#i’ve been fucking sobbing about my body over the past two days

[strawnarrries]

because im sad about the last show, here's a little imagine about y/n and harry reminiscing the past two years the night before the last show :(

warnings: mentions of sex but nothing graphic

Your eyes fluttered open and you realized it was still dark outside, a sign that it was not quite morning just yet. You're not sure why you woke up. It was like your body knew something was off because when you turned over, the bed was empty beside you.

Rubbing your eyes to clear the sleepy haze, you noticed light coming from under the closed door of the bedroom in the villa you and Harry are staying in. Getting up out of bed, you opened the door and the sudden change in lighting burned your eyes. After getting used to it, you walked towards the kitchen and spotted your husband, leaning up against the counter, sipping on something inside of a mug.

“Harry?” you hummed, walking up to him.

“Oh hey, did I wake you up? I’m sorry," he looked up at you with doe eyes and messy hair sticking up in every direction.

“What are you doing?”

“Can’t sleep.”

You popped your bottom lip out and wrapped your arms around his bare waist, his instinctively wrapping around yours after setting his mug on the counter, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just can't believe the last show's tomorrow night.”

“Aw, I know. You wanna talk about it?” you hummed, looking up at him with tired eyes.

"I'm gonna miss it. A lot," he whispered, "but at the same time I'm excited for a long break."

"It's bittersweet."

"Yeah," he nodded.

"It's gonna be weird not getting to watch you on stage every night in your sparkly outfits."

He chuckled softly, "You don't get those outfits at home, do ya?"

"No, I get you either naked or in the one stupid shirt that you refuse to throw away even though it's practically in shreds."

"Thought you loved that shirt?" he teased.

You glared up at him before changing the subject, "What'dya think you'll miss the most? Just being on stage?"

"Yeah. Performing. It's one of my favorite things in the world to do. I just get such a rush from being out there and interacting with the fans and hearing them scream my lyrics."

"And hearing them bark at you," you added.

He giggled, "Yes, that too."

"You'll be back though. It's not the end."

“You're right. I feel like this tour was just special for some reason, I dunno. I fear I’m gonna get really emotional tomorrow on stage though. I was holding back tears at the show the other night," he chuckled.

“It’s okay to get emotional. You know me and your mom will be sobbing the entire night."

He smiled softly as he cupped your jaw and rubbed his thumb back and forth across your cheek, "I've been reflecting a lot recently. So much has happened in the last two years. It's wild."

“You've done, like what, 150 shows?”

“169 tomorrow."

“Holy shit, Harry. Most of them were completely sold out too. Do you realize how incredible that is?”

“It's mad. I think this has been the most successful tour I’ve ever been on.”

“Oh, by far.”

“Gonna miss seeing everyone every day. Gonna miss the fans and being up on stage. I've had some of the best shows of my life on this tour.”

“Harryween,” you giggled fondly at the memory that popped into your head.

“That was fun as fuck,” he giggled back.

“You’ve done more than just tour though. So many award shows, Coachella, music videos, you starred in two different movies, Harry.”

“I have,” he nodded, smiling proudly at himself, "Looking back, the amount of love and support that I've gotten from everyone, the fans, my team, my friends, and family, and from you is just - it's - it's so overwhelming like I can't even explain it to you. Like my mind can't comprehend that this is my life. Been 13 years and I still can't believe it."

"'cause you deserve it, baby. With the amount of love you give out and just the type of person you are in general, you deserve everything that's come your way. Have I ever told you how proud of you I am?" you teased, being the fact that those words leave your lips multiple times after every single one of his accomplishments.

"Never. Not once," he chuckled.

“Well, I am,” you hummed pressing a sweet kiss to his sternum, just under where his cross necklace lay, "It makes me feel so prideful that I get to call you my husband."

“Thank you, my love. You know I wouldn't be here without you.”

You rested your head on his warm chest, hugging him tighter, embracing the sweet silence before breaking it, "Can I be honest with you?”

He nodded as you looked back up at him.

“I know it's selfish but a big part of me is excited that it’s over because then I get you all to myself and don’t have to share you with the world.”

“Finally don’t have to hear you nagging for my attention all the time,” he chuckled.

“Heyyyyyy,” you whined.

“I’m joking, baby.”

You rolled your eyes teasingly.

“We have a lot to look forward to.”

“Like what?” he asked, although he knew exactly what you were referencing to, he just wanted to hear you say it.

“You becoming a daddy.”

“Really lookin forward to that. I can’t wait ‘till you have a cute little baby bump.”

“Gotta get me pregnant first.”

"You don't gotta worry 'bout that. We’re gonna be goin' at it all day every day when we’re on holiday next month,” he smirked.

“I can't even explain to you how excited I am for that. Vacation Harry is my favorite Harry."

He grinned, “I love you, Y/N."

“I love you too.”

He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours for a few sweet kisses before you hummed sleepily, “Will you come back to bed with me now?”

“Yeah, c’mon.”

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry #harry imagine #harry fanfic #harry fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #one direction #one direction fanfic #one direction fanfiction #one direction imagine #hslot #fluff #harry fluff #one direction fluff #harry styles fluff

[nightfall-kachiniko]

༅ ｡ₓ AOT girls (+hange) reacts to you crying during an argument…

paring: mikasa x reader, annie x reader, pieck x reader, hange x reader, sasha x reader.

˗ˏˋ꒰ ☁️ ꒱

𓏲·˚ ͙ mikasa

- you felt your heart bang with every word that came out of your wife’s mouth. her voice riddled with irritation at your lack of understanding, as you continued to go back and fourth. “I don’t like the idea of you out there for that long!” You shouted, desperately trying to explain. “You’re being dramatic,” she said, “it’s apart of my job, y/n. Theres nothing I can do about it!” It felt like you two had been saying the same thing over and over again. “6 months? Halfway across the world?! And you’re okay with that?!” You shouted angrily. “I have orders, y/n. I don’t have a choice.” She said sternly. “And there is nothing I can do or you can do to change that!” her aggressive words hit you in the heart as you felt your eyes start to water. the air was finally quiet for a few moments as you processed everything. ‘she has to. It’s her job. i need to understand that…’ you thought. But you just couldn’t. you just couldn’t stand the thought of mikasa being gone that long. the silence finally broke in the air as your voice choked up “I just don’t want you to leave me..!” your voice broke, as the tears you’d been holding in did aswell. You choked out sobs, deep, heavy, sobs, as your voice shattered sentences of incoherent. Mikasa froze for a moment, before her gaze went soft as it lied on you. her warm embrace laced hands around your figure as it held you tightly, her eyes filling with sadness. “Oh..don’t cry love..” she whispered as your cries continued, her arms wrapping lovingly around you. “I know darling, I know this is hard.” Mikasa said, as her hand raised your face from your palms to look you in the eyes. her fingers caressed tears off your face as she helped you calm down. “I promise you, I’ll never leave you.. no matter what distance lays between us.”

𓏲·˚ ͙ annie

“You never listen to me! Ever! I mean fuck y/n why do I even bother at this point?!” Annie shouted angrily, her tone filled with more rage than usual. It started off as a dumb couples fight to now a full on argument spurring out angered insults with mindless thinking. “Oh really? You’re one to talk! That’s all you ever do is blame everything on me!” You spat back. Annie’s figure swiftly turned around to face you, “you’re the one that starts shit y/n, not me.” she sternly said. “I put up with your shit every day for the past 5 years. 5 YEARS Y/N! I’ve had to mother you! I’ve had to care for you! IM BASICALLY A GODDAMN BABYSITTER!” Her screams rang in your ears as you closed your eyes, her aggressively packing her bags.“Seriously?” You mutter out, “I’ve sacrificed friendships, I’ve sacrificed LIVES for you! I’ve sacrificed everything just to be with a warrior! I’ve done so much for you!” you screamed back. Annie looked at you, her eyes as stern as ever. “ All you’ve ever done for me is cause me problems,” her voice was serious, her voice was real. i think that’s the part that hurt the most, the fact that her voice said what her mind wanted to. and she was being honest. The anger you once had in your eyes faded to a soft gaze as you felt your heart shatter. Your eyes filled with tears as you stayed silent, trying not to cry. “That’s all you ever do.” Annie sternly said, failing to realize your soft whimpers would soon break into sobs. as you felt your world crashing down on you as tears streamed down your cheeks, your palms held your face in your hands as you cried. Annie turned back around from stuffing a shirt in her suitcase, her eyes landing on you. she stayed silent as you cried, not knowing what to do. But what she did know, that she really fucked up. Annie glanced at your figure, feeling that out of regret and guilt arise in her stomach. She softly came towards you, her arms carefully wrapping around your body as you dug your head into her shoulder, sobbing. “I’m sorry..” she whispered into your hair. “I’m sorry..” she said a bit louder. But you could tell from the tone in her voice, that she was being honest.

𓏲·˚ ͙ pieck

“Please y/n, I’m not in the mood.” Your girlfriend said, tiredness on her face. “But you said you’d stay tonight..” you disappointedly breathed out. “I barley see you enough as it is. You can’t just stay a few hours?” the woman turned around swiftly to look at you, “I don’t know how many times I have to repeat myself. I said no y/n, what part of that do you not understand?!” Her aggressive response caught you off guard, your air feeling more heavy around you. “..you don’t have to yell at me pieck..” you softly muttered out before she cut you off. “Well sometimes you just don’t fucking listen!” She shouted aggressively, taking out her anger on you. “Pieck stop! I don’t want to fight with you!” You called back, trying to calm her down. “Then stop being so needy all the time and let me rest!” She replied. Her words made you feel like a burden as you felt your chest get tighter, confused and saddened as to what you did wrong. “..fine…” you sighed out, turning away to walk upstairs. You heard pieck mutter a “finally” under her breath as your vision became blurred, tears swelling up in your eyes. You turned back around in the doorway to look at pieck. “..I’m sorry If i did something wrong..” your voice wobbled out, catching her attention. Pieck starred at you, tears flowing down your face as you slightly hummed soft cries. She was token aback by your state, clearly now realizing how she acted towards you. “Oh.. dove..” pieck softly said, “no..no no sweetie” the messy haired woman came over to you, her eyes fixated on your own watery orbs. Guilt plastered on her face as she hugged you tightly, making you take in a deep breath to stop your sobs from getting worse. “Honey, I’m so sorry dear.. I don’t know what gotten into me lately.. I’ve just been so stressed.. I shouldn’t of token it out on you love… I’m so sorry sweetheart please don’t cry..” she said, drying your tears with tissues. “I..know you’ve been… stressed.. and I’m sorry I just miss you…” you managed to get out in between breaths. “Im sorry darling..”

