#do i need to call your sisters or something

[miryum]

☆ 18+ minors dni ☆

Frat!Jason Todd who was Vice President of Epsilon Theta Alpha. He had joined the frat when he was a freshmen and even though his rough and tough demeanour suggested otherwise, he was probably one of the most rule-abiding of the frat. But just because he was rule abiding didn’t mean he wasn’t an arrogant little shit

Frat!Jason Todd who began dating you literally a month into freshman year. He waved off your concerns that freshman relationships never lasted and promised then and there in the dining hall that he would put a ring on your finger the moment they threw their caps at graduation

Frat!Jason Todd who knew what he wanted and wasn’t going to let something as simple as ‘not knowing you for long’ get in his way

Frat!Jason Todd who brought you around the frat house so much that you became an integral part. Dick Grayson, the President of Epsilon Theta Alpha, even began to think of you as a sister

Frat!Jason Todd who loved how your relationship grew throughout the years. It didn’t matter if it was freshman year or senior year, he stayed by your side religiously and loved you all the same

Frat!Jason Todd who would get grumpy when he couldn’t see you for a while and everyone in the frat noticed it

Frat!Jason Todd who, for example, stayed at university during winter break freshman year and just pouted and whined the entire time. He called you every day, even though, at that point, you two had only been together a month or two

Frat!Jason Todd who was so relieved when you returned to campus and the next year (and every year after) you would take him home to spend the holidays with you and your family to save yourself from the grumpy boyfriend he would become when separated from you

Frat!Jason Todd who was very proud that your family loved him and he always returned back to the frat ladened with leftovers and sweets

Frat!Jason Todd who was also pretty big on working out. You had been hesitant at first, because of the stereotypical gym bros, but you soon came to appreciate his physique

Frat!Jason Todd who cajoled you into laying either on his back or under him whenever he was doing push ups. If he wanted you to lay on top of him, it was always, “but baby, I need a challenge. Push ups just aren’t doing it anymore. And if I have my darling girlfriend laying on me, then I get snuggles and a workout.” Sometimes, you read while feeling his muscles bend and contract underneath you as he worked, but other times you just held on and pressed lazy kisses to his skin. Whenever he wanted you to lay under him, there was never much complaining from you. You happily laid on the floor and gave him a quick kiss every time he descended. “Love you,” you would mutter and he would grin and reply with his own love

Frat!Jason Todd who also loved to play wrestle. Neither of you ever knew how it would start, but you would find yourself giggling and trying to tackle Jason on the floor. Of course, he would likely let you win, but there were always a couple of times when he would just flip you over and let out a pretend roar before smothering you with kisses

Frat!Jason Todd who didn’t mind that the play wrestling usually ended in hickeys and love bites

Frat!Jason Todd who wasn’t as much of a book nerd as other variants. He maybe was an English minor, but not a major. Whether that was just because he felt as if a frat guy shouldn’t be an English major, or he just preferred his major (pre-law), no one really knew. Jason confessed to you one night, late freshman year, that he wanted to go into law to help those who were growing up like he did. He wanted to fight against big corporations that kept kids confined to Crime Alley and he wanted to fight for the mothers and fathers who were getting swindled out of their homes

Frat!Jason Todd who much preferred to stay up in his room with you then go down to the party raging on the first floor of the frat. It had become a routine: lock the door (you two had learned that the hard way after a wayward couple barged in one time looking for a place to bang. Jason had promptly kicked them out with some well placed swearing and slammed the door behind them), fill the popcorn bowl, and settle in with a movie

Frat!Jason Todd who, however, every once in a while, would venture downstairs with you under his arm and indulge in a little partying. He would pour you a tiny amount of alcohol into a cup if you wished, but never drank a drop himself. Even if he was part of a frat, he was still the same Jason with the brutal memories of parents who hit or screamed when inflicted by alcohol. That didn’t mean that he didn’t enjoy a bit of beer or wine in private with you, but he wanted to stay vigilant around others who were drunk

Frat!Jason Todd who’s favourite thing to do at parties was dance. More specifically, watch you dance. He would stay right next to you, holding your hands or your hips as you sang along to the music. His eyes would never leave you, trailing up and down your body along with his hands. Another activity he liked whenever there was a party was to crowd you into a corner, arms braced by your head and just make out. He loved that bit of voyeurism, but would never take it farther than kisses when it came to you. He was incredibly protective and didn’t want to share you with anyone else

Frat!Jason Todd who was a very inconsistent lover. Let’s explain: he clearly loved you a lot and had told you a million times over. He wanted to pleasure you as such, so sometimes he took his sweet time with you that left you very impatient. Other times, however, he saw a guy checking you out and couldn’t help but bruise your hips as his slammed his own into you later that night

Frat!Jason Todd who, nonetheless, expressed his love in any way he could. Unbeknownst to you, he had bought a ring over the summer of sophomore and junior year and kept it locked in the top drawer of his nightstand

Frat!Jason Todd who, true to his promise, instead of throwing his cap at graduation, had found you in the crowd and immediately got down on one knee

Frat!Jason Todd who was crying when you said yes

[xxplastic-cubexx]

erik will genuinely jump at any chance he can to steal charles' last name and be so catty about it i know this for a fact WHAT is his deal

[Magneto (2011)]

[lostintransist]

Let's talk about a reader who really hates gets frustrated with the guys when they try and take care of them. And I do say try.

Gender neutral reader.

John: "Dovie I said I would take care of fixing the stair when I got back," John shouts into the open front door. He stared at the new wooden step, the bright color at odds with the worn in dirt on the other three.

You appear at the door, face posed in a question. John points to the stair.

"I said I would handle it."

"Yeah?" You lift a brow, "And then you were on a job the next day with no timeline of return. I took care of it."

Slightly hurt he looks up at you. Caring for you is one of his greatest joys.

"Don't look at me like that John," you start down the steps pulling his face close, thumbs brushing his cheeks above his beard. "I nearly broke my ankle the day after you left when I was heading to work and forgot it was broken. I fixed it. I've told you if something isn't handled I will take care of it."

Sighing John tugs you closer, resting his face where it landed.

"I love taking care of you." His muffled words still reach your ears.

"And you do," carding your fingers through his hair and smiling down at him you continue, "I take care of everything you leave behind."

Simon: It shouldn't have turned into an argument. You knew he had gotten a call that someone he served with came home in a box and you snapped at him anyway. You took it as a testament to the solidness of your relationship that Simon allowed his anger to be seen by you.

"Dammit why won't you let me get your door?" He slammed his in frustration.

Annoyed already from a text fight with your sister you snap at him without looking up from the phone.

"Be faster than Simon. I refuse to sit and wait for you to do something like open my car door. I am not a lady in the 1800's first off and secondly I don't like being in the car so the sooner I can get out the better."

He is toe to toe with you when you look up. Exactly like you expected. His job taught him his size was an advantage, but not when the weapons are words.

"It's one thing! Why is it so hard to let me do this for you?" His hands are searching for where to land. He does that when he's nervous. Fingers twitching for a gun to hold or a tac vest to curl around. Finding nothing he shoves his hands in his pockets. He needs to moisturize, you could hear his skin scraping against the edge of his pockets.

"I capitulate to every other request Si!" Your hand flings to the side as if trying to cast away your frustrations.

"Ooo capitulate. Pulling out the big words are we?"

The mocking tone is too much.

"Fuck off Lieutenant Riley I would like my boyfriend back when he has a second to pull his head out of his ass," you snarl as you step around him and head into the local grocery store.

This was longer than I meant for... Should I do more of the COD guys?

HC Masterlist | Masterlist

[capuccinodoll]

Honey love, dark eyes

♡ Chapter seven ♡

Summary: Joel's mind is a stormy place. WC: 14.5k A/N: Hope this part finds u well <3 remember that I no longer use the tag list, and if you want to receive notifications you can activate them on this blog or on capuccinodollupdates. Thank you for your lovely messages and comments, don't forget to leave feedback, it helps and motivates me a lot! love u <3

Joel met you on the night of your your twenty-second birthday, at a small, slightly chaotic party your friend Cassie had put together in her dimly lit apartment. It was one of those nights where the air felt like it held a secret, but Joel wasn’t planning to go. He didn’t know Cassie, or you, and the idea of spending an evening with Brianna’s friends felt more like an obligation than anything resembling fun. But Brianna had that way about her, the kind of charm that made saying no feel almost impossible.

“Come on, it'll be fun,” she’d said, her fingers brushing against his cheek in that practiced, easy way of hers. Her eyes sparkled, soft but insistent. “And I want you to meet everyone.”

Everyone turned out to be Cassie, her boyfriend Freddie, Paul, Paul’s younger sister Iris, and you. He didn’t know much about you, but Brianna filled in the gaps as she rifled through her purse for something or other.

“Well, it’s her birthday,” she said, glancing up with a small smile. “I told you about her—Cassie’s best friend from way back. It’s at her place.”

Joel frowned. “I don’t even have a gift. What am I supposed to bring? What does your friend likes?”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ve got it covered,” Brianna said, already moving on to another task, as if his presence at this party were a foregone conclusion. 

He sighed, leaning back against the couch, watching her with the sort of resignation that felt familiar by now. “I’ll feel out of place,” he murmured.

“You won’t,” she said, dismissive, like it wasn’t even a possibility. “Do it for me, Joel. Then we’ll go to that bar you like after, okay?”

And so he found himself standing, shaking his head but moving toward the bedroom anyway. He picked up the phone to call Tommy, wanting to check on Sarah. It was always like this—this invisible tether that pulled at him, the need to make sure she was safe, that she wasn’t lonely or scared. Sarah’s nanny had quit a few weeks ago, and the new one, while kind, was still a stranger in their world. Joel had made it clear to everyone he wouldn’t tolerate anything less than kindness toward his daughter, but still, worry clung to him like a second skin. 

When he left the house, Sarah had been curled up on the couch with her fruit and a movie, looking happy enough. He tried to focus on that image, tried to let it soothe the part of him that always itched with concern. But the worry followed him, up the stairs and into Cassie’s apartment. 

The apartment was small, warm with the low buzz of conversation and the flickering light of candles Cassie had scattered around. Brianna took his hand, leading him through introductions. Smiles, nods, the blur of names until they got to you. 

You were perched on the armrest of a couch where Cassie sat, and the first thing he noticed was the way your gaze landed on him—sharp, assessing, like he wasn’t quite what you’d expected or wanted. Something tight curled in his chest, an instinct he didn’t know how to name. You didn’t say much, just offered a polite, somewhat distant smile when Brianna pulled you into a quick hug. Your eyes were tired, your posture restrained, your hands folded neatly in your lap like you were holding something in. 

Joel noticed the way your shirt hugged your frame, the soft sheen of your black stockings, the way your legs crossed at the ankle like you were trying to make yourself smaller. He didn’t like how quickly he cataloged all these details—how automatic it felt, like he was breaking some unspoken rule. He nodded politely, offering a faint smile, and then stepped back, unsure how else to exist in this moment. 

He stayed on the edges after that, with Brianna attached to his side, her hand slipping under his collar, her lips brushing against his temple in a way that felt like it was meant to remind him he belonged to her. But Joel couldn’t stop noticing you. The way your eyes flickered away whenever Brianna leaned into him. The barely perceptible shift in your shoulders when Cassie started recounting some story about your last birthday. Like the whole night was built on a kind of friction you were trying not to let show.

Joel wasn’t sure why, but the sight of you unsettled him. Maybe it was the way you carried your discomfort so carefully, as if you didn’t want to ruin the party. Or maybe it was because he knew that feeling so well. That ache of being somewhere you didn’t entirely want to be, surrounded by people who didn’t really see you.

At some point in the evening, Joel felt the weight of it all—Brianna’s hand on his arm, the too-loud laughter from the living room, the vague pull of unease he couldn’t shake. He shifted, leaning away from Brianna’s touch.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her tone lined with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Joel replied, a little too sharply. “I’m just gonna check on Sarah. Be back in a sec.”

He disentangled himself from her and headed for the kitchen, his hand fishing for his phone in his pocket. As he closed the door behind him, the sudden quiet felt like stepping into a different world. The party was still humming on the other side, but here, in the stillness, he could breathe. 

He unlocked his phone and scrolled through the messages from Sarah’s nanny. They weren’t dire—just updates about Sarah refusing to sleep and crying because her movie had ended. Joel sighed, his stomach knotting anyway. Late nights made Sarah clingier, her emotions harder to soothe, and he hated not being there. 

He typed out a hurried reply: Put the movie back on. She’ll probably drift off in a few minutes. If not, call me—I’ll go back home.

From the living room, someone shouted, karaoke. The cheer that followed was met by Joel’s quiet relief at being tucked away in the kitchen. He let out a breath, leaning against the counter, when the door creaked open. 

You stepped in, freezing mid-motion when you noticed him. For a moment, you just stared, your expression shifting from surprise to something softer. The tension Joel had sensed in you earlier seemed to have dissolved in this quieter space. 

He straightened instinctively, a faint warmth rising to his face.

“Oh, hi. Happy birthday,” he said, his voice a little uneven. “Sorry, I didn’t  get a chance to say it earlier—”

You waved him off with a small smile, interrupting. “No worries. Thanks.”

There was something about the way you carried yourself in the quiet that Joel found disarming. The edges of your earlier wariness had softened, and for the first time, he saw you for more than a glance. You were calm, reflective, maybe a little tired—but there was something else, something Joel couldn’t quite place. 

He searched your face for a hint, for the thing that had inexplicably drawn his attention from the moment he saw you. But it eluded him, like trying to name a feeling he didn’t yet understand. He liked you—he realized that much instantly. And not just for the way you looked; you were beautiful, that much was clear. It was something deeper, more intangible. Something that felt a little bit dangerous to analyze, something he could discover if he allowed himself the time... and he couldn't. What was he thinking? 

Joel left that night without saying much else. Every time Brianna suggested they meet up again—usually with you in attendance—he found a reason to decline. Polite, noncommittal excuses. Work, Sarah, tiredness. It didn’t matter. The truth was, he wasn’t sure why the idea of seeing you again felt impossible, only that it did.  

It wasn’t long before things with Brianna unraveled. They hadn’t been falling apart so much as they’d never truly held together. Their conversations ran on parallel tracks that never quite met; their connection relied on superficial agreements that felt thinner every time they spoke. The breakup came naturally, quietly—no grand argument or dramatic gesture, just a mutual fading. Joel knew it was for the best.  

He told himself that the timing wasn’t right for anything serious. Not with Sarah so young, not with the weight of his responsibilities pulling him in every direction. Dating, he decided, wasn’t a part of his life right now. His world revolved around work and his daughter. There was no room for anything else.  

That’s why he didn’t expect to see you again.  

But then came that Saturday afternoon. Joel stood outside his house, his chest heavy with the tightness of panic, his breath caught in the raw edge of fear. Sarah was nowhere to be found. She had been playing hide-and-seek, though he hadn't known the game had begun... Apparently. His heart thudded in his chest as he drew closer. And then, the sun caught your face, illuminating every angle, softening the edges. You were holding a bundle of plastic flowers (why? he had no idea), their bright colors clashing with the quiet confidence in your smile.  

“Joel,” you said, your voice light, like the beginning of a melody. And there it was—the unmistakable spark of recognition in your eyes. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted you to remember him until that moment, when you did.  

He nodded, trying to muster an air of casual indifference, even as something in his chest shifted, calmed. 

“Hey,” he said, the word almost too small to hold the sudden rush of feelings he wasn’t ready to name. 

How could he name the feeling? The space between the last beat of his heart before he saw your face again and the next was a quiet, breathless eternity—because from that moment on, you would be the reason behind every quickened pulse, every ache and swell in his chest.

That afternoon passed like a blur. Sarah had invited you to stay for dinner before Joel even had a chance to think, let alone object. The meal was simple—chicken, vegetables, and bread that Sarah insisted she’d “helped cook.” You’d laughed, the sound light and warm, and Joel found himself watching you more than he should have. You didn’t seem to notice the way his eyes lingered when you reached for a plate or tucked your hair behind your ear. If you did, you didn’t let on.  

Two weeks later, you had dinner again, but this time Joel introduced you to his brother. And all those things that passed you by, Tommy picked up on instantly, impossible to ignore the unmistakable attitude of his smitten brother. And after you’d left his home, he leaned back in his chair and gave Joel a look that was all knowing smirk.  

“So,” Tommy drawled, leaning back with an almost smug ease, “are you finally gonna ask her out, or are we stuck with this whole pining routine forever?”

Joel exhaled sharply, running a hand over the back of his neck. The movement was unsteady, betraying the heat rising to his face despite his effort to appear unaffected.

“I dunno,” he muttered, his voice low and hesitant. “Not sure she—”

Tommy cut him off with a loud snort, shaking his head in disbelief. “She would, you idiot. Of course, she’d say yes.”

Joel looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly as they met his brother’s. He searched for any trace of teasing, waiting for Tommy to give himself away. But there was none. His younger brother’s expression was steady, his confidence unshakable.

“Go ask her now,” Tommy said, his tone nudging toward playful but still earnest. “She’s probably still awake. Probably thinking about you, you know.”

Joel let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as if to brush off the suggestion. “Oh, knock it off. I’ll ask her, alright? Just… when the time’s right. Not now.”

Tommy rolled his eyes dramatically, but he didn’t press the matter further. He knew Joel well enough to understand when to let things lie.

Joel, however, wasn’t brushing it off as easily as he seemed. He would ask you. Someday. Just not yet.

But that day—the day he’d finally say something—never seemed to come.  

The more time Joel spent with you, the harder it became to imagine risking the delicate balance of what you already had. You fit so seamlessly into his life, into Sarah’s life. It felt natural, effortless. You’d come over for dinner, sharing stories around the table that made Sarah giggle and Joel’s chest feel a little lighter. Sometimes, you’d sit on the porch with him as Sarah played in the yard, her laughter echoing in the quiet evenings. Joel trusted you with his daughter in a way he trusted almost no one, a rare kind of faith he didn’t extend easily.  

Your presence turned ordinary days into something brighter. There was a comfort in your company, a quiet joy in the small moments you shared—your easy laughter, the way your eyes softened when you looked at him or Sarah, the unspoken understanding that passed between you. Those moments felt like tiny gifts, precious and irreplaceable.  

But weeks turned into months, and every time Joel built up the nerve to say something, doubt crept in and stopped him. What if it changed everything? What if you didn’t feel the same way? Or worse—what if you did, but things didn’t work out? The thought of losing the quiet, steady friendship you’d built, the one that had come to mean more to him than he’d ever anticipated, was unbearable.  

Eventually, Joel convinced himself that friendship was enough. And in a way, it wasn’t a lie. He truly was happy in your presence, content with the moments you shared. He told himself he could live with the unspoken, that he didn’t need anything more.  

But sometimes, late at night, when the house was silent and the world felt still, his mind would wander. He’d think about the way your smile lingered when you thought no one was watching or the way your laugh seemed to wrap around him like a warm embrace. In those moments, he couldn’t deny the truth buried deep inside him: he wanted more.  

Still, he decided it was safer to push those feelings away, to bury them deep where they couldn’t surface. And so he did. He buried them so well, smothered them so completely, that he nearly convinced himself they were gone. Until, somehow, he forgot they were even there.

Well, he’d managed to bury it—convince himself it was gone—until that night, when everything shifted.  

It wasn’t exactly a surprise. Not really. Somewhere deep down, a quiet voice had always been whispering the truth to him, persistent and patient. But Joel had ignored it, pushed it aside like an overdue bill he didn’t have the energy to deal with, telling himself he’d face it another day. And yet now, there it was, no longer subtle or ignorable, staring him in the face with a weight that felt impossible to avoid.  

Because deep down, Joel had always known that if the two of you crossed that invisible line—if he let himself take even one step past the boundary you’d built—nothing would ever be the same. It wasn’t the intimacy itself that gave him pause. Joel wasn’t afraid of touching you, of holding you close, or of sharing the kind of closeness he’d once told himself he didn’t need. That wasn’t it. What unsettled him, what gripped him with both exhilaration and dread, was the certainty that after that moment, he’d never be able to step back. He’d never be able to pull away from you, not in the way he had before, not in the way he’d convinced himself he could. Because once he gave in—once he let himself have you, even for a moment—Joel knew with startling clarity that he’d never recover. You wouldn’t just be part of his life anymore; you’d become part of the very center of it. And that terrified him as much as it thrilled him.  

And then, he met Sienna. She entered his life at a time when he had successfully buried those feelings for you so deep that they rarely surfaced anymore, their edges dulled by time and avoidance. Her arrival was almost perfectly timed, slipping into the space he’d created in his effort to distance himself from emotions he hadn’t dared confront. And it wasn’t just convenience; he genuinely liked her. She wasn’t a substitute or a stand-in for something unresolved. She was her own person, someone who caught his attention and managed to hold it, filling his brief days with her with a kind of lightness he enjoyed. But, she wasn't you.

Sienna, with her warm smile and quick laugh, who was easy to like and even easier to spend time with. She was smart, kind, and effortlessly beautiful, the kind of woman who made you feel comfortable in your own skin. He’d met her one morning at the bank, a serendipitous encounter that had led, improbably, to him asking her out. It had surprised even him—Joel Miller, diving headfirst into something for once, emboldened by a rare flash of courage. 

The first date had been pleasant. A simple dinner, unpretentious conversation, and laughter that lingered. When he got home, he’d felt good—content, even. Tommy had stayed to watch Sarah, and Joel hadn’t mentioned the date to you. It hadn’t seemed important at the time. Just one night out, nothing more. Not worth bringing up. But later, as he lay awake in bed, the quiet of the house pressing in around him, he felt it—the faint, prickling weight of guilt. It wasn’t sharp or overwhelming, just a subtle ache that settled low in his chest, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts.

The second date was even better. Dinner had been just as easy as the first, and afterward, they’d gone to see a movie. Sitting in the dim theater, their shoulders brushing occasionally, Joel had felt a faint sense of familiarity, a hint of comfort that he didn’t expect. When Sienna invited him in for coffee after she’d smiled at him in that warm, open way of hers, Joel hesitated. Something inside him pulled back, and though his refusal was polite, it wasn’t just about needing to get home to Sarah. It was something else, something he couldn’t name.

On the drive back, his mind wandered. Passing your house, he noticed the soft glow of light spilling from your window and, for a moment, considered stopping by. Maybe he could sit with you for a while, let you bring some clarity to the restless thoughts swirling in his head. You always had a way of calming him, grounding him, even when you didn’t know he needed it. But he didn’t. Instead, he went home, crawled into bed, and left the lamp on as he drifted to sleep. Yet, even in those moments before sleep took him, thoughts of you tugged persistently at the edges of his mind.

By the third date, doubt had begun to creep in. Joel found himself questioning why he hadn’t told you about Sienna. Why he was keeping it to himself, why it felt so unsettling. It wasn’t as if you’d judge him, he told himself. If anything, you’d probably encourage him, tell him he deserved to be happy, that he should give it a real chance. That was who you were—supportive, unselfish.

But the thought of you knowing made something twist in his chest. It felt wrong, somehow, like it would shift the delicate balance between you. Admitting it to you felt too final, as though saying it aloud would confirm that he was searching for something else, something permanent, and he wasn’t ready for you to know that. He couldn’t untangle the knot of emotions tightening inside him, couldn’t put words to the unease that crept in whenever Sienna smiled at him or touched his arm. All he knew was that no matter how good things seemed with her, thoughts of you were never far behind.

