#and reading that hot therapist part really took me out

[xxcherrycherixx]

Bro I don't know how to tell you this. But your mommy issues are showing way too much, I advise you seek out a hot therapist

Are you telling me i should fuck a therapist 💀 like the ‘hot’ part just really came out of nowhere- like, im down for that, healing my issues by getting railed by a hot therapist sounds fun.

Chances are it wouldn’t help tho because most therapists i see are like older women so i would totally just call her mommy 🤷‍♀️

[house-of-lovin]

protect her

Tara Carpenter x Detective!Reader

masterlist

Preview: "Tara wants to go to college, study, party, make mistakes, and maybe even find love – glancing back at you with that thought. She wanted to be a normal 20-year-old, doing 20-year-old things with her older… girlfriend? Tara didn’t know if she could call you that, but you shared enough sweet soft moments with her to consider you, hers. But she couldn’t do that if she had to look over her shoulder at every creak with a startle."

Warnings: suggestive themes, mentions of violence and mature language. slight scream vi spoilers. read at your own risk.

Note: Reader is around Sam's age, so like 25 or 26. Tara being a words of affirmation girlie. Thought this dynamic would be fun to write about. I'm incapable of writing shorter oneshots ig, so enjoy 6k+ words of whatever this is lol.

Word Count: 6.1k+

The honking of horns blowing through the cool night air was muffled when you pushed the glass door of the diner open. The chimes of the overhead bell rang alerting the room of your presence but barely anyone turned their heads – save for Sam Carpenter who smiled at you.

You shuddered away remnants of the chill air off your shoulders, stepping closer to the bartop; claiming your seat in the far corner pressed up against the wall. A mug is placed on the counter before you even finish hanging your jacket on the back of the chair.

You slide into the high-top seat as the brunette pours coffee into the mug with a carafe. “Still hot, wow, I must be special.” 

“Yeah okay, hotshot. You just happened to make it in time for a new pot.” She rolls her eyes, and you hide your smirk behind the mug; taking a sip – ignoring the fact that you usually come in at this time.

“You on the clock?” She asks, leaning on her elbows atop the counter. She glances back briefly, making sure her snitch of a coworker wasn’t around to scold her for not doing her job.

It was still too early for the influx of drunk regulars and one-timers to come by, so really the only kinds of people in here were the ones who were getting off work too late to make dinner at home.

“Just got off, 16 hours. But got a new lead on a case that went cold a couple of months ago so I guess I’m doing a double. Just reviewing some notes now.” You sigh heavily, gesturing to the files and folders sprawled out on the table. 

She chuckles, shaking her head. “You work too much. You need to take a break and focus on something else outside of work. When was the last time you did something just for you?”

You roll your eyes at her mocking tone, shooting back, “Oh yeah? You learn that from therapy?”

It was her turn to glower when you remind her of the doctor visits. 

“Yeah, that’s usually the advice therapists love to give me before I actually open up – you know like they tell me to and suddenly they’re running for the hills, one by one.” 

You snort, all too familiar with the tales of her doctor visits. It took a while for Sam to open up to you; trust came sparsely these days for the Carpenter. It wasn’t until one of your frequent visits turned into you having to step in and kick a rowdy group of drunkards who were harassing Sam of something along the lines of ‘Woodsboro’ and ‘Ghostface’. It was only when you threatened the group with jail time did they relent.

Sam knew she could trust you after you sent her an acknowledging nod when the group left and went back to minding your own business. The next time you visited, she opened up; about her past, her father, her hallucinations, the attacks and the trauma that came afterward. And, how she managed to land herself in the big city, which sprouted an overzealous rant about her strained relationship with her sister.

You knew how to read people well, it was a significant part of your job to be able to. So, you knew from the moment you laid eyes on her that there was a fire behind those dark eyes that she desperately tried to douse – you had interrogated and dealt with enough people to know what the glint meant.

You were honest to Sam that you had an inkling of suspicion about the darkness in her mind – you still accepted her despite knowing her dirty secret; that a part of her doesn’t feel bad for killing Richie and Amber, if anything it felt kinda good. Sam was confused as to why you, a cop, weren't locking her behind bars at the confession. 

But, having dealt with the scum of the Earth, you can tell she was nothing like them.

It isn’t always easy to differentiate people between just good and bad, you told her when she asked.

A friendship blossomed between you two after that, bonding over similar traumas. Sam invited you to her apartment to meet her friends and sister – who all interrogated you, Mindy, most especially to make sure you weren’t secretly Ghostface. The girl had some skills in that department, you'll admit.

Coming to learn of your career and how surprisingly well Sam trusted you, the group lowered their walls bit by bit. They would never say it out loud but they felt way safer having you around.

“That’s why I don’t go to therapy.” You shrug, taking a sip of the steaming coffee; letting the heat warm your bones.

She snorts, pretending to be wiping the countertop when her coworker peeks her head out to look at you two. “You probably need it more than anyone else in this place.”

“You’re not wrong about that.” You mumble, as you flip through the evidence photos of a homicide you investigated five months ago. The pictures were gruesome, but it was just another day on the job for you. Maybe that’s why you and Sam got along more than expected.

Sam’s phone vibrates from her back pocket and she fishes it out, reading the text.

‘We got into some trouble, some help?’ it was Anika, no doubt being appointed to text Sam because the others didn't want to do it themselves.

“Dammit.” Sam sighs, already taking off her apron to leave.

“What’s up?” You raise a brow at her panicked expression.

“My sister and her friends got into some trouble. I need to get them. Crap! They’re all the way in the East Village.” She says reading the other incoming texts on her phone. “This is what I get for letting her go out.”

“Come on, I’ll drive you.” You say, already standing when Sam mentioned Tara. The thought of the brunette in trouble makes your heart stop for a moment.

“No, I can’t ask you to do that. You’re working.” She shakes her head in protest.

“Carpenter, it’s a 30-minute drive just to get to the East Village, get your ass permission to leave then meet me at my car. Acting like Danny wouldn’t have my ass if I just left you like this.” You mutter, acting indifferent – but it was true, her boyfriend would have your head on a stick if you ever left Sam high and dry, not that you would ever.

She nods, knowing she won’t win this one with you. You throw a $20 tip, slip on your jacket, and make your way back out into the cool fall air.

You lit a cigarette to pass time as you wait for Sam – leaning against your car, trying to ease the nervousness raging in you as you think of what kind of trouble Tara found herself in.

You and Tara are... complicated. You two haven't exactly slapped a label on it, all you know is you care about her more than you probably should.

Because of your close connection with Sam, and how much everyone secretly trusted you. You and Tara found yourselves growing closer to each other with each visit to their apartment.

Tara was weary about you at first introduction, ignoring that you were ridiculously attractive. She can still remember Mindy asking you to your face 'Where did Sam find you?' in a flirtatious tone. You just chuckled and explained how you met her sister, and Tara knew it was kind of wrong, but she couldn't help but be intrigued…

Then Sam started leaving you two alone in the apartment to run some errands. With not much to do, Tara decided to pop a horror movie in to watch with you – finding out you’ve never seen ‘Se7en’ after inquiring if your job was just like the movies.

A connection between you and Tara blossomed from those moments in that tiny NYC living room.

Suddenly she wasn't just your friend's little sister and man, is she magnetic.

She educates you on the joys of horror movies and you watch every single one, listening to her analysis of each scene; simply enjoying the serenity she brings out in you.

Tara is secretly glad you are older than her because sometimes it meant you’re so different, but that just means she can expose you to her interests, and vice versa. You never turned her down – no matter what it was.

On the slim chance you got off work early enough, you visited the diner to keep Sam company and do some work.

Sometimes though, when Sam would end mid-morning, you two would continue your talks at her apartment – sometimes with Danny, over whatever leftover diner food she would steal from her work for you three to munch on over beers and conversation. 

Those would be the nights where you would pass out on their couch from drinking and Tara would finally come out of her room when Sam and Danny leave. She would tuck a blanket over your sleeping figure, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, taking the time to scan your features for any injuries. And in the mornings, when you were gathering your bearings from a night of drinks and bad choices, Tara would force you to sit down at their dining table and have breakfast with her. Scolding you for your irresponsible choices, but being grateful you were in front of her, nonetheless.

She worries for you with your job and all.

And as you find yourself giving into her request for morning coffee, stolen kisses, and conversation – you push away thoughts of being late to work as you find yourself grateful for similar musings the longer you stare at the pretty girl across from you.

“Wow, if people couldn’t tell you're a narc. They sure could now.” Sam takes the time to poke fun at you – pulling you out of your daydream. You look down at your figure; sporting a button-down shirt, trousers with your leather jacket on top and trusty leather boots on your feet.

You roll your eyes in realization and flick away the cigarette bud, yanking the car door open.

“It’s the work dress cod– just get in the damn car, Carpenter.”

– – 

The usual thirty-minute drive instead took fifteen minutes as you pounded on the accelerator, flipped the sirens on, and dashed past other cars on the road as they cleared the way for you.

You arrive at the corner of a lower Manhattan intersection, the East Village was known for its bustling nightlife; you can see a mix of all ages of people wandering the street as they continue their bar crawl.

It was further down the road, where you can see six sullen-looking figures sitting on the curb of the sidewalk – a police officer standing above them. 

Sam dashes out of the car before you can even finish parking. You see her run down the street and talk to the officer, getting in his face and the six others look at her panicked. You sigh, and make your way out of the car, strapping your badge to your belt – you’d need to use it soon, you’re sure.

Tara’s eyes immediately connect to you as soon as you climb out of the car. Before she can think about it, she’s standing up to meet you. “Ah ah, I said sit down! You better listen or I’ll throw you all in jail for the night.”

“You can’t do that!” Sam shouts, stepping closer to the police officer. You decided enough was enough when you saw the police officer resting his hand on his holster.

“All right, that’s enough.” You grasp Sam’s elbow, yanking her away from the police officer. The older Carpenter is slightly startled by the rough tug, but you push her behind you getting in between her and the policeman.

“I think we’re all good here officer, thank you.” You say with finality. You weren’t asking, you were telling and Tara’s inebriated mind is all hot and bothered. 

“Like hell we are, these six were caught sneaking into a club underage, and this one.” He points to Sam, “is getting on my nerves. Now, it seems like I can add you to the list, ‘cause who the hell you think you are, buddy?”

You briefly glance a stern side-eye to Tara at ‘club and underage’, she immediately looks away.

“Detective Y/L/N from the 99th precinct.” You slide your jacket aside to flash him the badge on your waist.

”And, you must be… Officer Leroy. From 6th, huh.” Reading his name tag and badge.

“Think that’s supposed to mean something?” You see his eyes on your badge before glowering to meet your eyes. “I’ll arrest you too.”

The group breaks out into loud protests.

You chuckle knowingly, “How long you been in the force buddy?” You ask, not unaware of all of the eyes on you as you and the officer have a stare-off.

“Four months.” He answers confidently, pushing his shoulders up and back to appear taller.

“Hmm… see I had a feeling. ‘Cause, my buddy Rivers just got promoted to Captain six months ago over on the 6th precinct, which means he’s most likely your superior. I wonder what you’ll tell him as to what charge you picked us up for. ‘Cause well, he will see me.” You shrug, offering up that thought for him to think about. 

“Oh better yet, I’d just love to see what you write down on that case report, Officer. Leroy.” Your tone was harsh now as you stepped in his face, intimidating him.

He was forced to take a step back as you got in his space, his features paling, it took a few seconds before he conceded. “Fine! Just get the hell out of here, and don’t let me see you again!”

Everyone let out a relieved sigh as you smirked at his submission; everyone immediately takes the chance to leave and Sam tries to tug on your arm but you were still staring the cop down. He put this hand on his fucking gun when Sam got in his face and anger was quickly rising in your veins – you were unmovable, even by rough force.

“Y/N it’s over, let’s go.” Sam tries again but she can feel your arm harden as your knuckles tighten into a fist. “Y/N, seriously.”

Tara sobered up by the time police charges was being thrown around and her worry about your protectiveness was increasing. Sam couldn’t even pull you away. Chad steps in when Sam asks for help to convince you to move. He puts a hand on your shoulder, whispering calming words, no doubt. 

But nothing was working as you stood there, still unmovable. She wouldn’t be surprised if Chad threw you over his shoulder and dragged you away, even though you weren’t that much smaller than him. In your boots, you were nearly at his height and Tara had to strain her neck to try and meet your eyes. 

It was only when Tara pulled away from Quinn and Mindy’s hold and stepped in front of you, putting a hand just above your chest that you blinked, glancing down at her. “Y/N, let’s go… please.”

When you tried to glance back up at the other officer, whose partner had seen the commotion and tried his own efforts in calming him; his patience thinning by the second – was when Tara’s grasp on your shirt firmed, making you look back at her own stern eyes.

"Let's. Go." Her tone left no room for argument. Warning you from doing something stupid and you clench your jaw, looking away from the uniformed officers.

