#in pissing off their parents than not getting cancer

[homelandsexual]

Because I’ve never heard someone say it before…

…I am so grateful that I never started smoking. I am so grateful for all the scientists and journalists who risked it all to make sure we all know that smoking causes cancer. I’m grateful to the lawyers who sued cigarette companies for hiding the evidence for decades. I’m grateful for the millions of dollars of public health campaigns that told kids not to start smoking. I’m grateful for every teacher and parent who ever told me that smoking is addictive so it’s best not to try it in the first place.

And most of all, I am grateful to my younger self for realizing that while so much of the stuff adults say is BS, maybe this one time I should listen to the experts instead of the aesthetic gif sets on tumblr.

[1427]

would you? (pt 1)

Negan x Reader

Summary: Your mom died when you were 15, your Aunt Lucille was given custody even though she was battling cancer. When the world gets upended and Lucille dies, Negan is all you have, but he isn’t cut out to be a parent. When he becomes the leader of the Saviors and takes residence in the Sanctuary he’s almost a stranger. No one wants anything to do with you because you’re Negan’s “daughter”. So when you confront Negan about needing company, he obliges. You don’t realize that the feelings you’re developing are inappropriate, but Negan does.

Setting: height of the Saviors-era Sanctuary. 

Warnings: step-dad!negan (kind of), still it’s all morally questionable (morally objectionable probably), Negan being manipulative and neglectful (listen it’s Negan at his most King Dick okay??? Just know what you signed up for if you’re going to read it), mentions of dead relatives, masturbation (m and f), sexual themes (obvi), virgin!reader

Word count: 4k

17+ mdni

// part 2 //

masterlist

You were off limits. It’s not as if they weren’t allowed to talk to you, but no one wanted to even find out where that line was. Being Negan’s “daughter” had more downsides than perks as far as you were concerned. A glorified prisoner that just happened to have all your needs met. Well, except one. Human connection, physical contact. 

You’re so sick of being in your room. The Sanctuary was suffocating enough, but one room? The only time you ever left was to go down to get food, and even then it’s not like anyone spoke to you. You just grabbed whatever you needed, from whatever table. From the Saviors down to the prisoners, everyone avoided even making eye contact. 

You didn’t live in the same area of the Sanctuary as Negan and his wives. You used to. You’re sure that one of his wives had probably taken up the space that you’d left, the room next to his. You’d left after he took his second wife. You’d been debating it since he’d taken the first one, the noises coming from his room alone were enough to send you packing. But isn’t that what adults do? So you’d tried to just ignore it. Like you imagined you’d have had to do if none of this happened and you were still with your mom. 

Two wives, though? You’d never felt close to Negan. Not like he was your father. But… shouldn’t he be? Shouldn’t he have acted like it? He’d protected you like you were his own when you were still out there - but once he founded “the Saviors” and became their oh-so-ruthless ‘leader’ he almost acted like you didn’t exist. Or worse, that you were some thing he had to look after. Some sniveling little child that he seemingly wanted nothing to do with. 

That was a few years ago. Now you’re 18, and totally fucking bored to death. Trapped in a Fuckin’ smelting facility like it’s a goddamn high tower, and you’re the lady of Shallot. Interacting with the world around you, but not really. Oh, and he has 5 wives now. Gross. 

You’ve finally fucking had it. Negan has a strict policy about you leaving the Sanctuary even to just go outside. He can come collect you himself if he really cares that much. Stupid fuckin’ rules. 

You bring one of your notebooks and a pen. With no plans of leaving, or doing something stupid, you just want some fresh air. You just want something different. And maybe, a little bit, you wanted to piss him off. 

You’re sitting on the ledge right outside the Sanctuary, legs dangling off the concrete. Your notebook at your lap and your pen in your hand, scribbling little doodles and shapes. Writing out small flashes of feelings as you feel them. Just wanting to document the outside as if you’d never see it again. 

You were in bliss a grand total of twenty minutes before you heard his tongue clicking behind you. Maybe you’d have been better off just running while you had the chance. “I know you know better than to be out here, kid.” 

You roll your eyes and look up from your notebook, taking in the scenery while you still could, “Eighteen. Not a kid.”

“Shit, 18 already?”

It hurts. That he doesn’t remember your birthday, or how old you are. That no one in the whole world cares that you spent three birthdays by yourself, with no one to even remember or know that they’d happened. You try to be grateful, you have really really tried. But everyone’s got a breaking point. “At least, I think so. If no one wishes you happy birthday, does it still count?” Okay, so you could have come at him a little harder, but he was still Negan and you were fairly sure that he didn’t feel any responsibility for you anymore. Especially if you’re an adult now. You try to gauge things on if this were the real world, if things were still how they used to be. And 18 meant Negan held no legal responsibility to be your guardian anymore. 

“Goddamn that is sad!” But he makes no attempt to comfort. Doesn’t even wish you a belated happy birthday. 

“Yup.” You don’t move from your seat even as you hear him suck on his teeth, clearly expecting you to get up and get back inside. 

“Alright, come on, kid. Can’t have you out here.” 

“Not a kid.” You bite back again. 

He stifles a laugh, “Yeah. Right.” He’s smiling that same shit eating smile that seems to be plastered permanently on his face nowadays. You can’t figure out what’s so fucking funny all the time. Especially now. 

You don’t know how to ask him, what words to say I need a friend. I need a boyfriend. No one talks to me because you’re terrifying. You think about it the whole walk back to your room while he shadows behind. You get to your door and as he starts to walk away you manage to stammer out, “I-I need a friend!” 

He turns around, a confused (but still amused) look on his face, “So get a friend?” 

“No, you don’t get it. No one will even look at me because you scare the shit out of everyone.” 

He looks at you like he’s trying to hold something back, rubbing a gloved hand over his clenched jaw, “Ever think maybe you’re just not very like-able?”

You look back and forth on the ground in front of you. Honestly? you’d never even wondered that, it takes you back that he’d even suggested it. Negan smiles, Gotcha. Obviously that wasn’t why, and obviously it was because of Negan and the way he’d decided to lead through fear. Fear was all he had. But you were 18, emotionally neglected, and desperate for approval. Your own self worth was paper-thin. He knew that. And instead of letting you, or himself, feed into the idea that he’d failed you, he’d put all the blame elsewhere. Like he always did. Like he was good at. 

“Tell ya what, kid. I’ll spend time with you.” Your hero. 

You could see through it, but what could you really do about it? You chew on your lip trying to figure out how to respond to such a ridiculous and ludicrous display of manipulation. “Fine.” After all, it was better than being stuck in your room. Maybe you’d meet someone, maybe one of the Saviors was cute. Maybe something could happen organically and Negan would lighten up on you a little bit, “Not a kid, though.”

Negan laughs, “Yeah, alright. Lunch tomorrow, come to the common room. You remember where that is, right?” It felt like a taunt. 

“Okay.” You nodded without looking up at him, and finally turned the knob you’d been holding behind you. Letting your body fall back into your room, and shutting the door behind you. 

This was a bad idea. You could feel it down to your bones. 

✨🦇

You’re silently grateful that he sent his wives away to do other things. And though he’d told you to meet in the common room, you were sat in his bedroom eating lunch. You’d never seen so much food put out for just two people, but you weren’t surprised. Any and every opportunity Negan had to show off, he did. 

You felt awkward, uncomfortable, and worse - afraid. Negan could tell, and while a part of him reveled in it, another part of him could tell that he was fucking you up. That he already had. No 18 year old girl should be this afraid of having lunch with the only family she knew. The only person she knew. Fuck yeah, he’d fucked you up. “So, kid - I mean, shit. Sorry, gonna have to get used to not calling you that.” 

“I think you’ll manage.” You grumble, pushing the food around on your plate. You should have just stayed in your room. One thing that you’d picked up over the year or so with Negan out there? His attitude. 

He laughs in response, “Yeah,” he nods, chewing his food with an open mouth, “Guess I’ll have to, you’re going to have lunch here from now on.” 

Your eyes shoot up from your plate to look at him, “Why?” 

“Because - you’re getting all fucked up and stupid.” 

That makes you snort a laugh in response. “Yeah.. wonder who’s fault that is,” you say sarcastically back at him, taking a bite of food. 

“Probably your dead as shit mom.” Negan knows he went too far as soon as he says it, but he doesn’t make any attempt to take it back, to apologize. Instead he just looks at you, a half smile cocked on his face, twirling his fork in a giant helping of spaghetti. Like he’s almost impressed with himself for taking it there. 

“Wow.” You mouth, completely taken aback. You’d cried over your mom so many times, and this? From Negan? You were too shocked to react emotionally. Not here, not now. Maybe he was right and you were more fucked up than you realized. 

“So, uh, what do you do all day?” Negan had been genuinely curious. Well, for the last day or so. He had more or less forgotten you even existed until then. 

You push food around on your plate again, “Write, sew, read, draw. Started painting a few months ago but I fucking suck at it.” You sigh, “anything to keep my hands busy.” 

Negan chokes on the water he’s drinking and you give him a look of mild disgust. “Not that.” His eyes twinkle a little in disbelief. Yeah right you didn’t do that. You were 18, of course you did. But without anything, or anyone, to think about it got boring quickly. Sometimes a good book came your way and you’d have some material, for a little while. A chapter, or a page, or more usually just a few paragraphs that would keep you somehow sated. Somewhat. 

Still, you weren’t about to have that conversation with him. And Negan was more than grateful, his mind reeling at the idea that no one had ever had ‘the talk’ with you. And now, in this end of times, you didn’t even have television to teach you. No, Negan could absolutely not discuss the birds and the bees with you. He was not built for that. 

The rest of lunch is uneventful. He talks, you listen. He feels better about himself, and you feel nothing.

✨🦇

Lunches with Negan get better. Less awkward, more like an actual friendship… or something. You find yourself laughing at his shitty jokes, at least they’re jokes. At least it’s something. You stop needing to convince yourself that you only enjoy it because it’s better than nothing, you actually seem to like his company. You look forward to lunch, getting out of your room, laughing with him. Negan enjoys it too, but it’s still off. You’re still.. how he would describe ‘fucked up’ or ‘not normal’. You flirt with him. Relentlessly. He tries to ignore it, tells himself that maybe it’s just your personality, but he knows. You don’t. You’re completely oblivious. After all, you really have nothing to go off of. Nothing to base anything around. 

He gets you romance novels, asks the Saviors to grab them when they’re out on runs. He thinks this is the closest you can get to having television, to having someone or something teach you about that kind of stuff. Maybe that they would teach you the difference between platonic and romantic feelings. 

Really, though, he’s just making you horny. Even more than you had been, and he’s still the only person you talk to. He figures he could and probably should use his position to get you some kind of boyfriend, but it feels all wrong. Like some sort of arranged marriage, and it disgusts him. 

You touch yourself more often than you ever have. The romance novels finally feed this need. You think about the characters in the books, the lewd imagery described. It’s all so new and exciting. You never think about Negan, or something gross like that. 

It’s been a few months since the last one he brought you, but today at lunch he pushes over a whole stack. You jump up from your seat, too excited to contain yourself, and you jump on him in a hug. Burying your face into the crook of his neck. You can feel your heartbeat all the way down to your fingers as you pull back and, with a blush, sit back down in your seat, “Thank you.” 

Negan’s body is stiff while you hug him, and while you sit back down, an uncomfortable smirk on his lips. “You are very welcome.” Even through his discomfort he can’t help the pride bubbling over within him. Every other aspect of himself is weak to his desire for worship. 

When you leave that day, with your stack of books, you hug him again and kiss his cheek before running off to your room. 

Shit, Negan thinks to himself. Shit fuck shit. You’re only getting worse, more obvious. Now you’re hugging him and kissing him on the cheek? Maybe you’re just grateful for the books. But he knows.. this is wrong. He’s making it worse, maybe you’re past the point of being able to fix. For now, he ignores it. Maybe… hopefully… it’s just the books. 

If he had asked you, you would have reassured him. Obviously it’s just the books. You don’t wonder if it’s weird that you touch yourself after lunch, before even opening one of the new books. You don’t think about Negan, just the feeling of stubbled skin under your lips. The warmth of a person in your arms, your chest pressed up against someone. It was the first human contact you’d had since you got to the Sanctuary, and it set you on fire. 

✨🦇

Negan knows he fucked up. You hug him now after every lunch. Only giving him a kiss on the cheek when he brings you a new book or some other small gift. He doesn’t acknowledge within himself that since you started doing that, he’s started getting you more gifts. 

Eventually, though, he can’t keep ignoring it. One particularly bad week, where it seems everyone hates him, none of his wives will have sex with him. Not even a fucking handjob. He’s forced into the degrading task of jerking himself off, something he hasn’t done in years. And, while the shame doesn’t come until after he’s finished, he thinks about you. 

You, with all your nervous glances of prying eyes. The way your developed chest feels against his when you hug him. He fantasizes your lips asking him questions like, “Is this what I’m supposed to do?” 

“Do boys really like that?” 

“You want me to use my mouth?” 

His forehead pressed firmly against the closed door of his bathroom, he opens his eyes to look down at himself. His swollen member in his hand, throbbing over the thought of you. 

“I don’t think that’s going to fit inside me.” He groans keeps going, imagining his cock is the first thing ever pushed inside your tight hole. 

Streaks of his cum paint the door, and he peels his forehead back before slamming it against the wood again. Fuck, this shit is not fucking okay. 

✨🦇

Negan doesn’t know that he absolutely would not be the first thing inside your precious virgin pussy. No, you’d started to get creative. Finding your fingers almost useless when it came to hitting that spot you’d discovered deep inside. They were never hard enough, fast enough, thick enough. The handle of your hairbrush was your favorite. It was the easiest to keep clean, the easiest to maneuver. But it still wasn’t exactly what you wanted. Nothing ever seemed to be quite enough. Every orgasm left you wanting. 

Wanting what? Because you never found yourself wanting a boyfriend anymore when it used to be all you thought about. You think of feeling Negan’s facial hair against your cheek, and your body is rocked by its second orgasm for the night. Tossing the hairbrush to the end of the bed, you roll over and fall asleep. 

✨🦇

You startle awake to the sound of a knock on your door. It’s loud, demanding, Negan. 

Getting off the bed you turn on the light with a sleepy grumble. You pull some pants on, and he knocks again. “I’m awake!” You yell, “hold on!” But this only spurs him to knock more aggressively. 

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck is going on?” You mutter as you finally unlock and open the door. Obviously it was Negan, but what you weren’t expecting was how absolutely disheveled he looked. “Woah, what happened to you?” 

“Remind me to teach you manners.” He says as he pushes past you and into your room. 

“Come right in.” You say sarcastically, turning around and shutting the door behind you. He’s sat on your bed, looking around at all the things in your room, his eyes settling on your rows of romance novels. He gets up from the bed and walks over to the bookshelf, pressing a finger into one of the book spines before pulling it out and skimming through it. 

“Are you… drunk?” You ask him, the smell of alcohol emanating from him only becoming more obvious the longer he stands there, slightly swaying on his feet. 

“Why?” He asks defensively, his eyes not moving from the page of the book he’s trying to read. 

“Because you smell like booze?” 

He ignores your question and your reason for asking, slamming the book shut as he gets to a particularly dirty part and he can’t bear to read anymore. “We need to talk.” And he looks at you. 

You’re nervous, standing there anxiously you start to play with your hair and look away, “Oh, okay… wha- what about?” 

“This!” He exclaims with an extended arm, motioning at you, “You. What are you doing?”

You look at him confused, brow knit together trying to purse some sort of answer, “I’m not… I was sleeping.” You shake your head, not understanding at all what he was getting at. 

“You’re twirling your goddamn hair.” Oh. He was right, you had been. But what does that mean to him? You look at him even more confused. 

Closing your eyes, one hand comes up to massage the bridge of your nose, “Okay, I’ll never twirl my hair again?” You shrug your shoulders as if to ask him if that would be all. Too sleep-kissed to comprehend what the hell he was going on about. 

“No, Jesus-fucking-Christ, girl, the flirting. You gotta stop. I’ve let it go on too long, and it’s not.. shit, it’s not appropriate, all right?” 

You rub your eyes harder as you hear his words, what a fucking idiot, you think. You can’t help the smile that starts to form on your face as you answer him, “Negan, I’m not… I don’t….” You can’t even bring yourself to say it. 

He puts the book down and shakes his head, even now you were clearly into him. All nervous, smiling. Giddy. 

“You are. And you need to stop. I can’t… I can’t keep having meals with you if you’re going to be hugging me, kissing me on the cheek. It’s wrong.” 

You actually manage a laugh at his ridiculous behavior. Coming in like this, filled with liquor and angst and thinking he’s figured something out about you. “I’m not into you, Negan. Hugging and kisses on the cheek aren’t always romantic.” You say it like you’re letting him in on something he’d never considered. 

He nods, “Yeah, that’s true.” Negan turns to face the wall away from you, shaking his head as he looks up to the ceiling. “It’s not just that. It’s the way you look at me, the way you laugh. Shit, girl, it’s the way you’re lookin’ at me now.” 

“Don’t you think I’d know?” You cut in, without responding to his most recent accusation. 

“I don’t know, kid, would you? You probably have a bunch of hormones running wild in your body and you have no idea what to do with them. I’m not blaming you. I mean…” he stops himself before he starts talking about how attractive he is, and how no one could blame you for feeling this way. 

“I know what to do with my hormones, Negan.” You say blankly, is he really trying to have this conversation? You’re not. Jesus Christ, he can’t really think that you don’t know how to relieve that ‘tension’ on your own. What did he think you were doing with the romance novels? 

He smiles at your little admission, nodding and rubbing his jaw, “Yeah, I’m sure you do. Let me ask you something..” he takes a step toward you and you feel your heartbeat skyrocket. His eyes staring you down with such intensity you have to look away, “how do you feel, huh, when I get close to you?” He steps closer, now only a foot away. Your eyes cast down to the ground, a knot forming in your throat, “you can’t even look at me,” he whispers. 

As if to prove him wrong you look up at him. Your breath hitches and he can hear it. You can hear it. Your heart hammering against your ribcage, you swallow. Shit. 

Big doe eyes look up at him, and he feels all the blood rush between his legs. Hard as a rock for you in seconds, that deft innocence, those pretty lips moving without a sound. Trying to form some kind of response. You… looking up at him and having feelings you’ve never felt before. This is why it has to stop. Negan’s never been good at controlling these urges, and the more you look up at him like that the less he wants to. 

You try to speak, to tell him he’s wrong, but your voice quivers, “I… I don’t. I’m not…” Your smile that you can’t manage to stop only confuses you more. 

“You are.” He slams his fist on the wall next to you, causing you to jump a little. He looks back down at you, your eyes enveloped in fear and nervousness, cheeky smile gone. Negan takes two fingers and holds them to your throat, “Do you feel your heart beating out of your chest? I bet if I..” he takes your throat in his hand and you whimper out the slightest moan. 

