#thanks cousin Frank

[bleedingoptimism]

Eddie manages the band's TikTok when they are on tour. The content is mostly behind the scenes of them on the road, news about where they will be going next, band practice, jam sessions, etc. The boys have been friends since high school and get along amazingly, like family. But also like shit, just like family. So there are also videos of Eddie laughing while Frank yells at Jeff for farting on his pillow in the tour bus or Eddie filming himself while running as Gareth chases after him for eating the last cookie. HIS last cookie.

The channel is pretty popular even though it doesn't update often. And the links to their merch store and ticket store while on tour, help a lot with the band's expenses. Music being online makes people buy fewer albums and vinyls. And Spotify paying 0,03 cents per song makes being an up-and-coming band that needs money to rent a studio for recording, bus fares, hotel accommodations and to pay the roadies and technicians… kinda hard.

But the TikTok helps! So Chrissy, Eddie's best friend, Gareth's fiance, and their manager, suggests that Eddie keeps the TikTok going while on break from tour.

It doesn't take long to come up with the perfect idea. Restoring Eddie's old van to make it a small house on wheels for road-tripping. But they’ll need a handyman, someone who knows what they are doing.

Luckily, Chrissy has a solution to that. Her cousin Vicky, just came back from traveling the coast on a huge RV with her girlfriend and her girlfriend’s best friend and, according to Vicky, the man is an expert. He built the whole thing himself, from the ground up. So Chrissy tells Vicky, who asks Robin, who talks to Steve, and the meeting is set up.

On the day of the meeting, Eddie parks the van outside his place, sits on the back, and hits record on his phone, “Morning!” he says to the camera, squinting one eye as the sun hits his face because it’s actually noon, “I’m gonna do something fun during the tour break and I wanted to take yall with me. You see, ever since I was young, I've had this dream. Well, other than becoming a musician who can live off his music, thank you for that by the way,” he smiles and tips an invisible hat towards the camera. “The second thing I've always wanted is having one of those built-in movin' houses, a little RV, a camping van, you know the ones” he wiggles his brows and moves the phone a little around him, to show where he’s sitting so people know where he’s going with this.

“Sooo I asked a friend of a friend of a friend, who is an expert on making dreams come true, to help me and we are gonna mod my van. My lovely Haley, my faithful baby, who has been with me since the beginning… I'm scared. This dude better be good.” he laughs nervously.

part two -> 📱💞🚙

And then his focus shifts to something behind his phone, “Oh, here he comes now!” he waves enthusiastically and keeps looking, either forgetting he’s still filming his reaction or too distracted to save face, he squints a little and then frowns, blushes and, chuckles nervously again, “Oh no. he’s hot.”

☕🥐💕 coffee? by the lake's shore?

#stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #corroded coffin #im in a rockstar eddie doing mundane things kick #i wrote something

[madschiavelique]

˖𓍯. 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐬. ★. ₊ ⭑

⟢﹒ pairing : matt murdock x audhd!reader x frank castle

⟢﹒ summary : your family is an ordeal to endure, full of disparaging remarks that make for a horrible evening. fortunately, Matt and Frank come to keep you company during the family diner and take you home to look after you.

⟢﹒ content warnings : hurt/comfort, extremely self-indulgent, reader's family are degrading, audhd reader close to breaking down, reader having sensory issues, reader getting overstimulated, the guys in this are so lovable and sweet boyfriends, afab!reader, no use of Y/N

⟢﹒ word count : 9,3k

⟢﹒ note : had quite a shitty christmas ngl, so i thought writing this piece of comfort would be helpful ! if you only want to read the comfort part, i'll place a separation by using a black divider between the hurt and comfort part. a huge thank you to my bestie @sunflowersandsapphires who proofread this <3. have a good read lovelies!

You passed a q-tip close to your eyes in the hope of correcting the curve of your make-up, trying with that scatterbrained perfectionism that accompanied you in even the most minute tasks to ensure that everything was symmetrical.

Nothing too extravagant, just something elegant, neutral, but that would do. The standard was just to look presentable, from the face to the rest of the body. Jeans, an oversized hoodie, nothing special.

This lack of personal distinction was undoubtedly due to the rejection of perception, the insistent stares, the embarrassing compliments that could suddenly put you in the spotlight tonight, an idea that made you feel profoundly uneasy.

You stepped back a little, checking to see if the much-desired symmetry had been achieved, and no sooner had you put down your utensil than you were asked to do the little cousins' make-up.

Tonight was an annual family reunion: Christmas, where aunts, uncles, grandparents and grandchildren got together over foie gras, salmon and dubious discussions. Where guests who have just left are criticised, where disparaging remarks are exchanged, and where the meal always ends up drifting into politics with more or less heated debates at the table.

You anticipated the evening, an anxious knot already forming in your stomach. You had a particular link with your family, of which the affection was strangely displayed if at all in a way you despised entirely. Every year was a different pain, a different bitter taste that lingered in your thoughts like poison, and you were not delighted to participate in this celebration when you would’ve preferred staying home.

Only one thing held you in place and convinced you that the night wouldn't be a constant and unrelenting hell: Matt and Frank were coming over.

This winter, it was the first time you would’ve been accompanied by them, and by anyone in fact. Knowing the rather strong opinions of your family, the simple idea of saying that you shared your life with two men in a more than platonic way had been dismissed a long time ago. A trouple? If that fell in the ears of one of your family members, you could be sure that you'd become the next freak of the night.

So you talked it over with the boys and came up with a plan to make sure you could bring them both along and not make a big deal of it: one of them would pretend to be your boyfriend, while the other would just be your friend that had nothing better to do for the celebration.

The choice of boyfriend fell on Frank, and friend on Matt.

He had asked why, and you had explained that it was obviously in no way because of favouritism or anything of the sort, but rather the simple fact that he would get more compliments behind his back if he wasn't with you than if he was. 

He'd frowned, but you'd had to explain to them how your family was sometimes built on clusters of shrill gossip, talking behind others' backs and later making remarks to their faces in tones of passive aggressiveness and wicked irony.

You also had to educate them, that no matter what was said about you tonight, not to react. They'd probably be itching to, it would be like a thread sticking out, but they were forbidden to pull on it.

You looked at the clock, seven past. You'd texted Frank to ask where they were and when they'd arrive. Eight thirty had been their reply, and you took a deep breath. An hour and a half to go.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, assuring yourself everything was alright and that you were presentable enough. You can do it, you kept telling yourself, this night knows an end.

The first complications arose sooner than you thought. 

First of all, you'd managed to find a decent seat in an armchair and not on a sofa. However, this seat was very close to the fireplace, where a blazing fire licked the brown logs with appetite. Very close, too close, close enough that it felt suffocating. 

You moved your chair back slightly as best you could, trying not to disturb the conversation that was already well underway.

You tried to take a few snacks, perhaps some cashews, crackers or cherry tomatoes might ease your boredom and distract you from the growing heat.

You pulled out your phone, hoping that Frank and Matt would get here sooner, and would've sent a message to that effect. Or perhaps was there a notification from any of your friends, a reel, a meme, anything-

"Put your phone away, we're with the family."

You looked up, your mother watching you and taking her glass in hand with a look of dissatisfaction. In a single instant, your cheeks heat up all the more as the fire in the fireplace presses against your skin, and you gulped.

"I just wanted to check if I had any news about Matt and Frank's drive," you explained simply, gently stuffing the phone into your pocket.

"They'll arrive when they arrive, but for now, be with us."

You nodded, discreetly biting your cheek as one of your only escapes for tonight went up in smoke. You would have much preferred to be able to escape a little and block out what was going on around you, even sorting out your gallery and deleting useless pictures would have been a more pleasant and less stressful activity.

But you couldn't, and you said nothing when it was your mother's turn to pick up her own phone and connect to the speaker to play her Christmas playlist. 

The children played together, which should’ve been a joy, but their overexcited screams, incessant movements and all that noise were enough to make you feel the headache setting in.

There were easily three different conversations going on around you, and your mother turned up the music in response. You waved, putting your hand in front of you as if you were lazily dribbling an invisible ball to indicate her to lower the volume, and she turned the music down a notch.

You clenched your jaw, thinking to yourself that this was a good start, even if everything else was getting harder to hold on to.

Choosing to wear a hoodie became almost a regret as the ambient heat from the fireplace worked its way up your spine to the nape of your neck, creating an unpleasant feeling. Soon enough, you had to take it all off as the first signs of nausea began to make themselves felt.

You weren't particularly comfortable with the idea, but everyone's attention was obviously diverted enough to take no notice of your actions. Except perhaps for one.

"You could have made an effort on your outfit, it's not very festive." Your mother sighed before taking a sip from her glass of champagne. "Hadn't you lost weight? It would be a shame to spoil the occasion."

You swallowed, the ground looking awfully interesting at this very moment. You knew what would have been said to you if you'd worn something more in the spirit of it, "You've got a nice body, you should wear that more often," and other remarks falling into the famous "you should insert-disobliging-action more often" category.

You should wear that more often. You should smile more often. You should come more often. But none of these requests were of the taste to be fulfilled by you tonight.

So you simply shrugged, having nothing in particular to say, and feeling your heart clench. You were stuck in this contradictory place where if you made one move slightly changing from your usual self to them, you were reprimanded on it, but if you didn’t do anything in particular, they highlighted the fact that it was disappointing you hadn’t done anything.

"Well, we're delighted to have you with us tonight!" chuckled an uncle, raising his glass to you.

"It sure makes a change from knowing she's in her cave," chuckles an aunt.

You smile, but there's no warmth behind the gesture. By cave, they mean your bedroom. Your habit of isolating yourself had brought you a certain reputation within your family, and for years now it has been a recurring joke. They laughed about it every time, but you saw it more as a broken record replaying the same snippet of music... speaking of which, your mother turned up the sound again, thinking you wouldn't notice.

"Could you turn it down please? It's really loud." you ask politely, in the most calm, composed and polite tone you could produce at the moment.

"Oh come on," your mother grumbles, rolling her eyes, "we're allowed to have fun."

She turned up the volume once more, and finally someone other than you told her it was too loud. Reluctantly, she lowered the sound slightly, but it was still not enough for you. Your hands lodge over your ears, hoping with all your heart that this would ease the strain on your eardrums.

Conversations sought to drown out the music, each member pushing their voice for any discussion. Kids were still running around, chasing one another by screaming at each other, and adjusting your eyes on anything without the certainty of getting a headache felt like mission impossible. 

Your hands on your ears helped slightly, and it was only then that your mother looked at you with a surprised expression.

"Does it really hurt?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Yes," you nodded, "it really does."

Finally, she turned it down, and you exhaled as the others resumed a more appropriate though still higher volume of discussion than you'd prefer. The kids had been changed of room, making it more bearable for you to live through. 

"So, what have you been up to lately?" asks one of your grandparents, "how's work?"

Your cheeks heat up, the discussion now turned towards you, prompting you to take your glass in hand just to have something to quench your throat suddenly arid as the sahara.

"Very well, business is good." you smiled falsely, forcing your face to display the features they might normally expect to see.

"Great, and those two guests coming tonight, do you know them from work?"

How could you say that the circumstances in which you had met these two men were in a situation that included Frank and Matt falling into your flat, bloodied, and asking you for help? 

Karen, who you’d known through college, had advised them of your address, and when the first opportunity came up, they had taken the chance to make the most exceptional introduction you'd ever had in your life : stumbling at your place with cuts all around

"In a way, yes," you replied, pressing your lips into a thin line.

"One of them's her boyfriend, and the other's a lawyer," your mother informed the others, who seemed delighted by your seemingly noble company.

It's a good thing the flames in the fireplace were dying down and that it wasn't so hot anymore, because both your cheeks felt like you were resting the back of your hand on hot embers. It was a never-ending embarrassment to have such behaviour around you, saying aloud everything regarding you without you consenting to any information to be given. Wherever ridiculous actions or the slightest subject that was even a little new and out of their boredom-inducing daily lives occurred, they swarmed.

Nevertheless, the conversation drifted away to your delight, and at the mention of your loves, you couldn't stop thinking about them. You would have liked to check the time, to see if they had any problems on the way that might have delayed them, but you knew that such conduct was likely to earn you an additional remark about the use of your telephone. After all, she could find openings as easily as water in a colander.

Just then, a dance song began to play which, objectively, had nothing to do with the Christmas spirit. So everyone stood up, moving the chairs to get more room, and you helped in this cacophony of moved furniture. 

You stood to one side as everyone got to the centre of the room, their dance steps resembling a veritable collective epileptic seizure of which you had no desire to become another member.

You took the opportunity to take refuge in the bathroom, carefully closing the door behind you and sitting down on the toilet to take a deep breath. The after-effects of all these mixed sensations were beginning to make themselves known.

Your body was as taut as a bowstring, as if every muscle had contracted from a high fall, and it felt as if releasing all the tension would break you in thousands of small pieces. Your heart wasn't beating particularly fast, but it was beating hard, and you couldn't ignore it.

You took a deep breath, letting your head fall back as you closed your eyes. Your throat and chest were tight, so tight that you felt like crying right now. But you couldn't, it would be too noticeable once you got out of here, and you didn't want to give them the pleasure of having an extra subject to talk about at the end of the evening once you'd gone. It would do them too much honour, and you couldn't afford to give them any.

You were so tired, you couldn't take it any more, the fatigue coursing through your body like you'd run a marathon of shame. You breathed in again, feeling your previously tight chest slowly relax as your body was jolting a bit from the unease.

This wouldn't last forever. By the end of the evening, after dessert, you wouldn't be in this house surrounded by all these people, all these eyes, all these mouths, all this noise.

That's when your phone buzzed, and without missing a beat, you pulled it out of your pocket. On the screen was a single message from Frank that gave you tremendous reassurance:

We're here.

You bit your lip, nodding slowly. One last breath for courage and you stood up, opening the door of the bathroom. Without anyone noticing, you grabbed your hoodie and stepped outside into the cool of the night.

The sudden chill brought you unparalleled comfort, biting your cheeks hot with frustration and embarrassment. Perhaps the night would heal you, that its cool caress would apply its balm of softness to all that pressure and relieve you of your tension.

You turned your key ring to find the one for the gate a little further on, trying to walk and not sprint to it. Inserting the key almost frantically but controlling your excitement and relief at their presence, you opened the game.

And there they were, smiling at you.

"Evening sweetheart," Frank smiled when he saw you.

"Sorry we took so long," Matt apologised, pressing his lips together.

You looked behind you to make sure no one had followed you outside, closing the gate slightly so that you wouldn't be seen. You knew that even from here, your group of three could be seen as a pile of meat around which the vultures would circle, and you didn't want to risk being their next meal.

You hugged them both, relieved to have them close to you, and the suddenness and desperation in your gesture almost seemed to surprise them. They hugged you back, kissing your temple.

"Your cheeks are warm," Frank chuckled, pressing his face harder against yours, making you giggle.

"Is everything okay?" asked Matt, stroking your hair, "you're all tense."

Of course, Matt noticing every microscopic detail as usual, couldn't help but pick up on how stiff your body looked, and how the smell of stress covered your skin in the thinnest film. There was no point in lying to Matt, or pretending to divert the subject with Frank, so you sighed.

"Lots of noise, not much serenity," you replied, letting your head fall against the devil's chest.

You were trying to cherish all this a little more, because once you were back in the house, you and Matt wouldn't be able to touch each other again except perhaps to pass a plate across the table and let your fingers deliberately brush against each other.

They'd already been told by you what to expect, and even if they were prepared, they were sorry to find you like this.

"We won't stay here the whole night," Matt reassures as he wraps his arms around you, stroking your back. "Let's hope we get out of here before Frank goes so far as to take the silverware from the table and threaten anyone with the butter knife."

"You're ruining my fun, Red. Now I've got to find something more inventive," sighed the latter.

"Take the star at the top of the pine tree, it'll be sharp enough," you suggested, turning your head towards him, cheek still pressed against Matt's chest. 

"See that, that's Christmas spirit," smiled Frank.

You loosened your embrace, Matt gently kissing your lips. He savoured the moment, and so did you, because this kind of proximity with him wasn't going to happen again for several hours. 

"Ready?" asked Frank, letting his pointer finger form a hook to caress the skin of your cheek.

You looked at the lights further away from the house, hearing the music from here and already preparing in the second part of the night.

"Ready," you breathed in before reopening the gate and letting them through.

You felt your heart clench again, the unpleasant tingle of anxiety coursing through your veins in a fluid traffic that seemed impossible to dilute. You tried to breathe calmly, preparing yourself once again to face the suffocating interior of sounds, movements and remarks.

"Remember, if you need to take a break from all this and go outside, squeeze my hand three times, okay sweetheart ?" reminded Frank, placing his hand on the small of your back.

"Yeah," you swallowed, nodding softly as a tight little smile spread across your lips.

You'd agreed to pretend, in case things got desperate and you needed a break, that Frank was a smoker, and that you and Matt shared his ciggy break together.

All of this preparation had come from the fact your mother had passed an entire questioning about your boyfriend - or at least one of them - to prepare herself conventionally. You knew how she was, and such coaching with the guys was for the better.

Still, his hand on your back was reassuring, and made things easier to bear.

You opened the door, and everyone turned to you with a big "Ah" of satisfaction. Introductions were made as both took off their jackets. Frank remained friendly but guarded - as usual, typical Frank - and Matt seemed to bloom in this social environment like a freshly blossomed flower.

It didn't take long for most of your family to decide that they loved Matt. His well-timed humour, his natural charm, his eloquence, everything about him made him a man to be admired.

"Isn't there any way he could be your boyfriend instead?" said an aunt, approaching you as Matt and Frank continued to be introduced.

"He's way out of her league," sneered another, "they both are, actually."

You pressed your lips together, blowing falsely from your nose to feign amusement. You knew Matt could hear every little jab at you tonight, and if he was feeling any frustration, he was hiding it perfectly.

"Where did you get them? I want one too," said the first, making the other laugh.

"Might get the lawyer's phone number," she replied.

"Yours is very fine too," remarked the other, "how'd you manage to get him ?"

They both said these sentences as if their own husbands weren't in the room, and as if the possibility of you being in a relationship with one of them was a miracle, or just a huge stroke of luck.

"Through work," you replied mechanically and through clenched teeth before moving into the kitchen to help with the dishes.

You knew these sorts of remarks were to be brought up, on how you’d managed to surround yourself so well. Matt and Frank had long wondered how your confidence in yourself was so low, but maybe tonight would’ve been the perfect example as to why it was the case.

