#sorry dad your son is a faggot

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

This is a direct follow up to #391

#396

“Fuckface, I don’t care what demons your preacher dad put into your head.  The fact that you are coming to the realization that that part of your life is over.  He must have really fucked you up, cause I have never seen a twenty-year-old take a beating like that.  I shredded your back to ribbons, and all you did was say you were sorry over and over.  You almost make me feel sorry for you.  But I don’t….

“But the sad thing is I do care that I have the son of a vehement anti-gay preacher in my cab.  A son that was rock hard and leaking while I was laying my whip into you.  Did you know that?

“Yeah, while you were crying, your dick was loving every minute of it.  Let me ask you.  You want this?  You want to suck dick, take it up the ass, and get smacked around for a life?

“You are going to have to do more than nod.  Here, come back with me to my bunk.  You are going to suck on my dick a bit….  Kneel there between my legs while I lay back….  Yeah, I know you’re still sore, but oh well.  Help me get these pants off….

“Ok this is what I want you to.  I’m going to be filming you.  This will be your confessional and coming out video in one.  You are to suck my seven-and-a-half-inch fat dick, but I want you to pull off and talk to the camera from time to time.  But when you do, I want you to jerk my dick and rub it on your face continually as you talk.  You are to tell the camera that you love cock.  You can’t get enough of it in your mouth and  in your ass.  Tell the camera that you’ve been living a lie, and you denounce your previous life—a life you have no intention of returning to.  Also, tell the camera that you ran away from the first driver at the first chance you had.  He needs to be washed free from any responsibility of you.

“You got all that?  It is important that you hit every one of those points.  And when you are done sucking and talking, I’m going to lift my legs.  I want you to move down to eating my hole.  Make sure you moan.  Still stroke my cock.  I want to show the viewer how much of a pig you are.  You ready?  Look at the camera.  Go!…

“…

“…Atta boy.  That was good.  That video will definitely make a statement.  And I love that your gold cross from your necklace was able to make an appearance or two.

“You can stop slurping my shit hole now.  You’ll have plenty of time to do that later.  Help me get my legs down.  We need to get going, and I need to install you.

“Install is the right word here.  Here, put these wrist restraints on….  Yeah, you ain’t the first faggot I have bound up in here; you ain’t going to be the last either.  Normally I would just hogtie you to the bunk, but since I am bobtailing, it would be very rare that we’ll be pulled over by the DoT. 

“Here’s some ankle restraints for you to put on as well.  I own this trailer outright.  I have made a few modifications for my transport of fag meat.  These heavy-duty bungee restraints are better than chain or rope.  As we roll down the highway, they will keep you in place with your legs spread and secured to the sides. 

“Move aside; I need to be behind you.  This third bungee will connect your two ankles together.  All three will keep you centered with your legs apart.

“Give me your hand.  Your wrists will be attached to bungees as well.  I’ll have you standing spread eagle naked as we drive the next few hundred miles.  When I bought this tractor I made sure that there was a little extra room.  Some of these cabs can be so tiny.

“That one went on easy.  Now the other.

“…There!  How does it feel?  No, don’t bother answering.  I don’t care. 

“Damn you look good, being all stretched out.  Your back and ass are nicely welted up.  The bleeding seems to have stopped.  This is so hot.  Arch your back and stick your ass out.  I need to fuck it.

“I don’t have much time.  Damn you are still loose from earlier.  Fuck.  This cunt was really made for cock.  It’s not going to take me much time.  Oh yeah. 

“…Mmmmm.  Oh yeah.  This cunt is going to be used tonight.  I contacted my riding buddies.  You ever been gang banged by a bunch of gay and bi bikers?  They know how to use faggot piece of shits like you.  They know who you are and who your papa is.  They won’t care that you made those videos demonstrating your love for cock.  They’ll probably make their own videos too. 

“I’m getting close boy.  Tighten up around my dick.  Fuck yeah boy.  You ready?  You ready?  Here it comes boy.  Ahh. Ahh. Ahhhhhh!!!!

“Damn faggot.  You have a righteous cunt.  Clamp down as I pull out.

“We got to get going.  I still have a few things to add. 

“This is one of my creations.  It’s like an anal hook except that it’s got a butt plug on the end instead of a steel ball.  It goes in your cunt like this.  Normally faggots like you struggle, but with the amount of dick you received today, you have one giant gape.  It’s affixed to a metal rod that goes from your cunt and up your crack to the small of your back.  There this heavy chain will suspend you from the ceiling. 

“There’s no bungee on this.  It should help you deal with the truck movements.  I used to have a slave mounting post with a dildo mounted on the top, but it was too cumbersome to work with in this tight space.

“This collar gets secured to the chain as well.  Nothing puts a fag slave in its right frame of mind than a collar being locked on.  Well, excluding a back full of welts and cuts.

“This necklace and its gold cross is coming off.  You don’t need it anymore…. 

“Shut up!  That was a statement of fact, not an invitation for an open discussion….  I don’t give a shit who gave it to you.

“…Open your mouth.  …You are the reason why God created gags.  Hold still, I just got to buckle it on.  …There!  No more talking for you.  You’ll be blindfolded, but there are other things I need to show you.

“Hold still.  I need to get in front.  Can’t much drive while standing behind you.  Oh, I should hang this from the roof as well.

“OK move aside, now.  …There!  You look good there all spread out. 

“But I’m not done.  You need to be wearing my jewelry….  The first is a pair of titty clamps, and not just any titty clamps.  These have weights dangling from them.  It hurts, doesn’t it?...  Good.  Second set goes on.  Ha!  You can’t pull away.  Those bungee cords and the anal hook pull you right back in position.

“They’ll be tight, but you will still have blood flow.  Damn that looks better dangling on your chest than some gold chain with a cross.

“Oh lookie there!  With all that I am doing to you, your pecker is semi hard.  And look at those balls!  They are just hanging there.  Don’t worry.  I have something for them too.

“This is a ball collar.  It’s flat and wide.  It opens, closes, and locks in place rather easily Your sack fits in very comfortably in the half-inch space between the front and back pieces, but there is no way that either ball will be able to squeeze through.  Once it’s on, like I just locked it in place, there ain’t no way it’s coming off unless I allow it.

“Feels fine, doesn’t it? 

“The other interesting feature is that it has a ring in the center of the front and a matching one in the back.  And wouldn’t you know, I have weights to attach to it.  That’s one, …and that’s the second. 

“Oh look at those balls getting pulled away.  Fuck that’s hot. 

“I should say that the weights on your titties and your balls are attached with a strong elastic connector.  So they are going to be bouncing around.  Every pothole I hit, every uneven part of the road, every gear shift, this cab rocks back and forth. 

“We are bobtailing.  That means that there’s no trailer, no trailer to stabilize the movements of the tractor.  It’s going to be a bumpy ride, and those weights are going to be bouncing all over the place.

“You ready to get rolling?

“Oh wait.  There’s one more thing.  I need to show you this…. 

“…You look puzzled.  I bet you are thinking, why does a truck driver have a toilet brush?  There are no toilets in this cab…  well no porcelain ones.  I can’t speak to your talents… yet.

“And look at it.  It’s an expensive one.  Solid metal handle.  The bristles are firm.  I would hand it to you to feel, but your hands are otherwise occupied.  Trust me when I say this.  This fucker is heavy.

“Before coming to stand in front of you I hung a very elastic cord from the roof about 6 inches behind you.  This brush now hangs from it.  With every movement of this cab, it’s going to bounce and swing all around behind you.  It may even strike you, reaching anywhere from your thighs to your shoulders.  Your bloody welted back is a certainty. 

“Hey!  I just had a great idea.  Let me take your necklace and wrap it around the bristles.  That way as it strikes your back, you can thank your dad and thank Jesus.

“Ok blindfold on.  My secondary dash cam is filming your struggle.  And lastly, my noise canceling headset will be on.  If I can find one of your dad’s sermons on the evils of the gays, I will blast it for you to hear.  Found one. “Let’s get rolling.  Damn, not even into third gear and the screaming have begun.”

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Whumptober Day 10 (Aaron Hotchner x y/n Hotchner)

No. 10 POOR UNFORTUNATE SOULS

Taser | Whipping | Waterboarding

Alt: tears, whimpering

Warnings: child abuse (straight after the cut), alcoholism, homophobia, f-slur, homophobic parent, internalised homophobia 

Word count: 1629

A/N:  we’re bending canon a little, Hotch joined the BAU a lot sooner (like 8 or so years before aha hope yall don’t mind, we’ll say after he got his law degree thing, he did a few years of law-ing until aged 24?)

@whumptober-archive

“No, no, no, no, no, I’m sorry- I’m sorry, I s-swear-” Your words are rushed and messy as you say them, scurried back.

"Shut up, boy," Your father slurred. “My son, the faggot,”

You gave a sob, your stomach dropping. You felt like you were going to be sick. You had been cocky and it got you caught. His car wasn’t there, how were you supposed to know he was home? You had kissed your best friend, Michael, after the two of you had decided to test the waters into being more than friends and gone on a date (to see a movie). And he had seen through the blinds.

“I’m sorry, dad, I’m sorry, I swear-” The strike was expected, but still took you by surprise. You didn’t fight back, knowing that there was no point, that he was too fueled by hatred and alcohol to care.

When the hits eventually stopped, you waited, curled up on the floor, waiting for him to leave the room. You heard him wander upstairs, shutting his bedroom door loudly behind him. You drag yourself up, wincing in pain as you do. You climb the stairs slowly, knowing that moving any faster would cause more harm than good. When you enter your room, you shut the door gently behind you.

You limp to your bed, throwing yourself down, whimpering as you did so. You reached blindly under your bed hidden at the bottom of a box of photos is the cellphone Aaron got you, telling you not to tell your father about it. He'd just take it away and right now it was your only link to the outside world. You pause when you’ve got the phone in your hand, letting your emotions flood through you for a moment, sobbing loudly, hand covering your mouth in a desperate attempt to muffle them. When you’ve recovered, you dial Aaron's number, you knew that because of his work he had to keep his phone on at all times.

Aaron’s phone woke him up, turning over with a roll, he saw at the time. 3 AM. His stomach dropped seeing your name flash on his phone. “(Y/N)? What happened?”

“I pissed him off,” Came your pained reply. “I just wanted to hear your voice. Calms me down,”

Aaron gave a sigh at his brother’s words. “I’m coming to get you,”

“I can take it, Aaron,” You mumbled.

“I don’t care. I’m coming to get you,”

“I can take it,”

“(Y/N), I’m doing what I should have done at eighteen,” Aaron said strongly, “I’m picking you up and you are going to live with me and Haley,”

"No, Aaron, it's fine, really, I'm fine,"

"No, (Y/N), it's not. You're not fine either," Aaron said, "Lock you door, pack your things. Don't open the door unless it's me, okay?"

You nodded, mumbling an okay as you walked to the door, locking it. "I've locked the door,"

"Good, now pack everything you can." He said, you heard shuffling, assuming it was him getting out of bed. "I will be there soon, pack as much as you can, we'll come back for the rest."

"Okay," You whispered, "Are you sure this is okay? Haley won't mind?"

You heard Aaron quietly explaining the situation before another voice popped up, "Of course I don't mind, (Y/N)," Haley responded. You relaxed, okay, Haley didn't mind. That was all that mattered. If she didn't mind then it was okay. Everything would be okay.

"How long until you get here?"

"I'll be there in half an hour, okay?"

"Okay,"

“How bad is it?” You paused, wincing in pain. “(Y/N)?”

“I’m fine,” You hear Aaron sigh on the other side of the line.

“(Y/N)-”

“I’m fine.” You don’t mean to snap, but you do.

"Are you going to be okay until I get there?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

"(Y/N), come out, come out wherever you are," Your blood ran cold at the slurred voice from the hallway.

"Aaron, please hurry," You whispered.

"I will." You gulped as your father slammed his fist against your door.

"Come on (Y/N)!" He yelled, "Just open the door,"

Ignoring the voice of your father and the pain spread throughout your body (motivated by the time limit Aaron had given you), you looked around your room, gathering your school work from your desk and floor, shoveling it into your school bag. When you had finished with that, you moved on to your clothing. You knew that if push came to shove, Aaron would let you steal some of his clothes if you needed it. You were just hoping you didn't necessarily need to.

You don’t reply, trying your best not to listen to the comments he yells through the door, the threats, taunts, you block them out the best you can as you continue to pack. You’re nearly done, school work all in your backpack and you’ve got the majority of your clothes in another bag.

You hear the front door open and slam shut and you know it’s Aaron. Your father is silent on the other side of the door as Aaron loudly climbs the stairs, letting you know he’s here. Perfect timing, you’ve just finished packing all of your essentials into the bag. You zip it up, clutching it and your backpack in your hands tightly.

“What are you doing here?!” His slurs are more pronounced now and you imagine he’s also swaying on his feet.

“I’m taking (Y/N),” Aaron’s voice is tight and leaves no room for argument.

“You want him? Have him.” Your father snarls. There’s a soft knock on your door.

“(Y/N)?”

“Aaron?” You ask, wanting to make sure it’s him before you open the door.

“Yeah, come on,” He says, you give a small ‘okay’ as you unlock the door. You can tell that Aaron’s trying not to react to the sight of your face, littered with bruises and cuts (some of which are slightly bleeding). “You all packed?”

You nod, holding up the two bag. “Alright,” He says, “I’ll take them, you go sit in the car.” You give him an unsure look but nod and do as he says. As you’re making your way down the stairs, you hear Aaron beginning to talk. “You come near him again, I’ll kill you.”

“Shouldn’t be talking to me like that, boy, I’m your father,"

“You never were a father.” Is his response before he, too, makes his way down the stairs. “Come on, I’m taking you to the emergency room.”

You shake your head, “Aaron, no, I’m fine,” You argue as he places your bags in the boot of his car before the pair of you climb into his car.

“I just want to check, alright?” You huff but nod, knowing he won’t let it drop (and because if Haley finds out you wouldn’t let Aaron take you she’d give you her signature look of disappointment).

You watch the nurses and doctors eye Aaron up with caution at your condition. They think he’s the one who did this to you, you know it and Aaron does too - you watch his hands tense at his side. He hates the idea of people thinking he hurt you. “Are you alright?” You ask softly.

He turns to you, giving you a strange look, “Should I be the one asking you that?”

You grin, giving a small laugh, “You look worse than me,” Aaron laughs and you join in, wincing as you do and concern flashes across Aaron’s face. The nurses and doctors, seeing this realise that he couldn’t have been the one that hurt you.

You’re called in not long after that, into a small room, you sit on the bed, Aaron stood close to your, hand protectively on your shoulder, letting you know that he was here. “I think it would be best if you gave us a minute alone,” The doctor says as she looks at Aaron. Aaron nods, removing his hand from your shoulder.

“Please don’t make him leave,” You whisper, looking at the woman with wide, pleading eyes. “It wasn’t him, please don’t make him go,” She nods and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“Who was it?” She asks, you look at Aaron, unsure whether you should answer.

When Aaron nods, you turn back to her, “My dad,” You say.

“We’re looking into ways to press charges.” Aaron adds.

“What? When did we agree to that?” You ask, looking at him in confusion.

“I meant me and Haley,”

You scoff with a smirk, “Of course, she’s got you wrapped around her finger, you know,” Aaron merely rolls her eyes.

Severe bruising, bruised ribs, and a mild concussion. But otherwise you’re fine. You’re still sat on the bed, Aaron sat next to you, waiting for the discharge forms.

“What set him off?”

“I-” Aaron’s heart broke as your voice cracked and you took in a shaky breath. He knew that you were unsure whether or not to actually tell him what had happened.

Aaron gently rubbed circles on your back, “Hey, I’m not leaving - not again. I’m your brother, through thick and thin,” He soothed, “Nothing will push me away, okay?”

You nodded, “He saw me kissing Michael.” Aaron wiped the tear that had fallen, carefully guiding your head to his chest.

“It’s okay,” He whispered, you gave a sob. “It’s alright, I promise. I won’t let anything bad happen to you again.”

“I- I tried not to like him, I promise, Aaron I promise,”

“Hey, (Y/N), I need you to listen to me,” Aaron paused, waiting for you to nod. When you do, he continues, “It’s okay. It doesn’t matter who you like as long as you both treat each other right, that’s all that matters.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

#whumptober 2022 #no. 10 #alt: tears #alt:whimpering #criminal minds #fic #child abuse #alcoholism #homophobia #internalised homophobia #f-slur #slur #gay slur #homophobic parents #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x brother reader #male reader #brother reader #(y/n) hotchner #aaron hotchner x y/n hotchner #y/n hotchner

[garden-of-gay]

You're On Your Own Kid, Part 2

Part 1

So....remember how I said you guys would get comfort, well…..you do, y’all just get more hurt first. I’m sorry, I promise it is coming but a lot of things need to happen first so for now we get sad Steve. 

