are unexcusable, he should know better than this by now, but at the same time you can kinda understand why he acts the way he does.

[animalistic0]

Five More Minutes (Part 2.5)

Part 1: Here Part 2: Here

Plot: A continuation of Just One More Moment. With the group further separated than ever, this could be it. A storm providing cover but also endangering them. A return of someone thought dead, may have drastic consequences.

*Season Four spoilers!*

OC Maybank twin + platonic Pogues x Rafe Cameron

Warnings: OuterBanks, Season 4, Death, Description of death, mentions of murder and murdering, violence, homicidal tendencies, blood, angst, guilt, anger, allusions to abuse, mention of kidnapping, Groff

Word Count: 2.7k+

Note: I hope you all enjoy this; part three should be out pretty quickly, but no promises. I’m getting my wisdom teeth out, so yeah…It’s completely written but I need to go back and edit it. Another warning: Part three and beyond are going to be DARK. Fair warning, again though please enjoy and remember to drink water🫶

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

JC turned and followed after JJ and Kiara towards the statue, the crown, and Rafe. Her heart pounding and nausea building in her stomach as everything in her screamed that something would happened. Her instincts begging her to listen and get her family away from here, away from the potential danger she could taste on her tongue. JC kept up the rear of the group, JJ in the front leading them and as they reached Rafe she could barely make out his words as he moved towards them. She could tell it had something to due with his injured hand, as he had pointed at it while holding it up. She’d have to ask him later when they had the crown and everything was calm what happened to his hand.

JC switched her gaze from the tall statue over to JJ as he turned towards Kiara and her, saying he had to do it. JC immediately started shaking her head as Kiara had asked him what. Only for him to repeat himself, leaning closer to the two of them. “I gotta go up there!” Kiara immediately began disagreeing taking her scarf off her mouth so she could speak more clearly, and JC agreed with her, to a degree. Taking her scarf off JC tried not to inhale the sharp sand that was like glass. “Kie’s right. You can’t go up there, but we can’t wait either. I’ll go!”

JC backed into herself as both JJ and Kiara turned towards her, one with a glare and the other with a bewildered expression. Before JJ could even say anything JC took a step forward, her lips pursing as she spoke. “Dammit, Jay. You’re injured and don’t need to climb that. You’re better at driving and I’m better at climbing. I got this.” The twins stared at each other before JJ shook his head, stepping forward like he was gonna hug her but instead swiped her leg out from underneath her. “Sorry June! I gotta do this. I gotta do this for all of us. I mean, hey, it was my fault to begin with. So, I mean, I guess I should be the one to fix it.”

JC immediately began pushing herself up only for Kiara to step over her and push her back down. Except Kiara wasn’t looking at JC, no her eyes were on JJ as she spoke with such admiration and love towards him; “JJ, be careful. I’ll be here waiting on my crown!” All JC was able to make out was JJ calling her Queen Kie, before she shoved Kiara off her and stumbled to her feet. A harsh glare on her face as she shoved Kiara backwards. “What the fuck, dude! Really! What the fuck!” Before she stumbled after her twin, hoping she’d be able to catch him and stop him. She loved that they had each other but she hated how they acted together sometimes. How well they knew each other, how well they knew her, and could get away with shit like that. “Rafe stop him!” She prayed the older male would not only hear her but actually stop him, though a part of her doubted he would.

Rafe heard a faint shout of JC telling him to stop JJ but when he saw the younger Maybank he patted him on the shoulder encouraging him, “You got it.” What Rafe wasn’t expecting was for JJ to grab his shoulders and speak urgently probably trying to get his words out before his sister came. “Hey, you’ll get your cut! And keep JC on the ground.” Rafe nodded, the two slapping each other on the shoulder before JJ moved to climb the statue and Rafe intercepted JC. His arms wrapping around her waist and holding her back from ripping JJ down from the statue.

JC immediately began thrashing, yelling curses and threats at both Rafe and JJ. They didn’t have to worry about anyone else killing them, she was gonna do it. JC immediately went slack in Rafe’s hold as she watched JJ climb up the statue at a decent pace, before he grabbed a loose area and one of his hands slipped. Apparently Rafe was also shocked because JC got free and rushed to the base of the statue, her hands flying up to her head as she stared up at him. It would be idiotic to climb after him, even more to scream at him in this moment so she kept her mouth shut. Biting her lip hard enough to draw blood as she watched her twin dangle by one hand. Before he caught himself and pulled himself up onto a ledge. JC hit the base of the statue with both her hands before she backed away, placing her scarf back over her mouth as she mumbled underneath her breath; “I’m gonna kill him. Fuck Sakes.”

JC took a breath, wringing her hands as her eyes stayed laser focused on watching him. As a heavy gust of wind hit, JC lifted a hand to protect herself but didn’t look away, her eyes narrowing as she heard Kiara yell; “JJ, we gotta hurry!” JC knew they were all stressed but damn could her friends be some real dumbasses sometimes. She wasn’t no Einstein, but she had some or at least what she believed to be a decent amount of common sense. “Kie shut up. He needs to focus and us yelling at him isn’t going to allow that.” JC hissed through her teeth as she glanced back at Kiara and Rafe, her eyes darling them to disagree or saying something.

Her body grew rigid as all three of them turned around at the sound of voices, not any voices but the Lupine Corsairs collective voices. “Shit!” JC turned back around looking back up at JJ trying to figure out how much further he had and the time it would take. “Shit. Here they come.” JC had to bite her lip to stop the smile that wanted to form due to Rafe’s words. Only for it to disappear as Kiara yelled out warning JJ, and he looked down at them shouting that he was almost there. Shaking her head, JC threw her hands up shouting up at her twin; “Pay attention, Jay!” She didn’t need to hear him say it, she knew he mumbled a sarcastic yes ma’am under his breath and just the thought alone made her smile.

“Hey! Y’all stay here. I’ll go down and buy us some time.” JC turned around and looked at Rafe as he stepped closer to Kiara and her. Once he finished his sentence he immediately turned and began walking, only to turn back around as Kiara spoke. “What? No, Rafe! Are you crazy? They’ll kill you!” JC bit her tongue, thousands of replies forming as she watched them. “Hey! I’m a killer too! I’ve got nothing to lose!” JC shook her head, rushing forward to grab his shoulder as he walked away again. She stopped him right before he lifted his scarf back up, and she lowered hers. Her eyes scanning his, as she watched him. “You have everything to lose, Rafe. Your life, be careful.” She watched as he nodded, lifting both his hands to touch her cheeks, before he lifted her scarf to cover her face. With one last shared longing look, she watched as he turned pulling his own scarf up and disappeared into the sandstorm.

“Shut up Kie!” JC watched as her friend lifted her hands up before they both giggled, the laughter trailing off as they held each other’s hand staring up at JJ. JC turned towards Kie her eyebrows furrowing as she glanced back up at her brother. “Did he say he found something?” She could feel the excitement brewing within her, it felt like they were sixteen again and found the gold, seventeen and found the cross, eighteen and found El Dorado. It felt like the relief that hit her like a freight train when John B texted them that he was in fact alive. The track record for finding the treasure was four for four and JC began bouncing with excitement.

Only for the excitement to fade away as JJ began screaming before he ripped the stone eye out of the statue. Kiara and her shared a glance before they focused back up on JJ, watching him. She felt her heart drop as JJ slipped again, Kiara beginning to shout at him again. This time JC didn’t say anything, keeping her eyes as trained on JJ as she could through the sandstorm. As JJ got himself safely situated on top of the statue she couldn’t help but mumble the words, attaboy as she watched him reach his hand into the open eye socket.

“Holy shit! Kie that’s the crown. KIE THATS THE CROWN! Fuck. Oh my god. Yeah JJ!” JC just knew it was the crown as JJ pulled his arm out and was holding something. Even through the sand she could see some of the shiny blue. She gripped Kiara’s shoulders as she shook the girl before holding her head and facing her brother again. His own excitement and shouts of glee matching hers. She wished that everyone was here to see it, to bask in the moment together like they all deserved. As JJ shouted, “We did it”, JC jumped up and down, shouting it right back at him. She could feel his excitement and it only made her more excited. “Long live Poguelandia!” JC laughed, cheering and whooping at her twins words, before shouting; “Poguelandia forever!”

Kiara brought them both back to reality as she urged JJ to hurry and come down, and JC didn’t think her friend needed to shut up. Still the excitement was buzzing around her system as she gently pushed Kiara, mumbling about how they did it, how JJ did it.

As JJ reached the bottom of the statue and made his way over to them, JC eyed the crown as he immediately showed it to them. “Sweet mother.” They all look at each other before they begin cheering and whooping in excitement. Kiara asking them both if they knew what it meant and JC smiled as she nodded her head. JJ clutching the crown as he spoke like an excited kid; “We’re getting it back. We’re getting back our home.” JC threw her fist up in the air as she shouted a hell yeah. They did it, and now they would save their home. They’d all be set for life, and could travel wherever they wanted. All their dreams would be able to come true. John B and Sarah would be able to have their own house and build their family. Pope would be able to go to school, and Cleo would travel while he did, perhaps even get her own education. JJ and her could go do the surfing trip they always wanted to do, and Kiara could come. Or she could go save the turtles like she always dreamed of. This wasn’t just about home, it was about them, and their dreams, their family. However, most importantly they still had each other.

JJ cut the celebration short as he pointed over Kiara’s shoulder, his face turning grim. “Wait, wait, hey! Go, go, go!” Following his line of sight JC cursed before JJ pushed Kiara and she pushed JJ. All three of them shouting at each other to run. JC ducked as a shot ran out, pushing JJ who was in front of her to run faster. She kept herself behind them, Kiara leading, and JJ in the middle with the crown. Looking over her shoulder as they entered the maze of buildings. All of them having been suspiciously empty since their arrival unless the individuals were hiding which she couldn’t blame them if they were.

JC stumbled behind JJ as they came to a fork in the road, her twin pointing to the left as Kiara stood in the right section entrance. She called after Kiara as the girl went down the other one, claiming she thought it was this way. JC didn’t notice how JJ leaned up against the wall covering his eyes, as she was busy chasing after Kie. She paused in the entrance of the next area glancing behind her as she didn’t see JJ, her eyes glancing over to Kiara who continued on. “Hey, wait we lost Jay!” JC wasn’t able to get out anything else as Groff exited the building holding a knife to Kiara’s through. Her hands immediately flew up as she rushed down the steps, stopping as Groff tightened his grip on her friend. “Let. Her. Go.”

Kiara had called for JJ, and he came rushing into the area not paying attention as he shut the door and leaned against it. Before Kiara called for him again and he looked up, everything in him stopping as he saw the love of his life being held by his father and his twin standing in front of them.

Groff brightened up as JJ appeared, calling his son’s name as the crown was held so all could see it. JC stepped to the side, trying to protect her brother as best as she could. JC cringed as JJ rushed forward a desperate and protective, “You let her go!” leaving him. Juniper wished she had kept her knife, because it would have come in handy right now. She held her brother’s forearm as Groff gripped Kiara tighter, causing her to moan in pain and fear. “Stop right there. Don’t move. Shh. You know what I want. Give it to me!” JC was glaring daggers into Groff as JJ and her spoke simultaneously; “Just let her go.”

Everything in her life came down to moments. This was one of those moments where she needed more time, needed a way to figure out how to get them all out safely. She hated how quickly they could go from being the happiest and most excited people alive to fighting for their very lives the next second. JC lived and thrived in chaos and moments like these, but she was also growing tired of watching her family be in danger. She just wanted her family to be happy, they deserved it. More than anyone she had ever and would ever know. “You could’ve stuck with me, JJ. And you, JC could have given me a chance. Think what you both could’ve had. But now, you’re going to get nothing. Nothing.”

“No. I already have everything. We have everything. And I have everything I’ve ever wanted. Things that you’ll never have.” JC looked at her brother, proud of him as she turned and nodded her head agreeing with her twin. She didn’t miss the tears that Groff blinked away, and it made her satisfied that he felt something. “You want the crown? Sure, take it. Take it. I don’t want it. Just…let her go.” JC watched with bated breath as JJ held out the crown, no hesitation or doubt anywhere on his features. A hand held out the crown as the other reach for Kiara, and JC slid her foot forward. Ready to intervene in any way possible.

JC let out a breath as Groff got the crown and JJ immediately grabbed Kiara spinning her so he was between her and Groff. JC took a step back, so she was right beside JJ, her shoulder to her father. She watched as Kiara and JJ hugged, before they pulled her into the hug. The three of them hugging each other as tight as possible. Another dance with death, and another survival. At this point JC believes death wasn’t even gonna be able to kill them.

JC pulled back from the hug as Groff spoke her twins name. She immediately turned to face him, moving to stand in front of her family as she glared at the older male. Hatred clear on her face as she sneered at him. She grunted as JJ laid a hand on her shoulder, gently moving her out of the way so he could face their father. “It’s a shame. You and me.”

The sound of flesh squelching and Kiara gasping filled the air. Before JJ let out a groan, Groff stepping closer as he spoke; “You should have given me…the rope.” It sounded like Groff was digging the knife in deeper and twisting it, and as he pulled it out JJ groaning once again JC lunged forward punching the man in the jaw. He staggered back, a look of shock and surprise on his face before he laughed. It was sinister and evil, his eyes blazing as he stared at his daughter. “Bet you wished you’d have killed me.” Then Groff turned and ran away.

[florida3exclamationpoints]

.

[malewifehenrycooldown]

Re-reading Bleach’s Arrancar arc, and… god I want to give Orihime a shoulder to lean on and cry on. Just… gosh the poor girl… she can’t catch a break :’(

The moment she has self doubts about her own abilities (a very understandable and normal teenaged thing!) she has an even more stronger insistence to be stronger, and just when she’s about to get a tremendous improvement in her abilites, the bad guys show up (specifically Ul//quiorra) and basically coerces her to join the arrancar because the value her abilities. That refusal would lead to the deaths of her friends, and as a pacifist who doesn’t like violence and wants to keep her friends safe, it’s understandable that such an offer is VERY HARD for her to decline.

May I remind people that Orihime at this point in Bleach is a teenaged girl attending high school. Who just a few months ago almost saw her best friend die (they’re okay but they’re not the same person anymore), had a near death experience herself, and also saw the person she has a crush on be violently defeated in a battle he wasn’t prepared for.

Arrancar arc is really just… Orihime and the horrible, terrible, no good, very bad day :(

[goldfades]

LOVE IS THE ONE THING THAT CANNOT BE TAINTED BY FEAR OR DOUBT──FATHER CHARLIE MAYHEW (part 2)

part one!!

for this request!!

─ summary | a week after megan caught you and father charlie, higher-ranking members of the church summon both of you for a stern warning. they threaten severe consequences—not just losing your positions, but eternal damnation—if you don't end your affair, and though you try to stay composed, charlie's anger flares as he refuses to accept their condemnation

─ pairing | father charlie mayhew x fem!mother!reader

─ word count | 5.3k

─ warnings | pretty angsty + dramatic but has a happy ending, forbidden love, descriptions of having a big family. also wanted to put out there that this in no way shape or form trying to depict the church as something bad, every church is different and this is just fictional and very self-indulgent.