The transition to the table was almost seamless. Everyone sat down, the seating order meticulously adapted for everyone. Fortunately, you found yourself between Frank and Matt. You were inwardly grateful for the choice of decorations when you realised that the tablecloth was quite long, and that the reassuring hand Matt had just put on your thigh wouldn't be noticeable.

You breathed softly, the warmth of his hand anchoring you better in all of this and giving you something to focus on that was sweeter than any mean remarks.

Of course, with every new person around the table comes an interrogation to get to know them. Questions of all kinds followed for the boys, about their work, their activities, your aunts of course looking for answers as to how you and Frank had ended up together.

You'd worked it out and decided that Matt had introduced you to Frank and that, through your shared tastes in literature and other things, you'd ended up bonding.

"If books are the new way to getting to a man I've got some reading to do," joked one of the aunts, making the table laugh unanimously, "never thought you'd manage anything of the sort."

The pique directed at you made you feel as if you were swallowing a large ice cube with difficulty, but you covered your discomfort with an expert fake smile. Masking all that discomfort since the start of the evening was beginning to prove complicated, but you weren't going to use the smoking-break Joker just yet.

You could see in the corners of your eyes how Matt was wearing a stiff smile, and how Frank's jaw was tense. Gently reaching under the table, you took both their hands, turning to Frank with another smile that this time wasn't imbued with the polite mask you wore, but with sincerity.

"Let's just say I was lucky " to have found two such extraordinary people who fill my life with love on a daily basis, would you have finished.

You squeezed their hands, drawing small circles on their skins as they both smiled.

The starter was over, the main course continued as your stomach was refusing to let you eat anything, and the whole thing brought together discussions that made you uncomfortable to say the least. All sorts of unconscious or simply cruel racist, homophobic and even transphobic remarks were placed on the table. 

You remained silent, not speaking particularly. You had no desire to take part in this kind of discussion, given how horrible the venom on each other's tongues was. You just hoped it would all be over soon, looking forward to going home with Frank and Matt.

The cousins were chatting away like fascists, one talking about Napoleon, and the old days being the best, while talking about the questionable politicians he was listening to on the radio. 

The cheese arrived, and then came the little break just before dessert. They put on a film for the children, so that the adults could have a quiet chat without all the heckling.

Hearing the parents' arse jokes, you'd think they'd be fucking each other on the table if they thought it was funny. You could very well let your own sassy tongue out, say that if this aunt isn't listening to what's being said already it's because she's working out her next gossip, but you have to forgive her because she wouldn't be like this if her husband wasn't cheating on her, or maybe he's cheating on her because she's like this. 

To tell the uncles that they're less likely to die from terrorism than from alcoholism, to tell one aunt to strap the kids up tight because her husband is going to be driving as if he had an autonomous car. And that you would’ve liked to finish by saying that no matter the smiles, the village fete, all it took was a small difference for everyone to see the real faces.

But you said nothing, keeping to yourself those comments that would only serve to fuel their hatred. 

As Frank came up to grab another drink, your mother sat next to you on the sofa while the two boys came to be monopolised by aunts and uncles. A procession of rednecks near Frank discussing his familiarity with weapons and his military past, while the aunts were wiggling around Matt hoping to curry favour with the young lawyer.

"It's too hot in here," you murmured as you shifted a little from your mother, but she wasn't letting go and placed her head on your shoulder.

"But I want to be close to you," she said with a pout, the alcohol making her visibly affectionate.

You tensed, the desire to get away from it all running through your body, screaming under your skin. But there was nothing you could do, frozen there in the middle of it all, having to endure the situation as best you could.

The familial conversation drifted onto the subject of intellectuality, on the fact that your family was made up of nothing else, or at least for the most part. And you felt tiny, because they were generally right: they were all huge readers of the classics, who knew a lot about history, literature, philosophy and other human sciences. 

All these subjects were familiar to you, because you had had to learn them, to master them in the face of the global family demand for the cultivation of excellence.

Even though you were the ugly duckling of the family, that didn't stop you sharing this knowledge and they were all aware of it. You were able to inject the conversation with valid arguments and insights you'd learned on your own that were important to the topic, and whenever the occasion to say something wise came up that you grasped, they seemed more tolerable to you.

When the discussion turned to the descendants of a painter, you were asked to verify the accuracy of certain statements. So you looked it up on your phone, but barely half a minute later, your mother couldn't resist reprimanding you:

"What did I tell you on your phone? Not when we're with the family."

Irritation from all the previous events of the evening was beginning to press down on you, and it was with some irritation that you replied: 

"But I've been asked for some information."

Your voice was almost like that of a child defending themselves against someone calling them a liar, and this tone seemed to displease her when her gaze hardened.

"Don't talk to me like that, and put your phone away."

You bit the inside of your cheek so hard it felt like it was going to bleed, and said nothing as you put your phone back in your pocket while the conversation around you resumed.

You didn't meet Frank's gaze, nor did you turn to Matt, because you knew that this simple gesture would show weakness and a cry for help. However, you had made them swear not to interfere, and you remained silent for a while, trying to calm yourself down as you watched the fire ripple in the fireplace like an orange veil dancing in the wind while you fiddled with your fingers.

The tic was automatic; Matt and Frank would have preferred to have taken your hand in theirs to prevent this torment. 

What irritated you most of all was the profound injustice of the whole evening. You wouldn’t say anything, and you’d be considered too silent so people would ask you questions, but once you opened your mouth they were not satisfied with your answers. You couldn’t take your own phone, when all the aunts had their own, texting to their friends and all. Children had the right to get away in another room and watch a movie, while you had to stick there doing nothing but listening to whatever was said.

You couldn’t wait for the night to come to an end.

It was time to store the presents everywhere and pretend to the children that Santa had stopped by while they were watching the movie. Everything was placed in colourful piles, and when the children were called, they ran down the stairs and began the frantic tearing of gift wrap to an orchestra of shrieks and shredding.

All the accumulated sounds made you grit your teeth, tightening your throat and making you want to cry. You could feel the limit coming, and you needed a break to prevent you from imploding.

This time you took Frank's hand and squeezed it three times. He turned to you immediately, stroking your cheek before telling Matt. As quickly as they could without looking rushed, they put on their jackets and went out after you.

The night air calmed some part of you instantly, the contrast between all the hectic ambiance inside and the calmness of the outside felt like two extreme opposite worlds living by the only separation of a door.

To make sure that even from the outside there would be no doubt about this cover, Frank had to play along by taking out a cigarette and lighting it. He seemed irritated, and the idea of that Joker card almost seemed to play a real asset in all this to calm him down.

"How the fuck do they sleep at night?" he grumbles as he puffs out his first drag, "it's like they take every opportunity they get to pull you down."

"It's alright, let it slide." you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest.

"No it's not," he continues, "I can't believe you managed to handle their company for all these years."

"Didn't have much of a choice," you breathe.

"I know you said it was bad, I just didn't imagine it was constantly so," Matt confirmed.

"If I go back there I might actually punch them in the face," Frank grumbles before taking another drag on the cigarette.

"All that's left is the presents from the adults, then the Yule log, and then we'll be off, okay?" reassured Matt, placing his hand gently on your shoulder.

The touch of his hand brought a comforting warmth, and his words managed to reassure you. You looked at them both, thinking about how it would’ve been without them : unbearable, definitely. You had barely been able to handle it before they came, but now that they were here, you felt safe, like half of the poison that was thrown at you was not as effective.

They had changed you, made you feel loved, cherished, proud. They had been trying to break these patterns, the self depreciation, the self sabotage, the lack of self confidence. They were helping you build yourself back up from the ruins everyone else had left, and you were the most grateful to the universe to had brought them in your life.

"Thank you both, for being here," you admitted, your voice almost cracking, the coolness of the night giving you a feeling of security that was enough to relax your knotted throat.

They turned towards you, their faces softening. They knew what you were going through, what you were enduring for the night, and how complicated and unpleasant it must have been until they arrived. 

Frank took you in his arms, the smell of tobacco already permeating his clothes. Matt must not have been enjoying it at all, smelling that darkly sugary, smoky smell all around him, but whatever personal discomfort he was experiencing he didn't let it show. 

"It's the least we can do, beautiful," he replied, stroking your back.

"We just wish we could shut their mouths," Matt agreed, holding back from participating in the embrace as you’d instructed him.

"And stop this whole group of women from praising you?" sneered Frank, which made you smile.

Matt's nose scrunched up and his bottom lip curled in disgust at the remark.

"One of them wanted to feed me appetisers, and another asked me about being blind and whether I'd mind being in a relationship with someone whose looks I can't see." he said with a sigh.

"And then?" asked Frank curiously as you both turned to face the lawyer.

"I told her that I didn't need to see to know who was good-looking, and that if I chose my relationships purely on looks, I wouldn't know true friendship or love."

"All those poetic words must have pleased her," Frank punctuated with a whistle.

"Not until I told her my grandmother wore the same perfume as her."

You and Frank both laughed softly, truly impressed at how Matt was handling all this flirting and cringe from several women altogether. 

But this calm moment had to have an end, as the cigarette grew smaller and smaller by the minute. Frank broke away from your embrace to finish it and stubbed it out on the wall.

This little outing had done you a world of good. The cool night air had refreshed you, its delicate silence giving you a break from all the noise and the terrible comments from your family all the while Frank and Matt allowed you this break from constant barbs.

You returned again inside, the end of the opening of presents for the children welcoming you. And so the opening of those for the adults began, all the parcels being stored on the table in more chic and sober wrappings. The grandparents started, Frank standing behind you with one hand on your shoulder and the other holding his glass of champagne.

One by one, they all opened their presents, until it was your turn. Embarrassment gripped your body as all eyes were on you, and you dreaded the opening simply by being watched with boredom mixed with curiosity - to see how you might react and make the slightest faux pas.

You went about it slowly, wishing to unpack properly and not act like a barbarian tearing everything apart at once. Your aunt beside you imitated a yawn at the fact that you were making them wait, and everyone laughed, a tense little smile nailed to your cheeks.

What you got in the end wasn't too bad, nor too far from what you could appreciate, surprisingly. Of course, you had to force yourself to smile at most of the useless gifts that gave you absolutely no pleasure, but you thanked everyone, and the presentation of gifts moved on to the next ones.

"Didn't you get her anything?" your mother asked the boys.

"Her presents are at my place," Frank informed her.

The sentence made your heart spike up, a sudden warmth colouring your chest in pink softness as the sparkles of it brought the tingling sensation of tears at the corners of your eyes. Presents, they had gotten you presents. 

You were not going to cry, of course not, but the lump formed in your throat gave you enough of a hard time that you had to grab your drink and sip on it.

"Speaking of your place, have you looked at the traffic to get home?" questioned Matt, "I don't think I want to take too long."

"I'll have a look," he said, taking his hand off your shoulder to pick up his phone.

You wondered if Matt had had enough, if his own senses had been overwhelmed by all of this and he was pondering on going home. But then realised what they were doing : feigning traffic disruption in order to get home early and save yourself a lot of awful time.

"I think we're going to have to go," Frank nodded as he put his phone away. "Sweetheart? Ready?" he asked, bending over so that his chest pressed against your back.

"Yes," you said as you took a big breath and stood up, saying goodbye to the whole family.

You dreaded the hugs, the kisses on the cheeks or simply the fact of pressing them together and imitating the sound of what should have been a fake smooch, but with a surge of tiredness you objected to this using the excuse of " time is running out".

In no time at all, Matt and Frank had gathered up all your things and were carrying them, heading for the entrance hall to collect theirs.

In less time than it takes to say it, you were finally outside, walking up to the gate. You felt as if your lungs were being squeezed as you went along, almost expecting to feel a rope being pulled tight inside you to tie you to the house, for someone to come out and catch you or whatever. You felt almost like a gnat trying to escape from the spider's web in which it had been stuck a little too long.

You stuck the key in the lock of the gate, turned it hastily, then opened it to let them go with you, closing the big opaque metal door with that step. The pressure hadn't gone away from your body yet, every limb feeling like it was made of thick, rough foam where multiple needles had pierced you in the many crevices they'd already left and were digging even deeper. 

You looked for the car in the hope of getting to it as quickly as possible, but you let out a little squeal of surprise when your feet flew off the ground as Frank swept you up in his arms like a princess.

"Ain't no way you're gonna walk, you've had enough exhaustion for the night," he said, tightening his grip on your back and the back of your knees.

"But-" you began reflexively, although the idea of giving up this position didn't bring you any comfort.

"Ah ah," he stopped, "don't wanna hear about it." If he had his two hands free and was being childish, he would have put them over his ears, singing la la la and pretending not to hear anything.

But his hands were firmly under you, giving you all the security you could have dreamed of and the beginnings of a comfort that would last all evening until you'd sleep.

"Circus night is over," Matt huffed, taking a deep breath, "I think I've heard enough nonsense for one year."

"Lucky for you, next one's less than a week away," sneered Frank.

"I'd rather lose a second sense than inflict this on myself and our angel a second time," the demon replied as he grabbed the car keys from Frank's pocket and opened it.

He opened one of the rear doors, letting Frank gently place you in and strap you in place, placing a kiss on your forehead as he stepped aside to let Matt pass and place the few bags in the boot.

Matt sat down beside you, and you let your head fall on his shoulder. You felt the tingles of anxiety under your skin lodge in your legs and squeeze your chest, the rush to get out of here weighing heavily on your head.

Frank sat in the front seat, turning the car key and making it purr, then drove off. 

As the car rounded the corner, all the tension began to dissipate and you let the breath you'd been holding in escape from your chest. Your whole body felt heavy, your hands gloved with marble, your legs booted with lead and your head stuffed with cotton.

You felt the softness of Matt's lips as he placed a kiss on your forehead, his hand coming to rest on your thigh as you hummed under the sweetness of his comfort.

"It's all over now," he said, resting his chin on your head, "we're going to take care of you."

You snuggle up to him, your hand coming to rest on his as you breathe softly. Your fingers drew soft, formless patterns on the back of his hand, fighting the fatigue that had fallen on you like an anvil.

The moment was sweet, Matt's warmth through his clothes spreading close to you as you turned his hand onto his back to gently trace the lines from his palm up to his callused fingers. 

"I'd have to get rid of some of them," grunted Frank, who clearly hadn't yet calmed his frustration, "I'm sure they'd be much better off in an asylum."

"It's an insane asylum, not an asshole asylum," Matt remarked, "you'd have to build asshole asylums but... you can imagine the size of the buildings."

"Yeah, still, maybe I should have burnt my cigarette on one of their cars."

"What a nice Christmas present," chuckled Matt.

"I can be generous sometimes," confirmed Frank.

"Especially when you threaten people," you agreed.

"A pittance," Matt snickered, "Is that one of my sweaters by the way ?

"Yes," you sigh, "I'll have you know it's been criticised tonight."

"Really? By whom."

"I'll let you guess."

"A bit bold coming from someone dressed like Norman Bates who dresses like his mother," Frank grumbled.

You laughed softly, a sort of little venting session taking place in the car like a debriefing following a bizarre situation.

"With all those women around, Red's charm knows no bounds," laughed Frank, "you've caught the eye of one in particular it seems."

"My aunt? She's suffering from too much oestrogen. If you're interested, I can put you in touch," you grinned.

" I'd rather sleep on cotton sheets." grunts Matt as his hand grabs your thigh and squeezes a little tighter, letting a small chirp of amusement escape from between your lips.

The ride continued, and your stomach went all hollow, grumbling with displeasure at the emptiness you'd left it.

"Didn't eat much, did you ?" asked Matt softly.

"Barely touched her plate," confirmed Frank at the front.

"Didn't feel like it," you murmured.

"Is there anything you'd like when you get home?" proposed the demon, interlacing his fingers with yours.

"Something sweet," you hummed, adjusting your chin to rest it on his shoulder.

"Anything else?"

"Two pairs of arms around me," you smiled.

They both grinned, and the ride went by in a flash. You untied yourself once you'd arrived, stretching slightly as you shifted to open the door beside you, but Matt's hand from your thigh came to grab your hip and pull you back to him in a gesture that seemed immensely easy.

You turned to face him, confused for a moment, as he kissed your cheek.

"No walking, remember?" he smiled as Frank opened his car door to come towards yours.

You sigh, shaking your head slightly as you roll your eyes. They were overdoing it, but you weren't going to stop them. 

"Come here princess," Frank said as he pulled your hips towards him to take you in his arms again.

You wrapped your hands around the back of his nape, nestling your face in his neck and smelling his subtle cologne on his warm skin.

Matt took the bags and went ahead to open the door for you. The familiar smell of your real home seemed to wash all your worries from your body as you took a simple breath.

The bags were deposited in the hallway, Frank walking over to the sofa to set you down.

"Stay right there and don't move," he informed, hands on either side of you as he kissed you softly.

"What happens if I move ?" you asked, placing one of your hands on his arms.

"I'll tie you up like a pretty present," he chuckled as he kissed you again, "the most perfect present we'd ever have."

"Is that a threat or a promise?" you teased, your foreheads pressed together.

"It's a statement," he concluded.

He straightened up, and you were already missing his presence near you, but you respected his request - or rather his order - and remained seated on the sofa. Your head fell back, your body moulding itself to the shape of the couch under the effect of the evening's emotional turmoil. The tension drained away more and more, relaxing your tired muscles and making you yawn. 

It wasn't long before Matt and Frank returned with more casual outfits and packages in their hands. You straightened up, bending your knees on the sofa about to get up, but remembering the fact that walking wasn't a possibility, you explained: 

"I've got some for you too, am I allowed to go and get them?"

"For us?" said a surprised Frank, pointing at himself as if there was some mistake.

"You mean the packages under the first step of the stairs?" questioned Matt, "I thought those were packages you forgot about for the others."

"No, these are for you," you confirmed as you sat back down on your knees on the sofa.

They stood like that, one blinking repeatedly while the other kept his lips parted.

"You really didn't have to-" Matt began, but you stopped him immediately.

"Tsk tsk, if I don't have the right to stand up, you don't have the right to stop me from giving you presents."

"But-" resumed Frank.

"Ah ah," you smiled in the same tone he'd given you earlier, "don't wanna hear about it."

He parted his lips in a smile but said nothing as Matt laughed softly to the side. They approached you, Frank placing the packages on the coffee table as Matt turned away.

"I'll get them," he eventually says, heading for the top step, cracking it open and pulling out three packages to take back to the coffee table.

"The medium one is for you," you say, pushing the first one towards Frank, "and the big and small one are for you," the two boxes sliding across the smooth table towards Matt.

The packets seemed a particularly complex conundrum to them, but you urged them to open their presents.

Matt opened his and discovered a 7kg weighted blanket and an anti-stress ring that could be twirled on his finger.