TW: Some use of homophobic slurs (it’s only once but I figure I still let y’all know)

TW: Implied child abuse (because you know, Steve’s parents suck)

Great Escape

It took quite a while for Steve to calm down and when he did, that is when the embarrassment came flooding in.

“Eds I’m so sorry, I-” Steve was abruptly cut off by Eddie’s voice.

“Sweetheart, why are you apologizing? You have nothing to be sorry for.”

He was using a tone that made Steve want to cry all over again, it was so soft and caring, in a way that he didn’t know how to process. 

“I– I, I’m not supposed to cry so…so I’m sorry” Steve said softly, but the moment it left his mouth he felt stupid.

“Stevie, who told you that you can’t cry” Eddie was baffled at how such a seemingly strong boy could help others when they stumbled but not offer himself the same courtesy. He also knew that the ones who had told him this had been his parents but still wanted to give Steve the chance to tell him on his own terms. 

“Darling, please, who told you this?” He said it one again, so kindly that Steve couldn’t understand why he was being so sweet to him.

“Why are you being so kind to me? Shouldn’t you be upset with me” Steve asked, fighting back tears once again.

“Babydoll, why would I not be? You deserve all the kindness in the world from me, darling” Eddie waited a moment listening before Steve began to softly speak and with a sadness in his voice that only sent another wave of sadness through Eddie’s already broken heart. 

“Well its just, my parents especially my dad said he can’t deal with criers and no son of his was going to be a sissy, faggot” 

Steve could remember the way his father would yell at him for the tears that would fall down his face as a child; could still envision the rage that would plague his face. Overtime, he learned to stifle his tears until he was alone, to avoid the wrath of his fathers words and fist. Even now knowing his parents weren’t home, because they never were, he would still hide in his closet to cry. 

Eddie began to speak breaking Steve from his thoughts

“I– I’m so sorry Stevie, you never deserved that, still don’t deserve that” He said with his voice breaking. 

“It’s okay, Eds I’m okay, promise” Steve said to not only Eddie but also to himself hoping that if he said it aloud he could make it true” 

Eddie knew it was a lie but decided not to push.

“Hey Eds, I'm tired, I'm going to turn in for the night”

“Yeah.... okay"

"hey, you know I see a great escape for you, I see you running away from the pain they caused you and never looking back. If anyone could do it it’s you” Steve loved the way Eddie had said it, it made it feel so real, that maybe he really could.

“Thanks, so long Daisy May” Steve joked

“Daisy May!? Who the hell is Daisy May?” Eddie asked incredulously

Steve chuckled before answering

“She’s a character that my grandma loved, she’s from a comic I think, I don’t know.” 

Although Steve was tired, he proceeded to speak with Eddie for another hour before finally falling asleep, causing Eddie to eventually hang up.

-

A couple days later he found himself talking to Robin about his conversation, leaving out the part where he cried over the phone; even though he knew that Robin wouldn’t judge him.

“And then we talked for like 4 hours, I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun talking to someone Rob! He’s just so ... .He is just so wonderful.” He said with a certain warmth inside 

“ Aughhh, just ask him out already, Dingus!! He likes you, and listen I love you but if I have to go another shift hearing you wax poetry about Eddie I might just have to hit you” Robin huffed before Steve said something that left her holding back laughter. 

“Okay, listen I thought about but then I found a flower and did the stupid petal picking things that people do and like I got he loves me not which destroyed the thought on the spot” 

“Steve, you’re going to trust a flower over your PLATONIC SOULMATE!!! I can’t believe this” she chuckled. They fought for a bit before getting back to work and finishing their shift off.

-

Steve had gotten home and had two hours to kill before he had to pick up Dustin and then go to Eddie’s for their movie night. He couldn’t stop thinking about his conversation he had last night with the older boy and found himself sitting in his room writing. Steve liked to write, he knew he wasn’t the best at it and had only shown Robin any of his writing but he liked to do it nonetheless. He took out his notebook and began to write, he did something he hadn’t done in a while, he began to write a song. He wasn’t as good as Eddie when it came to music but soon enough two hours had passed and he had made a pretty decent song and would have worked on it more if he had not seen the time and realized he needed to pick up Dustin.

"OH SHIT"

On the drive over he felt the bloom within him that always came from writing and was thinking about whether he should write in his room more often. 

-

He arrived at Dustin’s 15 minutes later to find him already outside.

“Hey Dusty-” Steve began, as Dustin climbed into his front seat he began to rant

“You’re 5 minutes late Steve and now I’m going to be late. Dude, what could you have been doing that made you late!”

“Listen here, shithead, I was busy and lost track of time okay!? Be grateful that I’m even driving your ass” Steve retorted

“Thank you” Dustin grumbled

“Good, now put your seatbelt on” 

“Okay mom” Dustin mumbled under his breath

“What was that? Steve asked

“Hmm nothing” Dustin replied refusing to look at Steve

“That’s what I thought” He said before putting the car in drive and beginning the short drive to the Wheeler’s house

-

After dropping Dustin off and saying hello to all the other brats, Steve found himself on his way to Eddie’s singing along to the songs on the radio. 5 minutes later he parked his Beemer in front of the Munsons government appointed trailer. It was bigger than their previous trailer however it was still much the same. He knocked on the door and heard Eddie moving around inside.

“Hey there Steve, glad you could make it”

“I know, sorry I’m late, I picked up Dustin a little late and then the brats proceeded to greet and mess with me before letting me leave”

“Ehh, don’t worry about it, I’m just teasing you, come in”

Eddie led him into the trailer and got comfortable on the couch before Steve followed suit. He made sure to put a respectable distance between himself and Eddie not wanting to sit too close to him and be weird.

“So... what are we watching?” Steve asked, Eddie chuckled

“Oh just you wait and see big boy”

He then pressed play on the movie and soon rolled the title screen that read Nightmare on Elm Street

“Come on Eds, HORROR!!” Steve exclaimed

“What's wrong Stevie you get scared easily?” He said teasingly

“No, I’ve just seen and experience enough horror in my life to want to watch movies about it” 

“Fair point, but that's what fun, it’s nothing like the real horrors we have seen. Plus if you do get scared you can just hold my hand” Eddie teased.

Steve hoped that he couldn’t see the blush appearing across his face in the dark of the trailer. 

“You wish Munson” Steve replied, teasingly

They watched the beginning portion of the movie, chatting here and there before Eddie had gotten up and went to the fridge. He called out to Steve.

“Do you want a beer, Steve?”

“Sure I’ll take one” Steve hoped that the alcohol would take the edge off and allow him to relax around Eddie because he felt like he wanted to explode everytime Eddie leaned into his space to say something. 

Eddie returned a moment later and handed a beer to Steve

“Thanks man”

“No problem”

Steve had noticed that when Eddie had sat back down he sat closer to Steve causing their thighs to touch, whether Eddie noticed or not Steve wasn’t going to complain. 

Eventually Steve found himself completely pressed to Eddie’s side, enjoying the warmth the the other brought; he hadn’t noticed Eddie’s hand on his shoulder until he began to trace hypnotizing patterns with his thumb. He quickly found himself unable to focus on the movie and only the way Eddie’s thumb would dip ever so slightly under the collar of his shirt grazing the skin underneath. The movie came to a close and Steve would not be able to recall the entire latter half of the movie. 

“So, what did you think?” Eddie asked

“Hmm? Oh it was good, kind freaky, reminds me a little bit to much of something we fought though” He replied

Eddie sighed “Well, it is not for everyone, especially those who have fought interdimensional monster several times”

Steve chuckled “I guess so?”

“Do you wanna hang for a bit longer?” Eddie asked sheepishly

Steve took a moment to silently celebrate in his mind before replying 

“Yeah, that sounds nice”

-

They went to Eddie’s room and were goofing off, talking, and overall being stupid. Steve particularly laughed when he found out that Eddie used to play concerts in parking lots before they ever booked an actual gig.

“No, no you don’t understand, haha, we seriously used to do that and one time Hopper busted us setting up and we all had to haul ass back to the van and lug all of our equipment back as fast as we could” Eddie chuckled

Steve loved the sound of Eddie’s laugh; it was like he lit up everything around him with his laughter making the world glow bright. Steve let it fill his mind and he decided to catalog that amongst the summer sprinkler splashed and warm Christmas fireplace ashes he told Eddie about.

“And, haha, and he pulled up to the van and asked us what we were doing at 10 o’clock at night on a Thursday and the only thing Gareth could think of was to shout that we were camping…in the van. Hopper just told us to scram and that he would let us off with a warning. It was the only time we have been saved by Gareth’s absurd answers under pressure” He recalled, laughing throughout the story causing Steve to laugh with him. 

They joked for a bit before Steve spoke up 

“Hey, Ed’s, thanks for last night I really needed it”

“I already told you it's no problem.” He replied

“I- I know but it still means a lot to me” It was gentle and sincere and the emotion seeped into his voice and for once he allowed it; Eddie gave him the chance to let his guard down.

“Anytime, Anytime” He lightly chuckled with a small smile.

“Did you know that once my parents had ordered me a taxi to a party they were at because they forgot to bring me along when they left” Steve laughed but he could hear the sadness in his voice

“Yeah, yeah, they remembered I existed and thought they needed to show me off so they sent a car to get me. I was I think 7, but hey I guess they thought that a 7 year old was old enough to get into a strangers car by themselves” He released a wet laugh and felt the tears beginning to flow. 

“Hell, once I got there. I searched the party, full of better parents than mine, because HEY at least they remembered their kids right!?” The tears were coming down hard, blurring his vision. It was at this point he felt a strong embrace as Eddie pulled him into his chest and held him. 

“They wanted to show me off and once another parent asked what I wanted to be I said a musician, my dad laughed it off and said that all kids wanted to be something crazy like that and it wasn’t rare.” He hiccupped and choked through sobs.

“That was the first time my parents had left me alone to go on a trip. My father told me you're on your own kid, don't do something stupid, we will be back in a week, see you then. The funny thing is they weren't back in a week because they had called to let me know they had other stuff to take care of and that they would send money. I felt so alone, I was so alone just as I always have been.”

Even now he still felt that horrible pang in his chest and remembers the pain he felt watching his mom close the door only telling him “goodbye Steven” before she too left him. He had long decided against stopping his tears. He was with Eddie, he was safe, he could cry, he didn’t need to hide not with him; not anymore. 

Eddie had stayed silent while Steve talked, just holding him and gently stroking his hair. Steve had fallen silent after a while and was currently just heaving heavy sobs in Eddie’s lap while Eddie whispered to him.

“I know darling, I know, you didn’t deserve that. I won’t let them ever do that to you again, I promise. I got you, I got you. Let it out doll”

Eddie found that even with his red splotchy tear streaked face, Steve was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen and would do anything for him.

-

After a while Steve had relaxed a bit and spoke up 

“You know I gave my blood, sweat and tears for this; this life that they wanted me to have and yet they aren’t even here to see what I gave up for them. What I sacrificed to try and be a person they could be proud of. I gave everything for them and they could care less about it.”

Eddie had kept most of his thoughts to himself but could not help saying something.

“I’m proud of you Stevie, I’m proud of the person you are. You are kind and protective, and caring, and, and so loving to everyone. You will put yourself in harm's way if it means someone else is safe. You care so much about the kids and will watch and protect them no matter how annoying they may get. You are one of the most wonderful people I have ever met and my world is better now that I know you, the real you……Steve middle name Harrington, I am so proud of you because you try, no matter what. You’re parents were never deserving of you and the missed out on the greatest opportunity of their life to know you and I feel sorry for them because they are missing out on a pretty great thing”

Tears welled in Steve's eyes and he clung to Eddie as violent sobs rocked his body. He had waited so long to hear those words and hearing it from someone he loved, was in love with. It rocked him in a way he hadn’t seen coming. As he cried he felt Eddie hug him tighter. He felt safe, loved….. tired. So he closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift knowing that Eddie would be there to catch him and ground him again. 

Part 3

Okay, so I did a mini deep dive into Daisy May and learned she was a character from the Lil’ Abner comic series from the 40’s and 50’s and was hopelessly in love with Lil’ Abner. Listen if that isn’t Eddie I don’t know what is. What’s the point of this? idk however, I found it interesting. Also so much of Eddie's speech is something I wish someone had told me and I legit had to stop writing because it had gotten to me. So much of how I write Steve and Eddie's dynamic is based on personal experience and things I wish I could have so I'm sorry if this is sad as hell. I'm using this as a way of putting positivity into the world not only for myself but for others. Anyways my little rant is over,there is one more part left where we get some good comfort and tender love for my boys.

Tag List:

@swimmingbirdrunningrock

@barking-at-the-m00n

@acasualcrossfade

#steddie #platonic stobin #tw: implied child abuse #tw: homophobia #steve x eddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #dustin henderson #robin buckley #hurt/comfort #steve has bad parents #stranger things #bi steve harrington #gay eddie munson #Taylor Swift Steddie #fanfic #my fic #gardenwrites

[luwritesomething]

Billy Loomis x Stu Macher: The Horror of Our Love.

Words: 1266

Warnings: homophobia, strong period homophobia, internalized homophobia, use of the f slur, father beating his child, abusive household and accurcate descriptions of it. the whole story is like this and the f slur is used A LOT so please if you are triggered by this, don’t continue reading.

Summary: The world blurred before his watery eyes as he walked through the streets, a restlest, miserable soul trapped in an aching body that screamed for help. One step, another step, step — everything he could hear was the screaming of his infuriated father, all he could see was his angry red face contorted in disgust.

Author's note: OKAY SO MY SCREAM OBSESSION IS STILL STANDING, and i’ve been writing in ao3 instead of in here because i wanted to get away from my responsabilities and numerous dodge mason request. sorry, i got overwhelmed, but i’m back, and i’m bringing all of my pieces in ao3 with me. here you go. you can find the link to ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40767120 also go ahead an listen to the horror of our love by ludo, great song, very scream vibey.

Criticism is appreciated and request are open! Hit that anon button and tell me your idea!

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The world blurred before his watery eyes as he walked through the streets, a restlest, miserable soul trapped in an aching body that screamed for help. One step, another step, step — everything he could hear was the screaming of his infuriated father, all he could see was his angry red face contorted in disgust. 

The cut on his lip stung, a bruise was developing strongly around his right eye, and Billy was able to feel every single hit his father had thrown at him. But what hurted the worst were the words — faggot, faggot, faggot, FAGGOT, FAGOT, FUCKING FAGOT! Billy couldn’t stop trembling, the voice of his dad still in his head, screaming that terrible word at him while kicking his ass.

His mind was fuzzy from the beating and the humiliation, and Billy hadn’t found a better option other than going to Stu’s, and he felt terribly bad about that. Him and Stu were the reason his father had found out that he was… that he liked men, and now, after being called names that he loathed, he was going back to the man that he… He had nowhere else to go, though. If Billy had stayed in his house, maybe his father would have killed him. 

Billy thought he could pass out once he saw he was already close to the Macher’s house, and he blabbered under his breath, as he kept walking, for Mr. and Mrs. Macher not to be home, because he was completely sure he wouldn’t be able to climb to Stu’s window — not when his head hurt like that, not when he could barely see what he had in front of him because of the tears that he was still holding back from his eyes. 

My own son! A… homo! He didn’t know how he did it, but Billy managed to make his way into the Macher’s porch and press his hand against the door bell for maybe too long, but he couldn’t care less. Billy pressed his head against the door frame, holding back a sob and biting down on his lip. He tasted his own blood, salty and warm, and when the door opened he couldn’t bring himself to look up. 

“Billy!” Stu exclaimed, and by his tone, he knew he was smiling widely. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight, man, if I had… Billy?”

With a shaky breath, Billy forced his head up and locked eyes with Stu. He was barely able to hold back the tears. “Can I—?” His voice was hoarse from screaming, and he had to clear his throat. He had tried to get his father to stop. Stu looked terrified. “Can I stay here? Please.”

Stu nodded, speechless, and he slid his hand against Billy’s, to hold it carefully. Billy shook violently when he felt Stu’s touch, and when Stu was ready to move his hand away, thinking he shouldn’t have held it in the first place, Billy squeezed it for reassurance. Fucking fagot.

Although Billy knew the way, Stu guided him through the set of stairs and the hallways, taking him to his own bedroom. It wasn’t like Billy had the strength or confidence to do it by himself, anyways. Stu was extremely careful while holding his hand, and he helped Billy sit at the foot of his bed as the smaller one hissed, then scrunching down before him so they could be at the same level. 

Billy’s eyes didn’t meet Stu’s, instead he was staring at the floor, spacing out, terrified, hurt. Stu’s heart ached just because of that sight. He had never imagined he would ever see Billy so hurt, and not just physically. 

“What happened?” Stu’s voice was barely a whisper, a plea for him to talk to him, to open up — his father would hate him for it.

As an answer, Billy pursed his lips together, not wanting to say anything. He shouldn’t — he couldn’t. Not to Stu, not to anyone. Stu sighed softly. “Alright, babe.” Fagot. Stu got up and looked down at Billy. “Imma search for something to patch you up and some ice for those bruises, okay? You sit tight.”

