#Bee is Andrew's mom

[hmmm-shesucks]

Andrew and Neil don't have many pictures in their home, not because they don't have them or want them, but because it doesn't go with the aesthetic, and Andrew is picky. There are pictures, though. Frames spread strategically around the house full of foxes and family. There are old college photos, that first photo of Neil and Andrew in the airport, the baby foxes, pictures of every pro foxes' first games, and any championship wins. But Andrew's favorite picture, and the only picture in the whole house that doesn't match any of the others, is a bright yellow picture frame with a little Fox sitting in the bottom right corner, a tiny bee sat on its nose. The picture inside is still one Andrew can't quite look at for more than a few seconds without breaking. He's in his cap and gown, and standing in front of him is Bee, his tassels gripped tightly in her hands, the smile on her face wide and proud. She'd given it to him right before he boarded a plane to Denver early the following day and hugged him tight. Andrew took it everywhere with him, always wrapped securely and in the bottom of every bag until he and Neil finally found their forever home. Now, it is in the center of their mantle, clashing with everything else and proudly displayed always.

[humlase]

Neil's mother may have been abusive, but that doesn't stop him from missing his mom and Abby is right there to pick up the pieces.

Or in other words, Abby gives great mom hugs.

[exy-shmexy]

Hey hey what if I told you the main reason why Andrew takes a very long time to stop being wary of Abby is because every single one of the Foxes ended up treating her as their mother figure and we all know what the concept of mother figures means to Andrew

[dykeseinfeld]

@goldenngod why would you make me do this. anyway. this is. almost every detail makes me ill. yes i would attend this festival but only to witness the most hilarious vibes this lineup would inspire

i’m not gonna tag anyonen else bc i’m tired but like if u want to do this just go for it i give u permission

[aglionbyacademia]

the foxes doing the hear me out cake challenge and who/what I think they’d put on there

Neil: Andrew Minyard, Kevin Day

Dan: Mufasa (Lion King), Filmore!, the weather app, the red M&M, Weaver (Antz), Scully (Monsters Inc.), Diego (Ice Age), Manny (Ice Age), the purple M&M, Mr. Clean, Bob Duncan (Good Luck, Charlie), Jimmy Neutron’s mom, Kevin Day

Andrew: Wymack (pissing Kevin and Dan off but the rest of the team agrees with him), Neil Josten, Ghostface, Chucky, Rumpelstiltskin (Shrek), the sound of glass breaking, a baseball bat, Wymack a second time, Gerard Way, Ben&Jerry’s peanut butter & cookies specifically, Kevin Day

Aaron: Jessica Rabbit, Lola (Sharktale), Candace (Phineas and Ferb), Fiona (Shrek), the dragon (Shrek), Sally (Cars), Matt’s mom, the green M&M, an aglet, an old fashioned quill and ink, swiss cheese, Peach (Super Mario), Kevin Day

Matt: Sarabi (Lion King), Sandy Cheeks (SpongeBob), Andrew’s car, King Julien (Madagascar), Neil Josten, the “Jules” desk chair from ikea, the fairy godmother (Shrek), peach (the fruit, cmbyn style), Birdo (Super Mario), one of those sheet face masks, marshmallow fluff, Kevin Day

Allison: Balto, Scar (Lion King), a snickers bar, a salt lamp, Jack Skellington, Emily (Corpse Bride) (yelling ensues because both Emily and Jack are just hot), Diego (Ice Age), Dr Drakken (Kim Possible), the dad from inside out, the invisible man (Hotel Transylvania), Kevin Day

Nicky: Gill (finding Nemo), Diego (Ice Age), Major Monogram (Phineas and Ferb), Christmas ornaments, groan tubes, the Belgian techno anthem “Pump Up The Jam”, Sauerkraut, Bloaters/Shamblers (The Last of Us), Coriolanus Snow (The Hunger Games), Barry B. Benson (Bee Movie), the German word “Potzblitz”, Kevin Day

Renee: a literal rainbow, the Mona Lisa, a swiss pocket knife, a braided brioche loaf, Ghostface, Haymitch Abernathy (The Hunger Games), Barbie (the actual doll), the beast (Beauty and the Beast), Mrs. Potts (Beauty and the Beast), Andrew Minyard (earning a silent high five from him and Neil), Kevin Day

Kevin: some very niche historical figures, the onceler (the Lorax), a literal exy racquet, Gloria (Madagascar), a three sixty vodka bottle, Shego (everyone yells at him that she’s not a hear me out; she’s just hot), Allison Reynolds (earning a side eye from her), Matt’s mom

Bonus:

Katelyn: Dr Doofenschmirtz (Phineas and Ferb), Vanessa Doofenschmirtz (Phineas and Ferb), Sally (Cars), Andrew Minyard (Aaron is disgusted), Ron Stoppable (Kim Possible), Timon (Lion King), Balloony (Phineas and Ferb), the number 8, the periodic table, the electronic configuration of phosphorus, Jordi (The Secret World of Santa Claus), Gordon Ramsay, Kevin Day (Aaron high fives her)

[allfortheslay25]

I’m back???

All for the act (actor au)

I’ve been dying to draw things for this au but since I’ve posted too many AUs at once, I already got enough on my plate

In this au, AFTG is a TV series and the characters are all actors

Some facts 👇

Andrew and Neil are dating before the series (they get engaged by the end of the first book)

Neil has a British accent, Andrew has a southern accent and calls Neil a buttload of things like Honey, Darling, and Sugar

Neil has heterochromia (one eye is brown and the other is blue) so he wears contacts throughout the entire series

Neil is trans (I believe in trans Neil supremacy)

Andrew has tattoos he hides with makeup and the armbands (Aaron has some too so most of his wardrobe is high collars)

Aaron and Andrew tend to fill in for the other when one of them is sick

Kevin has had a crush on all of the foxes/flirted with them

Wymack is actually Dan and Kevin’s dad and Abby is his wife (Dan and Kevin are half siblings)

Dan and Matt are not dating but they are interested in each other

Seth is not best friends with the main cast (the foxes) because he is too old but he is friendly with them and thinks they are all great

Allison and Renee are dating which is why their characters have so much chemistry

Betsy is the Twinyards mom and they got her the role as Bee for the show

Riko is friends with the Foxes and is genuinely a cool person. He is best friends with Jean before the show

Jean started dating Jeremy before he was introduced in the show

Nathan is a really sweet person off set but absolutely terrifying when the camera is rolling, the cast loves him

Lola and Mary are sisters and they improvise lots of their insults for each other

[codename-adler]

Baby Pics pt. 3 (final part)

Kevin is being silent in the chat because he fell down some stairs while looking at Baby Aaron

Robin’s parents have religiously kept and cared for all her baby pictures from before she was kidnapped; this one is a few years before she was stolen.

one of the very few things Nicky left with when he got out of his parents’ house are his photo albums; he couldn’t bear leaving any trace of this kid in that house, and couldn’t keep letting his mother enter these phases of grief where she cried over page after page of baby Nicky.

though the internet is full with baby pictures of Kevin from tabloids, for the longest time he has no physical photographs of himself or his mom; when the Nest closed, he was finally handed back Kayleigh’s things that were rightfully his; that was truly an enormous moment of closure.

