#I've been wearing a mask in the house for 3 days

[reallifepotato]

Am positive for covid

[adreamthatsworthkeeping]

Right well that was all for nothing because I do now have effing covid

[blissfullyecho]

March 2023 "That Girl" Challenge

Helloooo :)

This is the 31-Day Challenge that I've created for us to do together this month. It's just something simple and fun. Enjoy! - BlissfullyEcho

——————————————-

DAY 1: Deep clean your living space (bedroom, apartment, house, condo, camper, etc)

DAY 2: Deep clean your car (if you don't have a car, deep clean something else that you haven't done but should do: junk drawer, dresser, yoga mat, makeup brushes, etc)

DAY 3: Try a new (healthy!) recipe-- this could even be a healthy dessert or beverage

DAY 4: Try a guided meditation on YouTube for 10 minutes after waking up and before checking social media

DAY 5: Spend an extra 15 minutes working on something for school, work, hobbies, or your own personal development

DAY 6: Unfollow, delete, and block social media accounts and phone contacts that are just not part of your life anymore (or those who you plan on not having as a part of your life anymore)

DAY 7: Delete social media pictures that don't fit in with the best version of you. This could be the overedited photos, the thirst trap you put on there because that one person made you upset, etc.

DAY 8: Try a new workout that you haven't done. Pilates, ballet, barre, tennis, CrossFit, kickboxing, F45, cycling, running, swimming, etc.

DAY 9: Pamper your pet. Brush, clean, trim their nails, give them treats, etc. Go above and beyond for them today. (If you don't have animals, pamper yourself today!)

DAY 10: Enjoy the sunshine. Go outside (wear your sunscreen, sunglasses, and a hat) for 15-20 minutes and enjoy your own company and nature.

DAY 11: No phone 30 minutes before bed. Set your bedtime tonight, and set an alarm 30 minutes prior to that. Once your alarm goes off, put your phone on DND and read a book before bed. Read until you are tired enough to turn off your lights and sleep.

DAY 12: Watch a documentary about something and learn! Maybe it's something you've never had an interest in. Just please make it positive! No heartbreaking or tragic documentaries. Let's not invite that into our "That Girl" challenge.

DAY 13: Buy a self-care item. This could be a yoga mat, face mask, cleansing oil, the Bible, perfume, etc. It can be as expensive or inexpensive as you'd like.

DAY 14: Go out on a date with yourself. Take yourself out to do something you've never done/been to before.

DAY 15: Aim to drink at least 60oz. of pure water today.

DAY 16: Spend 30 minutes learning a language you've always wanted to learn (and if you love it, practice for 10 minutes a day afterward)

DAY 17: Turn your notifications off.

DAY 18: No social media today.

DAY 19: Do something creative today. Buy a canvas, paint, and a brush, and follow a Bob Ross tutorial; maybe buy a jewelry-making kit. Take today and be creative for at least 30 minutes.

DAY 20: 10,000 steps OR walk for an hour

DAY 21: Go through your finances and see where you can budget. Take this time to audit your subscriptions and see if you would like to cancel any recurring subscriptions to save you extra money each month.

DAY 22: Avoid eating animal products today. Just focus on whole grains, fruit, veggies, nuts, seeds, water, and vitamins.

DAY 23: Schedule any doctor appointments you might have. If you don't have to, then take today to create a to-do list for the next 3 days.

DAY 24: Spend some time deleting pictures and making storage space in your phone. Any way you can-- it doesn't have to be from deleting your photos.

DAY 25: Listen to a new podcast or TedTalk.

DAY 26: Check your credit report/score and see if there's anything you need to do/complete.

DAY 27: Clear your email inbox and unsubscribe from the companies you don't shop from anymore.

DAY 28: Touch up on your resume.

DAY 29: Sort through your closet and throw away, donate, and sell your clothes and shoes that you don't wear (and that you know you'll never wear again)

DAY 30: Sort through your bathroom drawers and cabinets and organize them.

DAY 31: Create a vision board for April.

[worrywrite]

I am frequently amused when I see art of Ianthe post skeleton arm. Amused because almost every artist picks where the skeletal structure starts at a different point. Some go right up to the shoulder, some go just under, some go past the elbow (though I've only seen this once) and some don't even get which arm it is correct. And I'm amused because there is a fairly accurate description in HtN of where Harrow cuts off the grafted arm and begins rebuilding with bone. It's about 3-4 inches above the elbow on the right arm. You can extrapolate her height and estimate just about where it would be. And in m head it should be lower than where most people draw it.

More musings on Ianthe and art of her below.

I've met a handful of folks with a stump in about that same place and I think it's a fairly common point for amputation and so whenever I see art with the skeletal emerging higher up it seems off.

I'm not trying to shame the artists, of course. I don't think I've seen a bad portrait of Ianthe yet. I am, perhaps, most amused as a result of all this how you can tell the artists usually just want to draw a girl with a cool bone arm. And in my head, the higher up on the arm it starts the more I to it they are. After all, why no just give her more visible bones.

I wouldn't be surprised if, in an effort to seduce Harrow she slowly abandoned more and more flesh in favor of gilded bone. Sure she started with it just above the elbow, but then she stripped off the bicep. Then the shoulder. Then part of the flesh around the collarbone. And when she started encountering more arteries and organs it gets trickier but she manages to remove the flesh and grow out her osseous material into plated structures to keep the important bits covered. Then she takes off the neck and the lower jaw. Then the entire left arm piece by piece from the fingertips up, one segment per day. At that point she doesn't feel pain any more. After that, it's the whole collar bone. The face she keeps, because she won't go quite so far as to essentially wear the paint of the ninth house by making her face a mask of bone. What beauty would that leave? She'll leave her breasts too, to satisfy her own vanity and hope that Harrow appreciates it least some flesh. But then it's to the ribcage; which is tricky, but it can be externalized and most of the internal organs can be put in flexible cartilaginous or osseous chambers padded with fat. By the time it gets to the pelvis she's torn, she wouldn't dare rob herself of some of the last pieces of stimulating nerve endings she has, and yet she feels like Harrow wouldn't care much; so naturally she exposes portions but not all of the pelvis. And then it's just the legs, and that's not even a big deal by that point.

Now fully formed, Lich!Ianthe has made herself everything that she thinks Harrow would adore. She has lost her sense of pain, and also almost all of her pride as she has come to realize that she has succumbed to an obsession. She has made herself a monster the likes of which stirs fear in the eyes of God. She is asked time and again to stop, but she only does when she's taken all that she can. Now she's gilded to perfection, equal parts gaudy trophy and skeletal object of desire. And she feels more like her own person than she's ever been.

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

Do Ghost and Jade's kids don't know about their careers (or in Jade's case, former career)? Cause the comic you made of Andrew seeing Ghost in the middle of the night sorta implies they don't know about their parents' military background.

HMMM HM HM Good catch right there 👀👀

So this is also a part of what I've been thinking inside the Riley family after they have kids.

- I feel like the kids would definitely know about Simon's career as a soldier. BUT, as they are still in their early teens, I'd imagine that Andrew, Gracie, and later Orion know that their dad is a soldier, but that's the extent of their knowledge. They do know about Simon's nickname "Ghost", but they don't know how Simon operates inside the Task Force, they're not aware that their dad is an officer of one of the most elite and dangerous task force in the world. As far as they know, their dad only has edgy hobbies that involves black outfits and skull/skeleton themed. Heck, they even made fun of his preferences in outfits.

- But dear God, they never saw him in a full-on combat gear, in the dark of the night.

- Ghost is an officer, so day by day, he'd left the house with open face, and only wears the mask inside the car. After work day, he'd take off the mask before entering the house. If he's too tired, he'd try to sneak in in the deep of the night without making a sound. He'd sworn to himself that 'Ghost' will never enter his family and children's house/lives. They do not need trouble and his dangerous line of work to enter the one thing he cherishes the most.

- However, once you have kids, you can't hide anything forever. They'll find out by themselves (in this case, Andrew is entering his puberty and needs some midnight munchies). Simon and Lottie knows this, so they already have everything figured out. What would Andrew's reaction be, what would Gracie's reaction be, what would Orion's reaction be. They've discussed what they'd reveal, and what they'd still keep a secret, again, until they're old enough to know. They tread VERY carefully about it.

- About their mother though, that's a whole different story. After their marriage, Jade has strictly commited to be a mother for her kids, and opened a branch of The Garden in Herefordshire. She's an ✨ entrepreneur ✨. She's not that active to be called into deployment as before she had kids. If she's used to be 60% florist and 40% TF141 ally, after she had kids she'd be 98% Mum and Florist, and 2% TF141 Ally. Her kids literally only knows her as a florist, and that's it. Up until their late teens, Andrew, Gracie, and Orion would have no clue nor idea about her past with MI6. She didn't lie, she's just holding the truth until they're big enough to understand.

- In fact, Ghost BEGGED and asked Jade to not be active inside the TF141 or any conflicts anymore, considering Ghost would be deployed a lot (and how he's promoted to Captain and above), he'd want his wife to be with her kids. Jade herself also agreed, but she also told Ghost to not die and do stupid stuff. Even though married and less involved in the TF141 business, her resolve stayed the same. If he's missing, she'd pick up the guns in a heartbeat.

- Now, back to the kids. I'd imagine that because of how eventful each of Simon and Lottie's lives are, it sort of like become a game to the family. Each birthdays of the kids, Simon has established a "3 Question" rule game, where the kids can ask their parents anything about their lives. From Andrew and Orion, it's usually trivial and simple stuffs like "What's the naughtiest things you've ever done" "What's your favorite bla bla bla". HOWEVER, with Gracie, its always "What's your favourite mission?" "What's the worst condition of a dead body you've ever find?" "Who's the most difficult bad man you've ever encountered?" "Where is he now?"

- Ghost and Jade would answer with only two sentences. Looking at each other for approval. Gracie is most definitely Simon's daughter with that line of questioning. BUT, again, with every birthdays, and with their increasing age and they become more mature, they'll reveal everything bit after bit.

- By the time they finally know everything about their parents, they'd be in college years, probably, and Simon would no longer be the Ghost (he might be one of the higher ranked officer at this point), and Lottie would be completely out of the Task Force 141 game, becoming a regular civilian. Still, it'd be a legendary story to tell.

WOOHOO I kinda yapped a bit there, but hope that answer your question!

[blingblong55]

Nothing- König

Based on a request:

Hey kasper!! >__< i hope this request finds you in good health, i'm that anon who asked earlier if your reqs are open and dont worry! Im willing to wait <33 just take your time and no rush.. Anyways- May I request a fluff fic on konig (or ghost) where they come home from a very long mission to see that their darling is baking something delicious? (Can be any pastry dish you want WAAHH) Maybe a pastry chef reader and shes on her day off and used the time to bake something! The house smelled definitely like heaven and I bet that Konig (or ghost 😭) was immediately the taste tester for the day!! TEEEHEEEE >3< jus some domestic fluff cause i've been reading way too much angst lately BAAAHHHHAHSHAHAH -🍰 anon :3 ---- F!Reader, fluff, domestic, established!relationship, baker!reader ----

A/N: If you came for the Ghost version of this, click here

It was a tough mission. His body was sore, and scars and bruises adorned him. "Home," he whispers once his body is near to giving up. Home is you, he thinks. His pretty darling is home and all he can do is drive faster. How much can a man last when he isn't in the arms of their lover?

Once he steps wearily through the threshold of his home, his boots fall heavy by the entrance. The weight of the mission on his shoulders but as soon as he caught the aroma wafting through the air, his fatigue seemed to dissipate. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he followed the scent. The mask he dreads to wear home is tossed to the side.

There you are, his pretty girl, standing amidst a flurry of flour a sugar. You didn't notice him as you stook your tongue out and tried to clean the corners of the spoon. Flour from the past minutes is still on your blouse and cheek.

He clears his throat, your eyes light up with delight when you notice him. As you rushed to his side, he felt himself grow those everloving butterflies. "Welcome home," you whisper, your voice soothes his weary soul.

König returns the embrace, savouring the familiar scent of your hair. "It's good to be home, Liebling," he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

Home.

What a funny word, no? At least to him, it is. If you would've told him years ago he'd be calling you his wife or that he'd even have a person to go to, he'd laugh at your nonsense. A man like him isn't worthy of a home–

"I missed you Bär," you say as you cup his face. It's beautiful really, how he lets you love him this much. It's poetic how good he feels when he sees you even more when you hold him like this. Are you truly an angel?

As you both pull away, he can't help but admire the sight before him. Flour dust on that pretty face of yours and your hair pulled back into that clipped messy bun, yet you are still the most beautiful sight he has ever seen. The warmth of your smile is chased by shadows that linger in his mind, and he feels a surge of gratitude for your presence in his life.

I mean look at you, what good must he have done to have you here?

"What are you baking?" he asked, his curiosity piqued. Your eyes sparkle with mischief as you gesture to the countertop. "I'm experimenting with a new recipe. Chocolate chip cookies."

König's stomach rumbled in anticipation, and he couldn't resist stealing a taste of the dough. You laugh at his eagerness, swatting his hand away. "Patience, Bär," you smile. "They'll be ready soon enough."

Maybe all is well and he doesn't have to run or hide. He can just be here, with you.

As you two wait for the cookies to bake, he finds himself drawn to your side, appreciating the simple pleasure of being in your company. You two exchange stories of your week. Laugh and playful pushes followed along.

What if this is what he is meant for? Maybe life isn't so bad for a man like him. Not with you, at least.

Finally, the timer dinged, signalling the cookies were done. As you pull the tray out of the oven, he finds himself dreaming of more. Maybe next time around, when all is peaceful, there will be a kid, maybe two eagerly waiting for a taste of a new family recipe.

"These are incredible," König declares as he takes another bite and savours the sweetness with his tongue.

You beam with pride, your cheeks flush with pleasure from this compliment. "I'm glad you think so. There's plenty more where that came from," your voice softer now.

As you two indulge in this impromptu midnight snack, König can't shake the feeling of contentment that settles over him. In this moment, surrounded by warmth and love, he knows that there is nowhere else in the world he rather be.

And as he and you lean on the counters, he realises that sometimes, the greatest adventures were found not in the battlefield, but in the quiet moments of domestic blissed with the one he holds dear.

F!Reader, fluff, domestic, established!relationship, baker!reader

It was a tough mission. His body was sore, and scars and bruises adorned him. "Home," he whispers once his body is near to giving up. Home is you, he thinks. His pretty darling is home and all he can do is drive faster. How much can a man last when he isn't in the arms of their lover?

Once he steps wearily through the threshold of his home, his boots fall heavy by the entrance. The weight of the mission on his shoulders but as soon as he caught the aroma wafting through the air, his fatigue seemed to dissipate. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he followed the scent. The mask he dreads to wear home is tossed to the side.

There you are, his pretty girl, standing amidst a flurry of flour a sugar. You didn't notice him as you stook your tongue out and tried to clean the corners of the spoon. Flour from the past minutes is still on your blouse and cheek.

He clears his throat, your eyes light up with delight when you notice him. As you rushed to his side, he felt himself grow those everloving butterflies. "Welcome home," you whisper, your voice soothes his weary soul.

König returns the embrace, savouring the familiar scent of your hair. "It's good to be home, Liebling," he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

Home.

What a funny word, no? At least to him, it is. If you would've told him years ago he'd be calling you his wife or that he'd even have a person to go to, he'd laugh at your nonsense. A man like him isn't worthy of a home–

"I missed you Bär," you say as you cup his face. It's beautiful really, how he lets you love him this much. It's poetic how good he feels when he sees you even more when you hold him like this. Are you truly an angel?