“Fine…"

Everyone slowly releases a breath when your rigid posture relaxes. “I’m driving you home, let’s go.” You exclaim to the rest but look directly at Tara, “Especially you, Carpenter.”

You place a hand on the sliver of her back and Tara shivers not used to being this close to you in a while. Your hand keeps its place even as you both turn and Sam is immediately on her ass about sneaking into a club. You guide the bickering sisters to walk to the car, zoning out the familiar sounds of their argument.

“–ou’re lucky Y/N was at the diner, who knows what that creep would’ve done if we didn’t drive out here in time.” Your hand tightens, subtly bringing her closer to your side at Sam’s words, Tara glances over when you do.

“It was fine until you got there and started overreacting, Sam.” Tara rolls her eyes, way past just ‘over’ Sam’s overprotectiveness. The younger girl loved her sister, she did, but she didn’t want to live her life constantly looking over her shoulder.

Tara wants to go to college, study, party, make mistakes, and maybe even find love – glancing back at you with that thought. She wanted to be a normal 20-year-old, doing 20-year-old things with her older… girlfriend? Tara didn’t know if she could call you that, but you shared enough sweet soft moments with her to consider you, hers. But she couldn’t do that if she had to look over her shoulder at every creak with a startle.

Sam scoffed offended, “Are you kidding me right now?” And you sigh because you can feel a bigger fight brewing and you can hear the slurring in Tara’s words, not a good mix. 

“Let’s get you all home first before we do this, okay?” You cut in when you see the car come closer into view. Fishing for your keys, you throw them at Sam making her catch them. 

“Walk ahead and start the car for me, please?” You ask with a raised brow; tilting your head to gesture to Tara saying a wordless ‘i got her’. Sam relents, tightly gripping the keys and walked ahead.

Tara leans her head against your shoulder, grateful for the brief moment of seclusion as everyone else walks up ahead.

“Are you mad at me?” You glance down at her frown, before looking away. 

“No. I’m not.”

“That wasn’t very convincing. If you’re mad you can tell me… cause then I can fix it.” You feel her run her hand up and down your back, under your jacket. It made a shiver run up your spine as she continued rubbing lines on the fabric of your shirt.

“I swear, I’m not mad. A little disappointed but no, not mad.”

Tara huffs, sliding her arm off your back when you reach the car; the talk cut short. You open the car door sitting Tara inside, it was a tight squeeze but she was small. You’d sit her on your lap if her sister wasn't here. Anika did sit on Mindy’s lap though with poor Chad in the middle seat and then Tara. 

She squeezes your hand just before you shut the door.

Apparently, Ethan and Quinn elected not to go home and continue on with their night.

Sam is already sitting in the passenger seat by the time you closed Tara’s door. With a sigh, you pull your door open, sit behind the wheel and drive off to the Carpenter’s apartment.

– –

Sam hurriedly rushes everyone into the living room as soon she opens the door; making sure to quadruple lock it, twist the handle to make sure it's locked and look out the peephole. It was Sam’s routine whenever she got into their place.

“Come on, let’s go, sit down.” Sam waves at you all, walking to the kitchen to grab water for everyone.

You help Tara onto the far edge of the couch, sitting her beside Mindy, who sat beside Anika. Chad decided to choose a record to listen to get rid of the tense air.

You felt Tara pulling you down with her, “Let me sit on your lap.” She mutters only to you.

“We can’t,” You whisper in her ear, slightly shaking your head. You hear her huff when you refuse her and see the pout on her lips when you pulled back, slightly smiling at her adorableness.

You force yourself to walk away from the younger Carpenter; heart tugging firmly, wanting nothing more than to wrap her in your arms, especially after not knowing what kind of trouble she was in.

Instead, you make your way into the kitchen to help Sam with the water bottles and bread.

“Is this necessary, Sam?” You ask the brunette, who was frantically searching through the fridge on her knees.

“You kidding? Chad is literally just staring holes at the record player.” She rebuttals and you glance back at the younger boy in amusement.

With a chuckle, you say, “He’s just high as shit. He’ll come down soon, plus he’s here now, they all are. Just relax and take a deep breath, man.” You remind her in a serious tone, holding out a hand to hold all the water bottles she was passing off to you.

“I know, I know. I was just worried.” She follows your advice taking calming, deep breaths as you follow along with her. 

“Your therapist would be so proud, Samantha.” You tease smugly as she scoffs, hitting your leg from her position on the floor – you kick her back.

“Can you make sure Tara drinks and eats something, and that she’s okay before going to bed?” Sam asks you in a hushed tone, although she didn’t need to. The other four were all too engrossed either in the music or the TV in the back. 

“Why me?”

“She’s not ready to talk to me and I’m not either... and I just wanna sleep right now.” She admits with a plead behind her eyes and you nod with no hesitation. 

“I'll make sure all of them make it to bed, don’t worry.” She nods appreciatively, then stands so you can both get back to the other four in the living room – tossing them some bread.

“Finish that whole bottle before going to sleep, I don’t care if you piss your pants while you do ‘em.” You say in a stern tone while throwing the bottles, then sitting on the armchair to Tara’s left.

Sam shares a look with you as she slips out of the room, wordlessly, leaving you with the other four. They watched TV for the next 20 minutes, glancing around as each of them got progressively tired the more time ticked on. 

“Alright. I think it’s time to call it a night.” You call it.

The twins and Anika slowly got up, muttering goodbyes and promises of texting Tara once they’d made it home. You offered to drive them to their dorm but felt the silent conversation between the friends – as Tara got them to turn you down to get you to stay here with her. 

You lean against the front door, watching as the trio made their way down the stairs until they were out of sight. As soon as you shut the door closed, you felt arms wrap around your midsection – making you turn around.

“I missed you,” Tara mutters against your chest making you chuckle when it slightly tickled. 

You cup her jaw, making her look into your eyes. “I missed you too, baby.”

Tara melts at the term of endearment, grabbing your neck to pull you down for a long searing kiss. Lips slotted over one another as they found the familiar grooves of each other’s mouths. Only breaking apart when Tara confessed with a bated breath, “You looked so hot confronting that other cop.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm…” She mutters connecting her mouth to your neck, peppering wet kisses there. She can hear you sigh in satisfaction and it makes her hold on you tighten even more. But with great reluctance, you pulled away from Tara; who whimpered in protest.

“We can’t, babe.” You remind her, pointing with your head to Sam’s room.

She frowns, “then come to my room.” Problem solved. She smirked devilishly, tugging you toward her room; you refused.

“We still can’t. You’re drunk and I’m not taking advantage.” You whisper, only stepping close to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She groans letting her head drop to your shoulder as your hand played with her hair.

“I hate that you’re a goodie two shoes.” She mutters making you laugh.

You tilt her head up with the hand already in her hair – gaze intense as you whisper, “I can assure you, I am far from a goodie two shoes.”

And Tara thought she melted at the way your voice dropped an octave when you said that but she knew she melted when you leaned down, tugging her by the hair, to connect your lips.

It was barely a peck, all tender and fleeting.

When you pulled away, she smirked knowingly watching as your eyes traced a path from her lips to her eyes – your gaze all dark, lustful. When your eyes connect you dive into her with a hair-raising kiss; all hungry and pining.

The feeling of your tongue clashing against hers and sounds of soft moans sends time stopping like only you and her exist in this apartment together. But Tara knows it doesn’t really stop and she has to eventually pull away before she takes you in the hallway – right then and there.

“God, you drive me crazy,” Tara whispers against your lips.

“So do you… cause sneaking into a club, really?” You ask unimpressed and Tara immediately pulls back, groaning.

Snickering as you follow closely behind when she walks into her room, trying to get away from you.

“You’re a mood-killer.” She mutters sitting on her bed, arms crossed over her chest; sulking.

“And you’re gonna give me and Sam a heart attack soon.” You joke but it was true. Tara loved to prove her sister wrong; not like being told what to do. It grew a defiant attitude in her that loved to stir shit up just for the hell of it, and that landed her in some hot waters with her friends sometimes. She definitely made your blood pressure sky-rocket, sometimes too.

“Why?” Tara probes. You were always so elusive and mysterious – it came with your job and allure. She can barely get you to open up about your feelings most of the time, saying you prefer to show her than tell her. You definitely did, so this admission from you was new. It has Tara yearning to hear more words of affirmation from you.

“Do I have to spell it out for you? I care about you, dummy. I nearly caused multiple accidents just to get to you. I was going like 80 mph the whole time,” You admitted, scratching the back of your neck a little ashamed.

“You were really that worried?” She asks, looking up at you with a hopeful stare like she was surprised.

“Of course, I was Tara. I even used the siren lights.” You shake your head at the fact that she’s even asking. 

She was smiling goofily as you walked closer to stand between her legs, taking both her hands in yours. “I worry for all of you. But you, well, I always worry for you 'cause I’m thinking about you all the time.” You confessed in a whisper in her dark room. 

Tara bites her lip, staring up at you with an indecipherable look. “You’re the worst.” Was the words that left her mouth.

“What, why?” You ask laughing.

She lets go of your hands to fiddle with your shirt buttons, muttering, “‘Cause you’re standing here looking all good and saying all the right things, and you still won’t fuck me.”

“Oookay…” You chuckle, grabbing at her fingers trying to unbutton your shirt, “That’s enough from you tonight. Let’s get you to bed before you say anything else you might regret tomorrow.”

She huffed but allowed you to grab her some new clothes to help her change; still not fucking her, Tara complains. Your eyes never even strayed from hers, not even when she took her bra off to change shirts and batted her eyes seductively. When she was all ready, you helped her to bed; tucking her in.

“Stay with me?” She asks grabbing onto your shirt, then gripping tighter. “Please.”

“What about Sam?” You ask softly, pushing away some hair from her face.

“She’s probably already sleeping, if not, she’s gonna be in her room all night.” Tara reasons, fully tugging you on top of her. 

You give in like you always do.

Work for you and classes for Tara have been a lot right now, not being able to find time alone. You were practically living at the police station with the crime surge in the city, working late nights and long hours. With Sam’s overprotectiveness, Tara can say goodbye to dates so she only really sees you when you come over with her sister. You take your jacket off, place it on the chair in the corner of her room and tug your boots off. Remembering you had a change of clothes here from when Tara ransacked your closet; you picked out a shirt and shorts before getting into bed beside the younger Carpenter.

She was on you in an instant, swinging a leg over your waist, shoving her face in your neck. You feel her exhale a calming breath, once she’d settled into a comfortable position on you. You reciprocate by wrapping a strong grip around her waist, cherishing the way her skin warmed yours and how the weight of her body felt perfect.

“Just stay with me until I fall asleep?” She asks you with such a vulnerable gaze that you would never dream of ever telling her no.

You nod, pressing a kiss to her lips, then forehead. “Of course, pretty girl. Goodnight.”

She smiles against your lips, whispering her own, “goodnight.”

As you hold Tara Carpenter in your arms, you find yourself fending off sleep, only ever being this relaxed around the girl. You squeeze her slightly, feeling grateful to be with her at this moment with all the craziness in your two’s lives. No worries of outside-world problems could break the cozy bubble you and Tara created. Without ever standing a chance, you lose the fight to sleep and easily fall off the precipice with her in your embrace.

– –

“Tara, do you have my nail polish – Oh this is cute.”

You spring up, the voice startling you from the most relaxed sleep you’ve ever had; the type that makes your entire body heavy and head foggy when you wake up. You were the lightest of sleepers, a pin drop could probably startle you awake, but never when you fell asleep beside Tara.

“What the fuck?” Tara grumbles against your side, peaking her head up to see Quinn watching you two in bed.

It took you a few seconds to realize where you were and instantly pale when you realize you never left the Carpenter Sister’s apartment, you never even made it out of Tara’s bed. You can feel the stream of sunlight coming in from Tara’s window and just know you had majorly fucked up.

“I just needed my nail polish but this is quite a sight, definitely a pleasant surprise.” She waves a hand toward you two, and you roll your eyes.

“Shit babe, Sam.” Tara places a hand on your arm. You check the watch strapped on your wrist for the time, 10:32 AM – making you leap out of her, oh so warm bed.

“Screw Sam, my Captain is gonna be on my ass until next year if I don’t get to work now. I was late about two hours ago.” Grumbling, you yanked Tara’s closet open and grabbed the spare trousers and button-down, you stowed in there.

"Can't say I blame your Captain." Quinn retorts, heavily eyeing you as you change your shorts into trousers.

Tara groans at the mess this morning has already been, flopping onto her back.

“Screw Sam, huh?” She appears, leaning on the threshold just behind Quinn, crossing her arms over her chest.

Your hands stall on the tie you were tying as you hear your friend’s voice, making you turn around.

“I guess that’s a no on the nail polish?” Tara glares at her roommate. 

Quinn shrugs, still ogling as you changed before turning to leave the room. “Not a wasted trip though, nice catch Tara.” She winks at the brunette – holding a thumbs up.

The redhead just laughs, moving out of the way when Tara attempts to throw a pillow at her.

