★ I was dying for you ★

21 ★ they/them ★ latino ★ queer

[daydreamsareallineed]

Hi! Hello! Welcome to the blog!

This is an 18+ blog. I might not write/draw/create anything here (maybe one day) but I do reblog a ton of 18+ and MDNI blogs and post. That being said, if I find an account with no age or an age that's under 18 interacting with and or following my account, it's an immediate block. This blog is not for you, please go find a minor safe space elsewhere on the app.

[rawme-price]

how would ghost deal with a reader who has a phobia of bugs? aka me haha

He would actually be more understanding about it than others because he has an irrational fear of snakes.

He's more than happy to remove any bug from any room. sometimes he spots one before you and pulls out his SAS training just to sneak the bug out, knowing just the thought of being near one stresses you out. In fact, he's more than happy to not talk to you about bugs despite them being on his mind constantly.

His two rules? At least once a week he wants time to go look at bugs or visit the local butterfly garden, and you have to be okay with the caterpillar plush in his bed.

Other than that, he doesn't mind. His joy for something is never a reason to cause you hurt.

[rawme-price]

How will tf141 react if you stole their shirts/hoodies 🫪🫪🫪

Okay now imagine this but with dragon!reader....

You've never really had a proper hoard, what with going through the military. Constantly changing bases, moving locations for ops, having your bunk torn to shreds by drill instructors...yeah. bad times for your hoard instincts.

Sure, you kept a small bag of trinkets and momentos that kept you sane, but nothing like the sprawling hoard your ma had back home.

Not until captain price pulls you onto his team.

Now, you've got a relatively stable base you work from. More than that, you're starting to feel those hoard-pack instincts with your teammates....

You know you shouldn't. You know humans find it weird, but asking them outright is somehow worse. No soldier talks about feelings unless they're bleeding out or blackout drunk.

So...you maybe grab a few items here and there.

Ghosts hoodie that he left in the lockers while he showered, prices jacket he left in the humvee that one time. Snagging a pair of gazs sweatpants when they go through the wash, and one of soaps old band-tees from the same load.

They all go into your hoard, a comfortable pile on your bed that smells like pack.

You don't wear them around base, of course not. But on weekends or nights out enjoying yourself, you do. It's comforting, like your packmates have claimed you though they don't know it yet. Sometimes you like to just pop up to the local shop wearing one of their things for the sole purpose of being seen by others in it.

You...massively miscalculated exactly how hidden you've been until you see a notification pop up on soaps phone.

Lizard shots

Gaz: got this one last night at the park, I think thats johns beanie [image]

The photo attached was a blurry shot of you.

You, at the part, wings spread mid take-off. You scroll up a bit, and find photo after photo of you in their clothes. Some hastily taken, some clear and seemingly hidden behind corners and doors.

Those assholes knew the whole time, and turned it into a game.

[lacebullet]

Hey, I’m not good at writing at all which is why I love reading other people’s, but I was watching a compilation video on TikTok of all bulleyes “hello Karen” and I got me thinking of a story idea maybe. Like the reader could be part of the group with Karen Matt etc and is always there when dex arrives to kill, but maybe when they’re in the church and reader is trying to get out with Karen, maybe reader could get shot either by accident or in a cross fire or purpose but dex scoops her up over his shoulder and carries her out, taking her back to his place whilst she’s out cold to help fix her up before taking her back to her place. Then they notice his interactions with reader are different after that or maybe they’ve always been different and nobody noticed before. I dunno, just an idea lol.

TARGET OF HIS ATTENTION

Pairing: Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter x reader

Summary: Caught in the crossfire during the church attack, you're scooped up by Dex and patched up at his place before being safely returned home—leaving Matt and Karen to realize Dex’s ruthless nature has one dangerous exception.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings/Tags: fuff, hurt/comfort, canon divergent, mild angst, gun violence, crossfire, getting shot, blood, medical treatment, kidnapping (sort of), protective!dex, no use of y/n, no description of reader, no smut, no gender for reader mentioned

A/N: this was such a fun concept to write !! the thought of dex throwing everything off script just to carry reader out of the church... thank you for the request, happy reading !!