As you both pull away, he can't help but admire the sight before him. Flour dust on that pretty face of yours and your hair pulled back into that clipped messy bun, yet you are still the most beautiful sight he has ever seen. The warmth of your smile is chased by shadows that linger in his mind, and he feels a surge of gratitude for your presence in his life.

I mean look at you, what good must he have done to have you here?

"What are you baking?" he asked, his curiosity piqued. Your eyes sparkle with mischief as you gesture to the countertop. "I'm experimenting with a new recipe. Chocolate chip cookies."

König's stomach rumbled in anticipation, and he couldn't resist stealing a taste of the dough. You laugh at his eagerness, swatting his hand away. "Patience, Bär," you smile. "They'll be ready soon enough."

Maybe all is well and he doesn't have to run or hide. He can just be here, with you.

As you two wait for the cookies to bake, he finds himself drawn to your side, appreciating the simple pleasure of being in your company. You two exchange stories of your week. Laugh and playful pushes followed along.

What if this is what he is meant for? Maybe life isn't so bad for a man like him. Not with you, at least.

Finally, the timer dinged, signalling the cookies were done. As you pull the tray out of the oven, he finds himself dreaming of more. Maybe next time around, when all is peaceful, there will be a kid, maybe two eagerly waiting for a taste of a new family recipe.

"These are incredible," König declares as he takes another bite and savours the sweetness with his tongue.

You beam with pride, your cheeks flush with pleasure from this compliment. "I'm glad you think so. There's plenty more where that came from," your voice softer now.

As you two indulge in this impromptu midnight snack, König can't shake the feeling of contentment that settles over him. In this moment, surrounded by warmth and love, he knows that there is nowhere else in the world he rather be.

And as he and you lean on the counters, he realises that sometimes, the greatest adventures were found not in the battlefield, but in the quiet moments of domestic blissed with the one he holds dear.

A/N: I want to hold him.....

Tags:

@simpsallthetime1997 @tipsykeen @lonelybitchs-world @viawritesstuff @avaleigh16 @aprilplage @wtfwhydoesnooneknowthebooksilove @undercover-smutlover @riskyboi123 @madsdawson @rennroo @liyanahelena @goldenmclaren @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @rvivienner @frizzseaberries @spicypicklesoh @viomast @vampsquerade @alxexhearts @Juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @strangepuppynightmare @defnotlpuluvyou @enarien @luvecarson @nellsbobells @willowaftxn83-87 @saoirse06 @ikohniik @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @Llelannie @Macnches2 @bbyfimmie @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @1234beeandpuppycat @sparky--bunny @honestlyhiswife @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @pinkblossomsworld @kaoyamamegami @the_royal_bee @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @asianbutnotjapanese @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @anonxasian @born4biriyani @thegreyjoyed @mychemichalimalance @marshiely @tuihiatus @iruzias @sleepyycatt

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

Hii,can I request a baldwin one shot ? Where his lady love is pregnant and he is cured from leprosy ? And he wins a tournament for her. You know where would men would get favours from their ladies and fight with a really long stick and the one who falls from the hoarse first losses ? Like in Merlin and House of Dragon . He always shows her off proudly to everyone like the good husband he is. With lots of fluff. I really need some (a lot of) baldwin fluff .He is the only one I've been thinking 24/7 .My man deserved so much better like a significant other and so much love,adoration,etc.😭 Not mfcking Guy or his nonsense . I love your writing so much. When I read your work I feel like I'm living it. By the way congrats for surviving the exams. Sending lots of love <3 💗💗💗.

♡ All For You - King Baldwin x Reader ♡

A/N: Hello Anon! First of all, I am so sorry that it has taken so long to get to this beautiful request 😭. Second, thank you so much for your kind words, I'm so glad you love my work and thank you for your well-wishes <3 !! I hope this is what you had in mind for the one shot! As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

PS: I hate Guy too, Anon 😭

TW: Mentions of Cured Leprosy

It had been six months since the king's disease, that was almost certain to be his end, had been cured by a newly discovered, deep sea plant.

His recovery had been a pleasant surprise to all, but none more than his beloved wife. Y/n was completely overjoyed to have her beautiful husband free of pain for the first time in years.

He himself was in tears with joy the day that he could feel her touch for the first time as sensation returned to his body.

As soon as the last traces of terrible disease had left his body, the king and queen wasted no time in starting a family.

The experience of his illness had taught them both that life was far too short and precious to waste. So not even a month after he was cured, it was announced to the public that the queen of Jerusalem was pregnant with the king's first born.

Since reclaiming his body and health, Baldwin had indulged himself in all kinds of activities, sports, and hobbies that he had missed out on in his years of weakness.

Years of barely being strong enough to get out of bed every day had left him pining for physical activity. One of the sports he had taken great intrest in was jousting.

He had developed a love for the sport since reading about it in a French book when he was younger, but deep down knowing he would never be well enough to play. Until now.

----------------

“My love! My love! I have something to show you!” Baldwin called, practically tripping over himself as he rushed into the royal chambers.

“Easy darling, don't hurt yourself” y/n said as he approached her with the biggest smile on his once, yet no longer, mottled face. “Look at this!” he held out a flier to her. It was for a jousting competition.

“I am going to enter it, I want to win for you!” he said excitedly, looking at her with anticipation.

Y/n chuckled at his enthusiasm. She could not deny it, he had gotten very good at the sport.

“Are you sure you are up for this darling? I would hate to see you hurt” she replied. Baldwin just smiled, taking her hands in his.

“I am more than strong enough, my love. This is everything I have ever wanted! All I need is your favour” he squeezed her hands to his chest.

Y/n sighed, “very well. Just please, be safe” she told him gently.

Baldwin’s grin widened with joy.

Y/n took a moment to think about the fact that he was still a young man. The mask he used to wear made him look much older than he was, as did his usually calm temperament. But at heart, he was a still young man trying to impress his wife. This warmed her heart greatly.

------------------

Soon the day of the competition arrived.

For y/n, her anxieties had grown more and more as the day grew closer. But for Baldwin, his excitement had only increased each day.

He was excited to not only participate, but to also finally feel like a man. For years, he had cursed his frail body for not providing the physical protection that his wife so deserved. And now with their baby growing inside her, the need to prove himself as a strong father and husband grew as well.

As much as y/n reassured him that she loved him so much regardless, and that he had nothing to prove, he still wanted to. For her and their baby. 

The king was also looking forward to showing off his beautiful wife to the other contestants. He took every opportunity to present her beauty to the world proudly and this day would be no different. 

----------------

As the tournament proceeded, each of the men battled until only one remained on their horse, until finally, it was the his turn. Baldwin's competition was won effortlessly and he moved up to the next round again and again until only he and the last man remained.

Y/n had been biting her nails the whole day as she watched from the crowd, and finally it was time. She could not have been more overjoyed when that last man fell from his horse into the mud.

Baldwin was in utter disbelief as the crowd cheered and chanted “long live the king!”. He had really done it.

------------------

That very night, the queen doted on her husband, congratulating him to the nth degree. They displayed his trophy as a prized possession on the shelf next to their shared bed (this would become one of many prizes he would win for all kind's of sport).

“I am so proud of you sweetheart” y/n whispered to her husband, massaging his tense shoulders as he bathed that night.

She kissed the top of his head and rubbed the back of his neck with her thumbs, earning a tired groan of pleasure.

“Thank you sweetheart” Baldwin murmured in reply.

“I loved winning for you. It was incredible, it just felt so right. Like this was all meant to happen...” he said softly.

“Yes, I believe that it was. Now let's get you into bed before you fall asleep right here” the queen chuckled, noticing his half closed eyes and the words trailing off slightly at the end of his sentence. 

----------------

The two dressed for sleep and cuddled up against each other in the warm bed.

Baldwin’s hands cupped his wife’s pregnant midsection, laying his head against her chest.

“When I do this, I can hold my entire family in my arms at once. Is that not amazing? Everything I love is right here with me in this exact room” he said to her, his voice sleepy and calm.

Y/n chuckled, at his words.

“I could not be happier than I am at this moment. This is all I have ever wanted, and you have given it to me” Baldwin turned his head up to look into her eyes. “Thank you my love. For everything, truely.”

Y/n could not help but let a single tear roll down her cheek. That was the sweetest thing she had ever heard.

“Of course my darling, there is nobody in the whole world I would rather be with at this very moment than you,” she replied pulling him closer, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You are everything to me Baldwin and you always will be” she kissed the top of his head and ran her fingers through his soft hair.

That was the last thing the king heard before he let his tired body rest. Worn out from the long day of exercise and excitement instead of a terrible disease stealing the life from his body.

Y/n smiled at her husband's peaceful, light snoring that had long since replaced the difficult, struggled breathing that used to keep her awake at night with worry that one day he would fall asleep and never wake again.

Those fears were long since gone and she could now sleep comfortably with the knowledge that all was well and her husband was safe in her arms.

[upsidedownmvnson]

reader is insecure about being chubby | eddie munson blurb

requested by anon <3

warnings: insecurities, fluff, really mean bullying names, may be a long blurb idk

AN: i was chubby so i felt this one, and nothing said here wasn't said abt me in real life, but i know eddie would love something soft to grab

Everytime you walked to hallways, you had Eddie Munson's undivided attention. He was totally enamored with you. Every inch of you was a treat. The wide hips, every curve, the huge boobies, an ass he wanted to grab a handful of... The boy was obsessed. He would make up any excuse to talk to you, and anytime he could make you smile, he would be on top of the world for the rest of the day.

All day everyday Eddie would be tripping over himself to get your attention, but you saw it as something friendly. You thought Eddie was trying to be your friend. You thought maybe he saw you as a potential for Hellfire.

You were so wrong.

You, of course, were also smitten for Eddie. You would curl into yourself whenever he was around, he just made you feel so shy. He was so bold, so confident. It was something you admired about him. He was so rough, all leather, denim and calloused guitar fingers. You wanted to feel those fingers.

Today, you were wearing a skirt, against your typical covering wardrobe. You were excited when you left the house, but now you were just nervous. People looking at your legs, judging them. It made a shiver shoot down your spine. You were at your locker, trying to make yourself disappear into the metal.

"Damn, babe," Eddie said, leaning on the locker next to yours. He chuckled when his words startled you but talking, "you look good today."

"Stop," you said, heat rising in your cheeks and neck. You probably looked ridiculous, but Eddie's smile was as kind as always.

He brought his hand up to run one of those beautifully rough fingers across your cheek, tucking hair behind your ear to keep it out of your face.

"Pretty," he said quietly, trailing that finger down the side of your neck before dropping it back to his side. His eyes were a little wide like he hadn't meant to actually say that out loud.

"Eddie?" you kept your voice low, questioning his sudden desire to have his hands on you. It wasn't actually sudden, it's just the first time you perceived it as anything other than friendly.

"It's time for you to put me out of my misery," Eddie said, hand over his heart feigned agony. "Would you please do me the honour of going out with me this friday night?"

"You want to go out with me?" you asked, cheeks burning under the skin.

Eddie chuckled a little, but his eyes held a hint of confusion. His voice was soft, but questioning. "You can't really be that shocked, I mean... I've been coming on pretty strong."

Now you were embarrassed, your insecurities preventing yourself from enjoying the compliment. You were too stunned to say anything, but Eddie's eyes were kind, they encouraged you not to retreat into your shell. He was too sweet, touching your shoulder to keep you grounded. You felt his warmth threw the shirt you were wearing.

"Hey," he said softly. "Where'd ya go?" When you just blushed further, he said, "it's okay to talk to me, I've got your back sweetheart."

"Eddie we can't go out," you said finally, the disappointment clear on his face. He didn't try to hide the sadness clouding his eyes.

"Why not?" he asked, "it's okay you don't have to explain. Somebody else already, huh?" His defensive babbling continued, as he tried to mask his hurt feelings at the thought of your rejection. "I shoulda known a catch like you already had somebody sweet on her, I mean... damn, you're beautiful."

"Eddie, stop." You refused to tear up in the hallway, that would only attract the sharks. "It would be ridiculous. People would make fun of us."

It hurt Eddie's feelings at first, thinking you were talking about him, and his reputation. But after examining the look on your face, he realized you were talking about yourself, as if you would somehow be dragging him down. And that didn't make sense to him at all, you were so fucking cute.

"What do you mean?" he asked, try to keep your attention up at him. An intimate moment lost in the crowd of the students in the school. You and Eddie just seemed kind of, lost in your own little world. "Who would laugh at you?"

"I don't know? The basketball players? What if they ask you what it's like to ride the piggy?" You sounded small. Like your own words were taking up too much space, so you made them smaller.

"Do... do people call you uh... stuff like that?" he asked, unable to make himself say the actual words. Afraid to ever let you hear a words like that come out of his mouth. "That's- that's fucking horrifying, I'm so sorry. You don't deserve that."

The softness of his voice was a pleasant surprise. Like he knocked off the theatrics and let you see what he was really thinking, feeling.

"I don't want to overstep anything," he said, voice dipping low so no one else heard him say, "but you have no idea how sexy I think you are. If you'd let me..." his voice dropped even lower, sensual and seductive, close to your ear, whispering, "...I'll show you."

"Eddie," you whispered, cheeks hotter than you'd ever felt. The blush looked more maroon than pink. "There are people everywhere."

"And they'd be jealous," he said, backing off and raising his voice back to normal, "because you are the hottest girl in school, and you're all for me... but we can make that official when I take you out on Friday."

[a-aexotic]

hii i feel like john b doesn't get nearly enough fics and i <3 your writing so could i request a fic where he's having a rough day so he comes over and reader does her whole nighttime routine w him to help de-stress? 💗💗

ren's notes ! yes i totally agree, john b is so overhated for what

pairing. john b x fem!reader

warnings. literally nothing except fluff and ward being ward

➜ missing out on updates? ❪ navigation. masterlist. taglist. ❫

Today was not John B's day.

He woke up in a shitty mood and everything else just went along with that. He burnt his pancakes, he forgot to pay the water bill so he was stuck with cold water as a shower. He forgot to do laundry so he had to wear his dirty clothes. And the Camerons were being more asshole-ish than usual.

He just wanted to go home and eat, relaxing while watching a TV show. So why did Ward make him clean the yacht for the second time this week?

He texted you throughout working and you felt really bad. You wanted to do something that would cheer him up.

He heard a ding and pulled out his phone.

Y/N:) 💋☀️ oh, im sorry to hear that baby:/

Y/N:) 💋☀️ do u wanna come over and watch something?<3 maybe that'll help

Y/N:) 💋☀️ i love u jb:)

He smiled at your texts as he sent a quick text back, not wanting to hear another lecture about phones from Ward again.

JB 😎 No worries babe 😘💕 I love u too

JB 😎 That sounds like heaven 😫 Be there at 6 x

--

Work couldn't have even sooner for John B. He was so excited to go see you; he's felt like it's been weeks even though in reality, it's only been maybe a day. Today just felt so long but he knew that one kiss from you, and all that stress would go away.

He pulled up to your house and quickly got out. He was prepared to spend the entire night with you, sleeping in your arms so that all his stress would melt away.

He knocked at the door and your mother answered, letting him know you had just got down with your shower and that you were upstairs. She also reminded John B to knock before going in.

As he was told, he knocked before going in.

"Mom, I'll be down in a minute, let me finish my skincare."

"It's not mom, It's John B."

You quickly jumped out of your chair and ran to the door, opening it and embracing John B. He smiled at your enthusiasm.

"Oh, John B. I missed you."

He leaned into you, sighing in content. "Me, too, baby. Me, too."

"I was just going to finish my skincare and we can go get some popcorn and eat, okay?"

"Um, actually. I think after the day I've had, I need a mask."

You smiled at your boyfriend. Your glad your skincare is rubbing off on him because you wanted him to relax (you also didn't want him to age badly). "Of course, baby! Just uh, go take a quick shower and we can get started!"

