#tw: divorce

[carnationworld-writings]

The Man He Didn’t Have to Be (Tim Bradford x fem!reader)

To read my other works, check my MASTERLIST !

Paring: Tim Bradford x reader

Universe: The Rookie

Word Count: 3857

Requested: No

Warnings: pregnancy, divorce, ex-husband who is a piece of s*it, mention of childbirth

If I forgot about anything feel free to write to me. Your well-being is a top priority to me.

Summary: When her world crumbles, Tim is there to step up.

Author’s note:

Surprise! I am alive! I know it's not what you wanted but, I started watching "The Rookie" and fell in love with Tim! So I needed to write something about him. I also may have a baby fever (again...) So this fic happened. Enjoy!

Thank you for taking the time to read my work! I would greatly appreciate any feedback you may have as it motivates me to continue improving. Please don't hesitate to share your thoughts!

And please forgive any grammar or spelling errors, as English is not my first language.

Klaudia 💜

Every time she thought her life couldn’t get worse, something new seemed to be waiting for her. First, her husband announced he was leaving, telling her he’d found a woman he loved in a way he had never loved her. She tried to fight for their marriage and convince him to change his mind, but nothing worked. With a broken heart, she finally decided to let him go. Even though her heart shattered into a thousand pieces, she signed the divorce papers. She attempted to rebuild her life—she found a small apartment, focused on her work, and tried not to sink into depression during the long, lonely hours. Thankfully, she wasn’t entirely alone. Tim Bradford, her best friend for years, had always been by her side, even in the middle of the night when she couldn’t stop crying or obsessing over what had gone wrong in her relationship. He was her rock, her greatest support.

Just when she thought her life was starting to settle down, she began feeling unwell. At first, she attributed it to stress, but eventually, she connected the dots and took a pregnancy test, which came back positive. She knew her ex-husband deserved to know the truth, even if he hadn’t been entirely honest with her. So, she texted him and asked to meet. What followed, however, was nothing short of her worst nightmare.

When they met at the café, she felt as if time had slowed down. He sat across from her, completely indifferent, as if everything that had happened between them was a closed chapter. He looked at her with a cold gaze, waiting for her to speak. She struggled to gather the strength to say the words that had been swirling in her head for days.

“I’m pregnant,” she finally said, looking straight at him, searching for any reaction. His face remained expressionless. For a moment, she thought maybe he hadn’t heard her. But after a second, his lips tightened, and his eyes showed a flicker of displeasure.

“The relationship between us was over long before I found someone else. This changes nothing,” he said coldly. Those words cut her like a knife. 

“I’m not telling you to come back to me… It’s your child and deserves to have a father… ” she tried to insist, though her voice trembled.

“That’s your problem. You’ll have to deal with it,” he replied emotionlessly, standing up from the table as if the meeting had been nothing more than an irritating interruption in his perfectly arranged new life.

When he left, she felt as if the world was collapsing around her. Tears welled up in her eyes, but this time, she wasn’t going to cry. Instead, she pulled out her phone and called Tim. As soon as he heard her voice, he knew something was wrong.

“Where are you?” he asked, no questions needed. “I’m on my way.”

It wasn’t even fifteen minutes before Tim was by her side, his eyes filled with concern. Without a word, he pulled her close, letting her lean on him as she fought back the tears. In his presence, she felt the tension in her body begin to ease.

“Tim… There’s something you should know. I…” She took a shaky breath. She felt his hold tighten around her. He rested his cheek against her head, softly rubbing her back with his hand.

“Whatever it is, we’ll handle it together. Like we always do,” he said calmly, trying to give her as much comfort as possible.

“I’m pregnant,” she whispered, feeling a lump in her throat. “And it’s his. But he said it’s only my problem. He doesn’t want anything to do with this baby…” For a moment, his face showed surprise, as if he was trying to process what he had just heard. He didn’t say anything at first, pulling back slightly to look at her, and she wasn’t sure how he would react. She feared that silence, that hesitation.

“Okay,” he finally said, slowly. Tim pressed his lips together, clearly upset, though he tried to stay calm. “He’s a jerk. But you won’t go through this alone. You’ll never be alone—I won’t let that happen.”

True to his word, Tim never let her feel alone. From the moment he learned about her pregnancy, he stepped naturally into a role that felt both essential and reassuring. He took over her usual shopping, refusing to let her carry a single bag, insisting it was the least he could do. Each morning, he arrived at her door with fresh breakfast, right after his run with Kojo, the loyal dog who seemed to sense the changes happening in their lives.

Even during his shifts, Tim made it a point to check-in. He texted her regularly, asking how she felt, and called just to hear her voice, attuned to any subtle shifts in her mood. But his favourite part of the day was always the evenings when he would come to her home. Most nights, she greeted him with a smile, though the fatigue etched on her face often told a different story. Each time, he pulled her into a warm embrace, holding her like a protective blanket. Some nights she hugged him back just as tightly; other times, she simply leaned into him, letting him hold her. On those nights, he sent her to the couch, where Kojo would curl up beside her, resting his head on her lap, seeking her affection.

Tim loved cooking dinner for them, always mindful of preparing meals that wouldn’t upset her stomach. He quickly learned what she could tolerate and what made her feel worse. On the rare occasions, his cooking didn’t go as planned, he would kneel beside her in the bathroom, holding her hair back and rubbing her back—his unwavering support something she had come to rely on deeply.

What he cherished most were their late-night conversations. They talked endlessly, about work, their future, and even the small details of their day. These talks deepened their bond with each passing evening.

But tonight felt different. From the moment he arrived, he noticed the exhaustion in her eyes, the way her thoughts seemed miles away. Sensing the shift, he suggested watching a movie they’d been meaning to catch up on. She quietly agreed, thankful for the distraction, and didn’t protest when he pulled her close, wrapping his arm around her.

As they settled in, her hand absentmindedly rested on her stomach, where a small bump had just begun to show. Though she tried not to dwell on it, her mind wandered back to something a colleague had said earlier. The words echoed painfully in her thoughts—that it was her fault her husband had left, and that Tim was only with her out of pity. The sting of those words hung heavy on her heart. Tim had always been her rock, but now, more than ever, she felt guilty leaning on him. This wasn’t his burden to carry; she had to find her strength in the chaos.

“Tim,” she began softly, breaking the silence. “I feel like I’ve dragged you into something you didn’t sign up for. This isn’t your responsibility. Me, this baby… we’re not your burden.”

Tim frowned, shaking his head firmly. “That’s not how I see it. I want to be here. I choose to be here. You’re important to me—always have been, always will be. Now that just extends to your baby too. You’re not dragging me into anything. I’m choosing this.”

She blinked back the tears threatening to spill over. The certainty in his voice made her heart ache in the best possible way. Maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to go through this alone. Yet doubt still lingered on the edges of her mind.

“Are you sure?” she whispered, her hands trembling slightly. “This is going to change everything.”

“I’m sure,” he replied without hesitation. Gently, he placed his hand over hers, almost covering her small bump. “We’re in this together. All three of us.” They both chuckled softly as Kojo, lying contentedly by her feet, gave a small bark. “Alright, four of us,” Tim added with a grin.

She nodded slowly and leaned back against his side. No matter what uncertainties lay ahead, Tim brought peace and safety into her life. As she felt him press a soft kiss on the top of her head, she knew that he was in this 100 percent. With him by her side, she felt ready to face every step of the journey ahead.

As the movie played in the background, a warm sense of comfort washed over her. Despite the unknowns of the future, she had her best friend, someone who believed in both her and the life they were building together. And together, they could face whatever came next.

The quiet hum of the ultrasound machine filled the small room, the rhythmic beeps syncing with her heartbeat. The sound, once foreign and unnerving, had become strangely comforting, marking each milestone of a journey she’d never thought possible. Lying back, her hand rested gently on her growing belly, feeling the warmth of the life moving inside her—a sensation that was as awe-inspiring as it was surreal. The nurse moved the cold, gel-covered probe across her skin, and though a shiver ran up her spine, she barely registered it. Her eyes were locked on the screen, waiting for the familiar grainy image of her baby to appear.

And then it did—a blur at first, slowly sharpening into the unmistakable shape of tiny hands and feet, twisting and turning as if to greet them. A soft gasp escaped her lips. No matter how many times she witnessed this, it always left her breathless.

Tim sat beside her, his eyes fixed on the monitor, a quiet smile playing on his lips. His face, usually so composed, softened with awe. He had always been good at hiding his emotions, but moments like these stripped away his calm facade. Without thinking, his hand found hers, their fingers entwining in a silent exchange of support. He gave her a gentle squeeze, then leaned in and pressed a light kiss on the top of her hand. It was a gesture so natural, so full of unspoken affection, that it nearly brought tears to her eyes.

"Everything looks perfect," the nurse said, her tone upbeat as she wiped the gel from her belly. "Baby’s healthy and growing right on track."

She nodded, a wave of relief washing over her. The tight knot of anxiety that had taken up residence in her chest loosened—if only a little. Each passing month had brought new fears and uncertainties, but slowly, those feelings were giving way to cautious hope. It had taken longer than she expected to feel this way, but now, she could finally begin to see herself as a mother. And in every vision of that future, Tim was always there, steady and unwavering, just as he had been from the beginning.

After the appointment, Tim stood and offered her his hand, helping her off the exam table with the ease of someone who had been there through every step. His presence had become her constant, a source of comfort she hadn’t known she would need but now couldn’t imagine living without. Over the months, he had kept every promise, never wavering, never complaining—always there, even when she didn’t know how to ask for help.

“How are you feeling?” he asked as they stepped outside the clinic, the crisp air hitting their faces. His hand hovered near her arm, close but not quite touching—a subtle, protective gesture, ready to catch her if she stumbled.

“I’m good,” she said, a small smile pulling at her lips. “Better than I’ve felt in a long time.”

He nodded, clearly pleased, though his eyes still scanned hers, searching for any sign of discomfort or worry. “You’re handling this like a champ,” he said softly.

She let out a light laugh. “I don’t always feel like it, but I’m trying.”

As they walked to his car, their footsteps fell into an easy rhythm, the silence between them comfortable and familiar. When they reached the car, Tim opened the passenger door for her, but before getting in, she paused, turning to face him, her expression suddenly serious.

“Tim,” she began, her voice quiet but steady, “you’ve been amazing. I wouldn’t have made it this far without you. I mean it. You’ve taken care of us—even though you didn’t have to.”

He looked at her, his warm, reassuring smile never faltering. “You don’t need to thank me,” he replied softly. “I’m just glad I can be here.”

But she saw something flicker in his eyes—something deeper, something he wasn’t saying. Tim was always so careful, so controlled with his emotions, but she had known him long enough to recognize when he was holding something back. Yet she didn’t press him. Not now.

As they drove back to her apartment, the conversation shifted to lighter topics—baby names they hadn’t yet decided on, the nursery they were slowly piecing together, and the never-ending stream of baby books filling her apartment. They laughed about the absurd number of gadgets people swore they "needed" for a newborn, trading jokes about the most ridiculous ones.

Yet beneath their playful banter, there was a tension neither acknowledged, an unspoken understanding hanging in the air. Tim had always kept his distance emotionally, respectful of her space, never pushing her for more than she was ready to give. He had made it clear from the start that he was there to support her, no matter what, and he had lived up to that promise in every way. But that didn’t stop his heart from racing when she smiled, or the way his pulse quickened when their hands brushed accidentally.

He had loved her for years—long before she had married before everything had fallen apart with her ex-husband. Tim had watched her fall for someone else, had been there when her heart broke, and now, here he was, still by her side. Taking care of her, taking care of the baby that wasn’t his.

He never said anything. He couldn’t. His feelings had to wait. Right now, all that mattered was her and the baby. His love, his desires—they would come later. For now, being there was enough. It had to be.

As the weeks passed, their lives settled into a comforting rhythm, though they didn’t notice the subtle shift that began to happen between them. Unspoken feelings hovered just beneath the surface, and they found themselves growing closer, more open with one another. Friends started to notice too. They exchanged knowing smiles as Tim’s touch lingered a little longer on her arm or back.

Angela Lopez had rolled her eyes more than once when hearing endless stories about “Tim’s friend” and all the thoughtful things he did for her and the baby. Whenever she visited the station with sweet treats for everyone, Angela often caught Tim and her in quiet moments, where their connection seemed palpable. More than once, Angela noticed the way she would place his hand over her bump when the baby kicked, and how Tim responded with a smile that said more than words ever could.

The biggest change came one evening while they were assembling the crib. She sat comfortably in a rocking chair, one hand resting on her belly, the other absentmindedly petting Kojo’s head as he lay beside her. The dog had become as protective of her as Tim was, always at her side when he could be.

She watched as Tim wrestled with the instruction manual, his brow furrowed in concentration. “You’re doing it wrong,” she teased, smiling.

“I am not,” he shot back, glancing up with mock indignation. “I’ve got this.”

As he fumbled with the crib parts, she laughed—a sound that felt like a rare gift these days. For a moment, it was just like old times—before the pregnancy, before the heartbreak. Just the two of them, shared an easy, familiar joy that felt like home.

Tim looked up from the pieces scattered on the floor and froze for a second, watching her laugh. He hadn’t heard that sound in too long. It was unguarded, real. He smiled, letting himself soak in the moment.

“Well, if you’re so good at this, why don’t you help instead of just sitting there judging my work?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

She grinned. “I’m perfectly comfortable where I am, thanks. Besides, you’re doing great. It’s... entertaining.”

He chuckled and shook his head, returning to the task, muttering under his breath about her stubbornness. But secretly, he didn’t mind. Knowing she was there, watching him, laughing—it felt right. Like this was exactly where they were meant to be.

As the crib finally took shape, something between them shifted. There was an unspoken understanding in the air, something neither had fully acknowledged until now. Tim glanced at her, and for a moment, they simply stared at each other.

He reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her cheek longer than necessary. She leaned into his touch, her breath catching in her throat.

That was all the encouragement he needed.

Without thinking, Tim leaned in and kissed her, softly at first, hesitant. But when she kissed him back, her hand slipping to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. This—this—was where they were always meant to end up.

Together.

She struggled to breathe deeply as she slowly made her way down the hospital corridor, her grip tightening around the IV stand. Another contraction surged through her, pulling a low moan from her lips. She tried to focus on the gentle support of Nyla’s hand on her arm, but the pain was too consuming—sharp and overwhelming. When it finally ebbed, she glanced over at Nyla, her eyes filled with worry.

“Have you heard from Tim?” Her voice cracked, and tears welled up as she caught Nyla’s sympathetic smile.

