#This is why I liked having Angela around

[lepusrufus]

While Moira ever admitting to not being able to do anything is a little ooc, I think it's infinitely funnier for her to get hella annoyed at people taking one look at the Doctor title that came with her PhD and assume she can do anything medicine or science related like

"Oh yeah sure I brainwashed Widowmaker right after finishing my course in The mind of depressed housewives with murder tendencies sure do I look like a fucking psychologist to you?" "No I can't perform open heart surgery on you unfortunately you'll just have to deal with it." "The fuck do you expect me to do about those symptoms I don't know sounds like either flu or terminal cancer here would you like to flip a coin?" "Well no I can't tell why your blood pressure has been fatally high for two days, I can however tell you the likelihood of your child being born with green eyes though." "What do you mean your cells are dying agai- actually Gabe yeah that's something I may be able to solve sure take a seat."

[leslieseveride]

dreamt that s6 premiered last night and that tim proposed to lucy, and while as far-fetched as it is to get a chenford proposal of all things straight out the gate, i must admit tim bradford circling back to the spot where he first asked out lucy in front of the precinct to pop the big question is so incredibly genius of my brain to come up with during my deep slumber, therefore i have to add it to my never ending list of wips.

[tempestaurora]

kinda weird every time i see the 911 cast do like. the emmys. hand out an award. go on a red carpet somewhere. like, intellectually, i know they're on a top rated tv show that isn't niche in the slightest. logically, i know that angela basset and peter krause are not little names. but like. sometimes i see them and realise they don't just live on my tv and they have whole careers and people know about them and its not just me and a handful of girlies on the internet. its like. regular people too

[fellhellion]

90s run PAD has this rlly annoying trend where he very often write a female character being in love w miguel and suddenly her entire character shrinks down to the scope of what drama this provokes and it's near continually in service to the narratives of men (Gabriel and Miguel interpersonal drama for example). even when there are actually interesting things to be mined from this angle like w lyla its like. this is a pattern w you dude.

[arsenicflame]

images that cause me physical pain (derogatory)

[kiddstellas]

28º C at night with 40ºC during the day should be illegal

[loulovingho]

He wished he could say he knew it was a bad idea before it happened, but he didn't.

It wasn't until the saw blade had sliced straight down his leg and the blood started seeping onto his pants and pooling on the garage floor that he realized hey, maybe I should have been a little more careful.

Still, without allowing himself to panic, he made himself a tourniquet before getting into his truck and heading toward the hospital.

“I was going through your files, Thomas,” Tommy's nurse, Angela, said as she walked into his room, “and you have a blank space where your emergency contact should be. Why's that?”

“Well good morning to you too, Angela,” Tommy replied, plastering on a grin. “Lovely to see you, as always.”

She cocked her head to the side, resting a hand on her hip. “Mhm. You need an emergency contact, Thomas.”

“Nobody calls me Thomas, Angela.”

“And nobody calls me Angela, Thomas.”

Tommy pushed himself up in the bed, wincing slightly at the pain that radiated down his leg. “What do they call you then? Angie? Ang? Ella?”

“This is serious, Mr. Kinard.”

“Angel?”

Angela sighed. “With your career, it's very important to have an emergency contact on file.” She moved closer to him, maneuvering the tray table over his lap and setting some paperwork down with a pen. “Get to writing.”

“Okay, okay,” he relented, picking up the pen. She waited as his hand hovered over the form. After a few seconds, he blinked up at her. “What's your number?”

“I find it very hard to believe that a pretty boy like you doesn't have at least one name and number he can drag from his phone to that piece of paper right there.”

“Is that a no on your number?”

“As long as no infection gets in that leg, you'll be out of here tomorrow,” she said, ignoring his question. “You have to have a ride or we can't release you.”

“Oh, come on,” Tommy whined, “I drove myself here!”

“Which was stupid!” She replied. “A gash that big, nearly to the bone. You're lucky you didn't bleed out on your way in.”

“My tourniquet skills are unmatched.”

“Well your common sense skills could use some work.” She took a look at her watch, let out another sigh. “I'll leave the paperwork with you. I'll be back in two hours to change your dressing and give you some meds.” She tapped on the paper, “I want a name and a number when I get back.”

Tommy grinned up at her, “Yes, Ma'am.”

He kept the smile on his face until she was out of the room, then he dropped the act. He tossed the pen down and pushed the tray away from him, pressing the button on the side of his bed so he'd be lying down.

Carefully, as to not disturb his leg, he turned onto his side and closed his eyes, letting sleep take over.

*****

When Tommy woke up nearly an hour later, it was due to loud noises across the hall.

Laughter.

A lot of it.

There was some shushing, and things quieted down for a minute, then it started back up again. It almost sounded like they were having a party over there.

When another round of laughter started, Tommy decided to get up and take a look at what was causing all the commotion.

Moving around too much wasn't recommended after the surgery and stitches he had to have for the gash on his leg, but he was tired of doing nothing and the door wasn't that far away.

Cautiously, he sat up and swung his legs around until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. He pushed himself up, groaning slightly at the pain.

He clenched his teeth together and took a step, barely tiptoeing with his left foot to keep as much pressure on the right as he could.

He managed to make it to the door in five steps, leaning against the frame as he stared at the room across the hall.

The door was halfway open, filled with more people than Tommy thought was allowed in a room. He could see flowers on a corner table, and balloons nearby with GET WELL SOON written on them.

A man peeked around the corner, his smile turning into a grimace. “Sorry!” he exclaimed. “We're trying to keep it down over here.”

“Oh, you're fine,” Tommy assured him, motioning to his leg. “Needed to move around a bit.”

“Our boy over here just had surgery on his leg too,” the man said. “Trying to cheer him up since he'll be out of office for a couple months.”

Tommy forced a smile. “That's nice. Please, don't mind me. I'm not gonna be making it much further than here, just needed to get out of bed.”

“Alright. Feel better, Man.”

Tommy nodded. “Thanks.”

As the man disappeared back behind the door, Tommy turned back to his room. It'd been three days since his surgery, but there wasn't a balloon in sight. No flowers, no stuffed animals, no people. Nothing.

It was fine though. It wasn't like he needed those things. His captain had texted him that all his shifts had been covered, not to worry. A couple of coworkers had sent him teasing messages about hurting himself off the clock.

That was enough.

As he got back to the bed and laid down, he grabbed his phone off of the tray table. He was forever thankful to Angela for going downstairs to the gift shop on his first day in recovery to get him a charger.

He opened up the Uber app and clicked through all the steps to schedule a ride home tomorrow. He'd come back sometime soon to pick up his truck.

Once that was settled, he looked at the time. Angela would be back soon, and expecting a name and number on that piece of paper.

With a very dramatic eye roll, he grabbed the pen and quickly wrote down a name and a number.

*****

Twenty minutes after changing his dressing and getting his paperwork, Angela walked back into the room with a glare on her face. “You can't have Uber's corporate number as your emergency contact, Tommy.”

He gave her his award winning smile. “Hey, you called me Tommy!”

“I'm being serious with you. Who is Gary P.? Did you make him up?”

“Absolutely not,” Tommy gasped, feigning offense. “Gary P. is the lovely man who will be taking me home tomorrow. For the low, low price of $42.35. That's before tip, of course.”

“So you put your Uber driver down and added the corporate number?”

“You're in the wrong field, Angela,” Tommy said, wiggling his finger toward her. “You should be a detective.”

Tommy hadn't asked, but he was pretty sure by the face Angela was giving him that she was a mother. “What is this?” she asked. “Too macho to let anyone know you're hurt?”

“I've actually worked very hard to rid myself of toxic masculinity, thank you very much.”

“Tommy-”

“You've been a nurse a long time, Angela,” Tommy interrupted, beginning to feel a little irritated by her refusal to let it go. “I'm sure I'm not your first patient without an emergency contact.”

“You're not,” she agreed. “But with your job, you could have your captain or a coworker-”

“If I get hurt on the job, my captain and coworkers will already know. I'm not going to have them running down to the hospital because I didn't properly secure a saw. I texted my captain that I'd be out of commission for a while, he texted back. It's all good.”

“A parent?”

“No mom.”

“Your dad then?”

He let out a humorless laugh. “Angela, please, don't joke like that.”

“If something serious were to happen to you, you need someone on the form.”

Tommy rested his head against the pillow and stared up at the ceiling. “If something serious were to happen to me, let it happen,” he said. “We're all gonna die anyway, don't need anyone to watch.”

He could feel her watching him. Could sense the pity. He closed his eyes, hoping she got the hint.

After a few seconds, he heard her shuffling around, and when he opened his eyes again, she was gone.

*****

Gary P. wasn't exactly the kindest man Tommy had ever met. He seemed frustrated that he had to pick Tommy up in the first place, as if he hadn't accepted the ride. He was impatient, huffy, took two wrong turns, and practically shooed Tommy out of the car the second they arrived at his house.

“You know, Gary,” Tommy said as he pushed the car door open and took a wobbly step onto his driveway, “I'm beginning to regret putting you as my emergency contact.”

Before Gary could even register what Tommy had said, he slammed the door and turned toward his house.

As soon as he got inside, he headed for the couch. He tossed down his keys, phone, and the bag of pain meds from the hospital pharmacy before sitting down himself. He propped his leg up on the coffee table and leaned his head back, closing his eyes and falling asleep.

When he woke back up it was due to a throbbing in his leg. He couldn't help the moan that escaped him as he tried to pull himself back up from the slumped position he'd sunk into.

He reached over for his meds and grabbed the bottle out of the bag, popping off the lid and shaking out one of the pills into his palm.

He needed water. He'd never been able to swallow pills without a drink of some kind. But water was all the way in the kitchen and the kitchen felt very far away right now. Especially when he could feel his heart beating in his leg.

Still, he knew the pain would only get worse if he didn't get up. So, he stood and his groans turned into whimpers with each step he took.

He ignored the pain as best as he could, stopping when he reached the fridge to lean against it with his hands gripping the door handle.

After letting himself take a few deep breaths, he opened the fridge and grabbed a water. He opened the bottle quickly and swallowed the pill, feeling a slight vindication at the fact that he'd done it and he could go back and rest again.

And that's when it hit him. Standing in the middle of his kitchen, staring back toward the living room, it hit him all at once.

He'd need to fix himself something to eat soon, or order something at least. Either way, he'd be walking to the kitchen or the front door. He needed to go to the bathroom. Needed a shower. Needed to rewrap his leg. He desperately wanted to sleep in his bed but wasn't sure if he could get back up after he laid down. Then he remembered he was in the middle of washing his sheets when he hurt himself so they were still in the washer, probably soured, which meant he needed to get his spare set of sheets out of the linen closet and make his bed.

He'd have to get another Uber in a day or two to go pick up his truck. God, what if he got Gary again? He needed to let his captain know when he'd be back at work. Needed to remember to get a release form when he went back to the doctor for a checkup. He needed to go grocery shopping. He needed to make sure all his bills were paid for the month. He needed... he needed help.

He needed someone.

He was so damn tired.

His eyes burned as he rested his elbows on his countertop, digging the palms of his hands into his eyes.

He was fine.

It was fine.

He didn't need anybody.

The couch would be fine for tonight.

He'd figure everything else out on his own.

He'd always figured everything out on his own.

This was no different. He just needed the pain to stop and to get some rest and he'd be fine.

With a deep breath, he straightened up. He ignored his blurry, wet eyes as he took each pain-filled step back to the couch. And if a few tears fell down his face on the way, well, at least no one would ever know.

*****

It took three and a half weeks before his leg was healed enough for him to return to work.

There was no big fanfare on his first day back, which he was thankful for.

A couple of people gave him a high five and asked him how gnarly the scar was. One guy told him he was forced to take three of his shifts, so Tommy owed him. His captain kept him on light duty and told him to make sure he let him know if he felt any pain.

Other than that, it was a regular day.

Another week passed until he could go back up in the chopper. He was thankful to be back in the air again. Back where he belonged. He could forget everything when he was in the air.

Just focus on flying. That's the way he liked it.

It was in the middle of his second shift back as pilot when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He stared at the name that lit up on his screen, eyebrows furrowed in confusion before answering.

“Howie? What's up, Man?”

“Hey, Tommy! Long time no talk, I know, but I, uh, I got a big favor to ask.”

[fluentmoviequoter]

Not So Grumpy

Requested Here!

Edit: Read Part 2 Here >

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!pregnant!reader

Summary: Tim is grumpier than usual, and when you decide to visit him at the station, the rookies get an idea of why.

Warnings: pregnant reader. fluff!

Word Count: 1.8k+ words

A/N: Softie Tim? Softie (and clingy) Tim. This takes place sometime during seasons 1-2.

“Don’t start,” Tim says, sitting beside Angela.

“Whoa, okay,” she replies with a laugh. “Glad to see you’re in such a good mood.”

“That sounds like starting.”

Angela puts her hands up, smiling as she turns away from Tim. “Chen, good luck.”

Tim rolls his eyes, wishing his mornings could go differently. It’s been several weeks of his persistent bad mood, and everyone who has to deal with him is curious about what’s causing it.

“Bradford, can I- could I maybe get you something?” Lucy offers softly.

“No.”

✯✯✯✯✯

You wake up curled against Tim’s side, his arm extended over your waist. His alarm is going off, and he’s smacking the nightstand beside him in a poor attempt to turn it off.

“You have to go to work,” you remind him, kissing his cheek as you move farther up in the bed.

“I’m good,” he replies, sighing as he finds his phone and turns the sound off. “Right here.”

He rolls closer to you, his hand sweeping over your stomach as he looks into your eyes. Tim can be persuasive, but you’ve gotten used to this routine over the last few weeks.

“I’d love for you to stay, I really would, but I don’t think your boss would appreciate it,” you say.

Tim groans, pressing his face against your neck as his arm tightens around you.

“You got clingy,” you tease, running your fingers through his hair and gently scratching his scalp.

“And you won’t let me stay,” Tim mumbles.

“It’s not my fault you wanted to be a cop.”

“You would-“ Tim pauses, sitting up so you can hear him. “You would deprive me of staying at your side during a time like this?”

Chuckling at his dramatics, you push your hand against Tim’s shoulder in a pointless attempt to move him away from you.

“Tim, baby, you see me all the time.”

“Not enough. I’m going to come home one day, and there will be a toddler running around, but I won’t remember any of this.”

You close your eyes and lean back against your pillow. “You have to go to work today so you can come to the doctor with me on Friday, right? Just think about that.”

“I can’t. I can only think of you.”

“You start a family and suddenly you’re the most romantic, clingy guy in the world. Where’d the grump go?”

Tim doesn’t reply as he tries to pull you closer. Rolling away from him, you leave him no choice but to get up and go to work. His disappointed sigh makes you frown; you know he’s being dramatic to cover up how he feels.

“Tim,” you call, sitting up as he walks to you. “I’m sorry. I love you, and I really do want you here as much as possible.”

“I know. It’s just harder than I thought it would be.”

You nod, tilting your chin up in a silent request for a kiss. Tim smiles, shaking his head as he bends to meet you. You pull back before he risks getting distracted.

“The grump is back now,” Tim mumbles.

“Hey! Be nice today,” you call after him.

Tim doesn’t reply, and you know he’ll deny ever hearing you say such a thing.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim slams the door as he exits the shop. Standing with his hands on his hips, he looks at the flat tire before glancing at Lucy.

“I didn’t see it,” she begins, her voice rushed and apologetic.