─ ev's notes | my requests are open if you wanna send anything in! this was super self indulgent and i swear i say that every time but it's true. the happy ending was sorta like... my happy ending LMAO but i just wanted them to end up together. this was super fast paced (ik... 5k words and """fast paced""") but if u read it, you'll know what i mean.

ok love u bye!!! pls send me requests!!!!!!

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my masterlist!

Father Charlie’s face is pale, his eyes wide with fear as the weight of what just happened begins to settle between you. The churchyard, once a sanctuary, now feels like a trap. You stand there, unable to move, your heart pounding in your ears.

“Megan—” you try to call out, your voice catching in your throat, but she’s already gone, disappearing into the shadows of the church.

Father Charlie turns to you, his hand trembling as he runs it through his hair. “This… this can’t get out. It’ll ruin everything,” he says, his voice breaking under the pressure. He paces, eyes darting toward the church doors as if expecting Megan to reappear any moment with a crowd of witnesses.

Your chest tightens. You know what’s at stake—the life you’ve both built within the church, the delicate balance of your roles, the unspoken rules you’ve crossed. There’s no undoing what’s been done.

“I didn’t mean—” you begin, but he cuts you off, stepping closer, his hands gripping your arms with desperate intensity.

“It’s not your fault,” he says, his voice urgent. “I should have never let it get this far. But Megan… she can’t know. No one can know.”

You nod, but the truth gnaws at you. This wasn’t just a fleeting moment of weakness. The kiss—the feelings behind it—have been building for longer than you want to admit. And now that the barrier has been broken, there’s no pretending you can go back to how things were.

“What if she tells?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

Father Charlie’s eyes meet yours, his face full of guilt and something else, something darker—a simmering fear. “I’ll talk to her. I’ll make sure she doesn’t say anything.”

The way he says it makes your stomach twist. You’ve never seen him like this, so cornered, so desperate. For a brief moment, you wonder if you’ve unleashed something in him that can’t be controlled.

“I have to fix this,” he mutters more to himself than to you, already starting to move toward the church, determination in his stride. “Go home. Don’t come back until I say it’s safe.”

You open your mouth to protest, but the look in his eyes stops you. There’s no room for discussion. The weight of your guilt, mingled with fear, presses heavy on your chest as you turn and leave, knowing that the fragile world you both clung to is about to shatter.

As you walk away from the church, the echoes of the kiss linger on your lips, but now they taste bitter—haunted by the knowledge that you’ve crossed a line you can never uncross. And Megan, with her watchful eyes, has seen it all.

The walk from the church feels impossibly long, every step weighed down by the suffocating pressure of what’s just transpired. The once-bright sky has dimmed into muted shades of twilight, the air thick with impending doom. You can feel the weight of it pressing against your chest, making it hard to breathe. The churchyard, so familiar and comforting just moments ago, now seems cold, distant—like it’s pushing you away.

You glance back once, just once, and catch sight of Charlie disappearing into the stone walls of the church. His movements are hurried, frantic, and it only makes the knot in your stomach tighten. You know he’s going to confront Megan. You know he’ll do everything in his power to convince her to stay silent, to protect both of you, but the seed of doubt has already taken root. What if she doesn’t listen? What if Megan has already spread word of what she saw?

The fear claws at your insides.

You replay the moment over and over in your mind—the kiss, the way his lips had pressed against yours with a hunger that had long been suppressed, the heat of his body against yours. It was more than a moment of weakness; it was the culmination of everything you had been hiding, everything you’d tried to bury under the weight of duty. You had always known there was something between you and Charlie, but you had told yourself it was nothing, that it could never be anything more than unspoken glances and the occasional brush of hands. But now, the truth is undeniable.

You love him.

And it terrifies you.

As you turn the corner, moving further away from the church and deeper into the quiet streets, you try to suppress the panic building inside you. You force yourself to breathe, slow and steady, even as the thought of what comes next twists and knots in your chest. Megan… she had seen everything. Her eyes, wide with shock and something close to betrayal, flashed in your mind like a warning. She would never understand. She couldn’t. To her, this wasn’t just a mistake or a lapse in judgment—it was blasphemy, a defilement of everything sacred.

You walk faster, as if the distance could somehow cleanse you of what just happened, but the weight of your sins follows you, heavy and unrelenting. By the time you reach your small, modest home, the last of the daylight is gone. The darkness feels fitting, like a cloak draped over the truth you’re so desperate to hide.

You fumble with the key, your hands trembling, and push open the door. Inside, the space feels too small, too confining. The walls close in around you, suffocating in their familiarity. You collapse onto the nearest chair, your mind racing, trying to make sense of what comes next.

You think of Megan again, the way she had slipped away so quickly, disappearing into the shadows like a ghost. What had she seen? How much had she heard? Would she go to the elders? To the congregation? Your stomach churns at the thought of everyone knowing, their judgmental eyes stripping you bare, seeing you for what you truly are—a sinner. You can already picture the looks, the whispers that would follow, the way they’d turn on you. And Charlie—God, what would happen to him? His role as a priest, his entire life, would be torn apart if this got out.

You can’t let that happen.

But no matter how much you try to focus, your thoughts keep pulling back to him. To the way he looked at you in those moments after Megan had fled. His face, pale with fear, but his eyes… they had been filled with something more than just panic. There had been a tenderness there, a quiet desperation, as if he had wanted to say something, to comfort you, but the words had been lost in the gravity of the situation. And now, the distance between you feels like a chasm, one that neither of you can cross until you know what Megan will do.

The hours stretch on in painful silence. You sit by the window, staring out into the night, your heart heavy with dread. Every sound, every rustle of wind, makes you jump, half-expecting someone to come knocking at your door, to drag you back to the church and expose your sin to the world. But no one comes. The night is as still as your breath, suspended in an unbearable waiting.

You wonder how Charlie is faring. Is he talking to Megan right now? Is he pleading with her, trying to make her understand? Or is it too late—has she already made up her mind? The uncertainty gnaws at you, each minute that passes feeling like an eternity.

The quiet is suddenly interrupted by a soft knock at the door. You freeze, your heart stopping for a beat, your blood running cold. For a moment, you can’t move, can’t breathe. Then, slowly, you rise from the chair, your body moving on instinct. You approach the door with trembling hands, every step echoing like a drumbeat in the stillness of the house.

When you open it, Charlie stands on the other side.

His face is pale, his eyes dark and sunken, as though he’s aged years in the span of a few hours. His expression is grim, but beneath the weariness, there’s something else—something raw, something desperate. He steps inside without a word, closing the door behind him, and the weight of everything that’s happened settles between you.

“What happened?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

For a long moment, he doesn’t speak. His hands are shaking, and you notice the way he clenches them into fists, trying to steady himself. “She’s not going to tell anyone,” he finally says, but his voice is hollow, and you know that’s not the whole story.

You take a step closer, searching his face for answers. “What did you say to her?”

Charlie’s eyes meet yours, and there’s a flicker of something dark in them—something you haven’t seen before. “I made sure she understood,” he says, but there’s no relief in his voice. No victory. Only guilt.

Your stomach tightens as his words sink in. You want to believe him, to trust that everything will be okay now, but the look in his eyes tells you that nothing will ever be the same. Not between you. Not between him and the church. And certainly not between him and Megan.

The silence stretches on, thick and heavy with unspoken truths, and you realize that whatever you thought you were protecting has already been lost. The kiss, the secret moments, the connection between you and Charlie—it’s all unraveling, piece by piece, and there’s no going back now.

You don’t know what he did. And you’re not sure you want to.

All you know is that something has shifted between you, and the fragile world you’ve built together is starting to crack.

“I… I couldn’t let her ruin this,” he says, his voice low and almost pleading. He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out to cup your face gently, his thumb brushing over your cheek as though he’s trying to memorize the feel of your skin beneath his fingertips. “You have no idea what you mean to me.”

You swallow hard, your heart thudding in your chest. There’s a rawness to his words, a vulnerability that you’ve never seen in him before, and it makes the knot in your throat tighten. “Charlie,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, but he shakes his head, cutting you off.

“No,” he says, his voice firmer now, more certain. “You need to hear this. I love you.” The words hang between you, heavy and full of meaning. His eyes search yours, as though he’s terrified of what your response might be, but at the same time, there’s a conviction in him that tells you he’s been holding onto this for far too long.

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, the world falls away. The fear, the uncertainty, the guilt—it all fades into the background, and all that’s left is the truth. He loves you.

And God help you, you love him too.

“I love you, too,” you finally say, the words slipping out in a rush, like a dam breaking. The weight of them is staggering, but also freeing, as though admitting it has somehow lifted the burden from your chest.

Charlie’s eyes soften, and in that moment, the darkness, the fear, everything that’s been hanging over you both seems to dissolve, leaving only the two of you in this fragile, stolen moment.

He pulls you closer, his lips brushing against your forehead, then your temple, and finally, he presses a soft kiss to your lips. It’s tender, sweet, and laced with the kind of love that’s been simmering beneath the surface for far too long. For a few precious seconds, you allow yourself to get lost in him—the warmth of his body, the way his hands cradle your face like you’re something fragile and precious. There’s no guilt in this kiss, no shame. Just love.

But as sweet as it is, there’s still a bitter edge, the reminder of what’s been lost. The weight of what happened earlier, of Megan’s watchful eyes, lingers like a shadow over your joy. You pull back slightly, your heart aching as you search his face for reassurance.

“What are we going to do?” you ask, the question heavy with fear and uncertainty.

Charlie lets out a soft sigh, his hand still resting against your cheek. “I don’t know,” he admits quietly. “But we’ll figure it out. Together.”

The simplicity of his words settles over you, warm and comforting, but the reality of the situation isn’t so easily dismissed. You know the risks, the consequences that loom over both of you like a dark cloud, but right now, in this moment, with his arms wrapped around you, it feels like you can face anything.

He leans his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as though he’s savoring the closeness, the peace that you’ve found in each other, if only for this fleeting moment. “I don’t care what happens,” he whispers. “As long as I have you.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, a mixture of happiness and sorrow, because you know that this love—the love you’ve both fought so hard to deny—is as beautiful as it is dangerous. The church, the life you’ve built, the faith that has defined you for so long—it all stands in opposition to what you feel for each other. And yet, here you are, standing on the precipice, ready to fall.

“I’m scared,” you admit softly, your voice trembling.

Charlie pulls you tighter against him, his breath warm against your skin. “So am I,” he confesses, his voice breaking just a little. “But I won’t lose you. Not now. Not ever.”

You stay like that for what feels like hours, wrapped in each other’s arms, finding solace in the quiet, in the shared heartbeat that thumps in time with your own. For once, it feels like you’re not fighting against the world, but standing together, ready to face whatever comes next.

But the bitterness still lingers, a quiet reminder that nothing about this is simple. The danger hasn’t passed, and Megan’s silence, though promised, may not last forever. You both know that this moment—this love—comes with a cost.

Still, for now, you allow yourself to hold on to the sweetness of it, to the warmth of his embrace, and the knowledge that whatever happens next, you won’t face it alone.

───

The bells toll, echoing through the towering walls of the old church, signaling the end of Sunday Mass. Parishioners, still murmuring prayers under their breath, make their way toward the grand double doors, their heads dipped in reverence. The air is thick with incense, mingling with the faint scent of candle wax, and the murmured conversations of the faithful filter out as they depart.

You stand by the altar, adjusting your habit, feeling the familiar weight of responsibility settle over you. It had been a week since the kiss—since Megan’s eyes had caught the forbidden moment. You and Father Charlie had been careful, the tension between you palpable but unspoken. There was no room for slip-ups now, not with what was at stake.

But just as you turn to head back toward the sacristy, you notice something that sends a chill through you. A group of clergy—men dressed in higher clerical vestments, their expressions stern and unyielding—are making their way toward the two of you. The archbishop, Father Lucian, leads them, his presence commanding and severe, a man of high standing in the church, second only to the bishop himself. Behind him are two more senior priests, Father Augustine and Monsignor Ramos, known for their strict adherence to church doctrine.

Charlie stands frozen for a moment, his usual calm demeanor stiffening as he recognizes the gravity of what’s about to happen. His eyes meet yours briefly, and in that split second, you both know. They know.

Father Lucian stops in front of you, his hands clasped behind his back. His face is impassive, but the weight of his gaze is suffocating, filled with judgment and a quiet, simmering disappointment. The silence stretches on, unbearable, until finally, he speaks.

“Father Charles,” Lucian’s voice is deep and resonant, cutting through the stillness like a blade. “Mother Y/N. We need to speak.”

Charlie straightens, his jaw set in that familiar stubborn way, but his eyes flicker with something darker—anger, perhaps, or fear. You step closer to him, your heart hammering in your chest.

“We’ve been made aware of certain… transgressions,” Father Lucian continues, his voice cold, deliberate. “Ones that go against the very foundation of your vows—vows of purity, of dedication to God and His teachings.”

Father Charlie’s hands tighten into fists at his sides, though he doesn’t say anything yet. His silence, however, feels like the calm before a storm.

“We’ve heard unsettling rumors,” Monsignor Ramos says, his voice carrying a softer, but no less menacing tone. “Of inappropriate closeness between the two of you. Intimacies that have no place within these sacred walls.”

Your stomach drops, the air around you suddenly feeling too thick, too stifling. The weight of their accusation presses against your chest, suffocating.

Father Augustine steps forward, his eyes sharp with accusation. “You both took vows before God,” he says, his voice unwavering. “To forsake earthly temptations for a higher calling. But what we’ve witnessed… it is not the first time such weakness has crept into the church. We cannot allow it to continue.”

You want to speak, to defend yourself, but your throat tightens, and words fail you. Beside you, Charlie’s breathing grows heavier, his anger barely contained.

“If you do not end this… affair immediately,” Father Lucian says, his voice dropping, “there will be consequences far worse than dismissal. You will not only lose your positions here, but you will face the eternal damnation of your souls. Your actions are not just a violation of church law but of God’s law. Do you understand?”

The implications hit you like a blow—hell. They’re threatening you with eternal punishment.

Father Charlie, who had remained silent until now, suddenly takes a step forward, his voice trembling with anger. “And who are you,” he says, his voice low but dangerous, “to tell us about the state of our souls?”

The senior clergy exchange glances, surprised at his defiance. But Charlie continues, his voice growing stronger. “Yes, we broke our vows. But this—what we feel—it's not some… sinful temptation. It’s love. And I won’t stand here and let you condemn us without knowing what’s in our hearts.”

Father Lucian’s eyes narrow, and for a moment, the tension is palpable. “Father Charles, you forget your place,” he says coldly. “This is not a matter of love. It is a matter of duty. Of obedience. You swore your life to God, not to your desires.”

“I didn’t swear my life to a prison,” Charlie snaps, his voice shaking with fury. “I swore my life to serve God, to care for people. But you—you’d rather see us as sinners than as human beings.”

“Father Charles,” Monsignor Ramos says, his voice hardening, “you are speaking out of turn.”

“No,” Charlie interrupts, turning to you, his hand reaching for yours without hesitation. “I’m speaking the truth. I won’t let you use God as a weapon to control us.”