Then came his birthday. You’d confronted him that night, quiet and firm, catching him off guard with your piercing gaze and steady voice.

“Why would you lie to me?” you’d asked, your tone a mixture of hurt and bewilderment. “We're friends. Why wouldn't you tell me you're seeing someone?”

And just like that, the truth he’d been avoiding stood between you, unspoken but undeniable.

You cornered him, and he didn’t handle it well. The anger Joel felt in that moment wasn’t just irrational—it was childish, unfair, the kind of emotion he’d scold Sarah for if it came from her. But it rose inside him, stubborn and hot, because deep down, Joel felt as though he was betraying you. The thought alone unsettled him; it was absurd. You weren’t his, and yet, the idea of you holding that kind of sway over him—being able to tilt the axis of his decisions—left him feeling exposed, furious. He knew, with unsettling clarity, that if you asked him to leave Sienna, he would. That realization burned, not just because of the power you held over him but because he was certain it wasn’t mutual. At least, he thought so.

“I know you too well to know you’re just jealous,” he spat, the words sharp and venomous, aimed more at himself than at you. He hated the way his own insecurities betrayed him, how they shaped the bitterness in his tone. The accusation was hypocritical; he knew that better than anyone.

The month before, when you casually mentioned that Travis had asked you out, Joel felt like the ground had been ripped out from under him. Your tone was so light, so unaffected, that it caught him off guard, knocking the air out of his lungs. His reaction was instant and visceral, jealousy surging like a tidal wave and gripping his chest in a vice. The mocking laugh that escaped him wasn’t intentional—it was sharp and bitter, a reflex from the worst parts of himself. Out of all the men in town, why him? The sting of it still lingered, the memory sharp and vivid.

Three years ago, Joel had first met Travis Dunn on a scorching Sunday afternoon. The kind of day where the sun bore down relentlessly, turning the air into a suffocating blanket of heat and making every movement feel sluggish. Joel was outside his house, organizing tools in the back of his truck, more out of habit than necessity, while the hours stretched long and slow.

Two houses down, across the street, Travis was in his yard, wrestling with an overgrown bush that refused to yield. Joel had noticed him before—a new face in the neighborhood—but they’d never spoken. Deciding to introduce himself, Joel grabbed a rag to wipe his hands and wandered over, his shoes crunching against the dry grass.

Travis straightened when he saw Joel approach, leaning on his shovel with an easy, welcoming smile despite the oppressive heat.

“That’s real kind of you, Joel,” Travis said after Joel offered to help, his voice friendly and conversational. “But I’m just about done here. Damn Texas sun’s brutal, though. Still tryin’ to get used to it.”

Joel chuckled, nodding in understanding as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “Yeah, it’s a killer. You get used to it after a while. Been working outside my whole life—kinda got the skin for it now. But if you ever need a hand, I’ve got the tools. Sometimes even the time.”

Travis nodded, brushing damp hair back from his forehead, and smiled sideways, an idea forming in his mind. “Actually, there is something.”

Joel tilted his head, curiosity piqued. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

Travis hesitated only a moment before blurting out your name as an invocation of the terrible, and the mention of you froze Joel’s easy smile in place, turning it into something tight and forced.

“You’re close to her, aren’t you?” Travis continued, his tone almost playful. “She’s something else. So sweet, beautiful too.”

Joel forced himself to nod, his voice flat. “That she is.”

“I like her,” Travis admitted, a nervous laugh bubbling up as he spoke, oblivious to Joel’s growing tension.

"No shit." His voice was low, flat.

“I mean, I was relieved when I realized you two were just friends. For a while there, I thought you might be, y’know, together.”

Joel’s brow furrowed. “What made you think that?”

“The way you act around her, and the way she acts around you,” Travis said with a shrug. “You’re together a lot. I dunno, it just... felt like a thing.”

Joel didn’t respond, but the silence between them thickened.

Travis, either unaware or unconcerned, grinned and added, “Anyway, you might wanna watch yourself, man," he said with a smug grin. "If you're not careful enough, I might just swoop in and take her off your hands forever. And trust me, I don’t do refunds—especially not with something as gorgeous as her."

Something snapped inside Joel. The casual arrogance in Travis’s tone, the smug smile—it was too much. He stepped closer, his posture rigid. Something as gorgeous, he said? Who did he think he was, strutting up and talking to him with all the confidence in the world, like they were old friends or something?

“What did you just say?” Joel’s voice was low, the Southern drawl sharpening into something dangerous.

The grin faded from Travis’s face, confusion flickering in his eyes. “Oh, sorry—”

"Y’ain’t gonna get anywhere near her with those words, Dunn," Joel growled, his voice low and thick with anger, his strong southern accent accentuating with emotion. "You better watch your damn mouth 'fore I show you what it really means to cross a line."

"No, listen—"

"No," Joel cut him off, stepping even closer. "You listen here, boy. You think you can talk about her like she’s some kinda prize to be won? Like she’s just sittin’ ‘round waitin’ for some fool like you to come swoopin’ in and steal her away? You’re downright dumb if you think you can underestimate her like that—like she’s some kinda damn manipulable thing you can just twist ‘round your finger."

“Joel, I didn’t mean—”

“You stay away from her,” Joel warned, his voice calm but edged with steel. “You hear me?”

Travis’s hands went up in surrender, his expression wary. “Alright, alright. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Joel stared him down for another beat, his jaw tight, before turning on his heel and walking away. His fists were clenched, heat simmering in his chest long after the confrontation ended.

For a while after, Travis kept his distance, careful not to overstep again. But three years later, when he reappeared, asking you out as if that encounter had never happened, Joel was flooded with a familiar anger—and something else. The possessiveness he thought he’d buried roared back to life, impossible to ignore.

“Why don’t you like him?” you had asked Joel that afternoon, your voice laced with curiosity as you leaned against the counter, watching him with that determined look that always made him feel like there was no escape. He had just scoffed at Travis invitation, brushing it off like it was the most ridiculous idea he’d ever heard.

Joel barely paused before spinning his answer, sharp and dismissive.

“I just don’t like the guy,” he said, his tone gruff. His hand reached for the coffee mug on the table, more to occupy himself than because he needed another sip.  

You didn’t let it go, of course. You crossed your arms, head tilted, waiting for something more.  

“He’s... weird,” Joel added with a shrug, avoiding your gaze. “Something about him rubs me the wrong way.”  

That was a lie, and he knew it. The truth was more complicated, and Joel hated complicated. He didn’t like Travis because the guy seemed too perfect, too slick, the type who could charm everyone in the neighborhood without even trying. Worse, Travis hadn’t done anything genuinely wrong, and Joel knew it. Hell, he wasn’t even all that bad of a guy—just the kind who could make you laugh, who could say the right things at the right time. And Joel? He wasn’t about to admit that every quip and joke Travis threw your way felt like a punch to his gut.

The real problem was simpler, though Joel would never say it out loud: he didn’t want Travis—or anyone—getting close to you. Because deep down, he was terrified that if someone did, you’d start to drift away from him. Slowly, naturally, like it was the most normal thing in the world. He could already picture it—the quiet evenings you two spent together fading into quick hellos and polite smiles as your life began to revolve around someone else.  

And Joel wasn’t sure he could handle that.  

You didn’t make it easy for him, either. You’d always talked to him about your boyfriends—there weren’t many, but enough to leave a mark. He listened like the good friend he was supposed to be, his face calm and unreadable. He even gave you advice sometimes, measured and practical, and he pretended to be relieved when things didn’t work out. But the truth? He was selfish. He couldn’t deny the ugly twist in his stomach every time you lit up talking about someone new.  

The worst part was the details. You shared everything—how they made you feel, the way they looked at you, the tiny, romantic gestures that made your heart race. Joel would sit there, nodding along, while his insides churned. Sometimes, he was almost convinced you did it on purpose, like you wanted to poke at the feelings he’d buried so deep. But then he’d shake that thought away because it couldn’t be true. You didn’t see him like that.  

Still, the possessiveness lingered, and it wasn’t one-sided. Whenever Joel mentioned a woman he was seeing, your posture would stiffen ever so slightly. He noticed the way your smile faltered, the way you suddenly seemed distracted. Joel kept his descriptions vague, never giving you the kind of vivid details you offered him. At first, he found a strange satisfaction in your reactions. If it bothered you that much to imagine him with someone else, maybe—just maybe—you felt the same way he did.  

But then you’d start listing their flaws with pinpoint accuracy, dissecting them in a way that left him wondering if you had a secret playbook for unraveling his attempts at romance. And you were always right. Every critique you made landed, exposing cracks he’d tried to ignore, as though you saw right through his attempts to prove he had control over his feelings.  

It frustrated him, how easily you could tear down the façade he worked so hard to build. Yet a small part of him—a selfish, conflicted part—was glad. Because it meant you were paying attention, and maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want to lose him either.

Sienna had taken him by surprise. She was unlike anyone Joel had encountered in a long time, and that unfamiliarity left him unsure how to talk about her—especially to you. He knew you were angry, and he couldn’t blame you. You had every right to feel shut out. Still, Joel couldn’t help but dig in his heels. His life was his own, and no matter how close you two were, some things felt too personal to share.

Yet, despite his stubbornness, the guilt lingered like a low hum in the back of his mind. He couldn’t stop replaying that night, the one you had so carefully planned, the kind of evening he usually dreaded but had come to cherish since you had entered his life.

It had been just the three of you: Sarah, you, and him. Tommy had bailed last minute, caught up in some errand or chore Joel couldn’t even remember now. But Tommy’s absence hadn’t dampened the warmth of the evening. It was perfect in its simplicity. Everything Joel loved most in the world sat around that small kitchen table, the faint glow of the overhead light softening the edges of the moment.

Joel wasn’t big on birthdays. He never had been, and neither were you, which was probably one of the reasons you understood him so well. For him, it was complicated. As a kid, he’d get excited—what child wouldn’t? But as he grew older, birthdays became a cruel reminder of time slipping away, of how life only seemed to grow more complicated with each passing year. 

The last time he had truly enjoyed the day was the year Sarah was born. He could still picture it vividly, like a snapshot preserved in his mind. He and Amelia had been newly married, their relationship rocky but held together by the promise of their daughter. Their apartment was small, the wallpaper peeling in the corners, but that night, none of it mattered.

Amelia had baked him a cake. It wasn’t anything fancy—a bit uneven, with frosting that leaned to one side—but Joel had loved it all the same. She had dimmed the lights and sung "Happy Birthday" softly, her voice barely above a whisper as he held Sarah in his arms. Joel blew out the single candle with a quiet wish: that this fragile moment of happiness might last forever.

After cake, he had sunk onto the couch, Sarah nestled against him, her rhythmic breathing lulling him into one of the most peaceful sleeps he’d ever had.

Joel hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the next thing he knew, Amelia was shaking him gently awake, her fingers brushing against his cheek.

“Come on, Joel,” she’d murmured. “Go to bed. You’ve got work in the morning.”

The next morning, Joel was stirred from sleep by the sound of Sarah’s crying. It was sharp and persistent, cutting through the fog of his exhaustion like a knife. His eyes fluttered open reluctantly, his body heavy with the weight of another long day ahead. He lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling as the cries continued, loud and unrelenting. Something felt off, though he couldn’t quite place what it was.

“Amelia?” he called out groggily, his voice rough from sleep.

There was no response. The silence, save for Sarah’s escalating wails, gnawed at the edges of his unease. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Joel sat up, running a hand down his face as if to wipe away the lingering haze of sleep. His chest felt tight, a faint, inexplicable tension coiling there.

Pushing himself to his feet, he shuffled toward Sarah’s crib in the corner of the room. She was red-faced and wriggling, her tiny fists flailing in frustration. Joel bent down, scooping her up with the practiced ease of a man who had done this many times before.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured softly, rocking her gently against his chest. Her cries tapered off for a moment, replaced by hiccuping gasps, but it didn’t last. Soon enough, the wails returned, sharper and more insistent.

Joel recognized the sound immediately—it was hunger. The kind of cry that pierced through everything else, demanding attention. He adjusted her in his arms, cradling her close as he moved toward the kitchen.

“Amelia?” he called out again, louder this time, his voice tinged with irritation and concern.

Still no answer. His eyes scanned the dimly lit apartment, searching for any sign of his wife. That’s when he saw it—a piece of paper sitting on the kitchen table. Bright yellow, stark against the dark wood, it seemed out of place, almost glaring in the soft morning light.

Joel’s stomach twisted. A sinking feeling settled deep within him, heavy and cold. Shifting Sarah in his arms, he stepped closer, his boots creaking softly against the worn floorboards.

The note was short—just five lines scribbled hastily in Amelia’s familiar handwriting. Joel’s eyes moved over the words, his heart pounding in his chest as he read them.

She was gone.

The words blurred for a moment as the meaning sank in. She was gone. Amelia had left, abandoning both him and Sarah with nothing more than a half-hearted apology. The note was filled with excuses: This life isn’t for me. I need something more. I’m sorry. I can’t keep lying to myself. I can’t do this anymore.

Joel’s hand tightened around the paper, crumpling it as Sarah’s cries rose again, loud and demanding. The sound seemed to echo in the hollow space inside him, amplifying the storm that had begun to rage in his chest.

“Bullshit,” he muttered, his voice low and trembling with barely restrained fury. He tossed the crumpled paper onto the floor, watching it roll to a stop near the edge of the table.

The anger came fast and hard, crashing over him like a wave. It wasn’t sadness he felt—not yet. It was anger, raw and consuming. Anger that Amelia had been so cowardly, so selfish. She had left a note, five lines scrawled on a piece of paper, and walked away without looking back.

His fists clenched at his sides as his jaw tightened. She hadn’t just abandoned him—that, he could handle. Their marriage had been strained for a long time, both of them going through the motions more out of necessity than love. But Sarah? She had left their baby.

How could she walk away from their daughter, from the tiny life they had created together? Joel’s thoughts spiraled, his mind racing through every moment he had tried to make things work, every sacrifice he had made to ensure their family had a future.

Was it his fault? Had he pushed her too hard? Or had she been looking for an escape all along?

The questions churned in his mind, but Joel didn’t have the luxury of dwelling on them. Sarah needed him, her cries piercing through the fog of his thoughts. He held her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead as he rocked her gently.

“It’s just us now, baby girl,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “But I promise you, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll take care of you. Always.”

And in that moment, his anger hardened into resolve. He didn’t have the answers, and he didn’t have Amelia. But he had Sarah, and that was all that mattered.

From the moment Joel heard Sarah’s first cry, the sound pierced through him like a revelation, sharp and clear. In that instant, his entire world shifted. It was as though the pieces of his life, fractured and disorganized, suddenly rearranged themselves around this tiny, fragile being. Everything else fell away—the struggles, the exhaustion, even his own doubts. There was only her.

When he first held her, she felt impossibly small in his arms, her body warm and soft, her head nestled against his chest. She opened her tiny mouth, her cries quieter now but still insistent, and Joel couldn’t help but smile through the exhaustion. Her fist closed around his thumb, her fingers barely curling all the way, and he felt his breath hitch in his throat.

That was it. That was the moment he knew. Nothing else mattered. Not his job, not his own dreams or fears. Sarah was his purpose. She was everything, and he would do anything—everything—to protect her, to make sure she would always be safe and never want for anything.

He threw himself into work with a ferocity he hadn’t known he possessed. Early mornings turned into long nights, and he pushed through each shift with a singular thought in his mind: This is for Sarah. He dreamed of a better life for her, one where they wouldn’t have to struggle. He wanted her to grow up in a house with a backyard, not in the cramped apartment they currently called home.

But his hours away from home weighed heavily on Amelia. She spent most days cooped up in the apartment, caring for Sarah alone. Joel knew it wasn’t easy for her. He saw it in the lines of exhaustion etched into her face, the way her shoulders sagged by the end of the day.

One night, after a particularly grueling shift, Joel came home to find Amelia sitting on the couch, her head resting against the back of it, her eyes closed. Sarah was asleep in her crib, the faint hum of the baby monitor the only sound in the room. Joel sat down beside her, placing a hand gently on her wrist.

"You'll see," he murmured, his voice soft but firm. "Time's gonna fly by, and before we know it, she'll be runnin' around, goin' to school, talkin' our ears off. So fast, we'll wish we could turn back time and have her be a baby again."

Amelia opened her eyes, her gaze tired but sharp. “That’s easy for you to say,” she replied, her tone edged with bitterness. “You’re nobody’s barf towel, Joel. Sometimes I wish she’d grow up faster.”

Her words hit him harder than he expected, like a quiet punch to the gut. Joel felt a pang of guilt and tried to see things from her perspective. He knew she was overwhelmed. He knew his long hours left her bearing the brunt of the daily grind at home. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t fully understand. For him, those fleeting moments with Sarah—feeding her, rocking her to sleep, holding her tiny hand—were treasures.

“I know it’s hard,” he said after a long silence, his voice heavy with sincerity. “But we're doing this for us, for her. So we can have more. So she can have more.”

Amelia sighed and stood up, muttering something about needing a shower. Joel stayed on the couch, his head in his hands. He was doing everything he could, wasn’t he? But the cracks in their relationship were growing deeper, and he didn’t know how to fix them.

And then, a week later, she left.

Joel didn’t care that Amelia had abandoned him—not really. Their relationship had been hanging by a thread for months, maybe longer. But the fact that she had walked away from Sarah? That was something he could never understand. How could a mother leave her own child?

Everything got harder after that. Joel had to reorganize his entire life. He adjusted his shifts at work, found a nanny he could afford, and learned to function on less than two hours of sleep. Every day was a balancing act, and every night he fell into bed completely spent, knowing he’d have to do it all over again the next day.

He was alone. Completely, utterly alone. His parents were long gone, and his friends were too busy with college and their own lives to offer more than the occasional word of encouragement. Tommy tried to help, moving in with him for a while to lend a hand. But Tommy was still just a kid himself, more often getting into trouble than out of it. Sometimes it felt like Joel was raising them both.

But no matter how hard it got, Joel never wavered. Sarah was his everything, his reason for pushing forward even when it felt impossible. And when he looked at her—her tiny smile, her bright, curious eyes—it was all worth it. For her, it would always be worth it.

Why would Joel want to celebrate his birthday? For years, the date had meant nothing to him. If anything, it was a day he preferred to forget. Even Amelia’s absence, once a source of raw pain, had dulled into something distant, like an old scar that no longer ached. He was better off without her, he often told himself. Why would he want someone in his life who could abandon her own child so easily, without a second glance?

Eight long years of birthdays came and went, each one passing without fanfare. That is, until you showed up.

It was a warm afternoon when Brenda knocked on Joel’s door, Ian trailing behind her with a small red-wrapped package in his hands. You stood next to them, your bright smile lighting up the quiet entryway as if it had been waiting for this exact moment.

“Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?” you asked, your voice full of playful reproach. You’d only been living next door for a couple of months, but you spoke as though you’d known him far longer.

Joel shrugged, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Didn’t think it was important.” His tone was casual, almost indifferent, but the way his eyes darted to the floor betrayed the discomfort he felt about the subject.

“Well, that won’t do,” you said with a firm nod, your excitement practically radiating off you. “We have to throw you a celebration.”

Before he could protest, you’d already begun making plans, dragging Tommy—who was lounging on Joel’s couch—into your whirlwind of preparation. In what felt like record time, you had organized a small dinner in your backyard, insisting on inviting the people Joel cared about most. Brenda, Ian, and of course, Tommy, were enlisted as guests, and Sarah eagerly volunteered to help with the preparations.

The two of you spent the afternoon in your kitchen, Sarah perched on a stool as she carefully spread cream over a sponge cake. It wasn’t perfect—some spots were uneven, and the red lettering that spelled “Happy Birthday Joel” varied wildly in size—but the effort was unmistakable. You even let Sarah place the single candle right above the word “birthday,” despite her giggles about it looking “a little crooked.”

In the backyard, you strung up Christmas lights, their warm glow transforming the space into something almost magical. A flowered tablecloth adorned the table, set with colored glass plates and matching glasses. It was simple, yet charming, and as Joel stepped outside to see what you had done, he felt an unfamiliar tightness in his chest.

You stood there, watching him expectantly, your hands clasped together as if bracing for his reaction. Joel scanned the scene—the lights, the table, the cake—and then his gaze settled on you. He felt overwhelmed, unaccustomed to this kind of attention, to the idea that someone had gone out of their way to make him feel special.

“Do you like it?” you asked softly, a hint of uncertainty creeping into your voice.

Joel cleared his throat, nodding slowly. “Yeah,” he said gruffly, his voice betraying a mix of gratitude and awkwardness. “It’s… it’s nice. Real nice.”

What he couldn’t say—what he didn’t know how to say—was how much it meant to him. No one had ever done something like this for him before. Sure, Tommy would swing by with a gift and some good-natured ribbing, and Sarah always crafted him heartfelt gifts, usually paired with a movie night of her choosing. But this? This was different. It wasn’t just thoughtful; it was intentional.

You had done it simply to make him happy, without expecting anything in return. And that was what stayed with him.

A few weeks later, when your birthday rolled around, Joel found himself returning the gesture. He spent the better part of the day barbecuing in his backyard, carefully grilling your favorite dishes and picking up a cake from the bakery he’d overheard you mention. He wasn’t the most expressive man, but he wanted to show you how much your efforts had meant to him.

The party was small but warm, filled with laughter and good food. Joel watched you closely, noting the way your eyes lit up when you saw the cake, the way you laughed with Sarah and Tommy, the way you seemed lighter somehow.

It was only a few days later, during a quiet evening, that you opened up about your own complicated feelings toward birthdays.

“You know,” you began, sitting on Joel’s porch with a mug of tea in your hands, “I’ve never really liked my birthday either.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah? How come?”

Your birthday was always a delicate subject, one you rarely spoke about. The day carried a weight too heavy for celebration.

When you were fourteen, just two days before your birthday, your father passed away after a year-long decline that left him a shadow of the man he had once been. Your relationship with him had never been easy. There was a distance between you, a lack of understanding that made every interaction fraught with tension. He didn’t understand you, and you couldn’t bridge the gap to reach him. So, when his illness took hold, it wasn’t just his body that deteriorated—it was also any chance of finding common ground. Watching him grow weaker day by day, his spirit worn thin, felt like mourning someone you had never truly known.  

When he finally passed, it was strange. The grief was there, sharp and biting, but layered with regret, guilt, and a strange hollowness. Your mother, shattered by the loss, withdrew into her own anguish, locking herself in a grief so consuming that it swallowed her whole. She became a ghost of herself, distant and unreachable, leaving you to navigate the loss alone.  

Somehow, you were left adrift. With your father gone and your mother emotionally absent, the world seemed colder. The rest of your adolescence blurred into a haze of solitude. Nights became long and heavy, filled with tears that no one heard. Birthdays, once a day of excitement, became unbearable.  

“It’s not worth celebrating,” your mother had said one year, her voice hollow. “What’s the point? It’s just a reminder of what we lost.”  

And you believed her. You let the day pass quietly, pretending it didn’t matter. But deep down, it did. Every year, the ache in your chest returned, as if your father’s death had marked you in ways you couldn’t escape.  

When you moved to Austin, Cassie was determined to change that. She insisted on throwing you a party, bringing her friends together and decorating her small apartment with balloons and streamers. She wanted to make the day special, to give you the joy she believed you deserved. But instead of feeling included, you felt like a stranger in the crowd. The forced laughter and cheerful chatter only amplified the loneliness you carried inside.  

