#Anxiety Counselling Kitchener

[chvoswxtch]

fade to black

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: curtis sheds a little light on frank's past, and an unexpected visitor shows up.

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of bombs, violence, & gore

word count: 2.7k

a/n: no notes. just gonna drop this here and cackle maniacally. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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For twenty minutes, all you could do was stare at the wall, watching as the vibrant golden hour faded into a muted twilight. Shadows of your anxieties and fears seemed to flicker across the barren surface, performing an adaptation of all the catastrophes your imagination could conjure. That vicious voice in the back of your head was mocking your current situation, sending you down a spiraling staircase of doubt and despair.

The hardest part about all of this was that from the day you met Frank, he had been the most consistent person in your life. He was always there. He’d been right by your side for months, and even when your protection detail ended, he was still there. He was the one person that had managed to break through the steel barrier of your hyper-independence, not by telling you that you could depend on him, but showing you instead. Against your own nature, you’d put your faith in him and let yourself rely on him.

But now without him, you didn’t know what to do.

Remembering that you were in a stranger’s bedroom, and that you’d probably spent enough time throwing yourself a pity party, you finally stood up from the edge of the bed and followed the path from the bedroom down the hallway. When you reached the living room area, you saw that Curtis was sitting at the dining table in his kitchen, and he must have heard your footsteps, because he lifted his head to look in your direction. 

There was a warmth in his dark brown eyes and a sympathetic smile on his lips as he nodded in your direction.

“You look like you could use a drink.”

Letting out a short and dry laugh, you clicked your tongue against the inside of your cheek, walking over to take a seat in the chair next to him at the dining table.

“That obvious, huh?”

“Just a bit.”

Rising from his seat at the table, Curtis turned to take a few steps over towards the stainless steel fridge behind him, opening the door and reaching in to grab two dark green glass bottles of beer. He turned to look at you over his shoulder, an apologetic smile on his lips.

“All I got is cheap beer.”

“Is there any other kind?”

Curtis seemed amused by that, a soft chuckle escaping him as he reached into a drawer to his right with his free hand to grab a bottle opener. A soft hiss sounded in the quiet as he popped the top on each bottle, releasing the pressurized air trapped inside. Returning to his original position of sitting at the table, he handed one of the bottles towards you, and you graciously accepted it, lifting it in silent cheers before taking a large sip. Curtis took a sip from his own bottle, eyeing you as he leaned back in the chair, the wood creaking under the weight of his body.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Brushing your thumb along the paper label, you could feel the embossed brand name under your thumb along with the cool temperature permeating from the glass. Lifting your head, you looked over at Curtis and tilted your head to the side curiously.

“Are you a therapist?”

Curtis laughed heartily, giving a shake of his head before taking another sip of his beer. 

“Not a licensed one. I do run a counseling support group for veterans though.”

Upon hearing that, your brows lifted significantly in surprise. 

“I can’t picture Frank at a support group.”

Curtis arched one of his dark brows as a sly smirk tugged at the edge of his lips.

“That’s cause his stubborn ass ain’t ever been.”

The surprise at his initial statement quickly shifted into confusion. Resting your elbows on the table, you held the cold beer bottle in both of your hands, looking at Curtis in a mixture of curiosity and perplexity.

“Then, how do you know Frank?”

“We served together.”

Realization seemed to dawn on you. It should’ve been obvious when he’d said he ran a support group for veterans, but in the midst of your emotional turmoil, your brain wasn’t putting context clues together the way it usually did.

“You were a Marine too?”

“Nah, I was a Navy SARC.”

Watching you blink in dumbfoundment and seeing the obvious incomprehension on your face, Curtis let out a soft chuckle and mirrored your actions, resting his elbows on the table and holding the beer bottle in his large hands.

“Special Amphibious Reconnaissance Corpsman. But basically, my job was to put people back together in the field.”

“Back…together.”

Curtis gave a nod of his head, and the implication behind those words slowly settled in your brain. Grisly images abruptly conjured in your head of soldiers and their body parts scattered in the desert like jigsaw pieces, with Curtis right in the middle, trying to figure out which jagged edges fit where. The idea that Frank had been right in the middle of that too, and could’ve potentially been one of those soldiers, made you shudder. 

Clearing your throat, you lifted the beer to your lips and took another large sip, swallowing thickly before looking up at Curtis again.

“So you…put people back together, and he…?”

“Watched my six. While I was tryin’ to save someone’s life, he was protectin’ mine. War don’t stop when people get hurt. Most of the time, our enemies attacked us harder, cause we were vulnerable. I’d be putin’ some dude’s arm back on, and they’d still be shootin’, or gettin’ ready to set off a second bomb.”

“Wait, they’d bomb you twice? Like, back to back?”

“Mhm.”

Curtis gave another nod of his head, bringing his bottle to his lips to take another sip of his beer. Letting that information settle in your brain, it made something click, and Frank’s aggressive animosity towards the Defenders of Freedom seemed to make sense now. It wasn’t just severe disdain, it was PTSD.

“Jesus. No wonder he hates bombs so much.”

You had assumed Frank’s hatred stemmed from being affected by one during one of his tours in the Marines, but hearing Curtis say that they’d often get hit back to back, all while they were trying to save people on their team, you had a newfound understanding of Frank’s resentment. 

“Yeah. He uh…had a pretty bad experience with one.”

Looking up at Curtis, you noticed that he was staring down at the beer bottle in his hand. There was a far away look in his eyes, and his voice sounded almost subdued. An uneasy feeling settled in your stomach.