“Because you weren’t paying attention,” Tim snaps.

“But I-“

“How do you expect to graduate to short sleeves if you can’t even drive, boot?”

“It wasn’t my fault; there was something in the road!”

“Call dispatch,” Tim demands.

“What’s the protocol for this?”

Tim remains silent, leaning against the side of the shop as Lucy racks her brain for the proper procedure. As she radios dispatch and explains the situation, Tim grows grumpier. He’s stranded in a subdivision of Los Angeles with a flat tire that could have been avoided instead of home with you. His conviction about being a cop wanes each moment he’s away from you.

✯✯✯✯✯

Even without seeing the worst of it, you can tell Tim’s attitude has changed lately. His fellow officers and the rookies have been dealing with the grumpiest version of Tim they’ve ever experienced, but you see the clingy, emotional, loving side of whatever is making him act so differently.

After doing a few small chores, which Tim will tell you not to do again, you get ready and decide to pay him a visit at the station. You want to see how he is doing.. mostly, you miss him and want an excuse to see him and hug him.

As you get in your car, you consider calling Tim to ensure he’s at the station and has time for a visitor. He has been protective of you since you met, but it has changed and increased since getting married and throughout the early months of your pregnancy. You shrug, putting your phone away after electing to surprise him instead. 

✯✯✯✯✯

“It would be great if one of you could remember that you’re a police officer!” Tim yells, looking between Nolan, Lucy, and Jackson. “Now you’ve got nothing to say? No excuses? Well maybe you should review those rook books before going out on patrol again.”

He turns quickly, prepared to storm away and find a private place to calm down. When he freezes, the rookies look at one another in confusion. Nolan prepares to speak, and Lucy shakes her head to stop him, unwilling to get yelled at again so soon.

“What are you doing here?” Tim asks.

You step into the bullpen with a smile as Tim rushes to your side.

“Missed you,” you whisper.

“Is that- is she-“ Nolan stutters.

“Pregnant? Yeah. And Tim is… smiling?” Jackson adds.

Lucy gasps, moving in front of Nolan to see better. It’s true: Tim is standing as close as he can, with one hand laid protectively over your stomach while he smiles down at you. His grumpiness, which has made being a rookie nearly unbearable recently, is completely gone, vanished at the sight of you.

“You shouldn’t be up walking around,” Tim frets.

“Then I probably shouldn’t tell you I cleaned the kitchen, huh?” you reply.

Tim shakes his head, his thumb brushing over the swell of your baby bump as he leans forward to kiss your forehead.

“Are you feeling okay?” Tim asks softly.

You smile, moving your chin to gesture to your left. Tim’s brows pinch as he turns, glaring at the rookies until they look away, turning to one another in a fake conversation.

“I’m not going to survive this afternoon,” Tim tells you.

“You’ve been grumpy and mean,” you accuse.

“Look, they’re going to annoy me all afternoon. Stay with me? You can do a ride along. Oh! Or you could go into labor so I can stay home with you for a few days.”

“As great as that sounds, I’m going to pass. I’d like to have a healthy baby when the time is right, not on your schedule, grumpy.”

Tim frowns, his hands on either side of your bump.

“But, I promise to be waiting for you the moment you get home,” you add. “And, maybe, if you just tell them the truth, it won’t be so bad.”

“You’ve never dealt with a boot. Or Angela Lopez.”

“Just because you won’t introduce me.”

“For good reason.”

You smile, raising your chin again before Tim kisses you quickly.

“Be careful going home. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Tim watches you leave, waiting until you’re out of sight to turn back toward the rookies. He jerks back slightly when he sees Lucy standing right beside him.

“She’s so cute! You’re so cute together! Why haven’t you mentioned her, Tim?” Lucy gushes. “And where do you hide that guy that was with her? I’ve never met that Tim.”

“And you won’t,” he promises.

“I think he leaves that side of Tim with her,” Nolan adds.

Tim’s jaw clenches. It’s true, he knows, but he doesn’t want details of his personal life to become an accepted topic for the rookies. He raises his hand, and they silence.

“Just- leave it alone for now, and I will introduce you the next time she visits,” he offers. 

As he says it, he makes a mental note to ask you not to visit without warning so he doesn’t have to follow through. The lie is the only way to have peace while in the vicinity of the rookies.

“I can’t believe you’re going to be a dad,” Jackson muses.

“You’re having a kid?” Angela yells, running down the stairs and grabbing Tim’s arm.

Tim grumbles something unintelligible under his breath before saying, “Yes.”

“Boy or girl?”

“Don’t know yet.”

“If it’s a girl, Angela is a great name.”

“Oh, trust me, I’ve got a long list of names that are an absolute no-go,” Tim replies, looking between the rookies and Angela.

“How did you figure this out?” Angela asks Lucy.

“She – who is she?” Lucy begins before realizing that she never heard who you are to Tim.

“My wife,” Tim mutters.

“You’re married?!” Angela and Nolan ask together.

Angela slaps Tim's shoulder, frowning when he looks at her with his eyebrows raised.

“I thought we were friends.”

“What gave you that impression?”

Angela gasps, covering her heart with her hand.

“Uh, Tim?” you ask, standing behind him.

He turns toward you quickly, and Angela’s eyes widen as she looks at you.

“Yeah?” he asks kindly, yet another surprise.

“Can you come with me for a second?” You notice the small crowd behind him, officers who seem more interested in you than anything else. “Hi,” you say, waving at them.

“It is so nice to meet you,” Angela begins, stepping toward you before Tim blocks her way with his arm.

“We’ll do introductions later,” Tim says, putting his arm around you and leading you away.

“I’m holding you to that!” Lucy yells.

Tim leads you into an empty interview room, his eyes searching yours. You take his hand, laying it on your stomach. Something happened when you heard his voice earlier, and you want to share it.

“Say something,” you request. “Anything.”

“I love you,” Tim answers.

His eyes widen as he feels the movement of a kick against his hand. He squats before you, moving his hand under your shirt.

“You know who I am, don’t you?” he asks.

You feel another kick, laughing at how your baby already has Tim wrapped around its finger. 

“You promised to make introductions,” you say, interrupting Tim’s conversation with your stomach.

Tim stands, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you. Breathless, you push against his chest as you break away.

“You were right,” you admit. “It would be nice to have you home more.”

“We did it,” Tim whispers, his eyes dropping to your bump.

“I feel like I’m interrupting something,” you mumble.

Tim chuckles, rubbing your back as he leads you to the door.

“Introductions, and then we’re going home,” Tim explains. “Names and nothing more.”

“I would expect no less, Officer Bradford.”

[evilminji]

*Gasp of joy* Brain, you shouldn't have!

You know how the Wayne's have basicly been the ONLY Good And Uncorrupt Wealthy Family in Gotham? And probably fuckin curse resistant AF because otherwise, HOW!? (No, seriously, the local magical population is baffled but impressed!)

....you....you wanna bet at least a few of those suckers died thinking "but I haven't completed my orphan hospital for sickly waifish puppy's and sad eyed children, yet! I... must... save... THE CHILDREN! *le dies (×.× ) * " to the tune of their beautiful (and somehow bizarrely benevolent and well adjusted) families weeping at their bedsides.

Whoop! There's a ghost! Hello, Mr. Wayne.

(Why does this Keep Happening? Please have LESS unfinished bussiness. You're supposed to be rich. Stop trying to help people ON YOUR DEATH BEDS! FFS.)

I say all this? Beeeecause~?

( >.>)(<.< )

Allright! Time to come clean, folks! Which side of the family lead to our descendant dressing up in a Kevlar BAT SUIT!!? Throwing himself off buildings in the middle of the night. Cavorting around with Amazons!

We aren't even mad about the last one! We're actually deeply and respectfully impressed! But who pulled THAT off? Angela? That yours? (*shrug* I mean... probably? It DOES seem like something my daughter would do...)

So like?

Imagine Danny~.

Trying to eat his generic brand cereal. IN HIS Underwear. When? All these Fancy Ghosts show up to his A College Kid's, Baby's First, Crap Apartment(TM). He's eating on a pillow on the floor for God's sake. It's too early for this! C'mon guys...

But, no.

They want permission to go Haunt their Descendant.

Danny sighs. He can already FEEL his cereal going soggy. This is gonna take a while, ain't it? Okay... okay, WHO is you offspring, what did they do, and for how long? You know the rules, guys.

Then they hit him with the oh so casual "BTW he's Fuckin Batman".

YOU WANT TO WHAT!?

(They convince him. How? He couldn't tell you. It's... is? Is this what It's like meeting a Fenton? For other people? Huh. He always thought people were exaggerating...)

Which? Is how a dead Victorian Old Man has arrived to ABSOLUTELY tear this Trouble Making Youngster a new one, in front of his little friends! Just full on full names him. Oh, OH! The broken BONES! The BRUISES! Have you no regard for your poor ancestors health! Their fragile hearts! Trying to put us in the grave AGAIN, are you?! Why in MY DAY-!!!

(Nightwing? Recording this for Alfred. It's gonna be an early birthday present~)

@hypewinter @hdgnj @the-witchhunter @ailithnight @mutable-manifestation @nerdpoe

[love-byers]

the first time i saw this, when i was NOT a byler shipper, i thought el was running TO mike. i thought we were getting a sweet moment where el runs to mike and he puts an arm around her or hugs her.

then i realized she was running away from him. 

and i was like, why?? they're supposed to be the couple why does she not want his comfort??

and even after will calls her out on doing mike wrong by lying to him, even after she sees that mike is attempting to talk to her and comfort her, that he's not angry at her, she still tells angela to lie to mike. more lies. that's how much she cares about keeping up the persona. had angela lied to mike, el would've continued lying to him the entire week. something she knows in her heart is wrong and not fair to mike.

this is a theme in s4. putting who you want to be seen as before being honest with your bf/gf. going above and beyond to preserve your lie, to be seen as who you want to be.

chrissy does that with jason. who she portrays herself as is completely different than who she really is and what she's really going through. jason has absolutely no idea chrissy is struggling and refused to believe chrissy would buy drugs, because chrissy didn't want to tell him. who knows how jason would've reacted if chrissy was honest, we don't know because chrissy didn't trust him enough to tell him. that's not love at all, that's sad.

this is a point in s2 as well. murray calls nancy out for being afraid to be her true self, and she stays with steve because she doesn't have to be her true self around him. she is her true self when she's with jonathan, and that's why they worked together. that's love.

the exact same thing happens with chrissy. the first time we see her genuinely smile is when she's with eddie. she's sweet and charismatic, and had she lived she totally would've gone to eddie's show, something you never would've expected from her, something her boyfriend, the person she pretends to love, would NEVER do.

robin and steve reinforce this too

you fall in love with the person who makes you feel accepted, the person who makes you feel like you can be who you are. the person you trust with your true self.

mike and el don't trust each other enough, they don't understand each other well enough.

they would have to change their behavior towards each other by leaps and bounds, and we're already at the last season. there is no time for that. stranger things isn't a multi season show about the complexity of romantic relationships and the healthy way to resolve problems. there is no time for that in just about any movie or show, especially a sci-fi show. you know what's way easier and way more likable? pairing your character with someone they naturally click with, who bring out the best in each other and for some reason can't help but be their authentic selves when they're with each other.

did it with jancy, like i said earlier

did it with lumax. when lucas and max talked on the bus max found herself spewing about things she'd never even said out loud before, and she had to stop herself. something about lucas just made her feel comfortable, like she could be herself and tell the truth. she trusted him.

"You're nothing like your brother, okay? You're cool and different, you're super smart, and you're like, totally tubular."

jopper too! joyce constantly had to hide things from bob, she was insecure about their family not being normal.

"This is not a normal family."

"It could be."

though bob had good intentions, the message of the show is not trying to be normal when you aren't. whatever it is about you that makes you weird or different, whatever you've been through that changed you, stay true to it. dont bottle it up and try to be someone else. all of vecnas victims in s4 were doing this, and it didn't end well for them.

they even did it with dustin and suzie. dustin constantly tries to impress max with his teeth, then in season 3 he says suzie thinks kissing is better without teeth. he doesn't have to be insecure about that or try to impress her. she likes him for him.

mike isn't comfortable being his true self around el either. he's insecure about his interests, he feels like he has to act older and cooler to impress her.

you shouldn't be with the person you feel you have to impress. you should be with the person who relieves that pressure, who makes you feel like being the authentic you is enough.

jonathan and nancy, lucas and max, joyce and hopper, dustin and suzie,

cough WILL AND MIKE cough...

[creedslove]

JOEL'S EX WIFE WANTING HIM BACK - HEADCANONS ✨

No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

A/N: hi besties!!! Just a small little idea I got while I was watching some good old female rivalry soap opera drama over breakfast ❤️

Warnings: Sarah is a teen here ❤️

• when you got together with Joel, Sarah was already 12, her mom had been gone since she was a baby and though neither of them had any problems about talking about what happened, it wasn't a frequent subject, even if they treated it with naturally, they didn't like talking about it and it was completely understandable, after all, Joel had been abandoned with a weeks old baby and that baby had to grow up without her mother around

• so you always simply decided to pretend she never really existed in the first place, and technically, in your life, she never really did it, because from the moment you began dating Joel, he wasn't her ex-husband anymore, but instead, he was your boyfriend, and Sarah wasn't really her daughter, but your stepdaughter and you both had learned how to love and enjoy each other's company

• you were leading a happy life with the Millers, being part of their household and falling into the same routine as they did, as you spent longer at their place than at your own, until it didn't make any sense for you to keep paying rent, after all, you and Joel were very much together and in love and the natural course of your relationship would be of course, getting married or something like that

• you were happy with your little family, Sarah's issues regarding her mom seemed to be filled up pretty good by you once you joined the family, as she finally had someone she could talk to about boys and other girl stuff. She also really approved yours and Joel's relationship, always commenting on how happy you made her dad and how nice it was to have a more family like routine

• things were good and happy and you couldn't wish for anything more than that, you were as pleased as you could be, and you were pretty sure Joel was the man of your dreams, there was no way you could love someone as much as you loved him and so was the story of how the Millers became a very happy family

• and that was why it shocked the fourth of you - because Tommy was hella shocked as well - when Sarah's mom, Angela, decided to get in touch with Joel; she had found him on Facebook and messaged him, much to his shock, he'd done the same with Sarah, just like that, texting the daughter she'd abandoned as if she was just an old pal saying hello after losing touch for years

• at first, the two of them decided to ignore it, not sure how to act or how to even respond to it, but after a couple of days more in which Angela kept insisting on texting, more like begging Joel for a chance to talk, he decided to talk to his daughter and get to a conclusion together and after considering a lot together, they decided they would answer to her and see what she wanted

• and of course Angela sent quite a few sob sad texts saying how hard things were for her, how much she'd missed her family and mostly her daughter and how she regretted leaving. Joel wasn't quite convinced with that, quite the opposite, he was still bitter and angry at everything that went on, but he could tell Angela's words somehow messed up with Sarah's feelings, after all, she was a reject baby by her mom and at some level, she needed her approval in any way

• so Joel and Sarah agreed to meet up with Angela again, something small, at a coffee shop where they could all sit down and talk things through so they could see how things went between them, you'd also decided not to show up, it was such an intimate moment, you didn't belong in that scenario and you also had no reasons to be suspicious of Joel, you loved and trusted him and he trusted and loved you back, there was no reason to worry about anything at all

• you were genuinely happy to know Sarah had warmed up for her mom and the two of them hit off, having a lot in common and deciding to spend more time together, going on dinners, lunches and movie sessions together; it seemed Angela's presence was a benefit for them, and it was, you liked to see Sarah so happy about her return, it only became a problem when Angela started to show up more and more often at Joel's home

• it was your home too, and as much as you didn't want to be selfish or annoying, you had to admit it bothered you A LOT she was all the time around, at first she started with smaller things, such as visiting you all on Sunday afternoon, or bringing up a dessert, which of course, had to be Joel's favorite and kept gushing about the times they were still married; Angela was a pretty woman, you couldn't deny that, and the fact she seemed so willing to be nice and pleasant around her ex-husband

• and that imposition of her presence into your house and your family was beginning to bother you even more; suddenly, Sarah didn't want to go to the mall with you anymore, instead, she wanted to go with her mom. She didn't want to bake cookies with you anymore because your cookies had that sugar thing in the bottom so she liked her mom's better and as much as you tried understanding Sarah needed and had all the right to enjoy her mom's company and presence, it still hurt you, because you missed Sarah, and yet, it felt as if you weren't important to her anymore

• Seeing the shifts in your dynamics with Sarah, Joel tried to be understanding and even offered himself to talk to her, but you dismissed the idea, it was embarrassing enough you were feeling jealous, you didn't need Joel to get into the middle of that, but it still made you upset when Sarah decided to go to the movies with her mom to watch the newest Ghostbusters movie you two had agreed on going together

• and just as Angela stole Sarah from you, she was more than willing to steal Joel as well: she wanted him, he was even more handsome, his business became successful and he lived comfortably and now Sarah wasn't an annoying baby anymore, it was fun to be around her and she wanted her family back

• so to you, things started going sour when you decided to stop by Joel's business to bring him lunch; you'd prepared him a pretty good lunchbox and you were very excited to see his reaction, however, when you got to his small office, you found him and Angela eating a foot long sub, as it was kind of an inside joke between them from when they were young

"oh shit baby, I had no idea you'd bring me lunch, if I knew it..."