His lips turn up in a smile as he brings his face even closer to yours. “See? I’ve barely got my hands on you and you’re already moaning.” 

It hits you fast, the shame and desire all at once. Mostly the desire, with his hand at your throat and his voice saying words you’ve only ever read. Shit. 

You don’t know how to respond, you can’t think straight. You just nod, he was right, it seems. Right? Because this certainly was having an affect on you. You wanted him to keep going, your body begged for it, but you couldn’t move. Too caught up in a fearful nervousness. This was wrong? It didn’t feel wrong. 

“Doesn’t feel wrong,” is all you manage to breathe out, unable to break your gaze from his lips. In response Negan leans back as his grip grows tighter at your neck, and you panic, bringing both of your hands up to his wrist to try and pull him away. He doesn’t let go but his grip loosens. 

Negan isn’t thinking clearly either, he hadn’t anticipated all of this. Having to convince you, prove to you, that you were having inappropriate feelings only made his own envelope him. And he was drunk. You, completely at his mercy and seemingly happy to be. Fuck shit fuck me. 

He finally lets go and pushes past you and out of your room. Leaving you completely blindsided. For once, though, you’re not confused. Not unsure. No, there was no question what you were going to do next. You were going to make it absolutely impossible for him to say no. 

Burning up your core and through your chest, into your brain. That spot, that insatiable feeling, that desperate heat that throbbed through you. Now you knew for sure, he could satiate it. 

pt 2

[alyjojo]

PAC - January 2025 - Who’s Stalking You? 👀

Pile 1: Whips 💥

This would probably be the first pile one thinks of when they think of their “stalkers” - jealous bitches 💯 of the worst variety. Whips with Fury shows them being so bitter they can’t stand it, like you’ve stolen their opportunities or blessings, it’s your fault they don’t have what you have - or they just hate you for it. These are people that do NOT want you to win, and if they had the choice, they’d enact some kind of revenge on you to make sure you don’t…but it feels like most are powerless to do so, that’s why they’re so bitter, they can only watch you win and be all pissed off about it.

This stems from feelings of regret, wishing they’d have made different decisions or were offered different opportunities. If you have money, they don’t. If you had some kind of blessing or privilege to your life, they don’t. For some reason they were/are unable to do what you do, and rather than admire you or give you your flowers 💐, they just burn inside because it’s not them. These are not self-aware or mature people, they feel powerless to direct their own life (valid or not), some may be genuinely struggling (they’re largely unconscious of this behavior) and others just suck and it’s definitely intentional hate & evil eyes 👀 being thrown your way every time you have something positive going on, or just you existing. Your light irritates tf out of their demons 😈 They are all unaware or don’t care that this kind of energy & behavior won’t get them anywhere positive.

I don’t see them changing either, if they’re unaware then they’re unable, this is not a growth-minded group of people. They’d rather blame everyone else and point fingers, nurturing revenge fantasies and hating you then ask how you did it, or learn from you. Patience can show they may have felt this way for a long time, there’s no helping them. While it does show they could be in a not great situation, it’s also showing you are not expected to give af, they’re assholes. Red Moon shows their intentions, perceptions, fears, and triggers as delusional, pessimistic, hateful, angry and toxic. You can’t help these people, it’s up to them to help themselves and with 9 Pentacles rev, they won’t. If you even tried, they’d just despise you for being a person that tries 😆 Do you. Keep shining 🌟

Signs: Heavy Virgo & Cancer, Taurus, Scorpio, Aries & Sagittarius - Jupiter Virgo, Mercury Taurus, Mars Scorpio

—————————————— 🤎

Pile 2: Sun ☀️

You are the pearl in the oyster and this is the group of people that knows this but they don’t have you anymore, and they miss you. It’s also the pile most likely for you to give them a call, because for most it’s family. Parents, grandparents, ex’s that aren’t toxic, but most feel like guardians of some kind. Teachers, bosses, leaders, older siblings, people who tried to steer you in a direction that wasn’t for you - and you went your own way anyway and SUCCEEDED. That’s the thing, and there is shame here in these people…but it’s like the intentions were good? People misjudged you. They thought you were like them, or the rest, or some other experience that narrowed the mind and put you in a box.

All of you have reached some level of success, recognition, status, maybe fame in some way - or at least on the path you’re on, you’re well known. Or you will be. There’s guilt here about not supporting you in the way you needed, not loving you correctly, and ultimately losing you. Could be divorced parents for someone, an estranged parent, someone that…it’s like they didn’t believe in you, or brushed you off. Like your whole life you drew pictures and got in trouble - now you’re an artist, that’s the vibe. They know they can’t take credit and that they tried to force or steer you in directions that weren’t for you. If you’re one of several children, you could’ve all been parented the same way; these are the rules, these are the goals, in this family we all go to this college and study Business…and you’re the artist. Or the gay kid. Or the theater kid, I’m definitely getting theater strongly. That’s the vibe 💯

The point of it all is love, Eternal Love with the white heart is showing purity and coming from the right place, even if they were wrong. They want forgiveness, want you to call, if it’s an ex they see you clearly now and want you back. For some there was a particular event that caused an ending, there could’ve been heavy Judgment energy and a lack of feeling supported, some of you may have ran away or did something impulsively - or they did. It ended. There’s also a note here about passed on loved ones, if a tragedy happened where you couldn’t say goodbye or the last words were in anger/judgment, they’re okay, they’re with you all of the time and support you now 🙏 There’s no lingering anger just love.

If none of that applies, then these people simply miss the time they had with you, the lollipop 🍭 shows childhood - for most it’s your parents or someone like that. They’re nostalgic and look at old pictures of you, they miss the little kid coming in with muddy shoes even though they always yelled about it - now they wish they didn’t. This one made me cry ngl. Call your grandma or whoever this is…they feel like they can’t access you. Either you’re busy, they think you’re angry, they don’t want to impose, The Pathless shows them feeling like there are no options or you’re not on their path anymore and they can’t. For some that’s true. For others they’re leaving it up to you, but the love is genuine, they are both proud of you and ashamed of themselves in some way - maybe too much - and they don’t want you to know that, because they do want you to be happy. Even if you don’t, the love is never ending and they’ll just keep watching from afar 🧡 For the passed on loved ones, they know you’re sad or lonely without them, and they just want you to know they’re okay and they’re watching you WIN - they want you to win & they’re proud 👏

Signs: Heavy Scorpio & Cancer, Gemini & Capricorn - Saturn Gemini, Mars Taurus, Mars Aries

—————————————— 🧡

Pile 3: Letter ✉️

Heh 😏 This is the “you were right” pile 😆 You are some sort of a teacher to this person, could be a parent, ex, friend, stranger, doesn’t matter - YOU are wise and they are/were…manipulative, liars, schemers, cheaters, fools of some variety, and you didn’t deserve it if they did any of that to you. Now it’s 50/50, sure some are sorry but they’ll never admit it; others would just do it again and they know they would, even if they also know you’re right.

Even if they’re wrong, and even if you’re often right, these people quietly judge everything you say or do just looking for the one thing that’s like SEE THEY’RE WRONG LIKE ME, like this somehow excuses their own shitty behavior. They think YOU think you’re better than them when you’re just an honest person, and you even drop some pearls of wisdom on them because you’re not a judging sort of person either - you share the wealth of whatever you’re doing. A genuinely kind person. So you are better, as a human generally. Fuck you though 😆 They could too but they’d rather be immature and sabotagy. These are also people you need to watch out for, they see your kindness as weakness, stupidity, or naïve - while also knowing you’re a good person like wtf guys…if you have a platform or social media, this would be the trash diggers of the bunch. Digging for trash so they can compare yours to theirs, you to them, and I’m seeing raccoons 🦝 which made me laugh. Some may want to or try to steal from or copy you, manipulate things, even try to flirt or butter you up - but it’s with this shady ass manipulative energy - it’s not going anywhere. You feel untouchable to them because they’re not on your level, whatever level that is, it’s that simple.

Letter shows you receiving good news, which makes these people squirm, anything positive being said about you or happening to you. Everyone has their haters /ignore. If you post helpful things, recipes, dance is here showing some amazing craft or talent you do, religious stuff, wholesome happy healthy anything - these people don’t understand wtf healthy or wholesome is, so they mock and criticize and dig for trash. Let them? I mean they’re still watching. Your biggest haters are clearly just misguided fans 🥳 Some may be complete strangers, most of them even, I don’t see these people being in your life for the most part, nor do I see you noticing or caring at all. You just keep doing you boo, clearly you’re doing something right or they wouldn’t have to dig so much for something that’s wrong. You’re out here dropping wisdom, knowledge, guidance, helpful advice, whatever - let them talk, at least they heard you, and if/when they find themselves in positions where they need what you’ve said, the best karma is the burn they feel when “you were right.” Unconsciously even, for most 🤗

Signs: Heavy Scorpio, Libra, Cancer & Taurus - Venus Sagittarius, Mars Virgo, Jupiter Scorpio, there’s also a Gemini vibe but it feels like you or communication is what it’s all regarding

———————————————- 🖤

Pile 4: Garden 🪴

I’m getting two sets of people with this pile, the fans and the opposition.

The fans see you as a Muse, whatever it is that you do, you probably have a lot of friends, fans, admirers, love options potentially, and they’re afraid they don’t compare, that you don’t like them back or you’re out of their league. Deep rooted insecurity, shyness, projections - but essentially they just want to BE you or at least be in your energy. Some may want to be with you romantically, but that’s a side note not the main idea, most are fans. Friends, people that think you’re really cool and they wish they could hang out with you or do what you do. You’re like a guide for these people and they deeply appreciate your contribution to whatever it is you do 🥳 You may inspire them to make decisions in their own lives, and not even know it.

The opposition feels like “the patriarchy” or some shit, that’s the vibe. You don’t do things their way, you contradict their “facts”, they may not appreciate the gifts you have to offer and as such they only want to control, cage, maneuver, schedule, criticize, keep you small because how dare you be out here just doing you and being great at it. Or they feel that way about you and it’s all switched. You could be part of a group that is in opposition to another group and it’s the whole other group watching. It’s like white collar jobs vs. community volunteers, you can’t compete where you don’t compare and these people do not compare but they’d be the ones like “glad our tax dollars are going towards playgrounds”…shut up. No one cares. Luckily, this group is a scattered few.

Most are fans that ADORE you, your group or community, and whatever you’re doing. You inspire others and really make an impact with whatever you do. Teachers, counselors, community centered things, music directors, it feels very people oriented and not very rigid - it’s the rigid people with an issue or comment. “The man.” Does not have to be A man. I’m miserable and you should be too. I’m taught one way, you should be too. Ick. For some it’s literally the government or some higher organization that doesn’t support what you do. I’m seeing Planned Parenthood, don’t @ me I promise idgaf, I see what I see be mad. I’m also seeing charities…and what are those dances that everyone gets together on the street and films for TikTok or something, I’m seeing those too. Community support or a generational thing even, the boomers are mad at you guys 😆

The fans though, you’re making a difference in the lives of other people, changing perspectives, inspiring change, getting support, and you’re doing it in a way that’s giving people LIFE. Changing the narrative. Forging your own path with all of this Aries energy, both within and some stalkers maybe. Most people want to be you, or they want to help, want to take a part in this or have a seat at your table - in support. It’s admirable and most of you that chose this, I don’t get you being closed off to anyone, though they may fear it. Locked Heart ❤️ came out reversed, you’re someone always willing to make new friends, invite people to your table, it’s giving “the more the merrier,” which is great! Ignore the naysayers and let them squirm idk, for the most part it’s showing them as silent. In this pile, the winners are louder than the losers 📣 and if you’re feeling unappreciated, just know there are way more people that love and support you than hate you - you got the sauce and you’re widely adored. Idk if you’d even know the haters, they’re quiet and will stay that way, just leave ‘em be. You’re deeply appreciated where it matters 💚

Signs: Heavy Aries, Virgo, Leo & Capricorn - Jupiter Aries, Moon Leo

[justabigassnerd]

I've Got You

Pairing - Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell x daughter!reader

Word count - 2,751

Warnings - self-harm, bullying, cancer mentions, angst, Goose mentions, mentions of death

Summary - at a low point in your life, your dad is there to help you through it

A/N - hey y'all sorry it's been a while since the last fic I've just been busy. this was an anon request and I hope I did it justice. I did do some research and I tried my best to approach this subject in a way that would be acceptable and I'm so sorry if it's not bc it was not my intention at all. as per y'all, please send requests, feedback and enjoy

Growing up, you were an outgoing and confident person. You’d be the first person to extend a hand to make new friends at school and try to make sure people were happy. Parents of your fellow pupils, when you were in preschool, had gushed to your dad about how confident and comfortable you were as a young girl when they noticed you give your dad a quick hug and disappear into the classroom while every other child clung to their parents, begging to stay with them.

However, in your final year of high school, people began to change.

Over time, girls in your grade at high school began to turn on you, listening to the whispered words of the queen bee and her gaggle of followers and you became isolated. You tried everything and anything to get someone, anyone to talk to you but everyone turned away from you. You refused to let anyone see that they were getting to you. You were a Mitchell. Mitchells are tough and you knew your dad wouldn’t want you getting upset over something so trivial. You tried to remain tough, but your defences came crumbling down when you reached the security of your bedroom. Your only friend was Bradley, but he was a year older than you, at college, and incredibly pissed off at your dad so it was near impossible to communicate with him. You were sure he hated you too for your dad pulling his papers and you couldn’t blame him. He had every right to be mad.

As the noises and voices in your head grew louder, you started searching for ways to quiet them down, even for just a moment. You tried and failed multiple different ways to keep yourself calm and level. You couldn’t talk to your dad, he was in the middle of dealing with your Uncle Ice’s cancer scare, both men waiting with bated breath for the test results to come back. So, with all his focus on Iceman, you faded into the background, the noise in your head almost unbearable at this point.

One evening, after your shower you caught a glimpse of your razor sitting snuggly inside your shower caddy, gleaming against the bright light of the bathroom as you stared at it. You tried distracting yourself, splashing your face with cold water before changing into your pyjamas but the object continued to call out to you making you squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to banish the thoughts from your head until they became too much.

Over the coming days, the bathroom and your razor became your escape, the only way for you to temporarily forget what you had been through during the day. Maverick had noticed that you’d been pulling away slightly and had asked if everything was okay, but you were quick to tell him that you were just busy with school work and didn’t really have time to hang out with people while you prepped for your exams. That weekend, Iceman had invited you and your dad around for a barbecue in his garden since it was almost summer, and the San Diego weather was exceptionally gorgeous.

“Have you noticed that y/n wears a lot of hoodies lately?” The hoarse voice of Iceman cuts through to Maverick who had been staring intently at his beer bottle. Maverick winced at his wingman’s voice, sore from the constant coughing fits that attacked the pilot. Maverick glanced across the garden to where you were sat with Iceman’s wife Sarah and a friend of hers, remaining silent as the two women chatted. He then briefly glanced up at the sky, unsurprised to see no clouds in the sky which made him realise how out of place you looked sat next to Sarah and her friend in an oversized hoodie while the two women were in sundresses.

“I also feel like I haven’t seen her much recently either.” Maverick thinks aloud, glancing over at Iceman who sips on a glass of water.

“You should talk to her, Mav. Maybe she needs her dad and just doesn’t know it yet.” Iceman says as he and Maverick watch you carefully, both men realising your smile seemed forced and didn’t meet your eyes in the same way it used to. You used to love spending time at the Kazansky household, usually sticking with Iceman and chatting with him while simultaneously teasing your dad. Iceman figured you chose to sit with Sarah because he’d figure out something wasn’t right too quickly. He was good at reading people, and it was something he had relied on a lot in his lifetime. In taking a step back and just observing, Maverick was able to pinpoint behaviours he’d never seen from you before and could feel the worry tightening his chest with each passing second.

“Mav. Breathe. It’ll be okay. Just, make her feel safe and loved like I know you do.” Iceman urges gently, resting a friendly hand on Maverick’s shoulder and squeezing it softly, fighting the hoarseness of his voice to comfort his wingman. Maverick nods lightly, putting his beer bottle down before crossing over to where you were sitting.

“Come on squirt, let’s head home. We’ve bothered these fine people enough.” Maverick says, throwing a teasing wink in Sarah’s direction who laughs and rolls her eyes.

“You mean you’ve bothered Tom too much. y/n has been an angel like usual.” Sarah says as you get up bidding the two women goodbye with a soft voice and a small smile before crossing the garden to Iceman and hugging him quickly.

“Bye Uncle Ice.” You whisper, pulling away almost as quick as you initiated the hug, barely giving him time to reciprocate.

“Goodbye, y/n/n.” Iceman says, a small smile on his face yet it couldn’t hide the sadness in his eyes at how fast you pulled away from the embrace. Maverick muttered a goodbye to Iceman, giving him a hug and clap on the back before exiting the Kazansky household. You climb onto the back of your dad’s motorbike and wrap your arms around his waist loosely.

“Hey, tight grip kid I can’t risk you falling off.” Maverick says, taking your wrist softly to pull your arm further around him but stopping instantly when he felt you flinch and lets go.

“I got it.” You mumble, tightening your grip around his waist as he flips the kickstand up and begins the journey home. When he pulls into the drive, he turns the engine off and kicks the kickstand back down as you climb off the back of the motorbike. You wait at the front door for Maverick to unlock the door since he was the only one out of the two of you to bring the house keys with you. The second the door is opened, you make a beeline towards the stairs, but Maverick is quick to call you back, making you stop in your tracks and turn to face him as he closes and locks the door behind him.

“Can we speak in the living room, please?” Maverick asks gently, waiting patiently for you to nod lightly and head into the living room with Maverick following behind. Both of you sit on the sofa, a small space separating the two of you.

“Is everything okay, dad?” You ask quietly, worried you were about to receive some bad news.

“That’s actually what I wanted to ask you. I haven’t seen you much recently, and I’ve noticed you wear hoodies a lot more than you used to, especially in this weather when everyone else is in t-shirts.” Maverick asks, making you immediately avert eye contact, focusing on your hands as you instantly start fiddling with your hoodie toggles.

“I mean, you’re the kind of guy to wear a jacket in the middle of summer. I don’t think you’re in much of a position to judge, are you?” You ask weakly, a feeble attempt at a chuckle escaping your lips.

“Yeah, I was asking for that one. But I am worried about you, sweetheart. You’ve locked yourself away and I just want to help. You can tell me anything, you know that don’t you?” Maverick says softly, his eyes filled with worry as he watches you carefully. You pressed your lips shut, not wanting to tell your dad what was going on with you when he already had enough on his plate with Iceman’s possible cancer, Carole passing away recently and Bradley cutting off all contact.

“I’m fine dad, just stressed about school.” You say, plastering a smile on your face to convince your dad that you’re okay.

“Sweetheart. This is a safe space; you can tell me whatever is upsetting you. I know it’s not school because you would’ve gone to Ice about it. He’s always helped you with school work.” Maverick says, his voice never raising or showing any more than his genuine concern.

