#hazel angst
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amnesiac!percy being super, super, super protective of hazel to a concerning degree but he brushes it off as maybe she reminds him of someone from his life before. when percy explains his plan of drinking gorgons blood, hazel offers herself up to drink the blood. sheâs died once before, she can do it again. percy has something to do, he has people to find. he canât risk his life for something like this. hazel can do it. chances are, with the doors of death open and thanatos locked up, she can find her way back as a child of pluto.
percy refuses. he wonât let her get a word out. she insists. he refuses. their argument crescendos into him calling her bianca. its draws them all up short. percy is confused, he has no idea whose name that is. he has no idea why his chest hurts so bad. hazel does. hazel knows. its her dead sisterâs name. nicoâs real sister. the one he lost years ago.
she knew that percy and nico knew each other, nico pretty much confirmed it but he refused to elaborate on any of the details. percy mustâve known bianca. that must be where percy and nico knew each other from. she has grown somewhat used to nico calling her bianca, she had been a substitute, a consolation prize from the underworld. nico couldnât find his real sister so he settled for a shadow of her. she had thought percy, someone she had grown to think of as an older brother, would be different. yet here he is, with no memory, calling her the name of a ghost, someone she can never hope to live up to. someone she canât compete with. someone who will always be better than her.
#hazel angst#omg has that ever been done before#LMFAO#hazel levesque i love you#percy jackson i love you#nico di angelo i love you#bianca di angelo i love you#but god i love angst#pjo#percy jackson and the olympians#hoo#heroes of olympus#heros of olympus#hazel levesque#percy jackson#nico di angelo#bianca di angelo#SON#son of neptune#frank is minding his own business
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Friendly reminder that just like Nico had to learn itâs okay to be queer, Hazel would have had to learn that itâs okay to be queer, a person of colour or a woman.
Hazel was born in the 1920s-1930s and we donât talk about that nearly enough-
#pjo#percy jackson#pjo hoo toa#heroes of olympus#percy jackon and the olympians#nico di angelo#hazel pjo#hazel levesque#hazel angst#hazel levesque i love you#nico and hazel#Iâve read a fic where Nico comes out to Hazel#and it was soooo good#bc Hazel didnât get it at first-#but Reyna explained it all to her#and i love it#fic- you need not worry I shall love you all the same#itâs by flowerrrr on ao3#nico di angelo canon#pjo fandom#pjo fanfic
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Hazel levesque they could never make me hate you.
hazel defender for life btw
#pjo#hoo#hazel levesque#heroes of olympus#percy jackson#pjo hoo toa#percy jackon and the olympians#hazel pjo#hazel levesque i love you#hazel angst
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As much as I love angst I think it would be funny if he just didnt give af
#Hazel you cant just ask people if they have a dead mom#fairly oddparents#fop a new wish#fop#fairly oddparents a new wish#headcanon#fop hazel#hazel wells#fop dev#dev dimmadome#I think he has mildly positive associations with it tbh#He asked where babies came from and his dad actually took him aside and explained how he was super special and important#and better than everyone else because he was a clone and talked him through the whole cloning process very excitedly#(Dev did not understand a word of it but it was probably the most positive interaction he'd ever had with his dad)#later Dev came back and asked where normal kids come from and he got uncomfy and made an Au-Pair explain#other than that Dev has basically no thoughts on being a clone its just a fact to him.#Actually thinking about it now that could be a really dark explanation for why his real name is Development#I mean you dont just get cloning right on the first try#and nobody wants to name and get attached something that might just fall over dead any minute#HAHA anway angst over teehee :3#fop nature au#<-for organization since this HC applies to it too
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that feeling when you've recently come back from the 1900s where violence and disgust towards black people was prevalent everywhere and suddenly now your white best friend points at your black mom and says that she looks beautiful like you:
THIS MOMENT IS GOING TO HIT SO HARD IN TV ADAPTATION WHEN PERCY WILL LOOK HER IN THE EYES AND TELL HER "she looks like you. she's beautiful. my gf's black too btwđ„°
(percy would not mind annabeth being black in the books, he would still find her beautiful, so why should you?)
#percy jackson#rick riordan#pjo#annabeth chase#pjo fandom#pjo tv show#percabeth#percy jackon and the olympians#heroes of olympus#pjo tv series#percyjackson#percy pjo#percy series#percy and annabeth#annabeth#hoo annabeth#hazel levesque#heroes of olympus fanart#hoo text post#pjo hoo toa#pjo hoo#hazel hoo#hoo hazel#pjo series#percy jackson angst#percy jackson spoilers#percy jackson series#percy jackson heroes of olympus#thalia grace
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This Rita Ora song reminds me too much of Cosmo đ„Č
#the fairly oddparents#fairly oddparents#fairly odd parents timmy#fairly odd parents a new wish#fairly odd parents fanart#fairly odd parents cosmo#fairly odd parents hazel#fop a new wish#fop fanart#fopanw#fop hazel#fop cosmo#fop timmy#cosmo cosma#timmy turner#hazel wells#fairly odd angst#angst#angst art#fanart#rita ora
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Dev and Hazel: Part 1
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Things kids do sometimes (I did this once sorry dad)
#my art#dev dimmadome#hazel wells#the fairly oddparents#fairly oddparents a new wish#fop fanart#fopanw#hope this doesnât come off as super angsty itâs supposed to be funny#saw someone say heavy angst feels wrong for a show like fop and honestly yeah#dale dimmadome#super un stable
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THE JEONGHAN ONE WAS SO FUNNYYY AND CUTEEE DAMNNNN, the menace and you wrote it so well as well
Can I ask the same overslept for woozi version? but and maybe, slightly angst fluff version??? đ idk why I have been loving angst too much these day, have a great day!
thank you!! hereâs woozi ver and this is my first time doing something new. i hope you like it,,,, thank you for requesting đ«¶đ»
bf texts with woozi!
character: woozi (featuring hoshi)
genre(s): fake texts, smau, angst, fluff
she/her reader x woozi!
note: keep track of the time in the text đ
masterlist
taglist đ«¶đ»
@worldpeaceforyoongi @sunooslover @forever-atiny @qockiestt @mystverse @blaycke @jaslwr @weird-bookworm @clownprincehoeshi @aaa-sia @http-mewchuu @heeseungthel0ml @toplinehyunjin @aervera @arkynz @Hawshiiiii @jenowithjaem @chhnc @gyuguys @dunixxd
join my taglist here (make sure your mention is on!)