“I texted him, and Grey knows to pass the message along. He’s coming,” Nyla reassured her. “Tim wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

She nodded, but a flicker of doubt gnawed at her. “I hope so… I don’t know if I can do this without him.” Her words were barely more than a whisper, her emotions unravelling.

“You’re stronger than you think,” Nyla said softly, her hand squeezing in quiet encouragement. “But he’ll be here, don’t worry.”

She tried to smile, but the uncertainty lingered. Tim had been her rock for so long—how could she face this moment without him? Nyla’s presence was a comfort, but it wasn’t the same.

They continued their slow walk back to the room for another check-up. The nurse met them with a concerned expression before examining her. When she announced that she was still far from delivering, a groan of frustration escaped her. She sank onto the bed, burying her face in her hands.

“I don’t know how much more I can take,” she whispered, her voice thick with exhaustion. “I just want to hold my baby.” Nyla brushed a lock of hair from her face, her steady presence an anchor.

“Soon,” she promised gently. “Soon.”

The hours crawled by in a blur of contractions and fleeting moments of rest. She clung to Nyla’s guidance, her body trembling from fatigue until the door suddenly swung open. Her breath caught as Tim rushed inside, his face flushed with worry.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, hurrying to her side. His hand found hers instantly, and the crushing weight of fear lifted just a little.

“You’re here,” she whispered, her voice breaking with relief as fresh tears filled her eyes. He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, his touch grounding her in the storm of pain and anxiety.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her forehead. His presence radiated warmth, steadying her as another contraction gripped her.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she managed between ragged breaths, her emotions spiralling. “I don’t know how I’d get through this without you.”

“You would,” he said softly, squeezing her hand. “But now that I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.” His gaze held hers, his thumb brushing soothing circles on her skin as another wave of pain washed over her.

They endured the hours together, Tim never leaving her side. His strength, and his quiet, unwavering support gave her the determination she needed to push through. The world blurred around them as they focused on bringing this new life into the world.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, the sharp, piercing cry of a newborn filled the room. She gasped, tears streaming down her face as the nurse placed the tiny, wriggling bundle on her chest. Her arms instinctively wrapped around the baby, and she looked up at Tim. His eyes were wide, filled with awe and tears he didn’t bother to wipe away.

She looked down at the baby, overwhelmed by the fragile, perfect little face scrunched up in protest. "Hi, sweet baby," she whispered, her voice shaking with emotion. Her fingers brushed gently over the baby’s soft cheek. "I’m your mom."

Tim stood by her side, his hand resting on her shoulder as he gazed at the baby with pure wonder. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. "She’s perfect," he whispered, unable to look away.

“We did it,” she whispered, her eyes meeting his in a moment of shared joy.

Tim bent down, pressing a kiss to the baby’s head. "Welcome to the world," he murmured. "We’ve been waiting for you."

The baby’s cries softened, and the room fell into a peaceful quiet as if time had paused, leaving just the three of them cocooned in the moment. She couldn’t stop the tears—this time, they were tears of love, of pure joy. This was a happiness she had never known, a completeness she hadn’t imagined was possible.

“Do you want to hold her?” she asked, her voice trembling with emotion.

Tim hesitated but then nodded, his hands gentle as the nurse helped him take the baby into his arms. He cradled the tiny bundle as though it were the most precious thing in the world, and in that moment, his love was unmistakable.

"Hi there... I’m Tim," he whispered, his voice catching in his throat. He paused, then added, “I’m not your dad, but I promise I’ll love you like one.”

Her heart swelled at his words. Reaching out, she rested her hand on his arm, gazing at the baby in his arms. “Tim... you are the father she deserves. You’ve cared for her from the start. You’ve been there every step of the way... and I love you for that.”

As the baby stirred, Tim smiled through his tears, and for the first time, she felt truly whole. This was their family—imperfect, unexpected, but overflowing with love. And as Tim bent down to kiss her lips, sealing the moment, she knew that they had found their way home.

[georgiapeach30513]

Two Good Reasons Masterlist

They should be enough to make him stay. But they weren’t. You should have been all he needed. But you weren’t. He left. And he left for someone who was the complete opposite of you, but the thing that stung the most was her age. You hate her. You hate him. You have to change course, and that includes a new job. And him. Andy was everything. But can he still be everything. You’re used and have baggage now. And he’s perfect. And you’re you. And they are yours.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14

A/N: this story is going to have themes of divorce, cheating, ageism, child neglect, first love, rekindling love, jealousy, and more. Please read all warnings before each part. Minors DNI.

[just-an-emily-existing]

Hey guys so I really need to vent rn cuz my parents are getting a divorce and if I randomly stop posting, this'll be the reason/evidence soooo have fun reading, if you want to of course

TW: Divorce, Possible Violence???

Soooooo it all started when my mom found out that my dad has been letting one of our tenants girlfriend live there at the house that both my parents own for about 3 weeks now rent free, and never told her. This was a couple days ago. Of course my mom was pissed and has been really mean to my dad (deservingly of course cuz he’s a fucking waste of a man and a father) and now they’re getting a divorce. Many other things have led to this divorce but I won’t tell them all rn. I’m not scared of them getting a divorce either cuz for as long as I can remember, they have never really loved each other, and this is very much needed, cuz I’m pretty sure they have been together all this time cuz of me. But I know it’s not my fault and I have no place to speak, but I still need to tell someone, anyone in case my father does try to hurt me and/or my mom. If anything crazy happens trust me, I’m not afraid to dox this man, he’s a man who loves to get his revenge but that made me a woman who loves to get her sweet justice. So to prevent you guys from worrying too much about me, I’ll try to post something everyday, whether it be a drawing, doodle, or just a text post saying I’m ok. No, I’m not looking for attention, I just need to get this off my chest.

Ty for reading 💖💖💖

[hannahssimblr]

That evening after I drive home the house is a battlefield. As soon as I let myself into the hallway the sounds of some escalating conflict are sweeping through from the kitchen, but it doesn’t surprise me. It’s been this way for months. I just toss my car keys onto the table and head upstairs. 

“Think about the way you make me live!” My mother shrieks as I shuffle through my desk drawer to retrieve my iPod and the noise cancelling headphones I use for my laptop. My dad says something in response, his rumbling tones infuriatingly calm, unfazed. He always speaks to her with such a patronising air of reasonableness, so honestly it’s no wonder she’s going insane.

“Ivy?” I knock on her bedroom door, “I’m back. Can I come in?”

Her voice is quiet within, “Yeah.”

“Hey, what’s up?” The noise from downstairs is louder I come inside, but Ivy’s room is right above the kitchen. I know she has been listening. She is perched on her bed kneading a corner of her blanket in her little hands, body tense and static like a startled cat. 

Mom raises her voice even further in shocked outrage, “What are you saying? Do you regret our children?”

“I just bought a cool new album,” I say, “do you want to hear it?”

“What’s it called?”

“Contra. You remember Vampire Weekend, right?”

“Um...”

“You liked their last album.”

“Did I?”

“Here,” I climb to my knees in front of her and plop the headphones onto her head. They’re big on her and want to slip down towards her jaw until i carefully adjust them while she watches me with interest. Everything I do is interesting to Ivy, even my thumb circling the dial on my iPod as I navigate to the first song on the album. I grin into her face, “can you hear me?”

She nods, so I crank it up, “how about now?”

She gasps, “It’s so loud! I can’t hear you!” 

“Good,” and I sit right by her, on the floor by her bed while she lays back and tries to hum along to songs she's never heard before. She does it in mom's car every time the radio comes on, which is apparently irritating, but I don't think so. She's a musical kid who is just trying to work something out in her head.

As I listen to her weird little melodies I doodle with a ballpoint pen I found in the pocket of my jacket. I've flipped to the back page of one of her school copy books, and I know she doesn’t mind, she can bring them into school and tell her classmates that she did them if she likes. 

Every now and again pieces of the argument are clear enough to understand, mostly mom’s side. “You do nothing around here, what are you talking about?” She screams, “You just sit in your office all night and-” some muffled aggression. Then at one point she brings up Fergal from work, which is a poor choice, because it really sets dad off. I know this because I finally hear a shocked “how dare you!” from him, which seems fair, actually. 

Fergal from work is her boyfriend. Or was, maybe, I don’t ask. All I know is that Fergal from work exists and that my mother was having an affair with him for, like, two years or something. I googled him when I first started hearing his name thrown around like daggers through the rooms of this house, and he’s pretty much how you might imagine a Fergal. He’s older, weedier and less good looking than my father, with hair so fine and light that his eyebrows are hardly visible and a hairline like the tide has gone out on it, but his smile is sort of kind. His LinkedIn picture has him smiling broadly and the lines on his face and around his eyes suggest that he’s spent a good chunk of his life doing just that. Smiling. Aside from likely being nice, he’s probably ten times more interesting than Christopher too, which has to be the real selling point. I bet that listens to her when she talks to him and makes her laugh, if she’s still capable of that, so I can’t really be angry with her about Fergal. I might have done the same thing as she did if I ever felt so trapped.  

I must be listening too obviously because Ivy slips the headphones off. “What are they saying?”

“Stupid shit, Ives, it’s not interesting.”

She pauses and says in a very small voice, “Do you think they’ll get a divorce?”

I turn to her, “They might. But I don’t think it’d be such a bad idea. Do you?”

She shrugs. 

“At least if they divorced they’d stop fighting.” At least eventually.

“They fight a lot,” she whispers, “I hate it.”

“Yeah, same.”

“What will happen to us? What if neither of them wants us?”

This surprises a laugh right out of me, “It's not like they'll have a choice. Did you think we’d get thrown into an orphanage or something?”

“Maybe.”

“I think you’ve been reading too many of those Jacqueline Wilson books about the kids from broken homes. Next time we go to the library we’ll get you something a bit less sad and tragic, do you think?”

She shrugs, but I'll get her into Goosebumps yet. I am determined.

“You want to know what I think?”

 A nod.

“I think them being divorced would actually be fine, because at least they wouldn’t be doing this all the time,” I tilt my head toward the floor, shaking with the reverberation of the slamming patio door, “And also we probably wouldn’t have to be around dad half as often.”

Ivy looks conflicted, “Well I don’t not want a dad.”

I almost tell her that Christopher isn’t that interested in his role as her father and the way that he interacts, or more accurately fails to interact with her, is not normal, even if it’s what she’s used to, and that I bet Fergal would be a better dad, but I figure it’s probably not the wisest to mention any of that. 

“He’ll still always be your dad, just like how mom will always be your mom and I’ll always be your brother, you know? No matter what happens or how things change. You're made from him, you know? That doesn't just go away.”

“I don’t want change.”

“Everything changes, all of the time.”

“I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to. Things move on whether you like it or not, and you have to accept it.”

Her eyes fill with tears, “I don’t want you to move away either.”

“No, c’mon,” I scramble onto her bed and pull her into my chest, “I know, but I can’t stay here forever, I’m an adult now, I’m going to have to go, but it’s not right away…” 

“Yes, but soon.”

I hesitate, “Oh, Ivy, it’s, like-”

“And then it’ll be just me, and everything will be different,” as tears overflow I understand that it’s not just about this, it’s about everything, all of the chaos and the disruption that I cannot fix. I just shush her and rock her side to side. It’s hard for her, but I refuse to lie to her about what might happen. 

“I need to move away, I feel like I don’t have another option.”

“But why?”

“I- I think you’ll get it when you’re older, maybe. It's just very important to me.”

“I won’t see you anymore.”

“Yes you will, maybe not as much, but you’ll get used to it really quickly. And imagine if I went to college somewhere really exciting, you could come and see me and we could do all kinds of fun stuff, yeah? Like if I’m in Paris, imagine, I could take you to Disneyland.”

She sniffles, “Paris?”

“Yeah, you loved Paris a couple of years ago, right?”

She nods and rubs her eyes, “Could we try and go up the Eiffel Tower again?”

“Duh, and you’d be old enough not to be so scared.”

“Maybe-” a thick swallow “maybe even your new house would have a balcony and we could see it from there.”

“Oh, for sure, and we’d get pastries from the bakery downstairs in the mornings, they'd just so happen to be best ones ever, and there’d be a man playing the accordion outside- no, everywhere, like, no matter where we go, he’s there with his swirly little French Guy moustache...”

She giggles, “Is he following us around?”

“Oh, yeah, a total stalker, actually. Maybe we’d have to call the French police on him.” 

We both laugh as she dries her face with her sleeves. Coming up with all the very French things we would do in Paris, every detail down to the layout of my beautiful Haussmann style apartment overlooking the Seine is nice.

I'm not stupid, of course, I know perfectly well that the reality of a move to Paris would involve me and Michelle stuffed into a Chambre de Bonne tiny enough to touch both walls at the same time, tripping over half baked art projects and every possession we own, our pent up frustration causing us to have screaming matches that would wake up the whole arrondissement, but it’s nice to be an idealist for a minute or two. 

“Where else could you live?” she asks me once we’ve exhausted all of the parisian stereotypes and run out of hypotheticals. 

“Hmm, how about Amsterdam?”

“Oh! Anne Frank lived there, we read the book at school last year.”

I tell her that yes, if I lived there I’d take her to see the house with that stairway hidden behind the bookcase, and then we would... cycle around the place and annoy everyone because she’s so unsteady on her bike. I make up a story about how she keeps swerving out of her lane and getting in everybody's way, eventually causing a giant bike pile up along the canal like some sort of rat king of Dutch cyclists.

“Where else!”

“Um, Berlin...” and I purse my lips and try to think of things to do in Berlin that are appropriate for a nine year old, but for some reason all I can think of is a surly line of leather clad druggies in front of a techno club. “They like going to nightclubs, I guess…”

“I can go to a nightclub.”

“Yeah, as if! You’d hate it, it’s just loud music and everyone bumping into you. Hey, you know there’s one nightclub in Berlin that’s so exclusive that they only let the coolest people in Europe inside? You have to wait in line for hours and if they think you’re even a little bit uncool then they send you home.”

Her eyes get wide, “Really? Hm. I think I could get in.”

The idea of Ivy being let into Berghain makes me guffaw, “Oh, you think so, do you?”

“Yeah I’m cool enough!”

“No you aren’t.”

“I am,” she leaps up and pretends to strangle me while I hold her at arm's length, “there’s no such thing as a cool nine year old.”

“There’s no such thing as a cool eighteen year old either.”

“Uh! There is, you're looking at one. I would get into that club, no doubt.”

“No you wouldn’t, they wouldn’t even let you in the line.”

“Nah, they’d beg me to come in because I’d make it cooler.”

“They’d see you coming and pretend to be closed.”