“I know Uncle Ice is dealing with a lot right now. Waiting for his test results must be terrifying and I didn’t want to bother him.” You say, grabbing at the first excuse that came into your head.

“We both know Ice prefers to be busy and doing stuff when he’s awaiting big news, regardless of whether it’s good or bad news. He would’ve loved to help you with your work. Please tell me what’s wrong, y/n.” Maverick urges softly, his worry reaching an all-time high as you briefly glance at him.

“You’ll hate me.” You whisper, your voice cracking as some tears make their way out of their ducts.

“y/n, I promise you, there is nothing you could say to me right now that would make me hate you.” Maverick says, watching you carefully as you think over his words, taking a deep breath before you speak.

“Recently, a lot of girls at school started picking on me. At first, it was manageable, just whispers in the hallways but they started spreading rumours and I lost all my friends. I felt so alone, no one likes me at school anymore. I know it shouldn’t bother me, but it does. I just hate it so much.” You say, a tear rolling down your cheek as you speak. Maverick reaches out for your hand, pausing when your hand twitches away from his.

“Is there more?” Maverick questions quietly, warning signs flashing in his head at your behaviour, remembering how you reacted on the motorbike as well.

“I started… hurting myself. The noises were just so loud in my head that it was the only way to make it quiet even if it was just for a moment. I just wanted the noise to stop.” You say, tears now flowing freely down your cheeks as your dad wastes no time pulling you into a hug, a hand running up and down your back as he presses repeated kisses to the top of your head.

“Oh y/n/n. I’ve got you.” He whispers, squeezing his eyes shut to stop the tears that threatened to fall at your confession.

“I’m sorry, dad. Please don’t hate me.” You say through your tears, clinging to your dad as he shakes his head against the top of your head.

“You have nothing to apologise for, sweetheart. I couldn’t hate you for this. I’m the one who didn’t notice you were struggling.” Maverick says gently, yet firmly as he squeezes you just that little bit tighter.

“You were busy with so much. I didn’t want to bother you. I just wanted the noise to stop.” You whimper, burying your face in your dad’s chest as Maverick let the tears fall, gently cradling your head to his chest.

“Please don’t ever feel like you’re bothering me. Not about something like that. I love you so, so, so much and I hate that you went through this alone because I wasn’t paying attention to you. I should’ve done better.” Maverick says, his voice breaking as he spoke, giving away to you that he was crying which made you cry harder. You made your dad, the strongest person you know, your hero, cry.

“It wasn’t your fault dad. You’ve been dealing with so much.” You say, reaching up to wipe at your eyes with your hoodie sleeve.

“But I could’ve lost you.” Maverick whispers, every worst-case scenario now flashing through his head.

“I didn’t want to die. I just wanted something to stop everything going on in my head. I swear.” You say urgently, not wanting your dad to think the worst, although you were sure it was too late as you looked up at his face. He remains silent for a moment before speaking.

“I know how that feels.” He says, keeping you in his embrace as you pull away slightly to look up at him.

“You do?” You question softly, unable to imagine your dad in such a state.

“You were only little when Goose died. But when he did, I practically shut down. I stopped training for a while, and I could not stop thinking about how I could’ve, how I should’ve been better for him. I thought about hurting myself then. Just to shut the voices up.” Maverick says, lifting a hand to swipe your tears away.

“How were you strong enough to not hurt yourself?” You ask, you were sure you tried everything you could’ve done to not get to that stage, yet you still did.

“Viper sent me to therapy after the accident. I didn’t think it would work at first but once they got me to open up, it helped a lot more than I could’ve ever thought. Maybe, if you want, we’ll look into finding a therapist for you, to help you through this. You’re not alone, y/n. Not while you have me, Ice, Slider, and the others.” Maverick says, running a hand through your hair. You lift your hand to swipe away at any excess tears Maverick missed and your hoodie sleeve slipped down an inch, exposing part of a scar and Maverick was quick to look away. You hadn’t chosen to show your scars and so he wasn’t going to impose anything on you unless you made the decision. After wiping your tears, you gingerly lift a hand and wipe at Maverick’s face, making a soft smile appear on his face.

“Thank you for being here for me dad.” You say quietly, making Maverick nod.

“No need to thank me, sweetheart. It’s my job. I just want you to know that I’ll always be here for you. You don’t have to be afraid to tell me anything, no matter what’s going on with me. You can always come to me for help.” Maverick says, his gaze never leaving you as he speaks, making you nod in understanding.

“I know dad.” You whisper before a small yawn slips past your lips, it was then that Maverick had noticed that the sun was almost gone, and night had fallen.

“Let’s get to bed, it’s been a long evening. We’ll talk more in the morning.” Maverick says, getting to his feet and waiting for you before the two of you head upstairs. You enter your room while Maverick enters his, both of you getting ready for bed before Maverick knocks on your bedroom door, asking for permission to enter. He finds you already curled up under your covers and as he bends down to bid you goodnight, you speak up.

“Stay. Please.” You whisper, watching as your dad nods and you quickly move over to make room for your dad. Once he’s settled next to you, you curl into his side, allowing him to wrap an arm around you and allowing your eyes to slip closed.

“I love you dad.” You whisper in the darkness.

“I love you too, y/n.” Maverick replies, beginning the action of running his hand up and down your back which lulls you to sleep almost instantly, the final thought running through your head being how grateful you were for your dad, and how much you loved him.

Maverick watched you sleep for a moment, listening to your soft breaths as he continued to run his hand up and down your back. He couldn’t stop thinking about how much you went through without him knowing. But as his eyes slipped closed for the night, he swore that he was going to do better by you, and he was going to make sure you never felt alone again. Because no one deserves to go through that.

[seresinsbabe]

Conveniently Yours 7

pic is not mine it's from pinterest

Pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader

Synopsis: In a desperate attempt to pay for your mom's cancer treatment you take a job as a dancer at one of NYC's prestigious strip clubs where you meet Jake Seresin who just happens to need a wife.

Warnings: Mentions of cancer, cancer treatment and cancer treatment.

Word count: 3.3k

THIS BLOG AND ITS FICS ARE 18+! MINORS DNI!

I do not consent to having any of my work shared on any other platform. If you see any rendition of my works on another site know that it has been posted without my permission.

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You stared at the shockingly white cooked chicken being carried by a waiter who looked like he was one shitty customer away from setting this place on fire. These five star, Michelin rated restaurants were something you didn’t think you would ever be able to get used to. You were used to restaurants that had lunch time deals and happy hours. Not restaurants that served foie gras on a bed of summer greens with a delightfully sweet raspberry glaze. Whatever the fuck that meant.

“What’s with these upscale places and their aversion to seasonings? That chicken was paler than a cloud.” Jake coughed on his drink as he tried to fight a laugh. His fist covered his mouth as his eyes looked up to find you leaning over the table so you could whisper your query. There was the slightest lop-sided grin on your lips and a bit of mischievous glint in your eyes. 

This was a side of you Jake hadn’t experienced since those first weeks — before he turned cold. You’d made him laugh with your lack of a filter more often than not, and almost always at the worst of moments. Though it did make for some convincing paparazzi shots.

It took him a moment and a couple throat clears before he was able to respond. 

“Are you saying you’re having a bad time?” Jake’s slightly bushy yet still neatly formed eyebrow cocked at you. You just shrugged and sat back in your seat, smoothing out the silk napkin in your lap. 

“All I’m saying is that I know a few places that are ten times less stuffy with food ten times better than this.” There were parts of New York, your version of New York, that Jake had surely never seen. Places that he would likely never step foot in on his own accord.

Suddenly Jake was slapping a handful of bills on the table, enough to cover the drinks and a hefty tip, then he was grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the building.

“What? Did I piss you off?”

At this point you didn’t know what you were going to get with him. He was either going to play nice or he was going to be a dick. The urgency in how you’d left the restaurant had you thinking he was going to give you the latter version of him.

“Huh? Wha-no! No…” he hesitated. “I just thought you could show me your side of New York.”

Your side of New York.

Jake was letting go of the control he seemed so intent on always maintaining to let you show him around. A camera flashed somewhere in the distance, the bright light blinding you momentarily in the dark street. It was a stark reminder of what was out there. Jake had been so careful to curate your guys’ every move so that the paparazzi would only catch you two in situations he wanted them to catch you in. They had no clue that for weeks he’d brought woman after woman into the house. Or that you’d been sleeping with his best friend in secret. They had no clue this was all a front because Jake made sure of it. This wasn’t in his plan.

“What about them,” you nodded your head in the direction the flash had come. “What if they catch you slumming it at holes in the wall?” For a second his demeanor changed – he was contemplating the point you had made. Calculating in his head if it was worth it. 

As soon as it had changed it was back again.

“Fuck ‘em.” There it was – that subtle Texan accent that you only heard every so often. It was so much stronger with his parents and you had to wonder if Jake had lost it or if he purposely disguised it. “I’ll get the car.” You just nodded and stared after him as he walked up to the valet. It was only a minute later that Jake was opening the door for you to get in.

In an uncharacteristically Jake move he had chosen to go without a driver or security tonight. Or at least you didn’t notice security. There’s been several times they popped up and scared the shit out of you. So it was highly possible they were lurking in the shadows. 

“Alright, where to first?” 

“23rd and 6th.” You answered without a second thought. 

It took some time to get through the NYC dinner time traffic, but eventually Jake pulled up. It was one of those restaurants with faded pictures of food on their menu. In your experience those places always had the best food. No need to fancy up their menu when it had been working just as well in the thirtieth year as it did in the first.

“Great Burrito?” The tone in Jake’s voice had you giggling. “It would only make sense for a Mexican restaurant to also serve pizza in a city like this.” He shook his head and you laughed a little louder. He did have a point. That would only make sense in the Big Apple.

You could tell he was reluctant to get out of the car, but when Jake saw you get out so quickly he followed suit. A doorbell chimed, announcing to the restaurant there was a new customer. By now the dinner rush had mostly ended, but there were a few stragglers. Jake stood next to you, his head craned up to look at the menu above the counter.

“Come on, you’re from Texas, aren’t there taquerias there?” You nudged him with your elbow and his head moved slowly to look down at you. His brows furrowed as he processed your question but eventually the creases went away as he relaxed.

“Ye-yeah. There was a place like this on UT’s campus – Vaquero Taquero.” He smiled softly and you smiled with him. “Spent a lot of drunk nights there and a few other places.” Jake chuckled.

There was glint in his eyes and you found yourself wanting to know more about what he was like in college. Bradley had told you some stories, but not much. Most of your time spent with him wasn’t exactly spent talking – unless you counted the dirty talk.

His hand came to hover just over the small of your back as you stepped up to order. Jake’s fingers brushed ever so slightly against the fabric of your coat and you found yourself wanting to feel his palm spread over the area. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done that in public before, why was he being so hesitant about it now?

“Two tacos al pastor and one tamarindo agua.” It was your go to order, always al pastor tacos and always the tamarindo agua fresca. You listened to Jake’s order, wanting to know what he liked. Two carne asada tacos, one chorizo taco and a guava Jarritos. That one took you a bit by surprise. Jake didn’t strike you as a guava kind of guy. Or even a Jarritos kind of guy. 

The first few minutes of the meal were spent in silence, savoring the taste of the tacos while they were still freshly warm. You didn’t have to guess if Jake was enjoying them. That was evident by the way he devoured the first taco in no time flat. He was normally so calm, cool and collected. He ate his dinner so proper, this was like a drunk frat boy eating his first meal after one too many keg stands. 

Honestly it was refreshing. Tonight you got to enjoy the side of Jake that you first met. It was giving you a bit of whiplash – the way he was changing back and forth between personalities. Of course you were expecting him to go back, to turn back into that asshole that you’d started to hate. You still wondered what had changed. Why he’d gotten so cold, but that was something you were sure he wouldn’t ever share with you. Marriage or not, this was still a business transaction. There wasn’t a need for the two of you to get that intimately close.

“When was the last time you went back to Texas?” Jake took a moment to think, chewing slower as he thought. 

“I haven’t been back since I graduated with my MBA so…” he paused again, his eyes looking up at the ceiling as he silently counted the years in his head. “Ten years.”

Ten years seemed like such a long time when he’d spent more than half his life in the state. Was he just that busy or was there a deeper reason why he hadn’t gone back.

“Do you plan on visiting again?”

He shrugged and then nodded his head, leaning back against his seat. Jake brought a napkin up to his lips to roughly wipe away any taco remnants from his mouth. 

“I’m sure, UT has asked me to give the commencement speech this coming graduation. I haven’t accepted yet, but I probably will. Dad keeps talking about moving back, but I don’t think mom will ever go back.” That didn’t really surprise you.

Jake’s mom was snobby enough that she was living up the New York socialite stereotype. As were her daughters. Then again, maybe they were like that in Texas. You didn’t really care to know. As far as you were concerned Mrs. Seresin was just a thorn in your side you had to endure until your impending divorce with her son. She didn’t have to like you and you didn’t have to like her.

“What about you, what was your college experience like?”

“Definitely nothing like I’m sure yours was.” You left out a sigh that slightly resembled a half-hearted laugh. “I was trying to work my way through nursing school until mom got sick and then I had to drop out.” You shrugged, trying to play it off like it was no big deal.

Only it was a big deal. This wasn’t how you’d planned for your life to go and it certainly wasn’t how your mother had planned for your life to go either. It wasn’t her fault, no one had planned for your father to die or for your mother to get cancer. You were simply dealt a bad hand of cards and were trying to pull off a bluff. Trying to fake it til you made it.

Jake could feel the frown tugging at the corner of his lips. The contrast between the two of your and your lives was so different. Yet, despite it all you were still warm and sweet, even when he didn’t deserve it. Which he didn’t most of the time. He felt a little jealous of Bradley. Jake knew his friend got to see more of your sweetness than he did. 

The door chimed as it opened and let in a bit of cold air that caused you to shiver. Jake noticed and stood up, grabbing your empty plates and tossing them in the nearby trash. 

“Home?” It was a simple question and you answered just as simply with a nod. 

It was much more comfortable in his car on the drive home. The heat and seat warmers made you so comfortable you were borderline falling asleep. 

“What time do we need to be at the hospital tomorrow?” Jake’s soft voice brought you back from the edge of sleep. Up until now you’d forgotten that he had promised to go to your mom’s chemo with you. Honestly you hadn’t expected him to even go at all. 

You stared at him for a long second. Studying him and trying to decipher if he was being sincere.

“Eight, are you sure you want to go? It’s going to be a long day and she sleeps most of the time.” You usually brought something to read or a book of crosswords to do while there. It wasn’t anything exciting, more like saddening. Watching someone fight for their life. 

Jake just nodded and reached over, squeezing your hand. 

“Yeah, I know I’ve been an ass, but I want to do better even if this marriage is fake.” That tugged at your heart. Through all this you’d felt alone. Sure you had Nat and Bob, but they weren’t as intertwined with this as Jake was. It was his money affording the treatment. Jake was the sole reason your mom was able to fight for her life without you having to sell your body at some high end club. Now he was trying to support you in a way that was more than just financially and you could help but feel drawn to him more than you had in the past few weeks. 

Jake opened your door, his hand hovering over the small of your back as you walked to the elevator. 

“Thank you,” you started after a mostly quiet ride up to the penthouse. “Means a lot.” Your throat constricted a bit and you avoided contact with his eyes so he wouldn’t see the tears building up. His hand reached over and squeezed yours again. Your eyes locked on the sight of your hands connected. You let them linger for a long while before slowly letting them slip apart. 

“Eight am?” he asked. “Eight am.” You confirmed,

–

Hospitals always smelled the same. A little bit of bleach mixed with despair, pain and a little bit of happiness. Sometimes it was nauseating, but you’d grown used to it. When you had to drop out of nursing school you had just finished your first semester of clinicals. 

Today the chemo room was mostly empty. Just one other person on the other side of the room, an older man sitting with a much younger woman. His granddaughter you figured given the way they had been interacting all morning. A bittersweet image as the man looked like he was a shell of himself. He was frail and couldn’t move without assistance from someone. So frail that you were certain it wasn’t entirely the treatment that had caused it. 

It wasn’t unusual for the room to be cold. By now you had gotten into the habit of bringing a couple blankets and dressing warm for the long day. One or two for yourself and extra for your mom. 

“You sure you don’t have anything better to do today?” You half whispered to Jake who was sitting next to you reading an article in a worn Forbes magazine. 

He hummed and turned his head towards you before the question finally registered. He shook his head and closed the magazine but kept his pointer finger between the pages. Keeping his place. 

“Positive.” He sounded positive, but that didn’t stop you from feeling bad. Surely Jake Seresin had better things to do than sit around in a hospital with his fake fiancée while her mother got treatment for breast cancer. “It’s almost noon, we should eat something, you should eat something. Don’t think I didn’t notice you skipped breakfast.” Jake raised his eyebrows at you and you just rolled your eyes. 

You hardly ever ate on Chemo days. Your focus was more on your mom and it was hard to work up an appetite seeing her like this. Even if she was just asleep in a chair. Still you relented and took the card he had fished out of his wallet. His eyes followed you until he couldn’t see you anymore before he turned back to the magazine. 

“She’s a good girl,” your mother’s frail voice made Jake jump a bit. He hadn’t heard her talk much. A few words here and there. Then again, this was the most time he’d spent in her presence since you two had “been together”. “She deserves more than what she’s been given.”

He looked towards her, his green eyes softening at the sight of her. There was a weak but loving smile on her face and her eyes were half lidded. No doubt tired from the taxing treatment she was going through. It was something Jake hoped he never had to go through himself. Something he hoped that no one would ever have to go through, but life didn’t work that way. He made a mental note to donate a hefty chunk of money towards cancer research. It was the least he could do. 

“I thought you were asleep?” This time he fully put the magazine down, focusing his attention on your mom. 

“No,” she shook her head ever so slightly and chuckled just a bit. “I’m never fully asleep, I just want her to think so. It’s easier on her that way and on me. I love that girl but if I have to hear her ask if I’m okay every five minutes I’ll go insane.” You could go a little overboard with that. And you knew it, but she was your mom. How could you not constantly check in on her? For so long you had lived under the same roof with her. It had been easy to keep tabs on her and her health, now it was harder.

Jake let out a chuckle of his own. Before your mom had “fallen asleep” he was sure you had asked her that question at least ten times. So much that even he was tempted to curb it somehow, but he knew this had to be driving you crazy. That you were probably scrambling for some way to help in any way you could.

“I get it, though. First we lost her dad and then I got cancer. It’s been hard on her, but she’s always tried to act like she can take on the world. And she probably can,” the woman mused softly, “but she shouldn’t have to.” Her eyes got watery and Jake handed her a tissue, feeling his own heart clench. “Why are you doing this?” The question came out of left field. Jake wasn’t sure how much your mom knew, but it sounded like he was about to find out. The confused look on his face prompted your mom to expand on her question. “I mean why are you helping me? Helping her?” He supposed it was a fair question. 

