#and she is so fucked up over this divorce

[rosiereveries]

This is part two of ex - boyfriend´s dad John Price x reader

TW: age gap (John is in his late 40s and reader is in her early 20s), reader is in relationship with her ex-boyfriend´s dad, breeding, unprotected sex, reader is a female

Part one

John made it very clear from the biggening that he will not hide the fact that you were sleeping together. After the night you spend together at the party, he drove you home, and asked for your number. You didn’t think that he will actually call or text you. But when you walked the stairs to your apartment, you already had a message from him, that said text me when you get to your flat, so I know you’re okay.  You texted for a while and when he promised you, that he is looking for more than just some random one-night stand, you knew what you had to do.

The next morning when you woke up, you immediately texted your boyfriend telling him that you need to speak with him. After he told you that his schedule for this week was full (it was Tuesday) you knew you were making the right decision. You wanted to finish the relationship face to face, you were not a coward, and you were not afraid to break that boy’s heart. But he left you no choice. So, you just replied that he doesn’t have to bother, that you’re breaking up with him. He didn’t respond.

John’s situation was a little bit more complicated, he couldn’t just divorce his wife, yes, they signed a prenup when they got married (John was already rich), but the process of the whole divorce was time consuming and exhausting. He knew that his wife would not cooperate. But he was not a young foolish boy, who would hide his girlfriend. If he wanted to have a relationship with you, he would. John knew that his wife also had affairs, and he didn’t feel obligated to let her know about you.

So, when after some time of you hooking up, he invited you to his house for a weekend you agreed. You expected to be just with him, and you were quite excited. What you didn’t expect was when your now ex-boyfriend opened the door, asking if you came to see him. Of course, he ignored your messages, and he thought that you were still dating.

That’s how John finds you. Talking with his son, panic in your eyes realising that his whole family is home. But John doesn’t mind. He comes to you, with one hand he squeezes your ass and with the other one he holds your neck, and he kisses you, deeply and passionately. He needs to show his son, that you are his know, that he had his shot, and he fucked it up. When your ex starts to shout at you, for being a whore and sleeping with his dad, John just calmly says to him that this is his house, and if he doesn’t like what he sees, he can leave.

John’s wife reaction is pretty much the same. She tells you that John had many women over the time of their marriage, and none of them lasted longer than a few weeks. She tells you that John is maybe fucking you right now but she is still his wife. When John tells her that he is actively working with his lawyer on changing that she has a full meltdown and leaves.

When you are finally alone with John he apologizes to you. He says how sorry he is that you had to hear these things, but he wants you here now and he can’t wait any longer. He tells you sweet nothing and he kisses your neck repeating how good you are for him and how he is so grateful that he met you. When he starts to slowly touch you, creasing your breasts through your bra and gently biting your neck, you tell him that you can’t have sex with him when you know that his son, your ex, is here.

But that doesn’t stop him, he tells you that he wants to show him how good he can make you feel. In some twisted way you start to think about this as your revenge against your ex. John is right, if he doesn’t want to hear you fucking, he can leave. So, you tell John that he can continue. John bends you against the kitchen table, not waiting any longer and he starts to pull down your panties.

He tells you how long he’s been imagining fucking you here, rough and dirty and how hard it makes him. John wants to come inside you again and again. He pushes his dick into you fast, in one swift motion and you can feel him stretching you. Even though you slept with John more times that you can actually count, it is still a stretch for you. He starts to fuck you hard, and you can fell his dick bruising your cervix. When he pulls up your shirt and starts to play with your nipples you’re moans get louder. You tried to be quieter, but John knows how to make you sing for him. When you hear sounds on the upper floor you just hope that John’s son won’t come down. It is one thing to let him hear you and the other to let him actually see how his dad fucks you.

One of Johns hands slip between your tights, and he starts to rub your clit telling you to come on his cock now. You cum at the same time as John, his load spilling inside of you and your pussy milking him. After he pulls his cock out, he pulls up your panties, he gives you a smack on your ass, and he asks you if you want a tour of his home.

Then he fucks you in the shower you take together. He presses you against the glass, pounding into you like a horny teenager who can´t stop thinking about sex. Your next round is in his bed, late at night when he makes you ride him until your legs hurt. When you wake up the next morning John is already between your legs sucking and licking your clit, telling you how pretty your moans sound when you are asleep. Then, when you’re making breakfast, he asks you to return the favour, so you end up on your knees sucking his cock until he cums in your mouth.

By the end of the weekend John’s son is gone, he moves in with his friend and you’re in the house alone. Now John can fuck you whenever and wherever he wants. You do it the hot tub, in the garden and on the balcony. Every night you go to sleep with Johns cum in your pussy and you start to get worried. You take your birth control pills every day, but you’re not sure if they will work with this amount of fucking. You just hope and pray that you will not end up pregnant with John’s child, even though that is exactly what he wants. After all he needs to find a new wife and you’re the perfect candidate.

Masterlist

[thunderandsage]

pre-arcane caitvi: or fuck, why i am voluntarily reading league of legends lore

so there’s been a lot of effort to preserve a lot of viktor and jayce’s old stories, bios and dynamics, but not so much for the other characters??? i don’t play league, but i still feel it’s cool to look at older versions of these characters as an “alternate universe” kind of thing

so, here they are for Caitlyn and Vi (all info from the official league of legends website):

Caitlyn Kiramman

top: LoL Caitlyn, bottom: Arcane Caitlyn

“To be the best hunter, you have to be able to think like your prey.”

Renowned as its finest peacekeeper, Caitlyn Kiramman is also Piltover’s best shot at ridding the city of its elusive criminal elements. She is often paired with Vi, acting as a cool counterpoint to her partner’s more impetuous nature. Even though she carries a one-of-a-kind hextech rifle, Caitlyn’s most powerful weapon is her superior intellect, allowing her to lay elaborate traps for any lawbreakers foolish enough to operate in the City of Progress.

Bio

Short story “The Thrill of the Chase”

my notes:

very different from arcane caitlyn, what with supportive (and both alive) parents, and especially this line:

“Her mother […] would always warn Caitlyn of Piltover’s seductions, and its gilded promises that could harden the kindest heart”

so it’s a caitlyn who is also focused on keeping piltover in line—could be an interesting avenue to explore with post-canon arcane fics?

definitely a happier timeline for her

Vi

top: LoL Vi, bottom: Arcane Vi

“We can either do this the hard way or… Oh wait, no. There's just the hard way.”

Raised on the mean streets of Zaun, Vi is a hotheaded, impulsive, and fearsome woman with very little respect for authority. She has always been a shrewd survivor, both from her youthful troublemaking topside and an unfairly long stint in Stillwater Hold. Now working with the Piltover Enforcers to keep the peace instead of breaking it, she wields mighty hextech gauntlets that can punch through walls—and criminals—with equal ease.

Bio

Short story “Interrogation 101”

my notes:

so this backstory seems to line up more with arcane vi, but then comes the line in the short story:

“as if he was talking to the old Vi, the Vi from the Lanes. He wasn’t bright enough to know that Vi wasn’t the one standing in front of him”

so what i’m getting is this idea of a vi who’s divorced herself from the undercity, in a way arcane vi’s hasn’t?

and i have… conflicted feelings about this, since arcane vi is shown to be very caring and protective in contrast to this iteration—like the closest she is to the original also coincides with her being depressed, while lol vi just overall… doesn’t seem to care

(but at least being hella gay for cait is a constant across universes)

(also who isn’t to say we can’t dig into the tragedy of a vi who’s lost her connection to home?)

Bonus - screenshots of the bios if you want to stay on tumbr

Caitlyn

Vi

Also the art that inspired this whole thread of thought:

[halitis]

I… need to know if you have more HalbarryOllie thoughts? Please and thank you!