As we laugh and make stupid, childish jokes at one another I’m aware of an acceptance I feel with her that I don’t around other people. I’m never really so blatantly stupid and goofy in public, but Ivy, who has become my favourite person in the world, no matter what I do or say it’s funny, and she never thinks I’m weird, at least not in a bad way. I can fully let my guard down. Even though the fighting has stopped I don't really want to leave, but the moon has risen now, and the grasshoppers are chirping. Ivy has to sleep.

I gather up my headphones and iPod and get up, despite her protests and attempts to come up with more funny things we might do as we galivant through fictional Europe.

“You're stalling,” I say, “you know well you have to go to sleep now.”

“No, no! Just one more thing!”

“Nope! Sorry! And don’t forget to brush your teeth, or I’ll tell dad.”

She pulls her ugliest face. She knows I’d never, but it’s funny, like telling a christian kid that Satan is watching.

I shut the door very gently. It's not particularly late, maybe ten, but the house is morgue quiet, almost eerie, like the aftermath of a hurricane. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[pleasanttaleswithkaityb]

In the Lothario household, emotions reached a boiling point. Cassandra confronted Don, her frustration palpable. Still mourning their recent loss, she couldn't believe the betrayal she was hearing. Don, spurred by his midlife crisis and a reckless desire for change, had confessed to another indiscretion. The decision loomed large: should she give their relationship another chance or end it once and for all? The weight of the choice hung in the air, suffocating and relentless. Cassandra's heart ached as she weighed her options, her grief mingling with anger. Ultimately, driven by his midlife yearning for a fresh start with his red-headed nurse, Don pushed for the separation. The room filled with an eerie silence as the final decision was made. As they exchanged their last words, the gravity of the situation settled in. The end of their marriage was a somber event, marked by tears and the echo of broken promises.

Previous || Next || Beginning of Lothario Summer || Lothario Beginning

[doueverwonder]

USA: Do you know what it's like, to have England and France as your parents?

Canada: we have the least stable home in the history of mankind.

USA: They've been divorced and remarried four times just in our lives.

Canada: You think your parents custody battle was 'war'? ours was the Seven Years War

USA: and the American revolution, if we're being honest.

Canada: Entente Cordiale came around, we thought it was great.

USA: Then suddenly Brexit happens.

[holylulusworld]

Barnes vs Barnes (15) - 365 - FIN

Summary: The unavoidable happened. What will Bucky do now?

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Wife/Ex-Wife Reader; Mobster!Steve Rogers x Reader

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, Jake Jensen

Warnings: angst, mentions of past cheating, Lloyd being Lloyd, arguments, mentions of delusional Nick, strong reader, under attack, fighting, characters death

Barnes vs Barnes masterlist

<< Part 14

Lloyd shakes his ass at the music he’s listening to, “I like big butts and I cannot lie. Damn right, sunshine. I like them big and juicy too.”

“Lloyd, what are you doing?” Steve grunts as your friend is rolling his hips.

“Let’s see if these moves fuck,” you shriek when Lloyd twirls around to tackle Steve to the ground. He holds him there, smirking. “Never underestimate your enemy, Rogers. Fowler may be a lunatic with an obsession for my lil’ sugar ´plum, but he’s a wolf ready to rip all of us apart.”

“What the fuck? Get off me, Hansen.” Steve pushes against Llyod’s shoulders to get him off him. “We are on the same side. Remember?”

“I wanted to remind you that Fowler can attack any moment. It’s called training and staying sharp Rogers. You call yourself Y/N’s protector, but you are as dangerous as an ant.”

“You think so?” Lloyd inhales sharply when Steve presses a gun to his crotch. “I don’t attack people openly. I wait for my chance. And then. I hit them hard, fast, and without mercy. Don’t get in my way, Hansen.”

“Guys, are you making out or do you try to kill each other?” Jake looks down at Steve and Lloyd. “I’m getting mixed signals here. Stop fooling around. While you are busy cuddling, Y/N made sure Fowler’s allies left town.”

“Fine,” Lloyd pushes off Steve and gets back up. He sneers at his opponent, curling his lip. “If you put sugar plum in danger, you are as dead as Fowler. I won’t let anyone hurt her.”

“I would never hurt her,” Steve snaps at Lloyd. “Stop acting like you are a saint or an angel. I’m her protector.”

“Her husband would object,” Jake throws in. “Can we all stop talking about Y/N as if she’s a damsel in distress? She’s the only one making sure our plan will work out. If anyone is the alpha in this team, it’s her.”

“What?” Steve and Lloyd grunt in unison.

“Lloyd, only because you bought a fucking rocking launcher you’re not the guy with the biggest balls. Y/N went to Marks and made him leave. She’s a mastermind, and tough. Stop underestimating her. Barnes did so for years.”

“One down. Only Fowler is left now,” you look over Jake’s shoulder as he watches the footage from the cameras at the abandoned building Fowler is hiding at. “Do I want to know how you managed to hack into the cameras?”

“I could tell you how I did it,” Jake dips his head and grins. “But I must kill you if I do. And that would be a waste. Don’t you think?”

“Keep your secrets, Jakie. We all hide things from the people we love,” you pat his head. “I trust you with my life. I don’t need to know every detail.”

“Unlike the alpha males crowding you most of the day, I don’t try to keep things from you. It’s just that I had to hack into serval servers and shit to get access. Highly illegal. I don’t want you to get involved in my crimes. This way you can always say you don’t know anything about the things I did.”

You wrap your arms around his neck from behind and peck his cheek. “You’re too cute, Jake. My sweet and smart best friend.”

Steve storms into the bedroom, yelling your name. He seems to be furious and panicked at the same time. “Y/N, come with me!”

He grabs your arm and drags you out of the room. “Steve, what’s going on? STEVE!”

You smell the gunpowder and blood before you hear the gunshots. You scream and cover your eyes when Steve pushes you out of the way when a gunshot hits the wall next to your head.

He shoots without looking, hitting the attacker straight in the chest.

“Stay behind me, doll,” he pants as he hands you a handgun. “Bucky said you know how to shoot. Aim for a kill, Y/N.”

You unlock the gun and follow Steve along the hallway. “What’s going on?”

“Fowler didn’t want to wait any longer. He drove a bus right through the gate. Lloyd and his men tried to keep them under control. It’s my job to bring you to the panic room.”

“Where are Jake and Bucky?”

“Jake is in the panic room, checking on the cameras. He’s giving us direction via earpieces,” Steve drags you around the corner. He presses you to the wall when another bullet threatens to hit you.

“Steve,” you tackle Steve to the ground. He can’t react. You aim your gun and fire at the man walking toward you, a shotgun in his hands. “Maybe we should’ve let Lloyd use the rocket launcher.”

“You are telling me,” Steve grunts when the man drops dead to the ground. “Stoop yelling, Jensen. I got that.”

“What?” you get back up and hold out your hand for Steve. “Why are you yelling at Jake.”

“He told me to move my ass and bring you to the panic room.”

“I love you too Jakie,” you grab Steve’s hand and start running toward the dancing room Lloyd showed you the first day you arrived at his place.

Jake unlocks the door and drags you inside. You look at Steve, holding out your hand for him.

“I need to go. Take care of Y/N. If they take all of us down, you must protect her,” Steve grabs your face to kiss you softly. “Stay here. No discussion, doll.”

“Steve. No!” you cry when Jake drags you inside the panic room and locks the room, leaving Steve outside. “No! Open the door. I must help them!”

“Lloyd, Bucky, and their men stand their ground,” Jake softly says. He guides you toward the small bed in the room. “Stay here, Y/N. We all agree that it’s for the best for us to stay here. I need to focus on the cameras to help them, okay.”

“Okay,” you sit on the bed, sniffling as Jake walks back toward the monitors on the wall. “Steve, to your right the path is clear. No one in the hallways. They try to take Barnes and Hansen down.”

“What?” you jump back up to look at the monitors. Lloyd fires at three men, taking two down. Your friend laughs like a maniac. He throws himself at one of the guys, running the next over to reach Fowler before Bucky gets the chance. “Lloyd, you fool! No!”

“He’s got this,” Jake pants. “Lloyd, to your left are at least ten more guys. Get to my car, I’ll unlock it for you. It’s bulletproof.”

Lloyd lifts his hand and gives Jake the finger. He smirks and runs in the opposite direction to get to his car. “Lloyd! No. Go back…”

Jake groans. “Fuck, what is he doing.” He gapes at the monitor. “You’ve got to be shitting me,” he exclaims as Lloyd gets a machine gun out. He runs back toward the enemies and starts firing at them. “He’s a lunatic, Y/N.”

“That’s…Lloyd…” You cover your eyes when the enemies fall. One by one by one. “He’s like that. You know it.”

“Fuck, he took them all out,” Jake huffs. “He’s got more luck than brains.”

“Where’s Steve?” you look at the monitors, desperately searching for Steve. “Jake? Where is he?”

“Uh-we should be more concerned about Fowler. He’s … fuck… forget it…” you gasp and clutch your hand to your chest as Bucky steps over his dead brother. “Bucky just killed him without batting an eyelash.”

“He did,” you watch your husband spit on his brother. “When we survive this night, I’ll call Matt. I want the divorce more than ever after.”

“Fowler was crazy, but Bucky is a cold-blooded bastard for killing his brother just like that.”

“Nick needed help,” you turn your back on the monitors. “His mother should’ve helped him by looking for professional help. Maybe he could’ve been saved.”

“Steve, to your left,” Jake yells. “That was the last one. Lloyd, your area is clear too. Barnes….Barnes.”

“He doesn’t answer. Right.”

“He’s walking away,” Jake sighs as you look at your hands. “I think it’s for the best. He made it out alive and…”

“We are over,” you say. “I slowly feel like myself again. If you know what I mean. Whatever this was between me, and Bucky should’ve ended years ago. When he doubted our relationship for the first time.”

“Well, shit sugar plum. My home is not my castle any longer,” Lloyd looks around his destroyed home, sighing deeply. “I need a damn good interior designer.”

You wrap Lloyd in a hug. “I’m so glad nothing happened to you.”

“It wasn’t my time, sugar plum. A bad day for Fowler, a good day for Lloyd Hansen. I only regret that I didn’t have the chance to use my rocket launcher.”

After you made sure nothing happened to Lloyd, Jake, and Steve you decided to find your own place. It was time to stand on your own feet and not let a man dictate your life any longer.

Lloyd insisted on checking on the neighbors. Jake insisted on taking care of the security. And Steve, well Steve rented an apartment at the apartment complex to be close to you.

Bucky, on the other hand, kept his distance. At least he signed the divorce papers.

“Steve, what are you doing here again?” you open the door only to find Steve standing in front of your apartment, a bouquet of lilies of the valley in his hands. “I told you that I need time on my own.”

“I gave you time and space, doll. Uh-please, give me the honor to have dinner with me tonight. I’ll try to cook for you.”

“You want to cook?” you grin. “Steve, you burn even water.”

“I’ll try for you…”

He gives you puppy dog eyes, melting your resolve. “If I say yes, you should know that I’ll never let a man tell me what to do and…” you sniff and drop your gaze. “You know that I cannot have children. I’m…”

“Perfect. Beautiful. Smart. Kind. Wonderful. The love of my life,” he goes on his knees. “I don’t care about anything but that my heart only beats for you. Please give me the chance that I can be a better man for you than James. I don’t want to spend one night but three hundred and sixty-five days a year with you.”

You cup his cheek and press a chaste kiss on his lips. “Let’s see if you can cook for me,” you whisper against his lips. “And you don’t have to prove that you are a better man than James. I already know you are…”

FIN - This is the end. I kept it open, but hopeful.

Tags in reblog.

[localfandom]

holy shit dude i just watched a playtrough of "bad parenting" and i havet been this crushed by a horror game since "my eyes deceive"

here's some things i noticed while watching the playtrough:

the doll being beaten up is foreshadowing of what happened with Ron(i think thats the son's name???)

the entire being of the doll reminds me of how Ron turned out because of his parents.

at the end of the game when Ron is teleported to the realm where all the kids are they all have special places like how Ron has the closet. Places where they died/were hid in.

i feel like the doll slamming the bottle up and down at the start of the game during that eating scene was foreshadowing of the father drinking.

this game is so well made and thought out and is genueinly soul crushing.

[tiredaf23]

Headcanon time >:3 (gotta cut the post bc its too long 😔)

Curly:

he/him, probably they too.

Most definitely our panromantic asexual (repulsed) icon

Probably around 34-ish, I'd say 38 at most

I know he was originally supposed to be British, but he's Icelandic to me

White (Icelandic) but moved to America when he was around 22-ish, so his accent is a little softer than before.

100% has a Dinosaur plush he named "Curlasaurus"

Audhd (idk man, i just see it), BPD (unhealthy attachments to people lead to unintentional biases), and GAD (having to keep the peace also leads into anxiety disorders).

Only 100% able-bodied, no pain on the ship fr 😔

________

Swansea

You will never find an Appalachian dad who isn't like Swansea. Source, my grandpa.

He/him, doesn't understand but will definitely try.

57 to 62 years old. Look at him. He's old (/silly)

That one text meme:

Boy shut up. Boy shut up. Boy shut up. Boy shut up.

Okay, sorry...

Boy you want hotdogs?

Straight

White (either Virginian or from North Carolina)

Unironically wears bass pro shop merch

Depression (due to divorce and loss of kids)

Arthritis and carpal tunnel (old hag/j)

Had jaundice at one point. It scared the shit out of him and he slowed his roll on alcohol because he was scared to leave his kids. This was before his divorce.

______

Anya (party hat Anya :D)

She/her, but also okay with bell/snow neo pronouns

25 to 30 years old. Somewhere around there!

Lesbian at first, but completely repulsed with everything after the Jimmy incident

She owns a little stiffed teddy bear that has a nurse's outfit on!

Since she was around 8, snow always wanted to be a nurse!

Sounds like Fluttershy from MLP and I know using ponies is kinda iffy with headcanons, but I love Fluttershy and I love Anya and I need them both to be my mothers. 👁👁

Swansea won't admit it, but he's a major sweet tooth. ^w^

Bell ses emoticons instead of emojis because she finds them "nicer and not as condescending"

Egyptian and Greek! I don't think a lot of people realize how close the two were hand-in-hand in history. Hell, Cleopatra was Greek!

Depression, MAD (major anxiety disorder) OCD, chronic intrusive thoughts, slight hallucinations (static in her vision and random soft voices)

Blind in her left eye. I like the idea of bell needing glasses because of the OST cover.

_______

Daisuke

Any pronouns work for him as long as you still refer to them as a guy. She's cis but is apathetic to pronouns.

Probably 18 to 23 years old. Somewhere in the "I'm an adult, but my brain isn't fully developed" stage.

Queer as in "idk yet but I'm not questioning."

Adores xenogenders and will ask you rant about yours.