Jake bit his lip, pondering it for a moment. The easy answer would be that it was mutually beneficial. That you were helping him just as much as he was helping you. And in the beginning of this that answer probably would have sufficed, but he knew there was more to it now. He just didn’t know how much more and he wasn’t sure what “more” entailed. 

Before he could get the chance to answer you showed back up. He only knew that because your mom had closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep just moments before the door to the room opened. 

“Alright so there was nothing good down there, Pizza that looked like it was at least a day old and dry chicken fingers so I ordered us food instead. Figured you wouldn’t mind?” You trailed off sheepishly and held his card out.

Jake just shook his head. “No, I don’t mind.” 

Really he didn’t. He would rather you spend the money on food you would actually eat versus waste it on gross food that might find its way back up later. You nodded your head in the direction of your mom, silently asking how she was doing. “She’s fine, been sleeping the whole time.” He lied through his teeth. No need to let you know that he had been talking about you with your mother. Even if it was nothing juicy. 

It was a little nice, talking to your mom for that tiny period of time. She let him have the tiniest sliver of information on you and he found himself wanting more conversations like that with her. If you weren’t going to open up to him maybe your mom would give him what he wanted to know. 

“You’re absolutely positive you want to be here?” You asked again.  “Ask me that one more time and I’m posting the security footage of you singing Hit Me Baby One More Time into a spatula on instagram.”

@love2write2626 @cherrycola27 @chaoticversion @3in1shampooconditionerbodywash @alldaysdreamers @sexytholland @mishala0505 @a-serene-place-to-be @emma8895eb @aemondssiut @averyhotchner @blairfox04 @realdirectionx @rintheemolion @xoxabs88xox @clancycucumber230 @inky-sun @ilovewhalesharks444 @gigisimsonmars @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog @bl6o6dy @potato-girl99981 @emorychase @hangmandruigandmav @boltgirl426 @misshoneypaper @starkleila @rae-you-gotta-be-kidding-me @rhirhikingston @alana4610 @mightiestheroes @likeit-or-leaveit @pono-pura-vida @eccentricnos

[alaskan-wallflower]

can i just like…rant about my school for a minute?

i know i make light of this now because i was on this, but there’s a kid in my grade who made a hit list. not one, not two, but three fucking hit lists (and i was allegedly in it even tho i never spoke to this kid ever) and the school didn’t do anything other than give him a slap on the wrist and suspend him for a month. last year this same kid brought a briefcase into school and got suspended for 90 days. not expelled, but suspended. granted, i don’t know what was in there, but i heard things about what was in there and he probably should’ve been expelled for those things. this kid scares the shit out of me, i won’t lie. he got in trouble in the past for making jokes about shooting up the school…actually, three people in my grade got suspended for gun threats, but like…shouldn’t that be taken to the police? which speaking of, i remember in middle school my school found gun parts and bullets on the elementary school playground and in one of the classrooms and didn’t say jack shit until days later. they do the same thing when we get bombing threats, like they never once evacuated anyone, it’s always covered until a week later.

i also remember in middle school when this substitute teacher (he was really old and creepy) was actively like…touching girls (pretending to fall and grabbing their hips) and telling girls to “get their mommies and daddies to check their boobs for breast cancer, or we could do it ourselves” (granted it was a bio class but we weren’t even learning about mitosis/cancer at the time), he was really ableist to me and a few other people and he tried to get me and other people) to stay after school alone with him multiple times and got mad when we all said no, and me and my friends took it upon ourselves to write an anonymous letter to the councilors to say “hey this guy is scaring us can we get a different sub or something” and they fucking excused it by telling us WE were in the wrong for “being mean to a sweet, harmless old man”

then this year i found out my school covered 🍇 cases for a few years until parents found out and then they suddenly expelled the kid. but about three years after the fact. i found out a few days ago that there’s another kid who roofied someone and did the same thing and nothing has happened to him. he’s still in some of my classes. he always gave weird vibes because i remember he was really fucking creepy to me in freshman year but i didn’t think it was this severe.

i’m just pissed rn. like some of the students organized a protest because there was an sa case from one of the school dances that the school was covering up (but then they had to backtrack and say “we’re doing all we can” but never actually punishing the kid probably cause he’s on the football team, but regardless like they planned a walk out and the administration freaked out.

it just pisses me off. some of the kids in my grade genuinely scare the shit out of me and it makes me feel no safer knowing they cover up gun threats/🍇 cases.

[fandomlurker333]

Fundamental Forces (Challengers Fanfic)

Author's Note: Wow! It has been a LONG time since I wrote fanfiction. I can't believe it's Challengers (2024) that got me to do it, but I LIVE for Patrick's chaotic Bi energy, Art's hidden vindictiveness, Tashi's intolerance for bullshit, and a messily drawn triangle where the angles are trying REALLY hard to touch.

This is basically 900 words of character study, but it's got dashes of both Patrick/Tashi and Patrick/Art. I hope it scratches someone's itch.

Patrick knows he’s a fucking irredeemable piece of shit because sometimes he wishes his mother had died of breast cancer. Or that his dad had been a raging alcoholic — the kind that shouted obscenities and backhanded him across the face when he’d pissed him off. Sometimes he wishes that any of the Nannies he had until he was 11 years old had touched him wrong. Or that he’d killed his first high school girlfriend driving tipsy after junior prom.

Instead, Patrick had a perfectly normal childhood.

His mother brought flawless cupcakes to every school bake sale, was punctual for every parent-teacher conference.

His Dad worked a little too much, maybe, drank one scotch too many on hard days. He always knew it and always put himself to bed early when he did.

His parents were together seven years before they had him. Married, in their late twenties. He was part of the plan.

Both come from money. They like each other well enough. They have a stable, comfortable arrangement that suits them. Perfectly normal.

There’s no explanation for why Patrick came out wrong.

&&&

Tennis is all he's good at.

He's no good at school.

Or saying nice things to people.

Or staying in one place for very long.

It's just tennis.

That's his one good trick.

&&&

He’s sitting in a classroom with eighteen other kids and one of the girls has already taken her test up to Ms. Larken’s desk. He knows because he saw her shoes — sparkly green jelly sandals. They glitter in the sunlight that slants through the window.

So, Kelly has already taken her test up and Patrick’s palms begin to sweat. He’s been staring at the same question for 19 minutes. They have 30 minutes to complete the exam.

He doesn’t know the answer. He doesn’t know for sure. He knows the formula. He recognizes the triangles. He’s flipped his paper onto the blank side and redone the calculations over and over, fit the numbers together in every way imaginable. But he still doesn’t know the answer. Not for sure.

He’d sped through the first half — questions one to twenty-two. They were easy. This one should be easy too. It’s all the same section of the textbook he’d memorized. They talked about it in class three days ago. He knows…

He doesn’t know the answer. There’s something hot and sharp squeezing in his chest. The air around him feels so thick, he could choke.

He flicks his eyes up to the clock again and it’s been 23 minutes.

It’s not enough time. He’ll get it wrong. Every question matters.

Dread pools in his belly. Blood pounds in his temples, behind his ears, in the hollow of his throat.

The graphite tip of his pencil snaps beneath his thumb.

At the 30-minute mark, Ms. Larken asks them to bring up their tests.

Patrick rips his in half and stuffs the unanswered questions in his mouth. He stumbles out of class with no direction, chewing the paper until it becomes a mass of wet pulp on his tongue.

He swallows it.

&&&

Patrick’s parents put him in a boarding school that allows personalized curriculums.

He almost never takes tests.

So, he’s almost never terrified of getting it wrong.

&&&

Tashi Duncan is everything Patrick wishes he was for real — confident, irresistible, commanding, magnetic, and more than anything…a winner.

He wants to be her as much as he wants to fuck her. That is some confusing shit right there.

She’s a firecracker. He can’t hold her in his hands for long. She burns too hot, too fast, too bright. Despite himself, he loves feeling the spark and heat of flame bite at his fingertips.

He loves her. Or he thinks he does, in whatever way a 19-year old self-obsessed fuck up can love a person.

Being with her is like jumping feet first off a moving train. She exhilarates and scares him in equal measure.

He knows the likelihood of survival is not great. She may destroy him, but he’ll relish screaming all the way down.

Patrick thinks he remembers feeling something similar when he first met Art. Not nearly as violent, but just as disorienting.

A sense of inevitability, of falling helplessly into whatever they were — no control, no foresight, no time to change a damn thing.

Making Art his best friend felt natural; liking him, wanting to be around him, was innate. He’s never thought about something less than he did the first time he slung an arm around Art’s neck and reeled him in.

His 11-year-old self wouldn’t have described it this way, but in hindsight, Art was immediately necessary to him. Like, the moment they met was the moment Patrick recognized he had always been part of the fabric of his reality.

Tashi feels like centrifugal force — she hurls him away from his center, pushes him off kilter, makes him adjust to find his balance over and over. He likes being kept on his toes. He likes to imagine them balancing on the tightrope together — her as graceful and agile as she is on the court, him scrambling to keep afloat with her — all spit, grit, and dogged determination.

Art, though, Art has always felt like gravity. He grounds Patrick’s flightiness, weighs him down in the here and now. He’s the constant, steady force that keeps Patrick from drifting off into space, floating aimlessly with no direction. It’s easy to take him for granted, to forget how important he is because he is always always there.

Until he isn’t.

Neither of them are.

And Patrick is lost.

[masp161]

Astro Observations #V

Asteroid Clymene, derived from the goddess of Fame and Fortune, might likely show where you are seen as potentially popular/famous, where and how you can achieve fame

Gemini/3rd House is associated with Society/People

Popular opinion : Sidereal birth charts describe you more

Sag Mercury will always have something to talk about, even if nothing happens in their lives. They just always have something interesting

The energy or attachment style you have with the sign in your 12th House can reflect your type of trauma and insecurity

I can easily see the dark minds of the zodiac being XXTPs or XXTJs (See Briggs Myers test) since XXTPs/XXTJs are not only mentally focused people, but that need to focus on the mind more than the heart usually tends to come from early trauma OR emotional absence of any kind. Their capacity to live on their own terms and spontaneity can be an aftermath of being left alone to deal with their trauma, forging their personality, leading to XXTPs.

Cancer/Capricorn 1st/3rd/4th/9th/10th or Mars/Saturn/Moon can often be perceived as parental, their energy. They radiate the parental energy that they lacked as a child, especially if the planets are retrograde

Pisces Mars people have a power to get revenge through karma because most of them tend to have an Aquarius Mars in their Sidereal Chart, Aquarius being the sign of Karma along with Capricorn, and Mars being the planet of intense emotions

What pisses people off about Pisces Mars is their emotional unavailability or diversity : their natural state of needing or having lots of people physically attracted to them but them not wanting anything. They also, Pisces Mars, have tendencies to just not settle for inclusivity.

Cap Pluto are a generation of pretending doms who want to rule but are submissive in bed.

Most Mutable Venuses are least likely to confess their feelings not entirely because they're not interested in love, but because they don't wanna admit or acknowledge their emotions until they're certain it's mutual. They don't like to look like fools.

What if all Libra Risings soulmate were themselves. Their 7th house, after all, is ruled by a sign representing the self.

I don't think, after all, that Saturn in your birth chart only shows how karma works for you. But rather what trace you leave on people.

The ugly part of astrology that people don't want to face is having North Node or personal planets in water houses (4th, 8th, 12th). They are indicators of the psyche. Indicators that the lifetime will be a lot of focus on the ugly parts of the self, of humanity, on healing and understanding those around us in order to understand ourselves.

My opinion :

Tropical Charts are the physicality of things, physical you, physical events

Sidereal Charts are the emotionality of things, emotional you, emotional reactions, you being you

Draconic Charts are the Ideal, the perfect you, the you with no concept of good or bad, with no concept at all, just yourself

(To be reviewed)

People with Cancer placements, Neptune in the 4th, or Neptune in Cancer can pretty much remember anything, even drunk or high.

People, in my opinion, with their north nodes in the 7th/8th/12th house have this kind of inevitable lesson, that they mastered in youth but lost over many years of trauma, to learn on how to let go of ego and work on their inner selves. And learn to let go of themselves and harmonize with the world/the universe.

Before any hate, let me explain why I didn't add the 9th/10th/11th House. To me the 9th house is about the philosophies and world views, not directly how we get to be extremely dependent of the world whether we want to or not. The 10th house is more close on how we can rely on people, but North Node in the 10th isn't necessarily involved in a spiritual AND emotional (both together) level (and in case you mention the 7th house, the 7th house is about the shadow part of ourselves and in some occasions the soul level of attachment we can have to somebody). And 11th house is more on the society/friends level. I see it also as a sort of independence house, where you can learn to not need people.

If the 2nd house is about knowing who you are and standing firm on knowing who you are, then the 8th house is the opposite : realizing you don't know who you are because you are constantly changing/evolving. Thus, people with the North Node in the 8th House, know that it's normal to feel like you don't know who you truly are because you're always changing. It's part of your journey.

Convince me otherwise, but Cardinal Moons are impulsive smartasses, especially when undeveloped or overdeveloped

Air signs, Scorpio, Pisces, Saggy and Capri LOVE doing personality tests more than the other signs (check out sun, moon, rising and dominant) generally because they tend to lack a fixed identity despite them saying they HAVE an identity. Sometimes they even redo the same tests just to be sure they won't change their score or answer. Part of them also loves discovering themselves through others (hence the internet tests).

[murderenjoyer]

Getting pissed tf off about the people who think it's okay and reasonable to scream at little kids for misbehaving. Once I saw a video of a grown man on a plane screaming at an infant - not a kid not a toddler, an infant! - so hard that he was red in the face, all because it was crying. As babies often do. More than half the people in the comments were like "valid lol fuck that kid" and it made me so fucking angry.

You know these beady-balled losers wouldn't have that energy toward someone their own size. You know they'd sit there with their eyes down and mouth shut because they know another adult has the ability to beat their fucking ass.

But a baby? A baby can't fight back. A baby can't defend itself. So they feel safe freaking out at it because they're a weak, sniveling, cowardly bully.

People like that are exactly the same as parents who beat the shit out of their own kids. You'll notice that slap-happy parents suddenly ease off when the kid becomes a teen. Those beatings taper off as they grow. And when the kid is an adult, they don't get beat at all. It's not because mommy suddenly respects them. It's not because daddy suddenly got better with his emotions.

It's because they know that kid is now big enough to slap the shit out of them. They're weak. They're pathetic. They're shit on society's shoe.

And it makes me so mad that "hey don't abuse little kids" is apparently a radical, unpopular opinion.

I hope everyone who does shit like that, and everyone who supports shit like that, dies a slow and painful death. I hope they get jumped and beat to death on the side of the road. I hope they get the worst, most vicious form of cancer and wither away slowly and painfully.

[sirenologyyy]

ATWOW MODERN AU!

(a.k.a my hot take if the kids were in highschool)

part 1 part 2

tsireya

- a glossier girlie through and through

- she's the most popular girl in their whole school and it is really hard not to hate her

- she listens to kpop specifically NEW JEANS, her bias is Minji, her bias wrecker is Hyein, she loves the song Ditto and would memorise ALL THE DANCES

- this is basically connected to the one before this but is a dancer, she did ballet as a kid then her parents enrolled her in a professional dance school. She had to quit because that on top of being the student body VP, her work in the animal shelter and being a farm hand in her family's farm it's just too much work

- her and ao'nung are irish twins so even though they were both born in the same year she had to step down a grade (hence why she's classmates with Lo'ak and Kiri)

- the Maihoa family are loaded so you'd expect her to be snobby and uptight right? HELL. NO. Tonowari and Ronal raised her better than that (she would make do with whatever she has, she's literally so low maintenance and would appreciate ANYTHING)

- they have this private strip of land where they converted into a golf course where they'd go golfing any time (it's literally a 5 minute drive away from their estate) she and Ao'nung would golf every weekday if they didn't have any homework and would stay there until sunset

- literally just good at everything she does ahsjsnz

- everyone expects her to be that one coquette girl but nah let's be honest, she's the coastal grandma

- this girl cannot LIE she's such a goody two shoes (one time Lo'ak and Ao'nung decided to sneak out to go to some party the swim team were having after hours and they asked her to cover them but she ended up selling them out nonetheless (both of them got an ass whooping the next night but hey, at least she waited 24 hours to rat them out)

- she runs hot so she always wears shorts and bra tops

- dosen't swear if necessary, maybe mutters a 'fuck' or 'dick' but only if she's royally pissed, if she starts swearing in Māori GET UP AND RUN no, wait scratch that, don't run, SPRINT

- her makeup is always organised in tubs by most to least used, her beauty blenders are always washed, her makeup brushes are cleaner than when she first bought them, her room is basically an Ulta branch with a bed and books laying around

- MAKES FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS ‼️ everyone from the group has one, sometimes she strings seashells and beads she found in her travels onto the thread (Lo'ak takes his off everytime he swims or takes a shower because he dosen't want it to get wet)

- a hardcore people pleaser, she'd brutally exhaust herself if it meant people would be happy with her assistance (that's why Ao'nung rarely asks her for favours)

- would ditch you for a chance to advance study

- she was that one person in the class where in between subjects the other girls would line up by her desk as she does their hair

- she and Lo'ak went as Amy Santiago and Jake Peralta the first Halloween they were officially together

- her favorite subject is Chemistry (she's memorised every quantum formula there is) and Advanced Lit because let's be honest Tsireya is a book worm (Ronal would walk into her room at 2 in the morning to find her bundled up in the covers while wearing a headlight reading some 10 inch book she borrowed from their library)

- is a cancer, must I go on?

- let's be honest, she's vegan too

- multilingual, she can speak French, English, Māori, and Dominican (learnt that to impress Neytiri)

- won an award in 4th grade for being the person in their batch that borrowed the most books

- she and her father would bond over the Percy Jackson series because it's what statted her love for books (they'd talk shit about the movie adaptations LSNSZKZ)

- she likes collecting seashells, everytime they'd visit their father's home town in Rotorua or literally any beach Tsireya would not leave until she'd find a shell (this was never an issue until they came down for a visit where she spent her 12th birthday, it was raining cats and dogs when they left and Ronal didn't allow her to grab some random shell off the sand before they climbed in the car and she was upset the whole 17 hour flight back)

- she does her own nails, they'd always be white French tips but sometimes she'd use coloured nail polish

- wears Jo Malone perfume

- she's always active in class let's be fr, she studies like a junkie, she gets conscious about it though so she decided that in every subject she'd only raise her hand 5 times

- you CANNOT trust her in the kitchen, when she says she'll be trying out this recipe from tiktok you need to watch her or she'll slice her palm open

- you need 20 bucks, she'll give it to you, if you can't pay her, no problem, if you can, she won't be reminding you (she literally forgets everyone she lends money to)

- rarely gets mad, if she is though she'll bite your fucking face off

- girls ask her what product she uses for her eyebrows and she's like what product (baby girl has naturally thick eyebrows she does not need to touch them to look that good)

- her favorite movie growing up was Cars (specifically Cars 2), when she was a teen it was Pitch Perfect and now it's the 2005 Pride and Prejudice adaptation (she hates the Netflix Persuasion one)

- "Hey whose got some acetone? My nailpolish looks real streaky" "Oh I do!"