Your hand grips his tightly, and despite the cold sweat trickling down your spine, you feel an odd sense of strength radiating from him. The threat of hellfire lingers in the air, but for the first time, it doesn’t feel so terrifying with him standing beside you.

Father Lucian’s gaze hardens, his lips thinning into a severe line. “This is your final warning. End this now, or face the consequences.”

Charlie stares back at him, unwavering. “I’d rather face hell,” he says softly, “than live a lie.”

The silence that follows is deafening, the weight of his words hanging between you and the clergy like a challenge. They stand, frozen for a moment, taken aback by his refusal. The unspoken threat remains—hell, ruin, the dismantling of everything you’ve both worked for.

But for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel afraid. You look at Charlie, his face set in defiance, and something inside you shifts. Maybe this is the beginning of the end, but it’s also the beginning of something else—something true, something worth fighting for.

The silence stretches unbearably in the cold churchyard, the tension thick as a storm building on the horizon. The senior clergy stare at Charlie, their expressions hard, almost disbelieving that he’s standing against them. Father Lucian’s eyes narrow further, but his voice remains steady, with a chilling authority.

“You are not beyond redemption,” he says, the words deliberate, cutting. “But defiance will not save you from the consequences of your actions. Think carefully before you decide to sacrifice everything—your calling, your salvation—for something so… fleeting.”

Charlie’s grip tightens around your hand. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t back down. His next words, however quiet, carry an unshakable resolve. “I’ve already decided. I won’t live a life of half-truths. If that’s what it takes to serve God here, then I’ll find my own way.”

Father Augustine inhales sharply, looking between you and Charlie with something resembling disappointment—or perhaps disdain. “This will not go unpunished,” he mutters, his tone cold and unyielding. “There are consequences for every action, Father Charles. You’ve been warned.”

Without another word, the three clergymen turn on their heels and leave, their footsteps echoing ominously against the stone floor of the church. The weight of their warning lingers, even after they disappear into the distance.

You and Charlie stand there, unmoving, his hand still wrapped tightly around yours. The tension in his body slowly ebbs, though his grip remains firm, as if he’s grounding himself in this moment, in you. The sky above is clear, but there’s a storm brewing, one you can’t ignore any longer.

“Charlie…” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the quiet rustling of leaves in the courtyard. “What are we going to do?”

He exhales deeply, his shoulders dropping as he turns to face you fully. His eyes search yours, filled with the same mixture of love and uncertainty that’s been building between you since that night in the church. “I don’t know,” he admits, his voice softer now, the fire from before replaced with a gentle resignation. “But I know I can’t lose you. Not like this.”

You feel the same pull in your chest, the same conflicted desire that’s been tearing you apart. Everything you’ve built within the church, every vow you’ve taken—it’s all crumbling around you. But Charlie… he’s the one thing that still feels real, the one person you’ve come to rely on, to love in ways you never expected.

“I can’t lose you either,” you admit, your throat tight, emotions swirling in a confusing blur. “But they’re right… If we keep going like this, it won’t just be losing our positions. It’ll be worse.”

Charlie’s gaze darkens for a moment, as if weighing the enormity of it all. He steps closer, lifting his hand to gently cradle your face, his thumb brushing your cheek in a tender, almost reverent motion. “I know the risks,” he says, his voice steady, filled with an unshakable determination. “But the risk of not having you in my life… that’s worse.”

You close your eyes at his touch, leaning into the warmth of his hand. His words wrap around your heart, pulling you closer to the edge of something you can’t take back.

───

The decision had been made in a heartbeat, almost too quickly for either of you to process. One moment, you were standing in the courtyard, exchanging quiet promises of love and loyalty; the next, you were both packing your modest belongings in a small room that had been your sanctuary for years.

Charlie’s movements were hurried but deliberate, his usual calm demeanor now laced with an urgency that mirrored your own. You threw robes and personal items into a small bag, your heart pounding as the reality of your situation sank in.

“We can’t stay here,” he had said, his voice shaking with conviction. “Not after that. If we don’t leave now, they’ll find a way to tear us apart.”

You agreed, knowing deep down that the church, once a symbol of comfort and belonging, had become a prison. It wasn’t just Megan’s spying or the warnings from the senior clergy—it was everything. The suffocating weight of the vows, the whispered rumors, the constant feeling of being watched. You couldn’t breathe here anymore.

The room, usually filled with quiet prayer and reflection, was now buzzing with the frantic energy of departure. Charlie stopped for a moment, watching you from across the room. His eyes were dark, filled with an intensity you had rarely seen before. He came closer, brushing his hand across your cheek, tilting your chin so that you met his gaze.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable. “We’re leaving everything behind.”

You nodded, heart pounding, but with a certainty that surprised even you. “I’m sure. I can’t stay here, Charlie. Not without you. Not like this.”

He pressed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as if savoring the moment, as if holding on to this fragile piece of certainty before everything crumbled.

“We’ll be alright,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “We’ll find a way. Together.”

You smiled, a bittersweet knot forming in your chest. The thought of leaving everything you’d known was terrifying—but the thought of staying, of pretending, of hiding this love… that was worse.

A knock at the door startled you both, and your heart leapt in your chest. You turned to the door, half expecting to see Father Lucian or another member of the clergy, ready to drag you back into the suffocating confines of the church’s judgment.

But it was Megan.

Her eyes were wide, but there was something softer in her gaze now—something you hadn’t seen before. She hesitated in the doorway, her hand lingering on the knob as she looked between you and Charlie.

“I—I heard,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re leaving?”

Charlie tensed beside you, but you took a step forward, your heart racing. “Megan… I know what you saw. I know what you think, but—”

She shook her head, cutting you off. “No. It’s not that. I—” Her voice faltered, and she took a deep breath, glancing at Charlie before continuing. “I’m not here to stop you. I just… I just wanted to say I understand. I don’t agree with it, but I understand why you’re doing this.”

You blinked, taken aback. Megan, the one who had spied on you, who had been so suspicious of your every move, was standing here, offering understanding. It felt surreal.

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” she added softly. “But if you’re really leaving, you need to go now. They’ll come looking for you.”

Charlie’s hand found yours, squeezing it tightly. You felt a rush of gratitude toward Megan, despite everything that had happened between you. Her warning, her silence—it was an unexpected act of kindness.

“Thank you,” you whispered, the words feeling heavy with meaning.

She nodded once, her eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before she turned and left, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.

You turned to Charlie, your breath catching in your throat. “It’s time.”

He nodded, his jaw set, determination burning in his eyes. “Let’s go.”

Together, you walked out of the room, leaving behind the life you had known, the vows you had once believed in, and the future you had thought was certain. The church, once towering and holy, now felt like a distant memory as you stepped into the world beyond its gates.

You didn’t know what would come next—where you would go or what you would do—but with Charlie by your side, the fear didn’t seem quite as overwhelming. You had each other. And for now, that was enough.

EPILOGUE

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden glow across the rolling hills and fields that stretched beyond your front porch. The house you now called home sat nestled against a small grove of trees, a place you’d never imagined, yet somehow felt destined to find.

A soft breeze rustled through the open windows, carrying with it the distant laughter of children playing in the yard. You smiled, leaning against the wooden railing as you watched them—a picture of the life you had once dreamed of, now fully realized.

Two little girls, their dark curls bouncing in the breeze, were chasing after their younger brother, their giggles filling the air. They were so full of energy, so full of life. The kind of life you had longed for back when everything felt so suffocating, back when the idea of having a family seemed distant and impossible.

Behind you, the front door creaked open, and Charlie stepped out, two mugs of tea in his hands. His face, though older and more weathered now, still held that same softness that had always drawn you to him. He passed you a cup and wrapped an arm around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder as he watched the scene unfold before you.

You smiled, leaning into him, your heart swelling with contentment. This was the dream you had once shared with him, whispered between kisses when the future seemed so uncertain. But now, here it was—tangible, real. Your two daughters, as spirited and wild as you had imagined, and your son, a bundle of mischief with Charlie’s inquisitive nature.

You stood there in comfortable silence, watching as your eldest, a curious seven-year-old, tried to corral her younger siblings with all the seriousness of someone far beyond her years. The younger girl, barely five, kept bursting into fits of giggles, while your three-year-old son—always a handful—tumbled into the grass, quickly distracted by the dogs.

It was a far cry from the life you had left behind, from the cold stone walls of the church and the whispers of judgment. You had built this life together—away from the suffocating expectations, the prying eyes, and the fear. Out here, in this open space, you were free to be who you truly were, without shame, without fear of punishment.

Charlie turned his head slightly, brushing his lips against your cheek. “You’re happy?”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with so much love it almost hurt. “I am,” you whispered, reaching up to touch his face. “I really am.”

He smiled, his eyes softening in the way they always did when he looked at you—filled with a love that had only grown stronger over the years. You still had your moments of doubt, of course—those nights when the past crept in, when the memory of everything you’d left behind tugged at your mind. But then you would look at him, at the children you had brought into the world, and it would all disappear.

Charlie pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you as the children’s laughter echoed through the evening air. The weight of the past had faded into something distant, something that didn’t define you anymore.

This was your future now—a family, a home filled with love and laughter. You had chosen this life, together, and it was better than any dream you had ever dared to hope for.

As the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, your eldest daughter ran up to you, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “Mama! Look what we found!”

She held up a small flower she had picked from the yard, and you crouched down to examine it, your heart swelling with pride at her joy over such a simple thing.

“It’s beautiful,” you told her, smoothing back a stray curl from her face.

She beamed, darting off again to join her siblings, and you stood back up, feeling Charlie’s presence beside you, steady and strong.

“Two daughters, a son, and two dogs,” he repeated softly, his voice filled with that same awe he always carried when he talked about your family. “You’ve always had the best dreams.”

You leaned into him, your fingers intertwined, as the last light of the day faded. “And you’ve always made them come true.”

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[xxchumanixx]

Hii, are gonna do a part 2 of “doomed” where they get together?

Doomed pt. 3

Tim Bradford x rookie!reader

Warnings/Tags: fluff, hurt, angst, unspoken feelings, Grey raging Word count: 2.197 Authors note: Hello love, thanks for the request! (I'm sorry it's so late!) Not a part 2, but a part 3 for you! Hope you'll like it anyways! Also, this isn't entirely proof read yet!

Enjoy!

Did he even breathe?

Looking at Tim through your peripheral, you knew he thought the same.

Grey was raging on, talking without breathing.

Soon he'd suffocate, you were sure of it. Luna would have a heart attack, when he would die because of you - because you were dumb enough to be caught by him.

It wasn't even your fault, really.

It was Tim's.

At least that's what you told yourself.

"And I will not be the one who will take the brunt when one of you dies, because you were too busy making love eyes to notice a threat!"

Maybe you should have just told him - at least that's what Grey thought to himself, as he yelled at one of his best officers and his rookie.

Who were sleeping with each other.

He mentally flinched, not wanting to think about it too deeply.

"You are responsible for her training!" he continued, pointing at Tim who had his hands at his sides, trying to just get past this.

He had never felt this uncomfortable in his life before - at least there wasn't much that compared to this situation.

"How do you think will others judge when they learn about your relationship? Do you think they will see her ratings fit? Or will they think you rated her better, because you-" he had to stop himself, or else it would have gotten out of hand - though you all knew, what he wanted to say.

Because you are sleeping with her.

Your career would be ruined, if the right people found out. No one would want you to work for them, never fully trusting you.

As the tears welled up in your eyes, you tried your best to suppress them.

Grey was right, and he had every right to be angry.

"This will have consequences!" he continued, finally taking a deep breath, as he tried to calm himself, for the sake of his heart.

His wife would have killed him, if he dared to have a heart attack - especially when she was currently trying to convince him to retire.

Maybe he should have.

"You will be replaced as her TO - that's the least I will have to do. Other than that, this conversation will never, and I mean never, leave this room. If anyone asks why you were replaced as her TO, you tell them that you don't know."

His eyes wandered from Tim to you, his head shaking in disappointment.

Never would he let you forget this day.

"I can't believe that this happened right under my nose and I didn't notice it." he spoke a little quieter, before his voice rose again. "And I would have never expected such behavior from you, of all people, Bradford!"

Tim swallowed, gaze fixed on the table in front of him. He didn't know what to say, guilt making his tongue heavy as lead.

Grey grumbled to himself, sitting down in his chair. He sighed in exhaustion, wiping over his face with his hand.

"I know I'll regret it later." he began, putting his head in his hand with his elbow on the armrest, as he looked up at you.

You two stood straight as sticks, and for a moment Grey had to smirk inwardly.

"Are you in a relationship or do you plan to be in one?" The same moment he voiced his question, he regretted it. His daughter would have probably told him how embarrassing he was.

Did he want to do the talk now, too?

Your eyes widened, looking at Tim in shock. His gaze was fixed somewhere behind Grey, jaw clenched.

It had been a few months now, since you regularly started to sleep with each other. You couldn't deny that you had become attached, having gathered feelings for him.

But did he feel the same?

Biting your cheek, you looked away.

Of course he wouldn't.

"Okay..." Grey mumbled, scratching his chin, as he leaned back in his chair. "I will still tell you what will await you anyway, in case you decide to be in a relationship somewhere in the future."

He shook himself inwardly, one eye twitching, as he tried to stay as professional as possible.

"I hardly advise you to work separate. Like I said, if one of you dies because you aren't focused on the task at hand, the other will pay the consequences. The LAPD doesn't like it, when two of their officers are in a relationship and in the same unit. It's a risk the intern doesn't want to take."

You simply nodded, swallowing against the lump in your throat.

What other choice did you have anyway?

Grey nodded to himself, not happy his evening had been ruined. Luna would be furious if she knew how close he had been to having a heart attack.

"And now go home. Your shift is over, anyways."

Breathing a silent sigh of relief, you nodded, heading out of the office. You had been lucky the blinds had been closed, otherwise the whole LAPD would have witnessed that conversation.

You didn't look at Tim, as you made your way to the locker room, biting back the emotions trying to take over.

The Mexican food you wanted to order at his place, would be cancelled now, your whole evening ruined.

You really should have looked better if anyone was near, before you talked about private things.

Seriously, how could you miss Grey?

He had seen how close you seemed, after parking the shop, Tim's hand almost brushing yours as he leaned closer to talk into your ear.

This one gesture had spoken more than a thousand words to him.

And it was exactly the reason, why Tim avoided to talk about his private life.

Or show it, for that matter.

But he had a moment of weakness, your flirtatious behavior over the day constantly turning him on.

He really should have known better.

His eyes scanned the parking lot for you, trying to make you out in the dark. He spotted your car, seeing that you weren't there yet, as he made his way over to it.

He decided to wait, fingers drumming on the strap of his backpack, as you left the station.

Fumbling for your keys, you didn't notice him at first, only when you almost stood in front of him.

Blinking a few times in confusion, your cheeks heated up. "What do you want?" you asked, inhaling shakily. "We should talk." he gave back, shifting his weight.

Brows furrowed, you looked at him. "If you want to end things, then just say it, Tim." you told him, trying to act nonchalant about it, even if your heart broke at the possibility of him ending whatever it was you two had.

"Wh- No!" he responded a little too fast, taking a step forward with his mouth agape. "I mean- If you want to end this, then I'll stay away from you."