Guys are you skibidi alpha?

Okay, idk what time frame it's set, but he'd totally say this.

Japanese (canon) and Native American (I'm not sure what tribe, as I'm not sure how exactly to headcanon Native characters in detail)

ADHD (i mean come on), depression (homelife), PTSD (homelife)

Scoliosis and chronic pains. Probably needs a cane but he says YOLO unironically, he ain't using it (that's dangerous, please use your mobility aids if you need them)

Definitely punk at heart, but doesn't like dressing it because he feels punk shouldn't have a dress code (kinda self incorporated in there)

Definitely owns blue laces though, it you catch what I mean 👀

_______

Jimmy

He/him, probably not 100% homophobic (as in he won't threaten you for it) but will use the whole "a gay guy hit on me once" schpiel to avoid gay people

Around 35-ish. I want him to be close to the age of Curly, but not quite his age, ya know?

Straight. Dead blank. Makes Swansea ashamed for being straight.

Mixed (white and Mexican)

Didn't come from a good home. Due to the (very unfortunate) stereotype of "Mexican mom's are brutal", Jimmy didn't get help to get away from his abuse. He grew up in Texas where everyone thought it was okay and didn't say anything.

Probably snaps often. While sometimes he doesn't mean it, he never apologizes for it. He grew up thinking apologizes are for pussies.

Now I'm not using this as an excuse for his actions. It's just proven that people who come from bad homes are more likely to be bad people. This does not mean you are a bad person. Not everyone who comes from bad homes become bad people.

I think it's Canon bro's a brony and I'm gonna make it worse: He watched the Rainbow Dash incident on repeat and flat out refused to watch the show after it became Canon she's a lesbian.

This is going to be the controversial part. Mental disorders. Because no matter what I put here, it can be seen as "demonizing" a disorder. I'm not. I'm going straight off of the DSM-5. I got bored and read it during school (technically yesterday, it's 1am, Nov 2nd, and I cant sleep) so I spent 3 - 4 hours total reading and putting these characters in the categories I think they're in.

I do NOT believe in cluster-b abuse!! I do NOT believe that my headcanons for Jimmy's disorders are an excuse for his actions. I do NOT defend Jimmy.

I just wanted to say that before I put them down.

NPD, Bipolar, C-PTSD, autism, BPD, anorexia.

Hypermobility, tic disorder (because it's visible, I put it with the physical disorders, though I acknowledge it's a neurological one), and chronic pains in his knee and lower back.

[notjohnlinnell]

yall. this fucking ass playlist is so good. sometimes i do wanna feel like a divorced dad fighting for custody in the year 2002. guy who plays “Stay Together For The Kids” by blink 182 while he drives his daughter Casey to middle school and has to pull over because he’s about to start crying and get into a car accident and then when she asks what’s wrong he just says “Case…….. dont let your mom do this to us” and then wipes his face and keeps driving. and this playlist just captures that essence perfectly

my parents are happily married

[swimmingsirenindierp]

full name: Evelyn Irena Allen age: 50 occupation: Romance Novelist zodiac sign: Virgo hometown: New Orleans Louisiana gender: Cisfemale sexuality: Bisexual/Polyamorous pronouns: She/Her face claim: Carla Gugino

Biography (tw: death, tw: cancer, tw: divorce)

Evelyn was born and raised in New Orleans. Her mother owned a crystal shop and her father gave ghost tours around the French Quarter. She would follow the tours and when she was old enough to lead them herself she did so. She was always a bookworm growing up. Her parents encouraged her love of books and when she got to school she began to write short stories and poems. She followed this passion to her adulthood.

Evelyn was always a romantic at heart. She loved grand sweeping romances and books filled with desires. She began to write her own stories, and while some might have cast them off as trashy, they made her a whole lot of money. Her best selling series was a fantasy romance featuring mermaids called The Abyss Chronicles. The series did so well it paid for her house and her car!

Evelyn's own romantic life was filled with a bit more tragedy. She met her husband on a book tour. They met in Maine when she was doing a signing at a local book store. His name was Matthew, and he was wonderful. He was actually the owner of the book store. It was love at first sight. He was divorced with two kids, and they welcomed her into their family with ease.

Matthew and Evelyn extended their family with a set of twins, a little boy and a little girl. She was happy and content. She would help him run the book shop and raise their children, and when inspiration stuck, another book came out. It was a lot of work, but it was a happy life, and she loved it.

That was until Matthew was sick, it was liver cancer, and he got sick so fast. There was not much that could be done, and when it was time to say goodbye to him, no one was ready. Evelyn had learned how to be strong, she had her children who needed her. She put on a brave face, and threw herself into her role, mom, business owner, writer...writer, writer?

Its been a dry spell for Evelyn since her husbands death. Five years to be exact. She is trying to develop her spark and desire again. But that is certainly easier said than done.

Personality

Evelyn is very nurturing and gentle. She always has a kind word and a listening ear. She is insightful and loves to learn new things whenever she can. Loving and romance are something she is always drawn to and loves to hear about, especially when there is a good story. Evelyn is heart broken though, she tries to be careful and tender with herself, knowing that pain is just part of the journey.

[georgiapeach30513]

Two Good Reasons, Part 9

Summary: the one with Audrey's birthday

Pairings: Andy Barber X Reader

Rating: mature and emotional

Warnings:  Scott Huffman, language, depictions of anaphylactic shock, mentions of divorce, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 7.7K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

“Ugh,” you groan, tossing another pair of pants on the bed before stomping into the closet. Frustratingly roaming through your clothes. You’re pissed off. No, you’re in a very irritable mood because things have already not gone your way.

First thing this morning it was Scott asking for you to pick the kids up an hour earlier. Which is fine, but he could have said something last night. Hell, he could have just brought them by the house and let them stay here, so you could have a lazy day with them. In their home. Comfortable. But no! He wanted to be a difficult little bitch.

And then it was the sudden urge to pee. And pee again, but that time almost not making it. Then you burned the bacon and now your house smells like shit. And then! Then your newly painted fingernails — one broke. You just wanted a lazy good morning. And Now too many pants are not buttoning. And you’re frustrated, irritable, and in a not great mood.

Happiness is making you gain weight, and you really didn’t want to buy more clothes. But you wanted to remain happy. And in love. And, “What are you looking at?” Your words come out a bit harsher than you intended, and you regret the tone immediately, “I’m sorry.”

“Doe, what’s wrong?” You point over towards the bed, and Andy gives it an odd look. “You’re getting rid of some very nice jeans?”

“No,” you frown as you just reach for some fucking leggings. You weren’t going to try on and fail to button another pair. Not in front of Mr. Perfect Body. Good lord, his body is magnificent. Especially when it’s moving inside yours. You hadn’t gained that much weight. You’re probably just bloated. It’s all water weight. “We’re eating out too much.”

“Once a week?”

“We’re — we’re just — ugh! When I’m happy I tend to cook and bake more, and the result is the jeans not being able to button. So starting today, I’m not going to be snacking as much. And no matter what you say, I won’t be getting one more bite of cake,” that is that. Little changes could make the biggest difference.

“I don’t think…”

“Andy Barber, I know I’m getting older, and my metabolism isn't as quick as it used to be, so I don’t need to hear your excuses,” you bend over to roll the leggings up your legs. It’s fine. You feel fine. You didn’t even care because Andy didn’t seem to mind, and you are so very happy. Leggings and an oversized sweatshirt sound like heaven on a day like today.

“That’s not what I was going to say. I just think you should…”

“We’re going to add some more volume foods. I’ve just got to stop with the extra slice of bread,” he shakes his head no as he smiles and walks towards you, “And I’m going to quit napping so much. I want us to go on a walk every day with the kids. We can take the stroller if they get tired. But I need more movement in my life. If you can go swimming every morning, then I can walk every evening, but I don’t want to walk alone.”

“Honey,” Andy holds his hand over your mouth, using his piercing blue eyes to stare at you in the most intense way that it almost makes you uncomfortable. “Can I speak?” you nod your head once, and Andy exhales slowly, “Will you take a pregnancy test for me?”

You shake your head while rolling your eyes, “Why?” His hand drops off your mouth, and you try and find the words to tell him it's just an impossibility, and not what either of you should be thinking about right now. You need a house to make a home. You wanted out of this house, and divorced before ever truly thinking about pregnancy. At least when you’re not in the moment of getting your back blown out. Andy had that ability. He starts fucking into you, and you want him him to fuck a baby in you.

“Because the likelihood of me ever carrying a child naturally is very slim to none and we’re just not ready for that.”

“Why not?” How is he so good? He’s not even arguing. He is having a conversation, and trying to understand.

“Because I’m still legally Mrs. Scott Huffman,” you retch. Why did you ever marry that buffoon? The only good thing he ever did for you was give you the most beautiful children. “And I want our own home.”

“And I have watched my cum leak out of you before I’m fingering back inside of you. It’s not a lack of trying. And look at the pants,” your eyes flare as you stare at him. “I’m just saying, what if you’re pregnant?”

“I’m not. I’ve had two kids already, I would know,” he nods his head, figuring that you are right because you were the expert in this situation. “And I just,” could your mood swings be pregnancy? You haven’t had a proper period since splitting with Scott. Stress always makes your cycle wonky. “No. Okay, I’m just not. It’s fine. I want to drink more water, I want to walk as a family, I want to change my diet, and I’ll be just fine, okay?”

“Honey, you’re right,” you gawk at him. Did he just admit to knowing you’ve gained weight? “I would like to start walking as a family, too. We always talk with the kids when we get home anyways, so why not talk and walk.”

“Good save, Andrew.”

“Wasn’t trying to save anything, Doe. I’m being honest,” you’re sure he was just trying to ease you off a ledge of emotions that you weren’t ready to dive into. You’re trying to keep your head above the water until the divorce. Until the custody hearing, and you know that you get more time with the kids than Scott does. You want them with you. Scott wants them with him as leverage. Sick bastard.

“Mama!” Suede rushes to your arms as you walk into the apartment. The apartment that isn’t baby proof at all since Taylor moved in. Ooh, you wonder how many times she’s had to tell Suede no, or hands off. Aesthetically everything here is very pleasing, and all of her Instagram followers agree. So much white. Perfect color for a toddler around.

Suede clings to your body, burying his face in your chest. He isn't scared, but you know the separation from you just sets him on edge. This divorce is causing so much unnecessary mental trauma for your children. But staying with Scott would have caused more. In order to have happy children, you need to be happy, “Did you guys have fun? Oh.”

Taylor finally makes her way into the living room with a giant box of Christmas decorations. You know because the box is very aptly labeled as such in the most perfect script writing. Ms. Perfect probably did that herself. “Where’s the cat?”

She shoots you an aggravated look as she opens the box. Scott sits on the couch rolling his eyes, but remains glued to whatever game is on television. Audrey’s bathroom break is taking a bit longer than usual. “She is at my mom’s since Suede has a little issue with her,” the stupid bitch rolls her eyes again, and you’re biting your tongue to remain centered and calm. Pickups and drop offs have started to upset your daughter’s stomach, so you remain cordial for her.

“Yeah, it sucks that cat dander just really makes breathing difficult for him,” he looks towards the box, and oohs at the ornaments that Taylor pulls out of there. Little boys always want things they shouldn’t have, and telling them no makes them want it more. She’s a fucking idiot.

“No!” Not only do you take a step back, and hold Suede tighter, but you also make the most annoyed face in the world, Andy steps in front of you. His natural role of protector queuing up, “No, I told you that you don’t touch my things,” you shoot a glance towards Scott, wondering if he really thought that ‘her things’ were appropriate around your kids. Scott can fuck off. They weren’t his kids. They were a product of his sperm.

“I have had to deal with him all weekend. I tried decorating their room, and he just wants to help, and he puts the ornaments in the wrong space. And I went in there, and he messed it up again.”

“Well, he is two,” you shrug. You take back every nice thing you ever said about Taylor, she’s a bitch, and number two on your eat shit list. “The tree in their playroom at home was there for them to mess up, or hide the ornaments as they pleased. They’re kids. Nothing is perfect with them around.”

“Yeah, and it looks like shit,” her voice is clipped, and you wonder if she’s ever used that tone with your sweet boy. Over something stupid, and it wasn’t perfect for her.

“Taylor, enough,” she huffs before spinning on her heels and stomping out of the room. You’ve seen your daughter do that a few times, and she’s almost five. “God, you see what you did. She’s been fighting with Suede all weekend.”

“Fighting with a two year old?” Andy asks before you can even respond. That was a perfect response. He’s just as protective of them as he is of you.

“She’s trying to make things look nice for the holidays. It’s a nice change compared to your need to wait until after Thanksgiving,” deep breath in. Deep breath out. You will kill him one day. “And don’t make a big deal out of this. Suede had a good time, didn’t you, buddy?” Suede shrugs, and keeps his face buried in your chest. But his hand slowly moves up to your cheek where his cute little hand starts to pet you. A slow and painful death will take Scott out of this world.

“I really don’t want a fight. But I do need to tell you that we’re taking the kids to Michigan for Thanksgiving,” that’s one way to tell him.

“Over my dead body. You don’t get to tell me where you’re taking them. I have to approve. Suede can’t handle a flight. How are you going to keep him occupied?” Suede can’t handle a flight. What would he even know what Suede could handle?

“My parents haven’t seen their grandchildren in a year. They miss them, and the kids miss them.”

Scott gives you an eat shit grin. You’re glad that Andy lets you deal with him as much as possible, choosing the best possible time to jump in, “Like he even remembers your parents,” a very slow and painful death.

You laugh, “They FaceTime the kids every Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday. Buddy, you want to go get your backpack? Make sure your iPad is in there, okay?”

“Chess,” he walks wide, staying out of his father’s grasp, but of course Scott doesn’t see that. Doesn’t see the odd quirks Suede has in order to avoid him.

“The damn iPads. Why are you spending so much money on them? That’s not what my support is for,” what is the best way to get away with murder?

“It was actually my assistant district attorney that bought those for them. Ransom is quite fond of the kids, and I’m sure it’ll help Audi practice her courtroom homework.”

Scott blinks slowly twice, and you step in front of Andy only for him to cross back in front of you, “Do you have a problem with how I raise my daughter? Mine. I had to fuck her mom for her. That’s right, I fucked your girlfriend. They will never be yours.”

“Mommy?” Everyone turns towards Audrey. Her tears shimmer in the light as she looks only at you. Her lip quivers a moment, and you know you have just a few seconds to get her out of the audience of others before she starts to cry uncontrollably, “Mommy, my belly doesn’t feel good.”

“Come on, baby. Let’s get yours and Suedey’s things and go home,” Scott starts to say something, and you point your finger at him, shaking your head, “That’s enough,” and he doesn’t want to, but he keeps his fucking mouth shut.