- has only drunken 3 times and she's always the spacey kinda drunk that laughs at like literally everything

- had that huge ass barbie doll house with the working lights, elevator, slide, and garage when she was a kid

ao'nung

- when he'd cook meals with his mother (I know, shocking) they'd always make a shepherd's pie and they'd practice her Māori, when she'd pronounce a word wrong or forget what the Māori translation would be he'd pretend to be angry at her but he ends up in a laughing mess

- listens to Rob Zombie

- when he was a kid he could not sleep without a night light on, Ronal and Tonowari decided to take it away one night and they wake up to a cranky 7 year old smashing plates in the kitchen at 2 in the morning

- he sleeps at 10 pm or at 4 am. Strictly.

- his wardrobe consists of Ralph Lauren and Nike (the duality 🤌🏼)

- Ronal and Tonowari never had any problem feeding him and Tsireya, what she wouldn't eat he'd eat, what he wouldn't eat she'd eat

- he wants everyone to think he's the living epitome of basketball bro, shooting hoops everyday because ball is life bro... and he is

- no one would think he's on the honor roll, he'd never brag about his test scores to anybody except Tsireya, all that seems to leave his mouth is basketball, basketball basketball, he'd never ace tests because most of the teachers do a roll call of the students with perfect scores and he'd hate to be standing by the blackboard with Neteyam and Rotxo so he purposefully gets one question wrong, wether that be forgetting to add the negative sign to an exponent, being a year off of important dates in history, forgetting to add the correct unit of measurement

- used to vape as a joke but now he just does unconsciously

- has and always been a momma's boy

- he picked up on Ronal's british accent and Tonowari's Māori accent and sort of have this unique hybrid accent when he talks, it was hard to understand him when he talks really fast but especially hard when he was in preschool with his speech impediment, his teachers and classmates could not understand a thing he said

- plays chess and will obliterate you in a matter of seconds, you'd be too focused on getting your rook to his side and by the time you got there he's already taken most of your chess pieces and your king 💀

- plays Royale High with Neteyam's baby sister and Mortal Kombat with Lo'ak

- everyone expects him and Tsireya to attend private school (mostly because Ao'nung's an entitled douchebag) they only stayed because the school they were supposed to study at didn't have any more spots so they studied at Pandora High instead, they went back the second year because he'd been acquainted with Rotxo at the time and his parents decided he was a good influence on Ao'nung (also they wanted Tsireya to run for the student body so)

- flirts with too many girls but never takes anything a step further, there are about dozens upon dozens of rumors circulating the school of him getting it on with this one girl in the auditorium, making out with this one girl in the science lab, taking this one girl to his car and Tsireya hears all of it 💀

- never raises his hand to recite and if he does it's during the last 5 minutes and he's trying to kill time by making their teacher talk about their children or the Vietnam War or something until the bell rings and all the students bolt out of the classroom before their teacher could get another word in. If he gets called on out of the blue he'll always get the answer right

- sleeps in class lol

- he drives an Audi to school everyday

- he dosent speak Māori as well as Tsireya but he understands just as well as her

- watches kid cartoons when he's stressed like the magic schoolbus, pink panther, angelina ballerina, but he's always stayed true to his roots which was cartoon network like Ed, Edd, and Eddie, The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy, and Camp Lazlo

- zones out when he's upset

- they have loads of beach houses scattered along the coast but the one they always go to is their Fairfield house in Connecticut where they'd surf from dawn to dusk, his parents would join him and Tsireya in the first 5 hours but they'd leave after that and let them surf on their own. When they'd be done they'd have seawater in their ears, sand in places they never would have imagined, and their hair would start turning golden because of how long they spent under the sun

- he's the type to never tell you anything unless you ask him about it, you'd never know how his day if you don't pester him about it, you won't know if he's feeling alright or not because he is so incredibly hard to read.

rotxo

- drinks tea but has a raging caffeine addiction

- spends his off time watching sitcoms with some popcorn

- does not have any clue what is going on

- since everyone agrees on this, yes, he was raised by his grandmother

- he has all the ap classes too let's be fr

- HE SAYS SUCH OUT OF POCKET THINGS SOMETIMES, he says it how he sees it, he'd literally go out of his way and call you a perforated ballsack if he felt like it (and he never got a citation for it EVER) it almost fazes Ao'nung how someone so sweet could say such BOLD things 😭

- he wears cargo shorts and blue t-shirts and vans and/or black converses

- A HUGE SZA FAN, has been since the release of CTRL and we all know he was there the moment SOS was released also because he was literally blowing up the groupchat with the countdown (GUYS 5 MINUTES GUYS 5 MINUTES) a week after the release he's already memorised almost all the songs

- he sometimes asks the most obvious questions that some of his classmates start laughing as a result 💀 jokes on them though they didn't ace the test like he did

- he just gives Charlie Kelmeckis energy

- he's the type of person to stutter when he's nervous so when he came to Kiri's house to meet their parents for the first time it took him 1 whole minute to say hello to Tuk who opened the door asking him if he was the doordash guy

- wouldn't be opposed to a night in as much as a night out

- he isn't exactly that well off but will pay for EVERYTHING he won't even let Ao'nung (whose father is a billonaire) pay for 2 fries and 2 sundaes at McDonald's

- really likes Spiderman (went as Miles Morales 2 years in a row, he only went a second year because Kiri thought it would be a good idea to play Spidergwen and you best believe they got a lot of candy)

- is the type to remember the littlest things about you

- very emotionally intelligent

- he tutors Kiri sometimes but those sessions always end up with them getting take out or watching poorly made hollywood films and laughing their asses off at the cringy dialogue and shit special effects

- he's in film club and the school newspaper column he loves writing and wants to work in a real film set one day

- with that in mind, when they were younger Rotxo produced plays with Tsireya and Ao'nung during family gatherings, they made all the props, asked Rotxo's grandma for help with costume design (of course they always get standing ovations)

- is an only child

- canonically a teacher's pet and Ao'nung makes fun of him for it

- GOLDEN RETRIEVER ENERGY THROUGH AND THROUGH

- the unluckiest luckiest son of a gun ever (got detention for dropping a weight on a girl's head, said girl gave him a kiss on the cheek when she left to go to the hospital, the script he'd been working on since middleschool got lost, immediately gets invited to a film set on a bigshot Hollywood movie for a day)

- surfs A LOT, not as much as ao'nung since he competes in surfing classics but Rotxo could if he wanted to (he has stage fright poor baby)

- is a peace maker - Duane Evans Jr.

- puts his hands over his ears when he's scared

- HAS LITERALLY NO SENSE OF DIRECTION, his first day in Pandora high he was 20 minutes late to all his subjects because he's always miles away from his classes, if his Chemistry class was in the the second floor jit'd be out in the football field asking Seniors where the chemistry classroom was and they'd purposefully give him the wrong directions making him another 20 minutes late and he literally just missed the entire Chemistry lesson 😭 you can give this boy a dozen compasses and he'd still be lost (Ao'nung actually did give him a compass for his 12th birthday before he realized that Rotxo did not know the difference between his East and his West)

- he can hold his breath for 3 minutes (imagine you're just relaxing on the beach and you see two 7 year old boys floating on the surface of the water)

- literally just unintentionally funny

- he's always been the friend that was almost NEVER allowed outside, if his grandma does allow him outside she only gives him an hour or so but Ao'nung has already used up like 15 minutes for begging so...

- animals love him, it's almost annoying really

- he says sorry to inanimate objects if he bumps into them

- HE NEVER SLEEPS, he's shit at time management too so he just crams extra credit assignments the night before it's due and ends up getting a 90% on them like it's witchcraft???

- sings songs out of nowhere like some broadway star

- parents and grandparents love him, (they once stole beers from Tonowari's mini fridge in their vacation house in Martha's Vineyard in Massachusets and Ronal caught them and Rotxo lied to her face when she asked them what they were doing in Tonowari's private study, he told her that they were throwing the beers out because the fridge was on the fritz again, which dosent seem so believebale granted they were two teenage boys but Ronal took one good look into Rotxo's puppy dog eyes and FELL FOR IT. They drank them on the rooftop that night while they watched the sunset (and scrambling down when Tsireya spots them halfway across the beach)

- braids Kiri's hair for them (they could literally be eating lunch together with the group and next thing she knows Rotxo's asking for a rubber band to tie her hair off)

- plays the pianoforte

- wears those puca shell necklaces and sometimes wears a sweatband to school (I know im describing Michael from Duckrockers but HUSH)

- used to always eat in the classroom of his favorite teacher who teaches AP Lit, that is until Ao'nung found out and invited him over to eat with him and his swim team friends, until they eventually just started eating on another table, Tsireya joined them as well because her friend group was getting a bit too tight iykyk (fake ass bitches) then Lo'ak started sitting there because he Tsireya started dating, then Lo'ak invited Kiri over because he had a bet going with Ao'nung that Kiri would be the first one to ask Rotxo to be their boyfriend, then Neteyam decided to eat with them too because someone had to ratio the absolute havoc these 4 wreak during lunch time (2 to 4 is better than 1 to 4, poor Reya)

PART 2! Finally got through to finishing Tsireya, Ao'nung, and Rotxo! I had sm fun doing these which ya'll can clearly tell given the amount of headcannons I wrote 😭 anyway, I might be writing more atwow fics in the future who knows honestly...

[crinkled-emotions]

Day 31: Free Day (Surprise fic!)

This one... oof. I can't believe it's finally here.

I'm super grateful to those people who have sent in asks or commented on the fics, I honestly didn't think I'd be able to get to 31 🥺 I talked more about it on the Ao3 version of this because tumblr is a NIGHTMARE for hate asks atm.

Warnings: Carole's cancer diagnosis and discussions of cancer-related complications, Goose's accident, Hangman's fear of not being fast enough to get to Mav and Rooster during the Dagger mission. Rooster also puts himself back into therapy.

This fic also contains Hangster and a couple of very special guests!! I really went loose with this one, I didn't edit it particularly hard nor did I think about whether it would be received well. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it 🥹

-

-

“Jake Seresin, you have three seconds to get over here and explain yourself!”

Hangman’s head shot up, glancing over the back of the couch in Maverick’s hangar. Coyote frowned from beside him, following his gaze to see three figures coming into the space.

“Oh shit,” Hangman hissed, “I gotta hide.”

He got up and made an abrupt disappearing act into the hangar, Coyote calling after him but to no avail. Phoenix was standing too, beaming as she ran to give one of the people coming toward them a hug.

“Oh my god, I haven’t seen you in forever! How are you?”

“Honey we are doing just fine.”

Phoenix folded into the older woman’s arms, surprisingly affectionate with her which the others were now watching closely considering Phoenix was more likely to bite someone’s head off rather than giving them a hug.

“You’re here!”

Maverick came out of the airstream, Rooster following shortly after. He stopped dead in his tracks halfway down the stairs, eyes widening.

“Mom? Dad?”

-

Carole surged forward, leaving Goose in his wheelchair for a moment to wrap her son in a hug.

“Bradley,” she breathed. Nothing more needed to be said.

“What the fuck?”

Sorry. Except for that. Thanks Fanboy.

“Uh- guys, uh... meet my parents. This is my mom, Carole... and my dad. Goose.”

Rooster helped his dad join the group, gently touching his shoulder.

“You okay, dad?”

“Better than you,” Goose retorted, earning an eye roll. Carole swatted Rooster’s shoulder and then extended her arms to give Maverick a hug too.

“And you, Maverick, what were you thinking?!”

“Carole, I-“

“-god, if we’d lost both of you...”

She pulled away, tears in her eyes as she looked between Rooster and Maverick, then sighed.

“Is Jake here?”

“Mom...” Rooster started carefully but she held out a hand.

“I just want to talk to him for a moment.”

“He’s down the back, ma’am,” Bob offered. Carole waved at him, pressed a kiss to Goose’s lips and Rooster’s temple then made her way through the collection of vintage cars and a plane or two. The Daggers turned toward Rooster, gobsmacked.

“Why the hell are your parents all buddy buddy with Maverick?” Payback demanded. Rooster just smirked.

“Have you not been listening for the last six weeks?”

-

“Jake, I know you’re back here.”

Hangman grimaced, slowly turning toward Carole. The older woman stood by the photo wall, arms crossed.

“Ma’am, I-“

“-since when have I been ma’am to you? Honey you were there for three Christmases, you don’t ever need to ma’am me.”

Hangman grimaced, leaning on the workbench.

“I said some really awful things to Rooster- Bradley. I said things I didn’t mean and now he’s mad as hell. How are you not pissed at me for everything I’ve done?”

“I don’t think he is, and I’m certainly not. Yours and Bradley’s relationship ended but that doesn’t mean I stopped worrying about you.”

Carole and Goose had taken Jake in all those years ago when Rooster took him home for the first time, constantly looking to him for reassurance because he didn’t know what it was like to have a supportive, welcoming family. Goose was paralysed from the neck down but he didn’t let it affect his charm and his sense of humour; Carole had survived what was almost terminal cancer and she still held her own against her incredibly stubborn son and husband. Hangman cleared his throat, eyes falling to the concrete flooring.

“I thought they were dead.”

“I can’t imagine how scared you must have been. You and Bradley...”

Carole Bradshaw was fun loving, loud and the life of the party at all times but she also raised what could only be described as a handful of a son with a gentle hand and her maternal instincts came out with almost everyone she met, Hangman included. He’d spent many a night sitting up with her, the two of them the insomniacs of their relationships, just talking about anything and nothing.

She was the mother figure he’d never had.

“Jake. Are you okay?”

“No,” he choked out. Carole’s eyes softened and she stepped forward to pull him into a hug.

-

“So what Bagman said, about Mav and your dad-“

“-it’s true, my dad and Mav were at TOPGUN when the accident happened. My dad was in a coma for... a really long time. When he did finally come around he couldn’t feel anything from his chest down. All the PT in the world can’t fix the kind of paralysis he has.”

“Man, that must have been really difficult for you. I’m sorry.”

Bob’s voice broke the silence first. Rooster hummed.

“I remember my mom was doing the laundry once and she just started bawling. Mav said she found a load of my dad’s clothes she’d forgotten about and it just... yeah. I don’t actually remember seeing dad all that often, one minute he was gone and the next he was sitting in his new wheelchair at home and he couldn’t pick me up anymore.”

Phoenix’s brows furrowed.

“I can’t even imagine. Your mom was sick too, right?”

“It was three years of hell.”

Maverick and Goose joined the Daggers by the couches, Maverick ruffling Rooster’s hair as Rooster glanced over at his dad.

“You handle the drive alright?”

“Yeah, fine. How about you kid, you doing okay?”

“Just glad to be on the ground,” Rooster said quietly. He felt Goose gently touch his shoulder.

“We’ll talk about this later.”

Rooster hummed, glancing around.

“Where did mom go?”

“I’m here honey. Have you told them about the Walmart diaper story yet?”

“Mom,” Rooster groaned as Carole and Hangman appeared from the back of the hangar. Phoenix’s eyes lit up and she scooted over on the couch to make room for Carole.

“Wait, I haven’t heard this one. I thought I had all the BB Blackmail.”

“The what?”

“Oh, Roos,” Hangman shook his head, “you have no idea.”

-

That evening Carole and Goose retired to the house beside the hangar- Maverick tended to sleep in the airstream in the hangar itself but the house had been specifically fitted with everything Goose needed for his wheelchair access including the bathroom and kitchen. The Daggers rolled out their swags across the hangar but stayed up a little longer to talk. Everyone started to drift off except Rooster and Hangman, sitting up on the couches together with a beer in hand.

“I don’t get it,” Hangman said, “you almost lost your parents and you still cut Maverick off.”

“Jake I don’t want to get into this with you,” Bradley groaned.

“No, you listen to me. Mav might have a couple screws loose but he must have done it for a reason.”

“I think my mom had something to do with it. She always went quiet when I started talking about the Navy or begging to get my licence.”

“Can you blame her? She almost lost her husband and her best friend in one hit.”

“Yeah, I do blame her. This was so fucking important to me, it was all I could talk about.”

“I know, Bradley, I remember when you found out why you were four years behind everyone else.”

Hangman took a sip of his beer, eyes to his lap.

“Left me in the dust.”

“Jake, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“I’m going to bed. Drink some water before you try to sleep.”

Hangman stood, collecting the beer bottles around the hangar to put in the trash before rolling out his swag. Rooster sighed.

“Jake, I’m sorry.”

“Goodnight.”

-

Carole and Maverick stood out in the bright morning sunlight just outside the hangar doors, drinking coffee and looking over the desert.

“How long were Hangman and Bradley together?” Maverick asked.

“Almost four years. Bradley was never the same after he found out about his papers.”

“Couldn’t get off his perch?” Maverick supplied. Carole laughed.

“Sure.”

Then she turned to face Maverick properly.

“What happened on that mission, Pete? Bradley calls after deployments but he doesn’t spend hours just sitting there listening to us babble. I’ve never seen Jake that haunted either.”

“You really want to know?” Maverick asked. When Carole just glared at him he sighed.

“Alright, we better sit down. Let’s go inside.”

They headed into the house, taking a seat at the dining table. Carole reached over and squeezed Maverick’s hand.

“I know this one was different.”

“I didn’t expect to come home from this one.”

“Pete you say that all the time-“

“-no I mean it. I saw the mission plan and I knew someone wasn’t coming home. If that was going to be the case, I wanted it to be me.”

“Pete, you did that. Everyone made it thanks to you.”

“How much did Bradley tell you?”

“Enough to know I could have lost both of you.”

“It’s a good thing Jake was spare; I knew if it came down to it he would be the one who’d push their jet to the limits to help in time without hesitating. He might be an ass at the best of times but he saved our lives. I’ll forever be grateful for that.”

Carole glanced down at her coffee cup.

“I think something shook loose in Bradley this time.”

“Me too.”

Maverick touched her hand, gesturing toward the bedroom.

“How’s he doing? Anything from the docs?”

“Oh, the usual. The nerve pain isn’t any better but he doesn’t want to tell Bradley.”

“We spent too long keeping secrets from Bradley, Carole.”

“I know, I just... he’s doing so well at work and the way he was last night- that’s the Bradley I know and love. He was smiling and laughing like I haven’t seen him in years.”

Maverick smiled.

“Yeah, I thought so too. Just... talk to him.”

“I will.”

Carole got up, rinsing out her coffee cup.

“You think he’s going to be okay?”

“He’s tough.”

“But is he going to be okay, Pete?”

Maverick frowned.

“I don’t know, Carole. All we can do is make sure he knows we’ve got his back.”