“What…what happened?”

In the quiet of the kitchen, your quiet and wary voice seemed to echo. Curtis had a contemplative expression on his face, and he was silent for a few moments. Eventually, he dragged his palm down the lower half of his face and cleared his throat.

“We uh…we were in this market. An IED had gone off, and it was a big one. Everyone was screamin’, there were people in pieces all over the place. But we were trained to keep a level head. To keep calm in the madness. And by that point, we’d been in this same situation a hundred times. So we just…jumped right into it, you know. Got to work.”

Curtis kept his gaze fixed on the beer bottle in his hand while he spoke. It looked like the memory was replaying right behind his eyes.

“Frank’s job was to secure the perimeter. I was uh…I had this kid. I was fixin’ him up, puttin’ him back together. And you know, we’re taught not to hesitate. We see anything that even looks like a threat, we neutralize it, no questions asked. But there was a woman. She had to be…eight, nine months pregnant.”

A feeling of nausea and dread crested within you at where this story was going. Sweat spread across your palms, but it wasn’t condensation from the beer bottle. The sound of your own heartbeat was pounding in your ears, and your breathing had become shallow.

“He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t pull that trigger.”

Curtis finally lifted his head to look at you, a swirl of melancholy in his dark brown irises, along with a flicker of acceptance.

“And you know what? I don’t think I could’ve either.”

Salt water pricked at the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill down your bottom lash line. You couldn’t even begin to imagine the picture Curtis was painting with his memory.

“Did she-”

“Yeah.”

Curtis’ voice was barely a decibel above a solemn whisper. Inhaling sharply, he let out a slow deep exhale through his nose.

“Pretty much everyone left in that market died. All I really remember from that moment is a loud noise, and heat. Frank was the one that dragged me outta there. He saved my life. But, I don’t think he’ll ever see it that way.”

Despite the horror you felt at what you were hearing, the idea that Frank didn’t feel like he’d save his friend’s life puzzled you.

“Why wouldn’t he?”

Setting his beer bottle down on the dining table, Curtis bent over slightly and dragged one pant leg of his jeans up, revealing a prosthetic leg. He looked up at you with a tiny smile on his lips.

“Cause I ended up with this bad boy.”

Earlier, you’d noticed a slight limp in Curtis’ walk. You hadn’t even thought about what was causing it, too wrapped up in your own problems. Looking from the prosthetic up to Curtis’ face, your lips parted slightly, and for a moment you were speechless. You didn’t even know what to say. Your brain was still trying to process everything you’d just heard.

“Curtis-”

“Hey, I knew what I signed up for, and I wouldn’t change a thing. I lost way less than most people do over there. And if a leg is the price I had to pay for all the lives I helped save, then so be it. Besides, I sell insurance now, and this is a hell of a sales tool.”

Letting out a breathless laugh, you shook your head and wiped at your eyes with the back of your hand. Curtis’ positive outlook after what he’d been through was astounding. He’d endured horrific things, been elbow deep in blood and body parts, lost his leg, and he still had such an optimistic mindset. Meanwhile, if you woke up and your hair wouldn’t cooperate, you let it ruin the rest of your day.

It made you feel guilty for all the little things you took for granted, and all the ridiculous things you let get to you that didn’t even matter.

“You know, you’re making me feel like a real pessimistic asshole.”

Curtis let out a howl of laughter, clutching at his chest with one of his large hands as his broad shoulders shook.

“Hey, I didn’t just wake up one day missin’ a leg and make peace with it. And in your defense, you were threatened by a terrorist group and shot at.”

“Yeah well, that was kind of my fault. Most people are smart enough not to piss off psychopaths.”

“Most people ain’t brave enough to stand up for what they believe in.”

Lifting your head to look at Curtis, you noticed he was already looking back at you with a warm smile. A small, grateful smile of your own spread across your lips. 

“Thank you.”

“You ain’t gotta-”

“No, I do. You…you don’t have to do any of this. Letting me stay here, looking out for me, being so nice to me. I mean, you don’t even know me and you’re-”

“You’re important to Frank, which means you’re important to me.”

There was so much sentiment in those words it made your heart lodge in your throat. Curtis seemed like such a genuine person. And he knew Frank, really knew him. Curtis telling you that you were important to Frank, and that there was a legitimate reason for whatever was going on right now, filled you with a sense of reassurance you’d been yearning for. It eased some of the anxious tension that had been coiled up tightly within you. 

For the first time in three weeks, you felt like you could breathe again. Curtis’ optimism seemed to be contagious. Looking over at him with a soft smile, you arched one of your brows.

“You’re pretty good at this counseling thing.”

Curtis’ lips spread into a wide grin, tooth bearing grin. 

“Maybe someday I’ll go full time.”

Glancing down at the watch on his wrist, Curtis’ eyes flickered back up to meet yours.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starvin’. Why don’t we grab some food? There’s a diner down the block that’s got the best damn burgers in town.”

“Yeah, that sounds good. I’m just gonna use the bathroom right quick.”

“Alright, take your time.”

While you washed your hands in the bathroom sink, you couldn’t help but notice how much lighter you felt. There were still a lot of uncertainties swirling around in your head, but Curtis’ sentiments had put you at ease. He’d given you a sense of hope that things were going to be okay.

As you shut off the water and reached out to dry your hands off on a small gray towel, there was a thud that came from down the hall and snapped you out of your thoughts. Turning your head towards the bathroom door, a slight furrow formed between your brows.

“Curtis?”