"I know you sometimes ask me or Frank to lie on top of you because the weight makes you feel better, so I got you this, which should help if neither of us is ever there to give you what you want. As for the ring, I know that times at the Court can be stressful, so I thought it might help you find a point of anchorage." 

Matt seemed at a loss for words, taking the duvet between his fingers and touching the silk sheet you'd wrapped it in. Putting the ring on his index finger, which fit perfectly, he smiled to himself.

As for Frank, he removed the wrapping and his lips parted.

"I've been looking for these for months," he said, looking at the few books he'd been talking about over and over again. "How did you... ?"

You'd scoured countless bookshops, searched book repositories, researched the clearance of certain titles by libraries to find these books that had all but disappeared very quickly while the work was being republished and retranslated.

"A good girlfriend never reveals her secrets," you smiled.

The two of them placed their gifts on the table and came to embrace you, nestling their faces in the crooks of your neck. They held you close, gently kissing your skin between hushed "thank you's", dotting your neck and face with soft pecks.

"What did we do to deserve you," Frank murmured, pulling back slightly.

"I could ask the same about you both," you smiled, running your fingers through their hair.

They kissed you again, then handed you their own gift. You opened it, and it was something you'd talked about several times before, something that was very close to your heart and that they'd decided to give you. This time it was your turn to hug them, and they laughed as you showered their faces with kisses.

"What do you say to a nice bath, and then some dessert before bed?" offered Matt.

"I think that's the best idea of the evening," you confirmed, caressing his cheek and kissing his nose.

Without further ado, Frank took you in his arms like a koala, letting your legs cross behind him as you pressed your cheek against his shoulder. He led you and Matt into the bathroom, the devil bending over the tub to prepare the bath.

Frank lifted you slightly and sat you down on the wash basin counter, letting his hands fall on both your thighs and stroking them gently.

"As much as I love your makeup, we're gonna have to remove it sweetheart", he explained, kissing your cheek.

So mechanically, you grabbed your make-up remover, ready to start the process. But Frank stopped you in your tracks, gently taking the bottle in one hand and a cotton pad in the other.

He poured a small amount onto the white disc, dosing as you did regularly.

"Close your pretty eyes for me," he murmured, taking your chin between his fingers and starting to remove your make-up.

Frank had this charming habit, in the evenings when you were getting ready for bed and he wasn't out playing vigilante, of watching you remove your make-up. He knew a lot about your day by the way you went about it: slow and thoughtful was the result of a good day, faster and more jerky obviously reflected one full of frustration, and sometimes when your movements were slow and your eyes half-closed, it generally meant that the day had been very, very long.

He concentrated, pressing tenderly against your skin as he removed iridescent, matte and mascara from your eyelids, occasionally pausing to kiss your lips, making you smile and giggle softly with each peck.

You almost wanted to put lipstick on his lips and let him kiss your whole face until the red of your cheeks was indistinguishable from the colour of the lipstick.

He asked you to look up this time to clear away the mascara smears and the black marks left in their path. He was doing this with the utmost precision, and this personal attention sent tickles all the way to the back of your skull.

"Look at me?" he asked and you complied, a smirk forming on his lips. "The prettiest girl."

He came over and placed a strand of hair behind your ear before stepping aside to throw away the little cotton disc.

"I'm gonna go and check what snacks we have, Red? I'll leave you my favourite part, but only because it's christmas alright?" he informed before kissing the tip of your nose one last time and stepping out of the bathroom.

Matt, so far checking the temperature of the bath water to make sure it was correct, shook off his damp fingers and wiped them on a towel before standing up and moving between your legs.

"I'll have you stand up just for a bit," he cautioned, taking your hands and pulling you slightly towards him to get you to your feet. "Arms up."

At his request, you raised your arms. His hands pinched the bottom of your hoodie and pulled it up your body. He laid it to one side, continuing with your t-shirt, his fingers still warm from the water sliding delicately against your skin.

"So that's Frank's favourite part?" you smiled, "undressing me?

"I have to say it is," he stated as he unbuttoned your trousers and panties, sliding them to the floor where you lifted your feet to get out of them.

"And what's your favourite part?" you asked as he took off your socks and raised up to your level.

"The one that's about to happen."

He guided you to the bath and let you slide in gently. The temperature was perfect, just as you liked it, and you let out a moan of ease from between your lips until most of your body was submerged in the bath.

Matt took a stool from the bathroom and placed it beside you, taking a cup at the same time to pour water over your hair. He applied himself with great care, taking his time to make sure no drops got into your eyes.

Your muscles relaxed naturally with the heat, finally eradicating the tension in your body once and for all.

You felt Matt's fingers dip into the bath water, sliding up from the skin of your thigh and gently up your body, tracing your silhouette under the water.

"You're beautiful," he whispers as his wet fingers rose from the water to caress your cheek.

"How could you know?" you asked softly, watching as he stared into the emptiness.

"My hands don't lie to me, and I know the beauty of the mind at first sight of the heart" he smiled as he took your bottle of shampoo, pouring some into his palm before massaging your head.

To help him, you straightened up, pivoting slightly to get your back to him. His fingers snaked through your hair, massaging gently and lathering everything up slowly. He worked the back of your neck, muscles tense, letting your head go with the movement of his hands.

With your neck now leaning back, Matt smiled gently before kissing your forehead.

"That's my favourite part," he confirmed, resuming the massage.

You let your eyes close, surrendering to the gentleness of the moment and Matt's touch. He was pressing, caressing, painting with his fingers as if he were holding the most beautiful and delicate material in his hands. 

Too soon for your liking - because you would have preferred this moment to have no end - he rinsed your hair, letting the white mousse spread over your shoulders and applying it lightly to your skin. He took the sponge, soaking it in shower gel before squeezing it into a foam so that he could spread the bubbly cloud over your skin.

He took one of your arms, raising it so that he could get it straight and soap you up properly, and he kissed the length of your skin before the softness of his kisses was erased by the little soap bubbles that the sponge left in its wake. He did the same for your second arm, and your leg, and the second after that, covering your whole body with kisses and softness.

At first you thought it was unfair, because no sooner had he placed a kiss on your skin than he wiped it away with white foam. But you were soon comforted by the idea that these weren't kisses being chased away, but kisses being kept, kisses that seeped under your skin and brought you all the warmth that the bath was beginning to no longer contain.

Before the water got too cold, he gently rinsed you off and got you out of the tub, wrapping you in your bathrobe.

Frank came back into the bathroom at last, bringing clean, more comfortable clothes in his hands. They both took their time drying your hair and dressing you, whispering sweet nothings to you as they kissed your cheeks and temples.

Each kiss washed away the stress you'd been feeling, replacing bitterness with sweetness, and you relished every moment of it.

Once again they carried you in their arms to the sofa, where Frank had placed a plethora of foodstuffs of all kinds on the table, snacks and other sweet products that you might have wanted at the time.

You watched several episodes of a series that you'd been watching together lately, commenting on it and falsely - or actually - taking offence at the particularly stupid choices made by the main characters.

You didn't need any more than that. All the love in the world was with them.

They had taught you how one hand changes when you put it on top of another, that another world is possible but is present in this one, that there is always a dream asleep.

They were standing on your eyelids, and their hair was in yours, they were engulfed in your shadow. Their eyes were always open, they wouldn't let you sleep, their kisses in the light made the sun evaporate.

Back pressed against the chest of one, face hidden in the nape of the other's neck, tonight you fell asleep, fulfilled, safe and loved.

#mads ☾⋆｡☁︎ ﾟ #matt murdock x reader x frank castle #frank castle x reader x matt murdock #frank castle x matt murdock x reader #fratt #fratt x reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock one shot #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fic #matt murdock #daredevil #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle imagine #frank castle oneshot #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle fanfic #frank castle fic #frank castle #the punisher #my writing #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader

[meraxesmoon]

I find it funny to think of yandere daemyra with a darling who rejects all their courtships, as if she gives them the most boring look

warnings: yandere content, poly relationships, but like, forced, i made y/n sort of religious, this is in imagine form, but if you want hcs just lemme know, (name) doesn't like daemon, predatory daemyra

┍━━━━━━━ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗━━━━━━━┑

It's a sin to look at any woman who isn't your wife in a way that makes it look like you want to bed them, and this is precisely why (Name) keeps herself away from the Rogue Prince. She was not the only person Daemon held his sights on, and (Name) found that disgusting, considering his wife was such a beautiful and grace-filled woman. It was clear that they loved each other, of course, but she supposed Daemon wasn't the type of man to be content with only one woman - or man, for that matter (she had seen him eyeing up her cousin at an event a couple of weeks ago). As Queen Alicent's handmaiden, it was none of (Name)'s business what the princess and her consort were doing within their marriage, but she had been dragged into their marital affairs against her will one cool summer night.

The princess was heavily pregnant and was having uncomfortable feelings in her midsection, and (Name)'s Queen had asked her to tend to her. This was no problem. (Name) had helped Alicent through all four of her pregnancies, so she had brewed some special calming tea and grabbed several heavy fur blankets before heading to towards Rhaenyra's room. Knocking her fist against the door, (Name) waited for someone to answer.

It is the prince Consort who answers, standing between the door and (Name). She squints her eyes before motioning towards the many things in her arms. "The queen sent me to soothe the princess. She is having pain, am I correct?" The handmaiden tries to keep herself calm and collected despite her many nerves.

(Name) usually only tended to Queen Alicent and her children, so going to another member of the royal family was out of the ordinary for her. Alicent favored her, and she was thankful for the Queens' generosity, but this time, she wished Alicent would have sent some other servant. She had always found Daemon to be unsettling, and she had heard the rumors surrounding the Rogue Prince. To be frank; she did not like him. However, she was loyal to her queen, and did whatever Alicent requested of her, even if it made (Name) uncomfortable.

"Yes, my child seems to be causing her problems," Daemon replies, his amethyst eyes raking down (Name)'s form as he does so. The other servants wore unflattering clothes, often looking like unpleasant sacks of potatoes, but being Alicent's favorite had its perks. The queen liked to keep (Name) dressed pretty, that was the best way Daemon could have put it, though Rhaenyra had called her ravishing on several occasions. She was always in a nice flowing gown, modest but flattering. Daemon had no problem staring, even after he lets her into the room.

Her dress tonight was black velvet.

How fitting.

"Here, princess, this should ease the cramps," (Name) says softly as she hands Rhaenyra a cup filled with ginger and chamomile tea. "These furs should help with them as well, you should try to keep yourself warm when you're hurting like this, especially since the weather is so cold." She wraps the fur blankets around Rhaenyra's midsection, trying to ignore the burning gaze of the prince as she did so. The princess lets out a sigh of relief, already feeling the pain in her body being alleviated. "Thank you, so much, this has helped tremendously."

Rhaenyra's stare is almost as intense as Daemon's, and (Name) suddenly feels trapped as the princess smiles sweetly at her. She had never found Princess Rhaenyra unpleasant - quite the opposite, actually. However, now she felt frightened by the Valyrian beauty. She looked predatory as she cups (Name)'s cheeks in her soft hands, rubbing her thumb over the surface of (Name)'s cool flesh tenderly. She hears Daemon's breathing next to her ear and she's moved out of whatever daze she had previously been in.

(Name) shoots up from where she was kneeling before Rhaenyra, her face blank as she bows to both of the Targaryen's in the room. Rhaenyra looks shocked and Daemon looks as though he's ready to pounce on her. (Name) knows it's time to leave, before something seriously treasonous happens.

"I must return to my Queen, please have a lovely night."

With that said, (Name) gathers her skirts and leaves the room, fastening her pace down the hallway.

She needed to pray.

i'm so sorry if this isn't what you were hoping for, i got carried away while writing it :')

#cw: yandere blog #cw: yandere content #cw: yandere #yandere daemyra #yandere rhaenyra targaryen #yandere team black #yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #yandere imagines #yandere #kay writes #rhxegal

[yuriiofthevalley]

(rules; tag 10 or more people you want to get to know better)

omg thank you for tagging me @just-a-girlblogger <3

relationship status: single. can you imagine that

fav color: black for sure. i like white too

song stuck in my head: the world we knew by frank sinatra

favorite food: i will literally devour any dessert you put in front of me. additionally,, i could kill a man for mac & cheese or fried rice

last song i listened to: what a wonderful world by louis armstrong

dream trip: honestly i've never really thought about this but paris seems nice,, tokyo too. i want to say london as well but idk if that counts bc i want to live there forever

last thing i googled: elden ring prices (cousin wants it for his birthday and i want to play it too 💪🏼)

tagging; @cursemyexistences @444nanya @hhymns @prettygal-posting @lovliestars @bull3tpr00fs0ul @fluttershy-222 @ohsoteary @f-l-o-r-e-c-e-e-r @moonlight-at-dawn & any of my other mutuals who'd want to participate 🫶🏼

(here's the original post)

#girlblogging #this is what makes us girls #just girly things #this is a girlblog #just girly thoughts #just girly posts #mutuals #girlhood #i'm just a girl #hyper feminine #girly things #pinterest girl #it girl #gaslight gatekeep girlboss #tag game

[getinthefuckingjaeger]

the problem with Scamanders

for @jakes3resin (you did a lot, my turn for presents now)

“You could have written, you know.” 

Bucky’s legs stopped as though glued to the cobbled street of the little village he found himself wandering that night. His shoulders fell back along with his head, neck tilted almost painfully to the night sky as he heaved a great sigh. Christ and Merlin, here we fucking go.

He stayed stubbornly still, ignoring the crick in his neck the longer he tilted his head like that. It's not a bad view - an explosion of stars in the night sky fills his eyes in the absence of a German air raid. The shops in the highstreet of this unassuming village in Ipswich are all asleep around him. Thin fog that isn't really a fog flows languidly between his military-shine boots before climbing his legs like vines to a tree. The magic is warm like sunshine and soft as a caress when it touches Bucky’s hands. He flexed his fingers to disperse the white wisps and tuck them into his trousers pockets. 

He still absolutely refuses to budge. No, sir. 

“Merlin, you’re still as stubborn as a Hippogriff, aren’t you Johnny?” A low chuckle cuts through the otherwise quiet night and Bucky can hear the sounds of expensive Oxfords getting closer to where he stands, until there is a wall of flesh and magic by his side, a firm shoulder pressing against his. “Come on, then. Give us a smile.” 

Bucky grimaces at the sky. Looks down at his feet with another sigh. Then looks to his side, and into a face so much like his own. 

With wizards' lifespan as long as it is, the face Bucky sees had barely aged from the last time he saw it. The same gold skin tanned by Quidditch, the same dark mahogany curls falling from its coiffed hairstyle and hanging over the same dark blue eyes - almost navy in the darkness.

But where there’s an absence in signs of age, there is stark evidence of war on that familiar face. Bucky notes the discolored scars peppering the left side of the man’s face like something exploded too close for comfort, the way his nose sits a little crooked like it was set-wrong and far too late to rectify, and - Bucky paused a moment to stare - a thin, barely visible line that runs from under his left ear to his adam’s apple. 

Familiar aftershave fills his lungs, reminding him of a childhood on a vast estate and the summer sun warming his back, as he paddles through cool sparkling waters of the massive fountain on the cul de sac of their mansion’s driveway. He can almost hear his aunt’s exasperated complaints and boisterous laughter of his cousin and uncles, the sounds of struggle as his father tried to push Newt off his perch on the edges of the marble fountain. 

That was another life, then.

“Auror Scamander, sir.” Bucky lets the mask of Major Egan take over as he steps away from his cousin. “Hope you’ve been well, sir.” 

Only years with Buck could ever prepare him to withstand the quiet, appraising look that Theseus is giving him. The stare weighs heavy on his chest as he looks just over Theseus’ shoulder as he would to any senior officer in the USAAF.  Theseus, damn the man, tilts his head just so and catches Bucky’s eyes - his smile is tired, resigned. 

“I’ve been better - the ah, hunt keeps me on my toes, so to speak.” Bucky watches as Theseus tugs lightly at his coat and white silk scarf. “Newt sends his regards, as does Tina - he also sends his thanks, for looking after Frank the... Thunderbird?” 

Bucky and Theseus share a commiserating look, the first one in almost a decade since Bucky was sent back. It wasn’t a chore to disapparate from Texas to the deserts of Arizona after lights out a few times a month. Certainly one of the most rewarding things he’s ever voluntarily done, to be able to run his hands over the beak of such a majestic creature. It’s through Frank that Bucky realizes the calm that one can find sitting in the middle of a literal storm as the massive avian flies over his head. 

I fell in love with the big birds, Buck told him once. Bucky had agreed, but couldn’t explain that his big bird is a little more literal than Gale’s. And that it creates thunderstorms when it flies. 

The glint of Theseus’ cufflinks pulls Bucky away from desert storms and back into the cold English night air. The Scamander crest twinkles under the starlight like a taunt. Bucky didn’t even realize Theseus had put out all the street lights. Goddamn aurors. 

He moves to a parade rest to remind himself of who and where he is now - that he’s no longer just John Egan, cousin of Newton and Theseus Scamander, the three remaining Scamander. 

“Why haven’t you written, Johnny?” Theseus remains a respectable distance from him, but Bucky can tell how much he’s probably itching to shake him by the shoulders in frustration. “Years of silence from you and your mother’s family in Wisconsin. Newt tried to look for you when he’s stateside, but you’re always never there. It's like you vanished - if Frank hadn’t hinted at it, or if your likeness weren't still moving on the family tapestry we’d have thought you dead.” 

Bucky tenses just as Theseus rocks back on his heels like the weight of his anger was a physical thing. 

“What was it all for then, if we thought you died, too?” 

It plays out like a picture reel in Bucky’s head - him, at eight years old with his right hand in Theseus’ left as they walk down the carpeted floor of the Scamander ancient mansion. 27, a war hero, as tall as the suit of armors that used to dot the hallways and the greatest wizard he’s ever known. Then there was Newt, only a year younger than Theseus, his figure painted in hues of red, purple, and green from the large stained glass windows - Bucky can still recall Newt’s excited chatter about all the wonderful creatures on the estate and the Hippogriffs that Aunt Artemis has in her enclosure. 

Then Bucky, at thirteen years old and shaking with barely suppressed excitement as he clutched his shiny new broomstick that Theseus gave him for Christmas. The grand bubble of joy that buoyed him through the entire afternoon of flying lessons with Theseus, half the family sitting on picnic blankets spread over snow covered grounds, the fabric charmed to be warm and dry. The lightness he felt as he shot himself across the estate grounds despite Theseus’ yelling is something he has tried time and time again to recreate as his fort lifts-off. 

