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periprose · 9 months

Text

Fly Away

Michael Berzatto x Reader

You're a family friend of the Berzattos and you're invited to have fun at their annual Christmas dinner. You think you still harbor feelings for Carmy, but as the evening progresses, you feel something for his brother.

Genre: friends to lovers, former crush on carm, really everything w carm is mostly platonic, unrequited stuff, insecurities, age gaps (reader and carm are 25, Michael is 38), takes place in 2017, takes place in S2E6, lots of angst, anxiety, some fluff, no use of y/n (you have a nickname: Birdie)

Word count: 11k

There’s a bauble and trinket everywhere you look. Festive, Christmas spirit seems to ebb from the very walls of the Berzatto household– and you would be remiss not to compliment it vocally in some way.

Donna is clearly waiting, teetering on a response from you as you take everything in from the front door. And you know how she reacts if you don’t say things in that perfect, supportive tone that she so desperately thrives off of.

“Wow, Mrs. Berzatto!” You clasp your hands, trying not to seem too cloying or ironic. “I love what you’ve done with the house. Such an eye for details.”

“Oh, stop.” She giggles, and lightly taps your shoulder as she takes your coat and hangs it up in the closet.

“No, really. I wish my house was so… Christmassy this time of year.” You shrug, knowing that your dad isn’t the festive type after divorcing your mother.

“Aw. Well, we have love to spread here.” It’s a strange unseen sympathy coming from Donna, and she pulls you inside, and you take off your shoes, shuffling around in your socks and your comfy, hopefully chic, green loose turtleneck sweater. “Except you might have to wait a bit, because some of these fuckers are late.”

There’s that bitter tone you remember from Donna. You don’t really care for that– you tend to have an avoidant personality especially with how your own mother acts sometimes– and she yells out for Carmy and Mikey to greet you.

“Boys! Birdie’s here!” She calls from the stairs, and you suddenly feel self conscious.

Ever since your dad, a former co-worker and friend of Cicero’s, starting taking you as a teenager to these Berzatto hangouts, you have always had a eye for Carmen. It was hard not to be, seeing this bashful, slightly angry, awkward boy, around the same age as you, with dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes. You felt like sometimes, he really, really listened to you, and that was all you needed.

You wish you could be there for him too.

It’s something you’ve never acted on, never bothered to actually approach him about– he always seemed so absorbed by his own thing.

You relished in the fact that he never had a girlfriend. You felt secure in that, because he just seemed safe. And it’s not like he would’ve been mean about rejecting you if he knew– you were always close to the Berzatto siblings. You were Bear and Birdie, ready to head out on a walk together, while the adults gossiped and drank.

Of course, you haven’t seen him in about… two years now. Around after he left to his apartment, and did his chef-education-training (you’re a bit vague on the details, honestly), and ever since then, as far as you know he’s slowly been doing what he loves. He does text you from time to time, but you’d be overstating those texts’ importance if you pretended it really quantified a relationship.

Mikey clambers down the stairs, wearing what looks to be pajamas, or very chill homebody clothes, and he raises his arm in a big, Italian gesture.

“Oh! Is that little Bird I see?” He exclaims, and pulls you into an eager hug. Maybe a little too eager– you think it’s almost as if you’re comforting him as you hug him back, his face coming down onto your shoulder, as he encapsulates you– and he pulls away, grinning.

He actually looks really good. You don’t know when you started thinking that Mikey was good looking, but it’s true– he has a certain, rough around the edges appeal that you find yourself drawn to.

“Merry Christmas. You’ve been keeping away from us.” Mikey points as you, intended as a stern remark, but you snort.

“Yeah, Merry Christmas. I’ve been busy with work and law school, Michael. I’m not a kid anymore.” You resist the urge to comment on his beard, and then do it anyways. “Are you sure I’ve been keeping away? You’re the one with a hermit-ass beard.”

“Oh… they grow up and just start taking shots at you, don’t they, Ma?” Mikey places his hand over his heart, as if he’s wounded, and Donna shakes her head in agreement, before heading back to the kitchen, already seeming annoyed about something. “Beards are fashionable in 2017, Bird. Maybe come back to our current time– no reason for you to start dressing like a grandma already.”

You scoff at that, pointing at your sweater. “It’s semi-formal, c’mon! It looks nice. Respect the gathering’s rules.”

“It’s my house, babe.” Mikey leans in with maybe a little too much comfort, his eyes shining with some warmth, mirth even, and you don’t exactly pull away– the guy is like thirteen years older than you, and even if he does kid around, play up an older brother thing, you’ve started feeling like he’s restraining something more as of late, maybe some primal level of attraction that he knows better than to mess around with. You know that the feeling is kind of mutual– but you really don’t know how to quantify it. “I’m man of the house, and I say you should wear something that maybe, uh, shows off the pretty twenty-five year old that you are.”

The last part of this sentence has you swallowing a little, and you feel your face turning warm, and Mikey himself looks embarrassed that he’s said it, that he’s given a bit of evidence to your theories– he seems to brush something off, inside himself.

You have never thought you were all that. You’ve always been pretty sure you should be glad that you’ve gotten by without having to worry about your looks. The idea of wearing a nice, somewhat revealing dress to the Berzattos’ house has you cringing, because you know it would just be… bad.

“I’m not–” Mikey scowls at himself and you can visibly see himself fighting something, looking a little anxious, and you tentatively grasp his forearm.

“I know what you mean. I’m not offended.” You smile slightly, making the effort to calm him down a little, because you would never want Michael to beat himself up over you (he really seems to do that as of late and you know you’re not worth the trouble), and he nods and inhales. “You look good, too.”

“Right. Right on, Birdie. You can do what you want, anyways. Not up to me.” He seems to really dial back some of what he said, and before you can respond, Carmy walks downstairs.

“Hi. Hey, Birdie. Merry Christmas.” He says, kind of quietly, and you find yourself somewhat happy to hear him say your nickname again. Carmy looks especially nice– deep blue has always been his colour, it brightens up his eyes– and he has slightly longer hair than you remember.

He leans in for a brief but firm hug, and glances at your eyes once, before looking towards the floor again.

Mikey nods and proceeds to exit to the kitchen, and you’re left with Carmy grappling with what to say.

“How have you–”

“How’s law sch–”

Carmy coughs awkwardly, and you find your face turning warm as he looks towards you.

“Sorry, Bear.” You let him speak, hoping not to scare him away. “How’s everything? You okay?”

“Yeah. Uh… well, I’ve been training at Copenhagen?” He furrows his brows, runs his hand through his hair. “Just learning as much as I can.”

“Oh. Uh-huh.” Your curiosity is piqued– you didn’t know he was in Denmark, much to your disappointment– but you want to pry more of an answer out of him. He doesn’t seem interested in talking about it more than that.

“Sorry. Sorry. Stupid answer, there’s just not much to say.” Carmy shrugs, and then realizes suddenly that you’ve been standing at the foyer of the house for quite some time now, which isn’t very polite or inviting of him. “Wait, hold on. Let’s go sit inside and talk.”

Carmy makes some offhand comment about how you need to speak up sometimes and stop being so nice and accommodating to idiots like him, and you snicker, knowing that this is the Carmy you remember– snarky, ready to fight people on sometimes, even if he is a little weird and bashful. Although he’s short– he makes up for it with his resilience.

Carmy leads you through golden-lit hallways, a certain pepperminty, pine tree scent seeming to overlay the entire house, and there’s bushels and wreathes and mistletoe everywhere, and somehow even more baubles, ornaments, trinkets, knickknacks, all gold and red and warm tones that do make you feel a little fuzzy.

Carmy sits you down in the living room, on the sofa, and you’re next to him, and you place a foot under your knee, trying to feel casual. Not freaking out about him sitting right next to you. Weirdly enough… you don’t think you feel anything anxiety inducing.

Perhaps you’re just getting more reassured of yourself with age.

“So? How is Copenhagen, otherwise? I know Denmark is really interesting, but you’re probably busy with chef stuff, huh?” You prod just a little further. Just out of your own personal curiosity to see how far Carmy will go for you, and he nods. “Any friends?”

“Ah…” Carmy winces a little. “Can’t say if he’s a friend yet, but there is this guy that’s out of this world with pastries. I don’t know if I can meet his standard on that.”

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes. “Bear, you make my dad cookies all the time. Or, well, you used to. You can’t be that bad at it, considering that he always eats all of them.”

“Oh, really? Fuck, man.” Carmy looks at you in disbelief, settling more into his corner of the couch, closer to the tree, but looking more openly at you. You feel yourself cower a little under his watchful gaze. “I didn’t know your dad enjoyed them that much… I would’ve made more. Did you ever try them?”

“Hm?” You were getting lost in the details around Carmy– the dark blue shirt, the little bits of stubble around his jaw, the tattoos peeping out from under his long sleeves– and you nod. “Ah, I tried a batch around the last time you gave him some. I think it was… macadamia, matcha, white chocolate? Really good.”

Carmy is unreadable, his eyes flickering from the ground to your eyes– you think maybe you’ve embarrassed him a little– but he thanks you. “Where is your dad, anyways?”

“Ah. He’s got the flu, and he was kind enough to not want to infect you guys.” You admit. “Even though he was trying his best to walk over here from our house.”

Carmy remembers that you live in the neighbourhood over. You two used to hang out a lot during elementary and high school. He kind of missed you– something he’d never say out loud, but Carmy knows friends are few with him, and you were always a good friend to him growing up. You were always a comforting presence for him– you never asked him for too much, and he could tell you were being careful to do so. No pressure.

You just became really busy with law school, and he became really busy with chef stuff, and now you’re both… you both just lost touch. He feels bad about it– bad like he always does, with former friends and acquaintances from high school that he’s accidentally ghosted and lost– but at least you don’t seem to be annoyed about it.

He thinks it’s probably because in this case, you pulled away just as much as he had to.

“How’s law school, anyways?” Carmy counts the years in his head. “You’ve either just finished or you’re in your final year?”

“I’m in my final year.” You stretch out your arms, looking eager. “It’s a lot of work– I’m only here because I’m lucky enough to have a bit of a break in the winter months, and I’m ahead on my courses. But, uh… I don’t know. It’s fun.”

“Fun? Wow.” Carmy grins a little.

“What?”

“I don’t know, Birdie. Fun is more… fucking, I don’t know, fireworks or something? Drugs, maybe, yeah.” Carmy watches as you laugh, and laugh, at what he’s said, and again he’s never really sure what’s so funny about what he’s said, but he likes to hear you laugh.

“Clearly you don’t know either.” You snort, and lightly punch his arm. “When did we become workaholics?”

“Probably when we became, uh, adults and entered the workforce.” Carmy states, and you wrinkle your brows.

“We’re not really in the workforce yet, but–”

“What, really? C’mon. You’re a fucking receptionist or some shit, right?”

“Business administration specialist.”

“Yeah, there you go. That’s work, especially with all the school you have to do.” Carmy shrugs. “But what do you really want to be, then?”

“Oh, we getting into dreams, then?” You cock an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t think you cared that much, Bear.”

Carmy, for some reason he can’t detect, turns a little red. “No, of course I do. We’re still friends, right?”

“Acquaintances.”

“For real?” Carmy looks back at you, affronted, but you have a little smile and he knows you’re teasing. “Oh fuck you. Stop it.”

“Sorry, sorry.” You shake your head, giggling a little, glad to have so easily fallen back into a comfortable, friendly banter. “Of course we’re friends, it’s just that… I always thought very highly of you, Carmen, and I can’t always be sure that feeling was returned. You know? I assumed that you’d be out doing sophisticated cooking in big, upscale restaurants, and the rest of us would just be reading about it. Forgive me for feeling a little behind it all.”

“No, no, no. You got it all wrong, Birdie.” Carmy half-laughs at how you put him on such a pedestal. “You were always the one doing real work, as Mom would call it. You’re the one who’s actually smart and good at arguing, debating– that’s a real skill coming from me, because I just yell fuck at everyone and hope it works. I always thought you were the impressive one out of all of us.”

You snicker, but you’re actually quite pleased with that, and you feel your heart warm at his praise. “Ah, that’s so sweet. Thank you. If it makes you feel better, I’ve been surviving off of ramen and convenience store food for the last month. I can hardly make the time to cook efficiently.”

“...” Carmy shakes his head. “That doesn’t make me feel better. You’re gonna eat good food today then, I hope.”

Almost as if on cue, Donna calls for Carmy to come help her with something– and you’re left sitting as he tells you that he’s going to hear about your dream job when he gets back.

Fifteen minutes later– Carmy is still MIA, and you’re starting to get a little hungry.

You know it’s rude, but luckily Michael comes by and asks if you want a snack.

“Yeah, how’d you know?” You ask, and Michael snickers.

“You’re the same girl that can eat a whole number four combo at the Beef. I’m pretty sure you were hungry before you got here.” Michael jokes, and you blush in embarrassment.

“Oh my god, stop it.” You shake your head. “Anyways, yeah. A snack would be nice.”

Michael gives you a wink that strangely has you a little twitterpated, before you shake that off. He comes back a few minutes later, chewing on something himself– and he hands you a bowl full of Italian sausage stirfry.

“Thanks, Michael.” You smile up at him, and he nods, trying not to smile too much back at your gratitude, but he likes how you take a bite and look super relieved, happy with the food. He’s always loved giving food to people– taking care of them. Especially you, for some reason.

Michael heads back to the kitchen, and Natalie comes by and takes his place.

“Birdie!” She hugs you tightly, and you hug her back, equally happy. “Oh my gosh, if I knew you were down here I would’ve come by ages ago!”

“Aw.” You beam at her. “That’s okay, Nat. I’m happy to see you too.”

She’s off ranting about how Pete, her husband, is late, and how she can barely manage everything going on, and you’re sympathetic. You know Nat gets more of a harsh treatment from Donna, and you tell her that you’re there if she needs a person on her side.

“Oh, Birdie. I couldn’t do that to you. Even if you are amazing at talking, Miss Lawyer-to-be.” She lets you continue to sit down in your corner of the living room, as she heads off to check on her mom– maybe pour out some alcohol.

Carmy comes back in, slightly powdered with flour on his forehead– and he sits back down, sighing, as he drinks a glass of water.

There’s the slightest air of awkward tension still– even if you and Carmy have fallen back into your old ways, he still keeps a slight distance, one that he’s grown into, and you feel that you have to break the silence. You don’t know if he’s just tired or if there’s some level of irritation of having to deal with all the holiday bullshit, but you take a guess it has to do with Donna.

“That bad?” You grimace, and Carmy matches your expression.

“That bad.” He shakes his head. “She always gets a little woo-woo around these fucking events. Like, I never wanted her to do all of this– but she insists and insists and doesn’t know how to let go of the, uh…”

“Hubris.”

“Yes. Hubris.” Carmy sighs, glad you still have the perfect word for everything. “Whatever. Anyways, haven’t forgotten. Hit me with your dream.”

“Okay, it’s going to sound a little weird, but, um… I’m really interested in becoming a labour relations lawyer?” You feel almost too much glee at the fact that Carmy remembered, and you see Carmy bite his lip, a little confused, so you continue, hoping you don’t sound like too much of a fucking nerd. “Meaning to help employees get out of their shitty situations with wages, working hours, benefits and fight for their rights. Union stuff. I don’t know, just feels like everyone is struggling with this nowadays… might as well push forward and try to help them out.”

“Wow, now that you’ve said that, it makes a lot of sense.” Carmy blinks. “I mean, uh, it’s not just that you’re good at arguing– you always go for the justice part of things. Remember when Michael and Sugar were arguing about cleaning the basement?”

You do remember that. You suggested dividing up either equally or by who owned what, and they eventually came to an agreement based on that. Michael wanted to dip because he was older, and Sugar thought it was demeaning to ask a girl to clean.

“Or when Lee said that women can’t think analytically, or what was it… mathematically?” Carmy laughs as he watches your face turn angry again.

“Yeah. I especially remember that. I told him to think about Ada Lovelace and to shut up.” You wince. “Maybe not the most mature thing I’ve ever said. I don’t think that’s such a great thing… sometimes I don’t know when to let go of arguments.”

“It’s alright, it was funny.” Carmy plays with his fingers. “That being said, I think you’ll be good if you choose to be that. A labour relations lawyer. You’re smart, and god fucking knows we all need the help. You should check out how many chefs get fucked over because they work at places for the prestige of doing so.”

“Damn.” You make a mental note of that, feeling embarrassed over how much praise Carmy has freely given you. “Is that going to be you?”

“Doesn’t matter if it is. Sometimes you gotta do what you can.” Carmy doesn’t really give you a clear answer, and you feel bad for him. Bad that he’s still stuck in that mindset.

You can hear people hooting and jeering near the stairs, as you walk around the house, exploring a little. Tiff was grateful that you visited her for a brief moment– she told you being pregnant was not all it was cracked up to be– and now you’re just on the upper floor, near the stair railing, on your phone.

You’re not really one to eavesdrop, but you hear– you believe it’s Mikey and Richie– they’re chanting “Claire! Claire Bear!”

Your stomach drops, as you hear them hoot about how hot she is, whoever this Claire girl is– how stacked she is, apparently, the banging body she has, the glasses no longer ruining her appearance– and although you know it’s gross men talk, there’s a small, sad part of you that wants to be perceived as attractive, too.

Still, even as you find yourself frowning and turning away in disgust, you can’t stop yourself from listening.

You remember her. Claire, one of the neighbours down the street. Went to the same high school as you and Carmy. She was really something, someone of note if you remember the popular kid cliques correctly, but she had largely gone unnoticed by you, and it wasn’t for any reason in particular. You can’t be close with every person in high school.

But still– you feel jealous. Just a teeny bit. What was so different about her?

Sure, she was a nice girl. But weren’t you? You arguably had more history with the Berzattos, and yet… it’s as if you’ve simply blended into the wallpaper, their assortment of home decor and furniture. You’ve always been here, and so you don’t stand out.

You might never stand out.

You can hear Carmy trying his best to argue against them, asking them what they did, telling them to fuck off with their teasing– but he sounds sheepish, embarrassed, righteously mortified in the telltale way one would be when they have a crush, and you feel sick.

They’re heaping compliments on her. You know what they mean when they talk about her like this– she’s the clear, obvious choice, probably closer to the family, more interesting, more affectionate, a genius. You don’t really know Claire that well, but apparently, she’s perfect. And you know you, in your silly frumpy sweater, in your attempts to dress up– you are not. You feel humiliated that you even believed Mikey when he said you were pretty– he was clearly complimenting you just to be nice.

You weren’t even an idea in their minds, not for Carmy, anyways. You don’t even think Carmy is capable of seeing you like that now, and it’s with a crushing blow that you realize you were holding out hope. Mistaking familiarity for affection.

It’s a rookie mistake. One that you thought you were self aware enough not to make, because you’ve always known Carmen Berzatto was just out of reach for you.

You wait for them to leave, and come down the stairs, running into Carmy as he groans in annoyance.

Carmy says he needs to wipe some of the flour out of his hair, and you let him go upstairs, not really wanting to look at him, doing everything you can to make your way back to the living room unnoticed. In the meanwhile, Michael comes back and flops into Carmy’s seat on the sofa, next to where you sit, sullen.

“Hey, Birdie.” Michael starts, and you can’t read his tone, and you’re a little annoyed with his fake-nice attention. “Why not sit with me, the Faks, Michelle and Stevie? They’re really good people, I promise.”

“How do you know I’m avoiding people?” You snap back, maybe a little too aggrieved.

“It’s written all over your face, little Birdie.” He touches his knee to yours, and you bite your lip, swallowing your confusion, and Mikey enjoys the fact that you’ve chosen to wear a deep, brick-red Christmas lip colour. It’s hot– he doesn’t get how you don’t seem to be aware that you’re attractive.

He wants to kiss you. Maybe mess up that fancy lipstick and that sweet, annoyingly justice oriented, always-right character of yours. But he keeps it to himself.

“Don’t be antisocial. You of all people shouldn’t be alone during the holidays.”

“I’m not trying to be antisocial. I promise.” You shrug, trying to keep your emotions, that sinking feeling in your gut at bay– the last thing you want is for Michael to see you upset. “I was keeping Bear company, but I can come sit with you guys.”

“That’s my girl.” Michael pulls you up by the arm, and you can feel your face warming at his choice of words– you like being in Michael’s good graces, even if you feel less than great right now.

Michelle, cousin of the Berzattos, has always been sweet to you. She’s impressive in her own right, and as you sit down in front of her and Stevie– she gushes about New York.

“Ah, that’s not to say Chicago isn’t impressive. Right, Birdie?” She smiles at you, not unkindly, and you feel happy to be included.

“Right.” You shrug, knowing that the law firm you work at isn’t all that crazy. You can’t shake the feeling that you’re nothing special, not after what transpired just a few minutes ago, and you voice it. “It’s just okay.”

“No, c’mon. You work at one of the top fucking law firms in the city– you’re gonna make it.” Michael admonishes you. “Out of us Chicagoans, I mean, Michelle, before you take offense.”

“Yeah, Mish.” Richie echoes, popping up out of nowhere.

“None taken.” Michelle fixes her eyes between you and Michael– perhaps reading on something that you’re not even really sure how to understand, let alone explain– and she laughs. “Anyways, what was I saying? Right.”

She launches into a story about hating a woman who didn’t understand the Berzatto name. It’s quite funny– you find yourself laughing every now and then, the dull ache in your heart less noticeable, especially with how good Michelle is at telling stories, and somewhere along the story, Michael’s hand has stayed intertwined with yours, without you really noticing. You only notice when he lets go, and again– a pitfall in your stomach, wondering if Michael just feels familiar around you because there’s nothing to be attracted to and thus respectful of– and it’s such a stupid thought, but you still just know you want to feel wanted. You want to get a hold on yourself– remind yourself you’re not owed attraction and there’s nothing wrong with Mikey or Carmy seeing you as just a friend.

You realize with a start that you’re feeling confused about Michael, too. Was it just a weird quirk of his, calling every single girl pretty just for laughs? Could you even trust what he said? Why does Michael’s opinion of you feel way more pertinent and important than Carmy’s does?

You find yourself mulling over these thoughts, not sure of what’s going on around you, and you hear Michael tell the Fak bros, Ned and Ted, to shut up about California, which they do.

Donna starts screaming in the background, which causes you to turn abruptly. “Oh, fuck me!”

Michael turns and looks at you with some caution– he’s used to his mother’s outbursts, but he never ever wants you to face them. You don’t deserve that, you’ve probably never done anything to deserve it. Not like him.

Stevie gets up, much to the surprise of everyone around him. “Looks like Auntie D needs help, huh?”

“No, no, no.” Everyone tries to stop him, including you.

“What?”

Michelle pushes him back down, but he gets back up, resilient.

Lee decides to comment in. “Let him, why not?”

“I’m sure she could use a few extra hands. I’m going.” He goes, and you stand up to follow, not willing to let an innocent person get dragged into Donna’s insanity.

“Wait, Birdie. Where are you going?” Michael holds your hand again, and you turn red at his action– a little angry, a little glum that he seems to care for you, and you can’t even be grateful for it. “Don’t throw yourself to the wolves. It’s not fucking worth it.”

“Not throwing myself– just want to make sure Stevie is protected.” You move forward, your face stony, and Michael lets go of you, sighing as he wraps his blanket around himself, wondering when you got all pissed off, but glad that you’re not so upset that you wouldn’t act all lawyer-y for Stevie.

Lee is glancing at him, while Michelle looks pleased as punch.

“What? What the fuck are these expressions?” Michael looks around questioningly, and Richie gives him a side glance.

“When’d you get all sweet on her, bro?” Richie gags a little. “Not that she’s not your type, but, uh–”

“I’m just being friendly.” Michael dismisses him, leaning back in his seat. “It’s the holidays, she shouldn’t be lonely.”

“Bullshit you are.” Richie sniggers, and Michael lightly shoves him.

“Yeah, I call bullshit too.” Michelle grins. “I can see it– you’re blushing.”

Michael groans, hating to be so obviously vulnerable in front of everyone.

“Well I, for one, think it’s a huge, fucking catastrophic mistake.” Lee starts, and Michael feels himself blanch under the judgement of this guy. “You’re going to ruin that young woman’s potential if you go around messing with her.”

“Lee, she’s not that young–” Neil starts. “I think she can decide that herself?”

“Whatever. This one knows he isn’t right for her– always wants what he can’t have.” Lee mutters, and Michael feels that white-hot rage– the anger he feels bubbling inside of him as of late.

He does his best to swallow it down, but a part of him knows that it’s true. As much as Michael enjoys your random visits over the past two years, he knows– you’re too good for someone like him. Too young, too selfless, too honest and good and pretty, and he feels an overwhelming wave of shame that he came so close. It’s like he just… doesn’t know how to be a good, responsible person, and it kills him on the inside that he could be so shameful, be so abhorrent and take advantage of you like that, and even if there is a tiny part of him screaming that it’s not so black and white– that you could be just as interested, of your own volition, in him as he is in you– he feels guilt.

Michael is ashamed of who he is. Over, and over, there’s that feeling again– kill yourself– that he doesn’t know how to suppress, and he ignores it as he starts up a new story.

Natalie is tearing up as Stevie hugs her.

You came towards them in the midst of Donna yelling for Stevie to get the fuck out of the kitchen, and Sugar shushing him and shoving him away, and you now place a hand on her shoulder– clearly Stevie has it handled, somewhat.

When he lets go, she sniffles and you smile encouragingly, albeit a little sadly, and Natalie wipes away a tear.

“It’s okay. It’s fine, it’s nothing. You don’t need to talk to her.” She starts, and you shake your head.

“I’m not going to. I can see that would make things worse.” You squeeze her shoulders, and Stevie nods.

“Yeah, Natalie. But we’re here. We’ll always be here if you want to talk.” He tries, and you smile at her– but something about Nat’s slightly upset, off putting expression, and Donna’s grumbling in the background– you feel your heart seizing a little at the tense emotions, so similar to your own, and you excuse yourself.

You walk until you reach the pantry, hot tears already working their way down your face. Every single negative emotion have come to a head, and you’re in terrible danger of having to explain things if you don’t get it together in under ten minutes or so.