#hazel posted#smau#seventeen x reader#seventeen imagines#seventeen fluff#kpop smau#svt fluff#svt smau#seventeen#seventeen smau#woozi smau#woozi texts#woozi x reader#woozi hoshi#woozi#lee jihoon#kwon soonyoung#woozi x yn#woozi x you#woozi fluff#woozi angst#woozi text#woozi imagines#svt woozi#woozi scenarios
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Hiiii! Can you pls draw Hazel comforting and holding a crying Dev? I could really use it rn.
*(love the art by the way)*
Another sketch!! Iâm little lazy for finish this but I think itâs okay
#fairly oddparents#fop fanart#fairly odd parents a new wish#hazel wells#dev dimmadome#art#devzel#artists on tumblr#angst#i defiantly cried when draw this
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hazel âis it ok to grieve someone i never metâ levesque
#itâs about bianca btw :D#and in a sense her mom too#angst#angst is such an odd word#anyway i thought of this in the car#also nico âis it ok to let a part of myself dieâ di angelo#DEATH KIDS!! :D#they are my favs#my everything#they keep me alive ngl/j#hazel levesque#hazel levesque headcanons#pjo headcanon#percy jackson#pjo hoo toa#pjo#pjo fandom#pjo series#rrverse#percy jackon and the olympians#heroes of olympus#percy jackson fandom#pjo angst#bianca di angelo#nico di angelo#hades kids
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homecoming
hazel callahan x fem! reader.
summary; loving her was a sin, but if there was a hell, youâd go with her.
cw; +18 content, minors dni!, weâre in the 80s!, both reader and hazel are 18!!, inspired by homecoming from ethel cain, homophobia, angst, pining, both reader and hazel being in love, kissing, crying, hair pulling, mentions of the bible, god and hell, fingering (r! receiving)âŠ
youâre staring at her, and she canât be more beautiful. it hurts. everything about it hurts. her suit matches her beautiful eyes, and her hair looks so soft you just want to dip her fingers in and tug. tug her closer. until there is no distance in between the two of you. until you can breathe from her lips, until nothing else exists.
but you canât. and it just breaks you apart like a porcelain doll smashed against the floor.
her name is just as beautiful as her. hazel. like the spring, like the earth and the green. and just like the season, she brings butterflies to your stomach, makes goosebumps bloom like flowers on your skin. and sheâs so warmâŠ
sheâs a sin. but such a pretty one⊠maybe they all are. would it make a difference? everything else evaporated as she takes your hand, like the blood in your veins. you want the blue in her eyes to bathe you clean.
âdance with me?â she asks, as if you could resist, as if you werenât on her knees and begging for her to a god that forbid this sickening love that drenches your bones.
and you nod, âcause there are no words you could muster. not when sheâs this close, when her fingers are laced in between yours and her cologne is suffocating you.
youâre more patientâ
now than you ever have been.
her smile is blinding, and you can just follow her to the mass of teenagers dancing in the middle of the room, even when your heart is about to burst out of your chest and your stomach is tying in knots.
youâre more brave now that you ever have been.
her hands are on your waist, and your arms are around her neck. and youâre dancing, slow. you feel like one of those princesses in the fairytales your mom would read you when you were just a mere kid, with glass heels and satin fluffy dresses, in between the arms of a prince. you wanted to smash the crystal below your feet and break it to pieces, dance bare feet on the remains of the happily ever after that you wonât get.
âyou look beautiful.â she whispers, and your cheeks redden. your heart flips, and you wish this werenât the way it all goes, but you canât help but say it back.
âyou too.â you stare into her eyes, shying when she smiles, pulling you closer against her chest. you swore you could feel the quickened heartbeat of her heart. hazel fears you do.
you could feel her breath on your neck, through your homecoming dress before she speaks again.
âcan i tell you a secret?â you nodded, your soul blooming in a field of flowers when she spoke those four words against your ear. âiâm desperate for you.â
and even though you felt complete, you couldnât help but want to push her away, punch her in the face. âcause your love was so big. you wanted it to be her problem too.
there, just inches away from her, from her plushy reddish lipsâŠfour left feet in a room, always all over her. why had you had to fall in love with her?
and you both knew this was how it goes. you both get too close âtil you fucking explode.
you only tugged her closer, burying your face on her neck to hide your blushing, your nerves, but mostly your fear. you couldnât look her in the eyes, into this sin.
âdonât look now but everyoneâs staring at us weird.â she said, and your breath hitched.
âis it just me or thereâs no air in here?â you could feel your chest tighten, millions of eyes on you.
but youâd take it all. stand there and bleed under the knives their eyes sent you if that meant you could stay in between her arms just one more minute, one more second.
âjust breathe. iâm right here.â she promised, holding you tight.
everyone was watching you. you couldnât breath.
âcanât we just leave?â you muttered, and she nodded. you wanted to run away with her, run to where no one would know you, would see you.
she took your hand, and you followed as you two left the prom, the hallways of your high school felt sickeningly cold, yet she kept you warm, hand on hand.
it was all a blur as you two ran through them, eyes on the back of her head, on her flowy soft black hair, and before you knew you were inside the bathrooms, your back against the cold tiles as she looked into your eyes.
âtell me i shouldnât.â she whispered against your lips, one of her hands cupping your cheek. your eyes met her lips.
your fist tightened on the jacket of her suit, knuckles turning white as you leaned closer to her, until your lips were hers and hers yours. you closed your eyes, relishing on this love that you were gifted, this cursed love that you couldnât scape.
tears were soaking your eyes, ruining the makeup your mother had helped you put on. you were gutted. your hands found her hair, tugging. you wanted to hurt her. break her just like she had broken you.