The noise in Saint Patrick’s Cathedral was deafening. Glass shattered, pews splintered, and the heavy smell of gunpowder filled the air.

You were clinging to Karen’s arm, trying to pull her toward the side exit as total chaos broke out behind you.

Matt—who was already dressed in his red Daredevil armor—was locked in a brutal fight with the man in the blue tactical suit. Benjamin Poindexter.

You knew Dex as an FBI agent. He was quiet, rigid, and intensely focused, but right now, with that black target on his blue mask, he was a lethal weapon. He bounced batons and broken glass off marble pillars with terrifying accuracy.

Every time Dex had shown up over the past few weeks, there was always a second where his attention snapped straight to you.

You had assumed it was just because you were caught up with Matt, Karen, and Foggy.

You had no idea that behind that blue mask, Dex saw you as his anchor—the only thing that kept the noise in his head quiet. You were his north star.

"Move! We need to get out!" Foggy yelled from near the altar, but a stray shot cut him off.

A loud crack echoed through the church.

You didn't even feel it at first—just a sudden, cold shock that knocked the air out of you, followed by a sharp, burning pain in your side.

Your legs gave out. Karen screamed your name, reaching for you as you hit the stone floor.

Across the room, Dex stopped dead.

Matt swung at him, landing a hard blow to his ribs, but Dex barely noticed. Through his mask, his eyes were locked on you, watching the blood soak into your shirt.

The strict order in his head completely broke down.

"No, no, no... fuck," Dex muttered, a sudden, frantic panic breaking through his usual cold calm.

He quit the fight entirely. Dex slammed a smoke canister into the ground, filling the aisle with gray haze. Before Karen could pull you up, Dex shoved through the fog.

Karen grabbed a piece of broken wood to swing at him, but he knocked it out of her hand without even looking at her.

He dropped to his knees next to you, his breath loud and fast behind the mask.

"I've got you. You're fine," he whispered, his voice trembling slightly.

He scooped you up over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, locking a arm around your legs to hold you tight against his tactical vest.

Karen screamed after him, but Dex was already moving, carrying you out through a broken window into the pouring rain before Matt could track them.

You woke up to the smell of rubbing alcohol and disinfectant. You were lying on a small, firm bed in a dark, incredibly neat apartment. Every single item in the room was placed in perfectly straight lines.

"Don't move," a low voice said from the shadows.

You flinched, pain flaring in your side. Looking down, your shirt was cut open, replaced by a neat bandage taped over your ribs. The bullet was gone, the wound stitched up clean.

Dex stepped into the dim light wearing sweatpants and a black t-shirt. The blue suit was gone. He walked over holding a glass of water, his eyes fixed on you.

"Dex?" your voice was raspy. "Where am I? What happened?"

"You were shot," Dex said plainly, sitting on the edge of the mattress. "In the crossfire. I patched you up."

You stared at him, your head pounding. You had no clue that the agent standing over you was the exact same person who had grabbed you from the church in that blue suit.

"You patched me up? How did I get here?"

"I found you," Dex lied softly. He set the water down and leaned in, his fingers gently pushing a strand of hair from your face. His hands were warm, surprisingly soft for someone so tense. "I couldn't leave you there."

"Are Karen and Matt ok?"

"They're fine," Dex said, his tone turning cold for a second before softening again. He reached down, resting his thumb right over your pulse on your neck. "You need to rest. You're safe here."

"Why didn't you take me to a hospital?" you asked quietly.

Dex leaned closer, smelling like soap and clean linen. His gaze was intense—like you were the only thing in the room that mattered to him.

"Hospitals are messy," Dex murmured, his breath brushing your skin. "I take care of what's mine. You're important."

The air in the room felt heavy. His hand stayed on your neck, feeling your heart beat against his palm. He leaned down, his voice barely above a whisper right near your ear.

"Don't get hurt again," he said softly, with an edge that made your pulse race. "I really don't like it when you get hurt."

Before you could say anything, Dex pulled back, his emotionless expression snapping right back into place.