Eyes widening, you felt how they burned from tears again. Of course you didn't want to end this.

Shaking your head, you told him exactly that.

"I don't want to end this." you spoke, taking a step forward as well, all the while feeling Grey's gaze burning holes in your back, even if he wasn't even near.

"But I don't think we should continue on like this. Grey is right, what we're doing is risky." you continued, sighing heavily. "We're jeopardizing our careers, risking to lose our jobs. Or at least risking our credibility and the trust they have in us. I think it's better, that he replaces you as my TO."

Your words struck something deep inside him, making him swallow. On one side he thought you were right - if he continued being your TO, though not able to keep his hands from you, your career would have been over, before it even started.

On the other hand, he feared that he'd lose you.

"If you want to keep this up, what do you mean we shouldn't continue on like this?" he wanted to know, the crease between his brows deepening.

"Are you breaking up?"

The words had left his lips, before he had a chance to properly think about it. His cheeks burned up, and he was thankful that you weren't able to see it in the dim light of the parking lot.

Your mouth opened, but you weren't able to utter a single word, only staring at him. Chuckling uneasily, you shook your head.

"Breaking up postulates there's something to break up." you told him, voice small. You didn't want him to see the heartbreak in your eyes, so you averted them.

"We're not together - there is nothing to break up."

He swallowed heavily, his throat suddenly way too dry. His heart seemed to be in an iron grip, pumping ice crystals through his veins.

He hated the way you said it, the way you sounded so broken.

"Grey is right." he muttered bitterly, nodding to himself, as he took a step backwards. Your eyes snapped back to his, following his movement.

"We shouldn't do this. The LAPD doesn't approve of it and we only risk our jobs. You're right, we shouldn't continue this."

He turned around and started to walk away, your heart breaking as he did. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you felt as if you couldn't breathe.

"Tim!" you called out, voice shaking, as you practically jumped after him, grabbing his arm to stop him from walking further away from you.

He stiffened, but didn't turn around. He only stopped, with your hand still on his arm. Inhaling shakily, you braced yourself for your next words.

"I don't want to break up." you softly spoke, one of the tears managing to free itself. Biting your lip, you shook your head. "I don't want to let you go - I can't."

He slowly turned around to you, giving you the chance to take your words back.

But you didn't.

Staring straight back at him, you stood your ground. That you were still at the almost empty parking lot, wasn't important anymore.

Neither were the people that could walk out of the station at any moment.

"If I have to do more tests, have another TO, then so be it. But I don't want to lose you, Tim."

More tears rolled down your cheeks, betraying your aching heart. Your emotions were on display for him to see, and you weren't planning on backing down.

He took a shaky breath, mouth slightly open. He didn't know what to say - hell, he wasn't even sure what you were trying to say. Had you fallen for him? As much as he had fallen for you?

"Hate me, abandon me, whatever you want." you told him, wet lips pressing together, head shaking. "But I can't act like I don't have feelings for you, any longer. Yes, it can cost us our jobs, or just mine, since you're one of the best officers here, but I'm willing to take that risk. Let Grey be angry, shout at us or transfer me when im a p2 - I don't care."

He was speechless, a rare sight.

Swallowing, he took a step closer. "What are you trying to say?" He had to know, had to hear it one more time, in case he had misunderstood you.

"I'm saying that I have feelings for you, that I have fallen in love with you, Tim." you brought over your shaking lips, heart racing as you were nervous how he would respond to your confession.

He huffed, amusement and relief hugging him like a warm blanket. Honestly, he hadn't known how he'd reacted, if you'd pushed him away for real.

His arms wrapped around you tightly, bringing you into his embrace, as he exhaled slowly. Hugging him back, your cheek rested on his chest, hearing his heart race.

"I have feelings for you, too." he confessed, smiling into your hair. "Fuck the LAPD and their opinion. I have the sergeant exam in my pocket, if they want to punish us, I'll find another station, maybe I'll even go to the metro."

You couldn't help but laugh quietly at him, knowing he'd do it.

"Go out with me." he spoke, looking down at you, after you separated, his hands on your upper arms.

Smiling, you sniffed, face still tear stained. "I'd love to." you agreed, nodding to underline your words. He smiled back, before his hand wrapped around your shoulder, walking you towards your car.

"Are we still getting Mexican tonight?" he asked, a smirk playing at his lips. Rolling your eyes, you nodded with a grin.

"I'll get us a table." he told you, sending you a wink, as you gaped at him, stopping at your car. "I know the owner."

Shaking your head, you couldn't help but smile. "Okay." He nodded, smiling right back.

As Tim told you he'd pick you up in an hour, Grey smiled to himself.

He'd been watching your interaction through a window, secretly happy about your smiling faces, as his wife caught him stalking you two, hitting his arm in warning.

"Wade!"

<- Part two

Tag List

@laheysfilm

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[yestrday]

"This hurts."

Zhongli sips on his tea, looking unbothered by your incessant whining, even smiling to himself when you beg him to let you off practice today. Xiao, who's been standing guard this whole time, has been pointedly avoiding your pleading looks. Clearly, Zhongli has given him a warning not to indulge you.

"Zhongli, please," you whine again, voice higher in pitch as you hope to annoy him to the point of sending you away. "My entire body hurts. Can't we just reschedule this tomorrow?"

"Procrastination rusts determination, my dear," Zhongli hums, finally putting the teacup down. The large dragon tail protruding from his lower spine is slinking back and forth on the ground, and if Aether's observation that that is an equivalent of a dog's happy wag, then that means the bastard is enjoying your suffering. "Your father told me to fix you up before your first apperance at a gala and I have a contract to fulfill. Besides—" He fixes you with a firm golden gaze. "— You decided for yourself to finally go back into the public."

You wince at the reminder, regret building up the more you attend these lessons. Despite the good life you've had spending your days as a recluse with your family of hybrids, you had decided one day that this wasn't how you should live your life. So when your deadbeat dad reached out to you about a charity gala, you agreed quicker than you thought about it. And here you were, suffering the consequences with sore feet and numb arms and trembling fingers. Did going out into public really warrant posture and balance exercises and etiquette lessons?

You wanted out. Out! Ayato's already been a drain on your energy with his morning lecture about conversation starters and conversation, scaring your whines away whenever he thumps his spiny tail on the floor or opens his mouth just for the rows of sharp teeth inside to glint at you. Although Zhongli's an old, soft soul who'd never harm you, you were still tired!

"Once more." Zhongli instructed. "Balance those books and walk a straight line from here to there. Begin."

With a small grumble to yourself, you balance the small stack of books on your head and begin. But these things just keep slipping off, and you're half-tempted to say that this isn't your fault anymore and it's their stupid shiny covers. They slip from your head again and you glare at the scattered books with the hatred of a thousand damned souls.

"Zhongli..." you whimper as pitifully as you can. The dragon only shakes his head and motions to the books for you to pick up again. Your downcast expression has clearly struck a nerve in Xiao's heart, with the way he keeps hesitantly stealing glances at you, but he's cowed by a knowing gaze from Zhongli.

"While I approve of practicing, I believe that all hard work entails some sort of break, no?" A stoic yet gentle voice interrupts from the doorway and your face lightens up at Neuvillette. "Apologies for my intrusion, but I've caught wind from a certain cat that our master is in need of a break."

"Neuvi!" You gleefully shout, rushing over to him and eyeing the dessert platter he's balancing on his hand. "Did Aether tell you? Are those for me?!" When he nods, his eyes crinkle in fondness when you squeal in delight, and his tail slinks left and right on the ground. "Neuvi...! You're the best! I've been held captive here for hours!"

"Well," the water dragon huffs out a laugh as you gorge yourself on macarons. "That is to be expected of such kinds of dragons."

"It's for their own good," Zhongli tightly says, meeting the other dragon's challenging gaze. "It's best to fix them up before they attend the gala rather than indulging them to garner favor."

There is an impatient thumping on the floor, coming both from Neuvi and Zhongli. Both of them maintain their stoic composure, but the tips of Zhongli's fingers begin to tint gold and black, while cold blue scales creep up Neuvi's neck. Their reptilian eyes never break away from each other, slowly morphing into pinprick ones as they begin to devour each other whole with—

"Mmm, that's good," you hum, picking up a macaron and running off to Xiao. "Hey~ Want one?"

Xiao smiles faintly, taking the pastel dessert from your hand and gently patting your hair. He thanks you, and slowly eating it so he can show you how grateful he is. (His golden eyes are darting frantically between his master and Neuvillette and tries not to look too eager when he's munching.) "It's very good." He gives a slight bow towards Neuvillette too. "Thank you too, sir Neuvillette," he says, like the polite man he is.

Neuvillette regards him with less hostility than he does towards his fellow dragon. But he frowns a bit when he sees the small arrogant smile on Zhongli's face when he sees his subordinate getting along wth you. He scoffs.

"If your teacher here is still giving you a hard time, you can always come to me for help," Neuvillette murmurs, just loud enough to provoke Zhongli. He wraps his scaly tail around your leg and brings you closer. "I'll promise to instill the grace you need before the gala minus all the nonsense."

You giggle when his gentle touch tickles your cheek before he tucks a hair behind your ear. Kissing you gently on the forehead, he pulls away with a slight smile. "Good luck, dear." He glances behind you, and wearing a satisfied expression, he closes the door shut.

You're suddenly aware of the tension in the air and you turn around to see Zhongli with closed eyes. His black-brown hands, looking like they've been dipped in gold, clench the arms of the chairs tightly. He lets out a slow exhale and opens his eyes just in time for you to see those cold slits revert to the warm brown human ones.

"Zhongli...?" You ask cautiously, taking a careful step forward. You knew dragons were territorial, but you didn't think that Zhongli would react this way. He was normally so... father-like to all the other hybrids.

"Nothing, my dear." He stands up and holds you a bit tightly by the hand. He takes out a handkerchief from his pocket, all embroidered and silken and as elegant as he is, and rubs away something on the spot Neuvi kissed you. "Just some dirt, thats all."

Gently, he puts his hand on the small of your back and leads you to the chair in front of him. Xiao wordlessly pulls it back and sits you down.

"Come now, have a rest and let's finish these snacks before you start again, hm?"

[leciraofthewilderness]

So, despite some faults, I really enjoyed totk, and on its anniversary I want to say something about it. Other people have said similar things before but it’s really important to me and actually a big part of why the story of totk was meaningful to me, so I want to also say it:

Zelda needed to come back from draconification. The story needed that. It wasn’t lazy and just ignoring “consequences” because (imo) that was the *point*

The point is to feel like there are going to be terrible consequences and then say actually, no. You can come back from this, with the help of other people.

To me at least, that was the theme of the whole story.

If botw was about how the world goes on past loss and grief and starts to heal (how flowers grow in the ruins and the world can be beautiful again, be worth saving, even if it has changed)…then totk was about a more personal kind of healing.

The weight of the world should not be on your shoulders alone…you, alone, should not have to fix everything…you should not have to sacrifice yourself, but when you do, someone will be there to save you from it.

This turned into a really long ramble so:

You (Link) gained so much and now it’s gone. It feels like you’re back to where you started and yet you know you have to do it all again…you were weak and you failed and you’re weaker now…but

You go down to the surface. Monsters swarm across it once again. Other people are fighting them too though. You help, but it’s not just you…

You go to the Rito, the Gorons, the Zora, the Gerudo…just like with the divine beasts, there are friends who help you save each region. But this time, part of them comes along with you when you leave. It’s nice, you realize, the first time one of them protects you from a monster you weren’t prepared for. You’re still weaker than you were before, but someone has your back…

When you go up to the sky you see a strange new dragon there. There’s something about them that feels familiar. You try not to think about it.

You go down to the depths too. It’s terrifying at first. You hate it. You only want to get what you came for and get out of the dark….but slowly, the light grows. You get stronger. The dark feels like a challenge you can face (and someone has your back).

There are spirits down there. You don’t know when they’re from, but some part of you wonders…are these all the people you let die in the Calamity? (You help them find rest from their wandering. The weight on your shoulders feels a little less heavy).

There’s so much gloom. The first few times the sky turns red and hands chase you (a reminder of what you’ve lost, how you failed) you just run. Eventually though, you have to fight. It feels like the (second) worst day of your life again. But you manage to get free of the grasping gloom and stand and fight, as wild and desperate as it is. Beneath the manifestation of your worst fears, there’s another thing to fight, but this time it has a face (a voice in the back of your head says…you know this isn’t all on you and your failure…it’s really Ganon’s fault right?). You get through it.

At every turn in your travels, it seems like something reminds you of Zelda. Her passion, her curiosity, her kindness. You miss her.

At first, the tears you find reassure you. She may be in the past, but she’s safe. She’ll come back somehow…but then you hear the word draconification for the first time. You want to believe she wouldn’t do it but you know her and the fear sits cold inside you. (Zelda is a lot of things. She’s been allowed to be more of them, since she was freed from her hundred year battle, without her father holding her back. But deep down inside her, there’s a vein of self-sacrifice that still runs strong. It’s what saved the world before, after all).

She did it. She really did it. She’s gone from you (from Hyrule) forever, and it’s all your fault. If only you hadn’t failed so utterly in the battle (you can hardly even call it that) under the castle. If only you’d caught her. If only you hadn’t let the sword break. You should have protected her you should have been better it’s all your fault and now she has to live with the consequences, forever. Everything really is on you, you should have been better.

(Zelda POV: you couldn’t call upon Hylia’s power in time, you were too content to let it wither and fade away from you, ready to be free of it. You shouldn’t have. He got hurt, the sword got hurt, it’s your fault…Sonia and Rauru help you channel it again, Sonia helps you learn how to turn back time…but you don’t save her. She dies because you couldn’t save her. Rauru dies not long after. There is no one left to guide you, once again. You could spend years trying to figure it out on your own. But you did that last time. It didn’t work. Self-sacrifice, stepping in front of someone you love, that worked. (You do what you can, to call upon the sages, to help Link in the future, first). And then you swallow the stone. You’ve come a long way, in the past five years, allowing yourself to exist. But in the end, self-sacrifice worked last time. It’ll work this time too.)

You (Link) go down beneath the castle. You were supposed to bring the sages but you didn’t. It’s nice, for someone to have your back. But no one else should get hurt to fix your mistakes.

They follow you anyway. They fight with you, against the hordes, against the greatest enemies you defeated together, along the way. They’ll have your back, even if you don’t think you deserve it.

You fight Ganondorf, and then the demon king, in the hardest battle of your life. You think it’s over and then the demon king decides it’s better to lose himself completely than let you win. You’re exhausted and afraid of yet another battle, but up there in the sky, when you’re falling, the Light Dragon catches you (you wonder why she changed her path to catch you, you wonder if there’s still something of Zelda left in there to save). With her help, you win.

And then you’re in some other realm. The spirits of Sonia and Rauru are there. You remember how the two of them and Zelda channeled such incredible power together. You think about Recall. Turning something back to the memory of what it was before, like Sonia said. You stand with them and you allow yourself to hope. Maybe the Light Dragon can remember the form she took so long ago, the person that she was.