And finally at eighteen, once again walking down the carpeted floor of the Scamander mansion. Alone, at night, confused and hurting. Aunt Artemis had gone to town that autumn morning with his parents but none returned. Newt has disappeared - likely on another errand for Dumbledore - and he has never seen Theseus so angry as he threw Aurors, his own colleagues, out of their parlor. 

The subsequent argument he had with Theseus - just the memory of it brings him shame of how it inevitably ended. 

“You need to go, Johnny - Grindelwald is hunting us down.”

“I can fight, T - I’m of age!” 

“I know, I know, you can. I just can’t allow you - think of the family, Johnny. Grindelwald will try to kill you and Newt to get to me, and I can’t protect both of you at once.”

“Fine, I get it. Can’t trust the half-blood to take care of himself, huh?” 

“You said I needed to go and I did what you told me to.” 

Bucky drops the parade rest and shoves his hands in his pockets where Theseus cant see how they shake. Un-fucking-believeable that he’s flown multiple missions, have survived so many things he shouldn’t up there where hell resides above the clouds, but his hands have never shaken like this. Not once. “I had a lot of time to think and I realized - as much as I fucking hated it- you couldn’t afford distractions.”

“It’s not like that-”

Bucky shakes his head and shuffles in his boots. He itches for a cigarette. “I ain’t saying that to be an ass, T. I understand that now more than ever - this war I’m fighting… it puts things in perspective.” 

“I see.”

And Theseus does see - Bucky holds his gaze for as long as he can stand. He kicks a loose stone and it skids neatly over to Theseus’ toes. His cousin nudged the stone back to Bucky. They share a grin. “How bad is it, your end?” He falls back into parade rest, puts away John Egan who was once Mr. Scamander to his peers in Hogwarts, and brings Major Egan to the forefront once again. 

“As well as it is going for yours, I’d imagine Major.” Theseus, always the best one out of the three Scamander scions at reading people, adjusts his posture from soft and imploring, to hard and imposing. Demanding respect, like the Head of the British Auror Office. He pursed his lips in thought. “You may want to properly practice your wandless magic, Major Egan. I’ll take care of MACUSA and the Ministry.”

Bucky splutters. He thinks of an alder wand that used to be an extension of himself and how the yoke of his B-17 can never replace that kind of power.

“How do you expect me to do that, sir?” He grits out. Easy, John, easy now the Buck in his head soothes his ire. “Between the suicide missions and trying to keep everyone’s head on straight - how the fuck do you expect me to do that, sir?” 

“You’ll figure it out, Major.” It came out like an order. Theseus’s lips quirked. “You apparrated from one state to another back in your Muggle flight school, didn’t you? Apparating from London tonight must have been a breeze. Power like that needs tending to. Particularly when you have talent for wandless casting.” 

“With all due respect, sir, but last I checked you’re not my CO - you ain’t even an American, so you can kindly shove-”

“Do it for Major Cleven and your boys, then.” 

The ensuing silence rings through Bucky’s head as the streetlights come back up one by one. Theseus’ hard look softens just a touch as he walks backwards and away from Bucky.  

“I heard your boys are flying a mission tomorrow morning - Bremen again, I think - arresto momentum and subtle shielding charms will do.” Theseus winks, then apropos of nothing, said “I’ll come round’ for tea.”

That broke through Bucky’s bewildered suspension, but not fast enough to stop Theseus from disapparating with a soft pop. 

“Goddamn wizards.” 

Bucky spun and disapparate just as the last streetlight returned.

#john egan #theseus scamander #bucky egan #masters of the air #mota #jaeger writes #john scamander au

[nothingtoseeherebyeexx]

after my last alicissa fanart my head has birthed a whole medieval au. allow me to show you bc i need to share.

alice has been training to become a knight for years, and now that she’s 21 she has almost finished her training. as a “senior knight”, one of her duties is to keep watch on younger trainees, in her case, james and sirius (thank god she has frank, another soon-to-be knight, helping her). since they are roomates, only these three boys know that she’s actually not a man (women weren’t allowed in the knights bc medieval times yknow), and eventually they’ve become friends.

and as her friends, they deserve to know about the beautiful woman she’s met in the forbidden forest.

in the neighbouring kingdom, narcissa is aching. one of her sisters ran away from their family, and the other has been married off. her only company is her younger cousin, who’s still suffering his older brother’s disappearance, that left him alone and with the weight of being the future heir on his shoulders.

being her only family left, she tells him about her meeting with a charming woman in armour in the forbidden forest.

chaos ensues. drama starts. the good shi 👌

and there will be a part 2 where i explain what is sirius’ deal with this “bastard thief”

transcription

A: companions, i think i’ve found the most beautiful damsel in the world <3

S: WHO?!

J: WHERE?!

F: this is new

A: i do not know her name, but merlin, that won’t stop me from meeting her again <3

J: WHERE??

A: forbidden forest, near the border

J: sirius, we’re going there tomorrow

S: i CANT i have that bastard thief to catch!

A: you’re not going anywhere, you’re too young

J: i’m only three years younger than you and frank!

A: and how old does that make you?

J: …almost 18!

A: almost old enough!

J: UGH!

N: oh regulus, i think i’ve found it

R: found what?

N: …the reason andy left

R: …

N: i could never do that, though. as royals, our fates were decided the day we were born- i guess i’ll just pretend, for a while

R: what are you doing here?

J: asked the suspicious, hooded fella before pulling out a dagger-

R: answer me. and stop squinting.

J: i’m not squint-

J: i’m looking for my mentor.

R: merlin, you’re blind! how did you become a knight?

J: im still a trainee?

R: i’ll stalk my cousin tomorrow. follow me.

J: …i fear i’ll get stabbed

R: not like you could see it coming

J: rude.

S: bastard thief…

Rem: they look nothing like us, i’m almost offended

M: my face is on a poster, that’s enough for me <3

#tell me if i need to explain further lol #this took so long to write ugh #alicissa #nobleflower #wolfstar #jegulus #alice fortescue #frank longbottom #james potter #sirius black #narcissa black #regulus black #remus lupin #marlene mckinnon #starchaser #sunseeker #making a tag #nothing’s medieval au

[theitgirlnetwork]

Better

Ch. 13: I've Got It

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

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

“Now we wait.” 

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

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

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

“Hush, little girl, stop whining.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They won’t approve. Fuck.” he nods.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘M warm.”

“I am warm.” Her mother corrects.

“I am warm.”

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

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

“Victor!”

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

“I’m not pregnant, Daddy.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Daddy?”

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

“Victor! Please.”

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

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

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

“Oh, god, the waterworks-”

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

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

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

“Her mother and I.” Lip says smugly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This wasn’t the final straw.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My hero.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Phillip.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

For Charlotte’s sake.

“So tech. Good business.” 

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

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

“Gettin’ there.” 

“How many siblings do you have, Phillip?”

“Uh, five.” 

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

“They’re smart.”

“But not like you.”

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

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

“I know everything about Charlotte.”

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

“Fuckin’- yes!” 

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

What?

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

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

“Yea-yes-”

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

“Fuck you.” Lip scoffs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lottie.” V interrupts, “Didn’t Lip-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mornin.” 

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

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

“My…my stuff? Phillip-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Knew it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“M’not.” 

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

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

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

“S’fine. She is. Fuckin’ beautiful.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh-kay.” 

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

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

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

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

“No?”

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

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

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

“Okay so-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

“Well, that seems-”

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

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

“Gallagher kids? Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

Until her phone rings.

“What’d you even give him anyway?”

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

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

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

“Get the fuck off me, I’m married.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Phillip-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m..I’m sorry?”

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

Oh. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Good for him.

“I know you’re mad at’me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But she’s weak, and he’s everything. 

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

“Charlotte.”

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

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

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

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

“I fucked up, Bunny.”

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck them too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.” 

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

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

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

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

[longwuzhere]

Some cool Easter eggs I caught watching My Adventures with Superman that I want to show to people so they can be in on it with comic book readers

My episode 1 easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My episode 2 easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My episode 3 easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My episode 4 easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My episode 5 easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Episode 6 easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My second half of Episode 7 easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Episode 8 easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Episode 9 easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Episode 10 easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

(SPOILERS if you haven't seen the show yet):

We start things off with the title of the episode, "Kiss Kiss Fall in Portal" a fun nod to the lyrics of Ouran High School Host club's OP, Sakura Kiss by Chieko Kawabe. Very apt since Clark wanted to show the cherry blossoms to Lois on their date.

Next Jimmy razzing Clark for his extremely scheduled date plans for Lois and razzing Lois for her gift to Clark. Each of them reference what happened in previous episodes. With the first thing Clark and Lois I talked about it here and the second thing Clark mentioned I talked about it here.

After we cut back from Lois and Jimmy picking up Lois's dry cleaning, we meet the villain of the episode, Mr. Mxyztplk. In the comics, Mxy makes his first appearance in Superman #30 (1944) by Joe Shuster, Jerry Seigel, and Ira Yarbrough as you can see in the page above this text. Mxy is a 5th dimension imp who plays jokes and pranks on Superman and can only be rid of if Mxy says his name backwards. Yeah Mxy is a MAJORLY annoying thorn at Clarks side. MAwS Mxy, as you can tell has a DRASTIC overhaul in design kinda shares color and design choices with Whis from the Dragon Ball Super anime. Also in the show Mxy is a chaos god compared to the annoying imp in the comics.

Classic way to describe Clark Kent. That's a given in any Superman media.

Next we see Mxy mess with Clark by snapping him into his various Superman animation incarnations from the Max Fleischer cartoons, the Superfriends cartoons, and the cartoon that introduced Superman to me, Superman the Animated Series. Shout out to the MAwS team for remembering to give StAS Superman the darker trunks. People often forget that. Same with the red belt on the Fleisher Superman and the cape circling behind the neck of Superfriends Superman when usually the cape exposes the next a lot more too. Very good attention to detail.

With Lois and Jimmy they meet alternate versions of themselves. We meet two different Loises and one Louis Lane. There actually is a Louis Lane in the comics who has connections to Mxyzptlk.

In Superman #349 (1980) (W: Martin Pasko, P: Curt Swan, I: Frank Chiaramonte, C: Adrienne Roy, L: Ben Oda), Clark is forced into a genderbent world thanks to Mxyzptlk where he meets, as you can see on the page, gender flipped versions of his Daily Planet colleagues. Clark is eventually able to escape the world and defeat Mxy where he actually meet Louis Lane, Lois Lane's legit cousin. Bonus fun fact Osric Chau who voices Louis Lane, was the Atom/Ryan Choi on the CW DC shows

The League of Loises have a ship that's kinda similar to one of the ships designed by Rian Hughes and Grant Morrison on the Multiverse Map. I talked more about that map and the multiverse here

Lois Prime here shares similar designs to Fleischer Studios' Lois Lane. Very good homage to the look.

Next scene is EASTER EGGS GALORE and the section that took the longest for me to do. When Mxy and Clark break into the Science and Superhero Museum that Lois Prime created, we see a mace and an elaborately designed box of some sort. If you know your DC universe, these two things are a Thanagarian (alien hawk people) Nth Metal (strongest metal in the DC universe) Maces that is usually wielded by Hawkman and Hawkwoman/girl (as you can see both of them wielding their own respective maces on the comic covers here. The first one is from Justice League #15 (2019) done by Jim Cheung Tomey Moreu and the second cover is from Hawkman #1 (2018) done by Stjepan Šejić) and the box is a Mother Box from the New Gods. The Nth Metal mace makes its first debut in the Brave and the Bold #34 (1961) though it resembles more like flails and even then the Nth metal mace is a morningstar, but its alien technology maybe Thanagarians call these weapons maces where here we call it a morningstar.

Mother Boxes are basically supercomputers that the New Gods use. Created by Jack Kirby and debuted in the Forever People #1 (1971), Mother Boxes have a wide range of uses from energy and molecule manipulation, energy transferring, Boom Tube summoning to travel inter-dimensionally or inter-/intra- galactically, machine manipulation. The page from Who's Who-The Definitive Directory of the DC Universe #16 (1986) explains what a Mother Box is in full detail.

The camera then shifts and we see a Green Lantern Power Battery, a T-Sphere, and a book on display. The farthest item is an obvious one, a Power Battery that Green Lantern uses to recharge the Power Ring. This version of the Power Battery and Green Lantern make their debut in Showcase 22 (1959). The final two panels from the comic (W: Jon Broome, P: Gil Kane, I: Joe Giella, L: Gaspar Saladino) shows Hal Jordan recharging the ring with the Power Battery.

T-Spheres are floating spheres used by Mr. Terrific aka Michael Holt. These spheres can form laser grids, act as sensor arrays, bombs, record video and audio, hack into computers, display holograms, and discharge electricity to shock things or people. They make their debut in JSA #11 (2000) as seen there in the middle two panels (W: Geoff Johns, David Goyer, P: Buzz, I: Michael Bair, C: John Kalisz, L: Ken Lopez).

The book is a little harder to pinpoint, but my guess is this is the Book of Souls/the Cosmic Log/The Book of Destiny. If Lois Prime is able to find all this stuff and is able to preserve it in a museum, I wouldn't be surprised if Destiny of the Endless gave her an inert copy of the book for the museum. The book makes its debut in Weird Mystery Tales #1 (1972) (Page art by Michael Kaluta). The book records everything that is, was, and will be. If you haven't read the comics, you might have seen it be used on the CW DC shows rewriting the histories of their characters.

Ok so at the moment I am near the end of my 30 images limit so I will be making another post to hopefully finish the rest, but in the meantime, now that you are down here, feel free to check out the other easter eggs and references posts -

My episode 1 easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My episode 2 easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My episode 3 easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My episode 4 easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My episode 5 easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Episode 6 easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My second half of Episode 7 easter egs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Episode 8 easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Episode 9 easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Episode 10 easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

#My Adventures with Superman #MAwS #Clark Kent #Superman #Lois Lane #Jimmy Olsen #Ouran High School Host Club #Mr. Mxyzptlk #Whis #Dragon Ball Super #Max Fleischer #Super Friends #Superman the Animated Series #Multiversity #Hawkman #Hawkwoman #Hawkgirl #Mother Box #New Gods #Green Lantern #Mr Terrific #JSA #Justice Society of America #Destiny of the Endless #DC #DC comics #Adult Swim #Cartoon #Watch My Adventures with Superman!

[wildestdreamsblog]

Can you please do Seokjin "when your bias is another member" I'm really missing him so bad 😩😭

Be Lucky

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Reader

Warnings: Nothing! This is flufffff. Be warned

A/N: of course! I miss him too much that this became a soft fic 💜

3000 celebration

“Listen to me,” you enunciated for what probably was the hundredth time. You looked at his dark eyes, your hand squeezing his cheek with enough force to make him focus on you.

God you hoped he listened to you this time. “I’m not into you. I really don’t think I’ll ever be into you-“

“That’s just your opinion-“

You shook your head sternly at him. “It’s really not you. It’s me. I like Taehyung,” you said with strength in your voice. It was the truth. Kim Taehyung was your bias since you knew what biases meant. He was everything you could looked for in an idol: handsome, talented, funny, kind, and did you mention handsome?

And ever since you met him in person, your resolve was strengthened. He was your ultimate bias. You thought you lucked out when you met them in person. Your cousin was Namjoon’s girlfriend and she so kindly invited you to a small party because she knew you were dying to meet them. And it was more than what you dreamed of.

However, Kim Seokjin took notice of you. It was cute at first, and to be quite frank, it boosted your ego. You meant, Jin spent the whole night sitting beside you cracking dad jokes and had you laughing not from his jokes but from how adorable his delivery was. He laughed at his own jokes, for heaven’s sake.

You thought he was merely being kind to you. You missed one event and found him whining about losing his best girl. In a sweet way, he asked you if you were doing fine and that if you ever needed anything, you only needed to call him.

Kim Seokjin was simply endearing…and sweet.

In addition, though, Kim Seokjn was a force to be reckoned with.

Each event you would find him suddenly beside you like a glue. Always. It came to a point that Taehyung would looked at the two of you teasingly, and you could feel your already nonexistent chance with him diluting even further. And so you did the one thing you shouldn’t have done to Seokjin- you avoided him.

When he was about to go to you, you would walked the other way. When Taehyung wouldn’t attend the event, you wouldn’t show up as well. When Jin texted you, 74% of the time you would ignore him…unless it was a really funny dad joke.

Kim Seokjin was a patient man. Really he was. He ought to be after raising six younger boys. But you running away from him tested his patience.

“Bye, noona! Thanks for coming!” Jungkook shouted as he waved at you excessively. You laughed at how drunk he was before stealing a glance at Taehyung who had his arm around the golden maknae.

“Keep safe,” he said in a deep voice that did something to you. You couldn’t help but blush from his simple words. You were tucking your hair behind your ear when you felt a presence beside you.

“I’ll drive you home. Come on,” Seokjin said in a strict voice, the one he reserved for when the boys were becoming unruly. You thought you would never hear him talk to you like that. You looked up at him for the first time since tonight. And for the first time, his eyes looked cold.

“That’s not necessary-“ you trailed off once you saw how he was. He was looking at you, his eyebrow raised as though he was daring you to go against his wishes and you found that you couldn’t. You nodded your head reluctantly, your submission softened his strictness. Seokjin bade his goodbyes to the maknaes quietly before leading you outside. You couldn’t help but notice how he kept his hand on the small of your back as though it belonged there. And Taehyung noticed.

He was serious as he drove you home, his eyes focused on the road. The car was dark, yet you could clearly see his clenched jaw. There was never silence between the two of you. Your personality and his personality were too in tuned with each other that there was never a dull moment with him. Yet, tonight, he walked you to your apartment with nothing but silence. You thanked him for dropping you off, but his answer was merely a look that you couldn’t decipher. You were about to turn your back on him when he said the words you were dreading.

“I like you,” his deep voice resounded over the quietness of the night. Your eyes were wide as you took his relaxed form, his hand in his pocket, his eyes hidden by his cap.

Seokjin looked as casual as his delivery of his crush(?!) to you that it took you a moment to process whatever it was.

“I’m sorry-what?”

“I know you heard me,” he said before walking closer to you, so close that you had to tilt your head up just to look at him. And for the first time that night, he smiled so sweetly as he tilted his head. “I’m going to make you fall so hard for me-“

“I won’t!”

“You will, pretty girl. I’m certain I can.”

That was four months ago, and his efforts had not only been consistent, but they were doubling as the time passed by.

“Hi, my pretty girl.”

You jumped when you heard his voice beside you. You turned without any thought, his proximity making you blushed. Kim Seokjin looked immaculate, an observation that was making you confused because you knew he was handsome… But why the hell were noticing it more now?!