“I’m getting a bit tired of you, Barber,” Andy cocks an eyebrow up. He isn’t going to say a word. You asked him not to when you left with Audrey and Suede. “She is a goddamn genius, and she needs to start now! She’s got an interview with the best school in the district, and I need her prepared.”

“They don’t usually test kindergarteners on how many people are in the jury box, Scotty.”

“You really are a prick, you know that?” Andy shrugs, keeping his sight more down the hall where the kids’ room was. If he looks at Scott, the control he’s proud to keep in check will diminish, and he won’t do anything to jeopardize your custody, “Just remember who…”

“I got it, your sperm made the kids. You won’t ever let me live that one down, and I’m man enough to not let it bother me. But can I give you some advice?”

“Parental advice from someone who isn’t a parent. This should be excellent,” Andy wonders what you ever saw in this tiny little man. Surely he wasn’t always this much of an asshole.

Scott leans back, and smiles up at Andy. Andy never turns his attention to Scott. He just wants to see you emerge from the hall with the kids, “I may not be the reason those kids are here, but I pay attention. I know that Audi gets an upset stomach when she knows that you and her mom are going to be around each other. She’s internalizing her anxiety. I know that Suede when he sees his mom he just wants to hold onto her, and he doesn’t even want to look at you. Doesn’t care much to spend any time with me when they reunite, it’s all about his mom. You may not be physically harming your kids, but the mental distraught you’re causing them will have lasting effects. Your soon to be ex-wife is being too kind to you, and only because she thinks that it will make the transition with her kids easier. I think both you and Taylor know that. I think Taylor’s care for those kids is dwindling. She’s becoming what she should be, a kid that is solely focused on herself. She’s using your money to give her some sort of fulfillment. She plays the role of a good step mom only to her instagram followers, and to her parents, but deep down they resent you because you have children, you're legally still married, and you’re so older than her.”

“Get out of my fucking house.”

Andy slowly blinks, and nods, “That’s my goal,” ignoring Scott, he heads down the hallway. He gives Audrey the biggest smile before the little girl rushes into his arms. “You ready to go, mademoiselle?”

“Yes,” looking at her mom, she giggles. “Are you?”

“I am,” picking up Suede, you follow Andy out of the bedroom, and Scott clears his throat. You just want to get back home, so you can cuddle and love on your babies. It looks like they need extra attention.

“I want to speak to her privately,” Andy slightly shakes his head no, but you hand Suede over to him. And wait until the door to the apartment closes before you cross your arms, and jut your hip out, “I don’t want your boyfriend back here.”

“You don’t get to make those calls. Is that all?”

“You’re making a mistake,” of all the stupid nonsensical things he could say. “I am trying to be kind to you.”

“Kind? What about you is trying to be kind? Saying that I won’t lose my baby weight? Saying I’m used up, and old? Maybe it’s the cruelty you show our children? Or maybe it’s because our court hearing is soon, and you’re scared shitless? I bet that’s what it is,” of course it’s what it is. After the hearing he knows that he won’t be able to hold things over your head. In fact, he probably knows how much you have against him, and his precious Taylor.

“You let him raise our children,” you scoff. He really didn’t want to go there with you. Of course Andy is raising the kids, but he’s doing so with you as his partner. Just how it’s intended to be, “I don’t know what it is you want me to do.”

“I don’t know what it is you want me to do. Andy is a good man. Andy is present in my kids’ lives. He comes home to us every night. He helps around the house, he spends time with them, he is a good role model. And he’s a great man. What is your deal with Andy?”

“He’s a cocky asshole,” Scott had no room to talk. Andy was confident. Scott was arrogant.

“I figured the two of you would get along then,” he rolls his eyes, starting to stand up and walk towards the kitchen. “Is the real problem that I moved on?”

“I thought you would always be there for me,” he’s joking. This fool is seriously joking. How does one move on from seeing the babysitter bounce on top of your husband’s cock, and one you didn’t even particularly like? “Did you think I actually wanted to be here in this small apartment away from my family? I made a mistake, and you won’t give me any time to plead for forgiveness. You moved on to the fucking DA. You knew what you were doing, and it was just to piss me off. We were going to — I’m pissed off because I thought we would eventually work things out,” you hear a bedroom door slam shut before Taylor stomps out of the apartment, and slams the front door. “See what you did?”

“This has been an exhilarating conversation, Scott. But you did that. I had no intentions of getting back with you, nor you me. If you could admit that you did what you did because you thought you would get away with it, and you thought we’d get back together, and you could have your perfect family, while fucking the perfect body, we’d be better off. I don’t want you. I think it’s been many years since I have wanted you. And that is the only thing I’ll ever apologize to you for. I hung on for too long for our kids, but the man that I have always wanted, I now have. Send us the details to Audi’s party, and go fix your girlfriend if you want to keep her.”

“Can you stop calling her that?” You furrow your brows, not fully understanding what he was getting at. “Her name is Audrey. Suede’s name is Suede. Not Suedey, not buddy. Quit babying them,” okay. You need to leave before you say something you truly regret. He wasn’t going to tell you what you should or should not call your children. “I don’t want them to be in Michigan for the holiday.”

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” he obviously had something planned with them if he didn’t want you and Andy to take them to see your parents.

Scott looks in the distance, refusing to answer, mumbling something before, “I’m taking Taylor to Cancun,” he’s serious. He wants you to stay here while he takes his trophy girlfriend to Cancun. You hope all the men there can’t stop staring at Taylor who is always seeking validation from other men. You hope Scott feels as little as he makes you feel.

“And we’re going back to my parents’, Scott. Have a good day,” he can groan and complain all he wants to. If he can take his pretty little girlfriend on vacation, you’re going back to Michigan, and spending time with your family. You would almost have reconsidered, if he was going to be here. If he wanted to spend time with the kids, you would have stayed behind. He wasn’t going to bully you. He wasn’t going to tell you what your kids could do, or what Suede was capable of.

You’ll give him a backpack with plenty of snacks and toys, and Scott Huffman could fuck off. You’re not sure what has come over you concerning him, but you’re done. You don’t care about his feelings or Taylor’s. You don’t care to make sure if they’re comfortable. You just didn’t care.

You huff as you get into the car, and bend your hand backwards for Audrey to hold. Andy doesn’t say anything, he just puts the car into drive. You let your mind wander a bit. Not even about Scott, you didn’t care anymore. You wander to a moment when you, Andy, and your kids didn’t have to deal with that anymore. A moment where you will wake up and everyone you love is under the same roof always. It may be a dream in the future, but you have no doubt that eventually Scott will give you full custody. He truly was using your babies as leverage, and that pisses you off more than the fact he thought shoving his cock in some young whore could ever be forgivable.

But with a gentle squeeze from Audrey, you remember that all the pain of seeing him with Taylor was worth it. You don’t care how long he was sleeping with Taylor. You don’t care if he had any feelings for her then or even now. The only thing you remotely cared about is if your children saw them being romantic in any capacity. Scott and Taylor could eat rocks for all you cared. You just hope your children never saw them fucking.

Your mind focuses on the road in front of you, and you look over to Andy confused. “Where are we going? This isn’t the way home,” this is the complete opposite of home, and Andy’s smile guarantees he’s up to something. “Andy!”

Audrey giggles in the background. Her chubby little hand removes from yours, and she covers her mouth, while Suede grabs both his now shoeless feet as he smiles at you, “Ho, NaNa.”

“Did my baby just call you a ho, Andy Barber?”

“No,” the speed of the car gets slower as he turns onto a small road. “He said, home,” your heart beats rapidly as you see a beautiful house come into view, surrounded by so much land. All this space, and you gasp as you look at him. “Well, we all have to agree,” Andy puts the car into park. Holding up his hand, he lets a single key on a key ring dangle from his finger. “Shall we go look at it?”

Your mouth spreads into the widest grin as you nod your head. Jumping out of the car to get Audrey out of her seat, and Andy grabs Suede. Holding onto your shoeless monster, while everyone runs to the front door squealing. “It’s a bit large. But Linda Drysdale found it. It’s not officially been listed, but the asking price is just too good. There is enough for Suede and Audrey to have their own room, and then — some. Full size and finished basement for a play area, and,” opening up the door he sets Suede down, and both kids dart past you screaming as they run through a mostly empty house. “The master bedroom is phenomenal. There’s a great pantry. Garage. We’d be secluded, so the kids can have space to play and have swings.”

He keeps talking, but you’re just taking everything in. It’s perfect. Right down to the color scheme. It’s almost textbook the house that you and Andy talked about getting when you were silly kids in love looking through Pinterest. The space. The way that your kids are just giggling and laughing. The way that this actually feels like home. More of a home than whatever you and Scott attempted to make.

“Doe?” You spin around to face Andy, but he’s lower on the floor. Audrey leans up against him, while Suede is standing in between his arms, and your ring up in Andy’s hand. It wasn’t just a normal ring. It was the ring. The one that you and him jokingly went shopping for when he was eighteen and you were seventeen. A ring you knew he could never afford, but it was fun to pretend. It still was the perfect ring, and even prettier than you remembered.

“Honey, will you marry me?”

“Chess, mama!”

“Mommy, say yes! Andy asked for permission.”

Oh god. He asked your babies for their permission. This ridiculous man remembered everything. All of it. He is too perfect with your babies surrounding him. Letting them be just as much a part of this proposal as him. Because they are always in the equation. He thought of everything. “Mommy!”

“Yes. Yes!” You drop down to your knees with him. Crowding Suede and Audrey as you try to find his lips. Sealing everything with a kiss. “Give me two good reasons.”

“I can start with three,” Andy whispers against your lips. “Audrey, Suede, and you,” he’s too precious for words. Sometimes it isn’t about the time lost that made the difference, it’s the time now. You spent too many years trying to recreate Andy. But in those years away from him you both did some growing up. But the thing that remained was a true undying love for this man, and your family.

“Mama, we ho!”

“Yes, buddy. We’re home,” you can’t even see properly with the tears that cloud your eyes. First a home. A place to set down your roots. Your forever home with Andy. And then what he’s promised since you were seventeen. That he was going to marry you.

“Mommy! I want the bedroom with the princess window.”

“Me, too. Me oom!” Both kids spring towards the stairs again.

“Don’t run, guys,” Andy says calmly, and they immediately walk instead. They listen to him so well, “Shall we check out the rooms they picked out?”

“Andy, this is too much.”

“No, it’s priced to sell. Linda got us a great deal, and your name will be on the deed as well. If you love this house as much as me and the kids, it’s ours. What do you say?”

You look down to your left hand smiling. It was a stupid morning made right with the most perfect thing you could think of. “Let’s check out our new home,” you answer. Pulling at your fiancé’s arm as you walk towards the stairs. “What about the inspection?”

“Everything is perfect. There’s a little bit more that needs to be done in the basement. But other than that, it’s fully functional. Wires, plumbing, electricity, they all are perfect. After you, my love. I think Audrey and Suede have found their rooms. And there’s plenty more to grow,” plenty more to grow. You like the sound of that.

“What is all this shit?” Audrey’s smile fades quickly as she looks at her father, and Taylor drops her hand. “She’s five years old, it isn’t even that big of a deal,” Taylor marches into the kitchen laying another bag onto the counter, “Audrey, go in the bedroom, and take a nap with Suede. It took him forever to go to sleep.”

“I don’t take naps.”

“Audrey!”

Frowning Audrey stomps her food, “I didn’t even want a birthday party anyways!” Before stomping off into her shared bedroom with Suede, and Scott grabs his head growling. Her outbursts need to stop. They are getting out of control because he can’t give her whatever she wants like you and Andy.

”She was excited about today, and you had to open your big mouth! These are the goody bags that you said you liked. So this is what I ordered,” her movements in the kitchen are harsh, and loud, and it grates on Scott’s everlasting nerves. First his daughter’s temper tantrum, and now her.

“You’ve been in such a pissy mood ever since…”

“I heard you tell your wife that you wanted to get back together,” Taylor interrupts. She knows he’s going to have some line that differs from what she knew. What she actually heard him say. It hurt her. Especially since Scott wasn’t even the perfect catch himself. He had baggage for one. But he was amazing in bed. And then the allowance started.

She didn’t want to be a mom. Every other weekend is fine. But he claims to want more time. She knows he doesn’t want more time with his kids. It’s his need for power. A power she sometimes feeds off of. She used to feed off it all the time. His power was addicting. The men her age didn’t have that. They didn’t have the money or smarts either.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” because that makes her feel better. When the kids aren’t here he’s a different man. They stressed him out because they couldn’t be controlled. Especially not Suede. When he’s awake he is nonstop moving and playing. Always asking questions you couldn’t understand, always getting in your face, always needing attention, always needing help to go to the bathroom. Everything that Scott wasn’t willing to give because it wasn’t his job.

It’s not her fucking job either. They’re his kids. And while they’re cute, it’s annoying that he didn’t want to help at all. She didn’t even know if she wanted kids. She had no desire to remove her IUD, or even tell him about it. Making a mistake on something she felt was more temporary isn’t part of her plan. Not that any of this was. He was cute, and he gave her attention, and that’s as far as her vision went.

“That’s not really how I feel,” it is just easier to ignore Scott’s words. He’d always talk himself into a corner anyways. “She just infuriates me so much. You don’t see the way she prances around with her new boy toy.”

“Fiancé,” she tells him, continuing to move about just so she doesn’t have to look at him.

“Excuse me?” The vitriol in his voice pisses her off. He had no right to be pissed off that she was engaged. Taylor would fuck Andy, too, if given the chance.

“Do you ever listen to your kids?” Scott shrugs. Of course he didn't listen to them, why should he? Usually they were someone else’s problem. And as of late they were her problem, and she couldn’t even do the fun things with Audrey because Suede had to be there, and he was limited. Scott didn’t like having Suede alone either. But today. Audrey was going to have the best birthday. She doesn’t know why his mom couldn’t have withheld him from the party for a couple of hours. She would be selfish like that. Audrey deserves to have the best party without the limitations her brother’s allergies set.

It’s the reason why she wanted their mom to be there so hopefully Suede would beg to go home, like he always did. And she could play dress up with Audrey. Maybe get manis and pedis. She likes Audrey. Suede she didn’t connect with, and she’s sure he doesn’t much care for her either. “Suede and Audrey both told you they got engaged. Audrey even said they’re moving into a new house.”

“What?” His jaw unhooks, and she knows that he has been emasculated again by Andy. “What do you mean they got a new house?”

“NaNa mama ho,” Taylor answers, annoyed, and Scott shakes his head confused, “Andy bought his mama a home. And Audrey clarified it by saying she has a room with lots of windows, and it’s her princess room.”