HI OP. tysm for asking because i am actually Always filled with thoughts. they rotate in my mind like a microwave 24/7 :3

this is a mix of headcannons and observations, so i hope that's what you were looking for! sorry it's a billion long i got Invested...

hal and barry for some reason, love to carry each other. they will pick each other up just whenever, barry usually carrying hal in a bridal grasp or hal carrying barry either like a potato sack or creating s construct to carry him. ollie judges them heavily, what freaks. (the first and last time barry tries to carry ollie when it's not necessary, it ends with him taking a solid hit to the crotch. hal will not stop laughing.)

ollie and hal both have leftover habits and trauma from poverty. when one of them sees the other with negative food behaviour, or accidental hoarding they don't say anything because they know they behave the exact same way. another holdover they have, is the stubborn pride that you HAVE to do it yourself. a pipe bursts or something: cue hal and ollie covered in water, apartment flooded, water damage everywhere but Fuck if they aren't going to figure out how to do this! they are outraged when they realised barry called a plumber.

i don't think they will ever get married in anyway, gonna be honest. hal and his commitment issues go brrr and ollie i think just Doesn't like marriage (roy had to get this opinion from somewhere, see below). the only way i ever see them getting married, is because barry wants to (fucking midwesterner), but even then i don't think he actually would want it that badly. i think that paired with the fact that not all of 3 of them can be married, that they just dont bother. paper is not needed to make your love anymore real.

[continued beneath the read more]

ollie and barry at first, just get along for hal. like he is a child of divorce. i think they would start getting really close after a long mission. you know when you are just so bone tired you lose the will to fight? they are just lazing about, and someone says something that usually would start an argument and instead the other just laughs and it's history from there on. they still bicker and argue sure, but they both know it's playful.

another reason they might have to start getting along, is their kids! wally and roy are good friends and at the beginning, some of the only sidekicks. i think their initial dislike manifests in passive-agressive one upping each other. ollie buys the boys a full spread for dinner, barry takes them to europe to try authentic food. barry takes them out to a water park, ollie rents out a themepark for them. the boys probably encourage it, especially wally.

im not gonna start spewing roywally propaganda in this post, but just know that the parallels between them and ollie x barry have me in a deathgrip.

ollie is the Only cis person in this relationship. i hc barry as transmasc, and hal as either gnc or genderfluid. ollie's the diversity hire guys <3 (if you include dinah in this, she is also trans! its cannon dont @ me)

the first time there is ever a Proper Fight in the polycule, it's between hal and ollie. ollie's habit of calling people nazis and facists usually don't bother hal (he was in the army, he had to get over letting dumb insults bother him). but just at some point, he's having a Bad Day and he just loses it at ollie. logically he knows it's not targeted but calling the jewish guy a nazi just set him off. they are both too stubborn to break the silence after the fight, it takes barry dragging ollie like a misbehaving cat to hal's to apologise before they get over it. ollie is now very careful to censor himself like that around hal.

honestly if anyone wants me to expand on my thoughts on jewish hal, or transgender halbarryollie PLEASE ask. im a hairtrigger away at any given moment.

ollie and hal both LOVE boxing, they love going to matches and watching. at some point, they start trying to include barry and take him along to the fights. barry for the life of him Cannot enjoy this shit. somehow, at some point, they end up at a wwe match and they all become avid fans. date nights now include lazing on the couch with takeout and watching playbacks on tv.

barry runs so fucking hot, and ollie runs cold. leaving hal to fucking Despise sharing a bed with them. genuinely his worst nightmare. even the army was better than this. it is not uncommon to find hal on the floor asleep.

after hal's death, ollie doesn't cope with it very well. killing his bf fucks him up so greatly, he ends up really clinging to barry. barry also isn't handling well but he can't let himself fall apart, he needs to be there for ollie. they start living together basically full time, until one day barry's grief just builds up too much and he ends up saying something he regrets in the heat of an argument (probably something along the lines of blaming ollie for hal's death or he's only staying with ollie because of hal). ollie storms off and barry is just... Gutted. before they have time to reconcile, ollie dies. (if im getting my timelines wrong don't look at me, i will sob)

not a single one of these men have fashion taste. they all dress like the loser middle aged men they are. fucking fashion crimes against humanity! hal steals their clothes quite frequently, which is controversial considering he is the largest person out of the three of them and their shirts and stuff are definitely Too tight. (ollie and barry aren't complaining though, except for when they get their clothes back and they are so fucking stretched)

i love picturing them as cheerleaders. not like, in the actual getup, but just as them being the PROUDEST boyfriends. hal and barry bragging about how ollie is the best shot in the world (hes not but its fine :3), green arrow and lantern standing to the side on a mission and just watching flash adoringly because they know he doesn't need their help, ollie and barry smugly parading around hal like "yeah. this is my bf. hes so hot i know. he's so smart as well." none of them have any idea they are doing it though. they are gag worthy.

ollie's love language is gifts but not always monetary. more like making them food, taking them out places and stuff like that. its the thought and effort that goes into it, that's why does it. barry's is touch, this man LOVES hugs and draping himself over his bfs. hals is acts of service! he wants to help and just do whatever he can for them whenever possible. you could see that hal bases his selfworth off of how much he can do for others, which is so horrible and sad. so yknow. brainworms.

ollie's house accidentally becomes their usual meeting place, but only because he fucking HATES the zeta tubes. whenever he meets them anywhere, he will always whine about how they make him sick. barry does offer to pick him up, but it's a point of pride to him at this point, he can't just admit defeat to the zeta. barry and hal make a silent agreement to just meet him instead. (this was based off an actual comic panel, but i cannot for the Life of me remember which one).

none of them show up on time to dates. it actually becomes so incredibly common that when they miss them, no one takes offence anymore. cue one time where they all missed a date, and are sheepish around the others and keep trying to make it up to them. it takes 3 days before they realise that none of them were there.

and that's it for now! thanks for reading mwah maah

[cillianmurphysdimples]

A female Y/N / Cillian fic. (Part One)

Absolutely not based on anything real at all, all totally fictional, fanciful, and is all total bollocks.

Warnings for sexual references and language. Adult themes, so not really designed for under 18s but not overly graphic.

We Got Issues

PART ONE: Y/N was the other woman at one point, but life had been sailing along well since Cillian's divorce. Y/N had reached a point where she knew where she wanted their life together to go, only to find a spanner in the works when Cillian admits his mind has changed...

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

You wake up and instantly realise how cold it is. 

The bed is empty and the sheets are thrown back. You reach for your phone on the nightstand to check the time - 2.40am. You clear your throat and glance to the chair in the corner of the bedroom, strewn with discarded clothes, just in case he's sitting there. But he isn't. The room feels empty and you suddenly feel that same emptiness dump heavily in your stomach. You sit up and throw your legs over the side of the bed. As you stand, you reach to the floor for your discarded knickers and vest top, pulling them on as you walk around the bed. “Cillian?” You call into the darkness, wondering if he's in the bathroom. “Cillian?” You reach for the slightly ajar door and pull it open. The landing is dark, but at the bottom of the stairs there's a shred of light coming from the open plan kitchen below and you know it's been one of those nights for him once the sex was over and sleep had claimed you. You walk barefooted down the carpeted stairs, your hands on the wall for stability, and step onto the cool laminate of the floor below. You stand a moment, taking in the large room around you with a small, if a little tired, smile. You still feel a mix of emotions in your gut, but the love is stronger.