When you didn’t hear a response, you opened the bathroom door and looked down the hall towards the living room area in confusion.

“Curtis?”

Silence.

The hairs on the back of your neck seemed to stand up when you didn’t hear a response for a second time. Stepping out of the bathroom, you quietly and slowly made your way down the hall, a pit of dread sinking further into your stomach with every step. When you reached the end of the hallway, you braced your back against the wall, swallowing thickly. Slowly turning your head to peer around the corner, your eyes widened and a soft gasp left you at the sight you were met with.

Curtis was face down on the floor of the kitchen, completely knocked out, a dribble of blood leaking from a fresh cut across his right cheekbone.

Without even thinking, you immediately rushed towards him.

“Oh my God, Curt-”

Before you could even finish your sentence or take another step forward, a strong arm wrapped around your waist and suddenly pulled you back against a firm chest, while a cloth was placed over your mouth and nose. Your instinct was to scream, and in doing so, you inhaled sharply and opened your mouth against the silky fabric, only to be met with a sickly sweet strong chemical scent and taste. Almost immediately, you began to feel lightheaded.

“Shh, there you go. That’s it.”

In a split second, you’d gone from thrashing against your captor to slowly sinking into their firm embrace. The deep voice that sounded in your ear sparked recognition, but your brain was trying to process too many things at once to place it. Curtis out cold on the floor. The soft silky cloth covering your nose and mouth. The warmth of someone’s breath on your neck and their nose nuzzling against your hair. Their arm tightening around your waist when your bones began to melt into molasses.

“Just relax for me, darlin’. It’s a lot easier when you don’t fight it.”

As hard as you were trying, you couldn’t fight it. It felt as though you were paralyzed by weakness, your body transitioning from flesh and blood to lead, and unconsciousness had gripped you by your ankles to swiftly pull you under. But right as you were being pulled beneath the surface, an epiphany struck like lightning.

That voice. You knew it almost as well as you knew Frank’s.

Billy.

The silken cloth was slowly pulled away from your nose and mouth, and you could just faintly feel the soft caress of the fabric against your skin. Every millisecond you were slipping further down into the sweet abyss of oblivion until everything finally faded to black.

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawksfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

[lvlyghost]

Hello do you take requests cause I had this idea in my mind but I suck in writing

how bout a ghost x reader where he had a bad day and takes it out on his beloved reader who he's been in a really long relationship with, by starting an argument and maybe saying some really mean and bad things that break the reader. Like the reader is only a shell of herself and completely ruined by ghosts words and just crying or sitting completely still staring off the wall or just staring at nothing just being numb.

What would be interesting is Simons reaction when he realizes the damage that he's done, maybe he would cry/break down idk when he sees the usually happy reader being so dull and almost lifeless yk

But Pleasee don't do this to our hearts and write some comfort and a happy ending please I couldn't handle too much angst❤️😭

The Weight of the World

PAIRINGS: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SUMMARY: You promised to always lean on each other but sometimes love isn't enough.

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

TW: heavy angst, literally got some mid anxiety writing this🥴 swearing, self-doubt, hurt-comfort and slight fluff towards the end. lmk if i missed any.

A/N: finished this in one sitting lol, also not proofread and poorly edited, i've been having a shitty week so expect more angst lol. meet me in therapy. Enjoy anon!🤍🌟🫶🏻💕

Masterlist✨

You hesitate right outside Simon's studio, the place where he secludes himself from everything and everyone. Ever since he came from his last mission he seemed to be on the edge constantly. The usual softness that he reserved specifically for you was... absent.

Still you wouldn't let that stop you from approaching; having dating him for a few years now let you know so much of that. You knew when he was hurting. When he was sad, angry, jealous or even happy. Little to no people could say that.

Somehow this was different. He wasn't even letting you in, constantly keeping you at arms length and that hurt. How were you supposed to get to him this time? Get him to talk to you?

To look at you again with that same glint in his eyes, the spark that you ignited in him and that won't fade away even years after.

The sound of a chair creaking startles you, the same time the timer in the kitchen goes off. You walk back, turning the oven off, and sticking out the apple pie you so happily baked for both with hopes that you'll get him loosen a bit that dark cloud that's been looming over Simon these past few days.

The door of his studio is yanked open the heavy stomp of his boots resonating across the small apartment you two share, then his bulky frame appears just to grab the keys to his black motorcycle.

"Simon!" You call him, burning your hand in the process. He stills halfway through the living room, waiting for you to say something else. Wetting a cloth hurriedly and wrapping it around the burnt skin.

"I made something for us... maybe," standing behind him you leave a reasonable space between the two. You swallow down hard. "Thought we could have it together and just, you know spend...-"

"I don't have time for that now." His voice is cold and monotone. "Don't wait for me."

"But Si-" he turns on his heels, eyes hard and unyielding. He approaches slowly, making you gulp. "What's gotten into you, Simon?" You fight back the tears, this was the man you loved so dearly, the man you knew loved you back; there was a reason for the golden engagement ring on your left hand. "I..-"

"Fucking hell would you stop that? Please just..." he notices the wetness in your eyes. "I can't do this. Not anymore."

"Whatever it is I promise we can work it out together!" your lips quivered. "Just talk to me!"

"I don't need to talk about anything girl!" He seethes, one finger pointing at you. "Think some cheap counseling with you will make things right? Bloody hell no. Neither some homemade bread, this isn't fucking working and it won't until you learn how the bloody world works."