• Joel said wiping his mouth with a napkin as he had sauce on his beard like an idiotic child would and it made your blood boil, Angela simply smirked at you and you knew exactly what she was doing, your gut feeling was right all along, she was a filthy bitch

"it's fine Joel, it's just a sandwich, it's not like you're cheating"

• you didn't know exactly why you said that, it was the first time in your life you had ever said that towards Joel because it had never even crossed your mind there might be a possibility of it happening, but once you said those sour words, an awkward silence, a think tension in the room spread and you felt extremely uncomfortable to be there

"I'm sorry, you can give the lunchbox to Tommy in case he hasn't had lunch if you want, that way the food won't go to waste"

• you told Joel and turned to Angela, you didn't want to hide how much you didn't like the fact she snuck into his office to bring him lunch like a devoted wife

"you know, it's an odd choice to bring your ex-husband lunch instead of your daughter, I'm sure Sarah is starving right now..."

• in the evening, Joel felt very bad about what had happened, he hadn't done anything wrong, but at the same time it was wrong because even if it was just a sandwich, it wasn't about the sandwich but rather who had brought it to him, he knew it had hurt your feelings and he wanted to make it up to you, so he arrived home, using all his charms, his puppy eyes, his sweet talking and his soft neck kisses to convince you to go out with him; he was going to take you out for dinner: at a restaurant, not a bar for beer and burgers, but an actual meal

• you enjoyed your time with him, appreciating his effort to make something nice for you, so you grabbed a table, ordered meals and enjoyed each other's companies, as Joel held your hand and talked about his day, telling you how much he'd missed you and how gorgeous you were, dinner was going smoothly and what happened during lunch time had almost faded from your mind, when you heard someone clearing their throat

"oh hey... Enjoying some romantic dinner? That's a good place, right? Joel used to bring me here every so often, money was very short back then, but he always made an effort"

• Angela gave the two of you a bright smile, loving every single ounce of anger that clearly went through your face, what the fuck was that disgusting woman doing there? Why did she have to ruin your date night like that? It made your blood boiling, Joel immediately sensed the tension and tried coming up with something to say, but Angela just shrugged

"I came over just to grab myself some dinner, excuse me and enjoy your evening"

• she faked sympathy and blew Joel a kiss, knowing damn well the whole evening was already ruined for you, which made her pretty good about herself

• once you got home, you decided to have a heartfelt conversation with Joel, tell him every single thing that was bothering you, after all, communication had always been a big deal for you and it was important for you to open up and be straightforward about the matter, and he agreed with you, he said Angela was crossing the boundary and he assured you he was gonna talk to her

• so during the next few days, things were alright again between you and your sweet Joel; you were still very much in love and Sarah had been so busy with her tests at school, you didn't even hear of Angela's name and you'd be lying if you said you weren't happy about it, it was a relief she wasn't around and you even suggested Joel to make barbecue on Saturday, you'd have an extra shift but then you could enjoy the weekend with your family

• he gladly accepted it and you spent the rest of your week quite excited for it, you liked his barbecue, it was such a dad trait he had and you wanted to spend some time in bed with him too, once you arrived from work, you smiled as you saw Tommy's truck and you could smell the delicious scent of food, as you got off your own car, you went straight to the backyard, smiling from ear to ear

• but it didn't last long, your smile died when you spotted Angela; she was wearing a short summer dress and laughed happily at something Joel said, it must've been so funny because Sarah was laughing too. Angela was holding a bowl of egg salad and the moment she saw you, her own smile died, as if she was the one who had her day ruined by an intruder in her family, and not the other way around

• you frowned as Sarah sighed at seeing you, it didn't take a rocket science genius to see she was disappointed in seeing you there, as if you had got in the way between her mom and dad, you stared at Joel, your eyes filling up with angry tears as he immediately walked to you, holding you by the waist

"baby..."

"I'm going to the bathroom to wash my face and when I come back I don't wanna see this woman here, I've had enough, I don't care if she's your ex or Sarah's mom, she clearly wants to take my place and sometimes I feel like she has already..."

"don't say that, baby girl, that's not true"

"so get rid of her Joel"

• you left to the bathroom so you could freshen up and clear up your mind; hoping she would be gone by then, you didn't want to see her at all, so once you stepped into the kitchen, you were ready to start your weekend, with the exception of the scene before your eyes: Angela's lips on Joel's

• you felt as if you lost the ground from under your feet, and even if Joel shoved her away from him and began apologizing one hundred times, you'd had enough; Angela got what she wanted: you out of the way

• you ignored everything Joel said, as you blinked your tears and shook your head, leaving the house, the house that used to be your home, but now you weren't so sure; maybe all you did all that time was fill up the absence of Angela, and now, that Joel and Sarah had the original one, they didn't need you anymore

• that was only one out of many thoughts that crossed your mind, you didn't want to believe that, you loved Joel and Sarah and you wanted to continue thinking they also love you, but your heart was broken and Joel Miller was to blame 💔

____

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Saving What Was Lost Part 2: A Million Shades of Red ✨

Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: I’m so excited to bring you chapter two! I’ve been working long and hard on this, so I hope you do enjoy it. As always, I LOVE to hear your thoughts so comments and reblogs really make my day 🩷 I loved getting to write the last half of this in Joel’s POV. No beta for this one. Happy reading! I have reached my max number of tags for this, so please go follow my updates blog if you'd like to be notified for future updates @mermaidgirl30-updates

Summary: Trying to figure out your way through grief is hard, but Joel seems to give you that first flicker of hope that you need.

Rating: Explicit 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 12.7k

Chapter Tags: Mentions of being trafficked, flashbacks of being abused, angst, soft and protective Joel, violence, PTSD, no use y/n, age gap (reader is late 20’s, Joel is late 40’s), pre-outbreak au, switching POVs

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The next day you don’t leave your room, can barely stand to get out of bed. So, you don’t. You just stay curled up in a ball between the twisted sheets, listening to the soft drizzle of rain and the howling wind that taps at the glass window. You tossed and turned the entire night while nightmares tore their way through your worn body, reminding you that your life was ripped from your hands more than a year and a half ago. 

   You’re not hungry, can barely even choke down a glass of water. But Joel goes out of his way to make sure you get something down, even going as far as helping you hold the glass, encouraging you the entire time. You never asked him to; he just does it.

   He brings you food to your bed. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And even when you can’t stomach anything, he leaves the plate next to your bed in case you change your mind. He checks on you every hour of the day, even if that’s just him walking by and peeking his head in the doorway to make sure you’re still breathing, alive. 

   You don’t feel alive, but maybe one day you will. Maybe one day you won’t wake up and immediately feel like dying.

   One day. It’s only been one single fucking day since you’ve been pulled from the reins of Angela and all her grimy men, saved by the hands of Joel Miller. And you still don’t understand why he picked you. Of all the girls he could’ve saved, he chose to save you…

   He saved you. And you’re eternally, forever grateful. Even if you can’t express that. Joel Miller is your hero. And even though you don’t exactly trust him yet, maybe one day you will. For now, this is enough. 

   Take it one step at a time. That’s what he keeps telling you. And you just swallow it down and stomach the pain like hot wire scalding your skin. 

   One day at a time. 

   When the night comes around, so do the nightmares. They leave you soaked in sweat, hair sticking to your damp forehead, eyes wide when they drag you from sleep. Blood curdling screams leave your lips, the raspy wails choking you as the tears pour like raindrops down your face. 

   And then there’s Joel slamming the door open, watching you with those sad brown eyes locked on yours, his soft voice calming you down from the brutal memories of the past that try to drag you back to the awful, pain-filled house. You’ll never go back. Not ever again.

   Again, he doesn’t leave until you’ve calmed down enough. He asks if you want him to stay, sit in that same chair he sat in the entire night the evening before. But you shake your head and tell him you’ll be okay. But you’re not okay. You’re far from okay. And when he nods and walks out of the room and closes his bedroom door, you let the tears soak the sheets until you’re dragged back down into darkness. 

   That’s exactly how the next three days go. You stay in bed, only dragging yourself from the cool sheets to crawl to the bathroom. You have no strength, no will to do anything. So you stay in the safety of your room and just sleep, praying the nightmares will leave you alone for just one fucking day, but they don’t. They come like creatures in the night, swallowing you whole with their sharp fangs and feasting on your misery. They bleed you dry just like all those men did. 

   And then there’s Joel and those sad doe eyes… He scares away the nightmares sometimes. But you don’t dare tell him that. You just stay silent, letting him stalk the halls day and night until you’re pulled down to sleep. 

   It’s a repeated cycle that you can’t break: wake up, get a teeth clenching migraine, cry, fall back to sleep, wake up with nightmares clouding your mind, cry, let Joel talk you back to sleep, cry. But you can’t stop, can’t shake it. It’s like it’s ingrained deep in your mind, becoming a part of your new identity. 

   You’re completely hopeless.

   And still Joel doesn’t push you, doesn’t make you do anything you don’t want to. He’s just a crutch that he’d gladly let you use, if only you’d touch him. But you don’t. You stay far far away from his tanned skin, his rough hands. You don’t want to be touched, and he doesn’t dare go there. He just stays like a lingering shadow in the hall, making sure you’re still here. Alive. He wants you alive, breathing. And you don’t know why…

   When the fourth day comes around, you make it your goal to get up. You have to try; you can’t stay in bed forever, even if your weak body is completely revolting against any sort of movement. You ignore the blinding pain of your aching bones and push yourself out of bed. And that in itself is a step in the right direction. 

   With messy hair, sweatpants, and a purple hoodie, you take a deep breath and make your way out of the room, praying you can make it all the way downstairs. Every step feels like sharp glass shards cutting the bottom of your heels, but you fight the burning pain and walk on. You have to make it downstairs. You just have to.

   Take it one step at a time. Joel’s soothing voice floats through your mind, and that alone is enough to get you down the steps and into the kitchen. 

   When you turn the corner and see him slumped against the counter, one elbow leaning against it and his other hand skimming the newspaper intently, you freeze in place. He must’ve not heard you tiptoe in because his eyes are locked tight on the folded black and white paper.

   He’s focused, jaw tense as he reaches for his cup of coffee. It’s black. No cream, no sugar. Just black. And you can smell the fresh brew lingering in the air. His green flannel hugs his broad shoulders, the rolled up sleeves leaving his tanned forearms exposed to the light. His eyes have dark shadows underneath them, and he looks like he’s gotten just as much sleep as you have these past few days. Basically none at all.

   Your eyes avert to the floor, your fingers nervously twisting into the soft fabric of the hoodie. You don’t know what to say, so you just take one more step into the lit up kitchen and clear your closed-up throat. 

   Joel’s eyes snap up, and he immediately drops the newspaper, pushing back his sturdy mug of black coffee. “Oh, hey. You’re up.” A ghost of a smile meets his lips and then those soft doe eyes appear. 

   He needs to stop looking at you like that, like you’re a lost puppy. But you won’t lie, they do make you feel a little safer. 

   Nodding your head, you push your hands inside the pockets of the hoodie, twiddling your thumbs mindlessly because you don’t know how else to act when anxiety and fright sit tucked away in the back of your mind.

   “You hungry?” he asks, tilting his head as he studies you with soft eyes. 

   Those soft brown eyes… 

   Your stomach rumbles at the thought of food. You’ve barely eaten the past few days, unable to stomach anything under than choking water down and only able to tolerate a couple pieces of toast. Anything else was left untouched, and all Joel would do was sigh when he kept seeing the full plates of food left on your nightstand. But again, he didn’t force you to eat anything, only encouraged you while he asked if you felt okay. 

   He was… too good. Why on earth did he choose to save you…

   “Mhm,” is all you can hum out. 

   “Okay then. Why don’t you sit down, sweetheart. I can fix you somethin’ up real quick,” he answers from across the lavish kitchen, pulling out various ingredients from the refrigerator. 

   You slip into one of the barstools at the kitchen island and lean your elbows against the white quartz that reflect against the bright lights displayed high in the room. Your back is as stiff as a board, and your fingers knot together like you don’t know how to act when you’re in the presence of Joel. He won’t hurt you, yet in the back of your mind there’s always that little alarm that says you can’t trust anyone. 

   You can trust him. He’s safe.

   “Apples or blueberries?” he calls out behind the open refrigerator door. 

   “What?” you ask confused as your eyes flick back up to him.

   He leans his head out and smiles softly. “Which one do you like more, sweetheart? Apples or blueberries?”

   You take a second to think on the question. He’s asking which you like more. He’s giving you a choice. Something you haven’t had in almost two years. Do you even remember how to choose anything for yourself? You doubt it.

   “Oh, ummm,” you sputter out, fingers locked tight around each other. You almost think they’ll break with how hard you have them knotted together. “Blueberries,” is what you finally decide on through your racing mind.

   He nods his head and grabs a container of fresh blueberries and sits them on the counter, pulling out other ingredients like butter and syrup. You sit there motionless while he gathers a couple of pans and glass plates out of the cabinet. And you just don’t know what to think about any of this. 

   After a couple minutes of just listening to him bustle around the kitchen, he breaks the silence. “You want some coffee? Just made a fresh batch a few minutes ago.”

   Coffee. You don’t remember the taste of it anymore or how you even liked it. “Oh, okay. Yeah, I could take some coffee,” you say shyly with your hands still shoved deep in your pockets. 