You sit on the high table in the pantry, trying not to cry anymore than you already have, your head between your knees– but something about today has all your nerves on edge, and you know it’s because you put in some effort to come here, to see your dear friends, to look appealing enough, to be someone worth talking to, and now you feel as if they never really cared about you at all.

You know these are lousy, immature feelings. You know you can be above them if you really, truly tried, but you let yourself sink into them further, because something about this environment is terrible and you just can’t let it go.

Even worse, no one has really done anything wrong. If this was a court case, you wouldn’t even have any evidence to make a claim. You’re simply confused, perhaps looking at things from the wrong angles– but the fact that you can’t look at this rationally makes you feel worse. As if you’re not as smart as you believed.

You don’t know how long you’ve been in here, when you hear someone shuffle into the pantry, next to you– it’s Michael.

He’s quick on his feet– you try to move away, let him grab whatever household ingredient he needed– but his full attention is on you as his eyes narrow, scanning your tear stained face and your hunched over body.

“Birdie?”

You can’t quite look at him, and you desperately try to wipe your tears, burying your face more between your knees.

“Hey, no. Birdie.” He shakes his head, grabs your arms. He thinks it’s a little strange he’s had to cheer up two different people in the pantry, but he chalks it up to how his house always is. “What happened? Was it Ma?”

“No.” You sight and swallow down the sobs in your throat.

“Then what was it?” Michael’s eyes turn steely. “Fucking ‘Uncle’ Lee? Asshole. Told me I can’t finish any fucking businesses.”

“But… you run the Beef, don’t you?” You say, amid sniffles, entirely honest about it, and Michael’s eyes soften. “That has to count for something.”

“Yeah, little Bird.” He’s glad to have you here– he doesn’t care if it’s fucked up, not when you’re the only person on his side at this moment. “But why don’t you tell me what’s up?”

“I–” You shake your head, and feel your head hang heavy as you slouch over the table, and Michael leans over you, pressing your head to his chest, and you feel yourself crying silently into his shirt, as he shushes you and combs back your hair, his other arm caressing your back.

Michael’s not the best person– not the most comforting to be around– but he knows, by being an older brother, by being someone people want to be around, he knows how to make it count when he does give in to comfort.

He just wishes he didn’t feel so goddamned depressed himself, so he would know the right things to say. He doesn’t want to be so useless all the time.

“Mikey?” You voice is timid. Small.

He feels both elated that you would trust him with this, and devastated that he’ll never be good enough to deserve your trust.

“Yeah, Birdie?”

“It’s so juvenile, but I…" You shake your head and decide to commit to it. "I wish I was pretty."

“Is that it?” Michael’s arm wraps around your shoulder as he squishes onto the seat of the table, next to you. “You think you’re ugly, huh?”

“I don’t think I’m–” You inhale deeply, and wipe away your tears again. “It’s not about being ugly. It’s more like an objective reality that I have to accept. I’m just not… I’m not anything special to look at.”

“Wow, kid.” Michael tuts and shakes his head. “Ever heard that beauty is in the eye of the beholder? That stupid fucking mantra, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s true.” Michael almost starts laughing, but you look so solemn and serious, he resists the urge. “You’re not ugly. You might not think you’re all that, but you don’t see what I see.”

Michael tenses, and you watch as he falters over how to explain.

Michael thinks you're so damn annoying with that ardent, sweet expression– even if your tears are staining your face, you still look so grateful to hear him say those words– and it just crushes him. It crushes him to know that you look for his approval so much, when he knows you're worth so much more than that.

He doesn't want to let you down. You and Carmen– he will never be enough for the two of you.

"I don't– I'm fucking stupid, Birdie, don't listen to me." He swallows, but you're hanging onto his words and your face falls again.

"But I can listen to you get all poetic about Claire, right?" You mutter, angry, and you get up to leave– but Michael grabs your forearm, and he's quite a bit stronger than you are.

“Hey. That’s different.” Michael tries, but you shake your head, and you’re left sitting on the table again. “I was only teasing Bear. It has nothing to do with you.”

“I know.” You turn even more glum, and Michael is left feeling terrible, wondering what was so wrong with what he said.

You’re silent for a moment– you know that you like Carmy, but something about telling Michael about it feels weird, like you’re pre-emptively rejecting him rather than Carmy by confessing feelings that are slowly disappearing– and you just don’t want to.

But you know you need to. You need to accept that Carmy would never see you that way.

“I just… for a really long time, I thought that I…” You fall to silence, again, and Michael is staring at you, hanging onto every word, watching your side profile shake as you try to gather your thoughts. “I really liked him, you know? I don’t even know why– maybe he was just the clearly available, safe option, and now that’s not even true and I feel like I’m mourning something that was never even real. How stupid and childish can I get?”

“Wait, Birdie–”

“And I just… I know I’m not like Claire. I don’t know what I got myself into. I don’t even really like him anymore– it’s just that the situation makes it so damn apparent that I am just average.” You huff out your words with an air of finality that even has Michael flinching a little, and he runs his hands through his hair, unbelieving of what you’ve said. “You can’t even say I’m not, Mikey, because I know how you talked about her and it was just so different to how anyone here has ever thought about me.”

“Birdie, shut the fuck up.” Michael breathes out really heavily, pinching his brows, thinking that he regrets everything he said and he wishes he could take it back. “I didn’t really– I was trying to tease Carmy, you know? It didn’t mean the shit you think it does. Hell, I would be way more serious if I was talking about you.”

He takes a beat of silence– should he read your reaction to that, or keep going? And he decides to keep going.

“You can’t just act like you can read everyone’s minds because you’re a lawyer, Birdie.” Michael says it with a slightly lighter tone, and his hand traces the small of your back as you lean against your knees, staring up at him. “Didn’t you learn about intent or whatever the fuck it was? In school?”

“Yeah, I guess.” You admit despite yourself, and Michael smiles but continues seriously.

“I don’t think that about Claire, okay? If anything, I’m fucking embarrassed you heard me talk all of that shit– that was just meant to be, uh, guy talk. I swear.” Michael swallows, feeling guilty that he still had to be so low about it. “I don’t– I care so much about him, I just went too far in working him up. I think it would be a good thing for him, right?”

Hurt flashes across your face– you still don’t think you like Carmy anymore, you just don’t know how to feel about someone else being portrayed as a “good thing.” But you inhale– you know part of getting over it is having to accept this, and you let yourself think and then nod.

“Yeah. Yeah, I could see that.” You agree, and it doesn’t hurt as much since Michael is looking at you sympathetically. “I just… I want to be a good thing, too. Not for Carmy, just…”

“For someone?” Michael answers as you trail off.

“Yeah.”

“Listen, Birdie. I’m gonna tell you something you gotta hear.” Michael has that determined look where you know he’s going to say something smart– he has his fleeting moments of wisdom even if he doesn’t believe in himself– and he goes for it. “I can’t believe no one has ever told you just to, I don’t know, fucking love yourself a little? Like, c’mon, you should be able to like yourself! You’re an incredible person and you deserve– you have the right to be insanely fucking confident and it’s so fucking annoying that you don’t see it.”

In the heat of his argument, Michael’s come too close again, and he can feel your breath on somewhere near his jaw or neck, and he has to remind himself to pull away again.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, and Michael combs back a strand of your hair.

“Don’t be sorry. Just listen to what I’m saying.” Michael inhales, thinks over why he can’t do this himself– Tina always tells him to be a little easier on himself, but he just struggles– and he thinks that you look terribly cute so it’s just a lot easier to root for you. “Don’t do it for some idiot guy who will never really appreciate you, little Birdie.”

You can feel the conclusion of that sentence, even if Michael doesn’t quite say it: do it for yourself. Be there for yourself. Listen to the good part of yourself, rather than him.

“Oh. I guess that’s…” You swallow, taking it in, knowing the value of his words. “It’s true.”

“See? You know it.” Michael leans in a little too close again, his face a mere breadth away from your own.

“I think you’d actually make a fantastic lawyer.” You slyly comment amid wiping your face, and Michael blinks and then laughs.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Then you’d get to see me and hear my advice all the time.” Michael mumbles a little over his words but to his surprise, you nod.

“Yeah, then I’d get to see some idiot who really does appreciate me.” You murmur even more quietly, and Michael, feeling stupid, has a wistful smile on his face that he maybe has not felt in a decade. It’s so sweet– he thinks his heart is bursting with something.

Maybe love. Maybe that jovial, Christmas spirit that seems to emanate as the food smells closer to ready, maybe what Carmen gave him as a kind gift, most likely the closeness he feels with you– not just being close in familiarity, more like– he can make out the little spots and freckles adorning your face, every single eyelash your still watery eyes have, the faint lines in your still-red lips, and it occurs to him that he’s too close. Somewhere during this talk, his hand has stayed around your back, and you have been tentatively tracing his right hand’s knuckles with your own thumb.

Michael knows how it looks. If anyone was to walk in right now (and he’s sure Michelle or Richie have already put it together that the two of you have been gone for a while) they would assume you two are a couple.

He has a sudden air of regret– it’s not because he wants to reject you, he just… he struggles a lot with feeling wanted. He struggles with the standards that people seem to put on him. Michael has always known he’s not a good guy– he doesn’t know how to be the person that everyone seems to think he is. Carmen, Natalie, Richie, you– you all seem to think the best of him, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. He nearly had a breakdown watching Carmen look up to him so lovingly.

Before he can pull away– with another responsible refusal, telling you that he’s too old and washed up, and that you deserve the whole world and he is not enough to offer that to you– you gently but firmly grab his face, tracing his cheek, and he thinks it could be wrong– what if you’re just feeling all confused and willy-nilly about feelings because you’re displacing what you felt about Carmen, what if you don’t actually like him and you’re assuming that you do because of his clear attraction to you, what if you’re just feeling the moment and the sweet guidance he’s given you?

Tons of questions seem to flow from his mind, things that he wants to ask you, but Michael thinks fuck it, because you’re leaning in first and pulling him in and it’s something he would’ve never expected in a million years, that you could be just as attracted to him.

He kisses you maybe a little too hard– maybe it should’ve been softer, more gentle since you’ve opened up to him so much, but you kiss him just as eagerly back, and he doesn’t fucking care to be gentle anymore. He’s leaning over you and Michael knows he’s quite a bit taller, so he has to pull you upwards to really reach your lips, and the table the two of you are sitting on is quite small– it shakes a little and there’s not much room for Michael to really feel you.

Until you climb into his lap, because of course you do, and now you’re just tangling your fingers in his hair, and he thinks he can feel whatever migraine that the day’s events have spurred on him slipping away, and his hands wrap around the smallest part of your waist as he pulls you in, pressing his chest against yours.

You feel like Michael’s beard tickles a little– but you don’t mind that. You weren’t sure until you did it that you’ve wanted to kiss him for a while. You feel like maybe you’ve actually been more attracted to him than you ever were with Carmy, maybe even just going for Carmy due to his aforementioned security.

Michael groans, and he slips his tongue into your mouth, and you sharply inhale as his tongue roams around your own, and he knows he likes hearing you gasp when his hands come up under your sweater, just to feel your bare skin, and you pull away.

Michael comes in too close again, placing a soft yet firm kiss on the corner of your mouth, and you laugh at him, and it’s one of the best sounds he could hear. No longer are you all gloomy and sullen in the corner of the room– but there’s still an air of heat around you two, and he knows he should let you go before things go too far.

“Consider that a Christmas present.” You murmur softly, tapping his face, genuinely smiling despite the smeared lipstick, and you clamber off his lap, and peek out the pantry. “I think you’re good to go eat dinner– let me just…”

You wipe the red lipstick from his mouth using the corner of your sweater sleeve, so not to leave evidence, and it’s an intimate moment that has Michael staring at your hand, to your eyes, and there’s something in his eyes– maybe sorrow, maybe appreciation, but most of all, tenderness, and he takes a silly, soft moment to just kiss your hand. You beam at him.

“How long have you wanted to do that?” You tease him, because you know that Michael has always had that look, and he stiffens for a moment.

“Ah… maybe around when you came back from graduating college.” Michael admits, feeling weirdly high and low all at the same time, but he questions you too. “What about you? Don’t tell me you just decided to kiss me right now. That would fucking… that would be too much.”

His heart falls for a split second– thinking about how again you could’ve just been having a little fling– why would you ever like him? He struggles to think how you could, even after having kissed you.

“No, no. I swear it’s not like that.” You turn a little red and play with your hands. “Um. You’re not like a rebound, Mikey, I just… I think I liked you ever since I started coming around more, maybe around last year? I probably just didn’t notice because I thought I was into Carmy. You know? Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that.”

“Yeah, I know.” Michael tries not to let the relief show through his face too much. “I thought maybe I was… reading too much into it. Putting pressure on you.”

“No, you’re good.” You shake off his concerns. “I don’t think that at all. I really do like you… might’ve just been obsessed with the idea of a childhood friend turning into a lover.”

Michael grins. “Well, who’s to say that didn’t fucking happen, Birdie? Are we not childhood friends?”

“Eh… kind of. You’re a bit old.” You give him a so-so motion, and Michael jokingly pushes you a little. “I’m kidding! This is more like– your friend’s hot older brother gives you a chance and it’s crazy and exciting and you just want to know more.”

You were half kidding, but you’re so honest about it, and Michael loves it, but there’s still that undercurrent of agony– he wants to just openly like you, too, but he doesn’t want to be such a fucking failure about it.

“I’m gonna just head to the dining table, I think.” You check your watch. “Gotta go think about this a little more– is that okay? Not in a bad way, I’m just overwhelmed with everything that’s happened today…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. It’s okay, Birdie.” Michael presses a kiss into your hairline. He knows it is a lot for anyone to handle– getting over a crush you thought you had, realizing that you like someone else– he gets it. “Take all the time you need.”

“Okay.” You smile eagerly at him and then walk outside through the hallway, wiping your mouth so it looks less kiss-stained, and peek around so no one is looking at you.

Michael feels a million emotions hit him at once, and he knows he has to cool himself down before explaining to everyone where you’ve gone, what’s happened– or he’s certain to implicate himself, and he can’t have that.

It all goes to shit not even twenty minutes later.

You’re sitting pretty between Richie and Tiff, who seem to be a little bit… awkward, maybe arguing mentally about something you don’t completely understand. No one has really commented on your disappearance, but you’re sure it’s obvious based on how Michelle and Stevie are whispering and smiling at you.

Michael gets a massive, depressive episode right after you’ve left him. He can’t exactly pinpoint why– he feels like a creep even if he isn’t one. Hell, he only actually met you when you were nineteen– he was in a different state when you started visiting the Berzattos. But even if Michael ignores his potential, old-man creepiness… he also feels like you’re headed for so much more than he ever was, and he knows he’s holding you back if he does this.

For once in his life, he just wanted to be happy. He just wanted to be wanted without the stigma of not being good enough.

You, Carmy, and Nat. He knows you guys are on your way. Michael feels a pit in his stomach as he imagines why you guys all have to look up to him so much– he just happened to be in the right place, at the right time.

He can’t ignore the feeling that he is just a major fucking loser.

That’s why Michael goes and gets high. He knows he’s making a mistake, and he doesn’t want to do something so disappointing– but he figures he’s already a disappointment anyways. He’s grateful you’re not here outside to see how pathetic he really is– how much he craves a hit just to feel a little less shitty. And yes, it calms him down as he feels the high of the painkillers exacerbate positive memories, like with you, Carmy, Natalie– but it still makes his anger, his depressive tendencies strong, too.

When he sits down at the dining table– he’s not that intoxicated, but he knows it’s a little apparent on his face, based on the mild alarm on your own. You’re sitting just far enough from him for there to be plausible deniability, but still– you are worried about him.

“You good?” You mouth, and he waves away your question with an air of fake nonchalance.

You don’t look convinced. You can see the red in Michael’s eyes, the general tension in his shoulders, the unnerving sense of resentment in his expression. You wonder what could have happened in the last ten minutes that you’ve been sitting at the table, why Michael decided to go and get intoxicated just minutes after kissing you.

Were you too much for him? Maybe.

You know Michael gets high. In fact, last Easter, you’re pretty sure he spent the entire time high on something– but you only vaguely know about his anger flare ups. About his negative emotions, the supposed depressive periods he goes through. You’ve seen him argue a bit with Richie, you know he’s gotten a bit harsh with Carmy, but you know he’s a bit more troubled than that. The whole family seems a bit troubled. Natalie has told you that much, and you have your experience with that– your mother and father’s fights are ones that still make you quiver to think about. But with Michael?

You don’t know how much you believed it, until now, because Michael always seemed kind of… like he always had the right thing to say. You almost feel like he’s in the right to get upset, because he’s had a hard time, with his family, some of his luck surrounding his career– especially with how Lee continually riles him up.

The table is formal and nice for a bit. Michael and Tiff converse about something, Carmy asks if you’re okay and you mostly are. Michelle asks Mikey to say grace, and he sounds resentful, again, of Lee cutting him off so often.

Cicero, being the responsible uncle that he is, tries to push off grace to Stevie, who promptly rejects it, and Michelle decides to ease the tension by asking what the hell the seven fishes are all about. Lee, of course, gleefully answers, about the dutch potatoes and the bible.

Michael glares at him and throws a fork. A real, honest-to-god, heavy piece of silverware. It clatters on the carpeted floor– you feel yourself flinch, and you watch Natalie and Pete’s expressions crumble into the realization that Michael is not okay, and everyone seems to look towards him in fear.

“You see what you did, right? You already did that. You already bitched about the dutch oven.” Michael retorts at him, not completely coherent, and you can feel the lights glazing over– the Christmas tree, the wreaths and baubles, everything seems to lose focus in comparison to the red-hot anger that Michael is bubbling over with.

Cicero and Carmy try to call him off, but Michael isn’t listening, and you can tell– he’s in a place to be upset. It’s like a slowly proceeding car crash– as much as you don’t want him to do it, you understand why he’s going to. You feel like there is a bit of a double standard in place here– Cicero seems to want him to respect his elders, and Michael is being kind of childish, but you can’t say you don’t understand why.

Michael asks for Fak’s fork, in direct opposition to Lee’s attempts to play the father in this house. Despite Fak’s insistent refusals, Michael successfully takes it. Everyone speaks with the intent to stop him, and he’s too focused on Lee to stop.

You know you hate Lee too. But such a severe reaction, coming from Michael? It has you wincing a little. You want to pull him away– tell him to be the nice older brother you’ve always known him to be– but you know it takes time. You know it’s probably going to get worse. You try to catch his eye– and he can't quite look at you.

You have faith in him. You know Michael can do better than this– you just hope he can see it, too.

Michael throws the second fork, and you feel regret in trusting him, again, because he’s making things bad but it’s almost as if he can’t help it. You catch Natalie’s eyes– she’s clearly disappointed, too.

Michael feels a sick sense of pleasure, as he often does when it comes to acting out his worst desires. But he feels a flash of anger with himself– is that what he did with you? Is he really this guy? He thinks that he is, he is a bad dude and he can commit to that role if that’s what’s needed.

“Cousin, you’re scaring the normals.” Richie tries, looking at Tiff and you, but you’re still yearning to catch his glance– and Michael can only respond that it’s nothing, everything is fine, and you’re suddenly reminded of when your parents used to fight and how you used to have to be the middle man and convince them that things were alright.

Michael looks towards you this time– but you’re not looking at him. You have your hands neatly clasped in your lap, your eyes are focused on the set of candles in the middle of the table, and you look horribly upset, with your neck all tense as you wait for things to blow over, and he can tell– he’s fucking up big time. Stevie, Carmy, everyone is looking pained, and Michael can only think that he doesn’t give a shit. He wants to make Lee feel just as terrible as he does.

"You see– I can throw forks because this is our father’s house." Michael scoffs back, and there's real agony in his tone. “My father’s house.”

Michelle inhales. “We have lift-off.”

“Okay, you got everyone's attention, so go ahead, tell us a story we've all heard a million times already.” Lee spits out, barely holding back his own contempt for Michael, and Michael starts laughing as if everything’s alright. “Tell a story about how you're living with your mom and you're borrowing money off of her and any other sucker who'll listen to your bullshit.”

Everyone looks towards the table, feeling terribly awkward about Lee’s accusations– it’s not that it’s necessarily untrue, but there’s a hefty amount of his own assumptions, his own bias thrown in there, and you want to speak up.

“Lee, shut the fuck up.” Cicero looks absolutely pissed off at him, and you’re grateful someone has taken some of the heat off of Michael. It’s Lee’s fault, too.

“I’m sorry. I told you not to be a sucker, Jimmy.” Lee comments, and Cicero exhales, exasperated.

“Lee. That’s not really fair– you’re being too hard on him.” You utter through gritted teeth, and Lee’s eyes narrow on you. It's the first time you've spoken, and Michael glances at you– his eyes are bright and he genuinely looks sorry. Sorry he had to go this far.

“Oh, am I? Really, Birdie? I would suggest I’m not being hard enough.” Lee raises his hands, invites you to speak more, and you know that it’s not really your place to do so, especially because Lee and Michael seem to have a lot of history.

But you have your almost-lawyer tendencies, and of course you’re not exactly unbiased either, because you want to see the best in Michael– you want to like him.

"Please, Lee… Michael's working on himself. You don't need to lie to him." You stare at him, and Lee’s face seems to turn darker with that. “I’m sure we all have our issues… it feels like a lot.”

"Is that what he's told you, Birdie?" Lee sneers at you, and you suddenly feel small. "He's a sick, fucking twisted man, and you would trust him, wouldn't you?"

He doesn’t go further than that– but it’s enough that you feel humiliated for being read so thoroughly. It’s obvious what he’s implying– you’re a silly little girl who doesn’t know any better.

“It's fine. It's fine. Because this guy's nothing and he's nobody.” Lee points at Michael again, and his expression sours so much. You watch as Michael seems to zero in on what Lee’s rambling on about.

Natalie shakes her head in little no-no motions.

“Hey… Petey… I just need to, uh… I need to borrow this for one second.” Michael’s got that nonchalant expression again, but there’s pain in his eyes, and there’s a clamour of everyone again telling Michael to stop, calling his name, trying to distract him.

"Michael. Michael. Please don’t do this. Hey. Hey. Hey!" Natalie calls at him, and you know she's just begging for him to leave it alone. “I love you. Okay?”

You watch as Michael, holding the fork, just holding it, clear malicious intent in his eyes, tension building in the air and you feel a little sick, but his eyes are watering and he clearly doesn’t want to do what he thinks he has to.

“I love you too, Sug.” Michael says honestly.

Stevie giggles, Cicero de-escalates things further, and you think you see the light at the end of the tunnel, if not for the fact that Michael is still holding the fork. Still standing up, taunting him, acting like a big old child as Carmy rebukes him– and it’s really just two grown men beginning to get all macho and toxic about who’s tougher, who’s really the man of the house, and they start screeching at each other and you watch as Michael’s eyes glaze over with something, with Lee’s final insult that “he’s nothing.”

You watch as Michael takes his seat. He seems ambivalent, hard to read– he’s not meeting anyone’s eyes and you feel terrible about it.

Donna comes in and takes her seat– she seems rather drunk, too, and the last thing you need is more evidence that substance abuse is a bad thing– and Stevie starts the most wonderful prayer that still isn’t enough to dissuade Michael. You catch his gaze– he’s mulling over something, his eyes are watery, and you want to go over there and talk him down, even if that idea is unwise.

Donna cries over the prayer, and Natalie commits the most cardinal sin that she could at this moment: she asks if she’s okay.

You flinch with recognition as Donna starts screaming at her, about how she is okay and could a person who isn’t okay make such a gorgeous meal, and she exits the room in visible anger, and Natalie begins to hyperventilate, while Michelle tries to calm everyone down.

Donna throws a plate down on the floor, and exits the room continuing to scream– and there’s a beat of tense silence, full of angst and what-nows, and Lee decides to take initiative breaking that silence with a silly joke– almost in a paternal role, again, a hot topic between him and Mikey– and you watch Michael’s eyes start narrowing as he leans against his hand.

Michael throws the third fork.

It’s like every single nerve you felt, every bit of tension that was already in place, comes to a head as Michael starts going batshit, trying his best to attack Lee, while the Fak brothers and Richie are between them, and you can barely think straight as everyone starts screaming at each other.

Tiff almost gets dragged into the chaos, and you're left shielding and comforting her from the fight. Pete and Richie hold Michael off and you're thankful– the last thing you want is to go up in there and get caught in the crossfire yourself. It’s genuinely a blur– you have no idea how bad things are getting until Cicero starts telling them to get the fuck out.

Suddenly, the wall of the living room bursts inwards, the Christmas tree getting dragged in the crossfire, and you realize with shock that someone’s driven a car inside.

Not just any car– that’s Donna in there, driving, and you think for a moment she’s dead. You can’t believe what’s happening– you can feel your heart hammering through your chest.

Michael runs towards the car, tries to open the front door, yelling and asking her what she did, asking her to open the door. She stirs a little.

Everyone else is standing there, in shock, not focusing properly on what to do, and you pull yourself away from the crowd of people, as they stare on in horror. You don’t want to be a part of this, but you are, and you know what a responsible adult would do.

You go outside, into the December night’s cold air, and call 911. Specify for the firefighters and ambulances, because Cicero has a big thing against narcs and cops and you’re not getting into that right now.

Even though you’re freezing, and that’s what you should be focusing on? You’re in an incredible amount of despair because of what’s taken place. You hang up the call and feel exhausted by everything that’s happened, and you wonder if Michael really knows better. If he can be more than this. It’s not something you’re judging him for– but you feel terrible about his circumstances and you want him to get out of there.

Worse, you can’t help but feel a little upset with him. Because you know that Michael didn’t have to stoop that low– he chose to, and that’s what bothers you the most. He let his emotional responses dictate how he was going to act, and you know it’s hard to not be so provoked in this environment, but still: you are concerned and upset with him, and you know you need to take a step back. As much as it hurts you to stay away, you feel like it’s going to hurt even more if you intentionally stay around.

You wait for the ambulance and fire trucks to show up– you take a minute to direct them through the house, and then you trust that someone else has got it from there. Carmy, Natalie, Michelle, Stevie– they’ve got each other, they’re whispering about something, and you know where you’re not needed.