𓏲·˚ ͙ hange

The one night that you rarely have with you and hange alone, cancelled all because of some stupid paperwork they could get to in the morning? “Seriously Han?! Do you know how long we’ve been planning this?” You hear hange sigh from their desk as they touch the bridge of their nose. “I’ve told you y/n I have too many things to do! Why do I have to keep repeating myself like a skipping record?!” Hange scolded at you. Apparently this date meant more to you then it did to her. Way more. To the point they’d rather do paperwork than go on it. “You can do that shit in the morning! This is the one night we finally can go out and you’re telling me no?!” You angrily shouted at her. “Fuck hange! I’ve barley seen you in weeks! I wake up and your not there! I go to sleep and your not there! Why is everything about your fucking work?! Why is it never about me?!” You shouted at them, their face filling with more irritation than before. “I’m not saying it again.” They said, picking back up their pen and scribbling down on their paperwork. “Really? You’re really gonna do this to me?” You said, trying to not flip out on them. Hange didn’t reply, but just ignore you. “Gonna ignore me like you always do, huh?” You scoffed. A rage burning up inside you as you ranted. “You know why the hell are you even in a relationship if you’re commander?! You leave me out in the fucking dust! You act like I’m not even there! Is all I am just a fuck to you when you’re too stressed to function?! Huh?! Is that paperwork more important than me-“ “YES! FUCK ANYTHING TO SHUT YOU UP!” they yelled, cutting you off. You felt your heart sink as they screamed, going on about how you never listen, always complain, how they’re always too busy and stressed. Too focused on their rant to notice the tears falling down your eyes and your small shaky breaths. “AND I DO NOT HAVE ENOUGH ENERGY TO DEAL WITH Y-“ they cutt themself as they saw your shattered figure, your eyes filled with tears as they kept streaming like a river down your face, dripping onto the floor. ‘At least now they were quiet, huh hange?’ they thought, realizing how badly they hurt you. You just started at the floor avoiding eye contact as they breathed out a sigh, fixing their glasses. “I..c-come here love.” They said, their hand gesturing for you to come closer as they walked towards you. Hange sighed as they felt you collapse into their arms, not knowing when the last time they held you like this was. She let you sob, rubbing circles onto your back as she occasionally pressed kisses into your hair, relaxing into you. “I know I haven’t been the best partner, y/n. I’m not a good partner at all. I’m sorry.”

𓏲·˚ ͙ sasha

“I am doneee!!! Donee!! No more arguing i cant hear you!!” Sasha plugged her ears as you continued to pour out everything that was in you. From the late nights out, to the not knowing where she was. It was too much. You’d never get a serious answer, all you’d get is your concerns blown off with a ‘ehh you’re dramatic babe’ it was like she took nothing seriously. Not your emotions. Not your concerns. Not even your relationship. “Sasha fucking stop!” You yelled. “I’m trying to talk to you about something that concerns me and all you do is plug your ears and ignore me!” You cry out. “Do you even care about us at all?!” You say, to be greeted with a nonchalant “oh wow and now you think I don’t care?” Sasha scoffed, hopping off the counter. “You’re frustrating me! Ive already told you I’m having fun I’m safe I’m fine I’m not cheating on you!” They blurted out. “Sash that is not even my concern! Maybe you’d know what it is if you’d actually listen!!” You yelled out. “Oh trust me, I listen.” She bit into her Apple. “I have to listen to your insecurities all the time. And I have to deal with ‘em. I’ve gotta put up with ‘em!” She remarked back, making you even more frustrated. “Then why don’t you do anything about it?! Why don’t you care?!” “Damn it y/n I do!” “Then shut up and listen!” She laughed at your remark, confusing you. “Gosh you really don’t quit do you?” Sasha chuckled, making your blood boil. You had enough, you were so filled with rage and hurt. You felt tears start spurring out your eyes as you yelled and cried and sobbed, catching Sasha off guard. “Y/n?” She looked around, lost. “Hey-uh..” Sasha just starred at you and your broken figure, sobbing and crying. “D-did I really make you that upset..?” She questioned, taking in the state you’re in. “Babe..” they came closer to you as you muttered a “go away..” in between sobs. “Hey no nooo babe.. ah gosh..” Sasha said, trying to comfort you. “Ah..please don’t cry pretty, I’m sorry darlin’..” she hugged you tightly, pressing your figure up agaisnt hers. “I’m gonna do better honey, I promise.”

a/n: I AM SO FUCKING TIRED

#mikasa x reader #mikasa ackerman smut #mikasa ackerman x y/n #mikasa ackerman headcanons #mikasa ackerman scenarios #mikasa ackerman x reader #mikasa ackerman fluff #mikasa ackerman x you #mikasa ackerman imagines #mikasa x reader headcanons #mikasa x reader angst #annie leonhardt fanart #annie leonhardt headcanons #annie leonhart imagine #annie leonhardt x you #annie leonhart x you #annie leonhart headcanons #annie leonhart x reader #annie leonhardt x reader #annie leonhart aot #pieck x reader #pieck finger headcanons #pieck finger x reader #hange zoe x reader #hange zoe headcanons #sasha braus x reader #sasha blouse x reader #Sasha blouse headcanons #sasha braus headcanons #sasha aot

[iwanty0uu]

a/n: y/n is black, whatever body type you prefer, and is about 20, she’s also in college and is a nurse in training so you know she gets money, and on top of that she’s a nail tech so she’s usually super busy. ~ keep that in mind !

Onyankopon was extremely toxic, no matter how many times he loved bombed you after arguments that he knew he had the wrong in, or fucked you until you forgave him, it was undeniable that he was toxic. It all started after a long day of work, the hospital bustling since it was the night before Halloween. People did stupid things all the time but man the shit you saw that night was just absurd, on top of that you had a nail appointment as soon as your shift ended, so there shouldn’t have been a surprise when you stumbled into your apartment complex forty five minutes past eleven with a pounding headache, and a desire for comfort from your boyfriend after the traumatic night you had.

press me

The soft sound of your light switch filled the empty apartment, a linen colored light illuminated the kitchen and living room, the purple crocs you kicked off flipped them selves over at the door. Throwing the keys on the counter and washing your hands, you couldn’t help but rest your head in them. You love your job, but its so tiring.. every day it feels like the world is moving at one hundred miles per hour and you cant catch up. Tears no longer threatened to spill, they were overflowing. You sobbed, headache worsening, heart aching from the stress and the pain, however your sobs drowned out the vibration from your phone which was forgotten after you took your shirt off, and threw it on your living room floor. A trail of scrubs were left behind leading to the bathroom, as you turned the shower on, not even waiting for the water to heat up and hopped in. Practically washing yourself in your tears, you placed your head on the wet wall next to you, going light headed from the steam, you felt drained.. so empty, and you needed a hug, so that’s what you decided to get. The water was stopped and the floor dampened after coming in contact with your wet feet, the robe you put on felt warm, it’s the closest thing to human touch that you’ve felt in a while, and the shower really did help you feel better. After a good cry, you decided to postmates some food and call your best friend Jayleen to see if she wanted to come over and watch some shows and eat and cry with you, but you were met with 28 missed calls from your boyfriend, and over 50 text messages. Great. You didn’t call him after work to tell him you got home late, and considering that he loved to make shit what it wasn’t, you know that he would have your ass in the morning, and honestly it was too much. He isn’t your father and he clocks your every move.

A sigh escaped your lips as you grabbed a cold bottle of water and let that problem wait for tomorrow and it’s own set of troubles. That was until three sudden thumps hit your door, making you jump, water bottle falling out of your hands. “The fuck banging on my shit so late” you complained cleaning up the mess as your headache settled back in. Clothes still on the floor, you opened the door to face with your “man”. The darkskin in an all black nike tech suit, and yeezy slides had his arms folded over his chest, hoodie up and durag on, only showing a portion of his head, but his dark and angry eyes met yours. You felt tears sting your eyes again, knowing that he was here to argue. “So you not finna let-“ you cut him off “Please don’t start Onyankopon. I’m so exhausted and I’ve had a terrible day at work. I understand I didn’t call you when I got home and that I missed your 28 calls but I was in the shower. Do you feel better about yourself now? I dont give two flying fucks if you’re here to accuse me of cheating again and I’m not boutta force you to believe me when you’re delusional lame ass love making shit up in your head. So stop wasting my fuckin time and leave me the fuck alone.You’re not here when you need to be so you can keep suckin your other hoes off. I could care less,nigga you’re bitch made.”

Your words strong, and it felt like a strong blow to Ony. Tears were running down your face as you practically begged him to stay out of your life, but he still pushed his way through your human barricade, and scanned your apartment. “The fuck your clothes on the floor for, you got other niggas in here?” he asked taking his hood off. You stood there looking at him, words couldn’t describe how much of an idiot this little boy really was. “Did this fucker not hear a word that I just said?” you asked yourself. Your head was hurting and stress was already taking a hold of you, since he didn’t understand english, you had to show him how serious you were about this. If he thought your words hurt, then he underestimated how strong your actual hands were. You landed a slap to his face which sent his airpod flying. It took everything in you not to Madea his ass with a pan of grits but seeing his reaction to your anger was price-less. “GET THE FUCK OUT.” You didnt have to yell for your voice to resemble your mother’s. Stern, sharp, and filled with anger. “You want me to fuck other niggas so I will. Get. The. Fuck. Out.” You said as he stood there, brows furrowed. He watched you grab the top part of your robe, holding them together for comfort as you pointed to the open door. Bonnet revealing the small knot that ties your silk head wrap together. You pushed your glasses up, narrowing your eyes at the bitch in front of you. Everyone in the complex probably heard the argument. No, most definitely heard the argument, your neighbor came out with a broom and was “sweeping the carpet” at one in the morning. Nosy ass.

Onyankopon’s POV:

It took everything in me to keep my laugh in at the sight of the girl. She looked like my mom while scolding me, but she love me too much to let me go for real. “Baby I’m sorry” I said trying to touch her, “Alright I’m done now” i said laughing but she backed away like she was afraid of me. She’s not deadass the fuck she won’t let me touch her for? Nah bro she really got me fucked up this time. “Stop acting like you not finna fuck and forgive me after.” I said sitting on a stool, leaning back on her island. Yea I have my days but she know how i am.. right? “Bitch don’t ‘baby’ me” she said staring me down, eyes still teary, but so soft. I know she still love me.. I mean this wasn’t even our worst argument so i don’t understand the problem. “Alright now you hit me and you got your point across, so let’s jus finish this like usual alright baby.” Putting my hands out for her to come to me, she stared and laughed. Laughed like i was wearing no clothes in the middle of the street. “Yo this wasn’t even a big deal for real so what’s your problem now ma?” I know how to get under her skin, even if she was for real, she would still be thinking about me and how much I get on her nerves. Shit, better than nothin.

“This dumb ass bitch bruh no Onyankopon. I want you out of my apartment, and out of my life” I felt her tug on my sweater and push me out of the front door. She cant be for real right?….

But it didnt strike him that you were for real this time until three days later. HE seen you posted up with his home boy Eren on instagram who always got on him for not treating you well enough. He always told Eren to stay out of his business, which he claimed to be you, but for the next couple weeks Eren would be everywhere but out of your apartment. He was so good at communicating and never forced his way into your life, you two were just friends, and you loved having someone to talk to about your past. However, it was too late for Ony, when he was fuckin his hoes, he never thought, when he was giving head, he didn’t think about how you would feel, but now that he was a free agent, all of it including loneliness would bite him in the ass. He refused to admit it, but you were the best he ever had, and he felt nothing but anger knowing that he would never be able to be in your life again.