"Get some sleep. I'll take you home in the morning. Nobody needs to know about this."

By the next afternoon, you were back in your own bed, changing the bandaging on the wound on your ribs that Dex had perfectly sewn back together.

A few days later, you walked slowly into the office space Foggy, Karen, and Matt were using. Your side was still sore, but it was healing fast.

You hadn't told anyone about waking up in Dex’s apartment, too confused to bring it up.

"You should still be resting," Foggy said as soon as you walked in. "You got shot, grabbed by that psycho in the blue suit, and then just showed up back at home hours later."

"I'm okay, Foggy," you said, sitting down carefully.

Karen looked at you, frowning. "We still don't know why he took you. Matt lost him in the storm. Why would Bullseye snatch you just to patch you up and leave you at home?"

Before you could answer, the front door opened.

Dex walked in wearing his standard FBI suit and coat, looking neat and completely professional.

"Morning," Dex said, nodding to the room. "Just doing a quick check-in."

"Agent Poindexter," Foggy said. "Thanks."

Dex looked around, completely ignoring Foggy and Karen until his eyes landed on you. The second he saw you, his stiff posture relaxed just a bit. His eyes softened.

He walked past Foggy and stood right at your desk, leaning over slightly.

"How are you feeling?" he asked quietly.

"I'm getting better, Agent," you said, trying to sound normal.

"Good," Dex said, glancing down toward your side before looking back into your eyes. "Keep it clean. Don't push yourself."

He reached out to touch a file on your desk, his fingers brushing against yours for a quick second. His skin was warm, sending a sudden shiver through you.

"If you need anything, call me directly," he added softly.

"Thank you, Agent," you said.

Dex gave a brief nod, turned, and walked out.

The room went completely quiet. You looked up to see Karen and Foggy staring at you.

"Okay..." Foggy said slowly. "What was that?"

He gestured vaguely toward the glass door Dex had just walked through, his mouth slightly open in genuine disbelief.

"What was what?" you asked, shifting in your chair and trying to look busy with a stack of case files. You kept your hands flat on the desk so neither of them could see them trembling.

"What was that?" Foggy repeated, leaning over the back of Karen's chair. "That wasn't an FBI agent doing a security check. That was a man who looked ready to physically carry you out of this office if you so much as sneezed too hard. Did you see his face? He looked like a worried mother hen in a tailored suit."

"He was just asking how I was doing, Foggy. I got shot at a crime scene he was investigating."

"Yeah, and Karen was at that same crime scene," Foggy shot back, raising an eyebrow. "Notice how he didn't ask her if she was staying on her feet? Notice how he didn't stand three inches away from her desk and whisper like you two were exchanging state secrets?"

Karen let out a soft laugh, resting her chin in her hand as she watched your face closely. "Foggy's right. He didn't even look at the rest of us. He walked in here with a purpose, and that purpose was very clearly checking on you."

"He's just stiff," you muttered, feeling a sudden, stubborn heat crawling up the back of your neck. "He's an agent. He's hyper-focused."

"Hyper-focused on you," Karen teased gently, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "I'm telling you, I've seen him around the courthouse. He usually looks like he's trying to calculate the exact distance between himself and the nearest exit. But when he talks to you? His entire posture changes. He leans in. He lowers his voice."

"It's the eye contact," Foggy added, pointing an accusatory finger at you. "The man barely blinks! He looks at you like you're the only person in the room. Honestly, if I didn't know any better, I'd say Agent Poindexter has a massive, terrifyingly quiet crush on you."

"He does not have a crush on me," you said quickly, though the words felt heavy and uncertain even as they left your mouth.

"Oh, please. He practically purred when you said you were taking it easy," Foggy scoffed, walking back to his own desk with a dramatic shake of his head. "If you ever need a bodyguard, you won't even have to pay him. Just give the guy a call and he'll be standing outside your door in five seconds flat."

Karen chuckled, but her expression softened as she leaned across your desk. "In all seriousness, though... it's kind of sweet. In a very intense, slightly weird Dex kind of way. He really cares about what happens to you."