And then you’re falling, and Zelda is falling, but this time you catch her. You catch her. She’s back home with you, finally, finally.

And maybe, one mistake doesn’t have to be the end of the world. You don’t have to be perfect. Sometimes, someone else can stand with you, and it’ll all turn out alright. (You can put the weight of the world on your shoulders, you can sacrifice yourself, but someone will be there to catch you, someone will be there to pull you back to yourself, when all is said and done).

[novantinuum]

mmmmmmm. messy ass ramble thoughts ahead. this is not coherent, it is 1am, you have been warned.

so i've been thinking about that "i can fix anything! i can just keep messing up and fixing things forever, and you'll never have to know or think about any of it!" line during steven's lil manic panic moment in the ep everything's fine in the context of like... og SU episodes

this whole lil manic slip is one that's like... it seems a little extreme for him as a character at first, when one looks at the situation on surface.

but i think it really does shed a LOT of light onto one of his deepest fear. the same fear he's harbored for a good damn deal of the show.

"i didn't wanna hurt anyone!"

this moment comes just a few eps after the S3 finale 'reveal' of rose shattering pink diamond. in that final scene of the season, steven gets 'confirmation' from garnet that this happened, and seems to accept it for what it was- a difficult decision made amidst a treacherous war.

but also, he Doesn't.

because he's the legacy rose left behind. because each and every day he's growing more into his power. because now, with this reveal of rose's decision to shatter on the table, he's putting each and every decision he makes under a microscope.

he had no choice, he claims. she wouldn't let him help her.

he had no choice. it was self defense.

but is that true?

isn't that the same thing his mom probably told herself before ending a gem's life forever?

even though she poofed bismuth and holed her away for suggesting the very same idea??

rose became a hypocrite... so what if HE becomes the hypocrite, too?

see, with steven... i think it's really easy in the main show to sorta... observe all his actions on the mere surface without considering the deeper tickings of his psyche. like... take lars being brought back to life. from audience POV, that's a good deed. steven just saved someone with his magic! positive moment.

but genuinely... i think this was one of the worst moments of his entire life. i think he's still haunted by it- by the fact that he can just "fix" people in that way. and i think fixing jasper's shattered gem only made the specter of that day worse.

steven believes his role is to be the Shield.

the protector.

the one who is willing to do whatever it takes- even up to turning himself in for a crime he didn't commit- to protect his family and his friends.

and like, we all know that it's not steven's FAULT that lars died. BUT- he still died while under steven's protection.

and so the same way steven blames himself for "hurting" bismuth, jasper, and eyeball, he blames himself for killing lars. mentally, he Takes Responsibility for his death. yet another tick mark in the box of horrible "mistakes" he's made, yet another tick mark landing him just a little closer to the rose he's desperately trying not to become.

and worst of all... it's a mistake he "covers up."

because his tears are able to bring him back from the dead entirely.

and years later he realizes this is true for gems as well ;-;;;

so yeah, i absolutely think lars' death was also at the back of his mind when he said that line at the beginning

what steven saw in the depths of his mind as he was panicking there was him slipping down a slippery slope of violence that he couldn't escape from

first, causing harm to other gems and calling it self defense...

then, letting your friend die protecting YOU when you're the one who should be protecting him and facing NO consequence for this misgiving because you bring him back to life

then, expressing anger so visceral it can shatter floors, destroy whole rooms, flip vans. out of control. inexcusable.

then... outright shattering a gem in a duel while training to hone that anger. once again, facing NO consequence because you bring her right back.

then, that sudden, terrifying thought of "what if i shattered white diamond"

like, steven has absolutely no framework by which to separate his actions from genuine desire or just plain abstract thought.

he has no framework by which to understand the beautiful tool of adding a "man would it be fucked up or what-" to the beginning of those sorts of intimidating, dark musings.

he has no framework by which to understand the complexities of his trauma, and the way in which genuinely fighting back against someone he once called an enemy might feel empowering- instead, it would seem he's disgusted in retrospect with how deep he pressed into that fight, how much a part of him ENJOYED it, all because of the horrid destination it led to.

anyways at this point steven thinks he has now become the Hypocrite like his mom, and that he's just destined to hurt everyone around him forever but never be punished for it and Ouch

this post has no end, these were just ramble thoughts, the end. goodnight. i am sleepy and need to prepare to make Wig tomorrow bc OH boy i am con crunch.

yeehaw .

[animeangel21]

Back scratches 18+

Just imagine:

You and iwaizumi got out of bed and as always got ready together. He was up before you were and went to the bathroom wearing some loose fitted sweats, shirtless cause of your late night activities.

He looked in the mirror and he wasn’t bothered by the scratches you left on his chest. You got up and started brushing your teeth while he hopped in the shower and you even laid his clothes out for him too.

Iwa wasn’t fazed by the slight sting on his chest but once the hot water hit his back it stung like hell. He just clenched his jaw and finished his shower.

Once he was out the shower he turned around and angled his head to look at the damage and his eyes widened. “This little minx..”

You had your clothes ready and walked in the bathroom and glanced at his back and your face changed completely from neutral to a slight grin as you tried not to laugh.

“Don’t you dare laugh.” He said looking up at you with his toothbrush dangling from his mouth.

“It’s a little funny Haji.I’m sorry”You turned away and laughed silently.

“You’re a little devil that’s what you are.” He said wiping his face and looking down at you before kissing you.

“You’re lucky I love you. You have to deal with the consequences too though.” He said and walked out to get dressed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” You yelled getting in the shower.

“Just wait.” He mumbled shaking his head reminiscing about yesterday. He should’ve held your hands down instead of letting you pull him closer. He should’ve felt the pain afterwards or even while he had you folded in half. Definitely should’ve been careful when he let you ride him.

He was dressed and ready and watched as you too got ready. He watched as you got ready and started applying your make up. He admired the light marks on your neck from his mouth and hands. He’d make sure you had a few more tonight.

Once you were ready and went to school, it dragged forever till you went to iwas practice.

Hajime walked into the locker room and dropped his bag on the bench and without a second thought removed his shirt and oikawa was the first to speak.

“Iwa-Chan Your back looks like you were attacked by stray cats.” He said covering his mouth as he tried not to laugh.

Mattsun looked over and he shook his head and laughed. “Yeah, a feisty kitten named y/n”

“Maybe you should try handcuffs or nail cutters or here’s another thought, don’t try to murder the girl” makki said sarcastically while tilting his head and observing.

“ just cause you little shits can’t make a girl do that doesn’t mean you should comment. Also, don’t come for me I’m not the culprit.” Hajime stated while fixing his shirt.

“Whatever went on there. Keep doing it but we can only pray for your back and chest” oikawa said before exiting the locker room but not before slapping his best friend on the back.

“SHITTYKAWA COME BACK HERE!” He said chasing after oikawa and grabbing a volleyball from the basket and throwing it at oikawas head.

“AHH IWA CHAN THAT HURTS” he yelled from halfway across the gym.

Oikawa approached you and hid behind you. “Y/n please, cut your nails down or something. Iwa is very tense.” He whispered and you laughed.

“Not my fault. If it’s really good it’s really good.” You said shrugging your shoulders.

“UGH, YOU NASTY FUCKS” oikawa said out loud running from you as your boyfriend approached you.

“My poor baby” you gave him a fake pout and he rolled his eyes.

“This is your fault baby” he said lacing his fingers with yours and you smiled.

“No, that is your fault my love. Nobody told you to be so rou-” he cut you off with a kiss by pulling you closer by the hand and keeping your fingers laced.

“ but you like it that way. Now sit there and look pretty so I can do it again later.” He said with a smirk.

“I will baby. Can’t wait to add more to the collection.” You said and he just kissed you.

What you didn’t know though was he wouldn’t let you do that cause he was gonna restrain your hands tonight.

[atopvisenyashill]

Worst thing dany did? I’m a little torn. My gut would have me jump to the execution of mmd but I’m not sold. I’m also tempted to consider her agreeing to take a cut of profits from slavery or agreeing to allow those people to be tortured. Other things she did wrong seem more like inexperience and things that were results of her imperfect but not wrong actions. Burning someone alive is pretty cruel, but dumping burning oil and tar is also something Jon and the other boys at the wall do, and I think Dany believed she might die in that fire as well—kind of like a moment of if I am wrong may I suffer the same fate moment. I guess her intent doesn’t really matter in the assessment but I think I’m a bit swayed by the fact that in that moment her world had fallen apart twice over and she also had suffered a miscarriage versus her comparative safety and stability when making seemingly cruel decisions in Meereen

Ya i go back and forth too.

The thing with Mirri is that Dany is well aware that what happens is not Mirri’s fault and that’s a bit of a pattern with Dany - she lets her anger run away with her & she does some heinous shit because of that. I don't think Mirri was purposefully trying to kill Drogo and Rhaego. They specifically don't listen to her advice-

His eyes were fixed on distant brown hills, the reins loose in his hands. Beneath his painted vest, a plaster of fig leaves and caked blue mud covered the wound on his breast. The herbwomen had made it for him. Mirri Maz Duur's poultice had itched and burned, and he had torn it off six days ago, cursing her for a maegi. The mud plaster was more soothing, and the herbwomen made him poppy wine as well. He'd been drinking it heavily these past three days; when it was not poppy wine, it was fermented mare's milk or pepper beer.

He takes her poultice off with his dirty hands and she puts a soothing - but likely not antibacterial - poultice on it instead.

Mirri Maz Duur studied Drogo, her face still and dead. "The wound has festered."

That's not a woman who is purposefully trying to get one over on Dany. That's a woman who is frustrated that her patient is not doing what she told him to do while her life hangs in the balance. Mirri warns Dany not to come in the tent, Jorah brings her in anyway, and Dany recognizes that this was Jorah's fault. The very first "if i look back I am lost" comes during this moment-

Ser Jorah had killed her son, Dany knew. He had done what he did for love and loyalty, yet he had carried her into a place no living man should go and fed her baby to the darkness. He knew it too; the grey face, the hollow eyes, the limp. "The shadows have touched you too, Ser Jorah," she told him. The knight made no reply. Dany turned to the godswife. "You warned me that only death could pay for life. I thought you meant the horse." "No," Mirri Maz Duur said. "That was a lie you told yourself. You knew the price." Had she? Had she? If I look back I am lost.

This is why I think it's kinda crazy when people make her "if i look back i am lost" into some sort of powerful rallying cry of justice or feminism or whatever. It's a rationalization. Instead of confronting the fact that Drogo got himself killed and that Dany understood very well the consequences of the magic she asked MMD to do, she buries it, and burns Mirri alive. I get she just had a miscarriage. I get she's young and upset. But Mirri is nothing but good to her and dies for it.

That's why I tend to come at this as being her worst moment, even if it doesn't have quite the level of destruction as sacking Astapor or torturing the wineseller and his daughters. Those are like, colossaly bad decisions but they're ones she's making on a political level. This one is all personal and all the more cruel for it to me.

[hwan-g]

pisces sun

p. artist! hyunjin x fem! reader | g. lovers to strangers to more, nightclub setting, angst, smut | w. profanity, smoking, alcohol consumption, mentions of bisexuality, mentions of infidelity, degradation, unprotected sex, straight up filth tbh, flawed characters — read at your own risk | wc. 3.7k | 18+ minors dni!

synopsis. the tone of his voice—don’t trust me, sweetheart. i will lie to you and get away with it—he thinks you ignored it. he thinks that was a mistake. one he doesn’t care to fix.

Hands made of coal, hands raw, unable to draw. Hyunjin stares down at them as if they’re strangers, blue and purple and transparent. The smoke above his head taunts him, throat burning, begging. Hands of an artist, supposedly, hands of a not-quite-all-thereness. All a fancy way of saying he’s useless now, no point in pretending.

But you. You’d kissed him. Perhaps that mattered more than it should. Perhaps he didn’t give a fuck you were taken or that your lips tasted like cherries and your tongue like pineapple. He just wanted the feeling back—life being breathed into him, dainty fingers tugging on his tank top, eyelashes dancing, heart beating. Wanted. With purpose. He was empty of it, desperate to be filled again.

Hyunjin had touched back. He’d stained, tainted, and was now equally as guilty, at fault. He’d warned you wouldn’t like it, the consequences had been there all along; he was always too rough, always pushing, more more more, in the dark, in alleyways, wasted, high off tobacco, stomach growling, hungry, starving, always always always a different hunger, not for food but for this, for skin, for flesh, for the thing between your legs—

He hadn’t been with a girl in a year. There was nothing delicate left in him, nothing soft now. You didn’t look the type to ask for that, not with the way you’re looking at him, stealing cigarettes right out of his mouth. A thief is what you are. Someone that could take and keep taking, shameless, ruthless in your war crime. There’s been a plan he knows nothing about, and cornering a kitten like you won’t help jack shit, that—that he knows, at least.

Too bad.

You’re cold, but he’s fucking colder. That’s what happens to boys that haven’t seen the sun in a while. They freeze all over, their heart falls in deep slumber under ten feet of snow. It’s what a name can do to you, it’s what yellow hair and freckles, a forest in the summer, a hand you just can’t seem to fucking reach—but no more of that now.

This is night. This is cold, middle of February, hard where it should be soft, softer, and it’s looking at him. Straight at him. You. There’s a jacket somewhere in his house that still smells like you or something like you; a naked tree branch, the sharp taste of wind, the first snowfall. You had no one back then, no one had you. You allowed Hyunjin to fuck you over and over and over, fuck you rough, fuck you over, fuck you up, and finally fucking leave you.

Has he ever been anything other than what he’s claimed to be? Not a good person, a miserable artist with no hands, no inspiration, that’s lost the plot, lost the ability to recognize any.bright.color in this world after, and always after, and then what. What possibly? So, you meet again. Punish him. Show him how he deserves to be treated after he manipulated and scorched you with a power of the sun that was never his to begin with. God knows he was burned, too.

You’d bitten the fuck out of his lip. His arms had shot out, had caged in, and you still didn’t look smaller, even as he towered, even as he had the upper hand. If he were to guess, your cunt was soaked. This kind of thing excited you—the chase, the fight. Even from inside the club, his instinct had been right, as if he’d smelled you. You were near, a girl that could never seem to leave him alone, here, somewhere close, and of course he’d get to you, of course he’d try.

How easy you came along, though—that surprised him, painted a smirk on his face that was too fucking hard to wipe off. It meant you still wanted him, that someone did, that that someone was you, his best mistake. His Frankenstein experiment.

“You have nothing to say,” you scoff and shake your head at him. “Even after everything—typical.”

Hyunjin smiles, he swears it’s genuine. You never gave it easy, he always had to work for it. “I’m a creature of habit, I guess.”

You take a drag of his smoke and you make it last. He wants to choke you out; wrap his long fingers around that pretty neck and make it hurt so good. You’d love it, he knows you would.

“Well now, if that were true, I’d be a boy, wouldn’t I?”

Pure venom. You were hurt, still, after so long. He almost doesn’t blame you. He’d hate himself, too. In fact, he does. Very much so.

“Ouch,” he fakes, rubbing a hand over his heart. “Hit me again. Hit me for real.”

“You’d fucking love that, Hyunjin.”