âi wish you were a boyâŠâ you muttered in a sob, and hazelâs eyes fell. she silently kissed you again. and you let her. they said love hurt, and you were ready to die for it.
the kiss only got deeper, so deep you were drowning. you wished there was no god. no heaven. no hell.
âi love you.â she muttered against your neck, softly kissing it, pressing you harder against the wall.
âdonât.â you begged. âplease, donât.â
âiâm sorry. iâll go to hell for it. but i do.â tears were brimming her eyes as well.
you kissed her to quiet her. you needed her to hush it all. to not speak up this forbidden love that hung in between the two of you.
her tongue pushed inside your mouth and you moaned.
âplease, hazel. make me forgetâŠâ you pleaded, starred eyes staring into her soul, and her shaky warm hands crept under the skirt of your dress, pushing aside your panties to feel how wet youâve become for her. you cried out when you felt her fingers dive in between your slick folds, her fingertips tracing soft circles against your clit. you pulled on her hair, making her grunt.
âyouâre so beautifulâŠâ she repeated, if she could she would say it over and over again until sheâd lose her voice. a whimper fell from your parted and swollen lips when she pushed her middle finger inside you, fucking you slowly. it was as if she were trying to make love to you. to convince you that this was no sin. just love.
you could believe her.
âi love you.â you cried on her shoulder, your hips pushing against her touch. âi love you so much it hurts.â she kissed your cheek, your forehead and your lips.
she hushed you, her free hand coming to softly brush your hair as she added a second finger, curling them and making you moan. âjust focus on me, alright? just me, sweet girl. iâm right here, baby.â she kissed you once again, painfully slow and sweet. you could feel yourself rotting in it, vanishing as your orgasm approached, whimpers and whines being swallowed by hazel as she worked you towards it.
âhazelâŠâ you called out for her.
âi know. i know. just let go for me, princess, let go.â you cried out as it hit you, your hips sputtering and your chest rising in a deep breath. you whole body shook at its intensity, and hazel made sure to help you ride it until it became too much for you. she pulled her fingers out of you just to push them into her mouth to taste you. you were heaven on her tongue.
you needed a taste.
and as you kissed her, holding her close to your heart, you whispered.
âif thereâs a hell, i will go with you.â
and thatâs a promise no god could break.
-
a/n; relatable
#hazel callahan angst#hazel callahan fic#hazel callahan fluff#hazel callahan smut#hazel callahan x you#hazel callahan x reader#hazel callahan#hazel bottoms#hazel callahan bottoms#bottoms x reader#bottoms 2023#bottoms movie#bottoms fanfic
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Friendly reminder that Hazel Levesque gave up Elysium for her mother, a person who treated her terribly her whole life
#pjo#percy jackson#pjo hoo toa#heroes of olympus#percy jackon and the olympians#hazel levesque i love you#hazel levesque#hazel pjo#daughter of Pluto#in another universe hoo was written better#pjo toa hoo#pjo hoo#hoo#pjo fandom#pjo series#hazel hoo#hazel angst#percy jackson heroes of olympus#they could never make me hate you
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Meanwhile In Camp Jupiter,
Any Random Roman: Tell Me what you remember about yourself! Percy: I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND.
#pjo#pjo hoo toa#heroes of olympus#percy jackson#toa#hoo#percy pjo#annabeth pjo#annabeth chase#annabeth#annabeth x percy#percy and annabeth#percabeth#percabeth angst#percy angst#pjo incorrect quotes#annabeth angst#camp jupiter#reyna ramirez arellano#reyna pjo#hazel#hazel levesque#Hazel pjo
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MAPLE HAZEL | Joel Miller â Part Three
SUMMARY: joelâs misery is palpable. youâre oblivious to it. until youâre not.
PAIRING: no outbreak!joel miller x afab!reader
WORD COUNT: 5.9k, you are welcum.
WARNINGS: angst. reader is an eagles fan (do NOT come for me, they are my boys. go birds đŠ
). F L U F F. mentions of readerâs dad. tommy and joel are jerks, but joel redeems himself. tommy can suck a fat one. i kidddd <3 this is probably the angst-iest this storyâll get because im addicted to the fluff so. enjoy. đ€đŒ not proof read or edited, i cannot be fucked for that.
TAGS: if you would like to be added for future installments, then let me know besties!! if iâve forgotten anyone thatâs asked to get added, then please slap me. @millersleee @goodvibesonly421 @j0elmlllers @scorpio-echo
SERIES MASTERLIST
Joelâs hands seize the steering wheel of his truckïżœïżœthe same one thatâs presently stationed on your drivewayâknuckles turning sheet white for the hold that he has is completely unforgiving. And sore.
Heâs irascible. Livid. His anger is sheathed by shame and hatred for himself as the way that he conducted himself this morning was unseemly. Even for Joel, it was appalling. And though you didnât appear to have any reservations, he knew that he bothered you. Your face didnât allude to irritation, nor did your tone or mannerisms, but Joel was more than conscious of your internal hurt.
He just knows you that well.
But now heâs sittingâlegs numb and cheeks charring redâstriving to conjure up an apology thatâll help to shirk any ill-feeling that you may have toward him. Because he was a fucking jerk this morning.
And it was all because of an Eagles sweater, believe it or not.
9.42 AM
Birch Grove is bustling. It's considerably brighter, this morning. The doom and gloom that enveloped your small town yesterday has now dissipated, leaving nothing but small puddles of rainwater and grit in its wake, and itâs beautiful. A sight to behold when youâre leaving your house today.
You avoid the wetness on the roadâhoping not to muddy your shoesâand bounce onto the sidewalk, admiring the oil slick that blankets damp gravel on your way over to Joelâs. You swear that thereâs a divot in the concrete that holds semblance to a heart, but youâre not sure if thatâs just a delusion from lack of sleep or some sort of sign from the universe telling you that perhaps itâs time to find a significant other.