He didn't even have the energy to be offended at your underlining comment so he just nodded and went into your bathroom, closing the door.

As he showered, you got the candy and popcorn ready. He got out and he sighed in relaxation. He then looked at the bowl next to your bed to find his favorite candy. "Ooo."

He took a handful before you came in with a huge grin on your face. "Okay, we have either a peach collagen mask or a vitamin d matcha mask."

He laughed immaturely at the mention of D. "Vitamin D, of course."

You rolled your eyes playfully as you put down the other mask, opening the vitamin d sheet mask. "Did you wash your face?" You asked before putting it on.

"Yes."

"With my CeraVe cleanser?"

He nodded and sighed as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. But if you asked him that a few months ago, he would've asked who CeraVe was and what a cleanser is. You're glad you've taught him well.

You smiled at that, nodding. "Good."

You put on the mask and John B felt his muscles relaxing from your soft touch, and the gentleness of the sheet mask on his face. "This feels so nice. I can't remember a time when I didn't use masks."

"Mhm, I bet your skin feels the same."

He sighed contently as you fully adjusted the mask to his face. You walked away towards your mini-fridge to get a Jade roller. You went back to John B and started massaging his face with it.

"Wow, this feels nice. Is how the rich feel?" John B commented as you laughed.

You kept massaging for a few minutes before stopping, making John B groan. You rolled your eyes.

"My arms hurt, John B, I can't do this until it dries."

He sighed and nodded, "Okay fine."

John B then went to go sit on your bed and turn on the TV as you put your mask on. John B then went to the bedside table and grabbed the popcorn, eating it happily.

You smiled at your boyfriend. You're glad that he feels better now. You got into the bed too, taking some of the popcorn and eating it.

"Okay, babe. It's your pick, what're we watching?"

"21 Jump Street."

You sighed. "... Again?"

"Oh shush, I know you love staring at Channing Tatum."

You rolled your eyes playfully, knowing it was true.

[astralnino]

Rivals to Lovers - Ken X Reader [PT 1]

it takes place in Barbieland, has some overlapping events but doesn't exactly sync w/ the movie. In this AU, Kens have houses too (I won't do them dirty 😤)

Also for your reading convenience, I'll be calling Ken#2 (Simu Liu's Ken) Kenneth, and Ryan's Ken#1 will stay Ken. enjoy, loves! 💗

feisty ken x sensitive reader / tw: kissing also PART 2 IS OUT!

1.13k Words <3

It's another beautiful, perfect day in Barbieland. You wake up early in the morning, feeling rejuvenated and excited, for you were finally making the big move to your bestie Kenneth's neighborhood! You're basically trembling with excitement as they load the last of your pink boxes into the pink truck which is ready to leave the pink gates of Rosedale, your previous neighborhood. You get in the front seat of your pink Jeep Gladiator and wave to your friends as you drive off into the sunset, into Barbieville!

You look in awe at the promenade, bustling with so many Barbies, and they all look at you with wide eyes. It was the first time many of them were setting their eyes on a Limited Edition Barbie. The 'Y/n L/n Limited Edition Classy Barbie', was released based on a design made by the daughter of the CEO of Mattel.

You were basically a celebrity in Barbieland, and you were pretty good at handling all the attention, good and bad, which came along with it. You park your truck behind the pink truck, out of which a few Helper Barbies are taking your furniture and items and moving them into your new dreamhouse. You walk out of your Jeep to be swarmed by a whole lot of Barbies, all of them saying Hi and asking for autographs. You couldn't help but feel a little overwhelmed, but you take a few deep breaths and wave to all of them, and start signing a few arms, Jerseys and a couple of Beach Shorts. Nothing out of the ordinary.

As you're signing the various articles, out of the corner of your eye, you notice a small commotion, two Kens and a few Barbies. You roll your eyes, brushing it off, until you realize that one of those Kens was - your bestfriend and crush Kenneth. As soon as it hits you, you apologetically hand over a half signed cap to the Ken it belonged to and promised everyone autographs at the 'Welcome to the New Neighbourhood Party' Kenneth was hosting for you, before sprinting towards the sandy beach.

Infront of you, you see Kenneth and another Ken squaring up. Your gaze lingers upon the other Ken, who looks pretty... agitated. Pretty agitated. He had the average blonde hair, a perfect jawline and brown, kind of dreamy eyes which currently looked dark and stormy- Your train of thought was interrupted by Kenneth who was getting a bit too aggressive. He looked cute, as always, but you quickly step in along with a blonde Barbie wearing a Pink checked dress, acting as a barricade between the two disconcerted dolls. The Stereotypical Barbie appears to brush her hand against Kenneth's thigh, but you're sure it was an accident so you let it be.

As soon as he recognizes you, he looks startled. "Y/n- You're here- it's been so long since I've seen you..". You run forward and hug him, and he awkwardly pats your back. Again, you notice the blonde Barbie stare at you two, with a glint of jealousy in her eyes.. but it was cleverly masked with a forced but pretty smile.

"Hey Kennethh, how've you been?" You exclaim although you two spoke over call just last night, a little blush creeping up your cheeks. Just as he's about to answer, Ken rolls his eyes and clears his throat, a mellow but burning rage still in his eyes, effectively ruining your moment.

"What's your problem man.." you mutter under your breath, but the Blondie hears you. "What's my problem you ask? Your tall and han- Your boyfriend is annoying me for no good reason, ask him to back off now." he replies, looking somewhat flustered. Taking a few steps forward, you stand close to him.. very close. You look up at him, and he looks down back at you, his face turning a light shade of pink.

You look straight into his eyes and asks him "What if I don't?" You feel his quick, warm breaths on your supple skin.

He eyes you up and down, thinking for a moment, then he pushes you to the floor, effectively creating a situation where you're under him. You feel your cheeks warming up, and you see him smirk. "Try standing up for your boyfriend now, why don't you?"

Your eyes lock for a second, and you feel something... something new, something intense, but you realise that you're out in the open- OH GOD, what will people think!? You quickly avert your eyes, and again, you notice Kenneth with Barbie.. only this time they appear to be bickering, but slowly move closer.. and closer. You don't get enough time to process this, because Ken is getting off of you and storming towards them both, fists clenched tightly and feet stomping, spewing sand all over you and a few picnic blankets on the sandy floor.

Just as he's about to do something, you see Kenneth push him over to the side, tugging on your hand, and the other Barbie quietly apologises, looking deeply into Kenneth's eyes with an almost lovestruck look and drags the other Ken away. What the hell was going on?

"Who does that asshole think he is?!" You shake your head and start complaining, walking off in the other direction with Kenneth, who starts giving you a tour of his neighbourhood. Even though you know most of the places here, you smile, masking your sadness and longing, and walk with him, feeling happy to be bantering with your favourite person.

After he gave you a detailed tour of Barbieville, he left to "prepare for the party" and "attend to urgent matters". You decide to explore on your own and start walking home to get ready for the party, which had already started. You knew this by seeing the heavily lit up, awfully loud house at the end of the street. To make up for lost time, you speed up, accidentally stumblling into a dark figure, who was.. sniffling?

"I'm so sorry, let me help you up-" you reach out for the Ken who was now on the floor, and instead of stretching his arm out, he looks up at you, and you see Aggressive-Beach-Ken with red and puffy eyes. He looked so vulnerable, so upset, so angry- he looked broken.. An emotion you were unfamiliar with, but his eyes spoke a thousand words.

He slowly got up, and looked dead into your eyes. "W-why couldn't you keep a hold on your boyfriend..?" He says the word 'boyfriend' with so much contempt, it sounds like an insult more than a label. "What do you mean? And he isn't my boyfriend... well not yet. I was hoping to confess to him toda-" Ken bursts out laughing, you could almost hear a hint of insanity in his chortle.

All of a sudden, his face goes blank, expressionless. This scares you. He grabs you by the arm and drags you along quickly. You protest and ask him to leave your hand, but he just kept speeding up, and you had to run to keep up. You were nearing the party, and you were pissed of at Ken because your outfit wasn't pretty enough for the party, and well, you didn't have any makeup on. He dragged you through the gates and when you finally stop bickering with him, you look straight at the spotlight. You let out a small gasp.

Kenneth was kissing the Stereotypical Barbie from earlier.

You make eye contact with your crush, and he chuckles and waves. You suddenly feel your eyes getting moist, and then wet. Water pours down from your small, glassy eyes. Kenneth was confused and started walking in your direction, until Stereotypical Barbie pulled him back in, making out again.

"Guess you lost your chance, Barbie."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: OKAY OKAY, I'M SRY THAT THERE WAS NO MAJOR KENxREADER MOMENTS HERE, BUT HEAR ME OUT- This post would be wayyy too long, and I'd rather not bore y'all with too many petty details.. I'll make it more fast paced and steamy next chapter. THAT'S RIGHT! EDIT: PART 2 IS HERE! AHHH YAY: PART 2 Thanks for reading guys! Leave a comment, follow or reblog, anything motivates me to keep trying ;o; STAY PINK!

[lollytea]

(Part 4 of La La Land Machine exposition posts!! I know I've made way more than 4 but this is the part that's going in chronological order. Like I've talked about Hunter and hunlow in this au before but this is his formal introduction, like Willow got in part 1. I also got quite a lot more followers since I last rambled about this AU so linking the other parts if they wanna catch up. And if they want, they can look through the tag for all the additional info.

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

Anyway, I lied. We are only BEGINNING to talk about the hunlow slow burn. It's taken me long enough to set up Hunter and everything he's got going on. It sets up hunlow but they're not really close yet. But it won't even take that long to get the next post out because I am so excited to talk about them more)

Hunter Wittebane has lived his whole life wearing masks. He's been an actor before he developed object permanence. He was memorizing scripts by ear before he could fully read by himself.

Job after job, set after set, role after role. His environment is not only cutthroat competitive, but it's always in motion. Things never sit still. The biggest stability in his life was his Uncle Philip, whom Hunter loved intensely. Even if it felt like the only way he could express it was by bleeding.

But Hunter was only allowed to bleed in private. And if he wanted his Uncle to stroke his hair back and keep telling him he was special, he needed to prove it. He needed to be the second chance that he was born to be.

Hunter struggles to really understand who he is. Because he is seldom himself. If he's not playing a character, he's only known as the legacy of the Hollywood gem, Caleb Wittebane, Hunter's late father.

Hunter was quite sheltered as a child. Other than being out and about for business reasons, he didn't really get to experience much of the world. If he wasn't working, he was usually confined to his Uncle's house. Or hotel rooms. The only outings he goes on that are considered "personal" are to church.

He loves to read and he'll devour whatever book he gets his hands on. Unfortunately his options are limited to what his Uncle believes is appropriate. Philip views the world as a depraved and lecherous place, as are the people that inhabit it. If it weren't for this world and its poison, his brother would still be alive.

And then he wouldn't need to waste his time replicating his brother's likeness in some aimless weak willed child who can barely comprehend how important his performance is in all of this.

Philip refuses to allow outside forces to contaminate his nephew. If Caleb's soul is going to live on in the way it should have, they can't make a repeat of last time. Caleb's replacement has to remain on the right path, or his legacy goes up in flames.

The Bible is one of Hunter's top comfort reads. It's the only book that his Uncle seems pleased to know he's interested in. And he's pored over the pages so many times that the familiarity is soothing. It also puts the fear of God in him. As do Philip's frequent lessons. He's shaping up to be a very faithful little Christian.

Hunter also watches a lot of (Uncle approved) television. He's a tiny chatterbox but is pretty starved of socialization. If his Uncle isn't around, he's stuck with the family assistant Kiki, who usually ignores him. TV and books are mostly responsible for Hunter's expansive vocabulary.

As a shy but precocious little boy, his best friends are sweet, comforting preschool cartoon characters.

Even though Philip's life seemed to orbit around Hunter and he worked day and night for the sake of his nephew's success, a lot of the time he just....wasn't around. Sometimes Hunter went weeks without hearing from him and was left in the "care" of Kiki.

Hunter was always left wanting. On those lonely nights when Philip was away, he would beg Kiki to call him so Hunter could at least say goodnight. All for the sake of holding the phone tight against his ear and hearing his Uncle's soft spoken "Sleep well, Hunter," so his world felt a little less cold.

If Philip even answered.

But when Uncle was home, Hunter found himself with some very guilty feelings and ungrateful thoughts.

The details are not important. By that, I mean Hunter is quite uncomfortable recounting the things that used to happen in the Wittebane house when his Uncle was home.

He said them aloud once. At the age of sixteen, when his breathing was in sync with the girl he had fallen in love with and her fingers were tracing gentle paths down his bare back. He felt like he had melted into a world where he could say anything.

It didn't stop his voice from wavering nor his throat from threatening to close up. It was like he was having a full body rejection of the admission. These were secrets meant to remain locked up in his chest until his heart went still.

But he said them. And after that, they couldn't go back to being unsaid.

He didn't say them again for many years. It wasn't until he was a grown man. He wrote them down and he told the whole world.

But we're getting ahead of ourselves.

The point is that when Philip was away, Hunter got lonely and wanted his Uncle back. When Philip was home and focused all of his attention on his nephew, Hunter wanted nothing more than for him to be gone again. He knew that was an awful thing to want and the guilt ate him alive.

Did he not love his Uncle? Of course he did! He loved him more than anything.

That's why it hurt so much.

Sometimes, his Uncle was a comfort to Hunter's anxious heart. He held him in his arms and hushed him when Hunter had nightmares. He was safety.

And other times, he was the reason for those nightmares and Hunter didn't feel like he could be safe until that man was out of the house again.

Maybe, no matter what happened, he'd never be truly happy with any situation he was put in. Maybe the state of "being happy" just wasn't real, but a thing TV made up. There was just something inherently empty and scary about being alive.

At least that's the conclusion the small boy came to. This remained his mindset as he navigated the big loud upsetting world around him, which only got bigger and louder and more upsetting as Hunter got older and his career grew.

The most glaring problem Philip encountered grooming Hunter in Caleb's image was that there's a drastic difference between a man who achieved the most undiluted burst of stardom in his twenties and a toddler. Hunter can not immediately slide into the dignified shadow his father left behind, because he's too young for the kind of dramatic roles that Caleb had dazzled the world with.

There was nothing available to little Hunter that Philip felt lived up to the standards of Caleb in his prime. Which was understandable but disappointing. So, with a heavy exhale, which made Hunter worry the hem of this shirt ("Am I doing something wrong, Uncle?") Philip relented. Hunter would need a lengthy portfolio by the time he was older, so it was now time to start building this budding actor from the ground up.

Commercials, TV appearances, small film roles. Though it pained him to do so, Philip abandoned all the initial integrity he attached to his brother's legacy, and focused primarily on simply getting Hunter's face on a screen, any screen, whatever it took to get him entrenched in the industry.

Hunter was a lot more sensitive than other children. When he was very little, he had a bad tendency to get distressed over things like bright lights and unfamiliar places and weird textures. This led to a lot of on-set tantrums and he was deemed a difficult and entitled brat.

His "brattiness" never quite went away as he aged. But Philip did manage to curb those tendencies to be far less frequent. It involved brief private conversations in the nearest dressing room. When Hunter emerged, he was quieter and a lot more willing to co-operate with what the adults needed from him.

Hunter learned that misbehaving had consequences. He learned to swallow whatever obscure distress he was feeling and just do his job.

This didn't make his tantrums stop. They just shifted from regular occurances to big nasty explosions that build up over a period of weeks to months.

He eventually gave up trying to suppress them. It doesn't work. So, he just allows his emotions to burst out of him in the most humiliating public display a human being can put on, and then takes his punishment.

Uncle keeps telling him that people are going to think there's something wrong with him if he keeps doing this.