“Sam… I’d love to explain but I am so late for work right now.” You plead at the older sister.

Tara sat on her bed wordlessly, unsure of what Sam’s reaction is going to be – but ready to defend her relationship with you, regardless.

Sam chuckles shrugging lightly, “I already knew. Or well, I had a feeling, but this just confirms it.”

You and Tara look at each other at her confession, unsure if Sam’s words hold positive or negative connotations. Sam sees the eye-contact and laughs.

“I’m not mad, I promise. I was a little hurt that you didn’t tell me…” She pauses, “okay. I was really hurt when you guys didn’t tell me. But I realize I haven’t given Tara reason to trust me with anything about her life lately.”

That makes Tara’s head perk up at her sister’s admission. All she’s ever wanted was for Sam to trust her a little because trust went both ways in every type of relationship.

“And well, I guess I can’t think of anyone better to be with my sister than my cop friend. Especially after you came through for her last night. You were driving so fast, I thought I was gonna die.” Sam laughs a little but you’re still unconvinced.

When Sam realizes no one was still talking she chuckles again. “Guys, I’m serious!”

You cough clearing your throat, “Sorry Sam, it’s just that... I–uh,” 

Tara decided to cut off your stammering, “We’re just surprised, Sam. We thought you'd be more upset. And that we were more subtle.” She admits, shooting you a look.

“You weren't. But, I thought a lot about what to say until I realized it was just you guys and I care about you two so much. You don’t think I noticed Tara being a lot happier than usual and you actually looking somewhat at peace?” She asks rhetorically, reading you and Tara to filth – your cheeks reddening, not being used to being at the other end of the ‘questioning’.

“I see how you look at each other. I know you’ll protect her.” That last sentence she says looking at you and it means the world to get her approval – something that you didn’t even know you wanted, you nod at her appreciatively.

Sam pushes herself off the doorframe, tapping on it. “Now come on, there’s breakfast in the kitchen, don't let it get cold. And Y/N, I don’t think you’re gonna make it to work today.” She winks, leaving you and Tara alone in the room.

You didn’t say anything for a few seconds, unable to find words to describe what just transpired in the span of a few minutes. Then you hear a scoff bring you out of your reverie.

“What the hell was that,” Tara commented, getting up from the bed and closing the door before approaching you. 

“I’m… not really sure. I can’t tell if I’m still asleep.” You mumble, grabbing at her cheeks to make sure you weren't in a dream. Tara whines against the pinching, swatting your hands away.

You laughed at her frown before leaning down to kiss her slightly chapped lips, all soft and slow. Tara pulls you closer by the neck, sighing against pressed mouths. A sweet moan escapes her mouth when you suck down hard on her lip, releasing it with a loud pop. 

“You think I should call in sick today?” You whisper, running a gentle thumb to soothe her swollen lip.

Tara nods, eyes half-open still a little dazed from your kiss. When she gathers her bearings, she runs a hand down your half-done tie, tugging you closer. “Definitely.”

"You can tell me more about how worried you were and how fast you were driving too," She whispers against your mouth, using your tie as a leash.

"Are you turned on right now?"

"Kinda... can I drive with the sirens on?" She slides the question in like it was nothing.

"No."

"Buzzkill." She teases but pulls you on top when her back hits the mattress. “I’ll make you change your mind.”

You definitely forgot to make that phone call.

The rest of that morning was spent in between Tara’s sheets, you two hidden away from the world; ignoring the flurry of texts and calls from your work phone. Only leaving her room to grab some food and water, but getting caught in the crossfire of teasings from Tara's friends when they see the hickeys on your neck.

Tara merely strides past you, dressed in nothing but your button-down, stopping for a peck on the lips and grabbing the water from your hands before hiding back in her room to ignore her friends. You don’t miss the cheeky wink she tosses you and the grimace Sam lets out as she watches. Instead, you keep your head down and follow the smaller girl like a lost puppy, ignoring the other's whistles as you do.

And, when you make your way to your desk the next day, a mountain pile of shitty cases for the next month is stacked high as punishment.

You still find it hard to feel any remorse for the no-show.

It was definitely worth it.

– –

:)

[roosterforme]

Gonna Make You Sweat | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley is determined to get back in peak physical condition, but you are more of a distraction than he anticipated.

Warnings: Fluff and smut

Length: 2000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots! (But it can be read on its own) Check my masterlist in my profile for the reading order!

Bradley had finally graduated from physical therapy, and while he had regained full use of his left arm, the scarring was still very much present. He hated the way it looked, but there wasn't much he could do about it. 

But what he could do, was get himself back in top shape before he married you. His physical therapist had given him the green light to work out as much as he wanted to, and he decided to buy a weight bench for the garage. 

"We don't really even use the garage, and this way we can have a home gym," he told you as he ordered everything online from his spot on the couch. 

You climbed into his lap and took his phone out of his hand. "Promise me you aren't doing this because you think you need to, Bradley. You're very physically healthy already. You go for a run most days, and I feed you very well."

Bradley examined your face. "Don't you miss my abs, Baby Girl?"

You just shrugged against his chest and ran your fingers under his shirt and across his belly button. "They were nice. This is nice, too. And I'm going to absolutely love it when you have a dad bod someday," you said, biting your lip and moaning. 

Just hearing you say the word dad had his dick signaling that it was time to be inside you, and that moan had him pushing you down onto the couch. 

"A dad bod, you say? As soon as you want that to happen, you just let me know, Sweetheart," he said, yanking your shorts off as you stroked him through his jeans. You giggled as he kissed your engagement ring and slid inside you. 

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

The gym arrived two weeks before Labor Day in what seemed like a million delivery boxes filled with pieces that needed to be assembled. Bradley coaxed you out to the garage one evening after work to help him put it together, but you weren't much help at all.

"Let's go to bed," you whined over and over again, crawling into his lap where he sat on the floor. "I like your body the way it is. You don't even need a gym."

He just chuckled, wrapping his arms around you. "Well, I just spent thousands of dollars on it, so it's staying. Need to look good for our wedding," he said, kissing your hair. "Besides, Jake has been acting weird, and everyone thinks he has a new girlfriend. I want to look better than him again so you can gloat to his girl next time we go to the beach."

You rolled your eyes so hard, Bradley had to laugh. "If Jake was seeing someone, I would know about it."

Bradley narrowed his eyes. "How?"

"Because we have girl talk all the time," you said as you nestled against his neck and rubbed your hand on his belly.

"You and Jake... have girl talk?"

"Yeah, he tells me stuff that happens and I let him know how he fucked up. I'd like to say I'm his guru," you said seriously, making Bradley laugh. 

"Well he certainly needs one. Help me put the last part together so we can go to bed," he said with a yawn. 

When he stepped back and inspected it, everything looked perfect. And when he started using it the following day, he was happy with his purchase. In fact, he ended up in the garage for an hour every night after he finished cleaning the kitchen from your dinner preparations. 

He'd been listening to the gym playlist you made for him and really getting back into the groove of things. His arm was giving him no pain now, and he was working himself slowly up to heavier weights.

"Looking sexy, Roo," you told him when you poked your head in, raking your gaze over his body. "All hot and sweaty."

Bradley sat up on the bench and patted his thigh with his gloved hand. "Wanna join me while I take a little break," he asked you innocently. 

Your lips parted and your nostrils flared, and Bradley was curious about what you would do. You were supposed to be going out for drinks with your colleagues and your boss to celebrate Bickel's upcoming promotion. But he knew you hated being late to anything work related, even a happy hour. 

Bradley watched you hesitate, your hands grasping the fabric of your dress where it sat against your thighs. "No!" you said suddenly. "I know how you are, and you do this to me all the time!"

"Do what?" he asked, cocking his head like he had no idea what you were talking about.

You sighed. "You make me late for everything, Bradley. Flaunting your appeal right in front of me. But not today, sir!" you said, spinning on your heel. A few minutes later, he heard your car start, and he returned to his workout with a big grin. 

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

Bradley checked himself in the bathroom mirror before he pulled on an old tee shirt for working out. Just a week later, and he was already feeling better. He jogged through the house and let Tramp out into the back yard as he headed for the garage. He could probably squeeze a quick workout in before he needed to shower to leave for the airport. 

He turned on his playlist and got to work, singing along to everything and completely losing track of time. 

"Bradley! I thought you would be in the shower by now!" you said when you strolled into the garage. 

He set his barbell down and turned to face you. "What time is it?"

"Their flight lands in an hour," you told him, strolling closer. You were wearing one of those romper things he both loved and hated. They looked cute, but they were annoying to take off. 

He licked his lips, tasting his own sweat there, and when you got close enough he reached out and grabbed your hand. "We've got time," he said, his voice deep and raspy. 

"Roo," you cautioned, pressing your lips together, but he was already pulling you down to sit on his thigh where he was straddling the bench. "You look good," you whispered, and he grabbed your chin, kissing you hard. 

"Do I?" he asked between kisses. 

"Mmhmm," you hummed. But you were already moaning softly, turning to face him a little more and running your hands up and down his sweaty biceps. He watched you pull away from his mouth, your tongue darting out to taste the sweat that trickled down his cheek. 

Bradley could feel his balls tighten as you pulled your tongue back into your mouth before licking your lips. "You always look good," you added, pulling his shirt off and running your fingers along his flat tummy while you kissed and licked his neck. 

After he made sure all of the weights were locked in place, he turned back to you, tipping you down until you were laying on your back on the bench one leg over each side. "You always look perfect," he whispered, unbuttoning your romper and guiding it carefully down your body, watching you lift your hips so he could remove it. You had skipped a bra, something he was wild about, and he hummed against your skin as he kissed your breasts.

"I wasn't kidding though," you gasped. "I liked your little belly. The precursor to the dad bod looked hot on you."

Bradley wrenched your underwear off and planted kiss after kiss on your pussy as he eased his gym shorts and boxer briefs just low enough to get his dick free. The bench was narrow, and there wasn't a lot of room to work with, but he managed to get himself in a good position to slip into your wet slit. 

"Oh," you gasped, reaching for his shoulders as he leaned over you. 

"Listen, Baby Girl. Whenever you wanna make me a daddy, you just let me know," he told you, moving in a steady rhythm inside you as he planted his hands on your hips for leverage. "I'll give up the abs to spend my time changing diapers instead."

"Oh!" you whined louder, biting your lip. Bradley leaned down to kiss you, and he watched a drop of his sweat land next to your mouth. He was mesmerized by your tongue darting out to taste it.

"Oh fuck, Sweetheart. I'm ready to be a daddy when you want me to be," he promised running his thumbs in soft circles along your pelvic bones as he fucked you a little harder.

"You're already my Daddy," you whispered, and Bradley thought his brain must have shut down. 

His movements came stuttering to a halt just as you started whining for more. And when you looked up at him, your eyes absolutely pleading for him to keep going, you once again whispered, "Daddy?"

Bradley slowly withdrew his dick and slammed himself back into you, never taking his eyes off yours. "Oh!" you gasped. "So you like it when I call you that?"

"Say it again," he growled loudly, fucking into you so hard, the bench moved a few inches across the floor as your tits bounced wildly. He watched your eyes roll back as you moaned Daddy a little louder. 

"Don't stop," he demanded, giving you everything he had left. 

"I won't, Daddy," you cried out. 

Bradley had no idea he would like this so much, but in fact, he fucking loved it. Now he was grabbing your waist so hard, he saw tears in your eyes as you chanted, "DAD-DY! DAD-DY! DAD-DY!" Each syllable you moaned matched perfectly with each thrust he landed.

He came so hard, his teeth were chattering. You were whimpering beneath him, completely disheveled with smeared makeup as you whined and squeezed every drop from his cock. Bradley withdrew himself from you and finger fucked his cum back inside. He leaned over you, teasing your swollen clit and working his semen into you until you were literally crying.

Then he kissed your tears away, his fingers still rammed deep inside your pussy. "Daddy loves you," he promised, as you tried to catch your breath. "You're Daddy's Baby Girl."

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

Bradley drove the Bronco to the San Diego International Airport with an enormous smile on his face. You had your left hand laced with his right, and he was slowly spinning your engagement ring around your finger while he drove. You had your head resting against his bicep while you selected songs from one of your playlists. 

His enormous smile still remained as he parked and helped you out, walking you to the terminal with his arm wrapped around your waist. Your romper was a wrinkly mess, and you still had a small smudge of mascara below your eye, and he knew your pussy was filled with his cum. He fucking loved you.

Sex in the garage had made you late, and your parents were already waiting next to the baggage carousel when the two of you arrived. 

"Oh, honey! Show me your ring!" your mom called as soon as she saw you. Bradley let you out of his grasp as you went to hug them both, and he smiled, because he knew how lucky you were to have both parents here.

Then he almost choked as he heard you greet them, "Mom! Daddy! I missed you."

Bradley shook hands with your father, but he was barely able to make eye contact with him. This was going to be a very long weekend. 

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

Oh, Baby Girl, he loved that so much! Well, stay tuned for A Love You Don't Find Everyday...there will be more of Baby Girl and Daddy Roo and their next adventure!