Joel noticed it immediately. From the first glance, he saw something in you that mirrored his own quiet pain, his own complicated relationship with birthdays and loss.  

With the Millers, though, it was different.  

Joel had a way of pulling you out of your own head. He didn’t ask if you wanted to celebrate; he simply turned on the music, took your hand, and pulled you into the courtyard to dance.  

“C’mon, don’t make me look ridiculous all by myself,” he teased, his hand warm and steady on yours.  

“I’m terrible at this,” you protested, laughing despite yourself as he spun you clumsily.  

“You think I’m any better?” he shot back, making an exaggerated face of concentration that sent you into a fit of giggles.  

His other hand rested lightly on your waist, tickling just enough to make you squirm.

“Stop!” you laughed, swatting at him, but Joel only grinned, spinning you again until you were both dizzy and breathless.  

The weight in your chest began to ease. Slowly, the familiar sadness faded, replaced by something you hadn’t felt in years—a glimmer of happiness. The music, Sarah’s laughter in the background, and Joel’s insistence on making you smile wove together into a moment so genuine that you couldn’t help but let go, even if only for a little while.

With the Millers, you felt something you hadn’t in years: belonging. Joel, Sarah, even Tommy—they made you feel like you were part of something bigger, something that mattered. For the first time in what felt like forever, you were happy. And for once, your birthday didn’t hurt. 

On the afternoon of his birthday, Joel made it a point to leave work early, a rare indulgence. The day had been grueling, his body carrying the weight of hours spent hauling, lifting, and concentrating through a persistent ache in his shoulders and arms. By the time he pulled into the driveway, fatigue clung to him like a second skin.

But the moment he stepped through the door, all of that began to melt away. The warm, savory aroma of your cooking wrapped around him like a welcoming embrace, teasing his senses and making his stomach rumble in anticipation. From the kitchen, he could hear Sarah's laughter, a sound so bright and carefree it seemed to lift the heaviness in his chest. And then there was your voice—soft and melodic, weaving effortlessly into the rhythm of his home, a sound that had come to symbolize comfort itself.

He paused in the doorway for a moment, letting it all wash over him. The tension in his shoulders began to ease, his mind quieting in a way it rarely did. Home. It wasn’t just the place—it was you, Sarah, the life you all shared within these walls.

As he stepped further inside, Joel noticed something different about you that evening. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on but felt instantly. He always noticed you—more than he liked to admit. His gaze often lingered longer than it should, studying the way your lips curved when you smiled, the way your hands moved with quiet purpose, the subtle shifts in your voice when you were excited or uncertain.

Tonight, though, it was as if the world had conspired to make you glow. You wore that dress he liked, the one that clung just enough to hint at your shape without being overdone. The warm light from the kitchen seemed to catch on your flushed cheeks, making your skin look soft, almost luminous. Your hair was tied up, exposing the graceful curve of your neck and the delicate, fine hairs at its nape.

He found himself staring, his fingers itching with the desire to reach out and touch that spot just beneath your ear, to let his thumb trace the softness of your skin. He could already imagine the way it would feel, the warmth of you under his touch. But Joel stopped himself, swallowing hard and forcing his hands into his pockets.

His tongue betrayed him then. A slip—a small comment, laced with more emotion than he intended.

The three of you sat around the table, and Joel took his first bite of the stew, eyes widening, a kind of bliss washing over his face. He tossed his head back and groaned.

“Sweet Glory,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. “Thank you for this.”

“Oh, come on,” you teased, though part of you couldn’t help but feel a pang of something between irritation and flattery. “You say that every time I cook for you.”

He shook his head, smiling as he chewed, then spoke softly, his gaze slipping downward.

“I’m not exaggerating—I love everything you do.” A pause, and then a quick, awkward clarification. “I mean, everything you cook.”

You didn’t seem to notice, though, your focus elsewhere. But Joel felt the heat rise in his face, a faint flush creeping over his cheeks. He turned away quickly, clearing his throat as if that could erase the moment. Joel hadn’t meant to say it aloud. The words slipped out before he could stop them, his voice soft but heavy with emotion.

I love everything you do. It wasn’t just a compliment—it was a confession, unguarded and dangerously close to exposing everything he’d tried so hard to bury.

If someone had told Joel how that night would end, he would have laughed, dismissed the thought outright. It was unthinkable, a fantasy he’d never let himself fully entertain. But as the hours unfolded, something inside him began to shift—subtle at first, like a whisper at the edge of his mind, then growing louder and more insistent.

But then came the emotions, rushing in like a storm—anger, jealousy, desire, all tangled together in a mess he couldn’t untangle. The anger was irrational, sharp and sudden, a flash of heat that burned at the thought of you smiling like that at someone else. The jealousy felt even worse, a bitter ache in his chest at the mere idea that you might one day belong to someone else, someone better than him. And the desire... it was unbearable. It had been building for so long, so quietly, that he hadn’t noticed it until it was too late to ignore.

Something broke inside him.

“Fine. I’ll leave you alone, and maybe then you can run across the street and fuck Travis Dunn, if you want it so badly,” he shot back, impatience tinging his voice as he turned toward the still-open door.

The words hit you like a slap. You froze for a moment, the anger washing over you in a wave. Before you could think twice, you rushed up to him, gripping his arm tightly to force him to turn and look at you.

“What the hell did you just say, Joel?” you hissed, grabbing his shirt, fingers bunching in the fabric as you backed him up until his shoulders hit the wall by the door. “Go on, say it again!”

Your breaths came fast, chest rising and falling as the rush of anger pushed tears to your eyes. You couldn’t believe he’d actually spoken to you like that, cutting right through to something raw and vulnerable. He’d never spoken to you like that before. Maybe he was a little drunk, or maybe he was losing his mind.

But there was no softness in his gaze, no hint of the Joel you knew. His stare was sharp, almost wild with something simmering underneath, something you didn’t understand. To you, this whole argument made no sense, at least not his reaction.

Joel’s grip on your wrist was firm, almost grounding, as he pulled you closer, pressing your palm against his chest. “I can’t stand that asshole, but go ahead and fuck him if you want,” he spat, voice laced with frustration. “Go fuck the whole neighborhood while you’re at it. I really don’t care anymore.”

His words were harsh, designed to cut, but they only drew a laugh from you—sharp and derisive. A tear slipped down your cheek, uninvited.

“What, did you ever care?” you asked, your voice trembling on the last syllable, thick with emotion.

But Joel didn’t respond, and the silence ignited a fire in you, something that swirled beneath the surface, ready to boil over.

“Do you know why we’re friends, Joel?” Your pulse quickened, each beat like a drum in your ears. “Because it just works between us. There are no ulterior motives. You know why? Because I don’t like you like that. You’re not even my type, and you never will be. And no, I’m not jealous that you’re dating some woman you’ll probably dump in less than a month, so get the fuck over it and leave me the fuck alone!”

He wasn’t your type. He wasn’t your type. He wasn’t your type? The words echoed in Joel’s mind, each repetition a fresh sting to his ego and a sharper stab to his heart. But your eyes told him a different story. They mirrored his own intensity, and that unspoken connection was undeniable. 

In that moment, he surrendered to an impulse he had fought to suppress countless times before. He kissed you, a kiss laden with every restrained emotion, and carried you to your room. The world around him blurred; it felt surreal, as if he were watching himself from a distance. Every sense was heightened, every touch electric, his entire being focused solely on you.

You were perfection to him. The intoxicating scent of your skin, the soft texture of your lips, the sweet taste of you—all of it was exquisite, overwhelming. When he was finally inside you, he felt as if his heart might explode from the sheer intensity of it. The warmth, the sweetness, the way it consumed him—it was almost too much to bear, almost too beautiful to be real. Every sound you made unraveled him further, pushing him closer to a peak he had thought unattainable. The desire that coursed through you felt almost tangible, as if he could taste it on his lips with every kiss.

As you drifted off to sleep beside him, your face looked so peaceful, so heartbreakingly beautiful, that Joel couldn’t resist. He leaned in, brushing the gentlest of kisses across your forehead, your cheeks, your eyelids—each kiss a whisper of affection, as though trying to capture this fleeting moment. Only when the rhythm of your breaths lulled him into calm did he finally surrender to sleep at your side.  

But deep in the stillness of the night, he stirred awake. His emotions, once overwhelming, had quieted; his mind, no longer softened by the haze of passion, now felt sharp and cold. And then it struck him—a suffocating wave of fear.  

What had he done? What had he done? The question echoed relentlessly in his mind, each repetition laced with dread. He had crossed a line, dragging you into his chaos, disrespecting you in a way that made his stomach twist with guilt. He had shattered the bond you shared—a friendship he had held in the highest regard. He had taken something pure and irreversibly tainted it with his own selfish desires.  

Panic surged through him, relentless and unforgiving. How could you ever look at him the same way again? Surely, you wouldn’t want him in your life anymore. The thought of losing you gutted him.  

A storm of thoughts battered his mind as he quietly slipped out of your house like a ghost, each step feeling heavier than the last. The walk back to his own home was a blur of regret and self-recrimination. By the time he shut the door behind him, the weight of what he had done pressed down on him completely. He knew, with a sinking finality, that he had ruined everything.

He had ruined everything. 

And four days later, the dagger in his chest sank even deeper.

Swallowing hard, you tasted the salt of your tears, and it burned your throat like an unwelcome reminder of the turmoil within.

“I’m not sure I can be your friend anymore, Joel,” you confessed, your voice shaking with the weight of your admission.

He shook his head, disbelief flashing across his features as a weak smile broke through the hurt. It was as if he couldn’t quite fathom the words that had just escaped you.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do,” you asserted, each syllable a battle against the rawness in your chest.

“No, you don’t,” he countered, stepping back just inches, his tone laced with incredulity. The mocking sneer that crept onto his face felt more like a mask than a reflection of his true feelings, and yet, the moisture pooling in his eyes betrayed the battle raging within him.

You regarded him in silence, the atmosphere thickening with unspoken words as you watched his smile fade into something that was almost painful. It twisted his features, morphing into a look of discomfort that hung between you like an unsaid apology. He remained still, his gaze locked onto yours, waiting for you to break the tension with a word or a gesture. The sight of him like that burned inside you, igniting a longing to rewind time, to swallow your questions, to let him live his life free from the weight of your curiosity and the tangled feelings that had blossomed between you. But that wasn’t an option; the reality of your situation loomed large and unavoidable. You had to confront the truth: he didn’t feel the same way about you, and for him, sleeping with you felt like a transgression, a sin, a burden he couldn’t carry.

“Joel, please,” you began, your voice cracking under the pressure of your emotions. A tear slipped down your cheek, salty and bitter, tasting of the anguish that your words carried. “I can’t be your friend anymore. I can’t do this. I’m sorry, I really am, but you’re breaking my—” You hesitated, swallowing hard against the swell of grief that threatened to overwhelm you. “I think this is over.”

"She just needs time," Joel told himself, clinging to the fragile hope that things would eventually mend. But that comforting thought crumbled when he saw how easily you seemed to move on, as if he no longer existed in your world. You carried on with your life without so much as a glance in his direction, each moment of indifference cutting deeper. It felt like a deliberate erasure, and Joel's heart shrank under the weight of it, splintering all over again. Did you truly not want him in your life anymore?  

His decision to break things off with Sienna had come with a strange clarity. Her warmth, her charm—things he had once appreciated—now felt hollow, like they no longer belonged in his life. Joel couldn’t pretend otherwise. He couldn’t lie to her, tell her everything was fine, and carry on as though his heart wasn’t consumed by someone else. She deserved more than being a placeholder for feelings he couldn’t shake.  

In the aftermath of the breakup, Joel thought he might finally find the courage to come to you. To apologize, to face you honestly. He imagined himself laying it all out—his regret, his fear, and the possibility of something more. Perhaps, if you felt even a fraction of what he did, you could both explore the connection that had ignited that night. He had told himself he was ready to risk it all, to bare his soul if you would give him even a sliver of space to do so.  

The breaking point came when Tommy casually mentioned you and Travis. The words were innocuous, but the storm they unleashed within Joel was anything but. Something dark and bitter began to fester in his chest—jealousy, anger, resentment? He couldn’t quite name it, but it clawed at him, a toxic mix that he struggled to contain. It wasn’t his proudest moment. It wasn’t even close.  

“What’s this?” he asked, a note of suspicion in his voice.

Tommy leaned back, watching him with a faint smile playing at the edges of his mouth.

“Your girl next door gave it to me,” he replied, each word almost too measured. “Said it was yours.”

For a few moments, Joel just stood there, as if frozen, processing Tommy’s words. He looked down, finally lifting the lid and peering inside. There, neatly folded, was his sweatshirt—the one he’d handed you one chilly evening when he picked you up from work. Beneath that was his old Pearl Jam t-shirt, the one you’d borrowed after a swim in his pool last summer. His favorite coffee mug sat tucked in the corner, along with a few CDs, a dog-eared paperback he’d loaned you weeks ago. Each item seemed to carry its own little echo of the time he’d spent with you.

After a few seconds, Joel placed the lid back on the box, sliding it away from him with a muted thud. He kept his expression steady, but his jaw was set, and his eyes remained fixed on the counter.

“When did she give it to you?” he asked, his voice strained but steady.

“A few moments ago,” Tommy said with a shrug, holding back a smirk as he noticed the tightness in Joel’s expression. “Saw her walking back from Dunn’s house, actually.”

Joel let out a dry, sardonic laugh, a smile twisted in disbelief. "Right. Of course."

"Actually," Tommy said, savoring another spoonful of ice cream, "he walked her to the door, all sweet-like. Gave her the whole mushy goodnight routine—kiss, movie shit." His gaze stayed fixed on the bowl, though Joel could see the glint of mischief there, Tommy barely holding back a grin.

Joel’s fingers drummed on the counter, his gaze hardening. “She must be happy then,” he muttered.

Tommy didn’t look up, just continued with his ice cream, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Sure she looked that way to me.”

“Like I care,” Joel muttered, his gaze fixed hard on the box beside him, fingers curling against the edge as if steadying himself. “I can bet everything I’ve got she doesn’t even like him that much. That guy isn’t worth it, and she knows it.” 

Tommy’s mouth quirked with amusement as he leaned back against the counter.

“Too bad that’s not up to you,” he said, casually pushing Joel’s buttons, almost like he enjoyed watching his brother’s patience fray. “She looked happy. And for what it’s worth, in her own words, she does like him.” 

Later, in the solitude of his room, Joel tucked away the box—the one filled with memories and unfinished gestures. He couldn’t bear to look at it, to confront what it represented. Instead, he tried to distract himself, but the emotions that swirled within him refused to be ignored. But he didn’t. Fear, hesitation, and the unrelenting weight of what-ifs kept him rooted in silence.

What Tommy told him shattered any remaining hope Joel had of making things right with you. Whatever fragile intentions he had to mend the rift between you dissolved in an instant, crushed under the weight of his own assumptions.  

You had moved on, hadn’t you? It seemed so, as if you had turned a new page in your life without a second thought. Apparently, that night with Joel hadn’t meant as much to you as it had to him. The realization struck like a knife, twisting with every memory of that fleeting connection he had held onto so desperately. Anger bubbled up alongside the pain, a raw, bitter cocktail of emotions that left him reeling. He wanted to show you that he could move on, too—that he wasn’t as affected, that he could be indifferent.  

But the act fell apart every time he saw you with Travis. The sight of the two of you together hollowed him out. You looked happy, didn’t you? The way you smiled, the ease with which you leaned into Travis—it was more than Joel could bear. Each moment of apparent joy between you and this other man chipped away at something inside him, leaving him feeling smaller, more fractured.  

Still, the urge to seek your forgiveness lingered. It gnawed at him, the desire to bridge the gap and find some way to fix what had been broken. But every time he mustered the resolve to approach you, his feelings betrayed him. Anger surged to the surface, overpowering the vulnerability he had tried so hard to embrace.  

Instead of mending things, he withdrew, consumed by resentment and heartache. The man he became in those moments was someone he didn’t recognize—someone fueled by a mixture of longing and bitterness, too afraid to confront the truth of what he felt, yet unable to let it go. 

“That’s mine,” he said.

“What?” you managed, almost gasping, your eyes darting between his face and his hands, as if looking for something—anything—to explain this new, impossible tension. 

Joel didn’t move. He was still, a presence that loomed larger by the second. His gaze was steady on you, tracing your body and your face, slow and deliberate.

“The flannel,” he repeated, his voice dropping lower, rough around the edges. “It’s mine.”

You looked down at the fabric, the soft, familiar warmth of it, and felt a sudden jolt. God. He was right. It was his. But it had been yours for years. You'd worn it so often, so comfortably, that you'd forgotten it ever belonged to anyone else. Maybe he'd lent it to you once, a lifetime ago, on one of those cold nights when you both sat under blankets. But he’d never asked for it back, had he? He never seemed to care, and you never thought to return it. It had just... stayed with you.

When you lifted your eyes back to him, Joel had moved off the wall, stepping toward you with slow, deliberate steps, closing the distance between you. Too close. He was too close, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body as his presence engulfed you.

“What happened?” His voice was soft, but there was a simmering undercurrent, a teasing tone that made your pulse quicken, though you weren’t sure why. “Did you forget to include it in your little box when you gave everything back to me?”

You felt a bitter chuckle bubble in your throat, an angry little sound that you couldn’t quite hold back. You shook your head slightly, irritated, your chest tight as you opened your mouth to speak, but he interrupted you, his words coming fast, sharper than before.

“Doesn’t your little boyfriend mind you wearing another man’s clothes?” he asked, his voice dripping with something like disdain, like he had been holding that question inside for far too long. His eyes darkened, gliding down to the fabric again, then to your body, before he reached forward, his fingers brushing the edge of the flannel as if testing the boundaries. “Or does he already know this isn’t the only thing of mine that’s wrapped around you?”

Later that night, Joel’s fingers entwined with Clara’s, but her hand was cold, and the contact felt unnatural. When she wrapped her arm around his, an almost visceral rejection welled up in him. Her touch wasn’t comforting; it was suffocating.

The pair walked in silence as they left the Hoffmans’ yard. Joel kept his eyes ahead, determined not to glance back. But he couldn’t help himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you resting your head against Travis’s chest, your body cocooned in his jacket. The sight made Joel’s stomach twist painfully.

This was his fault. He replayed the night in his mind, how he’d told you to take off his shirt, how he’d inadvertently pushed you closer to Travis. Regret pressed heavily on him, a weight he couldn’t shake.

“Do you like wine?” Clara’s voice broke the silence as they neared her house.

Joel turned to her, his gaze distant, his mind still lost elsewhere. His entire body felt stiff, as though rejecting even the possibility of being there.

“Actually, I should get home,” he said abruptly, his voice flat.

Clara blinked at him, her expression faltering. Her easy smile gave way to a confused grimace, but Joel didn’t try to read her emotions.

“Oh,” she murmured, awkwardly. Then, with a hesitant laugh, she added, “Why don’t you come in for a bit? We could… have some fun.” Her hand reached for the collar of his shirt, a playful but suggestive gesture.

Joel gently pushed her hand away, the discomfort etched across his face.

"I really don’t feel like it," Joel said, his voice sharper than he meant it to be, the irritation slipping through despite his effort to hold it back. "And if I’m bein’ honest, I don’t like the way you’re always throwin’ yourself at me, especially in front of everybody like that. It ain’t right, and it sure as hell don’t sit well with me."

The words hung heavily in the air, cutting and cruel. Joel knew his tone wasn’t fair—it came from anger that had little to do with Clara herself. But he didn’t care. If anything, it was a chance to end this farce, to kill two birds with one stone.

Clara’s face flushed, embarrassment washing over her features. She stammered, “Then… why did you invite me to come with you?”

"I wanted to tell you in private," Joel drawled, his voice low and steady, each word carrying the weight of his frustration. "I don’t like you, Clara. Not like that. It ain’t fair to either of us. So why don’t you just go on and find someone else, someone who actually wants what you’re offerin’?"

Her lips parted, as though to say something, but Joel didn’t wait to hear it. His feet were already carrying him away, his thoughts full of you. Always you.

He cursed himself silently, the same harsh words looping in his mind. He was always screwing up, always doing the wrong thing. Everything he touched seemed to fall apart, especially where you were concerned. It was as if he was wired to ruin everything.

He was screwing up, screwing up so bad that he kept hurting you. And he knew there was no turning back when that Saturday after the Halloween party, your eyes had locked onto his, sharp and unyielding, cutting through him like shards of glass. Your voice, heavy with pain, lingered in his mind, echoing with all the things he couldn’t fix.

"Do you think what you’re doing is right, Joel?" you asked, your tone sharper than before, slicing through the fragile quiet between you.

His brows knit together, confused, and he tilted his head slightly as if to ask what you meant.

"Do you think you’re accomplishing anything by sleeping with the women in this neighborhood?" you continued, your words rushing out faster now. "I mean, first you sleep with me—oh, the worst mistake of your life—then you sleep with Clara. And what about Sienna? What does she think of all this? You’re a selfish, irresponsible man, Joel Miller, so irresponsible." The words kept spilling, your voice trembling now, laced with both anger and something softer, something that felt like pain. "And as if that wasn’t enough, you’ve ruined us. Completely. And I hate you for that, Joel. I hate you because you’re not the man I thought you were. And i love you so much I—"

Your gaze dropped to the ground, unable to meet his eyes. The tears welled up before you could stop them, blurring the edges of your vision and leaving your cheeks hot.

You hated how raw it all felt. How exposed. And worse, how the alcohol that had loosened your tongue was no longer numbing enough to shield you from the reality of what you’d just said.

Before you could stop him, Joel���s hands came to rest gently on your arms. The warmth of his touch made your stomach flip, and it took everything in you to pull away.

“No,” you said firmly, shaking him off and turning on your heel. But you barely managed two steps before your foot caught awkwardly in front of the other, sending you stumbling.

You yelped as your palm scraped against the ground, but Joel caught your other arm before you could fully collapse. The heat of embarrassment rushed to your face as you stood quickly, brushing off your dress and refusing to look at him.

You marched toward your door with renewed determination, ignoring the sting in your palm and the sound of his voice calling after you.

“Wait,” he said, his tone softer now, almost pleading. 

But you didn’t stop. Your trembling fingers fumbled with the key, eyes fixed on the lock as if opening the door quickly enough could make him—and everything you’d just said—disappear.

The key slid into the lock on your first try, a stroke of luck you hadn’t expected. You stumbled inside, not bothering to close the door behind you. Maybe it was unconscious, or maybe some buried, foolish part of you wanted him to follow. Whatever the reason, Joel did, shutting the door softly as he stepped in, his footsteps trailing after your clumsy, rushed ascent up the stairs. His hand found your lower back more than once, steadying you whenever your feet betrayed you and your balance faltered.

When you reached your room, his presence pressed down on you, heavy and inescapable. Your chest felt tight, emotions boiling over with an intensity you couldn’t contain. The exhaustion—of everything—clawed at your insides, raw and relentless.

“Fuck you, Joel,” you spat, spinning to face him, your palms colliding with his chest in a sharp slap. The sound echoed between you, loud and angry. You hit him again, this time harder, though he barely moved, only stepping back an inch. “Fuck you. Fuck you. You’re a complete asshole, and I hate you. I hate you so much.” Your fists clenched, pounding against him now, the blows strong but harmless.