Stu stared at him, wanting for a sign of confirmation that he had heard him, and he didn’t move until he caught the way Billy nodded his head, almost minimally. 

Billy stood there, without moving, finding himself just a little bit calmer than he was before arriving at Stu's. Everything still hurt, of course, and now that he was sitting he identified the pain on his ribs — he knew his father hadn’t broken any, or else he wouldn’t be able to deal with the pain. It wouldn’t have been the first time he broke a rib.

Stu came back with everything he had said he was going to get and with a beer, which Billy guessed it would be to calm his nerves — a hypothesis proven when Stu took a quick sip of the can before sitting next to him in the bed, the items he will be needing displayed by his side. 

“Here, hold these against your eye.” Instead of an ice pack, Stu had brought frozen peas. Billy barely registered the detail, though, because he slowly picked up both bags of peas and put one against his eye and the other one against his left side, the one that hurt the most. 

Billy knew Stu was trying to be the most careful his goofiness would allow him in order to clean his wounds and scratches correctly, but it still stung every time he pressed cotton and alcohol against the open ones. He tried not to whine or complain, but he couldn’t stop from trembling from time to time. The silence was something Billy actually thanked, because he did not want to break down crying when Stu asked again what had happened. 

It was also in silence the way Stu made him get up to surround the bed and lie down in it, alone until Stu joined him from the other side of the bed. His long arms wrapped around Billy with ease, and the familiarity of his scent calmed Billy’s mind as Stu pulled him closer to his body, to shield him from the world and anything that can hurt him. Billy could have started crying, but because of the love and care in Stu’s actions.

“You’re safe now.” His voice was soft, caring, smooth. Stu’s blue eyes shone brightly when he looked down at Billy, clinging closer to him for comfort. “I’ll take care of you. You know I love you, right?”

Every single word made Billy flinch, reminding him that his father is right. He is… he… — but at the same time, all he wanted was to hide in Stu’s desk and never come out ever again. When he spoke his voice sounded all muffled, but Stu understood what he said. “My father found out.”

Stu’s smile faltered for some seconds. The idea of Hank Loomis beating his own son’s ass just because he likes a boy made him want to go absolutely batshit crazy right in the spot, but instead, Stu took a deep breath and nuzzled his nose against Billy’s forehead. 

“You can stay here as long as we want.” Stu said, honesty flooding through his words. “That’d be actually great because I just rented some horror flicks, y’know.”

He didn't say anything particularly funny, but Billy laughed softly. Stu smiled against his jet black hair when he heard Billy laugh, and for some seconds, Billy felt okay. Like nothing wrong had happened, like everything would be alright.

#billy loomis #stu macher #billy loomis x stu macher #stu macher x billy loomis #they are gay your honor #scream #scream 1 #scream 1996 #skeet ulrich #matthew lillard #billy loomis fic #stu macher fic #billy loomis x stu macher fic #my writing #writer #scream fic #slasher fic #slasher #ghostface #theyre the bestest ghostfaces #hurt/comfort #homophobia #angst #gays in love #be gay do crime #i hate all serial killers... #BUT WHEN HE STABS ME IN THE CHEST- #i love them sorry not sorry

[harleybeaumont]

Unintentional

Chapter 11 - Caught

Book: The Royal Romance AU

Pairings - Liam x Maxwell, Drake x Riley

Synopsis- Since childhood, Liam has held a terrible secret that even he doesn't know about. As the years go by, he suspects more and more that there is something wrong with him. Can he put his life together and find happiness?

Series Warnings- oh so many: language, drinking, violence, sexual assault, abuse, murder, homophobia, bullying, mentions of suicide.. Also there will be lemons in some chapters. 

Chapter Warnings - homophobia (homophobic slurs)

Word count- 2,000

18+ only

Click here to catch up.

Chapter 20 - Caught

“What the fuck is going on here?!”

A very naked Maxwell was straddling a very naked Liam, who still had one wrist handcuffed to his bed frame. Max quickly rolled off of Liam, pulling the sheet over the both of them as the man continued to gape at them.

“What?! W-why?!” Constantine shook his head, completely dumbfounded at the scene he was witnessing. 

Poor Liam still had one wrist handcuffed to the bed, and Max handed him the key. Both of them were mortified. 

“How long has this shit been going on?!” Constantine shouted, surely alerting everyone in the palace to what was happening.

“Father, will you please get out and let us get dressed so I can explain?!”

“No! You can explain now! My god, what am I witnessing in my own home?! Were the two of you.. Oh my god!” Constantine’s face was red with anger as he gestured between them.

Liam tried to stay calm. “Look, I know this is a shock, and it is definitely not how I wanted to tell you about us, but-”

“Us?! You mean the two of you are seriously.. together? I assumed this was just some one-time fucking mistake!” Constantine was shaking with rage. “No! This is not happening. My son is not a.. a.. ugh!”

“Dad, please stop. I need you to leave so we can get dressed and talk about this calmly.”

Constantine pointed to Maxwell accusingly. “This is all your fault. I knew letting some little faggot live in my house was a bad idea!”

“I..” Max tried to come up with some way to defend himself, but the raw anguish in his heart left him speechless.  

“Shut the fuck up!” Liam yelled at his father for probably the first time in his life. “Just shut up and get out!”

Constantine shook his head angrily and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Liam felt like he had been punched in the gut. He looked over to Max who was still slack jawed staring at the door his father had just left through.

“Max..” Liam spoke softly, placing a tentative hand on his knee.

Maxwell turned his gaze to Liam, as tears threatened to fall. “I’m so sorry Li.. fuck, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault!”

“Stop!” Liam held him tightly. His father did not get to make Maxwell feel bad. “Don’t say that ever again, please.”

“But what if he was right.. Did I.. make you do something you didn't want to do?”

“Fuck no!” Liam was practically shaking with anger. “Don’t listen to a fucking word he said.” He cupped Maxwell’s cheeks. “Hey, hey.. Look at me. I love you.. Ok?”

Max nodded sadly and Liam swiped the stray tears from his cheeks. “I love you too.” Max said so quietly it was almost a whisper.

Liam pulled Max against his chest and held him tightly. “I love you. I love you. I love you. And don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Max could barely breathe and he squeezed Liam hard. “Ok.”

“Now, I’m going to get dressed and go downstairs and have a talk with that fucking-” Liam bit his tongue to stop himself. “I’m going to go talk to him. It’ll all be ok, I promise.”

Max nodded again and pulled his clothes on while Liam did the same. Liam placed a soft kiss on Maxwell's forehead and walked him across the hall to his bedroom. “Just stay in here until I finish speaking with him. I’ll have breakfast sent up for you.. ok love?”

“Ok.” Max said softly. It broke Liam’s heart to see Maxwell hurt that way. How could his father say that?! How could he hurt Maxwell like that?! It made him sick. 

Liam gave him a quick kiss, and mentally prepared himself for the inevitable argument he was about to have. Liam was broken hearted that Maxwell was sad, but also because he finally saw what kind of man his father really was. He was so ashamed of his dad for the things he said. He was a King, he wasn’t supposed to make people feel bad about themselves. Constantine always pretended that he cared about everyone regardless of their race, gender, or sexuality (those were the exact words he used in almost every speech), but at least one of those was a lie. 

Liam took a deep breath and reached up to knock on his father’s office door when he heard raised voices inside. He put his ear to the door and froze in shock. His mother and father were having a heated argument.. about him.

“You can't be serious right now, Constantine!” Eleanor shouted.

“Do I look like I’m joking?! I can’t believe you’re so calm about this! He’s your son too after all!”

“Exactly! He’s my son, and I want him to be happy! Maxwell makes him happy! If you opened your eyes, you would actually see that.”

“What I saw, Ellie, was that little fag boy naked on top of my son, handcuffing him to the bed!” Constantine yelled. 

“Constantine!” Eleanor's voice was trembling. “First of all, I am deeply ashamed of you for using that word! And second, Liam is a grown man! What he gets up to in his own time, is none of your business.”

“I am the fucking King and his father! Everything is my business! And the business of the nation! Do you want everyone to know your son is a -”

“Don’t!” Eleanor screamed, cutting him off. “Maxwell is a wonderful man, and they love each other.”

“Oh my GOD! Just stop, Ellie! They are not in love! Liam is just.. confused. We need to send that boy away, and then Liam can get his head on straight and find a proper woman to marry.”

“Oh the hell you are! Maxwell is not leaving. I won’t allow it. Neither will Liam or Leo.” 

Liam was trembling as he continued to listen at the door. He wanted so badly to throw open the door and punch his father’s lights out. There’s no way in hell he was sending Max away.

“Oh, so everyone is ok with this?! Leo knows too?” Constantine was speaking calmer now, but his tone was threatening. “I thought I had at least one son who was a real man.”

“I can’t talk to you right now.” Eleanor’s voice was shaking. 

Liam heard someone approaching the door and he ducked around the corner, out of sight. His mother breezed past, tears streaming down her cheeks. All Liam wanted to do was hug her and thank her for standing up for him. Through his father’s open office door he heard him pick up the phone and dial someone. Liam knew he should get out of there, but morbid curiosity kept him glued in place.

“Bastien.” Constantine spoke curtly into the phone. “I need you to do something for me. I want Maxwell Beaumont out of this house by morning.. Liam too, if he protests. Get my lawyer over here by 9 am sharp tomorrow. If Liam goes with Beaumont, I’m officially disowning him. And tell him to bring those divorce papers that I had drawn up years ago...Yes, I am serious. Dead serious.”

Everything around Liam blurred and his ears were ringing. He knew he needed to breathe before he passed out. Liam staggered down the hallway into a bathroom and pulled out his phone. He slumped on the floor and tried to take deep calming breaths as he pulled up the number.

“Drake..” Liam’s voice was quivering as he struggled to breathe. “Can me and Max stay with you guys for a while?”

That night, Liam and Maxwell packed up some clothes and personal belongings. The next morning they were going to move in with Riley and Drake temporarily. Liam hadn’t even seen his mother since the argument she and Constantine had. He tried to call and text her but she didn’t answer. Liam was overwhelmed with grief and anger towards his father, and he assumed his mother was too. 

He cuddled Maxwell on the bed, both of them emotionally and physically exhausted. “Hey.” Liam kissed his temple softly. “Wanna watch a movie?”

“Sure.” Max said sadly. Liam had spent hours that afternoon trying to calm Max down once he told him what he had overheard his mother and father saying. Although he left some of the more hurtful details out. 

Liam had an idea of how to cheer Max up. “What Adam Sandler movie do you wanna watch?”

Maxwell laughed loudly, the sound warming Liam’s heart instantly. “Any! You pick.”

“They’re all the same to me.”

Maxwell gasped, his hand over his heart. “How dare you?”

Laim laughed, “Ok, ok.. Look, you pick the movie and whatever it is, I’ll give it the utmost attention and respect.”

“Deal.” Max chuckled and turned on Billy Madison for the thousandth time.

Liam started to protest but Max gave him a playful warning look, so he shut up. Liam snuggled into Maxwell’s side, stroking his hand down his toned chest, letting his fingers glide across Max’s hippo tattoo. The two were exhausted, and soon they both drifted off to sleep.

3:15 a.m. Liam awoke with a start. The first thing he realized was that his arms were free and he was on the floor. Shit, shit, shit! Liam stood up, trembling and saw Maxwell was asleep on the bed. Liam looked him over carefully, making sure he was ok. Thank God. Liam padded into the bathroom in his suite and checked himself over in the mirror. He looked ok. Maybe he just fell out of bed. He tried to steady his breathing and reassure himself. He was ok. Max was ok. He just fell out of bed. Liam washed his face and nudged Maxwell gently as he climbed in bed next to him. 

“Max.. Can you cuff me?” Liam whispered.

“Gladly, Your Highness.”  Maxwell chuckled sleepily. He looked over at the clock and sat up with a start. “Oh crap, I fell asleep! I forgot to handcuff you! I’m so sorry-”

Liam held up a hand, “Hey, it’s ok. Everything’s fine. Let’s go back to sleep.”

Max restrained Liam to the bedpost, gave him a soft kiss, and the two drifted off to sleep together. The next morning Liam awoke to a knock at his door. Max uncuffed him and hid in the bathroom as Liam hesitantly made his way over to answer it. He was sure it was his father’s guards coming to kick him out.

“Your Highness?” Bastien stood before him, looking worried.

“I know. Don’t worry, we’re going to leave.” Liam said sadly as he avoided eye contact. “Let me just get our stuff.”

“No Liam, I was just coming to ask you if you’ve seen your father this morning.”

“No?” Liam furrowed his brow in confusion. Why would he have seen his father? As far as both of them were concerned they would never see each other again.

“It’s just that.. No one has seen him since last night. He missed two meetings this morning and his lawyer is here for.. personal reasons.” Bastien cleared his throat awkwardly. He clearly didn’t know that Liam overheard his father’s plans. “But no one can find him. Not even your mother or Leo has seen him.”

“Sorry. No idea.”  Liam honestly couldn't care less where his father was.

“Ok, well if you hear from him, will you let me know immediately? We are all beside ourselves with worry, as you can imagine.”

“Sure.” Liam said flatly as he closed the door.

Max walked out of the bathroom with a look of horror on his face, and suddenly realization dawned on Liam. 

He woke up on the floor in the middle of the night.. 

After hearing his father say terrible things.. 

And now his father was missing.

“Oh shit.” Liam swallowed hard, his wide eyes never leaving Maxwell’s. “I killed him.”

#unintentional #trr fanfic #the royal romance #choices fanfic #liam rys #maxwell beaumont #liam x maxwell #drake walker #drake x riley #tw homophobia

[mymisfitsbabe]

Demons Play

(Trigger warning! Abuse, blood gore, Neil being Neil and getting his face caved in for it. Slurs and hate speech used.)

Waking up in the woods Billy blinked away the confusion, what the hell? Groaning, he sat up, his skin feeling too tight, his throat dry and sore. Looking around Billy tried to remember why he was on the ground covered in leaves and dirt, coughing Billy got to his feet. Fuck, every part of him ached. Swaying Billy dusted himself off and headed back to the Camaro. There was no memory, but that felt okay, his mind told him he didn't need to know and Billy knew it was the truth. 

 Pulling into his driveway Billy cursed himself, of course Neil was home. Billy walked in the door and ignored the family sitting at the table opting to go straight into his room. He stumbled and tried to shake away the heavy feeling clouding his mind. Footsteps came trailing behind him and he took a breath knowing it was his father, Neil just had to make things complicated.

“Where the hell were you?” He hissed in a hushed voice.

Billy turned to face him, he looked at him empty and dazed. The older man took him in, seeing the dirt that covered him for the first time, it seemed to piss him off even more. Shifting from foot to foot Billy said nothing and his father grabbed a fistful of his hair yanking him closer so he could yell without being heard.

“Didn't we just have a conversation about you behaving like a man? I remember telling you not to give me a reason to think you're rolling around like some faggot. Now get your ass to the table and eat breakfast with your family, we'll talk about this later.”

“I need a shower.” Billy muttered after his dad let him go.

“Now.” Neil growled.

They walked over to the table together, his father handed him a plate after they sat. Eggs with bacon and toast, all bland and all simple. Billy chuckled at the food knowing it would taste as bad as it looked, Susan was one sorry cook.

“Something funny?” Neil growled.

“Your new wife cooks like shit.”

Everyone at the table stared at him in disbelief, Max’s mouth twitched up into a smile, but she quickly flattened it out and looked over at her mother, who was watching Neil with fearful eyes. Of course he should have expected it, but Billy was still taken aback by the hard backhand to the face. His cheek barely even stung. Max yelped, jerking back in her chair.

“Apologize.”

“I’m sorry you're a shitty cook Susan.” Billy said, turning his face back so he could look her in the eye, anger flaring up inside him.

Neil stood up so fast his chair hit the floor making both girls jump up, Max looked at Billy confused and scared. Billy just laughed as his father came around the table and backhanded  him in the mouth, the blond slumped back in his chair still laughing.

“APOLOGIZE!”

Tasting blood Billy clenched his jaw, the rolling waves of fire and hate filling his already too tight body. 

“No.”

“What did you just say to me?” Neil growled.

Billy stood up and squared his shoulders, but Neil slammed his fist down into the side of  Billy’s head knocking him back down into his chair. Max reached out for Billy and Susan yanked her away, her eyes were wild and red and her face turned like she was about to cry. It cut through the anger and made him laugh.

Billy looked over at Susan with a bloody smile. “I’m sorry my mothers gone and can't teach you how to use spices.”

His father punched him this time, the force knocking Billy back into the table. Max cried out for Billy and Neil turned to face her yelling at her to shut up, Billy sat back upright and looked at the red head amused.

“Oh, Max. Don’t cry, Neil here would never dream of laying a hand on you because you aren’t his faggot son.” Billy laughed louder, it was so fucking funny. 

