#this is. late and I'm really not sure what day of the week it is

[ckret2]

Ok but why DO the teens of Gravity Falls start worshipping Bill after everything he did to them? Isn't there a better counterculture figure they can use that didn't traumatize them for life?

You'd think. Pre-TBOB I sure wouldn't have made them worship him—but if canon says they worship him to be edgy, who am I to argue.

So since it IS canon, I justify it two ways:

One: who says they were traumatized? I'm not saying "Weirdmageddon wasn't traumatic"; I'm saying "maybe they didn't feel traumatized by it." Not everyone comes away from should-be-traumatic situations with trauma, ESPECIALLY if they have a large support group that understands what they went through... like, say, literally everyone else in town.

And a WHOLE LOT of Gravity Falls—maybe even most of the town—had VERY little exposure to Bill or Weirdmageddon. Based on Wendy's account, she and her friends didn't know anything was wrong until the eye-bats swooped in to petrify them. Anyone captured "probably" wasn't conscious (based on how Lazy Susan seems disoriented and unaware of her surroundings, I assume they were mostly unconscious, partially dreaming). All the teens (along with the other townspeople) were freed from the throne while Bill and his minions were outside, escaped (except for Wendy & Robbie) before Bill got back, and then everything went back to normal and nothing was broken and nobody was hurt.

For Wendy, it was the most stressful, dangerous, terrifying week of her life.

For all of Wendy's friends (and probably most other teens in town), it was just a pretty bizarre 15 minutes.

Since the eye-bats were picking off stray townspeople days into Weirdmageddon, I'm sure not all of the teenagers in town were captured so quickly and painlessly... but like, the teens that got the highest doses of trauma from the incident probably aren't the specific teens worshiping Bill to be edgy.

Two: it's a way of reclaiming power over the situation. Do you know one way to stop fearing the monster you imagine under your bed? By imagining really hard that the monster you can feel so, so close in the dark is actually friendly and there to protect you.

The triangle guy's dead and not coming back right? Then there's no consequences if we clown around in his name. You want to be a big fancy god? Okay, now you're the God of Making My Teacher Give Me An A+ On The Final. You're the God of Please Don't Let Me Get Fired From My Part Time Job For Showing Up Late. You're the God of Putting Me In The Same Classes As My Friends This School Year. I'll sacrifice a chicken nugget to you and you'll do me a favor.

If you're a chaos god then I'm calling on you when we spray graffiti, secretly throw a house party, sneak into the movie theater, sell weed in the restroom. If you're a chaos god then keep away the cops and parents when we're breaking the rules. (It's lucky coincidence that Bill would probably love to be the god of illegal parties and drug dealing.)

If you wanna be a god, then you're hired, buddy—and on this planet, that means if we bow to your image and chant your name and sacrificially burn a one dollar Bill over a candle for you, then you have to do what we ask, and you can't scare us anymore. And if worshiping you DOES scare the authority figures we're yearning to buck against, that's just a bonus.

Pantheons all over the world worship gods of volcanoes, sea storms, war, and death. When humans see a force too terrible to defeat or escape, we give it a face, a name, and a temple, and start feeding it with offerings and prayers in hopes we can domesticate it the same way we domesticated wolves with meat and back scratches.

[ellecdc]

♧ here for the drinks: Regulus x Fem!Reader with "he fell in love first and harder" trope?? And congratulations!!

hmmm ok ok ok!! I see it!

so I feel like Regulus is the master of shoving down his feelings, so if he did recognize the first signs of affection for you, he'd immediately stomp them down ->avoidance, distractions, whatever he needs to do to not acknowledge the warmth blooming in his chest

his friends absolutely take the piss for it - Barty: "I haven't seen your missus around lately" - Regulus: "sod off...I don't even know who you're talking about." - Evan: "*snorts* suuurree you don't."

this turns into him admiring you from afar, which is way creepier -> writing poetry, maybe sketching portraits of you, "mooning over you" as Barty would say (only to be hexed for it) etc. I don't think Regulus would be aware of this at first

and then suddenly, there's a party happening in Ravenclaw tower and he finds out you're going with someone else!? and Evan has to point out that he's not actually spoken to you in weeks now? and aren't you allowed to talk to other people?

and that's all well and good but what the fuck??

and now he's officially spiralling

he approaches you in the halls one day - "are you going to a party with McLaggen?" - "well hello to you too, Regulus..." - "yes, hi. Are you going to a party with McLaggen?" - "yes...why?" - "Well...."

you roll your eyes and turn to him "well when you figure it out, let me know, yeah?" and you walk away.

"wow, way to fumble little brother." Sirius taunts as he sidles up beside him. "sod off, Sirius." - "I'd like nothing more, my dear pupil, but that was actually painful to watch and I would be doing the world a disservice by allowing you to lose the girl of your dreams in such an embarrassing manner" - "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Sirius' face actually falls a little bit as he looks at his brother with some pity - Regulus hated it. "awe....you're worse off than I thought."

Regulus stalked away

Regulus isn't a party guy, he doesn't like parties, he doesn't do parties....but he was standing there in Ravenclaw tower where the music was so loud he could feel it in his throat because....

because dammit - and before he knows what he's doing, he's pushing his way through the crowd and shoving McLaggen away from you - thanking every deity for the animal that is Barty Crouch Jr because he quickly pulled McLaggen further into the party before disappearing entirely from your view

"what is Merlin's name are you doing!?" You scold, eyes trying to track the movements of your date though you quickly looked over when you felt Regulus' hand in yours

"I'm sorry" he let out breathlessly - "sorry?" - "terribly sorry." - "for what?..."

Regulus steals himself before he steps closer to you. "for being a coward, for avoiding you, for...for avoiding my own feelings-" - "feelings?" - "feelings, Y/N, feelings. for not recognizing those feelings for what they are." - "what are they?"

He looks up from where his eyes were trained on your joint hands to your eyes to see a cautious quirk of your lips - you were messing with him. "Salazar, you're really going to make me spell it out, aren't you?"

"You're a smart wizard...I'm sure you can manage it."

"You minx...." he sighs before closing the distance - pressing his lips to yours in a chaste kiss that quickly turns hungry. "I fancy you, Y/N."

You let out a hum of acknowledgement and smile at him. "I know."

"you what?" - "I know." - "How?" - "You're an idiot." You mutter with a fond roll of your eyes.

You're probably not wrong, but he can't wait to hear you tell him all the ways in which he is, indeed an idiot. You're idiot.

[moeswriting]

mine | 3. we'll never make my parents mistakes

pairing: young!no-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

chapter summary: you and joel are finding things out about each other’s pasts and figuring out how to deal with your presents,

or meeting sarah miller and the after effects

warnings: THIS CHAPTER EXPLORES SOME VERY DARK THINGS BUT IS ALSO VERY SOFT, READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION AND PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS; discussion of maternal suicide/postpartum depression, alcoholism, and parental neglect (reader); joel is 22 and reader is 20; reader is described a small amount (has hair, able-bodied, wears feminine clothing, is going to school for secondary english education, has a heavily-detailed background); joel being The Single Dad™; character joins the army, conversation about a dead father and general daddy issues for the Miller brothers, including military PTSD and fraternal death from lung cancer; tommy being a little shit; HEY THESE TWO IDIOTS HAVE SEX!!! (not explicit)

word count: 11.5k

a/n: happy late birthday to my favorite fictional boy, have some trauma <3 this has been a long time coming (u see what i did there? ;) ). to all who have been begging me for the next chapter in my inbox, this is for you <3 . again, just wanna say: please read the warnings on this chapter. i am not usually a “traumatize my characters” kind of writer, but i was feeling feral while writing this over the past few weeks and it kind of just happened… so be warned. (i’m sorry in advance)

series masterlist | last chapter -> | next chapter ->

read this chapter on ao3

Flash forward, and we're takin' on the world together

And there's a drawer of my things at your place

You learn my secrets and you figure out why I'm guarded

You say we'll never make my parents' mistakes

✦ ✦ ✦

November 1994

It’s a couple days later. A Tuesday. Arguably the worst day of the week and a day that he’s been dreading since the text had graced his flip phone that night.

“... we need to talk”??

It sent shivers down his spine, made him want to run and hide, and never leave his apartment again. Talking wasn’t really Joel’s strong suit– sure, he could sweet talk Mrs. Nelson into giving him a better tip, but talking about how he felt? God, it was like dragging his toddler around a store when she wanted to go home– frustrating and near-impossible.

You’d texted him afterwards, making plans to meet at the diner when his shift was almost over to talk. But the past two days had been an absolute blur.

Sarah had noticed her dad’s change in demeanor and had decided to follow him into it, nonstop crying and small fists banging on the floor and his chest and anything she could take her anger out on. It made sleeping borderline impossible. He has had to sit in her small bed with her laying on his chest until she wore herself out the past two nights.

But here he is, at his usual Tuesday shift just after the lunch crowd has dispersed and he’s hiding in the kitchen while Don gives him a lecture about something that he’s honestly not listening to. He does, however, catch the sound of the bell ringing as someone walks into the diner and then he hears your cheery voice as you speak to someone.

“Go out there, there’s a customer,” Don says as he cleans the grill.

“I–” He cuts himself off. He doesn’t want Don to know about what’s about to happen.

The burly man looks up at him, nearly a foot shorter than him and he still scares the crap out of him sometimes, “It’s your girl, isn’t it?”

Joel clears his throat and sighs, “Yeah.”

“You two been fighting?”

He shakes his head.

Don slices his hand through the air as if to push Joel’s gesture aside. “Bullshit. I can tell.”

“Wha–”

“You been actin’ different. I’ve known you almost four years, Miller. I could tell when you started datin’ her and I could tell yesterday when you came into work that something was wrong.”

Damn Don and his out-of-character perceptiveness.

“Go face her, Miller.” He nods once, a finality to it.

“I-”

“Get out of my kitchen, you coward!”

He pushes him out of the swinging doors and into the dining area. When he sees you, he freezes.

✦ ✦ ✦

You arrive at the diner at three and sit in your usual spot by the window that no one else likes but you. It’s bright. You think maybe that’s why no one likes it, but you adore the way the reflected light warms you down to your toes. It’s quiet– weirdly quiet, like even the building itself is getting ready in anticipation for whatever is about to happen. The only other patron is Mr. Cassini sitting in a corner with a cup of coffee cradled in his trembling hands. You wonder where Doreen is.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Cassini,” you yell across the diner.

His face lights up, like it always does when he sees you, “Hello, dear! How are you doin’?”

“Oh, I’m doing as good as I can. How about you?”

“Oh darlin’, I’m doing amazing. Best I’ve felt in years.”

You smile at him, “That’s amazing, Mr. Cassini.”

“Oh, look at me talkin’ you up when you probably have work to do. I’ll let you get to your studying.”

You huff, “Thanks, Mr. Cassini.”

You can hear clattering coming from the kitchen. You suppose that’s where Joel is, or where he’s hiding. You’d tried to get a grasp on how Joel was feeling about all of this when you had been texting him to make the plans to meet here after his shift. Text messages aren’t very good at communicating emotion, but you couldn’t get yourself to call him– face him.

“Get out of my kitchen, you coward,” you hear Don yell in his obnoxiously loud way, a deep chortle following Joel as he exits the swinging doors.

He freezes like a statue, eyes wide and brows raised. Tired is the word that comes to mind– he so obviously hasn’t slept right in days. Bags under his eyes, shoulders slouched, skin paler than his usual tan glow. Maybe he’d seen a ghost.

He looks at you with his evaluating stare. You always wonder what Joel sees when he does this. Does he know how terrified you are?

Turning around, he points a finger towards the counter and grabs a clean glass from the cabinet behind him. You sigh, sling your backpack over your shoulder, and get up to go sit where Joel directed you to. He likes it when you’re closer to him while you visit him at work, especially if it’s slow and he’s bored, but when you need to study or do homework, you sit at the booth by the window– less distractions, you tell him. Really, you just know you won’t get any work done if you have easy access to him and you like the noise of the diner while you’re studying.

He doesn’t turn back towards you until you’re already settled in the tall stool, backpack precariously balanced on the seat next to you. Sliding the glass across the counter towards you, now full of iced tea exactly how you like it, he sighs.

“Hey, sugar.”