The pain in your eyes, the tremor in your voice—it shattered Joel completely. Every crack in your expression, every unsteady word, drove home the truth he had been avoiding: he had hurt you. Deeply. Irrevocably. And in that moment, the weight of his guilt became unbearable. He felt like he deserved every ounce of hatred and anger you could muster, every harsh word or cold glance. Hell, he deserved worse. He deserved every bad thing the world could throw at him.  

When you lay down on the bed, exhausted and emotionally raw, Joel felt an overwhelming urge to stay. He wanted to be near you, to watch over you, to be a steady presence even if you didn’t want him there. But your words had been clear, leaving no room for misunderstanding. Reluctantly, he obeyed, dragging his heavy feet out of your space. The weight of his body mirrored the weight in his chest as he trudged home.  

Once inside the dark silence of his living room, the self-loathing consumed him entirely. He sank into a chair, burying his face in his hands as the shame and regret clawed at him. How could he have done this to you? How could he have hurt the sweetest, kindest woman he had ever known? He replayed every misstep, every moment he let his anger or fear get in the way of treating you the way you deserved.  

Joel knew he had to make it right, no matter the cost. He had to apologize, to lay bare his mistakes and accept whatever consequences you chose to impose. Even if it meant watching you move on with Travis.  

The thought of seeing you with another man was agonizing, like a knife twisting in his chest. But Joel couldn’t ignore the truth: despite his disdain for Travis, the man made you happy. He’d seen it in your laughter, the easy way you leaned into him, the light in your eyes that Joel himself had dimmed. And wasn’t that what you deserved? Happiness, warmth, stability—all the things Joel doubted he could give you.  

He hated himself for the jealousy that still lingered, for the bitterness that coiled inside him like a serpent. But more than that, he hated himself for failing you. You deserved better. So much better. And if Travis was that for you, Joel would accept it, no matter how much it tore him apart.

But then, when you went to his house...

He would never have imagined the way your lips sought his again, desperate, hungry. Joel could hardly believe what was happening. The feel of your kiss finding him again, so warm, perfect—it was as if the world had tilted off its axis. For a moment, he thought he must be dreaming. Maybe this was all in his head, his mind playing tricks on him because he couldn’t bear the thought of you being gone. It was too perfect, too real. He convinced himself that any second now, he’d wake up and find himself alone again, lost in the hollow ache of regret.  

But no, you were there. Really there. Beneath him once again. The weight of your presence was grounding, pulling him back into a reality where everything felt possible, where maybe—just maybe—he could make things right. Your head resting on his chest, the soft rise and fall of your breath against his skin—it was everything he had wanted and more. For the first time in weeks, Joel felt at peace. His heart beat so strongly in his chest it felt as though it could burst, and for a moment, he forgot all the mistakes, all the pain. Nothing could ruin this. Nothing, least of all him.  

This time, he promised himself, he would do things right. He wouldn’t let fear dictate his choices. He wouldn’t push you away. He couldn’t. Not again.  

But just as quickly as that fragile peace had settled—

Sarah arrived, interrupting the quiet moment with a sudden presence that jolted him awake. The sound of her voice was enough to make him freeze, the peace slipping away.  

Downstairs in the living room, Joel forced himself to straighten, to steady his nerves. His hands were clammy, his pulse racing, but he masked it all. His posture was rigid, controlled, serious as always. Nothing about him would give away the chaos he felt inside.  

You looked between Sarah and him, your gaze flicking back and forth, and Joel noticed the shy smile that touched your lips. His chest tightened, but he couldn’t help but notice the softness in your expression. 

"C'mon, what do you wanna eat?" she asked. "You're staying, right?"

“I… sure, uh, I don’t—I have to do something first, okay?” you said, your voice a little unsteady, a little unsure, but there was a determination in your eyes that he couldn’t ignore.  

Sarah, ever the curious one, tilted her head, her face full of contentment, though it quickly shifted to confusion.

“What?” she asked, a hint of innocence in her voice.  

Joel, feeling the need to regain control of the situation, stood up from the doorframe. He walked over to Sarah, his hand gently resting on her shoulder, grounding himself in the familiar warmth of his daughter.  

“Why don’t you help me pick out dinner in the meantime?” he suggested, keeping his voice calm and steady, just like he always did. It was the easiest way to pull Sarah away, to give you space without making it obvious.  

Without another word, you left his house, your legs unsteady, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts, of questions. Joel watched you go, his chest heavy, knowing that what had just happened was different.

As he watched you leave, he knew one thing for certain: Sarah was going to wait for you for dinner. That, at least, was something he could count on.

[georgiapeach30513]

Two Good Reasons, Part 10

Summary: Happy Thanksgiving

Pairings: Andy Barber X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, PIV sex, creampie, "hut" Suede, sad Audrey, mean sister/aunt, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 8.6K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

You lean over your son’s hospital bed. His tiny little body somehow looks even smaller now laying here passed out and helpless. Petting over his face, and sniffling when Andy calmly walks into the room, “How’s he doing?” He kisses your temple before leaning to kiss Suede’s forehead.

“He’s asleep. He’s okay, but a few ribs have been fractured due to the CPR. Nothing unusual,” the words are so heavy leaving your mouth; it’s the only way you can say them out loud. Nothing about this is usual. To think it could have been avoided completely. “They want him to stay the night here to monitor him.”

A silence falls over the room. You’re both beyond exhausted. You’re thankful that he fell back asleep in the ambulance. “He’s hurting so much, and there’s nothing I can do for him,” Andy pulls you into his warm embrace, and you bury your face in his chest. Everything is crashing down on you at that moment. Your baby is in pain, and there’s nothing you can do.

“How’s Audrey?” you wish you could hold her. Comfort your sweet angelic girl. Now that you have had time to breathe, you think of her pitiful voice, worrying about Suede dying.

Andy pulls you back to stare at your worn face. He’s never thought you looked as old as you feel, but right now you look so tired. Exhausted beyond what sleep could give you. “Ransom called on the way over here. Linda met them at Harlan’s. She’s okay, but worried about her brother and mom. He wants to know if you’d like him to bring her here to visit for a bit?” you respond by nodding your head.

You need to comfort her, too. As much as she worries about her brother on a daily basis, you know she’s not focused on anything but Suede, wondering how he’s doing. She needs to see he’s breathing, and he’s alive. Plus, you just want to hold her. “Did she look scared? I couldn’t — Andy, he needed me more.”

“Honey, nobody blames you for having to ignore her for a moment,” you wish there were two of you.

“But she’s always getting pushed to the side for his health, and it was her birthday, and…”

“This isn’t your fault,” he interrupts. His voice is so cold as he pulls you off his chest, “None of this is your fault. You had seconds to make a decision, and because of that our boy is alive,” ours. Andy is a better father. He deserved the title.

“Can I keep Suede from Scott? I don’t want him or Audrey around them. I can’t trust them. I’ll go to jail if I have to, but I-I-I-I I can’t lose my babies.”

“Shh,” he pulls you back into a bear hug, petting over your head. “Ray is going to push an emergency custody hearing, that you won’t have to be there for. This is a life and death situation, so no. You do not have to allow Scott to see the kids. I can’t — I can’t promise you sole custody. But this is enough to have supervised visitation,” it wasn’t ideal. But it was better than nothing. You couldn’t allow your babies there with him and Taylor.

Something about the whole situation just bubbles in your gut. Things have shifted. While you don’t think things were done on purpose, lazy negligence is still a form of child abuse. You can’t risk it anymore. You won’t. Your kids deserve better than that.

Ransom clears his throat behind you, because of course Andy told him to bring Audrey by already. He knew that you needed to see your daughter as much as she needed you. Sniffling you let go of Andy. Bending over, you rush towards Audrey, and pick your tiny little girl up. Squeezing her so tightly. “Mommy, I was so scared.”

“I know, baby. I was, too. But Suedey is so strong. He’s sleeping. And his breathing is good. He’s got some small fractures, and he’s in some pain, but he’s good. I’m sorry this happened on your birthday.”

“It’s okay,” no it wasn’t. “I didn’t want a birthday party anyways. I don’t want another one ever again,” you hope she didn’t mean that. Hope that this didn’t fully ruin her thoughts on birthdays all together. “Can we still go eat? Maybe soft play?”

“Suede can’t bounce around for a little bit. His chest has to heal. But we can go to eat. We could ask a friend if they’d like to go, and Andy and Suede can do something else?” She crinkles her nose, shaking her head.

“Oh. No, that’s okay,” it isn’t fair to Suede, but it isn’t fair to Audrey either. She’s a trooper and never blames him, but sometimes you wish she wasn’t so understanding. That she would ask questions. You fear she’s just suppressing those thoughts, and perhaps one day she’ll have an outburst and hate Suede for it. “How about his favorite pizza and then a movie.”

“How about what Audrey wants?”

“It’s okay. Can I see bubba?” You respond by walking her to the side of his bed. Tilting her head as she looks at him, she reaches out a small hand to pet over his, “Did Taylor do it on purpose?”

“I think Taylor just doesn’t think sometimes.”

“Then daddy should have checked for allergies?”

“Maybe mommy should have,” Andy clears his throat, and you turn to look at him. He just shakes his head, and reaches out his hand to place it on the small of your back. Silently telling you again that this isn’t your fault. It’ll take you some time before you believe that. If ever. You’re the main caregiver, and you should have known that Scott and Taylor weren’t responsible enough. And you’re the one that made them have Suede, too.

You could have brought him later. You could have kept an eye out for him, “Doe, you’re spiraling,” find you a man that knows what you’re feeling without being told. Find one that doesn’t make you cry, that holds you when you can’t stand up. Find one that makes you a better person. A better parent. And you did.

You inhale deeply, giving Audrey a kiss, “I know. Audrey, you are the bravest five year old that I know.”

“Suede is braver.”

“He’s brave because he has a brave big sister,” she buries her face into your neck, and you feel her tears. She was so scared. Still is. “He’s going to be okay, sissy.”

“You promise?” You would make sure he was okay, and he would continue to be.

“I do, baby. Now,” you pull her back to look at you, using your hands to wipe away the excess tears on her chubby cheeks. “Do you want to sleep here with me and Andy? Suede will be going home tomorrow.”

She nods her head, holding back onto you again. “Andy, did you…?”

“I got us all a change of clothes, honey. Ransom, thanks, man,” he gives his colleague, and friend, a hard handshake, and you thank him silently.

“Thank you, uncle Ann,” Ransom steps behind you, and out of character, kisses her on her head before patting your back, and leaving your family of four. The way Audrey clings to you, you wonder if she knows that you can’t let her see her daddy as of right now. It’s just something you physically can’t do. He doesn’t deserve them. Or your kindness.

“Ouch, mama,” Suede holds onto his chest after you ask him to pick up his dirty clothes. “Huts.”

“Suede,” Andy pops his head into the bedroom. Suede furrows his brows, but leans over to pick up the discarded pajamas, and tosses them into the hamper.

“Me tied!” he whines, stomping his foot for emphasis.

“I know you’re tired, buddy. But you can’t keep using your chest hurting as a way to get out of things. The doctor said you have to start moving again,” Suede huffs out a puff of air, and sits on his bed. Crossing his arms a bit too hard, his angry face turns into a pout, and he reaches his arms up for you. “Buddy, you can’t move too fast.”

“Come here, baby,” reaching down, you collect him in your arms, rocking him back and forth, “You okay?”

“Chess. It huts,” you know it did. You saw the x-rays. See the bruising still. “Me oom. Miss it.”

“We’re just going to be gone for a week,” Andy gives him a quick kiss to his head. “Doe, we gotta get going. Let me go get the princess. We’ve got to catch our flight. iPads are charged. Snacks are packed. Suede’s medicine is in mommy’s bag. And we’re going to Michigan!”

“Aye!” He claps his little hands together, forgetting about his sore chest. Distraction was the best tactic for him.

“Princess Audrey! Are you done brushing your teeth?” Andy jumps from the side of the door, and Audrey squeals. Laughing as she puts her toothbrush on her own bathroom counter. “Mommy, Suede, and I are ready. What about you?” She nods her head, jumping into his arms. “Lights off! Let’s get our butts to the airport.”

“Andy — daddy, I’ve never flown before. Is it scary?” You grab the kids’ backpacks out of the hall, glancing at Andy and your sweet angel. Even though she’s struggling on what she wants to call Andy, you love that she still wants to call him anything. He’d taken such good care of her while you tended to Suede, and then, you’d switch, so you can spend time with her. Not having to do this alone is making life so much more enjoyable.

“Of course not. You and Suede have some toys, and your iPads…”

“Mimis,” it’s a running joke now to make sure that minis are added to iPads every time, it made all the difference to clarify that they are minis. It’s one of Suede’s favorite pastimes. “Nini and Papa!”

Time to see your parents. And sister. And brother. They hadn’t seen you since Suede turned one, and then not long after your world slowly started to change. Ignoring all the signs that Scott was no good. Even your mother told you, practically begged you not to marry him. She’d said that she had a car ready to take you away from the venue. Your dad told her to mind her business. Oh well, Nini and Papa’s here we go.

——

“Do we get to sleep in uncle Ryan’s bed?” Both kids had been full of chatter since landing. They enjoyed flying, and did well, and the first time flyer baggies you gave to each passenger went well.

“No! Me seep wif mama daddy!” The two of them trudge up the steps. Suede grunting as he pulls the suitcase that he insisted he roll. “No no Uck Yan.”

“Who is yuck?”

“Nini!” The two of them scream, dropping their suitcases on the porch, and your mom bends down to see them better. Opening up her arms for a hug.

“Easy on Suede’s chest,” she grimaces, before gently hugging them. You reach for the bigger suitcase before Andy swoops to the back of the car. He almost pushed her hand off of it.

“Let me get these. You go on,” you want to help. You’re not helpless.

“I can get one of them.”

“No,” he answers with an abrupt finality. “Go with the kids,” you don’t know how to take that comment. It kind of hurts your feelings that he was short with you. And he didn’t even smile when saying it. You can help with luggage. They were your dern suitcases anyways. You had to do it by yourself when you were with Scott.

Suede pulls his shirt down, revealing his chest bruise, and telling his Nini ouch. “Hey mom,” you say, giving her the biggest hug.

“Hey Andy,” she says over your shoulder, ignoring you to watch your fiance lug the suitcases that you could have helped him with. “I’m glad the two of you finally came to your senses. I never liked the first one.”

“Mother!” Audrey makes a face at your mom, but Suede grabs Andy’s hand, repeating my daddy. And you just want to change the conversation away from Scott, “Is Ryan here?”

“He’s in the backyard with your father. Can Suede run?” That’s all he ever does some days.

“Chess me un ast. Atch me,” he sprints into the house, stopping when he has no idea which way to go. Looking back at Audrey who walks with him, shrugging.

“Audi, keep walking all the way straight back,” you tell them, nodding in the direction to the back porch.

“Andy, why don’t you take them out back. We’ll take the luggage upstairs,” you mother smiles so sweetly at Andy. You know he’s attractive, but she didn’t have to look at him like that.

“No,” he’s being ridiculous. You can carry the damn luggage. “I’ll put it by the stairs. Doe, don’t take them upstairs,” you roll your eyes as he grabs each of your babies’ hands in one of his, and your frustration all but disappears with how sweet he looks with them. Your vision goes a bit blurry watching as they walk towards the back door.

Finally get to enjoy the thing you’ve always wanted when pain radiates through your tit, and you yelp, glaring at your mom, “You just hit me!”

“They look quite full. Are you pregnant?” the woman smirks at you. First she slaps your boob, and now she’s smirking.

“No,” you start to walk away from her. You need to pee. It was a long ride. She follows you. Meeting your every step, “Drop it, mother.”

“Mother,” she mocks. “Why won’t Andy let you carry the luggage?” It was a good question, but one you didn’t have the answer to.

“Because…”

“I called to talk to the kids the other day, and you and Suede were napping,” he was tired, and looked so snuggly. It wasn’t your fault.

“So?” What is she going on about?

“You are looking fuller.”

“I am stressed!” Does she understand the stress you’ve been under? You just moved into your new home, and there’s boxes everywhere. You’re staying at home with Suede because you have a heavy fear that he will eat something he shouldn’t. Scott hasn’t even called his children. You’re going through a divorce. You eventually will plan an elopement of sorts. You are fucking stressed.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I mean it as — I saw you pregnant with Audrey. And your boobs are sensitive.”

“You slapped my tit,” okay, Andy made the same complaint. What the hell?

“I’ll ask Andy how sensitive they are.”

“Oh my god! Do not talk to Andy about my titties. You know. I told you, I can’t have more children.”

“You know,” she smirks as you walk away from her. You have to pee. “I always thought the problem was more the limp dick you were married to,” you giggle as you sit on the toilet. Leave it to your mom who had no filter to say anything like that. “I mean, think about it, maybe your stress with being his wife caused more of your issues, and he was the main problem.”

“He gave me two kids.”

“Yeah, and you did nothing,” your eyes go blank as you stare at the sink. Finished, but not getting up. It had been too long since you had a period. You have had sex with Andy more than you ever did with Scott in a year.

“Would you wipe your puss and get out here, so I can talk to you,” you didn’t really want to. You’re having a bit of a moment, and not really a crisis, but an emergency in your brain. What did this mean? She screams your name with her mouth pressed against the door, and you wipe. Pulling your leggings up, and wash your hands.

When you open the door, your mom is just smiling at you. “Andy suspects it, doesn’t he?” He’d ask you to take a test every time you had sex if you were being honest.

“He asked me to take a test.”

“Then take one,” that sounds too easy. Too simple. And you’ve already accepted you can’t have children anymore.

“But what if…”

“It’s negative? Who cares? You’re with the man I always knew was perfect for you. You’re with the man that will give you his life, and my grandbabies. If it’s negative, you keep bumping uglies until it happens, and if it doesn’t happen, there’s other options. What are you truly scared of? Scoot to find out that Andy can knock you up, while he couldn’t.”

“Two kids. Two beautiful perfect kids. Even Suede,” your mama pulls you in for a hug. Her hands move up and down your back, while she holds you like you were still a child.

“No matter what the asshole said about Suede, that little boy is beautiful and perfect. And he doesn’t deserve to see that little boy. Never did. But aren’t you glad that life led you back to Andy, so NaNa can become daddy?” Yes. You’re very grateful that Audrey and Suede had Andy. “How about you go outside with everyone, and I’m going to get a pregnancy test, and some alcohol that you can’t have. But I do want to see how Andy reacts to you trying to drink a beer.”

“You’re so mean.”

“And you’re so pregnant. Go spend some time with your daughter. I’m sure Uncle Ryan, dad, and Andy can keep Suede occupied. Maybe you and her can go get a mani/pedi? I hear that Julie has a couple openings in about thirty minutes,” you grin, pulling her in for another hug. “I know things have been tough with Suede, but make sure my girl gets some special treatment and one on one time with mommy, too, okay?”

Nodding your head, you pull away from her, and wipe your eyes. You really want to have special time with Audrey. As mature and patient as she is, she deserves it. “Thanks, mother.”

“I really hate it when you call me that. It always sounds so derogatory. By the way, we’ve got everything Suede proof as far as food goes. But don’t hesitate to look over everything just in case,” even your parents could do this. Make sacrifices for you so, when their father couldn’t, “I don’t know how desserts will work.”

“I’m going to make him something. Audrey loves it, too. They won’t even notice the pumpkin pie,” your mother looks at you over smiling, and shaking her head. “What?”

“I don’t know how you do it.”

“If it means keeping my boy safe, I just do it. Andy is aware of his allergies. He also can read labels. And there’s still plenty of snacks in their backpacks. Suede can get a bit snacky if you don’t watch him,” but what toddler didn’t?

“Sweetheart, go get Audrey and go see Julie. Make sure she gets glitter on her tiny little fingernails. Does she ever grow?”

“She will. She’s just petite. Leave her alone,” she was so cute being tiny. Suede has nearly caught up with her height wise. You hate to think you have a five year old. You’d love to keep her tiny and innocent. So the fact that she is so tiny, you like it. Makes her seem younger. “When will Morgan be here?”

Your mom cringes as she turns away from you, “What now?” You ask, already annoyed at the baby girl. Neither of your parents want to admit how spoiled she is.

“She’ll be here the night before Thanksgiving. Ryan’s ex is bringing Cooper and Conner on Thanksgiving, so you may have to give up a room,” you didn’t care. The plan is to have the kids in Ryan’s old room with the bunks, but you didn’t care if they just wanted to snuggle up with you and Andy. Sometimes you liked it when they just wanted to be with you. “Morgan…”

“Has a problem with me getting a divorce, but not Ryan. Got it. I’m taking Audrey to get our nails done,” you and Morgan are just too different. Enough of an age gap that you just seem like you are from two different worlds. She is babied. By everyone. She really didn’t like you moving to Massachusetts. Had a few choice words to you when you left Scott. She always got along better with him anyways.

If he was any type of man, he would call your kids. You wouldn’t deny him talking, or FaceTiming them. You just didn’t want him to be alone with them. You hope he gets sunburned in Cancun. And even that didn’t cover all the ways you want Scott to suffer, but most of all, you just want him out of your life. More importantly, you’re children.

——

“Uck Yan,” your brother slowly looks towards you, narrowing his eyes at the name Suede had bestowed on him. “Me tong. Me hut. Me otay!” He uses big hands and gestures to talk about what had happened, and you cuddle in closer to Andy. Your hand rubs over his chest, while his is just slightly below your ass, caressing you gently. You’re essentially in his lap anyways. The kids are cozy with Ryan. Your parents have already ventured to bed.

“I think that my sister has some brave kids on her hand, you, too, Audi,” she doesn’t smile, but shifts uncomfortably.

“I don’t want to talk about it. Suede shh,” she gets out of Ryan’s lap, and you nearly think she’ll come to you Andy, but instead she goes to the beanbags on the floor, and of course Suede follows. Sitting closer to the tv.

“Andy, I didn’t know if I would ever see you again. You’re still as gross as I remember. Except now you don’t scramble away from each other when someone comes into a room,” you roll your eyes, but cuddle even closer to Andy. He’s always so warm. “Has he attempted to call?” Ryan looks at your leg where Andy’s grip gets even tighter, and nods understanding. “Maybe he’s scared?”

“I don’t care if he is. It’s nothing compared to how your sister and his daughter felt,” his grip softens. You keep your eye on the kids, but they have no inclination on what you’re discussing now. You have your feelings towards Scott, but you weren’t going to push them on your babies. They’ll come to the conclusion all on their own.

“I know. I just…”

“You sound like Morgan,” you stop him. Morgan always defends Scott against you. Scott is always a saint. He is perfect and can do no wrong. But where was he when Suede passed out from lack of oxygen? Where was he when his song was turning blue?

“No,” Ryan answers softly. He scoots to the edge of the sofa, and stretches. “I just don’t always see things as black and white. And I like giving people the benefit of the doubt.”

“We did,” Ryan nods to Andy. He can tell in the tone of Andy’s voice that this isn’t something he could explain away. There is no discussion. You tried with Scott, long past when you should. Your children’s health is not something you’re going to be lenient with anymore. You came too close to losing Suede.

Scott probably does feel a tinge of guilt. And maybe he is scared because he was the parent in charge. He should be scared. Him and Taylor moved into that ugly house the same day you took the final box out of there. Suede was already running to the car, while Audrey hugged your neck as the two of you stared into the front door.