They went back to their work a few minutes later, the banter dying down into the usual clatter of keyboards and rustling paper. But you couldn't focus on the files in front of you anymore.

Your fingers drifted back to your side, tracing the faint outline of the bandage beneath your shirt.

If you ever need anything... anything at all... you let me know directly.

The low, dark tone of his voice echoed in your mind. Foggy and Karen were joking, but sitting there in the quiet office, a strange shiver ran down your spine.

Dex was always so guarded, so precise and distant with everyone else in the world. Yet, he had carried you into his own home.

He had sat on the edge of his bed in the middle of the night, his touch surprisingly soft as he brushed your hair back, looking at you like you were the only solid thing in a world falling apart.

You swallowed hard, staring blankly at the front door.

Dex didn't just see you as another civilian or a witness he had to protect. Foggy was right about one thing—the way Dex looked at you went far beyond his job.

He cared. Obsessively, deeply, in a way that made your pulse race for reasons you couldn't entirely explain.

And as you looked down at the neat, precise stitches keeping you together, you realized with a sudden spike of nervous heat in your chest that you weren't sure where his protection ended—and where something much deeper began.

[valtsv]

what doesn't kill you gives you an extensive vocabulary and niche knowledge set that nevertheless fails to accurately account for what happened

[ponpasta]

new icon new icon

[hucklenberries]

Frank Langdon has a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Porn Experience — hucklerobbydon fic

tags: identity porn - camboy au; smut - masturbation on camera, voyeurism, exhibition, sex toys; post s1; langdon divorce era; whitaker is an intern already; identity reveal to two of three parties; langdon pov primarily (although a minor switching happens) - huckledon centric; hucklerobby endgame; onesided pining; jealousy; ambiguous ending; unbeta'd // 7.2k words

summary:

The man—maybe Robby—croons patronizingly. “So beautiful for me, baby,” he murmurs. “Open your mouth- there he is. Such a good boy for me, Den—”

The video ends. Frank’s world is flipped upside down. 

That was Robby’s voice.

or,  Langdon is a camboy, Whitaker is one too, and, sure, not every story revolves around Robby but this one does.

read here (ao3)

turned this blurb into a more coherent-ish fic and gen didn't realize how long it's gotten until i was wrapping up; love putting langdon in situations between robby and whitaker // short mlist // premise under the cut

Frank pretends that he doesn’t know why he even made the account, or why he started posting there with the purpose of getting engagement. It just happened, he rationalized. I just needed something to scratch the itch, he told himself as he upgraded his set-up, bought a professional video camera that works a whole lot better than his phone, and buffed up the lighting in his room to the point that it almost resembles an actual set and not the bedroom at his new bachelor pad. 

So he films himself jerking off and posts it on a pornsite, so what? He gets paid for it, anyway. Sure, he gets requests to make something more creative than sitting on his ergonomics chair and stripping his cock with his fist but he gets to ignore them without worries. Somehow, his sarcastic replies and his blunt rejections were appealing to many. Frank earned a devoted following before he even knew it, and fritdon saw consistent views, likes, and donations that he didn’t even expect he would receive. 

It’s a good way to de-stress, if he’s being honest. The tension at work may have been shaved away by his continuous efforts to prove that he’s getting help and that he’s doing better and that he’s no longer stealing, he swears, but Robby’s still guarded, often pawning him off to Dana or to Heather. And Frank loves them to bits, but he misses the casual friendship he had with Robby; the way he could just run up to bother him or find him even for the most inane questions. Frank tried that approach once, actually. He ran to Robby for even the littlest of things, but Robby had shut it down and told him that he knows that Frank knows better. It stung but it helped, and here they were—sustaining a cordial relationship, with no other opening for Frank to use to build a bridge between them again.

Because it wasn’t just Robby’s evasion that was in the way, it was also Robby’s new favourite. 