He chuckled before sitting in front of you. “You flirt in the most awkward situation, Kim Seokjin,” you stated, your eyes roaming around the room, feeling the staff’s eyes on the two of you. They were highly entertained seeing the oldest hyung in the group flirt with you nonstop for months.

“But it’s true. You’re so beautiful.”

“Listen, Seokjin,” you started. He smiled at you sweetly before leaning in, his eyes focused on yours entirely. Fuck, he was the beautiful one. “I think you need to focus on other girls. I don’t think I’m the one for you,” you said slowly, reaching out to hold his hand. You thought about this. No way could you keep up with his lifestyle, no way would this turn out to be a happy ending. You were only going to be a hindrance to him. And you loved yourself too much to allow yourself to be in that position. That was precisely why you agreed to meet him in the company. As much as you could feel yourself slowly falling for his charms, you couldn’t allow yourself to take the next step.

He frowned, his lower lip protruding as he pouted. “Is it because…I’m not like Taehyung? Is it because I’m not attractive to you?”

What?

Your jaw dropped when he uttered those words. How could he say that? He looked so ethereal that you thought it shouldn’t be legal to look as perfect as he did. Why was he doubting himself?

“No you’re handsome and you’re kind and you’re the sweetest! Anyone would be lucky to have you!”

He blinked owlishly, his beautiful eyes boring into you. “Then date me.”

You heard Jungkook coughed from somewhere, and Jimin paused his chatter with Yoongi. They were eating happily when they heard their hyung. It was so peculiar to see Jin go after someone. It was usually the other way around, but the group knew you were different. In fact, you were so different that Jin fell for you instantly.

“What??”

“You heard me. Date me.”

“I-I’m no-“

“Date me. You said I’m a good person. You said anyone would be lucky to have me. So date me. Be lucky.”

He had rendered you speechless that you found yourself agreeing. You didn’t know why you said yes to him that day. But you were glad you did.

Kim Seokjin was worth the risk

#kim seokjin fic #3000 celebration #kim seokjin x you #kim seokjin x reader #kim seokjin x y/n #bts fic #bts fluff #jin x you

[everyone-is-a-punk]

Alright Punks listen up.

It's Clarisse, daughter of Ares, blah blah blah. I'm in charge of initiation, so play nice and maybe I won't shove your head into a toilet. Maybe. Challenge me in the arena and I will beat you into pulp.. Touch my spear and I will send you to Hades the hard way. Pronouns are she/her/they/them btw (There is a discord server for this guy's! Just send an ask I will happily give an invite!)

Tags I'm gonna use

#clarisse talks

#clarisse's reblogs

#im going to war

#punks

my main is @auttumnsayshi

Frienemies are as followed (in no particular order)

@silena-styles loml <3 definitely wifey material

@why-did-i-get-acne your haikus suck

@nico-the-ghost-king/@nico-di-angelo-aaaaa gay emo boi

@lukemessedup WHEN I CATCH U LUKE WHEN I CATCH U

@annabeth-is-a-wise-girl/@annabeth-in-your-chase smart person, probably the only reason camp is still standing

@percy-jackson-is-a-seaweed-brain/@that-dam-son-of-poseidon PRISSY

@the-best-superman-on-olympus/@jason-graceeeeee stapler muncher

@tyson-the-cyclops peanut butter addicted big teddy bear with giant stick

@the-argo-2-matchmaker/@piper-mclean-raaa silenas lil sis who has magical speaking powers

@theonlycoachhedge goat dude with a bat 😎

@apollos-favorite-child Wills sister

@magnus-falafelking Annie's dead cousin

@mallory-keen-to-kill me, just in a different font

@estraava you seem cool

@hazel-is-confused Nico's sister with the best horse ever

@amazing-war-god-ares I need bleach thanks and your a shit dad

@frank-zhang-skreee awesome half brother of mine

@leo-valdez-graaa a crackhead who id love to commit arson with

@will-solace-aaaaa Nico's bf, the human glowstick

@percys-blue-food-vendor literally the most a amazing woman ever who makes the most awesome at blue cookies

@miss-naomi-solace wills mom

@alex-fierro-pr-nightmare control your man's plz

@thomas-jefferson-jr guns>>>>>>

@zoe-can-see-the-stars-again cool huntress

@im-cool-and-your-not ily /p

@im-aphrodite-dearies Sil's mom

@moththecabin7kid definition of controlled chaos

@thatonebitheaterkid theater nerd

@unda-the-sea-and-bi-myself one of the only cool gods

@cameron-is-chaotic proud sibling moment

#clarisse talks #get to know me

[missclementinex]

I found.

Roommate au, roommates to lovers, angst, ptsd, nightmares, kissing, bed sharing, fluff towards the end, fem!reader.

Billy tucks you into his bed, kissing your forehead. "I'll be in later. Gonna visit with Frankie and Curtis." He says, pulling back looking at your sleepy face. He strokes your cheek, before moving away, and walking out to the living room.

You doze for a while restlessly, before waking up in a panic some thirty minutes later, and remembering Billy was out in the living room, as you tried to settle your heart, the darkness closing in on you. But you hear voices out there. "You share a bed with her, Billy?" Curtis.

"She has nightmares. What do you want me to do, Curt?” Billy answers, shortly.

"It just surprised me. You never share your bed with anyone. I know you feel vulnerable at night." Curtis says.

Your heart sinks. You didn't know that. Maybe Billy wanted you in your own bed, but you feel fear at the thought of sleeping on your own. But you've invaded his space and you feel guilty for it. He’s only your roommate, who maybe you've crossed a line with. "She's different. I wouldn't let anyone else." Billy says.

"You gone on her, Bill?" Frank.

You hear Billy sigh in irritation, but he doesn't answer right away. “She’s sweet. I have trouble denyin’ her anything.” Billy answers, making you feel worse.

Had you made him feel like he had to?

Frank laughs, “Billy the Beaut, wooed by some soft woman.”

“Fuck off, Frank.” Billy growls.

You block put the rest of the conversation, heart feeling heavy. You wait for Billy to come to bed, letting out a few tears. You're shaking with the thought of sleeping alone.

You hate your cousin for making you feel so vulnerable, but Billy makes you feel safe.

He comes in later, and pauses at the door, noticing you're awake. "Billy," you say, slowly sitting up.

"Yeah?" He hums, nearing the bed, shutting the lights off.

"Does Billy want me in my own bed?" Your voice is soft, nervous.

Billy looks up, "Were you listenin' in?" He sounds slightly amused as he kicks off his combat boots, and undresses.

You nod, shamefaced. "I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to."

He crawls in, pulling you against him. "No. I don't mind you in my bed. It was uncomfortable at first, yeah. But I've gotten used to it, and I like havin' you here.” He admits to you.

"Is Billy sure? I can–" he cuts you off with a soft kiss on your mouth.

"I'm sure, baby." His fingers draw circles on your shoulder, soothing you, making your eyes feel heavy, and your sleepiness returning.

You wrap your arms around his middle, burying your face in his chest, feeling your eyes droop as your fear fades. “Thanks, Billy goat.” You mumble, voice muffled by his sweater, as you squeeze him around his middle. He smells like bergamot and vanilla, comforting and familiar.

The last thing you hear is him scoffing, and the feel of his scratchy kiss on your forehead.

You were safe.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part 15)

Pairing: Dark! Cillian Murphy x Virgin! Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Brief Mention of Stillbirth

Notes: This will not be a love story. It will be dark, twisted and kinky. Cillian is portrayed as totally off cannon.

Two days following your phone call and without the knowledge of his sister, Cillian arrived at the place you were now staying at which, much to his surprise, was located in one of the worst areas of Dublin. 

It was a studio apartment you had rented out just a week ago after you were given notice by your cousin to vacate his townhouse near Temple Bar. The unit was located above a somewhat questionable establishment and the living space wasn't much, and consisted mostly of a mattress on the floor, a small TV and a study desk.

The kitchenette was cramped and cluttered and, whilst the bathroom was functional, it lacked any semblance of privacy, with peeling paint chipping from the walls and a cracked mirror hanging precariously from the wall. The window was sealed shut, trapping the stale air within.

Despite the less than ideal conditions, you managed to find solace in its simplicity. It was all you could afford and you were proud for the fact that you managed to pay your own way after your mother and stepfather had kicked you out. 

You received a financial support now from a public organization supporting women like you and, thanks to them, you managed to pay the bond for this place and were able to cover the cost of the abortion appointment scheduled for next week.

But then again, even though you considered terminating the pregnancy and knew that, doing so, would be for the best, the idea of ending your child's life felt increasingly unbearable now, making you consider Cillian's offer. 

"Hey," Cillian greeted softly, walking in cautiously after you opened the door. He was taken aback by the stark reality of your living situation. He had imagined something more akin to a charming apartment, rather than this dilapidated structure situated above a seedy bar.

"Hey," you countered

shyly, inviting him to step inside. "Come in."

His footsteps echoed loudly, amplifying the sense of isolation.

"How are you holding up?" he asked cautiously, glancing around the room.

"Just great, considering I live in a hole," you quipped sarcastically, motioning towards the mattress on the floor. "Make yourself comfortable."

The tension between you was palpable, a mixture of resentment and regret permeating the air.

"This place, Y/N, it does not seem safe," Cillian murmured uncomfortably, observing the grimy surroundings. "Not for you, definitely," he added, concern etched onto his face.

"Yeah, well, I am lacking options Cillian! My mother and Frank kicked me out after she found out about us which, I think, is understandable," you remarked sarcastically, sitting down on the mattress beside him. "And you know what? It's fine. It really is," you went on to say before Cillian sighed, his heart contracting painfully for you.

"It's not fine Y/N. You can't live like this," Cillian protested, his voice cracking with emotion. He felt utterly helpless witnessing your plight, trapped in a situation he inadvertently created.

"Well, I would rather live here than anywhere where I would have to face the consequences of my poor decision-making," you retorted defensively, casting your gaze downward.

"Y/N, please. Let me help you," Cillian urged, reaching out to grasp your arm gently. You recoiled instinctively, alarm flashing across your features. Cillian pulled back immediately, aware of the fragility of your emotional state.

"Are you still finishing college?" Cillian inquired and you nodded.

"Yes, but I had to change institutions. I am working during the day and go to school in the evening now. It works alright for me and I am almost done with my final exams," you confided, shifting restlessly on the mattress.

"And then? What are you going to do?" Cillian inquired, his voice laced with concern.

"Law school, if I get in," you replied, your voice softening slightly.

"That sounds promising," Cillian commented, his tone brightening. "Do you think you will pass your exams with all that is happening right now?"

"I have to, right?" you replied, your voice cracking slightly. 

"Yes, of course, but...," Cillian began but then stopped abruptly, noticing your hesitation. He knew that he couldn't push you too far, especially given the delicate nature of your predicament. You looked down, tugging at the hem of your shirt nervously.

"May I ask you something personal?" you ventured, shifting uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

"Of course," Cillian assured you, eager to learn more about your thoughts and feelings.

"Why exactly do you want me to keep the baby?" you probed tentatively, your curiosity piqued.

Cillian hesitated briefly, searching for the words to articulate his complex emotions.

"I guess I wanted to be father for a while, and I am most certainly not getting any younger either. Max is not my biological son and, whist I love him as if he was my own, I know that I may lose him sooner rather than later if my ex keeps carrying on the way she does. So, when I learned that you were carrying my child, Y/N," he faltered, his voice breaking slightly, "it felt like an opportunity for a second chance at parenthood. I mean, I don't want to impose my dreams on you, but the thought of having a child, a family, feels so meaningful to me," Cillian explained and you sat there quietly, absorbing every word Cillian spoke.

His honesty, his openness, and his willingness to share such intimate parts of himself touched you deeply but you were not ready to be a mother yet and this would not change overnight.

You hesitated briefly before answering, "I appreciate your honesty, Cillian, but I need some time to process everything."

"Of course," Cillian responded warmly "Whatever you choose, I promise to respect your decision."

As the conversation wound down, an awkward silence settled between you. Both of you were lost in your thoughts, wrestling with the implications of your shared predicament.

Cillian broke the silence first, suggesting that you reconsider moving to a safer neighborhood. "Regardless of whether you decide to keep the baby or not, you know that I can help you find a better place to stay, right?" he proposed generously.

"I know but...no, thank you, Cillian. I can manage on my own," you protested, your cheeks reddening slightly. "Besides, I am used to this now," you added, gesturing around the cramped quarters.

"It won't be easy, but I assure you, I can handle it," you assured him confidently, displaying strength and resilience.

You were grateful for Cillian's kindness but refused to depend on him, determined to forge your own path. "If you insist, then I will respect your wishes," Cillian conceded, acknowledging your stubbornness which was something that had drawn him to you in the first place.

"Thank you," you replied softly, gratitude swirling within you.

A brief silence ensued, the atmosphere thick with tension and anticipation. Neither of you dared break the silence, fearing that the wrong words might shatter the fragile equilibrium.

Cillian cast his gaze around the dimly lit room, pondering the situation. "We could take a walk and grab something to eat if you like," he suggested cautiously, eager to escape the confines of the cramped space. "I remember how much you like Chinese," he teased playfully, attempting to lighten the mood.

"I would love some food other than instant noodles," you admitted sheepishly as you gathered your belongings hastily, while Cillian attempted to conceal his amazement at your ability to pack everything into a single worn-out backpack. He couldn't imagine living in such conditions, and yet the admiration he felt for your perseverance grew stronger.

You grabbed your jacket and stepped into the chilly night air, the wind whipping your hair wildly around your face.

Cillian followed closely behind, his hands buried deep in his pockets. He kept his distance, giving you ample space to navigate the uneven cobblestone streets. As you walked together, the silence between you felt heavy with unspoken words and unresolved emotions.

"Are you feeling okay?" Cillian questioned tenderly, his eyes scanning your face carefully. Concern flickered across his features, and he reached out to touch your hand lightly. Your skin warmed beneath his fingertips, a subtle connection forming between you.

"Yes, I am," you answered honestly, turning your gaze away self-consciously.

"I have just been feeling a bit overwhelmed with everything that is happening in my life right now," you confided, placing your hand on your stomach protectively. The truth was, you were still undecided about whether to proceed with the termination, and the constant reminder of this tiny life growing inside you was overwhelming.

"That is understandable," Cillian murmured sympathetically, offering you moral support. "It's a lot to deal with, especially all at once. But I promise to be here for you, regardless of the outcome," he reassured you, his gentle touch conveying his sincerity.

You gazed at him gratefully, appreciative of his unwavering commitment. Even though your emotions were torn between resentment and affection, it was impossible to deny the depth of Cillian's compassion.

"I know it must sound strange, but I feel...

I feel like I can't breathe sometimes, like this is all happening to someone else," you confessed, your voice wavering slightly. "Like I am just watching myself fall apart," you continued, pausing briefly to catch your breath.

"I understand," Cillian consoled you, his grip tightening fractionally on your hand. "I have been there, you know, feeling like I was trapped in a relentless cycle of my own creation after Danielle, and I lost our first baby. I was so focused on my own grief that I didn't notice hers and it quickly drove us apart," he divulged candidly, recalling the darkest moments of his life.

"I am so sorry, Cillian" you whispered softly, your hand reflexively clasping his.

"Don't be," he replied, his grip firming around your fingers. "It's all in the past now. We are finally getting a divorce, which was something I put off for far too long. Besides, I wouldn't be here today if I hadn't gone through it all," he added optimistically, a faint smile flickering across his lips.

You glanced at him, his optimism infectious. His strength amazed you, inspiring you to embrace your own challenges and rise above whatever obstacles lay ahead.

"A few days ago, you asked me whether I would give evidence against Danielle, about the assault," you mused aloud, staring down at the cobblestones below. "I will do it," you declared resolutely, your jaw set firmly. "You need to be able to see Max and she shouldn't withhold him from you regardless of what happened," you added emphatically, your tone hardening noticeably.

Cillian's heart swelled with pride and gratitude, admiring your courage and tenacity. "Thank you," he murmured, squeezing your hand tightly. "I don't expect you to," he added, hesitant to burden you further.

"No, it's important," you insisted, your voice steady with conviction while Cillian stared at you blankly, marveling at your strength and resolve. "Are you sure?" he asked, seeking reassurance.

"Yes, I am," you affirmed, smiling weakly. "But you need to buy me dinner, because I am broke," you joked, playfully nudging Cillian's shoulder.

"Consider it done," Cillian promised, leading you towards a restaurant he knew in the area.

When you arrived at a small Chinese diner nestled between two larger establishments, the scent of authentic stir fry and dumplings filled the air. The neon sign outside buzzed, casting ominous shadows along the street. You exchanged uncertain glances before stepping inside.

Inside, the restaurant was bustling with patrons, a lively mix of locals and tourists enjoying a late supper. The hostess greeted Cillian warmly, her eyes widening upon spotting him. You felt a rush of embarrassment, wondering why everyone seemed to recognize him.

"Can we get a booth please?" Cillian requested politely, guiding you toward a corner table nestled amidst the din of laughter and clinking dishes. The hostess obliged, smiling warmly as she led you both to your desired seating area.

As you slid into the cozy booth seats, you admired the quaint charm of the restaurant and the eclectic mix of patrons milling about. You couldn't help but feel a sense of relief, knowing that you were safely tucked away from the majority of the crowd, which you knew was why Cillian had chosen this table. 

Soon after you were seated, you ordered your favorite dish, spicy fried rice and spring rolls, while Cillian ordered a variety of dishes to share, ensuring that you would enjoy the experience.

"Can you please not put any sprouts on any of these dishes?" Cillian requested politely, squirming slightly in his seat.

Confusion washed over your face. "I am sorry, but is there a reason why you dislike beansprouts?" you wondered curiously, genuinely perplexed.

"Oh, no...I like them. It's just that they are risky when you are pregnant. They sometimes carry listeria," Cillian clarified, his face scrunching up slightly. "You know, just in case you decide to keep the baby, there are some foods you shouldn't eat. I read it somewhere."

You paused, mulling over his words. "Well, then, I suppose we should avoid those," you chuckled nervously, exchanging a fleeting glance with Cillian.

The mention of the pregnancy stirred mixed emotions within you again, prompting a wave of discomfort. Yet, despite the turmoil brewing beneath the surface, you couldn't help but feel compelled by the notion of embracing this newfound potentiality.

"If I was to keep the baby, how would this work, between us?" you asked Cillian warily, trying to gauge his intentions.

Swallowing hard, Cillian shifted uneasily in his seat. "Well, I suppose that depends on what you want," he hedged cautiously, wanting to present a fair arrangement without jeopardizing your autonomy.