Nonetheless, you take in the scene. How yesterdayâin the midst of a stormânot a single body littered the crosswalk, therefore leaving Joelâs little coffee shop completely empty. But todayânow that the air has cleared and rain almost dried upâitâs like nothing had even happened, and the entire town is out in force. Like they always should be.
Joel watches in awe as you make tracks across the street toward the cafeâwondering how he ever deserved such a buoyant presence like you in his life despite the fact that heâs a perpetually miserable middle-aged manâand busies himself so you donât think heâs been ogling you this entire time.
But then the bell rings, Joelâs eyes flick upâagainst his own willâand you bound over the threshold with the biggest smile. He swallows extremely thickly.
âGood morning.â You say, as happy as everâclearly on a high from your not-dateâand pad through the room toward him. âCan I please have aââ
âYouâre late.âÂ
One of your perfectly tweezed brows raises.Â
âFor work.â He elaborates. Joel clears his throat. âYouâre late for work.â
âI got the day off.â You remind him. He vaguely remembers you saying something about this elusive break on Monday, but was honestly too distracted by his brother attempting to use the coffee machine.Â
Joel nods, taking your favorite mug off of the shelf. You smile at the sentiment.Â
âAh, youâre going shopping. Right?â
You nod. Your stomach gurgles when your eyes satisfy the gaze of a perfectly plump cinnamon roll. Not too thick, not too over-done, and the right bun to icing ratio. Itâs sittingâaloneâin one of the little cake cases.
âI am.â You reply, taking the glass dome off of the top. Like last time, you swipe the sweet treat right from underneath Joelâs nose. Only, today, you slide two dollars across so he canât complain.Â
But he wouldnât anyway. Not today. Because he admires the fact that youâre ungovernable, while simultaneously respecting him. To an extent, anyway.Â
âI can get you some fall decor.â
âNoââ
âHe needs to spruce this place up.â
His eyes roll when heâs pouring the frothed milk atop your latte, hardly going unnoticed by his larger-than-life, sometimes a bit too overbearing brother.Â
Tommy acknowledges you by saying your name, and you grin back at him. Itâs nice to see one of the Millerâs with anything but a stoic expression slapped against those rough, rugged features. Though thereâs something about Joelâs that seems rather superficial.Â
Despite being perennial at times, you feel as though youâve cracked through his tough exterior and. Youâre certainly able to decipher between his real and mock revulsion. Last night was the first time that Joelâs guard had truly been down, and it was wonderful.Â
âGet him some pumpkins. A wreathââ
âI donât need no pumpkins. And what the hell is a wreath?â
The youngest brother pulls a stool out next to you, and bumps your shoulder as he sits. He looks at you as if to say get a load of this guy, and you laugh. Joel passes you your latte, and you think that you see a hint of a smile tugging at those plush lips. But you wonât swear to it.Â
âA wreath is what Mrs. McKlaren has on her front door for each season.â
âYeah.â Tommy chimes in. He pulls one of the Birch Grove Gazettes from the pile beside the cake case, and opens it up. âBut you knew that. Youâre just playinâ dumb in front ofââ
You elbow him. âQuit teasinâ.â Further defending your friend, you say; âitâs not his fault if heâs not too polished up on the names of things. Heâs not pussy-whipped like you are, Tom.â
Joel chuckles at that comment, thanking you with a nod. A man of few words, though you get him. Down to a fine art.Â
âTrue.â He flicks through a few pages, before heâs turning to you with a grimace when you take off your jacket to reveal one of your dadâs old Eagles sweaters. âOh, God no.â
You frown, putting it to sit on the seat next to you.Â
Itâs common knowledge around these parts that there are two teams, and two teams only that itâs acceptable to support. Unless youâre flaunting the badge of the Texans or Dallas Cowboys, then youâre basically committing a federal crime. And the men of Birch Grove take this very, very seriously.Â
âJoel. I know youâre friends with this broadââ
âWatch your mouth.â He grumbles, appearing from the kitchen. He has his head down, hands full of cutlery.Â
âSorry.â Tommy says oh so quietly. âButâbut look. Sheâs wearing the mark of the devil.â
Your eyes are rolling so hard you fear that theyâll roll straight from their sockets and into your coffee. You just know that beneath the green flannel, Joel is donning an Aikman jersey.
âThatâs so dramatic.â Arms are being folded over as you speak, and he still hasnât looked in your direction. âItâs just a football teamââ
âWoah.â The two Millers harmonize. Joel eyes you directly and turns his nose up as soon as he heeds the shade of green that should be classed as blasphemy, not midnight. Â
He didnât know that you liked them. Tess liked them, too. But you know that. Youâre not fucking stupid.Â
And perhaps she mightâve aided the disgust that percolates through Joel whenever he hears someone utter the name Brian Dawkins, but he canât help associating them with her. That same way he thinks of her whenever Fall rolls around, or whenever you step into his little cafe.Â
He has such strong feelings for you, but needs to put them aside. He needs to bury them deep for fear of the past repeating itself because he isnât sure if he can go through that again. His guard goes up, and eyes go down. He busies himself with cleaning.Â
âSacrilege.â Tommy spits. âItâs not just a football team, woman. Itâs Irreverent. To come in here and wear that is absolutely ridiculous.â
Your jaw rolls and you look down at the faded logo.Â
âI respect that you root for the birds, I do. It must be hard to support such a shit teamââ
âLanguage.â Joel scolds, a little heated. âBut, I agree. Canât go wearinâ that âround these parts. Itâs almost as bad as you cominâ in here wearing a Steelers jersey.â
Tommy grimaces. Itâs not quite as bad, but it certainly sucks.Â
But, to you, what sucks is the fact that these menâgrown fucking menâare chewing you out over a sweater. Itâs childâs play.Â
âTheyâre not a shitty team. Theyâre great.â You defend your guys, watching Joel try to control the bitterness threatening to bust right out of his lips. âIâve always loved them. My dad is from Phillyââ
âExplains why you have such crappy taste.â