You grab your coat and leave, leave as silently as you can without interrupting everything that’s going on. It’s an strange walk home– ten minutes of you thinking about everything.

You hope next Christmas will be better.

Michael comes down from his high hard. Someone’s wrapped a blanket around him, and he’s sitting on the front porch’s staircase, wondering what the hell is going on. Donna’s apparently been taken to the hospital– and there’s a makeshift tarp where the wall has been crashed in. Everyone has gone home.

Where did you go? He has a moment of panic. Are you okay? Did he fuck it up that badly? That you would leave without saying goodbye? Michael can picture the disappointment on your face, and he wishes– he really wishes he was someone else.

He’s stressing really hard, his eyes are beginning to tear up. God, he knew he wasn’t really worthy of your attention– you’re young still, you have the whole world ahead of you– and he wonders if he can apologize. He wonders what he could possibly say to make it right. After such an insane situation, he can’t even blame you for taking off.

Natalie tells him, kind sister that she is, that you were the one to call emergency services. Of course you were– you have a strong head on your shoulders and Michael feels strongly that his family is in debt to you. And then you headed home, but Natalie doesn’t know why.

He does have your number. But he’s not going to call you, not right now– he’s not going to make a bigger mistake and fuck things up further.

Michael sighs, and leans back. He doesn’t deserve to be happy.

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lumi-nescentt · 6 months

Note

Max Verstappen seems like the type who would absolutely be jealous of his cats getting more attention than him, add in that his partner is allergic to cats, and she's still choosing to spend the few hours they have together when Max is home, cuddling with the cats instead of cuddling with Max.

There's just something sweet in my mind about a whining Max who's loosing to his cats, despite his girlfriend being all teared up and snotty because of her allergies, the cats are cute, and she has to cuddle them.

This is a mess of an ask, I apologise

Head On The Pillow, I Could Feel You Sneakin' In

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Warnings: none

Words: 1.6k

Summary: Max doesn't consider himself jealous. But he might start acting a little grumpy if he sees you choose his cats over him one more time.

A/N: Omg please don't apologise this was the cutest idea ever and after writing angsty stuff all week I was thrilled to have something sweet to think about :) I hope you like it as much as I enjoyed writing it hehe

Giving you a key to his apartment had seemed like the best idea for the two of you after dating for a few months. Max could tell you exactly when he was supposed to be back and he knew you’d be there waiting for him if you could. It was also good for when you missed him too much and wanted to either steal some of his clothes while he was gone or just stay at his place surrounded by so many things that screamed Max.

Normally, Max would have been over the moon to be with someone who was comfortable enough in his own home to spend time there with or without him but lately, Max seemed to notice a certain pattern.

No matter when he called or texted, if you weren’t supposed to be working, you were always at his place. This first part wouldn’t have bothered him at all if it wasn’t for your cat allergies. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been but your eyes still got all red and puffy whenever you were around Jimmy and Sassy and you sneezed a lot.

Max had tried to convince you countless times to stay away from them but you couldn’t resist them. They just had to be in the same room as you and you were already calling them over so Sassy could rest on your lap while Jimmy nuzzled against your side. If the cats realised you were allergic to them and tried to keep yourself from sneezing on them, they didn’t show it and gave you back as much love as they could.

Part of Max was almost in awe to see you being this affectionate with his cats when they barely acknowledged him most of the time but he couldn’t help from wanting to be the one to receive all the attention. It had been fine during the summer break because you were spending all your time with him anyway but now that he was always gone, he really wanted to make the limited time he had with you count.

As soon as the Qatar Grand Prix was over, all he wanted was to lay down with you in bed and not move for a few hours. He was exhausted, sweating all over and honestly driving in those conditions had been a nightmare. He really needed to complain about it, just to let it out, but with the media all around he wasn’t sure if his PR team would appreciate it so he kept his mouth shut, waiting to be all cuddled up in your arms to vent as you ran your hands through his hair like you usually did.

When he landed in Nice a few hours later, Max had never been happier to have his own jet. All he could think about now was going back home to you, and his cats, but mostly you. He knew you’d be here because you told him so but he didn’t expect you to be in bed already, or to still be cuddling the cats instead of him when he lied down next to you.

-“ Schatje ?” he asked, only getting a sleepy groan as an answer “ Can you make them move please ? Jimmy’s claws are scratching my back and Sassy’s using half of my pillow…”

-“ They’re asleep Max, I don’t want to wake them but I can scoot away a bit and bring Jimmy with me a little if you want.” you answered with your eyes closed, your face resting against Sassy’s head while her back was on Max’ pillow

-“ I don’t want you to move away. I want him to move away and you to move closer.” he grumbled

-“ I can’t do that without waking them up. I'm sorry baby, I promise we can cuddle all you want tomorrow. Is that okay with you ?”

-“ Yeah I guess, good night schatje.” Max gave in, stretching over the cats to place a quick kiss on your cheek before settling down as best as he could against Sassy

When Max woke up the next day to a pillow all for himself, he wanted to make the most of this chance so he turned around, ready to drag your body closer to his but just like both cats had left him, you were no longer lying next to him. Groaning ever so slightly, Max got out of bed and started looking for where you had decided to go at 8am when he knew you had the day off.

He quickly found you on the sofa with the cats laying all over you while you were clinging onto the box of tissues for dear life, trying not to sneeze and wake them up.

-“ I didn’t think you’d wake up this soon Max, did I wake you ?”

-“ No, I just missed you so I decided to get up.”

-“ I missed you too, baby.” you smiled at him warmly

-“ Did you really ?”

-“ Yeah of course I did, we haven’t seen each other in 2 weeks. That’s a long time.”

-“ It doesn’t quite seem like it…” Max complained with a pout

-“ What do you mean ?” you asked, confused as to why your boyfriend would be upset

-“ Since I came back all you did was cuddle with the cats and when I woke up and wanted to do the same like you promised, you were already gone...”

-“ I’m sorry, they were hungry and I didn’t want their meowing to wake you up so we went to the kitchen and then I sat down for a second and Jimmy fell asleep on me so I couldn’t go back to you.”

-“ Just put him down on the sofa, he won’t even realise that you’re gone.”

-“ Yes he will ! And then he’s going to think I don’t love him anymore and I don’t want him to think that.”

-“ He’s a cat y/n.”

-“ So ?”

-“ He’s not going to care that much as long as you keep feeding and petting him the rest of the time. However, your boyfriend who just came back from a very tiring race and wanted to be close to you might think you don’t want him anymore if you keep choosing his cats over him.” Max mumbled, crossing his arms as he eyed the two cats stealing your attention

-“ You don’t have to be jealous, okay ? There’s still room for you next to me, you know ?” you chuckled, patting the spot next to you

Max was going to sit down next to you when Sassy appeared from nowhere and jumped on the couch next to you, laying down where Max was planning on sitting. That was the final straw for your boyfriend and before you could realise what was happening, Max was taking Jimmy in his arms and putting him on the sofa before picking you up as you helplessly laughed and asked him to put you down.

Max made his way to your bedroom, closing the door behind him before the cats could follow. Once he was sure it was only the two of you, he put you down with a satisfied huff.

-“ Are you satisfied now ?” you asked him with a grin

-“ Almost.” he said before handing you a tissue and heading towards the joint bathroom “ Here, take your allergy treatment then go shower because your eyes are all red and your arm is too. Once you’re done, I’ll be waiting on that promise you made and without the cats anywhere near you.”

-“ But–”

-“ No ‘but’ schatje, I know you love them but I shouldn’t have to remind you that you’re allergic to them to get your full attention and to get you to put some distance between you.”

-“ They’re so cute, how am I supposed to not cuddle them when I need cuddles ?”

-“ You have a boyfriend who’s perfectly able to do that too but since you seem to have forgotten, I’ve decided not to do anything all morning except reminding you that I’m way better than my own cats at this.” Max huffed, looking determined

When you came back from your shower, Max was waiting on a freshly made bed with two cups of coffee and a few pastries he had gone to pick up at the bakery downstairs. You sat on the bed for a while, eating your breakfast in front of a TV show you had just started together but as soon as you were done eating, Max was pulling you under the blanket and resting his head on your chest, tightening his arms around your waist.

-“ Isn’t this better than two fur balls that make your eyes itchy and your nose runny ?” Max asked, with his face buried against you

-“ It’s very nice, I have to admit.”

-“ I know but is it better than them ?” he insisted

-“ You’re really jealous, huh ?”

-“ Answer the question y/n.”

-“ Yes, this is way better Max.”

-“ Good, I would have hated to have to sell my babies because they were stealing you away from me.”

-“ You wouldn’t.” you exclaimed with a laugh

-“ I might if they keep you from me. I love them but I know I love you more, that’s for sure.”

-“ You’re an idiot, I swear.”

-“ I know, but I’m your idiot.”

-“ That you are, now shush I want to watch this.”

-“ Only if you promise me that I will come before the cats, always.”

-“ Max.”

-“y/n.” he deadpanned, still waiting for you to comply

-“ I promise you come before the cats. You’re my favourite person, of course you come first.”

-“ I love you.” Max smiled, placing a kiss on your stomach where he was now laying before adding “ Now shush, I actually want to watch this too.”

-“ You’re insufferable.” you laughed, ruffling his hair slightly “I love you too dummy.”

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #f1 imagine #f1 #formula 1 #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fandom #f1 scenario #f1 x you #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n

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jedifarmerr · 1 month

Text

Untimely - Joel Miller x F!Reader/OFC (AFAB).

Summary: Joel might have a little crush on his business partner, but it’s no big deal - really.

This can be read as either pre-canon or AU. Reader has a nickname, but physical description is a blank slate

Rating: E (18+ no minors)

Warnings/Tags: Joel’s POV, readers dad used to be Joel’s boss, discussion of absent parents (not reader), very minor discussion of parental death (again not reader), Joel is kinda awkward when it comes to dating, workplace relationship but without power dynamics, squint and you’ll find an age gap (no exact age is stated but she does have a college degree), pining and lots of it, denial of feelings and all that good stuff, and smut in general. I’m not gonna tag everything or this would get way too long but consent is clearly stated and does not have any major triggers (to my knowledge, but let me know if you catch something).

Word Count: 23,000. This was supposed to be a short one-shot, but got out of control. Oops. This is separated into two parts on AO3

Note: I’m back!! I know it’s been a hot minute, but I’m very very excited and very very nervous to share what I’ve been working on in my absence. But here it is!

---

The first full week of September, and Austin was deadlocked in a nasty heatwave.

Days like this made Joel wish he’d chosen a job that involved a roof over his head – or maybe just a little shade. Anything would be better than being crushed under the weight of the cruel Texas sun as it poured down through the bare-bone house. Still, Joel hammered his way through it. Even as the sun baked his scalp and covered every inch of his skin in sweat.

Joel flapped his shirt to dry the cotton sticking to his chest like silicone glue. His walk was more so a waddle, which was honestly his fault for wearing jeans. The denim chafed against his thighs while combing the work site for any loose supplies. All he wanted to do was hop into his work truck, blast the air conditioning and leave, but instead he diligently checked between every wooden beam and around every corner. Despite the lack of drywall leaving barely any hiding spots, it was insane how often Tommy forgot a power drill behind a tub of paint or cement.

Or somewhere else incredibly stupid.

Nothing major today, though. Just a few nails that jingled around in his tool belt as he stepped out onto the future front porch, immediately spotting Tommy. Kinda hard to miss with his big ass head poking out the driver side window while puffing on his daily post-work Marlboro.

“The engine was making that funny noise again,” Tommy claimed, his voice echoing across the dirt lawns and unpaved driveways of the brand new subdivision.

Joel walked past the rusty-white hood, but heard nothing other than the usual ancient roar. There was the radio in the cab playing Foolish Games by Jewel – a favorite of Sarah’s.

“Funny noise, huh?” He eyed Tommy with blatant skepticism before slumping into the dusty cloth seat with a thunk. “Well, sounds like it’s fixed now.”

“Oh yeah good as new.” Tommy burned the soul from his cigarette, then chucked the butt out the window. “This thing’s gotta be what - 10? 15 years old?”

“Something like that.” Joel didn’t know off the top of his head. The truck had been a part of the company even longer than him, meaning it had to be somewhere closer to 15 than 10. From what he could recall it’d been a few years off mint condition even when Danny first hired him.

“Then, how the hell is it still running?”

“Danny’s a smart man who didn’t buy a shitty Chevy,” Joel lightheartedly jabbed at his little brother – a self-proclaimed Chevrolet man, but only because of his buddies. “He knew that Ford was better - built tough.”

“Well, ain’t lookin’ too tough now,” Tommy pointed out and Joel shrugged.

As long as the truck got him from one place to the next, he didn’t care if it was taped together by spit and gorilla glue. He knew for a fact Tommy wouldn’t complain either if a new one was coming out of his wallet instead.

Tommy threw the truck into reverse. “I’m telling you now, you’re gonna regret not buying a new one sooner.”

“What are you gonna do?” Joel snorted. “Put some sugar in the gas tank?”

“I don’t have to sabotage this piece of shit - it’ll crap out on its own soon enough,” Tommy said. “Hell, it could even happen today.”

“Better not,” Joel grumbled, but otherwise went quiet. He didn’t know why Tommy had to put that idea in his head. Sarah was waiting for him at the shop. He couldn’t imagine a worse day for the truck to break down.

For a mile or so, Joel sat on the edge of his seat, carefully listening to the bumps and groans – typical for a truck around Sarah’s age. The engine rattled as Tommy merged onto Highway 183, but it always did when accelerating. He swore it did.

Whatever – enough.

There was paperwork to do. Today’s timesheets were in the glovebox, only halfway complete. So, he pulled out the folder and set to work. At least it offered a distraction from the brakes screeching like a horde of bats during rush hour traffic.

“Did you ever hear from the concrete guys?” Tommy turned down an obnoxiously loud ad for a car dealership in town.

Grunting, he curtly nodded. His pen found Harry’s Concrete at the bottom of the sheet and promptly scratched it out with scathing red ink. Just seeing their name triggered a sour taste in his mouth.

He was used to the concrete guys being flaky, but not like this. These last couple months had been like dandruff in the winter. Brutal. Today, the bastards didn’t even have the balls to call until after lunch. No excuse, either.

“Third day in a row,” Tommy just had to say, as if he needed a nudge. “In my opinion - I think it’s time to hire somebody else.”

“Well, you know who to share that opinion with, and it ain’t me,” Joel chided – annoyed. It drove him crazy how often Tommy needed to be reminded of simple things, like what Joel’s role in the business entailed. For God sake – it’d been over a year now since he became a partner in the company.

Joel could initially understand the confusion. After all, Danny had run the business as a one-man show and everyone, including Joel, thought his daughter would fully take over once he retired. Danny had always said that was the plan anyway, and even named the place: Teddy’s Company.

Originally, Joel had thought Teddy was her real name until three years ago when he finally got the chance to meet her. But how was he supposed to know when Danny never called her by anything else? It wasn’t like Joel had known much about her back then either, and what little he did came from Danny’s vague and blue-moon updates.

College is going well.

Her new job’s treating her good.

She moved into a new place, seems to like it.

Short – brief. Some people probably thought Danny was being crusty but that wasn’t the case. No, Danny was never rude or mean, just quiet. A man of few words who on his more mute days could even make Joel look chatty.

Before meeting her, Joel used to wonder what she’d be like. His future boss. There was a mystery around her that made her seem almost mythical, an enigma. She was like Willy Wonka with her name plastered all over the place: on his shirts, the side of the truck, front and center of the shop. But Joel had no idea who she was.

Even with a gun to his head, he couldn’t have picked her out of a crowd. Or even a line-up. The only picture he’d seen of her was in a popsicle frame on Danny’s otherwise bare desk: The two of them at a petting zoo where she couldn’t be older than six.

Without much to go by, Joel had simply assumed that she would look and act, at least somewhat similar to her dad. He’d built Teddy up in his mind as a strong, burly woman who was gruff around the edges. Someone with a sailor’s mouth and stubby fingernails embedded with dirt and grit and grout.

Instead, they were fake and baby pink. She looked like she had never changed a tire in her whole life.

She probably hadn’t, but she was without a doubt smarter than Tommy and him combined. A graduate from some fancy university in California with an equally fancy business degree. Charming with a nice, smooth voice perfect for sales. If she went to a random street corner to sell bags of cow manure she could sucker anyone, even him, into waiting in line to buy one.

She was down-right impressive. Finances, pitches, and permits, she could do it all. However, the other side of the business – the manual labor, a little more dirty.

Joel had not a doubt in his mind that she had the ability to learn it, but did she want to?

Hell no.

For one, she had this irrational fear over being electrocuted. Back before Danny retired and she first started working at the front desk, Joel had walked in on her changing out a lightbulb, and you would’ve thought a snake had popped out of the ceiling. He’d mistaken it for a fear of heights until a few months back when Sarah refused to let him shower during a rainstorm. Sarah had looked hysterical using her lanky-arms to body-block the stairs, warning him that he’d get fried if he went up there.

“Don’t you know dad, lightning can travel through plumbing? Teddy was telling me all about it today.”

Joel didn’t have a clue where that particular fear stemmed from, but her vendetta against attics, now that he could understand. After all, she’d probably still be in California if not for her dad’s accident.

It was never Danny’s plan to retire so early. Despite the appointments and constant physical therapy, it’d still caught Joel by surprise, though not as much as Teddy’s offer to run the business alongside her. Together. 50/50. Sure, it came with this boring paperwork, but a bigger paycheck as well. Only a fool would’ve turned that down.

Besides, promotion or not – he would’ve stayed and worked for her, regardless.

—

Back at the shop, Joel would usually help Tommy unload the truck, but not today.

Instead, Joel tucked the file under his arm, hung his tool belt on the rack, then made his way through the garage. He entered through the back door, letting it slam behind him. The cool air greeted him, tingling his tacky skin and he shivered.

The vents rumbled inside the white hallway walls, echoing around the shop. Along with two voices coming from the lobby. When he heard Teddy’s laugh, he ran a quick hand through his hair, fixing the damp strands away from his forehead.

He rounded the corner and Teddy was at her desk. Everything from her neck down was cut-off by the high-glass counter, making her look like a floating head. A very nice-looking floating head or a nice head to look at or -

Whatever.

She was smiling at him – that same honey-golden smile that welcomed him every morning. The same smile he wished was here to welcome him every evening, as well. But with how late he worked most days, it was a hit or miss. He could never guarantee she would still be here, except on the days with Sarah.

“You’re late,” Sarah said before he could even say hi.

Joel glanced at the clock above the front door. 5:45. 15 minutes.

“Barely.” Anything less than thirty was a win in his book. It didn’t matter that Teddy chose to stick around and keep Sarah company, he wouldn’t push it. She was his business partner – not a babysitter.

“Still late.” Sarah stepped away from Teddy’s desk with her arms crossed menacingly over her chest. If not for the twitch of her lips, she would’ve appeared deadly serious. The girl never could keep a straight face though for more than a second.

“Let me guess, you’ll forgive me if we can get McDonald’s on the way home?”

Bingo. Sarah tapped on the tip of her nose and Joel huffed a laugh.

“Well, Uncle Tommy drove, but we can ask-”

“We?” Sarah looked at him like he was crazy before shaking her head. “I think I’ll handle this one on my own.”

“What’re you trying to say?” He asked and her lips curved into a half-cocky, half-play smirk that screamed teenage girl. A stage of life he felt rather unprepared for, even more so than diapers and potty training and 6th grade math. The teenage years were bound to be harder than statistics and exponents and long division.

“Come on, dad. When has Uncle Tommy ever said no to this?” She showed off her best puppy dog eyes and alright – yeah, poor Tommy didn’t stand a chance.

But Joel didn’t tell her that. He couldn’t. He was too stunned that the little girl who used to hide behind his legs at the grocery store was the same one who was strutting down the hallway now without even glancing back.

He shook his head in disbelief and looked over at Teddy. “I don’t know where all this confidence of hers has come from recently,” he said, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the now-shut door. “But I’m guessing it has something to do with you.”

“Me?” She fluttered her lashes like she was clueless – definitely something she wasn’t.

“That’s right,” he replied as he approached her desk. Her area always smelled clean and homey like fresh laundry in a field of wildflowers. The last thing he wanted to do was invade her perfumed bubble with the stench of his sweat and that specific twang that came from being outside all day. So, when he caught a strong whiff of her perfume, he stopped and propped his hip against the desk before saying, “I think you’re rubbing off on her.”

“And is that such a bad thing?” She squinted at him and unlike Sarah, she could actually keep a straight face.

“No.” He firmly shook his head. “In fact, I meant that as a compliment.”

In an instant, her flat-line lips split into a wide grin. He smiled in return, stupidly pleased with himself for making her light up like that. His gaze momentarily dropped from her lips to the single button left undone on her shirt. The charcoal gray fabric shined in a way that reminded him of moonlight over Travis Lake. It looked soft and smooth as butter. And not to mention expensive. Joel bet if he touched it, even so carefully, the material would immediately snag under his callouses.

Teddy motioned for the file and when he handed it over, he felt a draft under his armpit from the hole in his shirt. He glanced down at his jeans, covered in dirt and mud and sawdust. Filthy. He felt a twinge of self-consciousness. It was hard not to feel like a mess next to her sometimes when she was always dressed so goddamn professional with her pressed slacks and tucked in shirts. Anyone who saw her would think she worked for some big corpo with a koi pond in the lobby. Not a Morton building with more garage than office space.

“They didn’t show?”

Teddy’s voice jolted his attention back to her face. Her lips were pinched, her cherry red fingernail was bleeding into his own pissed-off pen marks. He mentally cursed himself for being too wrapped up in his own stupid head to warn her about the concrete guys. Good going, idiot.

There was nothing he could do about it now, except frown and shake his head. “They called and said-”

“Let me guess, they’ll be there first thing tomorrow?” She bitterly scoffed, clipping the folder shut. The manila spine crunched under her grip before she abruptly turned away from him to face the wall of cabinets behind her. She never said it out loud that it bothered her, but clearly it did and rightfully so.

Working here this long Joel had witnessed these same people treat her dad with respect only to now try and walk all over her. He found it complete and utter bullshit, but was it a surprise? Sadly, not really. Enough years around construction sites and his tinnitus resembled cat-calls more than a compressor.

Still, he fucking hated it. His left eye flinched watching her file away the folder in silence. The protective lobe in his brain flared as his fingers curled and burned into a fist at his side. God – he wanted to go to Harry’s Concrete and give that bald loser a piece of his mind and maybe a black eye, but he didn’t.

He wouldn’t.

No – instead, he continued to bite his tongue until his mouth flooded with the taste of pennies. He’d become used to the tang of copper in his mouth after the roofers, the plumbers, even the electricians that tried her in the past. The only reason he held himself back was because of her. Because she asked him to let her deal with it, and she was perfectly capable of handling things herself. Better than him at it, in fact.

Teddy slammed the drawer shut, rattling the entire cabinet. “I’m not gonna fire them.”

“Okay,” he said without having to think twice. He didn’t expect her to fire them, honestly. She’d explained to him before that she’d never burn bridges prematurely. The grass was not always greener on the other side, especially not in Texas. Especially not in this line of work.

“Or - I should say I’m not going to fire them yet, anyway.” Her voice was steady – determined. “But one more and it’s over. I’m gonna let Harry know that he’s on his last strike when I call him tomorrow.”

“Give ‘em hell,” he encouraged her. Whatever she said in those calls had, so far, been enough to whip everyone who crossed her into shape. Just once, he wished he could be a fly on the wall to witness her in action. She didn’t look particularly tough, but he imagined her being like an asp caterpillar, fuzzy and harmless until poked.

She didn’t linger on the topic, and instead asked about his day. He did the same. Neither had much to report outside the usual.

“So, how was Sarah today? Did she talk your ear off about the homecoming dance coming up?”

She giggled, gathering up the papers on her desk and stacking them into a neat pile in the corner. “How did you know?”

“Cause she found out Monday, and hasn’t talked about anything else since.”

“Oh and it’s only just begun,” she said with a smirk. “Welcome to your life for the next few weeks, Joel.”

Joel scratched at the spot where his temple was already beginning to throb. Why did they have to announce it so early? It was great seeing Sarah so excited, but she kept asking him about his own first homecoming. He hated lying to her, but he couldn’t very well tell her the only thing he remembered was Rachel Borthwick and how she let him feel her up – the first boobs he ever touched – underneath the gymnasium bleachers. The thought of Sarah being that same age made him want to throw up.

He swallowed the thought before it came out all over her desk. “Were you the same way at her age?”

“Oh yeah. I’m sure if you asked my dad, he’d tell you I was worse.” She snorted, almost seeming embarrassed by her younger self. “For some odd reason, I had it built up in my mind that it’d be like that prom scene from Grease. Minus the broadcast and all that-”

“Wait, your dance wasn’t on the news?” He tried to keep a straight face, but he was just as bad as his daughter.

“Shut up.” She playfully shoved his arm and he rubbed it like it hurt. She rolled her eyes, but continued anyway. “My dad didn’t have the heart to tell me, so it was a pretty huge letdown when they didn’t even play Born to Hand Jive. I think I even requested it.”

“How did you survive?”

“It’s a miracle,” she said, and he huffed out a laugh. Three years later, and she still surprised him with every new story she chose to reveal.

There was a split-second where the only sound in the room came from the buzzy-white fluorescent lights above him. Teddy stole a quick glance towards the hallway, as if checking if Sarah was back. She had still not reappeared and he wondered if Tommy had baited her into helping him unload the truck or maybe just sticking around to talk.

Teddy clicked her fingernails on the counter in front of him. “Real quick, I wanted to ask,” she said before clearing her throat. “Have you and Sarah talked at all about dress shopping?”

Joel shifted back a step, his boots scratching against the cheap, gray carpet. “Dress shopping?” He forced the words from his throat, then shook his head. He looked away, feeling a pit in his stomach that reminded him of Muffins for Mother’s Day in elementary school – Mommy & Me at the daycare.

Again – dress shopping was another one of those things girls usually did with their mom’s, but Lisa wasn’t meant to be a mom. She’d even said so herself in the note she left next to her engagement ring on the day she vanished with their dog. Joel wished his own mom was still around to help fill in when the gaps felt too big for him, but sadly, she had passed away before Sarah turned 4. Since then, it’d only been just Tommy and him.