   He wastes no time and pours you a cup, sliding a spoon in as warm steam escapes from the black liquid. “How do you like it? Black, sweet, lots of creamer?”

   Your lips mold together in a tight line as you try hard to remember how you used to make it. You can’t recall anything you used to like before you were taken, and it makes you want to beat your fists on the countertop and spill the tears you’re trying so very hard to hold back. 

   “I don’t—I don’t remember how I like it,” you whisper, eyes dropped to the shiny island, legs trembling beneath you. 

   Joel takes a step in your direction and sets the steamy cup of coffee down in front of you. You can feel his body looming across the island, his large hands leaning against the quartz material, and those eyes. You feel how soft and sad and intently he’s looking at you, like he understands your pain.

   “Sweetheart, can you look at me a second?” he asks quietly, his deep voice a staccato in the heavy air. When you lift your eyes, he gently encourages you by saying, “There ya go. Attagirl.” And for some reason, that makes you want to cry even more. 

   “S’alright, sweetheart. How ‘bout I leave out the cream and sugar, and you can make it sweeter if you don’t like it plain. That alright with you?” he asks softly, his gentle brown eyes locked on yours. You sniffle out a yes, and he gives you a small smile as he turns to grab the creamer and sugar. 

   You drag the coffee cup closer to you and tap your nails against the ceramic material, thinking long and hard about everything you’ve lost. What did you even like doing anymore? You can barely remember what you liked before the last couple of years were snatched away from you. You can’t even remember your favorite color…

   When he returns and sets the bottle of creamer and a shaker of sugar down in front of you, you crack. A tear slips down your cheek, and you look up at him through glassy eyes. “I can’t remember what I loved to do before they—before they took me. My hobbies, my passions, my likes. I just don’t remember…” Your voice is barely audible as it shakes beneath your broken stature. 

   God, you’re so broken. 

   His jaw flexes and his knuckles tighten into closed fists. He seems angry, but those sad brown eyes tell a different story. He’s not mad at you; he’s furious about the ones that took your life away. The murders that tainted and destroyed your life, your mind, your heart. They took everything from you, and Joel knows this. He hates it as much as you do. 

   He takes a deep breath and relaxes his fingers against the cold material of the kitchen island, his brown eyes focused directly on you. His bottom lip twitches, and then he sighs as he speaks. “It’s gonna take a while, sweetheart. Gonna take time and work to remember what it was you loved before, what you lost. But I have no doubt that you’ll get ‘em back. You’re gonna discover new loves, new passions, new hobbies. And trust me when I say that you will thrive. One day, you’re gonna be soarin’, and all this pain and sufferin’ will be gone. Maybe not completely, but you’re gonna fly, sweetheart. Wings and all.”

   Another tear escapes your lash line, and you nod up at him slowly. “Thank you…” is all you can muster out of your highly emotional state. Thoughts are hard after he just painted a masterpiece with his words. 

   You’re gonna fly, sweetheart. The words stay sealed in a safe space deep inside your mind. No one can take what he just said away from you. Words that were spoken straight from your savior. Words meant just for you. Wings and all.

   “Why don’t you take a sip of your coffee? See how you like it.” He encourages you to try while he stands back and watches. 

   You bring the curve of the cup to your lips and take a small sip. As the warm liquid washes down your throat, your nose instantly crinkles up. Joel’s laugh floats around the room, bouncing off the stained cabinets and right back to you. You almost want to laugh back because his laugh is so infectious and light, but you don’t. 

   “Take it you’re not jus’ a plain cup of coffee type of girl,” he chuckles as he pushes back his sandy tousled hair, a couple strands of silver flashing beneath the bright lights. 

   “Guess not,” you reply as you reach for the sugar next. When you pour a large spoonful in and mix it up, you take another sip. It’s closer to your liking, but there’s still ingredients missing that you can’t recall. 

   “Not sweet enough for you yet?” he grins, taking a sip from his own coffee cup, watching you struggle with finding just the right mix. 

   “Not yet,” you sigh, annoyed with your own self from not knowing how to make your coffee anymore. 

   “S’alright. Try the creamer next. Maybe that’ll do it.” 

   As you start to pour the thick creamer into the warm liquid, he sets a shaker of cinnamon in front of you. And again, he just watches you with those warm milky-brown eyes. 

   You look at him all gawking and wordless, speechless because he’s trying to strike your memory, make you remember what you liked. He just stands there and smiles, watching you pour some cinnamon in next, like that’s what you needed. You don’t know why, but it makes your heart race just a beat faster.

   “In case that’s what you were lookin’ for,” he replies, flicking his soft eyes down to the brown cinnamon atop the now lighter-colored coffee.

   When he turns back around, a hint of a smile curls against your pink lips. In case that’s what you were looking for. He’s so… kind. You don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve him.

   You take a sip of your creamy, sugared-up coffee and hum at the sweet taste. Almost there, almost how you want it. You toss in some more cinnamon, mixing it into the almost white liquid. And when the delicious flavor meets your tastebuds, you freeze. 

   Caramel. That’s the ingredient you’re missing. It’s like a lock clicked right into place. A lost piece that was missing, and Joel helped you find that piece of yourself again. 

   “Joel?” you call. His body whips around, and then those soft brown eyes are on you. Those doe-colored irises that make your mouth run dry. 

   “Yeah, sweetheart?” he asks, like he’s right at your beck and call. 

   “Do you by chance have any caramel?”

   His eyes light up at that request, and he smiles warmly. “As a matter of fact, I do,” he grins. 

   He walks over to the refrigerator and pulls it open effortlessly, digging around until a small bottle of caramel materializes and lands in front of you, his fingers brushing past your coffee cup as he takes a step back. 

   “Hope you found what you were lookin’ for.” The way his deep timbre and the meaning of his words leaves you smiling behind the hand that’s leaning against your mouth. 

   “I think I did,” you say shyly up at him.

   He chuckles and nods, knowing exactly what that means. “I’ll make sure to always have caramel stocked in the fridge from now on. Jus’ for you.”

   Just for you.

   A smile ghosts over your lips, and another tear leaks when you realize what just happened. You actually smiled. You smiled. Even just a small one is progress. Joel made that progress happen. He made you smile…

   After pouring in a glob of syrup and stirring the sugary goodness with your spoon, you almost moan from the way the savory coffee hits you like you just swallowed the best piece of cake in the world. This is how you liked your coffee. Caramel, sugar, lots of creamer, cinnamon, warm. You just unlocked a forgotten piece in your mind, and it’s all because of Joel…

   The way he’s looking at you, soft doe eyes and a big smile curled against his plush lips, makes you give him a small nod. And in that moment, you see a ghost of a tear in his clear brown eyes. He knows you just found another lost part of yourself, and he loves to see you discover it once again. 

   He ends up making you blueberry pancakes drenched in butter and syrup, and you have to admit that these are the best pancakes you’ve had in your entire life. While you indulge in the sticky, syrupy plate, Joel joins you at the kitchen island after a few minutes. He’s careful to sit one barstool away from you, knowing very well that you need your space. And that’s exactly what he does. Gives you space while also being close, present, in the moment. And you appreciate that about him. He’s respectful of your boundaries when no one else has ever been before.

   He gives you a smile every once in a while as he sips his black coffee, barely touching his own pancakes. You think he just likes watching you eat, for whatever reason that may be. You know damn well you don’t look pretty shoveling a huge forkful of pancakes in your mouth, but you let him watch anyway. Maybe it’s because you aren’t used to being fed like this, only used to being starved to death. He’s trying to give you the freedom and enjoyment back in your life, you think. And that alone almost brings tears to your eyes. 

   Another couple of minutes goes by, and that’s when you decide to break the silence. Maybe he could answer some questions that’ve been crawling under your skin since the moment you stepped foot into this house. “Joel?”

   “Hmm?” he hums, taking one more sip of his coffee and setting the mug down on the quartz island. 

   You take a second to breathe, tapping the fork nervously against the glass plate, gathering your words together. And then you ask the question that’s been eating you alive at night. “What were you doing at the auction, really?”

   He taps his thumb against the brim of his coffee cup and stares off into the blue silently, his jaw slightly clenched. “I was there for business.”

   “Business?”

   “Yes,” he answers blatantly.

   “Seems like you’ve done it more than once. Been at auctions, I mean.” You drag your fork over the syrup-filled plate, wondering what he’ll say next.

   “That’s ‘cause I have,” he says as he swallows a sip of coffee, setting it back down carefully. Like he might break the glass if he’s too loud. 

   That doesn’t answer your question, so you grit your teeth together and ask again. “Why were you there, Joel?”

   He sighs and runs his fingers back through his tousled curls, making it messy and disheveled as thick lines map across his tanned forehead. “Was tryin’ to find someone. A girl named Rebecca. Her family, they reached out. Told ‘em I would find her and bring her back home.”

   Words get lodged in the back of your throat, your mouth suddenly dry as a desert. He was looking for someone but instead found you. He could’ve left you to the awful blonde man. The nameless face that still haunts your nightmares, depriving you of adequate sleep.

   “Oh. I see…” you say quietly. “But you found me instead?”

   He nods slowly. “S’right, sweetheart. Found you instead. Got you out jus’ in time, too. Glad I did.”

   Your bottom lip quivers as tears prick the back of your eyes, threatening to spill at any moment. He should’ve left you there to die. You already feel dead, so why does he want to bring you back to life? 

   “You could’ve just left me there. You could’ve just—” Your words are smeared with guilt because he shouldn’t have wasted his time and money and efforts on you. But he did, and you still don’t think you deserved it. His kindness. Just everything he’s done for you. You don’t deserve any of it.

   “Whoa. Hold on there, sweetheart,” he says as he halts you from finishing your sentence. “I wasn’t gonna jus’ leave you. So don’t for a second think I would’ve.”

   His sad brown eyes don’t help your trembling, but you just nod and brush away any trace of tears with the sleeve of your hoodie.

   “Okay,” you choke out. 

   His fingertips brush against the edge of the kitchen island and after another minute of silence, you ask the next question that you’ve been wondering. “What exactly is it that you do for work?”

   He blows out a deep breath and answers. “I was a former CIA agent. After Sarah was taken, I did everything I could to find her and get her back. Turns out when I found her, I found ten other girls that were missin’. I decided then what my line of work was gonna be. Opened up my own private business that focuses on huntin’ down sex traffickers, shuttin’ down auctions, findin’ missing girls. A lot of families hire me to help bring their daughters home, and that’s what I do.”

   Your eyes widen as you take in the information. Joel does this sort of thing on a weekly basis? “So, you’re kind of like a bounty hunter?”

   “Something like that, I suppose,” he chuckles. “It’s almost like I never left my former position sometimes. But this seemed more important. After Sarah was taken, I made it my life’s mission to take down as many traffickers as I could. And trust me when I say I will find every single fucker that ever laid their filthy hands on you, and I will destroy them.”

   You swallow back a lump in your throat and gawk at what he just said. “I don’t know what to say, Joel. That’s uhh—that’s…”

   “Don’t gotta say anything, sweetheart. That’s a lot of information to take in.”

   “You kill people?” you ask quietly, dropping your fork as it clatters against the glass plate. You’ve suddenly lost your appetite. 

   “Unfortunately, yes,” he sighs, dragging his palm down his patchy beard in deep thought.

   “A lot?”

   He nods. “I’ve killed a lot of bad men, sweetheart. Both for the CIA and for my own business. After knowing what most of ‘em have done, that’s the only thing you can do sometimes. ‘Cause if they go to prison, they’ll jus’ get bailed out and do it all over again. I’ve witnessed it happen quite a lot, unfortunately. So, the only way is to get rid of ‘em for good.” 

   “I see…” you whisper, twiddling your thumbs together mindlessly as your eyebrows knit together in concentration.

   He kills people. Bad people.  

   “Look, if you’re uncomfortable with this topic we can—”

   You stop him right there by shaking your head, your eyes snapping up to look him intently in the eyes. “No. No, I just—that’s gotta be heavy, Joel. What you do.”

   He groans under his breath and nods, his brown eyes heavy with years of dealing with traffickers. “It is, sweetheart. But I do it to make a difference. Seein’ those girls go back to their families, watchin’ ‘em get back to living their lives is truly worth the long nights and heartache of this job.”

   Your eyes get a little foggy as you look at him like a lost puppy, admiration and sadness swirling through your irises. You don’t have a family to go back to. You don’t have anyone. But you don’t see Joel rushing to kick you out. In fact, he hasn’t even said anything on the topic yet. You don’t even know where you’d go, what you’d do. 

   How can a person get by in life if they don’t even know who they are anymore? You’d probably just wither away into burnt ashes if it wasn’t for Joel…

   After a beat of silence, Joel digs around in the pocket of his denim jeans and takes something out. “Oh, and this is for you.” A new iPhone appears on the clean counter, and then he slides it over to you. 

   Your mouth drops open as you unlock the screen, your index finger flicking through the different pages.“You really got me a phone?” you ask with disbelief in your voice.

   “Sure did, sweetheart. It’s got my contact information in there, and I put Sarah’s in there for ya. In case you wanna reach out. Or I could do it. Whatever you’re comfortable with. And Tess’s number is in there. Whenever you’re ready to talk to her, she’ll be there. Jus’ don’t push yourself. Only when you’re ready. You’ll know it when you are.”

   Your lips tremble as you swallow back fresh tears. He’s already done more than you deserve. “Thank you, Joel. This is… this is more than I could’ve asked for. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

   He holds up a palm to stop you, scoffing at the last sentence. “‘S’not necessary, sweetheart. You don’t owe me a dime.”

   “But I—.”

   “Hey, listen to me. You don’t owe me anything ever, sweetheart. Not a damn thing. The only thing you could possibly give me is the chance to see you healing from all this trauma. Learning to love life again is all I wanna see. Understand?”

   He wants to see you enjoy life again. He wants to see you healing…

   “Oh. I uhh—okay,” you stammer out quietly.

   “Go on and finish your pancakes. You want some more coffee? I could—”

   Before Joel can finish his sentence, the front door opens with a bang, and you jump in your seat, your fork going flying to the ground.

   “Joel! Hey, Joel. We need to talk. I…”

   Your eyes widen in fright as you see a tall man with slicked back dark, greasy hair standing in the hallway. The breath gets knocked from your lungs like you’ve been kicked in the chest, and adrenaline courses through your veins like lightning. Fear sets you on edge, and all you can think is that this man is here to take you away or worse, hurt you. 

   No, no, no. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening! 

   “Jesus Christ,” Joel growls as he slips off his barstool, stalking toward the man with a matching pair of dark brown eyes. But they’re much darker than Joel’s.

   “Joel, I—Oh.” The man freezes as Joel stands over him, clearly upset that he appeared out of thin air. 

   Your body tells you to run, to hide. So you slide off your stool and start to move quickly. Before you can get out of the kitchen, Joel stops you in your tracks. 

   “Hey, s’alright. He’s not gonna—” Joel coos, trying to calm you down, one arm outstretched like he’s reaching for you. 

   Your hands lock around the edge of the wall, trying to grip onto something that’ll ground you into place. 

   Calm down. He won’t hurt you. But you don’t know that. You don’t know this man. And you can’t trust any of them. Can you even fully trust Joel? You don’t know now.

   “Tommy, I told you to call first. Don’t jus’ show up. You knew she was here! The hell’s the matter with you?” Joel growls, shoving him hard in the shoulder.