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[milksuu]

omg, the little texting parts from your recent ez fic were cute! idk if it’s possible, but could you do cute little texts between heartsteel and their so, or maybe a huge gc? I would love to see how you characterize them :)

INCORRECT HEARTSTEEL GROUP CHAT TEXT (ft. gn!reader)

❥ prompt: groupchat with the heartsteel!gang ❥ content/warnings: implied sexual content, crack ❥ characters/pairings: v!Heartsteel! & gn!reader

an: omfg that is legit such a cute/funny idea! ill definitely write up some cutesy heartsteel x reader texts. probably winter holiday themed! get them hot cocoa vibes going. stay tuned for it! in the meantime, enjoy this crack.

[Ezreal:] 😚 wow i wuv you gwuys so much i juwst cant stop *looks down* thinking about you c-can we 😳🍆 *notices buldge* snuggies in my bed because i w-want t-to feew youw wawmth aww uvw me pwease im begging you 😩🙏 i wiww get on my hands and knyees fow you if youww just *whines* p-pet me im a good *moans* boy i sweaw 🥺👉👈

Aphelios has left the conversation

[Kayn:] WTFFFFFF DID I JUST READ!!!!?????????? 🤮🤮🤮

[Sett:] Dude. Stop. You literally made Phel toss his phone into the trash can. 😑

[mcreader:] it's fine. i'm getting it out for him. 🙄

[Ezreal:]😫 but daddIES ive been behaving so so gewd *rubs* fow you i t-t-thought you w-wouwd give me youw miwkies as a p-pwesent🤤🍼 but nyow 🥺 *whimpers* that im a bad bad boy how wiww you punyish me?!! 🥵🥵😏

[Kayn:] OKAY YONE IM READY FOR THERAPY NOW

[K'Sante:] Is it possible to block someone in a group chat? I'm asking for a friend. And by friend, I'm talking about all of us. 🗿

[mcreader:] phels not taking the phone back. he says he wants a new one with a new number. so ez can never contact him again. and i quote 'i would rather jump into oncoming traffic than suffer through one more degenerate copypasta'

[K'Sante:] I think I'm going to vouch for aphelios here. His idea of a new phone and number sounds good to me.

[mcreader:] wait. his hands are moving really fast. i think he's just screaming at this point ??? i probably shouldn't translate most of it. point is he wants his phone to stay in the garbage

[Sett:] Dang. I just bought us matching phone cases too. Guess I can return them. No biggie. 😔

[mcreader:] nevermind. phel took the phone back. we're good. 👍

[Ezreal:] 😵 wowie you guys awe nyo f-fun but thats okay cause iww be wosta f-fun t-tonyight when 🥴👉👌 *snuggles close* im undew nyeath the bwankie with you 🥵👅💦

[Yone:] Unfortunately for you Kayn, at this rate, everyone in this group will need a therapist. I don't think we'll be able to afford it.

[Kayn:]

[backtothefanfiction]

All The Good Girls Go To Hell | TF!Boys Mafia AU~ Part ONE

Summary: When Phoenix comes home to find her fiancé banging some other girl, her whole life changes seemingly overnight. Forced to go back and live with her Dad, she's about to be dragged into a life with the men her Dad is indebted to.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY (Mature Content), Dark Mafia Romance Au, setting things on fire, swearing, dead parent, debt, mental health issues, brain tumour, broken family, anger issues (female rage), AFAB OFC, objectification of the female body, pyromania, little bit of theft (smut to come)

Word Count: 3.8K

A/N: I didn't need to have yet another idea for a story. I also didn't need to write it straight away, but I recently read Den of Vipers and figured I could do something better featuring the Triple Frontier boys. I don't know how many parts of this there will be, or how regularly this will ultimately be updated, but I thought I'd share anyway. Smut will come, featuring all four guys this time. This will use an ofc but apart from the hair, there aren't too many descriptors. This will also be written from multiple characters points of view throughout to keep things interesting. Enjoy!

ONE

PHEONIX

My fingers itch as I grip the steering wheel tighter. I should have worn gloves, I say to myself as I drop one hand from the wheel and rub it vigorously against my torn jeans, hoping the friction from the denim will- at the very least- satiate the itch left behind from the lighter fluid long enough for me to get to the next gas station, so I can stop in and wash my hands properly.

It was reckless of me really- the whole damn thing. My brothers taught me better than this, but then again, everyone said I had a temper that was only second to Archie’s in my family- so I’m really not that surprised. People say my Dad used to be equally hot headed before he got remarried to Marina and took over the club, but I’ve still yet to see it- even after all the shit me and my brothers have pulled over the years. It’s like after our Mother died he just gave up. But I don’t blame him. I would too if I lost the love of my life to a fucking disease like that. I had barely known her anyway, so I didn’t really notice all that much when the brain tumor turned her into a “literal monster”, as my older brothers used to so fondly call her when she was on one of her rampages.

I’d always said that my only real memory of her was when she tried to burn down the house by settling alight to the curtains in their bedroom. I remember we all stood out on the front grass as the smoke billowed out of the windows and mixed with the night air. Archie stood on my right holding one of my hands, E.Z stood on my left holding the other. Maybe that’s why I’ve always had a thing for fire myself. Messing about with lighters, setting things on fire- all so I can try and understand that night… At least, that’s what a therapist would probably say.

My Dad tried to make me go to one once, after I ended up burning down the whole science block at my school at 16, but alas, that never happened. Which is why I’m probably still using fire as a coping method after all these years.

My phone is blowing up by the time I reach the nearest gas station. I scan the messages from my brothers over quickly as I pull into the lot.

Deano: Heard what you did, I’d say he fucking deserved it.

Archie: Dad is pissed. Gonna try to calm him down before he does something stupid.

E.Z: Seriously, Phe, again! Dad is gonna be so pissed.

Leo: Just heard about your latest work, props little sis, I think your balls might be even bigger than Dean’s.

Rolling my eyes, I shove my phone in the glove box as it begins to buzz again. Uhh, I really don’t want or need a lecture right now about how I should or should not have acted upon finding my fiance in bed with another woman. Did I over react… by some people’s standards- maybe. But did I also live out every woman’s fantasy of dousing the bed in lighter fluid and striking a match whilst they were still in the bed… yes- yes I did- and do I give two fucks about any repercussions? Absolutely- fucking- not. Because there won’t be. Never have been. My Dad works for some of the most powerful men in the city- and I’m not talking about the Governor or the Mayor. No- someone will send some money over to keep them sweet and in a couple days time, everything will go back to normal.

I scrub at my hands with the shitty cheap soap in the tiny cubicle inside the gas station to the point the giant rock, still on my finger, almost slips off and down the drain. It’s the first time I’ve thought about it. I’ve been wearing it so long, it’s just an extension of my hand at this point. What am I gonna do with it? I mean- it’s worth a fucking fortune. Freddie was fucking loaded after all. None of it fucking his mind you. His Dad was a close business partner for the same guys my Dad worked for. Let’s just say, crime pays and his Dad has made so much money over the years working for Santiago Garcia and his crew, Freddie has never had to lift a single finger, let alone do a days work, to get what he wants.

I grab a handful of shitty paper towels, drying off my hands and the ring, holding it up to the fluorescent bathroom light. Uhhh it wasn’t even my style. I hate diamonds, they’re so basic and boring. Give me a massive fuck off ruby or saphire anyday. 

Still unsure what to do with it, I tuck it into the back pocket of my jeans before assessing how I look in the mirror. It’s like waking up from the weirdest dream and not recognising yourself. I look at my blonde hair in the mirror, the plain white t-shirt covering my breasts. I look like one of those young Barbie, trophy wife wannabe types. Where did the color and fun go? He drained it all out of me.

In college, when I met Freddie, I had pink in my hair and always had on something bright. At least my ripped jeans still have some character. 

Exiting out back onto the shop floor, I grab myself a large bag of cheetos and a cherry icee- that's as big as my head- from the machine in the back. As I place the large bag of cheesy puffs on the counter, I take a large sip of my drink, before placing that too on the counter, reaching for a pair of bright yellow heart sunglasses on a display next to the cashier.

“What d’ya think?” I ask the portly man behind the counter, who’s polo shirt doesn’t look or smell like it’s been washed for at least two weeks with its armpit stains and ranch dressing smear on the front.

It’s obvious he’s trying to come across as if he’s not checking out my whole body as he looks at me, but his eyes scan lower than my face, falling on the V neck of my t-shirt and my breasts for a hint too long. I flash him a sickly sweet smile as I take the sunglasses off my face and hook them into my shirt where his eyes seem to linger instead. “How about now?” I ask.

He quickly clears his throat as he looks back to the register. “Uhhh, yes- Yes- I think they suit you, yes.” he rambles and I can’t help but laugh. Men like that were always so predictable.

I reach for the icee taking another sip and try to school my features when I get brain freeze. “With the sunglasses,” he says, “16 bucks.” I sigh, but fish a couple notes out my back pocket and hand them over, just as my eyes land on a lighter covered in black and white harlequin print. My fingers instantly reach for it.

I turn the lighter over and over again in my fingers before flipping the top of it open and striking up a flame, my eyes getting lost in its amber glow as it sways hypnotically back and forth. It instantly takes me back to not 20 minutes ago and Fred and the girl’s screams, as the bed covers went up in flames and they both shot out from underneath them as he screamed about how much of a psycho I was. 

The ding of the till draw brings me back to the present and I flick the lighter closed. “Oh, and I’m taking this as payment for you oggling me.” I smile at the balding cashier, as I pocket the lighter and grab my bits off the counter.

I can hear him calling after me, “HEY, COME BACK HERE! YOU NEED TO PAY FOR THAT!” but I just laugh and take another sip of the slush and place the sunglasses back on my head.

As I walk back to my car, I notice a bum, sitting in the shade of the wall at the back corner of the station. As I look at him, I can feel the weight of the ring in my back pocket, dragging me towards him. Hey, the ring might not have changed my life, but it doesn’t mean it can’t change someone else’s life.

“Hey.” I say, lifting the yellow sunglasses on top of my head so I can meet his eyes. “Catch.” I toss him the ring. It sparkles as it hits the afternoon sun and I know from the look on his eyes as it makes contact with his fingers, he feels like he just won the lottery. “Pawn it. Get whatever you want with it, I don’t care.” I say as I begin to turn away from him and back to my car.

“Uh-thank you.” he says at first in shock, “Thank you.” he says again, a little more confidently now.

“Don’t mention it.” I shout back to him as I unlock my car with a chirp and climb back inside. 

I open the bag of cheetos, taking one and popping it in my mouth, before dumping them on the passenger seat and reaching to open the glove box, taking my phone back out.

7 more texts from my brothers and 5 missed calls from my Dad; with a final text saying:

DAD: Get your ass home. NOW!

Well, that does it then. I guess I’m going back to the old family home.

I start the engine, shuffling through the radio stations until I find something I like. When I hear the opening riff for Britney Spears’ Toxic, I stop and whack the volume all the way up. My tires screech as I speed out of the forecourt. I sing at the top of my lungs all the way home.

☆

I’m not through the door five seconds when E.Z is trying to usher me back out again. He’s always been the softer one. Third born. The middle child. Always overlooked, but still always trying to appease everyone.

“Dad is pissed.” He says, when he meets me in the foyer. After Mom tried to burn the house down, the place got remodeled. My Dad had to sell his soul to the devil to do it, but it meant we got to stay in our family home. Well, sort of. 

The whole left side of the house needed rebuilding, which meant they got to extend it out a bit more. We lost the basketball court the boys liked to play on, but it meant they finally got their own rooms so they didn’t mind. 

“I know.” I say to E.Z, waving my phone in his face with one hand, while I take a sip of my icee with the other. 

“Give me that.” He says, snatching the drink from my hand, the contents within the straw almost going everywhere as he rips it straight from my mouth. “This is serious Phe, Andy,” Freddie’s dad, “has already been on the phone making threats. You know how important he is for the business. He’s threatening to cut off the club’s supplies.”

“And….” I shrug, before reaching to take back the large cup in his hands. He merely moves it further out of my reach. “Look, I’m sure the guys who own the place have other connections he can use.”

“You sure about that?” My brother presses, raising his eyebrows and looming over me.

“Oh come on, you telling me those four wannabe goodfellas bozos, haven’t got some other dipshit on their payroll to import and export shit for them off record to help keep club costs down.” 

E.Z’s face is a picture. Eyes wide, face serious. It’s clear from his expression and his mouth that keeps gaping like a fish as he tries to get a word in, that he thinks I should shut up. “What!?” I hiss at him, but as I’ve been ranting and raving, I haven’t heard the second set of feet that have made their way through the front door into the foyer. E.Z’s face turns pale as he looks behind me to the figure and back.

“Oh no, don’t stop on my account.” A forced casual voice comes from behind me.