His nervousness surrounds him– hand pulling through his sweaty, messy hair, lidded eyes darting around the diner in an effort to find something to distract himself with, teeth worrying his bleeding lower lip between them. 

“Hey,” you breathe out. In a way, his nerves comfort you– you’re not the only one.

“I got another few minutes before Don will let me out.”

“I know, Joel,” you mutter.

“Gotta wait for Dorreen to come back from her smoke break too.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

He leans on the counter, facing you, “I’m nervous.”

You give him a soft smile, “Me too.”

“Good. Good.” He nods to himself, pushing a straw towards you from the apron around his waist.

“Miller! I need more coffee,” Mr. Cassini’s gravely voice echoes through the empty diner, making Joel jump up from his position on the counter.

“One second, Mr. Cassini–” he holds up a finger directed at you– “I’ll be right back. Gotta do a couple things before I leave.”

You know. You nod.

You pull a book out of your bag, The Secret Garden, desperate to avoid the awkwardness of the quiet. You absorb yourself in the story of Mary as she explores the hidden garden her new caretaker’s late wife once walked, dead and gray. It’s the millionth time you’ve read it– page corners bent and the spine cracked in multiple places. The pages are a dark yellow, almost matching the deep color of the faded cover. On the front page, the name Virginia swirls in a beautiful cursive right above your own name in your not-so-delicate print. The ink of her fountain pen is a deeper black than the one of your ball-point, faded by the twelve years it had sat on the page.

A hand pops into your field of vision and taps on the page of your book, “Ready to go.”

You hum and stash the book into your bag, between your hardback textbooks so it gets better protection from the mess that is your bookbag.

You watch Joel pull his apron off and stuff it under the counter, exposing the parts of his jeans that have gone untouched by the mess of his shift. The square outline around his crotch almost makes you giggle, but you bite your lip to suppress it.

He comes around the counter and, without looking in your direction, pushes open the front door. Following behind him like a puppy, you quickly do the same, throwing your backpack over your shoulder.

He stops suddenly, turning around, looking for guidance.

You sigh, “Let me walk you home.”

“No–”

“What direction is it?”

He looks you up and down, a habit you guess he learned from trying to determine if he needed to make Tommy back down from a fight or not. His hesitation is so blatant, bringing his hand up once, twice, before he points in the opposite direction from the route he takes to walk you back to your dorm. Of course, he was going out of his way to bring you home. That is the most Joel thing you could think of.

“Let’s go.”

You start to walk, determined steps taking you down the street. You turn to look at Joel over your shoulder and he hasn’t moved an inch. Your footsteps falter.

“Really?”

He huffs out a breath, “I– I just–”

You shrug your arms up, exasperated, and slap them back against your sides, “What, Joel?”

“I don’t… I’m not ready to do this yet.”

What?

You furrow your brows and squint in his direction through the waning sunlight.

“What in the world are you talking about?”

He runs a hand through his curly, sweaty hair, sucks in a large breath, and slurs his words together in one long exhale, “I’m not ready for you to meet her yet.”

Oh. Oh.

“Joel, that’s not– that’s not what I was trying to do. I just wanted to walk you home.”

Now that he’s admitted his secret to you, that other part of him no longer hidden, everything about him is so obviously catered to a four-year-old. His expressions are controlled, but also so kind and open, like he’s keeping his real feelings at bay but wants to make sure you know that you can tell him anything and he’ll listen. His shoulders are hunched over from hard work, but he never falters, he always shows up for you, for Sarah. He’s nervous in everything he does, whether he shows it or not, but he would do anything to make sure his friends and family get whatever they need. He’d fight a bull for you if you asked him to. He’d tear the earth in two for his baby, you can tell.

This is the same Joel you’ve come to like. He hasn’t changed into a whole new person just because you learned he’s a father. He was a father the whole time you’ve known him, which is weird to think about. What else didn’t you know about him?

You continue, dragging your feet back to him, “I would never, ever try to force you into anything– especially when it comes to your daughter. I have no right to demand anything.”

“I do want you to meet ‘er.”

“I want to meet her too.”

“Someday. I jus’… not now. I need to make sure we– I wanna make sure we’ll last before I introduce someone else into her life.”

“And I agree with you.”

“Good.”

“Yup.” You kick a rock in front of you.

You both stare at each other, waiting to see who will break the silence first. 

Joel tilts his head in the direction he had originally pointed in, “Can we go somewhere to talk?”

You nod. 

The two of you walk in silence to a park down the road. You wonder if his apartment is near.

There are a few benches scattered around the park, surrounded by flowers and shrubs alike. A playground is busy with children as they scream and chase after each other with smiles on their faces.

He flops down on a bench facing a water fountain, far enough from the kids that you’re pretty sure they won’t hear you.

You sigh, pressing your palms into your eyes as you join him, small flakes of wood on the old bench press into the backs of your thighs.

“I’m upset that you didn’t tell me right away– I just want you to know that.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Apologizing is good. An explanation would be better.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He crosses his arms, staring out at the glaring sun, “‘Cause I didn’ want you to run.”

You scoff and scuff the concrete beneath you with your sneaker in emphasis, “What makes you think I would’ve run?”

His eyes dart over to you. He gives you a look that screams, “Are you seriously asking me that?” Eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched.

“‘Could tell you were nervous when I first met ya. And I knew you were young and in college and most college-aged girls aren’t interested in gettin’ in a relationship with a dad.”

“Oh, I know for a fact that that is not true,” you huff, mirroring his position– slouched, arms crossed. You knew plenty of women your age who would love the stability and the experience– knew Elaine had had a few chance encounters with DILFs she had met at the bar. She claimed it was some of the best sex she’d ever had.

He scoffs, “Whatever, you know what I mean.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, I do.”

Rubbing his hands together, he continues.

“I wasn’t tryin’ to keep her from you forever. I was always going to tell you.”

You flatten your lips into a line. “Yeah, well, it would’ve been nice to know from the get-go.”

He’s looking you in the eye again with a genuinity and softness and places a hand on your thigh. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ll stop apologizing for that for a long time. I just– it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”

You sigh, placing your hand on top of his, a smirk starting to take over your lips, “I’m not going to say it’s okay, but I might be willing to forgive you.”

His eyebrows quirk up, “Might be?”

You fix your posture, now sitting taller than him, and look down into his pretty eyes, “You take me out again and I might be willing to look past this indiscretion.”

He opens his mouth to speak again, but you interrupt before he gets the chance, pointing a defiant finger in his face– “But–! You have to promise me you won’t keep shit from me anymore. We gotta lay it all on the table. I’m not going to do this with you unless you’re honest with me.”

He nods, “I think I can do that– both of those.”

You nod, “Good, I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

He fixes his slouch so that he’s level with you again, his hand never leaving the comfort of your own.

“But, y’know that means you have to be honest with me too.”

You furrow your eyebrows.

Turning his hand so your palms face each other, he laces your fingers together and squeezes. “I know you’re hiding stuff from me too. Big stuff.”

You hum. 

“Why won’t you talk about your family?”

Well, shit.

You sigh, squeezing your eyes shut, “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’... but we don’t have to do this right now.” His eyes are wide with fear, scared he might have pushed you too hard. Maybe he has. But, it’s weird, for the first time in your entire life, you want to share things about your past.

“No, it’s okay. Might as well,” you reply, taking your hand out of his and rubbing your eyes aggressively with your palms.

Without looking up at him, you start, “I– I don’t really have much family. It’s just pretty much been me and my dad since I can remember.”

“You said your dad lives back in Seattle, right?”

“Yeah. He uh– he isn’t my favorite person. That’s why– that’s why I don’t talk about him.”

He doesn’t say anything, giving you time to think about what you’re going to say next.

“My mom died a couple weeks after she gave birth to me. She– she, uh–”

It’s hard to spit it out. To talk about it. Only a few people knew about what really happened– the rest all just knew she was dead. But you know that Joel should know– know why this is so hard for you.

“She had postpartum depression really, really bad. Couldn’t get out of bed, couldn’t shower, couldn’t eat, couldn’t feed me or hold me or look at me– Dad says she was like a statue, like a ghost of herself.”

You can’t get yourself to look at him– can feel the guilt running down your spine and into your bone marrow like it always does when you think of her. You hide your face behind your hands, elbows leaning on your legs.

“She had been so excited. They both were. Just out of college and newlyweds– dad says her pregnancy was the best year of their relationship.”

You gear yourself up for what you’re about to say. You’ve only ever told one person about this before: Elaine, and that was after a year of friendship. You’ve only known Joel for a little over a month. But, you want to tell him– need to tell him.

“But she– she killed herself. Didn’t leave a note or anything, she was just… gone.”

You can’t see his face, don’t want to. You’ve seen enough sympathetic eyes to last a lifetime of grief. “Oh, sugar…”

You shake your head in your hands– you’re not done yet. “Dad was pretty much gone after that. I never remember a time when he was ‘there’, but my grandmother said he used to be different– ‘more alive’.

“I knew he blamed me before he ever said it. He’d drop me off at my grandmother’s house and disappear for days and when she died and that wasn’t an option anymore, he would just leave me at the house with a ten dollar bill for food for a couple days at a time.”

He scoffs, like  your father could hear his anger from here. “That’s not fair–”

You cut him off, you don’t want to hear one more person say your life isn’t fair, “And when he was home, he was angry all the time. He has his good days, but he– he’s not my favorite person.

“So, that’s why I was scared when you told me about Sarah,” you continue, “Because I– I don’t exactly have a good track record with the whole ‘family’ thing. And I don’t… I don’t really know anything about being a… maternal figure.”

You can’t say “mom”. Can’t think it.

It takes a moment of stunned silence for Joel to reply, but when he does, he lays a hand on your shoulder, “Baby, I… I wasn’t askin’ for you to jump into being a mother. I wasn’t… I wasn’t even asking you to be a mother at all. I just wanted you to know my priorities, because if this relationship is gonna continue, you have to have a relationship with my daughter.”

“I know.”

“But, I understand now. Thank you for tellin’ me about your mom.”

You sigh, closing your eyes and leaning your head back on the bench, “Thank you for listening and being patient with me.”

You can feel him looking at you, hear the smile in his words. “I’d wait forever for you, sugar.”

Your cheeks heat up, eyes wide open, and turn to him. The look in his irises tells you that he’s being completely genuine.

“Anyways, I gotta go. I’m not tryin’ to get away from you or this conversation, but my momma has to get home.”

You nod your acknowledgement, standing up. He holds a hand out for you to take and you pull him up from the bench, but you don’t let go– you guide him towards the exit of the park and then he takes the reins from there, leading you in the direction of his apartment.

“Your mom watch her when you’re at work?”

“Yeah, Tommy does too sometimes when he’s not gettin’ his ass beat in alleyways after school,” he rolls his eyes. 

You huff out a breath of amusement, “Well, that’s very kind of them.”

You squeeze his hand. It’s calloused from hard work and dry from the hot Texas weather. His larger fingers engulf yours.

“Tell me about her.”

He starts to shake his head, “Oh, we don’t–”

“No, no, I want to know about her.”

He’ll always take an opportunity to brag about his baby girl.

In the few minutes walk, he tells you about Sarah. How she turns five in July. How she smiles with her teeth, showing off her two front teeth that they just pulled. How he very unsuccessfully pulled a Tooth Fairy heist, which resulted in him having to admit to his daughter that the Tooth Fairy wasn’t real. How she looks just like her mom, but is just so beautifully unique in her own way. How her hair never cooperates with him, so he has to take her to the salon down the street so they can braid her hair. How she likes pink the most and requests the same pink butterfly hair clips every morning despite the large collection of hair accessories she’s amassed. How he loves her with everything in him.

You arrive at your destination, or at least you think so, as you approach a small bakery and Joel takes out his key.

“I rent the apartment above the bakery from the owner. She has a house with kids and a husband so she doesn’t need to stay here, and she’s an old family friend, so she lets Sarah and I stay up here for fairly cheap.”

You smile, “That’s very kind.”

“Yes, but she loves to come visit way more than she’s actually welcomed. She likes Sarah a lot, I mean, most people do because she’s a great kid, but y’know…”

He suddenly perks up, holding his hands up in a “stop” motion.

“Wait– stay here.”

You watch him run up the stairs two at a time, before the door closes behind him. You stay in your spot.