It breaks your heart into a tiny million pieces, breathing becomes a challenge and the injury in your hand can no longer be felt. Simon's words were worse than any physical pain. Where was the man you loved? The man who used to lift you up and kiss you on the forehead? The man whose hands couldn't stop roaming your body late at night? The man who'd helped you reach out for things he probably put away in the highest shelf so you'd ask for help. That same man that had proposed to you no long ago, right before he was deployed to a special op God knows where. The fabric of his mask moves when he keeps talking but you don't listen. You can't. Just like you can't stop the tears dribbling down your cheeks and the tremble of your hands. Simon's jaw clenched, brows furrowed as he takes a step back and leaves.

You walk sluggishly to where the dessert awaits. It's when your knees buckle that you finally let out a loud cry.

-

Simon knows he isn't a good man. He's done quite questionable things that he could never say out loud. He knows he's fucked in so many ways. But he also knows that there's one thing that kept him from spiraling further down into an abyss of death and self-loathing.

You.

The woman he decided he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. The girl that didn't care about his past, the bad moments and his complicated persona. You who would selflessly love him without asking for something in return. What had you seen in him in first place? Even now after three years he can't wrap his head around the fact that he has someone who waits for him.

Simon knows how much he loves you, but what he doesn't know is how—or in what earth—he deserves every part of you.

You've been avoiding him ever since that horrible night. Words he can't take back. Looks that haunt him every time he closed his eyes. He hears you cry when you go to sleep or when you're taking a shower. Muffled sobs and wails that will come for him until the day he dies.

You avoid him like a plague, when he walks in. After all he's the one to blame. He wanted to ask you to tear him apart maybe that'd feel less painful.

The last remaining of sanity that was left in him came crashing down when he began to notice how you stared off in a haze, numbly looking at the window. He was losing you. Destroyed the one good thing he had. So, a few days later, despite his own demons. Despite the things that broke him all irreparably during the last mission in Moscow, he comes to find you. Sucking in a sharp breath as his eyes set on your left hand.

The engagement ring was gone, forgotten someplace unknown. Simon felt the panic wrenching his guts.

It's all on him.

He whispers your name, calls you softly. Slowly sitting in front of you, the coffee table creaks under his weight. Words get caught in his throat.

"May I take your hand?" He pleads, not getting an answer. Simon sighs, lowering his head as silent reigns yet again. "I don't deserve you." He murmurs, eyes bored into the floor. "I... I ruin everything I touch. Just never thought I'd ruin my girl."

Your eyes flutter shut, wet tears clinging to your eyelashes. Simon watches as you stand and leave without a word, he follows close behind to your shared room.

"Love..."

"Don't call me that!" the hurt in your voice... the resentment in your eyes, he's earned it.

Simon reaches out for your arm, grabbing you firmly but gently, mindful not to harm you.

"Right I deserve that." If there's one thing Simon regrets it's being the reason that your eyes no longer shine. "What I said... what happened I...-"

Shaking your head and biting down your lip.

"You never gave me the chance, I thought we said we'd always find a way."

"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry baby." in an instant he's pulling you close, although you want to push him away, scream at him, slap him for the calvary he made you go through. "I'm not good with words, and I'm no good person." You feel his body shaking with anxiety as your eyes widen in shock. "I tried... I can't forgive myself for my mistakes."

"Simon..." he hushed you, cradling your head with his big hand. "I can't sleep knowing I can't protect you from what's out there, couldn't bloody protect that kid in Moscow, or my family."

You guide him to the bed, sitting down side by side and holding onto each other.

"Said I would always be with you Simon, why the hell did you push me away?! Have I not given my everything to you? We promised to always make it work!" He grabs your face staring intently into your eyes. "What happened there?"

He blinks, deciding how much to say. There was no need for you to know the entirety of it. He wanted to shield you from the horrors of this world, and he would as long as he lived.

"A young lad whose life's was cut short because I wasn't there on time. How can I come back to you, be happy when someone else just lost their kid..."

"That wasn't on you! Simon Riley you stop that now." He inhales, cinnamon and vanilla flooding his senses. It's you all of you. "Stop carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. We do that together, yeah?" Your chest hurts from how hard it's beating. "You've done far so much. You won't lose me."

A rumble in the sky and cars passing by outside your home is all you hear. Brown eyes like honey stare back into your soul.

"You took it off..."

"I burnt my hand, it wasn't healing properly. And you know what?" He quirks a brow. "It wasn't homemade bread. It was an apple pie, you silly."

"You'll never forgive me for that one won't you?" He doesn't chuckle but the air feels lighter.

"No. Probably won't." Simon takes your burnt hand bringing it to his lips, they're soft against the marred skin.

"But we're still getting married, yeah?" He asks.

You smile fondly, humming when he kisses your forehead, tears have now dried.

"Yeah. We're still getting married."

[lua-magic]

Mercury and your buisness Mind .

This blog is for those specially who wants to get into business or are confused between job and buisness or what kind of business would suit them.

Mercury is our logical mind, we also call it our business mind.

Which ever house Mercury sits in your chart that house related work or buisness you can easily get into.

Mercury in ancendent.

Native is made for business, he/she can get into any business and be successful. Such native has got strong business mind

Mercury in second houses

Mercury is exalted here, it makes you great speaker here, however this house is of family, so native can get into family Buisness or run buisness with family.

This house is alsovforbfood, so if moon is exalted then native can go into food related or kitchen or cloud kitchen business as well.

Mercury in third House.

Native would be great in communication, media, tours and travel and commission related work or business. If Mars is exalted then native can work with his siblings as well.