“The only reason I ask is because,” Teddy started, clutching at the dainty gold chain around her neck, “Well, she sorta asked me to take her.”

“Oh.” Joel didn’t know what else to say. Not that it offended him or anything petty like that. God no – he wasn’t delusional enough to think that he would be Sarah’s first choice when it came to fashion. After all, his idea of dressing up was a flannel and whatever jeans were clean. Teddy made a lot more sense than him.

“I didn’t give her an answer, just so you know. I wanted to check with you first.” Her voice was rushed, slightly pitchy, and he realized this was the first time he’d ever seen her even remotely nervous. She must be just as cautious as him about crossing whatever line was supposed to exist in this…relationship? Dynamic?

Joel smiled at her, softly, hoping to ease her anxiety. “Well, thank you,” he said and she appeared to relax at his calm tone. “I have no problems with you taking her, as long as you wanna do it.”

“Of course, I want to, but are you - are you sure? I mean, you could always come with us if you want. We could all go together?”

The offer was tempting, but he declined. He knew Sarah would enjoy it being just the two of them. It could be girl time or whatever.

Teddy pulled out her planner to check on what dates would work best when Sarah came back in. Once she heard the good news, the victorious grin on her face somehow grew even bigger. The last time he saw her that excited was when he surprised her with tickets to Six Flags for her 11th birthday.

Teddy and her started to discuss which stores to hit and what mall would be best, basically a foreign language to him. He should’ve started on closing duties, but instead he found his gaze drawn to Teddy. How she appeared equally as thrilled as Sarah. He always could tell when she was excited by the way she talked with her hands. That smile was downright infectious and –

He noticed Sarah watching him. Her quizzical eyes were glued to his face. Shit. He was staring. Quick. Joel forced a smile at Sarah that hopefully said nothing-to-see-here. He didn’t stick around to wait for her reaction and instead, fled into his office.

For a few minutes, he pretended to check over files and went down the list of closing duties, completely avoiding them until the only thing left was setting the alarm. Finally, he dared to look in their direction again. When he saw Sarah’s focus was entirely on Teddy, the tension drained from his shoulders.

He thought he was in the clear.

—-

“Dad, do you think Teddy’s pretty?”

Joel’s head whipped up and a sharp, pointy fry was lodged into the back of his throat. It burned and stabbed its way down to his esophagus. For a second, he thought he was going to choke and die at his own dining room table from a McDonald’s fry.

“What?” His voice crackled like sandpaper from holding in a cough.

“She asked if you thought Teddy was pretty?” Tommy repeated, loud and clear with a smug grin that he didn’t even try to hide behind his Big Mac.

Joel’s gaze flickered from one set of brown eyes to the next. He was cornered, his back against the bay window. No way out and no one to blame but himself for this mess. He was, after all, the dummy who got caught.

Joel held up a waiting finger, then slowly sipped on his coke to calm his burning throat. He wiped his mouth with a napkin as he wrapped his head around what to say. Lying was out of the question. It seemed more damning than the truth.

The thing was – there was nothing wrong with finding her attractive. It didn’t have to mean anything. It wasn’t like she was asking if he liked her. Not that he did like her. Well, maybe just a little. Just a teeny, tiny crush but it was nothing really. Stupid, honestly. For the most part, he could ignore it.

Joel cleared his throat and gave a casual shrug. “Uh yeah, she’s uh - she’s pretty.”

Despite his best attempt at cool, Sarah’s lips still flickered. Only the corners, as she continued to bathe her fries in a pool of ketchup.

“Have you ever thought about - maybe asking her out?”

A deep laugh barked in his ears and bounced around the tile floor like spiky ping pong balls. “Come on, Teddy’s way out of his league.” Tommy’s hand collided against his shoulder with a hard thwack. It slightly stung.

But Joel didn’t take it too seriously. Tommy hassling him over Teddy was nothing new. Ever since she started working the front desk, it’d been Tommy’s favorite gag. In a weird way, Joel considered it a good thing that he saw it as one big joke. If Tommy had any idea about his silly crush, he would’ve kept his mouth shut instead of teasing him. Tommy might’ve been a lot of things, but he wasn’t cruel.

Sarah didn’t seem to care whether it was a joke or not and scolded her uncle from across the table. She gave him a hard glare before turning back to Joel. She blinked expectantly, not letting him out of this.

Joel sighed. “Sorry, kiddo, but I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“Because.” He licked his teeth and sucked a stuck piece of meat from between his molars. There was a laundry list of reasons, but he went with the least complicated. “We work together.”

“So? Two teachers at my school are dating, and it’s no big deal. They didn’t even get in trouble.”

“Wait,” Tommy piped in with a mouthful of bun and sauce. “Isn’t she dating someone?”

Joel swallowed down the salty taste in his mouth, bitter like vinegar. He nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

“You think so?” Sarah looked at him with clear suspicion. “So, she didn’t tell you that.”

“Well…no. But-”

“Then, how do you know?”

Joel crinkled the empty wrapper into a tight ball, then tossed it into the paper bag. “Somebody sent her flowers at work. Nice ones too.” Too grand to fit in her car, so instead they lived and died in the tiny break room directly across from his office.

“When?”

Three months. “I don’t know, not that long ago.”

“Well, how do you know they weren’t from her dad?” Sarah asked, not backing down. “Or maybe her friends sent them?”

Joel shook his head, recalling the stupid plastic holder that had poked out at him like a giant weed among the long stem roses. “The card said Happy Anniversary.”

At that, Sarah sank into the chair like a deflated balloon. She shoved a whole chicken nugget into her mouth – no sauce. Each dry crunch-crunch grated against the silence.

This recent interest in his love life was new. He wondered if it had something to do with her age or maybe all those rom-coms she watched. She’d never cared about him dating or – she did try to set him up once, a few months ago, with her best friend’s recently divorced mom, but when he shot it down she had quickly moved on.

But she didn’t even finish her chicken nuggets. He noticed a faraway look in her eyes – his eyes, one of the only things she inherited from him. She was somewhere deep in her head, in that big brain of hers that definitely didn’t come from him.

She did eventually perk up when Tommy brought up the new season of the Bachelor, but still wasn’t her usual self. So after Tommy left, Joel settled in beside her on the couch to watch Friends. This show was like her pacifier. Sick or just a bad day, one of Joey’s jokes could cheer her up instantly.

Not today, though. A whole episode later, and she’d barely said a word. Barely laughed, which had him really concerned. He got the sense that whatever was bothering her was something bigger than just Teddy.

“You’re quiet tonight.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and snugged her closer. She collapsed into him like a domino. Full cheeks squished against his shirt. She didn’t respond, and he didn’t press. Only can-laughter existed in the space between them.

Laying like this reminded him of when she was a baby. So tiny, a full head of hair even then. She would fall asleep on his bare chest while waiting for Lisa to return home from work. Looking back, the signs had always been there that one day she would run. She’d practically lived at her job after her maternity leave was done. Hell, she didn’t even take the full 6 weeks. Post-partum, the doctor called it, it’ll get better in time. But it didn’t. There was no medication cocktail that could make her want this life – that could make her want to stay.

“Can I ask you something?” Sarah’s eyes didn’t leave Phoebe and Monica.

“Anything,” he murmured against her hair before placing a light kiss to the top of her head. She no longer smelled of Johnson & Johnson or desitin, but coconuts and lime.

“Are you lonely?”

Even with her feathery-soft tone, the words hit him like a sucker punch, square in the jaw. Where the hell did that come from?

“Do I seem lonely?” The words left him like a reflex, automatic. It was the second time tonight she’d caught him off-guard.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged, her shoulders sliding along his t-shirt. “Are you?”

Slowly Sarah lifted her head – her big eyes bore into him and when he could trace every concerned line on her young face, the guilt smothered him like wet mineral wool. It was his job to worry, not hers.

He urgently shook his head. “No. Of course not.”

She silently stared at him, squinting as if somehow it would give her Professor X’s ability to read his mind. Clearly, he did not convince her and so he tried again. Harder.

“Sarah, listen. I am perfectly fine, alright?” He brushed a curly strand of hair from her face, firmly holding her gaze. “If I was lonely, I’d go do something with Uncle Tommy. He’s always asking me to do things after work-”

“Why don’t you?”

Joel couldn’t help but chuckle at her confusion. Of course, she wouldn’t understand. Teenagers always wanted to be out somewhere, doing something with their friends.

“Cause I’m old. And I’m tired. And honestly, I’d rather be home.” With you. The last part never slipped through the gap in his bottom teeth. He never wanted to make Sarah feel guilty for leaving him and living her life.

“You’re such a hermit.” She nudged at his chest, a smile sweeping across her face. Exactly what he’d been missing.

“I prefer homebody,” he corrected, making her burst into a giggling fit. He waited until she went quiet to say, “Either way - you ain’t gotta worry about me, alright?”

Once again, her expression turned very serious. Her eyes darted once, twice, across his face. “Swear?”

“On my life.”

—

Later that night, Joel laid awake in bed fighting to find a comfortable position. Even sprawling out in the middle didn’t work. The sheets were tangled around his legs, his feet – his thoughts equally twisted up from Sarah’s question earlier.

Are you lonely? Was he?

Joel had never considered himself to be lonely. Not really. Or not all the time, at least. For the most part, Sarah and work kept him busy enough that he never gave it much thought.

If he did think about it though, he supposed crawling into bed alone every night could get a little depressing. He was still human, after all. Intimacy was a basic human need. It was just simple biology when he occasionally craved a soft touch or someone to talk with before drifting off to sleep. It’d been a long damn time since he experienced either of those things.

Maybe Sarah was onto something. Maybe it was time for him to get back out there, but oh God. Just thinking about it made him light-headed.

Where would he even start?

His last serious relationship was his only serious relationship. After Lisa left, there was hardly any time for that. Being a single dad, dating wasn’t his top priority.

Sure, he’d managed to squeeze in a few first dates over the years, even less second ones, and he couldn’t for the life of him recall a third. If so, it’d been nothing worth remembering.

Honestly, the only person he’d considered asking out recently was Teddy. It was just a dumb idea that crossed his mind sometime in late spring when too much tree pollen and dust mites must’ve gotten into his head. He’d luckily come to his senses and fast. A few short weeks later, those damn flowers showed up.

If he was being honest, no one else really interested him.

And how could they?

It wasn’t even just about her looks, she was sweet and smart and surprisingly funny. Joking or not, Tommy was right – she was way out of his league and why was he thinking about this right now? Joel cleared his mind with a hard shake of his head. He needed to stop, get some sleep. He didn’t want to know what time it was already. Without looking at the clock, he flipped onto his side, fluffed his pillow, then shut his eyes.

Within seconds, Teddy slithered back into his mind with her perfect smile, the delicious scent of her soap, and those jeans she would undoubtedly wear tomorrow. Casual Friday might actually be the death of him. Denim on her hips was seriously a sin.

Just thinking of her fully-clothed ass made his cock twitch inside his boxers. Somehow that was enough to get him half-hard, the tip snagging over the soft-cotton.

Joel groaned in unison with the bed springs as he flopped onto his back. His palms itched to reach down and squeeze at his cock for a little relief. But he resisted, and forced his mind to somewhere far less pleasant. Broken wires. Wrong-size headers. Clogged drains. A memory of her gripping a PVC pipe invaded his brain and suddenly, it was her small hands wrapped around him instead. How would she look on her knees for him? Would she be able to fit him all in her two hands? If not, would she use her –

“Fuck.” Joel gritted his teeth and fisted at the comforter. Get a grip.

He felt like he was going crazy. Probably from the lack of action outside of his own fist. It was finally catching up with him. Tommy did warn him this would happen and fuck – he hated when Tommy was right.

Joel thought back to the last time he had sex and cringed. Two years ago, but the memory was tattooed in his brain just like the monarch butterfly on the random woman’s lower back. It happened at a sleazy bar where everyone knew Tommy by name. He’d taken too many shots of Wild Turkey, then found himself fucking the woman in a one staller, quick and sloppy, right next to a clogged toilet. Not his proudest moment. He’d go to the grave blaming the whole thing on Tommy, who treated their rare nights out like the bachelor party he was still pissed off that he didn’t get to throw.

The truth was though, even before Joel’s current involuntary celibacy, his sex life had been relatively non-existent.

He hadn’t had sex on a semi-consistent basis since his 20’s. A casual hookup with a lady named Amy, who lived in the same apartment complex as him. No-strings attached. An arrangement born out of pure convenience rather than desire or intense lust. She lived in the apartment below him, and once a week came up after Sarah went to sleep and left before the condom hit the trash can. No surprise it ended once he moved out, and ever since then, it’d been random hookups and one-night stands whenever Tommy and him went out for a night.

Joel sighed and stared up at the moon-stain ceiling of his bedroom, careful not to make any sudden movements in hopes to fight down his erection. While still and quiet might’ve worked to spook a black bear, his boner was sadly proving more resilient.

With every passing minute, the warm tingly feeling in his belly spread like weeds through his body. His fingertips down to his toes. Fully hard, now. It became clear ignoring it was useless. He would just have to get this over with, so he could get some sleep tonight.

Joel forcibly kicked off his blankets, then shoved down his boxers. His cock thwacked against his stomach and the tip was already shiny. He preferred to do this in the shower to avoid a mess, the steady stream of water helping to cover up his dry, cracked hands better than saliva. But something was better than nothing. He spit into his hand until his mouth was dry, then wrapped it around his cock.

Whether in the shower or in his bed, it didn’t matter, Joel always jerked off like it was a chore. Hard and fast strokes where he could barely catch his breath. No need for soft and sensual, just a tight fist to take the edge off. This way, he found it easier to keep his less than friendly thoughts of Teddy at bay.

He tried his best not to think about Teddy while doing this because friends don’t imagine their friends while fucking their fist. And that was all she was, all she would ever be – a friend. If he could he wouldn’t have thought of anyone at all, but he needed someone to imagine to get off.

Instead of Teddy, he pictured a cover model from a 90’s Penthouse Magazine that he’d found in the guest room after Tommy moved out. A pretty brunette with big natural tits, who he didn’t have to work with tomorrow.

His room steadily filled with the wet slap of his hand, the low thrum of the oscillating fan as he pretended the nameless woman was riding him. He was brutally fucking his fist when the woman shape-shifted into Teddy. So abruptly that he could barely register that it was her taking him down to the hilt. Her rolling her hips. Her fingernails scratching over his ribs, his shoulders, his chest with a little smirk even more sinful than her tight jeans.

“Shit,” Joel hissed when he realized, but too late – his hips surged forward as he came. So sudden, so fast, it almost gave him whiplash.

Joel was not usually loud during sex, more of a grunter than anything else, but it had never been so vivid. So real. He could practically feel the wet-heat of her cunt clenching around him. He had to snag his bottom lip between his teeth to keep every needy and desperate sound from bleeding out of his mouth as his cock pulsed and throbbed against his palm. He wouldn’t let himself find out what her name tasted like when he moaned.

Clearly, this was not the first time she’d popped into his mind and he doubted it would be the last. He wouldn’t feel nearly as bad about it either, but there was a fuck-ton of cum on his stomach. Even a little on his chest. Fuck – he came so hard it made him lightheaded.

He let the shame simmer down and once he caught his breath, he carefully dug out a travel-pack of Kleenex from his nightstand. He didn’t even wanna count how many tissues it took to wipe the syrupy-hot evidence from his skin.

He’d be sticking to the shower from now until forever.

—

The days had come and went and over a week later, Joel had not jacked off again. Not in the shower, and definitely not in his bed. But that had nothing to do with Teddy. Seriously. It was just a coincidence.

Work had picked up. The heat wave had died out, giving way to more 80 degree days. Fall was fast approaching, by far their busiest season. There was a brand new neighborhood of bland cookie-cutter slab houses that had him working doubles everyday and judging by today, this week would be the exact same way.

The streets were dark and mainly deserted by the time Joel dropped Tommy off at his apartment complex. Joel glanced at his phone – once again – for any missed calls before heading home. Still nothing. No new voicemails – 0 messages.

The first and last time he heard from Sarah was after Teddy picked her up from school, right before heading into the mall. He’d told Sarah to call him once Teddy dropped her off, but she must’ve forgot. The same way she always forgot to lock the front door. He would be home in less than 5 minutes or else he would’ve called. But he would rather give her a talking-to in person.

For a second, he wondered if she and Teddy were still at the mall, but it was late. Nearly 9.

No one could spend 5 hours there. Hell, he could barely spend more than 2 without going stir-crazy.

The last thing he expected when pulling onto his street was to see Teddy’s car parked in front of his house. The pearly white shell was perfectly lit up underneath a street light.

What was she doing here?

He thought she would drop Sarah off and dip after their shopping trip, but obviously not. Dear God, he hoped she wasn’t waiting on him. Joel whipped into his driveway and hopped out without bothering to grab his tool box in the back.

Inside, the living room was lit up with every lamp turned on, but otherwise empty. It was still tidy from the cleaning he did on Sunday, thankfully. He threw his keys on the console table, shutting the front door with his foot. He heard movement upstairs and headed that way.

“Sarah,” he called out, mainly to give a heads-up and not scare them. “I’m home.”

“Finally,” Sarah said as he stepped into her room. It smelled like that Body Works store at Barton Creek that Sarah loved, but always had him leaving with a headache.

He stayed close to the fresh air and leaned against the door frame. Sarah was perched at her vanity, the counter in front of her completely buried under make-up, nail polish, and a bunch of other crap.

“Teddy’s helping me decide what to wear with my dress.” Sarah swiveled around in her stool to face him.

“Yeah, I see that.” Joel looked over at Teddy, who was standing behind Sarah with an earring pinched in each hand. The smile on her face was genuine. If she was in any real hurry to leave she didn’t show it. “When did y’all get back?”

“I don’t know. 8:15? 8:20? Somewhere around there.” Sarah shared a shrug with Teddy. A little over thirty minutes, not bad. With the mess, he would’ve thought closer to an hour.

“Dinner took a bit longer than I thought it would,” Teddy explained and his brows furrowed.

“Busy night at the food court or something?”

He noticed Sarah and Teddy share a secretive glance, and of course, they didn’t eat at the food court. He should’ve known better than to think Teddy would just take her to Sbarro. But out of every chain restaurant – did she have to pick the damn Cheesecake Factory?

Sarah was raving over the Mac & Cheese balls that definitely cost more than the 10 dollars he sent for baked ziti. Judging by the amount of shopping bags in the corner, Sarah had used her extra spending money on clothes instead of Chicken Costoletta.

He waited until Sarah turned her back to nail Teddy with a knowing look. She swatted it away like a bothersome fly. She could be so damn stubborn sometimes.

Later, he would deal with it. Money was not a topic he liked to discuss in front of Sarah. Besides, there were more important things at the moment.

“So, are you gonna show me this dress of yours?”

Sarah eagerly nodded and bounced over to her bed, picking up the black garment bag. It didn’t even allow him a peek at the color, not even when she hugged it tightly to her chest.

“Well, come on - don’t leave me hanging. I’ve been waiting all night.”

“Dad, you gotta see it on me or else you won’t get the full-effect,” she sassed, a duh implied in her tone. “Go downstairs, you and Teddy can wait-”

“Now, hold on there Sarah. It’s - it’s getting pretty late,” he pointed out, and Sarah’s fraying smile told him that she knew what he was trying to say. He hated disappointing her, but this was the right thing to do. “So Teddy, if you need to go home, don’t feel like you gotta stay.”

Selfishly, Joel wanted her to stay, but why would she? She had already seen the dress, already given up her entire evening for Sarah. This was a free out, and he expected her to take it.

Instead, She crossed her arms over her chest like a defiant child. “No way you’re getting rid of me that easily, Joel,” she said. “I’m sticking around to see your reaction.”

Without giving him a chance to respond, she slid past him, her chest brushing against his arm. She motioned him to follow and he did without question.

She led the way downstairs as if she’d been here before. But the few times she’d come by before to drop off paperwork she never made it past the front porch.

His pulse slightly hiked up seeing her in his living room for the first time. Her gaze scanning the camel-colored walls, the pictures of Sarah throughout the years, his guitar that he rarely found time to play. Above the DVD and CD rack was the only real piece of art in the room – if that’s what people would call the painting of waves he’d found at a garage sale, the same one where he got the mismatched pillows on the couch.

Interior design wasn’t his strong suit, but he was still proud of his home. Proud of himself for buying it on his own, for being able to prove this kind of place for his kid. All of this, from the rug to every decoration and lamp. It was best attempts to make this space feel homey – lived in for Sarah’s sake. She would not be the only kid in class growing up in a bachelor pad.

“So, this is Joel Miller’s house?” Teddy spun around to face him and he found that she looked really good next to his coffee table. “It’s nice. I like it.”

“Yeah?” Joel rubbed the back of his neck, toeing the tile-carpet line that separated the kitchen from the living room.

“Especially the Cowboys decor.” She pointed her thumb at the framed blue star logo that was hung up by the stairs. “Did you know I used to wanna be a cheerleader for them?”

Joel’s mouth went drier than when eating pretzels. He rapidly shook his head, mainly to erase the mental image of her in that skimpy little outfit. It would probably haunt him in his dreams for the rest of his life.

He cleared his throat and took a seat on the couch. “I’m surprised Sarah didn’t give you a tour.”

“Oh, she did.” Teddy plopped down on the couch with him, keeping a friendly distance of a cushion. “But don’t worry, the grand tour didn’t include your bedroom. She said that was off limits.” She puckered her bottom lip, pouting as if actually disappointed.

“Trust me, you’re not missing much.”

“But isn’t that where the magic happens?”

Joel accidentally let out a snort. Magic. Nothing close to magic had ever happened in that room, unless what he did last week counted. “I think you’ve been watching too much Cribs.”

Her lips parted, her eyes lit up with a wild look of amusement. “Does Joel Miller secretly watch MTV?”

“Only against my will.” He jerked his chin towards the stairs. “She loves all that shit.”

“Yeah. She did talk a lot about True Life while at din…ner.” Teddy clipped her lips together, catching her slip.

“Trust me, I didn’t forget.” His tone carried a smug edge, making her huff in annoyance. “So, how ‘bout you tell me how much I owe you for it?”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“Teddy,” he warned. Still, she insistently shook her head, refusing to make things easy for him.

“Sorry, but I can’t let you pay me back,” she said. “It wouldn’t be right.”

“Really? How come?”

She straightened her posture, the brown leather groaning underneath her. “Well, for one - it was my decision to take her there, wasn’t it?”

“So?”

“So, it doesn’t make sense for you to have to pay for something I decided, now does it?”

Joel licked his teeth at her loop-hole logic. She was eyeing him with a very serious expression, as if this wasn’t over 30? 35 bucks? Hell, there was probably enough in his wallet right now to cover it.

If this were anyone else, Joel would’ve already said fuck this and drained his wallet of every nickel and dime, just to be safe. He wouldn’t accept no for an answer because he didn’t need anyone’s help or handout. He made enough money to support not only himself, but his daughter perfectly fine. Thank you.

But this wasn’t just anyone – this was Teddy. Whether it was because she did his payroll or because she was so bullheaded, he didn’t know, but she had a funny way of making him fold.

“Secondly.” She lifted a second finger before he could raise the white flag. “It wouldn’t be right for you to pay me back for your own gift.”

Huh? “Gift?”

She hummed in response. “There might be a little early birthday present waiting for you in the fridge.”

He couldn’t remember the last time someone, other than Sarah, got him a birthday present. Most of the time, not even Tommy did; his presence was the present or whatever bullshit he said. But she’d thought of him. Him. The idea made his chest begin to swell like metal on a blazing summer day. He ducked his head to hide the heat rising in his cheeks.

“You didn’t need to get me any-”

Teddy grasped his arm, instantly turning the rest of his sentence into sawdust. His gaze flickered from her hand on his forearm, to her eyes. She really was beautiful, especially in the warm pool of lamp light in his living room.

“I wanted to,” she assured him with a voice as soft as her touch. Her thumb gently skimmed over his arm hair and he held back a shiver with the clench of his teeth. “It’s just Classic Vanilla Bean Cheesecake. A little boring, but Sarah said that’s your favorite.”

“It is.” His voice cracked like a pre-teen and embaressed, he averted his eyes. How ridiculous. He needed to get a grip. Pull himself together. He was acting like a fucking virgin. Joel swallowed and stiffly nodded. “Thank you.”

She gave his arm a small squeeze before pulling away. The spot where she touched him still tingled, still burned.

“It’s the least I could do, since I’ll be missing it.”

Joel brushed her off with an easy wave of his hand. Other than work, he didn’t have any plans, so she really wasn’t missing anything. “I think you’ll have more fun in Phoenix, anyway.”

“Just don’t let Tommy set the place on fire while I’m gone.”

“Do you have that little faith in me?” he asked – teased. It was only a few days. Leaving Thursday, back in the office by the following.

She lightly nudged his arm, just as a door opened.

“Are you ready?” Sarah called out, and his focus shifted to the bottom of the stairs.

“I was born ready, kiddo. So, come on, let’s see it.” Joel drummed his hands excitedly against his thighs.

Waiting there reminded him of the fashion shows she used to put on for him. She’d wait at the top of the stairs until he popped in the Whitney Houston CD. For the big finale, they would dance around the living room to I Wanna Dance With Somebody.

But Sarah didn’t appear in a bright-pink princess costume, but instead a pretty little purple dress. Her heels were real, not made out of cheap plastic or from the Dollar Tree. His little girl looked so grown up. The realization that she was grown up made the back of his eyes burn.

Joel scrubbed a hand down his slack, scruffy jaw, watching Sarah twist from side-to-side. The shiny material swished around her knees.

“Baby girl, you look - beautiful,” he said without trying to hide the crackle in his voice. “The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

Sarah giggled, almost bashfully. “That’s exactly what Teddy said.”

“Well, that’s because it’s the truth,” Teddy stated earnestly. Sarah’s entire face lit up and God – she had such a killer smile. He would never get tired of seeing it.

When Sarah pulled back her hair to show Teddy two different pairs of earrings, she immediately went over to get a closer look.