Aaron went through the effort of digging through the garbage in the attic of the Columbia house to find a semi decent picture; Nicky had some in his own albums, which he offered, but Aaron needed to do that himself, work though some shit.

Andrew told Bee what bullshit the Foxes were doing these days, then told her he knew who had some photos left of him here and there, then told her to make some calls if she was ever feeling bored of her life; because Neil asked; Bee managed to track down 10 photos from adoption agencies and foster families; Andrew chose that one because you can’t see his eyes (and he thinks he looks pretty cool).

Stuart sent over the one photo he has kept all these years, from a time Mary was able to visit London after having Neil; the full picture he cropped is below; only Andrew was shown Neil and his mom, Mary Hatford; the mom he lost, the mom he wants to remember.

>> 21 next >>

[shouts-into-the-void]

Just read screenshots of the Aaron extra chapter and I have so many thoughts, so here they are:

It's always so funny to me to be reminded of the fact that the animosity between Aaron and Neil is mostly one-sided. Like, Neil finds Aaron frustrating, but all the antagonistic stuff he does to him is ultimately in service of helping him in some way and while he's angry when Aaron provokes him, he otherwise regards him with disinterest and even expresses the desire to see what he's like when he's relaxed and enjoying himself during the party with the Vixens. Meanwhile Aaron just really hates that man.

I really appreciated Nora using this chapter to clear up some of the gripes a lot of the fandom has had with Aaron's character in the past and confirm that Aaron's comments to Nicky have to do with his cousin making graphic and unwanted sexual advances on their teammates, and his accusations towards Neil were from a place of concern for his brother. I also liked that it was pointed out that of course he would have at least some internalized homophobia due to being raised by religious zealots in a conservative area, but is unlearning it due to Nicky.

On a similar note, I'm glad that we were provided the context that Nicky's inappropriate behavior is a defense mechanism to weed out people who might hurt him rather than legitimate advances, because I think the fandom tends to forget that he is also a character with extreme trauma written outside of the "perfect victim" stereotype. His actions aren't okay, but the entire point is that they are the result of what he's had to endure just like every other member of the team

The implication that Andrew specifically signed with the Foxes so Aaron could go to college

Aaron and Andrew have the same nervous habit of picking at loose thread

It causes me physical pain to see Andrew clearly trying to open up to Aaron about his self-harm, but because his way of communicating is less straightforward (he doesn't lie, but he because he stuggles to confront and be open with his emotions, he presents the truth in flowery, vague language) and because the two dont really know or understand each other, Aaron can't fully grasp the implications of what he's saying

On the subject of things that cause me physical pain: baby Aaron telling his mom that he wanted to be a neurosurgeon like the people on TV and her laughing and saying he'd never make anything of himself. Fuck Tilda Minyard, all my homies hate Tilda.

Andrew is so uncomfortable, someone Get Him Out of There.

Going off that and his nervous habits (that Aaron mentions he did often enough to be noticable as a habit premedication), I am highkey wondering if the reason Sober Andrew doesn't talk to anyone outside Neil is because he's just. Socially Awkward.

We get a little bit of insight into Andrew's "misogyny" (I personally think distrusting certain people as a result of extreme personal trauma is a little bit different than just being sexist, in the same way women distrusting men because they're used to being harassed and belittled isn't misandry, but that's up to your personal opinion) and that his distain for Katelyn comes from the fact that he thinks she's stringing Aaron along and will turn out to be awful like his previous girlfriends (there's also a notable implication that Aaron has the same self-destructive tendencies as Andrew, and may be why he went out of his way to get him into college and on the straight-and-narrow) also see that this extends to Bee as well despite their close relationship, with him being so afraid that she'd reject him for being gay that he can't even look at her while talking about Neil, probably made worse by the fact that she's a maternal figure for him, which is where this trauma response originates.

Aaron is the only person on the team who's aware that Andrew hasn't slept with Neil, and the only one to grasp the significance of the fact that they've gotten close to that point already despite Andrew's trauma, outside of Renee

It was overall really interesting to see inside Aaron's head (I actually wouldn't mind a book from his perspective, he has a similar way of thinking to Neil but much more grounded) and to see Andrew through the lense of someone who just views him as Just A Guy

[nor-4]

Formula 1 Incorrect Quotes with reader Two

F1IQ - Part One

Y/n: Bitch why don't you shut the fuck up before i slit your throat and watch the honor roll out?

Max: Are you threatening me??

Y/n: No, I'm hitting on you, flash me a titty bitch.

Lewis: Yeah uh, there's something I've been wanting to say lately.

Y/n: Oh what's that?

Lewis: The N-Word

Y/n looking at toto: Look at your dad. Such a dork, keeping bees.

Y/n: I mean atleast it's interesting though. At least like, i wish my dad kept bees.

Y/n: I mean it's kind of cute. Like, your dad keeps bees.

Y/n: How old is your dad? He's obviously beekeeping age. I dont know. I think It's kind of sweet.

Y/n: George, i wanna fuck your dad.

George: Oh really?

Yuki: Hey can i sit with you?

Y/n: Why

Yuki looking at stroll and ocon: The kids at the other table keep throwing ketchup packets at me.

Y/n: You're not covered in ketchup, though

Yuki: They don't know you have to open it first

Y/n: Damn. We need remedial bullying class too.

Yuki: So how do you like your remedial english?

Y/n: I guess it's whatever. My mom was really pissed, though.

Yuki: Yeah? What about your dad?

Y/n: My dad killed himself.

Charles: I'm finally seeing someone good for me.

Alex: Omg who is it?

Charles: A therapist

Y/n: max is pissing me off *20 minutes ago*

Y/n: nvm just got dicked down

George: Girl what..

Fernando: Every time i talk to you i feel confused.

Fernando: I've never met anyone that speaks like you do

Y/n: Stop lovebombing me

Fernando: what? It's not a compliment

Fernando: You scare me

Y/n: What are you hiding from me?

Zhou: Nothing..

Y/n: Zhou Guanyu.

Zhou pulls out a cat: The cat distribution system chose me okay

Y/n at drive to survive: If he cheats on you, put hair remover in his shampoo, you wanna act like Andrew tate, u gon look like him too.

Lewis wearing a beanie: I CAN'T LIVE LIKE THIS FOREVER

Toto: That's your fault. Being too quick signing your seat with ferrari

Oscar: Are you high?

Lando: Am i what?

Oscar: High

Lando: Hello

Christian: So what could a Mercedes principal possibly have then?

Y/n: I just feel like he'd be into satan-worship, or at the very least have a sex diary.

Christian: A toto wolff sex diary would be horrifying. He's like our rival.

Y/n: We say that about Stephen king books, we still read those.

Daniel: "Dear diary, hot candle wax hurts so good"

Christian: No it'd probably be like a thesaurus of words for "Good"

Daniel: Yeah he probably sexts with perfect grammar.

Y/n: "My wife showed an exquisite exhibition of lust for me."

Toto: Let me try something different here. Do you guys have thoughts and feelings for one another?

Y/n: Uhh i think George's kinda spoiled

George: And i feel like y/n's a bitch

Y/n: What're you gay?

Alex: What.. How did you know? I've never told anyone that.