There’s the laugh he hadn’t heard in a while. Coming right out of his throat. It sounded strange, like a cough. Maybe he was sick. Maybe he wanted to take you in his car and screw you from behind, show you what he’d really love.

“Guilty as charged I’m afraid, sweetheart.”

You kiss him again. Just grab him by the necklace hanging, the silver chain that’d been a gift and twirled it around your index like a ribbon. He smiled again as your tongue slipped past his teeth, as you corrupted and inhaled him. Nothing was ever worth it if it didn’t feel like this, he decided, then. Complete annihilation of self, and yet so fucking selfish at the same time—you were terrible for each other, the best, the only, sometimes, yes, definitely.

When he buries himself in you it’s going to feel like a nuclear explosion. You’ll scratch at his shoulder, leave marks on his back. He probably won’t even be able to eat you out from how sore his mouth would be from merely kissing you. What a battle every moment, every movement against you, with you.

You hate him just enough to try to love him, and that’s exactly what he needs.

He digs his nails into your scalp and pulls your hair. His knee pushes past your thigh and forces your legs open—when he applies pressure there, you gasp, you exhale. You sigh into him. He sees right fucking through you. You want this as much as he does. You’ll do anything, too, be anything.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t bend you over right now,” he rasps in your ear, as his hand circles your wrist, brings your fingers to pay attention to the wetness he feels on the fabric of his pants. “You’re fucking soaked for me.”

Your lips are dry as you breathe. His tongue instinctively licks over the pink, teeth grazing, cheeks cold but insides burning. You look at him with a finality he doesn’t want to face.

“We’re not fucking,” you say, but you watch closely as he brings those fingers to his mouth and licks them all the way down to the base of your knuckles.

Hyunjin hums, not convinced. You taste incredible, just as he remembers. “You’re throbbing, aren’t you? You’re arching your back to dry hump my knee, angel. Your body can’t lie to me.”

You’re on fire, a fire. You’re everywhere, you’re crackling. “But I can’t lie to you.”

It’s the boyfriend, isn’t it? Bitterness will never taste familiar in his mouth. “You’re right,” he agrees. “That’s my job, isn’t it?”

“Don’t feel too sorry for yourself.”

He moves his knee to match your rhythm. You hiss, and drop your forehead on his chest. He wraps his arms around your shoulders and brings you closer, closer, closer. There’s hair in his eyes, a beating heart right under his. He lingers, and inhales deeply. He won’t regret missing you, just as he won’t regret taking back from you. You will leave with him and you will do it willingly, without any second thoughts.

“Drop the act, sweetheart, will you? Burn me alive.”

He feels you moving your head, feels your need to pull away. He keeps you there, and switches his leg for his fingers. By the way your body pulled like a string, he figures you like that better. So, he brushes, remembers how to paint. A stroke there, here, and then a line downwards…

The moan that escapes you feels like compensation. A mewling thing, almost reminiscent of a cry. There’s tears running down your thighs, he wants to tease you, but he’s sure you can feel them. Your legs are bare, freezing. You were never scared of a little cold.

“Hasn’t he noticed you’re gone?” He taunts you, condescending, suffers with you. “Surely he should’ve come out looking for you by now. Where’s your knight, huh? Why hasn’t he caught me playing with his girlfriend’s little cunt yet?”

Your fist digs into his collarbone. “Shut up, Hyunjin. You’re only doing this to aid your fantasies.”

Touché. “And yet he’s nowhere to be found.”

“What would you do, anyway?” But you’re panting, you’re shaking. His middle finger, the one with the ring—it’s deep inside you now, it’s curling, it’s found you. “Beat him up? Please. He’s better than that, you’re worse than that.”

He feels his lips curve, and stretch. There’s malice running through his veins, barely contained. “How well you know me,” he muses, his voice but a whisper. His hand cups, moves faster. He has you where he wants you now. His arm digs around the small of your back, as he feels you struggle to get more, to find better friction, release.

Not too far now.

“I know you, too,” he continues, voice rough, on edge. Severe. “I know you hate the other side of me, the one that thought you weren’t enough. Say I fucked up and should’ve stayed with you. Say you hate my guts but love the way I fuck you and come with me. Leave it all behind for me.”

You cum as a hysterical laugh rips from your chest. He rides your high and stays with you till the end. You still don’t look at him, but he can tell by your stance—you’re offended, you hate that he’s right. You hate that this wasn’t enough, either, and that his cock would satiate the thirst in you once and for all if you just gave in. Even if it’s just for tonight. He’s fine with that for right now. He’ll work for more later.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You ask mockingly but he hears none of it.

“Say it.”

“Fuck you.”

His hand forces your head up, cups your jaw and makes you look at him. Your eyes are glossy with unshed tears. He smiles. He thinks it’s mercy.

“Good,” he pets and smooths. “Say it, sweetheart.”

He almost felt you were his, so close he held you. Anyone that passed would’ve mistaken you two as being passionately in love, embracing each other like there was no fucking oxygen on this earth when apart. Hyunjin could pretend that was the case, if he wanted to. He could do many things.

Be inside you was one.

His hold on your face was bruising but your lips looked so plushy, so inviting. He stole a kiss as you were grasping for breath. Being with you, burning his entire collection of paintings and his art studio all together—it equaled the same thing. A madness that can only be found in him. A need for destruction of anything good that ever came of anything—hands unable to do the one thing they were destined to, but they traced your face so prettily, cradled it so carefully and yet so brutally, with all the fucking strength he possessed.

It wasn’t violence, no. It was an alikeness, a recognition from long ago. He did say there was no softness left in him, none to be found in you. What was he supposed to do with hard pavement and a cold so cold it trespassed any sort of warmth, any sort of fever?

Forgive that. He was very drunk. He craved a cigarette.

“You should’ve stayed with me,” you say finally, after a long while of silence and looking through and beyond. “You’d been kind once. A poet. You would drown in anyone. Looks like he drowned you.”

“Icarus falling to his death.” A story told by constellations.

You blink, disagree. “Narcissus petrified in place, staring down the lake. You’re no naivety, Hyunjin, no reaching too far.”

He’d underestimated you, played himself. Your finger passed over his curved lips, feeling the irony there. He pushed it away, replaced it with your wetness. He sucked on his digits, never once looking elsewhere, admitting this, whatever this was, and accepting it at the same time. He had been bettered.

Still, he needed you. Needed this.

“Don’t trust me, sweetheart. I will lie to you and get away with it.”

The tone of his voice— he thinks you ignored it. He thinks that was a mistake. One he doesn’t care to fix. When you grab his hand he pulls immediately.

It’s a short walk to his car but he smokes anyway. You changed this small thing for him now, took it away. That, too. You call him terrible, but you’re just as. It rings between you.

He opens the door but not for you, and gets inside. He leaves you stand for a second while he takes a long drag and lets his gaze roam over you, landing on your face, the smudge under your eyes. He considers it seriously, doing this again with you. You don’t seem self conscious or awkward looking back, just determined and eternally angry with him. That will do. That’s great, actually. Maybe you’ll draw blood, maybe you’ll reach for the gun in his glove department and shoot his brains out.

It’s been a tough year. If you were vain you’d blame it on his bad decision. You don’t because you know better. Hyunjin will put words in your mouth but won’t dare believe them, either. In a sense, he’s a coward, isn’t he? Even now, so close to what he wanted all along, he hesitates. Should he let you in, replace sunshine for winter, cologne for perfume—he’d sit you on his lap and lift your skirt up. He’d fuck you while staring into your judgmental eyes.

Change. What a fucking gamble.

Eh, he’ll take it. He’s nothing to lose.

“Don’t you dare fall in love with me, do you hear me?” And he grabs you by the forearm, brings you in, on top, thumbs touching under your eyes, dragging the liner further, sinking you deeper into the night.

You grit your teeth, watch as he makes you into an animal, just for him. You let him only because you’d like to be anything else but yourself right now. Not a girl that betrays and gets in cars with self destructive boys, but a fox, a cat, a wolf, something with teeth and claws that can fight her way back out, can win against Hwang Hyunjin. You’re helpless, he can tell.

He opens your mouth by squeezing your cheeks in his palm and spits in it. He waits for a reaction, a rebellion, a rejection, even, though he doubts it. Your thighs are on either side of him, and his cock is aligned perfectly underneath your warm, wet cunt. Hyunjin wants to be crude with you, wants to challenge and reshape, bring back the girl that would let him fuck her in public restrooms at random biker clubs off the highway, the girl that would snort white powder from his naked body as he was sexting another boy, not a fucking care in the world, not a clue. Sweet oblivion.

He wanted to bring the worst out of you again. He needed you as desperate, as heartbroken, as ashamed as he was.

“Love is the last thing on my mind,” as you kiss him, as you can’t wait to ride him.

What a joke. “Tsk,” he clicks his tongue against his teeth, mocking, a predator smiling at his prey. “You’re lying to me already. Good.”

Your groan against his neck sends shivers down his spine. He wants more. He wants more. He squeezes, gropes, scratches—he’ll have it, one way or another. He’ll have this, damn it all, because he can’t have the other, he can’t have him, and it’s not revenge but it’s not love, either, it’s the madness that surges through him, the temptation of something else, the pain of knowing, the fear.

You’ll understand. You will, because you care. He’ll play it against you if he has to.

“Fuck me already, won’t you?” You complain and unzip, reaching for his hardening cock between you, blinking emptily as you feel the sticky pre-cum on your fingers. “Huh,” he watches as you bring it towards your wetness, rubbing back and forth, testing how it feels against your folds.

He tries to hold back a reaction but fails. You’re as much a thorn on his side as the boy, you’ve as much control, as much influence. Who is he fucking kidding.

“This brings back memories,” you say, mournfully.

Hyunjin doesn’t have time for those. They haunt him day and night as it is. It’s enough. It’s fucking plenty. So, he grabs you by the arms and slams you down on his dick, hard and uncaring. Your back arches, your breasts bop. He thinks he heard his name come from your lips, curses following, but even so, he welcomes it all.

Being like this with you, it feels much like breaking the rules. Like not knowing where he stands in the world. Every time he got lost, you were there for him to run to. This is no different. A star to guide him, a girl that’s much like him. Perhaps only in that way, he deserved you. You deserved each other.

“Missed this?” He asks as he refuses you your own rhythm, instead opting to piston into your hole as maniacally as his mind is racing. “Your pussy is telling me yes, angel.”

You were grasping for breath, a ragged doll reduced to pornstar moans and nonsensical words. Every time his hips met yours halfway, you’d scream and dig your nails into his clothed thighs. It didn’t hurt, though Hyunjin wishes it did. You were always his favorite kitten.

“Lost your words, huh?” His hand swipes up and lands on your tear stained cheek. Your eyes speak of hate and malice as they bore into his. He smirks and spits in your open mouth again. “You used to love this, sweetheart—your cunt can’t lie to me. It’s eating me right up.”

“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you—ah!”

He picks up his pace, feeling himself getting close, and pictures shooting his load in you, deep in you; how embarrassed you’d be knowing you’ll be carrying him in there for a while, a reminder of how you fought but ultimately lost. Hyunjin loves getting under your skin, loves fucking you into oblivion even more.

He switches his hold from your arms to your neck, fingers wrapping securely around the sensitive part, just enough, just right, and angles your body in a way that makes his cock hit inside you deeper. You gasp, and try to hold onto something, anything—the door handle and the windshield, while you’ve no control over any of it now, he truly has you trapped. He truly intends to keep you, too.

“That’s it, sweetheart, clamp around me, drown me, just like that, let me see it—” he unwraps one of your hands, making you fall back, as he uses your fingers to rub circles on your clit, and it truly has no beginning and no end, your limbs are all tangled, his hips are on fire, his dick is moments from exploding, and you look so fucking good pleasuring yourself while he buries himself deep in your soaking folds—

“Please, please…” you’re sobbing now, you’re in pain, he can see, but he won’t do anything about it. “Hyun—Hyunjin, I can’t, I can’t—”

“You will,” he growls, and he stills as he spurts, as your walls clench around him, as he paints them white. He withdraws his hold, and pulls you close, your skin sweaty against his feverish face. He wraps around your waist, and his forehead falls against your shoulder, hair wet, wrapping tighter, tighter, until your heartbeats are one, until his release is yours and yours his, until your breathing calms down.

You’re hyperventilating. His mind swarms with a thousand bees.

“You will,” he repeats, and pats your hair down. “And it’s gonna happen again and again, until nothing matters… until I’m punished.”

You’re shaking uncontrollably. He holds you. He thinks you might be crying.

“I don’t want to punish you,” you whisper in the quiet of a car that reminds him nothing of you, everything of someone else. “I want you to take me home for once. I want you to hug me and know you’re here, whole. Present.”

It’s what’s always holding him back. The deal breaker. The one thing—his invisibility being questioned. But that’s long been gone now, hasn’t it? A sunny boy banged against that glass case and broke everything inside. There’s not much of that illusion left.

“It’s not going to happen, angel,” he soothes, reassures. “Not anytime soon.”

You don’t look at him and you’re right to do so. He doesn’t want to look at you, either. Once, he’d loved you. When love blooms it never truly dies. It withers. It’s reborn again. But permanent death?

You’re sitting in remnants of a relationship, connected as only limbs can be. He can’t quite fool himself now.

“But it will,” you sound sure. Tired. Guilty. “Like you said.”

Hyunjin laughs at that. Poison ivy, wrapping around his fucking neck—his words. He’s lost worse, but a loss is a loss just the same. He has to give it to you.

“You might be better at this than I am, sweetheart.”

A huff of breath against his skin. His lip curves.

“Lies,” you say.

“See?”

He’ll usher you in the backseat, he’ll take you from behind. You won’t say another word to each other, but later you’ll call your boyfriend and ask where he is. He’ll lie, too, and you’ll know, but you’ll go back to him anyway. Hyunjin will let you, only because now he’s wrapped a string around your throat.

He can pull at it anytime.

tags. @ughbehavior, @cb97percent, @j-0ne25, @danyxthirstae01, @streetlight-s, @amnmich, @imtoooyoungforthisshit.

[dorims]

make you fix me [ sneak peak ]

gif creds @/endiness

roman roy x therapist!reader

wc. ~550

genre. fluff, angst,

spiraling into a more than confusing dynamic, roman roy's relationships have always disrupted the balance between professionalism and an HR complaint. It wasn't his fault his authentic-roy-ways didn't follow the 'being a decent human being' guidebook. People fell in love with their therapists all the time anyway, and being a nepo-baby billionaire didn't save him of that fate.

tags. WORKING TITLE, NO BETA AS OF RN, prone to grammar mistakes !! the story is set some time after s4 as of rn, gif is not representative of the timeline this takes place in, allusions to abuse, being dismissive of therapy, roman uses the word looney as an insult once, tags will be added as the story progresses, these are mainly for the text below the cut

a/n. this is a little sneak peak of one my wips! the full document has 3.5k words ish but im aiming for at least 7k, maybe a little more. if anyone wants to join the tag list for this fic please send me an ask off anon or with your url

“Are you writing that down?” He frowned, “why are you writing that down? I literally just said I wasn’t.”