If you had it your way, the kids would never be back at this house. It didn’t feel like home. It never did. You left most of the furniture, dishes, whatever you felt Scott paid for with his money. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of holding that over your head. It just feels like a time capsule of some of the worst days of your life. But some of the best when you remember Andy building a fort with them for the first time, and it’s still a favorite pastime of theirs, now they have a bigger living room to build in. New and better memories will be created at the new home.

The kids don’t have to be afraid to bring their toys in there to play. Audrey didn’t do her ‘courtroom homework’. Suede could have his hands on everything in the house. He could make a mess, and you would assist him to clean it up. The difference in the behavior is shocking. The new house — home, your home. Your home brings so much rebirth. You all needed it.

Speaking of rebirth. “Guys, I think it’s time to go to bed. Are you sleeping in uncle Ryan’s room or…?”

“Uck Yan! Me seep Uck Yan!”

“Mommy, I don’t want to sleep on the top bunk.”

“It’s okay. You can sleep on the bottom with Suede. It’s big enough. Alright, stairs, and we’ll do our tucking in, and book for the night,” they both jolt up in a fit of giggles, and head towards the stairs a bit too speedy, but they quickly slow down when Andy clears his throat. You need to learn that trick. The ability to barely do anything, and they just listen is amazing.

“Don’t forget your teeth, and me and mommy will be up in just a minute,” swoon. You find yourself growing more and more in love with him. You keep waiting on the other shoe to drop, and he surprises you with an ugly side of him. You know how protective he is, to a fault really. You know he can be quick to anger in order to protect you. But you’ve never seen his negatives affect you.

He pulls you in for a bruising kiss. Something you’ve been missing all day. He’s trying to respect your parents’ house when they’re well aware that you and Andy have sex. That’s the only details that they need to know. You pull away, smiling at him. “I’ve got a present for you.”

“Do you?” His hands roam down your back before grabbing both ass cheeks, one in each hand. “I’ve got a surprise for you, too,” you doubt his present is quite like yours. Regardless of what the answer on the test is, you know Andy will be happy you are taking one. “Alright, let's get the munchkins tucked in, so we can pretend we’re teenagers, and I just snuck up to your widow,” he wiggles his eyebrows at you. Dipping his hands between your thighs.

“You dirty old man.”

“As long as I’m your dirty old man, I really don’t care,” with a chuckle, and excitement for what’s to come, you head up the stairs to get your littlest loves tucked in. Ready to have a full week off with your favorite people in the world. Even if you weren’t sure about spending time with your sister.

You stand with your hands behind your back as Andy emerges from the Jack and Jill bathroom connected to Morgan’s old room. He smirks, trying to lean around your body to see what you have, “You go first,” he tells you, stepping right in front of you, he places his hands on your hips, and starts swaying the two of you to music that isn’t even there.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go first?” You are losing your confidence, and it’s just a pee stick. You’ve used one with Andy before. This is nothing new. You have children. The unknown is terrifying you, “You go first.”

“You are ready with yours behind your back. Mine is in the suitcase. Go on. I feel you might not like mine,” well that’s concerning. Now your interest is piqued. Is it a sex toy? A gag? Is he trying to be gross in your childhood room? It wouldn’t be the first time. A lot of firsts happened on that bed. “Doe?”

You exhale quickly before pulling the test in front of your body. Andy only stares at the box with so many emotions running through his mind. Your mom didn’t cheap out, she got the one that said pregnant or not pregnant. But your fiance is saying nothing. “I’m not saying I am. I’m just saying I think it’s time because…”

“Because you haven’t had a period in two months. Because you’re horny, and your tits are super sensitive. Because you’re super sleepy. Because your pants are getting tighter,” two months? Really.

“You know my cycle?”

“You don’t want to have sex because you’re cramping the first couple days, and you don’t even want to snuggle. And then on day three you are crawling in my lap so whiny. Yeah, I kinda figured out your cycle. Not to mention, you just smell different,” you pout up at him. He is so fucking sweet. Adorably sweet. “It’s why I didn’t want you carrying heavy things. And you’re bound and determined to ignore my need for you to take a test.”

You wiggle the test at him, and he playfully rolls his eyes. “Well, go pee on the stick, and there’s no need for me to give you my surprise because it’s the exact same thing. I was going to make you test even if it meant holding you down,” he’s so dramatic. Too dramatic honestly.

You push his hands off your hips, and walk into the bathroom, attempting to close the door when he clears his throat, “Why?” Whining just because.

“Because it brings back old memories. Pee with the door open. It’s not like I haven’t seen you in this position before. And many other positions if I’m recalling correctly,” dirty old man is right. But you’d choose him again and again.

“Fine,” you groan as you check to make sure the bathroom door on the other side is locked for some reason. Walking into the toilet alcove, and you pray. You beg. You hope and wish that it says pregnant. Not just for Andy, but for you. Audrey. Suede. The want and need to fill up your home. To make Andy a biological father, he’s already a daddy. The reality that you can have kids, and that Scott was the main problem.

With a deep breath, you lay the test on the counter, and start washing your hands as Andy steps behind you. Staring at the test, while you giggle, “Babe, it takes time. It’s not instantaneous,” not that it would take long. But his excitement is cute.

“Doe,” there’s something in the sound of his voice that makes you glance down at the test, and you gasp. Frozen as you stare at the test. You really didn’t think it would say that, “Honey, why would it be that instant?”

“Umm…well, I’m,” you can’t even think properly. This whole time you made yourself believe you were the problem. It wasn’t just you. You see as plain as the ‘PREGNANT’ on the test. It’s hard to fully believe the words, but there it is. Plain as day. “Andy?”

“Oh, honey,” he pulls you into his body, while you sob the happiest of tears. It’s just overwhelming. How many years were you told your body was the problem? And if it wasn’t the problem, would you have had a third child with Scott? You haven’t been careful with Andy since day one. But you haven’t been as stressed. You’ve been happier. “Baby, I know. I know,” he coos into your ear. “There was never anything wrong with you.”

You made yourself believe this couldn’t happen again. The girl that carried around a baby doll when she was little, and she went everywhere with you because it was your daughter. All you wanted growing up was to become a mother, and you thought that it was stripped away from you. That the man you wanted to procreate with you could never give that to him. There was always a part of you that almost believed eventually Andy would leave you for someone who could give him that.

“We’re having a baby, Doe,” his hand inches down your body before cupping your stomach. “Our baby is in there. And Audi and Suede are going to be big sister and brother. Doe, this is our baby in here,” you can’t even fully process this. A fear that you go to the doctor, and it was a false positive creeps into your mind, while Andy kisses all over your head. Pulling you back to view your red and swollen eyes before he crashes his mouth into yours.

He lifts you up from your ass, and you wrap your legs around him. Returning his desperate kisses with your own hunger as he carries you to the bed. You have Andrew Stephen Barber’s baby inside of you. You wanted to destroy the hope that was lingering in your mind for the past month because you didn’t think this was possible for you. Denying all the signs of a pregnancy because you were sure you couldn't give him a baby.

But you fucking can. You are. He drops you to the bed, and starts to paw at your underwear. He throws them somewhere behind you, and you look towards the door, making sure it is locked before he yanks his shirt off, and you stare up at his beautiful chest. You were never a titty girl, but Andy made you that way. With still his pajama bottoms on, he rolls his hips in between your thighs, and your back arches up.

Andy fucked a baby in you. There’s too much clothes that separate you, and you're pulling and tugging on his pants and underwear. Getting them down just enough to expose his hardening cock, and you grip it tightly at the base. Stroking him gently. Feeling him turn to steel in your hand before guiding him to your entrance. You run his tip through your slick, letting him know your body is ready. In one single thrust, he pushes into your warmth, lighting your body on fire.

He lays a hand over your mouth, “Shh, baby,” he draws himself out of you so slowly, but charges back in. “Doe, you’re so fucking loud,” loud? You growl at him. He feels amazing. “Your parents’ bedroom is downstairs. Maybe I should go softer since I’ve already fucked a baby…” Andy swallows deeply. His eyes become glossy, and you shove his hand off him.

“Andy. Andy, talk to me.”

“I don’t want you to think I don’t love Audrey and Suede. I will adopt them tomorrow. I will always take care of them, and you, but — I’ve always wanted to experience pregnancy with you. And you’re giving me that.”

Pulling his face down to yours you kiss away all the stray tears before returning to his mouth, “You’re giving me that, too,” you trace your tongue over his lips achingly slowly. Ignoring when he parts his mouth. “You’ve always given me so much. And I’ll always give you just as much. And I can’t wait to be Mrs. Andy Barber.”

He moans as you drag your tongue over his teeth. He meets you with his wet muscle, and you whimper at the taste of his freshly brushed teeth. Massaging his tongue with your own as he ruts into you. He’s not as deep as he normally is, but he still commands your body. This isn’t fucking. It isn’t raw. It is pure. Purely making love, and showing your love through your bodies.

There isn’t even a ton of friction. Just the two of you soaking up each other’s love and emotions. All these years of wanting, waiting, wishing is now in your grasp. The plan that you and Andy created all those years ago is now right here with you. He even told you it isn’t going to change the way he feels about Audrey and Suede, and one day they will be his legally. You have no doubt about that. Not now with your coward sperm donor unable to call them. Facing the consequences of what he did. What he allowed to happen.

You don’t give that bastard anymore thoughts as Andy rolls himself all the way in, “I won’t hurt the baby, will I?” Giggling you shake your head no, realizing now why he’d held off fully settling himself in your warmth. “You promise me?”

“I promise you,” things change to a frenzy as Andy stabs into you. Quick, hard, and all the way in. Crashing his mouth into yours so your noises won’t echo throughout the house. You did it. You both did it. You have accomplished everything that you ever wanted with Andy. Now the rest is just going to be beautiful fulfillment.

From the strange and quiet little boy, to the cocky teenager that you saw right past his fake bravado, now to the confident, protective, fierce, and super sexy man that you have fallen completely into the depths of his soul. Everything about Andy you love. Everything about the two of you, you love.

You squeak as your body tightens up, and Andy swallows all of your strangled sighs and whimpers. Tasting your pleasure on his tongue like it’s a rare delicacy. Wrapping your legs around him, you wait. Wait for his cock to go rigid, and his balls tighten up. Wait for his sticky release to fill up your belly, and your slicked up walls pulse around him. Milking every drop of his seed, and you squeeze your legs around him. Holding him in place because this is right where he belongs.

“Doe,” he pants out. WIth his forehead pressed against yours, you take a ragged breath. Spent from the day of traveling, to these overwhelming feelings. The only thing that could make this better is if he were already your husband. “Babe, what are you doing?”

His need to use pet names always makes you feel so warm and fuzzy. Home. “I’m keeping you where I want you.”

“In your cunt?”

“Is that so wrong?” He chuckles, shaking his head no, and lays the two of you to the side, so he can pet around your face. “We’ve got a baby growing in there.”

“I know. I know! I’m going to take so much care of you. I don’t want you to worry about anything. Suede’s health is a priority. Stay at home. Spend the extra time with Suede, and rest easy knowing he won’t have an allergic reaction. Hell, home school Audrey if you want to. This is what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?” Pressing a chaste kiss against his lips you nod.

“I’ll take care of us. I need all our babies safe,” Andy knows there’s some legal issues that will have to be dealt with. But he’ll worry about them later. At this moment, you’re his wife. Audrey and Suede are his children. And you just told him you’re pregnant with baby number three. “I love you.”

“I love you, Andy,” you sigh, starting to fall asleep.

“Rest. I’ll unlock the doors in a little bit,” exhaling deeply, your eyes flutter close, and you nod. He would take care of everything. He is your husband. All three kids are Andy’s. That’s the dream. The fantasy that will be a reality.

Suede sits in Andy’s lap, picking food off his plate to shove in his mouth, and Audrey leans against your body in between the two of you. You figured today would be a bit harder for her. Faces she hadn’t seen in forever, and already she asked if her daddy would FaceTime her.

Morgan keeps looking towards you or Andy, you’re unsure why. But everyone chatters, and eats the thanksgiving dinner. “Where’s the deviled eggs?” she asks, looking at your mom for approval.

“Honey, your nephew is highly allergic, and he’s had enough attacks lately,” that should be the end of the conversation, but of course the baby of the family would sigh. Ryan looks towards you rolling his eyes as he stuffs a bite of turkey in his mouth.

Everyone, including Cooper and Conner, Ryan’s teenage boys, haven’t said a word about the slightly altered meal. You didn’t even insist on it. Said that you or Andy could have Suede with you at all times, and would make sure he didn’t eat anything he shouldn’t. You helped your mom alter some of the foods so they’d be safe for him, but you never expected so many accommodations. You paid for and made each of the desserts and snacks that were safe for him. As a good parent should do.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you back here, Andy,” your mom visibly moves uncomfortably in her chair, looking towards Morgan. She is always the one that starts something. So you don’t believe her intentions are pure.

“I did. I always knew I’d be back,” he responds, and your father raises a glass in the air. “What country are you guys going to travel to next?” He attempts to change the subject, but Morgan cocks her brow.

“Ireland,” your father’s voice is so quick. Short, and almost a warning to his youngest child. Morgan is a spoiled brat that your parents coddled for far too long. And now that she’s an adult, they don’t know how to control her.

“I just thought when my sister made her vows to Scott they’d be married forever,” you bite your tongue. Giving a smile to Audrey who looks up at you. She thought today would be a safe day with talking about her dad with people she didn’t know that well.

“You know my daddy?”

“Of course, I know him,” the tone in her voice sickens you to your core. Audrey didn’t need this.

“Can you tell him to call me?” Your father clears his throat. You hope Morgan chokes on her drink of wine as she takes another sip. “He he he he he he he hasn’t called since since my bubba…”

“NaNa my daddy. Chess,” Suede interrupts. His clean hand rubs on Andy’s beard, and you see Andy go stiff. Ready to say something, but knowing this was yours to handle.

“No, the hell he’s not. That is Scott Huffman’s son,” with a quick kiss to Audrey’s head, you lean her towards Andy, and scoot your chair back, standing up at the table.

“Outside,” Morgan glares at you. Practically snarling when you say it again. “Outside, Morgan. If you want to speak to me like an adult that is fine, but you will not talk to my children like this. Let’s go,” Morgan’s chair scoots back, and you hear Ryan hoop before getting a smack to the back of his head from your mom.

You march to the backyard. While everything is more worn and old from the weather and years, not much back here has changed. You’re annoyed that this adult woman is involving your children in whatever her deal is. She can take whatever she has out on you, but not them. They’ve been through enough.

“What’s your problem?” Morgan shrugs, sitting on the porch swing, but you stay standing. Pacing around while you try and calm down. “We’ve had the most pleasant week.”

“You mean before I got here?”

“Yes! You have this undying need to hate me. And that’s fine, Morgan. I really don’t care. But when you involve my children who are going through enough right now, that’s where I draw a really big line.”

Your sister gives you an evil smirk before crossing her arms over her chest, “And whose fault is that?”

“Well, I don’t know what you mean. Do you mean the fact that Scott was a cheating piece of shit? Do you mean how he neglected my son, and he almost died? Do you mean how he is a pussy bitch and won’t call his kids?”

“Because he knows it’ll be an argument,” you shake your head no, starting to go back into the house. “No, it will be. He’ll call to talk to the kids, but you made it very clear you don’t want Suede around him. He can’t even get Audrey now. And you know she’s his pride and joy,” only for what she can do to make him look good. He didn’t love her like Andy did.

You aren’t sure where she’s getting her information, but that’s not entirely true. Scott could see his children, but he chooses not to, “I issued him with supervised visits only.”

“How is that fair?”

“How is it fair that my two year old son had fractures to his rib cage because I had to give him CPR? He’s two, Morgan. Do you remember that? Two years old. The unfairness is to my kids. I chose supervised visits, so I know that my son’s life won’t be in jeopardy. I don’t understand how you can’t comprehend that. You act like I am this evil witch, while Scott is so innocent.”

“You filed for divorce,” you squeeze the bridge of your nose. For someone in their late twenties, she’s acting like a child. “You had him, and you filed for divorce.”

“And what would you have done if you walked in on your husband being fucked by the babysitter? One that he’s still currently with.”

“You weren’t having sex with him. Everyone knows that if you don’t give it up, they’ll find it somewhere else,” you stare at her dumbfounded. There is no reason to even bring up your postpartum depression, or the fact that your son had multiple health problems. The fact that you and Scott had grown distant. Honestly, you should have filed for divorce before you caught him cheating.

“You’re an idiot. Just don’t say anything to my children. And don’t bring up Scott.”

“Why?” She’s utterly ridiculous. “Because it’ll upset little Andy? You had it all. The perfect husband, home, kids, and life, and you don’t even realize it. You didn’t love him the way he deserved.”

“Don’t bring up Scott because it upsets my daughter! And I never had any of that with him. I have that now,” Morgan rolls her eyes, and stands up abruptly. Squaring up with you. You know exactly where Audrey gets her size from. Your sister is tiny. “If you think he’s so grand,” no you won’t say it. Whatever this is between you and Morgan, she still deserves better than Scott is offering. And how awkward would family dinners be then?

“I tried,” you step away from her. “I had him,” no she didn’t. She was about to start college when you and Scott started to date. “But he had found someone that he loved so much, and he couldn’t wait for me to graduate anymore. He needed a respectable wife if he wanted in a decent firm.”

“What are you saying?” Lies. A bunch of fucking lies.

“I had Scott first. We met when he did a lecture at college. I am the one that went to law school. The one that deserves him,” oh god, you’re going to be sick. Scott was perving on college girls while you were dating. Not just any college girls, but your sister. You can’t process this. “You took him from me, just like everything else. And now you’re with someone you loved more anyways. Couldn’t wait on Andy? Is he with you for pity now?”

“Do not speak to my children the way that you did ever again. Audrey has cried for her dad. I text him, and he doesn’t respond. I call and leave voicemails, and he doesn’t respond. I have tried and tried to be the bigger person for them, but I can’t force Scott to be a decent father. Whatever happened between you and him is in the past. I don’t care. I’m the one that has children with him, so I will always have to deal with him in some way.”

“Why doesn’t Andy just adopt them?”

“You’re the lawyer, Morgan. You tell me how easy it is for people to adopt children. That’s the plan, eventually. You know. I don’t need this stress right now,” Morgan perks up a moment. Her eyes flash to your stomach that you have kept a hand on the whole conversation. “I want a divorce. I want to marry Andy. I want my kids to be happy. I don’t care about Scott. Maybe you should ask him how he’s enjoying Cancun with his girlfriend. I’m done with him. I’m done with you. I’m done with this conversation.”

You don’t care what she has to say anymore. You can’t care. You have never been happier than this week. It wasn’t about being back home. No, home is wherever your family is. Andy and the kids are your family. Learning you were growing your family by another tiny little baby made everything better. And after the doctor’s appointment, you’d tell the kids.

Morgan wasn’t going to ruin anything. Whatever. You didn’t like it, but what were you to do? If she is still hung up on that man all these years later, what could you do? How is it your problem when you didn’t know about it? And you started talking to Scott before she was even in college, so her math is incorrect. No, you didn’t introduce him to your family, but your family is sacred. He never deserved to meet them.

“Mommy,” Audrey waits for you at the edge of the table. Your dad’s hand family falls off her belly, and she rushes towards you. You pull her up, and settle her on your hip, “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, princess, everything is okay, and everything will be okay.”

“After dinner can we try daddy again?” Fuck Scott for being a coward, and leaving you to pick up everything. Fuck Morgan for brining Scott up again. More than likely he won’t answer the call. Selfish man can’t even tell his kids happy thanksgiving.

“We can,” you kiss her temple. Side eyeing Morgan as she walks back into the house.

“If he doesn’t answer, it’s okay,” you hope Morgan hears how a five year old is more mature than she is. That she understands that your child misses her father, even if he can callously ignore her. He can forget everything that happened at her birthday party, but she still has nightmares. You hope Morgan sees how Audrey’s always checking to see if Suede is breathing okay, and apologizing for not noticing him that day.

Scott and Taylor ruined her birthday because of their negligence. She will never be the same. That is a moment that will haunt everyone, including her. You just hate that you couldn’t split yourself in two and comfort her as well.

“Can we FaceTime Uncle Ann?” You sit beside your Andy, Suede already leaning back in his lap, patting his extended belly with a food covered smile. You keep Audrey in your lap, so you can share pie, and Andy places an arm around your back. He pulls you in for a quick kiss to your temple. You keep your chin up. She won’t ruin your day.

Morgan is jealous of a life you didn’t have with Scott. She can have it. Instead you’re going to wrap yourself in warmth and love with your family. A family of five. And when you return home, you’re going to give your family the best Christmas ever. Decorated beautifully, and giving your future husband what he’s always wanted. Traditions.

Next

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[lwh-writing]

If I may (forgive me, I don't know how CPS works, I had to make up names, and it's long):

As a correspondent for Casper County Child Protective Services, Julia is unfortunately used to taking plenty of calls, especially for the city of Amity Park.

Julia is also used to getting calls regarding the Fentons. At least half a dozen of her coworkers have their own personal accounts of the peculiar couple and their children, and Julia has twice had to stop by Fenton Works and assess the situation for herself. What she and her colleagues have found is a well-meaning, but feckless pair of scientists that continue to *just barely* scrape by every evaluation. If it wasn't for the fact that Jasmine and Daniel Fenton weren't so perfectly happy, healthy, and loved in their home, Julia knows that the Fenton family would've long-since been broken up.

None of this prepares her for receiving The Call.

Julia's shift ends in a little over an hour. The phone rings, and she pulls up both a new tab on her organizational software and a new page on her notepad. She hopes that this call is for something minor, and that it's the last she'll receive for the day, as she wanted to enjoy the rest of the weekend in peace.

Unfortunately, The Call is neither of those things.

"This is Casper County Child Protective Services. I am--" Before Julia can continue her usual spiel, the sound of a wailing child cuts clear across the line.

"It's Maddie Fenton," the voice on the other end says, just barely heard over the cries.

Julia sighs and begins to pull up the usual file. "What have the Fentons done this time?"

"I think you misunderstood," the voice continued, "This is Maddie Fenton. I'd like to file a--." More cries drown out Dr. Fenton's words, and soon the light sound of footsteps and a closing door can also be heard. The cries don't quite stop, but they are much more muffled.

"....are you reporting yourself and your husband?" Julia asks. It wouldn't be the first time a parent has called CPS and requested that their children be removed from their own custody. Sometimes, bad parents are just good enough to recognize when their child deserves better than them, and other times, good parents know that they are spiraling or hitting a rough patch hard enough that they cannot continue to give their children what they need. Julia has always respected those types of people the most.

"No, I...." Dr. Fenton said, "It's about my sister's son, Timothy Turner."

Julia searches for the name in the Casper County database, only to find nothing. "I'm sorry, that name doesn't appear to be in my files."

"It probably wouldn't be in Amity Park. My sister Luisa and her husband live in Dimmsdale."

Julia expanded her search to the city in question and found a Turner family living in Dimmsdale.

"Right, then. May I ask how old Timmy is?"

"He's six."

She then asked Dr. Fenton to describe the problem that led her to call CPS.

"My sister and I have not always had the closest relationship," Dr. Fenton explained, "Luisa can be a bit flighty and airheaded, making communication difficult. I'd often make a few calls, only for them to be ignored and responded to a month later. It didn't really bother me much until Luisa had a kid."