Mercury here decreases your courage, so native would be unwilling to take initiative, but if Mercury is not afflicted then person could work with his friends and would get support from his friends as well.

Mercury in fourth house.

There are two placement of Mercury which is tricky, one is fourth and second is in ninth house.

Whenever Mercury sits with moon or in cancer, Mercury make native obsessive and disturbs the mental peace of native.

It gives native OCD, especially if moon is afflicted then it causes anxiety, fear and overthinking.

As Mercury is fast moving planet so it makes moon highly disturbed 😧.

Remedy.

Remedy is to actually, decrease the strength of Mercury, ie, Mercury is your friend and social circle, such native should sit in isolation and should have minimum friends, Quality over quantity.

For gains and Money this placement is excellent.

Well, such natives are good in real estate, and with land related work or business.

They can also go for home related buisness like home decoration, or selling home decoration, furniture, luxury furniture, especially if their Venus is also exalted.

Mercury fifth House.

Best placement for Mercury, native is fast learner and life long Lerner and teacher.

Native would be successful due to his own intelligence, and learning.

Native could be author and writer as well.

Native could also opt for teaching and counseling.

Native can also do books related buisness.

Native is great with children and could get into buisness that is for kids, like, children book, teaching, selling toys or even writing children novel.

Mercury in sixth house.

This is the only placement where Mercury is comfortable doing job as it loves to solve day today problems, it is great problem solver here

But, you can go into service related buisness like, food service, taxi services any buisness that provides service to its customers.

Mercury is seventh house.

Relationship wise this is problematic placement, as Mercury is asexual planet and also fast moving planet, so it creates problems in relationship but buisness wise it is an excellent placement.

Native can get into retail buisness, or go for branding, networking, even make themselves as big brand.

Mercury in eitgth House.

Native thinks alot about money and gains, and money wise it is good only when native is involved in eighth house related work like Bank, insurance, CA, occult, auditing, digital marketing , crypto currency such person could also become great detective, they can go into Research and development as well.

Native is great when it comes to dealing with other's money 🤑, they make good salesman as well.

Mercury ninth house

Here, placement is challenging as Mercury damages the Jupiter, Mercury is selfish, while Jupiter is divine and loves to give that is why Jupiter rules twelfth house which house is house of giving.

Jupiter also rules ninth house, which house of Dharma, religion and rules, and Mercury being prince doesn't like to follow rules

So, when you have this placement then it is better you get into business where religion is involved like selling religious books so, you can save your Jupiter and Mercury is also happy.

But, be careful never go against morality in business because you will block all your blessings.

Native can sell, religious ornaments, things or books.

Mercury in tenth house 🏠.

Such people are great sales person and excellent at marketing and PR, these are the person who would sell comb to a bald person.

So, they make great salesman and marketing.

Such native could also work with government,or collaborate with government like government tender and work with them.

Mercury in eleventh house.

Such natives are great with masses, friends and are good in dealing with large number of people.

They should get into work that involves large numbers of people like forming corporative society, NGO, even they make great speaker, counsellor and teachers. People love to follow them, hence, they make great influencers as well

Mercury in twelfth House.

This is not good placement for Mercury and Mercury is uncomfortable here, Piesces is deep ocean and Mercury being prince doesn't like to go in dark, Mercury is also selfish so it doesn't like the idea of unconditional giving and charity which is also twelfth house.

But, twelfth house is also of, foreign land, meditation, spirituality, yoga, charity, and investment.

So, person could either work outside their motherland or get into import and export business.

They can also do business related to meditation, yoga, and spirituality.

They can also go for investment.

Now, Mercury also your speaking skills, If Mercury is afflicted by malefics then person would be extremely rude with thier words and would hurt lot of people.

When Mercury is with Mars native can go for automobiles or even in technical line.

[v5ttelfilms]

sweet dream was over ☽ mick schumacher

gossf1poutlet news of mick schumacher and y/n leclerc previously being in a relationship trends as the number one topic across social media, following an unfortunate leak from their private accounts. both the schumacher and leclerc's have expressed their opinion on this matter, via a strongly worded 'love letter' from legal counsels that represented their respective families. on a statement that was recently released, both parties have similarly urged everyone to refrain from making unnecessary assumptions and encouraged the public to rally against the spread of misinformation and baseless accounts of the pair's alleged relationship. their representatives also promises to pursue legal actions against the culprit.

username the whiplash i got from seeing this all over my tl still makes my muscles spasm😩

username extremely amazed at how they managed to keep it a secret for so long

username yes!!! no one expected little leclerc to REALLY pick one off of her dizzying number of suitors /gen

username thanks for adding the geniune tag op

username anytime🫡 we ride at dawn for little leclerc in this house

username please present your simp card at the checkout

username sure, do you accept the laminated one or does it have to be the government mandated one?

username so... timeline recaping anyone? 🤔

username they probably got together during 2019 or 2020

username seems that way, funny if you account the arthur and mick prema timeline aswell

username got together late 2019 or early 2020 and probably broke up late 2021 or early 2022, but that's only my intelligent guess 🤷‍♀️

username around the same time mick was having haas problems too? fcking brutal

username did the article say to not make unnecessary assumptions or did it not??!🙄

username this news has devastated me more than my own breakup... and that mothertrucker cheated on me with my bff. brb hurling and crying into the void.

username they were so perfect 🥺

username forever enchanted, my treasure. FOREVER enchanted MY treasure. FOREVER ENCHANTED MY TREASURE!!

username are u okay, do u need intervention?