He comes back down the stairs with his seashell in his hand– the gray one with the brown stripes, the one he had so proudly presented to you two days ago on the beach. The one he told you was simple, didn’t need to be flashy to get the job done. The one that was so obviously him that it hurt to think about the last couple of days of avoiding him, of the time wasted.

You cradle it in your palms and look up at him through your eyelashes.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter.

“For what, sugar?”

“For making you think I didn’t want you.”

He sighs, grabbing your wrists and pulling you into his chest, wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“Don’t be sorry– wasn’t your fault. I got lots of things to work on, and so do you. We jus’ need to communicate better, like you said.”

You nuzzle your head into his chest. He smells like leather and freshly-cut wood.

He feels like home.

“Yeah, we do.”

✦ ✦ ✦

December 1994

It’s the middle of December when your 21st birthday rolls around.

Elaine throws a party in the basement of your dorm building, approved by your RA as a “floor event” for the end of the semester (which in a way isn’t a lie because most of your dorm floor is there anyways) the day before your birthday. You had convinced Joel to come too, all of your friends swooning over him and winking at you when you introduced them to him. He’s blushing the entire night.

But on your actual birthday, Joel takes you to his apartment for the first time, dropping Sarah off at his mom’s house for the night.

When you first walked in, you think that even if you hadn’t known this was Joel’s apartment, that you could’ve easily picked it out in a lineup. The ceilings are vaulted, popcorn textured walls that are painted an off-white that makes the space look larger than it is, a kitchen off to the right and a bedroom door straight ahead. There’s a painting of horses that Joel has described to you before above the mantle in the living room, it was his dad’s. You can tell he’s cleaned up, because all of the pink toys that he told you were usually scattered all over the floor for him to stub his toe on, which he did constantly, are neatly piled in a basket in the corner of the room. The couch is old, sagging in the middle, but it looks comfortable because of all of the quilts thrown all over the back.

After a dinner of your favorite food, which Joel painstakingly made to perfection, he guides you to the living room couch and hands you a present.

It’s a big cardboard box with a purple bow stuck on top. Before you can even think about opening it, he takes the bow off and puts it on top of your head.

“It’s for your birthday and Christmas ‘cause it’s a pretty expensive gift, and y’know I don’t make a whole lot at the diner, but I think it was worth it.”

You open the box with a smile and what sits waiting for you is a pair of cowboy boots. And they are beautiful.

They’re made of a thick leather that feels smooth beneath your fingers as you pick them up and cradle one of them in your hands. It’s heavy in your grip, sturdy and obviously well-made– stitches tight and leather buffed. The sides are a light purple with white sprigs of lavender stitched into the leather.

“They’re work boots, so they're steel-toed and waterproof. I treated the leather already, but you can bring ‘em to me every couple months and I’ll do it again. Figure that you needed shoes that weren’t your half-destroyed Converse and I love my boots, so I thought, you know, maybe you’d like a pair too,” he chuckles stiffly, carding a hand through his hair.

You’re speechless, to the point that you can’t even point out that he had implied a future two months from now where you’re still dating. There’s about a hundred words you want to say to him, but none of them seem good enough.

Gently placing the boot back in the box and on the floor, you stand up and move in front of Joel and in-between his thighs. He’s looking up at you with wide eyes and you want to devour him whole.

“What’re you doin’, sugar?”

You climb into his lap and smirk down at him, “Lookin’ at ya.”

He grabs the outsides of your thighs and squeezes them, “Oh, really?”

“Yup,” you pop the ‘p’ with a smirk, throwing your arms around his neck. Pushing yourself further into his lap, your nose brushes against his.

If someone asked you what your favorite thing about Joel was, you would tell them that it’s his eyes. Those defined crows feet that kiss the corners of his gorgeous honey-brown irises are enchanting– evidence of a life, so far, well-lived.

You adore him. You–

“I love you.”

He pulls back slightly with wide eyes.

“I– sugar, you don’t have to say it if you’re not ready.”

That’s so like Joel– to think he doesn’t deserve this.

You weave your fingers into the curls that stick to the back of his neck and your smirk turns into a smile, “I’m ready and I love you.”

You nudge his nose with your own and lean in, lips connecting in a simple peck.

“I love you too– so much, sugar,” he whispers, pressing your lips together again.

“Thank you for the boots, Joel. They’re beautiful.”

“I hope it’s okay– gettin’ you one gift. I… you know I’m not exactly the richest person in the world.”

“Oh baby, is that why you’ve been picking up all those extra shifts with Tommy?”

“Yeah,” he draws out bashfully.

You kiss him again, “Miller, it is more than okay for you to give me one gift. In fact, it would’ve been okay if you hadn’t gotten me anything. Just you being here is enough for me.”

“Oh, really?”

He sighs, squeezing your thighs again, pulling you in closer until your chests touch. You can feel him beneath you. Your cheeks heat up.

“Mhm.”

It’s gentle, the way he lays you down on the bed, legs hanging off the edge. He stands between your shaking legs. Your body is buzzing with the electricity of the moment, as he looks down at you with hooded, black eyes– hungry and soft.

He takes his time kissing up your body, starting where your skin is exposed at the top of your pajama pants and making his way up, up, up, in between your heaving, clothed breasts, shirt long gone on the living room floor, and finally up to your lips. He pecks them once and sighs, arms bracketing your head.

He says your name sternly, “Are you sure you want to do this? Because you know, I am very okay with waitin’.”

You look up into those eyes, the ones you fell in love with first, and you know. You know this is what you need.

“Please,” you whine, hips stuttering under his.

He holds your hip down with his large, sturdy hand and speaks softly, “Baby, I need a yes or no.”

“Yes, yes! I’m ready, Joel, please.” 

With all the energy you have left in your buzzing and needy limbs, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a kiss that says all the shit that’s always left unsaid. You’re my other half, I don’t think I can live without you anymore, I am yours, You are mine.

And it’s gentle, because that’s who Joel is. A father, a caregiver, a lover– he is gentle. He takes care of you, loving you down to the tips of your fingers, taking his time to savor the taste of you. It’s not perfect– there’s both of your awkward giggles while Joel pulls the condom on and your hisses as he goes a little too fast– but, to you, it’s perfect in all the ways it matters and you’re seeing stars multiple times before Joel finally finishes with a loud and gorgeous moan.

After Joel wipes you both down with a warm washcloth, you’re laying in his arms, playing with the wispy, brown hair just below his cheekbones and he’s humming in delight like a cat purrs.

“I love you,” he whispers, eyes closed.

“I love you, too,” you whisper back, kissing his chest just above his heart where you wish you could burrow yourself forever. Moving out of this bed is tomorrow’s problem. Today, you can pretend that you’re nestled in his heart chambers as his breaths slow and he falls asleep with his arms wrapped around you in a tight embrace, like even in his sleep he has to keep you close enough to feel your breaths, make sure you’re still next to him.

✦ ✦ ✦

March 1995

It’s not until three months later that Joel agrees that it’s time for you to meet Sarah. You’re not sure why it takes him so long to make that decision, but you try not to think about it too much or else you start to panic and you promised Joel that you would trust him more and this is one of those moments where you just need to tell your brain to ‘shut up’ and trust him. So, you trust him.

It’s a Friday evening. You pick him up from the diner and walk the short trip with your hands intertwined. You can feel the sweat pooling on his palms, despite the cool spring weather, but you don’t let go.

You’ve been to his apartment before, many times in fact, but it’s so different when it’s not just the two of you. Walking into high-pitched giggles and the low groan of the old stand mixer that usually sits dormant on Joel’s counter is odd, but it feels right– like this is how it’s always supposed to be.

Your heart is racing. He pulls you into the apartment and you see her for the first time.

Her light brown curls bounce, confined near her temples by the two butterfly clips in them, as she jumps up and down in her sparkly pink, plastic, princess heels that clack obnoxiously on the tiled floor of the kitchen. She’s wearing a pink, long-sleeved shirt– the red top of Elmo’s head just barely peeking out of the top of her jean overalls. Her tawny-brown, chubby cheeks are pulled taught by her unending smile. She looks just like the numerous pictures Joel has shown you with pride in his eyes, but now, in front of you, she is real.

And it doesn’t scare you. It excites you.

“Papi, is that you,” you hear a graveled, feminine voice cut through the static-filled radio that’s attached to the underside of the cabinet.

And now you’re scared.

Not only is Joel’s little girl in front of you, but so is his mother. Her dark brown hair, already graying at the roots despite her young age of forty-five, is pulled into a braid that runs all the way down to her lower back. She has a blue dress on with intricate white floral designs on the skirt, long and flowing. It moves gracefully as she glides around the kitchen. In a weird way, it is so obvious that Joel is her son.

Sarah’s eyes light up when she spots her dad, hands flying over her head.

“Daddy!”

Joel’s nervous demeanor is quickly discarded, leaving a smile in its wake.

“Guppy!”

She runs to her father, heels clacking and hair bouncing, and slams into his calves. Wrapping her arms around his legs, she squeezes with a grunt. All Joel does is chuckle at her violent affection.

From her position attached to her father’s legs, she turns her head towards you with her eyebrows crossed and a frown on her face, “Who’s that, Daddy?”

You sit on your calves to get down to her level and tell her your name with a smile, “It’s really nice to meet you.”

You’re good with kids. It’s why you wanted to be a teacher in the first place, besides the joy you got from sharing your knowledge. You used to babysit for your neighbors constantly (which was a good way to make money, but also an excuse to leave the house when your dad was having one of his really bad days). So, you should be good with Sarah. Right?

Joel nudges her off of him and kneels down to her level as well, “She’s my girlfriend.”

He doesn’t beat around the bush, doesn’t talk around it, because his little girl is smart and he wants to tell her the truth.

She looks you up and down suspiciously with her big brown eyes, “Girlfriend?”

“Yeah, baby. She’s my friend that I kiss sometimes.”

Her face scrunches up in disgust, “Ew!”

You copy her expression and whisper, “It is kinda gross sometimes.”

She looks you up and down with her eyebrows furrowed. For a second, you think she might be offended by you calling her father gross; based on what Joel has told you about her, you thought she would appreciate a joke at her dad’s expense, but maybe she didn’t when it came from someone she didn’t know–

Her face lights up and she starts to giggle, hands pulling at her father’s shirt.

“You’re gross, Daddy.”

He looks down at his clothes, covered in grease and sweat and laughs, “I guess I am.”

“I wonder how I can get clean,” he draws out, tapping his chin as if in deep thought. He scoops her up into his arms and starts to rub his face and hair, covered in grime from a long shift at the diner, all over her overalls.

She screeches, her laugh boiling over and filling the little living room. Her smile is radiant.

“Daddy, put me down!” She pushes at his shoulders with her tiny hands, which, of course, doesn’t move Joel an inch, but she continues pushing as hard as she can.

“But, you said I was gross! I’m just trying to fix it!”

“You’re makin’ me gross!”

“What?!”

She looks desperately over at you, grin taking over her chubby face, and reaches for you with the arm that isn’t restrained by Joel, “Help!”

“I’ll help you!” You stand up, grab her arm, and pull lightly, making sure not to hurt her.

“He’s too strong,” you cry out dramatically.

Her voice bounces as Joel jostles her around, “Ask him to stop! Politely!”

She adds “politely”, as if she’s repeating a mantra she’s held close to her heart. It’s endearing and it makes your heart ache for the kindness that Joel has taught and shown his daughter.

You oblige her. “Gross man, can you please let go of the princess?”

He stops suddenly, placing her down on the ground with a stomp of her feet. She prances away from him and over to you, hiding behind your legs.

“Anything for the Queen,” he salutes to you and looks at Sarah with sympathy in his eyes, “I’m sorry, Princess. I thought that you wanted me to get clean.”

She giggles again, wiping her hands down the bib of her overalls, “Daddy, you have to get clean in the shower!”

He throws his hands up in the air, “The shower?! Why didn’t you just say that?”

She copies her dad, throwing her hands up in the air, laughing still.

Turning to you, she curtsies, emulating lifting a skirt with her hands, “Thank you, kind lady for saving me. I’ll ‘emem- ‘emember this.”

She struggles with the word ‘remember’, nose scrunching as she knows she isn’t saying it right, but can’t quite get the syllables around her tongue.

“Anything for the Princess,” you curtsy back at her with your real dress.

Silent up to this point, Joel’s mom finally decides to put her two cents in.

“I like your boots, mija.”