Y/n: Dude look at your hair dye, you're either gay or color blind.

Lance: bro stop chanting in dead language's your scaring the hoes

Y/n: Bitch you is so lonely I'm summoning the hoes

Sebastian: You used to be shy, now you're a whore

Y/n: There's a thing called character development

Oscar: Reminder that I'm very sweet and endearing so be nice to me

Carlos: or what

Oscar: or I'll punch your lights out

Hey yall this is a bit short cause I'm finna make a random crack twitter posts n I'll post it in the most random day. I love yall baby💋

[chaoticas-hell]

Neil: Andrew, your mother is here

Andrew: Neil shut the fuck up don't call her that

Bee: Hello Andrew

Andrew: Hi mom

[hmmm-shesucks]

I wanna read a fic about Bee losing her shit on Cass in the calmest way possible after the trial. She never raises her voice, never outright insults her, isn’t even mean. She just tells Cass precisely what she thinks of her. Mama Bee is my absolute favorite, and her being exactly who Andrew always needed growing up is everything to me.

[ninyard]

do you think if aaron and katelyn had kids (twins possibly?) that andrew would make a pact with katelyn not aaron to protect them if anything happened. Been considering it for a while now

I’m imagining what that’d look like and all that comes to mind is if Aaron ever mentioned something in therapy along the lines of not being able to cope if his kids grow up the way he did. They’re talking about the future and Aaron is talking about kids with Bee, and he says something like,

“I really want to have kids. I do. I want to give them what I didn’t have. But I’m afraid that I still don’t know any better, and I’m just going to fuck them up anyway.“

“And what if you did? Or at least, think that you did?” Betsy asks. “What if something happens, or you make a little mistake in raising them, what then?”

And he thinks about it for a minute. He looks at Andrew briefly, he looks at himself. He can’t look at Betsy. Maybe his eyes are glued to the ceiling.

“I couldn’t live with myself,” Aaron answers. “Knowing things could’ve been different and they weren’t.”

I think the deal that Andrew could’ve made with Katelyn, when he finds out that she’s pregnant, would’ve been to always, always, always, prioritise their children over Aaron. It doesn’t make much sense to her - why would Andrew, who has always been so fiercely protective over Aaron, now say to her don’t put him first?

No matter what happens - if Aaron relapses, if he overworks himself, if his nightmares get worse or his past comes back to haunt him, Andrew wants her to promise that she’ll never let the kids suffer for the sake of Aaron. Andrew can always look after him. He can help in anyway he knows how. But what’ll only make things worse is if Aaron starts spiralling, and now his kids start to see him as addict dad, scary dad, angry dad, absent dad. Mommy doesn’t have time to play with us because daddy won’t get out of bed. It’d kill Aaron to become the thing he’s always resented his own biological father for - not being there, not caring about his kids. To hear his kids say I hate you would destroy him.

So Andrew makes her promise to shelter them from that. Aaron will worry and scream and cry don’t you take my fucking kids if she ever takes them away from him while he’s recovering, to her moms house, or somewhere else.

He’ll raise hell so she doesn’t leave with them; but he won’t survive if they stay.

He won’t survive if his kids grow up just waiting for dad to have a bad spell again. Waiting for something to happen. Going to sleep afraid of what mood dad might be in when they wake up. Growing up remembering what it looked like when dad hadn’t showered or shaved in two weeks. What it sounded like when he yelled at mom because he’d been working for three weeks straight. The way his eyes looked when he was high, and they were too young to know what it was.

He’d rather be locked in a bathroom with Andrew outside the door for a month, his kids thinking that daddy’s on a business trip, than expose them to the life he only has because of his fuck up parents.

Maybe that’s a deal Andrew makes with Katelyn. Maybe.

[padfootagain]

Only An Almost (V)

Chapter 5: Doubting

Hello!! Here comes a new chapter! There are mentions of sex in this chapter, so a little reminder that this series is not meant to be read by minors. Thank you!

I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!

*************************************

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.

Word Count : 2435

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Three weeks passed. You had spent twelve nights together.

Now, Andrew knew every detail of your face as you reached orgasm, the beauty spot on your back he loved kissing, the perfect place across your neck to kiss and nip that made you squirm in his arms, the way the most intimate parts of you tasted, how your legs shook when his fingers touched that spot, how you smelled when he held you close after you were both content and happily floating above the room. He knew you liked to hold his hand right after sex, that you loved when he stroked your back or your cheek to help you ease down into the mortal world, that you took your showers way too hot, that you didn’t like when his beard brushed that part of your ribs because it tickled too much. He had mapped every inch of your body with his eyes, his fingers, his lips, his tongue. He knew how to pleasure you precisely by now, how to read through your breathing what you needed him to do to feel as good as possible, how to worship your body the way you deserved.

And judging by your gestures, you had spotted too that he adored when you kissed his collarbone and his chest. That he had a weak spot at the base of his neck, that he was ticklish right behind his knee, that he melted whenever you dragged your fingertips across his spine, and you tugged on his hair the perfect way nor too harsh nor too soft but the ideal strength that turned him on to no end. You had touched and kissed all of him too by now.

Despite this new intimacy, despite the tenderness with which you held him in your arms as he struggled to find back his breathing, the way you whispered his name in pleasure as if in a prayer, the way you showered him in gentle touches and kisses… you still acted the same as always outside the bedroom.

You talked the same, stood next to him at a perfectly respectable distance, asked him about his day and his mom and his bees the way you had always done, as if… as if there was nothing abnormal. As if he had not heard you shout his name in pleasure the night before. As if you could truly spend nights making love to him and act like nothing had changed, when… everything had changed.

Perhaps he just needed to be patient. You would come around. You would love him, eventually. Besides, he was probably not even the problem at all! You had told him that you didn’t want a relationship, with anyone. The fact that you were still sleeping with him showed that you liked him enough to blur that boundary, despite your decision. Yeah, it was an encouraging sign. If he just… if he just waited, and if he made efforts to make you happy and…

“Andy? You’re alright?”

“Hmmm?”

“You’re okay?”

He blinked back at you. You had put on an old t-shirt again to cover yourself, but he had nothing on. He felt naked, vulnerable, self-conscious. He drew the covers higher across his chest.

“You want some coffee before leaving? It’s pretty late,” you offered, and if there was kindness in the offer, it still broke his heart.

“I… I don’t know. I’m not sure I can drive,” he answered earnestly.

“You can sleep in the guest room, if you want.”

He looked away to hide the tears that gathered in his eyes.

He was inside you ten minutes ago, he had tasted you, touched you, made you unravel under him several times this evening… and all you could give him was the guest bedroom?

It wasn’t just heartbreak, he realized. It was more vicious than that. You made him feel terrible about himself. Did he not mean more to you than that? You could let him do all these things to you… but you couldn’t fall asleep in the same bed? Really?

“No, no, no… it’s okay, I can drive.”

“It’s late, stay the night. You’ll leave tomorrow morning.”

“I’m fine.”

“It’s dangerous, Andy.”

“I said I’m fine.”

You frowned at the harshness of his tone.

“What’s wrong? Did I… Did I do something wrong while we were…”

You left your sentence suspended in mid-air, as if you couldn’t say it. Couldn’t say that you had just had sex with him. What the fuck was wrong with you?