The kitchen island is illuminated by the artsy hanging lights above and there's a faint smell of coffee in the air. It's chilly, and you wrap your arms around yourself as you begin to walk towards the island. He's sitting on the middle stool, his back arched as he leans forwards with his elbows resting on the counter top, and there's a steaming cup of coffee to his right whilst both of his hands are wrapped around an open book. His grown out fringe is down over his face, which has to be annoying, but he doesn't move it. His checked pyjama bottoms are loose around his legs and they swing a little as he bounces his right leg up and down, foot resting on the bar of the stool. This movement is both absent minded and a sign of him feeling uneasy - you don't know which it is, but you assume it's the latter. His glasses are perched on the edge of his nose and still he hasn't looked up. Then you notice his phone, laid on the counter, with the long, white wire of his earphones connected and trailing up beside his arm. He'll be playing that album again, you're certain, and his mind will be a mixture of John Lennon and whichever of the six books he's chosen this time. 

You don't want to startle him - hell, you hardly want to bother him at all, he looks so absorbed and ridiculously adorable and you still can't make up your mind if you're mad or you want him - but it's that adorable absorption that makes you want to disturb him, too. You walk closer, your feet silent on the floor, and you unlace your arms as you reach the island. You place your hands onto the marble top and wait a moment, just in case he sees you out of the corner of his eye. But he doesn't budge, and you smirk to yourself at the studious look on his face. God, it's only been a couple of hours but you'd have him again if he offered it. You slowly push your left hand across the counter and wiggle your fingers, hoping the movement will draw his attention so you don't have to make him jump. It works - sort of. He startles slightly, looking to his right as your fingers do indeed catch his attention, and he drags his earphones out with a catch in his breath. 

“Fuck!” He shakes his head, placing down the book. He reaches his hand out and taps pause on his music. He sets the earphones down in a messy pile beside the phone. 

“Sorry,” you smile a little as you draw back your hand. 

Removing his glasses, he shakes his head. “No, you're alright.” He whisperers but neither of you know why. Nobody else is here. He sets the glasses down beside his coffee, the arms of them still stretched out, and turns on the stool to face you properly. 

“Couldn't sleep?” You ask him as you reach out for his coffee to take for yourself. He doesn't protest, but smiles as he rolls his eyes. He should have known you would do it - you always did. He sighs and rolls his eyes slightly again as he shakes his head. He reaches up with his right hand and pushes his hair from his eyebrow. He looks tired, and as you sip his coffee you want to ask what's on his mind. “Are you alright?” You settle on. Not sure you are fully ready for a lovey-dovey conversation but not at all wishing him unrest. It's been an argument, that's all.

“Grand,” he flattens his mouth into a thin line and raises his eyebrows. A lie, and an obvious one. He knows he isn't fooling you, and he knows you'll press him for answers, but this is the dance he does. Every time. 

“Cillian.” You raise your eyebrows as you place the mug onto the counter. You lean forwards, resting your forearms onto the cold marble, and fix him with the eyes you know break him eventually. “C’mon.” 

“Just couldn't sleep,” he says. He puts his left elbow on the counter and rests his head in his left palm. “Didn't want to lay up there and disturb you.” 

“You feel bad now, for tonight and Friday?” You ask him. You can't quite believe yourself for speaking up, for chancing another argument, but you need to get it out. 

Friday had been horrendous. You'd argued in the restaurant, he'd hated the attention it drew when the attention was already there. He'd begged you to lower your voice, but that had only made you angrier. He'd been in touch with his ex-wife that day - that itself was not unusual, they have children - but when he'd brought it up that he'd spoken with her, it had been half way through you slowly opening up about your readiness, now, to be more committed, to start the family you'd been nervous about starting. He shut it down, the whole line of conversation but what hurt the most was he'd shut it down by talking about her. The row had continued in the taxi home, and at the front door, and even louder once the door was shut. There'd been insults and old hurts thrown in one another's faces, and you'd reminded him that you'd been the other woman at one point, so how could you trust him? You'd hated yourself for it, but it had flown from your mouth in total anger and once it was out there, you'd not been able to take it back. 

Now it was the early hours of Sunday morning and Saturday had been about ignoring one another, before finally he'd broken and forced you both to sit at this very island and talk. You'd apologised for what you said, for your loudness in the restaurant and he'd apologised for his timing and shutting you down. You'd cuddled on the sofa for an hour, paying little attention to the film he'd selected, and had continued to try to make one another feel loved again. But he still hadn't welcomed the conversation about children, and you'd let it go. By eleven pm he'd taken you by the hand and, with a half-lidded look and a soft smile had guided you up the stairs. The sex had been slow and sensual - all hands over the body and languid kisses; as vanilla as it got but it was so soft and loving that zero complaints had arisen. That was until he'd reached into the nightstand drawer for a condom and you felt your heart flutter angrily. But you'd said nothing, and you'd wrapped your arms around his back as he fucked slowly into you with his face close to your ear and his soft, gentle huffs of breath against your cheek. He'd cum - you hadn't. You weren't angry anymore, but you felt unheard. He'd laid beside you, his hand on your hip as you turned your back to him and curled into the sheets. You'd wanted to cry, such a mix of intense love and horrible rejection, and you'd kept your face away from his as you'd fallen asleep. 

You keep your eyes on him and realise you're probably a little stern faced, but you can't shift it entirely. He nods his head against his hand. “I'm sorry,” he says quietly, “I know we'd talked about things before, but I can't…start again like that.” The Ts at the end of his words are smudgy and soft - his accent was always thicker when he whispered - and it gives you the same tingles it always has. 

“So why ever tell me you would?” You ask. He'd talked you round, persuaded you that a family would be a good idea. And then he shuts the talk down when you raise it, and grabs a fucking condom?! “You wanted a baby six months ago.” You point out, “But she calls and all of a sudden it's changed?” 

“I've two grown kids, Y/N, it just feels like it wouldn't be fair on them.” He sniffs, and you absorb the words. The excuse. “I know they're not babies, but Y/N, I'm still their Dad.” 

“Oh so it's about the boys? It's not because you've changed your mind about me?” You ask, almost nervous. There's contempt in your tone and his eyes flash at the sound of it. 

“Ah, stop it.” He becomes more animated. “No. I have not.” He insists. “Y/N, would you drop the face? It's been three years, for fuck sake!” He raises his head from his hand and those crinkles around his eyes deepen and he frowns and squints. “I'm sorry I mentioned her and the kids when you were talking. I wasn't trying to end the conversation, I swear. Sure, it just came into me head. I dunno. And I'm sorry about the fucking condom, alright?” 

“It's just a bit fucking funny, isn't it? You're apologising for going back on things you said, and you do so by going back even fucking further.” You throw your arms out to the sides. “Don't fucking roll your eyes at me, Cillian.” You warn as his blue eyes settle back and he quirks up his left eyebrow. The attitude is back in him now, the temper people rarely see. So calm, so well mannered - that's the Cillian he presents. But you've been party to the fierce rows and heard the drunken anger, and you know it intimately. 

You watch him shifting, and he drops his feet to the floor and stands up off the stool. The large pyjama t-shirt is miles too big for him and too short at the same time, but in it and his bottoms he looks comfortable and pleasingly domestic. The life you wanted was just this - comfort, familiar, familial. He scrubs his hands over his face and forces his hair back. He holds his hands on his head for a moment then drops his arms, and his hair slowly flops back down onto his forehead again. “What do you want me to fucking say, Y/N?” He asked, spreading his arms wide beside him. “I can't go back and change things.” 

“No, you can't.” You say, shaking your head, “But you use a condom for the first time in weeks right after I tell you I'm finally in the place you wanted me to be? And now you're looking at me like I'm holding you accountable for something you don't deserve.” Your anger is back, but the look on his face is stirring your stomach. You hate yourself for knowing you'd let him take what he wanted if he turned this into something sexual. You want him to know he's hurt you, with his fucking flip-flopping, but you love the love so much you'd let it go if he begged the right way. “You couldn't have found time at all in the last little while to tell me you'd changed your mind?” 