I turn my head and follow the voice to one of the most gorgeous men I have ever laid eyes on. All tanned skin and dark curly hair, a smattering of grays mixed in- the only hint to his age. I frown as a familiarity falls over me, but I can’t quite place from where. “I’m sorry- do I know you?”

He slides his fingers into his trouser pockets, his foot tapping slightly as he looks me up and down. “Oh you know, I’m just one of those bozos who’s now having to help clear up your mess.”

Before I have a chance to respond, my Dad and Archie step out of his office at the end of the hall. “PHEONIX!” My Dad’s voice bellows and I blanche, maybe that anger isn’t as far away as I thought. 

I turn away from the stranger in his Armani suit by the front door, to my Dad, flashing him my sweetest smile. “Hi, Dadd-”

“Uh- No!” He says, holding up a hand to stop me, “Don’t you dare-” He stops as he spots the other gentleman in the foyer. “Pope.” He says, his demeanor growing lighter as he greets the man who actually owns his ass.

“What kind of name is Pope?” I hiss to E.Z under my breathe, but he just nudges me to shut up.

“David… Archie…” Pope nods his head to the two men. “Shall we talk in your office.” He says, nodding back down the hall behind him.

“Uh- yes. Yes.” My Dad says nervously, turning his body to indicate for him to follow him back, before shooting me a stern look, telling me to behave and that this was far from over.

“Pheonix.” Pope nods to me as he passes, a faint smirk in the corner of his mouth and a look in his eye that I could only describe as fascination. But it quickly disappears again as he turns back to my Dad.

As the door to my Father’s office closes, my brother begins to ferry me towards the stairs. “I’d get up there and stay out of trouble if I were you.” He warns. 

I roll my eyes at him before I slip the yellow, heart shaped sunglasses, down over them with annoyance, snatching back my icee, before I stomp upstairs- as usual, out of sight, out of mind.

~

POPE

“Mr Garcia, I am so sorry for my daughters behavior. I really had thought she’d grown out of this,” David Leacher says, as I sit myself down in one of the leather armchairs in his office. “And I never thought she would do something like this that would put your well balanced business in jeopardy.”

I fain disinterest about the subject, because really, it doesn’t actually bother me all that much at all. Sure Andy is a bit pissed now on behalf of his son, but from what I hear, if you’re gonna go sneaking around behind your soon to be Mrs' back and she finds out, you kinda get what your asking for. To be fair, I gotta give the little lady props; it takes real guts to dump lighter fluid on a guy and strike the match, regardless of the consequences. 

“… I just don’t know what to do with her.” David says, slumping back in his chair behind his desk with a large glass of bourbon in his hand. 

“And this is why I never got married and had kids.” I say, giving him a tight lipped smirk. There’s an awkward pause between us, the only sound in the room, the ice clinking in David’s glass as he takes another nervous sip, his hand shaking slightly in anticipation, waiting for the slap on the wrist he thinks is about to come. “Look David, I’ll get to the point, Andy wants compensation for the money he’s already forked out for the wedding.” David puts his drink down and begins rubbing his temples as if this whole ordeal is giving him a headache. 

He sighs, turning to me, an earnest look in his eye, “Pope,” he says softly- imploringly- “you know I don’t have the money for that-“

“I know.” I say, cutting him off. “That’s why, we’ve decided to franchise Medusa’s. We are going to acquire two more clubs, you’ll get a pay rise and oversee all three venues, to help cover the costs. We get more money coming in through the clubs, you get more money to pay off Andy- everyone’s a winner.” 

The look of relief on David’s face is a picture. “Oh thank you, Pope- uh Mr Garcia.” He says, as his whole body seems to let out a very long breath that he had been keeping tight in his body, probably since the first call he got this afternoon about his daughter’s antics. “Thank you, thank you.” He seemingly pants.

“Look Dave, you’re a good guy- a loyal guy-“ I say honestly, “you work hard, you run Medusa’s well. Profits have been up 30% since you took over. I’m not gonna jeopardize that over some silly tiff between a couple kids.”

“No, no… thank you.” He says quietly, acknowledging my words as I continue to speak.

“Whether this had happened or not, we were going to come to you with this proposal this week anyway. Help you pay off your debt to us quicker too- you know.”

“Yes… thank you, Pope. Thank you.”

“Very well then.” I nod to him. “I’ll call Andy, let him know everything is settled.”

“Thank you, Pope, thank you.” He says again. 

David is a good man- a loyal man. He runs our most popular club well, but it was a real shame how soft he had gone in his old age. Ever since he lost his wife, he’s never been the same. Then he married that wannabe wag Marina- who does nothing but spend the rest of what little money he has coming in after he repays some of his debt to us- and walks all over him. Back in the day he had really made a name for himself bare knuckle boxing. They used to call him The Reaper because he could knock a man out with a single blow that brought a man close to death; but nowadays he’d barely hit a fly. This was yet another reason I never settled down and did the whole wife and kids thing- it made you soft.

Still didn’t stop his little girl from being as tough as nails and crazy to boot- but when the only female role models you had growing up were a Mother with a brain tumor that made her- to be polite- unhinged; and then Marina, it's no wonder she’s ended up as she has. She bounced around three different boarding schools in her teens. By the third school- after she had burnt down the science block at the second school- we had to write a fairly hefty donation cheque, in order to get her in. Just another number added to David’s bill to be repaid.

Although he had initially approached us looking for work in order to pay off his wife’s medical bills and then to redo the house after she had burnt half of it down, most of the money he’s borrowed from us over the years has been for Phoenix. Frankie, Will and myself have spent many a night around the table with a drink in our hands speculating on why he continues to bail her out and put himself in more debt to protect her. We’ve long come to assume it’s probably because of guilt. That she was robbed of a proper Mother. Cursed to have a weak Father. If she had been my kid, I would have tossed her ass out on the curb a long time ago and told her to deal with her own shit if she wanted to keep behaving the way she has over the years.

To be fair though, after she met Freddie, we thought she’d finally straightened out- or at least she had become Fred’s problem and he was dealing with it. She stopped going to the clubs. Started wearing more grown up clothing that matched her age. Began running with Freddie and his older friends. But I guess it was only a matter of time and you know what they say- a leopard never changes their spots.

I’m halfway to the door, ready to leave, when David stops me. “Umm, Pope.” He says tentatively. I slowly turn myself back to him, ready to hear his request, even though he’s in no place to be making requests right now after I’ve just bailed his ass out for the fifteenth time. “I was just wondering…” he continues hesitantly, “seeing as Phoenix and Freddie are no longer together, she’ll probably need an actual job of her own now…” I can almost feel myself rubbing at my temples, knowing the question that was about to come out of his mouth. It’s the same question that had come when all of his son’s came of age and needed a job… but this time is different- and we both know it.

Phoenix isn’t like her brothers. Where they are able to be mature and step up and follow orders, she most definitely can not. I’ve seen enough of her school reports over the years to know what kind of employee she’d be. When David had asked about getting the boys jobs, it had been a no brainer. Each one of them had a build similar to their father in his hay day, perfect for a bit of muscle and extra protection in the club. But a job in Medusa’s for Phoenix would be behind the bar- and I know for a fact she’d sooner pour herself shots of liquor and dance on that bar than stand back and serve everyone else whilst they had a good time.

I already know I’m going to regret this when I finally climb into my bed at the end of the night, “She gets one chance.” I say. “One chance.” I hold up my index finger to him for emphasis.

“Thank you, Pope. I promise she won’t let you down.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I mutter to myself, my thumb and forefinger rubbing at my eyes in both irritation and exhaustion, as I finally leave the room. I give Archie a brief nod of acknowledgement as he sees me back out to my car.

I'm about to climb back in when he says, "I know you didn't have to do that, but he needed that, you know. He needs that hope that she'll be okay."

I only give him a nod as I look up to the row of upstairs windows and back to him, "We'll see." I say. "We'll see."

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

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[adviceformefromme]

10 ways I became anxiety free.

To overcome anxiety you need to put in the work, this is not some click-your-fingers-and-its-gone shit. You need to return home to yourself and learn to live in alignment with your truth and not what society expects from you. I went from years on years of crippling anxiety and panic attacks to living completely anxiety-free for many years now, here’s what I did....

1 ) I fucking paused. I created a space for myself daily to meditate / journal. I stopped listening to the outside world and started tuning into me. I noticed the voice in my head and all the ways it was kicking me down at every given opportunity. I noticed how I worked a job that was so far from everything I loved and valued in life, I started noticing the men I was choosing and how they would fuel my anxiety by giving me scraps of love which I accepted and tolerated for years. I noticed the ‘friends’ who’s energy I felt off around, I noticed my vices, drinking alcohol even dabbling in drugs and smoking for release. In pausing I really got to see how my life was so far from love, and this distance manifested as anxiety as a signal for me to come back home to myself. 

2) I stopped talking / obsessing over my anxiety. The more I read about it, spoke about it, the more it could live within me. I was feeding it each day the more I focused on it. I stopped giving anxiety my energy. I accepted it was there, and focused on feeling better. 

3) I got help. I found a therapist I trusted and could understand me (it can take some time) and this was a game changer. I did a course of cognitive behavioural therapy for 3 months (which I privately extended to 9 months) and learnt all the ways my childhood wounds had been playing out in my adult life. I would choose men that would validate my belief that I was not worthy, something I believed as a child from my dad. There was a long list of old beliefs that I was playing out in my everyday life triggering my anxiety at every opportunity. 

4) I moved my body, I did regular exercise, dancing, yoga, running, pilates, walking. In order to get that uncomfortable feeling out my stomach, it was crucial the energy in my body was being moved otherwise I was energetically stuck.

5) I learnt how to connect with my inner child, I found out what I needed, where I was neglecting myself, and this was huge for my anxiety relief. I read Susan Anderson for steps on how to do this.

6) I got new friends. I changed my circle, and with this my energy changed. I spent time with women who inspired me, educated me, lifted me up, and this took time. There were periods I had no friends but I knew it was more important to be alone than be around people who were not aligned with me, and my values. 

7) I stopped dating unavailable men, as my self love and worth grew I was no longer interested in men that rejected or treated me like an option. I choose men who treated me as I desired, with respect, care, interest, love and affection. Hot and cold men held no place in my life and this helped shift ALOT of my anxiety as my father wound was a huge part of the anxiety I was feeling on a daily basis. A man ignoring me for 3 days would trigger severe anxiety until I heard back.

9) I choose a career and jobs in alignment with my truth. I said no to jobs not paying me enough, jobs with toxic teams. At interviews I learnt about the culture and asked questions to see if I was a good fit for me. 

10) I poured into my passions and built my confidence, I pushed myself out of my comfort zone and proved my limiting beliefs wrong. I travelled alone, I learnt to enjoy my own company, I read books, attended retreats, listened to music that made me feel good, I helped other people, I switched off my phone. 

All of the above was a huge process spanning over 10 years, it required time, energy, determination, heaps of self love and commitment, financial investment (self-funded), and an overwhelming desire to heal the parts of me that my anxiety was attached to. 

[jpitha]

More #Aliens are Gardenworlders. What happens when a Human gets approval to live on an actual Garden world?

Day 1 Hey Diary! I'm so excited! It took something like 8 weeks and practically a dozen forms, but I finally got approval to relocate to that Garden world I was telling you about! It's so nice here. Everyone is friendly, the house they assigned me to so so cute, and it's just incredibly easy to get around and get food. And the weather? It's been sunny and warm, and a local was confused when I asked what season it was. They don't have seasons! No more ice and snow! I think I'm going to like it here.

Day 28 Huh. Still sunny and warm today Diary. I expected at least some clouds or rain or a thunderstorm, but nothing yet. It's been sunny and warm all month long. They don't even count months here! They just track the days in a yearly period! Went out to my "garden" (really the forest behind my house) for some lunch and just grabbed whatever I could pick. It was all tasty and easy to eat.

Day 62 Diary. It's still sunny and warm. I don't get it. Every day is exactly the same. All the locals don't notice or care, and when I ask about weather they look at me oddly. Didn't feel like foraging today, so I just ate some of the "grass" in the backyard. It's fine, tastes like pistachio.

Day 180 OMG DIARY! It rained today! Everyone was so scared! They said it only happens once a year or so and was all worried about it. Schools were closed and everyone stayed inside. It wasn't even a thunderstorm! It just rained for about 90 minutes in the morning, then the clouds parted and it was sunny and warm again. I stood outside in the rain the whole time not even caring that I was getting wet.

Day 200 I've read just about every book I can get my hands on, twice! I've watched all the shows that I can get off my pad, human and non! (I will say, those K'laxi historical dramas are very good, but I don't like the Xenni war documentaries). I. am. bored.

Day 250 Okay, you're going to think I'm getting weird Diary, but this can't be normal. It rained once the whole time I was here, it's never gotten too cold or too hot, has always been sunny or partly sunny, I can eat practically everything around me and get this - it's so easy to sneak up on the locals. It sounds mean when I write it out, but I can just crouch in the bushes and when one walks by jump up and go BOO! And they scream and run away. The fourth time I did it, the authorities came by and asked me nicely to stop. They said they didn't want to "interfere with any human predator rituals" but that I had to "stop stalking the locals."