Dennis Whitaker. Farm boy from somewhere Frank doesn’t actually quite remember. He’s cheeky with a bite of confidence hidden beneath hunched shoulders and a misfortune so great it eclipsed everything Frank actually knows about him. He is Robby’s new favourite intern—Dana even said that Robby was the one who wrote his Letter of Recommendation to ensure that he’d be matched with PTMC. Frank couldn’t say that he was shocked; he knew that Robby would do it. If not because of Robby’s kindness then it is because Robby is known to do things above and beyond for his favourites. Frank knows—he used to be one of Robby’s favourites, after all. 

Whitaker managed to bewitch Robby, Robby refused to grant Frank the entirety of his penance, and it left Frank where he is now—chasing a high from the pervs online who are asking to see what else he could fuck besides his fist. It sucked for a while, until the days turned into weeks, and the weeks bled into quiet months, and in the lull came farm4pharm. 

[devil-in-hiding]

I’ve seen so many camboy Dennis I want Dennis finding out he’s gay bc he finds an old grainy porno staring young Robby

Finds every movie or video Robby was in and has watched them

Multiple times

His go too jerk off material when nothing else gets the job done

Starting his first shift and finding himself drawn to his attending hands and keeps telling himself to focus until 3 hours later he’s walking by the desks when he hears it

A groan

And he freezes as he looks over and sees Robby scrubbing a hand over his face, another groan leaving his lips before going back to the computer screen

[devil-in-hiding]

And Dennis trying to convince himself it was the money, figuring that by how young Robby is in the movies it had to be during med school and yeah he just needed the money

But then of course he’s watching every single movie that he found with Robby’s alias, and

It was more than the money

Unknowingly, for years Dennis has been getting up to watching his new boss fuck and be fucked, the blissed out expressions while getting his cock sucked, the excitement in his eyes when he gets put on his knees-

[wraithest]

thinking about camboy!ghost spreading his legs in front of his shitty laptop and reaching down with a low grunt to grab handfuls of his cheeks so all of his lovely viewers can get a good look at his stuffed little hole

[vicbutnotactually]

I call this one Media that changed my fucking life

[rhymewithrachel]

Totally non-regulation

[morangism]

⋆ ₊ ˚ ⊹ ࿔ ⋆

[nonscathingbullets]

I will ALWAYS advocate for chubby girl representation in fanfiction!!!

Chubby girls should be able to feel like their favorite characters could/would love and desire them!

[stitchedspider]

bonus for pride month

[juniperarts]

Apparently Miles is a JJK fan (in the comics)

If you put these two in a room together I think the result would be adorable 🥺

[aransmind]

friends in another universe

[bullet-prooflove]

Grounded: Brendon Park x Reader

Summary: Brendon gets a surprise when his brother turns up on his doorstep unexpectedly.

SET AFTER:

Rockstar - Brendon Park meets his match against PTMC’s fiery new attending.

Pussy Wagon - A spilled drink leads you to see a different side of your nemesis Park The Shark.

The First Time (NSFW) - Fireworks aren’t the only explosive thing happening at Jesse’s Fourth of July party.

A Loaded Gun (NSFW) - Hate sex has never been so fucking hot…

This Is Not A Love Story - Brandon tries to set a rule after a ‘sticky’ situation.

The Game - Brendon finds himself breaking his own rules when it comes to you.

Tell. Me. To. Stop (NSFW) - Jealousy is not an emotion Brendon Park is accustomed to.

Pittfest -Brendon comforts you when you fall apart after the events of Pittfest.

Is He Prettier Than Me? - Brandon gets curious when he learns you have other plans.

The Drawer - Brendon realises your relationship may be shifting when he discovers he has a drawer at your place.

Scrunchies - Scrunchies… they’re the downfall of Brendon Park.

Love Games (NSFW) - Brendon and you love to play games, especially with each other.

An Exquisite Form of Torture (NSFW) - Brendon continues to turn up the heat as he holds you captive.

THAT Guy - Brendon is forced to face up to his feelings for you when he finds out your meeting up with an ex.

Seven Days - Seven days is far too long to go without you…

Save It - A thirty six hour shift leads to another admission about your relationship with Brendon.

Doctor Dick - Brendon’s day takes a turn when Whitaker gives him some critical information.

A Manipulative Fuck - You and Brendon discuss what happened with your ex.