You blink at Tommy.Â
âAnyway.â You clear your throat. âIâll always root for the birds, because theyâre my favorites. I also, believe it or not, enjoy the Cowboys when they play at home, or against the Giants. Itâs patriotic. But they are a pretty shitty teamââ
âNo, they ainât.â
âThey are.â You uphold, making direct eye contact with the youngest sibling. âRemind me, when was the last time they went to the Superbowl?â
Tommyâs jaw rolls, and Joel can feel himself slipping.Â
âNinety-five.â Begrudgingly, he says. âBut that donât mean shitââ
âKinda does.âÂ
âNo it donât.â He growls. âWhen was the last time those damn birds won the big game, huh?â
Without missing a beat, you say; âtwenty-eighteen. They beat the Patriots by eight points, Brady sucked and Foles was the MVP. I tailgated at the stadium with my dad and uncleââ
âIn Minnesota?â
âYessir.â You tell Tommy before taking the last sip of yourânow lukewarmâcoffee. âIâll also be heading to Philly to see the Eagles v Steelers game.â
Joel scoffs.Â
âGot somethinâ to say, old timer?â
He grinds his lips together before saying; âjust baffles me sâall. Donât get how someoneâDallas born ân raisedâcan root for a team from Philadelphia.â
âJust the way it goes. But I did say that I enjoy them from time to time.â
âShouldnât be that way.â Tommy interjects. âTexans are meant to support Texan-made teams all the time. Not fuckinâââ
âTommy.â Joel gestures to the customers, scolding him again for his crudeness.Â
You pull cash from your purse while the two of them bicker, putting atop the counter before Joel can even refuse. You shrug on your jacket, too, promptly doing up the buttons so the tension can dissipate a little. But it doesnât.Â
âIâm not arguing with you two morons over football any longer.â A little meaner than intended, you tell the two of them. You turn to Joel, brows furrowing. âAnd I know why you despise the Eagles; Iâm not an idiot. I saw her walking âround the place with her scarves in the winter, ân the occasional jersey on football Sundays.â
Tommy looks between the two of you, sensing some friction.Â
âDonât project Tessâs shit onto me, Joel.â Blunt, you say. âIâm sorry that I was the reason for her leaving, but it ainât my fault we have the same interests. You canât pussyfoot around forever, and I donât appreciate gettinâ admonished for a fucking football sweatshirt.â
âDonât.â He warns, wrenching a dish rag between calloused fingertips. He knew that last nightâs conversation was deep-rooted in something more than just you being curious. âIâm not pussyfootinâ âround. I just donât wanna talk about her.â
âI know.â You sayârealizing that you were a little too hot off the markâbut you donât feel sorry. âBut thereâll always be people who like the same things that she did, or say the same things, or remind you of her.â
He looks at you. He knows what you mean. He knows that you know thatâin some kind of wayâyou make Joel think of her. Youâre so strong, like Tess. So outspoken, exactly like her. But youâre caring and kind, and donât get jealous over the slightest little things, and you let him speak.Â
You let him tell you about his troubles, not that he shares too much. And youâre not pushy. But now, it feels like youâre being exactly that.Â
âIâm sorry that my mere presence as a Goddamn Eagles fan pisses you off, Joel, but Iâm not going to be able to change that. Youâll just have to try and detach those memoriesââ
The dishrag is being hurled onto the bar along with his fists. âIâm not gonna detach those memories! I ainât gonna forget her just âcus you think you know me and my relationship with that woman so well! You donât know shit. All you do is come in here ân drink coffee, rant about crap that nobody cares about, make me listen to your stupid fuckinâ problemsâand Iâm sick of it!â
You blink back tears as you stare at him, for the volume is intimidating and completely unwavering. Youâve never been yelled at beforeâin front of customers, by Joelâand you want to be sick. Everyone is staring. Some people are even leaving.Â
Has he always felt this way? You wonder. Has Joel always thought that your ramblings are pointless, and that your issues are facetious? Youâre sure that heâs just spewing nonsense at this point, but it still stings.Â
âJoelââ
âGet out.â He looks down, hands gripping tightly the wooden countertop. He refuses eye contact.Â
Tommy gives you a weak smile, immediately regretting setting foot into Joelâs this morning. Quite like you, really.Â
âIâm really sorry for bringing her up, Joel, I know howââ
âGo.â His eyes lift to satisfy your gaze, hurt written over his features. âPleaseâŠJust leave.â
âOkay.â You nod, lifting your purse from the stool. Itâs a quick bye to Tommy that has those damn tears spilling as you walk to your car, not even looking back to wave or smile at your friend like you usually do.Â
You fear that thisâll change the trajectory of your relationship with Joel. And his brother knows that.Â
He knows that if he doesnât say somethingâat this point, anythingâthen Joel will just let this sit and fester, and become something that it has absolutely no business being.Â
His brother knows that youâre the only constant in his lifeâaside from familyâand if he lets you go, then heâll be considerably more bleak. Heâll have his patrons to keep him company, but he wonât have you. The girl that hasâunbeknownst to herâgiven Joel something to look forward to every day.Â
The girl that Joel canât help thinking of, or talking about, whenever he gets the chance. And despite not always showing his admiration, heâs besotted with you. Infatuated, perhaps. His fondness so clear that everyone can see it. Everyone, aside from you.Â
Especially after that. Â
âYouâre a fucking jerk.â Tommy chastises. âShe shouldnât have mentioned Tess, but that was horribleââ
âI donât care.â Through gritted teeth, he tells him. âShe took it too farââ
âNo, we did.â He admits. âShe probably wouldnât have brought the bitch up if we didnât tease her for wearing her dadâs fuckinâ sweater.â
Joel swallows the lump in his throat, refusing to admit that Tommy could be right about this.Â
âYou needâa get a hold of your emotions, brother. Canât be sendinâ her away like that when we both know youâve got feelings for herââ
Joel grumbles as he rounds the counter, polishing a few tables in hopes that his sibling will go and leave him to it. But he doesnât.Â