   “Shit, Joel. I wasn’t even thinkin’. Sorry, I just assumed you talked to her already,” he apologizes, brushing off the spot on his leather jacket that Joel moved out of place. 

   You watch the banter between them, not knowing what to do or where to run. 

   “Well, I was ‘bout to. I said four in the afternoon, Tommy. Not the fuckin’ mornin’. Christ,” he scoffs, hands on his hips while his lips form into a tight line. “Now you apologize to her.”

   “Darlin’, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Tommy sighs, taking a step forward in your direction.

   “Stay back,” you warn, trying your best to sound brave, but you’re anything but that. 

   “Hey, s’alright, sweetheart. He’s not gonna hurt ya,” Joel soothes slowly, stepping forward as his brown eyes soften when he looks at you. “This is Tommy. He’s my brother. He works with me. Actually helped me the night I got you out.”

   Your eyes flick quickly between the two of them. Your mouth feels like sandpaper when you realize what he just said. He was there too? “He… helped you?”

   Joel nods, keeping his distance to make you feel more comfortable. “S’right, sweetheart. Helped me get you out safely.”

   “What…” you whisper, your eyes wide as you look at Tommy. He looks like he doesn’t know what to do right now as he stands between you and Joel, trying to figure out if he’s too close.

   “It’s true, darlin’.” Tommy has the same mannerisms and Southern drawl as Joel. They really must be brothers. 

   “Th—thank you,” you say directly at Tommy, your hand dropping from the wall as your guard drops.

   He smiles and stuffs his hands deep in the pockets of his leather jacket. “Don’t mention it, darlin’. Glad you were able to get out of that hell hole.”

   “Me too…” you answer back in a whisper.

   “Joel, I need to speak with you for a minute.” Tommy nods his head toward the living room, and Joel looks between you and his brother, brows furrowed together undecidedly. He obviously knows how uncomfortable and uncertain you are with a strange man in the house. But this isn’t your house. It’s Joel’s.

   “Is it alright if he comes in, sweetheart?” Joel looks over at you with soft brown eyes. And God, those fucking eyes will be the death of you.

   “Why are you asking me? It’s your house. Why are you—.”

   He rakes a palm down his thick beard and sighs. “‘Cause I don’t want you scared, sweetheart.”

   You just stand there like an idiot looking between him and Tommy, deciding how this will go. Your body screams for him to leave, but half of you trusts Joel. And if he says he won’t hurt you then you know he’s not lying. 

   “It’s okay, Joel. He can come in,” you say hesitantly, your fingers curling in, making half crescent moons against your skin.

   Tommy smiles while you just stand there silently, watching like a hawk. “Thank you, darlin’. You know you’re a brave girl, don’t you?”

   You give Tommy a bewildered look and just shake your head while Joel watches the interactions between the two of you. “I don’t feel like one,” you half whisper out. 

   “Well, ya are,” he confirms.

   Again, you stand and stare. Fingernails embedded into your palms. You might as well be drawing blood now.

   “C’mon, Tommy.” Joel leads him into the living room, leaving you to an empty kitchen with half-eaten pancakes on the countertop. But your appetite has sailed away. And suddenly, you can’t even catch your breath.

   You make your way over to the barstool, knocking the knife to the floor with a loud clatter. There you go again making messes. When will you ever learn? 

   You twirl a piece of hair anxiously, awaiting whatever the conversation is to be over. You don’t like not knowing what’s being said, especially when it’s two large men that could take you down in a matter of seconds. 

   Joel would never. At least you don’t think. It’s weird, the thing between you two. He saved you, continuously tries to comfort you in a way that you’ll accept, tries to take care of you. And you haven’t even been here a fucking week yet. 

   He’s… different. He wouldn’t hurt you. Not ever. At least that’s what you keep telling yourself. But his actions match his words. And he feels safe. But are you ever really safe anymore? Your body thinks not, and it makes you sick to your stomach. 

   You saunter over to the edge of the kitchen, leaning your ear against the edge of the wall, hoping to get a glimpse into their conversation. You have to know what’s being discussed. For your safety and the comfort of your mind. They could be discussing anything.

   Leaning a little closer, you get a drift of their conversation.

   “You sure, Tommy?”

   “Positive. We got ‘em, brother. We found ‘em. And they’re not gettin’ away this time.”

   Blood pumps like a fountain through your ears, and your nails dig in deeper into the painted wall. Who did they possibly find?

   “You found ‘em. Shit.”

   “That’s right. Now it’s time to give them what they deserve.”

   You whip around the corner in a whirl and stomp into the room, arms crossed and on guard. Joel and Tommy snap their heads up, and Joel meets your eyes that are swirled with a look of desperation. A plea for him to trust you enough with whatever this is.

   “You found who?” Your bottom lip trembles and your hands shake. You’re so fucking worked up over nothing. 

   “Oh—uhh.” Tommy looks from you and back to Joel, not able to make a decision. 

   “Tell me.” It isn’t a question but a demand. Not like you’re in a place to be demanding answers, but you deserve them. All the secrets Angela and her men kept left you vulnerable and in a dark place. And for fuck’s sake, you deserve to be told things. 

   Joel steps in and saves Tommy from the decision. “S’okay, Tommy. She has a right to know.” His dark eyes flick over Tommy and then back up at you, and they look a little softer when he’s specifically looking at you. “Some of the buyers. Tommy was able to track ‘em down. He was able to help shut down another auction last night, and some of the same men that were at yours were there.”

   You stand there stunned and wide-eyed like you’re frozen to the wooden floor. Even… the blonde one?

   Before you can ask, Tommy steps in. “Wasn’t jus’ me. My brother here helped. And some of our other men.”

   Joel helped. But he was here? How could he…

   “What umm—what happened?” you choke out. You can barely speak. Too stunned to barely even blink.

   “Was able to take some of ‘em into custody. Got some of our other workers watchin’ ‘em. Makin’ sure they don’t see daylight again. Not until Joel—well, steps in.”

   You drag your tongue gut wrenchingly slow over your bottom teeth and just stare with a locked jaw ahead at Joel. His eyes are the color of honey, fluorescent onyx swirling in those stormy eyes. But they’re still so fucking soft. Even though his jaw is clenched and his dark eyebrows are knit together. 

   He always looks at you so fucking soft. It’s hard not to just sink to the floor even though your heart is in your throat thinking about those filthy men.

   “What guys exactly?” you grind out through your teeth.

   Joel’s jaw clenches, his broad body becoming stiff and upright in the leather chair, palm raking heavily over his mouth. His dark, sad eyes tell you enough. He doesn’t even have to say anything for you to know who exactly he’s talking about. But you hold your breath nonetheless.

   “The blonde…” he whispers out, his deep voice barely making a sound. But you hear it like a loud, booming crash of thunder as he nearly knocks you back two steps. 

   The blonde… the man that couldn’t fucking keep his hands off you. And those piercing blue eyes that dragged scars down your body. 

   Fright. Pain. Memories. You feel everything all at once. Suddenly, you don’t feel brave at all.

   And then there’s Joel who’s looking at you like the lost kitten that you are. 

   “What about Angela or Garrett?” you spit out quickly, your hands trembling as every syllable scratches the surface. Their names feel like fire on the tip of your tongue.

   “Haven’t been able to track ‘em down yet, sweetheart,” Joel sighs, his palm skimming over his patchy beard, brown eyes in a far away place.

   “You mean they’re still out there somewhere…” you mutter, tears pricking at the back of your eyes just threatening to spill.

   “S’alright. We’re gonna find ��em. And when we do, you’ll be the first to know,” Joel confirms; Tommy nods beside him.

   You and Joel continue watching each other, eyes never leaving one another. He looks like someone just stole the last piece of pizza from a box and tossed his dog out in the street. He looks just as wrecked as you do. 

   Lost. Abandoned. Betrayed.

   You can’t seem to keep your footing, so you grab onto the railing of the staircase to keep yourself up. “I’m just—I’m going to go lay back down again.”

   Joel gives you a nod, understanding hitting his dark brown eyes. He doesn’t want you to go back up just yet. “You gonna finish your pancakes?”

   “Lost my appetite,” you shrug, your grip tightening against the smooth railing so you don’t fall back and crumble to the floor.

   He looks at you for a good five seconds and nods, his jaw flexing slightly like he wants to reach out, but he doesn’t. “Alright, sweetheart. Let me know if you need anything.”

   “Okay,” you shutter as you start to climb the marble steps.

   “It was nice to meet you, darlin’. Take care now,” Tommy yells, but you don’t even stop to say goodbye to him because the tears come swimming in your vision.

   By the time you get to your room, your eyes are heavy and blurry as tears stream down, tunneling your vision. You throw yourself against the sheets and get lost in the memories all over again. 

   There you are like a pretty diamond on display, men drooling and catcalling you as you cross the polished stage. And then the blonde’s hands are on you, his hot breath blowing down your breasts, hand sliding up the skirt of your dress, dipping underneath your lace. But Joel stopped him before he could go any further. 

   Joel stopped him. 

   You cry all over again from the night of the auction, the past hundreds of days you’ve been trafficked from state to state, not even knowing where you were most of the time. And then there was that house. That fucking rundown house where you were used and abused with the rest of the girls. Some didn’t even make it out alive…

   You stay in the room the rest of the day. Mostly in bed. Except when you drag yourself up and force yourself to brush your teeth, wash your face, run the brush through your messy tangles. You need to do something other than rot in that big, comfy bed but for now, that’s exactly what you’ll do.

   When 9:00 p.m. rolls around and the full moon is high in the sky, twinkling lights shining through the open window, Joel materializes in your doorway. Blue flannel buttoned up, hands deep in the pockets of his denim jeans, his greying curls disheveled, a concerned look on his tanned face. But the thing you notice is the jangle of keys in his pocket.

   Why does it look like he’s leaving?

   “Joel?” You yawn, rubbing the sleep from your tired eyes as you sit up. 

   “Hey, sweetheart. You still up?” Joel leans against the doorway, biceps flexing beneath his flannel, the black Rolex on his left wrist glistening under the dim hall lights. 

   “Mhm. Still up. Barely.” You yawn and push yourself up to where you’re leaning against the intricate headboard with gold flecks splashed into the dark wood.

   “Listen, there’s somethin’ I gotta take care of tonight. Should only be gone for a few hours but—”

   You flinch at his words and swallow the lump that’s forming in the back of your throat. He can’t just leave. Not in the state you’re in. “You’re leaving me here? All alone? What if—”

   He shifts his weight and takes a step forward, barely breaching inside your room. “S’alright. Maria, Tommy’s wife, is gonna come over while I’m gone. Didn’t think you’d be comfortable bein’ alone, and she was my next best thing. If you’re okay with that.”

   You sit there tumbling his words over again in your head, repeating what he said. He’s not leaving you alone with a man but a woman. He thought you’d be more comfortable that way. Even though you don’t know her, Tommy was nice enough, or so it seemed. And if Joel trusts Tommy enough to be around you, then you think you’d be okay with Maria.

   “I think so,” you muster out.

   His chocolate eyes soften, and the crow’s feet pull tighter as a small smile spreads across his mouth. “Good. That’s good.”

   “Where are you going?” you ask, cocking your head to the side as you watch him stiffen up at the question. 

   “Jus’ ‘bout forty minutes south of here. Shouldn’t take me too long.” He doesn’t answer specifically what he’s doing, but you have a feeling that it involves the blonde man that haunts your dreams.

   “Is it dangerous?” You shift in the sheets and pull the velvety blanket tighter under your chin.

   “Not tonight it ain’t.” He hesitates a little, and that makes you wonder if he’s not telling you everything because he doesn’t want to set you off again.

   “Only a few hours?” you ask softer, voice low as your stomach twists and turns. 

   “Only a few,” he confirms.

   “Okay.”

   He hooks his thumb around one of his belt loops and pushes his other hand through his tousled curls, his brown eyes never leaving yours. There’s something heavy in his stare, but you can’t quite place what it is.

   “Well, go on and get some rest, sweetheart. Shouldn’t be much longer until Maria gets here. I’ll introduce you before I leave for the night. But for now, I’ll let you sleep.”

   You sink back under the sheets and get comfortable, the nightlight plugged into the wall the only thing glowing except the dim lights in the hall. As he turns to walk out, you stop him. “Joel?”

   “Yeah?” He turns and smiles, and you can’t help but to feel a little flutter in your heart. He really has a beautiful smile. 

   “Promise me you’ll come back.” Your eyebrows thread together in concern, fingers curled firmly under the sheets. 

   “I promise,” he nods, flashing you another smile. There’s no lie in those brown eyes of his.

   “Okay.” You give him a tight-lipped grin and let out another yawn, sleep about to take hold of you once again.

   “Goodnight, sweetheart.” He pulls the door closed and when it shuts with a soft click, you call out goodnight too.

   In another half hour Maria gets to the house, and you get a brief introduction with her. But sleep is all you can think about, except for Joel leaving. You don’t want to think about that, so you fall back into bed and force yourself to succumb to the darkness. Maybe when you wake up then Joel will be back home.

   Please, come back. 

   Joel makes his way into the private warehouse, one that’s small and tucked away north of Austin. No one ever lurks around these parts. If they did, Joel would know instantly because there’s cameras all around the perimeters.

   The metal door slams closed as he stalks in, pushing past empty boxes and wooden crates that sit scattered next to dusty shelves. He pushes himself forward deep into the warehouse, close to the back where he knows the fucker is at. He’s going to fucking rip his icy blonde hair from the scalp and kill him for what he did to you and every other girl he’s gotten his filthy hands on. 

   Blood boils like lava in his veins and his hands are fisted at his sides, ready to finish what he should’ve that night of the auction. One punch wasn’t enough. Not when he was defiling you like a dog. 

   Joel hates him and everything he stands for. But tonight, Carter Williams wouldn’t get away with what he’s done. No. Joel would end him. 

   The dim lights overhead pop and flicker, anger brimming in his blood-red eyes. When’s the last time he got a full night’s rest? Not since he rescued you. No. He’s been too worried sick over you. 

   God. He’s never going to get the memory of how absolutely terrified you looked that first night. Won’t ever get the image of your pretty eyes filled with tears, blood running down your soft skin all because he wouldn’t call you a whore and wouldn’t dare ask you to get on your knees. 

   Goddamn it. He won’t ever forget that. He wants to strangle every single fucking person that ever gave you that mindset. Wants to completely ruin them for making you feel like all you were worth was for getting used and abused by disgusting men. 

   You’re not any of those things they made you believe. You’re a beautiful, broken woman that needs time to heal and fall in love with life again. He’ll help you get there as much as he can. He thinks he’d do just about anything for you and those big doe eyes. 

   Fuck. He’s going to break every single one of them. Starting with Carter.

   As Joel rounds the corner and kicks a metal pole forcefully, he comes face to face with Carter. The fucker that’s going to die tonight. 

   His hands sit bound behind him tightly. Wrists, ankles, and chest restrained around the cold metal chair with sharp-edged rope. Blonde hair is slicked back with a tinge of blood perspiring down his sweat-drenched forehead. His stormy eyes widen when he sees Joel appear before him like a dark shadow. 

   “You!” Carter accuses, glowering at Joel who lives a double life night after night. “You were the one at the auction!”

   Joel crosses his arms across his broad chest and smirks, eyes darkening as he focuses on the man that caused you pain. It makes his fingers twitch from anger. “I was.”

   “Let me go, man! I didn’t do anything wrong. You’ve got the wrong guy,” Carter shouts, twisting in his confines, thinking he can escape his restraints. He’s not getting that lucky tonight. 