-

“So your mom looks good.”

“Are you flirting? Phoenix, she’s my mom.”

Phoenix gaped at Rooster for a second, then she burst out laughing and took his cup of coffee from him.

“Shut up, god knows you’re still flirting with Hangman after all these years.”

It was Rooster’s turn to stare hopelessly at her. She elbowed him in the side.

“Seriously. I haven’t seen your mom smile that hard in years-“

“-Bradley! Come help with breakfast!”

Carole called out the front door of the house and Rooster smiled at her over his shoulder.

“Be there in a second, mom!”

He took his coffee back from Phoenix and drained the mug, planting it back in her hand.

“Thanks for... everything, Tash.”

He headed back for the house when Carole yelled again, leaving Phoenix staring blankly after him. She heard someone else approach her from behind and smiled when she realised it was Bob and Fanboy.

“I didn’t think he knew how to smile,” Fanboy started. Bob nodded.

“It felt like I was talking to a brick wall sometimes, but this Rooster? It’s almost unsettling.”

“You know the story about his papers?” Phoenix asked them, both men shaking their heads. Phoenix sighed.

“Well, uh, after Mav and Rooster’s father were in a really awful crash, and Rooster’s mom beat cancer by the skin of her teeth, Rooster thinks she wasn’t down for him risking his life like Maverick still does and his father did. Apparently it was all he could talk about from the moment he was old enough to understand the Navy.”

“My dad’s a rancher, I wanted to be one for years too,” Bob supplied but Phoenix cleared her throat.

“It went so much deeper than that. Mr Bradshaw almost died from his injuries and then the infection he sustained later on. I don’t think Carole could have handled losing Bradley too, so Rooster thinks she might have asked Mav to pull his papers from the Naval Academy. It set him back four years which is how we ended up in the same TOPGUN class with Hangman. I don’t know all the details but I think Rooster’s finally made peace with whatever happened between then and now.”

Bob was quiet for a moment, processing everything, but Fanboy’s brows furrowed.

“Why was he so damn bitchy with Mav if it was his mom that pulled his papers?”

“You’d have to ask him.”

“No thanks,” Fanboy and Bob said simultaneously, earning laughter.

“He lived with him.”

They all jumped when Hangman appeared beside them, eyes on the desert in front of them rather than looking toward his teammates.

“What?”

“When things got really bad, Rooster moved in with Mav.”

Phoenix sighed.

“That tracks.”

“Is he gonna be pissed you can’t keep your mouth shut?” Phoenix asked Hangman, who just shrugged.

“He’s already pissed.”

“Daggers! Breakfast!”

The conversation was cut short by Maverick calling out for everyone to come eat, Payback and Coyote emerging from the hangar and Phoenix following the others down the hill where they’d been talking.

-

“Mrs Bradshaw, can I ask- Bradley Bradshaw?”

Carole smiled at Payback, patting his hand.

“He didn’t tell you?”

“Mom,” Rooster started quietly which immediately had everyone’s attention. Phoenix put her fork down, raising an eyebrow.

“No, please tell us. What are we missing?”

“When Bradley was born, his mom was-“

“-dad.”

The Cheshire-cat grin on Hangman’s face told the others he hadn’t heard this story either. Goose glanced between the Daggers then he smiled. Rooster put his head in his hands.

“So Mav and I were on base when Carole called to say she was in labour. It was just lucky that we were only a half hour away instead of being deployed so we were able to get to the hospital fast.”

Goose’s eyes met Carole’s and he smiled softly at her. Phoenix wondered what it was like to be that in love, then almost choked when she realised Hangman had a matching fond look on his face... directed at Rooster.

“Anyway, so we get in the room and Carole is doing her thing and she looks me dead in the eye... says she wants to call him Bradley then just starts laughing. I thought it was a joke, but the second Mav held him he says he looks like a Nick Junior. We compromised; my middle name is James, so...”

“Oh my god. Your middle name is James?” Phoenix says. Rooster sighed.

“Alright, let’s hear it.”

“We didn’t mean to call him BJ, it just happened.”

The Daggers frantically tried to avoid eye contact with one another so they didn’t burst out laughing, but Phoenix rested her head on Bob’s shoulder to stifle her giggling and that was it for the rest of them. Rooster rolled his eyes.

“I’m spitting in your food tonight.”

“How sweet, BJ!” Phoenix grinned. Even Maverick was smiling as he shook his head.

“I swear I work with teenagers.”

-

“How are you doing, kid?”

Rooster glanced over as his dad came into the living room, sending him a soft smile.

“I’m okay.”

“You’ve been quiet.”

“Dad. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know, B.”

Neither Goose nor Carole called him any variation of Rooster; it was always his first name or a nickname. Bradley’s shoulders relaxed and he shrugged.

“Look, it’s fine, it’s no big deal.”

Goose frowned.

“Well, from experience, almost dying is a big deal. Almost dying twice? I mean, I’m surprised you’re not drunk under a tree kid.”

That earned a snort.

“Bradley, you came home different.”

His eyes dropped to his lap and he took a deep breath.

“I know.”

“Kid, no one expects you to have it all together.”

That seemed to unlock something and Bradley hummed, then cleared his throat.

“Bradley?”

“Dad I can’t- I can’t breathe.”

“Alright, put your head between your knees. You’ve done this before, it’s okay.”

“Is he okay? Bradley, sweetheart what’s going on? Goose?”

Carole appeared from downstairs, rubbing her hand over her son’s back and cupping his forehead.

“Just breathe, honey. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

Bradley did as his father had said, focusing on the air moving through his lungs. He heard his mother talking to him and his father softly, her hand firm on his back. He might have been in his thirties but times like these brought him right back to his teenage years when everything was too much, or when he and Jake broke up and the only person more upset had been his mom.

“Fuck, Roos. You good? I thought you said these stopped.”

Somehow Bradley had missed the door opening. His head shot up to find Hangman standing by the entrance to the living room, arms crossed over his chest. He strode across the room and pulled the curtains shut then went into the kitchen. Carole gently brushed Bradley’s curls from his face.

“Say the word and he goes.”

“No, no it’s okay,” he managed to get out, carefully working himself back upright. Goose watched him for a moment.

“Feel okay?”

“God, no.”

-

“How long has it been since you, your parents and Mav were all in the same room?”

Rooster glanced down at Phoenix’s head on his shoulder as they sat on a picnic blanket, looking over the sunset. She glanced up at him, waiting for an answer.

“Too long,” he sighed. Phoenix smiled.

“It must be weird having all three parents in the same room.”

“Scary to think I could have had none of them. I can’t- if I’d lost them...”

Phoenix touched his shoulder.

“But you didn’t.”

“I almost did. All three of them, at various stages. For a while there it felt like the moment I caught my breath it would all go bad again.”

“I know.”

She did, of course she did. She’d been the one to find him in the barracks, staring helplessly at his phone. Hangman was long gone at that point, so Phoenix had booked him a flight home and urged him to speak to his CO about leave. Initially his leave request was denied but a call from a certain Admiral had made it so he had a couple days to go home and be with his family when his mom had a scare at a check up scan.

“I think I’m going to lose them, Tasha.”

“Oh, Roos.”

“Mom’s been in remission for almost three years and dad’s not in any immediate danger but Mav... it’s so fuckin’ stupid.”

“It’s not; Mav lives life on the edge,” Phoenix reassured. Rooster snorted.

“Yeah.”

“Well, have you spoken to him about it?”

“Pot, kettle, black.”

Phoenix punched his shoulder.

“Maybe he could use a reminder about what he’s got to come home to. It must have been difficult juggling holidays if you couldn’t even be in the same room together.”

“Oh no, we had it down to a fine art. I got Christmas but I made sure to be busy at Easter-“

“-you mean drunk.”

“I mean drunk.”

Rooster sighed, nudging Phoenix’s shoulder.

“I gotta sort my shit out with Seresin, I’ll come find you later.”

“Go get ‘em, Roo. Get laid.”

Rooster rolled his eyes as he stood, dusting off his jeans before he headed to find Hangman sitting with Payback and Fanboy arguing about college football.

“Hey, Seres- uh, Jake. Can we talk?”

“Sure.”

He scooted over on the couch but Rooster shook his head.

“Not here.”

Fanboy and Payback exchanged a look.

“No, man, you guys stay here. We can argue about football elsewhere.”

Payback stood, grabbing Fanboy by the end of his jacket to get him to follow. Hangman stood.

“Look, Bradshaw, I-“

Rooster gently took him by the arm and led into the airstream, closing the door behind him.

-

Hangman’s brows furrowed.

“What are you doing?”

“Thanks for earlier. When I-“

“-yeah, don’t sweat it.”

A pause.

“So... was that it-“

“-I’m sorry for what I did to us.”

Jake’s eyebrows shot up.

“Bradley... that was three years ago.”

“Did you move on? See other people?”

“Not like I saw you.”

Rooster leaned back against the kitchen counter.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

The tension in the tiny airstream could have been cut with a knife. Hangman crossed his arms over his chest; Rooster reached out to touch him but stopped at the last second. The last thing he wanted Jake to think was that he was apologising for sex. To his surprise Jake met him halfway, lacing their fingers together.

“All I ever wanted was for you to talk to me.”

“I didn’t know how.”

“Do you now?”

“I want to try.”

Jake’s shoulders settled.

“Bradley, this... I can’t go another round if you’re going to get cold feet and leave again.”

“I’m not talking out of my ass, Jake.”

“Fucking prove it, because I won’t do this again.”

Bradley reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, tapping away for a moment. Jake watched him, brows furrowed.

“Are you seriously answering a text right now?”

“No, I’m pulling up an appointment. Look.”

He thrust the phone into Jake’s hand. Sure enough, it was an appointment confirmation booking for a therapy centre in San Diego.

“Wait, this isn’t the VA-“

“-I don’t want to talk to someone who’s associated with the Navy, my... issues aren’t with the Navy. They’re issues from my childhood, shit I never talked about. Not even with my parents or Mav.”

Jake swallowed, passing the phone back.

“Is this some adrenaline thing? Get back on dry land, sleep with your ex, trauma gone and appointment cancelled?”

“No.”

For some reason, he believed him. Maybe it was because he could hear the sincerity in Bradley’s voice, the way he ducked his head to meet Jake’s eyes. He didn’t tense up when Jake put a hand on his chest, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek.

“If we’re serious about this, we do it properly. No sex, no making out to avoid talking about our feelings. I don’t care if it sounds dumb, I want to know what’s going on with you.”

“I know. I’m going to try. I don’t want to let you down ever again.”

Jake didn’t know if he was a weak man, a dumb man or a whipped man, but he didn’t shy away when Bradley leaned in and kissed him softly.

“I missed you, darlin’,” he whispered, hands finding Bradley’s hips.

“I missed you too. I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

Jake wrapped him in a hug, burying his face against Bradley’s neck. When he opened his eyes, he groaned.

“We have paparazzi.”

“What?”

Bradley pulled away, glancing over his shoulder.

“Guys,” he groaned

“Carry on!” Phoenix called through the open window, Coyote holding up a bowl of what looked like popcorn.

“Are they back together yet?” Carole called from the couch.

“Yes, mom, we’re back together.”

Jake and Bradley exchanged a look, then Jake took him by the hand.

“We can talk more later when we get back to San Diego.”

“I’d like that.”

-

“We did good, Goose.”

Goose hummed, watching the Daggers playing dogfight football on the empty tarmac.

“We did, honey.”

Carole squeezed his hand.

“You owe me twenty bucks.”

“You bet they’d be back together when we got here!” Goose protested. She sent him a look and he sighed.

“We share an account honey.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I have a better idea.”

They exchanged a look, then Carole squeezed his hand and stood.

“Mav! You lost!”

“Fuck.”

-

[checkoutmybookshelf]

Ok, apropos of my "For You" page being a dear and showing me a ton of posts about not being a dick to people for their ships and as someone who came to fandom spaces AFTER graduate school...

The fact that people are losing their minds over ships and noncon in fic BLOWS MY MIND given the Western Canon and historical examples of shippers. I'm putting a cut here for people who don't want to see the lists of messed up shit I read FOR CLASS, but for those of you who are curious, read on, please.

Oh, and before I forget: If your automatic response to this post is "Yes, but you are talking about GrEaT lItErAtUrE, it has something to say and a historical context to think about," then take a second and work your way out of the gatekeep-y stranglehold that academia has on you. If context and message matter in literature, they matter in fanfics too.

CW for masturbation, noncon, dubcon, historical ship wars, main character death, violence...as many Ao3 Archive warnings as I (or you) can think of. Dead Dove, Do Not Eat.

The TLDR is that I have taken significantly more psychic damage from canonical literature than fanfic, and a stupid high number of canon writers fit the definition of fanfic writer.

So in no particular order, here are some of the truly fucked up things I read for class:

A short story where a teenage boy steals his little sister's Ken doll, tears the head off, and jerks off into the Ken doll until the plastic torso is full. You know of what. (This was in the Scribner Anthology of Contemporary Short Fiction, and I'm pretty sure it was AM Homes's "A Real Doll")

A short story where the reader follows a group of kids at Thanksgiving whose parents are doing a laying on of hands to cure their mother's cancer, and while the kids are unsupervised on a trampoline, one of them is bounced aggressively off and breaks their neck in a fall. (Julie Orringer, "PIlgrims")

"The Rocking-Horse Winner" by DH Lawrence, which is read as a masturbation scene in How to Read Literature Like a Professor by Thomas C. Foster

Every single bed trick in any Shakespeare (or other early modern) play is rape by deception (this occurs in All's Well, Measure for Measure, Much Ado [if you squint], and Two Noble Kinsmen). Bed tricks also occur in the Bible, Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, Boccaccio's The Decameron, and Middleton and Rowley's The Changeling. Other examples include Zeus pretending to be Amphitryon to impregnate Alcemene with Hercules and Uther Pendragon taking Gorlois's place to impregnate Igraine. And this isn't an old, unused trope either, it's used as recently as The Rocky Horror Picture Show and Family Guy

Titus Andronicus has rape and cannibalism in it, plus a metric ton of violence, brutality, and lopping of limbs. Romeo and Juliet has murder and an attempted forced marriage. Shakespeare in general is fairly fucked up the more you read it.

There are a metric ton of rapes given in verse too, including Yeats's "Leda and the Swan" and Ovid's "The Rape of Proserpina". A more modern example is the Broadway show Seven Brides for Seven Brothers

Nabokov's Lolita. 'nuff said.

John Ford's Tis Pity She's a Whore has twincest, graphic violence, and a scene in which the male twincest MC gets pissed off that the female twincest MC sleeps with someone else, so he stabs her through her lady bits so far that when the sword comes out, her heart is spiked on the end of it and he spends the entire next scene running around waving this sword with a human heart on it at people

William Golding's Lord of the Flies has a bunch of kids murdering each other for honestly no particular reason

In Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery," a town gets together every once in a while to randomly draw lots to decide who gets casually stoned to death

In William Faulkner's "A Rose for Emily," an entire goddamn town ignores Emily to the point where when her house smells like her dead, decomposing husband so bad that half the town can smell it, nobody bothers to check in on her. She had been SLEEPING WITH HER DEAD HUSBAND for literal years and nobody cared enough to check on her

Edgar Allen Poe's "The Telltale Heart" and "The Cask of Amontillado." I am aware that Poe is a horror writer. Doesn't make it any less fucked up that the protagonists of these stories murder a helpless old man because his eyes were creepy and brick their friend into a basement to die slowly, respectively

Literally all of Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men is deeply fucked up, but the moments that my particular English Class could not get over were the crack about Curly keeping one hand soft for his wife, and the fact that George Old Yellers Lenny at the end

The Giver by Lois Lowry discusses eugenics and both infanticide and euthanasia. I'm not going to sit here and say that NO fanfic addresses these topics, but honestly no fanfic I've ever read made me anywhere NEAR as disturbed as reading this book in FIFTH GRADE did

John Knowles's A Separate Peace has one kid thinking he accidentally-on-purpose murdered his best friend for the whole book

Sophocles's Oedipus Rex has incest, self-mutilation, and murder

Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale is well-known enough that I don't need to give details, right?

Jean Craighead George's Julie of the Wolves has an attempted underage rape in it

John Gardner's Grendel has a deeply fucked-up relationship with sex and sexuality, and Grendel holds a female character in a split over a fire because of said fucked-up relationship with sex and sexuality

This is nothing CLOSE to an all-inclusive list. So uh...if we aren't going to hold these stories to the moral standards we hold fanfic to, then we should lay off fanfic in general and fanfic writers.

And in no particular order, here are some historical shippers who were powerful enough to change the canon with their ships and fics:

Queen Elizabeth I was SUCH a Falstaff stan that she low-key threatened Shakespeare and insisted that he bring Falstaff back and give the character a happy ending. Hence we have The Merry Wives of Windsor.

Dr. Thomas Bowdler (of "bowdlerize" fame) is objectively a Shakespeare fanfic writer who was not a fan of smut or spiciness. He and his sister Henrietta Maria gave us The Family Shakespeare, a version of the Complete Works that is appropriate for children and women

Nahum Tate was also a Shakespeare fanfic writer--he turned King Lear into a comedy

We also get John Dryden and William D'Avenant fanfic-ing The Tempest, up to and including Dorinda, their OC (do not steal)

Dante and Milton both wrote Bible fanfic in The Divine Comedy and Paradise Lost, respectively

The Arthurian Legends are a goddamn tangled mess of fanfics and fanfics of fanfics that were written by "important white dudes" and so other "important white dudes" decided that the fanon would become canon

SHAKESPEARE HIMSELF was a fanfic writer. He wrote no original plots. He was the Elizabethan EL James but with actual talent

More modern examples? Madeline Miller and Rick Riordan are both writing Greek Mythology fanfics to SIGNIFICANT acclaim

The line between fanfic and adaptation is and has always been ephemeral. Who gets to be "canon" and who is relegated to "fanon" is largely a combination of circumscribing your current intellectual property and rights laws and passion. We don't get to go "canon is always morally fine because it's canon" because honestly I've taken SIGNIFICANTLY more psychic damage from the canon than I ever have from fanon, and at least I know that fanon works are written with love and passion, whereas Charles Dickens was getting paid by the word and IT SHOWS.

Fanfic isn't inherently morally dubious, and canon isn't inherently morally pristine. Fiction has no inherent morality. Worry less about how others engage with fiction, find what you enjoy, and have some fun with it.

[all-eyes-lead-to-the-truth]

All Eyes Lead to the Truth | Season Five Master Post

From fan-favorite monsters to big players behind the conspiracy to the people closest to Mulder and Scully, season five has been one of the most fun yet!

Check out this thread to see all the characters we got to meet this season!

Redux (5x01) | Section Chief Scott Blevins

He had no vested interest in Mulder and his quest, but he was part of the machine, the same as everyone else dressed in suits, skulking around in dark, smoke-filled rooms.