“Sex was amazing, that’s not the problem.”

“What’s the problem, then?”

You seemed to truly have no clue. You seemed genuinely concerned, worried even. Like you cared. Like you cared so fucking much for him. And yet, he was worthy of a moment of pleasure, and the guest bedroom…

“Nothing, I’m sorry. I’m not tired enough to stay, don’t worry. I can drive home.”

“Can you text me, then, when you’re home?”

“Don’t worry…”

“It’s two in the morning, of course I worry.”

He didn’t argue, merely nodded.

He gathered his clothes, got dressed, left without trying to kiss you, he knew you wouldn’t let him.

No kissing without sex.

He was about to fall asleep after mere minutes behind the wheel, so he stopped on the first parking spot he saw. He waited for a plausible time, and texted you.

I’m home.

Your answer buzzed in his pocket right when he was about to fall asleep.

Good to hear. Sleep well, Andy. Xx

He couldn’t keep on doing this for long. Making love to you, and then feeling like shit about himself because you couldn’t bother letting him fall asleep in your bed. Or hold you close. Or kiss you before leaving.

He closed his eyes, unable to decide on what to do next. Should he just call it quits, already? Stop everything and save himself from suffering… but he would stop having you like this too…

His breathing deepened as he finally surrendered.

Sleep well, Andy…

Rugby night at the pub had turned into Sam freaking out about his wedding, and Andrew taking notes about things he needed to help planning.

Luckily, there was no touring planned, no album to be released before the wedding. He had some charity work to be done, Mavis had called for a concert and he couldn’t refuse the woman anything… all in all, there wasn’t to come. Workwise, Andrew was in a writing phase, shutting himself up into his house for hours was most of what would happen in the coming months. He could help to plan the wedding, he had time for it. And considering the level of stress Sam was under, Andrew’s help wouldn’t be too much…

“Daphne started to mention appetizers yesterday… there are like… so many of these… How am I supposed to choose that? I didn’t fucking know there could be so many appetizers?!”

“Sam, calm down, for Christ’s sake! You’re this far from having a stroke.”

“Easy for you to say, Andy! You’re not the one getting married!”

“You have five months, Sam… Five months. There is plenty of time for you to choose your appetizers.”

“Add it to the list. How many things do we have to plan?”

“Hmmm… I think I’m up to twenty…eight. Twenty-eight things.”

“God… why did I ask Daphne to marry me…”

Andrew opened his mouth to offer a joke, but Sam shushed him with a raised finger.

“Rhetorical question. Don’t.”

“Come on, relax, Sam. You’ll be perfectly fine. Everyone else manages to plan a wedding, you can too.”

“Not everyone else… don’t you remember the fiasco that my uncle’s wedding was?”

“I sang at that wedding!”

“That was the only decent part in the entire day.”

“Thanks, Sam.”

“You were seventeen, don’t get ahead of yourself, you were still pretty shite.”

“Ha, there you go. I thought someone had replaced you with some weird doppelgänger stuff. Or a clone, even.”

“Android?”

“Or organic.”

“Did I grow in a tube?”

“Yeah… with the disgusting liquid.”

“Nice…”

The two friends exchanged a smile.

“Please, stop being so worried. Your wedding will be amazing. Besides… who cares about appetizers? The important part is you marrying the love of your life.”

“I know that this comes from a very romantic point of view, but that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. You’ve met my mom. God, you’ve met Daphne’s mom… anything goes wrong, it’ll be the bloody apocalypse!”

“We’ll find your body somewhere in Wicklow…”

“In the bog.”

“Tragic. I can see the headlines already…”

“I’m sure you’ll have a lovely speech for my funerals, though.”

“Absolutely not. I’ll reveal my true feelings about you, gobshite.”

Sam couldn’t keep the act up any longer, and both him and Andrew exploded with laughter.

“I’m picturing your mother just… shouting at you about appetizers,” Andrew laughed, choking and tears pearling at the corners of his eyes as he doubled over.

Sam was barely breathing at this point, throwing his entire body backwards against the chair.

It took the two of them a moment to calm down. When he looked at his friend again, Sam’s gaze was full of fondness.

“I’m sorry to bother you about that while we could be watching rugby with the rest of the lads.”

“It’s alright. You’re stressed. Besides, I don’t have a real job, plenty of time on my hands to handle your nervous breakdowns.”

“True! You parasite.”

“Absolute junk of our society.”

“Nothing productive coming from you, that’s for sure.”

“I shout very loudly though, it ought to be worth something.”

“Well, apparently, it’s worth millions.”

“Do you want me to shout at your wedding?”

Sam’s lips curled into a smile.

“Aren’t you too expensive for a poor lad like me.”

“Undoubtedly. But if you promise to quit freaking out about appetizers, I might yield.”

“It would be amazing. Thank you, Andy. I’d love for you to sing. Actually, we’ve been talking about it with Daphne… could you do Work Song for our first dance?”

“It would be an honour. Of course, I can.”

“We were hesitating with Cherry Wine…”

“Don’t do this to me, Sam.”

They both exploded with laughter again.

“Don’t do this to me. I will never understand…”

“Don’t people just… listen to the lyrics?” nodded Sam.

“I don’t know, man…” Andrew heaved a sigh. “Sometimes they just kill me.”

His phone buzzed, and there was your name on it. Printed there in the pixels. He didn’t check your text, even though he wanted to.

“Andy?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s going on between you and Y/N?”

Andrew averted his gaze, drank some of his beer. On the screen at the back of the pub, Ireland was earning three points with penalty kick. People were shouting, and it was loud and merry.

“What do you mean? Nothing’s going on,” Andrew answered, a terrible liar.

“You’ve been weird.”

“I’m always weird.”

“True, but not the usual weird. You’re not on the ‘I love her and I’m too much of a fool to tell her’ kind of weird, you’re on a ‘I feel like shite’ kind of weird.”

“Both miserable situations…”

“True. But then, you’re a moron, it doesn’t help.”

“Thanks for the compliment.”

Andrew heaved a sigh.

“I can’t tell you about it. She asked me not to tell you about it.”

“So… something did happen between you and Y/N.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“You can’t tell anyone about this, Sam. I’m serious.”

“Of course, I promise.”

“Not even Daphne.”

“Don’t push it. There are no secrets between us.”

“Sam… please… it’s not your secret, it’s mine.”

He heaved a sigh, but Sam nodded anyway.

“What’s wrong then?”

Andrew struggled to swallow when he lifted his glass of Guiness up to his lips.

“Y/N and I, we… we’ve slept together.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

“What?! But… that’s amazing!”

“Is it?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” retorted Sam, taken-aback.

Andrew heaved a painful sigh and rubbed his eyes.

“Because she doesn’t want to be in a relationship.”

“Oh.”

“So, we’ve agreed on some kind of… friends with benefits situation. And I… I’m starting to regret it.”

“You bet. Damn… why the fuck would you agree to something like that, though? You’re crazy about the woman!”

“I know, I know… I thought… I thought that she would… I don’t know what I thought. It was that or nothing, and I guess I imagined that having a part of her was better than not having her at all. I was wrong. This is fucking killing me.”

Andrew buried his head in his hands.