You look down at your feet and see those gorgeous cowboy boots with the embroidered lavender sprigs and the lavender leather on the sides and you’re reminded how much Joel loves you– that this is a moment to celebrate, not to ruin with your overthinking. Joel adores his mother and Sarah– it is a privilege to meet these people.

“Oh, thank you, Mrs. Miller! Joel got them for me for my birthday.”

She smirks and winks at you, “I know, I helped him pick them out.”

She throws a towel over her shoulder and pops a tray in the oven. Joel and Sarah are talking behind you in soft voices. You can’t really make out what they’re saying, but you don’t really mind. Whatever made Sarah the most comfortable in this situation is good with you.

“Well, they’re beautiful. Thank you for helping him.”

Shutting the oven door with her hip, she pulls another tray from the counter and places it on top of the stove. She does all of this while making direct eye contact with you, like she is so familiar with the space that she could move around it with her eyes closed.

“I help papi with whatever he needs and he doesn’t know the first thing about what a girl likes– that’s why I buy all of Sarah’s clothes… and don’t call me Mrs. Miller– makes me feel older than I am. Call me Essie.”

Your face heats up, “Okay, Essie.”

“Momma–”

“You–” she points at Joel, stern look on her face– “are late.”

Joel looks so guilty, you almost think he’s killed someone. “I’m sorry, Momma. Don kept me later than usual.”

“Only reason I’m mad is that you took my time away from meeting your beautiful girl.” She walks up to you and hugs you.

Oh.

You stiffen, not because the hug is unwelcome, it is very welcome, but because you can’t remember the last time you’d been hugged by anyone but Elaine and Joel– by a mother.

And you can feel all the softness of a mother that you never got to have pour through her and to you. You know she knows about what happened to your mom; Joel tells his momma everything, but you hadn’t expected her to be this kind to you. Because you’re you, of course you had expected the worst, that she would hate you, tell you to get away from her son, tell you that you weren’t good enough, but here she is, showing you all the gentleness that she had taught her son to show others. You relax into it.

An embrace can say a thousand words, and you think this one says a thousand and one.

You can feel the heat on your face climbing further down and into your chest, straight to your heart.

“Sorry, Momma,” he mumbles.

She lets go of you and you feel the loss of her. You hope that she’ll show you her kindness again– you crave that affection.

“It’s okay–” she grabs your face and puts her forehead to yours– “You’re here now.”

Her dress swishes behind her as she returns to the kitchen to continue her cooking.

“Thomas is coming over,” she yells, her voice cracking slightly at the end with the effort.

Joel’s eyes go wide, “What?”

Sarah screeches, jumping up and down, which just seems to be her blanket response to excitement, “Uncle Tommy!”

Essie laughs, her whole face lighting up with the force of it, “Your brother wanted to meet your girl.”

You’ve heard lots of things about Tommy from Joel: how he gets regularly arrested for starting fights with people, how determined and head strong he was, how much he loved Sarah, and how massive of a flirt he was. At 17-years-old, Joel’s younger brother was a huge pain in his ass, but he loved him regardless.

“So he invited himself?”

She shakes her head, “No, toro, I invited him when I told him my plans for today before he went to school.”

“But–”

A knock on the door interrupts his protest. There’s the jingle of a key and then the door slams open with a kick.

“Hello, brother!”

Joel’s face falls into a blank stare, “Hello.”

Sarah, ever the aggressive greeter, runs to her uncle with a scream, “Tom-Tom!”

“Sarah,” he yells as he picks her up and spins her around in his arms. Her screeches turn into rambunctious laughter.

Tommy is a handsome young man. He has the same unruly brown curls that Joel does, but his are more structured and lay more securely on the top of his head, unlike Joel’s where it cascades down to his neck. Big, brown eyes and strong, dark eyebrows make him look more innocent than he actually is. He’s got a flannel and a stained wife-beater on.

“Nene, I told you to dress nicely,” Essie yells, leaning out on the entryway to the kitchen.

Tommy’s confident look quickly fades from his face, the same guilty look his brother had just sported taking over, “I’m sorry, Momma.”

She hums and goes back to the kitchen.

“Shit,” tumbles out of Tommy’s mouth.

“Sh–” Sarah starts to repeat, before Tommy claps a hand over her mouth. You can hear her giggling from behind his hand.

“Tommy!”

“Sorry, man, I didn’t mean to– ack, gross,” he exclaims as Sarah licks his palm.

He deposits her onto the ground and she runs into the kitchen, screaming. He rubs his hand on his dirty jeans.

“Tommy. This is my girlfriend,” he sighs, telling him your name, which Tommy repeats as he takes your hand in his (not the one that was just licked by Sarah) and kisses your hand.

“Well, seems you already know my name, sweetheart. It’s a pleasure to meet you after all these months of Joel talkin’ ‘bout ya.”

What you wouldn’t give to be a fly-on-the-wall when Joel talked about you. You knew he’d never speak badly of you– he never spoke badly of anyone, including Tommy–, but you were curious what he could possibly be saying to them, especially the young man in front of you.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Tommy.”

He drops your hand lightly and looks over at his brother. You think you see him wink, but you’re choosing to ignore whatever you just saw. You do, however, see the blush crawling back up Joel’s neck, as you turn back to him.

Joel takes your hand in his. You lace your fingers through his and squeeze lightly, an acknowledgement of his social awkwardness.

“Well, I’m gonna go see if I can help Momma with dinner, see if she can forgive me for dressin’ like an idiot.”

Joel’s lips form a line, “See ya.”

“Oh, brother, you’ve outdone yourself. Don’t know how you managed it.” He points to you, turns on his heel, and walks to the other room.

“I’m sorry about him,” Joel mutters, eyes downcast to the floor.

You shrug, “It’s okay. He seems nice.”

Guiding your shoulder towards him so that you’re fully facing him, he kisses your forehead, “Tell me if this is all too much, okay? Meetin’ my whole immediate family at once is a lot.”

You shake your head, “Joel, I am honored that I get to meet them. It’s a little overwhelming, but I can handle myself– don’t worry about me.”

“Okay, sugar,” he sighs into your hair.

The rest of the night goes off without a hitch. Sarah spends the whole meal screeching and throwing food at her dad. Tommy spends the whole meal laughing at Sarah throwing food at her dad. Joel patiently reminds Sarah that she’s not supposed to throw food, which, of course, she doesn’t listen to and continues to throw food at her dad. And you and Essie are in your own little world, discussing everything from your schooling to how she grew up in Columbia, but met Joel’s father when she moved to the States in 1970. She is an amazing listener and an engaging storyteller, face clearly displaying her emotions as she tells you about her brilliant life so far.

Joel tells you on your walk back to your dorm that he’s pretty sure that his mom likes you more than him now. You joke that you like her better than him too. He groans, “My momma’s gonna take my girl from me.”

“Your girl?”

“Yeah, sugar, my girl.”

✦ ✦ ✦

April 1995

“Are you ever gonna hang out with me again,” Elaine whines, watching you pull a flannel out of your closet and stuff it in your bookbag next to your books that you’re bringing to study with. It was Joel’s, but it was starting to lose his scent and you were going to demand he wear it tonight so that the leather smell would seep back into the fabric.

“Lane, we hang out all the time.”

Hair fanned out below her in a halo of sorts, Elaine lays on her bed with her head off the side, feet in the air. She scoffs and throws her hands up in exasperation.

“No! That’s not true! You are never here on the weekends anymore and that’s when all the good parties are going on.”

You deadpan, “When have I ever gone to parties with you?”

“You went to some parties!”

“I went to one party and left an hour in because I got completely overwhelmed and started crying after one drink.”

“Okay… but that was freshman year and I bet you could hold your booze much better now that you’re legal.”

“Elaine, baby, sweet girl, love of my life, I do not want to go to a party.”

She pouts and crosses her arms, “Yeah, you wanna go hang out with your boy and his four-year-old all weekend.”

You clear your throat and mutter, “Actually, Sarah is staying with her abuela this weekend.”

Elaine gasps, flipping around and sitting up on all fours, “No fucking way.”

“Yes fucking way,” you reply flatly.

“You are going to be in Joel’s apartment all weekend. Just the two of you.”

“Yup.”

“All by yourselves. For an entire weekend.”

“You just said the exact same thing twice and my answer is still yes.”

She bounds over to you and grabs your face in her hands, “Oh, my sweet baby, you are getting your brains fucked out all weekend, aren’t you?”

“Good god, Lane,” you shake her hands off her face and continue your packing.

She hops in place a couple times, her wild hair doing flips as she does, “You are, aren’t you?! Oh my god. This is so great, I cannot wait for you to tell me every detail when you get back.”

You glare at her for a moment and shake your head, “Fine.”

She shrieks, throwing her arms up in the air and running around your small shared room like she’s doing a victory lap.

Pumping a fist in the air, she flops backwards onto her bed and stares at the ceiling, face suddenly serious. But, you’re used to this by now, her mood changes like the wind– she has some of the most intense ADHD you’ve ever seen.

She raises her hand up.

You sigh, “Yes, Elaine?”

“I have a question.”

She sits up again, hands fidgeting in her lap, “What are you gonna do about Joel when you go back to Seattle for the summer?”

“I–” Oh.

You’d been thinking about summer break constantly since the moment you started dating Joel. It’s been a looming threat over everything you two have shared over the past 6 months, a near-constant reminder that you’ll be leaving to go back to your dad’s house in less than a month. You’d just pushed it to the back of your mind. No one ever mentioned it, so you just never brought it up.

But now that Elaine is here, sitting in front of you, confronting you with something you’ve been avoiding for months, it hits you like a ton of bricks.

“I don’t know.” You sink down into your desk chair, bag slapping on the tile at your feet.

“You really like him– don’t you, baby girl?”

You nod, staring at the floor. Two years of living in these dorms and you’d never noticed how uneven the tile was. You feel your heart beating in your ears.

“You know, you could stay with me and my parents this summer?”

“No, no, I don’t wanna bother them.”

She purses her lips, “Well… I kind of already asked them and they said that it was okay.”

You gasp, turning towards her, “What?”

“Yeah, baby, it’d be like a whole summer of sleepovers, except y’know, you’d have your own room.”

Elaine’s parents were cattle farmers. They owned a small ranch just outside of Austin with a wide expanse of land and multiple small houses throughout. Elaine didn’t live with her parents– she lived in her own small farmhouse about a quarter of a mile down the dirt road that ran through their property. You’d been there before; it was beautiful.

And not having to go back to Seattle: that would be great. If last summer was any indication of your dad’s excitement at you coming home, you had been dreading what this summer would bring.

But here’s an out. A way to avoid your father and his horrible rage. A way to stay near Joel and Sarah. A way to celebrate Sarah’s birthday with her in July like she’d been begging you to.

“Maybe.”

She grins, hands still fidgeting in her lap, but more aggressively like she’s trying to hold herself back from a big reaction to your “maybe”, which you both know just means “yes”.

“Thank you.”

“Don’ even mention it, baby. You’re the love of my life– I couldn’ bear another summer without you.”

Later that evening you're talking to Joel in his apartment over dinner, candles lit between you, Joel snug in your favorite flannel of his. You tell him about Elaine’s idea. He insists that you take her up on her offer. You send her a text that you’re going to stay. She replies with, “!!!” and then another text a few minutes later that reads, “go get sum, bb ;)”.

You make sure Joel can’t see that text.

When you’re done with dinner, you’re doing dishes together. He’s washing, you’re rinsing and drying. When you have dinner here, you switch who does what task– it keeps it fair, that’s what Joel had said when you started coming here a few months ago.

You can’t believe it’s been months with this amazing man. It makes you giddy: that time seems to pass so quickly with him.

He’s been quiet– well, more quiet than usual today. You think it might just be that he misses Sarah, but that theory quickly becomes dust when he finally starts to speak.

He clears his throat and breaks your comfortable silence.

“Talked to Tommy today.”

“Oh, yeah?”

He sniffs, “Yeah.”

“And what exactly did you two talk about?”

You know Joel and Tommy have never exactly gotten along. When you’d met Tommy the month before, that had been blatantly obvious. Joel loved Tommy. They both knew it– they’d never say it out loud though. But, their “talking” usually involved Tommy rambling about whatever he wanted and Joel grunting every other sentence so that he knew that he was still listening.