âCanât let Tess be the reason you two ainât talkinâ. âSpecially âcus she ainât even in the state anymore.â
Fuck. Off.Â
Tommy watches him feign emotion, knowing deep down that his brother wants to beat himself to a pulp because you didnât deserve any of that.Â
âSheâs right, yâknow?â
âWhat?âÂ
Tommy says your name. âSheâs right. If you donât cut ties with the things that remind you of Tess, then youâll never be happy. Always be comparinâ shit to her, and makinâ yourself miserable. Or miserable-r.â
âThat ainât even a word, dipshit.â
âTrue, though.â He says. âJoel, youâre so in love with this girl, you canât let her go over a Goddamn football teamââ
âNot in love.â
âBullshit.â The youngest spits. âYou get literal heart eyes whenever you look at her, and donât even try ân deny it âcus Maria notices too.â
Joel blinks at him, wondering how heâd been so openly vulnerable. Heâa confused at how heâd unintentionally let his guard down enough to display his feelings. The ones that he wasnât even certain about.Â
âIt mightnât be love, Joel, but youâre mad about this girl.â He says a bit softer. Quieter. âAnd you can try to put these feelings aside, but whatâre you gonna do if she walks in here with another man? Or she goes on more dates and finds the one? You just gonna live with it? Just gonna be jealous and miserable for the rest of your life?â
Joel walks to the cafĂ© window and just stares for a few moments, secretly hoping to see you stomp across the street to give him a piece of your mind. But you donât.Â
âThink youâve done enough wallowinâ in the past, donât you?â
He supposes that heâs right. Joel knows that thereâs some truth to what is being said to him, and so he turns the Open sign to Closed, and gestures for Tommy to get the remaining customers to leave.Â
âWhatâre you gonna do?âÂ
âMake things right.â Joel grabs his jacket from the coat stand beside the door, and throws the shop keys to his brother. âClose up for me, will âya?â
Tommy shakes his head. He gets off of his stool and goes behind the counter, grabbing one of the aprons from the hook beside the kitchen door.Â
âTurn the sign back âround. You mightâve just lost your most loyal customer, you canât afford to fuckinâ lose no more.â
Joel just nods. He has no fight left inside of him. He does as told, and storms across the sidewalk to his truck.Â
Heâs been stationary for the last fuck knows how long, just mentally preparing himself for whatever bullshit will spill from his lips the second he sees you. If you even want to open your door to him. He wouldnât blame you, if you didnât. He gave you shit, and kicked you out when you spoke your mind. And the truth. Because, thatâs what it was, wasnât it? As harsh as it mightâve been, it was the truth and it was what he needed to hear.Â
Itâs been two hours since getting a verbal beat-down and, strangely, he really misses the sound of your voice. The oddly dulcet tone. The sweet, honeyed rhythm that slips from between two of the plushest, softest looking lips heâs ever bared witness to in his entire life. And even though some of the words that fell from them were harsh, he no longer cares.Â
If he doesnât apologize, then he might not get to hear you speak again. And heâll take several scoldings if it means that he can listen to your beautiful tone.Â
Fuck.Â
âCâmon, dickhead.â He tells his reflection in the mirror. He eyes himself, wondering whether the hat should stay on or off. Because if he takes it off, then his hair might look bad, but if he keeps it on then you mightnât be able to take him seriously.Â
Heâs overthinking it.Â
It stays on when heâs lugging his bodyâwarm and palpitatingâfrom the cabin, and onto the gravel of your driveway. He minds the flower beds when his boots hit ground, knowing that heâll have hell to pay if he crushes your blooms or kicks up any mud.
His breath is hot and heavy. Itâs like heâs just ran the Boston fucking marathon, not sit in his truck for the better part of twenty minutes being too much of a pussy to knock at your front door.Â
But now heâs strolling to your porch, and canât put it off any longer. He doesnât even know if youâre home, but he guesses that you are. The wreath that you got todayâgolden leaves adorned with acorns and berriesâis hanging proudly against the wood that youâve painted sage.Â
He laughs to himself when his hand comes up to knock, number eight. Itâs almost comical how the number of your house coalesces with the number of his favorite ex-Cowboys player. But heâs not going to bring that up. Maybe another time.Â
Joel takes a few deep breaths, heart only stuttering when he hears your footsteps approaching over the suspended wood flooring. The one that he actually had to help you sand down just eight months ago because you always felt that they looked too dark. Depressing.Â
He smiles weakly. It doesnât last long. When you swing the door open and your face falls, then so does Joelâs.Â
âHi.â He whispers, internally kicking himself for being such a wimp. He clears his throat. âNice wreath.â
You fight a grin. Your disappointment outweighs any semblance of softness at this very juncture.Â
After a few hours of mulling it overâand rage shoppingâyouâve come to the conclusion that you were at fault. But Joel certainly didnât make it any better when he kicked you off the premises after his hurtful monologue.Â
âThanks.â Your cardigan is pulled tightly around your body. Cream always looks so good on you. âIsâuhâis there something that I can help you with?â
Joel looks down for a split second. It feels like forever before heâs looking directly at you again. The thumping inside of his chest hasnât once subsided since appearing at your street, heâs never felt like this before. At least, he canât ever remember feeling like this.Â
And itâs because of thisâfeelingâthat heâs struggling to extrapolate his inward thoughts. You heed it. You know him like the back of your hand, apparently. His face is sullenâalmost remorsefulâand eyes hazy.Â
Has he been crying? No. Heâs probably just really annoyed. He looks like that sometimes when Tommyâs pissed him off, and he needs to vent.Â
You shift aside, gesturing for Joel to come in. He hesitates for a moment, before heâs stepping over the threshold and into your beautiful home. The home that presently smells like a mixture of Sandalwood and Lavender, but Neroli and Bergamot in the summer months.Â
What the fuck is Bergamot? Why do I know what that smells like?