Discussing jewelry and lip gloss, Sarah’s shiny wide eyes clung to her every word as if it was wrapped in gold, as if it held some infinite wisdom. It suddenly hit him that he’d never seen Sarah look at anyone like that. Not her favorite teacher. Not her best friend’s mom. Not even Mrs. Adler who lived next door and used to babysit her after school.

Poor Mrs. Adler, she meant well but Sarah and her could not have been more different. Thinking about it, Teddy was the first woman that Sarah shared anything in common with, who she didn’t have to share with the rest of the class or came second to a friend.

For once, Sarah had some special bond for herself.

His breath caught in his throat watching Teddy fuss with Sarah’s dress. Her eyes barely leaving Sarah’s bright face as she untwisted a strap and smoothed out a few spots in the back. For a second, he imagined her here with them every night – thought about how seamlessly she would fit into their lives.

Holy shit - what the fuck is he doing? Stop it.

Joel forced himself to look away, pruning those thoughts before they grew. The light, liquid warmth in his chest ran cold. It turned into mercury when it settled in his belly.

Luckily, Sarah and Teddy were too preoccupied with finishing details to notice him obsessively picking at his fingernails. He didn’t know what got a hold of him.

This was insane. She was his friend, his business partner, and whatever she was to Sarah that was more important than a stupid crush. No – he would not complicate a good thing with his feelings. Feelings she didn’t reciprocate. For God sake, she was dating someone else. Get over it.

Joel thought it might be a good thing that Teddy would be gone for a few days. More than ever, he needed some distance. Some time to help screw his head back on straight.

—

Too early on Tuesday morning, Joel sleepily fought the coffee machine until dark liquid gurgled and spewed into the pot.

“Have you heard from Teddy at all?” Tommy asked as Joel filled up a to-go cup.

“Oh yeah, hear from her every night before going to sleep.”

“Really?”

Joel shoved the coffee pot back inside its home, and blinked at Tommy. “Of course not. She’s on vacation. Why would she call me?”

He figured she’d brought whoever she was dating on the trip with her. They were probably going to her cousin’s wedding, meeting her college roommates new baby while he was here - in Texas. Alone. When he thought about it like that, it put everything into some much needed perspective.

Joel didn’t give Tommy a chance to respond before barging out and heading to the garage. He still was not used to seeing her empty desk instead of her warm smile, telling him to have a good day.

“So, do you miss her, yet?” Tommy asked while loading up the truck.

“She’s only been gone a few days,” Joel snorted, as if it was a ridiculous question to ask. “Why? Do you miss her?”

“Miss her coffee, that’s for damn sure.” He grimaced at the cup before taking a tentative sip. “Shit sucks. You add too much water.”

“I’d like to see you do any better.” Joel obnoxiously slurped on his drink, then winced. It did kinda taste like dirt. “She does make it better,” he conceded. “It’ll be nice to have her back.”

The distance had been a good thing for him, though. It was much easier for him to think without her dizzying perfume. What happened in his living room had been just a moment of weakness, of panic. Blown completely out of proportion.

The thing was – he’d always had a crush on her. It was nothing new, and he was perfectly happy with just this. With never being anything more than friends – her in his life, that was enough for him.

It had to be.

“Well, speaking of Thursday.” Tommy spoke in a tone that almost always meant he wanted something. “I’ve been meaning to tell you, I gotta leave work early that day.”

“Why? Got an appointment or something?”

Tommy shook his head, then spewed a sob story that lasted nearly the entire drive to the site. His buddy Aaron had just broken up with his cheating girlfriend, and needed help moving out of their apartment. Too bad it wasn’t a different one of Tommy's military buddies or Joel would’ve immediately said no, but Aaron actually wasn’t a douchebag.

“Well, what time would you leave? Cause we gotta finish that block by Friday-”

“She works the night shift, so not until like 3 or 4,” he said, swaying him further. “And Aaron said he’ll pick me up from the site, so you ain’t gotta do anything.”

Joel shrugged, whatever. Fine. They would just have to work late tonight and tomorrow.

—-

So far, Thursday had not gone at all like Joel had anticipated. His reunion with Teddy this morning was disappointingly quick. It wasn’t like he expected her to run into his arms and hug him or anything dramatic like that, but he did think it would be more than just a few minutes of small talk where Tommy dominated most of the conversation with his plans for later.

Which turned out to be total bullshit by the way. 3 to 4 ended up being more like 1:30, ruining his chance to see Teddy this evening. The inspectors would be here tomorrow morning, so the frame had to be finished tonight with or without an extra set of hands.

Now, at 6:30, Joel was just leaving the site. He picked up Wendy’s to make up for his crummy day, only for the burger to be loaded with pickles and onions when he specifically asked for ketchup only. He still scarfed it down, along with a medium dry on the drive back to shop where the only thing that would be waiting for him was an empty office and a fat-ass stack of paperwork. Some supply sheets that could hopefully be knocked out before Sarah needed to be picked up later.

He pulled in through the back entrance and was taking his sweet time unloading the truck. Lowly humming Wedding Bells by the great Hank Williams when the door opened with a screech. The sound echoed around the steel walls of the garage and he jerked, nearly dropping a nail gun on his foot. Somehow, he managed to catch it just before it slid off the rack.

He turned around and - “Teddy?”

“I was wondering what was taking you so long,” she said in a sweet drawl that made his pulse race for an entirely different reason.

He stared at her dumbly, blinking rapidly to make sure this was not just his imagination. She was still here. He wet his throat with a hard swallow. “You surprised me.”

“I can tell.” She giggled and embarrassment swarmed his neck like fire ants. He couldn’t believe she just witnessed him flail around like an idiot. He promptly went back to gathering up the last of the wooden boards and stacking them in the corner. “Did you not see my car out front?”

“I came in off 77th,” he explained, brushing the dust from his hands onto his jeans.

“I could’ve helped.” She leaned against the door, opening it wider as he walked over.

“Nah, I got it,” he said with a casual shake of his head. “Wouldn’t want you to ruin that shirt, anyway.” His eyes dipped over the satiny material, this time a deep maroon.

“It is a great shirt.” She playfully bumped into his side with her shoulder when he stepped inside. The delicious scent of her soap sent an electric jolt up his spine. He matched her steps down the hallway. “What’re you still doing here anyway?”

“Well, there’s the Fox Ridge pitch tomorrow and there’s two more next week. And I have been gone for like a week.” She tucked herself back behind her desk. “Remember?”

Oh yeah, he remembered.

For a few minutes, they caught up on work and talked about homecoming, which was Saturday, and Sarah, who was currently at her friend’s house making posters or whatever for the big game tomorrow. He asked if she enjoyed her trip, which she obviously did from the glow around her. He almost asked about the wedding until he noticed all the files on her desk, the neat stacks of paper labeled with post-it notes that clearly showed she was busy.

He decided not to be selfish and take up anymore of her time and instead went into his office.

“Let me know if you need anything,” she told him before he closed the door. He left it slightly cracked in a way that seemed inviting before taking a seat at his desk. He would’ve just left it wide open if he thought it would be possible to focus. But even the back of her head could be enough to distract him.

Just like the rest of the shop, his office had been recorated by Teddy when Danny retired. He’d actually offered her the office, multiple times, but she refused. She preferred the natural light in the front, and he couldn’t blame her when the one window in here was puny and overlooked the trash cans.

Without her, Joel would’ve left the walls as blank and as white as Danny, the bookshelves just as bare and dusty, and there wouldn’t be a single lamp, let alone two. But he definitely appreciated the lamps this late in the day when the overhead light would burn too loud and bright.

Supposedly, she’d gotten them for free from a friend that was moving. He’d believed the story, at first, until one day she showed up with a giant picture of Yellowstone River, two more of different landscapes. A Golden forest. A mountain range. She’d just stumbled upon them at a Goodwill for the same price as a pizza. And then she’d filled the bookcases that framed his desk with architectural books that would likely never be read and tiny fake plants, which he couldn’t kill. Those she’d claimed were found at a garage sale for the magical price of a gift card to her favorite nearby lunch spot.

She would’ve decorated the office for her dad if he would’ve let her. Danny didn’t care though if she found the space so depressing when it came down to money. But Joel could not find it in him to tell her no when she looked so damn pleased with herself afterwards. She’d done such a nice job that he wished he could use the office more. One day he probably would when Sarah moved out. He had a love-hate relationship with being home alone. The quiet could be peaceful, then other times forlorn.

After finishing up two supply lists for upcoming projects, Joel went to start on a third when his door jarred open with a soft knock. Teddy was hovering around the threshold with a file in one hand.

“Are you busy?”

Joel shook his head, shoving the folder aside then signaling her to come in. She stepped inside, nudging the door shut with her hip. It didn’t latch. No one else was here, otherwise he would’ve pointed it out. But he didn’t know why she shut it in the first place, honestly.

“Sorry to bother you-”

“You’re not bothering me,” he interrupted. “What can I do for you?”

“It’s the Fox Ridge pitch.” She sauntered over to his desk, hips swaying and squeezed into a pair of black jeans. Her shirt was gaping open in the front from the top two buttons being left undone and wasn’t it just one earlier? It was always one, right?

He realized it would’ve been easy to catch a peek of her bra when she bent over to hand him the file, but like a good person – like a good friend – he looked away. His gaze remained firmly fused to her face until she sat down in the chair across from him.

She wanted his thoughts on the pitch, and he agreed to take a look. Based on the first page it looked perfect, and even if it wasn’t, he wouldn’t be much help. After all, she was the brains of the operation where he was just the muscle.

“So, how was the wedding?” Joel flipped onto the next page without looking up. “Your cousin’s right?”

“Good memory.” She hummed, sounding pleasantly surprised. Her nails clicked along the steel arm of the chair. “But yeah, the wedding was… it was nice.”

“Was it?” Joel glanced up at her with a suspiciously quirked brow. “Cause, you ain’t gotta lie to me. I won’t tell.”

She clicked her tongue as if her reluctant tone wasn’t what led him to such a conclusion.

“I’m not lying, it was really nice. A lot of family that I haven’t seen in a while was there. And my cousin has amazing taste, so the wedding was gorgeous. It was small and intimate, but.” She let out a big breath. “It’s just everyone except my dad and I had dates.”

“Did you not bring your-” Too late, the words had poured out before he could think twice and he cursed his stupid, overly curious mind. He had no idea what to say to cover up his lapse, so he just didn’t. It just hung in the air and he turned to the next page without reading the last.

“Bring my what, Joel?” Her voice made it sound more like a challenge than a question. He peered up at her and she looked him directly in the eyes. It was as if she knew what he was going to say. It was as if she wanted him to ask.

Joel screwed the blue pen into his grip. “I thought - I thought you had a boyfriend.”

At that, she reclined back in the chair. She crossed her legs and tilted her head as if to study him. “What made you think I have a boyfriend?” she asked with such wild amusement that it confused him.

Didn’t she? Tommy had seen the card, the flowers as well, so it wasn’t something he just made up in his head. She was or used to be dating someone. Oh – maybe it wasn’t a boyfriend, but a girlfriend. Not that he was about to ask. God no. He’d butted into her personal life enough for one night.

“Well, you know.” Joel scratched the back of his head, then pointed in the direction of the break room. “There were those flowers, remember?”

Her eyes widened – her lips parted. “Yeah, I remember. I just, I guess I didn’t think you would.”

“Well, it ain’t everyday someone gets a garden delivered here.” He meant it as a joke, but it came off rather jealous. He tacked on a chuckle for good measure. She snorted, so it must’ve worked.

“Okay fair. I was dating someone, but that’s over. Been over. We broke up like 4 months ago? So, not long after that, actually.”

Joel grimaced. He could barely focus on her being single when he felt like shit. No one wanted to be reminded of their ex. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She brushed off like it was no big deal.

Still, he remained silent as the grave because what the hell was he supposed to say now?

“I was the one who ended things, just in case that makes you feel better.” Of course she was. No one in their right mind would break up with someone as amazing as her. “But since we’re on the topic and all - what about you, Joel?”

“What about me?” Joel finally met her eyes and her lips twisted into a mischievous smirk that made his stomach swoop.

“Do you have anyone special in your life?”

Joel stiffly shook his head. “Can’t say I do.”

“Anyone not special?” she nudged him, suggestively wiggling her brows.

Again – a shake of his head. “I don’t really date.”

“What a shame.” Her voice was almost husky, breathy. She leaned forward slightly. “I’m sure all the single mom’s at Sarah’s school are devastated.”

Joel batted his hand in the air with an ugly snort.

“What? I’m serious,” she said without twitching. Her eyes momentarily flickered towards his lips, and suddenly, his throat felt like the mostly burnt bagel he had for breakfast. “I bet you have all of them wrapped around your finger.”

“You’re just - you’re just saying that.”

“Am I?” Her voice was silky, even silkier than her shirt. There was a cool confidence radiating from her as her fingernails galloped in a slow rhythm along the arm rest.

She was staring at him, pinning him against his seat. The hair on his thighs lifted and tickled the denim. The energy in the room had shifted, the air between them had bent and blurred into something that Joel could not quite describe. But he could feel it, sense it when it surged and rippled between them and sent an electric shiver up his spine.

She licked her lips and rolled them together until they were shiny with her spit. His heart pounded against his chest like an animal trapped and he wanted to pounce over the desk and taste her spit. He nearly did until he felt a stirring in his jeans.

What the hell was going on? What was he thinking? He needed to get his head screwed back on straight before he did something incredibly stupid.

Joel shot from his chair like a firework. Abrupt and loud and white-hot. He turned away and towards the filing cabinets on the back wall. He didn’t have a plan, but there had to be something in there that he could pretend to need.

She was quicker than his flustered brain and rose to her feet before he could make it past the edge of his desk.

“Joel.”

It stopped him, his feet stuck to the floor like wet cement. She approached him like a frightened deer. Steady. So quiet. Her steps barely scratched against the cheap carpet.

Joel realized now, right now was the time to speak. To say something. Anything. Find an excuse. Stop standing here like a dumb-struck baboon. But there was only one word that managed to leave his lips, a breath -

“Teddy.”

“It’s okay,” she whispered into the shrinking space between them. “I know.”

I know? He had no clue what that was supposed to mean, but before he could ask – she cradled the back of his neck and pressed her lips against his. Joel’s eyes widened and all he could see was the soft planes of her face, her fluttering eyelids, the fan of her raven-stroke lashes.

She was kissing him. Holy shit. She was actually kissing him. When he finally registered that, he closed his eyes and was overcome by the taste of her spit and a hint of Burt’s Bees chapstick, which he found oddly arousing.

For a moment, he was too damn stunned to do anything but move his mouth along hers. Then, he realized his arms were hanging like spaghetti noodles at his side and reached out and clutched onto her waist. His thumbs delicately swirled the fabric of her shirt. So damn smooth, just as he expected.

Joel gulped when she drew back, just far enough to meet his eyes. He had no idea what the fuck this was – let along if it was anything at all. Perhaps, this was it. Just a stolen kiss, late one night in his office.

Joel braced himself for her to yank away, to tell him it was a mistake, that she didn’t know what she was thinking. Let’s forget the whole thing.

But she didn’t.

She just continued to toy with the curly ends of his hair, twirling them around her fingers as her other hand fisted the loose collar of his shirt. He was wedged between her warm-heaving body and his desk. The edge was slightly burrowing into his lower back, but currently he couldn’t care less.

Her gaze dipped to where his jeans were painfully tented. A hot burst of shame ignited behind his earlobes. The flex of his fingers bit into the hollow below her ribs.

“It’s - it’s been a while,” he found himself explaining because there was no good reason, at his age, to be this turned on from just kissing.

“Do you want me to stop?” She slid up against him, sealing herself against his chest. It appeared she knew the answer before he could dumbly shake his head.

This time – his lips met hers somewhere in the middle. Where the first kiss was gentle, testing the waters like the first sip of fresh coffee, this one was deeper. More intense – a whole gulp. Her urgent lips captured his starstruck mouth and right then he knew nothing, no one, would ever compare to this. Not even close.

The way she kissed was like some special art form that only she could master. It felt so damn good to have her fingers molding through his hair with baby scratches over his scalp and the scent of her soap flooding his chest with heat. It consumed him, his body, his mind. The rapid pulse in his ears muted his every coherent thought.

When she gently nibbled on his bottom lip, he moaned – Teddy. She licked her name from his lips, then eagerly tasted it on his tongue as if she couldn’t get enough.

And oh God – her tongue was equally as impressive as her other skills. The tip of it dragged over his top palate, making it tingle like a buzz off tequila. She stroked and swirled and twisted around his tongue as if knotting a cherry stem. No one had ever taken the time to explore him so thoroughly. Frankly, he didn’t know there was that much of his mouth to explore.

Despite her exploration, Joel’s hands were burning into her waist, still holding her at 10 and 2 like a student driver. Like this was a chaperoned middle school dance. Slowly he roamed them down to grip her hips, but no further. He didn’t want to push it. He didn’t want to scare her. He didn’t want to spoil this moment from something stupid like getting too greedy.

Joel was fully okay with her in the driver seat. Even though he was usually in charge, he was happily letting her lead. Well, actually, he didn’t know if he was really letting her or if she just was. He didn’t care either way when she was touching him.

She broke the kiss and her lips swerved to his cheek. His jaw, paying extra attention to the patch in his beard where no hair could grow. His head tipped back when she buried her nose into the crook of his neck and deeply inhaled. After a hard-days work he likely smelled of sweat instead of his soap, but she groaned anyway.

“Have you ever thought about this before?” She breathed against his neck.

“I mean, I-” He choked on his words as her tongue slicked over the thick vein beneath his jaw. “I - I tried not to.”

“But you did.” He could feel her lips split into a grin before she sucked on a spot below his ear. He hoped it would leave a mark. The idea of seeing it tomorrow in the mirror made his cock twitch and throb and it ached.

“Uh-huh,” he whimpered, rather pathetically. It actually sounded like it fucking hurt.

“You know what?” She playfully nipped at the spot that would soon sadly fade. She then met his gaze with a coy grin. I thought about you too.”

“You did?” he croaked.

She hummed in response, her fingers trailing down his chest. His stomach quivered, his breath catching before she stopped just above the band of his jeans and whispered, “But unlike you - I didn’t try to stop.”

Joel growled, unable to form a coherent thought. His brain was too preoccupied trying to process how any of this was happening. It had to be a dream or an optical illusion or some shit. No way it could be real. But her small hand cupped his cock and that certainly felt real.

“Fuck - you feel even bigger than I imagined.” She palmed at his bulge with a light pressure. His knees nearly buckled despite the thick, denim barrier.

Now, he was really wishing he jerked off last night – or anytime in the past week or so. God – he was pent up. It wouldn’t take much for him to break.

“Can I see it?”

Joel’s mouth went half-slack and she blinked at him without flinching.

“Yeah,” he managed to squeak out. Not great, but at least coherent.

She sank to her knees, her eyes never leaving his. Pretty. Pretty. So damn pretty. Those two undone buttons exposed the tops of her breasts, the peek of a plain white bra that he found sexier than he should’ve.

His restless hands found solid ground on the desk behind him. Just in time as she balled the hem of his shirt in her tiny fists and bunched it towards his waist. The office air blew cool over his newly bare skin.

Joel wondered how he compared to the type of guy she usually dated. Did she like meatheads with six packs? Or guys with scrawny arms? Or did she like them somewhere in the middle; someone more like him? His body used to be more solid in his 20’s, but softened with age. He was still strong though, still firm in most spots aside from his stomach.

He caught himself sucking in as her wild eyes wandered over his husk-tan skin and across the dark scatter of hair around his navel. Then, she devoured it, mapping every inch with her wet, hot mouth.

It was a miracle that he managed to stay upright under her attention. Any attention was new. He was not used to any teasing or foreplay or whatever delicious torture this was called.

No.

Joel was used to his own calloused hands. Quick, rough fucks with women who called him Joe or Jack or something else entirely because why did it matter if it meant nothing.

But did this mean anything? To him, yes. To her – he had no clue. Dear God – he hoped so, though.

With a smirk she unzipped his jeans and shoved them down by his knees. The wet spot on his boxers was impossible to miss. Of course, he’d worn light gray today instead of something discreet like black.

“It’s been awhile,” he sheepishly reminded her. He didn’t want her to think he was always this big of a mess. Because he wasn’t. Seriously, he really wasn’t.

“It’s alright, just relax.” She leaned forward and mouthed at the stain.

But it was impossible to relax when her nose nudged the underside of his cock, her mouth was so close to the tip that every muscle in his body tightened. He gritted his teeth, his nostrils flaring with the remnants of his dwindling self-control.

She must’ve realized she was ruining him because she pulled back with a wicked grin. She hooked her fingers into the elastic waistband and tugged. His freed cock nearly smacked her in the face. The flush red tip was weeping.

“Shit, you’re thick,” she gasped. Women had told him that before, but he much preferred hearing it from her. The sweet honesty in her voice, the clear surprise. It stroked his ego and filled him with a strange sense of pride as if he’d actually accomplished anything profound, and not just good genetics.

She licked and spit into her palm before stroking his cock with a loose fist from root to tip. Her thumb swiped over the blunt head, smearing his pre-come and making his hips jerk and involuntary spasm.

Joel opened his mouth to apologize, but was quickly silenced by her tongue: warm, wet, the slightly rough texture tracing over the thick vein that ran down his length.

He gripped the desk until his knuckles bleached. She placed her free hand on his hip as if to help steady him before guiding him between her perfect, plush lips. Just the tip, at first. But it still was nearly enough to finish him. He didn’t remember the last time someone put their mouth on him.

Joel desperately wished to witness this moment. He wanted to memorize the glossy gleam in her eyes, the way she looked in front of him and on her knees and how her mouth stretched perfectly around his cock. But it was too much. The weight between his thighs was becoming oppressive. If he watched, he’d shatter. And he’d be horrified if he finished that fast.

So, he focused on the ceiling tiles instead. On the black specks that formed different shapes as she took another inch of him into her feverish mouth.

Already, she had him panting like a dog. Unable to fully catch his breath even when she released his cock with a loud pop. She continued to pleasure him with long strokes of her fist. Her tongue dipped into his leaking slit, lighting up nerve endings that he didn’t know existed. It ripped an ungodly sound from his mouth.

“Oh, you liked that?” she asked, very smug. Then repeated the movement once, twice, before eagerly swallowing his cock again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His hand flew to her shoulder and squeezed as she took him deeper – deeper. Holy shit. Where did she learn to do this? This was like pornstar level good.

She had taken him halfway down her throat when he felt a shock run across his spine, a familiar tugging in his balls. His release was building and brewing in his lower belly like a thunderstorm.

But Joel clenched his teeth. No – he could not come. Not yet. He needed to get himself under control before he finished in less than five minutes.

He shut his eyes, but not even the rumble of his eardrums could drown out the loud, lewd squelch of her mouth. It was fucking filthy. The swirl of her expert tongue around his shaft had him unraveling fast like a loose spool of thread.

“Teddy,” he moaned her name as he got close – too damn close.

He tried to tell her to slow down, but the words stuck in his throat. Nothing came out except grunts. Just short groans. Her lips kissed the cusp of her fist, completely engulfing him in her honey-slobber and the softness of her hand.

His hips instinctively bucked, the head of his cock bumping the back of her throat and she gagged. The walls of her inner mouth shuddered and pulsed around him and –

“Shit.” His eyes flew open but before he could warn her – she hollowed her cheeks and sucked.

He groaned her name, low and unrestrained, as the pleasure electrified his spine. It arced down his thighs before he could push her off. For a moment, he lost himself in the high, in the tide of her mouth. His cock twitched and throbbed on her tongue as he came.

Hard.

As if he hadn’t come in months – years.

In a daze, he blinked down at her and saw his cum dripping down her chin, leaking from the corners of her mouth as she continued to twist her fist and suck down the aftershocks. It would’ve been easily the most erotic sight, if it didn’t suddenly hit him how fast he came.

The light-headed euphoria quickly morphed into vertigo. He was horrified, mortified, staring down at her.

He didn’t know what to say, and for once, it seemed like neither did she. She released his cock from her mouth, but otherwise didn’t move. Not even to wipe the come off her face.

She swallowed, and opened her mouth. But a familiar ding tore through the thick, sticky air. The bell above the front door.

“Joel? Teddy?”

No way. It was motherfucking Tommy.

—-

The idiot had forgotten his house keys in Joel’s truck. In the cupholder, nonetheless.

Joel had somehow managed to button his jeans, and hand her a tissue before Tommy busted into his office. She’d pretend to blow her nose to clean the come off her face, riddling him with another level of shame. So embarrassed that he could barely look at her without feeling like he swallowed a handful of nails.

He threw Tommy the car keys to get rid of him, but found out that Aaron had left. Tommy had told him that Joel could just drive him home without even asking. And usually it wouldn’t be a big deal.

But Tommy was so goddamn clueless. He just swung around the door frame, blabbering about how the girlfriend showed up and there was a big blow up in the parking lot and Joel was just waiting for him to notice the smell of sex and sweat or even the cloying embarrassment. Or Teddy’s swollen and suck-plump lips and surely Joel looked like a flushed-beet wreck.

So how did Tommy seem to remain completely oblivious?

When Sarah called a few minutes later, Joel left. Well, first he made sure everything was locked up and she was safely in her car, but otherwise fled like a coward.

The shop had officially disappeared from his rear view mirror and now Joel couldn’t remember if he even told her goodbye. She just gave him the best blow job of his life, and he couldn’t even wave?

“Are you gonna get Sarah or drop me off first?” Tommy asked and Joel snapped at him like a venus fly trap.

“Doesn’t really make sense to go out of my way just to drop you off first, now does it?”

Tommy threw up his hands. “Well, fuck. How am I supposed to know where Sarah’s friend lives?” He hurled himself against the passenger seat and mumbled under his breath, “Asshole.”

Joel winced. He was kinda being an asshole, taking out his anger on Tommy. He wasn’t even mad at Tommy. Annoyed, yes, but not mad. The only person Joel was mad at here was himself.

He was mad at himself for cumming too fast, and even more so for running away afterwards like a scared hound with his soft, spent cock tucked between his legs. Recalling the complete shit show, Joel’s grip coiled around the steering wheel until the leather squealed in protest. He could still feel the ring of her spit drying around him.