“Audrey doesn’t like princesses. Audrey likes the law. She lives in reality.”

“OH MY GOD!” Taylor screams agitated. “She’s a child. She is just five years old. Audrey’s likes to do what other normal five year olds do, and that includes princesses.”

“Audrey!” Taylor rolls her eyes, and starts to pack up the things from the house. Her and Audrey can go to the event center early to set up, and Scott can bring Suede later. She’s already annoyed at him. “Audrey Elise Huffman, come here right now!”

Pompous asshole. Audrey comes into the room, now wearing her Madeline dress and Mary Janes that her mom bought for her for the party. The hat in her hand, and her right foot fiddles around a bit, while she struggles to not grimace at her father. “You guys moved?”

“No. No, not yet,” Scott doesn’t see, but Suede lingers in the hallway. Probably peeing on himself since he won’t ask to go to the bathroom. “Um, Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy…”

“Breathe, Audi,” Taylor says softly, and the little girl takes a deep breath, but her father asserts his authority by putting his hands on his hips. “Go on.”

“We take some things there everyday. But we still sleep at home. D-Andy had someone paint my pri — my room,” of course she would change what she called her room. She’s in front of her father. But she told Taylor that her bedroom was a soft pink.

“What’s your favorite thing to play?” Scott asks, thinking he’s going to trick her.

“Bocks.”

“Suede, I wasn’t talking to you,” Audrey furrows her brow, and holds out a hand for her brother, but he growls, and turns to go back where he came from. Taylor knows that none of those kids apart from their last name belong to Scott. “Audrey?”

“I like to draw. And do adding,” Taylor wonders if Scott ever took the time to look at Audrey’s sketch books to see in between every drawing of a courtroom was unicorns, or mushrooms with faces. “Are Andy and Mommy coming today?”

“Chess. Andy, mama. Me ho!” He makes a bunch of loud noises in his bedroom, and Taylor bites her tongue because that means she has another mess to clean.

“Ugh,” Scott groans. He needs a nap. “Yeah, Suede get dressed,” a two year old get dressed by himself. Yeah, Taylor already sees where this is going, and walks away from Scott and to the kids room to get Suede dressed. Accessories are all they are to him. If she were to be asked, she’d tell the court that their mom deserved them. One day with the kids was enough for Taylor, but even their father couldn’t stand to truly be around them for more than an hour. It’s why he always left. Or why he made an excuse to be in his office. Why he came home late. She’s biding her time until after she goes on vacation. She never could have afforded it alone.

“They rented this for a five year old?” Ransom asks. It was a bit ostentatious for a child’s birthday party. I’m sure that Taylor’s Instagram will look fabulous today.

“They had to have the space for the bounce houses,” Ransom looks in the backseat at you. Sweet angel child, this is how Scott would have your children grow up, lacking a sense of child wonderment. “They’re these blow up things, and you can bounce and hop on them. Andy, I did get Suede’s inhaler, right?”

“Yep,” he could exert so much energy on those things, you hope that he was breathing okay. Or even that the adults were paying attention to how his lungs are working. “Doe, we’re not that late. You said you didn’t want to intrude on their birthday party.”

Being late didn’t even bother you. The less time you spend around him the better off you are, “I just can’t help but,” you didn’t want to say it, but something felt off. There’s a sinking feeling in your gut, and you’re trying to ignore it. But it is screaming. Blaring inside of your heart. “Andy, something’s wrong.”

He shakes his head no, but the moment the car is in the spot, you jump out of the car. Trying to remain calm, but your skin is crawling. Every hair on your body is prickled up, and all you hear is laughing and music. Your chest heaves as you walk towards the entrance, with Andy and Ransom jogging on your heels.

Going in the building you scan everywhere. Your smiling girl gives you a wave from one of the bounce houses, but no Suede. There is too much noise. Too many people. Too many kids. Too much going on. Scott sits with a group of men, and Taylor’s bouncing around like an idiot on the slide with the group of men watching her. Pigs. Everyone is accounted for. But…

”Andy, where’s Suede?” He goes off one way, while Ransom goes another, and you walk into the belly of the too many people like a wild woman. Your head whips back and forth as the bad feeling festers deeper in your bones. You want to vomit. Where’s your baby?

This isn’t right. There’s something wrong. He stays with Audrey, and none of those kids were him. Who were all these fucking kids? Who were all these men? Your throat is so dry. Fear doesn’t creep up, it swallows you whole. Taking every last bit of breath from your body. You didn’t see him. Couldn’t hear him. He always sees you first.

“Suede!” Nononononononononono. “Suedey! Baby, no!” The roar of the event center changes as you scoop up your baby from the floor. “Fucking macarons. There’s eggs in here. Oh my god. Andy! Oh my god, he’s not breathing!”

You can’t even hold your hand steady as you try to get the EpiPen out of your bag. “He’s not breathing. No no no,” the color of his skin is all wrong, and tinged purple. How long has he been here? My god you hate them. Hate both of them. You asked for one fucking thing.

You jab the pen into his leg, and open up his mouth. Scooping out the bit of cookie he couldn’t swallow. “Suedey, baby, mommy’s here. Come on, baby,” Ransom is already on the phone with 911, and you can’t focus on anything but the blurry baby in your arms. Your tears stain your cheeks, and make it impossible to see properly, “Suede! Suede, mommy needs you to take a breath.”

He’s so cold. He is too small, and doesn’t seem right. This is supposed to be a fun day. It could have been. Keep allergens away from Suede. That’s how you prevent this. “Suede, buddy, breathe for mommy,” holding a hand over his chest, you can’t think, you just do, and lay him on the floor to breathe for him.

“Mommy!” You want to comfort her, but you can’t. Suede needs oxygen. You took his allergies seriously, and learned everything there was to know in case of an emergency. “Mommy, he’s not dying,” Ransom scoops Audrey up in his arms, walking away with her kicking and screaming. He knows you don’t have time to deal with her comfort right now.

There are times you have to pick and choose your children, and right now Suede wasn’t conscious. Beat by beat. Pressure by pressure, you keep filling his lungs with oxygen, while you press onto his chest. Sounds that a mother should never experience inhabit your body as his chest cracks, but you just want air to move into his body.

“Come on, baby. Mommy loves you and she needs you,” come on. Take a breath. You need to see that he is capable. You can’t give up hope. It may be the swelling of his throat constricting his breathing. But the EpiPen will do what it needs to do. You have faith. He is okay.

It isn’t a breath as much as it is a gurgled cry, but it’s enough to see his skin starting to change back. “There you go, baby,” his blood shot eyes open up, and he stares at you so confused, and hurting. “Hey, Suedey. Mommy’s here. I’m right here, baby.”

He moves his mouth with no sound coming out, but you don’t care. He’s alert enough to see you. He looks around at everyone crowding him, but he’s back to you in a second. You pet along his face, crying and smiling, unable to focus or breathe yourself. Exhaustion overcomes you, but your baby is breathing.

“You son of a bitch!” You can’t even process that Andy is screaming, you just see this sweet little boy who is so scared and confused. “One fucking thing! She asked you one goddamn thing and that was that he could have everything here! That was it. You and your child of a girlfriend are deadbeats. You could have killed him!”

“Hey, baby,” you coo at him. Keeping him focused on you and not the fight that’s ensuing behind you.

“Mama,” his voice hurts so much, but it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard. “Mama,” he’s okay. He’s not perfectly fine, but he’s okay.

”I know buddy. We have to wait for the ambulance. You and mommy are going on a ride.”

“My daddy,” his eyes circle around, looking for his father.

“He’s,” a piece of shit. He will never have your son with him alone ever again. You didn’t care if he ever saw Suede ever again. He didn’t deserve his son. His son meant nothing to him. He allowed those stupid cookies here, and couldn’t keep an eye on him.

“NaNa my daddy,” you wipe the tears and snot off your face. Andy can be his daddy. Scott didn’t deserve it. “My daddy NaNa.”

“Andy,” your voice is a croak, and he won’t hear it over his berating of Scott, but you didn’t have the energy to even try. “Andy.”

“You’re a sorry piece of shit, Scott, and you’re fucking idiot,” he defeatedly says as he walks over to you. “Suedey, buddy, you scared us,” this took ten years off of your life.

“Daddy. My daddy,” Andy looks over towards you, and you just nod your head. “Tong.”

“Yes, buddy, you’re so strong. Those sirens are for you. I’m going to check on Audi, okay?”

“Otay,” his little hand tries to give him a thumbs up, and Andy kisses your temple. He gives Suede a thumbs up back, as he stands up, ready to get Audrey.

“I’ll — you want me to bring Audi to the hospital?” No. She’s traumatized enough as it is. “Ransom said he can take her to his grandpa’s for a few hours.”

“Okay,” it’s the bad thing about not having friends here. But Ransom is a start. Didn’t hesitate to do what needed to be done. He took care of it all, while a part of you died inside. You have no feelings towards Scott, he’s dead to you. You struggled to ask for sole custody, but you aren’t struggling anymore.

You hear him saying your name, but ignore him. You are numb to him. That man has done the worst things to you, but purposefully being negligent to your child is unforgivable.

“He’s had an EpiPen?” You nod your head to the paramedic, and Suede squeezes your hand a bit tighter. “You ready to go for a ride? We’re going to make sure everything is okay.”

“Me tong,” Suede whispers out, and you finally smile.

“You’re the strongest little buddy I know,” and he is. You’ve never seen a two year old be as resilient as him. The way he is trying to smile despite whatever his little body is screaming. You know he’s in pain. Know that he’s hurting so bad, but he’s okay. Scott says your name again, and you don’t even look.

“Ma’am, is that your husband?”

“No, I’m not married. I’m engaged to…”

“My daddy. Mine,” Suede taps his chest, and you want to hold him and squeeze him. It might be a long way in the distance, but it is something Andy has hinted at. He’d adopt your kids. It’d be a process, but it’d get Scott out of child support. It would take the responsibility off his shoulders, and Andy would take it all. You don’t want a conversation. You want Scott to disappear, and let you and your kids move on with a man that loves and enjoys all of you.

They lift Suede up on the gurney, and he reaches for your hand, looking more scared now than before. “They’re not taking you from me, baby.”

“Doe, I’ll meet you at the hospital, honey,” you collapse in Andy’s embrace. Trying to absorb his strength before you get into the ambulance with Suede.

“My daddy,” you step up into the ambulance with him.

“Yeah, buddy, I’m your daddy,” Suede smiles at Andy before the doors are closed. And Andy walks towards the car.

“Barber!”

“Scott, how long was he out?” Scott shakes his head. The bastard didn’t even know. “I’m going to say this as nice as I know how, but you’re a sorry piece of shit. You didn’t care about Suede, and that proves it! You let that girl bring fucking eggs in the party, and you as the parent didn’t watch to see if he was getting into it. Do you believe he has allergies now? My fiance had to breathe life back into her baby! She saved our son’s life.”

“He’s my son!”

“By blood. That’s all you have. He’s my son by choice. His choice and mine. Suede could have died, and you’re too busy trying to have a pissing contest with me. I’m going to the hospital to comfort my fiance and son, and we’re going to pick up my daughter, and we’re going to go home,” Scott growls, showing more emotion with the mention of Audrey being Andy’s daughter than Suede’s.

“You’re an insufferable asshole that plays favorites. Don’t call. Don’t text. We’ll see you in court,” Andy slings his door open before he gets in. He meant what he said. That was it. Andy would make sure that the law was thrown at Scott. Because of his negligence Suede nearly lost his life. He’s finished playing nice. Fuck Scott Huffman.

Today, Andy Barber is a father.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

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[masterwords]

too much to ask

Summary: Derek shows up on Hotch's doorstep needing to talk on a night when they're both needing a little extra comfort. (Coda to 3x05 - Seven Seconds)

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 6k

Warnings: discussion of child abuse past and present (the case & Derek's, and Hotch's), divorce, depression

Notes: For @yearoftheotpevent Year of the OTP event, this is my January entry using the prompt "first kiss". These two are a shit show, and this first kiss is anything but ideal, but it's a good jumping off point.

**

Tonight, Haley asked him if he'd started searching for an apartment yet. She didn't even wait. He walked in the door, and as she followed him down the hallway to the room Jack was staying in, right on his heels. “Have you even tried?”

If Jack hadn't been sleeping, if Jessica hadn't been right there, it would have started an argument. As it was, his blood boiled and he just said not yet through clenched teeth before entering Jack's darkened room and watching him sleep for what felt like ages. It was all he could think to do, just stare at his son and wonder where it all goes wrong.

“I had hoped we could take some time to cool off and reconsider our options,” he said, re-entering the hallway after all the time in the world had passed inside of that room only to find that no time at all had passed for her. She laughed a little too loud before clapping her hand over her mouth. Jessica slapped her arm for that one.

“Play nice,” she hissed. Hotch could tell how much she hated being in the middle of this. “I don't care how mad you are, we are all adults who love one another, no matter what else is happening. Act like it.”

“Aaron, I have given you more than enough time to reconsider your choices and nothing has changed, so why should my mind have changed? I'm not the one who walked out on my family for a job.”

“It was that job that provided for our family...” he reminded her with a little more vitriol than he'd intended. Oh well, he was in it now. The guilt would eat him alive in minutes.

"Yeah. But I asked you to stay, and Derek asked you to go...you made your choice. I'm finished trying to compete."

“Enough. Both of you.” Jessica was furiously pushing them down the hallway, toward the front room...away from Jack's door. She knew it was about to get ugly. She'd heard about the phone call, about what Haley was doing too. There was only one innocent party in this mess and he was sleeping soundly in the other room. “You're both being assholes now knock it off.”

“I'm sorry,” he said quietly. “I should leave.”

Jess almost felt bad for him. She knew that Haley was completely finished, and she hated to see the way he held on to some flicker of hope when he really just needed to let it go. “Aaron?” Jess asked, touching his shoulder. “Would you join me in the kitchen for a moment before you leave?”

Haley narrowed her eyes at her sister but said nothing. She knew her sister was playing both sides here, it was no secret that they'd always been close and that this separation was almost as hard for her as it was for them. Hotch followed her to the kitchen where she put on a tea kettle silently, her back to him, taking a full minute before she turned and looked at him. Gathering her thoughts. Trying to put out the fire before it consumed them all.

“What are you doing?”

He stared. “I'm trying to get my family back,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. She shook her head, her arms folding over her chest.

“I mean no disrespect here, and I say this with all of the love I can muster...you can't get her back. She's gone. But Jack isn't...so just take a deep breath, admit your family is different now, and find a damn apartment so they can get the hell out of my house. Aaron, I want my house back.”