THIS WAS TEWWWWW FUN TO WRITE I HOPE MY BOOKIES LOVE IT TOODLES! ~𝑙𝑒𝑙𝑒！

#attack on titan #black reader #black coded reader #fem reader #iwanty0uu #aot x black reader #aot x y/n #ony x black reader #aot onyankopon #onyankopon x reader #onyankopon x black y/n #aot x you #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #aot

[64yrsold]

ACHES 26. insane

18+ (please see masterlist for cw) aches masterlist previous (25)

I woke up, throat tight. I was still slumped on the couch, in my clothes from the day before. I saw the faint remnants of the wine stain, blotchy but subtle. I traced the edges of it, hating the bumpy texture of the couch on my fingertips. I was nauseous, disoriented, and aching. I could feel how swollen my eyes were. I must have cried longer than I remembered.

I made my way to our bathroom, brushing my teeth and rinsing my face. I didn’t look in the mirror. I went to our bedroom, finding him folding clothes into a suitcase.

“Good morning,” I mumbled, sitting on the edge of the bed. My voice was gravel, scratching its way out of my throat.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he zipped the suitcase closed, pulling it off the bed. He set it onto the floor.

“Are you leaving?” I murmured. 

“Just for the weekend, remember?” He put his hands into his pockets, blinking at me slowly.

“I thought you were going tomorrow.”

“Nope,” he shrugged, moving to leave.

“Wait,” I said, standing from the bed. He stopped, head tilted to listen. “You didn’t bring me to bed.”

He laughed, “You have two good legs, don’t you?”

“You didn’t yell at me, either.”

“I never yell at you,” he frowned, crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

“Sometimes you should yell at me.”

This made him rub a hand into his forehead, “Please, let’s not start anything. I’m about to leave.” He walked to me, cradling my head in his hands. He kissed the top of my head. “I’ll see you in a few days, okay?”

“Take me with you.”

He raised an eyebrow, “You don’t do planes, though.”

I swallowed, “I’ll do it.”

“No, you won’t,” he sighed, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“You don’t want me to come?” I was being childish. 

“Stop it,” he pulled me to his chest, hugging me tightly. “You don’t even believe that.”

“You don’t want me around, lately.” This I believed. I was shuddering, containing sobs in my constricted throat. “You didn’t take me to bed.”

He huffed, “You were completely passed out on the couch. What did you want me to do? I thought you should sleep.”

“I don’t like sleeping without you.”

“Don’t get so drunk, then.” He let go of me, stepping back.

“You don’t spend any time with me. You don’t even want to fuck me.”

He rolled his eyes, “That’s not fucking true.”

“Explain last night, then,” I pressed my lips together, letting a tear slip down my cheek. 

“I already apologized, I had to work. When I came by to check on you, you had spilled wine all over my fucking couch.” He pulled his hand through his hair. He waved a hand at me, “I’m not mad about the wine. It’s all fine. I told you, I don’t want to fight. Let’s just leave it, okay?”

“It’s our couch.” I whispered.

“What?”

“You said my couch. My fucking couch. It’s our couch.”

“Yes, our couch, I’m sorry.”

“I’m moving out.”

He stared at me, eyes wide. Mouth opening and closing.

“I’ll be gone when you get back,” I sobbed, and walked past him. He followed me into the kitchen, keeping quiet. I started collecting the dirty dishes, stacking them on the counter. He put a hand on my shoulder.

“Stop,” he urged, grabbing my wrist, “Stop.”

“What?” I spat, face burning. I pulled my wrist from his hand, and watched pain flash across his eyes for a moment, like lightning.

“I’m sorry I’ve been busy,” he said, soft and careful. “I’m sorry I haven’t spent enough time with you.”

I nodded.

“But you have to trust me. You know I love you. Enough of this,” he spun a hand, pursing his lips. “Don’t pick fights with me.”

I leaned against the counter, breathing slowly. “I’m not picking fights. I’m trying to tell you that I’m lonely.”

“I can’t do anything about that.”

I scoffed, “Of course you can.”

“I’m not the reason you’re lonely.”

“Shut up,” I frowned.

“You’re always lonely. No matter what I do.”

“You’re uninterested. You only touch me to calm me down. I’m lonely because only your body is here. Your mind is… It’s somewhere else.” I was scrambling to get the words out, in between gasps and sobs.

He thought about this for a moment.

“I don’t feel that way.”

“Are you sleeping with someone else?” I asked, the words ringing through the house. The question pulled the warmth from the room.

“No.”

“Do you want to?”

He looked down, “No.”

“I fucking knew it,” I covered my mouth with my palm.

“I don’t want to sleep with anyone else,” he insisted, confused. 

“I know you’re lying.”

“I’m not fucking lying!” He yelled. He yelled.

“Go ahead, then,” I said, taking a steady breath. I wasn’t crying anymore. It was a numb, thin sense of bliss, controlling the anger tightening my chest. “Sleep with her. Get it out of your system.”

“God, you’re fucking insane,” he laughed, “I would never sleep with anyone but you. Never.”

“Fuck her, then come home to me. I’m sick of this.”

“I don’t want to!”

My lips parted, mind emptying. “Who is it?” I was far away, I wasn’t here, I was somewhere else. I was below the earth, scratching for the surface. I was nestled deep in a dripping cave, wet and mossy. I was untouched and buried.

“What are you talking about?” he sighed, but I saw the pink on his cheeks. 

“Who is it?”

He turned, grabbing his suitcase from the bedroom. “I”m not talking to you like this,” he called, pacing to the front door. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

He slammed the door closed behind him. 

I sat on the kitchen floor.

-> next (27)

#matty healy #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #matty the 1975 #matty x reader #matty healy x reader #64matty #aches

[theitgirlnetwork]

Better

Ch. 13: I've Got It

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

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

“Now we wait.” 

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

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

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

“Hush, little girl, stop whining.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They won’t approve. Fuck.” he nods.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘M warm.”

“I am warm.” Her mother corrects.

“I am warm.”

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

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

“Victor!”

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

“I’m not pregnant, Daddy.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Daddy?”

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

“Victor! Please.”

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

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

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

“Oh, god, the waterworks-”

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

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

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

“Her mother and I.” Lip says smugly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This wasn’t the final straw.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My hero.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Phillip.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

For Charlotte’s sake.

“So tech. Good business.” 

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

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

“Gettin’ there.” 

“How many siblings do you have, Phillip?”

“Uh, five.” 

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

“They’re smart.”

“But not like you.”

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

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

“I know everything about Charlotte.”

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

“Fuckin’- yes!” 

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

What?

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

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

“Yea-yes-”

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

“Fuck you.” Lip scoffs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lottie.” V interrupts, “Didn’t Lip-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mornin.” 

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

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

“My…my stuff? Phillip-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Knew it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“M’not.” 

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

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

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

“S’fine. She is. Fuckin’ beautiful.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh-kay.” 

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

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

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

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

“No?”

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

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

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

“Okay so-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

“Well, that seems-”

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

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

“Gallagher kids? Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

Until her phone rings.

“What’d you even give him anyway?”

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

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

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

“Get the fuck off me, I’m married.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Phillip-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m..I’m sorry?”

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

Oh. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Good for him.

“I know you’re mad at’me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But she’s weak, and he’s everything. 

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

“Charlotte.”

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

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

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

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

“I fucked up, Bunny.”

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck them too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.” 

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

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

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

#lip gallagher #lip gallagher x reader #oc #fiona gallagher #ian gallagher #kevin ball #lip gallagher x oc #veronica fisher #shameless #gallagher #better #charlotte fisher #lip gallagher x you #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey

[kechiwrites]

| kinktober week two | ♱ final girl ♱ | slasher!steve rogers x reader |

synopsis: “for steve, you are a very special victim.”

wc: 1k

cw: dark content, fem reader, noncon, creampies, unprotected sex, biting, bruising, violence, minor character death, stalking, pet names (pretty girl, sweetheart), dacryphilia. I am not responsible for your consumption babes. NO MINORS.

author’s note: first dark fic i’ve ever shared, and for my day one fixation, captain america. there’s something wrong with him. i just know it.

♱ find the rest of my kinktober masterlist here ♱

Your head is spinning, the light from your neighbour’s halloween decorations cast your room in sickly orange and yellow light. Everything about it is making you ill, and you screw your eyes closed to keep your stomach from expelling its contents everywhere.

“Open your eyes, pretty girl. Please.” You can feel him shift over you, and when he pats your face, you open your eyes, glassy with tears, to stare at him. There’s sticky, drying blood covering the lower half of his face, and the dirty penny smell of it threatens to make you sick all over again. He smiles at you, perfect white teeth and pink lips, blonde hair and blue, blue eyes. 

“Go on, you can cry.” 

How magnanimous.

You’re covered in bite marks, some are shallow, some lightly bleed out of tender and broken skin. Where you aren’t bitten, there are hickeys, pockmarking his journey exploring your body, staking his claim on your throat and chest and hips and thighs. The bruises aren’t so bad, in the grand scheme of things, you can almost forget they exist when he isn’t pushing his thumb into them to watch you squirm.

Hell, they’re practically bug bites compared to the state of your boyfriend’s dead body downstairs.

He looms above you and he is so goddamn big, blocking out the hazy stream of your bedroom lights while he fucks you desperately. Hands roaming mindlessly, without purpose but with so much pleasure over the rise and curve of your stomach, your tits, your face.

You choke out, "Please don't hurt me." and his hips stutter, balls slapping against your ass and staying there, like he's trying not to come. You bear down on him, and a fresh wave of tears spills over your cheeks as you’re pushed over the edge, mind swimming in pain and sorrow and hot, hot heat. 

“Steve, please. I don’t want to d-”

"Shut up. Shut up. Please, shut the fuck up.” He groans, closing his hand around your tit and squeezing hard. He’s getting off on it, you realize. You want to live through this so badly, and that turns him on. “Can't -, I don't want to" he trails off when he starts pounding you again, the squelching, wet sounds of you taking him, letting him burrow deep within you filling the cramped, cluttered room, bouncing off your childhood toys and boy band posters. Your pink princess sheets are soaked with slick and sweat and two of his loads soaking your back that'd been displaced by the brutal thickness of his cock carving into you.

You grip at his arms as they hold you down, your nails digging into his skin, and he stops again, anchoring up and off you to peer at your face. 

"Be good, like I know you can be and it'll all be over soon. I promise."

Impossible.

You choke on your own sob, and bite down on your tongue to stop yourself from lashing out. He’s clearly sick in the head, and when this is all over, when he lets you go like he promised he would, you swear to god in heaven and the devil below that you’d wipe this all from your mind. You’d burn the sheets and maybe even your bed too. And a little voice in your head whispers over the sound of him messily, greedily fucking you open, that you’d need evidence, some way of proving that it was local hero, universally adored firefighter, Steven Grant Rogers that’d been killing people for the past year and a half. Steven Grant Rogers who had been stalking you for weeks in an unfamiliar brown sedan before he’d made his move. Steven Grant Rogers who’d taken his sweet time cutting your boyfriend to ribbons before he’d chased you up the stairs, two steps at a time and locked the bedroom door behind him, as if he was worried someone would interrupt. 

You didn’t need evidence. Because no one would believe you. If you even got the chance to tell them. 

Your body shudders, fear and pleasure tangling together and burrowing deep in the pit of your stomach, snagging on your insides like hooked burrs, only tearing free when he rips another orgasm from your overstimulated, woefully overworked body. 