   “Didn’t do anything wrong, huh?” Joel asks, raking his fingers slowly through his patchy beard, trying to hold on for just one more second before he explodes with rage. He chuckles and shakes his head in unbelief, and then he throws a punch against Carter’s jaw. Blood spews from his mouth and lands across Joel’s button-up, but he could care less at the moment.

   “Shit! What was that for?” Carter chokes out, a purplish, red tinge bruising his now swollen face. 

   “That’s for touchin’ what doesn’t belong to you,” he scowls, jaw locked tight like a hidden safe. 

   “Oh, I see. This is about that bitch you bought,” Carter spits.

   Joel jumps as fast as lightning and grabs Carter by the throat, his hold firm as he squeezes just enough to get his point across. “Call her that one more time and see what happens,” he warns, glaring at the pathetic man who got caught. 

   Carter gasps for air the second Joel releases his hold and howls out a raspy laugh that sounds like poison to Joel’s ears. When he finds his voice again, he smirks like the bad guy that he is. “Go on then. Do your worst. I’ve already seen her on video. Legs spread, tight pussy being fucked by some—”

   Joel takes the back of his hand and smacks him across the cheek so hard that blood spews from his mouth. “I said shut the fuck up!” he screams, his angry words echoing around the walls of the stuffy warehouse. 

   He’s going to fucking kill Carter. One more word and he’ll end it with the snap of his finger. He just needs that tiny push over the edge. One more revolting comment about you and his life is over. 

   Hell, it is already over. 

   Joel paces back and forth uncontrollably in front of the man whose face looks like it’s been through a bar fight. His hands clenched into tight fists at his side, jaw locked, narrowed eyes that could kill with a single stare. He’s livid, way over the edge of being angry. He could kill a whole goddamn room of traffickers and buyers at this rate. If more were here, they’d be finished.

   Carter rudely interrupts Joel’s chaotic thoughts and murmurs lowly. “Is she really worth the trouble, man? What? You gonna beat me to death because of her? She’s not worth it.”

   “She’s worth everything!” he shouts, his deep growl echoing around the room. He can almost feel his blood boiling beneath him like he’s already on fucking fire. 

   “So, this is what it’s about? You want to ruin me because I tried ruining her,” he chuckles darkly, like he has no remorse in any stiff bone in his body. 

   Fucking bastard. 

   “It’s part of it,” Joel says with a clipped tone, his fingernails digging into the denim of his pockets like he’s about to rip them clear off. 

   He needs to calm down, but he can’t. Not when he’s in the presence of a beast who tried to dig his claws into your delicate skin. So, he won’t be calm. He’ll be chaotic instead.

   “Don’t act like you know me,” Carter shakes his head, tendrils of smeared red strands falling over his cloudy eyes. 

   “Oh, I fuckin’ know you alright. Read up on your filthy past,” he growls. “How many women have you taken? How many have you kidnapped, raped, murdered? How many did you fuckin’ wreck? More than ten, you son of a bitch,” he storms, kicking over an empty bucket and cursing under his breath when he walks off the pain that spreads like wildfire through his foot.

   “Was worth it, and I’d do it all over again,” Carter replies with a smirk.

   That does it. Something snaps inside Joel. Hard. A feral growl leaves his throat and then he’s jumping in front of Carter, his hand wrapping tightly around his neck until he sees red flash in Carter’s dead eyes.

   “You sick fuck. You know what I do to men like you?” he screams, wrath swirling off his tongue and making his fingers curl extremely tight around Carter’s pale skin.

   Carter hacks violently under Joel’s grip. He’s only able to get dry coughs and garbled words out until Joel backs off just enough to where he can speak. “What, kill them? Go ahead. Fucking kill me. It won’t make a goddamn difference because there’s one of me all over these states. And the trafficking isn’t going to stop with me. The buying isn’t going to stop. It’ll keep happening over and over and over again.”

   Joel fists Carter’s short locks until he’s cringing in pain, snarling a pit bull glare into his piercing blue eyes that are laced with pain. 

   “Well, it ain’t gonna hurt when you’re dead and buried six feet under the ground!” Joel says with bared teeth, blowing hot air into Carter’s clenched face.

   “You can’t save all of them, you know. You can’t save her.”

   That strikes a nerve in Joel, a sharp ache stabbing him directly in the middle of the chest. He drops his tight hold on Carter and takes a step back, eyes blown wide with guilt. 

   He couldn’t save them all. He didn’t… he couldn’t. He couldn’t save her. But through all the pain that’s flaring in his body, all the lost souls that he’ll never be able to avenge, one thing still rings clear. He saved you… when he couldn’t even save himself. But he still saved you.

   He takes a deep breath and lets out a long sigh, holding back tears he refuses to shed. He’s not a weak man, but he’s so weak for you. 

   “I have to try…” he whispers, his voice broken and muddled against the slight echo and dripping sounds from the leak in the ceiling.

   For a moment it’s silent, only the screaming voices in his head breaking the stillness. He almost forgets that Carter’s there, until he hears his choppy voice gritting against his eardrums.

   “You’re going to fail, you know,” Carter whispers, taunting him again with the rasp of his throat.

   “What did you say?” Joel asks, whipping around to face the blue eyes of a killer. A killer he’ll surely strangle to death.

   “You’re going to fail her. You’re going to fail her so hard that she goes running when you try to fix her. She’s beyond repair, and you know it,” he spits out, smirking like a madman who’s lying through his bloody teeth.

   “No, she ain’t,” Joel snaps, eyes narrowed and fists clenched at his sides.

   “Yeah, she fucking is. You know how many men fucked and abused her? Do you know what her handlers put her through? Do you know how many women she’s seen murdered right in front of her eyes?”

   “I fuckin’ know enough! So jus’ stop! Jus’ shut your fuckin’ mouth!” He’s way past angry. He feels feral with the need to choke this man out just to silence him enough to where he won’t hear how broken you really are. Joel knows this. He knows the unimaginable pain you’ve been through. The abuse, the torture. They tried to fucking destroy you, and this fucker was one of them. 

   “I was going to give her a nice home, you know. Yeah. Was going to treat her real nice. Like a brand new dog. Maybe teach her some table manners. Bitches always get on their knees before their meal is served,” Carter chortles with wicked eyes. Eyes that could burn icy flames out of those hellish blue pits. But Joel would burn them out first. Maybe jab a knife through his skull. He wasn’t about to let Carter win this war. 

   “Fuckin’ stop,” Joel warns with a deep scowl, teeth clenched as he fists the front of Carter’s blood-soaked shirt.

   He slips the semi-automatic handgun from the back pocket of his jeans and triggers the safety off. His arm darts out as he shoves the barrel of the gun to Carter’s sweat-soaked forehead, daring him to say one more goddamn thing about you. He swears he’ll shoot. He won’t even flinch. Not when it comes to protecting you. 

   He only needs one fucking reason to blow Carter’s head off, but he has more than enough reasons now. “I swear to God if you don’t stop—.”

   Carter gives Joel a devious smirk as he watches Joel’s finger hover over the trigger. He knows Joel won’t hesitate. He’s just pushing him to the edge until he snaps. 

   “You want me to stop? Not until you hear all the filthy ways I was going to fuck—”

   “I said enough!” Joel seethes, anger taking over every single nerve ending in his body until he completely snaps. He pulls the trigger and watches the bullet fly through Carter’s forehead, spewing blood all over the front of Joel’s button-up, sloshing droplets of crimson on his wrinkled forehead. He’s too worked up and furious to even care. 

   He’s fucking wrecked. 

   He steps away from the pool of blood at his feet, teeth bared as he clicks the safety on, sliding the gun into his back pocket once again. But this time, blood is smeared across the metal barrel, reminding him of the mess he just made. 

   His head is fuzzy, shapes foggy, and he’s got a raging migraine that could take him to his knees in an instant. He needs sleep, needs to wash off the blood of the day, bask in the darkness where he lingers most sleepless nights. He needs to get a handle on this grief that eats him alive night after night. But he can’t. And ever since he took one look at you, his mind has barely thought of anything else.

   Scared. You were so fucking scared. The way you walked sheepishly across that stage, high heels dragging while you held back muted tears. And in that moment, he wanted to kill every goddamn man in that room of sinners. 

   Isn’t that what he’s doing now? Avenging you and every other girl those vile men did unspeakable things to. He’s going to fucking…

   “Joel?” 

   Joel’s name pulls him out of the fog just long enough to realize Jimmy, one of his workers, was calling his name.

   “Clean up this mess. I can’t be here right now. Gotta get home,” Joel replies quickly, voice strained as he clenches his jaw tight.

   “Sir, you good?” Jimmy tries again, dark eyes trying to read Joel.

   “I’m fine. Call me when you’re done here. Make sure no trace is left.” He walks out of the room, passing a few of his other workers until he’s making his way out of the stuffy building, letting the door slam behind him with a bang. 

   Once he’s in his truck and turning the key in the ignition, he slams on the gas and makes a run for it, leaving behind the giant mess he just caused. Carter was going to end up dead either way. Joel just decided he couldn’t stand another fucking word out of that bastard’s mouth. 

   He clenches the leather steering wheel so tightly that he leaves claw marks in the black material. A hand rakes slowly down his patchy beard, trying his best to alleviate some of the rage, but nothing helps. Maybe seeing that you’re sleeping peacefully tonight might help him calm down a bit. Maybe just maybe you’d be the cure to his never-ending suffering. 

   When he pulls up in the long driveway and kills the gas, he hops out and rushes to the front door, barely stopping at the bottom of the stairs to even say hi to Maria. Right now he just needs to see you. Needs to make sure you’re still breathing, still in one piece, still alive. 

   “Whoa there. Everything go okay?” Maria asks as she shoots off the leather couch and paces toward Joel, a look of worry flashing across her wide eyes.

   “As good as it could’ve,” Joel rasps, wiping the dried blood from his forehead. 

   Maria looks him up and down, taking in the stained flannel and tendrils of messy curls that stick to his sweaty skin. “By the looks of your shirt and your face, guess you got him.”

   He nods, letting the ice settle deep in his bones. “I got the son of a bitch alright,” he growls.

   Maria stares at him with concern swirling in her dark eyes, her body stiff as she folds her arms over her chest to take a good look at him. As if she’s just seen death in his hazy eyes. “Hey. You alright? You look—”

   “Tired? That’s ’cause I am,” he sighs, lacing his fingers back through his dark locks.

   But the wavering stare she gives him makes it seem like tired isn’t the word she was going for. Defeated might’ve been a better word. Because right now that’s exactly how he feels. 

   Destroyed. 

   “I’ll just get out of your hair,” she murmurs, leaving him with a light pat to the back of his shoulder. But before she can grab her keys off the coffee table, he stops her.

   “Maria, wait. Thank you. For watchin’ her for a few hours.” He gives her a tight-lipped smile, and she nods back in return. 

   “It was no trouble, Joel.”

   “How is she?” he asks, letting the stuffy air settle while she shifts her weight on the wooden floor.

   “She’s sleeping. She’s fine,” she confirms with a smile. 

   He lets a puff of air leave his lungs, thankful you’re safe and sleeping.

   “Good. That’s good. Thank you, again. I really appreciate it, Maria. I know it was last minute and all.”

   She presses a palm into his bicep, giving it a light squeeze, letting him know it’s all fine. “It was really no problem, Joel. Whenever you need me to come back over, I won’t even hesitate.” 

   Joel nods in thanks, letting her walk toward the front door. But before she decides to leave, she turns and leaves him with one more thing. “She’s a lovely girl, Joel. Nice, sweet, a little shy. She’s lucky you found her.”

   His spine goes stiff, a lingering sensation crawling up his skin, bubbling its way into his brain. She’s lucky you found her. 

   “Yeah… she is.”

   “Well, goodnight. I’m going to head back home to Tommy. I’ll see you later.” She makes her way out the door, the lock clicking in place once she’s gone. 

   “Night, Maria…” he finally croaks out, throat suddenly tight as he hears the creak of bed springs and a tiny whimper float down the end of the hallway upstairs. 

   He rakes a hand slowly down his patchy beard, sighing as he climbs the marble staircase. He’s prepared for another restless night, knowing you’ve been having nightmares every single night since you’ve been here. Every single time he makes sure to check on you, wake you from your violent nightmares. And every fucking time you wake up with bloodshot and tear-soaked eyes, it makes him want to wrap you in his arms until he can soothe the nightmares away. But he can’t. He just can’t. 

   When he makes it up the staircase and down the hall, his foot hits a particularly creaky spot in the floor, and he curses under his breath when he hears you shift in the bed and stir awake. 

   “Joel?”

   Fuck. He didn’t want to wake you. He didn’t want you to see him like this. Looking just as much of a monster as Carter did. 

   The blood. It’s going to fucking terrify you. And that’s the last thing he wants. You to be scared of him. He doesn’t want you to fear him because he’d never ever hurt you. Never dare lay his fingers on you without your consent. He’d rather chop his own hand off with a dull blade.

   But you’d still be scared either way. Blood or not. 

   He takes a deep breath and spins around, hovering in your open doorway and giving you a strained smile. “Hey, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

   “It’s fine. I was just…” You gasp, eyes wide and wild as you take in his bloodied flannel and disheveled hair. “Your shirt. The blood. Are you hurt?” You look scared, worried, and it makes his heart clench at the sight. You don’t need another thing to worry about. He’ll be fine, even if he doesn’t feel fine.

   “Nah. It’s—not mine,” he stills, fingers clenched around the stained material. 

   You knit your brows together, studying him closely as you analyze the splattered blood stains on his cotton material. “Whose is it then?” 

   He flinches, not wanting to tell you what he did. Even if Carter deserved a thousand deaths, each one worse than the other, he doesn’t know how you’ll respond to this. He doesn’t want you afraid. 

   He takes another deep breath, inhaling as much oxygen as his lungs can take in. Because in the next moment, he might not have any left.

   Carefully, hesitantly he lets his raspy voice choke out. “Oh. It’s ummm. It’s the blonde’s blood…”

   You still, eyes blown wide, mouth dropped open like you’ve just been shocked by lightning. Your body becomes stiff, as stiff as a wooden board, fingers curling nervously against the lavender comforter. You look lost, wading off into the distant sea, waves carrying you far far away until he can’t reach you anymore. Until the sea swallows you whole.

   Damn it. 

   “Oh. Oh… I see,” you whisper out, jaw tight as your eyes travel up to his.

   Jesus. Those fucking sad eyes. It could bring a man to their knees. They’d bring him to his knees.

    “What was his name?” you ask hesitantly.

   “Sweetheart. I don’t think—”

   “Tell me,” you plead adamantly. “Please...” Your voice is a breath of a whisper, just loud enough to stir a hurricane inside his hollow chest. 

   And then he breaks as a wave of grief washes over his slack jaw.

   “His name was Carter,” he finally says, breath shaky as his eyes momentarily fall to the dark wood, until he’s looking right back at you and those fucking eyes that are full of fear and hurt. 

   “So he’s dead?” you ask muffledly, your features frayed as you contemplate his answer.

   “Yes,” he confirms, his blood-stained shirt suddenly feeling too suffocating and tight, like someone is trying to strangle him to death. 

   Another beat of silence falls over the dark room casted in shadows, ghosts of green trees swaying in the moonlight behind the glass window that overlooks the slumbering forest. 