"I want to finish my studies and become a lawyer," you replied firmly, meeting his gaze head-on. "I need to focus on that and raising a child at the same time will be difficult," you explained, worry clouding your expression.

Cillian studied you intently, sensing the uncertainty behind your words. "I understand," he murmured, nodding slowly. "I truly do," he repeated, allowing himself a moment to gather his thoughts. "Let me propose something," he offered, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I will help you financially, however discreetly possible, until you graduate. I will buy you a house, for you and our child to live and, in return, you can let me be a part of our child's life. I can help look after the baby. You can work and study. Whatever you want to do. We can have a shared care arrangement in place," he proposed delicately but with determination burning in his eyes.

Your gaze drifted to the busy kitchen, watching the chefs whip up plates of delectable delights. The aromas wafting towards you stirred memories of your childhood spent cooking with your mother. You blinked back tears, yearning for a simpler time when life was less complicated. Swallowing hard, you turned your attention back to Cillian.

"Okay," you said, your voice barely audible amid the cacophony of the restaurant. "But, before I agree to anything, I need to clarify some things. First, you cannot buy me a house. That's too much and it wouldn't feel right," you argued fiercely, clutching your purse tightly.

Cillian shook his head vehemently, his gaze locked on yours. "Please, let me do this," he pleaded, his voice trembling slightly. "You cannot live the way you do with a child on the way," he implored earnestly, his blue eyes pleading with you.

"No, Cillian," you interrupted sternly, the corners of your mouth flattening into a thin line. "I refuse to be indebted to you. If I accept your offer, it will be on my terms."

"How about I buy the house on trust for our child, in my name, and you can pay the same amount of rent you are paying now, for the place you are living in," Cillian tried to compromise his initial proposal.

"That's more reasonable, I suppose," you agreed, your eyebrows arching upward.

"And where would you live?" you pressed, curious about the logistics of such an arrangement. Cillian hesitated, his gaze drifting to the candle flickering on the table.

"Nearby, I suppose," he muttered reluctantly, feeling the weight of responsibility bearing down on him. 

Your heart raced, your palms sweating with anxiety. "Alright," you agreed, swallowing hard. "But I will not stop working or studying," you stressed adamantly, raising your chin defiantly. "I want to make a life for myself and our child," you declared, your voice steadying.

Cillian smiled widely, relief washing over him. "I understand," he assured you sincerely before asking "so you will keep the baby?"

You deliberated silently. The decision weighed heavily on your shoulders, as the gravity of your choice bore down on you. This little life growing inside you was a force to be reckoned with, a tangible reminder of the consequences of your actions.

Finally, you met Cillian's gaze, determination reflecting in your eyes. "Yes, I will," you confirmed softly, your voice scarcely rising above a whisper just before Cillian's phone buzzed and he received a message from his sister.

"You are an idiot!" was all it said on the screen before, suddenly, a photograph popped up beneath it.

You glanced at Cillian who was staring at his phone incredulously, his face crinkling in disbelief, seeing that someone had snapped a photo of you, together, holding hands, before posting it on Twitter. 

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fic

[burningvelvet]

Percy Shelley’s earliest known letter, written shortly before turning 11-years-old, was an invitation to the aunt of his cousin Thomas Medwin to accompany them on a family picnic. He signs the letter with “Now I end. I am not Your obedient servant, P. B. SHELLEY.”

“Monday, July 18, 1803.

DEAR KATE,

We have proposed a day at the pond next Wednesday and, if you will come tomorrow morning, I would be much obliged to you; and, if you could any how bring Tom over to stay all the night, I would thank you. We are to have a cold dinner over at the pond, and come home to eat a bit of roast chicken and peas at about nine o'clock. Mama depends upon your bringing Tom over to-morrow, and, if you don't, we shall be very much disappointed. Tell the bearer not to forget to bring me a fairing, — which is some ginger-bread, sweetmeat, hunting-nuts, and a pocket-book. Now I end.

I am not

Your obedient servant,

P. B. SHELLEY.”

On the outside address he signs his name as “Free P. B. Shelley.” This is a joke on how his father was a member of parliament and therefore could “frank” his letters, meaning he didn’t have to pay for postage!

It’s interesting to note how this short and simple letter manages to showcase several of the most important elements of Percy’s character having been cemented at such a young age — his rebelliousness, his humour, his love for people and community, his descriptiveness, his directness, his eccentricity, and his propensity for female company.

Source: Roger Ingpen’s Letters of Percy Bysse Shelley Vol 1 via HathiTrust

#literature #english literature #aesthetic #poetry #percy shelley #romanticism #history #letters #correspondence #19th century #percy bysshe shelley #letter writing #romantic #young romantics #writing

[myocsfanfictions]

South Side Story

Shameless Fanfiction Season 1

Desna Hills has come living in the Southside of Chicago four years before. Taken in by Kev and V, Desna is close friends with the Gallaghers. Let's see how this Southside story unfolds.

MASTERLIST

<< Previous - Next >>

Chapter 6

“Desna, the man at that table has been waving for you for five minutes.”

“Thanks Tommy,” Desna said sarcastically, glaring at one of the Alibi regulars as she passed by, with three beers in her hands, “Why don’t you put on an apron and start to serve?” She said as she tell Kevin to get others two beers and a shot of vodka ready, then she move again to make her way towards the table where the guy was waiting.

“And since you are at it, another three beers!” She heard Tommy said.

That day the Alibi was packed with people, she didn’t know where to turn. Desna has been working three hours and still didn’t had a single moment even to go to the bathroom.

“Girly! Give me my beer!” She heard the voice of Frank Gallagher as he entered the Alibi, already drunk.

“I’m sure you’ll find your sit alone,” she said as she walked towards the counter, “Kevin!”

“I’m on it bug,” he said as he was filling other glasses of beer, before getting one ready for Frank.

“Hey sweety, where’s my shot?” Mickey Milkovich shout at her surrounding by his gang as he showed her his empty glass.

“Don’t call me that,” she said as she passed by, grabbing some empty glasses to bring them back at the counter.

“You are doing great,” Kev said happily when he passed behind her squeezing her shoulder.

“Glad to hear,” she answered filling some more glasses to bring to Milkovich.

“Another!” Frank shouted, and Desna gave him one of the shots she had in hand.

“I wanted beer,” he complained.

“It’s alcohol and Kev is taking ice,” she said for the countless time to bring the glasses she had prepared, “Enjoy it while he gets back.”

“Hey, love, my cousin wanted to know if your free later,” Mickey asked eyeing the boy next to him, sharing a laugh.

“I don’t think so,” she stated walking back hearing them laugh again.

“Can I offer you something?” She was ready to snap back when she noticed that who had made the question was Lip. As she saw him, Desna’s body relaxed and from her lips escaped a laugh.

“I can’t drink, sir,” she said smiling at him, “But for you I’d make an exception.”

“Oh yeah?” Lip smirked, but then Tommy called for her once again.

“Three more beers?” She asked as the man pointed at him and his companions, “Right on it!” She said before turning to Lip.

“Are you looking for Frank?” She asked pointing behind her back.

“Why? Is he here?” He answered with a frown, that made her chuckle.

“Desna!” Tommy called again, and she groaned before making her way to the counter, to fill new glasses. She noticed that Lip had gotten closer to the counter as Kev walked out from the back.

“Where were you?” Desna asked, “Couldn’t you find the way back?”

“I was about to give you five minutes of break,” he said and her eyes grew bigger.

“You took the time that it was needed,” she said sweetly.

“That’s what I thought,” he said as Desna smiled, before walking to Lip.

“Are you here for drink?” She asked him.

“Umm… no,” at his answer she took his hand bringing pulling him along side her as she exited from the back of the bar. Finally breathing as the cool air hit her face.

“Busy night, eh?” Lip said giving her a sigarette that she gladly took, quickly lighting it up.

“Everyday is a good day to drink,” she said taking a drag before passing it to him, who brought the sigarette in his mouth, “But it seems that they decide when be a pain in the ass all together.”

Lip laughed as he passed the thing to her once again.

“Why are you here?” She asked taking a drag.

Lip shrugged his shoulders, “Passing by,” he said and Desna nodded her head, blowing out the smoke.

“Are you free this Thursday, in the afternoon?” He asked her.

“There’s the game,” that Thursday Kevin was organizing the bar so to make it possible to see the game with the costumers, “Kev still didn’t ask me to help though, why?” She tilted her head to a side, observing him putting his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.

“Fiona is organizing this thing where we are going to instal the new TV,” he explained, “Steve is coming, and she wants to ask V too.”

She frowned in curiosity “Then why did you want to ask me-”

“Told you, I was passing by,” he shrugged his shoulders. And she found herself nodding her head.

“If Kev doesn't ask for my help, I can make it,” she said throwing the sigarette on the ground and stepping on it with her foot.

“Yeah?” Desna nodded with a smile.

“Okay,” he said, giving a glance at the door before walking towards her. In a moment his lips were on hers and his arms around her waist. She was surprised by the action, but she didn’t complain as she brought her arms around his neck, bringing him close. He slowly pushed towards the wall, until her back hit the wall.

“Not here,” she muttered against his lips, then she noticed his gaze being deep in thought, and she brought her hand on his cheek.

“What is it?” She asked caressing his skin.

“I should…” he said, “I should really bring Karen too.”

“What?” She asked pushing him back, slightly.

“Yeah, no I mean, you’re both my friends, so,” he stuttered, “And-”

“You’re fucking both of us,” she challenged him, as she moved away from him.

“We said no jealousy,” he said, “You two are different,” but that made her laugh bitterly.

“No, I don’t think so,” she said as he shrugged his shoulders.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

Desna shook her head, putting her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, “Listen, do whatever you want, I don’t fucking care.”

“Are you angry now?” He asked making her stop as she was about to get back in.

“I don’t know..” she said sarcastically, “What if next time I bring the other guy that I’m fucking?”

“You’re not fucking anyone else,” he protested.

“Yeah,” Desna said, “Maybe I should.”

“Oh, come on!” Lip said stopping her by the arm, but she snapped it away.

“Why bring it up now?” She asked challenging him, who just scoffed.

“I thought about it, I said it,” he said simply.

“Bullshit!” She said and he laughed annoyed, pacing as he passed his hand on his mouth, “Why do you always do this?” Desna asked.

“Doing what?” He argued.

“Last time you brought me with you to see your so called friend suck your brother, because, what was it?” She said mockingly, “I don’t have to fear Karen. So, what? It is her turn now?”

“Karen is my fucking best friend, Desna!” He argued with low voice.

“Then what does this makes me?” She yelled at him. And she noticed his jaw clench. They observed each other in silence, they could even hear the voices from the inside of the bar as they kept staring.

“I don’t want things to change between us,” Desna laughed at that.

“You can’t even answer a question,” she said turning her back at him ready to get back in, but then he grabbed by the arm pulling her so that she would face him.

“This,” he answered and she scoffed, “We are this.”

“Not my question,” she answered shaking her head, “Let me fucking go.”

“Why do you have to complicate everything?” He asked angrily, his hand still gripping her arm.

“Why can’t you answer a fucking question?” His jaw clenched again looking at her, “What is this uh? You’ve got a label for her but not for me, Lip?” she said pushing his shoulder with her free hand, his jaw even more clenched. She shoved him again, “She is your best friend, then what am I?!”

His other hand moved blocking her other wrist yanking her closer, “A good fuck,” he hissed. Desna eyes widened, before she pushed him, freeing herself, then her hand moved to slap him across the face.

“Fuck you,” She said coldly. His eyes widened, just before the door of the bar got opened by Kev.

“Bug, I need you help over there,” he said before looking between the two of them, “Are you guys okay?”

“Yeah,” she answered keep looking at Lip, “He was going home,” the boy observed her as he wanted to say something, but Desna turned her back at him, pushing past Kevin to go back to work.

Fucking Lip Gallagher.

A good fuck! She was a fucking good fuck! That’s all he wanted from her? Karen Jackson was his best friend, she was just a good fuck? Then he wouldn’t have mind her doing the same. She enter the hall, grabbing a shot of techila and swallow it whole, before she made her way towards Milkovich table.

“Look who’s here!” Mikey said, but she turned to the boy to his left.

“You wanted to know if I was free after, right?” She asked at the boy, who nodded his head, “Fine, my shift ends at 11.00, hope you’ve got somewhere we can fuck,” she didn’t even gave him time to answer, as she get back swallowing another shot of tequila.

******

Tag List: @th3h0nkz @aunicornmademedoit

If you liked it, please leave a ♥️ and reblog!

#shameless imagine #shameless fanfiction #shameless smut #shameless #lip gallagher smut #lip gallagher x oc #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher imagine #lip gallagher fanfiction #lip gallagher #fiona gallagher #ian gallagher #carl gallagher #debbie gallagher #liam gallagher #frank gallagher #mickey milkovich #smut

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Wonderful

CW: Intimate whump, frank/mocking noncon discussion, captivity, forced relationship (... sort of), threats of violence/death

(As always, Jax is @comfy-whumpee's OC and is used with permission and oversight)

-

Brayden Marcoset has never hated a single soul as much as he hates his cousin’s stupid fucking English muffin of a man.

Savvie had taken a perfectly good house slave, trained by the best man in the business, and then she somehow ruined him entirely. Placid and obedient had become watchful and cunning. As if she’d turned a fucking housepet into a caged, half-rabid… coyote, or something.

Not that Brayden’s ever seen one other than on television, but… still. Metaphors don’t matter.

She’s given the man delusions of grandeur, pulled him into her bed when he should have spent his nights in the servant quarters or bedded down with the hunting hounds where he belongs. 

It’s one thing for a Marcoset man to take a liking to staff - that's just part of life - but none of them ever demanded to marry one. And no Marcoset man ever tried to make any of the resulting little bastards into legitimate Marcoset heirs. 

It’s disgusting. 

Brayden’s eyelid twitches just looking at him, where he sits on the long end of the sectional like he even deserves to be there. Savvie dresses him in clothes that are worth more than he is, simpers and smiles and kisses him, calls him sweet little nicknames and all but throws herself at him 24 hours a day, seven days a week.

It’s hell, having to play along with her ridiculous little games.

But… here they are, he and the man Savvie insists on calling her husband sitting across from each other like this is normal or fine and not Savvie twisting and bending the rules of reality to her will like she always does.

Jax should be standing unobtrusively in a corner waiting to be given an order. He should be wearing the staff uniform of white shirt, black pants, black collar, and eyes on the ground.

He should be her little secret she brings to her bed and then sends away right after and he should be grateful for being her favorite.

Instead, he’s sitting on the couch as miserable as Brayden is, wearing a pair of tailored jeans and a sweater Brayden owns himself in a different color and now can’t wear ever again, not now that the muffin has worn it. 

Not now that he realizes Jax looks better in that style of sweater than he does. 

Grudgingly, he admits to himself that Jax looks pretty good in general. Too thin, thanks to Savvie’s iron control over how much he eats and when he gets the chance to eat it, but… good. He’s got that hint of lean muscle you can’t quite hide, and his hair looks good. Maybe he’s got shadows under his eyes, but really… that’s not so bad. He’s handsome enough, even with the shock collar permanently locked around his neck. 

Next to him, looking ethereal - she thinks, anyway - in an empire-waist gown with too many layers of faint pastel shades that she believes turn her into some kind of watercolor queen, Savvie has a hand on his knee as she gestures. She pauses, looking between he and Jax, and Brayden feigns a reaction - he has no idea what she just said. 

Neither does Jax, he thinks - he’s staring slightly off to one side as Savvie chatters about their most recent ‘babymoon’, a trip down to the beach house to enjoy the waves, work on her next album, and really just focus on being ‘us’ for a while. She’s only twenty-three weeks pregnant and they’ve already gone on two of the damn things, Savvie dragging Jax with her like the idiot little dog on a short leash he might as well be.

How many more can she plan? How many more of these stories is he going to have to pretend he’s listening to?

Brayden watches Jax instead.

His jaw is angled more sharply than it was when he’d first arrived, years ago, as if he’s always biting something back. Brayden had seen him a few times before back then, before he’d gone to the cops and it had nearly cost them all everything… Jax had been blank, then, too, but it had been… different. 

Now he isn’t really empty. 

Jax's face always looks like a computer with the monitor off but programs still whirring all the same. Whatever there is going on behind his eyes, Brayden can’t see it. And he’s usually pretty good at reading the shit the servants think they’re hiding. Or roughing them up until they tell him anyway.

But with Jax, it’s like looking through completely frosted glass. Shadows, a hint of a color, maybe, but… nothing clear. Never enough to get any understanding. Being trapped in Savvie’s life - in her bed, in her arms - has made Jax into a better liar than he’d been when he first arrived.

That’s not just irritating.

That’s dangerous.

But Savvie doesn’t see it.

Savvie pauses, leans over, whispers into Jax’s ear as she gives his knee a squeeze. Brayden watches a soft smile flicker across his face, gone as fast as it came. He whispers, Yes, Miss Savvie in that hushed voice that makes Brayden’s teeth itch. Savvie pushes herself to her feet. Her stomach isn't really that rounded but she acts like it’s already huge, rubbing her hand over it, up and down. Brayden barely stops himself from rolling his eyes. 

He gets the sense Jax feels the same as he does, for once.

“I’ll be right back,” Savvie says brightly. “Keep an eye on him for me, won’t you, Bray? Just… part of the magic, I guess, is having to go to the bathroom every six minutes. I swear…” She’s still talking when she leaves the room. Has she stopped since she got here? He’s pretty sure she hasn’t. She barely even pauses to breathe.

But at least the room gets quiet, now. 

He glances over at Jax, who doesn’t look back. But, like a shark scenting blood a mile away, Brayden sees how his scarred hands shift where they rest, falsely relaxed. Brayden watches his ring finger twitch, the simple band Savvie put there glinting dimly in the light. 

“How badly do you wish she would just drop dead right now?” He asks, seemingly idly, tipping his cut-crystal glass to watch the whiskey and ice swirl around each other. “More than before she got herself pregnant, or less?”

Jax’s jaw shifts. Those eyes move to his, briefly, all innocent uncertainty. “Don’t know w-what you mean,” He says, voice low. 

“Oh, give up the bullshit,” Brayden says, huffing as he takes a drink, leaning over with his elbows on his thighs. He finds a half-smile, but he doesn’t mean it, and he doesn’t try to look like he does. “We all know how you feel. You might as well be honest with me about it. Besides, we’re basically family, now, right? I was at your wedding. I was your best man, your best-... what, d’you call it your best mate in merry old England?”