“You asked me why I hated you, well here it is Max.” Billy again got to his feet, he spread his arms wide and smiled brightly. “I don’t hate you,” Billy dropped his hands, his face turning bitter and angry.

 “I hate HIM!” Billy pointed at his dad, who responded by punching him in the mouth.

Billy staggered back, he put his hand over his mouth and used his tongue to make sure all his teeth were still in place. It hurt, but not as bad as it should have.

“Shut up!”

“Fuck you!” Billy spit blood on the table, clearing his mouth so he could speak. “She should know that you kick me around any time she acts out, she should know it's not her fucking fault I can't stand to look at her! It's you!” Billy huffed out a laugh to try and stop himself from crying.

“When the very idea that Max didn’t hate me crossed your mind you beat me so hard you almost cracked a fucking rib! That's why I can't treat her like a person, because you can't stand the thought of anyone loving me! Because faggots don't deserve to be loved, they deserve to be put in the ground!” Billy screamed so loud it hurt his throat, spit and blood flying from his mouth as he pointed his finger at his father.

Neil yelled as he hit Billy dead center in his face, Billy’s nose cracked under the pressure and Billy slumped back down into the chain again. Gasping as he tried to breath past the pain and blood he could feel his nose starting to straighten out, his body mending under skin.

“Stop it! Stop it! Leave him alone, you're killing him!” Max shrieked, jerking out of Susan's hold and running to Billy’s side.

“Shut the hell up! No son of mine will be a faggot!” Neil roared hitting Billy again, he grabbed a fist full of hair to hold Billy's face back so he could hit him again and again splitting his cheek open and ripping the old wound across his lips open.

Max threw herself across Billy’s body shielding his face and hugging him into her as tightly as she could. Billy felt her whole body shake with sobs and it hurt so much worse than he’d imanaged. It wasn't fair and Billy felt bad for her. Neil grabbed her arm and pried her off Billy, he turned her to face him and shook her yelling something Billy couldn't quite hear. 

Max froze in his hold, Billy wheezed trying not to lose consciousness, feeling his wounds shifting as they tried to heal themselves. Max ended up on the ground fiery hair against the white tile, Billy closed his eyes when Neil grabbed him again. 

“NO!” Max screamed, getting to her feet, she started punching Neil’s back, desperate and frantic. “Leave him alone, leave my brother alone!”

Tears welled up and Billy tried to swallow them down but he gagged on the pool of blood in his mouth. Neil growled and shoved the girl into the wall, she groaned from the force of it. Billy stood up and shoved his father away from Max. Billy spit another mouthful of blood onto the table and glared back at his dad.

"Don't you fucking touch her!" Billy yelled, punching Neil for the very first time.

"That's why you kept me! You hit me, you yell at me! Don't you ever touch her!" The words vibrated through Billy driving all the force in his body forward to hit his dad again, that white hot fury burning him down to the very core.

Neil had enough, he kicked Billy in the gut making Billy collapse into himself, once his son was hunched over he kneed him in the face. The force of the knee sent Billy stumbling back into the table. Color blossomed in his vision and nausea rolled over him, Billy gasped and gaped trying to breath, but his body was too busy trying not to black out.

Susan screamed running to Max, who was now sobbing from the ground while she watched in horror. Neil walked over to Billy grabbing him by the front of his shirt. He slammed his son down into the table, face up so he'd have to look at Neil as he hit him again. Billy was starting to lose consciousness, but as a final act of defiance Billy started laughing again.

"Since you're going to kill me anyways you might as well know. I am a faggot.” Billy barked out a laugh, blood splattering all over Neil’s shirt and face.

“That advice you gave me? I used it on my boyfriend, who I fucking love. I fucking love him and I take that scrawny brunette boy into the wood and he fucks me till I beg for more!” Billy grabbed the arm that was holding him down and lifted himself up so he could really grind the words in.

“I bought him flowers and I was gonna sing to him and dance with him and love him better than you ever taught me how.” Billy spit a wad of blood and snot into his dad’s face.

Those vile words were all it took to push Neil over the edge, he wrapped his hands around Billy's throat already trying to choke the life from him. Something cracked inside Max, she got to her feet and charged at Neil. Using all her body weight and momentum she crashed into him strong enough to knock him down. The sound of Billy sliding off the table made Max turn, she reached out for him trying to catch him before he hit the ground. Neal grabbed Max by her hair and yanked her away from Billy, he backhanded her into the ground so hard her head bounced off the floor. Susan started screaming.

"You fucking coward! You fucking piece of shit, you don't ever fucking hit my sister!" Billy bellowed, getting to his feet.

It drew Neil's attention back, Billy punched Neil dead center feeling his dad's nose crack under his knuckle just like his own had. It sent the older man reeling, but Billy kept on hitting him over and over and over till all he could hear was screaming. Max, Susan and his own. Screams filled the house.

The fury was blinding, it was too much, Billy was choking on it. It fueled him, like gasoline vapors scorching the air, fast and so hot it melted through skin in seconds. Billy felt his knuckle crack, or maybe it was Neil’s face, it pulled him out of his frenzy. Horror, no, terror froze him in place. His hand drawn back, Neil hunched against the wall as Billy held him up by his shirt, a perfect mirror of just moments ago. Billy shuttered, shock and disgust clutching at him as he realized what he’d done. 

“Y-you want me to apologize?!” Billy’s voice trembled, he turned to Susan. “I’m sorry you married this piece of shit, and I hope you have enough goddamned sense to take Max and leave before he kills me and starts beating the fire out of her.”

Billy shoved his dad roughly to the ground, and Susan looked down at Neil in horror. Neil’s face was a mess of blood and spit and snot, his nose bubbled when he tried to breath and it made Billy sick to his stomach to know he’d done that.

 Billy turned and helped Max up off the floor, he started to leave towing her behind him. His ‘parents’ would have enough to talk about, Max didn't need to see anymore of this mess. As they reached the door Susan screamed again calling after Neil who was charging after the kids. 

Billy did the only thing he could think of to stop his dad. He kicked his dad's knee in, it bent his leg in an awkward angle and made a sound that made Billy want to puke. The old man crumbled onto the floor howling in pain. Blinking down at him, Billy took in what he had done, shock soaking into every piece of his trembling body. Max pulled him out the door.

Once the cold air hit him Billy dropped down on his hands and knees emptying his stomach on the porch, still crying Max pulled his hair out of his face and Billy let out a broken sob.

“I’m sorry Max, I’m so sorry.”

Max shook her head and hugged him to her body. “It's okay, Billy. We're okay, everything is going to be okay now.”  

Feeling numb, Billy got in his car (With Max’s help), he waited for Max who climbed into the passenger seat. Once he heard the door slam shut Billy turned on the car. It listened to it rumble and pushed the gas to hear it roar while he looked at the house that he’d never be allowed to go back to. Tears rolling down his face Billy put the car in gear and reversed out of the driveway saying a silent goodbye to his home, to his life, to his prison.

Billy sped away from the house. What the hell had he done? Rolling down his window Billy spit a glob of blood out, fuck, his skin was on fire.

They pulled up to Sinclair's house. Max and Billy sat silently in the car, Billy just stared into nothing trying to understand what he did. Max couldn't stop watching him, she was quietly crying, her cheek blossoming with a large bruise, a small cut crusting over with dried blood. 

All Max wanted to do was berate Billy with questions, and make him look less like a child. Because in that moment Billy looked about ten years younger, covered in blood and starting to swell. Max hesitantly grabbed his shoulder. Slowly Billy looked over at her, he touched her cheek gently remembering the first time he had gotten hit. Trying to choke back tears, Billy started to shake again, Max wrapped her arms around him. 

“Don’t go home… You stay away from Neil, stay here or with a friend. Just don't let him catch you.”

“No,” Max pulled away and shook her head, that fire red hair tangling from the frantic motion. “Where are you going?”

“I… I need to go tell my boyfriend that I love him.” Billy laughed dryly.

#Harringrove #Billy Hargrove #Max Mayfield #Neil Hargrove being a fuck wad #Neil Hargrove getting his face smashed in #Billy also getting his face smashed in #Stranger things

[depressedstressedlemonzest]

Mickey’s Hands

Mickey’s Hands

Mickey never really liked his hands.

As a child, his dad would berate, “They’re too soft, like a girl’s, like a faggot’s! I’m not raising a faggot!”

He started to keep them dirty, purposefully ignoring his mother when she would tell him to wash up for dinner. Letting his father see his dirty hands, see that they weren’t soft. That he wasn’t soft.

His hands were always decorated with scrapes and bandages, jagged nails from biting them, little tuffs of skin puckering at his nail beds, splinters and splices from different activities from the neighborhood. Bruises from getting into fights.

His mother would frown at them, but he could see that his father’s were content, content in the knowledge that his son wasn’t soft, wasn’t a faggot.

Different scars decorated them as he got older, broken glass, someone’s tooth, a cigarette being put out, even faint claw marks from a kitten he befriended in the alley behind the Kash and Grab.

When he was thirteen his dad took him to a friend’s house, “time to get the tattoos, then no one will think you’re a faggot, they’ll know you’re a Milkovich.” His hand had been on Mickey’s neck, rough, calloused, dirty, making Mickey squirm against the contact.

His dad had shoved him down in a rickety kitchen chair while his friend etched the jagged dark words along his knuckles FUCK U-UP, along each finger, like his dad’s knuckle tattoos, like his brothers. They hadn’t warned him about the pain, he had whimpered at one point, and his dad had leaned into him, making the tattoo gun against his skin sink deeper than it had been before.

“Only faggots cry.” Terry had snapped.

Mickey made sure to blink back his tears and bite his lower lip until he tasted blood, keeping the whimpers he wanted to cry out inside, the tears locked away.

Until he was home, his mother had seen his hands and once Terry had left for the night she came to Mickey’s room with ice wrapped in a towel, and a green square tin with a balm in it that she gently soothed into her youngest son’s skin.

“You can cry Mikhailo, he isn’t here, and I love you.” She murmured as he winced at her touch along the new marks.

He let himself relax and tears slipped down his cheeks. As she rubbed the balm onto his hands, she told him how much she loved him, how special he was, and how he will always be loved by her no matter what.

A new scar appeared when she left them, he had been sitting in the abandoned building he used as an escape and cried. He punched a brick wall when he couldn’t find her anywhere, punched it again and again until he finally felt the pain of bone breaking.

Ian had asked him why he had a cast around one hand, and two fingers in splints on the other when he saw him next. He caught the redhead curiously looking at his hands when he came to work.

Mickey had ignored him and flicked through the magazine that he had been looking at on the counter.

Pale freckled hands reached out and gingerly touched his fractured ones, a hot searing went through Mickey, but it didn’t hurt.

“I’m sorry about whatever happened. If you need anything, I don’t mind being your hands for you.” 

“They’re just hands man.” Mickey muttered, feeling a blush along the back of his neck.

“But they’re your hands, and I like your hands.” Ian murmured softly.

Mickey looked up surprised, expecting Ian to have a goofy look on his face like he usually did, but the look there was tender and longing.

Mickey had taken in a shaky breath and nodded. Ian giving him a small smile before grabbing an anti inflammatory medication and pouring out the amount of pills that would help Mickey’s pain.

Mickey saw freckled fingers entwined with his as he and Ian grew, as they loved, as they fought, every time he could they were holding hands. He tried to memorize the patterns on Ian’s, and Ian would try to memorize the scars on Mickey’s. He liked nights like that.

The cool silver band over his finger feeling strange and unnerving, but exhilarating at the same time as he and Ian clutched their hands together, raising them over their heads walking down the aisle.

Husbands, they were husbands.

Mickey ran his thumb along a callous that was permanently on his hand. 

One that wasn’t from labor.

A mark that wasn’t from pain.

It was small, barely noticeable.

Just under the ring finger of his left hand.

Where his wedding ring rested.

His husband had the same small callous on his hand.

Mickey never used to like his hands.

But now, they showed the world that he was forever loved, in love, and in a state of happiness that he had never known.

#Mickey's Hands #just had to get it out #just a little callous #but it means so much #he's so loved #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #shameless #gallavich fic #some homophobic language #Ian Gallagher loves Mickey Milkovich #Mickey Milkovich loves Ian Gallagher

[fleetsummers]

with @vallaurent  | the daybreakers : a bottom dollar conversation about self-identity and parents who've damaged it

Val Laurent Hey there, hun. Am I botherin' ya? -Val felt tired and weary, so she'd decided to step outside and grab a quick breath of her. When she'd stepped into the cool night, she'd found Fleet there- Tryin' to find a quiet spot to be alone or just enjoyin' some fresh air?

fleet summers Just ... spacing out, actually. -he's been standing there with his arms wrapped around himself, watching the Ranch, and smiles at Val- I knew this would all be more physical activity than I'm used to, but it's making my brain work in ways I'm not used to, either.

Val Laurent What do ya mean? -she takes that as an invitation to stand next to him, letting her eyes wander over the ranch. In this moment, she strangely has the urge for a cigarette- You feelin' restless?

fleet summers Restless, jumpy, tired -- a bunch of them all at once. Sore, too. -he gives a groaning laugh at that one- Zack's teaching me how to fight. -Fleet gives a tight sneer and a dismissive toss of his chin, saying bitterly- Like a real man.

Val Laurent -she grimaces- Did he say that to ya? Ya don't sound too happy about it. -she pushes her hands into the pocket of her jacket- If ya feelin' sore, some warmth will do ya good. Or a massage. Or more exercise.

fleet summers Oh -- oh, no, Zack would never say anything like that to me. Not now, anyhow. I was thinking about my dad. -he marches a little in place to keep warm, the movement inevitably becoming more of a dance step than anything else- I'll be getting more exercise tomorrow, no worries about that. Are you a fighter, Val?

Val Laurent Did Cole say that to ya? I'm sorry, hun. -there is a soft hint of surprise in her voice, but no disbelief as she regards him- Nah. What do they say? I'm a lover, not a fighter? -she chuckles, softly- I ain't any good at fightin'. I know how to shoot, but that's it. What 'bout you, sweetie?

fleet summers No, I'm in the same boat as you -- lover, not a fighter. I'm used to other people taking care of me. -he dithers on that for a while; Zack's been making him reconsider what Fleet had always categorized as 'care', but he's not ready to delve into that yet- Daddy said a lot but he didn't say much at all. Which is the worst because then you're left wondering if all those microaggressions were just you blowing things out of proportion.

Val Laurent But it's a big deal to you, ain't it? Ya feel the way ya do for a reason, hun. -she tilts her head upwards, looking at the night sky- Maybe Cole didn't mean anythin' by what he said or didn't say, but it still hurt ya.

fleet summers -Fleet looks over at her, squinting slightly- Yeah, Maybe. -he laughs suddenly, shrugging against his turned chin- And who cares, anyway, right? What anybody thinks about Daddy anymore. Everyone came and told him how wonderful he was on that last day and I'm sure he loved it. Finally, recognition! -he lifts both his hands in fists, shaking them in sarcastic triumph at the sky- What I think about him is just another drop in the pot, good or bad or noncommittal. Who am I? Just his son. I guess. It never mattered to him.

Val Laurent -she turns her head to face him, some of her curls falling onto her forehead- I care about what ya think. -she regards him for a moment- They didn't know him like you did.

fleet summers It's exactly what I never wanted. To meet him and get smacked in the face with this -- this desperation to mean something to him. I've been running from that my whole life and I thought I'd avoided it. -Fleet presses his lips together, folding his arms again and curving his shoulders- Hubris. I'm just another faggot with daddy issues after all.

Val Laurent Aw, sweetheart. -she steps over to him, reaching out to wrap her arms around his shoulders- You're still you, darling. That means something, right? -she gives his shoulder a squeeze- Ya don't gotta be defined by your dad, or how he felt about you.

fleet summers That's the thing! -he's laughing outright now, none of it actually happy or amused- That's what I realized! I have been defined by my dad, my whole life! Everything I've ever done was to create some wonderful magical me who everyone would like so much that they would know, they'd know that it was my dad who was wrong. He was wrong and it wasn't because I wasn't worth staying for. -Fleet's breathing hard now, mouth downturned and distressed, and he wheels away from Val and walks away a few steps, staring up at the sky again-

Val Laurent Oh, honey. -she waits a few moments before she follows him, though this time she doesn't wrap her arms around him again, just offering her company closeby- Everything? What about singin'? You did that to prove your dad wrong, and not because ya like singin'? -she regards him for a moment- I can't say I've been in your situation but... I kinda know what it's like being so tangled up with someone or somethin' ya don't know where ya start and end.

fleet summers No. Singing is all me. -he tosses Val another of those tight smiles, although this time it's paired with softer, sadder eyes, his brows raised towards the middle- That's me being Pilipino. They revoke your heritage if you can't karaoke like a pro by age five. -saying that does make him laugh for real, suddenly overcome with tears- I miss my family. I've lost them all and I thought being a Reznik might help me get through it but ... it hasn't done anything for me. -Fleet wipes his face fiercely with the heel of his hand, sucking in a breath- Who was it for you? Or what was it, that you're tangled up with?