Hunter begs him to believe that there's not. There's not something wrong with him.

While it was happening, Philip would consider the 90s as a rocky beginning to his nephew's career. He didn't care much for any of the films or television series' Hunter appeared in, likely because he didn't care much for any production that included small children. So he was uninterested by default in any of the roles Hunter managed to book.

Regardless, this didn't make Philip any less demanding. Even if it was all tripe, and by God, he was very vocal about it all being tripe, he was still strict about Hunter's work ethic. The boy was expected to pour everything into his performance, and through there were very irritating child labor laws, Philip turned a blind eye to directors pushing the limits every now and again.

After long work days, Hunter would listen to his Uncle tear his current acting job to shreds. The stupid demeaning script that Caleb would be appalled at, but Hunter had no choice but to take, because he simply doesn't have the privilege to be picky.

Hunter felt a deep humiliation by his own career before he was even ten years of age. There was nothing that Philip held to Caleb standard, which left Hunter a paranoid wreck most of the time, fearing that he was always doing something wrong but never knowing how to fix it.

When he thinks back on being a little kid, he has a lot of memories of tearfully begging his Uncle to stop thinking of him a certain way or looking at him the way he does. He remembers his throat hurting. Things must have gotten loud.

An older Hunter would wince as he makes that connection. He remembers his throat hurting but not the consequences of raising his voice.

Every so often, a more prestigious opportunity presented itself to him (like the role of the protagonist's son in a film adaption of an American classic), and Hunter got so overwhelmed by the pressure of finally having something that could possibly hold a candle to Caleb Wittebane that he completely flubbed the audition and failed to book the role.

He knows that were dire consequences for not getting it. Although, once again, he doesn't remember the details of the punishment. But he remembers how tightly Uncle gripped his wrist as they walked out of the building. He remembers sitting perfectly still in the car, scared to make a sound by wriggling in his seat. Scared to breathe.

That was the 90s. That was Hunter's experience as a young child actor.

By the year 2000, he was ten and that's when Philip quietly realized something.

Hunter currently resembled Caleb Wittebane in miniature. He had his strong nose, his ashy hair, his dark eyes. Philip had always anticipated that there may be a bit of her in his nephew's appearance, but there wasn't a trace. It was beyond ideal.

This is when things should have gotten easier. This is when dignified job opportunities should have begun rolling in. This is when the world should have taken notice that Caleb Wittebane was not dead.

But this was not the case.

What Philip did not anticipate was that the industry had changed significantly since the 80s. It was the year 2000 and a young Caleb Wittebane was not what the industry wanted the future of film to look like.

He realized this in his study late one night as he obsessed over old video tapes. And once the truth had sunk in, he called Hunter into the room.

Hunter remembers wearing red pajamas patterned with beagle puppies. He has a memory of liking those pajamas a lot but can't recall the disappointment of growing out of them and throwing them away. It makes him suspect that at some point he just stopped wearing them.

On that night, a part of Philip gave up completely. He decided that this attempt of reviving his late brother's career was a failure before it had even started.

However, Philip was a deeply complex man. A remarkably stubborn man. So even when a part of him died, another part flared with life. It was the part of him that wanted to dig his heels in and say he wasn't done yet. Maybe they didn't want Caleb now, but this world was fickle. Who knows what they'd want in five years? In ten?

Hunter would continue making a name for himself, Philip would make sure of that.

Hunter would be something special if it damn near kills him.

And if he fails, Philip would kill the boy himself.

So, Hunter continues working diligently, attempting to find his footing in the rapidly changing environment. The early 2000s seem to be working overtime to distance itself from the 90s and it certainly takes some getting used to.

When Hunter is around eleven, he is told for the first time that he is not very nice to look at. According to various make up artists and hair stylists who he is left in the custody of when Kiki is god knows where, it's very easy to be cute as a small child. Baby fat n' all. But at a certain age, you start outgrowing it and that's when it becomes apparent whether you're going to be a handsome young man or not.

They gently break the news that there are not a lot of promising signs for Hunter. As one of the women, maybe in her late twenties, cups his face in her hands and tilts it towards the light (he really hates when strangers touch him), she sucks through her teeth and winces, as though she's trying to dig something out with her eyes but is coming up short. Nothing about his features reads as a future leading man. He can still have a steady acting career of course. But it's important he not get his hopes up too high. He's doesn't look like the typical Hollywood star.

Hunter argues with her. He riles himself up until his face flushes with rage. He looks just like his father, who was one of the most famous leading men of all time.

"Who's your Dad?" The woman asks.

Hunter frowns. He's never said the word "Dad" in his life. But the full name is familiar on his tongue when he answers the question.

"Oh, yeah," She says vaguely. "I think my parents used to watch his movies. I guess he was what they considered handsome in the 80s but..."

He doesn't like the way she trails off. He doesn't like all the new information being presented to him. He doesn't like her saying Caleb Wittebane wasn't handsome. In the world Hunter lives in, the man is picture perfect in every discernable way. He's never heard a bad word spoken of his father before, not even of the shallow variety. Uncle only lets him speak to people with nice things to say about Caleb. It's so jarring that it makes him feel nauseous. This isn't the way things are supposed to be.

And what's even worse, does looking like Caleb Wittebane not even matter?

Does this legacy he's supposed to carry on not matter?

That's always been one of his biggest fears, but he can not think about it for too long or the meltdown gets bad. But this new realization about his apparently mediocre looks catch him so off guard that he can't help it this time.

Hunter proceeds to hyperventilate in a supply closet for the next twenty minutes. He had never thought about what he looked like before. He had never really cared. He didn't know his appearance could hinder his career. He didn't know everything could fall apart just by having the face he does.

This is when a deep seated insecurity centered around his body image began spiraling out of control. It was also around the time that Hunter's dietary restrictions were being implemented, as were the intensity of his ballet lessons. This certainly did not help his already deteriorating self confidence.

From that point, Hunter is far more conscious of his own ambitions as an actor. He believes he is more than just a little boy who performs because it's what his Uncle tells him to do. He's a young man who wants to become a success like his father before him. He wants recognition. He wants acclaim. He wants...he wants....he wants something that he does not currently have.

As an adult, Hunter can only drag his fingers through his hair and sigh sympathetically at the thought of his young self believing that his determination to be a successful was ever for himself. It was for Uncle. It was for Caleb Wittebane. It was for everybody but himself. He was just a stupid kid who thought he wanted this because he knew nothing else.

The 2000s are a time when Hunter simultaneously starts slipping out of his iron confines, while getting reeled back tighter than ever. As he grows older, his curiosity becomes more and more insatiable and current pop culture is not as easy to shield him from. Especially when it's such a huge part of his life as an actor.

By the age of twelve, he's such a boring obedient self sufficient little robot that Kiki doesn't even bother monitoring him as severely as she once had. What's he gonna do, really?

And though Hunter is adamant that he never breaks his Uncle's rules, he finds himself shattering them to smithereens on a regular basis.

"I like authority. And rules," He says, ignoring the fact that there are piles of teen magazines tucked away under his mattress. Ignoring the hour of TV he sneaked in that Philip would have shattered the television screen over.

And no matter how many times Hunter wrinkles his nose in disapproval at how rowdy and frivolous today's youth are, he's still reading those trashy articles, desperate to find some connection. His small bubble of worldliness is beginning to grow.

It is slowly occuring to Hunter that he is much different than other kids. But that's a good thing....right? He's on a cleaner path than they are. None of them are being led by Philip Wittebane.

This is a good thing, he tells himself. This is a good thing, this is a good thing, this is a good thing--

However, Philip does crack down on an aspect of Hunter's autonomy that has been mostly ignored until now.

Though he tries not to think about it, as it gives him the most splitting headache, Philip must internally acknowledge those rumors from an age ago. The word of mouth telephone that crackled with the events of that one ridiculous party. Caleb Wittebane, age 17(!!!!) with his tongue down some filthy girl's throat.

The news hadn't been as scandalous as Philip viewed it as, and the world forgot about it remarkably fast. But he never forgot. And he never would. It was a pesky stain on the otherwise clean image that Philip was trying to preserve.

It hadn't been Caleb. It wasn't like him at all to behave in such an indecent way. It was her influence. It always was. Sometimes his blood boiled when he remembered how deeply interwoven she had become in his brother's life. How the child wouldn't even exist without her. It was vile. Eternally contaminating a narrative she had no business being a part of.

Obviously, he never told Hunter about all this. About the party. About the tongue. About the girl. He never mentioned the girl. She was a footnote at best.

Anyway, Hunter was almost thirteen. He was tumbling into adolescence. And no matter how singleminded and sensible he tried to act, there would be challenges to this physical and mental development. And Philip knew from personal experience that there was nothing more damaging to a clean Christian boy than fizzling teenage hormones.

There would not be a repeat of last time.

On Hunter's thirteenth birthday, his Uncle gifted him a chastity ring, like many of the other young people that attended their church.

Hunter was so floored by the gift he forgot how to speak. And when his Uncle put his hand on his shoulder and murmured "I know you won't let me down," Hunter had nodded solemnly, suddenly feeling so much older than he had been a moment before.

He now had a responsibility to refrain from things he hardly understood.

Philip felt this would be an effective precaution. It made Hunter feel important and Hunter loved to feel important.

All that concerned Philip was that the boy stick to his morals.

Keeping his stupid tongue in his stupid mouth was only the tip of the iceberg of what the rules of the chastity ring entailed, but Philip stressed the importance of it nonetheless.

And if the boy failed to do this one simple thing, Philip was going to gouge his eyes out.

A few months later, Hunter was hired to appear in an advertisement produced by his family's church. He, and several other actors in his age range, promoted the rings they wore to the children watching at home.

Hunter was very proud to be a part of it. He rarely got to do anything educational.

When Hunter was fourteen, he surprisingly booked a role as Sir William in some medieval fantasy film for swoony teen girls.

He rolled his eyes over it, but this was the point when Philip made it apparent to Hunter that swoony teen girls was a huge chunk of the target demographic of any actor his age so he best begin pandering. He was no Edric Blight (Hunter fucking hated Edric Blight) but he'd probably appeal to some.

The means of obtaining the role was not Hunter's talent alone, but it was because of a perfectionist director who wanted raw, emotionally gripping action scenes, and was disappointed that all the hazardous exploits in the script would require stunt doubles. No parent in their right mind would allow their child to be put in such dangerous conditions.

Enter Philip Wittebane and his nephew Hunter.

The film's shooting schedule had a rough history. And after a few months, production had to stop altogether when an on-set accident resulted in Hunter being sent to the hospital.

He remembers the hospital, specifically the very uncomfortable bed. He remembers rarely sleeping through the night unless he was drugged, as he kept waking up with panic attacks about all the money he was causing the studio to lose by not healing faster.

By the time the film released, Hunter was fifteen and already moving forward with his next project.

The Golden Guard was a TV adaption of a well loved comic book series that was currently in the development stages. Hunter has never read the comic (he's never read most comics, other than newspaper funny pages) but he's been informed that he is the spitting image of the titular character.

Initially he was skeptical. Who wants a famous superhero on their screen who looks like him? Certainly not current networks who have a very limited view of what leading men should look like, regardless of the comic it's being adapted from.

Apparently, a lot of negotiations have been taking place with the Golden Guard's creator, in order to obtain rights to the series. After months of arguing, they wore him down, as they always manage to wear creators down, and he agreed to hand over his baby.

The one condition that he managed to secure was that the boy cast for the screen resembled the boy on the page.

Hunter was fully aware that if it weren't for that old man's stubbornness, there was no way he would have been eligible for the role. He remembered seeing him appear once during a screen test and had wanted to thank him. The speech that fell out of him was flustered and clumsy, but it made the man smile.

"There are going to massacre the Golden Guard," He said with a bitter smile. "But I think you'll do well."

He never saw him again after that. And though Hunter did not have the frame of reference to have an opinion, the girl he would inevitably fall in love with happened to be a huge comic book nerd, being especially infatuated with the Golden Guard. And her opinions were strong.

"He was right, y'know," She would inform Hunter. "Your show is a steaming pile of shit." She would then kiss the tip of his nose. "But you're the best part of it."

Speaking of girls,

Hunter met Emira Blight a year prior when she and her twin brother also showed up for the chastity ring promotional ad. The two of them would have gotten fired for vandalizing the set and pranking the director if they weren't the most well known stars associated with the project.

Someone had tried to contact their mother to come get her children under control but she had failed to pick up the phone.

"Our precious little Mittens has an audition today," Emira explained, hands placed angelically behind her back.

"Until further notice, Mom has forgotten she has two other kids," Added Edric.

Emira smiled. "Like the next time she notices her stretch marks <33"

The two of them burst into giggles. They were left to be "disciplined" by members of the crew, who hadn't the faintest idea how to handle either of them.

Hunter had tried to avoid them while on set. He never had any personal encounters with them but he was well aware of their existence. They had been starring in twin centric comedies for the last decade or so, and were beloved talk show guests for being chatty, mischievous and overall "adorable."

Hunter found them obnoxious.

Edric more so than Emira. Especially lately, as the two were finally branching out into their own separate careers, rather than remaining a double act. Meaning Edric could be found sniffing around in the same auditions rooms as Hunter, going for the same roles.

Edric had a perfectly structured face, devoid of blemishes. He had the most photoshopped nose Hunter had ever seen, except he looked like that in real life apparently. He looked perfect and he was already a star to begin with. The roles were his the moment he stepped into the room.

But this wasn't about Edric. Edric was off somewhere else, performing the leading role in some teen musical movie that was going to become a worldwide phenomenon the moment it hit television screens.

This was about Emira, who had just been cast as Ruby Green, the Golden Guard's love interest.

Emira Blight was one of the most beautiful teenage girls in the entire world. Hunter knew this because he read it in a magazine once. More specifically, she placed 4th on the list, but that was still a pretty impressive accomplishment.

Hunter always had a difficult time deciphering the exact definition of beautiful. It was apparently a far different thing than what you would initially imagine.

From what he had gathered, it had nothing to do with being particularly interesting to look at, but having a nice and tidy face with all its features being a specific size and shape. He couldn't understand how one girl on that list could be in 8th place, while another could be in 3rd, as they all looked so startlingly similar.

That was what beautiful meant, he supposed.

There were definitely people that Hunter saw as beautiful in their own peculiar way. In the way that wasn't correct. Sometimes he saw them in movies from the 80s-90s. Sometimes he saw them in audition rooms, but they rarely booked the role.

Sometimes he even saw them on the street as the car drove past, people who made him sit up and want to look at them a little longer--

Girls. Girls on the street. Just girls. Only girls. It was only girls that he looked at on the street. It was only girls that he looked at ever.

Emira Blight had Edric's perfectly structured face, which made her beautiful in a celebrity kind of way, but also made Hunter want to look at her less. She had Rapunzel hair and a rail thin frame and, much to Hunter's dismay, she was taller than him.

The wardrobe department were given notes to add an extra few inches to the Golden Guard's boots.

"Little Prince indeed," The head stylist had murmured under his breath, just loud enough for Hunter to hear. An furious flush set his face aflame.

There were no screen test to determine Hunter and Emira's chemistry before the latter was cast, which resulted in hours of reshoots where they were chastised for the lack of romantic tension that they were putting into their performance.

To be perfectly honest, Hunter disliked Emira quite a bit and she disliked him too.

She carried her troublemaking tendencies from the promotional ad to the Golden Guard set, frequently wreaking havoc on the cast and crew.

Hunter had blown a gasket and berated her for it several times, but all she had done was smile her insufferable smile, roll her eyes and sing songingly tease him for being so uptight.

She made him mad. So uncomfortably mad. If he pulled the kind of stunts she pulled, without caring about the consequences, he would probably be dead by now.