“He, uh– he says he’s gonna join the army.”

Your head whips towards him, “What?!”

He flattens his lips into a line and sniffs again, nodding.

“Was he fucking with you?”

That wasn’t an uncommon occurrence with Tommy. He regularly said things he knew would make Joel upset just to mess with him. Once, he had told Joel that his girlfriend at the time was pregnant just after his 17th birthday. Joel didn’t talk to him for a couple weeks after that.

He shakes his head, putting the sponge down into the lukewarm water.

Exasperated, you sigh, “Did he say why?”

“Says he wants to honor Dad or somethin’.”

You’d had discussions about Joel’s dad before. They were few and far-between, mostly because it was obvious that his father made him uncomfortable. He had died just six months after Sarah had been born– lung cancer caused by twenty-five years of smoking a pack a day, according to Joel.

Mark was a Vietnam veteran, left home at 18 to join the war effort. He’d met Essie when he was discharged with a prosthetic limb and a purple heart in 1970. Joel doesn’t know exactly what had happened to his dad in Vietnam, but he knew it was bad. He would wake up in the middle of the night to his dad screaming in his sleep– telling someone to move and then begging God to let his friend live.

Joel says he was terrified of his father, that he treated him like a “man” before he was old enough to have coherent conversations. What that meant was beyond you, but you understood that he wasn’t ready to talk about it and you were willing to wait. You would always wait.

“Do you– do you think he’s going to do it?”

He sighs, massaging his temples, “’M not sure. He… seemed pretty determined.”

Picking the sponge out of the water, he goes back to scrubbing, but now he’s doing it rougher, sponge squashed in his hand, dish squeaking aggressively. His eyebrows are scrunched together and you think you see a glint of something shiny in his eyes.

“Miller, what’s going on in that head of yours?”

He hands you the plate he was maiming to rinse and dry. You do so as he collects his thoughts.

Two more dishes are washed and dried before he says anything.

“Dad was a lot more gentle on Tommy than he ever was on me. He treated Tommy like his son, but he treated me like a soldier. Tommy had a dad, I had a General.”

He avoids eye contact with you as he continues.

“I think Tommy idolizes him too much, especially now that he’s gone and he never really saw the version of Dad that I did. The traumatized veteran.”

His shoulders shake as he sobs, choking on his words, “I don’t want Tommy to end up like Dad.”

Fuck, if that didn’t make you want to sob too. You hold yourself together for him, at least you try to. You can feel your emotions climbing up your throat, desperate to choke out of you.

You put a hand on his bicep and lean on his shoulder. The dirty water splashes when the sponge falls back into it, flicking water up and onto both of your shirts

A tear escapes his eye and lands on the top of your head, soaking into your hair. 

“Did you tell him that?”

Another sob claws out of his mouth, “Yeah. He wouldn’ listen.”

“Well, baby, you did all you could do. Seems like there’s no stopping him.”

He doesn’t say anything. His wet hand wraps around your forearm and pulls it around his back so that you’re hugging him. You squeeze your arms around his waist as he runs his fingers through your hair, clings on to the strands and guides your head to his neck. You can feel the dish water from his hands soaking into your scalp.

You press a kiss to the skin under your lips and he sighs, pulling you in even closer.

“Things will work out. Whatever happens, I’m always here.”

He nods his head into your shoulder. A high-pitched whine tumbles out of his lips involuntarily.

“It’ll be okay.”

Shit.

✦ ✦ ✦

July 1995

Friday, July 14th, 1995 marks Sarah’s fifth birthday. She invites all her friends from preschool and Joel invites everyone he knows would want to be there for his daughter. Joel told you that he had gone to text Tommy to invite him, forgetting that his brother had left for basic training a month ago. He sent him a text anyway– asking him how he was doing. He hadn’t gotten a response yet.

When you walked into the apartment, with the key that Joel had given you a month ago, to help Joel and Essie set up the party this morning, Sarah had stopped you at the door with a smirk on her face and something held behind her back.

“Hello, Queen Sugar!” She curtsies to you with her large puffy, pink dress that Essie had painstakingly spent the last month making her.

You curtsy back with your own dress, the purple sundress you had worn to the beach all those months ago, “Hello, Princess Sarah! May I come in?”

You really know she’s up to something when her smirk turns into a maniacal grin.

“No.”

Hm. Where the hell is Joel?

You get down on your knees so that you’re eye-level with her, “Why not, your highness?”

She finally pulls whatever is behind her back out and holds it out to you. It’s the silver plastic crown with the pink jewels that she had worn on her fourth birthday. The one she wears whenever she’s feeling particularly royal. It’d been slightly too big for her then, but it fit her like a glove now. 

“Because you aren’t wearing your crown yet. And you know it’s improper to attend a social event as the queen without your crown!”

Well, you didn’t know that. But you knew now. Joel’s doormat was really uncomfortable to kneel on.

“Well, of course, your highness, how could I forget that?”

She nods her head once resolutely.

“But I must ask, why aren’t you wearing a crown?”

She puts her hands on her hips, “I’ve decided that since it is your first Guppy birthday, your majesty, that you must wear the crown! It’s only fair that I share.”

Holding the crown out in front of her, she declares with determination, “All hail, Queen Sugar!”

You hear Essie’s graveled voice call through the apartment behind Sarah, “Mariposa, come help your abuela with decorating your cookies!”

She plops the crown on your head and runs into the apartment, leaving the door wide open. Well, so much for decorum.

“Hey, sugar.” A hand pops into your vision from the stairs beside you.

He’s got a couple bags of decorations in his left arm and is holding out the other for you to take.

“Hey,” you groan as he pulls you up onto your feet, “You want some help?”

“Nah, I got it.” He urges you inside with a wave of his hand and he walks in behind you.

The furniture that usually is cluttered around his living room is pushed to the walls, so that there’s more space for the kids to play. You notice a basket full of her toys sits in wait in the corner of the room, filled past the brim with pink.

“Lovin’ the crown, baby,” he smiles, setting the paper bags on the couch.

It’s crooked, askew from Sarah’s hasty exit.

“Thanks. Apparently I wasn’t allowed to attend a public event without one because it was ‘improper’.” You put quotes on the last words with your fingers.

“Well, if the princess says…” Coming around the side of the couch, he stands in front of you. You look up at him through your lashes as he adjusts the crown so it sits straight on your head. He’s done it enough with his little girl to know how to get it just right so the tight plastic doesn’t dig into your scalp.

“Thank you,” you whisper and press a chaste kiss to his lips.

He chuckles, snaking his arms around your waist, “Anything for the queen.”

You hum as he presses another kiss to your lips, longer this time, soft. You love these moments with Joel– the ones where he’s put himself in the moment, so that he isn’t thinking about the millions of things he needs to get done. But really, you love every moment you get to have with Joel.

“Daddy!” Sarah’s running into the living room with frosting smeared on her hands and all across her cheek and Joel puts himself to work getting it off her in the bathroom as you start to pull decorations out of the bags. Her birthday party this year is Sesame Street themed. When Joel had suggested it to her, she had jumped around the room screeching about all the decorations she needed and where to put them and how she needed to invite Elmo now so he would get his invitation on time. You had been in charge of the return letter from Elmo where he reluctantly declined her invitation with a crude drawing of himself in the bottom corner (Joel didn’t stop laughing at how horrible it looked for a week afterwards, “He looks like he got run over by a semi, baby.”). She wrote him back saying she understood and drew a heart and a smiley face at the bottom.

“Elaine’s gonna be late, she got held up with something.” You tell Joel as you hand him a freshly-blown balloon. He’d gotten the frosting off Sarah and then urged her into a nap so that she could be at full energy for her party.

He chuckles, “Oh, really? And what was that?”

Rolling your eyes, you sigh with a grin, “Robin.”

The mean blonde you had met in November in your dorm room after finding out about Sarah has been slowly worming her way into your heart. While you’ve been spending most of your summer with Joel, Elaine’s been spending most of her’s with Robin, who had stayed on campus this break to take summer classes. At first you’d been hesitant to encourage the relationship, Robin hadn’t made a very good impression, but Elaine seemed really happy, happier than you’d seen her in your entire friendship, and Robin’s grumpy attitude was growing on you.

“Good for her.”

“Yeah, good for her, but not so good for my sleep schedule.”

Turns out living in a house alone with Elaine all summer was great, except for the fact that the walls were a little too thin for your liking. You’d been learning a bit more about Elaine’s sex life than you wanted to know.

You watch as Joel attempts to wrap the string around the knot on the balloon with little success, his large fingers getting in the way of themselves.

“Gimme,” you mumble, holding your hand out.

He reluctantly hands the balloon and string over with a bashful smile.

Deftly, you string the balloon and watch it rise to the ceiling as you let it go. It wobbles back and forth and then finally stays in place.

“You could stay here tonight if you wanted? You’ve got those extra clothes you left in my drawer just in case.”

The drawer.

The drawer had been a very big deal to you when he first offered it casually one night when you’d realized you had forgotten to bring an outfit for the next day. 

“You already left a toothbrush here, just leave a couple outfits here too. I’ll clear a drawer for you.”

Joel was very confused when you had started to cry. Through heaving breaths and tears you had explained to him that you had never been given a drawer before.

It didn’t help that you were PMSing really bad that day (which had been the entire reason you had come over in the first place).

You give him a smile, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby.”

You know there won’t be any sex, Joel made it pretty clear the first time you had stayed here when Sarah was home that he was not comfortable with that while she was in the apartment. The wall's thinness didn’t leave anything to the imagination and her room was right next to his. That was okay though, you enjoyed sleeping on the heater that was Joel Miller and that was good enough for you.

“Okay.” You stand up and give him a kiss on the cheek.

He pats your ass as you walk towards the kitchen. You send him a glare back with a smirk.

Everyone starts arriving at four, except your best friend, and you watch as Joel tries his best to wrangle six toddlers to do the activities that he’d planned. He bought some coloring books and told the kids to bring their own crayons because he had thought that maybe that would be a calming activity, but as you had predicted two weeks ago when he told you his plan, it had quickly devolved into drawing on the fold out table and somehow finding markers and drawing on each other. You helped him toss the drawing stuff in his room when the kids were distracted by Sarah telling the story of how you had almost “improperly” walked into her birthday party without your crown on. The kids thought she was hilarious.

Sarah is instantly captivated when Elaine walks through the door, like everyone is when they first meet her.

“Your hair is so pretty,” Sarah squeals, balancing on the balls of her feet.

Elaine gasps, a smile lighting up her face as she hands you her bag to put in Joel’s room, “Oh my god, your hair is so pretty too, baby girl.”

“I’m Sarah Esperanza Miller.” She recites her full name with a smile on her face, proud of her name.

Elaine holds her hand out for her to take, “Hi, Sarah. I’m Elaine Jo MacKenzie.”

She perks up, her whole body suddenly standing at attention. “Wait here!”

Elaine grabs your elbow and pulls you into her body, giving you a light kiss on the cheek while you both watch Sarah run to her room across the house– weaving and dodging through the crowd. She peeks around your body to look at Joel, a dreamy grin on her face.

“She’s beautiful, Joel.”

He smiles, running a hand through his hair, “Thank you.”

She looks up at you, “You’re a lucky motherfucker.”

You laugh lightly, “I know.”

She adjusts the crown on your head.

“It’s crooked,” she explains, nodding when she determines that it’s perfect.

You nuzzle your nose into her hair; it smells like strawberries.

“Thank you.”

When Sarah comes back, she’s hiding something behind her back, an excited smile taking over her chubby cheeks.

She goes to Elaine, pulling her arm out of your own and down so she’s kneeling in front of her.

“Can I touch your hair?”

Joel sighs, “Baby, that’s not–”

Elaine doesn’t break eye contact with her as she answers her, “Of course, you can. Thank you for asking. That was really polite.”

Sarah looks up to her dad, silently asking him for permission and he nods his head.

“As long as she says ‘yes’, then it’s okay.”

Elaine nods too when she turns back to her and Sarah tucks Elaine’s puffy mess of hair behind her ear and sticks a small, pink butterfly clip just above her ear. Joel recognizes it as her favorite hair accessory, one of the only ones that Joel can easily style her hair with.

Elaine gasps, jumping up and finding the nearest mirror, and smiles when she sees herself in it. She delicately adjusts the clip so that it is more secure. “Oh, baby girl, I love it! Thank you!”