He pushes his hands into the pockets of his pyjama bottoms and it pulls them tightly around his crotch. He shrugs his shoulders and he doesn't look forty-eight at all. “I didn't want to hurt ye,” his accent is thicker still and you can tell he is going over many emotions in his mind. “I know I pushed ye, I know I brought it up, but this last few weeks, I dunno, I think I've just changed what I want with us.” 

“You talked with her about it?” You ask him, your fears coming out of your mouth before you even knew you'd thought them. They had history, he and his ex-wife, of course they did - the years they'd been married, their children, their experiences, how could they not still have ties and links that you'd never understand? But you weren't the other woman anymore, and he'd persued you… 

He shakes his head, “No I fucking didn't.” He insists and you believe him - immediately. 

“So what do you want with us?” you ask and you're almost scared to hear the answer. 

“Us.” He says quietly. “Jesus, Y/N. I want us. I want the fucking softness and-and the love. You and me, for fuck sake.” He draws his hands from his pockets and walks towards you. “Y/N, I don't have regrets, I don't, and I need you to believe that. But I can't start all over again with the babies, and-and the fucking…” he trails off and he reaches his hands up, cupping them around your biceps. 

Your skin puckers in goosebumps at his touch - it always does - and those fucking eyes stare into yours as you study his face. Every line, every freckle, every speck of stubble - you've stared at this face for so long now, making every conceivable expression, that you know it more than he does. He's sorry, you know, and he's ashamed of his actions but you can see he means what he's saying too. He has changed his mind, and it hurts you that he couldn't have just said as much. “You asked me to let you know when I knew what I wanted.” You whisper, eyes flicking side to side as you struggle which eye to settle on. “And when I do, you're not there.” 

“You took too long.” He says and you can see he regrets the words as soon as his full lips have allowed them to escape. 

You shrug off his hands and step back, shaking your head. “You prick.” 

“Y/N that's not what I meant.” He insists. 

“Of course it is! I took too long to be ready to have a baby, and now the novelty has worn off and you've changed your fucking mind.” you growl at him - anger is winning again. 

“Novelty…” he mutters and shakes his head. “You want a fucking baby, we'll have a fucking baby.” He's angry now and you feel your heartbeat quicken. You know he doesn't mean it, but it makes you feel validated for a mere second. “You want me to fucking cum into you, I'll fucking cum into you. Fuck sake, Y/N. This isn't about you being ready, or me changing my mind - this is about you constantly battling with a woman I haven't been married to for three fucking years.” He rages, and the Cork accent is so thick he's clipping words and deepening his voice left and right, and if you weren't so fucking angry you'd take off your knickers and hold him to his promise. He's pacing and you watch him hungrily. “You've no idea what you want, girl, and I've no fucking clue how to keep up with ye. You don't want a fucking baby, and now I've got used to that fact and rearranged my view on our fucking future, you've done a fucking u-turn and now you fucking want a baby? I don't fucking know what you fucking want, but I'll tell you what I don't want, and that's the constant fucking feeling of you waiting on me going back to her.” he jabs out his left hand. “I've two sons, Y/N!” He yells, “And I've to show them that you can leave a relationship if it's not working, but by fucking Christ, boy, you don't leave your kids and I've realised while you were making up your mind that if we have a baby, then what does that tell the boys? Eh? It tells them I've moved fucking on and replaced them. Doesn't it?!” 

“No!” You shout. “They love you, they know we're happy, and they'd be happy for you if we had a child. And I don't think you'll go back to her - I don't.” You insist. But you did, at least at the start of all this. You'd been fearful he'd change his mind about the woman who'd been his bit on the side and realise he'd made a mistake. He hadn't, and you'd gotten over it, but he clearly still saw something in you that made him think those thoughts hadn't left you. 

“So why's it so much of a fucking problem that I changed my fucking mind?” He asks, and slowly the anger is reducing and his accent is still thicker but the volume is lower. 

“Because you didn't tell me.” You say. “You waited for me, and you didn't tell me that you didn't want that anymore.” You feel hot and frustrated, and you're fighting with the want to drag him to the L-shaped sofa and to slap him around his sharp cheek. “You're warm and sweet, you're attentive and fucking loving, but you don't let me in your fucking head half the time, Cillian. I can't read your bloody mind! And it's not that you changed your mind - I can take that, I swear, a baby isn't fucking everything. But you cut our conversation and your apology fuck included a fucking condom.” 

He drops back his head, staring up at the ceiling, and his hands are on his hips. When he straightens up again, his eyes are closed and you just want to see them to know what he's feeling. When he opens his eyes, his pupils are wide. “I'm sorry,” he offers again and he flicks his head slightly to move his fringe from his eyes. “I know, okay?” he sighs. “I'm sorry.” 

“I know,” you say quietly. This argument is stupid, and you know it, but you feel hurt that he didn't just speak up sooner. You told your arms under your bust and sigh. He crosses the small distance between you again and he wraps his arms around you tightly, holding you in against his frame. You unlace your arms from between you and wrap them around his shoulders and back, inhaling the smell of his skin from the crook of his neck. He's still whispering his sorries as he holds you tightly and you close your eyes as he sways your body slightly. You reach up your right hand and cup the back of his head - his hair is soft and growing out nicely. At the softness of your affection, he squeezes you tighter and you sigh against his skin and softly press your lips to the curve of his neck and shoulder. 

“Still mad?” He asks softly into your ear, his arms not loosening at all. 

It takes you a moment to consider your emotional stance. “No.” You whisper against his skin, and you smile a little as he holds you impossibly tighter. Slight though his physique is, his arms possess a warming strength. And then he slowly loosens his hold, prompting you to drop your arms, and you stand close and staring at one another. 

“I'm sorry I didn't talk to you before now.” He says with an intensity in his eyes that holds you captive. 

You nod slowly. “I know you are.” 

He raises his right eyebrow and you know that's the side he raises when he isn't in the brightest of moods. “You know I am?” He says, and quirks his head slightly. “Sure, it's not the response I was expecting.” 

“You want me to say it's okay? Or that it's all forgotten?” You shrug. “I can't. I know you're sorry, Cill, I know that. But it doesn't erase it.” 

He tenses his jaw and the action purses his full lips. “Right,” he raises both eyebrows and his attitude is clear - he's angry, and perhaps he too has that right, but you feel as though you're in the right this time around.

This is going to keep going in circles. 

You sigh deeply and instinctively fold your arms under your bust. Rolling your eyes, you turn towards the stairway. “I'm going back to bed.” 

“No,” he calls out, and you hear his feet pad against the hard floor beneath. “Y/N! Don't be ridiculous,” he says. For a moment you're held by how he says the word - ridi’clous, dropping the middle U. You stop, a single step away from reaching the bottom of the stairs, and as you turn back to him you drop your arms at your sides. He's flustered and disheveled as his hair falls back into his eyes, and you wonder for a moment if you've punished him enough. He holds both hands out before him, gesticulating wildly as he stammers over his words in that way of his - he has a point to make, and he's keen for it to be unable to be misconstrued. “I did talk to her.” He says, and you can see the pain on his face as he admits his actions - and his lie. “Yvonne, I talked to her - a-about changing my mind, about not-not knowing what I wanted anymore, and then when I did fucking know, I talked to her about that, too.” 