Emira rarely got angry. Everything she did had this air of impish joy, but based on the way she spoke to Hunter, her opinion of him wasn't exactly glowing.

She called him arrogant, bossy, egotistical, to which he practically exploded in response. And then she made fun of how red in the face he got.

The only time Hunter ever saw Emira as anything less than her usual bombastic self was early in the morning, during hair and makeup.

"Are you washing your face, honey?"

"Yes," Answered Emira, looking smaller than ever in the makeup chair.

"Drinking plenty of water? Eating healthy? Staying away from junk food? Getting plenty of exercise?"

"Yes, yes, yes and yes," Emira's voice was quiet and automatic.

After a pause, she continued "It's not my fault."

The makeup artist hummed, unconvinced, which made Emira grip the seat so hard her fingers shook.

But the woman didn't push the matter any more and got to work on painting Emira's face into the porcelain masterpiece that made its way on to magazines.

Hunter watched in fascination as a few minutes of work with sponges and brushes wiped her skin clear of acne. And then she was what everyone around here would call beautiful once again.

When Emira noticed him looking, she said, in her usual playfully indifferent voice "I think Hunter's eyebags are getting worse."

"We know," The woman replied, exasperated.

The comment wasn't much, but it successfully corralled Hunter into his default mood. Not being enough. Any thoughts about Emira flew out the window, and he was back to fretting about his own inadequacy.

"And he's more sickly looking than usual," Emira decided to add.

"Well, maybe if he laid off the coffee. It's got him looking like a half-dead ghoul. No wonder it takes so long to make him look presentable."

It was a bad time for Hunter to be taking a sip of his takeaway cup. He frowned. "I've been awake since 4:30am."

"You should go to bed earlier then,"

"But I--"

"And kids shouldn't be drinking coffee at all."

"I'm not a kid!"

"Hush up. We've got work to do on this face and the last thing I need is to listen to you bitching again,"

Hunter glowered at her.

"You're gonna have wrinkles before you're 18 if you keep pouting like that."

He was so preoccupied with not throwing a temper tantrum that he didn't notice Emira leave the room.

The worst thing she ever did was while they were filming episode 3 and she had decided that Hunter's uptight behaviour deserved a humbling punishment. He didn't know how but she had somehow managed to break into his trailer and scavenged the place for something embarrassing.

This resulted in his stuffed frog Sprig being paraded around the set in Emira's arms as she declared the toy's owner to everyone who would listen in a high pitched trill. Everybody. She told everybody. Everybody knew about his toy. And now nobody was going to treat him seriously.

And when Hunter finally processed what was happening, all he had wanted to do was cry.

But he couldn't cry. Because fifteen year old boys don't cry. But he wanted to cry so badly that his usual screaming rage was nonexistent. He was just completely deflated.

He silently took the frog from Emira's possession and walked away. She had seemed confused, not understanding why he was not turning his funny red colour and yelling his head off.

She didn't bait him as much after that. She rarely spoke to him at all, outside of filming.

At one point she had randomly burst into his trailer, brandishing a magazine full of women in bikinis.

"For you!" She announced proudly. "A gift."

Hunter was a little slow on the uptake because a bikini magazine being within ten feet of his person was so incriminating that immediately thinking of the consequences nearly made him black out.

When he could speak again, he exploded "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?? GET THIS OUT OF HERE!!"

"No, no, listen," Emira insisted. "I know your Uncle is like. Super Christian--"

"So am I!"

"And I know you're never gonna get your hands on this stuff by yourself. So, I'm helping,"

"Why do you even have this?" Hunter demanded, disgusted.

Emira took more than half a second to answer. "It's Ed's."

As if anything on earth could have made Hunter want to touch the thing less.

"Why..." He began, lost. "Why would you ever think I would want this?"

Emira cocked her head at him, puzzled. "You're a boy."

"Get out."

At the time, Hunter had presumed this to be another means of humiliating him, because he had quickly written Emira off as inexplicably cruel. But in hindsight, she had probably just been trying, in her own emotionally stunted way, to apologize to him. She had known next to nothing about boys and she knew even less about herself, other than she was a thing boys were meant to be obsessed with.

They were both just stupid kids who couldn't communicate properly to save their lives, because they had never learned how.

As a child, Emira ranged from a mild bully to an indifferent co-star, to an acquaintance of Hunter's. As an adult, she was the close friend in his Instagram comments section who kept hitting on his wife.

She still never figured out boys, but she figured out herself.

But again, getting ahead of ourselves.

Despite being the only two teenagers on set, Hunter and Emira did not spend much time together unless they were working. Once she settled down and stopped causing problems, Emira spent a lot of her time across the studio to visit her little sister, who was filming some preteen comedy show.

Hexside it was called. Some some vapid sugary husk of a television production that had magic and witches, yet not an ounce of dignity. Hunter had become quite a ruthless critic when it came to TV and film, mostly because he had spent his whole life in the company of a man with sky high standards.

It also helped him feel better about his own work as an actor. The glass half full method. Maybe the Golden Guard was not going to be the most brilliant show of all time, but at least he wasn't working on Hexside.

He had caught glimpses of Emira's sister a few times around the studio, mostly because her hair had been dyed a bright garish teal, so she was impossible to miss.

There were other cast members scattered about, you could usually tell from the explosion of layers and clashing patterns they were dressed in. Chunky belts, brightly coloured converse, weird pointy hats, jangly jewelry. They were a visual overload.

On one occasion, Hunter was waiting in line at the canteen. He was feeling lightheaded again, like if he didn't eat something in the next hour he would probably pass out while shooting. The last time that happened, it was really embarrassing.

He was a little zoned out, so he didn't pay them much attention at first. But then the poofy tutu-like skirt and zebra print leggings caught his eye, if only for him to wonder how in the Lord's name these young actors ever signed up for this ridiculous show.

It was a girl and a boy and their conversation entailed some familiar words and names that Hunter hadn't heard said in months.

Ah. The movie. The swoony teen girl movie. That had just released in theaters, hadn't it?

That's when the girl brazenly stated "I wanna sink my teeth into Sir William," successfully knocking Hunter straight out of the realm of sensibility.

What. In the name of all that is holy. Is that supposed to mean???

And also.....he's Sir William.

"You want to BITE ME??" Hunter finds himself blurting out, completely flummoxed. Was that a threat of violence? Did she not like his performance? Did she find his voice annoying like those other film critics? He used to get a lot of death threats for that when he was younger but...

It didn't really sound like a death threat. It was was just....absurd. How was he supposed to take this?

The girl whipped around, flashing Hunter with a very bright pair of green eyes. They were blown wide in panic, and she looked at him like he was the one about to bite her.

(He wasn't about to bite her.)

The girl wasn't tall, but she was big. Broad shoulders and a thick chubby build. Her face was rounder than he usually saw in young actresses, and her nose was wide and flat.

All he could really think as he was digesting these all details at once was....she was interesting to look at.

Hunter watched as a fluorescent shade of pink burned across her lightly freckled cheeks and the girl scurried away, flanked by the younger boy, calling after her.

For some reason, Hunter turned around to watch her leave until she was completely out of sight.

He was left more confused than ever.

What did he do that deserved biting? He never found out.

(Well, he found out eventually but....)

He continued to see that girl around the studio sometimes, as well as the young boy that accompanied her, and Emira's little sister.

The bigger girl usually tried to hide whenever she saw him, though Hexside's flamboyant wardrobe department made that nearly impossible. Hunter presumed she was embarrassed by what she said, though he really wasn't all that offended. He had heard way worse. The thing that drew his attention to her was actually the lengths she would go to to make herself invisible. He watched her dive under a table once.

Hunter usually just stared, not remembering until an hour later that embarrassed people don't like being stared at.

Eventually, Hunter and Emira started spending occasional school hours with the Hexside cast's tutor, which resulted in them all being lumped in a room together.

Her name was Willow Park, he learned. And with a little exposure therapy, she stopped blushing every time he was within ten feet of her. Though they still never really talked, she seemed to become a little more comfortable with his existence.

She didn't look at him much though. Or anybody for that matter. She seemed to be very guarded and closed off whenever they were in the school room. Hunter had also noticed that the tutor had to spend more time with her than anyone else.

But Willow Park was not currently where Hunter's head was at the moment. He had other things to deal with.

The recent Golden Guard script had been delivered to Hunter and did not really like what it had to say.

Apparently several episodes of the romantic tension that Hunter and Emira were famously bad at was finally coming to fruition in this big grand dramatic kiss scene.

Hunter did not think about kissing much because it made him feel very weird and squirmy, but he was always well aware that if he was ever kissing a girl anytime soon, it would probably be circumstances like this.

His opinion on romance in general is that he wasn't quite sure if it was something that could really happen in real life or if it was just a concept made up for TV.

First kisses were considered a milestone in the shows and magazines Hunter had secretly devoured. Something sacred and significant. It can't be with just anyone.

Admittedly, it had Hunter second guessing himself a little bit. Is his first kiss important? Or is that just a bunch of silly TV fluff with no grounds in reality?

It doesn't matter if it's Emira, does it? He's read books where first kisses are supposed to feel like you've been electrocuted. But in a good way. He can't imagine being electrocuted in a good way.

He gets his answer on the day of shooting when the kiss is ordered of him.

He should be grateful that they've been directed to keep it chaste. They both wear rings after all, and this is a family show.

Hunter squeezed his eyes shut, because eyes are always shut when people kiss in movies. And his mouth pricks Emira's mouth. And that's it. That's his first kiss over and done with.

And when he opens his eyes, a little underwhelmed and vaguely wondering why everything feels the exact same, Emira looks disappointed too.

That's when he realizes that the significance of first kisses is all lights and cameras. It's made up for TV. None of it is real.

But what he can't understand in the moment is why he feels a bit sad. There's no reason to feel sad.

But it's an annoyingly heavy emotion that sticks with him for the rest of the day.

They do a million shoots. Or what feels like a million. Hunter kisses Emira what feels like a million times. He had gone from having never kissed before to having kissed far too many times in one day.

And not a single kiss felt like anything but the usual emptiness that Hunter was used to.

During shooting breaks, he thought a little too much about how everything was just going to be like this. Forever. All of his experiences. Scripted. Made up. Not real.

Nothing was ever going to be real.

He didn't usually think about things like that. But now he was finding it hard to think about anything else.

Hunter couldn't sleep that night. You would think he'd sleep soundly when he had to get up before the crack of dawn, but he continued to struggle. Too much caffeine, too much brain bees that never shut up.

Tonight it was that one single thought of an entirely artificial lifetime.

Hunter was never going to be real.

After hours of restless tossing and turning, he left his bed and went downstairs, his footsteps expertly navigating across the creaky floorboards. He would watch something terrible on TV and he'd get so distracted by hating it that he'd forget his own problems.

After pushing a button, the first thing that appeared on Hunter's screen was a familiar girl's rounder than average face and bright green eyes.

Apparently, the Hexside Pilot had premiered recently. Hunter scoffed, making himself comfortable and deliberately tuning into whatever brain rotting stuff he was about to experience.

Unsurprisingly, he hated it. It was terrible. Cheap jokes. Flimsy plots. An obnoxious laugh track. He had never seen a worse show in his life.

Nothing is real, I'm not real, I'm not real, Nothing is real, I'm not real....

The costumes looked just as ridiculous on screen as they did in the studio.

Nothing is real....

The sets were cheap.

I'm not real....

Hunter abruptly paused mid laugh track, and stared at Willow Park's interesting face for an additional moment.

He knew absolutely nothing about this girl. Absolutely nothing.

The character she played was borderline illiterate, and Hunter genuinely could not say how much of her he was seeing was a script and how much was her.

But she was very lookable.

Are you real?

[billyharringson]

Not sure if you ship Jason (in case you don't, Sorry 🥹)

I'd love a sfw (fluffy?) Jason/Eddie with the prompt child friends that grow apart

I've been meaning to write more Munver for ages. However, I somehow missed the fluffy part of the ask and whilst there's some fluff near the end I think this is mostly angsty? It's really hard not to write Munver with angst though.

TW: religious trauma, homophobic slurs

Jason was drunk. Not overly but definitely enough that the careful facade he’d created as the top jock, good Christian boy was wearing thin. It usually didn’t matter, when he was at parties with his ‘friends’ drink normally just made him louder.  

However, this wasn’t a party with just his friends. It was an open-door high school party where anyone could walk in. Which is exactly what had happened.  

“Ugh, they’re really just letting anyone in here, aren’t they?” He said, his lips curling into a sneer. He expected Eddie to say something back, something over the top and ridiculous, like he always did. Somehow the simple, unimpressed eyebrow raise was much more devastating. 

Eddie turned on his heel and walked out of the party, leaving Jason standing there feeling like perhaps the biggest tool in the world. 

“What? You got nothing to say freak? That’s really all it took?” he shouted, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on him. He swallowed painfully as Eddie tossed him one last, curiously blank, look over his shoulder. 

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. They were supposed to spar, supposed to toss insults at each other. Eddie was supposed to have that little half-smile that he always did when they interacted. He wasn’t supposed to be acting like this. 

Because this was scarily close to how he’d acted all those years ago. Back in middle school, when Jason had first turned on him. He could still remember Eddie’s innocent, child-like face when Jason had told him they weren’t friends anymore. He saw it in his dreams enough that it was seared into his memory. 

Eddie had looked hurt initially, which was fair. They had been best friends for years, and Jason’s betrayal had surely come out of left field. Eddie had never been one to mask his emotions, so Jason had seen, clear as day, when his pretty brown eyes had filled with tears. But then he’d shaken his head, his shorter, soft curls bouncing as he did so and when he’d opened his eyes again, they had been blank. 

And then he’d nodded, told Jason that if that was what he wanted it was fine. He’d walked away without looking back. 

Well, Jason wasn’t going to let him do it again. Ignoring the ever-present voice in the back of his head telling him that this was all his fault, he stormed out of the house and over to Eddie’s familiar van. Wrenching the back door open, he was hit with the sickly-sweet smell of weed, his nose wrinkling before he could stop himself. 

Eddie stared at him, taking another drag of his joint before resting his wrist on his bent knee again. 

“You’re really just gonna walk away?” Jason asked, desperation entering his voice as he climbed into the van and sat down opposite his childhood friend. 

“That’s what you wanted, right?” Eddie asked, blowing smoke in his direction. “Look Jace, I may have to put up with your bullshit at school, but this is my Saturday night. I'm not gonna stay around to get shit on if I don’t have to.” 

“I...” Jason clumped back against the wall of the van, staring down at the half empty beer bottle in his hand. “Sorry.” 

Eddie didn’t say anything for a long while, just took another drag, stubbing the joint out in an ashtray on the floor. “Whatever man, just get out of my van.” 

“No.” Jason replied instantly. “I want... I want to talk to you.” 

Eddie snorted and looked away, head thudding gently against the wall. “Why now? It’s been like 3 years dude.” 

“Because I...” 

“Look, if you’re about to give me some bullshit apology then save it. I don’t wanna hear it, especially from some drunk asshole.” Eddie waved towards the still open doors of the van, rolling onto his knees and reaching for Jason like he was going to physically push him out. 

“Wh-why didn’t you ever fight me?” Jason asked, pressing himself harder against the van wall. “When I told you we couldn’t be friends anymore. Why didn’t you ever try to keep me?” 

Eddie flopped back onto his ass, staring at Jason in bewilderment. “Why didn’t I keep you?” He repeated, his voice rising in incredulity near the end of the question. “Jason, do you not remember how you ended things? You didn’t say we couldn’t be friends anymore, you said...don’t you remember what you called me? What you accused me of?” 

Jason felt a chill go down his spine as the memory resurfaced. He must have blocked that bit out, remade their last friendly interaction into something softer to protect his own feelings from how awful he’d been. “I... I didn’t mean it.” He whispered. 