Sarah giggles uncontrollably, “I knew it would look pretty on you!”

“Well, of course, you knew– you’re a genius, baby!”

She kneels back on the ground and holds her arms out, an invitation for a hug. Sarah runs into her arms and she huffs with the force of her tiny body colliding with her chest.

You knew that Sarah would love Elaine; her eccentric joy was so magnetic that this automatic connection between the two of them just made sense. She had always made friends easily, but Elaine was an expert at entertaining children.

Sarah runs off to go play with her friends, so Elaine comes back up to take your arm again.

“Hey, we’re matching,” she points out, flicking the big jewel on the crown on your head.

“We are.”

Elaine’s eyes soften as she looks down at you, always taller than you when she actually straightened out her spine (which she so rarely did).

“Sarah’s girls.”

You nod.

Sarah’s girls.

series masterlist | masterlist of all masterlists 🌼 | eras masterlist 🌻

[some-stars]

@yellowwwcrayon asked for things to be sent to them to cheer them up. so i wrote logan getting jealous over someone flirting with wade, as requested. hope it helps <3

They stop by the diner on the next block the morning after their first night in the new place, a narrow two-bedroom about twenty percent bigger and six blocks further from the subway. By the time the waitress gets them to their table, Wade already has her laughing, surprised and genuine, and the way she locks eyes with him when she pours his coffee is--it's nothing that Logan should feel any way about, but after a thoroughly sleepless night in his own bedroom, alone in bed for the first time in three months, he's given up pretending. It makes him feel a way.

She walks off and Wade doesn't watch her go. "So how'd you sleep last night? Is the luxury of a double bed all to yourself everything you were promised it would be?"

"It was fine," Logan says. The mattress had been an improvement over the pullout couch, at least.

"I starfished so hard," Wade says. "I went full snow angel. It was incredible." He sighs, smiling blissfully. Which is fine. Of course he prefers having his own space.

Wade lists the thrift stores he wants to check for dishes and furniture. Logan nods along and scans the menu for what to suggest to Wade when he inevitably forgets to look at it and the waitress asks what he wants.

She comes back after a couple minutes. "What can I get you guys?"

"Eggs over easy with bacon and home fries," Logan says, handing over his menu.

Wade looks his own up and down, fast enough that he's definitely not actually reading it. "I want. Uh. Logan, what do I want?"

"Waffles," Logan tells him.

"Fantastic choice." Wade gives him a thumbs up. "Waffles please, Emily. Can they come with strawberries and whipped cream?"

"Well..." She smiles at him. "I mean, they don't, but we have strawberries for the fruit salad and whipped cream for sundaes, so I'm sure we can make that happen."

Wade smiles back, bright and genuine. They're both being completely genuine. She's not pretending to be charmed for a bigger tip; she just likes Wade. Logan can't exactly blame her for that. And Wade likes her. It's hard to tell exactly how much, though. He's been in a good mood since Logan woke up.

"Emily," Wade says, "you're an angel. The biblically accurate kind, which is way cooler than a dude in a robe."

Emily giggles like she's recognizing a reference to something. She's good-looking, late twenties, maybe. Black hair in a ponytail and tortoiseshell glasses and fucking besotted with Wade, who may or may not realize he's flirting with her. There's no reason for him not to flirt with her.

Logan doesn't realize he's scowling until she leaves and Wade leans across the table. "What's got your fur all puffed out, kittycat?" he says. "I haven't seen that level of bitch face from you in weeks."

He makes his face go neutral, probably. "Nothing. What were you saying about IKEA?"

"Ridiculously overpriced for the quality, ever since they became a cultural icon. You're literally just paying for the brand at this point."

The food can't take more than ten minutes to arrive, but Emily manages to stop by to refill their coffee twice. By the time she sets Logan's eggs in front of him, she's calling Wade by his name and making some kind of reference to a TV show that apparently went off the air over twenty years ago, which of course Wade understands.

The idea of Wade hitting it off with someone, dating them, finding someone to be serious about again, should make Logan glad for him. God knows the guy deserves it. And the worst part is Logan is glad, it genuinely feels good to see Wade happy and looking comfortable to be out in public without the mask, with someone who clearly really likes him.

It just also feels fucking terrible, for reasons Logan hasn't even had a full day yet to consciously process.

Emily sets Wade's plate down, revealing that the strawberry slices on the waffle have been arranged into a smiley face. Wade claps his hands in delight. Logan's spoon bends in his fist. He puts some food in his mouth without tasting it, because he's genuinely worried he might say something. 

Wade blows a kiss at Emily as she walks backwards away from the table, and Logan makes a noise around his eggs. Wade looks back at him, eyebrows raised.

"Did something go down the wrong pipe, peanut?"

"A little young for you, isn't she?" It sounds stupid coming out of his mouth. He doesn't know why he's saying anything at all. 

Wade doesn't lower his eyebrows. "Thirty-two is pretty solidly in my half-your-age-plus-seven range. Not that you have a leg to stand on. Blind Al isn't even in your range. You can pretty much only date vampires."

"Thirty-two?" Logan says, skeptical. "How do you know?"

"She told me," Wade says. "You were there, looking like she just took a dump in your pina colada. For no apparent reason, since she definitely didn't do that."

Logan's so fucking stupid. "Forget it."

Wade shakes his head. "No, sorry, I'm interested now. It was a joke before, but literally if you had cat ears they'd be flat as hell right now. Tail swishing ominously, puffed up, the whole nine yards. Why are you so pissed someone's being nice to me?"

"I'm not--" 

Wade reaches over and pulls the bent spoon out of Logan's hand. "Sure. Cool as a cucumber, that's you. Seriously, did she do something bad?"

He's frowning, a little, like he's genuinely open to the possibility of the woman he's into having some secret evil tell that only Logan noticed. He always takes Logan so fucking seriously. Nobody's done that since--he can't remember. Since before everything went wrong. 

"She's fine," Logan says. He thinks he sounds mostly normal. "It's fine. Fuck off."

Wade's eyes go cartoonishly wide, and Logan's stomach turns over. "Holy fucking shit are you jealous?"

"Shut the fuck up," Logan says, low and dangerous. Wade's grin practically splits his face in half.

"You're jealous, oh my god. You like me. You have a crush on me, oh my god, this is so fucking cool."

He can't do this. "Go fuck yourself," he snarls, and slides out of the booth and stands up. His face feels hot. He wants to punch Wade, but he wants to get out of here more; he's three long steps away when Wade calls after him.

"Logan, wait!" He sounds urgent. Almost scared, which doesn't make any sense. "It's okay, I'm not--I'm sorry, I'm being a huge asshole. Please don't storm out of our first brunch in the new neighborhood, I'll be too sad to put the receipt in my scrapbook. There'll just be a blank space. It'll be heartbreaking."

Logan's so fucking tired. From not sleeping, but even more from Wade sounding genuinely apologetic, like he thinks he's done something wrong. Logan sighs and turns around. The spoon is spinning back and forth in Wade's fingers. He probably doesn't even know he's fidgeting with it.

"Can you just not fucking joke about it?" he mutters, and sits heavily back down.

"No, I'm not--I mean, it's not--" Wade frowns, pressing his lips together like he wants to say something. 

Logan waits, for lack of any better option.

"I like you too," Wade says. It comes out in a rush, quiet and earnest. "I like you a lot. More than Emily. Was she really flirting with me? I don't think she was flirting with me. Can I come sit on your side, or is that too forward?" His brow furrows, and he leans back, away from Logan. "Not that you're like, required to date me now, just because you have--wow, I am making a lot of assumptions, sorry, it's just kind of nerve-wracking because you haven't said anything or even moved a single muscle in your face and I'm starting to feel like I've drastically misjudged the situation but I can't figure out how and it's making me a little manic."

"Wade," Logan says. Wade's mouth shuts. Something in Logan's chest clenches tight for a second, then flutters open.

He slides over to the inside of the booth, making room.

When Emily comes back with yet more coffee, Logan watches her face fall. She takes a breath and rolls her shoulders back. "How's everything tasting?" she says, with a smile only a little less bright. 

"Fantastic," Wade says. "Are these local strawberries?"

"It's November," she says, "so no."

"Then I must just be tasting the love you put into them," Wade says, squeezing Logan's hand. Logan nudges Wade's foot with his own and smiles down at his plate as Emily laughs. 

"Oh shit, she was flirting with me," Wade hisses once she's gone again. "What the fuck, that never fucking happens! I mean it used to happen constantly but then, you know, Extreme Makeover: Face Edition. Which makes your sudden affection all the more inexplicable, but--gift horse, mouth, et cetera. We should tip her a lot, I think."

"Yeah," Logan agrees. "She's got good taste. Ought to be rewarded."

"Now you're flirting with me?" Wade's voice comes out higher than normal. He coughs. "Tell me your feelings on PDA, I need to know right now immediately."

Wade is staring at his mouth, swaying even further into his space. Logan tries to remember how he felt five hours ago in the pre-dawn dark, alone in his cold too-wide bed, but it's already fuzzed over and distant.

"Go for it," he says, and then he's being kissed. Wade's mouth is sweet with syrup, and pleasantly bitter beneath that. Logan kisses him back, loses track of time for a minute.

When they leave, Wade puts enough cash on the table to cover their bill twice over. Logan adds another ten dollars and his silent, fervent thanks.

[the-flaneur]

if you seek it, why owe you? (mv1)

pairing: husband!max verstappen x wife!reader [smau]

summary: following the fia's controversial ruling on your husband's swearing, you find some creative ways to p*ss them off as well

warnings: swearing (duh)

a/n: sorry this is coming a bit late - was going to post it straight after the singapore grand prix, but here we are over a week late (but it guess it's just in time for max's birthday, so... it all worked out)

also if u saw me post this earlier, no you didn't... (tumblr is actually censoring me like MBS, and yeah it's actually getting annoying now, welp...)

[masterlist]

face claim: naomi schiff

-> twitter

-> daily mail

-> instagram

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen, landonorris, bestfriend and others

yourusername the FIA can't do 💩 against me, but because i do have a manager and a reputation to uphold - here's instead what i have to say:

[SEE IT ALL ON MY TWITTER 🤪]

view all comments

maxverstappen1 schatje, i appreciate the support, but i also do not want to be subjected to community service with you

yourusername woowowowoww, i defend u with my life and this is what i get 🥺 user1 HAHAHAHAHAHA MAX NOT WANTING TO BE SUBJECTED TO COMMUNITY SERVICE WITH HIS WIFE 🤣 user2 tbf, y/n would probably just be cursing them all under her breath the whole time, whilst max just laughs and points from the side

yourmanager babes, i'm this close to taking control of your social media accounts, just so the rest of the team doesn't need to be subjected to this torture 😔

yourusername i'm just exerting my human rights here 👉👈 yourmanager ok fine... but i expect a pay raise next month yourusername deal 👍 user3 i'm pretty sure i would develop an aneurysm from working with y/n every second day user4 SAME SAME 😰 like ily queen, but you're a PR nightmare

user5 nah but lowkey, people saying that she was going to be punished by the FIA are delusional. like she's not a driver, too many people love her and she gives zero 💩 - even if they gave her a punishment, she would have no qualms just 💩 on it

user6 SOOOOO REAL, like if they had any jurisdiction over what the wags or family said at the paddock, i think the FIA would be absolutely torn to shreds

lewishamilton 🤭 pt2 to the obligatory 💩 the FIA?

user7 this is why he's my GOAT 🐐 user8 bro still remembers the jewellery controversy maxverstappen y/n tried to convince me to get n*pple piercings in retaliation for that 😑 yourusername i was so close 😔 LIKED BY lewishamilton user9 the more i learn about this couple, the more i realise that max really does match y/n's freak

bestfriend POP OFF BESTIE! SHOW THEM WHO'S THE BADDEST B*TCH 😝

yourusername LOVE YOU QUEEN - WANNA COME OVER FOR DRINKS? bestfriend SURE 🙏🙏🙏 user10 i'm waiting for a drunk story that has yourusername and bestfriend flipping off the camera and saying 💩 MBS

redbullracing we love you queen 😘

yourusername love you too admin 💋💋💋 user11 are we interrupting something...? redbullracing yes yourusername yes maxverstappen 🤨

user9 can't wait for y/n to start a podcast where she just talks about absolutely whatever she wants - better yet, doing paddock interviews

user12 absolute cinema, would sell a kidney for that 😫 user13 wait for max to join her with his outdoor press conference: power couple move 💪

landonorris can i join in?

mclaren lando please no, please no 🙏 - pr manager user14 god, he's scared off his team as well user15 welp, guess we aint seeing y/nlando content anytime soon guys yourusername it's ok everyone, i know the back entrance to the mclaren motorhome - carlos told me carlossainz55 that was our secret...