Day 380 It's been more than a year, and I'm more convinced than ever that I am in hell. After that one time it rained last year, it hasn't done anything else! Also, I got in trouble again for stalking the locals - I wasn't even going to attack them or anything, it's just TOO EASY to sneak up on them. I need to get another hobby or something.

Day 420 (nice!) So Diary, I got in some pretty big trouble with the planetary authorities this time. It turns out, nobody here had ever heard of Extreme Sports before. I was just so bored, that I had a motocross bike shipped over. I had found one that was just like I had when I was a kid on Earth! It was so cherry. Someone had done a lot of work to it. Anyway, I had built a little course in the back forest of my house, nothing crazy! But someone saw me doing jumps and getting some sick air, and called the authorities, worried I was "exhibiting symptoms of self-harm." They took my bike!

Day 500 Okay, I give. I can't live here anymore. If you can believe it, I'm getting burnt out on nice weather! I did a telehealth session with a human therapist off-world and they recommended I apply to be transferred back to a human world, or at least moved to a Starbase or ship. Somewhere where things can change, and there's more going on.

[plum-pitt]

Holy shit. I just realized i’ve never even yapped about my headcanons for the rise guys. This is a criminal offense on my part! Must be rectified immediately!!

Disclaimer: Don’t think there’s a lot of hot takes here, but feel free to disagree and talk about your own interpretations if you’d like!! Headcanon is fun and i love discussing it. it’s all fictional and since the text doesn’t give us much concrete shit on these topics we’re all free to make our own, equally valid readings of it. :3

Leo- Transmasc He/Him, gay as fuck who here could’ve guessed, ADHD haver, definitely smokes weed. Fluent in spanish from watching telenovellas as a child. Wants to be a flirty whore/aff so fucking bad but whenever he sees someone he’s legitimately attracted to any charisma he might’ve had gets thrown out the window and into a woodchipper in favor of helpless stuttering. His portalling mishaps early in the series have led him to silly sidequests all over the world that he just,,,, doesn’t really talk about. This won’t come up until they’ll end up in some random ass place and find out just how well travelled and connected he actually is. He’s also got a job at Hueso’s for fun and extra cash to fund his addiction to pot and ordering stupid shit he doesn’t need online. He’s a server, wears rollerskates to “move faster” on the job, just ends up running into shit more often than not. Great with the kids tho, performs little sleight of hand magic tricks and tells jokes to make them happy, never had a fussy kid he couldn’t calm down in a snap. Calls himself Hueso’s nephew and nepotism hire, ignoring the fact that he’s actually a decently competent and well liked employee outside of the several skating related accidents. Shell was cracked badly in the invasion, when they sealed it up, he asked Mikey to paint the healed cracks gold, mimicking the japanese practice of Kintsugi.

Mikey- Definitely queer but not into labels ;3 He/Him is what he defaults to, but any pronouns work for them. Semi fluent in italian, don’t ask me why, just feels right, let chef boy speak italian dammit. One of those mfs on instagram who insists on posting pictures of the food he makes, except his actually looks good and not painfully mediocre so they get a pass. Has been tagging walls in hard to reach spots all over the city for years at this point, after Raph confronted her abt it, fearing that he’d get caught someday, he told him that he’d stop. Yeah, that was a lie he kept doing it, just sneakier now. Makes money off of art commissions, still broke as hell tho cuz he spends it all on bougie ass ingredients and art supplies. Post canon definitely delved more into mystics and spirituality, trains with draxum but also took up meditation in his free time. Fucks with weed and the occasional psychedelic when working on art, says it helps get the creative juices flowing. Considering asking donnie to forge some documents for him so he can attend college online and earn a psych degree. His speech patterns flip on a dime between vague, wise fortune cookie therapist man and typical gen-z slang so abruptly it gives anyone not already familiar with him total whiplash.

Donnie- NonBinary They/He Bisexual but i can’t decide if they’re the kind that can’t stop pulling or can’t pull to save his life. Fluent in several languages, ASL, French, Russian, Japanese. Actually one of their few acedemic endeavors that he doesn’t typically show off and gloat about, makes it all the scarier when his siblings hear him muttering vaguely threatening sounding shit in russian when shit doesn’t go their way. Has tried most substances for “research purposes”, ultimately decided he doesn’t like the feeling of their big ol brain being hindered under the influence, this has a few exceptions tho, mainly when it’s with Leo. Has John Bishops IP address and threatens to drop it on 4chan to “see what happens” every time he tries messing with their family or stopping him from “borrowing” material resources from the US government. Almost considered bs-ing his way into college before they used a cloaking broach to shadow april at school for like 2 days. It was there they learned that the education system fucking sucks and he probably knows more than most professors about his topics of interest anyway. Does freelance work for cash, as far as their brothers know they’re not building and selling anything dangerous (which is code for probably arming both sides in a far away military conflict with deathrays). Spends his free time cyber bullying children on roblox and twitter, and caring for their greenhouse of plants that all have names. (yes he grows weed. his GeniusGrown™️ zaza is known far and wide for its consistently excellent quality. and no, Leo does not get a family discount. Mikey does tho.)

Raph- Someone please send the big man some help😭 he/him(?) Definitely queer in some way shape or form but refuses to confront any identity crisis because he’s just so busy keeping his dumb ass siblings outta shit. Tried weed once and will never touch a substance again, makes his anxiety spike real bad when he doesn’t feel in full control of himself. Runs around with Cassandra and sometimes Jr to do vigilante justice on the side of he and his siblings’ usual patrols. Living garbage disposal and i mean that quite literally. He has and will eat anything, rocks, toys, silverware, sometimes on accident, sometimes on a dare, and sometimes just because he wants to. He grew up gnawing on the legs of furniture, rusty sewer pipes, really any nonliving thing that he could fit his choppers around (unlike donnie who just bit any living creature within a 5 mile radius of his location). Since the invasion made Leo step up as leader Raph has been able to step back a little bit and not have everything in a chokehold, he has a mini crisis about his place in the family and his sense of identity without being a leader. Tries to hide how much it’s affecting him but ofc, living with mikey, this does not last and his ass FINALLY gets chucked (very lovingly) into therapy. Loves to knit, definitely in some kind of old lady facebook group centered around it (he has so much nursing home gossip floating around in his brain hehe)

Alright that’s all for the teetlez. lmk if yall wanna hear about my thoughts on the rest of the main cast, or some of the side cast! Can’t promise i’ll have this much to say on all of em but i’ve definitely got thoughts lol. I might even make a post diving into different character dynamics. idk tho, my fingies are tired typing all that shit😭

Anyway i hope u enjoyed my ramblings, have a lovely day :3

[thefootprintpr0ject]

My flip flops experience

(Very Long Story)

This experience happened last year in the summer. I was 18.

I love wearing flip flops in public now. I used to be extremely anxious about people seeing my feet. Maybe it was that they'd be too pale or people would think my toes looked funny. Maybe the sound of the flip flops would draw attention to me. Maybe it could have been that people would somehow know I had a foot fetish just because I was wearing flip flops in public. But I have a strong desire to not let my anxiety keep me from doing what I want and an even stronger desire for my insane foot fetish. Bonus is the shoe fetish lol.

I always liked seeing a man wear down any type of foot wear to the point were his footprint was deeply imbedded into the footwear. Not only is that a turn on for me, it's incredibly powerful and confident even though it's so simple. Flip flops have always been the perfect thing for that to me. So I said enough was enough.

I started out small. I bought a pair of flip flops months ago and was waiting for hot weather. Took me a while to work the nerve, the horniness rather, but I decided how I was going to start was to wake up early in the morning to avoid lots of people and go for a walk in my flip flops. It felt a little off at first but MAN OH MAN it got super comfortable super fast; The feeling of the summer heat beating down on my feet was a feeling I haven't felt in years because I was so anxious before. I even got super curious and horny to try barefooting and the flipflops were the perfect opportunity because it's easy to take on and off. I found a secluded area and it's pretty much just a dirt path with a bench at the end because it's all trees at that spot. So I walked there and did my barefoot thing which was so amazing for so many reasons but that's a different story. When I was done, I thought I would hate the feeling of all that dirt grinding under my soles with the flipflops but no. It feels almost like nothing and what I can feel does feel oddly sexy for some reason. Oh and turns out all that dirt on the flipflops wore down the material faster so I was already making a footprint.

So that was my thing for a couple of weeks. I'd wake up early in the morning and go for a walk to do my barefooting thing and even try to tan because I've always been very pale.

Then I decided to push my new found boundary and try to go out later in the day where more people would see me. Just to show myself that literally no one cares if my feet are showing. Pale or not. And guess what? No one even LOOKED AT ME! I was also started to find people online that were extremely outspoken and confident about this type of thing, which was really awe-inspiring to me, and then something just clicked in me. So then I really got comfortable with it and let my mind go to foot fetish town instead of "anxiety therapist town."

I really started to love every part of wearing flips flops in public; People seeing my feet, the feeling of the wind, dirt, grass, sun and even morning dew touch at my toes. Feeling the flip flops rub and slide against my soles. Feeling the back ends slap against my heels. Hearing the sound of my flip flops against my feet and the ground. Letting my toes flex and bend a lot more than a regular shoe and the absolute feeling of my entire foot pounding and grinding into the flip flops. It's such a major turn on.

Fast forward to now after doing all of that and I am completely comfortable with my feet showing in public and being in flip flops. I feel powerful, more confident, sexy, stronger, liberated, free and even more normal than before. I'm just sad it's about all over now since summer is coming to an end.

If anyone stuck around this long and is reading this last part, thanks so much. I appreciate even just one person hearing my sweet nothings about my foot fetish. If anyone wants another experience story or something, just let me know and I'll do it.

[epitomereally]

@hd-wireless 2023 fic claim: LA, Who Am I to Love You? for @sitp-recs

AO3 // FIC PLAYLIST

Harry’s summer in LA is not going as expected. Pansy Parkinson keeps inviting him to parties in the Hollywood Hills and harassing him to finally go to the physical therapist, Blaise Zabini keeps slipping new strains of his company’s magical weed into Harry’s pockets in hopes of an endorsement, and Draco Malfoy keeps having sex with everyone but Harry.

Liv, there's nothing I can say that everyone hasn't said before: you're such a lovely, kind, supportive part of our fandom and I can't think you enough for everything you do (especially sticking up for my fic while it was still on anon!). I was so so so excited when I saw your prompt — thank you for letting me rhapsodize about magical Los Angeles and also for letting me be horny in your ask box 💕💗💞

This fic took a village & is immeasurably better for all of their feedback: @thehoneybeet, whose essays about how some key scenes should change led to more clarity and kindness in the fic (and who let me steal their words VERBATIM); aulophobia, who tamed my run-on sentences (or at least half of them — blame me for the rest) and britpicked the hell out of this American fic (any Americanisms remaining are my own); @theonetruenim for their enthusiasm and wonderful LA vibes check; and @chaoticbindery for talking with me about Chicano magical traditions and a sensitivity read.

I'm feeling really sappy about this story. I truly love LA and I hope everyone else can see something to love about this illogical and metastatic city in the fic, whether it's the interminable sun and traffic, bougainvillea cascading over a fence, or the smog making the sunsets violent and gorgeous. Thank you to everyone who read it (especially @sitp-recs & @romaine2424 for your recs) — it means the world.

A brief snippet for the * ~ LA V I B E S ~ *

Luna and Neville spend a magical week in LA. Neville works during the day, developing a new strain with Blaise, but Luna is stupendously free. She accompanies Harry to yoga, where she compliments the teacher on her lack of Wrackspurts. Harry’s teacher accepts the compliment graciously and completely seriously. Despite being a Muggle, she is apparently senses when her aura is being declared clear, despite the incomprehensible words Luna uses.

They go to Harry’s favourite juice bar and Luna delights in ordering the oddest-coloured drinks she can: black (charcoal), royal blue (spirulina), hot pink (pitaya), and then green, green, and more green.

He and Luna spend hours outside. They lay on the beach—the first time Harry’s taken his shirt off in front of anyone who’s not a Healer since the bite—and Luna spends hours tracing it gently, completely intent, her nose almost pressed into Harry’s side. Harry dozes, waking up every time she hits somewhere sensitive. Despite applying extensive sunscreen, he somehow acquires a bit of a glow about him. He loves it. Harry, who was always tan in England, had felt positively pale before now in LA. He had been technically darker than Malfoy and Pansy, but his skin didn’t have a healthy flush of recent sun exposure; it looked almost green, olive tones coming out against the gold of Malfoy’s and amber of Pansy’s. Somehow, all the Slytherins have freckles. They no longer look sickly and afraid like at Hogwarts; instead, like they had ripened and melted in the LA sun. When they arrive back at Malfoy’s, Harry likes how Malfoy laughs at both of them, not unkindly, when they immediately demand Sun-Healing Potion.