"Did you worry that your sister's tendencies would make her forgetful in regards to her child's care?"

"There were a few moments, but I didn't think they would stick," Dr. Fenton said after a moment of thought, "I thought there might be growing pains, but I guess I thought having a child might force Luisa to become more mature. But I was wrong. My sister and her husband are obviously not taking their duties as parents seriously, and I think there might be some major problems."

"Such as?" Julia egged on, grabbing a pen and preparing to jot down notes.

"From the beginning, Jack and I noticed a few odd remarks. Thomas, Luisa's husband, really wanted a daughter. When Luisa was pregnant, he would go on about all the father-daughter things they would do together. But when they had Timmy instead, it was as if Thomas and Luisa were never expecting. Thomas didn't once mention any of the activities or other things, and barely mentioned Timmy at all beyond lamenting the fact that he didn't have a 'precious babygirl'."

"That is very concerning," Julia agreed, "Is there anything else?"

"Yes. Whenever we would visit Luisa for weekends or holidays or such, we'd often find Timmy alone at the house. I took Luisa aside and told her that her son wasn't old enough to stay by himself and that he needed a babysitter. She got him one, thankfully, but when we came over next time, Timmy immediately burst into tears and told us how his babysitter would hurt him."

Julia stopped her writing. "Did you tell your sister?"

"Of course I did," Dr. Fenton said, tone irked, "But Luisa dismissed it out of hand. She and Thomas both claimed that Timmy was just lying for attention. But the way my nephew looked, I.... I just couldn't take any chances. So one weekend, about three months ago, Jack and I took the kids to Dimmsdale a couple hours early to see if we could catch the babysitter in the act. And what we found--"

A disgruntled, grunting noise came from the other end of the receiver.

"It was horrible. That vile witch of a teenager had Timmy tied up like a prized hog at a fair, and had dozens of weapons and torture instruments all laid out. We swung open the front door to see her laughing manically at Timmy's tears, nine-tails whip raised in hand. She tried to play it off, but we caught her red-handed and she knew it."

"Jack and the kids stayed with Timmy, but I took the girl aside and made it very clear that if she stepped within ten feet of my nephew again, I would tear her apart molecule by molecule. Then we waited for Luisa and Thomas to get home so we could explain the situation. They finally arrived just before midnight, the both of them tipsy from a date night out. Jack and I tried to explain the situation again, but they dismissed it. Again."

"Did you attempt to contact Dimmsdale police or CPS when you found the babysitter?" Julia asked, wondering what the fuck kind of trainwreck she was getting dragged into.

"Yes, we did," Dr. Fenton confirmed, "The police were useless. Apparently, the babysitter would sit for the officers, and they all claimed that she was an 'absolute godsend' that could 'straighten out even the most delinquent of children'. CPS wasn't much better, and when we went to try and talk with her parents, they seemed just as terrified of her as Timmy was. So Jack and I discussed our options and finally told my sister and her husband that we would babysit Timmy whenever it was needed, no charge required."

Julia made a note to report Dimmsdale CPS to Internal Affairs, all the while encouraging Dr. Fenton to continue. Not that much encouragement was needed. It seemed as if Dr. Fenton was finally releasing weeks' worth of frustration towards her sister, brother-in-law, and overall situation.

"The first time we babysat, we had to drive the two hours to Dimmsdale and get Timmy ourselves. Neither Luisa or Thomas made mention of what their plans were for pickup, or when they'd be done with whatever they were doing. They just absently told us goodbye and drove off. We packed up a few of Timmy's toys-- all of which were birthday and Christmas gifts from us, mind you --and then went back to Amity Park. It was a fun day, but once we were done with dinner, we started calling Luisa and Thomas to see where they were, and we still didn't receive an answer. We eventually decided to drive Timmy back. We came home to an empty house, and didn't leave until the Turners came in a little after two."

"The second time we babysat, Jack and I ran a bit of an experiment," Dr. Fenton confessed, "We picked Timmy up on a Friday after school, packed him a few changes of clothes, and then took him back to our place. We waited the entire weekend to see if either Luisa or Thomas would notice we had essentially kidnapped their son. They didn't call or text once. The only reason we took Timmy back to Dimmsdale was because he had school Monday morning."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Julia swore under her breath.

"And that brings us to now," Dr. Fenton said, "Jack and I picked up Timmy, but this time, we refused to leave Dimmsdale until Luisa and Thomas gave us straight answers as to where they were going, what they were doing, and when they would pick up their son. Apparently, Thomas has a Pencil Conference in Pennsylvania. They assured us that Timmy would be coming with them. Their flight leaves from the O'Hare airport at six. It is currently a quarter past four, I have been trying to call my sister for three hours and received no answer, and my nephew is crying his eyes out because he is a six-year-old child who misses his parents no matter how horrible they may be. And I just... don't know what to do."

Julia let out a shaky breath before creating a new case file and saying to the defeated-sounding woman, "You've done the right thing in calling today, Dr. Fenton."

"...thank you," she said, "I know this is the right thing for my nephew, but my sister..."

"Your sister is a grown woman who has made her choices," Julia dismissed before creating a new file, "Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but it sounds as if you and your husband wouldn't be opposed to housing Timmy as we get this situation dealt with."

"That is correct, yes. The kids love their cousin, and Jack and I just want Timmy to be happy and safe."

"Good. What I am going to do, Dr. Fenton, is contact a judge in Amity Park and tell them to grant you emergency custody of Timothy Turner. I am also going to contact the proper channels to start an investigation into the Dimmsdale CPS, the Dimmsdale police, and the babysitter who terrorized your nephew. What was her name?"

"Vicky," Dr. Fenton spat, "Vicky Carter."

"Thank you, Dr. Fenton," Julia said, writing the name down, "Now, we will try to get you emergency custody as soon as possible, but that usually takes a while. Two weeks, at the minimum."

"Thomas and Luisa said the Pencil Conference lasted a week, and that they were thinking of staying for a while to see the sights."

"Well," Julia said, wondering exactly how serendipitous the events turned out to be, "Well, then that just works in our favor. You will most likely receive another visit from Child Protective Services just to confirm that your household can support three children. After that, it would be best if your entire family could refrain from contacting Mr. and Mrs. Turner, as a legal battle to remove your nephew from their care will most likely follow. Are there any particular charges you'd like to level against the Turners?"

"Child neglect and child abandonment," Dr. Fenton answered immediately.

"Well, then we are of the same mind. Please expect a multitude of emails and phone calls in the near future."

"Of course. And thank you, for the help."

Julia said her goodbyes and rose from her desk. As she was making her way to the Internal Affairs office, a few voices called out from the breakroom.

"Uh-oh, somebody's got their business face on," Tyler teased, "Anything we should be worried about?"

"I got a call from the Fentons."

A few chuckles rose up from the room.

"What they'd do this time, cover the 'Spirit of Clean' mascot with neon green silly string?"

Julia frowned and shook her head. "Dr. Maddie Fenton called to report her sister for abandonment and neglect."

The room went quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

"Shit," Tyler murmured, "How fucked up does the case have to be for the Fentons to turn someone in?"

"You don't want to know," Julia said, turning on her heel and continuing down the hall, "You don't want to know."

✨Au ✨ Moms are sisters

[silversurfersx]

pleaseeeeee give us a part 2 of filns of anger PLEASEEEEEEJSJDHNDE IM BEGGING

Christmas pressnt to us maybe?!? 🙏🙏🙏🙏😔😔😔😔

It’s the first of December, close enough, haha

Had the beginning of this actually in my notes since I posted the first part, but I hadn’t really finshed it, but I saw a few people now ask for a part two so here it goes.

I don’t really know how to feel about this, but anyway

Happy December, guys 🎄

Films of Anger | pt. 2

Part one

sebastian vettel x schumacher!reader

summary: basically brocedes 2.0 (with a happier ending), childhood friends turned rivals turned back into friends in a sappy way

warning: a bit of angst and fluff, swearing

It's been weeks, almost months, since you last spoke to Sebastian and it started to get to you. You weren't used to this kind of cold distance.

Distance as such was never much of a problem, seeing as both of you were busy in different places around the world. But this was not like those times.

You saw Sebastian almost all the time, he was always there like your own shadow, but just like it, he didn't speak a word to you. He didn't even dare to look at you (at least not when you were). He only ever did look when he knew you weren't.

There was a heavy feeling building up in his chest when he noticed you around and wanted to talk to you, hang out with you, just like you always did, but something stopped him.

You felt similar. You wanted your best friend back. The one who would always play video games with you after training. The one you would sneak out with to eat stuff you weren't supposed to. You wanted your other half back. The one that was so close yet so far out of reach. It pained you to look at him and there were times, especially after a bad race, when all you wanted to do was run to him for comfort. But you couldn't. Or at least you felt like you shouldn't.

Michael watched the whole situation from the outside. He saw the longing looks the both of you threw at each other. His own heart felt heavy at the thought of your friendship ending. Corinna and him witnessed the joy brought to your face whenever his name was called. Though now there wasn't anything like it, quite the opposite actually. And it was painful to witness for both him and his wife, knowing that the tight bond knitting the two of you together was broken over something like that. They wanted to do something to stop it from breaking any further, but both felt like only you could do that.

Your brother and sister alike noticed the lack of Sebastian around. Mick and you were playing a game of one on one, something you had done since he was very young. Both inspired by your fathers own love for football.

"Why don't you hang out with Seb anymore?" He asked shooting the ball towards your goal, but you blocked.

You didn't want to tell Mick what truly had happened between the two of you, because you weren't really sure either. Dribbling past him, you used the distraction as a way to hold off your answer. Needing a moment to think anyway.

Of course you had an accident, which you still didn't think was on you, but that wasn't new. The two of you had a few crashes over the years, sometimes caused by either one of you, but you always reconciled. But not this time. Something was different. Or maybe it was just you. Maybe the two of you had just drifted apart over the years, at minimum speed, that it only took one moment of anger from the both of you to cut the string that held you close.

"I don't really know Micky. We had a fight and need some time to calm down, I guess." You answered your brother, who knocked the ball away from you.

"Hey!" You shouted watching him kick the ball inside the net of your goal.

Mick grinned at the goal, before turning back to you. "But you are still friends, right?"

You didn't answer, not sure yourself. It still felt like you were friends, even if neither of you spoke. You reckoned that that would never change. But you didn't know how he felt, so you just answered for yourself. "Yes."

"Good. You too sappy without him." Mick nodded, taking the ball, you had just talked out of the net with your feet, away from you and once again dribbling it away from you, once again scoring. You laughed shaink your head at his cheekiness.

"There was a time when I used to beat you all the time."

"Yeah, when I was five." Mick chuckled, preparing to once again take control of the ball.

"Ey, be quiet." You gently pushed your brother. The blonde laughed while you tried not to be hurt being beat by a 12 year old.

The next race weekend approached quicker than you'd hoped and over was the small break you had at home. You and your father both packed your bags and got ready to race once again.

"Fernando!" You called out to the Spaniard, running down pit lane, nodding at him when he turned around.

The both of your wearing the familiar Ferrari red, marking you teammates.

"Good morning, y/n." He greeted you stopping for you to catch up and walk down the pit lane together.

"Morning, Nando. How was your time off, done anything fun?" You started the conversation, holding your hand up to cover your eyes from the bright sun.

You had to admit you missed what Fernando was saying, as you just passed the RedBull Garage and you unintentionally made eye contact with a very familiar RedBull driver. You held eye contact, neither of you ready to break it.

The usual distance you recently felt coming from him wasn't there. It was as if the short break betwene the races kind of reduced the anger, or whatever it was, from his mind.

You had turned your head away from him, back to Fernando, but you could have sworn you saw him frown sadly as you broke eye contact.

It wasn't a big change in behaviour, but it still felt weird in your mind, not used to him being so nice once again. Or at least civil. And to even acknowledge you properly.

You hoped that it wasn't just some kind of mind play, from him, but you knew that that wasn't his thing. At least it hadn't been with you.

It was during the qualifying session that you were in a somewhat fight with Sebastian. It wasn't much of a fight as you knew that this was just quali and not the race, yet.

So neither of you intentionally raced the other, but you did aim to beat his time. And it appeared he did too, as your time kept getting beaten by him.

Everytime your engineer told you your time, you requested to know Sebastian's as well, which he did give you, even if he was a bit unsure if he should. But as long as it encouraged you to drive faster, it wouldn't hurt. He thought.

Meanwhile you relived moments of your childhood. Back when your father and spent your evenings after school at the karting track. When no one else was present and it was only the two of you. His voice, soft but stern, was sounding in your head over the sound of the engine.

You remembered the moment you finished your lap, and took one of the corner as late as you dared to do. It took your breath away, but in the end you set your new personal lap record.

"That corner, yeah," Your father started. "If you take every corner, like you did that one, you'd beat them all."

You always followed his advice of course, but there was also always the possibly to do more. To go further. So you did.

And you went too far. Breaking too late, added with a strong wind in the wrong moment, suddely sent you into the wall.

Weirdly enough, the first thing you thought of when the car stopped was how horrible the media would react to yet another crash. The first one with Sebastian, was on you, according to them. The other times, after the initial crash, when you started to get a bit more aggressive with each other, was because of your hormones.

The times when you made just the tiniest mistake, was picked up by the media instantly. It was as if they were only waiting for you to slip up, to throw insults and doubts at you. To question whether you truly belonged in the world of formula one or if it was just there because of your family name.

Sebastian used to talk it all good. He mocked the media's stupidity to make you feel better. But of course, that didn't happen recently, which is why you felt even worse about all the comments being made, which only led to you doubting yourself more, with lead to you making even more mistakes. It was an endless circle.

Maybe adding onto your odd thoughts was your pounding head. Hopefully not a concussion. You tried to act tough, hiding your sick feelings, and aching body, quickly replying to your race engineer and pushing yourself out of the car.

You took a moment, after climbing out, to calm down. Sitting down on the body of the car, pretending liked you did that because you had to wait for the safety car and not because your body gave you a hard time.

'No weakness. Show no weakness.'

The voice in your head repeated. You kept your helmet on, even if you wished to just take it off to breathe better.

Marshall's surrounded you, made sure you were alright and then lead you towards the arriving safety car, while taking care of the crashed car.

___

"I don't know why I keep messing up so bad, Papa." You told him as you left the medical centre. The impact you had sustained was hard, 30G. But you tried to push through the aftermath. Michael came over to the medical centre right after qualifying and interviews (which you gladly didn't have to attend), to walk you back to the hospitality and then to the hotel. He wanted to make sure that you rest.

"Don't be too hard on yourself," Your father started. "that is what makes you mess up. You lose confidence and get scared."

Michael wasn't known for talking around the point when it came to racing. He felt that if there were words that can help you get better, they should be said, no matter how hurtful they may be. You knew that, it was always something you appreciated.

"I'm not scared." You replied honestly.

There may be some fear in your body when you drove, but that only fueled you to go further, to press for more. It wasn't the kind of fear that led you to be scared, but to go even harder than you thought would be possible. You loved the adrenaline, when you did something dangerous. It gave you an extra boost. "I think I just can't concentrate. I feel so... I don't know.

Michael watched you for a moment, halting in his words, as he let it sink in. Deep down he had his suspicions what might cause your loss in concentration.

"You need to talk to Sebastian." He announced. You bit your lip, but didn't say anything.

Michael was right, of course. He was most of the time. But you didn't know if you dared to speak to Sebastian, yet. You weren't scared of driving your car dangerously, but to talk to Sebastian. You were not that brave. Not yet at least.

Your father didn't really mention anything regarding Sebastian after that. He took you back to the hotel and insisted that you'd spent the rest of the day in bed, just as the medical team had ordered you to do. You didn't resist that order as you felt your body ache from every movement. You head was feeling liked it would explode. It was difficult for you to move your neck and raise your arms as the G-force hit you straight on.

After your father left, it wasn't difficult for you to fall asleep. And you stayed that way until you were awaken by a knock on your door in the late evening hours.

You didn't realise who stood in front of you for the first few moments, still too drunk on sleep.

"Sebastian?"

"Hey." He whispered, almost unsure if he should be there. "Uhm, your father gave me your hotel and uh room number, I just wanted to-"

You didn't know why you did what you did, but it just felt right to hug him right then and there. You felt Sebastian suck in a breath, before carefully hugging back, his grip so light in fear of putting a hand wrong and pushing you away from him.

Slowly you let go of him, frowning over your own actions. "Sorry, I don't know why I just did that."

Sebastian shook his head, smiling softly. "No, it's alright."

"I saw the crash today. It looked bad, I just wanted to make sure your were alright. I know we, uhm-" he looked for a word to describe your current relationship. "We haven't really talked in a bit, and I know that's kind of my fault, but I just felt so helpless, not being able to visit you after a crash like that because I felt like I'd lost every right to do so."

"You would never lose the right." You interrupted his rant, watching his hands nervously knit each other, while he watched them too scared to look at you. You remembered your fight with him and th way the words had stung. You were so angry with him whenever you remembered them, but now that he stood here, in front of you, looking like a sad puppy, you couldn't help but want to forget all of it.

"Well, after the shit that happened between us-" Sebastian argued.

"I know." You felt the same way, like you'd lost your right to care about anything regarding him. "I think we're just idiots."

Sebastian chuckled, nodding agreeing. "Yeah, we are. You more than me."

"Oh?" You replied teasingly, a tone which he didn’t quite pick up on. He looked up eyes wide, his mouth opening as apologies spilled out, in fear that he had pushed it too far once again.

"Hey, hey. It's alright, I was only joking. Probably not the best time to do that." You quickly replied to calm the poor guy down.

"No, you're fine." Sebastian stated. "I just… I want to fix what went wrong between us. I miss you. It was stupid to let such a thing do all of this. I was so wrong for doing this to you.“

You noticed how you still stood in the doorway, which probably wasn't the best place to have that type of discussion.

"Do you maybe want to come inside?" You stepped aside and held the door open for him.

"Oh." He whispered, also realising where exactly he was standing. "Yes, of course."

Sebastian stepped inside, and you closed the door. You turned back to look at him. He looked more than unsure of himself. Nervously fiddling with his fingers, wipping on his feet as he let his eyes move around the room, taking it all in.

“Listen, y/n. I know I messed up badly, I said things that were so incredibly shit. It was wrong for me to say all those things, to throw the same shit at you that the press does. I know that you didn’t get into f1 just because of your name, I should know that better than anyone else. I don’t know why I said that. I hate that I said those things and I regretted the words right after I said them.”

“Why didn’t you say anything then?” You asked, watching him patiently. Sebastian gulped before shaking his head. “I don’t know, I think I felt too ashamed and embarrassed.”

“That was really messed up, Seb.” You crossed your arms, frowning at him. Your chest felt heavy.

“I know. I know how you hate to be reduced to only your name, but I was just so angry at everything in that moment, that I let it out on you. It was so wrong and I am so incredibly sorry, y/n.”

You nodded, your own head filled with the moments he referred to.

Sebastian hesitated, his eye taking you in, analysing the way you feel. He knew you inside out, every little habit you had, he knew the meaning of. So he saw the hesitation inside you. How the voices in your head argued over whether to forgive or to fight him further.

"Please forgive me." He whispered, trying to aid the side of you wanting to forgive him.

Internally, that decision had been made some time ago. You knew Sebastian just as well as he knew you. You knew how he ticked and how he sometimes struggled with idioticy. Talking before really thinking, especially after being pumped on adrenaline.

He never truly means the words he spoke in anger. Sebastian was never the type to insult people, especially you. You could only think about the regret he had been carrying around these past weeks, almost overshadowing your own anger at him. Almost.

A part of you didn't want to forgive him just yet. It wanted prove that he really meant it, ignoring all the times he had already proven it. The times he cheered you up, speaking words of affirmation after the press made some ridiculous statement and spoke highly of you afterwards to everyone who'd listen, just to make them forget any bad word ever uttered.

And the more you thought about where or not to forgive him, you realised that you had already forgiven him. But you weren't able to fully admit that, yet.

"I'm really glad that you came." You answered instead, breaking the silence that started to build up.

"Yeah?" Sebastian asked, looking hopefully at you. His big blue eyes held a distant fear much like the one you felt when you thought it might be over. Which was now overshadowed by the light of hope for a rekindling.

"Yeah." You agreed honestly. "And I missed you too."

"Good." Sebastian smiled. "Then I don't feel sappy on my own."

"No."

"How are you, then?" Sebastian continued, looking you over. "I haven't heard much about the crash, only that it was like 30G. I've been worried."

You smiled at his words, the care in his voice brought a familiar warmth, one you had missed over the last few weeks. You went over to sit down on your bed, gesturing for Sebastian to join you. "I’m feeling better than earlier today, but still a bit weak. My head is pounding and I'm having a hard time with my neck and shoulders. But other than that I'm surprisingly fine."

"Are you cleared to drive tomorrow?" Sebastian asked while sitting down beside you.

"Yeah." Nodding you ran a hand through your hair. "They still want to do a check in the morning, but they said that I should be alright."

"So, you're gonna race?" He continued a bit worried, but he knew that even if he tried he wouldn’t be able to change your mind.

"What, scared I'll beat you?" You chuckled looking at his soft expression. Sebastian chuckled as well, shaking his head. "Always. No, but I was really worried. It looked a lot worse than how it ended up being. I though you might get seriously injured. And I know that that's part of the sport, but all I could think about was that I never apologised. That you might always believe that I couldn't stand you."

"Seb-" You halted in your words, before throwing your arms around your best friend. Pulling him towards you, his own arms pulling you closer. "I didn't think that you couldn't stand me, at least I hoped."

"But still. I wouldn't have known, that you didn't think that." He muttered against your shirt.

"You know now, and that is what counts." You reminded him, rubbing a hand up and down his back.

"Could we talk things through, get on common ground and get this over with. I really don't want something like this to happen again." Sebastian asked now with more confidence. " I don't want to lose you again over silly things."

"I don't want to lose you either over silly things, Sebby." You agreed using the nickname you hadn't used since you were kids. His groan of annoyance at fueled your laughter.

And for an moment then, it was like back when you were just kids, fueled by nothing but passion, friendship and capri-sun.

___

a/n: I feel like I should have added more drama, like a bit more beef between the two before they rekindled, but I didn’t have any ideas for more dialogue, lol.

[caitified]

Do a fic about Kate proposing and how she told her family and friends about the marrige

yes?

kate martin x reader

warnings:none

kate lay on her side, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting warm shadows across your face. you were already asleep, your hand resting on her arm, your breathing slow and steady. kate couldn’t take her eyes off you.

her chest tightened at the thought of leaving soon—moving across the country for her basketball career. you’d been so supportive, telling her how proud you were, how excited you were to see her chase her dreams. but kate knew it wasn’t going to be easy. leaving the home you’d built together, the life you’d made, and heading into the unknown felt like a leap.

and kate had never been afraid of leaps.

but this one had to be right.

she ran her fingers gently along your arm, careful not to wake you. the thought hit her then—clear as a fast break. she couldn’t leave without knowing you were hers forever. she couldn’t start this next chapter without you being at the very center of it.

she needed to propose.

the idea rooted itself in her mind, and the next morning, as the two of you sipped coffee together in the kitchen, kate texted her sister kennedy.