“Good, so good sweetheart. There you are.” You can tell he loves it, the involuntary show of ecstasy, the way you’re too far gone to resist anymore, the way your legs wrap around his middle and push you ever closer without your permission.

But your permission doesn’t matter much, apparently.

His hands sink into your flesh so deeply you cry out, but what’s more bruises on top of the ones he’s already given you? What’s one more round of his seed fucked into you, soaking the walls of your cunt? What’s one more scream into the apathetic, inky black night?

Steve’s teeth dig into the flesh of your chest, then he laves the stinging spots with his tongue. A particularly rough thrust pushes you up the bed, and without missing a beat he follows your aching body, forcing your pussy to part around him, to welcome yet another rush of his cum within you. He tugs at your nipples with roughened fingers, calloused by the fireman’s axe he used to obliterate your front door. His lips cover your pulse, sucking hard at the skin, like he was trying to taste your heartbeat, erratic and sugar sweet. Your clit thrums, untouched and begging for attention, but Steve pulls out, rubbing the slick skin of his cock over the insides of your thighs. 

“You know, I was so sure I was going to have to slit your throat after this. And I didn’t want to, not when I knew you’d be tight, so sweet.” His voice is broken glass and black velvet, it cuts and soothes, wrings everything out of you before it forces you to swallow it all down, only restart the process all over again. 

“But now,” He sighs dreamily, whispering like he’s sharing a inside joke between two friends, “I have to keep you.”

when my husband proofread this he said i was sick. :)

#steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve smut #dark!steve x reader #dark steve x reader #dark steve rogers #dark!captain america #dark!fic #mcu smut #mcu x reader #slasher!au #slasher!steve rogers #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #kinktober 2022 #kechiwriteskinktober #kechiwrites #cw: dark content #cw: noncon

[little-diable]

Mind Games - Aaron Hotchner 3/5

Here we go, part three to this series. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader had once worked with the CBI, trying to help Patrick Jane catch Red John. Now, as she is part of the BAU and dating Aaron Hotchner, her past is coming back to haunt her. Will her team be able to support her through it? Will her relationship survive her clash with old times, memories she had been running from and a run in with her ex-lover? 

Warnings: 18+, smut with Aaron, a lot of tension, flashbacks to trauma

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader, past Patrick Jane x fem!reader (2k words)

header by @deathofpeaceofmind

Part 1 Part 2

“It’s time for you to tell us what is going on here, between you two, (y/n).”

“What are you doing?” She froze in her step, hands tightening their grip on the clothes she was about to throw into her bag. Piercing bright eyes kept watching her move, standing in the middle of her apartment, looking panicked, lost, and frightened. The marks that had been left on her throat were still prominent, a haunting view Patrick wouldn’t ever be able to shake from his thoughts. “Honey, what’s going on?”

“I need to leave.” Tears were welling up in her eyes, momentarily blurring her sight as her body snapped back into motion. Her heart was pumping loud, louder than the anxious breaths leaving Patrick, forced to watch his lover pack her bag, about to leave him behind. It was an awful sight, a sight so confusing, Patrick’s insides began to churn. Deep down he hoped that she was leaving because of him, because of the current fight the two were stuck in, but fuck, this was worse, so much worse. Fate was about to rip her from him, the woman he had wanted to propose to in the following week. 

“Hey, look at me, stop, just for a second.” But (y/n) couldn’t. She kept packing her bag, pushing past Patrick who didn’t manage to grasp her wrist in time. Her body shook, violently as if she was about to freeze to death. Her steps were fast, uncalculated, resulting in her almost tumbling over her own two feet. “Honey, please.” 

“I can’t, I’m sorry.” This time Patrick managed to grab ahold of her hand, forcing (y/n) to freeze as he pulled her against his chest. Her sobs wrecked through her, body struggling to fight through the waves of exhaustion, of anger, and of fear that overtook her system. “I love you, Patrick, and I always will. I am so sorry.” 

“I need some time, please.” (Y/n) tried to move towards the door, needing to flee from the conversation her team was pressuring her into. But (y/n) didn’t get far, forced to a halt as a cold “Agent (y/n)!” left her boyfriend. Aaron’s gaze was sharp and steady, threatening to cut through her skin, not daring to give her a way out of the conversation she had been running from ever since that night. 

“You told me you have to work with us on this case, and I trusted you. You made this decision, so sit down and tell us what is going on. Lives are at stake here.” Her eyes flickered towards Patrick, not expecting the warm gaze he shot her, slightly nodding his head to encourage his ex-lover. 

“Alright.” (Y/n) took a step closer, sitting down on a chair placed between Patrick and Aaron. “As you know, I was part of the CBI for years, and ever since I’ve joined them, we’ve been tormented by a serial killer called Red John. He’s the reason Patrick ended up at the CBI, and I promised Patrick that if I can help him make his peace, I would do it. Within my first year at the CBI Patrick and I started seeing each other, things got serious pretty fast.” Her eyes didn’t dare meet Aaron’s, not prepared to get lost in whatever expression was tugging on his features. “I don’t have to explain to you the risks dating within a team bears. Three weeks before I left the CBI I was kidnapped, held hostage for five days. I hadn’t been able to escape my memories, the trauma I desperately tried to fight against. I felt like a failure, felt like I had disappointed Patrick and my team, since I hadn’t been able to even protect myself, so I packed my things and left, left California, left the team, left Patrick. And I regret it, I don't regret meeting Aaron, I don't regret joining the BAU, but I regret the way I let my trauma ripped me from those I never wanted to part from.” 

The room was filled with silence, a silence so thick (y/n) feared she’d never be able to escape this very moment again. Her hands were trembling, legs quivering as if she had just finished running a marathon. Patrick was the first to break the silence, hand grasping hers to force (y/n) to look at him. 

“I can still remember the first call we got from him, how he spoke of you like a treasure he had managed to steal from us. We were running out of time that day, it felt like a trick as we finally got to you. And ever since that night, we’ve been trying to find him.” A tear dripped from her eye, wiped away by Patrick’s soft touch. Their eyes held contact for a few more moments before (y/n) rose to her feet, needing to deeply exhale as Aaron took lead once again. 

“We need whatever you have on him, if it’s a copycat after all, I’m sure it’s him. He was waiting for another chance to get to (y/n), seeing her around me must have given him the final push. He is escalating, and he needs to be stopped.” The people around (y/n) began to move, getting in touch with the others to call them back to the BAU, exchanging data, new information, and ideas. All while (y/n) was gently pushed out of the room by her boyfriend, trailing behind him with exhaustion thumping through her system, taking over her body like a tsunami wave, drowning without any air left in her aching lungs. 

Aaron’s arms found their way around her waist, tugging her closer and closer till no space was left between them, “I want you to go home for the night, get some sleep. If you still feel like working on this with us, I want you back here by tomorrow morning.”

“Okay.” Aaron shot her a small smile, letting go of (y/n) to turn away from her, about to make his way back to the others. The call of his name forced his eyes back towards her, patiently waiting for her to speak up, “I love you Aaron, and I wouldn’t trade our relationship for the world, I hope you know that.”

With his lips pulled into an ever growing smile, Aaron pulled (y/n) in for a kiss, momentarily allowing her mind to rest, getting lost in the movements of his lips, tongues moving together to still their hunger. Aaron murmured the loving three words against her lips, squeezing her side before he let go of her. 

……

Her eyes struggled to stay open, watching the city blur by as she made her way home. Her thoughts were spiralling, pushing one flashback after another through her mind, once again stuck in her trauma like quicksand pulling her under. (Y/n) combed through her memories, needing to find something else to focus on, something to distract her from her darkening thoughts. Her heart skipped a beat as she thought of Aaron, of all their sweet moments, and the first night they had spent together. 

 “Are you sure about this?” His husky voice left her trembling, lips finding his as she nodded her head, allowing her fingers to undo the last button of his dress shirt. Aaron gently pushed her away from him, big hand cupping her warm cheek, forcing (y/n) to get lost in his eyes, “I need words, honey.”

“I’m sure of this, please, touch me, Aaron.” The use of his name forced a groan out of the man, lips finding hers almost impatiently, giving (y/n) a gentle push back to settle down on the mattress of her bed. Aaron felt her heart race, hands cupping her breasts, squeezing her soft skin to try and etch this very moment into his mind for years to come. His lips found their way down her throat, to her chest, sucking on her hardening nipples as his hands worked on her trousers. “Don’t waste any time, need to feel you inside of me, please.”

“So impatient, but since you’ve asked so nicely,” the rest of the sentence was left unsaid as he pulled her trousers down her legs, soaked through panties following. His skilled fingers found her core, gently circling her pulsing clit to try and distract her mind for a few seconds. Aaron found himself worshipping her body and soul, admiring the beautiful woman he never wanted to part from again. 

The moan of his name forced Aaron to keep on moving, getting rid of his clothes as (y/n) reached for a condom, ripping it open with her teeth. Their eyes held contact as she rolled the condom down his cock, silently making a promise that she’d suck him off later tonight, needing to feel his cock resting on her tongue. 

With a kiss shared between the two lovers, Aaron slowly pushed into her, groaning into the crook of (y/n)’s neck as her walls squeezed him. For a second he didn’t move, relishing in the new sensation, staring down on her with love swimming in his pupils. Only as (y/n) wrapped her legs around his waist, trying to force him closer, did Aaron begin to move, forcing his cock deeper into her tightness. 

“Fuck, you’re so big, feels so good.” (Y/n)’s praises made a smirk widen on his lips, hand tightening its grip on her pillow. His eyes had that special glint to them (y/n) adored with all her might, hoping that she’d forever get to admire it. Their bodies moved in sync, perfectly complementing one another, seemingly able to understand what their systems were desperate for without having to speak up. 

A yawn left (y/n) as she arrived at her apartment, ripped from her flashback as her gaze fell upon her door, freezing in her step. Her door was open, no longer locked, even though (y/n) was certain that she had locked it all these hours ago. Slowly she placed her bag down on the ground, taking a deep breath before she walked into her apartment.

Her heart was racing, feet trying not to make any noises as she walked through her empty apartment. It didn’t seem like anything was missing, things left in their place. Her hand trembled as she pushed open the door to her bedroom, eyes finding the crooked red smiley that had been painted onto the wall, paired with a red “Missed me?”.

Without thinking twice (y/n) reached for her phone, eyes flickering down to her screen, thumb dialling the only number she knew by heart. It didn’t ring for long, forcing an all too bright “Hello?” to vibrate in her ears.

“Patrick, he was in my apartment.” She heard the mentalist exhale, and for a few seconds they were engulfed by an uncomfortable silence. (Y/n) couldn’t stop trembling, eyes forced shut to try and stop her mind from pushing her back into that awful feeling she had felt the days following her kidnapping. 

“I will be there in a minute, it will be okay, honey.” The call ended without giving (y/n) another chance to speak, staring at the now dark screen of her phone. For a moment she wondered if she should also call Aaron, and yet she didn’t, not wanting to pull him away from the files he was probably working on right now. 