They walk along the canals of Venice and the tiny alleys, where Luna stops to marvel at pomelos the size of Harry’s head, or brush her fingers through mulberries which stain her hands wine-dark for the rest of the day, or weave a crown of fig leaves.

They wile away the time in Draco’s garden. Butterflies flit around them—Harry’s not sure if they’re even real, given the mild explosions from Draco’s garage, where he’s madly inventing effects. Luna takes time to tell Harry about every plant in the garden, what’s in season, and what Draco has enchanted to bloom despite the heat and the sun: bougainvillea and wisteria and jacaranda and Birds of Paradise and one English tea rose. It’s odd how at-home Harry feels in Malfoy’s back garden—they’ve only just barely become friends—but he does and Malfoy seems to like him there, anyways.

On Thursday evening, after 48 hours of mad plant alchemy between Neville and Blaise, they come home. Neville’s only got one long scratch down his cheek, which is apparently a rousing success for trying to cross marijuana, Gillyweed, and a Venomous Tentacula. The poison is apparently a mild empathogen in small doses, the Gillyweed makes Harry feel as if he’s floating and unexpectedly makes him blow bubbles, and they all lie in the backyard, laughing and dozing and chatting. Bubbles float above them, trapped by the jacaranda: purple and pink and iridescent, shifting in front of Harry’s eyes. Somehow, butterflies are still flitting about the garden; the fairy lights glow above them in the dim of the twilight. A giant purple blossom from the jacaranda drifts down to the top of Malfoy’s head, and Harry can’t stop staring, entranced by how lovely he is, how golden and beautiful. He falls asleep on the cushioned wicker sofa out back that night, Luna curled around Pansy in a chair, and Neville snoring away. Harry wakes up feeling better than he has in a long time.

Luna and Harry go for hikes in the Hollywood Hills: Runyon Canyon, and Cahuenga Peak to the Hollywood Sign, where Harry feels like a tourist for the first time in LA. They even even drive west up into the Santa Monica Mountains, where Harry roasts to a crisp, exposed among the shrub, with the ocean vast and glittering to his left. Luna’s a calming presence in the passenger seat of Harry’s car, humming along in a scattershot, off-key melody to songs she’s never heard before. While they hike, Luna points out a peppercorn tree, crushes the pink berries between her hands and puts them into Harry’s nostrils; he sneezes. She marvels at the wild mustard, coating the hills with yellow sprays of flowers. She stands in front of an agave, blue-green spikes taller than her, with what appeared to be a giant asparagus rising from its center. It must have been thirty feet tall, covered in yellow and red anemones. Luna loves it instantly. She loves the prickly pear too, with their bloody metastatic fruit sprouting off the paddles—Harry finds them frankly unnerving. She finds wild rosemary off the trail, soft and plush; it’s so intensely savory that Harry feels like he’s being punched in the face with a focaccia when he smells it.

Harry had just tolerated LA—it was a means to an end, a long shot to get rid of the wolf. It almost feels like cheating to see it now through Luna’s eyes, just after Parkinson tempts him with a Quidditch offer. Harry feels as if he hasn’t made a real choice in his entire life: his path laid out by Voldemort and Dumbledore from his first birthday; his apathy during Auror training; and finally the bite. He didn’t think he had a real choice in front of him here, either, but now, in the unexpected beauty of LA through Luna’s eyes and generosity of Pansy Parkinson, he does.

[rebelrebelwrites]

Fic Friday! ❤️ Rebel’s Weekly Fic Recs

~ Haladriel Week Edition (Part 1) ~

Aiight y'all, I took a week off and you DELIVERED the @haladrielweek GOODS. Like, DAMN. Rest assured, I'll be recc'ing stuff from Haladriel Week for many weeks to come; I'm still getting caught up on devouring all of your amazing fics, artwork, Tumblr and Twitter posts, and more! Thanks again to @formerlyir for putting this whole shindig together and all of you for your amazing contributions.

Without further ado—as always, this week's recs are...

As always, please mind the tags on any recommended story for your own personal preferences.

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The Classic You’ve Heard Of But Somehow Haven’t Read Yet: like magnets work, only drawn to thee by @bluetiefling

What you need to know going in:

As I started reading this fic, which the author described as her first in years, I knew it was an instant classic! One-shot, post-S1, this story sees Galadriel sneaking into Sauron's war camp in an ill-advised assassination attempt. It's pretty immediately clear her heart's not in it, not really—the bid to kill him, anyway. 👀 Things go from awry to full of angst with a cloying, desperate, spicy edge from there, and the angst has claws. In the best way. And the smut? 🔥 Like I said... instant classic.

Complete, Explicit

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr, Twitter, and AO3.

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The AU You Need to Immerse Yourself In Because, Well, Wow: the rules of you by sawdustdiamonds

What you need to know going in:

The hook for me with this fic was immediately the unique setting and the premise; a Victorian-era AU, in it, Halbrand owns a gambling hall, and Galadriel is, of course, a Lady—they meet when he catches her counting cards. 😆 As always, I love how Galadriel barrels into things guns blazing, and this fic renders her (and his) characterization perfectly. Without revealing too much, they strike a mutually beneficial deal with her sharp skills, and the instant attraction, sexual tension, and ultimate devotion soars.

Complete, Explicit

Read the story.

Follow the author on AO3.

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The Complete But Never Forgotten Masterpiece: when the world was so young by @hazelmaines

What you need to know going in:

Something to know about me: I am a SUCKER for childhood sweethearts almost as much as ETL. Combine those two??? An immediate sign me the hell up (so much so that I've written it myself 😆), and that was my exact reaction when I first set eyes on this HW fic from favorite @hazelmaines. Set in the First Age, Hal and Gal meet as youths, Mairon and Artanis, and grow in life and love together before Mairon's fall, only to meet again on the Sundering Seas. Achingly sweet and somber in equal measure, I won't say too much else... just read and revel in the mythical, cyclical beauty of this fic.

Complete, Mature

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr and AO3.

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The WIP That Will Wreck You (In the Best Way): all your pain will end here by @bad-surprise

What you need to know going in:

So first, I need to say that it was incredibly difficult to pick just one of the many fics from @bad-surprise to highlight from Haladriel Week, because she blessed us with SCADS of them, and I was torn between this one and another WIP that I decided to save for next week, but I picked this one because the premise and first chapter is a jolt; a shock to the system in its heady horror, and I'm itching to see what happens next. Long story short: Galadriel is a therapist, and her patient, Halbrand, is in desperate need of therapy for his homicidal tendencies. Can she help him before she becomes his next victim? I don't know, but again—I can't wait to find out.

WIP, Explicit

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr, Twitter, and AO3.

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The Can't Stop Consuming No Matter What Time It Is Fic: it's a dangerous game by @wyrd-syster

What you need to know going in:

So this story is complete but I think the category holds because HOT. DAMN. I hung onto every word of this masterpiece and somehow simultaneously sped through it with an almost feverish fervor; it was—is—just that goddamn compelling. Reading it almost felt like caving to compulsion; an irresistible pull into the world with little mercy and no way out but forward, but you're happy you're there. In this Venetian-style, Jekyll & Hyde-esque AU, Galadriel is stalked by one man that is moreso two: Halbrand and Sauron both, a beast intent on a bloody romance that may be more than he bargained for. I don't want to say too much in case of spoilers, but... the vivid imagery, the gorgeous prose (as always with @wyrd-syster's impeccable works), and the ever-present, thrumming fear in this fic is nothing short of outstanding. Just, wow.

Complete, Explicit

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr, Twitter, and AO3.

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🤩🤩🤩

Me at all these fics:

Don’t see your story on this list yet? Keyword: yet. Please don’t fret! I can only recommend so many each week, but I am always looking for more stuff to read, share, and generally shower with love, so please feel free to reply with your own fics or your personal faves. I have plenty more to recommend… ❤️

Until next week!

[kquil]

You have so many of these requests so please feel free to ignore this!!

If it's no trouble, could I please get a 🧁?

I'm 5'9 and I have long and curly dark brown hair and brown eyes. I have a fair skin tone, I'm slim and I've got full lips and fairly large eyes. I also have these dimples that I really like! I love dressing up and playing around with makeup.

I love reading, my favorite genres are poetry, Russian lit, and mysteries! I love learning about new things and knowing a little bit of everything. I adore adventures, witty and playful banter, joking around and having indepth discussions on anything and everything! I adore all forms of art and I have quite a few creative hobbies! I listen to a lot of modern/indie rock and I love watching films very much! I'm a pretty good badminton player and I love tennis too.

It takes me a while to feel comfortable around new people but once I do, I become really talkative and outgoing. I love helping out and I'm the therapist friend, people come to me to vent or for advice and comfort. I'm smart and ambitious; I love being the best at everything I do. I'm quite the hopeless romantic and I love being in love! I adore big and small romantic gestures and I love domesticity sm!! My love languages are acts of service and quality time. I'm a ravenclaw, my mbti is infp and my enneagram is 4w3!

Thank you very much!

thank you so much for sending in a request darling and im so so sooo sorry it took so long to fulfil, a lot of things happened! nevertheless, i hope you enjoy the ship i came up with for you (⸝⸝⸝╸w╺⸝⸝⸝)

I ship you with Remus Lupin 

i. in his eyes, you’re too pretty for someone like him, someone whose skin is littered with scars and someone with such a dark secret. he loves your pretty brown eyes and beautiful dark brown hair, often times, he’d be so tempted to just reach out and play with a stray curl between his fingers. you would almost always see his attempts in your peripheral, you would see his hesitance and eventual withdraw. but you would turn to him with a kind smile, reach for his hand and bring his fingers to your hair instead. With a grateful smile, remus loses the tension in his shoulders before succumbing to his urges in playing with your hair. It was little things like this that he really loved about you, every small action from him was one you took notice of and did your best to reassure him — you made him feel like less of a monster

ii. remus often feels guilty for taking more from you than he was giving in return but that wasn’t the case at all. he returns all the comfort you give him through the domestic, romantic love that comes so naturally to him. every spring, he sees a new blossom that reminds him of you, he picks it to take to you, forming a small bouquet. in the summer, when the two of you spend weeks in each other’s company, he would love you so dearly, cooking you breakfast, making you tea/coffee in the mornings, just the way you liked it and the two of you would wake up early to watch the sunrise, and would converse about anything and everything under the sun as the sun sets. In the autumn, he loves holding your hand and letting you borrow his giant sweaters to swamp yourselves under, he thinks your adorable and sometimes can’t help himself when wanting to pick you up and cuddle you close in private. in the winter, the two of you love to share mugs of hot chocolate whilst reading your books and eventually cuddle in bed together, if you two were feeling extra peckish, you would bake some delish goods in the kitchen together with the elves to have with your hot chocolate. his love for you is unrelenting and stays strong through every season. 

iii. as part of the marauders, he takes you on some of the adventures they like to go on but more subdued. the boys are like a test-run so that he could map out a safer and more romantic trip for the two of you to have — this way you can focus on each other more and make memories that will last you a lifetime. when going on these excursions, you’d often feel a lot more mischievous and start acting silly or playing around with him, giving him the occasional playful shove, and he would do the same back. he finds it so easy to laugh and smile with you around; with you around, the world just feels right.  

iv. even though he’s bad at it, he’ll play a friendly game of tennis or badminton with you, whatever you fancy that day. it almost always becomes a little competition where you’re both at equal playfields but you both secretly know remus is gonna lose. It’s just that the idea of a playful match was so appealing and fun, you two can’t help but make impish jabs at each other. “you really think you can take me?” remus challenges as you narrow your eyes at him in jest, “ha! don’t make me laugh! it’s you who can’t take me!”

v. you two spend a lot of time together either in silence or in full discussion about any topic under the sun, it could be about the books you two were reading or a topic brought up during class, it could be about something completely random or silly or about the most mundane things — either way, you two could talk to each other for forever without getting tired. even though you tend to be the therapist friend, remus doesn’t want that type of relationship with you. he knows that he can trust you with his problems because you know how to keep secrets and are almost always so much wiser than him but his problems are his, the only things he wants to fill your relationship with is love and happiness. nevertheless, you two still go to each other for advice every once in a while, exercising your trust in each other and feeling satisfied and content with life after most discussions. after every heart-to-heart and at the end of each day, remus never fails to whisper a sweet and a loving “i love you,” into your ear before he presses a kiss into your temple, your cheek, your nose and finally your lips — it’s practically routine now and he’s never broken it ever since the two of you made it official that first night and he finally had to part ways with you reaching curfew.

1K MILESTONE EVENT : CLOSED | NAVI.

[kinky-moth]

Someone else jumping on the iasip lawyer is validating ngl . yeah I’m like the first ask person— could I have a dom top reader and that lawyer? but kudos for the last person luring me out of my attracted to very Minnie side character shame

Anon you wouldn't believe how many lawyer simps there are, sorry for the late response

If powerful people being submissive is your thing I also suggest the tag '#pegging businessmen'

cw: (nsfw) some fucked up feelings and messy writing "Alternate timeline" from this, go read it if you haven't cause theres some nods to it in the end

"If he acts like that in court, he'll be found guilty no doubt they thought

"Sir." their hand reached firmly for his arm And surprisingly, they had his attention His eyes once again looking in theirs, lost, at their mercy, looking for guidance

"Just let me handle it. You'll be fine." they were certain of it. That's what he needed, guidance.