username send all the help you could give my way tysm🥰

username rocking back and forth while hugging my knees to my chest type of thing

username pretending they never broke up for my sanity

username probably the reason she never had the guts to attend a grand prix

username she was getting educated and winning pageants, but yeah?

username these dts fans

username 💀💀

username tell me who was the champion year by year?

username where'd you get that from, netflix?

username so mick HAS game, but i never thought i'd learn it this way😞

username throwing up and shaking trembling and hurling and screaming crying

username love is NOT real

username it's literally the way mick coined the jewel/gem nickname for y/n before the rest of the world started calling her monégasque's pearl 🥺😭

username he has bragging rights forever

username he subconsciously knew it!!!

username never letting any man call me homie from now on

username girl—

2021, Switzerland

"y/n? what are you doing down here?" corinna asks you, mildly taken aback to see you down at the kitchen just around midnight.

you look up from blankly staring at the keys of your laptop, evidently surprised to see the older woman standing just a few steps away from you. you didn't hear her footsteps or anything.

"just..." you trail off, grappling for an appropriate response as to why you were sitting in the dark, barely awake, in the middle of the night. "files," you lie, unconvincingly.

corinna hums, and you knew she was barely convinced by your pathetic excuse, but she had too much tact to call you out on your lie. she wasn't blind, or oblivious as the kids these days would say; though she was considerably older, she still understood the worries and anxieties of the young heart.

"it's very late, schatz." she chides gently, touching your shoulder. "you shouldn't be working this late, it's bad for you." her tone was heavily laden with a motherly lilt.

"stunts my growth," you utter softly, smiling at her. corinna chuckles, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheeks. "and you can't be miss universe if you're short."

"you trust me too much." you remark teasingly.

"you ought to take over the world, darling." corinna laughs softly. "now, are you up for some warm milk and some- what do you children call it? tea sharing?"

"close, you're well versed with today's lingo. should i tell uncle michael that he should be worried?"

"he should always be worried." she says seriously, which made you tip your head back to laugh. she smiles at you, fondness clear as a day. "that's how you keep them on their toes. never make them feel comfortable."

spending the break with mick and his family in their summer home in switzerland has been a tradition of sorts. and alongside your fairy tale like romance with the youngest of the schumacher's, you had also become incredibly close with the rest of his family.

corinna grabs two glasses and neatly places them on the counter, she opens the fridge to get the carton of milk and pours a generous amount to each glass. she swiftly pops it in the microwave, before turning and giving her sole attention to you.

"i'm happy to see you laugh again, schatz. suits you better."

"that's very accusatory. i have been laughing, and smiling all week." you insist, light heartedly.

"maybe so, but not as pretty and geniune as now." she replies, "is there anything wrong? is it mick?" her tone was heavy with concern, looking both distressed and dreading your confirmation. it could have been her son that was the cause of the shift in your demeanor.

you look down at your lap, feeling the tears prick at your eyes upon her overwhelming bout of concern she plainly wears on her face. it reminds you so much of your own mother, and of which, corinna has easily become a substitute for when maman wasn't around.

"it's nothing." you clear your throat, "he's wonderful. he always is." you tried to smile in fake cheer.

"that's good." she smiles softly, "i was just about to say, that he loves you. he tells me everyday, he tells his father; he tells everyone willing to listen how much he could not fathom how you ever came to be in his life," she narrates earnestly, emotion heavy on her voice, "and he'll spend every waking moment of it to do right by you. to make you proud."

you closed your eyes, trying to will the tears at bay. "he tells me everyday too," your voice shook with emotion, throat welling up with tears. "and i know he means it. i do. but he— he never stops feeling like he constantly has to prove something, or be someone, or win everything." you weren't able to stop the tears, even as your eyes were closed. you finally open your eyes to see corinna's teary ones aswell, "and i— if i am the cause of it, i don't... i no longer feel worthy of his love."

you physically, felt all weight of pretense leave your body; finally being able to put to words the emotions, and complex thoughts you've bottled up, in fear of speaking it into existence. your shoulders sank, your defenses crumbling, as you broke down into inconsolable tears, weeping at your hands.

you felt arms wrap around you, weading through the shame and guilt you felt at your admission. you'd expected corinna's blame, but you never counted on her consolation. she held you. sympathetic and kind, and gracious; and understanding.

"it will be okay, schatzi." she says in the strands of your hair, "it will be. i promise you."

[ladylooch]

Best Thing I’ll Ever Do - Lio x Savannah (Part 5)

A/N: All I have to say about this one is I hope you love it as much as me. It had EVERYTHING we all wanted 🥹

Welcome to the world, Gracie Meier.

ICYMI: Part 1 | Part 2| Part 3 | Part 4

Word Count: 4.5k

At 6 in the morning, Lio Meier watches his wife from the dark shadows of their condo hallway. Savannah is standing at the kitchen island, watching the sunrise over the East Coast. One hand rests on the bottom of her big belly and the other rests on the counter in front of her. The grey quartz helps cools her warm palm so she can bring it to her chest, placing it there to offer some grounding. 

Today is the day their daughter will enter the world, in her own time, as predicted. Savannah was scheduled to be induced tomorrow, on her due date, but his wife already knows their daughter. She predicted there was no way Gracie was going to be told when to come into the world, so she would be choosing today. 

Lio loves watching her parental instincts kick in. He can't wait for that to happen with his own.

Savannah smiles as her hands move to her belly, focusing on her breathing with big puffed out lips. Her eyebrows lower in concentration. She tilts her face down, watching her muscles tighten while she sways side to side, legs spread wide for a steady base. Lio pushes off from resting against the wall, feigning a yawn as he steps out into the living room. 