Though while (y/n) was sitting down on her bed, fumbling with her fingers as the seconds passed by like raindrops falling from the dark sky, Aaron was pacing his office, eyes finding the picture of him and (y/n) at any given chance. From his office he had a perfect view onto the others, his team, the CBI members, and Patrick Jane. The sight of the man left Aaron brooding, unsure what to think of him, somewhat anxious about the tension lingering between the man and (y/n). 

He watched Patrick reach for his phone, speaking words he couldn’t hear with a smile tugging on the blond haired man’s lip. All Aaron could do was watch the smile turn into a frown, making his way towards the elevator with hurried steps. Aaron wasn’t fast enough to stop Patrick from leaving, he could only guess that (y/n) had called him, making Aaron’s heart clench in his chest.

“Where is he going?” Aaron turned towards Teresa Lisbon, studying the dark haired woman whose eyes were focused on the elevators. 

“(Y/n) had called him, seems like he had made his next move, he broke into her apartment.”

#Aaron Hotchner smut #mind games #aaron hotch imagine #patrick jane #criminal minds imagine

[georgiapeach30513]

I wanna know what game Natasha is playing in You Were The One? Does she have a secret thing for Court? Is she jealous of 12? Inquiring minds want to know

So Natasha in a way does think she’s protecting Twelve.  She believes that Twelve has no idea what she’s getting into, when in fact she does.  Lloyd has told her every evil deed he’s done.  That open dialogue just wasn’t for her, he meant it.  He tells her everything.  The difference between Six and Lloyd is Lloyd knows that neither deserve Twelve, but she chose him, so he’s going to protect that.  Six believes he should be with her, despite what he deserves.  Natasha wants to know everything.

You Were the One, Part 11

Summary:  Natasha still isn’t done

Pairings:  Natasha X Twelve, Natasha X Six, Twelve X Lloyd

Rating:  mild

Warnings:  language, mentions of being followed, mentions of oral sex, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  1.1K

Previous

Series Masterlist

Straightening up your arm, you turn and glare at Natasha, “Romanoff, you shouldn’t come up behind someone that has a gun in her hand.”

With a smirk she walks in the booth beside you, but her body continues to face yours. “What do you want?”

“Why are you so hostile? I figured since you and Lloyd…”

“This conversation is over,” you can see her out of the corner of your eye, as you clean up your space. Returning everything you spin to look at her. “How dare you sit outside his place. I’m not with Six anymore.”

“Are you single?”

“As a matter of fact, I’m not. Did Six ask you to spy on me or is this of your own accord?” she shrugs her shoulders, and you’re over this. “I should have known. Partners until the bitter end. You know, I’ve wondered if you were in love with him. If you had extra curricular activities together, you seem very involved in making me feel I made a mistake.”

“I haven’t,” her smug look draining off her face. “And I’m not in love with him.”

“I hope you know, I valued our friendship. You were the first person to talk to me at the agency. And I hope you know the only one who has given a damn about me after the miscarriage has been Lloyd. Hell, other than him, only Fitzroy asked me how I was doing, and it’s his fucking job. You should have checked in on me. But instead you had to give me some sob story about what happened to Six twenty years ago. I had a miscarriage two months ago, and you never even checked up on me. Do you know what Lloyd did, while he was gone? I had something delivered every day that he was away. Cookies, macarons, flowers, a book, a movie, and you couldn’t even ask me how I was.”

You see it in her eyes that she realizes what a shitty person she had been. And none of it was lies. Sometimes you wondered if Nat ever looked at herself and figured out what she did wrong, or if it was always calling others out.

“That’s what I thought,” you deadpan, spinning on your heels to walk away.

“Did you ever think about why Lloyd’s doing all this?” you stop at the door, but refuse to look at her. “He wanted you as a partner because he wants to go private.  He knows your value in this field.”

“He just knows my value.  And he cares about me. He loves me,” spinning back around to look at her, you walk closer. A deep desire to spit on her. “You don’t know when to quit. You’ve got it in your head he’s private, what if he is? You telling me you haven’t done your own private missions. You can’t afford that home, cars, and motorcycles on your salary.”

“That was the past. And he’s dragging you down with him.”

“And what was Six doing? I didn’t understand what I deserved when I was with him. Did you even watch the way that Lloyd looks at me? The way he cares for me? Sex with Six was a chore. We’d have a discussion, and he’d get all loving to end the conversation. It’s always been his play. And I can’t get enough of Lloyd. I’m not continuing to have this same tired conversation with you. Six and I are over. And so are you and I.”

“Wait,” she pouts at you, “I’m trying to protect you. You don’t know Lloyd.”

“Maybe it’s you that doesn’t know Lloyd. Quit following him. It’s weird that you sit outside, we’re sleeping or fucking. Maybe that’s what you need. Try Six, I heard he’s emotionally unavailable,” you don’t care to hear anything more. Even if Natasha was working to help you, she was going about it completely wrong.

She was too defensive about Six. Too adamant to make Lloyd the bad guy, and never once considered you’re feelings in all of this. No one did, except the one person that everyone seemed to think was the monster.

“Feet off my desk, Romanoff,” Six cuts his eyes over at his partner, and she begrudgingly drops them to the floor. “Well?”

“They’re definitely dating.”

“Son of a bitch,” he grunts slamming a fist on his desk. “And you’re sure.”

“My eyes saw, but she confirmed it,” silence settles between them, and Natasha clears her throat. Her dainty fingers tap along his desk, until he glares over at her. “This is stupid.”

“Excuse me?”

“This. She knew I was out there. Pretty sure she would know that you’re driving around. Let it go. She seems happy,” he rests his chin on his hand, and wonders if there was anything left to do. Surely you and Lloyd couldn’t be that serious.

“You can’t outsmart her. If you had put as much work in your relationship, it would be you she was going to bed with. I’m not doing it again. She called me out for the fool I’ve been. I’ve been so worried about making you look good, I made myself look like shit. I’ll never be able to make it up to her. It’s over. She’s happy. Just remember that.”

Natasha stands to leave, but stops in the doorway to watch him. He was turning to darker methods to get what he thinks he wants, but she knows it’s a fool’s game, and she’s done playing. She can’t offer you an apology, so instead, she tells herself she’ll let you live your life as you see fit. It always seemed to work for you up until this moment.

As you walk to your office, you get a quick jolt when Lloyd pulls you in to his hard body. Slamming your body against his chest, and you let out an airy giggle, “Lloyd, not here.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to look at him, as he backs you into his office. Those dark eyes glaring at the man he’s wanted to do nothing, but tell him how stupid he was for nearly a year. His mouth turns up in a sneer, and he blows Six an arrogant kiss. Lloyd still hasn’t had a talk about him hanging outside of his place. He’ll deal with that when you’re not around.

Closing the door behind you, you lean up to give him a soft kiss. A kiss that turns more needy when he gives your lower lip a nibble, “Lloyd, not here.”

“You’re just saying that because if we continue, I’m going to have you leaned over that desk.”

“Exactly. I’ll take you up on that offer one day. I was actually going to ask, what you wanted for dinner,” you give him a little pout and he returns with a chaste peck to your lips.

“Nope, we’re going out on a date. I don’t want to stay holed up at home. I gotta show you off.”

“Aw, but then we can’t look up at the stars naked.”

His eyes widen when you lift up your eyebrow, you were trouble. “Okay, new plan. We get take out. No clean up. Naked star gazing. But only if you sit on my face with both of us looking at the sky, and I’ll make you see stars alright.”

“Lloyd!”

“So is that a yes or a no?”

Next

Masterlist

Taglist:  @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @bookwormchick91 @whimsyplaty92 @bambamwolf87 @curlycarley @infatuatedjanes @8oopsiedaisy8 @spider-thot0115 @tryingtosurvivestuff @sstan-hoe @xcaptain-winterx @buckysteveloki-me @sgtjaamesbaarnes @writing-for-marvel @alwaysclassyeagle @mrsharringtonmunson @jlc3276 @elrw24 @kattreffic @lettersandsodas @saucy-sassy-sparkly @crazyunsexycool @randomagnes0210

#you were the one #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x sierra six #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x fem!reader #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen fic #lloyd hansen fics #lloyd hansen fanfiction #the gray man #the gray man fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans character

[waklman]

Tilly my lovely writer,

you absolutely can't imagine how I love your work. You are so talented and I can't stop reading your stuff. I'm so obsessed with Fake It, you gave Jake such a special personality, omg I LOVE IT. So sad that you suffering fro. I writers block, don't stress yourself, we love you.

Because of my very (un)healthy obsession with Fake It, I've got a lot of ideas for these two idiots. Hear me out, imagine this whole fake dating is stressing Princess so much and one day the bitch friends of Jake's ex saying to her that she's just a consolation prize for Jake and she will never be worth it or enough for him. Hurt to no end and an migraine incoming she goes home only to have a bsd argument with Jake. Shhr snaps at him and he also says something hurtful (like "no wonder that you're just have a fake boyfriend"). Of course Jake instantly regrets his words but his best friend is hurt. Alone in her room she cries herself to sleep only to wake up hours later with a raging migraine. Imagine Jake finds her nearly passed out in the kitchen, one time more realizing how important she is to him. He takes care of her. Worried Jake, protective Jake, care taking Jake that's what we need

first of all, i love you too & thank you so much for this sweet message because, really, i needed to hear that, i’ve felt so awful for not being able to update fake it (i know i shouldn't but it happens). anyways, this felt so nice to write bc i wasn’t struggling with it, so here is worried jake!! i know i had two other requests for this in my inbox as well, so this is also for those two anons :)

Jake doesn’t hate. 

All his life, he was told by his mother that hate was bad for the heart. That hate had no rightful place in his growing body. But, in the midst of his underwhelming teenage angst, Jake Seresin secretly concluded that his hate should be reserved for one thing, and one thing only—and that was making you cry. 

So, when you came barging into his room, hysterical and teary eyed over some stupid thing some girl said about you two, Jake had no intent of making you cry. It was just that, he could barely get a word in when you were mindlessly repeating it back to him. 

That girl has her head on backwards if she thinks Seresin actually likes her, he’s only sticking around because he feels obliged to. I feel sorry for him, I’d go ballistic if my parents picked out my friends for me.

Frustration spread through his body like a virus when you kept cementing that it was true, accusing him of agreeing with it too. And that’s when the worst thing he ever said to you came out his mouth this evening. 

If you want to fucking believe that you’re so unlikeable, then maybe it’s true. Maybe you are.

The moment the words fell off his tongue, you immediately went quiet, giving him a glimpse of what it looked like when he made you cry.

At that, Jake hated himself more than anything. Jake hated that you looked more hurt than you did when you originally stalked inside, looking for his assurance. Jake hated that he had to listen to you sob for most of the night, alone in the bathroom with the door shut. Jake hated that you might have taken what he said out of anger to heart. That you believed you weren’t worthy of being liked, especially by him.

Because if anything, that was far from the truth. 

And Jake couldn’t let you fall asleep tonight like this, not when he knew you always punished yourself by not tending to the migraines you got from crying. 

“Swallow it please,” Jake lets out a guilty breath, watching your throat weakly bob when you take down the Motrin he eased past your lips.

Seated across from each other in the bathtub, Jake’s frame struggles to fit in the confines of the porcelain, more than yours does—but he pushes the discomfort away, because you’d been sitting here for hours while he was laid in his bed.