-> paddock interview

-> twitter

permanent f1 taglist (comment or msg me to join)

@charlesgirl16

© the-flanuer || do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platform.

[bengals-barnesbabe]

Picture Day

Tee Higgins x Chase!Reader

Desc: You start getting antsy 5 weeks postpartum and find something to do with your hands.

TW: nothing too bad, mostly fluff.

Princess Ti | Main Masterlist

WC: about 1k

＊✿❀ *. ꕥ * · ❀✿＊

The buzz from your clippers fed your creative soul. You had only come in the salon to reminisce and take some time to yourself while your baby girl naps. You couldn't help but miss the chatter of clientele and the smell of coconut oil usually in the air. The pristine white counters in front of each station were completely bare, only each counter’s handheld hair dryer sticking out of the black cubbies.

Sitting in front of the first station, you think back to when your husband asked you what you really wanted in your home. It was a ballsy ask, in your opinion; you weren’t even sure what he meant by it. But he said you could turn the basement into whatever you wanted. It baffled you because you thought he’d want a man cave to escape the realities of marriage. That’s what your dad did, so you thought it was normal to think so.

So you tossed around the idea of taking on more personal and private clients in a home suite. A month later, he pleasantly surprised you with a fully furnished and functional home salon. It resembled a mini version of your main salon in the city. There is nothing that man wouldn't do for you.

After giving birth, Tee kicked into full dad mode. When he said your only job once Tiana was born was to just take care of her, he did not go back on his word. He's been an absolutely phenomenal father and partner, always taking her when you need a break, making sure you eat and stay hydrated, and even getting up during the night to calm her down. Him and your brother are literally upstairs putting together a new nursery glider so your morning feedings can be cozier.

Maybe that's why you're so antsy. You were so used to always caring for others; now that someone is holding you down the same way, you don't know what to do with yourself. You don't even cook anymore. Your mom has been handling all the meals so you can take time and heal. Everything they were doing was amazing, and you deeply appreciated it, but damn, you were bored.

The sound of your phone buzzing made your train of thought drown.

Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

we're done with yo fancy ass chair, come see it while Titi still sleep

sent at 2:23 pm

You thought about going back upstairs for a minute, but a different idea caught your attention.

To: Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

I have a better idea, you bring your wack ass fade to the basement and come sit in my chair😌

read at 2:27 pm

Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

arent you supposed to be resting, imma tell momma👎🏾

To: Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

Im offering you a free haircut and you wanna go rat me out😑 don't you have team pictures in a few days👀

Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

fine im coming, but when momma finds out I'm blaming you

To: Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

yea right, just come down here. AND DONT TELL TEE!

Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

yea... a little late for that one😬

read at 2:33 pm

Great, just when you thought you'd be able to do your own thing, your little brother goes and fucks it up before it happens.

Oh well, you shrugged and walked over to the back of the salon for your supplies to set up for Ja'Marr's haircut. You grabbed an apron for you and a barber cape for him (even though you should let him be itchy for threatening to snitch), your black pro clippers, a razor, a number 1 and 2 comb, some holding spray, and a brush. Then, set up your chair.

Minutes later, you were all ready, and your client walked in with your husband.

"Y/n, what are you doing?" He asked with an amused smirk on his face.

"I'm giving my brother the haircut he so desperately needs." You smile back, patting the back of the chair for J to sit down.

"You're supposed to be resting." He crosses his arms as you drape the cape over your brother.

Smirking, you untie your apron and walk up to your husband with your hands on your hips. "Look at me, babe." You slowly spin around to give him an eyeful of your postpartum baby body.

"I see you, mamas. Trust me, I see you." The very nice thing about everyone making sure you take care of yourself these last few weeks has been your ability to prioritize your "snap back." You weren't working out to get to a certain shape. You were just prioritizing strengthening your core, which meant some belly binding, light ab exercises, and self-care. You were nowhere near your pre-baby weight, but you liked the extra curves, and someone else did too.

"You can't just expect me to just sit down and wait for Tiana to wake up. I gotta keep my body active, practice my trade."

He knew you were saying words, but ever since that apron came off, his mind was somewhere else. "Oh, I know how you can get active."

"Alright, y'all just nasty. Am I getting my hair done or what?" Ja'Marr groans from behind you.

"Yea Tee, you gon' let me work or what?" You say, biting your lip.

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. "Fine," he says, pulling a waiting chair over to the corner of your area. The 6-week rule playing over and over in his mind.

"Good, now let's get to work. Don't worry babe, you're next." You chirp, picking up the brush to begin the haircut.

But Ja'Marr jerks his head away. "Ay, Y/n don't go too rough now."

You can't help but snort. "Yes, yes, I know. You too tenderheaded for my skills."

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

~ a/n: yall see what I did there ;) last addition to the au for a while. time to go work on some other fics ♡

[aangelinakii]

a possible idea for your soulmates part 2 - maybe reader crosses paths with bruce wayne and has a weirdly similar experience of being unable to lie to him. if reader puts two and two together or one of them manages to get away before realisation hits - it’s up to you.

THE NIGHT SHIFT.

— what's he doing here?

summary : after batman let you off with a warning (of sorts?) you decide to lay low for a bit, lay off the house burglaries for a bit, maybe get a job in the mean time. adhering to capitalist culture and all that. however, you have an encounter with bruce wayne that leaves you just as confused as your encounter with the dark knight.

note : thank you so much for your suggestion it really helped !!!! i'm kind of thinking of continuing this 🤭 but i'd love some suggestions from here !

part one here

it wasn't ideal; getting caught, getting interrogated by the bat, not being able to mask your words with the oppsite of truths, and then getting let out. unlike your usually chaotic lifestyle, it was difficult to get your head around, even a few weeks later.

sky dark, save for the few streetlights that were dotted around the sidewalk, you pressed the button on your keys to lock your car behind you, hearing a beep to let you know it was now locked up tight.

desperate times call for desperate measures; like hitting the grocery store thirty minutes to midnight because you realised you were out of ramen packs. and to clock in to your night shift.

late nights were something you were used to, even now, as you were currently trying to stray away from robbing unsuspecting people. but it was sickening, having to give in and get a job.

fuck capitalism, really. you much preferred getting an income by pawning the goods you stole from the bourgeoisie.

even in the late, late hours of the night, the convenience stores stayed open, and there was always at least one customer in there. so you were never really alone.

you, with your plastic bag of ramen packs lingering by your feet as you stood behind the counter with a name tag pinned to your shirt. you, with almost a million dollars worth in jewellery and riches hiding in a lockbox beneath your bed at home. you, who hadn't been able to lie to the bat.

funny how things work out.

that annoying sound that chimed through the store when the doors open came again, and you glanced up, although unable to make out the figure from behind the shelves and their basebell hat, so your eyes trailed down to the cctv monitor on the till.

the footage was fuzzy, grainy, and did nothing to help you identify the customer, but sometimes it was fun to try and figure out if you've stolen from them before.

squinting to no avail, you took a step back and let out a soft sigh. sure, nights were fun, and you spent most getting up to no good, but this was tiring.

standing around, talking to people who are either high with the munchies, or are buying cigarettes. it takes a lot to not groan and roll your eyes.

as tonight's customer approached, you began to think some flavour would be added to your night shift.

from beneath that cap, you could recognise those eyes anywhere. pale blue beneath dark, mildly furrowed eyebrows, chiseled jaw and angular nose. the face from newspapers, the face from television, the face from billboards you pass each and every day.

the face you tried to steal from that night you got caught.

he placed one of the blue plastic baskets on the till, offering a polite smile, before his eyes met yours, and the expression faltered.

"good evening, sir. how are you?" you smiled, pulling the items from his basket to scan them. it wasn't every day bruce wayne came into your little supermarket. not in this part of town, anyway.

it wasn't like you had any experience being famous, but it probably was better to do your night shops away from where the paps would find you. if your personal assistant was sick.

but bruce wayne didn't give you the assumed automated reply you were expecting.

"i know you," he stated, seemingly shellshocked by what he was seeing.

eyebrows creasing slightly, your scanning paused momentarily, grip on the laundry detergent faltering. "you.. do?"

the way you spoke wasn't starstruck — like anybody would be if bruce wayne told them he knew them, for whatever reason — it was suspicious. after all, you had tried to steal from him only a few weeks ago.

what if he'd found out where you worked, and came all the way here to kill you?

his lips trembled, jaw in place as it hang slightly open, eyes still on you. "uhh..."

this guy was nothing like how he seemed on television.

he looked like he wanted to say no, but he blurted out, "yes."

brows twitching for a second, you looked down to continue scanning, placing the laundry detergent into a plastic bag. he's bruce wayne, he can pay an extra ten cents.

"i'm sorry, i don't recall." you glanced back up at him, reaching for an energy drink. "i think i would remember meeting you, sir."

"right," bruce wayne responded frigidly. if bruce wayne could be nervous, you think that's what he was right now. "of course."

but you were curious now. as you scanned and packed, you asked further. "so, mister wayne. where did we meet?"

the billionaire customer before you seemed to gulp, a bead of sweat trailing down the side of his head, coming from the rim of his cap. you were making this really difficult for him, and you didn't know why.

finally, you scanned the final product — a block of parmesan — and placed it in the ten-cents plastic bag, and bruce wayne answered your question, causing you to freeze.

"you tried to steal from me."

when you finally looked up, after a moment of the deafening thrum of your racing heart in your ears, the man looked just as out of place as you. his hands were curled into fists, shaking by his sides anxiously, and his jaw was tense as his molars clenched in the back of his mouth.

sorry, i have no idea what you mean.

that's what you were supposed to say, what you'd meant to say. but the words that truly came from your lips were, "i didn't actually take anything, i hope you know."

"i know."

despite the words not being what you meant to say, and the utter horror shared on both of your poor faces, the conversation seemed to flow. you couldn't help the smile of recognition that appeared on your lips, despite yourself, and him.

"i was the one that caught you."

once again, your smile faltered, a crease forming in your forehead. bruce wayne had caught you? no, he wasn't there.

clearly what was going on here, was that he'd been to a party and had too much bubbly, decided to come here for reinforcements (to keep away a hangover). he wasn't in his right mind, and would probably benefit from you not telling anyone about this.

you dragged your eyes away from his form, a hot red flush forming upon his face.

"um.. your total will be $15.25."

wordlessly, he opened his leather wallet and placed a twenty on the counter, before grabbing the handles to the bag and walking off quickly, the doors chiming as he left, leaving you fizzing with confusion.

hey, at least you didn't have to work out the change.

[xetlynn]

Twilight Imagines- Embry Call

Imprint Mess

[Masterlist]

Requested by: @justannadahfanfictor

Summary: In which Embry and [name] are best friends but lately Embry has been avoiding her. Paul notices how down [Name] is and offers up a distraction. She takes it and Embry finds out the next day.

I sit outside on my porch, thinking about something Paul said earlier. Lately Embry hasn't been talking to me much. I purse my lips, not knowing how to take what was offered to me just hours ago.

Normally Embry, Quill and I hang out together in the afternoon but this past week it's like he wants nothing to do with me. Bringing Quill with him. I'd like to say I'm unbothered by it but I am not. At all. And since that I've had such strong feelings for Embry for a long time now. He's all that's on my mind since we were 12 years old, a year after becoming friends.

Everyone seemed to know about it except for the boy himself. Or he recently found out and this is why he's avoiding me. "Hey, you out here just to mope?" My sister sits beside me and I look over at her. "I'm not moping." I shake my head, taking a drink out of her soda can she brought out here. "Mhm, that's why everyone has told me you're not joining the cookout tonight." She takes the can from my hand right as I was about to drink it again.

The cookout is mainly the wolf pack talking about things. They invite peoples partners and certain family members that know about it. I only know because of Seth and Leah turning. Then I found out how Paul and the others did too. Later on Embry did as well, he told me immediately. We talked all the time. I don't know why he's acting so different. I sigh. "I just don't feel up to being with everyone tonight." I lie, well partially.