“can we talk? need advice.”

kennedy called within minutes. kate slipped outside to the back porch, pacing nervously as she explained everything—how she wanted to propose, how she wasn’t sure what kind of ring to get, and how she wanted it to be perfect.

“kate, relax,” kennedy said, her voice light but firm. “this is you we’re talking about. she already loves you. she’s going to say yes.”

kate let out a breath, leaning against the porch railing. “i just… i want it to be special. something she’ll remember forever.”

“it will be,” kennedy promised. “you’re already making it special because it’s coming from you. let’s go find the ring together, okay? we’ll make it perfect.”

kate grinned, relief washing over her. “thanks, ken. i owe you one.”

🤍🤍🤍🤍

a few days later, kate found the ring—a simple, elegant design that reminded her of you: timeless, radiant, and just right. every time she glanced at the small box tucked away in her bag, her nerves built, but so did her excitement.

the night before the proposal, kate barely slept. she kept replaying what she wanted to say in her mind, running through every scenario. when the morning came, she was ready—or so she thought.

the moment itself unfolded naturally. kate was unusually quiet all day, fidgeting as the two of you relaxed on the couch. you noticed, of course—you always noticed when something was off with her.

“kate, what’s going on? you’ve been weird all day,” you asked, turning to face her.

she laughed nervously, trying to play it off. “weird? harsh.”

“seriously.” you grabbed her hand, halting her nervous tapping. “what’s up? is it about the move?”

kate’s eyes softened. the mention of vegas brought everything into focus again.

“it’s… partly that,” she admitted. she hesitated, then reached into her pocket and pulled out the ring box.

your eyes widened as she opened it, her hands trembling slightly.

“i didn’t want to leave without doing this first,” she said, her voice steady despite her nerves. “i love you, and i want you with me—wherever i go. i want to build a life with you, not just in vegas, but everywhere. will you marry me?”

the world stopped for a moment. your eyes filled with tears as you whispered, “yes.”

kate’s grin lit up the entire room as she slipped the ring onto your finger and pulled you into her arms. she kissed you, over and over, her laughter bubbling between every kiss.

🤍🤍🤍🤍

the next morning, you packed up and set out to see your families, wanting to share the news with the people you both loved most.

kate’s mom cried the second she saw the ring, pulling you into a tight hug. “welcome to the family,” she said, tears streaming down her face. her dad clapped kate on the back, pride shining in his eyes.

when you arrived at your parents’ house, the reaction was just as joyful. your mom gasped, practically screaming as she pulled you both into a hug.

“i knew it! i knew she was going to propose!”

kate laughed, shaking her head. “guess i’m not as subtle as i thought.”

[h3k3t]

Ok it's neither romantic nor spicy, but in my opinion it's worth listening to, okay?

Geta has anger issues, Caracalla also has the disease...they need a support sister and we need an angst scenario. (just to be clear again, it's PLATONIC, okay? Okay)

tw: caracalla and his madness, toxic way of showing affection towards family

Geta:

We all know that even though Geta shows off his coolness and chillness, he has a fragile psyche like Caracalla, you see it when he throws wine in his brother's face, or when he yells at Acacius, or the terror he feels when he sees Rome in revolt.

So I imagine him going to his sister, the only bastion of light in that darkness, in that chaos; You are in your rooms when you hear Geta shouting your name, then suddenly enters in the throes of a nervous breakdown. Dropping whatever you were doing, you advance towards him but not before miraculously dodging the crown that the young emperor threw after putting his hands in his ginger hair.

In the room only his angry voice could be heard, the servants had all disappeared while he was spewing out words about how he could not handle Caracalla, the senate and "And the people...they're ungrateful and demanding. It's like they expect me to fix everything for them without lifting a finger."

Of course it was always the people and not him you thought sarcastically, knowing the story very well by heart, but now it didn't matter, as much as you hated your brother's cruelty, you had always felt pity for him and Caracalla. And you simply sat on the bed, calling him in a calm voice to you, like a mother would do.

In an instant the emperor whom everyone feared was on his knees, clutching the fabric of your stole with possessive force, his face pressed against your thighs; a caress in your hair was enough to feel a shaky sigh and then a sniff, while Geta bit his tongue bloody so as not to cry in front of his dear sister, the only thing he truly cared about...

"Geta..." you tried to say, but he interrupted you. "No, don't talk, stay here, with me..." He didn't want to make a fuss, he needed silence and to feel your warmth, your closeness.

"...if I lost you too, sister..." he said taking your hand and kissing the back of it, hiding it under his face "...I would burn every inch of Rome and myself with it". Atrocious words, enough to make anyone shudder, yet in that sea of putrid hatred, there was something corrupt that in its own way was love... a desperate redemption, too late.

"Never abandon me, never leave my side..." he said after raising his head towards you, black makeup running under his lower eyelids "Swear to me" and with your heart torn between the guilt of a lie and a loving smile you said: "On my life, dear brother".

Caracalla:

It had all happened so quickly, a fight between two brothers and then Geta threw the wine in Caracalla's face, bitterly regretting it soon after. You ran after your brother, before Macrinus could catch up. The man was a complete stranger, an unnecessary addition to your pile of problems, he had no interest in the empire, just stick your three heads on a pike.

"Caracalla..." Your voice echoed through the room that seemed desolate, until you heard the high-pitched verses of the monkey Dondus. You sighed tiredly, mentally exhausted, your mind took a leap back in time, when life was easier and illness had not taken Caracalla away; The nurses had taught you a nursery rhyme, and you two always sang it when one of you lost his way...

"Five little ducks went out one day..." you hummed, but Caracalla didn't answer, however you saw the little monkey scurry away from under the table, you knew he was under there "...Over the hill and far away..."

You slowly approached the table, but still no response, until a shaky voice said, "Mother duck said, 'Quack, quack, quack, quack'..." and a small smile appeared on your face, before you crouched down and found your brother lying on his side under the table.

His blue eyes were filled with tears, his face looked like that of a lost child and not that of a young man in command, your heart tightened, and the anger for a moment was replaced with so much sadness.

"...But only four little ducks came back" you finished the song looking at him with eyes full of compassion, kneeling on the floor. "My sweet brother...come out, do you recognize me, yes?"

There was another moment of silence broken by a sob from Caracalla who crawled towards you, and curling up again towards your lap burst into tears again like a child.

Your heart tightened with anger and sadness, you hated him; you blamed him because he had always been weak, even before his illness, he spent his days with whores and various luxury, while the blood of conquered peoples stained the soldiers' blades, leaving only sand and ashes on barren lands to govern; You hated him because it was his and Geta's job to protect you, and instead it was you who picked up their pieces every time, or you could barely keep them away from vultures like Macrinus. You were tired, it wasn't fair, you hadn't done anything wrong, and yet...and yet, your mother had shaped you between blood and empathy, and even though you hated those two, you couldn't stop loving them.

"I'm gonna kill him" you woke up from your thoughts when you felt Caracalla tightening your clothes and gnashing his teeth "He thinks I'm weak, he wants to take everything away from me...even you, isn't that right?"

"What?" you asked, but before you could react, you found yourself lying on the ground, your brother's hands on your neck, an iron grip. "Caracal--!" you gasped, your nails digging into the pale flesh of his arms.

"I see you, you know? I see you hidden in the shadows, with those ears always ready to eavesdrop... do you think I can't hear you at night, walking aimlessly who knows where" Caracalla continued to accuse you, barking out his repressed anger from his lungs. It was the disease talking, but he still kept his sharp tongue "You went to his chambers, aren't you? To Geta! You're going to be a co-conspirator, you want to kill me, aren't you?! Traitors!"

"Caracalla--!" you shouted, giving him a desperate slap to the arm, which destabilized him for a moment "Break the spell!" that was the phrase that you and Geta used to bring him back to his senses "I'm your sister and I love you.. please, don't go where I can't reach you" you said bursting into tears scared and exhausted...exhausted of all this, exhausted of fighting.

Caracalla seemed to come to his senses and, opening his blue eyes wide, looked at his trembling palms, the same hands that were suffocating his sister... he had hurt his sister. "Sister...?" he fell to his knees in defeat "N-no, no no no! Forgive me...I'm sorry I'm sorry... I'm so sorry" he said before your arms wrapped around him in an almost suffocating embrace.

"I'm here..." you replied in a tired tone "Breathe, follow my heart, everything will be okay, brother..."

There was no lie in the world more cruel than this...

[shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii]

What if Buddy had a sister?

(I made an AU of if Buddy had a sister imma draw it online later cause they look a bit funky on paper and also so I can draw them with color too! Meet Tiny!)

“Tiny”

Buddy was already in chains. The story is supposed to be finished by now. All Prunella has to do is send him of to jail. All she had to say is “Take him to jail”. Just a few simple words. But nooooo, Buddy and Chase were fighting and Prunella thinks this is entertaining. And you know what they were fighting about? They were bickering over if chips are the same things as crackers or not. How did the small insult Buddy gave off turn into a war of are chips and crackers the same? Deacon was done. Absolutely over it.

“Chase come on wrap it up the guards have been standing there for 10 minutes already and they are starting to look lifeless” Deacon tapped Chase’s on his shoulder

“UGH!! I DONT CARE DORKIN, LOOK BUDDY IS TALKING NONSENSE YOU HEAR ME ACTUAL NONSENSE!!!” Chase said

“NO IM NOT!!! SEARCH IT UP, CHIPS AND CRACKERS ARE THE SAME THING!!! SOME CRACKERS ARE CALLED CHIPS!!! YOUR THE IDIOT HERE!!!” With 2 guards on the sides of him holding Buddy’s arm he still had no fear to speak up to the newly married princesses.(Chase)

“Ugh Deacon it was getting to the good part but you interrupted it” Prunella said rolling her eyes

“Look. Chase. please. let’s just end the book later Prunella will get home later than usual and they will get suspic-“

“Yeah yeah save it dorkin I’m wrapping I’m wrapping!” Then Chase turned over to Buddy, “GO SUCK ON A TAILPIPE!!!”

Chase grabbed on Deacons arm and started to leave

“PERHAPS I WILL-“ Buddy was about to yell back

Suddenly a flash of light appeared.

“Wait Chase, we need Prunella to send off Buddy” Then Deacon looked at the flashing light. “Huh???”

“WOAH CHASE WAIT!!!” Prunella pointed at the light “I-it looks like another person?!”

“Huh” Chase turned around to see a small female figure. She looked about 14-16 years old. She seemed to almost about Chase’s height and looked thin. Her hair was a a deep black with strands or maroon extensions in it and she had the same pale skin as Buddy.

“BROTHER!!!” She yelled and scampered to hug Buddy but he jumped back leaving her to awkwardly hug herself. The guards then grabbed Buddy making him stay in place this time.

“W-WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE- Uh YOU???!!!” Buddy tried to grab her but the shackles and the guards grabbing his arms prevented him to.

“THATS YOUR SISTER??” Chase exclaimed with both of his hands on his head as he ran back to Buddy.

“Yes I a-“

“NO SHE IS NOT I- I DONT KNOW HER A-AT ALL!!!” Buddy then faced the smaller girl “why are you here?” He whispered in a forceful tone.

“O-oh Ahem,” the girl faced to Chase, “My brother speaks the truth I am not a sibling”

Buddy would smack his face if his hand weren’t in shackles currently.

Then the small figure looked towards Buddy and whispered back “I’m here to help! They lended me a key and said it was ok so-“

“Don’t” Buddy turned away, avoiding her face.

“You look like a tiny version of Buddy” Chase looked at her in admiration while Deacon looked at her shocked.

“Noooo, we don’t need a smaller version of Buddy!”

“Who is this “Buddy” person you’re talking about amongst yourself?” The girl asked

“Oh that’s “not your brother” over there” Prunella pointed at Buddy and you could see the embarrassment in his face. His eyes weren’t as narrow as usual and his face revealed a shade of pink. He couldn’t deny what prunella said though… it was true. THAT STUPID CHASE FOR GIVING HIS SUCH A RIDICULOUS NICKNAME!!!

The girl scoffed, “that can’t be true, brother is cruel and unforgiving, that’s a name you give to a fellow friend”

Buddy sorta tapped her with his elbow, “please, just… stop”

Oh. It was true. That’s the nickname he has been given. Well it just gives something to make fun of him for!

Then the girl looked the trio up and down giving a menacing and judgmental look. I mean teens already look very judgey but she looked like she put extra judgement into that look.

Deacon felt shivers down his spine and Prunella gave a stare at her back. Meanwhile Chase…

“Oh… oh she is adorable” Chase finally got out

“Wait. WHAT?” Chase had said the literal opposite of what Deacon was thinking.

“Oh please, I already know that- are… are you the one with the heroine key?” She responded, “Ah brother talks about you a lot!” She said as she grabbed Chase by his necklace.

Getting a closer look at her, Chase could see that she has wide narrow gray eyes. You could see a hint of blue within the deep gray.

“Buddy talks about me? WHAT DOES HE SAY????”

“NO NO NO PLEASE SHUT UP” Buddy said really fast

“NOOOO DONT LISTEN TO BUDDY JUST TELL ME TINY” Chase grabbed on to the girls shoulders

“Tiny? Well no I can’t anymore” she looked over to Buddy “brother has told me not to” she said with a little smirk on her face, “it’s really really good blackmail~”

“WAIT JUST TELL ME IS IT GOOD STUFF OR BAD?”

The girl ignored Chase and looked over to the others “Who is the one with the helper key?” Then she looked at the keys wrapped around Prunella’s and Deacons neck. “Oh so you’re the helper and you’re the hero!” She looked at Deacon with a smirk on her face “You are perfect for the helper key”

“Wait what does that mean?”

“And you- well aren’t you a little too young to be a hero?”

“Gold coming from you” Buddy scoffed

“Ay watch it Tiny! I’m a survival expert and also I’m 8! I am old!” Prunella tried to argue back

“You know what! Take her away guard and uh- take that person too!” Prunella said

“HEY! I DIDNT DO ANYTHING! THIS DOESNT HAPPEN TO MY ROLE!!”

Buddy gave tiny a small laugh “Get used to it- Tiny~” while adding a a mock in his tone saying “Tiny”

They were finally taken away by the guards and the story can to an end.

———————————————————

“PRUNELLA!!! I WASNT DONE TALKING TO TINY YET!!” Chase groaned as he flopped to his bed

“Now we gotta deal with more “sassyness” Deacon said

“(Sigh) I guess so…” Prunella replied

“Wait does anyone remember what key she had?”

All three of them stared at each other clueless

———————————————————

(The stuff Buddy told Tiny about Chase, I feel like they would have gossip sessions time to time lol. So this is before this incident)

“UGH!! I-I HATE THAT GUY SO MUCH!” Buddy scrunched his hair

“Oh shoot your back early- are you talking about the one with the heroine key?” Tiny questioned. She was trying to find Buddy’s chocolate stash but when she finally did he came back. Luckily he was to busy with his head he didn’t notice her reaching there.

“Well yeah I hate him too but I was talking about the one with the helper key!! Why does he always come with Chase? Even the kid doesn’t go with Chase often!!!”

“They are probably siblings or something” Tiny slowly reached her hand to Buddy’s chocolate stash under his bed.

“No the can’t be sibling-“ Buddy started pacing around the room, “Chase has soft golden rich-blonde hair that looks warm in the storybook sunlight. It seems so honey-like and his eyes are a dark brown but they look milky. The closer you look into it it starts to look like chocolate. Not only that but his eyes compliment his tan smooth skin and-“

“Ok what about the guy with the the helper key?” Tiny saw in the corner of her eye the chocolate bar she finally got a hold of.

“Oh… Deacon…” Buddy said in a very judgmental tone “Well he has freckles all over his face and he doesn’t have a good sense of fashion. Like why would Chase like him?! I’m clearly better and he also has poo poo color hair! I’m sexier and more handsome. IM ALSO-“ Buddy went rambling on how much better he is than Deacon in every way

“Uh huh… uh huh…” Tiny was too focused on her own thing. Ok, now it’s time to slowly unwrap the chocolate bar, Buddy was yapping a lot so it might cover the sound of the crinkle. This was very dangerous and yet Tiny still took the risk.

“Ugh! You know what? Thinking of Chase’s eyes is making me hungry-“ Buddy turned over his chocolate stash “HEY!!!”

“NOOO” Tiny was so close to putting the chocolate to her mouth

Buddy dashed towards her and grabbed the chocolate out of her hand “AND YOU WONDER WHY I DONT TRUST YOU!!”

“AHHH PLEASE JUST ONE BITE”

“NO THESE ARE MINES- and they are from Chase” Buddy mumbled the last half of that sentence

[stupidvillainousposts]

Shit's Been Angsty, so Take This

I'm gonna let y'all guess first thing if this is a merciful post

Stan, walking through the aisles of the grocery store: *Minding His Own Business*

Robbie: *Tosses a Tomato at Stan*

Stan: *Snarls and Turns to Glare at Robbie* Why you little-

Wendy: Whoa! Whoa! Hey, it's okay! I am so sorry for Robbie. He can be... him.

Stan: *Growls Softly*

Wendy: Whoa there, no need to get all growl-y, dude. I won't hurt ya. Pretty sure that muzzle and shock collar does enough on that end.

Stan: *Huffs and Blushes* Are you done talking? I have to get back to my family before the town gets the idea to throw pitchforks at me.

Wendy: Yeah, yeah sure. Again, sorry about Robbie.

Stan: Whatever. *Walks Off*

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

Stan: *Walking to the Pier After an Argument with Fidds*

Tyler: Oh no! Get away! Get away! *Runs Off in Terror*

Other Townspeople: *Overlapping Shouts of Fear and Disgust*

Random Person: *Throws a Stick at Stan*

Stan: *Snarls and Barks/Whimpers as His Collar Shocks Him*

Wendy, from a few feet away: Yeesh, that looked like it hurt.

Stan, rubbing his neck: You? What are you doing here?

Wendy: My dad brought me and my brothers here so we could practice fishing with our hands. I've caught the most so far so I got to take a break. What about you?

Stan: Why do you care?

Wendy: *Shrugs* I guess angry wolf men are pretty interesting compared to just standing and staring at myself in the water.

Stan: *Flicks His Ear Curiously* Yeah, well, it's grown-up stuff. Kid like you wouldn't get it.

Wendy: Lemme guess; Ya got in a fight with your boyfriend?

Stan: How did you-

Wendy: I know relationship issues when I see them.

Stan, defensively: We don't have issues! We just... didn't agree on something important. And I... I lost my temper.

Wendy: You still love him, though, right?

Stan, genuinely perplexed: Wha- Of course I do!

Wendy: Then for the sake of those kids I see hanging around your shack, I suggest you go let him know that.

Stan, after a brief pause: You're unnaturally mature for your age.

Wendy: I get that a lot. *Playfully* Now go before I call the pound.

Stan: *Snorts* Alright, alright.

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

Stan: *Relaxing with Fidds in Their Room*

Dipper: Grunkle Stan? There's a teenager at the door saying she knows you.

Stan: *Sits Up in Surprise* Red Head?

Fidds: *Amused* Ya nicknamed a random teen?

Stan: *Flicks Fidds' Cheek with a Smile* She's charming. Besides, I don't know her name.

Fidds: Then I suggest ya ask, it's the polite thing t' do.

Stan: *Playfully* Yes, dear. *Makes His Way Downstairs*

Dipper: *Follows Curiously*

Stan, upon seeing Wendy: Hey kid. Why're ya at this dingy place? Surely ya have better places to be than here.

Dipper, tugging Stan's shirt: *Quietly* Ask her what her name is! Grunkle Fidds told you to!

Stan: *Rolls His Eyes and Sighs* And, if this doesn't come off as too weird, think you could tell me your name? I don't think constantly calling you "kid" is appropriate.

Wendy: Name's Wendy. And I just thought I'd visit to make sure you guys were okay. I haven't seen you in town in a while.

Dipper: Grunkle Stan buys a lot of groceries at once so he doesn't have to go out much.

Stan, gritting his teeth: Dipper, why don't you go see what your sister's up to?

Dipper: But-

Stan: We can talk about it later, okay?

Dipper: Fine. *Stomps Away*

Wendy: Cute kid. He yours?

Stan: Brother's grandchild. We have them while some... stuff is being sorted out by their parents.

Wendy: Ah, poor things.

Stan: Yeah... So are you gonna just stand there or...?

Wendy: Are you gonna invite me in, or...?

Stan, holding back a smile: Alright, watch it smart mouth.

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

Fidds, during dinner one night: So, I take it we have another youngin'?

Stan: *Nearly Chokes on His Water* Wha- HUH?!

Fidds: Wendy, sweetie. Ya really seem t' like her. And she seems real nice.

Stan: Yeah, well, she also has a family. Unlike Soos.

Mabel: Soos has his grandma, though?

Stan: *To Mabel* Eat your veggies. *To Fidds* And no, we are not adopting another random child.

Believe it or not, they did end up symbolically adopting another random child.

[bullet-prooflove]

Bingo: Mike Duarte x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @ResonMalvo @littleone65 @mydarkestsecretlol @evee87

Everyone knows that Mike Durate doesn’t work a Thursday evening but no one seems to know why.  There’s rumours of course, a secret taskforce, a scheduled meeting with a C.I, a woman but you’ve seen no evidence to confirm any one of them. Still it niggles at you, when you watch your Captain pull on his jacket and stride out the door at exactly 6pm.

You’re still thinking about it when there’s a knock at your door at 7pm. It’s Mrs Jacobson from the house across the street. Her bingo partner has begged off sick and she needs a ride because she doesn’t drive so well at night anymore. It’s the only social event she attends during the week and the thought of her sitting home alone missing it kills you, so you grab your keys and drive to the senior centre a couple of miles away.

“You should come in with me, play a game or two.” She tells you as she reapplies her lipstick in your rearview mirror. “Our bingo caller is very handsome.”

You laugh politely because the image it conjures is of a silver haired, eighty year old man who calls the numbers with the gusto of a cruise ship director. When you escort her into the senior centre you can see your assumption is correct, Derek is geriatric and very interested in the fresh face whose shown up in their midst.

You manage to escape because the lights above you flash on and off indicating that the game is about to start. When you take your seat next to Mrs Jacobson, your don’t expect a dark haired man to sit down alongside of you, one you happen to know very well.

“What are you doing here?” Mike Duarte practically hisses at you.

You can’t speak because you’re too shocked to open your mouth. You can’t believe that your Captain is sitting right here with bingo marker in his hand, ready to throw down.

“I said…”

“I heard what you said.” You respond, finally finding your voice. “My neighbour invited me, the question is what are you doing here?”

He’s silent for a second, his dark eyes boring into yours before he clicks his tongue and tilts his head towards an older woman approaching the table.

“I’m here with Maria. Her husband died last year and she doesn’t like to come alone.” He tells you as he toys with the lid of his bingo marker. “She helped me raise my brother and sister after my mother died, my father…”

He trails off then because he realises he’s betrayed himself. He doesn’t talk about his history, it’s a part of himself he keeps locked deep inside. The problem is you have a soothing presence and he constantly finds himself falling into that trap. It’s why he tries to keep a little distance between the two of you, he’s too terrified of revealing himself as something other than the fierce Captain you’ve become accustomed to.

“Mrs Jacobson kinda adopted me when I moved to the neighbourhood.” You find yourself telling him. “My house was part of one of those police buyback programmes, it’s meant to make the block a little safer. She doesn’t like the idea that I was a single woman living on my own so she checks in on me every so often, brings by dinner.”