He couldn't think of a damn thing to say that wouldn't expose him for the fraud he was, standing there stoic and emotionless in her kitchen. Opening his mouth would destroy his defenses. He hadn't admitted to himself yet that Haley was gone, that this separation train was headed full speed ahead for divorce. It wasn't like he had anything he could hide from Jessica anyway. She knew.

“She's already met with a lawyer, Aaron,” Jessica said a little quieter, almost as if she was reading his mind. “The wheels are in motion. It's only a matter of time.”

His eyes welled with tears, and yet he remained silent while the kettle hissed and bubbled and finally screamed. She took it off the heat quickly, just shoved it to the side and busied herself with three mugs, three tea bags. As if he was going to stay.

“I should go,” he whispered, staring wide-eyed at nothing. “It's late.” He didn't see her turn around, didn't notice her walking toward him, not until her arms were around him and her head was against his chest.

“Call me tomorrow,” she said, holding back her own tears. “I'll help you find a nice place okay? I know a guy who gets all the good listings first. He got me this place when I moved back, it wasn't even on the market yet.”

He nodded, half listening, but he had no intention of calling her. Not really. He just had to get out of there. Fast.

So fast he walked right by Haley without saying a word to her on his way out.

- - - -

“How long have you been here?” Hotch asked, approaching his darkened porch slowly. He'd recognized the shadowy figure on his steps as Derek before he even put his car into park. He stopped short of the steps and peered at the six pack of beer sitting beside his friend, smiling at the coincidence. He was holding his own six pack of the exact same beer in his right hand.

The only difference was that Derek's was already missing a few.

“Long enough,” was Derek's somber reply in a rough, ragged drawl. “I'm surprised your neighbors haven't called the cops. I'm loitering.”

“Most of them know you by now. They watch things pretty closely. I am surprised Mrs. Sandoval didn't bring you out a blanket and some tea though.”

“She isn't home. She and her husband left in some pretty fancy clothes just as I was getting here...late night oldies dance, I guess. They looked pretty slick.”

“At least someone is having a nice night,” Hotch deadpanned.

His eyes met the darkness in his front window; he hadn't left any lights on. The last thing he wanted to do was walk in there, into that cavernous chill, the house that wasn't a home any longer. Haley had been coming by during the day while he was at work, while Jack was at daycare, and boxing up the things she wanted him to take – every day he comes home to more boxes with his name on them. He was, as Jessica put it, doing everything he could to ignore the inevitable but obvious thing: Haley was going to file for divorce. It was not a question of if, it was a question of when.

“I don't see your bike...” He looked around, breaking out of the trance he'd sunken into.

“Took a cab. I uh...” Derek cleared his throat, pushing up until he was standing. Until they were eye to eye, close enough that Hotch could smell the beer on his breath. “I couldn't settle down. Took Clooney for a walk but it just made it worse, so I got in a cab and came here hoping your offer was still good...”

“My offer?” Hotch asked quietly. He'd made plenty of offers over the years, all of which he believed himself capable of keeping. Lately he'd realized exactly how far he'd overextended himself, trusting his abilities that were currently in need of repair. But Derek was here and he wasn't about to turn him away, no matter where his head and heart were at. “You might need to be more specific.”

“That case tonight,” Derek started, already feeling that familiar breathlessness of panic creeping back in. “Katie's uncle, the look in his eye...the doll...”

“Oh,” Hotch said, nodding. “I...it's been a tough night, huh?” For them both, he thought bitterly. But focusing on Derek might help him forget about his own troubles. Derek's could be helped with a little tenderness, his couldn't. “Let's go out back.”

“You don't wanna just go inside?”

Hotch stopped, glancing at the front door with disgust. “No, I'd rather not.” Walking through the house would give him away. Piles of boxes with his name on them would let Derek know that things were moving along at a serious clip, and there was no longer any question as to whether or not Haley would be coming back. They could go through the side yard and put their feet in the pool, or he could pop inside for some trunks and they could get into the hot tub, but at least this way he could avoid discussing himself altogether.

“You seem a little...”

“It's fine. Nothing I can't handle. Let me put your beer in the fridge, we can start with mine. It's probably colder.”

Derek laughed. “Yeah. Guess we both had the same idea, huh?”

That kind of a case. That kind of a night. Hotch flipped through details of the case in his mind while he made his way to the kitchen to throw Derek's beer into the empty fridge. It looked worse now, the door empty save for the half used bottle of Tobasco sauce that Haley always put in there though he reminded her time and again it didn't need refrigeration. “Is it going to hurt it by being cold?” she would ask and the argument, snippy and rude, would escalate from there. If he really thought about it, he could name a hundred different ways they'd chipped away at their marriage over the years by being unkind, thoughtless, selfish. At their marriage and at one another. It was a miracle they'd hung on as long as they had.

He tripped over a new box on his way out and grunted as he fell to the ground in the dark, silverware crashing, spilling, clattering around him. He scrambled back to his feet, rubbing at the sore spot on his knee where he'd landed and kicked the box again. This time it was no accident, it was pure frustration that sent that cardboard sliding across the floor leaving a trail of silverware in its wake.

“Dammit,” he hissed, kicking at the silverware, each piece separately went flying as he connected with the toe of his shiny leather shoes, throwing what he knew was a pretty embarrassing little hissy fit right there in his pitch black kitchen. Thankfully, there was no one around to see him.

Derek had already peeled his shoes and socks off, rolled his pants up past his knees, and was sitting with his feet in the water. With just enough light to see thanks to the moon, the scene almost looked peaceful. He kicked out of his own shoes and socks and rolled his pants up before sitting down a careful distance away. There was already a bruise spreading across the top of his knee, it would be stiff and sore by morning. A delightful reminder of his performance in the kitchen.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Hotch asked, leaning back against his hands. The water was a little cold for his taste, he wasn't going to be able to do this long. From beside him, he heard Derek draw a shaky breath inward, exhaling slowly to try and steady it. He stared into the water and waited, knowing that pushing wouldn't do any good. Derek would either talk or not, and there was no forcing it.

“I don't know, man,” Derek replied. “Why's it always someone you trust? Y'know? Someone your parents trust...that little girl probably never knew how to tell them what was happening. And every time they asked if she wanted to stay the night...”

Hotch knew he wasn't supposed to answer any of these questions. He couldn't even if he wanted to. His job was simply to listen. Until now, they hadn't spoken again about what happened in Chicago, what Carl Buford was and what he did, what Hotch knew when no one else on the team had a clue. What Derek had fought so hard to protect. He'd asked Derek to attend counseling but once he started going, Hotch stepped back knowing it wasn't any of his business. And the offer Derek spoke of, he recalled now with precision, was simply that if a case hit too close to home and he needed someone to talk to...he could find Hotch anywhere, and no matter what, he'd make himself available. It was that important to him, he'd said.

Haley had rolled her eyes when he told her that. “Anytime?” she asked, incredulously. She'd already been frustrated with him, it wasn't surprising.“No matter what? That doesn't sound like something a boss tells his subordinate, Aaron. That sounds like something a man in love says...”

“Haley, he's my friend.”

“No, Aaron, he's your co-worker.”

They never had been any good at figuring out where the line was between co-worker and friend and whatever else they might have slipped in and out of, carefully tiptoeing around boundaries like battlefields. Shared hotel rooms and nightmares, insomnia and fitness exams. They were tied together through years, bound in more than just badges and titles. Opening doors for each other, a hand placed at the small of the back or between the shoulders as a reminder that they're right there.

Only Hotch couldn't be there for this one.

He'd sent Reid and Morgan to Katie Jacobs' house, told them to get into everything, never suspecting...and when he got that call from Derek about the doll...

“He's her damn uncle,” Derek continued, pounding the last of his beer. It burned foamy and lukewarm down his throat. “The spittin' damn image of her dad. What's that do to her, huh? How does she come back from that? I told Reid she'd be okay, I told her cousin she'd be okay...but Aaron...”

“I know it's little consolation,” Hotch began, but Derek cracked the top off of his beer and raised his hand dismissively. He already knew what Hotch was going to say and yeah, it made perfect sense and it was undoubtedly good but...it didn't really make any fucking difference to how he felt right then. It really didn't make any difference at all because nothing could change the damage that was already done. Every single member of that family left the mall tonight broken. There was no happy ending, not even when they found her alive. Not even when Hotch, with his huge hands, performed chest compressions on that tiny little body while he held the fluid bag above her head and watched helplessly. Not when she coughed and gasped her way back to life, a moment that should have been blissful except for the knowledge.

There were no winners tonight.

“Yeah, yeah. We saved her life and we caught him. We put her aunt in cuffs for trying to kill her and we put her uncle in cuffs for stealing her innocence. And yeah, he's not gonna hurt her anymore and her parents know and she's got a lot of love and support...I know all that, and I hope you're right, man. I do. But I also know what it's like when the bad guy was supposed to be the good guy...when everyone looks at him like he's a fucking hero...and you know...Aaron, you know he's no fucking hero.”

It trailed off from there. Derek didn't have anything else he wanted to say, anything else he wanted to share with the moon and the stars and the crystal clear water. He felt Hotch's hand on his shoulder, fingertips pressing into muscle, and he relaxed some. Hotch scooted closer, closed the gap by inches, and took a deep breath.

“You are living proof that she can come through this,” Hotch whispered. He looked down at his feet in the water, the way it pushed over his icy skin in small waves, and sighed. “You had to do it on your own, she's got a lot of support and a lot of love. I have to believe that will help.”

Derek, staring now at Hotch's aquiline profile illuminated in silvery shreds of moon and pool light, realized something he'd been chewing on for years. He'd seen a look, some recognition, some connection in the interrogation room between Hotch and Vincent Perotta. It had been only he and Gideon watching the tape as they prepared for his trial, and Gideon sat enraptured by the discussion. Derek remembered wanting to ask Gideon a question – did you know about Hotch? But then, he thought maybe Hotch was just playing, he was an expert in the interrogation room, so he bit his tongue and helped Gideon prepare their evidence. And now, something in Hotch's silence, in the careful spaces he left between the words he chose...Derek knew there was some kinship here they had never spoken of. Would not speak of tonight. He could sense the weight of this moment, the way they danced closer to the line than ever before, one sideways glance or unsteady breath and they might just cross a line.

“Fuck. Is there anyone in the world that isn't broken?” Derek asked finally, lying back against the ground. Hotch smiled. It was a strange time to smile, he had to admit, but he couldn't think of anyone he'd rather be sitting beside right now and considering how completely terrible his day and night had been up until this point...that was saying a lot.

“I wouldn't call it broken. A little banged up, maybe, but not broken.” His smile turned a little sad. “You're doing better than I am.”

Derek pulled his feet out of the water, pressed them against the warm cement, and sat upright. “I'm getting in the pool.” Just like that, he'd flipped the switch. He was done wallowing. That hollow ache in his chest couldn't be talked out, but it could be drowned in moonlight chlorine.

“Now?”

“Now. I'm gonna go inside and grab those other beers, you can join me in the pool if you want but when I get back outside it's time to swim.”

Hotch forgot to protest, momentarily blindsided by the change in Derek's demeanor. He did that. One minute he was on the verge of tears, and the next he'd figured everything out, sorted his feelings, and wanted to walk away from the wreckage with something as close to a clean slate as he could manage. It was one of the traits Hotch most admired and envied in the other man. It made Derek's presence almost addicting, like he could acquire even a little slice of it just by being near.

It hadn't worked so far, but it didn't stop him from trying.

By the time Derek had let the screen door close behind him, Hotch remembered the box of silverware tipped and scattered on the floor, and all the towers in the next room. Every single one with AARON written in Haley's neat looping Sharpie scrawl on the side, as if anyone else would be coming for boxes of his things.

To distract himself momentarily, he started loosening his tie. He didn't really want to get into the pool, but some part of him had already made up his mind to do it anyway.

Inside, Derek walked with damp feet through the house, for the first time not terribly concerned about the little puddles he left behind. Haley had been very strict about tracking water through the house, and yeah he got it, but it was nice not to have to worry. If he slipped and fell on his ass on the way back out, maybe he'd think differently. The sight of the boxes stacked in small towers was a little jarring. Hotch had said Haley took Jack and he didn't know if she was coming back, but it looked to him like things had progressed in the short time since that conversation. This wasn't going to be Hotch's house much longer, by the looks of it, though he really couldn't understand why. Haley didn't work, no way she could afford a place like this and he felt a little guilty knowing that she was going to divorce his ass and he'd still keep paying for this house for them. Families were messy. Marriage was scary, huge and messy.

The upended box in the kitchen was in his way. Silverware scattered over the floor like a boobytrap right out of Home Alone. He dropped to his knees and scooped them back into the box. It wasn't neat, he didn't organize them, he just dumped them in to clear the floor. Whether this was accidental or intentional, he didn't plan to ask but it gave him pause. A moment to consider the volatile mindset of the man in the backyard. “Fuck...” he muttered to himself, grabbing a couple of beers. There was no sense feeling guilty for showing up needing Hotch to listen to him, though his mind tried to wade into those waters.

The walk back outside felt longer, and he hesitated at the backdoor, watching the way Hotch unbuttoned his shirt and draped all of his clothes neatly over the back of a nearby chair lawn chair. The state of the backyard was chaos, a mess of play toys and equipment, a dazzling array of things to entertain a child Jack's age and maybe even older. It was a kid's dream. But the way the toys were tipped on their sides and leaves had fallen all over the slide, grass unkempt and too long, it looked sad and deserted.

He hadn't even noticed.

Hotch showed up to work neat and tidy as ever, maybe he frowned a little faster now and it stayed a little longer, maybe he smiled less...but he never gave the impression that this was what he came home to. That this was where he was supposed to take some kind of reprieve from the day. From one nightmare into another.

“Hey,” he called, waving the beers in his hands at the man who was nearly undressed in the chilly night air. “You're joining me? Thought you'd chicken out.”

“Grab some towels from the cabinet on your way past, would you?”

“You're gonna freeze your balls off...” Derek warned. Hotch didn't deal well with cold. Everyone knew this.

“I don't think you need to be concerned about the state of my balls, Derek.”

Stars blinked in and out of existence above them, crickets and other night creatures sang their quiet symphonies and the sound of Derek's body splashing into the small pool broke the spell of the night. Just underwear, both of them. It wasn't ideal but it was better than wasting more time searching through those labeled boxes hoping to find his swimming trunks. She'd only left out his work clothes. The night wouldn't last forever, they were already chasing dawn and this was fine.