Val Laurent -her heart aches when she sees his sad, big eyes, his choked laugh- My parents, too. My dad and my momma. -she let's her eyes trail over the thick darkness in front of them, barely illuminates by the starts and the farmhouse- Momma left us when I was 10. Dad didn't take it well. Stopped takin' care of himself. So I had to be my dad's momma. And when I couldn't anymore and I left, I became someone else's momma. And that's what I've always been tryin' to be. With everybody. -she chuckles softly- It messed me up, it really did. In ways, I'm glad for it. Because I like helpin' people. I think that's me, in all of that. And you got stuff that's all you. And now, you get to figure it out. Even if it feels bad now.

fleet summers -Fleet's pretty good at reading between the lines so he has some idea of what Val might mean, being her dad's momma, and he makes a hum of contrite sympathy in his throat, reaching to clasp and interlace her hand with his as he steps closer- It sounds messy. I tried to be the most enchanting bauble in the room. That wasn't much better, but ... yeah, I get that. Being glad for it in a way, even though things happened along the way that weren't great. -Fleet stands shoulder-to-shoulder with her as they both look out across the Ranch and at the sky- I don't like not feeling like me. Even with the doubt that meeting Daddy introduced in there, I've still got a hold of myself. Even though it feels bad now. -he looks at Val, eyes half-lidded, and starts to offhandedly, lightly sing:- The sun'll come out, tomorrow...

Val Laurent -Val gently squeezes his hand as their fingers interlace- I know. But eventually, you're gonna feel like you. And then it's gonna be truly you. You're still you, below everythin' else. -she leans her head on his shoulders, her curls brushing up against his neck. She sings the next lines quietly, her voice slightly wavering- Bet your bottom dollar, that tomorrow there'll be sun~

fleet summers -they finish the song together, easily slipping into the harmonies, and when the last strains of their voices have faded, they simply stand together, holding hands, a moment of solace-

#with: val #c: vall001 #trauma cw #plot:daybreakers

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#369

“Hey boy.  Come here.  I know I told you to stop following me around.  I didn’t mean it.  Shh shh.  No, stay here.  Nobody is nearby, so we can talk… for now.  Sorry I got nervous back there.  I usually don’t mess around when my wife was twenty or thirty feet away.  But damn, you couldn’t keep your eyes off my cock while I was pissing at the urinal.  It’s been a long time, and I couldn’t resist getting a fag on my dick.  And damn you did a good job.  You know, I’m just going to say this.  I want more….

“You live around here?...  That close?  So, you probably walked here?  Can’t say I blame ya with this parking nightmare.  You live alone?... Good.

“Hold on.  I need to text my wife…

“OK.  Look.  It’s been years since I used a fag.  And a decade or two since I really used a fag and used them hard core.  Lubbock doesn’t have much of a gay scene.  Finding a fag wanting to throat me, that just doesn’t happen anymore ever since I stopped going to Mackenzie Park a few years ago.  I went for a blowjob, and walked in on a cop arresting a fag for cruising.  Haven’t gone back since. 

“Wait a minute, didn’t you used to go to the park?...  You were one of my favorites….  Oh you remember?  Wait a minute… Wait a minute… Is that why you were following me around the flea market?...  Oh that’s too much.  I remember I used to skull fuck you, and you begged for more….  I forgot just how wild you queers can be. 

“Back when I was in the Corps—oh man—whenever I had leave, I would drive up from San Diego to Los Angeles.  I would go to this sex club in my service uniform.  The fags there would see me and throw themselves at my feet.  I learned early on that you fags are into some twisted shit.  I really got into just how depraved how fags would get just to serve a Marine in uniform.

“How about you?  You into twisted shit?...  I know you like to get skull fucked, but I’m talking about sweat and piss and spit.  Discipline and worship.  Shit like that. 

“Good.  Good.  When you were on your knees in the toilet begging to drink ‘Daddy’s load,’ I could tell it was natural role for you, just as it was easy for me to slip into that alpha supremacy role. 

“…Good news.  My wife text me back.  She’s going to be shopping for a few more hours.  I told her that I’ll be back to pick her up when she’s done.  So let’s go back to your place.  Get in. 

“You will direct me where to go….  What’s your name, son?...  Lachlan.  Nice name.  I like ‘Faggot.’  That sounds better.  I’m ‘Sir’ to you.  No, keep calling me ‘Daddy.’  I like that….  Which way?

“Slide over here next to me.  Snuggle up next to your dad.  Oh man.  You naturally fit there, son.  Go ahead, let your hand run where it wants to.  You’ll see what grade-A 100% Texas masculine beef feels like.

“Son, which house is yours?...  Uh, I kinda like ‘Son’ over ‘Faggot’ for your name. 

“Ok.  When we go in, you are to strip naked for me.  You understand that son?  Do you have any whisky?  Good.  Pour me a double over ice.  Lead the way.

“…Nice place.  Good thing you live alone?...  You should be stripping….  And my whisky?...  I’ll be here getting my Corona Gorda cigar going….

“…Mmmm.  Fuck.  Set the glass down there….  Before you get down on your hands and knees, let me see your naked body.  Turn around.  Mmmmm, nice ass.  I’m looking forward to cunting it in a bit.  Since I shot a load in your belly already at the Flea Market, my second load will take some time.  I can go for hours.

“But first, this bull daddy is going to enjoy a cigar and whisky.  And you can begin your worship of me.  Lick them boots.

“Fuck yeah.  Let me tell you how to lick a man’s boot.  Your tongue needs to travel over every square inch.  At no time should your tongue detach from my boot for more than a second.  I should also feel tongue pressure pretty much all the time.  When you lick the sole, look up at me.  Nothing gets me boned up like seeing a faggot connect with this superior while doing something so submissive.

“Fuck, I miss this.  Before moving back to Texas, I used to own this faggot from Irvine that I met at that sex club.  He was on the way home from work.  I would walk through his front door.  He would have a cigar and ice-cold Scotch waiting for me.  He would be on all fours waiting.  I would kick back and kick him and fuck him and use him.  When I moved back to Lubbock, I tried to get him to move out here to be my fag on the side.

“Move to the other boot.

“You interested in that?  You want to be my fag?  You know what?  You are a faggot through and through.  Let me say that again.  You want to be my son, Son?

“Good.  I may be 55, but I have the sex drive of a 15-year-old.  Expect to be used two or three times a week.  Who am I kidding, at least for the near future, I will be over here every day to drain my balls. 

“You do realize that you are submitting to my control and ownership.  No more other men for you, at least not unless I order you to.  Now, I’m not going to give up other fags for you, not that I have many faggots to pick from. 

“You also need to understand, I ain’t leaving my wife.  Not now.  Not ever.  It would be very wise for you to never to mention her.

“Do you have sex furniture of any type?  Sling, fuck bench, rimseat?  No.  What about restraints, dildoes, and so on?  No.  What kind of faggot are you?

“Ha!  Just teasing you there.  Next week I need to go to Dallas for an overnight.  You will come with me and be my bitch for the trip.  We need to buy some toys.  A fuck bench, a rimseat—you do eat ass right?

“You better.  Your tongue is going to be very intimate with my shithole.  That is the only thing that goes into my hole.  Don’t you ever try anything else.

“We’ll also get some restraints, gags, and so on.  Whips and…  You ever been beaten?  No?  Well good.  I finally get something to break you in.  You’ll be living under Daddy’s belt and whip.  I broke in the fag back in Irvine.  He loved it. 

“I need to get my whips out of storage, if I still even have it.  I’m going to do one hell of a number to your ass.

“…Did you just say ‘Thank you Sir’?

“Help me take these boots off….  Pants too….  I want a relaxing blowjob.

“…Ahhh that’s better.  Get up here, son, and give your daddy a kiss….  Not a peck like that.  Here…  That’s how you kiss, with lots of tongue.  Taste the cigar?  That’s how a real man from Texas tastes.

“Give me some head.  I was going to belt and fuck your ass, but I think I’m going to just chill here….  Your mouth feels real good.  Keep sucking until I tell you to stop.  If I should fall asleep, keep sucking.  If I have to piss, I won’t warn you, just drink it.

“Son, I’m glad you stalked me earlier.  This is going to be good.  I know it is.”

[smartfeller]

Harry Bottom and the Philosophers Bone

Harry Bottom and: The Philosophers Bone chapter 1

Harry Bottom lived with his aunt and uncle Virgin and Petunia dursley, along with their fat twat of a son Dudley, who always got more presents than him. he had to live with them because his parents had died of AIDS and he was an orphan. he hated living with them, because they were such prudish twats and because they were so mean and didnt accept him. they made him stay in the closet because he was always wanking and smoking strange herbs. he didnt know why he was always so horny but it had been this way as long as he could remember...

on his 18th birthday, he received a letter from ‘Hogfarts School of Bitchcraft and Faggotry. he had never heard of the place. his aunt and uncle immediately forbade him from going and locked the door of his cupboard, but the letters kept arriving. there were a fuckload of owls flocking about the house and gypsies and transvestites kept knocking on the door. uncle virgin was fuming. eventually, he drove them all the way to a horrible little house in the middle of the sea somewhere in the hebrides or summat. ‘ha! id like to see them find us here! no nephew of mine shall be a faggot!’ they made harry stay in the coldest most horrible room wearing a chastity cage, cus they were weird like that. with sad resignation, poor lickle harry bottom stuck a finger up his butt and started jerking off, when all of a sudden there was a booming knock at the door...

he stopped mid-wank. nervously, uncle virgin crept towards the door and opened it.  and whew! there stood a giant BEAR of a man in a leather jacket, with a huge shaggy beard. he walked straight inside and turned to harry ‘appy birthday lad! todays the day you become a true gaylord’ he said, slapping harry on the back harry wasnt sure what he meant. the hairy giant strode past virgin and petunia, who were too shocked to say anything, sat his enormous fat arse down on the sofa. unfortunately, he had not noticed that dudley was already sat there, and before the lad could squeal in protest he was already engulfed betwixt the giants enormous booty cleft. the giant stretched his arms and shuffled around in his seat. ‘not reet comfy’ he said, before ripped an enormous fart which rattled the windows. ‘ahhh, much better’  the muffled sound of poor dudley screaming could be heard from within sweaty confines of the hefty leather-clad rump, but just barely. harry felt his boner stiffening, man, how he wished he could be engulfed in such an ass. ‘so harry, i suppose you’ll want to be coming with me, eh?’ his deep voice echoed through the stony hovel ’ ‘spect you cant wait to leave this orrible place’ he unbuckled his leather jacket slightly. harry stood staring, mesmerised at the enormous mans hairy body. ‘yes... but, sorry, who are you?’ he replied the man laughed heartily. ‘who am i? aha ha ha. the names Shagrid, i knew yer dad very well before... well... before’ ‘you knew my dad?’  ‘oh aye! and a fine cock he had too. 14inches. reckon youve inherited that’ he said with a wink. harry blushed. ‘your father was one of the greatest faggots what ever lived, harry. second only to the legendary Dumblewhore, of course. and youre going to go to were he learned it all: ‘Hogfarts School Of Bitchcraft And Faggotry’. marvelous place...’ ‘HE SHALL NOT BE GOING!’ shouted uncle virgin suddenly from across the room ‘I SHALL HAVE NO QUEEN OR FAIRY TEACHING ANY NEPHEW OF MINE HOW TO BE A... A...’ he couldnt scarcely bring himself to say the words ‘A HOMOSEXUAL!’ there was silence.

‘a... a what?’ said harry shagrid smiled warmly ‘yer a faggot harry’ ‘but no... i cant be a...?’ ‘you ever felt your dick twitch while looking at a mans arse? ever wanted to suck on a long hard cock?’ harry didnt know what to say, the answer of course was yes

‘HE SHALL NOT BE GOING!’  shagrid suddenly got angry, he stood up and cast a smell in uncle vernons direction which made him pass out. aunt petunia screamed. ‘anyway lad, since its your birthday ive prepared a delicious cake for you’ he stood up and dropped his breeches suddenly, presenting the most grotesquely hairy pair of buttocks you could possibly imagine, thick wooly curls of dark fur covering every inch of his gigantic behind. harry stared on in awe, each cheek was literally twice the size of his head. a rich wizardly musk filled the room at its presentation, beads of sweat glistening on the damp curly fur. what a horny sight, hed dreamed about this. harry was ready to dive in, only... his cousin was wedged deep within the giants hairy arsecrack, squirming desperately for freedom. half of his body had already been engulfed. you could hear his muffled cries for help, but just barely. ‘um.. shagrid’ said harry, nervously,  ‘whats wrong, dont you want to eat it?’ he said disappointingly, smacking his cheek. he ripped an especially juicy sounding fart whilst smiling, as if to entice him. dudley squealed pitifully as the anal flaps vibrated against him. ‘yes, i mean, its just’ the giant hadnt even realised ‘i mean, my cousin, hes...’ shagrid delved an enormous hairy hand inside his furry crack and began digging around ‘oy! what’re you doin there’ he pulled the terrified dudley out of his massive gaping hole with a horriple shlompfing sound and cast him aside, whimpering, on the floor; covered in ass-slime. ‘well, anyway. you can have your birthday present later’ PFFFFRRRAAAARRP! ‘right now we had better off to london; the very centre of faggotry in england. ‘spose you got yer letter about all the supplies youll need n that’ ‘no actually, uncle vernon burned them all’ ‘no worry, i have one here’  he handed it to harry, uncle vernon was still unconscious on the floor. petunia and dudley crouched terrified in the corner.

harry had never been to london, he was afraid. all hed ever known was life inside the cupboard. he went outside with hagrid, and saw a badass motorcycle parked somehow on the rocky shore outside the building. hed never seen a bike like it. it looked expensive, but all beat-up and rusty. like something from a junkyard, it didnt even look like it had a motor. shagrid hoisted up his hefty bulk and straddled the vehicle and shuffled his pants down slightly, then gestured harry to climb aboard. he did so, clambering up and clinging to the giants vast muscular back, his crotch nestled nicely between his cheeks. shagrid produced an object something like a trumpet from inside his jacket, and inserted the end of it deep into his giant hole. PPPPFFFFRARRRRP! PRRRP! PRRP! he blasted a few farts, harry couldnt help but laugh. ‘got a light, son?’ asked the giant, in his deep gravelly voice harry retried a lighter from his pocket and struck it ‘now hold on tight, lad’ as soon as it caught light, the blare of gas erupting from the end of the trumpet, the entire bike rose and began to soar through the air. harry couldnt believe it. as they flew high above the clouds, harry found himself snuggling deeper inside the warm sweaty crack, thickly forested with fur, pulling the giants jacket over his head, there he fell asleep...

[malereader-inserts]

Even Though it Hurts

Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: Remus Lupin & Son!Reader Summary: You have a will power than no other. Word Count: 2,032 Request: “ Hi, I love your writing so much. Can you do dad!Remus Lupin x son!reader, where the reader is in secret relationship with Seamus and Remus find out? Just some super angsty story, cuz I live for angst (I knew Remus will be supporting parent). Thank you✨” A/n: Okay, I tried my best to make it angsty. WARNING: homophobia, homophobic slur, anxiety 

It’s not like you wanted your dad to know. 

You didn’t really know what was going through your mind, really, because you know your old man. Your dad was a loving father, he supported you in anything you had interested in. If you were into potions, he would try and get to a little chemistry set - muggle kind that wouldn’t end up exploding the house. If you were into muggle history, he would take you to the museums wherever you lived at that moment. 

If you were interested in quidditch, he would give you books about the history of quidditch and the rule book. He even tried to get to a broom with his own money, but he had to dip into your mother’s money (which was reserved for you and anything you wanted, it was open to Remus as well because before she died she really loved Remus.) 

But, you weren’t sure if he would support you in a new revelation of yourself.

That included kissing pretty boys in the corners late at night. 

Granted, when you spent a summer with Remus and Sirius, they talked about how they had a relationship before Remus got with your mother and Sirius whored about.

Still, it was something you were terribly scared of. Your best friends have tried convincing you and settle your racing mind that you were overthinking it and that Remus would love you no matter what you were or have done.

“You take your time, babe, but I don’t know why you’re stressin’. Your dad is sound and he’ll take the news fine!” Your boyfriend says as you sighed, closing your book. 

“Everyone is saying that Seamus, but that doesn’t eliminate the slight possibility that he wouldn’t approve.”

“I think it does, (Y/n),” Seamus replied, giving you a pointed look, “Why are you so afraid?”

You stare at your boyfriend, “I’m going to bed.” 

“Wha-?”

“Night.”

Seamus watches you tuck yourself in bed, moving the pillows around you so that your boyfriend could slip into bed with you. You flick your wand to turn off the lights as Seamus watches you dumbfounded.

You rubbed your hand as you make it to your next class, which was transfiguration, you smiled at your boyfriend - managing to give him a kiss on the cheek as he flushed red. You moved to stand with Ron and Harry as Dean teases Seamus.