   You lick your bottom lip slowly, fingers twisted against the sheets, your eyes looking vacant and lost as you contemplate. “How many—how many women.”

   He knows exactly what you’re asking. How many women has he hurt, killed, mutilated to shreds.

   “More than a dozen…” he says calmly, his fists tight at his sides as the flash of a bullet and blood invade his thoughts. 

   You slowly nod and curl in on yourself, your knees folding into your chest, blanket tucked up under your chin, your eyes vacant as he sees your trembling form relive the past all over again. 

   He can’t see you like this. Like you’re being tortured all over again. Like there’s not a single thing he can do right at this moment to make you feel better. He wants to wrap you in his arms, tell you it’ll be okay, that no one will ever hurt you again. He wants to take the pain away from you; suck it all out so he can carry the burden instead of you. 

   You… how could they ever hurt you? You’re too… special. They took everything from you. Took every last fucking piece until you were left on the floor like a broken vase, glass shards unrecognizable until all the glitter and shine was scraped off and covered in dirt. They wrecked you, and he fucking hates them for it. 

   Diamonds aren’t supposed to break or lose their shine. They’re meant to be treasured, taken care of, meant to never be broken. But you… you’re so very broken. And all he knows at this moment is that he’d do anything to see you smile again. He’d do anything to put all the shattered pieces together until you’re sparkling like glitter even in the darkness. 

   “Are you… okay?” he asks hesitantly, like he might crack you like the spine of a new book if he talks too loudly.

   “I’m… yeah. I’m okay,” you reply with a muted response, lips quivering, tears licking at the edges of your waterline. You’re not okay. You’re far from okay, but you put on a brave face anyway. Even if you’re lying through your teeth. You want to be okay, so that’s what you say. Maybe if you let the words fall off your quivering lips then you’ll believe them. 

   But he knows the truth. You’re fragmented and defeated. This much he does know. 

   When you look up with tears welling in your eyes, he freezes, jaw clenched as he stares at the face of a woman who had her entire life ripped from her own hands. Hands that were never meant to be ripped open and scarred from filth and grime. Your life was never theirs to take, but they took it anyway. 

   Your big doe eyes sear into him, splitting him in two until he feels pain radiate down his chest, suffocating his insides like oxygen is being stolen from his lungs.

   Stop that. Stop looking at me like you want me to fix you. Like you want me to wrap you up in my arms until all the pain is gone. That’s what he sees when you look at him like that. Like you want him to make it all just stop. Drown the noise out until you can’t hear the world tilt on its axis anymore. Until you just feel peace.

   He wishes you wouldn’t look at him with those beautiful doe eyes, your held back tears making them glitter in the moonlight. God, he’s never seen such big sad eyes. Eyes that could make a grown man crumble into tiny pieces by both heartbreak and awe. 

   He can’t fix you, can’t make the pain stop, can’t wipe your memories from the hell you’ve managed to survive the past almost two years. He can’t even… fuck. He can’t even hold you the way you should be held. Gentle, tender, affectionate. That’s what you deserve. And he can’t fucking do that because you’re so traumatized and fragile that even one light caress would send you into an unbreakable panic attack. 

   He just… cares. He cares a lot. And there’s nothing much he can do except slowly show you how good life can be again. He just wants to see you smile. And that’d be enough. That’s honestly all he wants — you happy again. He knows you can bloom. And one day you will. Just like a pretty sunflower that thrives in the giant Texas fields. 

   One day you’re going to be that sunflower. And he’ll be there to see you blossom and sprout. 

   They might have cut down your stems, ripped out your strong roots, destroyed your green leaves, crushed your beautiful bright petals. Making sure to kill everything that was good inside you, but Joel would replant you. He’d watch you grow until you bloomed into the most lavish garden he’s ever seen in his entire life. 

   You’re going to thrive. One day at a time, you will get your petals back. He’ll put his life on that promise.

   The weight of your heavy stare and the thick fog that hangs in your room makes him dizzy, makes him a little off kilter every time you flash your teary eyes his way. He can’t see you cry. Not right now. Because then he’d want to wrap you so tight in his arms that all your pain would fade away. But he can’t do that, and he knows it. So, he’ll do the only thing he can before he breaks in two himself. 

   Leave. Not the perimeters of the house, just your stifling room.

   “I’m gonna jus’—go lay down. You know where to find me if you need me,” he mutters under his breath, his hand finding the edge of your solid door until your shaky breath stops him cold.

   “Joel?”

   He can barely turn his head, too afraid that if he looks at you one more time tonight that he’ll finally crack. “Yeah?” he chokes out. 

   “Thank you…”

   One more look at your starry doe eyes and he’s gone. 

   His hand finds the cold doorknob while he gives you a tight-lipped smile and gently closes the door behind him. Your wide doe eyes will surely haunt his dreams tonight. If he even gets any sleep. He thinks he won’t, even if his body is screaming at him, wanting to drag him down until he sees nothing but the backs of his dark eyes. 

   When he finally releases his hand from the doorknob, he stops in his tracks, back suddenly rigid when he hears the faint sounds of your voice cracking, finally letting the tears shed from your eyes. The sound nearly takes him to his knees. 

   He slides down to the ground, back flush to the closed door, sinking lower until he’s sitting against the hard floor feeling completely defeated. He feels as if a large anchor got thrown down on him, chaining him to the cold wood, imprisoning him to hear your muffled cries through the cracks in the walls. 

   He’s so fucking weak. Every part of him is telling him to run into your room, take the pad of his thumb and wipe the tears from your eyes, hold you against his firm chest until you’re quiet and calm, until he can rock you to sleep and take every ounce of pain you feel. 

   But instead, he sits there like a fool with his head hanging low between his thighs, elbows resting on his aching knees, fingers lacing roughly through his mess of greying curls. He needs to get a grip on himself, needs to find just one speck of courage to drag himself to his room. But he finds none, letting the grief and despair chain him right against your door. 

   He can’t stay like this forever. Can’t stay glued to this spot where he can hear you cry yourself to sleep. But he just can’t shake how scared and vulnerable you looked the moment he told you about Carter. Or yet, even just the look on your face when he walked over and you asked if he was hurt. 

   He is hurt and he feels a sharp blade slicing straight down his spine, opening him up and cutting out his nerve endings until he can’t feel the weight of those sad fucking doe eyes. 

   Your pain is now his because he feels everything that you keep bottled up inside. Just like spilled perfume, he’ll soak you up until your pain is no more. He’ll swallow all of it like a spoonful of cough syrup until every last drop is gone. 

   After half an hour of sulking on the floor, your cries die out, and then you’re sound asleep, escaping your pain for just a little while. Until the nightmares run rampant. So, he drags himself to his room, doesn’t even bother shedding his clothes, too tired to do anything but sleep. And when he falls into his bed, he instantly passes out and lets the pain swallow him whole. 

   The last words he hears echoing in his head are ear splitting. You can’t save all of them, you know. You can’t save her. 

   But he’ll try. One way or another, he promises to save you. 

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[rie-092]

CURSED CHILD

chapter two : the rumour.

summary : clopeh can't enter the henituse museum without finishing his book length prayer for his cale-nim.

★﹒ ( First name ) doesn't know if Clopeh Sekka has things for redheads. But there was a thing that she was sure of, Clopeh is a certified crazy bastard. He was worse than that dragon who commits arson and burns down a whole damn mountain while laughing like a madman. And what's the reason why he did that? Simple, because he was sleep deprived and the elementals won't let him have his peaceful sleep.

The girl deadpanned at the sight in front of her. Clopeh had promised that he would take her out to a museum today. So that's the main reason for the extravagant outfit that the staff of the orphanage prepared for her. But, before they could even enter this damn museum, Clopeh had his hands clasped as he recited a prayer.

Does.... He finally lost his mind? The little redhead crossed her small arms as she looked at Clopeh. Her hands were sweating to the fact that people were looking at them. While her lips unconsciously pouted. Fuck, her child's senses were screaming at her to throw a fit right here, right now to get this bastard's attention.

So, instead of doing that. She tugged the end of the cape of the knight who was escorting them. "Uh... Mister... Is sir Clopeh alright? He's been like that since earlier."

The knight sweatdropped at her question, he awkwardly scratched his cheeks and crouched down at ( first name )'s level. "Little miss, the young master is always like this when uh.. visiting this museum."

"Why?" The little girl innocently asked. "Because he is obse— I mean, he idolizes the firstborn of the family who founded this museum."

( First name ) couldn't help but notice how forced the knight's expression was. He was practically praying to Angela, the God of War, the God of Death and whatever mythical creature that this kid would stop asking him about his liege's weird habits. Yeah, this is considered weird— but just remember that one time when he accidentally entered Clopeh's room and those concerning amount of pictures and drawings of the Young Master Henituse plastered on his liege's room. It was more than enough to traumatise his poor self.

' Maybe I should ask the Duke for a bonus.' he thought.

"Okay." ( First name ) simply said, as the knight's face brightened. "I'm going to look around, Mister! Please tell me when Sir Clopeh came back to reality!"

( First name ) waved her small hand at the knight as she started looking around the museum. Then, a certain painting caught her attention. She noticed how detailed the painting was. And how beautiful the man in the painting is. He was wearing a commander's uniform and had a small smile on his face.

"Pretty." Her reddish brown eyes shone as she looked at the painting. She was caught up in her small words where she was cursing the gods and goddesses for being unfair to her because she wasn't able to get the beauty of this red-haired man in this painting. She wasn't able to hear the murmurs of the people around her.

All of them were flabbergasted because of one thing. They've seen a peculiar sight of a small redhead that looks a lot like their Young master Silver Shield! What? And this kid was looking at Cale Henituse's portrait with those longing expression (when the truth is she was planning the whole event where she will be burning all temples of the God of Death and Angela, the Sun Goddess across the continent) does the young master has an illegitimate child that the people doesn't know of?!

As they started making their gossip inside their little brains. Clopeh's knight had already called for ( first name ) saying that Clopeh was looking for her and they should go to a restaurant nearby instead of staying here. Because Clopeh wasn't able to finish his one book-length prayer and he couldn't enter the Henituse Museum without finishing it.

"Okay." ( First name ) stoically said as she walked away from the painting. Not even aware that a certain orange-haired butler had seen her and now he was speechless and couldn't move from his spot.

Hans, that butler has his jaw dropped as he remembers the little girl that he saw earlier. Those lazy reddish brown eyes that can look down at you like you were some kind of dirty insect were very similar to his liege! That crimson hair! And those mannerisms!

Hans swallowed hard as he started hesitating whether he should tell it to Cale or the Duke himself. But then, decided that the Duke had the right to know about the existence of his granddaughter.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Later that day, those rumours about Cale having an illegitimate child that he kept from the public's eyes had already spread to the Roan Kingdom and the other neighbouring kingdoms. Those rumours kept on getting more and more ridiculous.

And Cale Henituse, the person on the rumour was now laying inside his room on the Henituse estate while sleeping. Ah, slacker life, how sweet it is. He can sleep 15 hours straight now and can laze around after all of those shits that he got involved with. His lips then curved into a sweet smile as he opened his eyes. Only to find two pairs of cat eyes and a pair of dragon's blue eyes staring at him.

"What the fuc—"

Cale almost falls from his bed after seeing his children, On, Hong, and Raon staring at him. He was about to ask what was wrong when he noticed that everyone, by everyone I mean the Molans, Choi Han, Lock, Rosalyn, Mary, and Eruhabe was staring at him with those eerie smiles.

"What?!"

"Unlucky bastard, tsk, tsk." Eruhaben shook his head making Cale more confused. "Cale-nim." This time it was Choi Han who was looking at Cale with a hint of betrayal in his eyes.

What the heck is going on?

This time, Rosalyn chuckled as she spoke in amusement. "Have you heard the news, Young master Cale? The crown prince had fainted."

"What? Why?"

"Because he heard that his younger sworn brother has a secret child that looks a lot like him." Cale deadpanned, is that so? But then he realized something causing his eyes to widen. He is Alberu's only sworn brother! "Huh? What the fuck?!"

"So, be honest to us young master-nim." Ron spoke with his benign smile. "Young master-nim, are you hiding something from us~?"

Vicious people. Cale suddenly wanted to escape this hellish place. What the heck are they talking about?! What secret child?! What happened while he was asleep?!

Then, Hans barged into his room. "Mister Ron! The Duke has fainted!" Fuck it, let him sleep slack in peace!

[slumber-sims]

This may be a hot take...

...but I don't believe Angela really did anything wrong ): Like I fully understand Lilith's resentment, I don't get the Angela-hate

they were both just children and they lived in a situation where attention was a resource that could run out, and in a situation like that, a child is going to take all the attention they can get, even if it means taking it from their sibling and that's on the parents for pitting their children against each other, like I'm struggling to understand why we are blaming Angela for that ;3;

Angela didn't choose to be favored by their parents, and as I see it, she wasn't the 'good' twin, she was the 'responsible' twin

Think about it, like Angela still had to learn so much in her childhood while Lilith didn't; what I'm hearing is due to the parents paying little to no attention to Lilith, it meant she had more freedom than Angela

Lilith got to dress how she wanted, date who she wanted, she got to buy expensive things for her room, she even snuck out and didn't get into trouble for it (note that Lilith has a memory of getting caught sneaking out, but not by her parents, but by Gordon King), while Angela has hardly any memories at all besides what she learned

I think people tend to forget that Lilith and Angela both grew up in the same house, with the same dysfunctional parents and they had to listen to the same fights, just because Angela turned the other cheek with a smile, while Lilith would sit down and feel sorry for herself, doesn't mean either of them were better than the other

these are just two separate ways of coping with the same situation

I will say, I do adore that in the sims 4 they move out and go to university together, just the two of them, and they are finally realizing that they have common ground, finally bonding and taking baby-steps towards healing their relation

I can confirm that you just bond in a different way with your sibling when your parents aren't around, and it took moving out for them to realize that ;0;

[loulovingho]

part 2 to my lonely tommy fic. this time he's not so lonely anymore.

“What did you do this time?”

“Angela!” Tommy exclaimed, smiling brightly as she walked into the room. “Or Angie? Angel? We never clarified that.”

“You know, when I saw your name I thought dear God, that man's still alive? I was certain you would have sawed off a few more body parts by now.”

“I'm trying to keep my limbs, I promise.”

“So then tell me why you're here, back in recovery.”

“My appendix hates me.”

“Oh, that's a pesky little thing, isn't it?” she asked.

“It is. Are you my nurse today?”

“Not supposed to be, but I've got seniority on Gina, so she can deal with the jackass in 212.”

“I knew I was your favorite,” he replied, giving her a wink.

Angela rolled her eyes. “I haven't looked through your paperwork yet,” she said, waving the file in her hand. “Should I assume nothing's changed from last year?”

“You know what they say about assumptions, Angela.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Are you telling me there's gonna be a person to call in here?”

He nodded. “There is a name and a number. And it's a person I actually know. You won't have to call though.”

“I swear, if you tell me you brought yourself here again-”

“No, no, I didn't this time. I just-”

“I got some jello cups from the nurses station, and ice for- Marie?!”

Angela's eyes widened, a grin on her face. “Buck!” she exclaimed, opening her arms for a hug.

“Marie?” Tommy questioned, confused.

Ignoring him, Angela kept her focus on Buck. “What are you doing here? And in normal clothes! I only ever see you when you're in the bed!”