Your brows knit together at the bridge of your nose as you listen to every stumbled word and softened T, and you feel a gust of butterflies in your stomach. You swallow and it hurts your throat. “So,” you pause and wet your lips. “You talked to her about it, the woman you left three years ago, but you couldn't find five fucking minutes to tell me, the woman you've been fucking sleeping with, living with, all this time?” You shake your head and you're desperate not to cry. Your eyes sting and your throat constricts, and if you were the type of person to do so, you'd have slapped his face twice by this point. “You fucking…,” you laugh, shaking your head, absolutely certain that you look maniacal. You sniff as your resolve not to cry weakens as the tears pool hot in your eyes. “And here was me, wondering if I was being too techy.” You say, and you bit your bottom lip in anxiety. Releasing it, you shake your head again. “Why?” 

He's staring at you, eyes sad and serious, and the crystal blue is darkened somehow. His hands are back in his pockets and he shrugs his shoulders slowly. “I don't know. She was on the phone. We were talking about the kids, we were…just talking. And I just talked.” He sighs and it shudders in his chest. 

“So you have changed your mind about everything? About me?” You ask, nervous for the answer now that he seems able to be honest. 

“Ah, Y/N, no.” He insists earnestly. “God, no. No, I haven't. Jesus, I love you. You know this.” 

“But you couldn't tell me all of this, and instead went back to her.” You raise your voice, hand jutting out to the near distance to signify ‘the ex wife’. You couldn't even bring yourself to say her name. You look past him to the large clock on the wall above the cooker in the kitchen area behind him, watching three am tick in just at that moment. “I'm going back to bed.” You repeat your earlier sentiment and place your hand on the banister before looking him dead in the eyes. “Don't you fucking dare follow me.” 

[lillaydee]

Uncoupled - March

Roommate! Joel Miller / Reader

Two people leaving their marriages ended up going through the mandatory one year separation together before filing for divorce.

Nothing could possibly happen in a year, right?

WARNINGS: Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Ellie & Joel Bonding (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), No age gap, Roommate Joel, Teacher Joel, Handyman Joel, Insecure Joel, Minor Character Death, Grief/Mourning.

SERIES MASTER LIST

February

---

“Hey, Lil, I was wondering. You know how we’ve been living together like six months now? I feel like… we’ve become very good friends in that time, don’t you think? Cause… honestly? I feel like I know you much better than I know Jen…”

No, scratch that, don’t mention your ex to the woman you hoped would be your girlfriend, you idiot.

Joel rinsed the tomatoes and picked up the peppers, rinsing those next, placing them all in a bowl once done.

Okay, deep breath.

“Lily, living with you these past six months have been… eye opening. This is what life should be like, what a partnership should be like. This is what I want. For the rest of my life.”

Shit, scare the not-yet-divorced woman into not wanting to have anything to do with you, Joel.

He picked up the bowl with the tomatoes and peppers in them, taking one tomato out and began chopping.

“Lily, you know the legal separation is coming to an end, right? I know you said you’re not ready to date, and I can see where you’re coming from, but, living with you these past six months, I think I’ve come to see you as more than a roommate, and I’m wondering if you would go out with me… like on a date?”

God, he’s really bad at this. He rubbed his face, before taking another tomato to chop.

He’s making you dinner. You had an order to finish at the bakery, so dinner was on him today. You had mentioned the other day you had a hankering for some sweet and sour fish, so he had googled the recipe and was making some for you. He was going to ask you out after dinner, when the two of you watch TV after Ellie’s bed time.

Okay, one more time.

“Hey Lily, I was wondering…”

“You were wondering what?”

OUCH!

“Oh my God! Are you okay?” you came rushing to his side, he had let go of the knife and was holding his left hand up, blood dripping from his pointer finger.

“Lily! I didn’t hear you come in! Fuck this hurts!”

You took a clean kitchen towel from the drawer and guided him to the sink, running the finger under the tap. Blood was still coming out, and Joel found himself slightly lightheaded from the shock of it all. He was used to seeing cuts like this, being the woodworking teacher, but when it was his own finger, he couldn’t even look at it.

“I don’t think you need stitches,” you told him, examining the cut closer. You let the cut bleed under the running water until it receded, and wrapped it with the kitchen towel, running to his bathroom to get the first aid kit.

Ellie had gotten up from her colouring spot at the dining table, climbed onto her steps to the sink and peeked at the cut, Joel was startled upon seeing her, thinking she had been in her room all this while. Shit, did she hear him?

You came in and immediately took the antiseptic solution to clean his finger. He hissed and looked away when you did, embarrassed that he could be so lightheaded over such a small cut. You applied some antiseptic salve for cuts and put a band aid on his finger before putting everything away. You came back to the kitchen to him still standing where you left him, his left hand still elevated, the pointer finger still pointing upwards the way it was when you bandaged him.

“Oh, God, you can’t do anything now, can you? Because you finger has a boo-boo on it?” you teased, going over to him and kissing the band aid. “There, all better.”

Joel found himself blushing like a school girl at the gesture. Fucking hell, what had gotten into him? Before he fully realized his feelings for you he could lie in bed together with you and not feel awkward, but now, all he could think of was how good you smelled when you just walked in from the bakery and how much he wanted to bury his face in your neck.

You took the knife he was holding, checking the cutting board for any blood, before washing the knife and placing it in the dishwasher. You took another knife and began to continue what he was doing.

“What were you trying to ask me just now?”

Huh?

You turned and looked at him, still standing stock still right where he was, “You said my name and were wondering if…?”

Shit. Erm… think, Joel, think!

“He was about to ask you out. Practiced it over and over,” Ellie chimed in, hand busy picking up a colour from the crayon box.

Joel’s head snapped towards her so fast he swore he pulled a muscle.

You looked at him, hand idly chopping the tomato he left on the cutting board. “You were going to ask me out?”

“Erm… yeah, I was thinking, spring’s almost fully here, maybe we should go to the garden centre? Get some saplings and seeds? Maybe a couple plants? We have the planter boxes ready and all.”

Okay, where the fuck did that come from? He could see Ellie close her eyes in frustration over your shoulder, shaking her head slightly. When she opened them again, she was giving him the most disappointed look he had ever seen from anyone in his life, let alone a five-year-old.

“Erm, yeah that sounds nice, when would you be free to go? You know, there’s a nice park there too, maybe we could go to the playground after, won’t that be nice Jells?”

Joel found himself tongue-tied. How could he tell you he would rather go with you alone without upsetting you, or worse, Ellie?

“How about this Saturday? Weather forecast is nice, not too cold, what do you say, Jellie?” you asked her, eyes on your work, oblivious to the silent communication your niece was having with your roommate.

“Actually, I’m busy this weekend.”

You burst out laughing, placing the knife on the chopping board, crossing your arms, “You’re busy, huh?” you turned and looked at Joel, who had an unreadable expression on his face. “And what, may I ask, little missy, would you be busy with?”

“It’s a secret.” She climbed down from her chair and ran into her room.

You gave Joel a ‘would-you-believe-that-little-girl-look’, laughing all the while. “Legs not long enough to touch the floor when sitting at the dining table, but she’s busy this weekend. Go figure. When did your little girl become such an adult?” you asked, turning round to continue chopping. “What am I chopping these for, by the way? Can you move before I finish cooking or are you just stuck there until the wound heals?”

His little girl. You just referred to Ellie as his little girl. His heart felt like it was going to beat its way out of his chest. He laughed a little at your playful jab at him and took a bowl off the cabinet, measuring the sauces he needed to make the sweet and sour sauce into it.

“Was going to make you sweet and sour fish, you were telling me you were hankering for some. Got the recipe off google. Supposedly it’s really good,” he said, measuring the vinegar, using his middle finger instead of his pointer finger to hold the spoon. “Saturday’s fine, for the garden centre, if Her Majesty the Ellie is free,” he added, and the two of you laughed a little at her little ‘I’m busy’ announcement.