He takes it in. The subtle scent, the fall decorations that make your cozy home look even more appeasing. Itâs cute. Itâs put together, clean, and inviting. Itâs so you.Â
You shut the door behind him when he takes a few paces into the entryway, just watching him. His broad shoulders swathed in soft, green flannel are tipped slightly forward. Heâs not holding himself the way that he usually does.Â
âIs everything okay, Joel?â You break the silence, shuffling past him through the hallway and to the kitchen. You hear him follow behind. Those heavyset footsteps make your heart ache, for some reason.Â
Even by the way he walksâslow, long stridesâhe seems down. Remorseful, perhaps. And though he doesnât wear his heart on his sleeve, itâs always easy to tell how he feels.Â
âTea?â You offer without turning around, taking the kettle thatâs just come to a boil on the stove. âI have chamomile, green, or English.â
âNo coffee?â Your head shakes, pulling two mugs from the small shelf above the counter. Joel sits at your kitchen island. âHow come?â
Two English teabags are being lifted from the cartonâhe didnât specify, you just guessâand plopped into ceramic.Â
âI donât make my own coffee. Donât taste the same when I do.â
His heart aches. After skipping a beat, of course. He takes a seat at your kitchen island, watching you potter around, clearly not prepared for a guest.Â
âTea is a little more warming, anyway.â You gesture for the sugar and he shakes his head. âDonât enjoy coffee when Iâm on my own. Only when Iâm with someone.â
âThat why you always come to see me in the morninâ?â
Faintly, you smile. Your head bobs a little bit, hanging low.Â
He says your name. You look at him. âYâknow, if you ever want a coffee outta hours, Iâm usually at home. You can come âround, if you wanna.â
That strange gnawing sensation returns beside a debilitating thumping. He feels the same, but you donât know that.Â
âSame here.â A weak smile tugs at the corners of your lips and you bring Joel his tea. The white ceramic is festooned with acorns and leaves, and he swears that youâve just given him one of your best mugs.Â
You sip quietly your warm beverage, standing opposite to where he sits in an uncomfortable silence. A lull that neither of you realize lasts an entire minute before youâre clearing your throat, and Joel is still trying to find his words.Â
âListen.â He sets down the teaâthe best heâs ever hadâand shifts a little bit. Joel tries to avoid eye contact with you, but understands that this is one of the times that he needs to show you just how important this is. Itâs not just a casual conversation at the coffee house, anymore.Â
Youâre facing him fully, now. Eyes wide, lips parted a little bit.Â
âIâm really sorry about earlier.â His tone is honest, wreathed with a hint of genuine sadness. âI had no business being such a jerkoff to you, kid. I said some hurtful shit, and I let my mouth get away from me.â
âYou were a total dick, Joel.âÂ
He nods. âI know.â
âAnd I know that I never shoulda brought her up, but I didnât think youâd yell at me. In front of everyone.â
He starts to cringe as he remembers what he said. How he said those horrible things. Youâre such a sweet girl, he canât believe he flipped out on you that way.Â
âDo you really think that what comes outta my mouth is crap?â
âNo, of course notââ
âIs everything I say fucking pointless?â
âHonânoâno, of course not.â Joel fumbles his words a bit, just glad that he didnât refer to you as any other embarrassing fucking pet name. He's not even sure that you caught it, what with being blinded by such a haze of anger.Â
You do, though. You just donât acknowledge it.Â
Your thumb loops through the glossy handle, and you look into your mug.Â
âI choose to start each morning the same way; at your cafĂ©. I donât do it because I want to come in and ruin your day by ranting, or spillinâ my guts about shitty dates and bad friends.â You refuse eye contact, still watching the tea slosh around as you move the cup ever so slightly. âI do it because I like you, Joel. Youâre a great guy, and make my days a little bit easier. Iâd even go so far as to consider you one of my friends. But, if you donât feel that wayââ
âHey.â He reaches out for your hand. Heâs surprised that you donât pull away when his tan flesh meets yours so suddenly. Joel asks you to look at him, and you oblige.Â
Itâs so sad. Your eyesâso full of hurtânow locked on his. Soft, warm fingers wound between his thick digits. He frowns.Â
âListen to me.â Stern, though soft, he tells you. âOf course I feel that way. I tell you shit that I ainât even told my own brother, âcourse I see you as a friend. Probably the only person Iâd even wanna spend time with, if Iâm honest.â
âYouâre just sayinâ that, âcus you hurt my feelingsââ
âNo, I ainât.â Joel shakes his head, trying to ignore the fact that he hurt your feelings. âIâm serious.â
âAs a heart attack?â
He chuckles. âYeah, kiddo, as a heart attack.â
Eyes roll at the sentiment, wondering whether thereâll ever be a time where Joel doesnât refer to you as kid or kiddo. He tells you that itâs because heâs a lot older than you, but you both know thereâs not even a ten year gap between the pair of you. Heâs just dramatic and wishing his life away.Â
âIâmâuhâIâm no good at this shit.â He looks down, a little curl poking through the back strap of his cap catches your eye. âFeelings, ân all.â
Instinctively, your thumb traces over the skin of his hand. You nod. You know.Â
He's not the most sentimental personânor does he cogitate with his heartâbut Joel is one of the most thoughtful men youâve ever met, and these last few days have you feeling a different way about him. You canât say that itâs a crushâcrushes are for kids, is what your mother often tells youâbut itâs certainly something.Â
Youâre just worried about the fact that he canât let go of Tess.Â
âDonât gotta explain feelings, sweetie.â You tell him with a smile, reaching for your mug. The tea is cool, now. A little bit easier to drink than when it was piping hot and burning the roof of your mouth. âJust gotta feel âem, thatâs all. Explain once you understand.â
You take a sip of the drink you made a short while ago, hands detaching. Joel almost feels weak without your touch, now. But he supposes that had it lasted any longer, heâd crumble.Â
âAlways know what to say, dontcha?â
âI do.â Conceitedâthough completely satiricalâyou say. He smiles, and so do you. âBut in all seriousness, Joel, I know that you appreciate me. And I know that today was a complete one-off, but I just gotta know one thing.â