“Then why the fuck did you say it?” Eddie asked, which was a fair question but not one that Jason wanted to answer. “Why did you call me a fag? Why did you act like it was the worst thing in the world to like men? Why did you call me a fucking devil?” 

“Becau... I... they made me.” Jason stuttered, tears gathering behind his eyes. 

Eddie blinked at him. “What are you talking about?”  

“My parents found my diary. They saw... they saw what I wrote about you. They told me I had to stop being friends with you... because you were causing me to stumble... because if I wasn’t around you then I'd stop... being a fag.” 

Eddie knew about his parents, about the things they did to ‘discipline’ him. Jason could only assume that that was why, instead of kicking him out and refusing to ever speak to him again, Eddie pulled the van doors closed. “Jace, are you gay?” Eddie asked gently. 

Jason shook his head vigorously before he could stop himself. “N-no... I'm good, I'm a good person.” He said desperately, like if he spoke the words out loud it would make them true. 

“I’m gay Jace, do you think I'm a bad person because of that?” 

“No.” Jason couldn’t stop the tears flowing down his cheeks now. “And I don’t think you’re a bad person... even if everything I've been taught tells me otherwise.” 

“You’re also not a bad person Jason.” Eddie smiled at him. “You’re an asshole, but you’re not a bad person.” 

Jason pulled his knees up, pressing his forehead against them as he sobbed openly, his beer bottle still clutched in his hand. “Then why can’t I stop?” 

“Stop what?” Eddie had edged closer at some point, and was now using his fingertips to tilt Jason’s chin up.  

“Stop being in love with you.” Jason breathed, his words stuttering out of him as he waited for Eddie to react with disgust. 

Eddie pried the beer from him, placing it on the floor before cupping Jason’s face with both hands. “I think it’s because that doesn’t make you a bad person either.” He leant forward slowly, clearly giving Jason time to pull away if he needed to, but he couldn't.  

Instead Jason closed his eyes, accepting Eddie’s kiss with a sigh of relief. 

“I love you too, Jace. Even after all these years.” 

[oriley42]

Get to know your (much beloved) fic writer!

# 4, 11, 16, 55?

(Obligatory your hilson breathes life into me every single day and I have reread them all a million times except for the ones I haven’t read yet bc I’m saving them so I don’t run out! 🥰🥰🥰 thank you for writing!!)

aww thank youuu and thank you extra for the ask!!

4. Where do you find inspiration for new ideas?

Re-watching canon always inspires show-specific stuff! And engaging with different media more broadly cross-pollinates in a cool way, like my yearly watch of Groundhog Day inspired TGIF, and seeing a random wedding-themed romance novel on the library shelves made me think "maybe this wedding planner plot bunny could be a whole story!"

11. Link your three favorite fics right now

(wording is ambiguous so I'm listing three of my own, because I barely read any fic when I'm in writing mode ahhh sorry 🙈)

TGIF - I am still so proud of this world. maybe I'm the one trapped in the time loop...

Adventures in Polyamory - I have 30k of the sequel written god Amber I am thinking about you all the timeeee

A Study in Lavender - I am also trying to finish the sequel to my Jooster fic feat. lesbian OCs before the summer's over wish me luck!!!

16. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?

Oh, so many! *Counts documents in House MD folder* oh kay oh jeez there are fully twelve story ideas that are developed enough that I'll probably write them at some point 😵‍💫 Let's see, which one have I maybe not teased before... aha! Femslash Hilson AU. I love this framework so much more than old school "genderswap" which has always, for me, come with icky binary straight transphobic connotations (though of course that is not necessarily the case and people have written cool trans stuff under this label!)

Here's a quick teaser from the sapphic New Orleans opening meet-up:

“As you will soon learn, if you aren’t bright enough to have picked up on it already…” House slung an arm around Wilson’s narrow shoulders, “I’m not like most people. Give me the gruesome deets. But no tears, please, I’m squeamish.”

“You’re a total bitch,” Wilson marveled.

“Now, you’re getting it.”

Wilson put her arm suddenly—bravely—around House’s waist. “Buy me a drink. I’ll tell you the whole tragic story, and only cry if you get on my nerves.”

55. Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers' reactions to certain ones?

Super basic, but it's House! He wears his weirdness on his sleeve to hide the different, more painful weirdness inside. It's a like a delicious Ferrero Rocher of psychoses <3 The way he processes and interacts with the world continues to fascinate, and on a personal/political level, I just adore getting to write a character with chronic pain like me.

Wilson is also fascinating, but I think I like to write him from an outside perspective/House's perspective best. Seeing juuuust enough through his mask of normalcy to know he's Not Alright, but still maintaining a sense of inner mystery. I've had a lot of very kind feedback on how I write Wilson, which encourages me to keep writing him even weirder and more unwell, which is delightful 💖

[cosmic-d1ce]

Wilbur finds out Phil gave Tallulah to Quackity <3

au where forever has kidnapped phil and quackity helped and is therefore entitled to the benefits of having philza minecraft locked in your basement

Wilbur dumps his things on the foor, taking a moment to admire his home. It had been too long since he'd seen it. Too long since he'd seen Tallulah.

He stretched, and although he wanted to lay down and sleep, he turned around to leave again. He needed to see his girl again.

And Phil, of course. Maybe Chayanne. But especially Tallulah.

He used the warp stone to get to Phil's house, announcing himself loudly. "Father, I'm home!"

"Eh... Hola?" A voice said from behind him. He didn't know who it was, but it was definitely not Phil.

Wilbur turned on his heel to face the other man. He almost jumped when he ended up face to face with a skeleton. After a moment, he realised that the man was just wearing a mask.

"Ah! Hello! Um... Do you know where Phil is? Why are you at his house?" Wilbur asked, looking around for any sign of him, or Tallulah, or Chayanne.

The masked man glanced around,"...I live here?"

"Are you Missa?"

"Yes...?"

"Oh! Oh great!" Wilbur smiles, "I've been wanting to meet you! For now though, where is my daughter, is she with you? Or does Phil have the..."

Chayanne pushed himself up over the wall sepearating the garden and the farm. He walked over to Missa and leaned against him.

"Phil... left." Missa said, stroking Chayanne's hair. "He's gone."

That made Wilbur panic. "What do you mean?"

Missa swallows and Chayanne turns his head into his papa's side. "A few days after I came back, he disappeared. Turns out he uh... He found another man and he just... Left us." Missa's voice shook, on the verge of tears.

"So where's Tallulah?" Wilbur demanded as a sort of panic he'd never felt before rose to his chest. "Who the fuck has my daughter? Where is my baby?"

"Quackity took her."

Wilbur's heart sank, deeper than ever before. He was speechless, unable to find the words he needed. What the fuck, how the fuck, there were a lot of things he could have said. None of them came out.

Chayanne tapped him on the arm, holding up a sign.

i tried to get him away

im sorry i couldnt

"No, Chayanne. Not your fault. I'm going to kill Quackity and I'm going to kill our sorry excuse for a father." Wilbur had never been this upset with Phil before. Of course, when he was a teenager he was defiant and rude but this wasn't that. He had never felt this betrayed and hurt. Not by Phil. Not by his own dad. "You did everything you could Chayanne. Thank you."

He turned on his heel and left, taking out his phone to message Quackity.

Where are you and where the fuck is my daughter

The response came quickly and Wilbur rushed to find them. He took a sword, although he never liked to fight, he felt this was necessary. They took his daughter. He would take their lives.

Wilbur finally caught sight of Quackity, gathering a basket of flowers with Tallulah.

Tallulah saw him and dropped the bundle of flowers in her arms as she ran to him. Wilbur got down on one knee, holding his arms open for Tallulah to run into. She crashed into him, little arms struggling to wrap around his middle. He held her close, wishing he had never had to leave.

"Oh Tallulah, my girl, my beautiful little star, you're okay..." He held back tears, not wanting his daughter to see him cry.

Quackity stood by patiently, a basket of assorted flowers in his hands.

It took all of Wilbur's strength to make himself push Tallulah away. He brushed her hair out of her face gently before standing to face Quackity.

"I told you that you could not have Tallulah. Not under any circumstances."

"Phil disagreed!" Quackity smiled, that stupid smile he put on whenever he got something he wanted or won a game.

"He wouldn't." If he had, Wilbur was mad, but Phil wouldn't do that. Wilbur trusted him for a reason.

Quackity pulled out a few papers from his backpack, "Read it and weep, mi amor! Read it and weep!"

Wilbur scanned over the papers.

"As Tallulah's current legal guardian, I'm putting her under... Quackity's... care..."

"Signed by the man himself! I am fully within my right to be taking care of Tallulah."

Wilbur looked at it one more time. "Well, as her actual father, I am calling bullshit and you still aren't her parent. Goodbye Quackity, I have something to do."

He grabbed Tallulah by the hand and turned to leave. He pulled out his phone again.

Where the fuck are you phil i am going to kill you

No response came. He didn't even see the message. That motherfucker. Wilbur found him on the map and beelined for him. How could he do this? The one thing Wilbur asked him not to do? The one thing Wilbur was strict about. The one thing Phil swore not to do. How could Phil look his son in the eye and promise something, only to break it the moment he was gone? For what? Some new boyfriend? A new kid? A new family? They just weren't enough for Philza?

Wilbur wiped the tears from his eyes quickly. Fuck that man.

[sm8th0p]

missed you - simon “ghost” riley x gn!reader

a/n: I'm so nervous to post something because for all I can remember I've only read, liked and reblogged stuff here so (🌟pls tell me what you think BUT BE SOFT PLS I WILL CRY) also english is not my first language :/

desc: coming home early to be greeted with a pleasant surprise.

warnings: none but fluff

Simon was cooking in the kitchen <3 You came home one day and abruptly stopping in the door frame, surprised and not expecting to see him to be home early. Excitement filled your body and your heart swelled at the sight of his hunched form over the kitchen island, his back against you.

An idea popped up in your head and you silently tip-toed to his figure and wrapped your arms around his waist. Simon stiffened a bit but then immediately softened to your touch. "I guess we both had surprises." his deep and raspy voice soothed your ears. A chuckle escaped your lips and you rested your forehead on his back.

He sets down the meal he was preparing and turned around to face you, cradling the back of your head as you rested your chin on his chest. There were a few seconds of silence as his lidded eyes bore into yours with pure adoration and longing, and you playfully pouted at him. "I've missed you, Simon." Even with the mask on, you could see the way his eyes crinkled as he smiled. He loved the way you say his name, it's not everyday that he gets to hear it with such a loving tone.

"Missed you too, doll." his voice was barely above a whisper, and kissed the crown of your head.

He definitely wears the mask at first.. I mean he's been wearing it for half of his life so it's not uncommon to see him wearing it around the house, but he lifts it up to his nose to kiss you then removes it fully.

[annasinterests]

don't look at me like that unless you mean it

all day long, i'm wearing a mask of false bravado ♫ trying to keep up a smile that hides a tear

|| series masterlist || main masterlist ||

a/n: she's alive!!! wow life has been so busy (and depressing lowkey) so sorry for taking forever to update. i do fear this may be a little underwhelming given the wait but i'm finally moving the plot along how i want it. i've also looked at this for way too long so i just need to post it or else it'll never leave the drafts. love y'all, enjoy <3

word count: 7.7k

pairings: joel miller x f!reader

warnings & tags: minors dni, reader is lowkey highkey going through it, family dinner!, approaching threats, yearning, joel and reader have a bad case of the feels, swearing, mentions of blood/violence — please tell me if i missed anything!

It wasn’t addressed the morning after. Or during the late dinner that following night.

Not even two, three days later.

Which brought you to today, and still nothing. It was like a heavy fog that refused to dissipate, a complete contrast to the week before when words had flowed more freely between you two until that night. Now and then a brief conversation was shared, though its brevity only emphasized the distance that crept between you both.

And then there were those accursed papers, the unwelcome intruder into your already strained dynamic.

The progress was coming along much slower than you anticipated being that you had limited windows of time to work on them, often staying up late into the night in your room, or quietly flipping through them at the kitchen table or out on the front porch.

You had finally sorted them into two piles: the map and patrol schedules, and the roster and patrol logs. The constant scribbling, drawing, and highlighting had taken a toll on the papers, rendering them almost unrecognizable from their original state due to your desperate need to find connections, no matter how small they might be.

Despite your efforts to compartmentalize your thoughts on shift, your mind remained clouded with the ever-pressing mystery. Fortunately, today you’d been paired up with Mike, a partner that appreciated the comfortable silences and occasionally engaged in small talk about Jackson and everyday life, offering respite from the chaotic whirlpool that was your head over the last few days.

Returning to the stables after the long day wasn’t the reward you were hoping you felt like it was going to be, the idea of another sleepless night deciphering the papers looming over you. You leaned on the gate of your horse’s pen, observing the gentle giant before you, America.

She was brought in to Jackson just a few weeks after you settled, slightly underweight and skittish, but with the promise of improvement with time. It was during one of your grooming sessions when you hummed along to A Horse with No Name on your Walkman that you realized the irony of it, finding her name to be fitting of the circumstances.

She nudged your hands that were lazily draped over the wooden gate, prompting a weak smile from you. You reached up to caress her muzzle and forehead, her eyes closing in response as she leaned into your touch. Resting your forehead against hers, your hands moved to her cheeks, where you continued to stroke her gently.

“My best girl, always know when I’m off, don’t you?” She nickered and nudged you again, deepening your smile. “Rest up, I’ll see you in the morning.”

Just as you set her feeding pail within reach and tossed a few apples into her pen, the sound of your name caught your attention and spun you around to see Lottie. You squinted at the older woman, unsure of why she was all the way out here looking for you just as curfew was setting in.

“Lottie,” your voice was light with concern, guiding her shoulder gently back towards housing, “everything alright?”

“Oh, sure is!” She waved a hand, “I stopped by your house earlier today, I didn’t know you were out until Ellie told me and– which, can I just say, she is such a sweetheart. I mean she’s just-”

The corner of your lips curled up as she continued to gush, a prideful sense swelling up in you as when anyone spoke highly of her. You were drawn back into the conversation when she finally rounded to the point in front of her own home.

“Anyway, I didn’t know if you’d run out of this yet-” She reached into her satchel and retrieved a jar, “Here.”

You quirked a brow as she pushed it into your hands. The liquid inside looked dark in the fading light, but a familiar white label with cursive caught your eye. A smile spread on Lottie’s face as your eyes widened, recognizing the gift she’d given you, “Lottie, I-”

You couldn’t finish your sentence, your fingers curling around the jar as if it were the most fragile thing in the world. You brought it close to your chest, a genuine smile spreading across your face. “I can’t say thank you enough.”

“No need, sweetie.” Seeing the joy it brought you was more than enough for her, her hands clasped together under her chin and grinning. “Anything for you and Joel.”

You met her eyes at the mention of his name.

“I would’ve just given it to him like last time, but I figured since it was for you anyway, I’d just give it to you myself.” She winked at you, “Save you the wait.”

You tried to appear as cool as possible even though it felt like you were short-circuiting. Last time? She knew it was for you?

“Well,” you cleared your throat, eager to change the subject “thank you again, Lottie. I better get going before it’s too late.”

Offering her a sweet smile and a nod, you rounded the corner, your thoughts buzzing with the secret she unknowingly let you in on until you stepped through your front door.

You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until the smell of food reached your nose once you stepped inside, the aroma being the best welcome home you’d had in a while. Ellie’s head poked into the hallway, her cheerful greeting echoing down it as you kicked off your boots and followed the delightful scent to its source.

To your right was Dina standing by the stove, deftly balancing a pot and pan, while Ellie and Jesse worked together by cutting bread and vegetables at the island. She spoke without taking her eyes off her cooking, “You can probably get in a quick shower before it’s ready.”