Redux II (5x02) | Dr. Zuckerman

Dr. Zuckerman recalls Dana telling him that this man, her best friend, was the first person to help her absorb cancer's painful blow. It seems fitting that he be the first to feel the relief in its aftermath alongside her.

Unusual Suspects (5x03) | Detective John Munch

“Listening to those three talk makes me feel like I need to go be strapped down to a hospital bed. Don’t get me wrong. It’s a great story, but that’s all it is.” The captain was up their asses about this case, but as far as Munch knew, watching one too many science fiction movies wasn’t a crime.

Detour (5x04) | Special Agent Stonecypher

Communicating with those two was more difficult than some interrogations she’d been a part of, but she kept trying. They didn’t call her Tough as Rocks Stonecypher for nothing.

Post-Modern Prometheus (5x05) | Izzy Berkowitz

The simple folk of this rural Indiana town are no different than the man they’d called Monster and chased with pitchforks.

Maybe they’re all monsters.

Izzy kind of likes that.

Christmas Carol (5x06) | Bill Scully Jr.

Maybe that’s what pissed him off so much. Mulder does blame himself. There’s nothing Bill could ever say to that man that he hadn’t said to himself a thousand times over.

Emily (5x07) | Detective John Kresge

He recognizes her toughness, her resilience. The very thing he’d fought against at the start is exactly the thing that makes her a good agent. But in this moment he can see her humanity, something he knows makes her a good person, too. He wishes he’d had the chance to get to know her better.

Kitsunegari (5x08) | Linda Bowman

With clenched fists, Linda Bowman walks away from her dead twin, revenge stoking the hot flame of rage burning in her chest.

It’s time for this fox hunt to end.

Schizogeny (5x09) | Lisa Baiocchi

Karin continued on, seemingly oblivious to the tree limbs knocking against the window, begging to be let in. “It’s natural for kids who have been in your situation to wish that their parent was dead.”

Chinga (5x10) | Chief Jack Bonsaint

All the talk of witches around these parts has always been just that to Jack: talk. Chatter. He doesn’t pay it much mind. He lives in the real world, not the realm of fantasy and hokum.

But if someone like Agent Scully can believe…

Kill Switch (5x11) | Esther Nairn (Invisigoth)

They’d thought they would change the face of technology, the world, even. She’d been young and in love. Not for a second did she think that would be the very thing that ruined all of it.

Bad Blood (5x12) | Sheriff Lucius Hartwell

His salvatory glands were working in overdrive between all this blood-talk and the assault of Agent Scully's intoxicating scent. It was taking his full concentration to keep his fangs from dropping into place.

Patient X (5x13) | Cassandra Spender

Some of the others fear the Light, dread it, but Cassandra welcomes it. To her it is no harbinger of doom; it’s a sign that she’ll be gone again soon, swept away from this place that has brought her nothing but pain.

The Red and the Black (5x14) | Special Agent Jeffrey Spender

Jeffrey hadn’t known anything about aliens until his mother had explained to him that they lived on planets far from their own. Jeffrey believed everything she told him, because why wouldn’t he? She was his mother, the center of his universe, and he’d never had any reason to doubt her before.

Travelers (5x15) | Special Agent Arthur Dales

Arthur plucks the bottle of Jim Beam from behind a container of his blood pressure pills. The fine layer of dust coating the bourbon’s glass reminds him how long it’s been since he’s drowned himself in sorrow. About as long as it’s been since he’s thought about the X-Files.

Mind's Eye (5x16) | Marty Glenn

People seem to think her lack of vision inhibits her; that without it, she’s unable to see.

But Marty sees plenty.

All Souls (5x17) | Emily Sim

Emily is lucky. She doesn’t have just one mommy, she has two. There’s the mommy who she’d known her whole life, the one who had taken care of her when she was sick and who is here with her now, and then there’s her other mommy who isn’t here yet.

Pine Bluff Variant (5x18) | August Bremer

Silence stretches for a long time. Nothing but the crinkle of med-grade wrappers and the burbling of water from what sounds like a fish tank drifts through the headphones. August may be on the outside listening in, but he can practically feel the tension from here.

Folie à Deux (5x19) | Nancy Aaronson

Gary always looked like he had an elephant sitting on his chest, and every time he heard the VinylRight rigmarole, the elephant shifted. For some reason, it felt like he thought she could help him relieve the weight.

The End (5x20) | Gibson Praise

They had no idea what it was like to realize that the manager at a grocery store was stealing money from the safe in the back room when you were all the way up at the cash registers. Or what it was like to pick out the kid in a stadium full of people who was mad at his mother for making him wear his least comfortable pants. No one needed to know those things, but he knew them.

Gibson heard all of it, whether he wanted to or not.

Stay tuned for more perspectives coming in Season Six!

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

[growling]

There was eleven of us, we lived in the lake... For breakfast, mother cut wind, I didn't know my father, as he perished of liver cancer, when he died in a tragic car accident, after self-immolation at uncle Eugeniusz's name day party. Uncle Eugeniusz was taken by the NKVD in '59. No one complained.

We were all part of hordes and plundered the area. Konin, Szczecin and Oslo were in flames. We also played in construction sites. Sometimes one of us got hit with a reinforced slab, sometimes not. Whenever our foot got impaled with a stray nail, mother cut it off and said with a smile, "you, kurna, got another one, yeah?" She didn't tremble with fear that we're gonna kill each other like that. She knew that we're all going to die eventually. No one complained.

Seasonal diseases were fought by grandma. To combat tuberculosis, scurvy, tumors and polio, we used urine and moss. The doctor visited us, unless at grandma's - for the moss and urine. We went to the woods whenever we wanted. We ate berries, which were previously pissed on by foxes and roe deer. We ate death caps, which were defecated on by rabid bisons and martens. We didn't have hamburgers - we ate wolves. We didn't have chips - we ate ants. There wasn't coca-cola back then, there was bear saliva. There was frog period blood. No one complained.

Whenever our neighbor caught us stealing apples, he punished us himself. Lime pit, knife, hunting rifle - it varied. The neighbor didn't get offended over the stolen apples, and neither did father over replacement in parenting duties. Father and the neighbor drank beer in the evening - as always. Then father came back home, and on his way he took another child. Children then were littered everywhere. On lawns, in drainage ditches, by bus stops, under trees. Just like how today are littered candy bar wrappers. There weren't candy bars back then, but children were laying everywhere. No one complained.

During summer, we climbed on top of the skyscrapers, and weren't monitored by adults. We jumped. Nobody, however, got splattered on the pavement. Everyone could fly and no one needed any special lessons in order to learn this skill. No one also complained.

During winter, some father arranged us a sleigh ride with his old fiat, and always sped up during turns. Sometimes the sleds got caught against the trees or fences. Then we fell. Sometimes that moment a jelcz or star drove by. Then we died. No one complained.

Bruises and scrapes were a normal occurence. Just like knocked out teeth, ripped open stomachs, sudden lack of an eye or amateur amputations. The school pedagogue didn't send us to the family psychologist because of that. Nobody informed us how to dial a number to the police (then MO) to snitch on our parents. The belt was then a teaching aid, and from aid, nobody had yet died from. Aunt Janinka repeated, "better a spanking than breakfast". No one complained.

We made ourselves soups from mazut, asbestos and Ludwik. We also ate crack, fingernails of strangers, animal remains, sandpaper, chemical fertilizers, thistles, aphids, cow fetuses, fish feces, kogel-mogel. When somebody got stung by a bee, they drank 2 glasses of milk and pressed it with a cold frying pan. When somebody choked, they drank 3 glasses of milk and pressed it with a heated frying pan. No one complained.

Nobody went to the dentist every month. Cavities are tasty. Whenever someone swole from an aching tooth, we played catch with their head. We had one dental filling for the eleven of us. Everyone wore it for 2-3 days in a month. No one complained.

We were young and tough. We refused car rides. We just ran after it. Our dog was tied to the trailer hitch with a steel stable and ran next to us. And no one was bothered by it. No one complained.

We were raised by gamekeepers, old witches, escaped prisoners, collegues from juvie, janitors and priests. Our mothers birthed our siblings normally - at work, in reedbeds or at the balcony. Almost all of us survived, only some of us didn't go to prison. No one finished studies, but everyone found work. Some of them started their own families and are raising their children according to psychologists' recommendations. That's sad. Currently, there is more candy bars than children.

We, the children from our lake, love our parents for how they then didn't yet know how to "properly" raise us. It is thanks to them that we spent our childhood without sweets, respect, a warm dinner, sense, and some - limbs.

No one complained.

[alyjojo]

Love Reading 💬 - September 2024 - Taurus

Singles:

Who is Coming In: 3 Cups, 4 Cups rev, 5 Cups

Regarding: Queen of Swords rev

Long-Term Potential: 9 Pentacles

Did you friendzone this person? That’s the vibe, you already having rejected this person once and they come back. I really can’t see what’s holding you back from this, because you are attracted to this person, and love is here. I think you’ve hurt them in the past and you’re set to do it again, they’re pretty pissed off at you but I don’t think you care. Maybe you just don’t share the feelings, it could be unrequited on your end. Long-term, you’re still single and still not into this person, idk except it just isn’t meant to be. They love you though. Your energy is like…distant from emotional connection entirely. Anyone. Could be something worth exploring, I don’t think this person is the problem…with love. I also think you probably already know that, could be why you’ve rejected them before 🤗 I’m getting “more friends”, not lovers, that’s the page you’re on. Whether them specifically or everyone generally.

Messages:

- Obsessed with you 🤩

- I’m NOT that person anymore!

LOVE ❤️

- Unconditional Love

- Self-Love & Wholeness

- Affection & Attraction

- Selflessness

New Worlds 🌍

There are many more things for you to discover, so don’t give up.

Signs you may be dealing with:

Cancer, Leo, Aries & Sagittarius

Couples:

The relationship: 4 Wands rev

The problem: Ace of Wands rev

What to do about it: 5 Pentacles

This feels more like a co-parenting ex or some kind of “arrangement” than your soulmate…ijs. If that’s your story, you’ve definitely been sleeping with them, and I guess the problem is that it’s stopped. Now they’re mad. You don’t seem to think this is going anywhere, 7 Pentacles rev is a waste of time - not intentionally, seeds just sometimes don’t grow. I see a lack of sex AS the problem, to them anyway. Or switch. Ace of Wands rev with the messages and Not Today at the bottom is a girl with her arms folded and the most “fuck off” body language, that plays a big role in this person’s issue. Their only issue? Could be all they care about, I’m getting you be…beyond turned off. It’s possible someone is exploring options or poking their head outside the gate to check on their neighbor’s grass yanno, is it greener?

Your messages and oracles directly contradict the reading itself, which is strange. Hammer shows attempts at working on the relationship, while 7 Pentacles rev shows it’s pointless or feeling that way. The messages show the exact thing that’s lacking as the problem - Ace of Wands upright & rev. This connection runs on inspiration & lust to some extent - and that’s lacking, you’re wondering if there’s any real substance to this with 4 Wands rev. Or this person has betrayed you, that’s the simple explanation. Or they consider it. I don’t think you/they wants to fully end the connection, but I also see you kinda washing your hands of this. Different day different devils it seems like, with them. For advice, 5 Pentacles shows to leave it behind because all of your feelings are just “get away from me.” Or switch. There’s no communication or real action, and you’re the one refusing it looks like. I don’t see that changing 🙅🏻‍♀️ You’re probably going to focus a lot more on work just to take your mind off of this, with all of this Pentacle energy, what else can you do?

Messages:

- You inspire me in every way.

- Lust 💋

HAMMER 🔨

- Sabotage & Rebuild

- Persistent

- Working on It

- Repairing

Revelations Await 🌅

Embrace the mystery, embark on a journey of discovery, and watch as secrets unveil before you.

Signs you may be dealing with:

Taurus, Gemini, Virgo & Capricorn

[arielhopepeace]

Part Two

18+ only

Tw: mention of cancer, death, grief, cheating, panic attacks, angst, depression

5,790 words

Y/n

  You hear the blaring of your alarm, your eyebrows furrowing with pure ire and disgust as you roll onto your side, smacking your phone screen to cease the incessant noise.

Sam's hand wraps around your midsection, his nose burrowing into your hair as he breathes you in. You want to enjoy his touch, and the way he caresses you in the morning, but you can't. Things with him have been so rough lately, that you're numb to all of the tender moments.

"Sam," you say with a groggy raspiness, "c'mon, I've gotta get ready for work."

His lips trail along the side of your neck, his erection pressing into your lower back. "You don't have time for me?"

You shake your head, freeing yourself from his embrace as you leave the room. You feel guilty for always brushing off sex with him lately, but you simply can't get past the hurtful things he's said during your arguments. He's told you that he wishes he never proposed, and that he wants to be with someone more mature who actually wants to get married.

It's not that you don't want to be married, it's that he proposed the day after you graduated college, and expected you to drop everything you just spent years working for, simply to plan a wedding. He knows how important being a teacher is to you, yet he's somehow managed to make it about himself as he always seems to do.

In the bathroom, you pull your hair back, seeing Sam's reflection walking in behind you.

"Are you even happy anymore?" he asks quietly, leaning against the open door.

You prep your makeup in front of you, not daring to meet his saddened eyes. "I'd really like to not do this right now, Sam. This is only my second day of teaching, and I don't want to go in depressed."

"So, your job matters more than us?"

You shake your head. "Unbelievable."

"What? What if I chose my career over you? You'd be fucking pissed."

"I'm not choosing anything over you!" you shout. "You know how passionate I am about being a teacher. I can't just stop when I've only just begun. You expect me to take time off to plan a wedding, have it, and go on a honeymoon? I literally just started! These kids want a teacher, not a substitute."

"You always have some sort of excuse as to why you don't want to marry me!" he yells back. "I'm fucking tired of it."

You begin to dab makeup onto your face, still only focusing on what you need to get done. "They aren't excuses, Sam. They're things you should've already known. Why is it such a problem if I want to wait a bit?"

"Because I'm already thirty-eight, for fuck's sake. You expect me to just keep waiting around? You want me to be an old man by the time we have kids?"

"My dad was fifty-two when I was born."

"Yeah and he died before you were even twenty-four years old," he spits.

You swallow, dropping your fluffy makeup sponge onto the counter to turn and look to your fiancé with an incredulous expression. "Wow," you begin, "you really are just a fucking asshole, aren't you?" Shaking your head, you look down, sliding your engagement ring off of your finger and handing it to Sam. "I won't marry somebody who uses my dad's death against me."

His eyes widen as he shakes his head. "No, I didn't mean it—"

"You meant exactly what you said," you say flatly. "I'm done."

"Please, y/n. Don't do this."

You turn, facing your back to him as you resume your makeup application. "Get out."

Sam storms out of the bathroom, the sound of car keys jingling as he opens the front door, slamming it so hard behind him that your bathroom mirror shakes. Normally, this angry behavior of his would leave you a crumbling, sobbing mess, chasing after him to prevent him from leaving. But not anymore. Not after everything, and especially not after what he just said about your beloved father.

The only reason tears threaten your bottom lids right now, is because you miss your parents. You miss your dad, and feel like he only passed away just yesterday, that pain still feeling so recent in your chest. You grip onto the counter as you squeeze your eyes shut, desperately trying to calm your dramatically racing heart that is sending you into an emotional downward spiral.

You wish there was a cure for grief and panic, two things you've suffered with nearly every day since your mom died, but all you can do is suffocate in your own sorrow. There were nights when you'd dream of your mom, waking up in a fit of terror and sweat, and Sam would lull you back to sleep. But that was before everything went wrong, and you stopped feeling that die-for-him love you once had.

Sam really was a good guy, and never gave you any reason to doubt that he was the one for you, until he proposed. For some reason, he had become a completely different person, and it's been nothing but nonstop fighting for the last year. You wish he would've just given you the time to adjust to being a teacher before pushing marriage onto you, but as you've come to realize, he's really only concerned about himself.

***

  Once it's lunchtime, the announcement is made over the speaker, the principal's voice echoing throughout the classroom. The conversation you and Sam had this morning has haunted you all day, the ghost of your ring on your finger causing you to fidget with an imaginary band.

"Okay, let's see a single file line!" you say happily as the students line up at the door. "Did everybody who has a lunchbox grab it from their cubby?"

A few students briefly leave the line, returning with their decked-out lunchboxes. You can't help but giggle at their innocent forgetfulness, adoring every single one of them, even the misbehaved ones.

You stand at the front, giving the students a wide smile as you lead them out of the classroom, the caboose of the line holding the door open for everybody.

"Everyone make sure to say thank you to Derek for doing such a lovely job holding the door," you announce cheerfully.

A resounding 'thank you' comes from the line, making you giggle as you continue the walk to the lunchroom. It is a noisy, bustling mess in here as usual, but you lead your class to their tables nonetheless. Everyone sits in a seat, taking up every spot at the two tables reserved for your class.

Off to the side of the room, there's parents all sitting at their own tables, some with their kids, and some still waiting on theirs to arrive.

"Daddy!" you hear one of your students shout, seeing Sarah sprinting out of her seat to run towards her father who stands out of view to your right.

You watch as Joel chuckles, getting down onto his knees to wrap up his daughter into a tight embrace. You swallow nervously at his presence, being just as intimidated by him this time as you were when you first met him on Saturday.

His attractive looks instantly caught your eye at the park; the way his brown hair was a charming, shaggy, ruffled mess on top of his head, and his soft puppy dog eyes that are vast and brown, drawing you in with just a single look.

You've always had a thing for older men, being turned on by their maturity and experience in life. You know that you've been heavily influenced by seeing your parents so in love regardless of being many years apart. Younger guys have just never done it for you. Sure, there's been a few that have exceeded your expectations, but never for long. They've always ended up showing that they're not emotionally ready for a serious commitment, something you desperately long for at the right moment in life.

Even though Sam is more than ten years older than you, he still has displayed his immaturity about your dedication to your job; and also his sick need to throw your father's death in your face as an insult.

"Okay, I'll see you all after lunch," you say to your class, doing your best to ignore the alluring, handsome man who walks with his daughter to one of the parent tables.

As you push open the exit door of the cafeteria, you're stopped by the sound of your name being called behind you. You already know whose voice it is before you turn, seeing the rugged, tanned face of Joel.

"Hi," you say fondly. "It's nice to see you again."

He flashes that charming grin at you that turns your body into jello. "You too," Joel replies gently. "I felt really bad for not bringing you something on Saturday, so I got you a little gift." He hands you a decently small, wrapped box. "It isn't much, but I thought you might like it."

"Oh, Joel," your eyes soften as you take the gift from him, "you didn't have to do that for me."

Joel shrugs nonchalantly, his plaid-covered shoulders falling easily. "You've already made such an impact on Sarah. It's the least I could do."

You tuck the present into the pocket of your yellow cardigan, giving Joel a genuine, wide smile. "Thank you so much. You're very sweet."

He chuckles, nodding his head. "You're welcome." He turns around briefly, "Well, enjoy your lunch. I'm gonna go back to Sarah."