“Aww… you were gonna make me sweet and sour fish? Thank you Joel, I’m a lucky girl to have someone like you in my life,” you told him, a thankful pout on your lips, getting up to your tippy toes to give him a peck on his cheek.

He flushed at that, and for some reason, you were blushing too. Silly, really. You’ve done that a million times. Why did it feel different this time?

**********

Frank called as the three of you were having dinner. You put him on speaker, telling him you’re in the middle of dinner – although that info fell on deaf ears. He started telling you that his sister was having a birthday party for his twin nephews that weekend. “She’s going all out, petting zoo, bouncy castle, the lot. Can we take Ellie, please?”

Huh… you could’ve sworn his nephews just had a birthday before Christmas. You helped bake the cake. A massive one, in fact. It could feed 50 children, easily. When reminded of this, Frank quickly swerved, telling you that it was too cold for a party then, so his sister’s having one now instead. So… what do you think? Can they bring Ellie?

You don’t know... Maybe you should call his sister, make sure she’s okay with it?

“No! There’s no need for that. But if you need to call her, give it maybe half an hour okay?”

Okay…

Ellie had stopped eating, her hands busily forking some errant onion chunk from her bowl of rice, releasing it, and then forking it again, listening intently to your conversations.

“Let me think about it, okay?”

You hung up before you could make out what Frank was trying coax you with next, looking at Ellie with accusatory eyes. She looked at you right back, innocence in her big brown eyes, asking you cheerfully if she could go. “Please Beans, they have a petting zoo… please???”

“Yeah, Beans, a petting zoo! Imagine that! And a bouncy castle too! Have a heart, Beans,” Joel pleaded with her, putting on the most pathetic pleading face you had ever seen.

Okay, the most beautiful, and so far, effective, pleading face, aside from Ellie’s.

“Fine. I’ll let Frank know.”

“Yeah!” They high fived each other.

**********

The few days leading up to Saturday, you found yourself looking forward to going out alone with Joel. You did do that before, when the two of you did the backyard, going to the store, all that, but this time it just felt… different.

You had been trying to push your crush on Joel for a while now, telling yourself he wouldn’t want someone like you, brushing off anything that might mean he liked you as a coincidence or your own imagination. But since that day he got sick, you had noticed him checking you out, and not in friendly ways either. You could’ve sworn that he was a bit too quiet when Benny was around, almost as if he was… jealous? And the way he was angry at the thought of Benny coming in for two days, ‘had his way with you’ and then leaving? Hmmm…

Anyway, Saturday. You were going out with him. Alone. Maybe you should make the most out of it. It might never happen again, and who knew if he wanted to keep living with you once his divorce was finalized. He’d be a single man again then. Maybe he would go out into the world and finally sow some wild oats, or whatever the heck the saying was, while you remained here, raising Ellie.

You had asked Anita if she wanted to join you – she was back in town, staying at Tommy and Maria’s since Maria was due any day now. She had wanted to come with, but after a quick conversation with Frank she withdrew, saying she didn’t feel comfortable leaving Maria alone so near her due date.

That Friday night, you and Joel watched a movie together, you sitting legs out on the floor, resting you back against the couch while Joel was splayed on it. Throughout the movie, you looked back at him, just to see if he was laughing along with you. He was already staring at you, every single time, a soft smile on his face. He didn’t even attempt to look away. As the two of you walked to your rooms for bedtime, you asked him what time you would be leaving the next day.

“Let’s make it a day. We go out for breakfast, and then the centre, and then, who knows? Maybe a movie? What do you think?”

The prospect of spending so much time with him made you want to jump. Okay, you told him, saying goodnight before closing your door.

Phew, your face felt hot. Must be the heat. The nights were getting less cold, and you hadn’t really adjusted the temperature.

Yeah… the heat… that must be it.

**********

On Saturday, you and Joel left the house early, wanting to get the best the garden centre had to offer. As you were getting ready that morning you realized you haven’t gone out like this in a while. You were really nervous, although you couldn’t quite figure out why. As you stepped out of your room, you saw that he had on his green flannel, and you had on your favourite dark green top. He looked really good, you thought.

“You look nice,” he said, giving you a quick peck on the cheek. He had given you such kisses forever, at least, since you lived together, but today… you don’t know. It felt different. “We match,” he said, adjusting your collar slightly after you slung on the purse he gave you for Christmas.

You saw him iron his green flannel the night before, so you subconsciously put on the same colour, you thought. You didn’t do it on purpose to match him. That’d be silly. It was just a coincidence, that’s all. Although, even if you did, he didn’t seem to mind at all.

He opened the truck door for you, helping you climb in as usual, before checking the front door was locked one more time.

“Okay, make this count. You can do this. Deep breaths,” he said to himself.

“Did you say something?” you asked from the truck, making him jump slightly.

“No, just thinking out loud. Breakfast?”

The two of you went to the brunch place in town, where you discovered he had made reservations for you. Breakfast was delicious, the two of you took your time, chatting easily, like you always did, laughing and joking with each other, enjoying your coffees and pastries, Joel remarking that the pastries you make are much nicer. You punched him on the arm for making such a remark in such a nice place, and he caught your fist, holding it in his hand, not letting go for a while, his eyes on you, making you remind yourself not to blush.

After he paid, resolutely pushing your card away, the two of you got back in his truck. As soon as he reversed, his phone rang, ‘Tommy’ flashing on the screen. He answered, Tommy’s voice clear on Bluetooth.

“Hey Big Brother, Maria’s…” he began, but whatever he was calling Joel for was interrupted by Maria’s screaming voice – “Thomas Joseph Miller, you hang up that phone RIGHT NOW!”, startling you and Joel.

There was some confusing scuffles and mumbled words spoken, before Anita’s voice chirped, “Joel sweetie? Don’t mind Tommy. Something broke and he was calling to see if you could come over to help but he can fix it himself, can’t he?” she asked, presumably at Tommy, who quickly took the phone back, saying in a nervous tone, “Yeah, silly me. I can fix it myself. I just panicked. It’s okay, see you later brother. Bye!”

Once he hung up, you and Joel looked at each other, confused about what was happening. You asked if the two of you should go over to check, but Joel shrugged it off, saying that Tommy and his Mama were there, surely there’s nothing the two of them couldn’t handle?

So the two of you went on to the garden centre, where Joel pulled out a huge cart for you to fill to your heart’s desire. You walked along the many displays of potted plants and flower seeds, deciding to take a look inside the large warehouse as well just in case there was something you would be interested in looking at.

You stopped at the home furnishing section – a display of outdoor tiles catching your attention. You walked further along, looking at the different selections of tiles, leaving Joel behind looking at some wooden-looking tiles. When you finally realized he was no longer next to you, you went back, finding him talking to some lady, whose hands just so happened to land all over him with every word she spoke, evidently asking him questions about some tiling.

The familiar surge of self-consciousness began to hit you. This lady was gorgeous, and Joel seemed to know her, albeit looking slightly uncomfortable being pawed at. He kept taking a step away from her, but she just followed. Just a couple of months ago, you would’ve just walked the other way. But the way you’ve been feeling lately, no. You’re not going to just walk away, you’ve decided.

So you took a deep breath, picked up a tile sample and walked over to them, “Joel, sweetie, what do you think of… oh! Sorry! Didn’t realize you were talking to someone there. Hello,” you said chirpily at the woman who now looked like you just slapped her across the face.

Joel, bless him, immediately took you by the waist, pulling you close, introducing you to Donna, she’s the mother of one of his students, he told you. The lady’s face snapped shut, “Diana,” she corrected, “And who is this, Mr Miller?”