The Call (NSFW) - Brendon decides to put a stop to David’s calls once and for all.

The One That Hates The Ravens - David’s attempt at revenge backfires spectacularly.

The Lovin Spoonful - You wake up to an unexpected surprise.

Delete, Block, Rinse, Repeat - A series of cryptic messages force Brendon to confront a secret he’s been keeping for almost a decade.

His Father’s Son - Brendon reflects on the past as he debates taking that first sip of whiskey.

The Cost of Dignity - Brendon’s greatest secret comes with a cost.

A Kiss For Luck - Brendon struggles to navigate working at the hospital after the release of THAT video.

The Craziest Fucking Thing - You take matters into your own hands after receiving bad news from Brendon.

Ride Or Die - You wake up to the sound of an angry blender after Brendon discovers what happened with Rowena.

Baby Shark - Once a year Brendon always ends up back at the aquarium.

Diamonds (NSFW) - A bet leads to naughty shenanigans in a five star restaurant.

The Call Out - Brendon’s focus on wedding planning is disrupted when he’s called out to the scene of a multi-car pile up.

Good Hands - Abbot reminds Brendon you’re in good hands as they proceed with the amputation.

Flayed - Brendon’s world crashes down as he learns the truth about the accident.

Ten Things I Love About You - Brendon discovers a pink envelope in the pocket of the jacket you were wearing at the time of the accident.

The Parent Trap - Brendon faces your parents, leading to a surprise revelation.

Sledgehammer - Brendon struggles to cope in the aftermath of everything that’s happened.

Et Tu Marianne? - Your mother throws Brendon under the bus after you wake up from surgery.

Roses - Brendon is forced to deal with a vindictive POS when a dozen red roses are delivered to your door.

The Fucking Patient - Abbot has some harsh words for Brendon regarding your care.

Chemistry - You and Brendon finally have a moment alone to talk.

A Serial Absconder - Your habit of disappearing leads to a healing journey Brendon doesn’t expect.

The Best the Ravens Have Ever Looked (NSFW) - Brendon has a real problem with your shorts.

Home - Brendon introduces you to your new home after the accident.

The Change Up - When you struggle to reacclimate at home Brendon realises you need a change up.

The Body Pillow - Brendon and you settle in for your first night at the new house.

Rae Days - You're forced to navigate your new limitations when Brendon returns to work full time.

The Liberator - Brandon asks Abbot's for advice with a very particular problem.

Brendon doesn’t expect his brother to show up on his doorstep.

Or half brother really, because Tommy Kinard is from his father’s actual family. The son who got to stay in the ancestral home back in L.A. while Brendon and his mom were shipped off Pittsburgh to hide the evidence of the affair Alistair had with his secretary.

Something Tommy found out about five years ago when he finally came out to his father and was told by Alistair that he’d clearly sent away the wrong son, that Brendon would never do this to him.

“Who the fuck is Brendon?” Tommy had erupted.

“The son I actually wanted.” Their father had replied.

It was news to Brandon who had spent his entire life striving for a place in his father’s attention only to be rebuked at every turn. It’s part of the reason he became a surgeon, and an alcoholic.

“You’re a long way from home.” He remarks, taking in the duffle bag slung over Tommy’s shoulder before he opens up the door to invite his brother inside. They’re both similar in appearance, close enough to be twins you’d pointed out after you accidentally propositioned Tommy in the hospital cafeteria the first time you’d met. “You grounded for the night?”

“Yeah.” Tommy says slipping into the hall, bending to unfasten the laces on his boots. “The chopper I was flying started showing a mechanical fault during the last part of journey. We got the heart delivered on time for the transplant, but the chopper is stuck on the helipad while they work on it overnight.” He toes off his boots, using his foot to nudge them alongside Brendon’s running sneakers. “I hope you don’t mind, I texted with Rae when I heard you were in surgery and she said it was cool for me to use your guest room.”

“She must have forgotten to mention it.” Brendon says leading his brother through the lounge into the kitchen. Tommy sets his bag down alongside the couch before following him into the open plan living space. “She’s been asleep since I got in. She got cast for her prosthesis earlier this week so she’s been putting in her time with the PT to try and be as prepared as she can be for when she gets the leg.”