âGo for it.â
You suck in a breath, hating where youâre about to lead the conversation. âDid last night make you think differently of me? Yâknow, when I asked those questions and pried a little?â
Joelâs heart thumps. Again. He doesnât know how to say yeah, last night changed everything. But not âcus of what you asked me.Â
He supposes that he canât lie to you. Heâs as transparent as a pane of fucking glass, at this point.Â
âNo. Definitely not.â
âReally?â
He nods. âReally. You had the right to know. Nothinâ has changed.â
Liar.Â
Heâs looking at you with those big fucking heart eyes that his brother teased him about earlier, and he knows it. He knows that heâs smitten. Truly, Joel is more than conscious of the fact that heâs fallingâor more appropriately, fallenâfor you, but heâs not at liberty to say.Â
âYou can tell me, yâknow?â
He nods. âI know. Thereâs nothinâ to tell.â
âOkay.â Your tone is skeptical. Heâs lying.Â
Heâs also been sitting here for far too long and is in desperate need of a long, cold shower to wash away the day and shirk any feelings before they come to bite him on his perfectly round ass. So he gets upâpushing the seat back beneath the islandâand smiles at you.Â
âLeft Tommy behind the counter?â
Joel nods. âYeah. Heâs probably cussinâ me out right âbout now.â
Your laugh is genuine. Hearty. âBest get back then, hon.â
Joelâs mouth goes dry when his lips part to speak. Nothing materializes. Not even when heâs walking to the front doorâyouâre hot on his heelsâcan he figure out what to say.Â
Heâs opening it before heâs even certain of what heâs doing.Â
âMiller.â You say and he turns around. He canât help looking directly at your lips. âIâll see âya tomorrow.â
âYeah.â He coughs. âHave a good night.â
âYou too.â
Heâs about to walk awayâand youâre about to shut the doorâbefore heâs leaning over the threshold and letting all rationality dissipate. Joelâs left hand meets the doorframeâmere inches from your ownâand his breathing grows sporadic.Â
Well, now or never, I âspose.Â
Your fingers tingle, legs weaken. Itâs only a split second, but it feels like an eternity that Joel is just standing there; staring at you. Heâs waiting to make a move, youâre almost certain of it.Â
âYou gonna do somethinâ?â You taunt, tilting your head a little. It almost snaps him out of his anxiety-induced haze. It eggs him on, if anything.Â
âFuckâshitâyeah.â Joel steps forward so that heâs no longer leaning, and the tips of his boots meet your toes. Heâs careful not to stand on them. Itâs sweet.Â
Heâs sweet.Â
âCâmere.â Heâs telling you when one of his calloused hands meets the nape of your neck, and both of yours are instinctively pawing at his chest. The soft, white jersey beneath that customary flannel is like satin against your fingertips. He draws you in closer. âI lied.â
ââBout what?â You whisper, letting Joelâs hand shift to your cheek. Itâs hard not to melt into his touch.Â
His thumb brushes over your skin. You wilt beneath it.Â
âLast night.â Your eyes are locked. âEverythinâ has changed.â
You nod. You feel the same way.
âAnd I dunno how to go âbout this, âcus I canât do this whole lovey-dovey crap, but I do know that I wanna kiss you.â
He pulls you forward so that your faces are almost touching, and your hands have no choice but to rest atop the peaks of his glorious shoulders. This is something you only couldâve dreamed of. You and Joel in this positionâon your doorstepâlike something out of a fucking romcom, or Gilmore Girls.Â
Câmon, man. Kiss her.Â
The manâs heart juts in his throat. Two noses graze one anotherâwhen Joel angles his face so that heâs not pushing too firmly against yoursâand you canât help smiling wide at the prospect of Joel Miller, grumpiest man in Birch Grove, taking a liking to you.Â
Itâs almost as if your entire time with Joel flashes before your eyesâall of the early mornings and late nights spent at his coffee house, the stories shared and secrets toldâand everything comes to a head in this particular moment.Â
Your smile doesnât falter. Not even when his lips meet yours, and he pushes the most dulcet kiss against your mouth. Itâs so gentle. Nothing more than a delicate peck, but so passionate in the sense that; the two of you need this. The tenderness of the otherâs touchâthe sweet, cloying taste of sugar on your tongue meshed with malt from the teaâis welcomed almost immediately, accommodated by an unexpected desire and thirst for intimacy.Â
And though it is but a peck, the two of you know that this is the start of something. Something completely unexplainable and somewhat unexpected, but something nonetheless.Â
Youâre the first to pull away. Heâs too enamored with you.Â
âJoel.â You breathe against his lips. Cheeks are flushed red, eyes hooded and completely blown with lust. âThanks for cominâ here, and apologizing.â
âThanks for acceptinâ my apology.â He tells you. Joel takes a step backânot before running his thumb over your skin one last timeâfor fear of initiating something else. âWouldnât have blamed you if you didnât wanna.â
âDonât go sayinâ that. âCourse Iâll always accept your apologies.â
Joelâs heart rate must be through the roof at this point.Â
âEven if I run outta maple hazel syrup?â
A gasp falls from your lips and you feign anguish. You soon smile. He looks at his wristwatch, and sighs.Â
âI better get goinâ. Left Tommy alone a while, now. Not sure if Iâll have a cafe to get back to, if I keep him any longer.â
You laugh. âGo on. Iâll be there tomorrow.â
âIf it hasnât been burned to the ground, you mean?â
âYeah, if it hasnât been burned to the ground.â
Joel nods. Heâs fishing about the pocket of his flannel for the key.Â
âEnjoy the rest of your day, hon.â
His cheeks heat up. âYeah, you too, kid.â
You canât help letting out a little ha ha when heâs getting into his truck, and youâre watching from your post against the doorframe. When he gives you a little wave, he pulls away and youâre ambling back into your hallway. Satisfied. Though somewhat confused.Â
Nothing couldâve prepared you for the trajectory of this day, and you suppose that nothing will ever come close. You just need to figure out what happens next.Â
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THE FINAL DEV-ELOPMENT part 3
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#I promise he'll get a happy ending#he just has to get through some more angst first#fop#fop a new wish#fop anw#fairly oddparents#dev dimmadome#THE FINAL DEV-ELOPMENT#myart#hazel wells
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