Joel sighed and stared out the windshield at the night sky, the truck bouncing along the uneven back road full of potholes. Why did it feel like he just fucked everything up?

“Hey, are you alright?” Tommy’s voice was lower, quiet – concerned.

Joel scratched at his jaw, at the bald patch she’d kissed, before nodding his head.

“Yeah, sorry - I’m just tired.” He’d rather die and be reincarnated into a gnat than tell Tommy about how he just prematurely ejaculated. He’d had enough embarrassment for one night.

“Did I-” Tommy paused and for a moment it seemed like he decided to keep his mouth shut. Until he sighed. “I don’t know, but did I interrupt something between you and Teddy?”

A little too late to start being observant, Tommy.

Joel approached a red light, the truck crawling to a complete stop.

“Come on. What would be going on between us that you could interrupt?” Joel looked over at Tommy and his brows were furrowed. In the pool of orange light from the street lamps that speckled the cab, Joel saw the realization flash across Tommy’s face. The moment everything clicked into place.

Joel abruptly turned away, not in the mood for pity. After what felt like forever, the light finally turned green.

“Joel, I didn’t realize that you-”

“Don’t.” His voice was quiet, stern without being rude. “Just don’t.”

For once, Tommy didn’t demand to have the last word. Instead, he slowly and silently fell back into the seat as if to fade into the shadows. She still had a boyfriend as far as Tommy knew, and Joel would not be informing him otherwise. This way was easier.

The rest of the drive was filled with Willie Nelson’s album Always on My Mind, the rumble of the engine, and the buzzing of Joel’s thoughts.

How was he supposed to face her tomorrow?

—-

On Friday morning, Joel drove to the shop with a terrible pit in his stomach. His eyes felt gritty, and there was a dark shadow of gray underneath from a restless night sleep. He ate a bland piece of toast for breakfast, and even that made him feel sick. When he turned onto the street, he thought it might reappear all over the windshield.

But Teddy was not there. Just a pink post-it note on the full, freshly brewed coffee pot.

Fox Ridge pitch - Wish me luck.

He’d forgotten that it was this early. Joel supposed he’d have to get here on time this evening to see her.

Joel spent the day trying not to go insane. Despite the pounding of his hammer, memories of last night beat against his skull. Anytime he touched his lips, or the spot behind his ear, he could practically feel the ghost of her kisses. They had been desperate, heated. Hadn’t they? It had seemed she’d wanted him, just as much as he’d always wanted her. She’d even admitted to imagining him in some sexual way.

But what about now?

He didn’t have a clue.

Eight hours later, and halfway from a complete tailspin, the truck decided not to start. The engine clicked and clicked and clicked, but never went. Even though he begged for it to start. The concrete guys had tried to jump it with no success. It’d taken everything in him not to sock Tommy in the jaw when he gave him that told-you-so look while calling a tow truck.

The concrete guys were still on their best behavior and gave them a ride to the mechanic shop. It was run by one of Tommy’s highschool friends, Zach, who was nice enough to stick around past 5 on a Friday night.

5:25 and this was a fucking nightmare. He couldn’t imagine a worse day for the truck to die. As if he hadn’t fucked up enough last night when he bolted, the last thing Joel wanted as her thinking that he was avoiding her. The least he could do was extend the same courtesy she had this morning.

So midway through Tommy and Zach examining what was under the hood, he broke away to call her.

Joel slapped his cellphone against the flat of his palm as he headed outside the entrance. With a deep breath he dialed the shop’s number. The ring-ring-ring in his ears made his chest feel like it was about to explode.

“Teddy’s Company, how can I help you?”

“Hey Teddy.” He cleared his throat. “Hey, it’s Joel,” he said, very awkwardly.

“Hey! Hi. What’s up?”

Joel kicked at the loose rocks by his feet. “Well, the truck - uh the truck’s acting up. We had to get a tow, and Tommy and I are - the mechanic’s checking it over right now.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah, so I just wanted you to know - I don’t know when we’ll get back to the shop.” Joel lightly hit the center of his head with the circle of his clenched fist. He sounded like an idiot.

“No - yeah. That makes sense.” Silence crackled on the other line and it was unbearable.

Joel scratched his temple, unsure what to say next. He wanted to talk about last night, just to get it over with, but it wasn’t the right time. That was not a conversation to have over the phone. Not like at work was much better, but still.

“Well,” Teddy broke the silence. There was a rustling of something on the other line – papers? Her bag? “Do you need-”

There was a massive boom behind him – Tommy pounded on the glass door and motioned him inside.

“What was that?” she asked and Joel mouthed at Tommy to give him a second.

“Sorry, it’s Tommy. I think the mechanic’s done with the inspection.”

“Okay - well, I was just gonna ask if you guys-”

Tommy banged again – harder. It was Friday, so he probably had a date with his favorite dive bar. Joel glared at him and flipped him off.

“It sounds like you need to go,” she said.

“Sorry.” Joel rubbed the back of his neck and he was gonna kill Tommy. “But uh - have a nice weekend, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, you too, Joel.”

Once Joel found out the battery just needed to be replaced, Tommy’s pissy mood made a lot more sense. It would be a decently fast and easy fix – at most an hour.

Joel plopped down in a chair in the lobby and mindlessly flipped through a car magazine. He didn’t even register the pictures that swished by, too busy reeling from that awkward phone call.

Had he really told her to have a nice weekend? He wanted to melt into the cracks and scuffs in the black-and-white tiles. Real smooth, Joel. He sucked at this shit.

What was going to happen next?

He couldn’t tell where her head was at from the phone call that somehow didn’t even last as long as him last night. God – she probably thought he had some type of erectile dysfunction and he couldn’t even blame her. There was no excuse for a man at his age to cum that fast from a blow job, nonetheless. He was not a fucking teenager.

The longer he sat there in the empty lobby with the melancholy of Johnny Cash’s voice, the more he began to doubt. It spread and swelled in his lower abdomen like a virus. Syphilis. If it festered for too long, he felt like it might turn him insane.

He didn’t know how he would survive the weekend like this.

—

Saturday was usually his day for relaxing. All his responsibilities could wait until Sunday, but he couldn’t sit still.

Up early, he and Sarah went to the Farmer’s Market and ran errands until lunch time. He deep cleaned the house in the afternoon. The entire main floor was vacuumed and swept, the kitchen counters looked brand new, and even his bed was freshly made with dryer warm sheets. He was determined to keep busy instead of wallowing in his looming conversation with Teddy.

It might’ve worked if Sarah didn’t innocently keep bringing her up. With homecoming tonight, she was apparently in the mood to reminisce, especially after she’d gotten all dolled up.

They were halfway to her friend Ashley’s house and the drive had been filled with Teddy. Their mall trip – the dress – the tiny details Teddy helped pick out.

“I brought my polaroid camera.” Sarah pointed at her overnight bag in the backseat of his truck. “So, you can take a photo of me and show Teddy on Monday.”

“Oh, yeah. She’ll like that.” Joel forced a smile as the hand of his knee flexed, biting into denim.

He couldn’t help but feel a stab of guilt every time Sarah mentioned her. Teddy would never cut Sarah out, he knew that, but things were bound to be different now. It couldn’t go back to what it used to be, not after she’d seen his cock and swallowed his come. The relationship would inevitably change between them.

He just hoped their friendship could be somewhat salvaged. For Sarah’s sake, especially.

Joel was able to push that out of his mind when they arrived at Ashley’s house. The Murphy’s had been nice enough to invite the entire group, including parents, to come over and take photos. He couldn’t imagine fitting 14 teenagers and their moms in his puny backyard where he could barely fit a playset. Luckily, the Murphy’s lived on a big, well-landscaped lot that backed up against a man-made lake, and not directly into a neighbor’s house.

The few other dad’s who showed up were all huddled together under the covered patio with their eyes transfixed on the TV screen. The Longhorns were taking on the Wildcats. Still in the first quarter, so it wasn’t even a good game yet.

Instead of cracking open a beer, Joel joined the mom’s by the rose bushes.

“Oh my God, Joel. Sarah looks beautiful.”

“She’s gorgeous.”

“Stunning.”

They all complimented Joel as if his genes actually put up a fight. Sarah was Lisa’s exact twin. Even more so when her gorgeous thick curls were pulled back into a loose bun with a few loose strands framing her face. The mom’s were right though – Sarah did look beautiful. But then again, she always did; with or without all the glitter and make-up.

Sarah’s date was a scrawny, soccer player with red hair who was her best friend’s boyfriend’s best friend. Eric. Joel could hardly believe his daughter was at an age to even have a date, even if it was just a set up. It made him feel incredibly old when the kid called him sir.

Based on first impressions, Eric seemed nice enough. The kid took a few photos of Joel and Sarah together in front of the Mexican bush sage. The purple flowers were almost an exact match to Sarah’s dress. Joel had hoped that somebody would offer when he’d changed out of his dusty clothes earlier and into a different, slightly nicer white t-shirt and a pair of his best dark wash jeans.

Still, while Joel wouldn’t threaten the kid with a fist or scare the shit out of him with a war story like Tommy would, Joel did give Eric the look – Don’t try anything, bud. When Joel shook his hand, it felt like wet paint.

Good.

Joel thanked the minivan moms for driving, Ashley’s mom for hosting the sleepover afterwards, while snapping enough pictures to fill up two of Sarah’s bulletin boards.

“You look beautiful, baby girl,” he told Sarah one more time before hugging her goodbye.

She promised to be good and handed him the developed Polaroid, specifically for Teddy. He stashed it safely away in the middle console of his truck then drove away.

At home, an empty living room quietly greeted him. Not yet 6 P.M. – the sun continued to shine and slice through the curtains onto the beige carpet. Joel had no idea what to do with the rest of his evening. Football, he supposed. Maybe rent a movie – Ocean’s Eleven or Training Day, something Sarah had no interest in ever seeing.

He whipped up a ham and cheese sandwich and cracked open a beer. Rather than eating alone at the dining room table, he set up on the couch and ate in the company of Longhorn football.

It didn’t take long, not even halfway finished with his sandwich, before a Folgers commercial came on and he thought about Teddy. She never even used Folgers, but just coffee in general made him think of her. At this point, it was actually pathetic how everything reminded him of her.

For a few minutes, Joel debated on calling her and figuring this shit out already. This limbo was killing him. He even pulled out his phone from his back pocket, found her name in his contact list and let it taunt him, his thumb hovering over the call button for longer than he’d like to admit.

But what would he say if she answered?

It had been two days and he still had no clue. He was still trying to figure out how to navigate this whole situation. He wanted to handle it with care but it felt like holding a dandelion puff in his rough calloused hands. Inevitably, it would break and fall apart with something as simple as a gust of wind. Joel carelessly tossed his phone on the coffee table and groaned.

At halftime, he went and cleaned off his empty plate in the sink. Using his hands always helped distract him. Maybe he needed a hobby. He could always play his guitar, finally learn Never Going Back Again. He’d always wanted to try out woodworking since it used to be his dad’s favorite pastime.

Joel was drying off the dish when the doorbell rang.

“Hold on,” he yelled, wiping off his hands with the rag. He didn’t know who that could be, but he’d bet everything in his wallet right now it was Tommy. He knew Sarah would be gone all night, and probably wanted to drag Joel to some bar across town for a wild night out.

Joel was coming around to the idea of spending his night in a smoky, loud bar instead of cooped up in his house when he opened the door. It was definitely not his brother, not even close.

“Teddy.”

She was on his front porch in a pale blue sundress that instantly made his mouth water. The buttery light from the budding sunset sky behind her framed her silhouette.

“Sorry to just stop by.” She smoothed down her dress and tugged at the hem. “But can I come in?”

—-

She didn’t say why she was here when he let her inside, but he supposed she didn’t have to.

It was actually Joel who broke the silence. “Do you want anything to drink?” he asked. His mom would lurch from her grave if he didn’t act like a good host.

“Water,” she said with a small smile. “Tap’s fine.”

It was a good thing she didn’t follow him into the kitchen. His hands were shaking so bad that he nearly dropped the glass on the tile floor.

When he came back into the living room, she was sitting on the couch. He handed her the glass, his fingertips brushing over hers. She politely thanked him before taking a tentative sip. The cushion whined under his weight when he sat. These were the exact same spots from the night she was here with Sarah. This time, however, the empty cushion felt less like a safety net and more like a boulder about to crush him.

He turned off the TV, the newfound silence giving further evidence of what happened the other night.

She clinked the glass onto the coffee table, then clasped her hands stiffly in her lap. On the very edge of her seat, she looked ready to bolt at any moment. “I knew Sarah would be at the dance or, at least dinner.”

“Yeah, dinner. I think the dance starts around 8,” he said and she nodded. He wished he would’ve remembered to bring the Polaroid inside. Maybe it would’ve helped ease the tension.

But no – he needed to quit procrastinating and apologize for how he reacted the other night.

Buck up – do it.

For a moment, Joel searched for what to say, scratching the skin around his neck where it felt thickest.

“Joel,” Teddy said before he could speak. She shifted in her seat and when she opened her mouth, he braced himself for her to call it nothing but a mistake. “I wanted to come by and apologize about the other night.”

His brows furrowed.

“Apologize?”

“Yes, Joel,” she answered, very sternly. He noticed a pained look in her eyes before she stared down at her stark white tennis shoes.

“What? I - what?” He sounded like a bumbling drunk and for once, he wished the right words would just come naturally to him.

She sighed.

“After our phone call yesterday,” she started, only stopping for a split-second to clasp her gold necklace between her fingers. “I feel like I might’ve pushed things too far the other night. I never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable-”

“Uncomfortable? No. Shit.” Joel insistently shook his head. He would personally damn himself to hell if he sat here any longer and let her take any blame for this. Exhaling, he scruffed a hand over his jaw. “Look, I’ll admit - I panicked, but that ain’t on you.”

“How is it not?”

“Cause you did nothing wrong. Fuck. I’m the one who should be apologizing, alright? I acted like a goddamn idiot, Teddy. It’s just-” Joel let out a self-deprecating laugh, bashfully tucking his chin towards his chest. “I don’t usually, ya know - that fast. Just got embarrassed, that's all.”

He absently rubbed at a patch of distressed leather on the arm of the couch.

“Well, I never wanted to make you feel embarrassed.” She scooted closer – closer. Slowly. For what felt like the first time since the night in his office, Joel properly met her eyes. “All I wanted was to make you feel good, Joel.” Her voice was husky, almost seductive. She smirked and his heart banged inside his chest like a caged feral cat.

“You did make me feel good,” he admitted, rather shyly. “Just wish I could’ve made you feel good, too.”

“Who says you can’t?” Her eyes darted across his face, to his lips, to the rise and fall of his chest. She gripped his shoulders for balance before swinging her legs over him. Her knee lightly bumped into the arm of the couch and his hands instantly went to her hips, helping to steady her on his lap.

Joel stared up at her dumbly for a moment before shaking his head in disbelief. His thumbs toyed with the hem of her dress, bunching it up further until he could brush over the bare flesh of her thighs. Goddamn, she was so soft. So pretty.

“What do you want, Joel?”

Everything. “Whatever you’ll give me.”

“No, Joel. What do you want?”

The last two days – hell, the last two years bulldozed into him. Every feeling and thought he’d suppressed and ignored crashing into him like a wrecking ball. He’d spent so long convincing himself this would never happen, but now – everything he ever wanted and never thought he would have was right here. Right in his lap.

And something inside him suddenly snapped.

“You gotta know by now, Teddy. You gotta know.” The words spilled out of his mouth and he hated how it sounded. It didn’t make any sense. Joel shook his head and ran his hands down her thighs to lightly squeeze at the spot above her knees for stability. “Fuck, I ain’t any good at this shit,” he said, in a rare moment of vulnerability.

She cupped his face so delicately like he was made of porcelain. With a small nudge, he met her gaze.

“This is gonna sound very middle school, but do you like me, Joel?” she asked and he snorted.

It did sound juvenile, but he instinctively tugged her closer and nodded his head.

“Good. Cause I like you and I want you, Joel. Only you,” she said. “So what do you say? Wanna give this a shot?”

“You fucking know I do.” His hand slid behind her neck, his thumb traced over the perfect curve of her hair line. “Now, come here.”

When his lips met hers – it was desperate and sweet like cream soda. His mouth crashed against hers with every bottled up dream and fantasy of her mouth, her lips, her tongue. It surged hot and bright through him.

His hand was a firm weight on the small of her back as he pulled her in as close as humanly possible, until only denim and a dainty sundress could separate him from her.

She clutched onto his shirt collar before gently rocking her hips against his growing bulge. He tensed his thigh, catching on her panties. She whimpered, already so sensitive, and he couldn’t wait to learn all the sounds she made.

He couldn’t fuck her on the couch, though. Not properly, at least. Definitely not like he wanted to or how she deserved. Still, he let himself enjoy this for a few minutes. Dry humping like teenagers in her parent’s basement before breaking the kiss with a soft peck to her top lip.

“Would you wanna go upstairs?” He dragged the back of his hand over her thigh, his knuckles hiking up her dress to reveal a little more skin.

“Oooh. Am I finally gonna see Joel Miller’s room?” She gave the tip of his nose a quick kiss before crawling off of him.

She held his hands the entire way upstairs until he led her into his room. “Told you, you weren’t missing much.”

“I don’t know about that.” She glanced at the navy blue walls, at the painting of a grazing deer in what appeared to be somewhere in Montana. It hung above his golden oak headboard. She pointed at the basic beige comforter, three pillows lined up against the frame. “I’m gonna be honest, though, I didn’t take you for the type to make your bed.”

“I did a little cleaning today.” Joel shrugged as she kicked off her shoes by his laundry basket.

“Well, isn’t that convenient?”

Joel managed to only kiss her twice before getting on the bed. He scooted into the middle, using two pillows to prop and cushion his aging lower back. Again, she eagerly climbed over him. She yanked her dress over her head, leaving her in only a lacy black bra with a pair of matching panties that cut high on her hips. The tiny, pink flower on the waistband was just the cherry on top.

She must’ve noticed the look on his face because she giggled as if she was completely innocent. “Do you like it? I wore it for you.”

“Fuck me,” he murmured. “Look at you, you’re gonna fucking kill me.” His hands roamed from her ribs up to paw at her bra and he squeezed just hard enough to watch them pour out over the top. He growled from deep in his chest before shoving his face in between her breasts. He traced the lacy material with his tongue before kissing along his slick trail. “Can I take it off?”

Smirking, she reached behind her and unclipped it for him. The bra joined her dress on the carpet in seconds. He licked his lips and admired her bare skin – the curves of her body in the coppery-golden glow from the sunset spilling in from the window. When he cupped her breasts, he swore they were made for his hands. His thumbs slid across her sensitive peaks, feather-light, but her breath still hitched – her head tip back and even the column of her neck was gorgeous.

He replaced one of his thumbs with his tongue, flicking the tip of it over her nub again and again. Kitten licks that made her clutch the back of his head. The way her fingers rooted into his hair was almost possessive and she held him flush against her chest as he sucked her nipple into his needy mouth.

Her breathing grew ragged and she tried to find friction. She rutted against him, but his hands captured her hips, holding her still before she could graze his cock. Too much dry humping and he’d be actually come in his pants like a teenager.

“Be patient, sweetheart,” he murmured and she whined. He didn’t allow her another chance to complain before his mouth switched to her other breast and adored it with equal attention. It’d been ages since he took his time like this and he lost himself in the feeling of her soft, scented skin on his face.

“Joel,” she moaned. It was desperate and raw and hands down the most erotic sound he’d ever heard in his life. It snapped him from his reverie and he grazed his teeth once more over her spit-swollen bud.

“I know.” He petted her hips before cupping her sex. The lace was soaked and sticky around her cunt.

Her hips bucked into the flat edge of his palm and for a moment, he watched her shamelessly ride his hand. Her brows furrowed – her fingers clutching his shirt for support. He was suddenly aware that he was completely dressed, and he found it strangely erotic. A part of him enjoyed it, maybe a little too much.

“Let me take care of you.” He patted her on the hip before ordering her to lay back. She didn’t need to be told twice.

Joel moved, so she could take his spot in the center of the bed. He tore off his t-shirt and threw it with her clothes. She watched him with glossy, moon eyes as he crawled between her spread open thighs. He captured her lips in a tender kiss before swerving to the swell of her cheek and down the slope of her neck. Gently, he nipped at her collarbone and she wiggled impatiently.

But he still went slow when dragging the tip of his nose from her breasts and along her stomach where he placed a soft kiss above her belly button.

When he settled back on his knees, he saw her chest rising and falling. Her bottom lip was stuck between her teeth and she was fisting the comforter. It was hard to believe she was really here, even as his fingers stroked her thigh. She was actually in his bed in nothing but soaked black panties.

Joel laid down on his stomach, spreading her thighs even wider to make room for his broad shoulders. Face-to-face with her lace covered cunt, he could smell the sweet, primal musk.

He sucked in a breath, suddenly feeling nervous. He enjoyed going down on women, but it had been awhile since he did anything more than just enough to get someone wet enough to take him. And he really wanted this to be good.

It felt like it had to be good, after his last fuck up.

“Joel? Are you okay?” She brushed back a tuft of hair that had fallen flat on his face.

He shut his eyes but there was no hiding when his face was mere inches from her pussy. “It’s just been awhile.”

“Well, we don’t-”

“No. God - I want to.” Joel groaned and dejectedly dropped his head against her thigh. He kissed at a mark above her knee. Her skin felt so warm against the stubble of his cheek. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?”

A moan dripped from her lips as he mouthed his way to the dip where her thighs met her hips. His nose nudging along the elastic seam.

“I’m not usually like this, but fuck - I wanna make you feel good.” He sucked at the spot directly above that damn tiny pink rose and her hips lifted off the bed, almost chasing his mouth. “Want you to know I can take care of you.”

“You can - you can,” she practically chanted. “Just God. Please, Joel.”

“Okay, I got you. It’s okay,” he whispered before peeling off her panties. He lifted the flimsy to his nose and inhaled without thinking. She smelled so delicious, musky, like sea salt and jasmine. He lost himself in her womanly scent and stuffed the fabric into his mouth and oh God – the taste. Dully sweet, a citrusy-tang that tingled his tongue. He devoured it.

It wasn’t until her panties were licked clean that he came up for air. His eyes opened to find her staring at him. Her mouth gaping – pupils carbon-black.

With a shy smile, he tossed the panties, now soaked with his spit, behind him. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she panted. “Fuck, that was hot.”

He snorted.

“Well, you taste damn good, sweetheart,” he said, situating himself comfortably between her thighs. Now, there was nothing, not even skimpy lace separating them. She was completely hairless, which was actually a first for him. Joel didn’t have a personal preference, though he did like how easily he could see how turned on she was. Her entire sex was swollen and glossy and perfect. Licking his lips, he peered up at her. “I wanna make you feel good, so let me know if you don’t like something, alright?”

She quickly nodded, her chest hitching with anticipation. She wanted this. She did.

He kissed the top of her mound then experimentally licked her slit, keeping his tongue soft and flat. He deliberately stopped just before her clit, avoiding it. For now. He planned to build her up slowly, steady. Words had never come easy to him, so instead he’d show her what he could not articulate.

Despite his own painful desire, his focus remained solely on her as he lapped at her cunt: He teased and nibbled and sucked on her folds. Letting her little sounds and sighs guide him to find her most sensitive spots. He didn’t know what he’d been so worried about before. Eating pussy was just like riding a bike.

“More,” she pleaded, and how could he deny her after she’d been so patient?

Her back arched when the tip of his nose grazed her clit. He smirked against her cunt, the pit in his belly stoked by how worked up she was. It fueled his confidence and his tongue swiped over her clit. She wound her fingers through his hair and tugged.

Hard.

And Oh – that did something to him. His cock twitched, or at least, tried to. Pack so tightly against the seam of his jeans. Again – he swallowed the urge to hump the sheets for some relief, snubbing his own arousal for hers.

As he toyed with her clit, his fingertips skimmed over her slick, hot-heated sex. The thick bulb of his pointer finger caught on her entrance and she immediately clenched, as if trying to capture him. Greedy little thing.

Still, he peered up at her for permission that she happily granted. He started out with one finger and inched inside her until he could not physically go any further. He cursed under his breath. She was warm and soaked and so tight.

When finally he squeezed in a second finger, her knees slightly bowed. Even though she was wet enough for him to slip in without any resistance, he rocked into her slowly, mindful to let her adjust. He curled his fingers, trying a few different angles before finding that spongy spot.

Immediately, she jerked with a deep, filthy moan.

Got it.

His fingers worked just as relentlessly as his tongue that was circling and swirling and flicking her clit. So responsive. Her walls spasmed around him as he thrusted into her a little harder. A little faster.

“Oh my God.” Her voice was as shaky as her thighs. He could feel her starting to swell under his tongue.

Joel didn’t want to stop, but he needed to see her come apart. When he leaned back on his knees, her hand shot out. She latched onto his forearm with a death grip.

“Wait! Wait! Joel!” Her voice was high-pitched. Frantic. Her cunt clenched furiously around his fingers as if she could not bear to let them go. “I’m almost there. I swear, I’m close.”

She bore down, attempting to fuck his hand as if she needed to prove she was telling the truth. Like he could do nothing but sit here, and she could get herself off. Joel felt something ugly and bitter twinge in his chest. It made him wonder how often she was left high and dry and unsatisfied by the people she fucked.

Well, not anymore. Not with him.

Once his hand lightly pressed on her abdomen, she stopped. Her gaze found his. Her eyes glossy and wild and fucked out. It looked like the only thought in her head was how badly she needed to come.

“Don’t worry, I ain’t done with you, sweetheart,” he assured her as his hand on her stomach moved lower and lower. “Just wanna see you when I make you come for the first time.”

A filthy moan split her lips when he circled her clit with his thumb. The panic on her face was instantly replaced with relief. Pleasure. She looked gorgeous on the verge of an orgasm.

“Does this pretty little pussy feel good?”

“Yes - yes - don’t stop,” she cried out. “I’m so close.”

“I know, sweetheart. I can feel it.” And he could. “I got you.”