"Ah, okay." Leah acts like she's about to drop it but instead she starts talking again. "Have you talked to Embry lately?" She asks me, I look over at her with a bored expression. Then it's like something clicks in her head. "Is he the reason you're not coming tonight?" She questions me, her body lifting up dramatically as if this is crazy information. I scrunch my face, shaking my head. "Leah, please leave me alone." I plead with her.

"You can talk to me, y'know." She says, standing up from her spot. "Thank you but I just need a second." I give a short smile and she gives me a sad one in response before heading back inside. I look out in the road. I see someone walking up to the house and I begin to stand up to go inside, going to grab at the door. Not wanting to deal with a social interaction. "Wait, [Name]. It's me." The voice calls after me, I turn around to see Paul. I huff, standing up straight and walking off the porch to talk to him.

"I was hoping I didn't scare you off with my offer. I heard you're weren't joining us tonight. I needed to make sure you were okay." He tells me, I shrug my shoulders, putting my hands in my back pockets. "I am fine. I needed time to think about everything."

"I didn't scare you off?" He tilts his head, I laugh. "No, you didn't. I just- I'm still stuck on Embry. I don't know. It's stupid." I look at the ground, just feeling dumb about everything. "[Name], I don't think it's stupid. Embry's an idiot for not realizing what he has." He tells me and I don't respond, not knowing what to say to that. "Let me distract you." He whispers and my heart begins to race. I glance back to my house then to him.

I think about how Embry has canceled on me. I think about how he has been avoiding me, not understanding why. Treating me like a bad friend. We aren't even together, we've never really flirted to begin with. He doesn't have feelings for me so what does it matter. I finally give Paul my eye contact. "Not here. My siblings are staying the night."

He smiles, taking my hand and we go to his truck. There was a weird tension between us. The ride was silent until I decided to make a move. Place my hand on his thigh and trailing up. I was focusing on what I was doing until he gripped my wrist before I could move any closer. "I'm going to have to pull this vehicle over to the side of the road if you don't stop." He warns me.

I don't listen, and he ends up pulling into the driveway and we don't get out.

And after that we go to his house and do the same thing. The next day was not even awkward. We agreed we didn't have feelings for one another, this was a one time thing. Just a distraction of things we were both dealing with.

I got all my stuff together, throwing it on and using the bathroom to check if I look decent. Paul had left already and I don't know exactly when. He just left a small note on the bed beside me. I exist the house and begin to walk. It's a 2 mile distance from my house. Which isn't bad and it's nice outside surprisingly.

I think about last night, how everything went down and all I feel is guilt. Like I did something wrong. I feel sick to my stomach and it won't go away. The entire 2 mile walk of shame was just me practically bullying myself about my decision. I don't necessarily regret it.

I finally get into the yard of my house, tiredly I go to sit on the porch before going inside. I hide my head in my hands. Sitting there for a while. "[Name]."

And I get deja vu. I look up to see Embry. I furrow my eyebrows as he comes up to me in anger. "What's your deal?" I ask him, not getting up from my spot. He stands in front of me. "You hooked up with Paul?!" He loudly asks me and my jaw drops. I shush him, looking back at the house to make sure my siblings weren't eavesdropping or something. "Excuse me?"

"You hooked up with Paul? Out of everyone? Why would you do that?" He questions me, I stand up on the first step of the porch, now being the same height as him. "I can do what I want Embry." I cross my arms.

He seems stunned for a moment. "It just seems out of nowhere. That's strange, I feel like you would've told me if you were interested in... someone like him." He is kind of talking to himself. Not looking me in the eyes. I let out an annoyed breath. "Embry, why are you here?" I ask him.

"I thought we were best friends and I have to find out in a weird way that you're hooking up with Lahote." He says, I laugh rolling my eyes. "Best friends? You have been avoiding me and canceling our plans nonstop these past two weeks. Making me feel like crap. Who cares if I didn't tell you I slept with someone? What does it matter?!" I yell at him, pointing a finger in his chest. I can't believe he would blow up like this. I figured he would find out but he has no right to be upset. I then feel weird, like I need to be closer to him.

"I haven't been avoiding you." He scoffs, my eyes widen. "Seriously? Anytime I join everyone you don't talk to me and when I go up to you, you make an excuse to leave. That's not avoiding someone?"

It grows quiet and I shake my head. "I'm going inside. When you decide not to come at me all weird come talk to me, Embry." I calmly tell him, turning around to walk to the house door. The thing is, I can't get myself to actually open the door. "Wait." He sighs. "Please."

"What now?" I irritatingly turn back to him.

"I have been avoiding you but it's because I've fallen too hard for you. I needed to think about my feelings. It was a lot. I knew you didn't feel the same way. It was rude of me to avoid you though." He explains himself and my heart sinks. "I came at you because I was mad, I mean obviously. I didn't know you and Paul had feelings for each other and it hurt." He looks at the ground, ashamed. I let out a small laugh.

"Paul and I do not have feelings for each other. We did a dumb thing that's for sure." I rub my lips together in embarrassment before I continue talking. "I like you a lot Embry I've had feelings for you since we were 12. It's been 9 years. Which is just embarrassing in its self. Paul knew about it. He offered a distraction and I took it." I shrug my shoulders.

"I'm not proud of it but it's already done and I can't take it back. You hurt me by the way you avoided me. I didn't understand what I did." I tell him.

"Yeah I'm sorry. I'm an idiot." He takes the steps up the porch. Both of us sit down together on my porch swing. "You are definitely one. But I think I am too. So it's okay." I smile, clasping my hands together. "You really have feelings for me?" He asks.

"Yeah, unfortunately." I joke. He nudges me with his elbow. "I don't know where this leaves us." I tell him earnestly. He nods his head, agreeing. "I still like you. I hope you still like me." He says.

"I do."

"I'll take you out on an actual date and we figure this out together?" He asks, we both look at each other at the same time and I crack into a smile. "Are you sure?" I grin at him. "Yes." He smiles back at me.

"I would love to." I pull him into a hug. "I've missed you so much." I admit. "I missed you too, I'm sorry." He pulls me closer to him.

After a little bit I pull back and I think for a moment. "Did you go off on Paul?"

He chuckles, "No I didn't, He was thinking about it while we were in our wolf forms. He apologized immediately. I didn't respond to him. I just left to find you." He rubs the back of his head.

"Dang, at least it wasn't a huge blow out."

"Yeah, I had some sort of control. I was just hurt. I mean it's now a little weird knowing... everything. Also I think I imprinted on you in our argument." He informs me and I furrow my eyebrows.

"Is that what this overwhelming feeling is?" I ask, pushing away from him. Not mad, just curious about this. "I think so." He smiles awkwardly.

"So we're stuck together for a while." I say. "Yeah, seems like it." He pulls me back into his arms.

[thedreadvampy]

The thing is I am definitely not happy or chill in the Immediate Sense lately but I am, big picture, so fucking happy with the person I am.

It's like. My brain was made by and for consistent trauma and since that trauma stopped about 5-7 years ago, it is incredible what the amount of resilience and cleverness and flexibility and thoughtfulness I developed to survive can do when it's not being all spent on surviving. like I had a hundred ton weight on me so I had to get REALLY STRONG to stay in the same place and not get 100% crushed, and when that weight came off I found I can use the strength it used to take to stand up and I can leap tall buildings in a single bound.

I was talking to my mum the other day and she said, "you've got the 'fuck it' energy at 30 that most women don't find until their fifties at least" and I'm like yeah man. Imagine how unstoppable I'll be in 20 years.

[manasurge]

1/3 of the way done of this last page, then I can finally post it all o|-<

[dragonji]

have to be honest guys its actually going Really Badly again.

[nylarac]

many thoughts in my head

[sysig]

What a stellar event ☀️ (Patreon)

[lucalicatteart]

Poll adventure (paventure? lol) Day 10: read the small story tidbit below the poll for more details, OR just vote based on initial impression

(✦ see past poll results + further information HERE (link) ✦)

Yesterday's poll decided that The Adventurer should join the travelers on the larger river boat for a short lunch ...

~

"Before he even fully musters the courage to shout a 'hello', the large group on the boat initiates contact first, gleefully waving at him, whooping and shouting as they near his tiny raft in the water. Apparently, some of them were betting over whether they'd actually find any other travelers out on the river today.. He fumbles over his words a bit, as always, but somehow manages to successfully get himself invited onto their boat for a quick lunch..

After safely securing his raft to the side of the boat with some spare rope, he climbs aboard, stumbling into the excitement of some sort of celebration. A few of them explain that they're traveling for 'kahesallei', an old elven holiday recently re-popularized in some of the larger cities nearby. Whatever it's true meaning and origins used to be, the current significance (at least to those within the city walls) seems to just be mindless feasting, drinking, and gaudy decor. Most of the traveling group are strangers to each other, only brought together by catching a ride on the same tour/party boat, but the mood is light, quite friendly between them, and perhaps a bit drunk.

While the boat itself is relatively plain wood, it's been strewn with gold and orange banners, flags, shimmery tassels, beads, and bushels of dark green ivy braided with fresh herbs and wildflowers. There are flat round tables of food and drink, plenty of cushions to lounge on, and one random guy perched precariously on the edge railing of the boat, gently strumming a lute for background music..

The elderly ship captain hobbles over to The Adventurer, sternly explaining that, no matter what the 'silly' passengers say, he's only allowed to stay for an hour because he didn't pay for a boat ride ticket, and thus really shouldn't even be allowed on board. By the time The Adventurer has mentally processed this information, the captain has already returned to his little steering room, slamming the door shut with a displeased grunt.. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to confront him or question the rules...... But! Hey, at least he has one hour at the party.. How should he spend his time? "

~

Additional Information

the adventurer's current main goal: follow his map to reach the abandoned castle ruins and see the rare animal specialist about the mysterious egg he has

[martsonmars]

desperately trying not to have a panic attack about university hehehe

[darkmoonkestrel]

daily kestrel 10:

the spot the vet removed from Peggy a few weeks ago did contain cancer cells. she's referring us to a veterinary oncologist that she knows personally, so hopefully we'll hear more about setting up an appointment with her soon. we're trying to be hopeful about it all; Peggy is only 8 years old, and having one leg removed due to cancer in December hasn't affected her quality of life at all, so hopefully we can knock the rest of this stubborn shit out with some radiation and call it done

it's been a long day, not just because of that call at the tail end of work today. i agreed to go in early, so i got to work at 7 - lo and behold, the closing floater who usually takes my kids when I go home had a doctor's appointment this afternoon, and since I'm only working four days a week right now, I agreed to stay late too. i didn't get off until around 5:45 when the last floater got down to 8 kids in her room. i bounced around to the mobile and infant rooms for their lunch breaks today, which is always fine with me, but i'm kinda glad i'm in an older room now instead of with the littlest littles

on my lunch break i asked the d&d group if they wanted to confirm for doing my long-discussed (and little planned) oops all warforged one-off for tomorrow night and I got a resounding yes from most of the group, so i get to DM for the first time in my life tomorrow night

i called my mom on the way home from work because I needed to talk to someone about the cancer call - someone other than my director at work, who gave me a hug and told me to let them know what days I need for Peggy's appointments when I told her why I was upset. i was able to get my crying out to mom so I could put on a brave face for Paige and Peyton when I got home and not break down to them

i ditched my optional meeting for my online class tonight bc i just wasn't in the mood & instead used my time to send out character creation guidelines, set up a map on roll20, get a few enemy stat blocks, and draft the first encounter. there's still a whole bunch of variables and i'm honestly not sure where the story is going quite yet, but i've got a few different ideas so I'll see what starts to take shape tomorrow. i don't anticipate that we'll get super far, our "one shots" always turn into three or four session affairs anyway, so i think i've got enough together to go on for now. i've even tried my hand at drawing a regional map for the first time ever and i'm proud of it, even though it's only the most basic pencil sketch with a few labeled towns and a mountain range

it's almost 11 so i should go get ready for bed, there's a whole day of work tomorrow before i can even play d&d. i'm still in the office typing this on Wildberry Poptart, my phone is almost dead and i type faster on a real keyboard anyway, but inertia is a hell of a force and Peggy is standing on my lap and doing biscuits so it may be another few minutes before I actually close up for the night