They weren't one to reassure people, they're a lawyer not a therapist fucks sake, but they gave it a try

And it worked Maybe too much"

They thought that's what must've happened when they saw the client's gaze switch: he still looked almost hypnotized by their voice but his need morphed into something less passive It was a glimpse, but they had seen it often: in the eyes of criminals before fucking themselves over, in good people when too long provoked, and in lovers when they gave in to passion

Thinking about it, those examples are pretty much the same

They could stay preoccupied in their own thoughts longer, but they knew better than to lower their guard now: innocuous as their client might have seemed, they knew that glimpse was dangerous. He lunged towards them, and they were far too close to dodge away; but before they could curse themselves for allowing his doe eyes to lure them in they felt lips push against theirs

Unlike the harsh hold, his lips felt careful, almost unsure, the kiss was lukewarm as if he had realized his actions and were trying to hold back The lawyer, on the other hand, was not known to be.. inhibited. Since he had made his intentions clear, there was no reason to deny both of their desires, right? They surely weren't gonna wait for the answer to that

Firm hands pushed at the back of the man's scalp, making his last bit of hesitance crumble as he was pulled back in, lips parted and welcoming the other's taste; it didn't take long to see just how bewitched they had got him, body moving on it's own to fulfill the twisted need that bound him They saw it all, how he struggled their clothes off, how the heat radiated from his chest, how his eyes were wild and distant, they wondered if he'd even hear them if they spoke to him They didn't bother trying as they took in the ravishing sight

His eyes looked down at the body underneath him, hot and hard for him to see; normally, it would've made him dizzy, being this close, this dominant with someone he didn't even know, showing every part of himself, his emotions, his actions, his weaknesses and his desires all down to his dripping cunt Normally, he'd have asked himself 'what will they think of me?', but not now; he didn't know why, he wasn't gonna question it, he wasn't gonna think at all, he did'nt want to. What he wanted to do is hold his mate down and sink on their cock.

His hold was surprisingly brash for someone who used to be so meek, they thought as his warmth spread down their cock, on top of me with the sunlight hitting his skin, he still looks angelic a smile spread across their lips before a moan was forced past them: their top clenching around them and rocking his hips as if he trying to wring him dry already

It's not gonna happen that easily, they tought as they looked back at their past lovers, but he leaned down

Damp hair dripped down his head "thank you" he groaned, his tone saccharine "I really wouldn't have done it without your help" The rooms filled with gasps as he talked, "won't you let me show you.. my utter gratitude?" despite the gold lighting on him, they could've sworn his eyes reflected a clear red "you looked so weary.. let me be the one to carry your burdens, just for now.."

Oh his words, they sounded familiar, in a way Their mind clouded, they hadn't realized just how close they had been all this time

"Please, let go now" he coaxed, hot liquid spilling from deep inside "just like that.."

Those words..

"I'm sorry, I don't think I've had enough" his body showed no intentions of lifting off of theirs "you just look.. so different like this"

They were.. just like theirs

"You make it.. hard to be good"

It was far too late

Maybe for a day, it would be fine to let someone else take the lead

[obscureother]

the f/orth.

Though this post is going to be kind of odd compared to other posts i normally put, the fourth has become important enough for me to throw out on there. we're going to ignore how it is technically the fifth now on central time, i got home late from the fireworks lolol.

this is your heads up for the very long post, though it does have relevance to f/os if that would be relevant to keep reading for you.

below the moon.

🌑

forgive me for the odd wording of the blog, i go through these weird things where fear comes from certain letters or words to me for these kinds of things. moving on. .

i was doing some thinking on the fourth of july. i realized that though im not very patriotic, there's still some part of me that does look forward to the fourth. dont get me wrong, america is cool, freedom, woo. but, im not really super into that kind of stuff for identity or waving flags or whatnot. not my thing, though there was always something about fireworks that entranced me and often left a mark on my goofy lil brain blob. ive got numerous memories related to them. those i wont go into because theyre personal and yall dont need to read through all that. the thing im getting to though, is that all those memories moreso related to family than patriotism or "freedom woo, eagles with guns," woh-woh.

one of those memories, the relevant one to this blog, is that of when i told my mom that i had f/os.

ok listen, so fictional crushes in general arent new to her. she's known about every fictional crush ive had ever, even the worst ones. (cough, looking at you, 🥞 + 🥓, cough.) Though mom didnt always care for those movies or those topics, those goofy characters i got into and wouldnt shut up about for months or even years at a time, she always supported me. she was the one who told me "someone's gotta love the villains." that it's ok to be into weird, morbid, dark shit or horror, or gore, or whatever. that even tho she didnt think robert englund was hot in the slightest, OR bela lugosi. . gerard butler, he was ok tho. she would always be there for the goofiness about them i had. she got me merch of them, movies, those things i related to them for. i've got a cool mom, guys. for those who need one, ill share but you cant keep her cos i need to keep the cool mom that bore me.

the thing that really gets to me sometimes tho (in a good way) is that, for a long time, ive worried that something was wrong with me. . like on the brain blob? because it took me a long time, but evidently she and everyone else think that i could be on the spectrum or something else is "wonky" (how i call it). the problem is the older i got, the more self-aware i became, the more uncomfortable and nervous i got because there's these things that go on that i dont know or understand how to respond to or handle. things i didnt used to have problems with before that i knew about, things i cant tell if just got developed later or came from college stress or what not. so when i suddenly started coping with pretending these fictional people existed around me, i was really tentative about it. of course im not delusional, but you dont really hear about anyone other than kids having "imaginary friends" (or something similar). im not a kid anymore. i used to have them like lots of others, but it was never to this degree. . because times were simpler, maybe. my brain blob didnt overthink, things werent so complex on the inside or outside of me. it scared me. i thought something was wrong, that i was losing my mind or something because they felt like they were becoming subconsciously ingrained in that wonky brain blob of mine. on top of other things, i was really nervous. i only ever talked to one person about it. shout out to the bestie who knows, you really helped me a lot through that kind of stuff while we figured out that, oh, we're not the only ones who pretend our fictional crushes/interests exist. therapist recommended? ok maybe its not so bad.

but for my mother, i was still scared to tell her. the f/os were becoming such a big part of the things i was doing, how i worked on the inside and they were involved for coping, comfort, things i would do behaviorally because i was communicating or interacting with them through the wonky brain blob residing in my skull box. i wanted to tell her, to share those things with her or to bring it up to a psychiatrist at some point (or both really, cos my mom would be there for that too. we've talked about it for a long time now.) but i was scared she would think i was fucking delusional, some loony to throw in the loony box to get better, yknow? that i talk to people, i pretend their real?? who, wtf??

but my mom, though after a long silence while i explained it to her how long i'd been having them and who they are, how they come to be, what they do for me. . she told me it was ok. that i wasn't freaking loony. that people cope differently, that people grow up at different paces or that its ok to resort to childish things for comfort because things are tough and so long as they help me, that it would be ok. that i know they're not literally real, that im choosing to pretend these people exist or however i do that, so long as im ok. for something so vulnerable, so scary for me, that meant a whole lot. that was on the fourth of july last year.

since then, my mom goes so far as to even interact with my f/os by touching their objects associated with them, to talk back and forth to them through me, to let me babble about them or talk about them. she knows some of their names, who or what they come from, how they work to some degree. the journal i have (the real f/o journal, not the tag), was one that she bought for me knowing it would be used for those f/os or for me to talk through it to them or draw things of them, do whatever i would with but that it would all be centered around my f/o for however it would comfort or bring me joy. she signed that journal for me, alongside the numerous "signatures" from those f/os and read their messages. she pointed and asked about the things they "wrote," smiled at their messages or the doodles of them. for that reason, i felt so safe with those f/os and what they were that i could go forward not being so fearful of myself. that it helped me to further bond with my mom about other things, to feel more of a closeness or security with her because of how good she was to me for those f/o things.

there was even one of my "worst" f/os present on that fourth of july. she knew who and what he was, i told her he was "sitting there" with me on the hood of the car when i told her that these odd fictional men lived in my brain blob and that they would "exist" through my daily life for the past few months. though she still told me that it was ok. that i would be ok, that so long as no one was getting hurt, those f/os would be ok to have for however long i would have them.

for those of you who get worried or embarrassed of having f/os for whatever reason that would be, know that its ok. no one gets hurt, no one gets effected by them. they're there for you, that's the most important thing of them. mom said so.

good fourth of july to you guys who celebrate it, be that for cool moms, friends, or whoever is there for you. the not-real ones, too.

[loplainlointhemorning]

i have no personal space at home, the cats are constantly crashing into things and waking me up, I ended up back at my grandparents’ place for like five hours again today doing nothing, then my mom got mad at me for wanting my bath bc I used all the hot water but I take baths every day at home. im having nightmares abt the spring semester frequently and I’ve been sleeping off and on for about two hours jusr from exhaustion with everything bc my sleep is severely disrupted by my sister not giving a shit if I sleep or not and the cats doing random things that jolt me awake and the constant fucking nightmares. im totally out of practice musically but I don’t have the energy or composure to play because it just frustrates and tires me more. i have no friends I can talk to about this bc I only have one friend and he is not really an emotional confidant and he’s also part of the problem bc I feel like I have a duty to him to hang out as much as we can do he’ll be here tomorrow. i took Friday-Sunday off of seeing people and it Blew by but my mom got upset that I didn’t go with her to my sister’s piano lesson (?) and I just feel guilt wherever I turn but I can’t catch a break and I can’t see my therapist this week bc she’s on vacation for the holidays. and btw in the past two hours of me being visibly asleep my brother and his friend have woken me up to talk to me, my sister has woken me up to try and watch a movie with me…today she took my calendar that I legit bought to keep up with things and scribbled on every day of January with black ink which I wouldn’t be upset about except I need it & I want to be able to yknow, read it. i just feel really angry and out of it idk!! classes start the 16th and I’m just accepting that I’m going to have to go into it completely frazzled and exhausted

[ireallydontunderstandpeopleatall]

i talked to my therapist today and broke down when she asked me about richard since he took care of me during surgery and after. i told her my feelings came back and it hurts to know we can't be together and it made me hopeful that maybe we can try again but then after a few days he went back to the person he usually is that rather play a game with his cousin than watch a travelers guide to love on netflix with me and Aden. And how he got argumentative and lost patience for me when i would snap at him when i wish he would just roll with my punches and let it go because he loved me, but he doesn't. therapist told me that it sounds like i desire having somene i told her i have always been a long term relationship type of person and i wuld still like to find my person. she told me i should seriously think about what i really want so when i go to look i will know what i want. she said it can be fwb if iwant some more years with my son or meet someone for long term, whatever my heart desires but i think she doesnt want to see me sad over richard anymore, and i agree. still not sure if i want or ready for a relationship right away or if i even have time but the thought of meeting more people is nice. then later in the day im reading about a woman trying to cope with being cheated on and the experiences other women posted really got me emotional because i felt all of that that they went through and i started crying. then i showed it to richard and told him he doesnt deserve me. then he didn't text me until he got off of work. i was still feeling emotional at midnight so i msged him and asked how was his nap, then i started pouringmy heart out to him and told him i want to meet someone else. i cried so hard, i was not angry, i just wanted him to know how i feel. i told him i love him and i wish we were still getting married. i miss us . like alot . i remember when he was here i loved looking at his perfect body even thoug he has gained weight it did not bother me because he will always be attractive to me, i love his long salt and pepper hair, i never thought i would find grey hair attractive but it looks so damn good on him i remember when i saw it in person for the first time and i couldnt stop staring and i remember thinking it's actually very hot, like he's a greying man in his 30s but he rocked it so well and it would make me weak when i saw it everytime after that, down or in a ponytail i loved it all, brushing it was so romantic. his beautiful green eyes that i could look at forever. hes not even the hottest guy ive been with, he might not even be in the top 5 but certain features of his are just so magical and straight up sexy. i was estatic when i thought of us gettng married. but anyway, i told him i cant get over him cheating on me and how i will never be the same, also that i didnt want to live my life being sad over him. he probbly did me a favor though bc i can't do all his rapture talk, his hate for things that did not affect him and his crazy ass animated over talkative personality and of course his cheating ways and sexism and how he is just clueless about women bc he never took the time to learn us. he is a whole ass cringefest and the most toxic thing is how he isn't even aware of it. when men think that being like that is just "a part of their personality" and changing it would be "chnging them" and how they act dramatic like it would be stealing their identity. eye roll. that's just their pathetic excuse to never do better. this started out sad and nis now feeling like it ended in realizzation but maybe that's bc I already cried all i could tonight and the emotional stuff has left and I'm only feeling logic now or something. idk