Buck laughed. “I'm a plus one this time. Tommy's appendix decided to burst in the middle of his shift.”

“You two work together?”

“Oh, no. He's at 217, I'm at 118.”

“He's my boyfriend,” Tommy clarified.

“Ohh, okay.” She turned toward Tommy, wiggling her eyebrows. “That's some new information for me.”

Buck took the ice and jello over to Tommy. He tore off the lid and scooped a little bit of the lime jello onto a spoon, then brought it up to Tommy's mouth. He took the bite without complaint.

“They only want him eating soft foods for the next few hours,” Buck said as Angela watched them both with nothing but fondness on her face. “But he gets hungry so fast I keep going for more jello cups.”

“How about I search around for something that will keep you fuller a bit longer?” Angela suggested. “Like some mashed potatoes?”

Tommy swallowed the next bite of jello. “That actually sounds really good.”

“I'll be right back.”

“Wait!” Tommy exclaimed before she could get too far. “Marie?”

She walked back over to his bed. “It's my middle name, and it's what everyone else calls me. You have to keep calling me Angela, because you pissed me off,” she said, gently smacking his leg with the file folder.

“Ohhh,” Buck teased, looking at Tommy with wide eyes, “someone's in trouble.”

“You had me worrying about you for a whole damn year while you were cozying up to one of my favorite patients? The nerve, Thomas.”

“Yikes,” Buck grimaced. “You got Thomas'd.”

“That's just Angela's way of telling me she loves me.”

“Mhm. You've aged me, Mr. Kinard.”

“This could have all been prevented if you'd let me use you as my emergency contact.”

She shook her head. “I'll be back with potatoes. Keep him in check, Buck!”

“Will do.”

Once she left the room, Buck eyes Tommy. "So you know Marie too?"

He nodded. "I do."

*****

After eating some potatoes, Tommy dozed in and out for the next couple of hours.

After that, he and Buck were in the middle of a very competitive episode of The Price is Right when there was a knock on the door.

One by one, people began to file in, much to Tommy's surprise.

Eddie, Hen, Bobby, Athena, Maddie, and Howie gathered into the room, hands filled with different items.

After all the hello's and how are you's, they took turns handing over what they brought.

“We brought flowers,” Athena said, setting them on a corner table. “To brighten the place up a bit.”

“Jee wanted to make you something special to look at while you're in here,” Maddie said, breaking through the crowd to hand Tommy a piece of paper. “She said it's her, her Uncle Buck, and her Uncle Tommy at the zoo.”

Tommy stared down at the picture. Three people, a step above stick figures, with their hands connected as they walked down a path. Some birds and other unidentifiable animals surrounding them.

“It's beautiful,” he said, speaking softly. “Tell her I said thank you. I love it.”

“Karen made cookies.” Hen dropped a bag down on Tommy's tray table. “Snickerdoodle and red velvet. They're your favorites, apparently?”

“They are!” Tommy replied in surprise. “I can't believe she remembered that. I just mentioned it in passing one day.”

“Karen remembers everything about the people she cares about,” Hen responded with a grin. “One of the many things I love about her.”

“We made a schedule,” Eddie said, pulling a piece of paper out of his back pocket.

“Buck made a schedule,” Chimney clarified.

“I've given Buck a couple days off,” Bobby said, “and after that we will be bugging you in shifts.”

“You guys don't have to-”

“Don't even try to fight it,” Hen interrupted. “We've already been made to memorize our individual schedules and tasks.”

“This is happening, Tommy,” Eddie said, giving him a pat on the shoulder, “whether you like it or not.”

Athena hummed. “And I can guarantee by the time you have fully recovered, you will not.”

“He's gonna love it,” Buck said, glaring over at Eddie. “Who brought the balloons?”

“That would be me,” Eddie replied. “Along with an airplane-shaped stuffed toy that actually used to be Christopher's, but he hasn't touched it in years.”

“And I found the cutest teddy bear in the gift shop,” Chimney said, coming up beside Tommy to tuck the bear into his side, “because I don't bring used toys to my friends.”

“Rude!” Eddie exclaimed. “At least he likes airplanes.”

“He likes bears too!” Chimney defended, then he looked down at Tommy. “You like bears too, right?”

“That could mean so many different things to me,” Tommy replied honestly. “But, yes, I love the teddy bear and the airplane. Thank you guys. All of you.”

“I know I didn't technically bring anything,” Bobby said, “but I will be making you guys some meals that you'll just have to heat up for the next couple weeks, at least.”

“You don't have to do that, Bobby.”

“Well, it's not just for you,” Bobby explained.

Athena rolled her eyes. “Here we go.”

“These are new meals I'm trying out,” Bobby continued, “So I need honest reviews before I start making them at work. Don't sugar coat it.”

Tommy lifted three fingers. “Scouts honor.”

As the conversations picked up around him, Tommy settled further into the bed. Buck smiled over at him, taking his hand. “Sorry,” he said, “I didn't know they'd all be coming at once.”

Tommy shook his head. “Don't be sorry,” he replied, giving Buck's hand a squeeze. “This is perfect.”

*****

It was dark outside when Angela came back into the room for her final check before getting off shift. The only light filtering through the room came from the bathroom. Tommy was sitting up, staring down at the drawing Jee had given him.

“Wow!” Angela exclaimed as she walked in. “Someone had a lot of visitors today.”

The room was littered with items that had been left behind.

Tommy smiled up at her. “Yes, Ma'am.”

“We could hear you all laughing from down the hall,” she said as she began to switch out his IV bag. “It was nice.”

“Yeah, it... It was.”

“Did you finally get your boy to go home?”

“Uh, no.” Tommy set the drawing back down on the table. “He's actually gone to get more blankets. I told him I was fine, but he said my feet always get cold at night so I'd need extra.”

“He takes good care of you.”

“Yeah, he does.”

She grinned down at him. “You take good care of him?”

“I try to,” he answered honestly.

They fell into a comfortable silence as she finished up her work.

She gave him a couple of sideways glances before asking. “You okay?”

He bit at his lip, suddenly overcome with emotion as he stared at his GET WELL SOON balloon. Everything had changed so much in the past year. His old life felt nearly unrecognizable.

“It's just a little overwhelming,” he admitted, clearing his throat. “Last time I went home from here I was alone. I took care of myself until I got better. This time I have a schedule to memorize of who is visiting when.”

“Sounds like a good problem to have to me.”

“It is,” he agreed, even as his voice broke. “I just never thought I'd have people.” His eyes burned, filling with tears. “Doesn't feel like I deserve it.”

“Oh, honey.” She leaned over the bed, cradling his head in her arms. She could feel the wetness from his tears on her sleeve. “You are so loved,” she told him as he let himself be held. “You deserve that.”

She leaned back enough to hold onto Tommy's face, wiping his tears with her thumbs as she spoke to him. “All these people who showed up for you today, they came because they love you. Because you show them the same love. And that man you've got, well, he looks at you like you're more precious than gold. Let yourself be happy, okay? You've got people now. You've got people forever.”

He took a shaky breath and nodded, Angela wiping away the last of the tears before letting him go.

He grabbed a tissue off his tray table and wiped his nose. “Do I get to call you Marie now?” he asked.

She laughed. “Oh, no. You're special, so you're stuck with Angela.”

“I got five blankets and two pillows,” Buck said as he entered the room, “which I know you won't need, but I'm trading chairs with the guy in 212- who's a bit of an ass, by the way- so I get the recliner.”

“You're staying the night?” Angela asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Oh, um, yeah,” he answered sheepishly, his cheeks going pink. “I didn't ask, but I- I figured-”

“It's fine,” she assured him before heading for the door. “I didn't think you'd be leaving anyway. I'll see you two lovebirds in the morning, alright?”

“Goodnight, Marie!”

“Thank you, Angela.”

Buck took one of the blankets and spread it out over Tommy's legs. “I gotta go switch these chairs out. Are you good until I get back?”

Tommy reached out for Buck's hand, tugging on him until he was close enough to kiss. When he pulled away, he smiled. “I'm good.”

[fluentmoviequoter]

Mom and Dad Are Still Fighting

Part 2 of The Bradfords

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!wife!reader

Summary: After a long night, you're grateful for Lucy and all she does for you. You continue protecting her from Tim's attitude, even though you're lying to them.

Warnings: mostly fluff, brief angst, threats and robbery. typical rookie stuff.

Word Count: 1.4k+ words

A/N: I love this dynamic!! Two Bradfords caring about Lucy in their own ways is so fun to write (and being married to Tim is a dream by itself). I will continue abusing Chenford gifs for this storyline lol.

“Good morning, Mom,” Lucy calls as she enters the bullpen. 

She passes you a cup of your favorite drink, and you look at Tim quickly. He tilts his chin to the side, and you nod once. You’ve been talking without speaking for years, and you’re more grateful than ever for your silent language.

“Thank you so much, Lucy,” you say.

You pull her into a hug that lasts longer than usual. She couldn’t know that you had a long night and needed this today: the drink and the hug. Hence, your shared ‘did you tell her?’ ‘no, she just cares’ look shared with Tim.

“Where’s mine?” Tim inquires with his brows raised.

“I, uh, I didn’t know your order,” Lucy says carefully. “Sorry.”

Angela calls for you, and you thank Lucy again as you walk away. Tim watches you go; he knows you aren’t feeling great and appreciates Lucy’s care on your behalf.

“Thanks, Chen,” he says.

“For what? I didn’t get you anything.”

“You should know that caring about her is the same as caring about me. At least as far as I’m concerned,” he answers. “Now get ready.”

Your long night catches up to you quickly. By your mid-morning break, you’re feeling tired and stressed. The worst part of what you’re feeling is that you haven’t told anyone why you’re feeling it. Tim stayed up with you most of the night and held you to comfort you, and while you appreciate it, it only upsets you more because he did it without asking why you needed it.

“7-Adam-19 requesting backup,” Chen calls over the radio. “11351; suspect in possession of heroin and oxycodone.”

“Dispatch, attach me to 7-Adam-19’s backup call,” you request.

You drive to the address dispatch provided and hope your day improves after seeing Tim again. When you arrive, the suspect is cuffed and in the back of Tim’s shop as they search his car for other drugs.

“Hey,” you call as you exit your car. “What do you need?”

Tim looks at you as Lucy says, “Suspect escort and search assistance.”

“I can do either. Let me know what you want me to do,” you offer.

“Suspect escort, please,” Tim answers. He tips his head to the side, and you walk to the sidewalk with him.

“Are you okay?” he whispers.

“Yeah. So, you just want me to get him to booking?” you reply, brushing off Tim's concern.

“Please. Will you tell me if you stop being okay?”

“Yes, Tim. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you at lunch.”

You turn away from Tim and move the driver in custody into your shop to take him back to the station. Tim and Lucy abandon their search to watch you leave.

“Is she alright?” Lucy asks.

You turn a corner, disappearing from Tim’s view, and his jaw tightens. He couldn’t get an answer from you, and now Lucy thinks he knows everything in your head. Tim refuses to show worry, so he lets his concern come out as anger and annoyance.

“That is not your business or an appropriate topic to discuss while we are on duty, Chen. Focus,” he replies.

Lucy nods and returns to the search of the car, but she’s beginning to feel just as stressed as you and Tim. You all care about each other and moving around in circles like this won’t help.

“Goodnight, Luce,” you call as you walk beside Tim to go home.

“Hey, do you want to go to dinner with me on Friday?” she asks. “Just to catch up, hang out?”

“Yeah, that sounds fun,” you answer with a smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Tim grumbles beside you, and you’re convinced it’s because he didn’t get an invite.

“We’ll have breakfast Saturday,” you promise him.

Lucy laughs behind you, and you wave over your shoulder as Tim spreads his hand across your back and leads you toward his truck. You know he’ll hold you close again all night, even if you don’t ask, because he comforts you without pushing you. When or if you want to talk about it, he’s ready to listen, but he knows what it is like to need room, and he’d never take that from you or force you to tell him anything before you’re ready. He’s amazing, and you wish you could share what is bothering you, but you can’t put any more people in danger.

When dispatch alerts you to a call in your area, you accept it, hoping to get your mind off everything. The officer reads Lucy’s apartment building address, and your stomach drops. You tell dispatch to attach Bradford and Chen to the call before hitting your lights and sirens to get there as fast as possible.

The apartment building, for the most part, has been ransacked. Doors are broken, windows broken and locks picked, and residents’ belongings are strewn through the halls, but nothing appears to be missing. Tim and Lucy arrive a few minutes after you do and meet you on Lucy’s floor. Her apartment is trashed, but she can’t see where anything has been stolen.

You lead Tim through the other side of her apartment before stopping suddenly.

“Tim,” you whisper. “Someone called me a few nights ago… They threatened to do something to Lucy, and I think this was it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks.

He looks over your shoulder to ensure no one is listening before giving you his complete attention.

“Wade knew, but he said that you and Lucy shouldn’t know because the threat was vague, and it would just put you on edge.”

“That should have been my decision!”

“Tim, I’m sorry.”

Tim’s eyes soften before he nods. “Is that what you’ve been so upset about? You were worried about Chen?”

“Yes,” you admit softly. “But this looks planned, intentional. They only went into certain apartments, and the stuff thrown everywhere was an afterthought.”

“Someone was looking for something,” Tim agrees.

“But what?”

Tim looks around before yelling, “Chen! Get in here!”

“Yes, sir?” she asks as she enters.

“What do you have in here that someone would be so desperate to get?” he asks.

“I don’t-“

“Don’t tell me that you don’t know. Think about it, Lucy. What would someone risk their freedom, their life for, and do this kind of damage to hide?”

Lucy taps her fingers against her thigh as she thinks. Your surprise phone call didn't provide information about what they wanted, so you stay quiet.

“Well?” Tim pushes.

“Give her a second to think,” you scold. “She didn’t ask for this, she’s not the criminal. Be nice.”

Tim clenches his jaw. In his mind, she may as well be the criminal. She led someone to her apartment, to you, and you’ve been worried because of her. His annoyance and need for answers is justified.

“Wait, I got a necklace at a police auction!” she says suddenly.

“You bought jewelry at a police auction?” Tim asks. “Last boyfriend really that cheap?”

You elbow Tim and shake your head. “Leave her alone.”

“Who buys a single necklace at a police auction?” he argues. “A car, a trailer, sure. But one necklace?”

“It was expensive,” Lucy defends.

“Which means whoever wants it is probably the one responsible for the police having it,” you deduce. “I’m going to go help them search the upper floors. Tim, be nice. Lucy, look for the necklace, please.”

You walk into the stairwell and find yourself face-to-face with a Humphrey Bogart wannabe in a ski mask. It takes less than thirty seconds to get the cuffs on him, and based on his surprise, he thought he had already outsmarted the cops with the widespread burglary distraction.

After you pass him off to another officer, you return to Lucy’s apartment and let them know he’s in custody.

“Bradford, why does my suspect have a black eye?” Wade asks over the radio.

“He threatened Lucy,” you answer quickly. “But, who knows, maybe he already had that. He was wearing a ski mask, after all.”

“You hit him for threatening your puppy, station kid, whatever you call her?” Tim asks with his brows raised.

“Thanks, Mom,” Lucy calls from her bedroom.

“We’re leaving,” Tim announces. “Good luck finding your criminal necklace.”

“It’s pretty!” Lucy yells as you walk out.

“I need a nap now,” you tell Tim.

He nods and says, “I always need one after working with Chen.”