And maybe it was because Jake had tiredly pleaded outside the door for a hour before coming in or maybe it was because you watched him struggle to fit himself in the tub with you just so he could mouth feed you some ibuprofen, but you lurch forward—knocking the wind out of him in a desperate hug. 

It takes all of Jake’s self restraint to not fall apart when you slot yourself between his legs and gently rest your chin on his shoulder, letting him feel you again. 

With a tight throat, he forces himself to speak. “I’m so fucking sorry, princess.”

When you sniff in his ear, Jake pulls you closer against him, cushioning the side of your head so it doesn’t hit the bathtub faucet. “I didn’t mean it. God I—I really didn’t fucking mean it,” he starts, voice already shaky. “I don’t want you thinkin’ that I only stick around because our families are close.” Jake swallows when he feels you move a hand to softly scratch at his nape, comforting him through this.

“I know,” you whisper softly, trying to ease the tension in his body. “If you did, you wouldn’t pick a fight with your sisters everytime they claimed me as a roommate when we stayed at hotels,” you let out a hoarse giggle, throat still sore from crying. 

At that, a small smile settles on his face. “I also let them put makeup on me so I was allowed in the girls room,” he adds. 

“Yeah, exactly. You just like me that much, you loser.” Your mouth stretches into a wide smile, cracked lips burning as it does. Finally, Jake lightens up, laughing at your little jab. 

“I just like you that much,” he repeats.

#ears open #fake it

[hazardworld]

Hey Tumblr friends! One of my Ao3 fics “Dustin’s a Damn Good Ally,” got somewhat popular. However, every time I read it, I can’t help but note all the grammatical/spelling errors, the simplicity of text, and sheer lack of description.

I don’t want to completely change and destroy it though, because even with all its faults, it did make people happy.

Therefore, I’ve decided to preserve it before I edit it. On here, I’ll be posting the ORIGINAL chapter-by-chapter, with a link to the EDITED one on Ao3 (when it goes up).

———

Chapter 1— Confessions by the Dumpsters

Ao3 Link

Originally Posted 1.1.23/Edited 9.1.23

Summary: Dustin's dad sucks, and Will is heartbroken

(Queer author saying queer is used both positive and negative here)

———

On Dustin’s first day of 6th grade, he was called 'toothless.' That was a generic, appearance-based insult, something similar to insults he’d gotten in the past. It didn’t hurt him, he knew it was just a name.

The same people who called him toothless called Will 'a queer.'

Dustin knew what that meant.

When he was 7, his dad had called him 'a queer' and other words he wouldn’t repeat, and he and his mother had quickly left their small Minnesotan town for Hawkins, Indiana.

Dustin knew the effect that word had on people.

So, he kept defending Will. It didn’t matter if will was actually gay or not, the word still hurt, and he made sure the other two in their squadron of 4 knew how bad of an insult it truly was. Mike didn’t really get it.

That school year, he kept Will under close watch, making sure to always have a snack and some tissues on hand, keeping an eye on his emotions and the people around him.

That’s when Dustin noticed something interesting: Will’s body language always showed shyness around Mike, and Dustin would’ve been damned if he didn’t catch the small smiles and pinked cheeks Will got when talking to the other boy.

So maybe Will was queer, after all.

Not that that was a bad thing!

Obviously!

Duh.

But obviously, that insult had merit to it. Merit confirmed the night of the Snow Ball, when Dustin watched as his good friend forlornly watched Mike slow dance with their new friend El, and decided to make his way over, linking his arms with the other 8th grader.

"Dustin? What—"

"Shhhh…" Dustin put a silent finger to his lips, "Wanna head outside and talk for a bit? It’s not like any of us are getting the dates we want," Will’s brow furrowed, obviously confused at Dustin’s specific wording, but he nodded, and Dustin led the way to the back parking lot, where he knew no one would be there to listen.

"So…" Will said after the door closed, "What’s up? Here to complain about…girls?" Dustin smiled warmly, sitting on the concrete steps below, patting down a space next to him. Will sat.

"Will, I want to ask you something, and I need an honest answer, ok? No judgement." Will’s eyes went wide with panic, as if he knew the question Dustin was about to ask. He probably did, if Dustin was gonna be honest.

"I’m—I’m gay," He whispered the term hurriedly, tears starting to form on his cheeks, "if that’s what you’re asking." Dustin grinned.

"I was gonna ask if you like Mike, but sure, yeah, that works too." Suddenly, Will just started sobbing, and Dustin pressed him into a deep hug, not realizing that he was starting to cry softly, too.

"Fuck, Dustin, I like him and he only likes her and it hurts!" Dustin used his hand to rub Will’s back in circles, something Ma did for him whenever he needed a good cry.

"Well, Will, Mike’s kinda a douche, ok? He’s a well-meaning douche, but a douche.” He felt Will nod beside him, and he kept rubbing his back. Suddenly, Will drew away from Dustin, putting his hands on the older preteen’s shoulders.

“So you don’t hate me for being…’a queer’?” Will whispered the term, and off of instinct, Dustin grimaced. This instantly sent the wrong message, as Will backed away quickly, panic streaking across both boys’ faces.

“Shit, Will, oh my god, I didn’t mean that like that!” Will’s face still reeked of fear, but now with the added dose of confusion, “I could never hate you for being queer dude, that’s a dick move!” Dustin watched Will sigh in relief, the confusion still there.

“So then…why’d you make that face?” Dustin sighed, looking down.

“I dunno. Just the way you said that…didn’t hit right for me. Felt like you were hurting yourself. It’s stupid, sorry,” Will grinned, pulling Dustin in for another brief hug.

“Don’t be. It’s cool. Thanks for…being cool with all this.” Dustin grinned, “I haven’t exactly come out to anyone yet, but I think my mom and brother know.” Dustin nodded. He wouldn’t say how or why, but he knew they did, and that they were safe. Really, that’s all that mattered.

“So…enough talking about my shitty love life, how’s yours?” Will grinned, and Dustin rolled his eyes.

“Dude, Steve taught me all his popular jock boy tricks and none of them are working!” Will laughed, “I thought I’d be a chick magnet tonight, but here I am with you talking about unrequited love.” He groaned lightly, pinching his hand to the bridge of his nose, and Will patted him on the back.

"Shitty love lives together, eh?"

They chatted back there until Lucas grabbed them 20 minutes later, saying Steve was there to pick them all up.

Later, Dustin realized he became Will’s crush confidante: he was the only person who explicitly knew, so Will would come to him or walkie him asking for advice, or to rant, or to even just ponder.

It was nice to have that relationship: partner work was almost always Dustin-Lucas and Will-Mike, so it was great getting closer to another member of the party he didn't spend as much time with. Will was kind and thoughtful, and also a real snark when he got into it.

Truly, Dustin thought it was all pretty bitchin'.

———

It is my firm belief Dustin is the first one to clock Will at the Snow Ball, and everyone's better for it.

Also, the kid has absolutely no social cues. This will be a reoccurring theme.

Chapter 2/6

#dustin henderson is a little shit #will byers #byler #SLAY GAY SLAY #methinks i smell the tism

[bluejaysandblackbats]

K and/or A from the prompt ask game with preferably Batman and Red Hood where all B can think about is to protect his baby successful this time at the very least.

Why do I suddenly need some angst between those two born from character death?

A– Always, always there

K– One has to kill the other.

Crimson gloss glinted over his white teeth under the dim, flickering fluorescent lights. Metallic and combined with the rich, heavy taste of beef. Well-done. He could even taste the char in his back teeth. Before he could come to his senses, someone hit Jason with a metal pipe so hard it rebounded once it slammed into his temple. He let his head drop between his shoulders, and a voice cried out, begging the assailant to stop. Someone had gone to drastic lengths to recreate this moment. Whoever did this wanted to bastardize Jason’s trauma. 

Still, Jason couldn’t see, feel, or care about any of it. He couldn’t distinguish that moment from the past. It all existed at once. Survival instinct left him. His body went cold and numb as his ears rang. He endured strikes against his back, arms, hips, and stomach. His hands and feet were bound the same as that day in the warehouse. The only difference was he didn’t scream. He didn’t beg for his mother or Bruce. He would’ve focused on the smell of cigarette smoke, but his nose was the first thing they broke. “For fuck’s sake! Let him go!” the voice yelled. Jason perked up. He raised his head as far as it would go, blood dripping from all over as he tried to find the source. Jason could only hear the man’s faint cries. The lids of his eyes were heavy as he forced them open. 

Jason laughed. It shook both his assailant and the man begging for his release. At first, they could’ve mistaken it for a nervous response, but it built into a lingering chuckle. They battered Jason’s chest to all hell, but his laugh was unmistakable. And it was frightening. Jason laughed until his meal came up his esophagus, through his mouth and nose, splattering onto the ground. It was blood and beef and bread. He frowned at the sensation, kicking himself for not chewing better. It would’ve come up a lot easier that way. Jason spat and coughed until his body gave out. “Don’t touch him! I’ll do it!” the man pleaded. “Don’t touch him again… I’ll do it.” 

Jason listened to the mystery assailant’s footsteps as he left the room. The door shut, and Jason heard an electric deadbolt lock. He felt someone drop beside him, running a hand through his hair, grazing broken skin. Jason laughed and let out a sob. “Listen to me.” The man’s hands ran from Jason’s scalp to his cheeks. Jason’s head dropped. “No. No, don’t do that. Look at me,” the man commanded. Jason opened one eye. “You have got to live… So you can tell her to kill me instead.” 

Jason’s stomach turned. “B?” Jason whispered. It all made sense. Some sick and twisted person wanted to right the wrong. “It’s gotta end… the way it did… It’s gotta end the same.” 

“No, you’re my son, and you’ve gotta save yourself. If you tell them to kill me instead, they’ll let you go-.” 

“And if I don’t?” Jason asked. He let his head droop once more. 

“They’ll kill you in front of me-.” 

“But you could leave… I want you-.”

“Why can’t you listen to me?” Bruce questioned.

“Because I’ve done this before!” Jason yelled. Jason took a breath. “I couldn’t save my moms. I can help you. You’ve gotta live.”

Bruce tried to hold Jason’s face up, his hands slipping on the blood that covered Jason’s face. “No-.” 

Jason used the best of his strength to step over his cuffs, and he leaned backward. Bruce scooted behind Jason quickly, holding onto him. “I love you,” Jason mumbled, “You don’t have a choice. If you love me, you’ll walk away from all this.” Bruce couldn’t figure it out. After all that they’d been through, Jason still loved him. 

Bruce fought with Jason to get him to change his mind, but Jason stubbornly refused. “Please-.” 

“I don’t fit. I never made sense to your family, and that’s okay,” Jason whispered, “I don’t want to… All I ever wanted was you. Maybe what I got as a kid was it. There’s no space for me anymore.” Bruce tried to lift Jason’s face. 

“That isn’t-. That isn’t true,” Bruce whispered, “There isn’t a lot of time. Jason, please.” Jason nodded drowsily, no longer able to lift his head. 

Jason’s assailant returned, and Bruce held tight to Jason. “Please do the right thing, Jason,” Bruce whispered. Jason nodded. 