“I’m Lily,” you answered, before quickly turning to Joel, wrapping your arm around his, showing him the tile sample, “I was thinking of this one for the backyard, what do you think?”

“It’s nice,” he said, running his fingers over the tile, “But I was thinking this one, it looks like wood, more natural, what do you think?”

“Well, I see you’re busy. See you around then Mr Miller,” the lady said, rather exasperatedly, stomping away almost immediately.

Joel released a very relieved sigh as soon as she disappeared, thanking you over and over again, telling you he didn’t know what he was going to do to get away from her. “She kept touching me. I never knew what to do when women do that to me. Do I pull away? But I might hurt their feelings. The disadvantage of being raised by Anita Miller, let me tell ya, be polite, don’t make people feel awkward,” he said, laughing a little.

It was then you realized you still have your arm wrapped around his, so you quickly pulled back, but he placed a hand over yours, stopping you.

“But I thought…”

“Your hand, I want to hold,” he said, shocking himself with how forward he was being, before tightening your hold on his arm. “Now, the tile,” he said. “What do we think?”

“Oh, erm… I like the wood-looking ones, but… I don’t think I have the budget for them yet. Maybe we come back? We only budgeted for the plants and seeds.” You pulled him away from the tiles, trying not to show him how flustered you were, and he followed.

“I could buy them, you know,” he said, “I live there too, but if you’re not ready, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just… I was raised not to buy without planning. I budget for everything, and that’s just not in the budget today. Maybe in a few months?”

“Okay, sure.” He pushed the cart along, filling it with soil and other gardening stuff you did have on the list, before going back out to pick the plants you had eyed and set aside.

After a quick stop to drop the stuff off at home, the two of you went straight to the mall, deciding to watch a movie, maybe a PG rated one, since Ellie was not home. You had tried calling Frank and Bill, seeing as your texts asking for pictures were decidedly ignored. Frank did not answer your calls, and Bill picked up only to yell at you, telling you “She’s alive, Ma!” before hanging back up. Poor Joel was greeted with a “Don’t you start now, Miller,” before he too, got hung up on.

Sheesh.

You sat in his truck in the parking lot at the mall, sourpusses on your faces, annoyed that you couldn’t talk to your little girl. What was up with that? You just wanted a picture or two. Was that so bad? You could feel your lips beginning to quiver.

Joel unbuckled himself from his seatbelt and slid across the seat to you, pulling you into his arms, telling you she’s okay, she’s fine, she’s with people we trust. They’ll take care of her. Don’t worry, okay? You nodded, snuggling your face into his chest, tears brimming your eyes. He kept holding you, comforting you, and to be honest, himself too, both of you missing Ellie so much at that very moment.

When the two of you had calmed down, you exited the truck, Joel taking your hand in his, lacing his fingers with yours as he walked next to you. You stopped, looking at your hands, and then up at him, and back at your hands.

“What?” he asked, “I told you, your hand, I want to hold.”

God, if only you knew how nervous he was that you might pull away, telling him to fuck off.

If only he knew how fast your heart was beating. Joel Miller wanted to hold your hand.

And he didn’t let go, not even as you queued to get the tickets, not even as you bought popcorns, not even as you watched the movie.

He didn’t even let go when you ran into Lucy as you stopped for a light, late lunch. The woman just stared at you defeatedly from afar, and finally looked away when Joel wrapped his arm around your shoulder, taking your hand and wrapping it around his waist, holding it in place there, fingers laced with each other’s.

You were sharing a sundae when your phone finally chimed repeatedly, pictures from Frank.

Ooh! Joel slid closer to you, eager to look at the pictures together.

Oh.

They were of Ellie, Bill and Frank.

At the local zoo. Having a jolly old time.

The fuck happened to the birthday party? The petting zoo? The bouncy castle?

A text message came in.

Frank: I’m not answering any of your calls – just so you know, so don’t even bother calling. And no, I am not explaining anything either, so drop that right off your head. I will drop Ellie off tomorrow night as promised, before her bedtime. Enjoy your time alone with RPH. And NOT FOR GARDENING! xx

Oh, you’re gonna kill some people.

“RPH?” Joel asked, befuddled.

“Tell you some other time,” you told him, putting your phone away, your face red from embarrassment.

You bought some dinner at the mall to take home, tired from your day out. As Joel parked his truck in your driveway and killed the engine, you decided you needed the answer to the question that had been burning in your mind all day long, especially since he started holding your hand.

“Hey, Joel?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for taking me out today, I had a great time, really.”

“Thank you for coming with me,” he replied, easily.

“Hey, Joel?”

“Hmm?” his head was turned towards you, rested against his headrest.

“Was this… a date?”

He didn’t take his eyes off you. You could feel all the blood rush to your face from the intensity of his stare.

“Would it be so bad if I say I hope it was?”

“Yes.”

His face fell.

“You should ask me out for real, next time, and not guise it as a shopping trip to the garden centre, Miller.”

He suddenly smiled, “You mean, if I had asked you out on a date, you would have said yes?”

You nodded, a bit shy at how truthful you were being.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

You shrugged, “I didn’t think someone like you would be interested in someone like me,” you said, looking at your hands. “Why didn’t you ask me before?”

He shrugged, “I didn’t think someone like you would be interested in someone like me,” he said, looking at his hands.

You scoffed, shaking your head, just as he himself was shaking his own, laughing a little.

“We’ve been so stupid.”

You nodded.

“So, Ellie won’t be home until dinnertime tomorrow, how about I take you out on a real date?”

“But… the garden?”

He laughed. He had forgotten all about that. “Okay,” he conceded, “Next week it is, then.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

He won’t stop looking at you. And you found that you couldn’t stop staring right back at him. His eyes dropped down to your lips for a split second, his hand taking yours into his.

“Lily…” he began, starting to move towards you.

Of course, his phone rang. Again. Tommy. Again. On Facetime.

“What?” he asked, a bit annoyed that his time with you was being interrupted.

“Whoa, there, Uncle Joel, just wanted you to meet your nephew. Uncle Joel, Auntie Lily, meet Jackson Miller.”

---

April

[icarianncarrionn]

Tisha barely pauses to light her cigarette before squeezing Nick’s arm, giddy laughter spilling out of her. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this! I mean, I can, because I didn’t tell you, but holy shit! You and Hari?” She takes a drag, but the smoke spills back out with her next laughing fit. “Have you met the kids yet? Oh my God, have you met my parents? Is Christmas going to be the first time? They’re going to love you, don’t even worry about it - you’re like, my mom’s dream.” Well, the werewolf thing isn’t part of the dream, but they don’t need to know that, and she doesn’t need to bring it up, not when everything is starting to go okay. “Sorry, I’m kind of excited. Hari would be super mad at me for saying this, but he’s dated like, three people his entire life, and… I think you’ll be good for him.”

Hari huffs out a soft laugh, turning the pictures over in his hand. “These your kids? Strong genes.” He passes the picture back, and a shadow crosses his face for just a moment. “You know, Rafael… most people would probably say that the friendship Victoria and I have maintained after our divorce is a good thing. I don’t think you understand what it says about you that you don’t.” His voice is just a touch too calm, just a bit too low, and he pours himself another shot.

“It makes you sound like a man who doesn’t see value in someone after your romantic relationship with them ends. I understand being protective. I really do. Ask Tisha about it sometime. Ask her what it was like when she was little. I understand wanting the best for your brother, and being really cautious about who comes into his life. But you have no right to imply what you just implied. And if you ever speak about the mother of my children again in a way that even slightly suggests she would stoop to infidelity, I will not need to lean on words like unspeakable. I can speak it. I won twenty seven of my career fights via knockout. I will punch you in the mouth so fucking hard they’ll still be finding teeth on the day you’re embalmed.” Hari throws back his shot and then stands, setting the glass down firmly. “I hope you grow up before then. Enjoy your night.”