You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the unexpected feast. “What’s all this about?”

“A thank you for letting us crash on your couch tonight.”

The post-curfew rule.

With a full kitchen, it still lacked one person. Hoping it didn’t sound as awkward as it felt, you inquired, “Is, uh.. Joel home?”

Ellie answered, “Yeah, he’s-”

“Right here.”

His muffled voice called from the dining room, emerging seconds later while wiping his hands on his jeans. His gaze first landed on you, then your hands, then back up to you with a drastic difference from his initial look. Your fingers involuntarily curled around the jar, feeling an immediate tension. The kids were chattering, but you weren’t listening as you locked eyes with him, his lips curled inward slightly.

“Gonna share with the class?”

Jesse’s voice and nearing presence brought you back to the scene that was your kitchen, pointing at your possession. Rather than telling, you handed it to him and watched as he surveyed it.

“Ah, honey.” He stated once he saw the label, turning it over to a curious Dina that approached his side. “Tupelo– What’s that, something special?”

Ellie’s cutting slowed at his question, darting her eyes quickly at Joel, and then you. Your attention remained fixed on it, your mouth half-opened as you pondered how to respond. It was special– in ways that went beyond mere taste.

“The flavor.” You replied with a soft smile, turning away to go upstairs.

The shower was just what you needed to wash away the day’s stress, the hot water a godsend on your skin. You returned perfectly on time as everyone took their seats at the table. Jesse sat next to Ellie, Ellie next to Dina, Dina across from you, which left you besides Joel.

Awkwardly, you sat at the same time, acutely aware of the other’s presence yet made no move to so much as look at the other out the corner of your eye. And if it couldn’t have been more awkward, you reached for the serving utensils simultaneously. You both retracted and silently urged the other to go first, although Joel held out longer.

The bread and vegetables Jesse and Ellie had been cutting were spread evenly on a large board that featured sliced cucumbers, carrots, bell peppers, cherry tomatoes, zucchini, and a dip in the middle of it all. The main course consisted of salmon with lemon-herb orzo and broccoli that made your mouth water just at the sight of, leaving you thoroughly impressed and appreciative with their efforts of cooking such a meal for so many.

Your hand grazed against his in passing it over, the sudden contact an electric shock to you. You stole a discreet glance at his fingers as they curled around the handle, following up along his strong forearms where the veins subtly raised under his skin– those same veins that you knew continued up. A desire simmered in your lower belly, fantasizing about how those very arms and fingers brought you great pleasure just earlier in the week, now borderline aching to have them on and around you again.

“Don’t wait too long, it’ll get cold.” Ellie’s gentle words reached your ears along with a small smile, her forearm resting against the edge with a clean fork in hand.

Quickly glancing around the table, you noticed that everyone else had started eating except you, apparent that she was waiting on you.

“Sorry, just-” You shook your head and picked up the spatula to serve yourself, “You guys really outdid yourselves.”

Jesse chimed in, “Well, technically Ellie and Dina did everyth-”

Dina interrupted with enthusiasm, “Oh, nuh-uh! This was a group effort!”

“Yeah! You carried everything back to the house,” Ellie added while she picked up a forkful of salmon and orzo, “that’s like, half the battle right there.”

Jesse rolled his eyes, “Yeah, but I didn’t actually cook anything.”

Ellie covered her mouth, her words slightly muffled by the food. “But you did cut the shit out of some bread, though.”

Jesse lowered his fork, shaking his head with mock annoyance and trying to hide his laugh, which only caused a burst of laughter from the girls. You hid your own smile behind your hand, sneaking a glance at Joel who’d been hiding his behind a glass of water.

“Whatever, anyway– what’s new with you guys?” He poked his fork into his plate, “Haven’t seen you since before the party, no?”

“Oh yeah, the party!” Dina exclaimed, “How was it?”

The three of them leaned in eagerly, curiosity shining in their eyes. Their intense gazes demanding details from either of you. Quickly, you grabbed your drink and took long, deliberate sips of the ice cold water, prolonging any sort of answer. You didn’t even dare to look at Joel. You hoped that each gulp would shock away the memories that threatened to play at the forefront of your mind; the drinking, jealousy, dancing, arguing, kissing–

Apparently, he had the same idea.

“Ah,” Jesse spoke in a hushed tone, “I see.”

“Mmhm, me too,” Dina joined in with a conspiratorial whisper, “Ellie?”

You raised your finger before she could input, feeling her response through her smug expression she directed your way.

“Easy.” Joel’s sudden tone was light with a hint of caution, “Nothin’ for you kids to worry about, jus’ adults being adults.”

Your attempt to conceal a guilty smile didn’t go unnoticed by them, turning their gaze to you in unison, then back to Joel.

“Adults being adults, huh?” Ellie teased.

“Ellie–”

“Oh, come on, Joel!” She egged him on. “Give us something.”

You busied yourself with another bite as Joel did his signature sigh of annoyance, wearing an expression that clearly showed his mild irritation.

“Really? Nothing? Either of you?”

You both continued to stare back at her, Joel’s gaze more unamused than yours, as you wore a slight smile on your face.

“Yeah, they’re definitely not telling.” Jesse piped up, “They’re doing the parent thing.”

Your smile dropped like you’d been caught in the act, but it was really at his use of being her..

“What parent thing?” Ellie switched her attention to Jesse.

Parent.

Moreso the allusion of being her parent.

Maybe it looked that way– sure felt that way sometimes, but the term wasn’t ever actually used. Maybe it made sense, though. After all, she did call Tommy ‘Uncle Tommy’.

“You know, the thing where you can ask them a million times, but they won’t say a word? Either because the answer is so obvious or they’re just not going to spill the beans, so they give you the old stare-down until you figure it out on your own?”

Okay, maybe he was onto something.

Ellie fell quiet for a second, looking down at her plate as she pondered the idea. Then, she lifted her eyes to you both.

“So that’s what that’s called?”

You shared a look with Joel before you both took simultaneous sips from your glasses, inciting another round of laughter from the kids.

To your relief, the conversation veered toward lighter topics after that. You finished your meal quietly and enjoyed the banter between Ellie and her friends. Occasionally, you caught Joel in your peripheral, a small smile playing on his lips as he watched on.

It’d been just half-past midnight when you looked at the clock, dragging a hand over your tired eyes. You’d spent the last few hours trying to put together a puzzle with pieces that felt like they were from different sets, making less progress than you would’ve liked. But, you did now have a foundation regarding the people who threatened Jackson, finally having a solid list of their names and physical descriptions.

On paper, it seemed like a group of six to seven all in varying stages of their twenties, led particularly by a man and woman. According to the logs, it suggested as if they all had some sort of combat and marksman skill, though two in particular were perceived to have medical training as well.

With a heavy sigh, you put your pen down on your desk, slumping back in your chair and feeling your muscles uncoil from being hunched over for so long while you drew out an organization chart. You flexed your fingers, trying to soothe the soreness from gripping the pen tightly for so long, and gently massaged your aching knuckles.

Reluctantly, you scooped all the papers together and rolled in your chair to your nightstand to shove them in the drawer, calling it an “early” night. The soft glow of your lamp, usually a comfort, was becoming nothing more than a nuisance at the hour. All you wanted was to retreat into the darkness under your covers.

You rose and stretched out your limbs, aiming to release the tension but froze midway when a knock came from the door, glancing back at your clock once more before padding over to the door.

To your surprise, it’d been Joel, with coffee, tea, and a warm slice of blueberry pie.

“Saw your light was still on..” he gestured with the plate, “.. kids brought this over, too.”

You opened the door wider, inviting him in if he wished to enter. He slowly stepped past you, getting a waft of the treats as he did.

“Little late for sweets, don’t you think?” You teased.

He set down the plate and tea on your desk, shooting you a knowing look, “Since when do you say no to a midnight snack?”

You rolled your eyes at his point. Never. Especially when the smell of warm blueberries and sweetness filled the air.

You slumped into your chair again, throwing one leg over the other as you leaned back with the steaming cup of tea in hand. With the first sip, you could immediately tell what Joel had added to it.

He stood near the foot of your bed in a way that it looked like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself, teetering between leaving and staying. You noticed his reading glasses folded and hanging from the collar of his shirt, making an excuse for him to stick around for a few more minutes.

“Late night reading?”

He followed your gaze down to his chest, his fingers momentarily brushing over them, “Been stuck on the same chapter for a while.. can’t seem to get past it.”

You knew the feeling too well.

“What about you?” He drew a sip from his mug, taking a seat on your bed

You leaned forward to trade the tea for the pie, the plate still warm against your fingers. “Can’t sleep.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie.

He nodded at the answer, glad he deemed it as a believable one. The slice was gone within a few bites, the portion expertly cut to serve as the perfect midnight snack. For a while, you sat in companionable silence, quietly sipping from your mugs.

“Did it-”

“Well I-”

You both paused, a light chuckle filling the space. He motioned for you to speak first.

“I hope I’m not overstepping, but..” you hesitated, gauging his reaction to the warning you were giving him. He remained calm– open, even, to your curiosity. “Did it feel weird to be called a parent again?”

His expression was still soft, though his eyes fell to the hand on his knee, his thumb absently tracing the material of his pants. It was rare that you even brought up the thought of her. She represented the stark difference of your losses, and while he never made you feel like yours were less, you knew there was a unique pain that came from losing your own child. One that you’d never experienced.

“It’s.. complicated.” He sighed, “But it didn’t feel wrong.”

You watched the gears turn in his head and patiently awaited his choice to delve further or simply let it rest.

“I was lucky enough to be a father once, and when I lost..” His voice died down, both his hands cradling the coffee mug but looking as if they’d drop it at any moment. Gently, you took it from him and placed it alongside your abandoned tea, settling next to him and rubbing soft circles on his shoulder.

“When I lost her, I thought that was it.” His fingers brushed against your knee, their movements almost trembling and uncertain. “I did the worst thing a parent could do– I failed her.”

You placed your hand on top of his lightly, curling your fingers into his palm.

“Yet, somehow, I was given a second chance.” His hand curled around yours, “She gave me a second chance.”

The vulnerability made your heart ache, to listen to him speak so candidly about something that haunted him for years.

“She can’t replace my Sarah, but I don’t need her to. I love her just as she is.”

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips at the admission, though you didn’t need him to say it to know that’s how he felt about the teen living twenty feet from your backdoor.

You rubbed your thumb over his wrist, glancing down at your joined hands and then back up at him. “She loves you too.”

You could see the small smile appearing on his face at your words, his head dropping slightly and nudging you with his shoulder in a way that elicited a soft chuckle out of you.

In the light moment, you pulled back to grab both your mugs and rejoined him at his side. You enjoyed the silence, savoring your drinks of choice again. The floral sweetness tickled your nose with each sip, the honey making it go down more smooth compared to when you drank it without.

“How do you feel about it?”

You met his soft gaze, the glow of your bedroom lamp casting a gentle light on his features, making him appear even softer despite his imposing frame. For a moment, your eyes roamed over him, tracing the path of his beard down his neck to the glasses that hung from his shirt, and catching a final glimpse of a vein that ran up his bicep and hid under his sleeve. He looked so..

You tapped your finger on the rim of your mug, forcing yourself to rip your eyes away and distract yourself with a sip of your tea before answering.

“I mean, it’s..” You sighed, searching for the right words but coming up short. “Complicated, like you said.”

Your fingers traced patterns on the mug’s surface as a rush of feelings overwhelmed you, but your voice remained steady, “She didn’t even flinch at the implication, which I feel says a lot, you know?”

You swirled the last bit of tea at the bottom as you gathered your thoughts. “I never got to have kids, but with her, there’s just this feeling, this..”

“Instinct.”

You looked up at him and found an understanding in his eyes. He wasn’t offering to fill the gap, he was telling you what it was.

“Instinct.. to protect her as my own. Be the one she can rely on, love her through all the good and bad– stuff like that.”

A light chuckle into his coffee had you knitting your brows together, “What?”

“That’s what a parent does.” He shrugged with a half-smile.

You bit your lip as you looked down, drawing the mug up as his words sunk in and downing the last bit of tea left. You shook your head, an uncertainty still persisting.

“I don’t know, Joel. I don’t want her to feel like I’m trying to take that place. I don’t want her to think that–”

“Hey– she doesn’t.” He interrupted with a hand between your shoulders, “You’re just bein’ you, and you are what matters to her.”

Between the lack of good rest and emotional turmoil, it left you too weary to offer a counter argument. You simply surrendered to his word and settled for silence. Slowly, you leaned into him and rested your head into the crook of his shoulder, his arm gently wrapping around you and soothingly rubbing up and down your arm.

“Thanks, Joel.”

The words were barely a whisper but brimmed with sincerity, earning a simple hum in response and a cheek resting atop your head.

Moments like this reminded you how fortunate you were to have them both, to have found and created a life together after enduring the worst kinds of casualties. To have loved, lost, and found a purpose again.

“Try to get some sleep, alright?” He squeezed your arm and withdrew, reminding you both of the early morning ahead.

You nodded, observing as he gathered your empty mug and plate and balanced them all with one hand. A comforting smile graced his lips before he took his leave, yet he lingered in the doorway with his hand on the doorknob.

“If it makes a difference,” he looked at you as he spoke, “I think you’re one hell of a mom to her.”

A rush of warmth flooded your cheeks and made you look down at your hands that couldn’t seem to stay still now. When you summoned the courage to meet his eyes again, he shot you a wink and finally closed the door.

Padding over to the lamp and finding the switch under the shade, your fingers ceased to flip it as you stared at the dip in your bed where you both sat.

It wasn’t the conversation you expected, nor a conversation you expected at all, but it was one that undoubtedly drew you closer to him.

Despite only getting a few hours of shut-eye, you surprisingly felt well-rested. You welcomed the sun peeking through the blinds as it created a calm atmosphere in your room that further motivated you to get ready for the day, as well as the smell of fresh coffee brewing that had you hurrying to get downstairs for a cup and quick breakfast before heading out.

Joel’s back had been turned to you in front of the pot, noticing your presence almost instantly and quick to hand you a thermos with a mumbled good mornin’. You leaned against the counter beside him, feeling the warmth radiate through the cup, the sensation running a pleasant shiver through your body.

He watched you carefully as he situated himself, your state of peace bringing a smile to his face; your eyes closed with contentment as you inhaled the rich aroma, the steam rolling over your face in small waves.

Over the rim of the cup, you noticed the jar of honey you acquired less than twelve hours ago sitting on the counter. You figured that Jesse had forgotten about it once he set it down. Crossing the kitchen, you picked it up, giving it a once-over before turning to Joel with a smirk.

“So.. you did know.” The remark lacked any real accusal.

Joel leaned back, gripping the counter with one hand, crinkling his eyebrows and casually shrugging as he brought the coffee to his lips, “I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

Your smile deepened, “Oh, really-”

He loudly put the empty coffee pot in the sink, effectively cutting off your incoming line of questioning, ushering you to put down the jar and move, “C’mon, we’re gonna be late.”

You rolled your eyes and swiftly reached for two apples from the fruit bowl on the island. Blindly, you shoved one into your own pack and deftly managed to slip the other into Joel’s for later, all while he rushed you both.

On the walk over you made a few more attempts to extract an answer from him, but were met with skillful deflections that made you giggle with each evasion. You took a sip of your coffee, raising and dropping your shoulders in a mocked defeat.

“Well, guess I could ask Lottie, then.”

He quickly shot you a look, “Or you could not.”

You laughed and playfully swatted at his shoulder, “So you’ll tell me then?”

He let out a huff and shook his head, gesturing to the patrol board that was surrounded by more people than you expected, “Let’s save it for when there aren’t so many ears around?”