"Thank you. Enjoy yours, too."

Joel gives you a small wave before he turns, your eyes following him for a short while before you realize you're gazing, admiring his tall frame and the casual sway of his hips. You turn and head back to your classroom, enjoying the peaceful quietness of the room, but also missing the boisterous students.

You lean down beneath your desk to retrieve your lunchbox, pulling out your pathetically prepared sandwich and chips that you hurriedly threw together. You hate to admit that your panic attack this morning caused you to run a bit behind in your schedule, but it's not the first time that's happened.

The gift that Joel gave you is practically burning a hole into your pocket. You retrieve the box, placing it in front of you as you decide to open it. You've never been great at waiting to open gifts. It's always one of the first things you want to do on your birthday. You're not a materialistic person by any means, you just enjoy the thought and excitement that goes into presents.

Your fingers peel at the pristine silver paper, being displayed a singular black box with perfectly angular edges that you run the tip of your finger along. The box flips open on a hinge, an audible gasp leaving your mouth as your eyes fill with raw emotion.

Inside of the box is a single silver chain necklace, and on the end of it is a metal ribbon-shaped, teal colored charm. The ribbon and color represent ovarian cancer awareness, the same illness your mom passed away from. You can't believe Joel went through the effort to get this, let alone remembered the specific cancer you said your mother died from.

Not only did he have to have the thought of getting something meaningful, but he also probably had to look up what color ribbon stood for that specific cancer. Words can't explain how you're feeling in this moment. Tears are heavily flowing down your cheeks as you continue to gaze at the gift, not knowing how you can ever thank him enough for it.

You want to run full force back to the cafeteria and wrap him up into the biggest embrace you've ever given someone, but you're a blubbering mess. You're honestly worried that you won't be able to pull yourself together before lunch is over.

With shaky fingers, you remove the necklace from its box, clasping it on around your neck to let it hang at the top of your chest. You place your hand over it, shaking your head in disbelief as you sob more. Every single gift that you've received from your students have been so kind and thoughtful, but this one has completely stolen your heart.

  Once all of the kids have been dismissed to go home, you dive into your desk, searching for Sarah's file to retrieve her emergency contact paper. On it, you find a cell phone number with the name Joel Miller beside it. Your thumbs quickly type it into your phone, hesitating as you hover over the call button. Is it weird if you call one of your student's parents personally to thank them for a gift? Or are you throwing all of your morals out of the window because you find him incredibly hot and even romantic?

Letting out an unsteady sigh, you push the 'call' button on your screen, your pulse climbing in time with the trilling of the other line.

"Hello?" Joel answers curiously.

"Hi, Joel. I'm sorry for calling so randomly. This is y/n, Sarah's teacher."

"Oh," his voice lightens. "Hi, how are you? Is everything okay?"

Emotion chokes you, spreading like poison Ivy around your words as you attempt to speak. "Yes," your voice wavers. "I was just calling to say thank you for the necklace. I—" a cry catches in your throat, "I can't believe you got this for me."

"Hey," he says gently. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you upset."

"No," you shake your head. "I'm happy. It was just so thoughtful, and I appreciate it so much. I don't know how I could ever thank you enough."

"You don't have to thank me." His voice is so soft and comforting that it feels as if he's hugging you through the phone. "I just was hoping it was the right color. I wasn't sure which one it was."

You knew he looked it up. Does he not realize how amazing he is for this?

"It's perfect," you sniffle. "Please, let me treat you to a drink or something tonight to say thank you."

The line is quiet for a moment, and you're wondering if you've fucked up by saying that. Have you made him uncomfortable?

"Okay," he replies. "I can have my neighbor keep an eye on Sarah for me. She's the one who watches her when I work on Saturdays if Sarah isn't spending the night at a friend's."

You breathe out a sigh of relief at his response. "Do you know the bar on Weston Street? It's called The Goose."

"Yeah," he chuckles slightly. "Used to go there during college."

"Hey, me too!" you laugh. "Had a lot of horrible blackouts there."

"You and me both," he laughs again. "What time were you thinking?"

"Whenever is best for you, really."

"Is seven good?"

"Seven is perfect. Thank you again, Joel." You wipe your wet cheeks.

"You're thanking me too much," he teases. "I'm really glad you like it, though. I wasn't sure what to get."

"It's amazing." You look around your classroom, examining the empty desks. "I'll see you at seven, then."

"Yes," he says easily. "See you later, y/n."

"Bye." You both hang up, a giddy feeling suddenly zipping through your body.

Part of you is hoping that Sam isn't home by the time you leave, since he wasn't back this morning. This isn't the first time that he's left after a fight and not come back for an entire day. You stopped wondering where he goes, because truthfully at this point, you don't care.

You've already given him your ring and told him exactly how you feel about your relationship. It wouldn't be heartbreaking if you didn't see him again. What he said about your father was spiteful and unforgivable. It was the final straw that you were grasping onto for him, and he cut it down with the sharpest blade.

  Much later around six, Sam still hasn't come home as you've stepped out of your hot, relaxing shower. Due to the fact that you're happier without him here, just proves that you're not meant to be with him. You've had your wavering doubts throughout the day that you made a mistake, and you found yourself lingering on the happy moments. But you know that's foolish of you. How can someone claim they love you, yet not support you in your career, and also throw your dad's death in your face? That's not love. It feels more like ownership to you.

As you dry your hair, the wind from the blow dryer is so deafening, that you don't hear Sam come into the bathroom. He's standing there awkwardly as you open your eyes, letting out a high-pitched scream as you jump, dropping the hair dryer directly onto your foot.

"Oh, fuck!" you scream, leaning down to turn the device off. "What the fuck are you doing sneaking in like that? You scared the shit out of me!"

Sam lets out a small laugh that you decide to ignore. "Sorry, y/n. Can we talk?"

You walk into your bedroom to sit on the bed, examining your bruised foot as you let out an exasperated sigh. "I have to get ready. I'm meeting a parent."

"I'll make it quick," Sam says gently. "It's just something I feel like I need to get off my chest."

"Fine," you answer flatly as you cross your arms. "Tell me."

"I think it's best if we aren't together anymore. Being with you has let out this ugly side of me that I don't like. You've made me a meaner, more aggressive person and I can't be that way anymore."

You can't help but laugh, nodding your head as you continue to listen to his complete bullshit. "Okay."

"I've slept with someone else."

Your laughter ceases as a feeling of nausea rises up your throat. "What?"

"A few months ago, we fought and I left to go get drunk. There was this woman who was so comforting and understanding. One thing led to another and we ended up at her place together. I'm sorry, y/n."

All you can do is stare at him, not sure if you're more sickened or furious. You've slept with Sam in the last few months, meaning that he had that woman all over him, and still felt it was okay to share an intimate moment with you.

"Did you wear a condom?" you finally ask.

Sam shifts, his eyes not meeting yours, his body language giving you the only answer you really need.

"Oh, my god," you stand. "You're even more vile than I thought. You fucked some random woman without a condom, and still thought it was fine to sleep with me too?"

He stays quiet, still unable to make eye contact.

"How soon after did you sleep with me?" your voice is steady and even, surprising you.

"I don't want to say," he says lowly.

"How soon after?!" you finally yell.

Sam sighs. "The next night."

"Oh, my fucking god. You are the most disgusting, pathetic excuse for a man."

"You've pushed me to this!" Sam yells. "You've made me this way!"

"Own up to your own fucking actions, Sam! Stop blaming me for your poor decisions! Be a fucking grown up!"

He laughs incredulously. "Why don't you?! You can't admit the fact that you have serious commitment issues and can't be an adult about it."

"Commitment issues?!" you scream. "All I've ever wanted is to be married, but I'll be fucking damned before I marry someone like you. Oh, my GOD, I'm so glad I haven't started planning a wedding."

"Yeah, me fucking too, y/n."

Your eyes narrow at the man you once loved, realizing that he doesn't have a smidge of remorse in his body for what he's done or said. "I want you to leave the house."

"You can't kick me out, y/n. My name is on the lease, too. You think you can afford the rent alone on a teacher's salary?" he asks with a mocking tone.

"I don't give a shit!" you yell. "Just get out! Go stay with somebody who actually wants to fuck you."

Sam scoffs, shaking his head at he leaves the room. "Oh, fuck you, y/n. Fuck you." The front door slams behind him once again, a nauseating reminder of this morning.

You can't believe everything he just told you; from the blaming his behavior on you, to the infidelity. Knowing that he slept with someone else and then immediately was intimate with you makes you feel like you desperately need to make an appointment to get checked out. You haven't felt any different or had any odd growths, but now you're paranoid beyond belief.

How could he do that to you? How the hell could he be so selfish? Your mind is reeling, pacing around your bedroom as the thought of having an STD consumes every part of you. You do your best to relax, but truthfully you're terrified to your very core.

Pacing into the bathroom, you grab your phone, pressing onto Joel's contact as your breathing is ragged and unsteady.

"Hey," his husky voice answers.

"Joel," you push out. "I'm sorry, I don't think I'm gonna make it tonight."

"Is everything okay?"

The sincerity in his tone causes you to crumble, letting out a guttural sob that makes you sound like a complete lunatic. You can't even answer him, all you can do is cry. Your anxiety is only climbing as the seconds pass, that all-consuming dread washing over you as you sink to the bedroom floor.

"Y/n, talk to me. Do I need to come to you? What's going on?"

"It's just—" You can't make out a coherent sentence, crying ceaselessly into your phone. "I'm sorry," you sob.

"Hey, take a deep breath for me. Can you do that?"

Air fills your lungs in choppy breaths as you try to settle the intensity of your outpour of emotions. You are finally able to suck in a small breath, holding it a bit before letting it out slowly.

"Good," he says lightly. "Do it again."

With your eyes closed, you breathe in the air around you, smelling the scent of your body wash from your freshly scrubbed skin. As you let out the steady breath, you realize Joel is breathing with you through the phone.

"One more time for me, y/n," Joel guides you gently.

An easy breath expands your lungs, the fullness of it being released through your parted lips.

"Good," he praises you quietly. "Now, can you please tell me your address?"

You say it to him lowly, a slight drowsiness overtaking you from the meditative breathing. "You don't have to come over if you don't want to, Joel. I'm so sorry for calling you, I just—" you pause, feeling your tears building again, "I didn't know who else to call."

"I want to come over," Joel replies with an easy, smooth voice. "I'll be there in five minutes. You live ridiculously close to me."

You can't help but giggle. "Okay."

"Do you want to stay on the phone with me? I can just set you down so I don't lose you to the Bluetooth."

Your fingers grip at your phone, knowing your panic will return if he hangs up. "No, it's okay. Just drive safely."

"I'm perfectly capable of talking and driving, y/n," he says with an audible smile in his words. "I have a very talkative nine year old as my shotgun most days."

You laugh slightly, holding your towel-covered body with your free hand. "She was so happy to see you at lunch today."

"Well, she was just telling me how bummed she was that I'm never one of the parents at lunch, so I decided to ask my boss if I could just have the day off to spend time with Sarah. He didn't mind. I almost never take off of work."

"You're a good dad," you respond softly.

"I do my best."

Your eyes look around the room, your panic having crippled you so much that you feel glued to the spot against the wall where you sit in your plush towel. "I can't move."

"Why?" he asks with concern. "Did Sam hurt you?"

"Not physically," you scoff. "Just kinda panicked and now I'm frozen."

Joel sighs. "Unfortunately, I know the feeling." The phone is quiet for a few seconds. "I lied to you at the park. I wasn't light headed from not eating, I was having a panic attack."

Your brows furrow together with sympathy. "Oh, my god. Why? I'm so sorry. I should've known."

"Just the mention of cancer made me think about my late wife, is all. Sometimes I get panicked thinking about her."

"I'm sorry," you apologize again. "I didn't mean to make you feel that way."

"You didn't," he chuckles lightly. "You made me feel understood."

A smile spreads onto your face, the sound of a truck muffler rumbling through your ears.

"I'm here," Joel says slowly, "but if you need a minute before you can stand, don't worry. I can wait."

"No," you reply, doing your best to find your feet well enough to lift yourself off the floor. "Just let me put on some clothes. I just got out of the shower."

"Take your time, y/n. I'm not in a rush. Sarah is over at my neighbor's house. She'll fall asleep there if I take long enough. Neither of them mind, I promise. She's fallen asleep there so many times."

You trudge to your closet, your feet feeling like lead as you walk across the carpet. You pull out a large shirt, tossing it over your head as you set your phone on the floor beneath you. Your fingers grab at a pair of shorts, slipping them on beneath your top.

"Okay, I'm coming," you finally say. "I'll see you in a few seconds."

"Okay."

The call ends as you carry yourself to the front door, pulling it open to see Joel standing there with shaggy, dampened hair and beautiful brown eyes that are filled with concern. He looks way better than you, wearing a lovely short sleeved button-up shirt and blue jeans. You want to devour him, but you also want him to hold you and tell you everything is okay.

"Hey," he says gently as you invite him in. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

You nod lazily, gesturing over to the couch as you shut your front door. "Well, this morning I gave my ring back to Sam since he used my dad's death as an insult against me." You join Joel on the couch, your body facing his as you talk. "He also blamed me for his horrible, shitty behavior which is ridiculous," you pause. "Then he told me we're better off separated, and explained how he cheated on me a few months ago."

Joel's jaw drops, his eyes widening. "Jesus, y/n. I'm so sorry. What the hell?"

"Not only did he have unprotected sex with her, but then immediately had unprotected sex with me the next day. I've been so freaked out since he left. I'm so scared that I have something now."

He furrows his brows as he shakes his head. "If you had something, you'd know by now. But you should still make an appointment, just to be safe."

"First thing tomorrow, I'm calling," you roll your eyes as you throw your head into your hands. "Everything just went to shit so fast."

Joel's hand reaches out and tenderly rubs your upper back, the contact heightening your senses to a fine point. "I'm sorry, y/n. Where is he now?"

You keep your crying face cradled into your palms. "Who knows? There's a million people he can stay with. I'm gonna change the locks, too. I told him not to come back."

He lets out a sigh, his hand still soothing you in gentle circles. "I could do it for you. I know how."

"Really?" you gaze up at him. "You'd do that for me?"

Joel shrugs as he grins down at you. "Of course."

You can't take it anymore, you need the comfort of someone's body against yours. Your arms wrap around his neck, pressing your chest against his as your cheek rests against his shoulder.

"Thank you," you whisper, the emotion of the situation catching up to you once again.

His hands run down to the small of your back, his strong arms wrapped around your body as the two of you sit there in a tight embrace. You wish you could stay here forever, enjoying this closeness and the smell of his cologne. It's a comfort you haven't experienced in far too long, and now you're drowning in it, letting it swallow you whole.

"This isn't weird, right?" you suddenly ask, the hug finally ending.

Joel chuckles, shaking his head, "No."

Your eyes are on his lips, watching as he quickly darts his tongue out to lick them. "I'm glad you came over."

His hands are still on your back, as your arms are resting on his neck, your bodies still near each other's. "I am, too."

It takes everything in you to not lean in and kiss him, but you know now isn't the time. You've just found out your fiancé cheated on you, and you're desperate for a connection in this moment of heartbreak. Even though you find Joel ridiculously attractive, you wouldn't want to use him for that kind of comfort. He's a thoughtful, incredible man who deserves better than that.

You clear your throat, the loose embrace ending as you turn your body away. "Would you like a drink?" you ask as you stand off the couch. "Since we didn't get to go to a bar tonight."

Joel chuckles as he follows you to your kitchen. "What do you have?"

The fridge opens with a gentle pull, your hand reaching down into it to retrieve a bottle of beer. "Are you a beer man exactly as you are a meat man?" you ask with a smirk.

He laughs, nodding his head. "I am."

"I guess you're just very predictable," you tease, grabbing out your bottle of wine. "I'm a wine drinker."

He twists the top off of the beer bottle, tossing it back to take a few sips. "You drinking wine is very predictable, I'm afraid."

You giggle, chugging directly from the bottle after you pop the cork out. "Oh, yeah? What other assumptions have you made about me?"

Joel eyes you, making you feel bashful beneath his gaze. "I'm going to assume you're still wearing the necklace I got you."

You nod as you pull it out from inside of your t-shirt, letting it lay flat against the fabric. "I'm never taking it off."

"I'm glad," he beams. "I'm also gonna assume that you're a kind woman, and you deserve more than what you're getting."

"I don't know what I deserve, Joel."

He shrugs as he sips more beer, swallowing before he replies, "Happiness."

"I haven't had that in a long time."

Joel scoffs, nodding. "Neither have I."

You feel drawn to him in this moment, wanting to feel his warm, firm body pressed to yours again. Your lips are eager to feel his, wondering if he would have as much fervor as you feel for him. You're desperate for his touch, and you need to know what he's feeling for you. Is he simply just a nice guy, or can he feel the connection as you do?

"Joel," you begin softly, "I'm going to be honest with you."

"You can always be honest with me," he smiles gently at you.

"I think you're an incredible man. I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable because you're my student's father, but I just find you so—," your voice trails off, unable to think of a better adjective than perfect.

"Hopefully the end of that sentence is good," he chuckles, making you laugh as well.

"You're just great," you finally say, not at all getting as detailed as you would've liked. "And I appreciate you for being here for me even when you barely know me."

"I know that you're my daughter's teacher, and that you share a lot of the same hurt I do." His eyes flick between yours, "I had never talked about my wife to anybody besides family until you. I'm not sure why, but you just made me feel comfortable with being vulnerable."

Your eyes soften, tears beginning to form in them. "Oh, Joel," you say quietly.

That magnetic pull to him has only intensified, and it takes all of the strength you can muster to keep your feet planted on your side of the counter. You just want to throw yourself at him, but you can't for so many reasons.

"Anyway," he shakes his head with a bashful chuckle, "I was thinking I could come by tomorrow after work to change your locks. How many do you need?"

The subject change makes you swallow with relief, wanting to focus on anything other than how badly you crave his lips.

"Just two. Only need to change the front door and the side door. The sliding glass door doesn't take a key."

Joel nods. "I'll pick some stuff up. I could be here around six-thirty or so. Is that okay for you?"

"Yes, of course. Thank you so much."

He smiles warmly, setting down his empty beer bottle as his eyes flick to his watch. "Will you be okay if I leave?"

The fear that you've made him feel uneasy settles into your abdomen, regretting ever telling him how amazing you think he is.

"Of course," you nod, walking around the counter. "I'll be fine."

Joel strides to the front door with you, pulling it open as his eyes flick down to meet yours. "Don't hesitate to text or call if you need me, okay?"

"Thank you," you smile. "But really, I'll be okay."

You watch as Joel walks out of your house, wishing that he was wrapped up in your arms once again with his lips being gently pressed onto yours. The thought sends a slight twinge of arousal between your thighs, knowing that you have to be completely fucked in the head to even be considering those thoughts.

He's your student's dad. You can never pursue him.

****