He laughs at his own mockery of an accent that has only the slightest relation to Jax’s own, taking a drink. This is his fourth whiskey of the evening and the other three went down smooth. The world is getting brighter, with sharper edges - just how he likes it.

At the mention of the wedding - where Jax had gone where he was told, done what he was told to do, said the words Savvie gave him to say, and probably gone back to Savvie’s home that night and whispered sweet nothings like a man with a gun to his head - Jax’s fingers twitch again. They close into loose fists. He doesn’t even bother with a reply, this time. 

Just looks away again.

“Hey.” Brayden frowns, snapping his fingers, but Jax doesn’t even flinch. “I’m talking to you.”

 More silence.

“Come on. Give me something to work with.” He sits back again, raking a hand back through his hair. “You’re a treat to have around for a visit, aren’t you? So very talkative. Goddamn chatty. Jax, why are you even here, anyway? You don’t have to be.”

That gets him the briefest bit of eye contact, but nothing more. “Miss Savvie was invited for dinner,” He says, voice low and blank and empty. It makes Brayden’s anger rise like a storm surge inside him, battering his resolve. 

The rest of the staff… react. They murmur obedience, they smile when he tells them to, they answer every question with yes, Master Brayden or no, Master Brayden, or whatever you want, Master Brayden. But Jax, the worst of them all, has to be treated like he matters just because Savvie thinks his dick hung the moon. 

Brayden moves fluidly onto his feet, ignoring the way the world spins a little. Maybe, he thinks, he shouldn’t have another whiskey after he finishes this one. He moves around the coffee table, closing the distance between them. Jax’s fists close tighter and tighter, until his nails must be breaking skin. As Brayden bends and then leans in close, Jax subtly leans away, trying to keep distance between them.

But Brayden isn’t in the mood for distance.

Not tonight.

Instead, he shifts gears, switches over to easygoing, we’re all guys here friendliness. “Seriously, man. We all know she’s batshit, she always was. We all know it. Nobody really thinks this is Romeo and Juliet but her. You know? You should be scrubbing floors right now. Or… I don’t know, maybe you should be somewhere else. Like back home, huh?”

Jax takes in a breath, his eyes determinedly focused on a spot on the wall somewhere over Brayden’s shoulder, but he doesn’t reply. This close, Brayden can smell the cologne Savvie makes him wear. 

“It’s okay,” Brayden murmurs, looking towards the door Savvie went through and then back. “It’s just the two of us here. Be honest with me, Mr. Marm-... Marcoset.” He’s slurring a little as the whiskeys catch up to him, but it doesn’t matter. “You spend half the night thinking about putting a pillow over her fucking face, and you know nobody who actually knew her would even blame you, so why not do it? Or… look, it’s just us here and now. Just you and me. Tell me why you don’t just… go, get out of here, get the fuck out of my sight. And don’t say the collar. If you’re here at this house, the shock collar can’t be set to make you stay at her house, so… why not just fucking take off before she can get to the remote? You could make it outside before she even notices. I wouldn’t even say anything, I’d just sit here and wait. I’d even give you a good head start.”

He drops his voice lower, soft and poisonously seductive. The kind of voice he might use on a pretty servant girl, not his cousin’s idiot husband. Just above a whisper. The same way he might have otherwise murmured to one of the staff to be in my room at midnight, to Jax he offers a different kind of poison laced with sugar. 

“She left the keys in the car, didn’t she? You know she did. Go on, Jax. I won’t say a damn thing. Just go. Get the fuck out of our lives and be free and then I never have to see your ugly fucking face again.”

He’s nearly breathing whiskey-breath in Jax’s face, and still, the man doesn’t move. Doesn’t even wrinkle his nose.

Brayden chuckles, forcing it, because he’s getting absolutely nothing from the man still seated in perfect still silence on the couch, but he can feel under all that empty space the rising tension. He can tell he’s getting to Jax, at least a little. 

He wants to throw him to the floor, kick his ribs until he hears the satisfying snap when one of them breaks, and then keep going. Give Savvie back her man with black eyes and busted-out teeth, a broken jaw. Show him how little he means, no matter what Savvie tells him.

He’s just staff.

He’s just something else the Marcosets own.

He doesn’t deserve their name, and he isn’t even grateful for it.

“Come on,” He murmurs, nearly close enough to touch now. “You know you want to go. You could get out before there’s some little monster screaming for you alongside her all night, some bastard baby you’ll hate as much as you hate her. Throw a punch, I’ll let you hit me even. Make it look like a fight and not like you’re just following my orders, too. Go on. Or… well, wait a second.”

He sits down next to Jax, slinging an arm around his shoulder like they’re the best of friends, leaning in until he’s nearly close enough to kiss.

“Do you... do you not even want to go? Huh? Is the problem that you really want to be here? Got a lil case of the Stockholm Syndrome? That’s not real, you know. They made it up... doesn’t matter. But hey, maybe you have it anyway. Maybe you like fucking her every single night. That’s why you never take the chances, because… because we know there are chances, don’t we, you and I? After you dick her down real good, she falls asleep and you have hours, but no… you stay right there and wait to be told to dick her down again, huh? Because you want to be here." He laughs again, barely making a sound. "You sad little shit, you actually love her and you don’t even know it. Love her so much you’re having a baby together. Some little fucking clone of my cousin, but hey. Maybe the little goblin will have your eyes, huh? You can teach it to say yes, Miss Savvie like a goddamn moron just like you. Gonna be the baby's first words, right?"

There.

Jax’s back and shoulders feel like iron, tense as steel bearing too much weight under the soft cashmere, beneath Brayden’s arm. The way that tension turns to shaking makes him smile. Jax’s knuckles are bleached against the fabric of his jeans, his face paper-white beneath some red that lingers in his cheeks. 

It’s a good look on him.

It’d be better if he was bleeding.

Too much whiskey has Brayden’s hand creeping back up, over the back of Jax’s neck to the shock collar’s lock. He knows the combo, the whole family knows the combo they use for the shock collars. “I’ll take it off,” He whispers, “And give you twenty minutes. How far can you get, I wonder? I want to see. Don’t you want to see how far you can get?”

Jax’s eyes, locked as they are on the wall in front of him, flare slightly. Brayden’s close enough to hear his breathing suddenly go shallow, and then catch. 

“Come on,” Brayden whispers. “Run, rabbit. Run.”

Brayden’s fingers brush over the lock, the hair that just barely curls over it at the nape of Jax’s neck. 

“Don’t,” Jax says, voice tight. 

Brayden’s lip curls in disgust. “Why not?”

“Because, Brayden, in this particular moment he is smarter than you are.”

The voice of Brayden’s father booms from the doorway,.

Brayden feels blood somehow both rush to his face and also drain from it at the same moment. Then his vision goes red. Jax had seen Isaac coming, hadn’t he? He'd seen, and he hadn’t said a damn thing.

Brayden gets back to his feet, stumbling forward before straightening his posture. Even in his late thirties, he’s still got a hint of nerves around Isaac. Being too drunk in front of his father feels like a great way to get himself in deep shit all over again.

Isaac Marcoset, always the biggest presence in any room he enters, moves casually as he rolls his sleeves back down. Smears of faint red on his knuckles are the only sign of the work he’s been busy with for the past hour. The head of the Marcoset family is all charm and darkness. He’s sly smiles and handshakes that sometimes go on just a little too long, and he’s also agonizing, lingering death in a back room, with staff removing bodies out the back door.

Brayden takes a breath. He feels the strangely teenage urge to hide his whiskey glass behind his back and fights it. “Hey... Hey, Dad.”

Isaac only raises an eyebrow, pouring himself a drink from the bar cart in the corner. The silence draws out, awkward and heavy.

Brayden clears his throat. “I-I wasn’t really going to take it off, I was… I was just fucking with him, that’s all.”

“I certainly hope you’re not fucking with him, Bray.” Isaac takes a drink, waiting for Brayden to understand his terse joke. No one laughs. “I realize he has some sort of attractive quality to him, although I have no idea what, but still. It’s bad enough that my niece lowers herself to bedding him, surely you can abstain?” 

Brayden's face burns so hot he half thinks he'll catch fire. "Dad!"

In the corner of his eyes, Brayden sees the corners of Jax’s smile shift into a shit-eating little smirk. 

The little shit. How dare he looks like that, like he's gotten one over on Brayden, and how dare he wear the fucking wedding ring that means Brayden can’t even do anything about it. Not anything permanent enough to count, anyway.

Brayden drops back into his seat, hunching his shoulders and glaring over the edge of his glass. He tells himself if Jax so much as cracks a fucking joke, he’ll break this glass, carve that smirk into the stupid fucker's face, and beg Savvie for forgiveness afterward. 

When he looks, though, Jax isn’t even looking at him. Those hazel eyes are locked on Isaac, as if Brayden simply ceases to exist when his father walks in the door. It’s a feeling that’s far too familiar, and it makes Brayden feel… small.

Which pisses him off even more.

And Jax knows it.

“Hello, Uncle Isaac,” Jax says, serene. As if they were all simply discussing the weather. But that shit-eating grin doesn’t leave his face, even if it never makes it to his eyes. 

“Hello, miscreant,” Isaac replies, apparently in a good enough mood to humor him. “I have to assume, if I’m forced to endure your presence, that my niece is here as well?”

“She went to th’bathroom,” Brayden mutters, drinking the rest of his whiskey in two gulps, using the burn as a distraction from his embarrassment and fury at even being embarrassed in front of glorified staff, Savvie’s little toy. “Mother said… what, twenty minutes ago? I think? She said supper’s served at seven.”

“Hm. Not much longer, then. Good, I’ve worked up an appetite.” Isaac settles into his favorite armchair in the sitting room, tapping fingertips on the upholstery. “You should learn to control yourself, Bray. My niece’s choice of men may not run to the most handsome or most intelligent-... or men with brains at all, really-... but despite his many faults… well. There isn't anything we can do about those. The miscreant remains whether we like it or not."

“Now you’re just hurting my feelings,” Jax says, with absolutely no emotion whatsoever. “Thought we were family now, Uncle Isaac.” 

Brayden glares at him - he’s been silent, but now he talks? Now he has little quips to say, once Brayden looks like a moron in front of his father and Isaac is the one holding fucking court?

Jax’s smile widens ever so slightly as he finally meets Brayden’s eyes. “Didn’t you just say so? You were at the wedding. You were my best mate.”

“I’m going to pull your teeth out with pliers!” Brayden lunges forward with a roar. He winds one arm back and whips his glass right at Jax, whose hands are up fast enough that it just bounces off his forearms, sprays half-melted ice cubes and whiskey-flavored water in Jax’s hair and clothes, and then cracks into pieces on the floor. “You little shit! I’ll pull out each and every fucking fingernail and make you regret-”

“Brayden Marcoset!” Isaac’s voice is louder than the pulse of fury in Brayden’s mind. “Calm yourself!”

For a long, drawn-out moment, he can’t move. All he can think about is choking the life out of Jax until his smirk dies, until his eyes go dim, and then the emptiness isn’t fake anymore, it’s real. And he can see that Jax knows he wants to, knows just how little there is keeping him from turning him into a smear on the floor for the staff to scrub out.

He wouldn’t even be the first.

Then, he takes a breath and sits down.

“Hannah!” He yells over his shoulder. “Come clean this mess up in here!”

She’s always close by. Hannah, one of the aforementioned bastards the Marcosets hold onto for their own purposes, looks entirely too much like Savvie. She, though, wears the white-and-black uniform, her collar snug around her neck, and her hair - that Marcoset hair, wavy and thick - is cut to her chin. She swallows, hard, when she sees them all. “Master-... oh, good evening, Master Isaac,” She says, feigning cheer, but Brayden isn’t in the fucking mood for it. "Master Jax."

"He's nobody's fucking master. Shut the fuck up. Just clean up the fucking mess,” He says, and waves his hand. Hannah takes in the sight of the cracked glass on the floor and droplets of water, Jax sitting there marked with it himself, and then her gaze moves to the fury on Brayden’s face. 

She pulls a towel from where it had been tucked over her belt for easy use. Her face is carefully expressionless. “Yes, Master Brayden.”

That’s more like it.

The three of them watch her clean in awkward silence - or Isaac and Brayden do, who the fuck knows what Jax is actually looking at - and then she vanishes as quickly as she came.

Brayden points after her. “That should be you,” He says to Jax, voice flat. “Cleaning up my mess, saying yes sir and no sir, and never giving me any shit. Got it? Savvie’s weird obsession with you is the only thing that keeps me from making sure you work your hands to the bone here on my orders.”

Jax opens his mouth - Brayden’s going to kill him, whatever he says next - but Isaac speaks before he manages to say whatever was on his mind. 

“Oh, let it go,” Isaac says, waving a hand. “You’re letting him work you up. When you do this, you teach him that he matters to you.”

“He-”

The door bursts open and all three men tense, then, but it’s only Savvie returning. She’s breathless and flushed and her eyes are shining. She looks like a princess in a fairytale as she rushes forward to grab Jax’s hands in her own and pull him to his feet. “Jax! Honey, come feel!”

She doesn’t even seem to see her cousin or uncle. Only Jax.

Only.

Jax.

Brayden’s teeth grind together watching Jax’s sly cunning disappear, replaced with the play-acting at earnest, if nervous, adoration that Savvie demands from him. Everyone else on earth could disappear and Savvie wouldn’t care, as long as she had her fucking English muffin to cling to.

Nothing fucking matters but him.

“Feel what, Miss Savvie…?” Jax’s confusion, at least, is genuine. His hands hang slightly limp in her grip. She pulls him to her, pressing his palms over her stomach through her dress, biting her lower lip and looking downward.

Brayden groans as he realizes what it is.

Jax glances at him and then back, but it doesn’t seem to have sunk in for him, not just yet. Then he flinches, minutely, eyes widening. He pulls his hands back. “M-Miss Savvie-”

There are bloodstains, small but vibrant, on her dress now, from the wounds he’s made with his own fingernails in the palms of his hands. 

Savvie doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care. 

She pulls him right back, her hands pressed down a little too hard over his to keep them where she wants them. Hard enough to make him wince. Savvie’s forehead touches his, and she whispers excitedly, “Did you feel her? Did you feel her kicking?”

Jax stares down, then, at their hands, and her rounded stomach. As if he could look right through it and see the growing life inside. “Yeah,” He whispers. He looks like he wants to sink into the floor, like he might be sick. “I-... I feel it, I th-think. That’s-”

“That’s her kicking,” Savvie whispers. “That’s her. Jax, sweetie, that’s…” She sniffs, taking pause for dramatic effect. “That’s our daughter. Our baby.”

“Th-that’s our baby,” Jax repeats. He sounds numb. 

“Oh,” Savvie whispers, sounding a little amazed. It’s an oddly genuine sound, dropping the theatrics, the eternal performance. As if this has knocked even Savvie out of her usual song-and-dance. She hesitates, and then shifts Jax’s hands a little. “She’s kicking harder for you, isn’t she? She knows it’s you already.”

“Y-... you think she does?” Jax’s voice nearly matches Savvie’s. The awe in his voice might almost be real. It’s brief, but they almost look and sound like a real couple. Just for a second. Just if you tilt your head, squint, and pretend you don’t see the shock collar locked on his neck and the way she holds his hands too tight. 

“Yeah,” Savvie says, and her smile is sweet as she lifts one hand to touch his face. There’s a pause, Jax’s eyes are locked on her stomach, he doesn’t react to her touch at all. Some of the syrupy-soft smile on her face starts to fade. The warmth in her chills. “Jax. She knows you’re her daddy, isn’t that wonderful?”

Half of Brayden is amused that she still has to prod Jax to give his line, to keep up the performance. Half of him is disgusted that Jax goes along with it, tips his head into the palm of her hand and gives her the big doe eyes she loves so much.

“Yes, Miss Savvie,” Jax answers, automatically, meeting her gaze now. He turns his face and it might almost seem like he’s kissing her palm, although even drunk Brayden can see that he isn’t really doing that at all. Savvie, though, sees what she wants to see - she always has. Jax’s fingers twitch where his hands are still laid on her rounded stomach, feeling the shifting movements of the growing child, the fucking anchor Savvie has tied around his neck. He manages something like a slight, faint smile. “It’s w-wonderful.”

It’s fucking depressing, is what it is.

“Fuck,” Brayden mutters, wishing he had another drink. 

#the motherfucking gallaghers #jax gallagher #jax #savvie marcoset #sadistic whumper #captivity #whump #multiple whumpers #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #defiant whumpee #it's quiet here but jax absolutely is pissing brayden off #also features: brayden being weirdly homoerotic about jax #you uh #you got something to share with the class there buddy #alcohol use tw #pregnancy tw

[equallyshaw]

king of my heart | colton dach.

little blurb😌

•

Warnings: some angst ofc, some swearing.

•

Word count: 4.7k

•

Time skips/slow burning (:

——

'the first meeting'

angela pulled her shy and quiet cousin piper, from her room one evening, forcing her to participate in the group shenanigans. piper sighed, letting her cousin drag her from her room after putting up quite a fight. she argued that her midterm essay was more important than whatever was going on in the living room. which to be frank it was, but to angela she wanted piper to meet the somewhat flashy, arrogant and charismatic colton dach. best friend to her boyfriend, nolan allan. a golden retriever and black cat, match made in heaven angela and nolan believed.

nolan spotted her from the living room, as he looked to the kitchen which peaked in just a bit in his view. "ah my favorite ricci!" he said jumping up and going over to greet the girl. angela and piper were the closest of the cousins, practically sisters because of being the same age. therefore, once nolan came into the picture, he took her in as a sister. "ahh yes, one of the annoying canadian's." she huffed filling her water bottle. "hey now, you've got more in there that could fit that bill." he mused pulling her in for a bear hug. "watch the hair, dude." she gritted causing angela to laugh heartedly. "ok come on you two." she said pushing the two towards the 2008 mario kart competition that was happening between nolan, colton, bedard, reichel, vlasic, and korchinski. "she's hereee!" angela announced and piper rolled her eyes. "if it isn't the famous piper!" vlasic said causing piper to roll her eyes, "hi alex, nice to see you again." she said sitting down beside him on the couch. the other guys looked over to wave and introduce themselves. colton was the furthest from the girl, sitting on the ground, and waited his turn to say hi. as soon as the two locked eyes, he felt himself get incredibly nervous. his stomach filled with Butterflies. she gave him a small smile before snatching the controller from vlasic and taking over for him. "oh oh its on!" nolan announced, ready to or at least attempt to beat the skilled girl. "you have to realize at some point babe, that you are never going to beat her. not with her constantly playing by herself." angela said without filtering what she was going to say. "you say that if it's a bad thing, angie." alex said quickly defusing the situation and taking the blow just a bit. piper swallowed hard, focusing in on her character. she gave a small nod to alex, thanking him. colton watched from his spot on the floor, before turning back toward the screen. he was intrigued by that little comment.