You flashed him a grin and deliberately raised your voice with each word, “Why? Don’t want people knowing your little secret about-”

He swiftly stepped in front of you, putting just enough space between you both to maintain propriety. His faint smile lingered as he lightly touched your shoulder. “Listen, I promise you can give me all the grief you want later, alright?”

It was almost endearing how flustered he got, though you had no intention of revealing anything. Even after you agreed, he held your gaze for a moment longer, and you swore you saw a glint of something intimate before he turned away. Excitement fluttered in your belly after joining the line, your body flushing with a mild heat from the quick moment of close proximity.

As you approached the board, Joel lagged behind in conversation with a fellow patrol member. You scanned the board, quickly reading names over and between figures, though none revealed your own. Once at the front, you used your finger and dragged down the list until you found your name, darting over to the next column where you raised an eyebrow at seeing your partner for the shift was none other than Joel himself.

You turned to him still absorbed in discussion, moving out of the way for others and politely tapping his shoulder as you offered a warm smile to the other man. “Hey, we should start moving out.”

His eyes flickered between you and the board, pointing to it and nodding, “Yeah, let me go see-”

You placed your hand on his forearm to stop him from walking, being met with an inquisitive brow.

“You and me, Miller.”

You grinned at his surprise, patting his shoulder twice and brushing past to go to the stables. Besides being tricked by Tommy earlier in the week and today, you hadn’t been paired up for patrol in quite some time, and part of you believed this was another convoluted plan on his again.

It didn’t take long for Joel to follow you and ride down to the gate together, falling in with the assembled group with Tommy at the front giving one of his customary speeches before departure. He found you both easily with a mischievous smile, cementing your belief.

The route today was to go through Wilson Valley down to Elk Creek, take Elk Creek to Colten Bay, then loop back around to Wilson Valley. It wasn’t one of your favorite routes by any means, finding it less scenic compared to others, much of it consisting of open fields and small bodies of water overrun with algae that served as markers.

The first few hours were just as boring as you expected them to be, the majority of it spent traversing to Wilson Valley alone. You didn’t bother to hold America’s reins as she navigated the familiar path. Instead, your hands took small sections of her mane to gently detangle and then braid.

Your eyes roamed over the vast land and mountainous structures, the varying hues of green and yellow abundant everywhere you looked. Dilapidated houses and barns littered along the fields, worn and picked down to their foundation, no longer even offering shelter to the poorest of travelers.

As time passed, impatience crept in. It felt like you were seeing the same sparse trees and tall grass over and over again, the scenery quickly becoming more monotonous by the minute.

You peered over at Joel with nonchalance, “Is now a good time for that grief?”

A grin appeared on his face as he looked down at his saddle and then back to you, raising his hands and letting them fall on his thighs with a playful flair, “If you must.”

You simpered, simply reiterating an earlier point. “So, again, you did know.”

He nodded, “Yeah, I did. And yes, I got it from Lottie.”

You didn’t get the chance to get a question out before he started speaking again.

“She stopped me one mornin’ on my way in for patrol, not too long after she dropped off that box for you. Was askin’ me if you liked honey in your tea, ran inside and brought it out to show me.” He chuckled as he told the details, “When I saw what kind it was, told her I’d pick it up on my way home that evenin’.”

“But how do you?..” You furrowed your brows at him, still stuck on the how. “I don’t recall ever-”

“You remember when we’d camp out durin’ our runs back in Boston?”

You nodded.

“And how sometimes we’d bring a bottle if we knew it was gonna be a long night?”

Your groan transformed into a laughter and rang into the air with his, the era of that time certainly not lost in your memory.

“Yeah, it’d been one of those nights. You were sittin’ there, tellin' me about it with all smiles.” You cringed, now realizing why you didn’t remember. “Didn’t quite understand why until you said her name.”

You took up America’s reins in your hands as the bittersweet memories flashed through your mind of a better time. His voice held a soft, contemplative tone as he continued.

“The way you talked about it– talked about her– was like you were tellin’ a story from just a few days ago. Hadn’t seen you talk like that about anything before.”

Your grip tightened as he recounted the memory from his perspective, rubbing the leather between your fingers as an ache bloomed in your chest.

“So when I saw it– I knew I couldn’t pass it up, and I told you I didn’t know because I thought..” He trailed off, running a hand over his beard and letting out a sigh, “.. I thought it would’ve made it more special.”

Your hands were so hot you were certain the reins would’ve caught on fire. You couldn’t do anything but rub your thumbs faster against the material to quell the rising emotions, the stinging in your nose that made it crinkle without fail every time. Biting down on your lip, you looked away and let a few tears bounce off your cheeks before swiftly wiping away the remnants.

You got one of your answers, but fuck– you weren’t expecting all of that. He remembered because he saw how happy it made you one night all those years ago?

He knew– he fucking knew– and he never would’ve told you so that you could have it to yourself.

The alarms were blaring. The sign clear as day. It wasn’t coincidence, it wasn’t chance– it was pure deliberation driven by an old memory. And it messed with you hard, because you knew that in knowing, there was loving. A type of love without the need for grand declarations and elaborate speeches to prove it, because it’s proved by showing.

You couldn’t look at him during this minor epiphany, and a frown formed on his face when he realized. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to, because you did– but if you did, it would be too real. It would mean that you were right and that he lo–

“M’sorry if I-”

“No!” The word came out more frantic than you intended, catching him off guard with its intensity. His face registered a mixture of confusion, quickly correcting yourself with a softer tone. “N-No, don’t apologize, Joel-”

“I–” A weak smile tugged at your lips, trying your best to keep the tears at bay, “It’s nice that you knew.”

Amidst all the other uncertainties and unresolved issues between you two, this was something entirely different– a direct, indisputable act on his part. Yet you knew it wouldn’t be so easily discussed as such.

So your horses continued to trot along the path in silence, entering Elk Creek.

You sat at the edge of a small lake in the warm gravel, little past the halfway point of the route and well into Colten Bay.

The last few hours were pleasant, marked every so often by eye contact and the exchange of a soft smile. Joel continued on about the honey ordeal, explaining that Ellie got roped into it not long ago when she asked to use some after discovering it in the pantry. She’d looked at him oddly when he told her to use it sparingly, then having to reason as to why. You chuckled as he recalled the details of their conversation that day, Ellie’s eyes widening at learning a new fact about you, pulling up a chair and practically begging Joel to share more stories about your time together in Boston. According to him, the conversation had started early in the afternoon in the kitchen and lasted late into the evening in the living room, even surviving their stop at the Tipsy Bison to grab a quick dinner, her curiosity unwavering

Despite the unremarkable scenery of the lake, you enjoyed it with Joel by your side. The trees towered over you enough to give shade from the dwindling sun, casting dappled sunlight over the forests and mountains in the distance that contrasted against the blue sky.

You passed a paper bag back and forth with jerky in it, preferring to string your pieces apart rather than bite and pull until your jaw was sore, which earned you teasing from Joel.

“Laugh it up, old timer.” You quipped, “You’re lucky there’s no more TV, because if there was, I’d film how you eat and send it straight to National Geographic.”

You couldn’t tell what made you laugh harder, your own joke or Joel’s belly laugh to the point wiping away tears from the corners of his eyes. You grabbed his arm to steady yourself, both of you involuntarily leaning in towards one another, and for a moment, it didn’t feel like you were working. You were just two friends enjoying each other’s company.

“Man,” you reached for the bag and shoved it into your pack, standing off and dusting off the back of your thighs, “I got you fucking good.”

Still chuckling, he shook his head and took your offered hand, following you back to the horses. He began to speak, but the words fell deaf on your ears as you heard the faint crunching of sticks and swishing of leaves close by, snapping your head in the direction and raising a hand for him to be quiet. He caught on instantly.

You both acted swiftly, instinct taking over as Joel drew his revolver while you unholstered yours, aiming with precision and falling into synchronized steps. The rustling grew louder and louder until a figure bursted through the underbrush and halted upon seeing you both.

Before you stood a young woman, clearly in a state of panic and distress. Fresh blood stained her clothes and smeared across her face. She raised her arms, chest heaving as if she’d been running for some time.

“I-I don’t mean harm!”

You maintained a cautious stance, your eyes fixed firmly on the woman. Her wide brown eyes darted nervously between you and Joel, sweat plastering her short hair to her forehead. She was short, maybe shorter than Ellie, and thin.

“I-I was chased.” She stammered, “Got separated from my people.”

“And who are your people?” You pressed rigidly.

“Just a few of us– please, you gotta-”

Whatever plea she’d been begging drowned out as you really began to stare at her. She was covered in blood, yet had no wounds to show for it. Not even a scratch. Slowly, details from your chart began to emerge.

Female. White. 5’1-5’4.

You narrowed your eyes.

Short dark hair. Slim build.

Your jaw tensed.

Fuck, what was her name– Mel?

You muttered her name under your breath, catching Joel’s attention as he looked at you in his peripheral.

“I’m sorry-” You cut her off sharply as she was still blabbering, “I don’t think we got your name.”

She froze, shuffling her feet and darting her eyes away and back to you, “M-Miranda.”

You decided to go out on a limb

“You seen any wolves, Miranda?”

Her face flushed, and you saw her mask slip for a moment before putting on the facade again, “Wolves? I haven’t seen any wolves.”

An anger simmered in you. Liar.

Joel took a step closer to you, maintaining his gaze on the girl while lowering his voice, “Care to tell me what it is you’re doin’ here?”

You ignored his question, “Get on your horse, Joel.”

“What?” He scrunched his face, “I’m not-”

He paused when he caught the lethal look in your eyes, scowling at your insistence but ultimately complying. There wasn’t enough time to explain nor were you privy to the idea of letting him in on your work outside of work.

“I told you my name, I think it’s only fair that-” She began to reason, but it only made you more angry.

“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary.” You backed up until you reached America and swiftly hoisted yourself up, flickering your eyes into the trees every few moments. You kept your pistol trained on her, “Be careful about those wolves, Miranda.”

You stared down at her, your voice dripping with venom, “If there’s one, there’s probably a pack nearby.”

Luckily with Joel ahead, he missed your insinuation. The woman glared you down and snarled as you rode off, dropping her hands down in a frustrated defeat.

You ushered him to pick up the pace, taking the lead through the remainder of Colten Bay and all throughout Wilson Valley, your head on a swivel the entire time. The hours painfully dragged by, doing a number on your anxiety as you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched the rest of the way home.

Immense relief washed over you upon seeing Jackson’s gate in the distance, whistling up to the guards so you could ride straight through and to the stables, not wasting another minute beyond the walls as the night fell.

You led America into her pen, fetching her feeding pail and gently gliding your hand along her neck as she ate. You couldn’t stop thinking of Mel, that look she gave you when you let her know you weren’t falling for her act.

It was too close, and you berated yourself mentally for not doing more. You shouldn’t have killed her, right? Even though she was the enemy? No. You didn’t condone killing people in that cold of blood.. Not anymore, at least. Should you have tied her up and brought her back? Interrogated her more? Maybe. But doing so might’ve pissed off your enemies even more and put Jackson at an even greater risk.

Truthfully, you did what was best. You recognized the trouble and withdrew without wasting any bullets or risking injury, moreover keeping Joel safe, who seemed peeved with you at the moment.

Looking over at him, you noticed a small figure at his side. Your hand fell hard on America’s gate, the other finding your hip as you cocked your head.

That fucking woman from the party.

You couldn’t miss the broad smile she aimed at him, leaning casually against a pillar and swearing a shirt that left little to the imagination. You scoffed loudly at the audacity to come out here just to flirt right before curfew.

Your disapproval didn’t go unnoticed, Joel shooting you a look over his shoulder that begged you not to start. Seizing the moment, the woman shot you a dirty look before switching back to her charming smile when he turned his attention back to her.

Thankfully, Tommy entered the stables, and for once, you were grateful for his presence. With a smirk, you strided over to Joel and slipped your hand under his arm to guide him away.

“Um, excuse me!” Her high-pitched tone doubled as annoying and surprising. Reluctantly, you met her gaze, but didn’t drop your hold on Joel. “We were having a conversation.”

“Yeah? Well, that’s too bad.” Her mouth gaped.

“I think what she meant was that-” Joel attempted to soothe the burn, but you were absolutely having none of it.

“I meant exactly that.”

You smiled at him, successfully pulling away and getting joy from seeing her on the brink of a temper tantrum. You even smiled through the scolds he muttered to you under his breath as you approached his brother, his mood entirely sour now.

Tommy’s face shifted from neutral to concerned upon seeing you both with contrasting expressions, “Everythin’ alright?”

The lack of an answer told him what he needed to know, patiently waiting until the stables cleared out completely before giving him a rundown of the incident. You omitted the details you figured from your sidework, chalking the encounter up to being a baiting technique for an ambush.

He rolled his lips under his teeth, tapping his foot against the wood with hands on his hips, a telltale sign of deep thought. For a moment, you weren’t sure what to expect of a response, but you wouldn’t be surprised if it was a form of criticism on your part or a question regarding the situation. However, it never came. He dismissed you both after noting he’d make the necessary alterations for tomorrow, commending you for getting out safely. It was clear that he was shaken up by it, which furthered your guilt.

Joel had a five-step lead on the walk home no matter how hard you tried to keep up. You kept calling out to him, but received no response.

“Joel.” You called again. No answer. “Joel!”

He kept walking, maintaining his pace. You caught up and tugged him back by his arm, “Joel, what the f-”

“Not now.” He tersely replied.

The response was frustratingly vague. Not now? What did he mean not now? He was five steps ahead of you again before you knew it.

“What, are you mad at me?” Your confusion was mounting, and the silence from Joel was only making things worse.

He remained unresponsive, like talking to a brick wall, but you refused to let the matter rest. You didn’t stop pricking until you got home and he couldn’t ignore you any longer.

“Seriously, Joel? You’re not ev-”

“Why didn’t you tell him?”

You creased your brows for a moment, “Tell him what?”

He fixed you with a scrutinizing look, “How you questioned that girl.”

Shit.

“That was-” You darted your eyes away and back to him, letting your hands fall against your thighs, “I was seeing if she was lying.”

“About seeing wolves?” He narrowed his eyes at you. “Awfully specific if y’ask me.”

You straightened up, taking a step towards him, “Is there a problem with how I handle things?”

He let out a scoff, “The problem is when you don’t involve me.”

“Yeah, well next time I’ll make sure to stop and give you a full briefing!” Joel rolled his eyes, and you couldn’t help but feel a sting of annoyance, “Jesus, Joel– I’d think after all this time you’d have a little more trust in me.”

Your inward chuckle ceased when he didn’t respond, his reticence loud as he only looked at you. A pang of hurt hit you hard– Really?

The persisting silence only made it worse.

Whatever. Just go to your room and work for the rest of the night.

Walking past him, he stopped you with a firm hand on your hip.

“‘Course I trust you,” his voice softened, gently turning you to face him, “always have.”

The reassurance calmed you, reducing your fire to embers. His hand fell from you, but a slight frown remained.

“Jus’ can’t stand if somethin’ were to happen and I couldn’t do more because of what I didn’t know,” he searched you for understanding, “make sense?”

You couldn’t stay mad with how genuinely concerned he looked, growing disappointed with yourself for going at him hard when you would’ve done the same thing. Nodding, you mumbled out an apology to him, your eyes stuck on the floor.

Slowly, you felt his arms wrap around you in a way that let you know he accepted it. You exhaled a breath you weren’t aware you were holding as you yielded to his touch, resting against his chest and closing your eyes. The weight of the day felt heavy, but the sound of his heartbeat made it feel just a little lighter.

You thought things were on their way to getting better, that you were closer to tying up loose ends.

But it was only getting complicated again.