“What are you grinning at so early?” Lio asks. He squints at her across the room, one eye open the other shut tight in protest of the growing sunlight.

“She’s coming, Lee.” Savannah murmurs. Both his eyes are open now, glittering in excitement.

“Should we go?” He wonders.

“No, it’s not time yet. I will let you know.”

Lio nods, scratching at the slight beard he has growing on his cheeks. He yawns, coming behind her to cup her big bump.

“Gonna miss this.”

Savannah sighs, stroking her fingers down his forearms to rest between the spaces of his spread fingers. She sways them gently, then closes her eyes, feeling the next contraction coming. Lio holds her through it, kissing along her shoulder encouragingly. 

“You’re incredible.” He reminds her. 

“I can’t believe we are here.” She whispers to him. Her fingers crawl up his arm, going to the back of his neck to hold their heads together. 

“We made it, mama.”

“Like you knew we would.”

Savannah’s anxieties around pregnancy did not disappear after that first ultrasound. She kept waking up with night terrors, clutching her belly while sobbing that she was going to lose it. This was a trying time for them. Lio didn’t quite know what to do with his wife. On the one hand, he understood exactly why this was so hard for her. On the other, he couldn’t understand why she wasn’t leaning into the miracle this all was. The way this was their destiny, to be parents to their miracle girl.

Apprehensive about her mental health, Lio didn’t talk those things through with his wife. He talked them through with Connor and his dad. Both men listened and offered support where they could. It was Connor who really helped Lio figure out what to do for her though.

“Think about the dark days of your concussion, if there was a way that you could have known your brain was okay, that you were going to heal, you would have wanted that, right? What could that be for her in this moment?”

It took Lio a little bit of thinking, but then a brilliant idea popped into his head: A fetal doppler. He bought one online and had it at the house within a week. When Savannah had her next night terror, her and Lio listened to the baby’s heartbeat fill their room, a strong reminder that she was there and growing within mama’s womb.

The most important tool was the mental health work both him and Savannah have stayed committed to with this pregnancy. They go to therapy separately still, but did schedule a few counseling sessions together with a neutral therapist in the beginning. This was a big life change, one Lio had said countless times he didn’t want. Savannah had to be sure this new direction was truly okay with him. Their therapist helped guide their conversations to express their true feelings and emotions, bringing them closer together than ever.

Little things also started to turn Savannah’s anxieties into excitement. She kept growing, out of all the clothes she had in her closet and got to go shopping with Lucie for maternity clothes. They got to tell her parents and his parents about their surprise news! Her and Lio’s cousin, Mack, are pregnant at the same time and Savannah has loved having someone to commiserate with. Savannah and Lio bought baby books and started clearing out their spare room to begin buying baby furniture. Savannah had three different baby showers- one with the Meiers, one with her family, and one with her closest, influencer friends. Her and their baby girl have been showered with so much love, that it healed Savannah down to her core.

By the time she got into the third trimester, it was real and wonderful. Savannah and Lio connected deeply. They disappeared into their little world, waiting impatiently for the day when their daughter would arrive. The two soon to be parents became even more impatient after Mack and David welcomed their son a few weeks earlier. The clock has been ticking, all eyes on Savannah. Yesterday morning, she told Lio she felt different. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something was shifting in her. She could sense that this moment was close.

And now it is here. 

Lio inhales deeply, feeling himself getting emotional about today being the day.

“Are you ready, Lee? To be someone’s daddy?” She asks, scratching at the hairs on the back of his head. 

“Yes, baby. As ready as I’ll ever be.”

- - -

Lio wasn’t exactly sure what to expect from labor, but he knows it wasn’t this. Savannah had been progressing along well at home, but once they got into the hospital, she stalled significantly. She is currently resisting the idea of Pitocin, not wanting to have to race to the finish line or force their daughter out before she is ready. 

“In her time.” She keeps telling Lio. 

At some point, it won’t be in the baby’s time. It will be in the doctor’s.

Savannah is laying on her side, eyes closed, holding Lio’s hand as she tries to rest for a few moments. She is tired after not getting much sleep the night before. Lio is tired too, but more than anything else he is anxious. He wants this baby out. He wants her in her mama’s arms, where he can get eyes and hands on her- finally. His fingers twitch on his other hand. His leg begins to bounce up and down with jittery energy he can’t seem to expel fast enough. 

“Go take a walk.” Savannah says, releasing his hand. Her eyes remain closed. 

“Am I annoying you?” He chuckles.

“Yes.” She responds pointedly.

“Okay.”

He knows when he isn’t wanted. This is their journey, but her birth experience. So, he trolls up and down the hallway. Every time he passes her room, he peeks in, still seeing her on her side in the dark. After his fifteenth pass down the hallway, he pulls his phone out, responding to Lucie’s text.

Send us updates when you can!

Still nothing.

Stubborn. Like her father 🙄 Do you need anything?

It runs in the family. No we are good.

Your sister is perfect? I think it’s just you, bud.

Liv wouldn’t know. She takes after the Hischiers. Lio smirks. Lucie’ll love that. He glances to the left into Savannah’s room. She is sitting up, looking uncomfortable. He shoves his phone back into his pocket, going to her side.

“How we doing?”

“Things are starting to happen, I think.” She has both hands on her belly, rubbing her sides as the monitor picks up the rapid beating of the baby’s heartbeat. “I’m hot.” She complains. Lio pulls the blanket off of her, then collects her hair back into a clip again. “Better.” She sighs, relaxing as her contraction ends.