“What the fuck did I do, Sam? What did I do? And what the fuck do I do now?”

“Do you want this to go on?”

Andrew shook his head no, face still in his palms.

“Then, tell her you want it to stop.”

“I don’t want this to stop. I don’t want… not to have her. I want to date her.”

“Tell her that then.”

“She explicitly told me that she didn’t want to date anyone. If I say that, she’ll just… leave. She won’t say yes.”

“You need to speak to her. It won’t end well for you, Andy. What if she feels the same?”

“I’ll wait for her,” Andrew answered without a hesitation. “I’ll wait as long as she needs.”

“Then tell her that.”

But Andrew blinked back some tears as he painfully rubbed at his palms.

“What if she doesn’t feel the same?  What then?”

“Then… you’ll move on. It will only mean that she isn’t the one.”

Andrew slowly nodded, resting his chin in his palm and his elbow on the table, but he didn’t seem convinced, and indeed, he wasn’t. What if he lost you for good then? What if you never wanted to see him again? Was it worth it?

“You’re going to do something stupid, I can feel it,” Sam sighed with a shake of his head.

“No…”

“You’re going to ignore my advice.”

“No, I… I’m weighing the pros and the cons.”

“And?”

“And I agree that I can’t handle my relationship with Y/N being just about sex. But I am also terrified at the thought that she will reject me for good. Cause I… I don’t think I could still be her friend. Not after… knowing her that way.”

“Can I be brutally honest?”

“As if you aren’t always…”

“You’ve seriously fucked up accepting this situation with her…”

“Don’t I know it.”

Sam stared at his friend for a moment.

“You really do love her, don’t you?”

Andrew settled an empty stare on his beer.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m afraid I do.”

[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

If you enjoy this, you can buy me a Ko-fi :) Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

TW: PAST SUICIDAL IDEATION, attempts of physical abuse (throwing objects), basically reader's mother being a really horrible narcissistic abusive person.

[Please read while listening to this.]

Listen to that. The opening strains of that old Elvis classic began to swell; a hush fell over the assembled guests. All eyes were drawn to the dance floor where Sabrina now stood, radiant in her lovely gown, and Andrew looked at her with such veneration, as if she had hung the very moon in the sky. In the arms of her now-husband for their first dance as a married couple, the newlyweds shone brighter than the stars outside the manor.

Sabrina’s cheeks flushed rosier than any wine—joy, adoration, and yes, a little champagne too—had left her glowing in a way you’d never seen before this man came into her life, and your heart swelled with happiness for her.

When at last the song ended and they shared a lingering kiss, you joined the room in applause. Someone handed them a mic, and the two tried to pass the mic to each other until Sabrina was the first to give a speech. Andrew squeezed her hand, gave her an encouraging smile, and nodded.

Clearing her throat, Sabrina spoke into the mic. “Hi, everyone,” she began, voice ringing out sweet and clear through the speakers. “I just want to say thank you all for being here on this special day. Sharing it with my family and friends who mean so much to me has made it truly magical.” Another applause returned her gratitude before receding again when she was about to continue.

With misty eyes, Sabrina then turned to her step-father. “I want to thank Jim, for raising me as your own since I was little. You’ve always been the best dad a girl could ask for.”

Then, you watched her smile at her mother. “And Mom, where do I even begin? You've been my rock since day one. From keeping me sane while wedding planning to celebrating with me every step, you know I wouldn't be here without you. I wouldn't be the strong, independent woman I am today without you and Jim. I love you both so much.”

When Sabrina's parents—Jim and Joyce—approached her and gave the couple a big hug, another round of applause arose from the guests. But as Joyce placed a final kiss on Sabrina's cheek before stepping back, the world seemed to dim around you.

Suddenly, everything is so foreign—the image in front of you was never presented to you. Aunt Joyce looks genuinely happy for her daughter, and Sabrina hugs her like she cannot imagine life without her mother—which, at some point in your life, you did believe too. Mother’s words, “You won’t survive without me,” ring like angry bees.

Yet now, the thought of sharing a roof with her again feels unbearable.

Joyce and Sabrina look... uncomplicated, despite your mother's statements about how your aunt wasn't prepared for motherhood. And suddenly, everything feels numb, and you're disconnected.

In your reverie, you missed some of the speeches, only blinking back to reality when Sabrina and Andrew’s enthusiastic cheers echoed through the room. The crowd roared as the romantic notes of the new music played, “Until I Found You” inviting guests to join in the dancing.

As you do at the few parties you’ve been invited to in your entire life, you stay away from the dance floor and become a loyal wallflower. However, this time, with a companion—a better people-watcher than you, Simon. The man sweeps his brown irises around, examining people before one makes him chuckle under his mask.

“Look at that old man, still got it in ‘im, eh?” He commented, his tone tinged with amusement.

Your gaze trails Simon's. Among the dancing couples were your other uncle and aunt, their smiles highlighting the lines on their seventy-something faces, clearly having more life in them than many of the younger ones. You chuckled to yourself.

“Actually, that’s Uncle Mick and Aunt Sarah,” you reply, watching the old couple share a laugh amidst the music. “They’ve been married longer than I’ve been alive. Slow dancing is kind of their forte.”

More people-watching, but you fail to notice how often Simon steals glances at you between his own. And by the luminosity of your eyes, he is drawn like an insect in a blazing fire. His slow, "near-dying" heart has yet to realize the change in him. Simon plays on the edges of the rotting wood.

Straightening his gaze, he strikes up a question: “If that old bugger can still cut a rug, why ain’t the famous ballerina ‘avin’ a spin, eh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Simon’s gruff invitation, the sound bubbling up from deep in your chest with a foreign carefree ring that you didn’t recognize. Meeting his eyes, you saw amusement there but also something that told you he was serious. Heart tiptoeing at the edges of your ribs, your fingers busying themselves with their own bustle.

Biting your lip, you gazed up at him through your lashes, feeling a smile curling the corners of your mouth. "I don't know," you shrugged your shoulders. “I might suck at slow dancing.”

Simon scoffed. “Absolute bollocks.”

At his disapproval, your smile widened, teeth peeking out from behind those pretty lips. You gazed up at him, searching for something intently.

Somehow in that moment, the noisy celebration around you seemed to fade into a blur, narrowing your world until it was just Simon standing before you. Your chest warmed, as if caressed by the sun on a lush spring day. Capillaries rushed, painting your bones pink. Pink.

Gathering your courage, you mimicked Simon's invitation. “Unless... you're willing to be the judge of that yourself?”

The question came out just above a whisper, heavy with promise. With your heart dangling at the tip of your throat, anticipation mixed with anxiety gnawed at you faster than any termite. Simon gave a subtle nod towards the dance floor with his chin.

“Come on then,” he rumbled.

As Simon led you, you couldn’t help but feel like Cinderella herself; this room made a fairytale for you. He wrapped his strong arms around your waist, pulling you close so your bodies swayed as one. You shyly wrapped your free hands around his neck.

The romantic music continues to flow, caressing your ears with the singer's warm voice, Stephen Sanchez, if your memory serves you right. The merciless thumping in your ribcage persists, and you wonder if Simon feels it, if he has his own version resonating in the hollow of his chest. Settling into a slow sway, you feel his shoulders relax.