“Let my dad go,” Jason mumbled, “Take me instead… Let him go.” Two men came into the room and dragged Bruce out in his costume. He screamed and kicked and pleaded with Jason to do the right thing. “I’m always-. Always there. Right there.” Jason endured another beating and finally fell asleep to the sound of ticking. He never felt the blast. Never even heard it.

#nandi answers #jason todd #bruce wayne #batfam #red hood jason todd #i combined the prompts #angst answer #major character death #genre: angst #i just woke up from an accidental two hour nap #prompt

[simping-for-kamski]

12 Steps of Christmas

Hank Anderson and Leo Manfred meet in group therapy for their 99 problems they're trying to fix—mourning, addiction... But deviancy is on the rise, and Detroit is about to change radically. Will these two men change too?

Let's see if I can post a chapter everyday till Xmas! Read on Ao3

1. Anger

“Welcome to the group,” the therapist said. She was a human being and that was all that mattered.

The room was lit a bit too bright, and some ten persons were attending the session, sitting on bland chairs forming a circle. Hank felt like an idiot just being there. He almost didn’t attend the session—he’d had a few in the past weeks, but this week had been especially challenging. He’d nearly put a bullet in his own head just the evening before, and nearly put a bullet in his plastic partner’s head too less than twelve hours ago.

At least he wasn’t sitting in front of Maria this time—she always cried embarrassingly much. Instead, he sat in front of a new face in the group, a young man in his mid-twenties with heavy dark circles around his eyes and patchy stubble. His gaze was empty. His hair was a tangled mess. Hank couldn’t blame him for attending the meeting looking like that. Most participants weren’t in the best mental space, and it reflected on their appearance—Hank knew he was no exception.

As the round of introductions went, Hank learned that the newcomer was called Leo and recently lost his father. He didn’t tell much more. Seemed like the type who preferred to listen first. Hank had been there too, but that day, he’d sworn to himself that if he came to the meeting, he’d talk.

“My name’s Hank. I lost my son, Cole, three years ago. Traffic accident—I was driving,” he specified for Leo, who was new and didn’t know his story yet. “Cole made it to the ER but an android surgeon butchered him and…” If Cole had survived, Hank wouldn’t be sitting here, talking. “These past days been rough,” he admitted. “My boss assigned me to work on things to do with androids, and I even have one of those following me pretty much everywhere. It’s… been tough.”

He paused for a moment. The others gave him time, as it was obvious that he had more to say.

“I don’t know what the fuck’s wrong with CyberLife,” Hank picked up at last, annoyance rising in his voice. “It’s not enough that I have to mourn my son, I also have to somehow accept that whole android bullshit and that… That, I can’t. I hate those fucking machines, I hate that they’re everywhere, and I hate, I really hate that they’re made to look so real and human, but they don’t feel a goddamn thing. I hate that the android who took my son’s life didn’t understand what life means, what death is. I…” He interrupted himself and shook his head. “These days, I… I’ve seen things and it’s messing my head, fucking my brain. I don’t know what to think anymore. I think… maybe it’d be easier for me to mourn Cole if…”

He lost himself in his spinning thoughts there. He wasn’t sure where he was going with that.

“My android partner,” he said instead, “I’ve seen him get destroyed right in front of me. You know what CyberLife did? Just fucking sent a new one. Same model, same face, everything. They didn’t even complain about doing it. And I just wonder—what did they do with the body? Tossed it in the trash? Just like that? Without a word? Like, for fuck’s sake… I don’t know. It’s all so wrong.”

There, Leo’s shoulders quivered and he discreetly excused himself as he drove back a sob. He didn’t speak though, and Hank didn’t feel like talking anymore. He got praise for sharing more about his story and for articulating his anger. The therapist went on about the importance of rituals in human culture, and the importance of the place of death in society, all while trying to keep a non-political stance over the position of androids in all that.

Hank ended up phasing out.

The session ended and as everybody helped to clean up the room, he found himself next to Leo, stacking up chairs together. The young man glanced at him, said nothing, glanced at him again.

“I’m sorry about your son,” he mumbled at last. “You must have been an incredible dad to miss him that much. I bet he was a great kid too.”

Hank nodded. “He was.”

Leo bit his lips. The other participants were exiting the room. “Uh… Hank?” he checked he got the name right. But then, “No, nothing. Sorry. I better run along, got another meeting to attend.”

“Yeah, same. No problem.”

#detroit become human #dbh #dbh fanfic #dbh hank anderson #hank anderson #dbh leo manfred #leo manfred #12 steps of xmas

[babygirl-snugglefucks]

Goddammit, girl. Don’t you realize what you’re doing to me? Sunbathing in the back yard, right outside my window, wearing a bikini that’s barely more than dental floss? Standing in my darkened office, staring at you, I take another sip of bourbon. The ice clinks against the glass. Despite the air conditioning, I feel feverish and flushed. Setting the drink down, I drop my pants, then my boxers, leaving them puddled on the floor. Freed of its confines, my erection quickly rises, longer and harder. Fixing my gaze on you again, I begin to stroke.

Fuck. I shouldn’t be thinking about you like this. No father should be thinking about his daughter like this. How many times have I said this to myself? Fifty? A hundred? More. You were sixteen when I blundered in on you getting out of the shower; barely a hour later was the first time I pleasured myself to thoughts of you. I’ve barely thought of anyone else since. I reach for the box of tissues, and feel how light it is. That box was new less than two weeks ago, and I haven’t had a cold. We did, however, have a stretch of unseasonably warm weather. You’ve been sunbathing a lot in the past several days. Drink in one hand, cock in the other, I continue to watch you, wishing I could feel my cock inside you- in your mouth, your pussy, your ass… sweet girl.

With a start, I notice that you have just stood up, and are gathering up your towel and lotion. Barely realizing that I have made the decision, I head out to intercept you at the back door. Standing just inside, I wait. The door opens, and you step from sunlight into darkness. Your hand reaches for the light switch. I grab your wrist and pull you to me, clapping my other hand over your mouth, cutting off your scream. As I slam your body into the wall, you drop the towel and lotion. The bottle pops open, and an arc of white cream jets onto the door. You try to fight, but I have easily overpowered you. I slam you against the wall again, then drag you, still struggling, into the living room. Dropping you face down on the couch, I use my weight to pin you in place. Pulling your bottoms down, the thin fabric tears easily, exposing your holes. My hand feels your pussy, already wet. Who were you thinking about, out there in the sun? Looking for a better grip, I finally release your mouth. “Daddy!” You try to scream, “Daddy, help!” “Who were you thinking about, you horny little slut?” You hear my voice and smell the whiskey on my breath, and you realize that Daddy is here, but there will be no help. “…Daddy…?” You whimper as the tip of my cock finds your hole, then scream as I push it in with a single thrust. Your hips buck, trying to throw me off. This only excites me more. I push into you again, deeper. I grab a braid, and pull. Hard. You shriek. With my other hand, I smack your ass. As my handprint blooms into color on your cheek, I grab your buttock, and begin working my thumb into your tight, dry rosebud. I fuck into you, harder, faster, deeper. You’re sobbing continuously; your tears soaking into the cushion mirror the wetness at your other end.

I can finally hold out no longer. With a mighty roar, my cum surges up from my balls, rockets the length of my shaft, and erupts directly against your cervix. I thrust into you again, twice, three times more. My balls finally empty, I collapse onto you. I have claimed you completely. You are no longer just my daughter. You are simply Mine.

😊

#dadsecrets #part3 #ask

[heyidkyay]

Hii! I’ve really wanted to get back into writing for the longest time now, and after reading these beautiful books and watching season one of The summer I turned pretty, I figured I’d try to write a series based around it:)

Not sure who the endgame will be as of yet but feel free to msg me ideas if you enjoy the first part! Just a forewarning the themes used will be similar to those in the books.

Hope you like it??

———————————————————————————

Paper cuts.

Summary: Aurelia Cunnings, eighteen, freshly graduated, and stranded with no real family to phone or friends to reach out to. The past year has been a neverending nightmare, one she can’t seem to escape from. But will this be the summer to change all?

Part One.

Part two>

—

I had nothing. Nothing and no one.

As I sat there, on the side of the road, phone clutched tightly in my fisted hand, that was all I could think of. I had no way out this time. No friends I could call. No family that would be interested. Nothing.

I squeezed my eyes tightly shut as I inhaled a staggered breath, dropping my head into the space my knees had created.

My bags. Just the two of them, an old duffle and all too overused backpack, waited patiently on the curb beside me.

Term time had just ended, and summer had just begun. But yet, here I still was, stranded a million miles from the place I knew was no longer my home and the school I’d been forced to leave.

Well, I say leave, but how else was I supposed to describe it? I had just graduated, I had college waiting for me in the fall if I could still somehow make that prospect work, and everyone had already cleared out for the summer.

They had meant to be there- my family. Mum had texted me ahead of time upon hearing from the school’s pa, but then she’d missed graduation, skipped out on my leavers ceremony, and gone completely off the grid. And by that I mean, she practically upped and left the country. Left me. Stranded and alone, figuring I already had some place to go.

And I might have, once upon a time. Before- before everything that happened last October.

I sighed and willed myself not to cry. I wouldn’t cry. I couldn’t. I was stronger than the emotions she brought out in me. I wouldn’t cry, not for her.

“Fuck!” I cursed underneath my breath, already rubbing at my tired eyes.

I hadn’t slept well in, weeks? Months? But the last couple of days had been stressful. Too difficult to describe. And too horrendous to even think about. All I wanted was a warm bed.

I chewed my lip harshly as I tapped my thumbnail against the side of my phone. The screen came to life when I accidentally hit the power button but instead of letting it dim out, I forced myself to scroll through my contacts once more. There had to be someone, anyone, decent enough to-

My chest tightened on its own accord as my eyes came across one familiar name.

I thought it over, once, twice, then before I could think better of it I hit call.

Another shaky breath escaped me as I held the phone up to my ear. It rang. One. Two. Three.

“Hello? Aurelia, is that you, sweetheart?”

I gulped upon hearing her voice and couldn’t help the way I completely fell apart when I finally answered.

“Susannah.” I sobbed.

—

The drive to the airport wasn’t a long one, but the flight from Chicago to Massachusetts was. And even though I now had a place to go, somewhere safe, somewhere warm, I still couldn’t will my exhausted body to sleep. Not when my phone call with Susannah was still so fresh in my mind.

It had been months since I’d last seen her. I think the last time we spoke had been in early May the previous year.

A few years prior, my father had egged me into volunteering at one of her many charity events. I’d been fifteen and from the very first moment I saw Susannah, I knew she was the kind of woman I wanted to grow up to be.

Though I’d been helping out, we never crossed paths much, not when there had been a billion other kids doing the exact same job as me. Some forced there by overzealous parents, others just looking for something else to add to their college app.

But looking back, I don’t know how, and I really don’t recall when, but Susannah Fisher grew quite fond of me. So much so, that by the time the next event rolled around that same year she had dubbed me as her executive little helper.

I’d been so pleased with the title. Susannah had a simple way of making any and everyone feel important.