“A minute to the hour, what took you so long?” Ron asked you as you shrugged your shoulder.

“Caught up in the library, sorry,” You replied as you sat down.

Harry was next to Ron as you sat down next to Seamus, who was jabbing you in the side trying to get your attention. McGonagall starts the lesson and Hermione randomly appearing out of nowhere. No one batted an eye throughout that lesson, it was a double before the end of the day.

So, when the lesson finishes, McGonagall calls you to stay behind. You tell Harry, Ron and Hermione not to fuss over you as you held Seamus’ hand a bit longer. Seamus was the last to leave, giving you a supportive look because as much as McGonagall was lovely - she sure can be intimidating.

“Mr Lupin,” she says, calling you over to her desk as you meekly pulled your shoulder bag further onto your shoulder as you walk towards her, “Have a biscuit.”

“I’m okay, Professor,” you replied.

She narrows her eyes, “What was the punishment she gave you.”

Of course, your head of the house would clock on. She had seen how happy you were at the end of the fourth year, how you were so comfortable with showing off that Seamus was yours. She could tell there was a behaviour change in you because as the fifth year started - she knew you weren’t stressed about the subjects.

You were a smart kid, but this was something concerning. You avoided being seen with Seamus unless it was in the privacy of the common room and the bedroom.

“Let me see your hand,” She held her hand out and you knew you had to comply because she wouldn’t let you out of the room.

You gave her your non-dominate hand as she examines the injury. She didn’t like how it was still red, it told her that it was a fresh open wound as bruises started to surround the vile words.

“(Y/n)...”

She looks up at you and you already had started to sob, it was almost her motherly instinct that kicked in as she abruptly stood up and beckoned you to sit down as she soothes your back. 

“It wasn’t bad at first, you know?” You started to explain, “At first they were about dad and how he was a werewolf.”

McGonagall could see the scarring of the old sentence you had to write, “WEREWOLVES ARE VILE MONSTERS.”

She watches you cry harder as you started to hiccup, with a flick of her wand, a glass of water was starting to make way towards you.

“Catch your breathing, darling,” She says to you, rubbing your back, “I guess the wench found out about you and-?”

You chuckled, surprising her because honestly you hadn’t expected so much venom from a well-kept woman like Professor McGonagall and you weren’t expecting her to comfortably call Umbridge names. 

“Yes, she called me in first, gave me the option to either take the punishment or let Seamus. I couldn’t let him do that, and then she told me not to say a word to dad because if she found out, she- she...”

McGonagall could and would throw her shit if she could. No-one should be able to harm the students at all cost, Hogwarts was a place of safety and inducing fear in the students was the last thing she wanted. 

You hiccupped, “She would find where dad would be and make sure he would pay for his actions - I don’t know what she would charge my dad with, but, I can’t lose my dad like I have with my mother. He’s all I have left. I can’t hurt my dad, I can’t hurt my boyfriend, even if it kills me.”

She stares at you in silence, because a young teenager shouldn’t have to think like that.

“Alright, I’ll write you off for the rest of the week, and let me bandage your hand.”

Perhaps you were terrified to tell your dad about the punishment you have to endure, perhaps you were terrified how your dad would react that you rather endure pain and homophobia than tell him. You know that your dad would lose his cool.

McGonagall tends to your wound, she doesn’t want to see the nasty words on your hand and she knows full well you didn’t want to either. 

You leave her classroom to go back to bed, luckily, it was nearing Christmas so Christmas break was soon to come. 

You spent many days talking to McGonagall, she couldn’t stop you from going to detention, so no matter how many bandages you go through, you could feel the pain of two sentences branded on you.

“WEREWOLVES ARE VILES MONSTERS.”

“I AM A DISGUSTING FAGGOT.”

You managed to go home early due to the attack on the Wesley family, as you were considered part of their family as well as Hermione and Harry, they allowed you to go home - home as in the base of the Order. 

You weren’t sure how to confront your dad as you tried spending your time sending letters to Seamus. 

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

You slammed your hand down on the desk as your head the voice before meekly turning around to see your dad, raising a concerned eyebrow.

“You scared me,” You sighed out, putting your feather down into the ink, “Announce your presence at least dad!”

Your dad chuckled, “I apologise, next time I will knock before speaking.”

You smiled as you turn yourself to look at him as he slowly enters the room, he wonders why you were cooped up in the room. Hermione was often seen downstairs reading a book whilst Ron and Harry was busy with themselves. But, you, you rather stay in your room.

“Are you ill?”

“Partly,” You responded far too quickly, you were nervous for some reason - the same nerves that ran down your back when you were in Umbridge’s office. 

When you were in “detention” she would rather have you answer quickly, you feared too much that you would reprimand. You pulled your sleeves down just to cover your hands.

“Running a bit of a fever, I’ll just sleep it off, dad.”

“(Y/n),” Remus narrowed his eyes at you, his chilled son that was much more of an anxious mess, “What’s going on? I’ve noticed that you’re sporting the same bandage as the twins and Harry.”

“Well-”

“And they told me it was because of Umbridge,” Remus continues, not meaning to interrupt you, “Son, what did she make you write?”

Remus hated the woman after she was the one to put up the suggestion on the law of werewolves, he would hate himself, but the tears confirmed his fears.

“I’m sorry!” You cried, looking down to cover your face with your hands.

“Shh, my boy,” Remus strides to give you a hug, he kneels in front of you as he lightly grabbed your hand, “May I?”

You sniffled and slightly nodded, you allowed your dad to wrap the greyish bandage. He didn’t know what he was expected, but the words that were scarred into you was worst than he thought. He wanted to throw up, he could understand the werewolf one - you are paying for his condition.

“Can you explain to me the other-?”

“Please don’t hate me!” That was your immediate response.

It wasn’t the confident response that Remus has in mind, he didn’t care if you were gay - you were still his son and he wouldn’t see you any differently. After all, he was a werewolf and you didn’t care at all - and he was considered a threat. 

He hoped that if you ever had the need to come out to him, he was expecting you to send him a letter that you were bringing home your boyfriend to meet him because you were so confident that your dad would welcome him with open arms. But, not this.

“(Y/n), I would never hate you for being gay,” Remus spoke firmly, “I love you with all my heart and you liking boys wouldn’t change the fact.”

“But-”

“My darling boy,” He says softly, “Were you afraid of my reaction because of the fear that Umbridge had instilled in you?”

You didn’t respond but that was enough for him to understand the situation as he sighs, rubbing his thumb on your forehead before bringing it close to his lips, placing a family peck upon your temple.

“I’m not mad nor will ever be mad, okay?” You nodded, it doesn’t settle the anxiety in you and Remus knows that, “So, do you have a boyfriend?”

Remus changes the topic, get you to relax first before forwarding the situation with you and the fear you had. You looked at him confused at the sudden change of topic before softly smiling to yourself at the thought of your boyfriend.

“It’s Seamus.”

“Seamus?” Remus says, narrowing his eyes, “The pyromantic maniac?”

You nod.

“Well, I guess it’s not Draco,” Remus says as you smiled at your dad, who gives you the same loving smile, “Though, when we’re able to have visitors - we’re not allowing Seamus to use magic. I cannot risk having someone blowing up the house!”

“I mean, that is fair,” You agreed with him, Remus chuckles, “You promise you’re not mad?”

“There’s nothing to be mad about, son, now are you more comfortable to talk about your hand?”

You looked at him, it was now or later and you didn’t want to experience the dread of that conversation. You take a deep inhale and exhale before giving Remus a nod. Your dad perched himself on your bed, preparing to hear your story. 

“I want to hear how you and Seamus got together first, actually.” 

“Really dad?”

#Remus Lupin #remus lupin imagine #remus x reader #remus lupin x male reader #x male reader #platonic

[angellesword]

MAGIC SHOP | JJK (07)

Description: You and Jungkook were best friends who were in love with each other. What would happen when Soojin, your half sister who you’re trying to impress, told you she’s in love with Jungkook too?

Alternatively:

“Would you believe me if I said that I was scared of everything too?”

Genre: childhood best friends to lovers, family drama, angst, fluff, idiots to lovers, pining, slice of life au.

Pairing: Architect!Jungkook x Architect!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: homophobia (Tae’s family is insisting he can’t be gay)

SERIES: CHAPTER 6 | CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER’S OST: Fix You covered by BTS

When you try your best, but you don't succeed

You closed your eyes the moment you heard the first line of the song.

When you get what you want but not what you need

Your heart was thumping, unable to bottle up the emotions that had been eating you for months now.

One year and seven months, to be exact.

You left Seoul, your hometown, nineteen months ago.

"Why can't we just eat at home?" Taehyung groaned, clearly not happy with how things were going right now.

You shrugged because you also didn't know why Yoongi and Jimin decided to have dinner at Per Se, a fine dining restaurant, tonight.

Did they forget that you and your brother were broke? The both of you couldn't live life like you once did in Korea.

Life in the city that never sleeps was different. You still had a job, but you were no longer an architect, deciding that it was best to pursue graphic designing instead.

You worked from eight to five pm in an office now. Gone were the days you visited construction sites. What you created at your current job were images, logos and even diagrams.

When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep

You loved your job, unfortunately your compensation was not enough to keep you going, making you feel like you were:

Stuck in reverse

Your salary was barely enough to cover your rent and utilities expenses. Jimin, your roommate, knew this so he lent you his car, the same car Taehyung was driving at this moment.

You didn't want to borrow your roommate's car at first, but Jimin insisted, saying that he had a new car and that he didn't know what to do with the old one.

Jimin didn't want to sell it. He was a very sentimental person and the car was actually a gift from his parents.

So he let you use it. You were special to Jimin. He wouldn't mind that you and your brother were using something that he loved.

"Fuck it. I'm going home," Taehyung announced, suddenly turning right.

Your eyes widened, ready to scold him.

But you didn't. Now when—

And the tears come streaming down your face

—he was crying.

You gasped, but you quickly pursed your lips into a thin line. You also looked outside the window of the car, refusing to look at your brother.

You didn't want him to feel like you were prying or that you felt bad for him. No. Taehyung didn't appreciate empathy. For him, it was just the kinder version of pity.

He didn't need you or anyone to feel bad for him as it would only make him feel like his decision was wrong.

When you lose something, you can't replace

When Taehyung moved back here in New York, he lost something that he could never replace: his family in Seoul.

You remembered why your brother lost contact with the Kims. It happened almost two years ago.

"I'll just change," was your excuse so that you could get out of the dining area and also because you knew Jungkook would follow you.

You had to talk to him.

You had to remind him again not to tell anyone in your family that you and him were dating.

You thought it would only be for the meantime; however, you changed your mind after your father explained why he wanted Soojin and Jungkook to get married.

It was for Castle, the company your mother, Taemin, and Jong-in all built together.

How could you let the empire fall?

Apart from this, you saw how Soojin looked at your boyfriend. She loved him. Maybe more than you could ever love Jungkook.

When you love someone, but it goes to waste

You didn't want Jungkook's love to go to waste. You didn't deserve him. He deserved Soojin, someone who could love him dearly.

"Jungkook, as we are saying—" Sin-ae tried to open the conversation again the moment you disappeared from the scene.

Your best friend cut Sin-ae off though. You were right. Jungkook was going to follow you.

"W-Wait! Jungkook! Where are you going?" Sin-ae panicked, getting up so she could follow Jungkook.

Sin-ae could tell that this situation was starting to upset her daughter. Soojin was gritting her teeth, tears filled her eyes.

"Mom. Let Jungkook be." Taehyung said, stopping Sin-ae from running after your best friend. He just knew Jungkook's going to go to you. You and him clearly needed some time alone.

"No. I still have something to say to that boy!"

"It can wait." Taehyung clenched his fist. "I have something to say to you too. It can't wait."

"What is it?"

Taehyung had the undivided attention of his mother now. Admittedly, every member of his family was focused on him, waiting.

Taehyung gulped.

It was now or never.

"I'm gay."

Could it be worse?

Was telling his family about his sexual orientation the worst thing that could happen tonight?

Maybe.

It was the worst because he didn't think this through. It just happened. It was the only way he could think of to stop them from meddling with your relationship with Jungkook.

"You're what?" Taemin's jaw ticked, eyes turning dark as he turned to his third born son.

Lights will guide you home

Taehyung's heart skipped a beat. He was nervous but he didn't regret anything. He was certain that the truth would guide him towards light.

And ignite your bones

He would be free after this night.

"Taehyung..." Sin-ae held onto the head of the chair, grasping for support. She felt like she was going to faint.

This night was stressing her out so much.

"A-Are you sure? I-I..." Sin-ae swallowed hard. She was shaking. Soojin caressed her mother's hand.

"What if you're just confused? Have you dated women before—"

"Yes. I dated seven women. All didn't work out."

"B-But..." Sin-ae tried speaking again, however she trailed off.

Taehyung shrugged upon seeing her mother's expression. He continued eating his food as if nothing happened.

"Sorry it came out of blue. I didn't want to shock you, but seeing how this dinner turned out, I didn't really have a choice but to tell you."

"What do you mean by that?" Namjoon creased his forehead, he obviously didn't like what his younger brother was implying.

"Well, it seems to me that you all know about the engagement party, but you still didn't budge even when it's clear that Jungkook doesn't want to marry Soojin."

Taehyung shrugged before speaking again.

"I don't want to go through the same thing, I guess? I don't want you all to suddenly force me to marry some rich girl. But! If it's a rich guy, I might just agree—"

"Kim Taehyung!" Taemin's voice was like a thunder when he cut off what his third born son was saying.

And I will try to fix you

"Stop your nonsense right now!" Taemin shouted, as if it was going to fix something, as if shouting would suddenly change Taehyung's preference.

"Ouch, dad!" Taehyung pouted, clutching his chest. "Don't be mean. This is not nonsense. This is me telling you the truth about myself..."

The third born son was trying to joke around, thinking that it would at least calm his family.

"I like boys, dad. I let them do me—"

Taemin abruptly stood up. He was holding a table knife, ready to attack Taehyung.

"I said shut up!"

"Yeobo!" Sin-ae hugged her husband.

Seokjin and Namjoon stepped up too, protecting their brother.

"Father, you are overreacting." Seokjin said, hiding Taehyung behind him.

"My son tells me he's a faggot and you're telling me to calm down, huh, Kim Seokjin!?"

"There is nothing wrong with being gay, father. What's wrong is harming people just because of their sexuality." Namjoon said this, touching the hinge of his eyeglasses to stop it from slipping down his nose.

Taehyung's brothers never defied their father, but they would never stand still if Taemin did something to hurt any member of their family, except you. Seokjin and Namjoon didn't care about you.

"It's okay, hyung. You don't have to defend me." Taehyung smiled at his brothers before switching his gaze at Taemin.

"Tell me, father. If I don't 'stop this ‘nonsense,' what would you do to me?"

"I will disown you." Taemin snarled, pushing Sin-ae away from him. "You won't receive anything from me."

"Ah, you will disinherit me. I see..." Taehyung smiled, though his heart was breaking apart. "Okay, then. I will make things easier for you."

"Yah! Kim Taehyung, what are you talking about?" Soojin glared at her brother. She wanted to slap him. He was being stubborn!

"Well, father can't disinherit me, his legitimate heir, just because he wants to. But like what I've said, I'm gonna make it easy for him." Taehyung slightly raised his shoulders. "I'm disclaiming my inheritance. I'd rather be broke than have a homophobic father."

Taemin was about to attack Taehyung, but Sin-ae hugged him once more.

The corner of Taehyung's mouth quirked up as he placed his car keys and card on the table, a proof that he would not take anything from his father anymore.

"Don't worry. I will also pay back everything you spent on me since I was a child." Taehyung bowed down. "Thank you for everything. Goodbye."

And high up above or down below

You blinked back to reality after remembering the reason why Taehyung left his family. The way he told you that story made you feel like you were there when it happened.

But you weren't.

You were busy breaking your own heart.

When you're too in love to let it go

You went straight out of the mansion after mumbling an excuse to your family.

"Hey..." Jungkook followed you, grabbing your wrist.

"I told you not to tell them." You twisted your hand, a not so subtle way of asking him to let you go. His palm was hot, but it was causing you to shiver. You didn't want to be touched by him.

"I didn't—"

"You almost did." You snarled, becoming more frustrated as time passed. "You broke your promise to me."

"Tiger..." Jungkook called softly, trying to hold your hand again.

You walked away, as if you were too scared to stand closer to him. You were. You didn't trust yourself when you were around him. It was like you wanted to just bury your face in his neck. You knew Jungkook felt that way too, but he shouldn't. You shouldn't.

You were in the territory of the Kims. All of them wanted Jungkook to marry Soojin. They would most likely scowl if they saw you being intimate with your 'best friend.'

"I'm sorry..." He said, still following you.

You were headed to the garden of the mansion. No one really went here at night. There were just too many mosquitoes here.