“You’re not gonna turn into a swan on me now, are ya? Would be a right shame to ruin such a lovely dance.” Simon asked, tone lighthearted. After mentioning your upcoming ballet performance, he doesn’t slow down his series of jokes about it.

You threw your head back in laughter. “You know that’s not how the story goes.”

Simon's grin grew wide beneath his mask. Cocking a brow, he said, “Oh yeah? Enlighten me then, love.” He challenged.

Taking a deep breath that lifted the smile still on your face, you began the long story of Swan Lake—about what happened to Odette and her flock by the sparkling lake and mostly things you had memorized many times. "So when Siegfried finally learns the truth, it’s too late—Odette ends her life by jumping from a cliff.”

“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” he reacts, and you let out a girlish laugh. “That’s tragic.”

You shrug. “I always thought it was kind of romantic.” You giggle again—God, the way this man can make you giggle like a silly schoolgirl—when you see the reaction reflected in his eyes.

“You’re a right bloody psycho, you know that?”

You deadpanned. “I’m not a psycho.” Your tone was flat, trying to be serious but the stubborn grin that followed ruined it.

“She should’ve just gone for another bloke.”

You rolled your eyes. “No, she can’t. She’s been cursed to be a swan forever.”

“Then she should’ve just lived out ‘er days as a swan then,” he said with pragmatism, very much lacking the charm of a fairy tale with all those logics. “Should’ve chased that arse’ole prince all over kingdom for revenge instead. Give ‘im a good peckin’.”

You exhaled in exasperation, but your lips held back a smile. “Please just stop talking.”

Simon chuckled, and fortunately, for his own good, he did. The music was nearing its end, but you were still swaying. Something caught his gaze over your shoulder. He looked back at you, raising a brow to make a suggestion.

“Should we do a spin?” he asked.

“What?”

He nods his chin behind you, and you follow suit—a young couple laughing as they twirl. “Should we give it a go?”

It's somewhat whimsical, somewhat absurd, that not only is this hulking man dancing with you, but he also wished to twirl you like you were partners in some grand ballroom. Yet, as you stare into his smiling eyes, you swear there’s a hint of excitement in them. And what good is a ballerina without a performative twirl?

“Okay,” you accepted his offer.

You placed your hand in his, feeling the rough calluses of his fingers but somehow right against your skin. At your subtle cue, Simon raised your joined palms, spinning you outward in elegance and then back into the solid wall of his chest.

“One more time.” You said, and he did as you asked.

You cup his mask-hidden jaw, feeling for each woven polypropylene against your fingers. The plum of your smiling lips swells with desire, and without thinking, you press your lips to his cheek. Your heart skips a beat, gripped by a jolt of trepidation, fear, and regret that perhaps you have crossed a line, that you might drive him away.

But Simon doesn't.

Instead, he seized your waist and drew you close, eliminating any distance between you. The air was snatched from your lungs in a stolen gasp with the force of his possessive move. Like a lover accompanied by passion as he reaps longing.

(I swell with hope, in the sweet desire of a girl seeking love.)

“I’m dyin’ for a smoke.” He confessed.

You glanced around at the lively party still swirling around you. Turning back to him, you suggested, “Should we slip out the back then?”

“Sure.”

Smiling up at him, you gave his hand a gentle squeeze before untangling them from your waist. “You go on ahead—I just need to swap to flats real quick.” You gestured to the high heels that had been enveloping your throbbing toes for hours.

As Simon nodded and turned to go, you hurried off the floor, limping just slightly. The celebratory noise faded as you stepped to the left side of the manor, where the hallway to your room stretched in silence. You turned the doorknob, and the old wood swung with a low creak.

Walking to your suitcase, you flipped it open, took out your Mary Janes, and replaced your high heels with them with a sigh of relief.

Just as you moved to stand, you heard footsteps approaching, then a shadow fell across the open door. Too small to be Simon. Looking up with a start, your heart nearly dropped when you found your mother standing there, arms crossed in a frown full of distaste.

“I've been watching you all night with that… man. You're getting far too comfortable, are you?”

That tone—that same tone that you had heard countless times growing up, signaling the beginnings of an argument. Your shoulders tensed. The pulse inside you quickened as your defenses began to rise, readying themselves in anticipation of the barrage of barbed words that might come next.

The oceans dividing San Francisco and London were supposed to end whatever connection existed between you both—to pretend that it didn’t exist. It should have been a clean finale, allowing you to simply live as a normal girl with normal reactions to everything, as if nothing bad had ever happened to you.

Yet, look, your traitor body is gearing up for battle just the same. Your mind may lie, you may lie, but the wound bearer presents the results of years of being forged beneath her. 5,351 miles stretched, but you are still the same sixteen-year-old girl who bit her tongue, holding her words like a criminal about to be executed on the spot.

What a mother-daughter relationship you have.

You watch warily as Mother begins circling the room, her high heels clicking ominously, slightly showing the red soles beneath them. Louboutins, you remember. You also remember all too well how much those had cost—the very shoes you had “helped” fund years ago when you foolishly still let her access your bank account, even after you turned nineteen.

“Do you know why he’s here?” Mother tries the first question, testing the waters.

Like a frightened little girl—that same little girl from that sunny day so many years ago—you deflect the real question, “Because I invited him.”

Mother, unimpressed, casts you a sharp look, as if daring you to dare her. “You know what I mean. Do you know why he’s here?”

You bit your lip, grasping at straws. “He’s… my boyfriend.”

Mother scoffed mockingly. She turned to you, face contorted in amusement as if you had just told the funniest joke. “Boyfriend? Please. Is that what you think?”

You flinched back as Mother suddenly whirled to face you, her sculpted features twisting into a reflection of pure, unbridled rage. The similar pair of eyes glared at you wide. She buried her nails deep into your epidermis, and you gasped from the sting.

“The only reason a man would want you is between your legs. You think you found love, but really he's with you only because you're easy. You’re just a cheap fuck to him, (Y/N).”

The hot, stinging droplets gathered and spilled over without your permission. You hated yourself for fueling her twisted satisfaction. Hating that she still knew exactly where to aim her barbs to find their mark after all these years.

But nothing compares to the fact that she is your mother. She is your mother, and yet, how could those words come out of her mouth so easily? As if her criticisms had festered within her mind and she was finally allowing them to escape. There's a small, broken part of you that can't help but wonder—and why do you even wonder? You know yourself better than she does, surely.

Or do you?

Or is it true that there really is nothing to take beyond your body like the unloveable, worthless child she always says you are?

You felt a spark of anger flare. “How could you say that to me?” you choked out, baring your wounded heart. Wrong move—you know this, proved many times that showing emotion had never gotten anywhere with Mother before.

But the younger, wounded teenager in you would always crave some kind of validation, some sign she truly cared. Perhaps hidden beneath the person she's become, she still holds a flicker of the warmth she once felt for you. You’re her daughter, and she’s your mother—shouldn’t that be enough for her to finally treat you like one?

“I’m only telling you the truth so you won’t be naive. Do you think he’ll love you when there are so many girls out there who are much prettier than you?”

At times, the wiser you knew not to take Mother’s words to heart—your survival instincts, born of too many experiences, told you not to let her poison seep into your skin. But more often than not, you didn’t know better. Right now, you don’t know better.