•

'callin me babe'

it was a few weeks later when piper was by herself at the apartment finishing up some textbook reading when she heard a knock at her door. she looked at the time, and knew that angela was still in class so it couldn't be her. unless she forgot her keys ofcourse. piper hopped off the kitchen barstool and headed over towards the door, and she was surprised at who she found on the other side. "hey colton, right?" she asked and he nodded. a small blush appearing over his cheeks. "how can i help ya?" she asked, opening the door further for him to enter. "i left something here a few days ago, and nolan said i could come over and grab it. or well downstairs." he said chuckling just a bit. "oh, yeah for sure! you live upstairs?" she asked and he nodded, going to retrieve the item. "yeah, i just started a sublease for the time being." he said coming back into the kitchen where she was. "oh nice!" piper said from behind the counter. colton walked back in and stared at the girl for a few seconds, "i couldn't find it." he said and her eyebrows creased a bit. "nolan should be back from the store soon, do you wanna wait here until then?" she offered and he nodded. "you can watch tv or play the wii or do whatever. ill just be in here if you need anything." she said smiling softly and he nodded. "what are you working on?" he asked as she sat back down. "uhh just some light case reading." she joked, flipping the 3rd page of the 12 page case study. she unclasped her highlighter, and read the first line when colton spoke again. "angela said you're studying psychology right?" he asked and she nodded, continuing to read. "that's neat, she said you wanna do non profit work?" he questioned and she looked up from her packet and nodded at him. "yeah, how much other info has she given out about me?" she asked half serious. though, colton couldn't tell. "uhhh...." he stuttered and she giggled. "I'm kidding, i promise. its always nice keeping you hockey players on your toes." she hummed, sipping her water. "oh really?" he asked cocking an eyebrow, leaning across the counter in front of her. "ah huh. nolan is easy ofcourse, little shit. and then alex can catch it sometimes but he's still a dummy." she explained causing colton to laugh. "nolan is special, what can we say?" he played and she giggled. colton thought for a second, "you and alex?" he questioned and piper caught on. "oh god no! angela and i have known him since we were younglings. our two brothers used to play hockey with him. he's family." piper said shaking her head. colton nodded, "why do you ask?" piper questioned. colton thought for a few seconds before responding, "had to know if i had a chance with ya." he said confidently. piper looked down at her case study before looking at him, anxiety rising within her body. "is that so?" she quirked and he smiled. "ya know it babe." he mused, causing her to blush.

•

it had been a few weeks since then and spring break was now rolling around for the girl. the two still hadn't gone out with one another due to her cramming last-minute essays in and him away on the road. though they had hung out with the group a few times, over dinner after a game or a sunday brunch which was piper and angela's favorite thing to do. colton made his way down from upstairs with two cups of coffee this rainy and foggy, monday morning. he let himself in with a key nolan had given him and korchinski who was colton's roommate. "morning lovebirds." colton announced walking into the living room and angela flipped him off from under the blanket. nolan laughed softly, "long night, I'm sure piper is feeling the same." nolan explained and colton's eyebrows crinkled. "she drank?" he asked and nolan nodded. "i thought she didn't." he said and nolan shrugged, "she got a bad grade. she's upset about it." angela groaned, and colton nodded walking down the hall towards piper's room. he knocked softly, hearing the box fan on the other side and quickly slipped in. piper was awake but had her eyes shut, "hey babe." colton said softly, setting down the coffee on her bedside table. she turned over and smiled softly, "hi." she said opening one eye to look up at him. she looked lovely in his eyes, her brunette hair laid across the pillow, her green eyes lighting up in the sun that peeked through her blinds and the softness of her voice, laced it all together. "i was just thinking about this, thankyou." she hummed sitting up and pulling the cup to her chest. she looked back up at colton and padded the spot next to her. he nodded, walking over and hopping in. this was not the first time he'd ended up in her bed. the other three times were from becoming too tired or exhausted to go back upstairs to his own bed. that was it, nothing else. she sat against the headboard, shutting her eyes for a few seconds. it was instant, she felt his eyes on her. "can you not?" she teased, setting her coffee down and turning over on her side. colton set his down and turned on his side to face the girl, watching as he did so. "hi babe." she hummed, smiling. "whats your plan for the day?" she asked, and he looked up as if he had to think. but he wanted one thing, "whatever you're doing." and that made her smile. "well, if dancemoms is on your schedule than perfect, cause i have nothing else to do." she said cheekily. he laughed, "ofcourse! what else would i want to do on a rainy day." he responded filling her with butterflies. "good." she hummed. "good." he responded, "now that we have that settled, which season are we watching?" he questioned, and she smiled widely jumping up a bit. "season 2 the best one of all!" she said excitedly, turning on her tv.

•

'king of my heart'

it was now thursday of that week, and the blackhawks had pulled out a huge win against the detroit red wings, with the team having the rest of the week off; the little group of younglings - well hooligans according to piper, were on their way back to their apartment after a long dinner. piper drove her and colton through the city streets, as she felt concerned about him driving in the city. she commented on his driving one day they went to get starbucks together with korchinski and she felt as if she was going to die as they were michigan avenue. she took her right hand off the wheel and laid it down on the middle console as the two were only a few blocks away from the apartment itself. colton took that opportunity to grab ahold of it, causing her to blush. they pulled into the parking garage, with colton not wanting to let go of the girl's hand. she took her time collecting her things from the console and making sure his seat was back in it's original spot, so he took that chance to walk over and open the door for her. "why, thankyou." she beamed, taking the hand outstretched for her. "ofcourse m'lady." and she laughed at the dorkiness. the two walked through the garage, holding eachother's hand seeing nolan and angela walking on the other side of it.

piper smiled at angela who was skipping around nolan, pretty thankful and happy they beat the wings. as they got closer, piper could hear the lyrics coming out excitedly from the 5'5 girl, causing her to laugh. as soon as the chorus came up, piper joined in, screaming at the top of their lungs; doing the little 'one goal' dance from the previous era. "oh god." vlasic said walking with korchinski, bedard and reichel. the cousins took each others hand and spun around in a circle, "i fear angela may have had too much to drink tonight." nolan said laughing, as they tried to move the two along. "how rude!" angela defended, causing the group to laugh. "none of yall are allowed to come over. not even you nol baby." she said leaning on her cousin, "nol baby that's a good one!" colton said laughing, with nolan rolling his eyes.

the group made it up to the apartment, music on swiftly and drinks given out. piper took a seltzer and headed over towards her room for a brief moment, to put her hawks jersey back in the closet. she heard a knock at the door, and she knew it was colton. she turned towards alex instead, and she had a perplexed look on her face. "hey bud." she said shutting her closet door. alex sat on the bed, well sprawled out on it. "whats up? girl troubles?" she teased, laying down from the opposite side. he chuckled, "you could say that." he said coolly. she rolled onto her side, putting her head in her hand. "well as much as i would love to talk about girl drama, we've got to celebrate." she said slapping his chest softly. "i feel so loved." he huffed, standing up and began to walk out. she pushed him out and saw colton coming down the hall. she leaned on the threshold and smirked as he got closer, "what can i do for ya?" she mused, kicking the door open wider for him to walk in. she shut the door behind them, and she sat down on her bed and he followed, now sprawling out himself. she looked down at him, crossing one leg underneath her. she quirked an eyebrow, as he sat up. he did not break eye contact, as he leaned in. his mouth so close to hers, she felt his breath on hers. he leaned in a few inches more, and connected the two's lips. oh how she'd been waiting for this, she thought. she wrapped her arms around his neck as his found her lower back. slowly pushing her into her pillows, they broke the kiss after a few more seconds. he pulled back just a bit to read her face, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. she would not make eye contact. "been waiting to do that for some time." he said blushing nervously, and she met his eye. "been waiting for ya to do that for a bit too." she hummed, pulling him back in. the taste of your lips, is my idea of luxury.

he was the one she had been waiting for some time, a best friend and lover in one. somebody to be the king of her heart.

•

the season was winding down now, just as her school year was finishing as well. the two falling for each other more and more, over the course of a month and a half. trying not to think about how he would be going back to canada and she'd be staying here in chicago with her parents, and older brother. the two had kept what was theirs a secret, not wanting to bring the group in just yet. though angela had a sneaky suspicion, based on how happy piper was. her black cat personality was opening just a bit more. the two spent countless nights together, colton sneaking in and out of the apartment late and night and early in the morning before anybody could spot him missing. or she would go up to his. the bedroom becoming their sacred place to talk about life, their biggest hopes and dreams, what makes them tick, their family and so much more. but they did so much more, together. colton would pick her up after class and the two would get coffee or food, maybe hit a museum or the navy pier. sometimes a matinee. she was showing him, her chicago, and what made her fall in love with the city at a young age. she was bespoken with the city and all the opportunities it possessed. he saw a different side of her when the two were in public, he saw how much of a free spirit she was. things were quickly becoming more serious between the two, and that win over detroit night cemented it.

that night he saw a different side of her, one that he had been slowly peeling back for some time. she was quiet and shy by nature but had a rambunctious side to her. angela watched as the two did a rendition of 'wonderwall' at the apartment, and the look that colton had in his eyes; she knew that the two were smitten with one another. and she knew that piper was completely and wonderfully comfortable with him, something she had never had with a guy up until that point. she had fallen for the canadian, him fully captivating her heart.

•

angle and piper were having their morning cups of coffee on a saturday morning, piper reading a book and angela finishing up her morning tiktok. "has..has colton said anything to colton about what he plans to do now since the season is over?" piper asked shyly. angela thought for a second, thinking how she wanted to break the information she pried out of nolan a few nights back. "uhh not too sure, i know he plans to go home and stuff. he said he had some people to see." angela said trying to end the conversation, by standing up and getting some more coffee. "oh, okay." piper said putting her bookmark in the spine and shutting it. maybe i was just a little fling? or not even on at all? "I'm gonna head over to my parents." piper said standing up and walking back to her room. angela sighed, pinching the crease of her nose. nolan walked through the door, and walked over towards the kitchen. "hey love." he said kissing her and moving towards the fridge for a water bottle. "has dach said anything about piper? she's currently freaking out." angela whispered yelled and nolan connected the dots. "oh, no he hasn't. but he did mention his ex reaching back out to him. as we were clearing out our lockers." nolan said feeling bad, and angela nodded. "if you'd like to go tear him a new one, by all means you have my support babe." he said and they heard a bag drop. piper dropped her overnight bag, hearing the full conversation. "ill see yall later." she said grabbing her water bottle from before and heading towards the front door. nolan looked up, cursing dach.

colton hadn't responded to her text three days ago, and now she figured out why. she understood, and she was glad that they hadn't done anything that would have made it harder for her to get over him. she threw her bag into the trunk and slammed it, and headed towards the drivers side. she put on some music, and pulled out rather quickly. not realizing the car coming from her left to be colton's and Kevin's. the two saw her pissed-off demeanor as she drove by, not acknowledging them. "ohh you fucked up." kevin said as they parked. colton sighed getting out. piper drove 20 minutes through traffic toward her family's lincoln park townhouse and parked down the street. she unlocked the door, and threw her bag down at the door heading towards the kitchen. "oh hi hun, how are you?" her mom asked as she and her dad came into view. she looked at her mom and began to sob. "oh hun." her mom said wrapping her arms around her daughter, and rubbed her back; her and her husband's heart breaking.

•

her mom massaged her back a little while later, as the two were now in her bedroom talking. "i really liked him ma, i really did. he hasn't responded to my messages and now i find out he's talking to his girlfriend again whos probably the first person he's seeing when he gets back home." she cried. this was the first time she heard about colton, her daughter being famously closed off from the family. not for any particular reason, but she was just quiet. the brunch that was supposed to be the meeting between her parents and colton never happened. a few days with food poisoning prevented him, and therefore she never brought him up. "what if i was just a fling? or what if i wasn't even that?" she sobbed, as her older brother opened the door. she turned her to see who it was, and she put her face in her comforter embarrassed. "what has my baby sis so upset?" he asked sitting up against the bed next to her. she sniffled, "is it boy problems?" he questioned and she nodded after a few seconds. "i'm sorry pipes." he said rubbing her back. "can i stay here for a few days?" she asked and her mom nodded quickly. "ofcourse hun, perfect timing with your semester ending too. eric can retrieve some things from the apartment if you'd like." she said volunteering her son who nodded. "can you get anna the bunny?" she questioned looking at her brother. anna the bunny was a build a bear bunny, that was the very last gift her grandfather gave to her as a kid shortly before he died. she cherished that stuffed animal more than anything. "ofcourse, ill call angela to let me in." he said smiling before kissing her temple. "ill be back." he said shutting the door behind him.

he was the king of her heart, but maybe she wasn't the queen to his.

she had made up her mind, she was better off alone.

•

he drove over to the apartment, quickly pulled into the guest parking spot and headed up the elevator. "please act civilized you two, we have a guest." angela threatened towards nolan and colton who were arguing with one another, about piper. "eric hey, good to see you too." she said hugging her cousin. "ill show you where everything is." she announced, pulling him through the living room. "nol." eric said fist bumping nolan who nodded at him, "her stuff is in here." angela said opening her door. "whos that?" colton whispered to nolan who chuckled. "that's her older brother, asshole." nolan said walking over towards the two in the other room. "whatcha doing?" he asked leaning against the threshold watching as eric and angela packed a bag. "I'm grabbing some stuff for pipes. she staying at home for a bit." eric explained and nolan nodded. "why?" he asked, and eric sighed. "cuz of some asshat who played her." eric said a bit angrily. "oh." nolan responded, before walking back out. "you are dead." he said sitting down on the couch in front of colton. "does she need anything else?" angela asked as the two walked out, eric clutching the bear in his right hand tightly. "uh i don't think so. if not, ill swing back around." he said. "sorry i didn't introduce myself, I'm eric - piper's older brother." he said holding out a hand for colton to shake. "colton." he said nervously as eric put two and two together. "you little shit!" he said angrily, and colton took a step back. "you know you hurt her right?" he threw out and colton nodded. "you do, do you? then why haven't you said anything to maybe clear things up huh? or are you too busy using her to get back with your ex?" eric asked heatedly. "nobody knows about us. your sister and i. nobody knew-" angela cut him off, "we suspected." "i never told anybody, nor did she. and i don't want to get back with my ex, she reached out to me, but i never responded. and the reason i haven't responded to your sister is because i've been busy preparing to go back home. but i wasn't going to not talk to her about us, ok? i planned to today but then she drove off and i realized i blew my chance. once i got back today, i was going to come up here to talk. i swear to you!" colton defended himself. eric thought for a moment before looking at nolan and angela, "you have to believe me." colton pleaded and eric sighed. "do you know who gave piper this bunny?" eric asked, knowing that if he knew then he cared for the girl and vice versa. nobody knew who gave the bunny because it meant so much to her. colton smiled softly "your grandfather when she was 9 before he died. her most prized possession." he said and eric sighed. "clearly you mean a lot to her, because she doesn't tell anybody that." angela explained. "hell, nolan doesn't even know and we've been dating for three years already." angela added. "i promise you i wasn't leading her on or anything, i care very much for your sister. i had planned to make things official and ask her to come to canada this summer." colton said hoping it would get through to eric. eric nodded, "i hope youre right." he paused before looking at angela, "angela will give you our address. I'm sure my little sis would like to see you and clear all this up." eric said before walking out.

•

colton knocked on the front door of piper's family house, and bit the inside of his cheek, plagued with nerves. the door opened to reveal a brunette women, piper's mom. "you must be colton." she said and he nodded nervously, "come in." she smiled opening the door for him. he saw an older man on the couch, look over and do a double take. "you must be pipers dad, im-" he cut him off, "yeah i know who you are." he huffed before looking back at the news program. "she's upstairs,first door on the left." her mom said placing a hand on his upper back. "its fine, you can go." she said when he looked back at her husband. he nodded, taking the steps two at a time. piper was on the other side, watching the office, hoping that michael scott would help her laugh but it wasn't working. her mind twisting and turning with thoughts, that would not shut up. she perked up a bit when she heard a knock at her door and she got up when nobody walked in. she opened it rubbing her eye, and stopped as she took in who was at her door. "colton?" she questioned before he placed his hands on her lips, taking a step into the room. she shut the door behind him, wrapping her hands around his wrists. their lips fitting together like before, one's that were addicting. she pulled back, resting her forehead on his head. she stared at his chest, before looking up. "what was that for?" she questioned, "had to take my chance, incase it was the last time you'd allow me to." he said and she frowned at how nervous his voice was. "colton." she softly whined, pulling him in for a hug. "i did not mean to hurt you pipe, not for one second. i promise." he began and she nodded, "and i never responded to my ex. she was the one to reach out and i deleted it. because-because i am deeply and madly entranced and quite frankly, besotted with a 5'2 brunette midwest gal who could watch the office at all hours, who adores coffee runs, a good detroit beating and most importantly, the girl who has captured my heart." he confessed. she pulled back with tears in her eyes, "colton, i-i- " she paused breathing in and out deeply through her nose. "why did you not respond to my messages? why did you leave me hanging?" she asked, and he shook his head. "no important or monumental reason, i just hadn't responded which is a dumb response but its true. kevin and i have been busy with the apartment, and finishing the end of media for the season and just my parents have been on me about coming home. don't for one second, think i was gonna leave you hanging for the whole summer. i was actually coming to talk to you when you drove past me like a mad man." he chuckled and she giggled. "i was coming to ask you to become my girlfriend officially, and was seeing if you wanted to come to canada with me." he said searching her eyes. she smiled widely, "well its a good thing you've become the king of my heart dacher. you are quite literally the one I've been waiting for, for so long." she paused as he smiled. "one problem though." she started up again and he quirked an eyebrow. "i need a passport." she confessed, and that made him laugh. "give me about a month and a half, and you can book me a flight." she grinned and he chuckled. "oh so I'm buying you a ticket now?" he grinned, "wouldn't have it any other way." he smiled pulling her in for a kiss.

all at once, this was enough. he had his american queen, and her canadian king. king and queen of each others heart, all was well.

——

ahhhh!

told yall there was angst.... but i hope yall enjoyed !!! please like and reblog if you did (:

#colton dach #colton dach x oc #nolan allan #kevin korchinski #connor bedard #alex vlasic #lukas reichel #chicago blackhawks #chicago blachawks fic #colton dach blurb #colton dach imagine #nhl #hockey #hockey blurb #nhl blurb #hockey imagine