Yet again, another bold demonstration of your therapeutic ineptitude. You dared to look up at him for a couple of seconds too long, scanning him over until his eyes widened in confusion while he jostled his hands in the air, preparing to retaliate. But just when he started stringing words together, you decided to start what seemed like a new sentence.

“What are you even writing?!” He wanted to tear all his hair from the roots. “I haven't said anything!”

“Well, you have.”

“It doesn’t matter!” Groaning in protest, he scooted closer to the edge of the couch, almost like he wanted to stand up. “I said nothing that means anything.”

“Then,” you clicked your pen, and his gaze immediately zeroed in on your fingers toying with the shiny metal. He gulped, knowingly so, like waiting for the stationary to stab him in the neck. But nothing had happened, and instead, he missed the way you [had noticed] “There’s nothing you should worry about.”

His shoulders dropped with the heavy weight of being scrutinized. One would have thought he would’ve been used to it by now. But from experience, he had learned that the everlasting bitterness of getting examined under a microscope would always linger. No matter what he tried, the only way of coping with it was to wait for it to pass with his tail between his legs. 

“Can you just like stop? Writing?” With his elbows resting on his knees and his face burrowed against the nook of his hands, his voice came out pityingly muffled, much like the hint of the child he had been tasked to cast aside way too soon.

 “Why?”

“Because, it’s, fuckin’ weird?” He forced himself to stare straight at the spot right between his Oxfords, shaking his head in disbelief as he attempted a laugh. “I’m not paying you to scribble on your looney book.”

You had hummed once more, and he had wanted to tell you to stop. With his gaze still zeroed on the floor, he failed to notice how the plain Moleskin had been pushed to the side, neatly closed in a genuine display of concern. Or as genuine as a therapist would allow themselves to be during their first session. 

“Then what are you paying me for?”

“To like, you know,” he shrugged in disbelief. “Ask me to draw a stick figure under the rain and tell me how to fix this.”

“Fix this?”

“Yeah, this.” The words had left his tongue sitting, heavy in his mouth, and the rest that wanted to tumble out felt foreign in size and shape, though similar in weight to that of shame. The same one that had seeped from between his teeth and gums and skin countless times when the inconceivable consequences of his actions caught up to him growing up. Shame so thick it would put blood to shame, though they sure shared the same taste. And it had always been easier to spit it out in private, drown the aftertaste with fierce scrubbing and hide the searing imprints on his cheeks underneath the covers. But the walls surrounding him were no longer the ones in his childhood bedroom, and you were still waiting on an answer. “Fix, I don’t know…me?”

[stargazer-sims]

Count On Me

Like your favourite chair, I'll hold you close whether you lose or win. I'm that breath of air flowing out and flowing right back in. I hope you know that I am here, always close and always near.

♫ Count on Me - Diana Ross ♫

_______________

This will make more sense if you've already read Full Circle and Broken Glass

CONTENT WARNING - violence, death

_______________

"Ugh... I suck." Fox sinks onto his sister's couch with all the grace of a seal flopping onto a beach rock. He leans his head against one of the decorative cushions on the back of of the sofa and lets out a groan. "I never imagined I'd screw up a conversation so much. And with my own kid, no less."

Now that he's calm, he realizes how exhausted he is. He navigates difficult situations all the time at work with kids in care, biological parents, foster parents, and professionals connected to each of his clients, but none of those interactions ever seem to drain him as much as this one conversation with his teenage son has.

He'd shared everything with Clancy in the car on the way over to her house, all about his confrontation with Forest and what had led up to it in the first place, and about his frustration and sense of inadequacy to handle it. Clancy was sympathetic, but he could tell she also had a lot she wanted to say. To her credit, though, she hadn't offered any of her own opinions in the car. She'd let him talk

Clancy hands him a mug of tea and then sets her own mug on the coffee table before sitting down next to him. "You don't suck. Your kid sucks."

"No, he doesn't."

"Okay, maybe not him personally, but it sounds like his attitude could use a serious adjustment."

"I don't know where we went wrong," Fox says. "None of our other kids are like this. Not that they're angelic or anything, but the other five combined don't give us as much trouble as Forest does. I thought we were parenting them all more or less the same way, but we must've dropped the ball with Forest."

"I don't know why you think it has to be your fault, or Takahiro's," Clancy says.

"Because we're his parents."

"And?"

"And we're supposed to teach him how to be his best self," he says.

"Kids are individuals, you know," Clancy points out. "You can try your hardest, but at the end of the day, they're the only ones who can decide if they're gonna be the best version of themselves or not. Forest is seventeen. He's going to make his own choices whether you like them or not."

"Yeah, but I hoped he'd make better ones."

"We all want that," Clancy says. "I want Grey and Frankie to make good choices too, but they're getting to an age where I have less and less influence over them. Especially Frankie. A sixteen year old with a driver's license and a part-time job? That kid thinks she owns the world."

"I'll bet she's never openly questioned your love though, or looked you in the face and told you to shut up."

"She knows better than to do that," Clancy declares. "She's free to make her own choices, with the understanding that every choice has consequences. I might not be able to spank her any more, but she knows I'm not above handing out other punishments."

"You know Taka and I don't punish our kids."

"Maybe you should," she says. "I know you guys are into that gentle parenting or whatever, but sometimes trying to reason with a kid is about as effective as banging your head against a brick wall. I'm not saying you're failures as parents, because you're totally not, but I think a few well-placed slaps on the bum when he was little might've done Forest some good."

"Violence isn't the answer, Clancy."

"Nobody's telling you to commit violence," she counters. "People shouldn't be indiscriminately hitting their kids every time they make some little mistake. All I'm saying is that on the occasions when using your words isn't getting the job done, sometimes you have to use other methods."

Fox sets his tea down on the end table and then turns to fix his sister with a level gaze. "Such as assaulting children?"

"Oh my God." Clancy lets out her breath in an audible huff. "I see where Forest got that hard head from."

"Excuse me?"

"Fox, you're deliberately missing the point," says his sister. "Look, I know spanking was never in your playbook, and it's fine. It hasn't been in mine either since Frankie was maybe six or seven years old. My point was, sometimes just talking to a kid isn't enough. Sometimes they need a stronger message."

"Such as?"

"Such as consequences that make them think about their actions. Some people have to learn things the hard way."

"I guess that makes sense," Fox concedes.

"Of course it makes sense," Clancy says. "Forest needs to understand he's not entitled to a free ride through life and that he can't get away with throwing a tantrum when things don't go his way, and you and Takahiro need to teach him that before someone else does, 'cause they won't love him like you do and... you know."

"We'll give him a safety net, and other people won't."

"Exactly."

Fox sighs. "Why can't parenting be easier?"

"If I knew how to make it easier, I'd write a book, make millions of dollars off it, and retire from the police force." Clancy gives him a half-smile. "Incidentally, if you think you've got it hard, you should try parenting by yourself.

"Sorry," Fox says. "I wasn't thinking of—"

"No, don't apologize. I was the one who brought it up." She reaches for her own mug of tea. Several seconds pass as she holds the mug between both hands and gazes into it. "The actual parenting part wasn't any less difficult when Garrett was alive. It's just... I miss being able to discuss things with him, and I miss us backing each other up."

"I don't know how you got through it," Fox tells her. "I'd be devastated if anything happened to Takahiro. I have no idea how I'd survive losing him."

"You'd survive," Clancy says. "I can't tell you how, but you'd do it somehow. If you were on your own, you'd have no choice. You'd find a way to do it for your kids."

His sister is right. As much as he knows a part of him would want to lie down and surrender, he would go on for the sake of his children, just like Clancy did. "I guess I would."

"You would," Clancy reiterates. "Sink or swim, you know? It's what you've got to do."

Fox nods. "I know."

He recalls the day, eight years ago, when his brother-in-law Garrett died. It had started as a perfectly normal Friday in early August, and Fox had been at the office finishing some paperwork and writing notes on the files one of his co-workers, Chloë St-Jean, would be overseeing for him while he was on vacation for the following two weeks. His mind hadn't been entirely on the task. He'd been too busy daydreaming about his family's upcoming camping adventure. He pictured himself playing and exploring with Taka and their kids, spending hot, hazy afternoons painting by the lake, making s'mores and singing campfire songs, and then snuggling by the slowly fading fire with Taka after all the kids were tucked into their sleeping bags.

Lost inside his own head, he barely acknowledged the approaching sound of police sirens on the street outside his office window. About fifteen minutes later, the distinctive wail of ambulance sirens racing past the building didn't entirely register either. It was only when Chloë dashed through the open doorway of his office with her phone in her hand and a wild look in her eyes that he pulled himself away from his reverie.

She announced herself with, "I just got a call from my brother."

"What happened?" Fox asked, and then because Chloë seemed so upset, "Is he okay?"

"Yeah, he and Belle are fine, thank God. They're shaken up, probably like everyone else, but they're not hurt."

"What happened?" he asked again.

"Fox! There was a literal high-speed chase outside your window, like twenty minutes ago, and you didn't notice?"

"A high-speed chase? In downtown Willow Creek?" He was thoroughly confused and knew he sounded incredulous, but he couldn't help it. "I heard the sirens, but I didn't realize—"

"Davian said the car the cops were chasing crashed straight through the front of the building where his studio is," she explained, breathless. "Some people in the building got hurt, and Dav said they could hear shooting outside and he thinks somebody might've died, but he didn't know if it was a police officer or one of the bad guys or somebody else."

As things unfolded, Fox learned that more than one person had lost their life. While Chloë was still in his office, trying to calm herself down after the phone call with her brother, Fox's own phone rang. It was his sister.

"Fox, I need you." Clancy's normally strong, assertive demeanour had been replaced by a voice so weak and small that he almost didn't recognize it. "I got a call from dispatch. It... it's Garrett. There was a situation... something happened downtown."

She offered as much information as she knew, and asked Fox to meet her at the hospital. When he arrived at the ER, he found Clancy, her partner Harry, and two uniformed officers standing in the waiting area, apparently heedless of the handful of unoccupied chairs. To an outside observer, Clancy might've seemed steady and composed, but Fox could tell she was a hair's breadth away from losing it. He couldn't speak for Harry or the two patrol officers, but he knew why Clancy wasn't sitting. The instant she let herself relax, she'd fall apart.

The uniformed cops started to move toward him as if they might try to stop him from getting to his sister, but Harry reached out and put a hand on one of their shoulders. "That's her twin brother. It's fine."

Fox hadn't wanted to be right, but the moment Clancy was in his arms, she let out a sound that was so filled with anguish that it couldn't have been mistaken for anything else. Then, she began to sob. It was as if every tear she'd never allowed herself to shed throughout her life finally burst out of her in an almighty flood.

He'd never seen his sister like that before, and he hoped to God he'd never witness anything like it again. He didn't know what to do, so he just held her as tightly as he could and let her cry.

Clancy was wholly incapable of getting any coherent words out, so it was Harry who told him, "He didn't make it. Garrett, I mean." The detective clenched his huge fists and growled, "That bastard got him."

Harry went on to explain that Garrett and his partner had responded to a 911 call from an employee at a downtown bank who reported an armed robbery in progress. Just as they arrived on scene, the two armed suspects exited the bank and jumped into a waiting car where a third person was already behind the wheel. That, Fox learned, resulted in the chase Chloë had seen from her office window. Harry couldn't say if the getaway driver had lost control of the vehicle or if he'd smashed through the front of a building on purpose, but the collision had effectively ended the chase.

The driver of the getaway car was killed on impact. The back seat passenger, who was still armed with his gun from the robbery, scrambled out of the car and attempted to escape, but he was injured too. He fired at other officers who'd arrived on the scene, but he didn't get far before they were able to disarm and apprehend him.

Meanwhile, Garrett and his partner were checking on the front seat passenger. The guy was obviously injured, and according to what Harry found out from Garrett's partner, they thought the man was unconscious. When Garrett reached in through the smashed car window to check for a pulse, the man suddenly opened his eyes, grabbed Garrett's wrist with one hand and whipped out a previously concealed knife with the other. Before anyone had time to react, the man plunged the long, sharp blade directly into Garrett's neck.

The paramedics made a valiant effort to save him, but he'd passed away in the ambulance, less than a kilometre from the hospital.

"This job's a fucking nightmare some days," Harry concluded. "We all know the danger, but it's like you put it out of your mind so you can get shit done. And then you develop this thing where you start to believe it's never gonna happen to you. Or to somebody you love."

Clancy and Garrett had loved each other passionately, and they both knew the risks. They'd met when Clancy was still a patrol officer too, and despite the warnings of their parents and their fellow officers that getting involved with another cop wasn't a great idea, they would not be deterred.

Six months after they met, Clancy earned all her qualifications to become a detective. Six months after that, she and Garrett got married in a stunningly elaborate ceremony. complete with a police honour guard made up of their colleagues and friends.

They were over the moon when baby Francine came along, and just as elated at the birth of Greyson three years later. It was obvious to everybody who knew them how devoted they were to each other and to their little family, and their bond only grew stronger as time went on.

They loved like there was no tomorrow, as Garrett's mother had put it, or in Garrett's own words, "Make it count. Do all the living you can while you've got a life to live."

Fox was left utterly shaken by the description of his brother-in-law's last minutes. He couldn't imagine what it must've been like for Clancy to hear it again.

"Can I take her home?" he asked Harry.

At that, Clancy raised her head from his shoulder. "No," she said weakly. "I can't go. Not until I see my husband."

So, they waited.

When a doctor eventually came out and said Clancy would be permitted to view the body, both Fox and Harry went with her. When she saw her husband lying on the gurney, with a pristine white bandage across his throat, Clancy let out a scream so feral that Fox struggled to accept it was coming from a human. The sound of his sister's pain and the image of her cradling the pale, still body of her husband had haunted his dreams for months after that.

When they finally did depart the hospital, Fox had to guide her to his car. She stumbled along beside him, seemingly unaware of anything, mumbling things to herself that Fox was unable to comprehend.

He'd been afraid to leave her, so he took her to his own house. Knowing Frankie and Grey were safe with Garrett's parents, he made the decision to let them stay there undisturbed for the time being. Clancy was in no condition to help her kids, and Fox knew they'd be even more traumatized by what had happened if they saw their mother in that state.

As soon as they walked through the front door, Takahiro was there to meet them. He held out his arms to Clancy and she stepped straight into his waiting embrace. Open-hearted Takahiro, with his gift for comforting others, didn't say he was sorry or utter any meaningless platitudes. All he said was, "We're here for you."

Fox could visually observe the tension leaving Clancy's body. She sagged in Taka's arms and whispered, "Thank you, Takahiro."

It wasn't until the next morning that Clancy was ready to be with her kids, and even then she wasn't able to tell them about Garrett herself. It was actually Takahiro who’d broken the news to them and, in his gentle way, answered their questions about what dying meant.

Fox was grateful. He wasn't sure he could've handled it as gracefully as Taka did, and when he said as much to his husband later, Taka's response had been, "It's all right. Sometimes people need help from someone who's one step away. Close enough to care, but not too close to see things in perspective."

That piece of wisdom is something Fox has carried with him ever since. He thinks he fulfills that role in the lives of his clients, his niece and nephew and his friends, and he's taught himself to recognize when he needs someone to step into that role for him. As much as he wants to prove he's grown enough to manage things on his own, the truth is that he can't keep all the proverbial balls in the air by himself. No one can.

