#samwilkinson

Part 1 

"Your game is cancelled today, sweetie, what do you want to do?" You ask y/d/n. 

"I don't know," she shrugs. 

"Okay, well, how 'bout we get you changed while you think about it?" She nods. "All right. I'll race you upstairs." 

"I always win, mommy," y/d/n laughs as she begins running up the stairs. 

"Hey, wait up, you cheater!" You call out as you chase after her. 

-

"I know!" Y/d/n gasps after you've changed her out if her soccer uniform. 

"What is it, baby girl?" 

"Can we go visit daddy at work?" 

"Do you want to?" She nods rapidly. "Okay, let's go. We can take him done lunch too." You smile. 

-

"Uncle Skate!" Y/d/n exclaims as you walk into the studio room. 

"Hey, y/d/n, no game today?" Skate asks as he picks her up. 

"No," y/d/n says, "it was cancelled." 

"Interesting." He says as he sets her down in the spinning chair. "What brings you by?" He turns to me. 

"Y/d/n wanted to see Sammy, so I brought you guys some grilled cheese sandwiches, some fries, and apple slices." You tell him as you hold up the bag.  

"Homemade?" 

"Always." You smile as you hand him his separate container of food. You look around and notice Sammy isn't anywhere to be seen. "Where is Sammy, by the way." 

"He said he was going down the hall to studio the Jacks are in. Something about wanting to hear the progress." Nate says. 

"Okay. We'll go take this to him. Come by the house for dinner? It's been a while." 

"Yeah. Sure."

"Come on, sweetie, say 'bye' to Uncle Skate, we're going to take daddy his food."

"Okay," y/d/n says before hopping off of the chair. "Bye, Uncle Skate!" You smile watching her hug him. You love your daughter so much. You'd do anything for her.

"See you later, Nate." You wave good by with your free hand as take ahold of y/d/n 's with the other. "If I remember correctly, this is the room." You open the door.

"Da-" y/d/n cuts herself off as the both of you stop in your tracks. You look around. The only other people in the room are Sammy … and Stass. Sammy has Stass pressed up against the wall with her legs wrapped around his waist. It takes all your will power to not rip them off each other. "Y/d/n, baby, can you, uh, go hang with out with Uncle Skate for a little bit longer." You say quietly. Y/d/n nods and turns to exit. This isn't new for the both of us. It's happened before. You walk farther into the room and close the door, making sure to make no sound. Finally, you clear your throat, catching both of their attention. Stass drops her legs from your husband's waist and the of them turn to look at you. 

"Who are you?" Stass asks, her voice dripping with disgust.

"His wife and the mother of his child, in case you forgot. Now get the fuck out, before I throw your oversized head through a wall."

"You're bluffing," she rolls her eyes.

"Was I bluffing when I caught you trying to give my daughter weed. And alcohol. What did I do then? Oh, yeah. I broke your smug-ass face, and I keyed your stupid car. So I suggest you get the fuck out. Right now." You look her directly into her eyes. Stass gulps as her widen. And quickly composes herself before she leaves. 

"Y/n, baby-" 

"How many times is that now, Sammy? Three?"

"Listen-" "No, Sammy! You listen! You have put me through this, us through this, so many times! You never answer our calls, you're never around when we need you, and you're barely ever home!"

"Baby, it's only 'cause-"

"I know why." You scoff. "You're 'in the studio,' you're ‘hanging out with Stass,’ you 'couldn't leave without a few drinks,' you got 'too high' you have all these excuses and you use then every! Single! Time!"

"What do want me to do?! One of us has to make money to keep us from the streets!"

"What do you think I was doing before I was fired?! Before I was forced to leave the only job with a boss that actually respected me?!"

"You weren't fired, you quit, that's what what happened."

"That's what I told you, that's not what happened!" 

"Then what happened!"

"She fired me, Samuel! Courtney fired me because I was always busy taking care and being there with for our daughter, that I was barely going to work a few days a week!"