"I won't break my promise again." He said softly. Jungkook was trying to catch your gaze.

You avoided it.

You couldn't look at him as you said "of course it won't happen again. You can't say something that isn't true anymore."

"What do you mean?"

But if you never try, you'll never know

"I'm breaking up with you, Jungkook."

"What?" He was breathless. Your cruel words knocked out the air out of him.

"You heard me." You said simply, still avoiding his gaze. Do not look at him or you'd break, you reminded yourself.

"Y-You're kidding, right?" And he still couldn't believe what was happening.

No. This couldn't be true. He just had you. He was just starting to show you how much he loved you. Why were you pushing him away again?

This wasn't fair.

"You're engaged, Jungkook. To my sister." You gritted your teeth, looking down at your feet. You could see a mosquito sucking your blood there. It hurt.

"You know I don't joke around when my sister's happiness is at stake—"

"What about your happiness?" Jungkook cut you off. And mine?

"I'm happy when Soojin is happy, when my family is happy."

"What about me?" His voice was so small when he asked this, like he was ashamed and hurt. "Am I not your family too?"

Your stomach churned. Your tears fell, you saw your teardrop hitting the mosquito sucking at your foot.

Your foot hurt. Your foot itches.

You were focusing on the wrong things. You complained about the wrong things.

Your heart hurt. But you didn't care.

Your foot. It itched.

Just what you're worth

"You are." You blurted out after a few moments of silence. Would it feel good to scratch your foot?

"That's why I'm ending this. I don't want to hurt you any further..."

You're not hurting me Jungkook was about to say this. You didn't give him a chance to speak though.

"I can't love you, Kook..."

Lights will guide you home

They said lights would guide someone home. Lights helped people see. It helped them so that they wouldn't stumble in the darkness, into something they couldn't possibly fight.

For the longest time, Jungkook believed this. He thought you were his light, guiding him—leading him towards home.

Home was supposed to be safe and it should bring comfort—this was what Jungkook longed. A home.

And ignite your bones

A home full of love, laughter—just things that would ignite his bones, that would make him thank the Maker for giving him life.

"Why not?" Jungkook managed to ask even though he was breaking inside.

All he could think about was your cruel words.

I can't love you, Kook...

I can't love you, Kook...

I can't love you, Kook...

It meant he was hard to love, right? He was hard to love despite the fact that he was trying his best. He was good. So good—too good, but it wasn't enough.

There was no home to come to.

Your foot still itches.

"Because I'm broken." You were stupid to think that you could fill his heart with love.

Love didn't work like that.

Jungkook shook his head violently. He knew you didn't want him to touch you, but he did.

He couldn't stop himself.

He took your face into his hands, feeling your skin. He was touching you like he was making sure you were real.

"And you can't love someone when you're broken."

His response was instant.

"Then let me try to fix you." He said this as if it was easy.

You cackled. This was better than sobbing.

"Too bad..." You finally had the courage to meet his gaze. You looked at him dead in the eyes, saying this: "Because I don't want to be fixed."

Jungkook was right.

You were his light.

You were his light, but you weren't going to guide him home.

You were the light that was going to blind him.

"Goodbye, Jungkook." You smiled.

And then you walked away.

This time Jungkook didn't follow you, but aside from this nothing else changed—well except that you weren't looking down anymore.

You looked up, remembering that when you kissed Jungkook for the first time, the moon and the stars were there to witness it.

The moon and the stars were still here.

This time they witnessed how you broke Jungkook's heart.

Damn. Your foot still itches.

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #ficswithluv #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #armywriterssupport #jungkook x you #bts fic

[rachelsteapot]

Hi! 👋😁

Ok, could I please request oneshot with Thomas Shelby and his son Shelby reader (16) where his son gets really badly hurt because he was defending his friends? (maybe from rascists, harassers or homophobic people).

And one readers friend brings him home with cloth over his mouth and it’s soaked in so much blood. Someone pinned him (reader) down, beated him and cutted his cheek (his teeth are visible and the wound is so big it can’t be sewd up together) + they broke his arm (in his view left arm...does it even matter). He won’t die tho.

Please hit me with soft and worried Thomas and other Shelbys and Grays with his son (for once than female or daughter reader). Thank you so much if you write it.

I hope it's not too much. 😙

Love you, have a nice day/night. ❤❤❤

Sticks and Stones: Tommy Shelby x Son!Reader

Hi! Sorry that this has taken a while, I got a bit stuck on what to write. I’ve tried to stick as close as I could to this request but its not exactly what you asked. I hope you still like it though, I definitely enjoyed writing it. 

Warnings: Homophobic language, gore?

Pairing: Platonic Tommy Shelby x Son!Reader

Tommy’s children grew up knowing they were Shelbys. The last name in itself was a title, like their father’s OBE, but different. It wasn't awarded, it wasn’t a gift: it was a curse. 

In the sixteen years since Tommy’s wife had given birth to his second son, Y/N, Shelby Company Limited had shifted its sights from the underground world that it used to inhabit, partaking in new, legal, business ventures. While the employees knew this, however, the general public still heard the name Shelby and conjured images of criminals. So, when Y/N began joining his father’s world, he became determined to change the public view of the Shelby family, regardless of the cost. 

It wasn’t unusual to find Y/N Shelby in a public booth at The Garrison, surrounded by a group of his friends. It was even less unusual to hear their rowdy tales and playful banter, especially as they were the youngest in the pub by quite a few years. Young people, especially young Blinders, like to make themselves heard, and generally don’t care who hears it. And just like any young Blinder, Y/N was no exception. 

“One time- one time I swear I saw Uncle Arthur send a granddad flying because he was bad bad mouthing our John!” the boys screeched with laughter as Y/N slurred his way through a tale taller than the stack of bottles behind the bar, slamming his mug down on the table to punctuate his story. Tales like these were common, and fairly widely known. 

“If it aint the Shelby fags, huh?” The insult cut through their joy like a knife, shattering the imaginary worlds that the teenagers had created. Y/N turned his head to find the source of this jab, discovering a sweaty, overweight patron. He scrunched his nose in disgust and turned back to his friends. This man must just be drunk, he thought, attempting to dismiss the sick feeling that was slowly growing in his stomach. 

“Oi, look at me when i’m talking to you.” Y/N felt a hand grip his shoulder. He glanced across the table before exploding from his chair, sending it clattering to the ground. The young Shelby spun around and wrapped his fingers around his assailant’s collar, throwing him back against a pillar. Fire blazed in his eyes as the youngest Shelby leant forwards, his breathing throwing hot air onto the older man’s face. 

“Don’t. call us. fucking. Fags.” each word was punctuated by Y/N sucking air between his gritted teeth. He slowly removed his fingers from the other man’s collar and, giving him one final shove, he returned to his chair. Silence had fallen on the pub; it was time for Y/N and his friends to leave. 

The doors of the Garrison clanged shut behind Y/N as he pressed his flat cap onto his head, and shoved his hands into his pockets. Anyone would have thought he was the famed Tommy Shelby, if it wasn’t for the lack of gently smoking cigarette hanging from his lips. He and his friends left the pub and slowly began their walk home, continuing their rowdy guffaws and occasionally getting into playful fistfights. Eventually, as the lads continued on their way, their numbers dwindled until it was just Y/N and his closest friend, Colin. 

“Mate, are you alright?” Colin’s question roused Y/N from his thoughts. He blinked and raised his head, looking across towards his friend as they walked in unison along the shaded streets. 

“Yeah, just a fucking twat. I don’t get why he just didn’t back off, yanno.” Colin nodded, sighing slightly. 

“My cousin, his dad was like that.” Colin started, “A drunk, constantly trollid an’ all that.” 

Y/N nodded, blowing steam from his nose into the cold night air. 

“I dunno mate, I’ve got a bad feeling about it is all,” 

The pair continued on their way, footsteps echoing along the empty Birmingham cobbles, hardly speaking and instead enjoying a comfortable silence. Colin and Y/N had been friends for as long as they could remember, having done almost everything together since they were in nappies. They thought nothing of it when a third set of footsteps joined them, or the fourth, or perhaps they just didn’t notice. Until it was too late. 

As Y/N and Colin turned the corner towards Y/N’s Small Heath residence, they were confronted by two larger men. Turning to check behind them, Y/N and Colin found that they were boxed in with two larger men behind them too. Suddenly, Colin felt the cold steel of a knife against his throat as he was pulled back against the third man, and released a strangled cry. 

“What the fuck do you want?” Y/N hissed, darting his eyes towards his friend to check he wasn’t being hurt, catching sight of Coling struggling against the trunk like arms of his attacker. 

“Fucking Shelby and his faggot friend,” the man which Y/N assessed to be the ringleader of this excursion snorted. “We want The Garrison and the Blinder territory. You’re all posh bitches now, no need for gang land,” Y/N couldn’t help but laugh sarcastically, setting his jaw and glaring at the assailants. 

“I dunno why you’re asking me,” Y/n rolled his eyes, scuffing the dirt with the toe of his boot. “It’s me dad you wanna be talking with, but I doubt your chances will be good when he hears about this.” But Y/N was caught off guard when one of the thugs stepped forwards and grabbed his jaw with one hand, twisting his head and pulling the young Shelby’s back against his stomach. Now, both him and Colin were held prone, completely defenceless against anything these thugs would attempt. 

“We tried that,” the supposed ring leader chimed in. “It seems that we were going to need a little more of a bargaining chip.” As Y/N struggled, the final thug stepped forwards and grunted at his companions. 

“Hold Him.” 

Y/N felt his aggressors’ arms tighten around him, pressing down on his throat and causing spots to form in his vision. He didn’t notice the fourth thug swiftly and deftly draw a knife from his pocket, all he felt was a flash of cold followed by a searing pain across his cheek. Warm fluid spilled from the heat and Y/N felt the cold air flood into his mouth. He screamed as the realisation hit: these people meant business if they were going to cut the Shelby heir. 

“We would take your tongue, but that’s for next time, if you don’t comply.” The threat didn’t feel empty, causing Y/N to clamp his mouth shut, ignoring the pain caused by the action. 

Suddenly, Y/N was thrown to the ground, his head colliding heavily against the hard cobbles causing the world to tilt on its axis. He groaned, his ears ringing as he attempted to stand before his body contorted under the kicks of steel capped boots. As three pairs of feet pummeled his young body, Y/N felt his ribs crack and snap, crying out in pain until it was all he could do to keep breathing. When he fell silent, the kicks stopped. 

“I reckon that’ll be enough of a lesson for Tommy Shelby, OBE,” one jeered as the four stomped off into the night. 

It could have been minutes or hours before Y/N felt a hand on his shoulder, gently rolling him onto his back. The movement sent bolts of pain through Y/N’s ribcage and he coughed, globs of black blood landing on the pavement. 

“Y/N? Oh my fucking god, Tommy’s gonna kill me.”  Colin… thank god he was okay. 

“Don’t worry lad, we’ve just gotta get him home.” Uncle Arthur? What the fuck was Uncle Arthur doing here? 

Y/n pried his eyes open, grunting in pain as he was lifted from the ground and cloaked in the smell of his uncle. His head spun as Arthur’s rocking walk sent shockwaves through his bruising limbs. A door opened, then shut, and finally, Y/N felt a hard surface meet his back. He heaved a ragged breath as his body relaxed, and drifted into a pained sleep. 

In his dream, Y/N Shelby was jousting. He was riding a beautiful dapple stallion, charging at full pelt towards an opponent, clothed only in black cloth. As he got closer, Y/N lowered his pole and leant forwards, and missed. His opponent’s pole connected with his face, and then he was falling, off of his horse and into an abyss. His arms flailed as he tried to catch onto something, anything, that would save him. But nothing was there. 

When Y/N awoke, the sky was grey. Not a grey like the horse in his dream, but grey like a storm, like the storm his father would bring on Birmingham when he found out about the incident. The teenager sniffed slightly and tried to shuffle into a seated position, but his attempts were interrupted by a sudden churning in his stomach. Forcing himself to move, Y/N leaned over the side of the bed and emptied his stomach of the minimal contents that remained. His retches caused movement in a darkened corner of his room, but Y/N was too exhausted to notice, all his aches and pains flooding over his slowly awakening limbs. Slowly, tears began to roll down his cheeks as the pain overwhelmed his mind, and the young Shelby succumbed to the pain and exhaustion. 

“Shhh, don’t worry, Daddy’s here now. Nobody’s going to hurt you.” a warm hand was placed on his lower back, drawing Y/N back into the present. Wincing as he tried to move, Y/N was able to twist his head until he could see his father seated on the bed beside him. Gently, Tommy moved his hands until he was supporting his son’s weight and slowly eased him into a seated position. 

“Dad?” Y/N croaked, wincing with the pain of his ribs and limbs, his words slurred by the stiffness in his cheek. Tommy turned his head, facing away from his son. He raised a hand to his face, pressing his fingers into his eyes, only moving when Y/N reached his arm forwards and rested his hand on his father’s shoulder. 

“Dad, ‘m okay.” Tommy sighed, running his hand through his hair.

“It’s not about that, Y/N. It’s that it happened at all, that I couldn’t protect you. Your name put you at risk and I couldn’t live with myself if I lost you too.” Y/N blinked slowly, letting his father’s frustrations wash over him. 

“I’m sorry, Dad.” Tommy shuffled into the space beside his son, spreading one arm over the teenager’s shoulder and pulling him close, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. 

“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut and he relaxed onto his father’s chest, breathing in the smell of whiskey and cigarettes that had enveloped his childhood. He was safe, and nobody was going to hurt him. Slowly, the youngest Shelby drifted into a dreamless sleep, determined that next time, he would not be so unprepared. 

[writerwhowritesao3]

Post-Starcourt, Neil is driving Billy to one of his follow-up appointments with the doctors who saved his life after the ““Fire”“ and “”Ceiling Collapse”” at the mall. “This Land Is Your Land” by Woody Guthrie starts playing on the radio. Billy is singing along quietly. And in the driver’s seat, his dad is also singing along. 

Neil hasn’t beaten Billy since that night at the mall. Not since he and Susan received the phone call that no parent wants to receive, no matter what your relationship with your kid is: the “Sorry to disturb you so late, sir, but your son was just admitted to the hospital in critical condition and you really need to come down here” phone call. 

Billy survived and Neil swore that things would be different. Looked Billy right in the eye when he woke up after surgery and promised him that “things are going to be different from now on, Billy. We’re going to be better.”

It’s been three months and so far, Neil had kept mostly true to his word. He hasn’t hit him and he hasn’t yelled at him and he hasn’t called him a faggot or a pussy or a disrespectful little shit. He’s given him a few warning looks. But Billy thinks those are maybe just out of habit. 

Neil had gone weeks without beating Billy before, but that period of safety had always ended, every single time. Then again, those times had been before Billy had almost died and before his dad had promised him that things would be different.

Still. Billy can’t help but test the waters a little bit. And it’s relatively safe because they’re in the car on the highway—what was Neil going to do? Pull the car over and smack him? 

“You know this is a Marxist song, right?” Billy says. 

“What are you talking about?” Neil asks.

“‘This Land Is Your Land’ is a Marxist song,” he repeats. 

“Woody Guthrie wrote this song,” Neil said, shaking his head. 

“Woody Guthrie was a known communist, Dad,” Billy said, his lips turning up into a small smile. 

“Woody Guthrie was a patriot.”

“Maybe communism is patriotism.”

Neil sighs and pulls the car over. Billy stomach clenches up. He’s so sure he’s broken the seal. So sure that his dad is going to backhand him at the very least and then he’ll have to lie to his doctors about the resulting bruise. It won’t be the first time he’s had to lie about bruises. 

Neil doesn’t hit him. He turns to look at Billy in the eye. 

“I did not get shot up in Vietnam so that you could grow up to become some pinko commie,” he says, his tone stern and even. “Get your head straight, son.”

Billy manages to get his hands to stop shaking by the time they pull up to the hospital.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove needs a hug #neil hargrove #tw abuse #loosely inspired by that one scene in Mrs America

[mai-the-crow]

TW: CHILD ABUSE AND F-SLUR USED

song this is based off: Luka, by Suzanne Vega.

this is in second person, but it's not a self-insert. narrator is a woman around susan's age that lives in a small apartment building with thin walls.

dedicated to all the people that heard my parents, my brother, and i screaming while we lived in an apartment building

read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32560975

My name is Luka I live on the second floor I live upstairs from you Yes I think you've seen me before

You know the Mayfields. They live directly above you. The Hargroves moved in with Susan about a month ago. From a trailer park, if gossips are to be believed.

Susan is a lovely lady, if a bit paranoid. You've had her around for lunch occasionally. She's tall in stature but small in personality. Her daughter, Max, is a budding skateboarder and is snappy but sweet, like the bubblegum she loves to chew.

You don't know the Hargroves as well, yet. Billy seems to be a very polite young man, despite his rebellious looks. He's a bit flirty though, which concerns you. He's only in middle school. Neil is a veteran, from 'Nam, and looks stern. He's always ordering Billy around, but is kind to Max.