It takes Mike a minute to process that information. He opens his mouth to say something but the lights flash once more and the game begins. You can’t help but sneak glances at him throughout the session. His dark eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, he bites his lower lips as he studies the numbers, scowls when someone on another table calls ‘House’. Yet there’s a tenderness that you’ve never seen him exhibit inside of work. He’s kind as he helps Maria with her bingo card, checking her numbers, smiling when she get a line.

“Better luck next time.” He tells you as the lights go up, signalling the end of the game. Maria and Mrs Jacobson hurry off towards the bathroom as he raises to his feet, pulling on his jacket. “Will I see you here next week?”

“I’m not sure bingo is really my game.” You tell him as you begin to gather up the used bingo squares into a neat pile.

“It wasn’t mine either.” He admits as he helps you organise them. “But it does me good, having some sort of a social life outside of work, even if it is with people thirty years older than me.”  

The edges of his mouth tip up into smile and something blossoms in your chest, because Mike, he’s quite handsome when he doesn’t have a perpetual grimace on his features.

“Maybe you will see me next week.” You say, your shoulder accidently nudging against his as you tilt your head up to meet his gaze. The way he looks at you in that moment, it’s the start of something, you can feel it. You can tell he feels it too because his cheeks colour just a little before he tears himself away.

“Good.” He says gruffly, tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat. “And if you could keep this just between the two of us…”

“Don’t worry Captain.” You says as you pick up your purse, setting it upon your shoulder. “You’re secret’s safe with me.”

Love Mike? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[cherubcameron]

Love Espresso

Chapter 5: I Love You So

Synopsis: after her breakup with Rafe and him kicking her out. Her best friend offers her a new job and a place to stay. But when Rafe comes back from Morocco. He realizes he’d made a grave mistake. Will Sofia go back to him? Or will she decide that her new life means more to her than him?

Sarah tried to suppress her laugh, as Rafe told her what had happened with him and Liliana.

“It’s not funny! She didn’t even tell me where Sofia was!” Rafe said, pacing around the kitchen. Reaching for a glass and bottle of gin.

“That’s getting a little excessive.” Sarah says, but she doesn’t reach to get the bottle out of his hands.

“You sound just like Sofia. She would get mad at me for drinking so much.” Rafe says, his hand trembling.

“Did you try to text her or call?” Sarah asks, trying to sit down comfortably on Rafes couch.

“Oh wow, how didn’t I think of that?” Rafe says sarcastically, his hands are in the air. “Of course I did. I’m blocked on everything.”He was getting agitated by the second.

“You can’t really blame the girl. You broke her best friends heart. I would have done the same if anyone did that to Kie.” Sarah says, her eyes following Rafes form as he paced back and forth. He was mumbling to himself.

“Yeah yeah, I know what I did was… excessive.” Rafe said, “But I was rightfully angry. Imagine thinking someone is trustworthy and then boom. They… they break your trust.”

Sarah is quiet for a minute, he turned noticing the way his sister didn’t look at him.

“Yeah… I get it.” Sarah says quietly, now not looking at Rafe’s general direction. Rafe scratched his head, he squeezed his eyes shut.

“I didn’t mean.. you. I hope you know that. I know I can.. trust you now.” Sarah only nodded.

“Uh, do you want to go grocery shopping with me later?” She asks, trying to change the subject.

Rafe nodded, maybe it’ll help take his mind off of things? Sarah smiles warmly before finally finding a comfortable position on the couch.

“How’s uh- how’s the baby?” Rafe asks. Trying to keep his mind off of Sofia. The thought of her, made his heart ache.

Sarah puts a hand on her belly, she smiles down at her stomach.

“They kick a lot.. I still want to be surprised with their gender. John b hates it, but he respects my decision.”

Rafe nods again.

“You hear that, uncle Rafe wants to know how you are.” Sarah says to her belly. Rafe smiles.

“I hope they don’t come out as fucked up as me. You deserve… you deserve to have a baby who’s nothing like me or dad.” Rafe says, sadly.

“Rafe… the important thing is you’re trying to change. Yeah, your past is… very questionable. But what matters is who you are trying to be now.”

Rafe nods again, tapping his fingers on the island counter.

“You’re going to be a great mom, Sar.”

Sarah brightens at that, “Thanks Rafe.”

They stay in silence before Rafe decides to head to his room. He lets Sarah rest on the couch until they need to go to the supermarket.

Sofia eyed Hector suspiciously. He seemed more jumpy than usual. Like he knew something. Something concerning her.

“Hector? Whats going on?” Sweat was evident on his brow, his eyes stayed on the strawberry cheesecake he was finishing making.

“N-nothing. Nothing is going on. Not to me. Not to you. Or anyone.” He said, too quickly.

“Hector.. don’t lie to me.” Sofia says, now concerned. What was Hector hiding? He usually never acted this way. He was always so laid back and relaxed. Especially when making one of his pastries.

“I- uh.” He finally looked at Sofia. His eyes widen a bit. “If I tell you, you can’t get mad at Liliana.” Now Sofia was definitely listening.

“You know that ex boyfriend of yours. Raul?”

“Rafe.”

“Right, Rafe. He came by.”

Sofia heart nearly lapped. But now she was confused on what Liliana had to do with this. Her eyes scanned the way Hector looked guilty. The way his eyes didn’t really meet hers.

“Well?” Sofia asked, her hands on her hips.

“He was talking to Liliana. He accidentally knocked down the books in her hands. It was awkward, from what she told me. —She shooed him away. Told him to stop bothering you.” Hector said, Sofia stood there; stunned.

“She did what?” Sofia says, she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She’d assume Rafe never wanted to speak to her again. Didn’t want anything to do with her. This changed everything for her.

“Please, please do not tell Liliana I told you. If she finds out, she will literally kill me. Chop my body up and turn me into one of her Love espressos.” Sofia eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I highly doubt she’ll do that… unless that’s her secret ingredient.” Sofia feign shock.

Hector eyes widen and Sofia burst out laughing.

“You’re so easy. But no, I’ll try to not tell her you told me. Things like this always slip. If she finds out, you’re own your own.”

Hector gulped.

“Where is she?” Sofia asked, removing her hand from her hip and crossing her arms.

“Bookshelves..” Hector says hesitantly. Sofia turns on her heels and heads over to the bookshelves.

“Sofia!” Hector whispered yelled. Before hissing, “Sofia!”

She didn’t stop, she needed to know why. Sofia found Liliana, shelving books, the cart behind her. Her eyes glued onto the books she’d yet to see Sofia. Sofia tapped lightly on the shelf.

Liliana shifted her eyes towards Sofia, she raised an eyebrow at her as acknowledgment. “Yeah?”

“You saw Rafe?” Sofia asks, trying to be nonchalant. She flashed an eyebrow.

Liliana blinked at Sofia, her shoulders drooping. “Hector!”

A sudden sound of pots and pans falling towards the ground is heard. Hector let out a screech but not much else is heard from him.

Sofia is still staring at Liliana. “Well?”

“Yes, yes I saw Rafe.” Liliana says, turning back to her books. “He was a piece of shit. I don’t know how you dated that asshole.”

“Did you turn him away?” Sofia asked, trying to keep her annoyance hidden.

“Did you not hear me say, he was being a dick head.” Liliana says, “Don’t be annoyed with me, okay. He came in here like he thought he owned the place. Didn’t even know who I was by the way. Even though we’ve met. Just comes to show you how little he cares about—.”

“Liliana, that wasn’t your place.” Sofia says, her annoyance now turned to anger.

“He did you dirty! ¿Estás enojado conmigo?” Liliana asks. Her eyes surveyings Sofias. (Are you mad at me?)

“Si, soy enojado contigo, que carajo fue eso?” (Yes, I’m mad at you, what the hell was that?)

“Te estaba protegiendo, Sofia! Te trató mal!” Liliana said, her eyes almost pleading with Sofia. (I was protecting you, Sofia! He treated you badly!)

Sofia shook her head, she couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of Liliana’s mouth.

“That was my decision to make! I’m grateful you were trying to protect me. But you need to let me handle my own problems. This was my fault.” Sofia says, poking at her own chest.

“Sofia, please. He hurt you.”

“I hurt him too! I broke his trust! I thought I was never going to hear from him again! Then I come to find out… that you.. were you going to keep this from me?” Sofia asks, her eyes scanning Liliana’s.

Sofia thought she was never going to see or hear from Rafe again. So the fact that he came looking for her. It meant something.

Liliana’s jaw tightened, she held the book in her grasp tightly.

“Were you?” Sofia asks, wanting answers.

“Yes. Yes I was.” Liliana finally utters.

Sofia scoffs, “Why? Why the hell would you do that?”

“You deserve better than someone who would throw you out like that. Sofia, he is a rich white boy. Yes, his family name has been tainted. But that doesn’t mean his pockets are still full. We—.” She points at herself and Sofia. “We had to scrap for every dollar. Our parents immigrated here. Yours from Mexico. Mine from Uruguay. That was a shit thing he did. He could have left you homeless and jobless.”

Sofia face crumbled completely. “Liliana—

“He used his power and his wealth against you, Sof. Don’t think he won’t ever do it again either. He’ll dangle that shit in your face. It’s always been a us against them.” Liliana walked away, heading to the back rooms.

Sofia angrily grabbed one of the limes on the rack. She couldn’t believe Liliana. She understood where her friends heart was. But at the same time, it hadn’t been a decision that Liliana was meant to make. Sofia wasn’t even sure if she did want to see Rafe or not.

She placed the lime in the palm of her hand, making sure when she squeezed it, it felt squishy enough. She then placed it in the plastic bag she’d taken from the bag stand. She’d been so focused on getting the right limes, that she didn’t realize; someone was staring.

“Sofia?” The voice, she could recognize it anywhere. Know it like the back of her hand. The way he gruffly spoke. It was unmistakable who it was. Rafe.

Sofia stared at Sarah and Rafe, Sarah had a small smile on her face. Sofia felt her chest tighten, they were the last people she wanted to see right now. She’d thought she’d cry in the supermarket aisles, she knew no one would be able to see her. She hated that she was wrong.

“Sofia, hi.” Sarah says, Sofia bottom lip tremble.

Sofia didn’t acknowledge Sarah, she’d apologize later. Her eyes were on Rafes. The way his face soften when he saw her. The way he licked his lips nervously. Her heart clenched again but then the anger seeped through.

“Fuck you.” With that, she dropped the bag back on the rack. She’ll come sometime next week. She didn’t want to anywhere near Rafe Cameron or his kook life.

Rafe stared, his heart sinking in his chest. He watched the girl he loved walk away from him angrily. He’d finally had found her. But… not in the way he’d hoped. He didn’t even look to Sarah to see her reaction.

“Shit, I’m sorry Rafe.” Sarah said, but he couldn’t look. He feared he’d burst into tears if he did. He held the apple in his hands. Could feel his nails dig into it, the juices spattering everywhere.

Did he lose his chance… forever?

Song Sofia is listening to on her playlist:

Song Rafe is listening to on his playlist:

Taglist: @percysley

[ibijau]

Daemon AU / On A03 An AU never dies, it just goes on artificial comma until I'm reading to pick it up again. And so does this particular one return to life, three years after it last updated. Including this, I now have three chapters ready to post, so they'll put shared whenever I remember to do it A note on it: in this AU, cultivators are like witches and can be apart from their daemons (...in most cases anyway)(previous chapters dealt with Nie Huaisang and his botched separation from his daemon). Unlike witches, cultivator's daemons can take a number of forms. Jiang Cheng's daemon is a black dog called Fengyu. Wei Wuxian's daemon is a black swan called Pashou.

The pile of papers on Jiang Cheng's desk refused to get any lower no matter how many hours he wasted on it. Cries for help, bills, a staggering number of marriage offers, a less surprising quantity of veiled threats against his weakened sect, and a bunch of other bullshit that Jiang Cheng disliked having to deal with. It shouldn’t even have been his to deal with. If his sect were properly run, then his first disciple would be handling most of that correspondence, leaving him to deal only with important messages and with training the disciples, like his parents used to do.

Wei Wuxian used to be the first disciple of Yunmeng Jiang back then, just as he was now. But while he had respected Jiang Fengmian enough to actually do the tasks asked of him, he mostly ignored Jiang Cheng’s orders and fucked off to get drunk all day long. Apparently his contribution in the Sunshot Campaign meant he never had to help anyone ever again. At least, so Fengyu and Jiang Cheng thought, when they talked about it late at night, bitter and lonely.

Inspecting a letter, Jiang Cheng nonchalantly dropped his free hand to pet Fengyu, as he often did when he was upset. He wasn’t particularly paying attention to her, just needing the reminder that he was fully alone to deal with this, even if Wei Wuxian had all but abandoned him. Of course he had his sister, and he had his disciples who were all fiercely loyal in spite of being recent recruits, but it wasn’t the same. Jiang Yanli couldn’t help with anything relating to martial art, even if she helped run other aspects of the sect, and the new disciples didn’t know about Yunmeng Jiang’s traditions, unlike Wei Wuxian who should have been teaching them, or giving Jiang Cheng the time to teach them.

Feeling his anger rise higher, Jiang Cheng started scratching Fengyu’s back, only for it to feel off. The sensation was all wrong, nothing at all like the usual coarseness of her dog fur. It felt more like…

Jiang Cheng froze, terrified to move his hand or to let himself finish that thought. He did not dare look down at the daemon laying down on a little seat next to his.

He didn’t have to look, because right then Wei Wuxian returned, Fengyu trailing behind him. It was something she did sometimes. Someone had to look after him, she’d say, and Pashou simply wasn’t the same since the Sunshot Campaign, always falling asleep somewhere. It was a disgrace really, just as annoying as Wei Wuxian’s new habit of going around without a sword.

Jiang Cheng didn’t remember Fengyu saying she would be following him that day, but he wouldn’t have stopped her anyway. Someone really did need to take care of Wei Wuxian.

Only, if it hadn’t been Fengyu next to him all afternoon, then…

“Did you even move from that desk today?” Wei Wuxian teased as he came closer, swaying on his feet, a sure sign that he’d drank far too much again. “Jiang Cheng, don’t you have disciples to train?”

“Whose fault is it if I can’t train them?” Jiang Cheng snapped, loud enough that it startled the daemon next to him.

Pashou’s head rose, blinking sleepily and looking around. She seemed almost surprised to find herself in Jiang Cheng’s office, and looked up at him as if he might explain to her what she was doing there.

“Look at your daemon!” Jiang Cheng snarled, while he absolutely refused to meet Pashou’s eyes. “How much have you had to drink for her to be in that state?”

“Not much,” Wei Wuxian protested.

“A lot,” Fengyu muttered at the same time, trotting toward Jiang Cheng.

Fengyu headbutted Pashou to make her leave her seat, but poor Pashou was in such a daze that she started falling to the side. Jiang Cheng moved to grab her, only barely stopping himself from actually touching her. Pashou fell to the floor with a dull thud, while Fengyu shot Jiang Cheng a puzzled look.

Jiang Cheng straightened his back and ignored both daemons, bringing his attention back to Wei Wuxian who was so drunk it didn’t seem to shock him that Jiang Cheng had nearly touched his daemon, something even a baby wouldn’t have done.

He was so drunk he probably hadn’t even felt that all afternoon, Jiang Cheng had been mindlessly petting Pashou as if she were his.

It made no sense.

Wei Wuxian had the excuse of wine, but Jiang Cheng didn’t. He should have noticed at the first brush of his fingers against black feathers. It wasn’t just that petting a dog and a bird should have felt different, it was the fact that he should have been shocked at the contact with someone else’s soul.

Jiang Cheng wondered, not for the first time, how much Baoshan Sanren had changed him when she had given him a new golden core, how inhuman she had made him that day.

And he had to be less human than he used to be. Only a monster could touch someone else’s daemon and feel nothing.

“You’re a disgrace,” Jiang Cheng exclaimed, unsure if he meant Pashou, Wei Wuxian, or himself. “How long are you going to continue shaming our sect this way?”

Somewhere on the floor, Pashou muttered a weak ‘sorry’, while Wei Wuxian came closer and picked her up with a laugh, as if none of this mattered to him.

“She’s just a little tired,” Wei Wuxian claimed, struggling to hold her, as if her weight were almost too much for him. She was a large swan after all. “Jiang Cheng, don’t be so grumpy. Drop your work and let’s go have wine by the lake.”

“Some of us have responsibilities,” Jiang Cheng retorted, glaring at his first disciple, annoyed that for some reason, it felt wrong to see Wei Wuxian holding Pashou like this. Refusing to dwell on this, Jiang Cheng looked for something else to focus on. He easily found it. “Where’s your sword?”

Wei Wuxian rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the question, which only encouraged Jiang Cheng to insist until they fell into a full blown argument. He only stopped shouting at Wei Wuxian when Jiang Yanli, alerted by the noise, came to reconcile them as she always did, offering affection and soup for both of them.

It usually worked, because in spite of his temper Jiang Cheng desperately wanted to be happy with his sister and Wei Wuxian. That night though, the soup tasted of nothing. And every time his eyes fell again on Pashou, Jiang Cheng was reminded that for all that he criticised Wei Wuxian’s behaviour since the end of the war, he too had returned changed.

[nikethestatue]

I wanted to write about something else, but as I started digging deeper, I didn't feel that my case was well-supported, and therefore, I won't write the meta.

Now, of course the investigation led me down the rabbit hole of ACOSF.

And my god, does it help to unlearn some of the things that we keep repeating and which aren't necessarily true, by actually reading the text 'raw'. Without any agenda.

Anyway, there are some very interesting things that stood out to me as I was reading the latter part of ACOSF today. First of all, I remembered how much I actually love it. I know. I know. Everyone is an ACOSF hater but I actually loved the book when I first read it and I apparently, still really like it. That aside, here are some of the more interesting things that jumped out at me, especially in light of HOFAS and the information that it offered.

To put the arguments down once and for all:

YES, there is a TRAITOR in the IC. Or, at least a potential traitor.

p. 722

"You kill me," Nesta gasped, "and you don't get the Trove. You'll never find it."

"There are others in your court as delusional as you are. They'll get it for me one way or another, with the right incentive. Granted, I'll need your blood to unlock the wards of the Trove."

What is interesting is that after Nyx's birth, Mor winnowed ALL THREE Trove items to their proper places. Which means that she can at least touch them.

There is also a drop of blood on Truth Teller for when Azriel nicked Nesta's finger to bind the Trove objects to her blood.

Interesting.

2. Both Bellius and Briallyn repeatedly called Gwyn a 'half-breed'. A half breed of what? And why would it matter? When it comes to her nymph blood, that seems like just a drop in a bucket, and therefore wouldn't make sense to call her a 'half-breed' just because she is a quarter nymph. Everything indicates that she is otherwise a normal High Fae. So, why does it matter, especially to Bellius, who is Illyrian? It really jumped at me that they kept repeating this 'title'. They didn't even bother with her name, not once. Just called her a 'half-breed'. So, what is the 'half' in Gwyn? The only other famous half-breed that I can think of is Rhys, who is truly half-Illyrian and half-High Fae.

3. It would seem that BOTH Rhys and Feyre are Starborn, as is Nyx.

"The baby, whom Rhys and Feyre named Nyx, was as beautiful as anyone could ever dream a baby to be. Dark hair, with blue eyes that already glowed with his father' and mother's starlight, offsetting the light tan of his skin." (p. 740)

4. Nesta could Make and Un-make things and beings. Without any Trove objects, but with the sheer power of her being. We, of course know, that she Made the House and all the weapons and the bracelets. But, she also UNMADE Braillyn. She didn't just kill her. She Unmade what the Cauldron Made Braillyn--which is a crone--she brought her back to her young and beautiful self, and then she destroyed her.

This raises the question of Elain's powers and whether she possesses something similar? Can she UNMake a bond? Can she Unmake a curse? Can she Unmake death?

It also raises the question of whether the sisters' powers equal those of the Cauldron?

5. I think that Nesta WILL BE Queen. Of what, I am not sure. However, I think that the two foreshadows (not to mention her title of Queen of Queens) is the vision that Lanthys showed her, of the two of them ruling the world made of pure magic, but also this exchange:

"You could've ruled the world with your power," he said carefully.

"I don't want to rule the world." Her eyes were unguarded in a way he had never seen. Mate, she had called him.

"What do you want?" Cassian managed to ask, voice rasping.

She smiled, and damn if it wasn't the loveliest thing he'd ever seen. "You."

"You've had me from the moment you met me."

She tucked a strand of hair behind an arched ear. "I know." p. 742

6. Which leads me to my final point.

Anyone, and I mean ANYONE, who claims that Nessian would be broken apart, that they are not true mates, that Nesta doesn't like him, that Cassian doesn't love her are certifiably insane.

I think what people remember is the smut in ACOSF, but reading it closely, you quickly realize that it is a book of love and devotion. Of great love. Of love that doesn't need the words 'I love you' actually. This is a book of stunning emotions. And I wish people would reread it and get their heads straight.

Other things I picked up: Koschei can winnow others. Which means he can control the environment beyond the lake.

I think there are some other things that I noticed that contradict some long-standing opinions, but I'll leave it for another time.

[rosyredlipstick]

hii i recently started reading your fireworks series on ao3 and i'm rly enjoying it!! initially started for solangelo but was caught off guard by conchell bc why did they lowkey steal the show (even though i barely knew these characters before reading)..! I only got into pjo the past few months so i wanted to ask if u maybe have any recs bc i haven't read much on ao3 for pjo yet and i really like your writing style so your taste has to be good as well :)

haha i love converting people to conchell <3 <3 <3 i love writing them <3 THANK YOU FOR READING!

and yes definitely!! here are some classics and more recent favs:

what if there were two (side by side in orbit) by @2nd2ndalto

Reyna drops a file on Nico’s desk. “Are you familiar with Agent William Solace?”

Nico blinks. “Doesn’t ring any bells.”

::

It's an X-Files au!

...

Clichecore au by @gatesofember

“You didn’t have to come out. You could have just corrected her when she assumed we were together.” “Nico, I was accused of being straight.”

Childhood friends Nico and Will have been inseparable since reuniting by chance in college. Now they’ve been roommates for the better part of the past decade and Nico can’t imagine his life without Will in it. But they’re definitely not dating. Nico doesn’t get why people always assume otherwise.

...

soooo much by @buoyantsaturn but especially would you wait for me as i long for you?

Will, 

Dad called. Be back later.

-Nico ♥

ALSO if you like conchell..... I PRESENT THE LEGALLY BLONDE AU <3

Watch Me While I Walk Away

“Actually, I’m taking over the route - Connor, nice to meet you,” the driver said, before going through the usual sign here, first name, last initial spiel. “Thank you very much, and I’ll see you around!” 

...

three-in-one soap by @thelordofshrimp

Austin glared at his sister. “Will can’t lie, genius. He says that since he became head counselor, any shower that lasts more than three minutes gets interrupted by someone needing his help.” “That’s… crazy.” Nico considered the number of showers he’d taken even in his short time at camp and imagined if even half of them had been interrupted. “It is,” Jerry agreed. “Not like there’s much we can do about it, though.” “You can always do something about it.” Nico sat up. “There has to be something.” “Not unless you can somehow keep the whole camp safe at once.”

...

august by @cordelia---rose

Somehow, Nico's life only gets more confusing after he defeats a primordial Goddess.

Will Solace accounts for about 90% of that confusion.

(A journey through August, and all its ups and downs.)