"In my defense, there was no Manic Panic in Brazil when that... accident happened. And I didn't think it would turn out like that. We didn't have access to tutorials either."

"And hairdressers weren't invented yet either," Rafael teased. Of course HE was happy to keep dwelling on the hair subject, even if Nick would've preferred a theological debate at this point. That was when photographic evidence was brought up and he did a 180, almost feeling cheated when Tisha snatched the phone away from Hari.

Rafael though seemed massively confused. "Lob?"

"Long bob," Nick explained, "No wonder you don't know. You've had the same hair length since we were kids."

"Yeah, 'cause I don't like having curls. And it dries faster after swimming."

"You're all so sporty. I almost feel bad," Nick laughed, then proceeded to further indulge in an unhealthy lifestyle by joining Tisha for her smoke break, "Yeah, I could use a smoke."

"Mas cê não deveria." Rafa's words were hardly above a sigh, he knew Nick wasn't going to listen to him anyway, so what's the point. Though with Nick and Tisha gone outside to - no doubt about it - talk about their older brothers, he realised the dangerous freedom he was allowed now. So he got out his wallet and handed Hari a ragged piece of folded cardstock with a photo glued to either side. One showing a girl and a boy at the beach, the more 'antique' one on the other side two young boys with wild black curls smiling at the camera. Rafael tipped his finger on the latter picture. "When Nico was six years old, missing tooth and all." Sure, not an orange hair failure photo but Nick would've still lamented about it, if he had known.

"We were thick as thieves. When our mother died, I raised him. You break his heart, with your ex or whoever, I'm going to do unspeakable things to you. Are we clear?" That was the last Rafael hat to say 'against' his brother's relationship with Hari. Not that he was happy about it, but he could accept it.

[locamotivednp]

My sister just called me ragging and screaming and fighting with her boyfriend after doing a bunch of coke. And I’m stuck 4 hours away 😭😭 not a great start to the year. I don’t know what to do 😓

[trans-queen-administrator]

Y'all ever think about the first chapter of Gold Morning when Taylor realizes she threw away everything and cut ties and poured her soul into trying to stop the end of the world only for it to all be for nothing and her hometown is gone and her dad is probably dead and she gives up for the first time in the book? Like she's a person of nearly infinite determination and willpower, but it finally ran out after she realized it was all hopeless. And it's such a fitting method of attempted suicide too for someone who passively tried to kill herself via caping without even realizing she was doing so. She just floated out over the ocean at sunset, surrounded herself in a cocoon of bugs, and stayed there as her flight pack's fuel drained to the point of no return. She didn't say it outright, but she fully intended to die there.

And the whole time she couldn't bear to ask anyone for help or a hug. She said the only two people who would give a hug without further questions were her dad and Rachel who weren't available, and that's heartbreaking to me. She's been so focused on being composed and threatening and strong enough to not be fucked with that she can't bring herself to let down the mask, so she'll drown instead. And she's wrong, she's so so so wrong but she's such a bundle of paranoia and self loathing that she can't fathom her friends would accept her in her moment of weakness and give her a hug. But Lisa does.

I'm moving past the "now we were like lesbians" real quick because yes they're so gay but that's not the point of this post. Lisa gave her a hug immediately, she saw her friend hurting and wanted to comfort her, but I think it's important to note that Taylor's inability to ask for comfort and the fact that she didn't want to inconvenience her friends with her feelings led directly to her hurting Lisa so much more. When Lisa opened the door she was genuinely unsure if Taylor would come through or let herself die, she was forced to see her worst nightmare for a moment as everything she tried to stop happened. How much would that destroy her? She doesn't show it because she's just like Taylor with her emotion bottling, but I honestly think if Taylor hadn't come through that door Lisa would have second triggered.

Anyway I'm getting off topic even if I don't know what my topic is. Taylor being afraid of being a burden when she's emotional around her teammates happens a few more times through Gold Morning, Rachel accepts it obviously, Lisa hugs her, and Aisha tells her to stop apologizing because she's allowed to feel shit when the world is ending. Everyone (sorry Brian) is 100% ready to help her, but because Taylor has had every strong emotion she shared with Emma weaponized against her and has been taught to appear strong she just can't fucking comprehend it. Her friends would fucking follow her to the ends of the Earth and she's thinks so little of herself that she believes she wouldn't give her a hug. I'm repeating myself but fuck she's really kill herself before asking for a hug during the apocalypse. She's just completely incapable of believing people like her I want to throttle her and yell that she is loved but she would genuinely just somehow rationalize that as a lie. She's surrounded by friends and people she's saved and so many lives that she's touched yet she's completely alone in her head because she keeps them all like 20 feet away emotionally.

[hsslilly-blog]

shirt with a heart and child of divorce written on top but then there’s a picture of huntclaire. you wouldnt get it. i do

[hauntingblue]

Last arcane episode ever..... here we fucking go....

[tankgotstuckinthecircusgate]

i know that when carlo suddenly decided that he needs to marry guy made a whole list in his head n like had a deadlines n shit. like it was some kind of a task he needed to do

[carefulfears]

mulder and diana literally have the most intense divorced energy anyone could ever have...they have the chemistry of two people who've been married for decades and maybe don't wanna be married anymore, maybe aren't married anymore, but once you're married you're grandfathered in. you're always married. haven't touched each other in years, go most days not even considering the other, but owe each other something, and aren't sure of what it is. diana lies and lies and lies to his face, and then dies to save him. she feels entitled to him, she knows what's best for him, what's his is theirs. always. she was there when he got it. she helped him build it. (she tells him herself: "don't forget that"). so much of what she does appears as she's trying to establish a claim over him, but she doesn't have to try. she just is. she's irreproachable. you don't talk about the wife. (and you don't talk to her, as scully and diana arguing is met only with mulder's impatient, "scully...scully...scully.")

any time she comes up in conversation, his friends are uncomfortable. i love the way byers goes "well....yeah?" when scully asks if he knows diana. he says it like he's surprised that scully didn't know about her. when scully won't stop pressing mulder about diana in one son, all three of the boys tense up. the camera keeps going to their reactions. (you don't talk about the wife. they were there. "i always wondered why they split up.")

scully says "special agent diana fowley" as though maybe if she had one more title to throw in, she would disappear. diana says "fox" like she has something to prove. mulder says "diana" like it communicates everything he doesn't say. and in a way, it does. the first time scully heard him call agent fowley "diana," she knew.

[true-bluesargent]

oh brilliant minds was kinda crazy this week. this is the drama i've been waiting for i think

[faithfulcat111]

I've been taking advantage of being at my parents and unable to work the last two weeks and still being too emotionally devastated to do anything creative by having an X-Men movies marathon with my mom and playing through a new storyline on SWTOR (my controller is packed away, so no AC Valhalla rn). I never have played a Sith character and it has been cathartic to just run around wily-nily and kill people and evil laugh along with it. I took over a cult. Did lots of ghost-punching. And my master tried to kill me (per usual) and is now haunting the body of my favorite monster 😔 . Don't worry, we are working on freeing him.

[bitegore]

ngl i think i kind of was a genius for being like 'yeah this character is a scary killyou cannibal scary killer who scary kills you' and then realizing that the way my worldbuilding works out is that there's a nonzero chance that if you leave literally any body parts over they can just come back, depending on what they believe in their heart of hearts can kill them. Of course she'd start eating her kills. She probably tried normal stuff first and then realized it didn't work and she had to try harder if she wanted to actually keep them dead.

[simptasia]

i love the “you never made soup for me” line

ben is deranged