If you hear something late at night Some kind of trouble, some kind of fight Just don't ask me what it was Just don't ask me what it was Just don't ask me what it was

You're starting to hear odd thumps and yelling coming from upstairs. At first, you chalk the thumps up to Susan and Neil being newlyweds and doing... the thing. And the yelling is probably just from a normal fight. You think you heard a man yelling "faggot," but you're not sure. After all, when you were a teenager, you fought with your parents often.

Then you see Billy the next day, and he's got a black eye and is moving stiffly. What Neil's doing isn't right, you know that, but it's none of your business how a man disciplines his son. So you don't ask, you don't tell.

I think it's because I'm clumsy I try not to talk too loud Maybe it's because I'm crazy I try not to act too proud

Neil catches you looking at a split on Billy's lip one afternoon, and nudges Billy. He walks up to you with a charming smile. "How are you, ma'am?"

"I-I'm fine, thank you. How are you?" you say, still focused on the bloody split.

"Fine, fine. Walked into a locker today at school, though. Lip's still a bit sore." It's hard to tell that he's lying. He must have practice. The thought sickens you.

"That's unfortunate, Billy. Hope you recover soon. It was nice seeing you and your dad today, but I've got to go."

He's already turning around, and tosses a "See ya" over his shoulder.

They only hit until you cry And after that you don't ask why You just don't argue anymore You just don't argue anymore You just don't argue anymore

You've made a new recipe for a pie, and decide to share it with Susan. She's been down a little, recently, and you remember that she always enjoyed making sweets with Max. As you near the door of their apartment, you start hearing something. A voice.

"Sorry, sir- I'm sorry, dad! Please-"

You walk back downstairs. It doesn't seem like the best time, right now.

Maybe you'll come back later, and Neil will open the door, and you'll see his split knuckles. You'll see the belt draped over the couch, speckles of blood glittering on the metallic buckle, and maybe you'll decide that this is bad. Very bad. The evidence will be right there. And maybe you'll find the courage to tell the police.

But you don't come back later. So you don't see, you don't tell.

Yes I think I'm okay I walked into the door again If you ask that's what I'll say And it's not your business anyway

You keep seeing him with more and more odd bruises and cuts. You could swear you saw welts curling across his back once when his shirt rode up. You try asking about it a couple times, thinking that it's not going to get you too involved with... whatever is going on, but all his answers are some variant of "Got into a fight" or "Walked into the door again. I'm just clumsy, it's nothing" with a sheepish smile.

I guess I'd like to be alone With nothing broken, nothing thrown Just don't ask me how I am Just don't ask me how I am Just don't ask me how I am

You hear something shatter one night, and the next day, Billy shows up with four shallow, straight cuts on his calf that crisscross over each other. Another night, there's the sound of aluminium--like cans of beer--bouncing off something solid, and the next day, Billy shows up with a lump on his forehead.

You console yourself by thinking that Billy must've gotten into trouble at school. Billy must've talked back to his father. Billy must've gotten bad grades. Billy must've pulled Max's hair. Billy must've...

My name is Luka I live on the second floor I live upstairs from you Yes I think you've seen me before

It's been half a year, now. Max is still sweet and still skateboarding. Susan is still nervous and still fills her day with magazines. Billy is still polite and still covered in injuries. And Neil... you really don't know what to think about him, now.

Noises still come from upstairs. The TV blaring news, the clash of pots and pans while one cooks, pained yells, Max indistinctly chattering, the cry of faggot!, the opening tunes of The Smurfs, that new cartoon that all the kids like, and the peculiar thumps.

You keep up the chorus of Billy must've, Billy must've.

If you hear something late at night Some kind of trouble, some kind of fight Just don't ask me what it was Just don't ask me what it was Just don't ask me what it was

Every night, just like clockwork, the thumps start. Thump. A cry. Thump. A plea. Thump. Thump. Thump.

But you don't ask, you don't tell. What use would it do anyways? And you really don't want to get involved in some long, complex investigation. Neither does anyone else, it seems.

It's not your problem, anyways.

They only hit until you cry And after that you don't ask why You just don't argue anymore You just don't argue anymore You just don't argue anymore

It's been four years since the Hargroves moved in with the Mayfields.

Something happens in Apartment 204, the one right above Apartment 104. No one knows what, but the screams were louder and went on for longer than usual. And the roar of faggot! is clearly heard. Then sirens sound, and take the battered boy away in an ambulance. The gossips talk about how the father spun a tale about how he had found his son crumpled in the doorway, bloodied and bruised. It's a weak lie, and everyone knows it.

But it's none of their business how a man disciplines his son. Never has been.

The family moves away--to Indiana, the gossips squeal--two weeks later, as soon as their son is discharged from the hospital.

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

The longtime residents of the apartment building are gathered together in your kitchen, playing cards. The radio's on, and a song that feels oddly familiar to them starts playing. "My name is Luka. I live on the second floor."

You know that everyone is thinking of Billy, sauntering up to the ladies, wary around the men, but shaking their hand all the same, saying "My name is Billy. I live on the second floor."

#child abuse #billy hargrove #susan hargrove #neil hargrove #max mayfield #second person narration #my writing #fanfic #ao3fic #billy hargrove fanfiction

[makaias-trash-heap]

Soooooo lately ya girl here has been running into a lot of writing issues so I gave something a try...BACK TO BASICS FOR WHAT I ORIGINALLY MADE THIS BLOG FOR!!! First time I’ve written anything for my favorite Tsundere in a while. Enjoy!! Just more of my own self indulgent writing while I have no requests.

“Sooooo, guess who I just heard from.” 

Shin glanced up from his book with his usual blank expression, “Why not just tell me?”

Mira smiled and rolled her eyes slightly, “My parents. They called and asked me to come over for dinner for my sister's birthday this weekend.” She stated, plopping on the couch next to him.

Mirdorima raised an eyebrow giving her an intrigued look, “This is the first time they've wanted you over since we've been together nanodayo.” 

Mira hummed in agreement leaning into his side, naturally causing him to blush like always. 

“Are you going?” 

Mira shook her head, “Probably not.”

“Why not?”

“Shin, my family and I haven't gotten along in years. I've tried going over a few times and it always ends in a fight.”

She ignored the look he gave her in favor of playing with his fingers, a habit she picked up on when he still tapped them.

“Mira, they're still your family nanodayo. We've been together for nearly 3 years and I don't recall you seeing them at all.”

“Not true, I've seen my brother.”

“Mira.”

“Look, I don't want to go because I don't want to fight and that's exactly what will happen. Especially going now.”

He gave Mira a slight confused look, “What does that mean?”

She sighs turning to face him, “We've been together for about 3 years and aren’t engaged, I'm perfectly with how things have been going but my parents are incredibly judgmental and will nag and question why. There's also the fact that I’m 2 years older than you. And even though it’s incredibly stupid, my parents will not agree with the fact that I'm with someone younger than me. And to top all of that off I'm pregnant out of wedlock, big no no to my parents. We also fight about my brother everytime I'm there. I guess they invited him too so this is going to be twice the chaos.” 

Midorima adjusted his glasses looking down at her, “I understand these situations can be uncomfortable, but they're still your family and you haven't seen them in years. For all you know they may have changed from the last time you saw them.” 

Mira halfheartedly glared at him and sighed realizing this wasn't going anywhere, “You aren't letting this go until I agree to go are you?”

“I don't intend to.”

“Fine. But if I have to deal with them you're coming with me.”

He turned his full attention to her, “What! Why am I involved in this?”

“You got involved when you bugged me into going. And besides, as you've said, we've been together for 3 years, and you've yet to meet my family.”

If looks could kill Mira would be dead right now, multiple times over. 

“You'll see why I don't get along with them and I promise you'll never end up going with them again and you won't bug me into it.”

Midorima lets out a sigh leaning back into his seat, “I suppose. When are we supposed to be there?”

“Saturday at 5.” 

(Skip to weekend)

“Remind me again why we're here?” Mira groaned as they pulled up in front of her parents house. She ignored the slightly surprised look that snuck his way to his face. She’d given him warning that her family was pretty well off. 

He recovered quickly enough, “Because they're your family nanodayo.”

Mira rolled her eyes trying to mentally prepare herself for the interaction tonight. They climbed out of the car and started making their way up to the house. Mira spotted her brother coming up the sidewalk and waved.

“So you decided to come too huh.” Kenjuro said, returning the gesture.

“Not really, Shin forced me into it. I'm kinda surprised you came though.” 

He shrugged, “Boyfriend forced me to. He offered to come for moral support but you and I both know that that would have been a really bad idea.”

“How’s Reo-chan doing?” Mira asked as they started walking up the sidewalk to the house.

“Good. I watched him play basketball with his old team from high school. So that was kinda exciting .”

They finally reached the door and stood awkwardly glancing at each other until Midorima gently nudged her forward.

“Ok ok sheesh.”

Mira knocked on the door secretly hoping that her parents would ignore them and not answer….sadly that did not happen. Much to her dismay her sister Aika answered the door. 

“Hey Kenjuro, Mira.” Aika greeted them with a fake sweet smile.

“Hey Aika, happy birthday.”

Mira slipped past her with Kenjuro and toed her my shoes off pulling Midorima in behind her. 

“Hello Mira, Kenjuro. We're glad you could make it.” Her parents appeared at the door to greet them

“Hey mom, hey dad.” Mira forced a smile. 

“Who is your guest Mira?”

“Oh, right, Um, mom dad, this is Midorima Shintarou, my boyfriend. Shin, these are my parents.” 

“It's nice to meet you Hashigawa-San.” Midorima politely greeted her parents. 

“The pleasure is ours. Please right this way. Dinner is almost ready.”

Everyone started filing into the dining room, Mira and Midorima following behind last. 

“I don't understand your concern. Your parents seem rather pleasant.” He mumbled quietly so only Mira could hear it. 

“Oh, just wait for dinner. That's usually when the show starts.”

They all took a seat at the table, Kenjuro sitting as far as possible from their parents. Which left Mira and her sister to sit by them. Midorima sat next to Mira starting to notice the awkward atmosphere.

“So Mira. It's been a while since we've last spoken. What have you been up to?” Her father asked after a few moments of silence.

Mira hesitated a second before preparing to answer, this most likely this wasn’t going to go well.

“Working mostly, I just finished up art school not that long ago so I've been working freelance for a while. Making films for tourist companies, helping design Billboards, things like that.” 

Her parents stayed quiet before turning their attention to Midorima.

“Midorima-San, may I ask what you do for a living?”

“I am going into the medical field. I'm currently working on my internship at the hospital.” Midorima straightened up answering.

Mira’s father nodded, “Then a man as logical as you, you can't support this crazy dream of hers.”

Midorima froze and glanced at Mira before answering, “It's her decision to make and if it's something that she feels strongly about then naturally she has my support.” 

Her father was about to say something when he was cut off, “Now now dear, we're trying to have a nice civilized dinner tonight. Ok, this is a discussion we can have another time.”

Mira quickly turned her attention back to her food to avoid more questions. It worked for a while. Although this point Midorima was very uncomfortable. Kenjuro followed Mira’s lead but he's usually safe from questions. Their parents hate the fact that he's gay so they usually don't even acknowledge that part of his life. 

“Mira.” 

Mira looked up from her plate to see her mom holding the wine bottle out to her.

“Oh no thank you mom. I'm good.”

Aika snorted across the table, “wow, you of all people are turning down alcohol?”

Mira rolled her eyes, “do you really want to go there Aika?”

She shrugged, “I'm just saying for a while here sobriety was not your strong suit,” Mira shot a glare at her across the table, “oops sorry, did your boyfriend not know about that?”

“Do mom and dad know you've been sneaking into the liquor cabinet since you were like 14?” Mira shot right back at her.

Of course he knows, he helped her get her act cleaned up. Still a rather sensitive topic right now.

“Ok that's enough you two.” 

Mira rolled her eyes at her dads warning, ready to leave. On top of the unpleasant conversation, the constant nausea from the morning sickness was rough on her today.

“Mira, you ok?” Kenjuro asked, starting to notice her discomfort.

She just nodded waiting for the nausea to subside, “Yeah, stomach is just a little upset.”

Naturally Aika didn't seem to miss a thing.

“Oh my god you're pregnant aren't you?”

Mira immediately tensed up, hoping to completely avoid this topic, “What are you talking about?”

“You aren’t drinking which is pretty out of the ordinary for you, you’re randomly sick and I’ve noticed the weight gain.” Aika quickly insinuated.

Mira didn't answer, deciding instead just to get up and get ready to leave. Midorima grabbed her hand to stop her, it seems like he has other plans.

“They were going to eventually find out Mira.” He said, looking up at her.

“Is that a confirmation?” Her father looked back and forth between them waiting for an answer.

Mira sighs, “Yeah dad, it is. I'm pregnant.” 

Neither of the parents said anything right away. The tension gathering in the air was enough to show that this news was about to be either very well accepted or very poorly.

“We had the perfect life laid out for you. All you had to do was do as you were told and follow it.” Her father started to lecture, “First you turn down one of the best universities in Japan, and then rather than going to any university at all for a real career, you start to follow this ridiculous idea at some art school, and now you're 23 and pregnant. You couldn't have at least been decent enough to get married before spreading your legs for the first guy to take interest in you?!” 

For the first time in an argument with them, Mira was speechless. Her father certainly had a tendency to be cruel, but that was low even for him. He continued yelling, Kenjuro and Aika eventually getting involved in the argument. Mira started to tune out the yelling. This whole night has done nothing but stress her out, and stress is not good for her right now. She felt a sharp pain rip through her abdomen and lower back which snapped her back to reality and the current argument at hand.

“I don't understand where I went wrong with the two of you. My son is a faggot and my daughter is a who-”

“That's enough,” Mirodrima said sternly, “I understand you don't agree with Mira’s life choices. But you cannot control her. She is an adult and it's still her decision to make. As for her being pregnant. No it's not ideal timing right now. My parents were rather disappointed as well. 

We’re not married, and I’m only 21 years old and in medical school while starting this family, but we’re doing it. And my parents have never once referred to myself or Mira in such a derogatory manner.”

“Shintarou.” Mira grabbed his hand and squeezed to get his attention. 

He crouched by her side, “What's wrong?”

“Can we go? I'm starting to cramp badly and I'm just ready to go home.” She whined starting to stand up.

“Yeah let's go, but I'm going to call your doctor to make sure that things are ok before we go home.” 

He helped her stand up and started walking with her to the front door. He occasionally glared back behind them to make sure their family got the hint to leave them alone. Kenjro followed behind them to the car. Midorima helped her into the passenger seat taking her keys to drive.

“Feel better sis, call me later so I know things are ok.” 

Kenjuro closed the door and then went around to talk to Midorima who was on the phone. Once he hung up he turned his attention to Kenjuro to talk to him before climbing into the car.

“How are you feeling? Are you still in pain?” 

She shook her head, “No, it stopped for now. I just feel really sick now.”

He nodded and started the car. The ride home was fairly silent as he focused on the road and Mira focused on not throwing up. He pulled up to their apartment and he quickly came around to her side in case she needed help getting inside. 

“Your doctor said that as long as you aren't bleeding and you don't continue to be in pain that you should be ok. Sometimes some cramping isn’t uncommon, especially in stressful situations. But if they start again she wants us to come immediately,” He explained while they were settling in the bedroom, “so if you're in pain like that again I don't care what time it is wake me up and we’ll go ok.” 

Mira nodded changing into one of his shirts to sleep.

“Why do you insist on stealing my clothes all the time, you have your own dresser full of them.” He grumbled and changed as well.

“Oh stop whining,” She teased looking back at him, “I only steal your shirts and it's only for bed. Besides you never wear these.” 

He grumbled under his breath again while he settled in bed. Mira crawled in next to him and curled up into his side. He's finally used to cuddling with her...it only took him forever to do so. He turned on the lamp on his side of the bed signaling that he planned on reading for a bit before bed.

“Don't fall asleep with your glasses on again.” Mira said rolling over to turn off the light.

He scoffed, “that was once.”

She chuckled, situating herself into a comfortable position to drift off. Mira was nearly asleep when Midorima poked her in her back to get her attention.

“Hmm? What's up?” She rolled over and looked at him. 

“What your parents said earlier, it's bothering me.”

She sighed and sat up, “Just ignore it. Don't ever let anything they say bother you. Like you saw they're a bunch of judgmental assholes.”

He shook his head, “Nothing like that. They aren't bothering me. It just has me thinking. Are you really ok with how things are going?”

She cocked an eyebrow at his question, “I told you earlier I was. I mean, so long as you aren't planning on taking off on me anytime soon I'm perfectly fine with how we're doing ok.” 

He nodded, setting his book aside, “we should go to sleep.”

Mira leaned over and kissed Midorima before laying back down, “Goodnight Shin.”

Midorima returned the kiss and put his book away before laying down and wrapping his arm around her, “Goodnight Mira.”

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