She moaned his name as she came undone underneath him. Her arousal was dripping down his knuckles and onto his sheets. He caught himself grinding into the air, desperately wishing it was his cock instead of his fingers making her come.

Her clit pulsed under the pad of his thumb like a beating heart. Insatiable, he sucked the taste of her off his fingers then wiped his mouth.

She drew him down into a sloppy, wet kiss. The painful bulge in his jeans catching on her bare flesh. By some miracle, though he didn’t burst right then and there.

She pawed at his bare shoulders. “I need you,” she murmured against his lips that were still buzzing with her wetness. “Please Joel, I want you.”

“Greedy,” he mumbled, grinning against her cheek. He gave her hip a playful pinch before jumping onto his feet.

Quickly, he shed his jeans along with his pre-come stained boxer briefs. His cock was heavy. The head swollen into a furious shade of red, closer to purple than pink.

The light outside was starting to fade into gauzy, gray dusk. So, Joel flipped on the bedside lamp before pulling out a fresh box of condoms from the nightstand. He tore through the plastic wrapping with his teeth, but slowed down when opening the tin-foil packet.

“How do you want me?” She asked as he securely rolled on the condom.

Up? Down? He didn’t care. “Surprise me.”

She shot him a mischievous smirk before flipping onto her stomach. Rising onto all fours. This woman. He had no idea what she would pick, but his first guess never would’ve been doggy.

He admired the dream-like curve of her spine and she invitingly wiggled her ass. Seemed she was trying to give him a heart attack. Did she know how sexy she was to him? She had to. She had to know what she did to him.

“Is this okay?” she asked, and Joel growled his approval. He climbed in behind her and palmed at the plump flesh of her ass.

She opened herself wider until he could see everything. “Shit, sweetheart,” he hissed, marveling at where her sex glistened with his spit and her orgasm.

Joel had to squeeze at the base of his cock before dragging the tip through her slick folds, all the way up to her puckered hole. Even that felt good. Almost too good. And he wasn’t even inside her, yet.

Once Joel was lined up with her entrance, he noticed how small her cunt looked next to him and didn’t even try to push in. He questioned whether or not he could fit. It was just a fact that he was thick. Even though she was soaked, this would be a tight squeeze.

Fuck. Now, he was really regretting only using two fingers instead of three.

“Joel” she whined, but he still didn’t move.

“I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“No, I can take it - I promise,” she whimpered. “Joel, please.” She tilted back against him, making it impossible to say no.

“Okay. Alright,” he said soothingly, calmly rubbing the arc of her hip. “I’ll go slow.”

And he did. For both his and her sake, he inched into the heat of her cunt. His gaze was welded to the painted deer above the headboard. Watching himself disappear inside her would’ve been too much. The feeling of her pulsing around him was already almost too much for him to handle. Without the condom, this would’ve been over before it could even begin.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. You’re big,” she choked out, her walls fluttering around him. “I need - I need a second.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Yeah – he needed one too.

There was a long minute where the only sounds in the room were of his harsh breaths, her suppressed whimpers. Then, a slight creak of the bed.

He leaned forward, his chest lightly pressed against her back. His arms caged in around hers, palms flat on the bed to help support his own weight as he draped over her body.

“You feel so good.” His lips brushed over the top of her spine and she shivered. “I know it’s a lot. I want you to know it’s a lot for me too.”

“Oh, Joel,” she mewled as he buried his face into her neck. She smelled and tasted just like salted caramel.

“You’re perfect, sweetheart. So good.” He kissed behind her ear, along the back of her neck. “I’m gonna move now, alright?”

“Please.” The word dripped from her lips – the only answer he needed.

He stayed close to her, his breath puffing against her neck as he fucked into her. Nice and slow and tender, at first. She met his thrusts in perfect sync. Each one allowing him deeper and deeper inside her and he didn’t even know how that was possible. It was as if her pussy was molding to fit him, to take even more of him. It felt very intimate and overwhelming.

He thought if he was staring into her eyes that he might’ve cried. Sex had never felt like this before. Not with Lisa, not even when they accidentally made Sarah. If he was being honest, sex had always felt somewhat impersonal; stilted, distant, like a glory hole in a gas station, just minus the sketchy bathroom wall.

But here, right now with her – this felt sacred. He had no clue how he ever managed to live without this.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted you?” Joel laid his damp forehead between her shoulder blades and picked up the pace.

“Joel.” She gasped. His name seemed to be the only word she could say. It was as if he had completely consumed her. Her mind. Her body. Her every neuron. He kissed each vertebrae within reach, claiming more of her.

More.

“So damn long,” he answered. “And so fucking bad. Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen and look at you now, sweetheart. Just taking it. So good, just like I knew you would.”

“Oh God, Joel.”

He felt her shake, her arms appeared ready to give out and collapse. He wouldn’t let that happen. So, he widened his stance, the comforter bunching up around his knees. Carefully, but without warning, he fully pulled out and she wailed like it physically hurt.

“I got you.” He shushed her, wrapping his arm around her waist and sealing her to his chest. “Come on, come here.” He guided her upright along with him and she groaned once the weight was off her arms.

She sank back down on his cock instantly, her ass flush against his thighs. He felt even closer to her, somehow, in this position. Her skin was on fire, the sweat making her back stick to him like gum. Her pussy was drenched and dripping down his balls.

He could feel her all over him. Everywhere. It amazed him how he managed to last this long.

Joel gripped her hip, his other hand went to cup her breast. When he gently rocked forward at the perfect angle, she clenched.

“Goddamn.” He squeezed her breast, continuing to hit that same spot. “How are you so tight?”

“It’s you, Joel.” She gasped. “No one - no one has ever been this deep.”

The dormant, possessive part of his brain lit up and he growled. Joel buried himself to the hilt, until he could not claim another inch. No one but him had ever touched her here.

Just him.

Only him.

His.

She was soaking wet, white-hot, and he could feel himself throbbing inside her. Joel wanted to come so badly. The spicy-musk of her skin was swirling in his lower belly with a powerful, burning heat. On the brink of bursting.

“Fuck, I’m not gonna last much longer.” He pinched her nipple as his other hand went down to play with her clit. “I wanna make you come.”

Her only response came in a whine, a frantic nod.

Joel thrusted into her with long, deep strokes that made the bed shake. The headboard hit the wall in a dull, rhythmic thud that filled the room. Just like her trembling, needy moans, his own low groans, and the heady-salt scent of sex.

She threaded her fingers into his hair and haled his mouth toward hers. She kissed him, or more so, tried to. It was more of just lips devouring whatever was within reach: cheeks and chin and the curve of mouths. It wasn’t the best angle, but it didn’t matter.

In this moment, nothing else mattered to him but her.

Despite the tightness in his balls, Joel somehow held back his release. He gritted his teeth, burrowed his face into her neck, and quickly rubbed her clit. The high-pitched sound of his name lingered on her swollen lips as her walls squeezed around him like a fist.

It wasn’t until her cunt was spasming around him that he finally drove forward. He was buried so deep inside her that he practically snarled when he came.

He spilled into the condom, but pretended to be filling her up instead. He would watch his cum drool out of her, only to stuff it all back in with his fingers.

Joel clutched her against him as his hips gave a few final jerks. He would have liked to stay inside her until he went completely soft, but the condom was overflowing. Cum or her slick or more likely a mix of both was soaking into the hair between his thighs. He decided not to test the durability of this specific condom brand. The last time he did that, well – it was obvious how that turned out.

Holding the condom at the base, he slipped out of her and dropped onto his ass with a few pops and cracks. Damn, he really should stretch more.

His eyes fell to where her legs were spread and her sex was still gaping from him – for him. His mouth went dry. He wanted to lean over and quench his thirst, fill her with his tongu-

“What’re you lookin’ at there?” The sound of her lilted voice made his gaze abruptly snap to her face.

He must’ve been blushing because her lips split into a smug grin. Clearly, she knew what caught his attention. But even after two orgasms, she was still a little sassy. Still too damn perceptive for her own good, meanwhile he could barely form a coherent sentence.

She straddled his thighs, careful to avoid his semi-soft cock.

“It’s okay, you can look. I mean, it’s yours now, isn’t it?” Her soft, small voice cut through the post-sex fog in his brain. She was looking so vulnerable, so exposed, completely naked in his lap. Even he was more covered up than her, and all he had covering him was a flimsy, full condom that he had not yet found the energy to get up and throw away.

Isn’t it? Joel got the sense it was not a genuine question, but more of a reiteration – a confirmation. Are we on the same page?

Whatever she meant, he nodded his head.

“It is.” He cradled her cheek. “But only if it comes with the rest of you. I’m a greedy man, sweetheart. I want it all.”

She beamed at him.

“Well, that makes two of us,” she declared while brushing a sweaty tuft of his hair out of his face. “I want everything you come with, Joel. And when I say everything - I mean everything. The whole package.”

She might’ve not said Sarah’s name, but he knew that’s what she meant.

His lips parted, amazed by how easily the words came out of her mouth. That was the first time a woman had ever acknowledged that he came as a two-for-one deal without even a hint of cynicism in their tone. Obviously, Joel realized a kid was a lot to take on. Especially since Lisa wasn’t in the picture at all, but there were some women who made it sound like Sarah was baggage, which was insane. Sarah was the best part of him.

Speechless, Joel kissed her firmly on the mouth. It was warm and sweet and surging through his chest like an electric current. This is what it was supposed to be like. He could feel her lips break into a smile before he pulled away.

“Stay here. Let me get you cleaned up.”

She laid back on the bed without argument, and he disappeared into the bathroom. Joel stuffed the condom into the tin-foil wrapper, then buried it under wads of tissues and empty toilet paper rolls at the bottom of the trash can, just in case Sarah used his bathroom. He didn’t want her to see that.

After cleaning himself up, he returned with a warm, damp washcloth. She looked pleasantly surprised, a little shocked. Wordlessly, she parted her legs with enough space for him to fit.

“Such a gentleman,” she finally said after he gently wiped down her thighs.

“Maybe.” He moved over her tender, swollen folders with even more caution. “Or maybe I just wanted to get a closer look.”

He winked and she giggled.

“You had your face buried down there like twenty minutes ago - don’t think you can get much closer than that.”

True. Joel snorted and tossed the washcloth into his laundry hamper. He went over to his dresser and dug out an old, oversized t-shirt from the bottom of his drawer.

“Caught this at a Longhorns game from one of those t-shirt cannons,” he said when handing her the folded shirt with her panties on top.

“Ooooooh impressive.” She playfully wiggled her brows, just slightly taunting him. He didn’t expect anything less.

His boxers from earlier were still damp, so he put on a fresh pair.

“So, what time are you picking Sarah up?” she asked, seemingly waiting to bring up his kid until he wasn't butt-ass naked.

“Actually, she’s staying at her friend’s house tonight.”

“Well, that’s interesting.”

Joel hummed his response. He was grabbing a pair of sweatpants from the closet when suddenly the home phone on the nightstand lit up, ringing. Only solicitors called that phone, anymore – shit, his cellphone was downstairs.

He would’ve ignored it, but what if it was Sarah?

Joel raced to the phone with his pants still clutched in his hand. Once he saw the caller ID, he groaned.

“It’s Tommy.”

She nodded for him to answer, and so he did. Very reluctantly. “Hello?” Joel swore if Tommy was in jail again, he was going to let him rot there until next week.

“Hey there, Joel.” Definitely not jail – too happy. “What’s going on?”

“Uh,” Joel paused and looked at his bed where Teddy was laying in only his t-shirt and a pair of panties. What a beautiful sight. He couldn’t help but laugh to himself; Tommy wouldn’t believe him even if he told the truth. Joel tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder, so he could put on his pants. “Nothing.”

Teddy grinned at him like they were teenagers lying to their parents.

“Nothing? Huh?” Tommy snorted. “Then what’s Teddy’s car doing in your driveway?”

Oh no.

Joel nearly tripped over his pant leg on his way to the window. The street lights were on, but the sky was still a light enough blue where he could clearly see Tommy standing in the driveway, waving with a classic little brother grin on his face. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I was coming by to drag your ass out and wait - are you fucking shirtless?”

Joel cursed, backing away from the window like it burned him. The cover was blown and he hoped Teddy didn’t mind, but it wasn’t his fault that his brother came over uninvited. He looked at her and she was just smiling, appearing wildly amused.

She shrugged, then yelled. “Hi Tommy.”

Tommy howled in his ear, loud enough that he could hear it through the glass. She immediately burst out laughing, no longer having to hide. Joel shook his head, but he couldn’t even be annoyed or mad. Not right now.

“You dirty dog.”

Fucking Tommy.

#pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miler x reader #joel miller fanfiction #last of us fanfiction #joel the last of us #joel x reader #joel miller

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raythekiller · 11 months

Note

hi there, i just wanna say i really love your writing 😭😭 i hope u’ve been doing well too!

cld i request.. your hcs on what u think the creepypastas’ ideal S/O’s wld be like? maybe hobbies, or mbti types, or stuff in detail.. hehe

🗒 ❛ Their Ideal S/O ༉‧₊˚✧

Featuring: Jeff The Killer, Ben Drowned, Ticci Toby, Eyeless Jack, Laughing Jack, Masky, Hoodie

#Notes: ty!! I don't think any of them would care for hobbies, so this is more personality wise. I also added the MBTI's :)

pronouns used: they/them

˗ˏˋ back to navigation ´ˎ˗

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Jeff The Killer

Honestly, he's a little complicated to figure out, and I think he doesn't even know what he wants. While he would love a partner that is completely dependent on him and pays attention to no one else, he hates partners that are too clingy and need a lot of attention. If you need reassurance that he loves you or get offended easily, it's a hard no. He wants someone easy to manipulate and who'll do whatever he says, almost worshiping him, but also has tough skin. An introvert would also be best, as it would mean they don't have many other people they are close to. As for MBTI, maybe an INTP would be best suited for him.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Ben Drowned

In all honesty, he doesn't take dating very seriously and would prefer a partner that doesn't, either. He hates having to be deliberate about pretty much anything, so someone who's all about fun and not afraid of letting loose would be perfect. Also, someone a bit pervy. I said it before that I think he got stuck in that pre pubescent boy mentality after he died, and we all know how those kids are. Basically, he's looking for a copy of himself: someone generally fun to be around and a bit out of pocket. For MBTI, a xNFP would be best (either introverted or extroverted, he doesn't care).

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Ticci Toby

He needs someone gentle, caring and understanding, not only to him but to others as well (mostly to him, though). His partner must feel like the light at the end of the tunnel, the Sun after a storm, someone who gives him hope that maybe, just maybe, things could be better. He didn't have much compassion in his life, both growing up and now in the manor, so someone who gives him that will undoubtedly become the love of his life. Also, preferably they won't mind being suffocated by his affection a little. He's quite clingy, so you won't get much alone time. For MBTI, his ideal type would be an ESFJ.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Eyeless Jack

He would like someone a little like himself. Quiet, a bit nerdy, calm and collected. Someone to give him a little bit of the peace he's been craving for so long. Most of all, though, he needs someone that can reassure him. To tell him that he's not a monster and that he's loved and cared for, not only say it but show as well. He can get quite self conscious at times, so a person that is patient with him and his insecurities would be perfect. Also, he doesn't show it, but he's severely touch starved, so someone a bit too cuddly would steal his heart in seconds. As for MBTI, an ISTJ would be perfect.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Laughing Jack

Not gonna lie, he needs someone a bit bossy. He's used to just doing whatever he wants when he wants, so someone scolding him and putting him in his place would catch him off guard, but in a good way if that makes sense. Like EJ, lots of reassurance. He needs you to tell him you're not going anywhere almost constantly and gets insecure quite often, so please be patient. But back to the bossy thing, telling what to do goes a long way with this guy for some reason. Generally, someone who's more dominant but can still be gentle. Also, they should probably be okay with PDA, because it's gonna happen whether they like it or not. For MBTI, an ENFP.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Masky

Weirdly enough, pretty similar to LJ. He thinks he would like someone obedient and submissive, but his last crushes say otherwise. In reality, he needs someone who can stand their ground when he gives them some shit, not just sit there and take it. Someone opinionated and who's not afraid to speak their mind. Hell, kick his ass if you have to, he'll be into that shit. Also, they have to be kind of a ride or die. Tim doesn't do relationship lightly, and he expects you not to, either. Someone who's willing to give him a lot of praise also goes a long way. He has a massive ego, so feeding into it is definitely going to earn you some affection points. For MBTI, an ISTP.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Hoodie

Now this motherfucker has the biggest corruption kink known to man, so he normally goes after people he considers cute and fragile. Being patient while trying to communicate with him is a HUGE bonus. If you try to learn ASL because of him he's getting on one knee right then and there. Likes people who are chatty, but also thinks quiet people are adorable, so it's a win-win for either. Wants someone who wouldn't question him much (the phrase he tells them most often is "Come on, don't you trust me?") and is a bit naive and easy to manipulate. As for MBTI, a xNFP.

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta x reader #ticci toby #jeff the killer #ben drowned #eyeless jack #laughing jack #masky #hoodie #jeff the kiler x reader #ben drowned x reader #ticci toby x reader #eyeless jack x reader #laughing jack x reader #masky x reader #hoodie x reader #ray.writes

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readyplayerhobi · 6 months

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Because, I Love You | 13

; Genre: Fluff, angst

; Word Count: 2k

; Warnings: References to alcohol use,

; Synopsis: According to society, Jeon Jungkook should not be with you. He should be with a younger, hotter and thinner girl instead of wasting his time on you. It’s a good thing Jungkook doesn’t care what society thinks then.

; A/N: Took a long time for this one! It's not very long but...we all love Jungkook being massive heart eyes for his girl, right?

; Masterlist

Jungkook paused in the doorway, half in the bathroom and half in the bedroom. Of all the things he'd expected on his wedding night, it hadn't been to see his new wife sprawled on the bed, fast asleep in her wedding dress.

Yet, there you were.

Smiling, he shook his head slightly before he began the arduous process of removing his tuxedo. It looked good, but there were so many damn buttons everywhere. By the time he was in just his boxers, he let out a sigh of relief at the freedom of not being wrapped up like a present.

Quickly, he pulled on some clean boxers and a plain white shirt before turning to you. Now, how did he resolve this?

You'd enjoyed yourself throughout the reception - drinking freely with friends and family alike. Although you were trying for a baby, you'd tested negative (yet again) so had decided to fully embrace the evening. Which you most definitely had, and he'd never seen you this drunk before.

As pleased as he was to see you carefree and happy, he'd limited his drinking because of the twist in his stomach. You might deny it, but he knew that you wouldn't have been drinking as much if the day had gone smoother. If his mom hadn't been a bitch of astronomical proportions. So he'd drank enough to be merry, but no more - he wanted to be sober enough in case anything else happened, or if you needed him.

You hadn't for most of the night, except that moment when he thought you were accidentally going to fall into a table full of empty glasses. Now, though, he was glad that he could think pretty straight. He'd swapped to water a while ago, so he wasn't drunk but wasn't sober either.

Which means he has to make sure you go to bed comfortably. You might be sleeping well now, but he's positive you won't enjoy waking up if you're still in your dress and a full face of makeup.

Sighing, he heads back into the bathroom and is glad that you've both decided to save money by coming back home instead of booking a room for a second night. It meant that all the stuff he needed was right here, instead of trying to forage through suitcases.

Grabbing what he needs from your skincare basket, he shuffles back into the bedroom and eyes you once more. The pillows are going to need washing - he can see the makeup has already smeared on the bedding. Something for later.

"Right, let's get you comfy." He mutters to himself, placing the items on your bedside table before crouching beside the bed. You're facing away from him, so he's got relatively easy access to the fastenings at the back of your dress. As much as Jungkook would love to boast that he got you out of your dress fast, it’s actually him five minutes of quiet cursing and frowning. He's half-convinced they sewed into you the damn thing, but finally, the dress is loose enough that he'll be able to get you out.

"Okay, come on baby. Work with me." Jungkook says, sitting on the bed and gently pulling you into a matching position. You instantly fall against him, your face mashed into his neck and he realises he'll probably need to change his shirt again. Shaking his head in amusement, he presses a kiss to your temple before beginning the process of carefully pulling the dress down your arms.

He doesn't want to cause any damage to it, but it's absurdly hard when you're laying like a dead weight against him. After a few minutes of effort - honestly, he should be a lot better at undressing you by now - he lays you down on your back. The dress is now fully off your arms and shoulders, and he carefully pulls it down until it’s passed over your hips and finally your legs.

"Yes!" Jungkook exclaims, before wincing and glancing back over to you. Why he thinks that will wake you up when he's just been jerking you around for five minutes…well it's always the thing you least expect.

Finding a hanger, he slots it into the sleeves of your wedding dress and fastens it just enough to make sure it won't fall off. He doesn't have that fancy bag it came in, so he takes it into the closet and hangs it up. The bottom of it piles on the floor and he twists his lips in annoyance, but there's not much he can do about it.

Heading back out, he grabs one of his oversized shirts before spending the next few minutes wrangling you into it. It's big on you, something he knew you'd be happy about. He'd enjoyed oversized shirts before, but they weren't big enough to be oversized on you. You'd never said anything, but he'd been able to tell that you were upset you couldn't wear his clothes.

So he'd bought even bigger shirts, and the problem was solved. He got to be comfy and you got to wear his clothes without feeling self-conscious. Not that he told you he'd bought them, instead he'd just dressed you one day and smiled at the surprise on your face.

Now, they were your favourite type of pyjamas and leisure wear. After the long day, he was sure you'd be happy to be in some comfy clothes again.

Grabbing the stuff he'd brought from the bathroom, he knelt next to you, crossing his feet as he rested on them and frowned down at it all in his lap. You needed your makeup taken off - he'd learnt long ago that girls didn't like wearing makeup to bed, and given you were probably going to wake up hungover, he wanted to try and make it at least a little better for you.

Chewing his lip ring, he takes out a makeup wipe from the pack and begins to carefully wipe it along your face. Foundation and blusher and other stuff he's vaguely aware of leave your face and stain the wipe. It takes two whole wipes to get all the face makeup off, and he then has to focus on your eyes.

Now he has to be extra gentle. He's watched you do this many times, and he's pretty confident he can do this. Or he hopes so.

All the pretty colour that had enhanced your eyes transfers to the wipe, and he carefully peels the false eyelashes from your eyelids. He's not entirely sure what to do with them, but he presses them onto a clean piece of tissue in case you want to keep them or something.

Finally, you've got a clean face and you haven't even stirred in your sleep.

"Best husband ever." Jungkook whispers to himself, frowning in concentration and biting his tongue as he wets a cotton wipe with cleanser. Sure, he might be doing this wrong, but he's trying! It's the thought that counts.

Next comes your moisturiser, which he carefully dots onto your face before rubbing it in. It amazes him how you don't even twitch as he massages your face, the moisturiser sinking into your skin to give you all the health benefits you lose. After that, he carefully adds some eye cream to your eyelids and under your eyes - you do this every night, and he does pay attention - before coating your lips in some of your lip sleeping mask. The pot is tiny, and his fingers are big, but he manages to not scoop the entire thing out by accident.

Finally, he sat back and looked over his work. Sure, it probably wasn't as in-depth as you would have done it, but it was good enough. Your skin was clean and had that shine it always did after you'd moisturised, the look of health.

He couldn't help the fact that you were likely to wake up feeling like death, but he could at least make sure your skin didn't suffer for the day's activities. If he wasn't so unsure of whether he might accidentally make you choke, he'd try to brush your teeth as well.

Gathering everything up, he put it all back into their places in the bathroom before brushing his teeth. The movement makes the rings on his finger shine in the light and he can't stop the grin as he looks at them. His friends had thought it a bit odd that he'd got an engagement ring, too, but he hadn't cared. He'd wanted the physical reassurance, and now he had the wedding band to go with it.

If only the day had gone as well as he'd imagined - his anger at his mom was still bubbling underneath everything, and he knew that his therapist was going to have a field day with this when he saw him again. Jungkook knew one thing, though, and that was that he'd never forgive his mom. There were things you didn't do, and today was one of them.

She'd burned the bridge between them both today, and he had no intention of rebuilding it. The last thing he wanted was for her to poison his new marriage and potential future children. She'd had her chance, and she'd ruined it.

Spitting into the sink, he sighs deeply before turning the lights off and walking out. Somehow, you'd managed to wriggle under the covers whilst he'd been in the bathroom and all he could see was the top half of your head, your nose peeking out cutely from the covers. His chest swells once more with love, and he nods to himself.

Yep, he'd made the right decision today. He loved his mom, he did, but he couldn't let her run his life with her venom. Jungkook had a wife now, and one day he'd hopefully have children, who didn't deserve to have someone so cruel and mean in their lives.

Climbing into bed and turning off the light on his bedside table, he shuffles down and lets out a quiet groan as the muscles in his body finally relax. He was young and in the best shape of his life, but the day had been long and tiring.

He’d woken early from nerves, working out frequently to try and shed some energy before the wedding, the wedding itself and then the reception after where he danced and laughed with friends and family. All of that would have tired him out on a normal day - he wasn't exactly Mr Outgoing on the best of days.

But he'd had a lingering tension that had made his body feel like he was standing on a live wire ever since his mom. Despite how everything had carried on smoothly, he'd found himself clenching his jaw and fists many times throughout the night, and his head hurt now.

Taking in a deep breath, he lets it out slowly as he stares at the dark ceiling. His therapist is going to have a fucking field day with all this to unpack.

Blowing out slowly, he rolls onto his side and shuffles closer to you. Normally, the two of you don't sleep cuddled - that's something people who've never shared a bed long-term have done. Your normal positions to sleep were on your sides, back to back. The cuddle was for a few minutes after you got in bed.

But right now, he wanted the inconvenience of it - the dead arm, the overheating, the restless legs and all the other annoying things. Jungkook needed to feel you in his arms, to feel that you were here with him and that the stress and tension of the day were worth it.

Pressing his face into your shoulders, he slid his arm around your waist and managed to wedge his leg between yours. It won't be comfy for long, but he doesn't need long.

As he said, he was tired and he'd always been good at falling asleep. Sure enough, it's only a few minutes before the only sound in the bedroom is the deep breaths of sleep.