He forced his body down, down, sat cross-legged on the bottom until his lungs burned and he released the air so he could stay down longer. He ran his fingers along the rough bottom and turned his face upward, watching the still surface of the water for Hotch's entrance. He slipped in over the edge, there would be no jumping in for him, there never was. He just eased himself down like a bullet, propelled until they were face to face sitting there at the bottom. The world went silent and dark around them. Derek reached out, stretched his arm toward Hotch and waited for the man to reach back. To grab his hand. To anchor himself there for just a minute beneath the world. The moment was electric.

Breaking the surface, they stayed close together, treading water. It wasn't a deep pool, just a little over their heads, and it was cold. Hotch's teeth chattered almost immediately and Derek let out a wet laugh, sputtering as he wiped the water from his eyes and slicked it back over his head. Hotch's hair was matted to his forehead and dripping from his lashes, temporarily blinding him. But it was the goosebumps, the way he shivered in the water, that made Derek smile wide.

“Told you.”

“My balls are fine.”

Derek laughed, shaking his head. “Well the rest of you looks pretty damn cold.” They floated, caught up in a quiet moment, the gentle lapping of the water against the tile and the soft white light filtering up from the bottom.

“Hey...” Derek started quietly, slipping a little closer, maybe a little too close. “How long's this thing with Haley been going sour, huh? All those boxes in there...”

“A while.” He was purposely evasive, not eager to think too hard, too far back. A long while if he was being honest. Probably since before Jack, but the baby definitely hadn't helped. Love him as much as they both did, he wasn't enough to fix what was already crumbling. He knew Haley had hoped he would be able to fix what was broken, and maybe he had let himself get caught up in that too. It sounded so good. If they just had a baby, things would change. But that isn't really the way things work, and as she came to terms with that fact, a whole pile of others came to light. He was too busy with work to see her slowly come to terms with it all, and it came as a shock to him when it really shouldn't have.

“Yeah, and you don't say a damn word until she's already gone. By the looks of it, long gone. And I'm willing to bet if Gideon hadn't walked out on us the way he did, you still wouldn't have said anything to me. You haven't said two words to me about anything but work in too damn long, man.”

Hotch swallowed hard and felt his throat click. Gideon and Haley both left him at the same time, and he wasn't dealing well with either one. It was a careful game of avoidance, throw twice as much effort into work to avoid the suffocating feeling outside of his office. Pray for a case that would take them out of town, anything to put some distance between him and the carnage in his wake.

He was damn good at pretending, though, if you didn't look too close. No one really bothered to.

Except Derek. He was looking way too close to be fooled now.

“I'm sorry. I didn't realize how strained it had been between us. I've been...” he paused, not sure what he was even going for. “It's been difficult and I've dropped a lot of balls lately.”

“Oh please. It isn't like you haven't had your plate full being our one and only SAC. I know it was already your team but still having Gideon around was probably a load off. It's not your job to make my life easy, man. I managed just fine, but I'm not gonna lose any sleep over him hitting the road. I'm just glad we're here now. You remember when you told me that you'd be available anytime shit got bad? I bet you conveniently forgot that I said I'd do the same.”

There were tears in Hotch's eyes. “I can't do this alone,” he admitted, his voice thick and quiet. “I know Gideon was a lot to handle and he was deeply troubled, and after Bale you had trouble trusting him but...”

Derek reached up and took Hotch's jaw in his hand, pressing their foreheads together. Each of them was barely above the water, chins submerged so their toes could take hold on the rough concrete floor. “You're not alone. We're a team. You are our leader, but we've got your back. You gotta let us know when you need help though.” They're sharing breath a moment before Derek presses their lips together and then its all over. Hotch melts into the embrace, touch starved and desperate for affection. It has been so long since he's been touched like this. Part of his mind, the screaming realist, instantly began reminding him...very loudly...that this is Derek and this is going to get them into trouble. But some even louder part of him, the part that thundered wildly in his chest and pumped all the blood to his extremities screamed in a voice that drowned everything else out.

This is Derek and this is everything.

Box of silverware and bruise on his knee, inevitable nightmares and the creeping of dawn, box towers with his name scrawled over them and a date he really didn't want to keep with Jessica to hunt for a new home...none of that was louder than the way Derek's skin felt against his, the warmth of his hands pressed against Hotch's lower back, the taste of Stella Artois on his dancing tongue. This was heaven, or as close as a beggar like him could afford.

"Haley is going to fill in the pool," Hotch whispered against Derek's lips, tasting chlorine. "Now that Jack is more mobile. This all goes away soon."

"Well then I'm glad we're here now..."

There would be apologies dancing on their lips and towels to dry them off. Breakfast after no sleep would take the edge off with whipped cream on Belgian waffles and hashbrowns nestled beside a pile of scrambled eggs. Those apologies would die on their lips, unspoken because neither of them was sorry and that was the only truth they cared to admit. “I'm apartment hunting today,” Hotch said, dropping Derek off at his house after breakfast. The morning sunlight was golden and warm, his eyes were tired and yet he felt too electric to sleep even now. “But if you're not busy tonight...”

“You want me to keep you warm in the pool again? Soak up every last minute in that old thing?”

Hotch smiled and gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. “Yeah. Something like that.” He paused, giving Derek one last look before he closed the car door. “It was nice not being alone. It was nice being with you.”

“Cool. I'll call you later, see what's up.”

- - - -

“You're sorry?” Derek asked, a little louder than a hiss but still quiet. They were in Hotch's office, the door not entirely closed because that would cause a stir. Hotch didn't close his office door. But he'd called this meeting an hour after signing a lease for an apartment he didn't want and his heart was breaking in his chest.

“You came to me because you needed someone to listen and I'm afraid I may have taken advantage of that.”

“Taken...advantage? Do you even hear yourself?”

Hotch stood and frowned, folding his arms over his chest. “I'm your leader, and after some thought I feel that I may have crossed a line the other night.” What he meant to say was that there was beer and pool water and so damn many stars...and he'd been having a terrible night. He was out of sorts. And if he'd been thinking clearly he probably would have made better choices. Or, at the very least, not allowed himself to indulge in something so incredibly reckless no matter how much he wanted it.

But the problem with that theory was that he liked it. Loved it, even. Had wanted it for a long, long time. It had been a brief spot of light in his darkness. And the second night, while it didn't lead to anything more than devouring a whole pizza and combing through the verbiage in his lease agreement for the apartment he didn't want, he still felt that same electric feeling.

Jessica hadn't helped his anxiety. In fact, she was probably the reason he'd kept Derek at arm's length the second night. Probably the reason they read a contract instead of kissing until their lips hurt. The real problem was that even as mind-numbing an activity as it was...he still wanted more. He would do mind-numbing nights with Derek forever.

“You kissed him?!” Jessica had asked while exploring the third apartment of the day. It might be the one. Hotch looked like he didn't hate it, which was better than the others. He wasn't going to like any of them, but if he didn't hate it...well they could make it work. “You KISSED him?”

“Technically, he kissed me,” Hotch replied while opening a cupboard like he was even paying attention. He'd barely seen anything the whole day, but he did like this place. The basement was a fitness center with an indoor pool and some part of him was inexplicably drawn to the notion that he would still have a body of water to call his own. “But I did kiss him back.”

“Aaron, you dog!” She was smiling, but it faded quickly. “Can you do that? Are you going to get fired?” She hissed that last part so the real estate agent didn't hear them.

“It won't happen again. It shouldn't be an issue.”

“Won't happen again? You look happier this morning than you have in...well a long time. Why wouldn't you do it again?”

“Once is forgivable. Twice and...what if he doesn't feel like he can say no to me?” Given Derek's history, Hotch's face went pale at the thought. He might be sick. “I can't put him in that situation.”

“What, because you're his boss? That's absurd. Maybe if you'd kissed that little guy on your team...”

“Reid?” he asked, a little flustered. This conversation was getting worse by the minute. He chose the apartment more as a way to put a stop to one conversation and start another than anything else.

“Yeah. The kid. But you've worked with Derek for so long, no way he's not going to tell you exactly where to shove it if you do something he doesn't like.”

“Hotch...” Derek said, leaning a little closer, pulling him back to the conversation. “If you think for one second that you're actually putting me in a position where I can't say no, you're wrong. Now do I appreciate your thoughtfulness here? Absolutely. It's part of why I kissed you the other night and why I wanna keep doing it. But you gotta know I've never had a problem telling you to fuck right off if I think it's justified. Right now, JJ is about to walk through that door and tell us we have a case, I heard your phone buzz. So I'm gonna get outta here...and you can think it over. If you want to see where this kiss takes us...cool. I'm game. And if you don't? We never have to bring it up again. It never happened.”

Derek turned to walk out of the room, took a step and froze when he heard a small sound behind him.

“Derek,” came the voice, almost a whisper. He turned and found Hotch rounding the edge of the desk and approaching him cautiously. “I'm sorry. If you're certain...I am too. I don't know how to do this anymore; it's been so long. I never thought I'd feel like this again. I always assumed Haley was it for me.”

“Don't worry, boo, I got you. This is a two person sport.”

Hotch flushed and his face turned shadowy serious. He frowned and Derek knew exactly what he was going to say. “We should probably lay a few ground rules,” he started and Derek laughed and waved his hands in defeat before he had to continue. From the looks of it, they would have to move slowly. Very slowly.

Derek could do that.

He hoped, anyway.

“I won't call you boo again. At work or otherwise. I can't promise other pet names won't slip out on occasion...”

“Just not here.”

“Just not here.”

[hannahssimblr]

In the kitchen the dishwasher light blinks and the tap drips rhythmically in the porcelain sink. The patio light is on, and through the floor to ceiling extension windows I can see my mother staring out over the garden, perched on a sun lounger, a cigarette smouldering in her hand. 

“Bad habit,” I remark, pulling the door shut behind me. She pushes the packet across the seat, “do you want one?”

“I don’t smoke.”

She just laughs. In the light of the half moon her blonde hair looks white as she gazes over the darkness of the garden while I slip the packet into my hand and tap a cigarette out. She hands me the lighter in her cardigan pocket.

“Has Ivy gone to bed?”

“Yeah, I just left her.”

“Good.”

The flame warms my face. After cloudless days the nights are freezing, but the glowing end of my cigarette crackles. Ash, heat and smoke, like the illusion of a bonfire. “She was asking me if you’re going to get a divorce.”

“Hm, and how did you answer her?”

“Told her that you might.”

A glance, “why did you say that?”

“Because it’s true, right? You might. Do you want me to lie to her?”

Mom shakes her head. 

“You’re going to have to be realistic with her, you know, and the sooner you’re honest about what’s happening in this house then the more time she’ll have to be ready for change.”

“I don’t know why you’d scare her with talk of divorce.”

“You think I’m scaring her?”

“She doesn’t need to be worried about those things.”

“Yeah, but if you’re going to split up then she should know.”

She spins around fully to frown at me, face fixed as though I have said something vulgar and offensive to her, “Nobody is getting divorced.” 

“Well, you can’t exactly have a boyfriend and a husband at the same time, can you?”

She scoffs, “You’re oversimplifying.”

“How?”

She ignores me. 

“Your marriage is heinous at the best of times. You’re cruel to one another.”

“Oh ‘heinous’. Don’t be so dramatic. Please!”

I shrug, “Surely you’d be happier with that guy from work,” I can’t bring myself to say Fergal, like a child afraid to curse in front of a teacher. I guess deep down I really do have some kind of problem with him, this man who peeled the scab off my parents' marriage and held the wound up to the light. 

My mother sighs and tosses the butt of her cigarette into a flower pot, “It’s best for Ivy to have a stable home.”

“It isn’t stable.”

“She’ll be fine.”

“Do you think that I was fine?”

“You were so sensitive. I don’t think she’s much like you.”

I tip ash onto the lounger cushion then brush it away, “I won’t be around much longer to make sure that she’s alright, you realise that?”

“She’ll be ten in September. You were well able to take care of yourself by then, weren’t you?”

“Mm.”

“So,” she shrugs conclusively, and I get up to go back inside. As I slide open the door I hear the rustle of the packet, the flick of her lighter on another cigarette, “Jude?” 

“What?”

“She has a piano recital on Wednesday evening at eight. You’ll have to take her to it. I’ve made other arrangements.”

“Okay,” I step inside and shut the door between us. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[duvalfms]

hello hello! i am lilah, i love sour sweets and i drink too much caffiene. i am obsessed with blueberry muffins. i haven't rp'd in a looooong time so y'all gotta bare with me kfjhdkfjh. anyway, here's cece!

full name: felicity leanne duval nickname(s): cece (preferred), fliss, basically anything you want pronouns: she/her sexuality: bisexual age: twenty-three (23) birthdate: 28th december occupation: activity instructor faceclaim: madelaine petsch

about felicity

grew up with a single father after a bitter divorce from her mother until he met his new wife when she was six (6). they got married a year later and she gained a step-brother, two years younger than her.

started attending cooper creek summer camp at eight (8) years old in order to make new friends, many of which she still keeps in contact with now. it also kept her occupied as she was a fairly hyper kid.

step-brother also attended but he never seemed to really get into it like she did, even with her encouragement. despite that, they’re very close and they have each other on speed dial.

currently, she works for a recreational centre back home in orlando where she stands by as an instructor for multiple activities such as the climbing wall and various sports. she often takes to doing the same thing at camp, especially the activities with specialist equipment like the climbing wall and its harnesses.

personality

+ friendly, energetic, enthusiastic- stubborn, lax, indulgent

felicity is very extroverted and easy-going, almost to a fault. her relaxed nature makes her easy to approach for many of the kids at camp but it may lead to frustration from her fellow counsellors who perhaps prefer to stick strictly to the rules. despite this, once her mind is made up, she is sticking to it and very little can change it. she enjoys being active and is one of those annoying people who wakes up at the crack of dawn to go for a run and chug a homemade smoothie as a treat. however, she does have her vices and she would sell her soul for sugar, so she’s not that healthy. 

some headcannons

she doesn’t like coffee but she will guzzle down five energy drinks if given the chance.

constantly has sweets and chocolate bars in her cabin and usually gives them out to kids who are upset or injured as a little boost!

always welcomes people to join her on an early morning jog if they so wish. she will never say no to company, especially on a particularly beautiful sunrise. 

she also enjoys stargazing so sometimes she’ll wander away from the campfire to look up at the sky for a while. doesn’t believe in horoscopes though. astronomy over astrology!

She is a girl's girl through and through, supports the feminist movement and lives to outdo the toxic men that wander into her workplace sometimes.

Her aesthetic is very oranges, reds, the occasional blues, amybe a green thrown in there sometimes. She takes a lot of inspo from "vintage" styles, especially the 80's or 90's.

[doueverwonder]

FrUk didn’t have love at first sight they had divorce at first sight.

“I just laid eyes on this man and I already know I love him dearly but In about 3-7 years Im going to want him out of my house, and i want half his stuff”