“That must be exciting for her.” Tommy remarks as Brendon opens the fridge and starts taking out leftovers from last night’s dinner. “And for you.”

“It’s step in the right direction.” Brendon says, nodding as he dishes the food out onto a plate for Tommy before shoving it into the microwave. “Look, I didn’t get a chance to say thank you for coming to Pittsburgh and helping out with the house the last time you were here. Me and Jean, we just couldn’t get it all done on our own, even with the crew.”

They’d been up against the wire by the end of it, especially when your leaving date got moved up because you were healing so well. Brendon had been worried the house wouldn’t be finished in time when Tommy had texted he had a weekend off and time to kill.

“I’m just sad I had to go back before she saw it.” Tommy says, leaning against the counter, running a hand through his dark hair. There’s a few more flecks of grey than the last time Brendon saw him, another telling feature about the two years between them. “You worked some magic to get it turned around the way you did.” Tommy glances around at the furnished room, taking in the décor of your shared space. “It looks great with all of your stuff in it. More of a home than the condo ever was with all the white walls and clean edges.” He mock shudders at the thought and Brendon flicks him with the end of the dishtowel he’s wiping the surface with. “I forgot how fucking sensitive you were about that-”

He’s cut off as Brendon’s phone starts to ring, All American Rejects Gives You Hell serenading the two of them as they stare at the device resting on the counter. “What’s dad after you for?”

“He wants to know why the fuck I bought a house to give to ‘that woman’.” Brendon informs his brother, ripping the meal out of the microwave with more force than necessary. He tips his head to the dining table, gesturing for Tommy to take a seat.  “I hung up on him during our last conversation, he’s been trying to make contact ever since. He apparently thinks the obligatory six week period is up and that I should go out and find someone more fitting with my ‘brand’ as a ‘rock star ortho surgeon’.”

He does the bunny ears while searching in the drawer for a set of cutlery before dropping down into the chair at the head of the table and offering them to Tommy.

“He doesn’t have me to boss around anymore, so he’s decided to make your life a misery instead.” Tommy acknowledges as he picks up his fork and starts to eat. Despite being the prodigal son, Tommy’s life under their father’s roof was no picnic. Tommy had signed up to the military to escape him at the age of eighteen and had become a constant disappointment after he joined the L.A. fire department, a role that was far too blue collar for the Kinard family. “Has he even met Rae?”

“Saw her at a gala, once.” Brendon says, his chin coming to rest upon his palm. “He took one look at her and said you can do better.”

“Newsflash, you can’t.” Tommy jabs his fork at his brother. “She’s good for you, in all the ways that dad can’t get on board with. You’re happier and healthier since getting together with her.”

“I know.” Brendon agrees before rolling his eyes. “But personal growth was never dad’s strong suit.”

Their father’s been moving from blonde to blonde ever since Brendon’s conception. Every single one of them, an exact carbon copy of the other. Brendon’s just glad Alistair decided to get the snip after he was born otherwise, they’d be dealing with more fucked up kids like him coming out of the woodwork.

He hears the bedroom door open behind him, the sound of your tires as you wheel yourself into the kitchen, clad in one of his t shirts and a pair of gym shorts. “I heard voices and realised I’d forgot to mention Tommy was staying tonight.” You yawn, rubbing the back of your hand across your eyes.

“Brendon’s been filling me on your adventures.” Tommy declares from his seat even though Brendon’s done no such thing. There’s an understanding between the two of them about their father’s attitude towards you, a protectiveness they both share for the sake of your mental health. “But I’d rather hear them from you as I know you don’t give him the good stuff.”

“Did he tell you about the wheelchair races?” You ask, rolling your way towards the space between the two of them. Tommy’s mouth drops open at your words as he looks to Brendon who rises to his feet, taking his brother’s plate.

“Buckle in for this one Tommy.” He says, placing an affectionate kiss on your head as he surveys his little family. “Our Rae has been causing mischief again.”

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