#armiesnet #networkbangtan #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fluff #bts angst #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader

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suspiciouslackofclowns · 1 year

Text

These kids get too comfortable with teasing, in Billy’s opinion. Just a tad bold for his taste.

He couldn’t give two shits if one of the boys picks on Max because she can hold her own — he taught her early on that if she has the chance to make someone cry, she should take it. And she does so fairly often. Especially when it comes to Henderson or Sinclair.

That’s not really where his main concern lies.

“Are you stupid or something?” Henderson snaps. “Did you seriously not pay attention in school or are you playing dumb right now? I honestly can’t tell.”

His tone is sharp. Loud for the small space that makes up the kitchen of Billy and Steve’s apartment.

Normally, Billy wouldn’t involve himself. The kids still act skittish around him if he so much as opens his mouth, so he tends to steer clear of them when they’re over. Which is a lot. But when he glances over at Steve and sees the smile fade from his face, he can’t help it.

He honest to god can’t.

“The fuck did you just say?”

Billy’s almost as taken aback by the words from his mouth as the kids are. Dustin’s face pales as he looks back and forth between him and Steve, like he’s looking for backup.

But Steve’s still swimming in his own head by the looks of it.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Billy repeats, slower this time. Even-toned and deadly.

Henderson opens his mouth, only for no words to come out. Billy takes a step forward but stops in his tracks when Steve sets a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Bill, it’s okay,” he urges quietly.

“Is it?”

“I just don’t know much about physics, or math, so…”

Steve gestures loosely, giving a half smile that looks a little sad. It dampens the blond’s rage for a split second. Makes him want to take up reading textbooks in his spare time if it means getting to fill his pretty boy’s head with newfound knowledge. If it means wiping that look of hopelessness off of his face. Then Henderson clears his throat.

“Yeah, it was just a joke,” he says. “No need to get so defensive.”

That reignites the flame.

“No.” Billy flares his nostrils and he swears he can feel steam puffing away from his skin as he points an accusatory finger at Dustin, who flinches at the movement despite still being a good five feet away. “I don’t care how you try to reason it, kid, you do not come into my house and call my boyfriend stupid. Am I clear?”

Dustin nods like his life depends on it. Billy stares him down for a few seconds for good measure, assuring that his soul looks sufficiently deflated before he finally tears his eyes away. Turns his gaze, now softened, towards Steve.

“And you don’t listen to that shit, okay? Jesus Christ himself could fly down in an alabaster carriage from the damn sky and call you stupid, but I’d sooner kick him square in the nuts than listen to his reasoning for it,” he tells him.

Scoops the brunet’s face into his hands when he snorts and presses a kiss to his nose.

Max groans at the PDA, but all Billy cares about is the way that Steve’s lips quirk up into a smile again.

“Square in the nuts, huh?”

“So hard that they’d become vestigial, babe. No hesitation.” Billy huffs amusedly when Steve raises an eyebrow. “Means useless,” he whispers.

Steve considers the new information for a brief moment before he chuckles and, god, Billy’s head feels like it fills with pink smoke at the sound. Makes him want to stuff Steve in a tiny jar and keep him in his pocket forever until the sun explodes.

That or get married. He’ll have to make up his mind on that some other time.

“Thanks,” Steve says.

“Anytime,” Billy lilts. Spends another wonderful moment soaking in the sight of his partner’s pretty little grin. “I guess I’ll let you get back to babysitting.”

“He’s not our babysitter,” Max huffs.

Billy doesn’t spare her a glance, too enveloped in all things Steve to care.

“Sorry,” Steve whispers. “It’s their nap time.”

They share a chuckle and, as is customary, there’s a groan when they kiss. It doesn’t matter that they aren’t super lovey dovey in front of the kids, it happens every time without fail.

Billy doesn’t mind it. He’s just glad that if they’re going to be assholes, it isn’t directed solely at Steve.

Joke or not.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #I just don’t think billy can be normal about steve #but in the fiercely protective sort of way #dude doesn’t tolerate insulting jokes geared at his bf #my writing #ficlet #not edited

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callmelola111 · 8 months

Text

maniac ♡ e.w. oneshot

✄ - - - - inspo track - - - - maniac

synopsis: lies are spewed and truths are revealed when a precarious friend group joins together once more on the 1 year anniversary of their estranged friends disappearance.

| 𓆣 | pairing & wc: ellie williams x reader. wc: 4.4k

| ❀ | cw: 18+ themes (MDNI), modern au, reader is referred to with she/her pronouns but other than that all descriptors are gender neutral, heavy violence blood and gore, oc deaths, drug use, homophobia (use of the word "dyke" once. i'm a lesbian so don't y'all try to cancel me), heavy language, mentions of reader having anxiety and panic attacks, lots of tension and fighting, ⭑ SMUT ⭑ ... thigh riding (r on e), dom!ellie, sub!reader, fingering (r receiving), pet names (baby, angel, etc.)

a/n: hi lovelies!! long time no see... i know this is a little different from my usual stuff but i honestly really love how it turned out. i spent a good chunk of time planning this out and then even longer writing it so i really hope y'all love it! i want this to be a fresh and exciting read for everyone. if you do end up enjoying the fic, any kind of note is greatly appreciated! ur fave tumblr writers thrive off all y'alls support! anyways, love love love you guys!!! ♡~ lola

To everyone else, it was a summer like any other. But when it came to you and your friends there was something missing this time– someone missing. This absence felt extra heavy as tomorrow would be the 1 year anniversary of August’s disappearance, and the annual camping trip was right on time with it. It had been tradition for as long as you could remember, but its memory was now tainted and left something that used to be so sure, completely up in the air…

✄ - - - - ♡ - - - -

The five of you squeezed into the small 4 person booth at your favorite local diner; Tj’s Eats. In one seat sat Lottie and Reid. The girl’s loose, dark curls gathered at the boy's shoulders as she snuggled into him, still clearly in the honeymoon stage of their relationship. On the other side of the white marbled table sat Xavier and Ellie, with you perched on her lap, of course, as she insisted to everyone that it was “necessity” and “there really, really was no more room”. In all actuality, all it took was an extra chair to fit the five, but she was your girlfriend, and even after years of dating you still couldn’t get enough of each other.

“Can someone just say what we’re all thinking, please! I can’t with this tension,” Lottie complained, finally snapping out of the cuddle fest with her red-headed boyfriend.

“What are we all thinking Lottie, huh? Since you know everything,” Xavier retaliated, guising his irritation with a poorly crafted remark.

“Don’t be fucking mean,” she said, kicking him under the table.

“Yeah seriously chill out,” Reid echoed.

“God, enough with this shit, you guys are driving me insane!” Ellie butted in. You, however, paid no mind to this type of bullshit, as fights like this had become a frequent occurrence in your group of friends ever since that godforsaken night. So you continued to down your chocolate shake and drown out the bickering with a light hum. That is, until you were rudely interrupted by Xavier’s insulting words.

“You’re being real fucking quiet over there, Y/n. Do you really have nothing to say? You can’t just tune us out forever. We’re your fucking friends.”

You felt your hands balled into tight fists, “Fine. You want me to say something? I’ll say something–my brother is still missing and if you’re even thinking of going on that stupid fucking trip this year, you can count me out.”

“Not going on that trip isn’t gonna magically bring him back. August is gone and we can’t stop living our lives because of it,” he retorted, going just a tad bit too far. This was the last straw and quickly sent you up and out of your warm place in Ellie’s lap. She grasped at your wrist trying to pull you back into this mess of a friend group, but to no avail.

“Now look what you’ve fucking done!” Ellie yelled at your defense as you disappeared into the bathroom.

✄ - - - - ♡ - - - -

Now face-to-face with your tear-stained cheeks in the mirror, your head fell down between your shoulders, slowly letting the pent up emotions roll off your back. Ever since you lost August, life had become 10 times harder. As much as your younger self would’ve hated to admit it, he was your rock–your annoying brother–but still, your rock. This confession made you feel even worse though, because deep down, there was a part of you that blamed yourself for how things happened. Maybe if you would’ve stopped fighting, or told the truth to the police, or took it easier on the booze and coke that night, August would still be here. There was nothing you could do now though. This was your reality and you had to accept it.

With that you reached into the pocket of Ellie’s varsity jacket that engulfed your figure, hoping to find a tissue to blot away your tears and smeared mascara. Instead, you were met with a small polaroid. You flipped it over to reveal a bewildering picture of Xavier and August from the last night he was seen. Their arms were swung around each other’s necks, both flashing toothy smiles at the camera and you could recall being the one to take this photo. The one thing you didn’t remember is the black sharpie captioning the bottom of the image. It read “don’t believe his lies”. Your head began to race with countless questions and zero answers. The biggest one being, what the fuck was Xavier lying about?

The wet bathroom countertop dug into the palms of your hands as you took a second to decide the best course of action, but all you could come up with was shutting the fuck up and pretending it never happened. You weren’t ready to relive last year all over again. Not yet–not ever. So you paraded back into the dining room, eyes still damp and hands still shaking. Ellie felt your energy immediately and knew it was time to go.

She glanced at you for confirmation and then turned to address the group, “I think it’s time for me and Y/N to head out. Sorry guys.” Xavier shot a look of discontent and Ellie mouthed something along the lines of “I’m sorry, I’ll talk to her I promise”, which seemed to slightly ease the tension he was previously carrying in his shoulders. She then slid out from the booth, slipped her left hand into the pocket of your denim shorts, and ushered you outside to her red convertible.

The drive back was silent but as Ellie’s hand gently stroked the flesh of your thighs and the other steered you knew there was no way she could have anything to do with that polaroid. But you had to find out who did. Just as you were nearing your house though, Ellie’s gentle touch quickly shifted to a handsier approach and it was clear she had other plans for the night.

“Els?” is all you had to say before she quickly pulled over and jumped to the backseat, pulling you along with her. She positioned herself in the middle seat opening up her legs in a dominating stance resembling a manspread. You eagerly climbed atop her lap, placing soft kisses up her veiny neck and extending them to her defining jawline. This was just what you needed to release the tension that had racked up from tonight's events. The moon was hitting your face just right and Ellie felt so lucky to have you in that moment.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful” she murmured, slightly breathless from the overwhelming touch of your lips. You smiled against the crook of her neck and dove into the girl's mouth for a deep and passionate kiss. She returned the exchange with even more fire, graciously slipping her tongue into your entrance. With each second things got messier and your hips got looser, slowly grinding into Ellie’s denim clad thighs. She couldn’t help but chuckle just a little at your desperation, to which you buried your head back into her shoulder, encasing her in your arms for better traction. Ellie’s hands swiftly found the curves of your hips and rocked them back forth to aid you in your journey towards climax. That is until your anxiety got the best of you at the sound of rustling coming from outside the car.

“Ellie?”

“What does it not feel good?” she questioned.

“No, no– It’s just… I swear I just heard something coming from behind the car.”

“I mean… we are parked by the woods. It’s probably just some animal or the wind.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes babe, I’m sure.” she assured you with a firm squeeze to your thigh and you let your worries go. This time Ellie was on top, laying you down across the seats to hover over you alluringly. Your lips found hers once again as she slipped a hand down your shorts and past your panties to meet the slick that had been piling up the whole drive. You let out a strangled moan into Ellie’s mouth as her rough digits met the throbbing bud of nerves. She took that as a sign to speed up the pace and slip in a curved finger to hit that perfect spot. You jerked in pleasure, eyes closed, almost reaching your climax from just those few movements. Ellie felt as your walls tightened around her and knew you were close.

“Look at me baby. I wanna see your eye’s when you cum all over my fingers.” she cooed. You obeyed and parted your lids open to reveal a disturbing image followed by a frightened scream escaping your puffy lips. Ellie jumped back at the clearly non-orgasmic exclamation, letting out a string of concerned “what? What??”’s. All you could do is point your shaky hand towards the message written in the condensation of the back windshield.

“I know about last summer…” Ellie read out, voice as shaky as your extremities. Both of your fight or flight responses were triggered; you choosing flight and her of course choosing fight. The door to the cherry red car flung open and Ellie climbed over and out of her seat to trail the perimeter. You cowered down, eye’s filled with tears as Ellie recklessly yelled out to whoever wrote the message.

“Hello? Anybody out there?”, she kicked at the rocks in frustration, “Seriously who the fuck are you? This isnt fucking funny!”

“Ellie, will you please just get back in the car? They’re gone!” you pleaded. She eventually returned from her fit and came to console you. You were a mess and you were scared.

“Hey, hey, it’s probably some prank. Let’s just take a breath, babe. In and out. Nice and slow.” she coached and you followed.

“But- what if it’s not though… what if this isn’t the first time something like this has happened…”

“Wha-what do you mean?” she asked.

You pulled out the polaroid and handed it to Ellie, “I- I found this in your jacket.”

“Y/n I swear I didn't put that there. I have no idea where it came from. Please, please believe me.”

“I do, I do. But that means someone else put it there, and they probably wrote that message too.”

Her head fell into her hands as she let out a sigh, “Fuck. We’re so fucked.”

“So what do we do?”

“We go on that camping trip and keep our mouths shut till we know more.”

“Seriously? What is camping gonna help? I already said I’m not going!” you yelled.

“Like hell you are! You’re insane if you think staying in the same town with the psycho freak who's borderline blackmailing us is gonna solve shit! If we’re in the woods they can’t get to us.” Ellie argued, face turning red with insistence.

“Fuck. I guess you’re kinda right. I’ll go.”

“Thank you.”

“Will you sleep over tonight though? I’m scared Els. I don’t even wanna think about being alone after tonight.”

She gave you a kiss on the forehead, “Of course I’ll stay the night. We’re in this together, okay?”

“Okay.”

✄ - - - - ♡ - - - -

The next morning Reid came barreling over in his beat up white van. He haphazardly whipped into the driveway of your two story home that looked straight out of suburbia. Ellie stood at the top of the concrete hill holding your pink duffle and her navy blue one on the dip of her shoulder. Xavier swung open the sliding door and the both of you climbed in as you were practically slapped in the face with the smell of old bong water and way too many Little Trees air fresheners that somehow made the smell worse.

“Fuckk Reid, you’ve gotta get rid of this kidnapper van.” Ellie remarked, holding her nose and pretending to gag a couple times.

“Fuck off Ellie, you should be thanking me for driving you bums around.”

She just rolled her eyes, “Righttt… Right…”

The van quickly took to the road again, heading straight for the forest where it all happened just 1 year ago.

“It’s too quiet in here. Can we please put on some music?” Lottie asked about 30 minutes into the drive.

“Yeah sure. I have a few tapes in the console right there if you wanna put one in.” Reid gestured to the compartment on the passenger side and Lottie reached in, pulling out the first tape she could find. It was in a small plastic case with no writing or cover to indicate what it was, but it sparked an intrigue, so she popped it into the car's sound system anyways. To Lottie and everyone else’s surprise, music didn’t start playing. All that came through the speakers was a muffled recording of two voices arguing.

“Shut the fuck up August you’re just jealous!”

“You’re gonna regret this Reid.”

“Are you threatening me right now?”

“You’re the one who-”

Before the tape could finish Reid ripped it out of the player, slamming it into the dashboard and destroying the possible evidence.

“How the fuck did you get this Lottie?! Where’d you find this, seriously?” he screamed as his frantic girlfriend tried to explain.

“It was just in the console I swear!”

“Don’t fucking lie to me! I’ve never seen that tape, let alone put it in my car!”

Tears welled in her eyes, “I’m not lying Reid!”

The bickering continued as you, Ellie, and Xavier sat in the back, jaws dropped in utter shock. You felt yourself shutting down at this new found information. Did Reid have something to do with August disappearing? What were they even fighting about? Suddenly breathing felt impossible and the world went silent as panic set it. You only snapped back to Earth when you heard the sound of Ellie screaming.

“FUCK REID LOOK OUT!” It was too late though and the thud of a full size deer flipping over the hood is what finally shut everyone up.

“Oh my god…” you shuddered at the smear of thick crimson blood across the dirty windshield. It didn’t matter if it was an animal, Reid had just taken a life and you were basically an accomplice. Your heart broke and the pit of your stomach swirled with sickness thinking of the likely decapitated body splattered just behind the van. Ellie wrapped you in her arms, as if to shield you from the horror of not only the poor deer, but the realization that any one of your friends could be the reason your brother was missing.

Xavier finally broke the jarring lull in speech, “I- I think we should take a pit stop.”

“Yeah…” Ellie agreed.

✄ - - - - ♡ - - - -

A few miles down the road was a small gas station where Reid pulled over for everyone to recollect themselves. Lottie scrubbed mindlessly at the deer carnage with the murky gas station water and squeegee she found beside the gas pump. Xavier paced in the parking lot like he was off one but it was the pure anxiety and adrenaline that had him tweaking so much. Reid on the other hand was still stuck at the wheel, slouching in the driver's seat, and not making a single move since he put the van into park. Even his deep green eyes remained motionless, they seemed to be locked onto absolutely nothing, just staring into the void. Everyone was a fucking mess. The only people who seemed to be somewhat on this planet still were you and Ellie.

“I think I might gouge my eye’s out if I don’t eat some Swedish Fish and drink a Yerb as soon as possible.” you professed, walking inside the little convenience store with a ring of a bell.

“I think I need a fucking cigarette.” Ellie said in a joking tone, but candidly, these past few days had her seriously considering picking the old habit back up.

“I think everybody does. I’m tired of shit like this happening and then everyone shoving it under the rug cause we’re all still ashamed about last year. I mean, I know I am, but we have to talk about it eventually.”

“You’re right, but even if we did, what is there to say? We were all so fucked up the whole night’s just a blurry mess. Like, did you see Reid's face when that tape came on? It looked like he was hearing the conversation for the first time just like the rest of us.”

“This sucks Ellie” you groaned as you opened up the glass door to retrieve your drink. Ellie approached from behind, slithering her hands from your sides to your naval and giving you a squeeze.

She planted a soft kiss to the top of your head, “This does suck, but I love you and we’re gonna be alright. You gonna be okay for the rest of the drive?” She flipped you around to face her and you gave an assuring nod in response. Ellie always knew just what to say to ease that panicky feeling that was constantly bubbling up in your chest. The girl then took your hand and led you to the counter where a gruff looking cashier checked you out. He slowly scanned each item at an agonizing pace; Hot fries, Swedish Fish, a Yerba Mate, Chex Mix, and a Fanta Orange.

“Total is $13.78” he mumbled as Ellie swiped her card and you gathered up the snacks. The clerk's eyes seemed to get meaner and meaner each second you waited for your receipt– until he finally cracked. “You know you’re going to hell for what you did.”

Ellie backed away, “Excuse me?” Had he overheard something? Did he know about August? Who the fuck was this guy?

“I don’t need any dykes shoving their sins all in my face in my own damn store!” he grunted. Oh, he’s just homophobic. Right. That was y’alls que to get back on the road and out of the middle of nowhere immediately.

✄ - - - - ♡ - - - -

After an excruciatingly mute hour stuck in the “kidnapper van” you finally arrived at the forest where you’d be spending the night. The silence looked to have eased some of the tension though as conversation grew a little more lax around the campfire.

“Yo Lottie do you have the bud? We should roll up.” Xavier suggested. You nodded fervently in agreement, a joint was exactly what you needed. Lottie seemed to have made up with Reid as she was hanging all over him not hearing a word Xavier said.

With a few calls of her name she finally looked up, “Huh?”

“The weed Lottie.” Ellie said.

“Yeah it’s in a little pouch in my tent if someone wants to grab it.” Xavier got up from his spot on a mossy log and ventured into the purple tent hitched by a tree. In just 30 seconds flat he came storming back out, face completely red and a beaded bracelet dangling from his right fist.

“What the fuck is this Lottie!? How do you have this?”

She pulled back from her steamy kiss with Reid to answer, “Oh my god what Xavier? You’re being sooo goddamn annoying today.”

“Could you maybe stop grinding on your boyfriend for 5 fucking seconds and look at what I found in your bag?!” he yelled back. After a closer look the small beads began to look eerily familiar. This wasn’t just any bracelet, this was August’s bracelet. The one he had on the last night he was seen, and all of the sudden Lottie’s loud mouth seemed to shut right up.

“I- I- Xavier believe me I didn’t put that there.”

His voice broke with pain and fury, “Oh really?? Then who did ‘Miss innocent’?”

“I don’t fucking know but it wasn’t me!”

“Fuck you!” he screamed, dashing off into the dark woods. Everyone tried to yell at him to come back but it was no use. He was too angry to listen to anyone but himself.

That being said, hypervigilant Reid stood up to follow, “I’m gonna go find him guys. He shouldn’t be out there alone. Not after…” His voice trailed off but everyone knew exactly what he was alluding to.

“I really didn’t put that there you know” Lottie said.

You and Ellie shared a glance, “We know.”

A puzzled look spread across her face, “what do you mean you know?”

“We think someone’s orchestrating all this,” Ellie said.

“Like blackmail?”

You nodded, “exactly like blackmail. It’s happened to me and Ellie too. Once with a lost polaroid photo and another time with a message written on her car.” You then pulled out the photo to show to Lottie.

She read it aloud, “Don’t believe his lies? Like… Xavier?” Ellie twiddled with her fingers, looking down at the dirt before saying what you and Lottie were both thinking.

“I mean, I don’t want to point fingers because this is a fucked up situation, but how have we all been framed except him?”

Lottie smoothed back the sweaty bangs stuck to her temples, “Fuckkkk. He probably had the bracelet from the start too, he seemed sooo damn eager to go dig through my shit.”

“So, what do we do?” you asked.

Xavier suddenly appeared out of thin air, “What do we do about what?” Lottie practically jumped out of her spot.

“Fuck Xavier you scared me. Wait… Wh- where’s Reid?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, he left to look for you.”

“I never saw him.”

Lottie began to scream and call for her missing boyfriend and without a second thought went straight for the forest like an idiot.

“Lottie fuck come back!” Ellie yelled out. It wasn’t long before she was running right back to you though. A blood curdling scream dampening any sounds of nature and sending a parade of chills up everyone’s backs.

“IT’S REID Y/N! IT’S REID! HE- HE- HE’S DEAD!” Lottie collapsed into your arms dry heaving from the overwhelming amount of tears, pain, and betrayal. “IT WAS YOU! IT WAS FUCKING YOU XAVIER!” You and Ellie worked to hold her back as he denied every claim.

“Lottie you’re acting fucking crazy! I didn’t do shit!”

“Even if you didn’t, you're not helping! But to me, it looks like you have guilty written all over you!” Ellie spat back.

“Fuck you guys! This isn’t fucking funny! I didn’t do it! Please, is this some kind of-” His words were cut short along with his head by the swing of a large machete right through his neck, sending a spray of fresh blood into the air and across your face. It took a solid 15 seconds before any of you could even let out a scream, but when you did, it was pure terror.

“RUN! JUST RUN!” you yelled. Ellie grabbed your wrist in one hand and Lottie’s in the other, sprinting away with little discretion. A hooded figure trailed close behind, dirt and rocks flying into the air upon each kick of their sneakers. Air caught in your lungs with no release, all you could do was put one foot in front of the other which was a struggle in itself.

Lottie got brave though and took one single look behind her following immediate regret. A rock caught her pink converse just right, throwing her across the dirty ground and setting her feet back from the rest. And as this hooded figure caught up, the moon casting its light through the trees and across his face, it all began to make sense.

Lottie struggled backwards through the dirt with a scream, “IT’S AUGUST! IT’S FUCKING AUGUST!” Ellie halted in an attempt to pull the fallen girl back up and running but she was frozen in disbelief, in horror, in complete and utter fear. There was no choice but to leave her there and as the both of you turned to run, all you needed to hear was her earth shattering shriek to know exactly what happened.

Tears streamed down your face, “Els, Ellie I- I can’t.”

“Yes you can. Just keep running baby please.” And you did for another couple feet until fate had other plans. A hunting trap violently swept you up into a tree, encasing you in a thick net.

“ELLIE HELP!” you screamed. She pulled and pulled at the rope creating lacerations across her palms and fingers but to no avail.

“Do you trust me Y/n?”

Through tears and strings of snot you shook your head, “Yes Ellie, I trust you.” Your girlfriend then took off, leaving you dangling in the air with no protection. It was just you and August now. And with a single swipe of his weapon you tumbled to the ground, twisting your ankle at the fall.

He gave a sinister smile, “hello sister.” You scrambled in the opposite direction, hands grasping at the soil below but never getting far with your limp foot.

“August please. You don’t have to do this. It’s me! It’s Y/n!”

“STOP IT! You’re not gonna change my mind about this. I’ve waited long enough!” Your heart beats from your chest. What the fuck were you going to do to survive this?

“We’re fucking family August! I’m your sister. You’re my little brother!”

“‘Family’, ‘little brother’,” he mocked, “you haven’t changed a bit.”

“Wha- what do you mean?”

“I’m not living in your shadow anymore Y/n. I’m done being the sidekick to you and all of your stupid friends!”

“They’re your friends too!”

He began inching closer and closer, “No they fucking aren’t! Friends don’t do what you guys did to me. Lying to the police, seriously? Acting like you had no idea what happened? I disappeared and none of you even gave a fuck till the cops started asking questions!”

“That’s not true August,” you broke down into tears once more, “I missed you every fucking day!”

“Clearly not enough.” He slowly lifted his arms, gripping the bloody machete with both hands. There was no escaping at this point. You just clenched your eye’s shut and braced for the end.

“NOOO!” The sound of a gunshot rang through your ears and instead of the feeling of cold metal slicing through you, you were met with the warm embrace of your girlfriend. You broke.

“Ellie. Oh my god Ellie.”

“I’m right here baby. Never leaving. I promise.” She just held you and held you, rocking back and forth till your breaths got less shaky.

“H-How?”

“A cabin. I found an empty cabin with a shotgun hanging right on the wall.”

“God, I love you.” Ellie smoothed back your hair and gave you a kiss.

“I love you too, angel.”

✄ - - - - ♡ - - - -

After that night things were never the same. It was just you and Ellie now. But together you would heal. Somehow, despite all the pain and loss, there was a glimmer of hope. Deep down you both knew things would be okay. And they were.