"Hey."

Fox realizes he's allowed too long a pause in the conversation when his sister's one-word sentence interrupts his reminiscence. He glances over at her. "Sorry."

"You okay?" she asks.

"Yeah. I was just thinking."

"About...?"

"Garrett," he admits. "Sorry if that's weird."

"It's not," Clancy says. "I was thinking about him too."

"Because of what I said?"

"Not really," she says. "There isn't a single day where I don't think about him at least once. Sometimes it's the most random thing that'll remind me of him. Like, when I accidentally burn the toast at breakfast, or when I catch myself squeezing the toothpaste in the middle. That annoyed Garrett so much. He used to say I was wasting it."

Fox smiles. "Taka gets after me for being a middle-squeezer too."

Clancy releases an abrupt laugh. "A middle-squeezer?"

"That's what he calls it. He's an end-squeezer, and he thinks that's the only correct way to squeeze out toothpaste. He also thinks there's only one correct way to put a roll of toilet paper on the holder too."

"There is. I had it on good authority from my late husband."

"We have to heed the experts," Fox says.

"Yeah," says Clancy. "God, I miss him. Sometimes I still come up with stuff I want to tell him, and I have these moments where I think 'I can't wait to tell Garrett when I get home from work'. But then I remember, and... yeah."

"So then you call and tell me."

"I'm glad you don't ignore my calls, even when it's about something dumb like seeing a stray chicken in the parking lot at Tim Hortons."

It's Fox's turn to laugh. "Can you imagine the lame jokes Garrett would've made about that? But yeah... you know I'll never ignore your calls. I'm here for you, one hundred percent."

"Same goes for you," Clancy says. "And you're not wrong about the jokes. Garrett thought he'd be a great stand-up comic, you know. He used to write down all his best material, as he called it. Kept it in a notebook in the apartment."

"The garage apartment?"

"Yeah. Well, it wasn't the garage apartment then, but you know what I mean."

As far as Fox knows, Clancy and Garrett's attached garage had never actually had a vehicle in it. The previous owners had been using it primarily for storage, and when Clancy and Garrett bought the house, Garrett decided it'd make a perfect family room. They had the garage door removed and replaced by a regular wall, had a small bathroom built in one corner, and moved in their big-screen TV, exercise equipment, pool table and an old sofa Clancy got from one of their cousins. Fox and Taka had spent many evenings hanging out with Clancy and Garrett, chatting and watching movies while all the kids played together nearby.

After Garrett passed, Clancy had the space converted into a bachelor flat so she could rent it out and supplement her income. She hired a contractor to construct a kitchenette and to install a separate entrance so her tenants wouldn't have to enter or exit through the house.

"Do you go in there much?" Fox asks. "To the garage apartment?"

"Only to collect the rent, or to fix stuff or clean up after somebody leaves," she says. "I gotta go in there this weekend, actually. I thought the student I had was going to stay for the whole school year, but she up and left. Decided she was going to move in with her boyfriend instead. She left it looking okay, but I still have to clean the floors and give the bathroom a good scrub."

"If you need help, let me know."

"Why? Are you going to send your kids to..." She lets the sentence fade and then grins at him. "Oh, wait."

"What?"

"I just had a genius idea," Clancy declares. "It's brilliant. Kind of a win-win, you might say."

"So, tell me what it is."

"You really could send one of your kids to the garage apartment. I mean, if Forest wants to move out so badly, maybe he should."

"And you think he should move in here?"

"Why not?" says Clancy. "He has a part-time job, doesn't he? He could pay me a little bit of rent every month. You wouldn't have him disrespecting you under your roof any more, and he'd learn how to be responsible for himself."

"I don't think he could do that, being totally on his own."

"He wouldn't be totally on his own. I'd keep an eye on him to make sure he's not going completely off the rails." She winks conspiratorially. "We just wouldn't tell him he's being surveilled."

"He wouldn't last a week," Fox says.

"Weren't you ready to let him run off to Japan by himself earlier today?" Clancy inquires.

"Do you think I actually believed he would?"

"You called his bluff."

"I did," Fox confesses.

"I'll bet Mom and Dad didn't believe you'd run away, but you did. They didn't think you'd make it on your own either, but you did that too."

"Fair point, but the difference between me and Forest is that my life was actually terrible and I had a valid reason to run away. I had to get out of there, and I was ready to change. Plus, I was twenty-five and fully educated."

"True, but the end goal is still the same," Clancy insists. "Look how much getting out from under our parents' roof did for you."

Fox considers it. He likes Clancy's plan in theory and he's thankful that she's willing to covertly supervise Forest, but he's not totally convinced his son could cope with being independent. As much as he wants Forest to learn that particular lesson, it'll defeat the purpose of the experiment if Forest begs to come home after only a few days.

"I'll have to discuss it with Taka," he says.

"I'd be concerned if you didn't," Clancy replies. "You can let me know what you decide, but don't take too long, okay? I want to advertise it for rent again if Forest isn't going to be moving in."

"Okay," Fox says. "Hopefully, we'll be able to let you know by the weekend."

[vanishingcherry]

lost in translation -> send in a character/driver + prompt and ill write a blurb! (ive added some links below for ideas)

carlos + "I'll let you break my heart this time, if that make you feel better - just please be mine again"

UN-BREAK MY HEART

masterlist 1k celly

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

Your eyes were shut tight, a desperate attempt to hold back as many tears as possible. A feeble endeavour, considering how many had already fallen, streaks visible on your cheeks.

Carlos was standing in front of you, a hopeless expression on his face as he struggled to keep his hands by his thighs, wanting nothing more than to touch you, comfort you. Still, he stayed there, knowing that he didn't deserve that, not right now at least, not when he was the reason you were crying.

"Mi amor..." he says, mouth parting in desperation as he wracks his brain for something to say that could fix this, but nothing came to mind.

He had fucked up, over and over and over, till it went too far. You had left soon after, and he had been left to deal with the consequences of his own actions. He couldn't live without you, he was a mess, unable to function. He told himself that it was his fault, and that he should leave you alone, but soon found himself knocking on your door after one too many glasses of wine.

"I'll let you break my heart this time, if that will make you feel better. Just please, please, be mine again."

"That's not how this works."

Those were the first words you had uttered since you opened the door almost 10 minutes ago. Carlos had dived straight into an apology upon seeing you, not giving you a chance to make him leave. As stupid as it sounded, something in him relaxed at the sound of your voice, even though what you had said only brought his heart crashing down.

"I know, I- I'm so sorry, for everything, carino. Just- I need you to tell me how to fix this, I'll do anything, anything in the world", he whispers, building up the courage to walk closer to you and take your hands into his.

He softly brushes his knuckles across your cheek, wiping away a tear as his eyes look pleadingly into your own.

You look down, breaking the eye contact, knowing that you would give in if you looked at his expression for even a second more.

"I don't- I don't know, Carlos. I just- I'm tired."

He swallows, slowly nodding his head. "Okay, thats okay." he says softly. "I shouldn't have come here so late at night anyways, I'm sorry."

He lightly pulls you in the direction of your room, letting you enter, making sure not to walk in himself.

"I'm going to go, okay? But I still love you, so much, and I'm going to prove it to you."

You nod before slowly closing the bedroom door, getting ready for bed as you realise just how much you want him to fix things, just how much you miss him too.

[lavandula-ipsum]

Chrysalis | Unclean (ch. 1/2)

Luke Skywalker x Reader | angst, hurt/comfort, non-sexual intimacy, descriptions of injuries | 1.5k words

Summary: After (Y/N) was captured, she was abandoned for unending days in hell. Only one sign indicated that she was still alive, the name she kept calling through the Force, even after she lost all hope. Luke.

For him, this has been all his fault. He should have been there.

Now his dearest friend is back to safety, sitting in the water, her spirit beaten and distorted. “Can’t get out yet. I’m not clean enough,” she insists. Luke does his best to swallow his anger. All he can do now is stay by her side.

Link to AO3 | pt. 2

With the currents of the Force feeling elusive to his grasp, Luke can’t concentrate. Too many accusations reverberate in the air. With a sigh, he pushes all distractions aside in order to see them better and represses a displeased sigh when he finds that they come from within himself. It’s the same old voices that he’s trained to push away when they come wailing bitter memories of failure. But they’re louder this time as he contemplates how they make his fists tremble on his lap no matter how hard he struggles with his wrath. But he must drown it. What they’re asking is not wise, it will not fix what’s broken. 

It won’t heal her pain. It won’t bring her peace.

There’s no changing the past, but all the chances he’s missed in the last few hours, the consequences of arriving too late when he was needed most… 

Also there’s no way he could focus on meditation with Han shuffling through their bags, his usual avoidance mixing with the dread already floating in the room with an accentuated need for a distraction.

“What are you doing?”

“Finally, thanks for stepping out of your trance, kid.” Solo signals to the bathroom door with a reluctant grimace on his face. “Does she have a change of clothes?”

Luke takes a few seconds to answer. It's true that the girls’ bag got left behind in the chaos. Barely a few days ago, (Y/N) had shrugged it off like it wasn’t a big deal. We’re supposed to be back soon, aren’t we? Little did she know about the gruesome end this mission would have. That she’d be captured

“Where’s Leia?”

“She helped (Y/N) earlier, I think, then left her soaking. She’s gone down with Lando and Chewie to try get us a passage out of this ball of mud now.” He scoffs at his friend’s sudden furrowed brow. “Don’t blame her, she said (Y/N) insisted on being left alone.”

The young Jedi’s attention is now directed towards the adjacent room, where the girl’s aura vibrates almost imperceptibly. He’s only ever sensed her this quiet when she’s sedated. However, she hasn’t slept yet. All offerings of tranquilizers were turned away, insisting that all she needed was to wash off the grime.

“Threepio?”

“They needed him, so he also went.” Han grunts, passing a hand over his face. “Look, kid, I know this isn't the best moment. But I don't wanna go and spook her. Do you have anything?” 

Take charge , he’s begging. The young Jedi swallows and starts rummaging through the few things he's brought. “Not much, a clean shirt.” 

Behind him, Artoo chirps some sassy remark he can’t answer but with an annoyed grimace. While Han keeps looking through his own things, Luke gazes down to a clean change of underwear and hopes (Y/N) won't get offended when he offers it to her. He’s then again forced out of his thoughts when the ex smuggler hands him a pair of pants.

“These are Lando’s.” 

“Yep. They're nicer. And he has to spare.”

“And you don’t? Gross.”

“Who are you to talk, you monk?”

“I wash my clothes,” Luke complains, raising an eyebrow. Han throws the pile of clothes they’ve gathered to his face, causing the astrodroid to beep in amusement. 

After rolling his eyes, Luke signals the droid to wait for him in the room while he steps into the dark corridor. 

“Hey kid, I’m heading down to the lobby to keep watch of things, ok?”

“Alright. Thank you, Han.”

The ex-smuggler barely looks at him, but he squeezes his shoulder warmly when passing by him on his way to the door. Once he’s alone again, Luke finds himself standing in front of the closed door to the bathroom, his hand hovering over the handle. The cold ghost of everything that went down mere hours before stops him from touching it. (Y/N)’s face, covered in dirt and dried blood while she looked up at him with pure terror, blinded by the light, unable to tell friends from enemies after days in the freezing dark.

His dear friend, his trusted training partner, was abandoned for unending days in the middle of hell while he couldn’t do anything other than keep looking tirelessly, her faintly calling his name through the Force the only sign that she was still even breathing. 

He wasn’t fast enough.

Luke knocks softly on the door, still feeling guilty for breaching her intimacy. The last thing he wants right now is making her feel unsafe.

“I don’t mean to interrupt. I… I brought you some clothes.”

No response is given.

“(Y/N)?” he calls, getting no answer once again. “Is everything alright?” 

Now that he thinks of it, how much time has she spent in there alone since Leia left? Way too long for someone in her state, weakened both physically and mentally. His fingers itch on the handle. What if she’s fallen ill? What if she passed out? What if she slipped? 

No, he must get his shit together. If something happened he would’ve sensed it. Right?

Only there are so many terrible things he’s missed recently, things that have hurt her. The silence makes his voice tremble. “I’m coming in, ok?”

The warm humidity inside immediately envelops him. Luke quickly steps to the bathtub hidden behind the plastifoil curtain and, just as his fingers graze it, the water stirs on the other side.

“I'm fine,” (Y/N)’s voice sounds faint and coarse but, with the possible image he could’ve found of her inert under the water still thundering in his brain, it’s the most precious sound he’s ever heard. “I just fell asleep.”

“That's dangerous.”

“It's just a bit of water.”

That's more water than he ever saw together before leaving Tatooine, worth a fortune. He remains standing there holding to the bundle of clothes, regretting his scolding tone. Through the Force, a weak shiver reaches him originating from the woman, making him realize he should probably close the door to keep the heat in.

“I’ll leave these here-” However, a tiny voice, or more like an emotion, echoes in his mind without a sound, ringing faintly in the Force. 

Please, don’t leave me , it seems to plead. 

Luke swallows thickly. “Can I do anything else for you?”

The water moves once again, and he can picture her fidgeting with her fingers. The ring she usually fiddles with rests next to the sink, however.  “Can’t get out yet. I’m not clean enough.”

The effort to articulate those few raspy words weigh heavy on her mind and body, so he probably shouldn’t push her for more explanations. Instead, Luke gently reaches out to her Force signature. His stomach turns at the fragile nature of her aura at the moment, at witnessing the brittle, paper thin ruins that remain where her strong mental shields once stood, revealing the vulnerable heart beneath. It shakes, too beaten up to cry. This is wrong, so fundamentally distorted.

And it is his fault. He should have been there. The men that got to her know nothing, nothing of what they had in their hands. They are nothing. Just the last pitiful death rattles of the Empire. It would be so easy to wipe them out alongside the rotting legacy of their filthy lives. If he goes after them on his own, hiding in the shadows, they would never see him coming. That dark tingling gathers once again around his fingers, urging him to pick up his weapon and making those imps regret ever laying a finger on her. He desires to hurt like she’s been hurt, like the whole galaxy has been hurt. To pierce the darkness responsible for this with his blade, to crack and tear those men from the inside out until there’s nothing left of them.

However, her quiet, wheezy breathing snaps him out of it. It reminds him to cast away the scarlet flare of wrath and slowly bring himself back into focus. Those thoughts are little more than delusions. It wouldn’t be wise, it wouldn’t be fair, after all that’s been discussed about how to rebuild the galaxy from the ashes left by the Empire, all the hard work Leia and so many others have put into this; after he himself, alongside (Y/N), insisted on how important it was for the leaders of the imperial remnants to be brought to justice, if he went and gutted them in the dark because of anger. There’s too much anger out there already, and he’s tired of its bitter taste in his mouth.

It takes the Jedi a bit of struggle to reconcile that what’s needed of him right now is to listen to the helpless plea coming from the water and stay . So Luke sucks up a sob himself and sits on the tiled floor, with his back against the bathtub and his head resting between his knees as he gently retreats from her mind, so bare and open at the moment, and remains close to her tiny aura in the Force.