I’m not ashamed to say I grew rather attached, and it wasn’t surprising to say the very least, my own mother and I had never seen eye to eye. She was far too busy in her own world. She left almost everything to do with me down to my dad. My brother on the other hand, had always been her golden boy. The school’s quarterback. Prom King. He had it all. And me? I’d only craved her attention from the sidelines.

Susannah was the complete opposite of my mother.

She was warm, where my mother was cold and closed off.

Susannah laughed, loudly and without care, whilst my mother rarely ever smiled.

She painted for hours on end and spoke of her sons as though they were her greatest achievement. And in a way, I knew that they were. She was the perfect role model. In the time we spent together we bonded and I came to look at her as the mother figure I’d missed out on.

The last real conversation I’d had with my mother was almost six years ago now. I’d been twelve, just declared the vice captain of my cheer team. A team I had only joined to appease her. She had been so proud. Practically paraded me around to all of her friends.

When I’d quit after a bad fall a year later, I had seen the disappointment in her eyes. She could hardly stand to look at me, even though my grades had never slipped below an A, and I had forced myself to try out for the school talent show whilst my leg healed up. I’d come in second place, by the way, the runner up to a group of seniors who had choreographed an extensive dance routine. Not that she had even attended.

My dad had though. He always came through.

But that was in the past now.

I shook my head to clear my mind and instead focused my attention on the plane’s cabin. An air hostess further up front smiled at me all as she took to her place just in time for the pilot to announce our descent.

This was it, I thought as I buckled my seatbelt, this was the start to my summer.

#the summer i turned pretty #tsitp #conrad fisher #jeremiah fisher #oc #Conrad fisher x #Jeremiah fisher x #reader #steven conklin #belly conklin #tsitp fanfic #imagine #fic #tsitp books #team conrad #team jeremiah #tsitp conrad #tsitp jeremiah #tsitp belly #susannah fisher #fiction #imagines

[heretic-saint-taliesin]

DAY 13 - SALVAGE SHIP THE WRETCHED_

[Communications commence, Boris seems to have a little hope_] 

Day Thirteen, salvage ship The Wretched. The beacon started making noises and for a minute I thought my engine fuckups yesterday had wrecked it. No, it’s picking up radio static - radio static from ships that aren’t this one! It’s something! Maybe… Maybe I will get heard in time. 

Today we don’t waste all our time fucking around and finding out_

What would Arkady do?_

What would Arkady do right now? What would he say? I find myself asking it over and over. Before any of my tasks I just… I think about him and what he’d say and do. How would he react to all this? I wonder if he’s watching me right now from wherever you end up when you die in space. I wonder if he’s judging my choices_ 

[Pause_]

What would Arkady do? I don’t know. That’s why I keep asking_

[An alert begins blaring through the ship, echoing around the recorder and there’s the sound of spray going off. Boris’ footsteps echo_]

One day. Can I ask for one day - one FUCKING day without shit going down? What is this this time?!_

[Pause, typing and then a fist slammed on the desk_]

FIRE!? Shit shit shit shit… The sprinklers came on at least… oh fuck fuck it’s one of the backup engines. Probably from all my shitty tinkering before. This is not fucking good… Holy fuck_

[The alarms cease, Boris breathes a huge sigh_]

Okay, fire out. Now to inspect damages… aaand it won’t let me do it remotely because of course not this rustbucket just hates me at this point. Okay, stay calm. Breathe… Breathe deep. Go down and check the extent of the damage. Maybe you can just jettison off that engine and be done with it - go send it out for the thing to play with_

[Pause_]

Maybe I just send it off without looking. The fuck do I need a broken engine for anyways?_

[He types and there’s a beeping noise. The sound of warning alarms and a low rumbling. The engine presumably is jettisoned and Boris laughs_]

There! Not my problem!_

[Recording resumes and Boris sounds as if he has definitely been crying. His speech is periodically interrupted by coughing and what is assumed to be suppressed sobbing.]

I realised it’s been nearly two weeks and I haven’t actually… Gone to see them properly. Like, yeah… I’ve returned items to them when I found them and I’ve been past the room they’re all in but I haven’t… 

[Long pause, several sniffs_]

I put them in AIRLOCK-10 it’s the one closest to our habitat module. Made sense that they needed to be somewhere I wouldn’t smell rotting corpses but also… Somewhere close. I don’t know how to let go exactly. Or how to say goodbye. Or I’m sorry. Or any of it_

[Pause_]

So there’s six bodies in that airlock. It’s actually vaccum sealed too. There’s no oxygen in there so they’re not really… Decaying. I think some stuff gets in when I open it but it’s minimal. They’re not fresh but they’re not… They’re not as bad as some of the other corpses I’ve found on here anyway_

[Pause, a heavy sigh and Boris shuffling_]

I went for the last time. Told myself I’d make this my proper last time. Say goodbye and then… Let them go. I went to the airlock with the last of the personal items I found and I went over each one. I don’t know how long it took but it will never feel like enough time, will it?_

[He breaks for a moment, crying hard_] 

Gave the commander his rifle back first. I got another one out the armoury to replace it. I can’t just go running around with it, it’s not mine and well… It felt disrespectful. I put it with the bear I found and a couple of his record books. Commander Stanisław kept really detailed notes on our course and trajectory so I know he’d prefer to have them on him. I apologised for all the times I’d annoyed him and been stubborn. I was probably a massive headache to him_

Hollis I carried over from the armoury back when I found him. He’s not in the best shape but I tried. I wonder if he thinks I’m really funny that I kept the half-drunk bottle of wine I found in his hand with him when I put him in there. Hollis liked to mess around. We both joked sometimes - he and Arkady actually got along really well too. I hope he’s somewhere he can drink and debauch to his heart’s content now_

[Pause_]

Ada was in the systems room. I found her under the mainframe desk with ADAM’s motherboard in her arms. I think she was hiding. It didn’t feel right to examine the cause of death for anyone and I didn’t want to speculate on it. But I think the thing got her from behind. She’s got ADAM with her now still, I put her diary in her other hand too. Turned over her entire room for her bubblegum stash and added it in - she wouldn’t want to go anywhere without some. It felt… Better that she had it_

Douglas, Doug to friends, was actually more difficult. Idiot had to hide somewhere tight fitting and I almost didn’t find him at all. He’s fine now, aside from a little rigour mortis. I found all his comms equipment when I fixed the beacon and set this recorder up so he’s got his own things with him. Personal recordings - I listened to a few. It’s hard to hear his voice and not cry, and I hate crying. He really did drive Mary up the fucking wall… Ah_

[Pause, Boris breaks again to cry for a moment, trying to regain himself_]

Mary… She’s next to Arkady, the two of them sort of ended up leaning on each other. That’s fine, they can stay together that way. She wasn’t far from the storage unit either. She got so close too, the three of us we could have all- No. Don’t dwell on that_ 

[Pause_]

I regret not telling her how I felt. I regret not kissing her more. I miss the time we danced in the observatory under the stars. I miss her_ 

[Long silence. Boris’ voice is barely above a whisper_]

Arkady_

How do you say goodbye to a part of yourself? Your own brother, your own twin? The person who’s never not been with you ‘til now. You don’t just… You don’t just stop and let go. He’s my twin and he’s still me and I’m still him. Half of me died two weeks ago. Half of me is lying cold in that airlock_

[Pause_]

I told him to keep Mary safe. Told him thank you for saving my life but that he’s an idiot for throwing his own life away. Told him I love him, I miss him I- I said I’d keep trying. Keep trying to live for him. Hoping and praying that my own life isn’t thrown away in vain after all he did_

I said all my goodbyes but… When I said I’d jettison them I… I couldn’t do it. They’re still there. I can’t just yet. Not yet_

Crying is extremely dehydrating and all I’ve done these past two weeks aside from suffer is cry - a lot. The water system has been working but this time, after a needed drink from earlier, I noticed the taste was off. Not by much but, slight_

[Pause_]

It smells funny too_ 

[He sniffs, sighing_]

Piss. Okay not actual piss. Ammonia. Great. It’s not purifying exactly anymore. It’s not dangerous yet, I hope, but still unpleasant. It almost makes me tempted to see what remains of the ship’s alcohol stores and just let it all go. But maybe not yet. Maybe once this water is truly undrinkable_

[Pause_]

Least no one is alive to make piss jokes at me_

Flight Engineer Boris Strugatsky Signing off_ 

#tw death mention #tw dead bodies #tw sibling death #SRPG #Solo RPG #Boris Plays the Wretched

[umbra-regina]

Drinking - TW & NSFW

You know, I’ve never been drunk. Not actually. Tipsy, yeah, but never drunk.  Tonight a few of my friends tried to get me drunk but all it felt like was having low blood glucose and I fucking hated it. I hate the feeling of being almost in control but just not, and I hated the fact that everyone else was happy and giggly and sloshed and I was just.... not. They were definitely drinking more than I was, but I hated what we were drinking too. I dislike the feeling of alcohol on my tongue and I hate the way it burns even when you can’t taste it. 

Tonight, though, I got further past tipsy (still not drunk) than ever before, and being relaxed and giggly was nice. The lag time between my body and my brain sucked, but it was sort of doable. 

But then we went home, my husband and I. I got my husband home, and tucked him into bed, and he’s happy and asleep and cozy and dear gods but I’m so hollow. I feel hollow and empty and I just want somebody to fucking talk to so I can ignore how hollow I feel. 

It’s like there’s an ache in my chest, at the bottom of my ribs, and I don’t know why it’s there but it is and I. Fucking. Hate it. That hollow, empty, lonely feeling and it hurts so bad I want to cry but I’m not going to cry, I have nothing to cry about and no reason to cry and most importantly, nobody to hold me while I’m crying. 

Is it because I slipped up and told them about my brother? The way he pinned me to the floor before sinking his teeth into my thigh and raping me? Is that it - that I wasn’t going to tell them about that but did, because fuck me but they asked and I’ve promised to answer questions when they ask?

Is it because they reminded me of that? Because in telling them, I had to relive it a little bit? It shouldn’t be. I got over it.  I had to; we had a 18-hour car ride two days after he raped me. There was no way for me to *not* be over it. We had to sit next to each other in the back seat of the truck, and I couldn’t be freaking the fuck out every time made physical contact with me. I had it under control 6 hours into the drive. It helped that my younger little brother noticed something was off and I was panicking every time the older little brother touched me. It helped that he sat between us and played everything off each time my parents got suspicious about how badly I was reacting. 

I still get touchy when people touch me unexpectedly. I still react badly to being pinned down (most of the time. that one’s weird). I’m don’t ever give up control, in my personal life or at work, because there are VERY few people I trust enough to relax around and I don’t know how to keep my shit together when I’m not in control.

Maybe I didn’t get over it, after all. Is that why I’m so spooked right now? Why I feel like sobbing but won’t let myself? There’s too much to feel and I don’t want to wake my husband and I don’t want to feel all of these things alone. I can’t feel them all while I’m alone. If I lose my shit alone, it’ll reinforce the idea that I shouldn’t talk to or trust anybody. That would be bad. Very, very bad. Because then I wouldn’t talk to anyone anymore and I already push off my own health - mental and physical - because I don’t feel I’m worth taking care of. I’ve come so far, I can’t relapse now. 

But I’m so hollow. And my chest hurts so much. Maybe I should curl up in the corner. I could do that. I could handle that.