"You could've done both!"

"Wow, Sam. You're unbelievable." You scoff. "You know what, fuck you and fuck her. Wait." You laugh dryly. "You already did that. Goodbye, Samuel. I'll have your shit packed and divorce papers drawn before you get home." You leave the room, slamming the door shut and you let out a deep, shuddered breath as tears slip out the inner corners of your eyes. 

"It's okay, mommy," y/d/n says as she runs up to you and hugs your legs. You smile at your daughter but the smile soon fades when you think about how you're going to tell her what's going on. 

"Hey, is everything good? Are you okay?" Skate asks, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder. 

You sniffle and wipe your eyes. "Yeah, uh, I'm fine." You lie.

"No you're not. Come on, let's go. I'll take you home." He offers.

"No, Skate, you have to finish recording."

"Don't worry about it."

"But-"

"No."

S/o to @sammywilk-imaginations For the very first request - - -

“You ready, baby girl?” You ask your six year old daughter.

“Yes, mommy! I’ve been ready!” She exasperates.

“Don’t get smart with me, shorty.”

“Who you callin’ shorty?” She puts her hands on her hips and furrows her eyebrows together as she slightly slouches over. You shake your head and laugh.

“Come on, you’re going to be late for your game.” You pick her up into your arms and leave for her soccer game. - “Mommy, is daddy on his way yet?” Y/d/n asks before taking a sip from her water bottle.

“He should be, he told me he’d be here by now.” You say, as you give her a small smile. The referee blows his whistle signaling for the kids to re enter the game and y/d/n leaves you to take her position. When the whistle blows again, you continue recording your daughter’s sixth game of the season. - “Come on, y/d/n, keep going! Take the shot!” You cheered from the sidelines as your daughter kicked the soccer ball and shot it into the goal. You cheered along with the crowd as the game ended and the kids retreated to find they’re parents. “Your teammates are going to go get ice cream, do you want to go with them?” You ask your daughter.

“No,” she shakes her head sadly.

“What’s wrong?” You crouch down to her level.

“Daddy didn’t come. I wanted him to see me make a goal.” She pouts, tears falling from her eyes.

“He’ll come watch next week,” you reassure her.

“You said that last week.”

“I know, sweetie, but next week, I’ll make sure he has time to come and watch, okay?”

“Okay.” She nods sadly.

“Wanna head home?” She nods. “Okay, come on, mama, let’s go.” The two of you leave the park and go home.

A few hours after getting home and putting your daughter to bed, you sit, in the dark, on the armchair facing the front door with arms folded over your chest with one leg over the other. Soon, your head starts to tilt forward but quickly snaps up when the lights turn on as the door opens.

You quickly blink, letting your eyes adjust to the brightness as you look at the man entering through the door. “Hey, babe, you good?” Sammy, your husbands of seven years, questions, noticing the scowl on your face.

“Where were you?” You look up at him.

“I was at the Stass-”

“You wanna know where our daughter and I were?”

He sighs. “Where?”

“Her soccer game, Samuel.”

“Fuck,” he quietly groans throwing his head back. “Baby, I’m sorry-”

“It’s the fifth time in a row, Sammy.” You grit through your teeth.

“I know- babe, I’ll make it up to you guys next week.”

“You’ve been saying that every week-”

“This time I mean it-”

“Our daughter was literally crying because you couldn’t bother to show up! Why? Because you were too busy hanging out with Stass, knowing very well that I don’t like her and more importantly, that y/d/n’s soccer game is at the same time!”

“Baby, I know, I’m sorry, but she’s one of my best frie-”

“So your "best friend” is more important than your own flesh and blood?“ You ask, using air quotations.

"No, but babe-”

“You know she scored the last winning goal?”

“Wha? She did?”

“Yeah and you would’ve known that if you bothered to show up.”

“Y/n, please-”