(Prying my mouth open, she dripped her bitter blood until we were indistinguishable.)

Clenching your fist, you say through gritted teeth, “You don’t know him.”

Mother’s features bent in hate at your rebellion. The young daughter no more, grown into someone who dared to talk back rather than just gulping down her every word raw.

“And you do?” she spat. “How long have you known this man? Don’t be stupid.”

“It’s none of your business,” you retorted, but not convinced enough for her to see the gap in your expression.

“Not my business? Of course it’s my business – I’m your mother!”

Summoning the last of your courage, you mumbled, “You’re not… my mother.”

Her neat eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What did you just say to me?”

It was a second chance, one she rarely gave. For a moment, you considered taking it back—rewording your reply to something less confrontational, something safer. But you were sick of it—years of carrying her wounds you hadn’t even caused, weighing your body down and sinking them deeper into pitless hell. Of always looking past her anger and ego, finding justifications and reasons to tolerate her. Of being under her control when the young girl inside you needed her anger represented.

And you repeated it without rewording: “You’re not my mother. Not anymore.”

As it left your lips, you saw a flicker of change in Mother’s expression—was that hurt in her eyes? So foreign was her expression that you almost doubted yourself. Regret seized you along with the guilt and self-loathing that gripped your heart.

Then, the hurt blinked away as if it was never there. “Look at you,” she hissed, “throwing away your mother, the woman who birthed and raised you with great difficulty, all for some worthless man. I'm not even surprised if you end up pregnant in a few months, or maybe you already are. Don't say I didn't warn you when he leaves you with a bastard child.”

And they were right when they said that anger is the most effective key.

Moments ago, you can still find the shadow of that sixteen-year-old girl remains within, with pieces of her innocence—a bit of a child’s grin. Her body is still in fear, yet her eyes are always yearning for praise from her mother’s voice.

However, as the grown woman you are ignites in a seething cauldron of fury—disagreement with Mother’s treatment—the little girl begins to fade, reduced to ashes amidst the fire. The “why” question echoes loudly with demands. I'm your baby—you made me; why do you hurt me?

“Why? Why are you so sure only bad things will happen? Why can’t you believe I can find happiness?” Warm tears welled up, tasting salty on your lips as you asked.

Mother raised a warning finger. “Don’t use that tone with me.”

But you’ve passed the point of backing down. “Why? Why are you so convinced I’ll always be unhappy? WHY?!”

(As if it had been written long before my creation.)

Taking a sharp, short breath, you feel self-control slipping away. Your lungs hitched with condemnation, constricting you, trying to escape the hell Mother handmade just for you. You’re crossing the line; something scolds (the same voice your mother planted early on) inside your head, but you refuse to give in.

The dim red light between the cracks in your skull grows brighter, and the next thing you say are the words you've been holding back for so long:

“I’m not you! And what happened with Dad was not my fault!”

And finally, silence fills the small space between you, followed by the faint echo of your voice. As the last syllable faded, the words that had been spoken left you feeling conflicted. That little girl would consider this disobedience—the result of the doctrine your mother spat at her every day—but all you know now is the strange lightness in your heart, as if shedding a massive burden that you didn’t realize you had been carrying your whole life.

Mother took a sharp, hissing breath, and you saw the subtle quiver in her clenched jaw. “You're out of line,” she said.

“I'm out of line?! You were the first one to cross that line, over and over, hurting me for years, but now that I finally do it to you, now I'm the one who's out of line?!” The words tumbled out of your mouth in a rush, all the pain and anger that you had piled up erupting to the surface. “You've always hurt me, said awful things, made me feel like nothing! But the second I did it to you, suddenly I'm the bad one? That's not fair!"

In the blink of an eye, she extends her perfectly manicured hand to grasp the first object within her reach—a heavy crystal paperweight on the table. Your eyes are glued to it, feet ready to flee when she hurls it at you.

“You fucking ungrateful bitch!” she screamed.

Some distant, rational part of you knows you should dodge. But a darker impulse held you frozen, as if welcoming the blunt object to damage your epidermis and even more so to become evidence of her abuse. And perhaps, once the crimson drips from your split temple, it will be enough to reveal the true identity she has been hiding—to destroy the loving mother image she has carefully built for years.

You will make a spectacle of the wound, perhaps even exaggerating it a bit like Mother always did.

It came so close when it landed on the floor next to you. You let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Mother’s face flushed like the devil as she shouted, “I should never have given birth to you!”

Strange, that relief is what washes over you when her words land in your ears. Because for the first time, the two of you agreed on something – she wished you had never been born, just as you had so often wished the same.

Those “precious” teenage years were filled with alternating fantasies—some days hoping she might die, others wishing it was you instead. But you were never able to go through with killing her, or yourself. Because being without Mother meant being utterly lost and alone, and you were too cowardly to cut your wrist open. More days though, you regretted it—how it might have all ended sooner if only you had been braver.

You wonder who's to blame to just make sense of it—perhaps Mother's mother had been cruel, and she thought she had broken the cycle. Perhaps Joyce, for always being the golden child despite everything. Perhaps Dad. Perhaps you.

All those long, drawn-out years, you stayed, you suffered for her. Because the little girl in the bright pink shoes—the color that matched Mother's favorite dress before she threw it away—loved her mother so much. Always making excuses for her. Maybe she didn't know how to love me, or I didn't understand her way of loving me. Maybe somewhere in her anger were kisses in her own language.

You stood frozen as hollowness spread through your chest, as if the eruption had cleansed you until nothing but an empty clarity remained. Even when Simon entered the room, you didn't notice his presence until he spoke.

“Fuck’s all this?” His question didn’t really wait for an answer as he rushed to your side.

Mother smoothed her hair imperiously, then said: “We were just having a talk.”

Simon’s brown eyes scan the scene: the shattered paperweight, Mother’s suspicious fist. He then turns to examine you carefully, searching for any injuries and only letting out a slight sigh when he finds none.

“Go wait in the car. I’ll sort our things.” Simon orders, and without argument, you nod, walking out of the bedroom.

The room felt heavier with tension after you departed, leaving Simon alone with your seething mother. He moved with purpose, in a quick and efficient mind, as he gathered your things—a toothbrush and hairbrush from the bathroom, dresses from the closet, pulling out drawers for any other items. After throwing them into your suitcase, he tidied up his own things with even more haste and less care.

As he picked up his abandoned tie, Mother cleared her throat. “You don’t need to do this, you know. I know my daughter better than anyone, and she’s not what you really need.”

For a moment, Simon paused, jaw working as he reined his temper. Mother thought she had his attention—finally getting him to listen to her. But soon enough, he resumed his task as if she hadn’t spoken at all.

Undeterred, she pressed on. “There are prettier, worthier girls than her. Ones who won’t cause you so much trouble.”

Simon’s hands stilled at that, Mother thought she had succeeded in making him consider. Slowly, he turned to face the older woman. But what she read in his eyes was not a realization or even a spark of curiosity. No, it was a look that suggested he knew a lot about people like her, had seen a lot despite him being a decade her junior.

“That what you tell ‘er then?” He began, hate raining down like hail in his voice. “That she ain’t good enough, or pretty enough? That she’s nothin’ but trouble?”

The woman met his gaze, and Simon noticed how her eyes were shaped like yours, except colder, full of twisted conviction whenever she talked about you. “I only speak the truth, for her own good. Someone has to keep that headstrong girl in line before she comes to ruin.”

At that, he let out an impolite scoff, but Simon gave zero fucks. “Yeah? Cause all I see is you tryin’ to keep ‘er under yer thumb.”

Simon watched as the woman's face contorted into an ugly frown of dislike; her mask had been abandoned somewhere. He wondered how you survived all those years at home, how you could still say you “love her to bits” on your first meeting.

But he supposes that’s how children are. Misplaced unconditional love for their lifegivers. Sometimes, his critical mind thinks it’s a shame for the Man in the Sky to give little humans to people who don’t deserve them—to abusers, addicts, snakes like this one right here. But then again, Simon had no right to complain when he stopped believing in any of all that years ago—after he lost everyone that mattered.

"I'm her mother." She repeated.

“And she’s yer daughter. Not yer pet or yer little dog to order about.”

As Simon returned to tending to the bags, the woman took a slow, deep breath. "I know men like you," she replied. “You think you're protecting her—you think you're saving her, but all you want is a girl to use and toss aside once you've grown bored.”

Simon’s tedious task came to a halt, the zipper of the bag half-open. He furrowed his blond brows, brown eyes focused on nothing. Before long, he gathered the bags and shouldered them, his free hand dragging the suitcase as he walked through the gaping door. That woman spoke again, but he turned a deaf ear to her venomous spit.

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[laurents-laces]

Dumping my thoughts on the new aftg short stories here to contain all the spoilers in one place, because if I don't get to talk about them I'm gonna explode. Someone very kindly made a typed-up version of them here if anyone wants them!

TFC: David

We all know Neil is "distressingly single-minded about Exy" but I'm dying at the revelation that people in Millport knew this about him. He was supposed to be lying low 😭

Kevinnnnnnnn my boy!!!

"This is better. Easier? Better." Ouch

I had a feeling he was seeing Betsy more often than twice a year! And that we just didn't know about it because Neil didn't. That's amazing for him

Wymack is being such a great dad right now and he doesn't even know it

So excited to have one (1) canonical sentence from Kayleigh Day herself

I was headcanoning Kevin as ten when he moved in with the Moriyamas. I know nine is only a year younger but somehow it's breaking my heart a little more

Awww I always thought he looked just like his mom

I hope he looks a little like Wymack too but no one noticed before

I wonder if he ended up telling Betsy who his dad is? I don't think so but I'm sure she'd have kept the secret. Even though it would've been so hard to keep a straight face about it

"Coaches have no honor. Your word is enough. Just yours." I wanna hit every Raven coach with a very heavy stick, starting with Tetsuji. But I love how Kevin's always trusted that Wymack was different. He can be a surprisingly hopeful person sometimes. He's a little like his dad in how he sees the potential in people no one else does

Am I crazy or is Wymack talking about Andrew here?? Because it reminds me of the part in the extra content where Andrew keeps breaking into Wymack's apartment to rant about Kevin, until one day it's Neil he's more interested in

I always thought that Andrew agreeing to protect Kevin so easily might mean he was kind of into him. If canon unrequited kandrew is gonna be a thing then Andrew and Jean should form a Victims of Kevin Day's Big Green Eyes Support Group

TRK: Betsy

I'm so upset right now I don't even have words

It's so interesting to see what Andrew is like alone with Betsy. And I love that Wymack makes him feel safe

He loves his brother!!

"They cannot keep him. I will not let them." I fully believe Andrew would be down to break Aaron out of prison if he got jail time

"One week Neil had been the subject of some very grandiose conspiracy theories, and the next Andrew had only said 'He's Kevin's problem now, the end!' and refused to elaborate." That's the most Andrew response he could've had 😭

And he was so right about Neil being suspicious as hell! I need everyone to look back on the beginning of the year and realize Andrew was right about him

"Everyone knows now, Bee." My heart just broke into a million pieces

"Neil flinched. He'd pushed because he needed to see that horrible smile crack. He needed to know if Andrew was screaming behind the euphoria his drugs fed his veins. But Andrew wasn't, and Neil couldn't live with that. Andrew's medicine was too strong or his psychosis too twisted; either way, tonight didn't mean anything to him. This was a setback Andrew could sidestep and ignore." That part of TRK really stuck with me. It's a good thing he didn't actually try to act completely unbothered by everything that night but it still hurts to hear about

"I know what happened to you today was beyond cruel and that Drake's death will not undo what he did to you. I know our system has failed you every step along the way and that a part of you will carry that distrust and betrayal for many years to come, if not for the rest of your life. And I know you have done astoundingly well despite life's every attempt to crush you. I'm sorry," she said, trying and failing to catch his eye, "and I'm so, so proud of you." She just said everything I'm feeling, perfectly

Chaos and mayhem, or Blockbuster. These books are so 2006. I miss Blockbuster

TKM: Aaron

This was the first one I read and it took me ages to get through because I was laughing so hard. Aaron calling andreil's matching arm bands a promise ring broke me

He's such an asshole. I love him. He might not like it but he's a Fox through and through

"Exy this, Exy that, get a fucking hobby already. Oh, but I guess he did?" He sent a pointed look at Andrew. He's the funniest character actually

I've always wondered if he was a little jealous of a certain mouthy liar who has everyone wrapped around his little finger. Hearing that Ichirou chose Neil over his own brother must've been a wild experience

I also wondered if he actually had a passion for medicine or if he just picked the most respectable career path he could think of. It's so good to hear that it's really something he loves. He's gonna get his dream job and fix things with his brother and marry the love of his life some day, and I'm so proud of him

Neurosurgeon Aaron and paediatrician Katelyn are properly canon now! It's nice to get all these details from the extra content as part of the actual books

A few months ago, Aaron never would have imagined Andrew needed his approval. Finding out how important he was to Andrew was an ongoing, eye-opening experience. Aaron finally realizing how much Andrew has done because of him might be my favourite thing

"His father's people tore up his arms with a lighter and knives, and none of it is going to fade. He doesn't need to see those." Andrew Minyard you fake idgafer. You care so much. So much.

I wonder what would've happened with andreil if Andrew was in less denial about their relationship? I don't think he'd date someone on purpose while the no-dating deal was still in effect

"Andrew didn't want to talk about Neil with Dobson because once he broached that subject he had to either lie to all of them or admit Neil was more important than he wanted him to be." I love that Aaron understands this about Andrew

I love that the only other Aaron POV story we have also ends with him being able to tell when Andrew is lying to himself. The twinyards have their misunderstandings but at the end of the day they get each other

[detectivebambam]

The Foxes' Moms

Andrew: Bee

Neil: Abby

Kevin: Abby and Andrew

Nicky: Abby

Matt: Randy

Aaron: Randy

Renee: Stephanie

Alison: Abby

Dan: Abby and Randy

Foxes' Dads

Andrew: Wymack

Neil: Wymack

Kevin: Wymack

Nicky: Wymack

Matt: Wymack

Aaron: Wymack

Renee: Wymack

Alison: Wymack

Dan: Wymack