From there, everything progresses a lot faster. Savannah starts to experience intensifying pain and wants to get her epidural. Lio holds her hands and keeps her distracted through the procedure as she anxiously rubs his knuckles. 

“Doing so good.” He whispers encouragingly. She nods, focusing in on her intentional breathing.

Savannah is an absolute warrior from this point on; It’s Lio that starts to struggle. The baby’s heartbeat keeps doing weird things as she progresses into the birth canal. Savannah knows all the questions to ask and seems assured with the answers they receive. Lio can’t help but feel like something is wrong with the baby. The care team soothes them more, assuring the new parents everything is in order. Savannah takes this with confidence but Lio grows quiet. 

“You okay?” Savannah asks him at one point. 

“Um, I’m nervous.” 

“Yeah, I know. Me too.” She assures him. 

“I want her out.” 

“Me too.” Savannah agrees, chuckling. The drugs are making her experience a lot easier than it was an hour ago. “What would help?”

“Don’t worry about me.” Lio sits up, giving her an encouraging kiss. “I’m gonna grab you some more ice chips.”

“Okay.” She smiles, knowingly. He needs to walk again. 

On his walk down to the machine, he pulls his phone out again, texting Lucie.

Can you come? Just sit in the lobby so I know you’re here?

Yes! She responds immediately. 

Twenty minutes later, as Savannah is about to start pushing, his phone buzzes on the table.

We are here for Team Meier! She says, sending a picture of her and Connor in the lobby. He smiles, showing his wife.

“I asked them to come.” He fills her in.

“Great idea... Why do I feel so much better knowing they’re here?” She asks her husband.

“Because they’ve done this twice. I don’t know that’s how I felt.” But also, he couldn’t really imagine having this moment with his two best friends close by.

The energy in the room shifts considerably when Savannah begins to push. Gone is the quiet glow of laboring and in it’s place is the determination of an entire team to get this baby Earth side. Even Lio’s nerves subside. He feels like it’s the third period, defending a lead, focused in on the end goal which is so much more than a regulation win. 

Instead, it’s the bridge to the rest of their lives: being a parent.

Lio holds Savannah’s left leg in his hand, the other gripping her hand with every push. He rubs his fingers over her wedding rings soothingly, pressing into the prongs holding her diamonds in place to keep himself centered on their love. Savannah is doing really well, getting compliments on her pushes from the nurses and doctors. 

“First time mama is rocking this!” Dr. Barnes cheers.

Lio’s curiosity has him leaning a little farther to his left with each push Savannah has.

“Oh we are so close.” Dr. Barnes grins.

Lio can’t resist. He has to look. He tilts his head around and down, gasping at the head full of hair he can clearly see. He gapes at his wife who laughs at his wide eyes.

“Oh babe! Do that again! She just came out a little more.” Lio exclaims at her laughter. “Wait is this okay?” He asks Savannah as she exhales heavily, looking away quickly.

“Yes.” She nods, determination pinching her forehead. Lio never would have envisioned this for himself. He even howled out a ‘hell no’ when Connor asked if he was going to watch. But something about this room and this experience is changing everything for Lio.

He watches every single second of his daughter’s birth from that point on. Her head comes out, filled with light brown hair, then they maneuver her little shoulders out. The rest of her flies out after that. He gazes in complete awe as they lift her over Savannah’s belly and put her on her mama’s chest. Towels go over her bare body as Lio’s eyes blur with tears.

She is here.

“Hi mom and dad!” Dr. Barnes squeals over the baby’s screaming. “I’m here! I’m really here!” 

“Oh my god.” Savannah sobs. “She’s here! Lee, she’s here! I love you, baby. So much.” 

Lio can’t speak. Everything is different. He is being reborn in this very moment where he stands in a New Jersey hospital. A strangled sob clogs his throat. He exhales heavily then gets his hands on his girls as fast as they will move. He stares at his wife, drinking in every movement of her face as she looks down at the baby they fought like hell for, not even realizing they were half the time. 

“Babe…” Lio whispers, getting her attention. She looks at him, blue eyes wild, blonde hair whisping out of her claw clip. “I…” He wishes he had the words to describe anything about what he feels in his soul right now. The love he has for her. The love he has for their daughter. How he will never, ever let anything happen to them. But it comes out only in three words: “I love you.”

“I love you.” She repeats back to him. 

Then, he turns to his daughter, who has rearranged the entire universe around herself in a nanosecond. Lio has been acting like a father since the moment he suspected Savannah may be pregnant, but now in this moment he gets to be one.

He gets to be hers.

“Hi Gracie. I love you." Lio says, rubbing his fingers along the feet that used to kick his mouth when he kissed Savannah’s belly. Having her skin against his turns Lio’s insides electric. He grins, running his hand up her little body to collect over his wife’s hand on her back. Their fingers fold together. Savannah looks up at him, a million different emotions going across her face.

All Lio can manage is to kiss her again while they hold their daughter.

As soon as Lio gets the chance to step away, he comes out to the lobby to look for his best friends. He immediately sees Lucie and Connor, leaning into each other, watching something on Connor’s phone. Lucie sees him first, eyes drifting up from the small screen. She shoots up, grinning as Lio comes closer.

“She’s here.” He sighs.

“YES!” Lucie squeals, jumping up and down. She launches into Lio’s arms, who picks her up and spins her around. “Is she perfect!? Oh Lee, she’s perfect isn’t she!?!?!” Lucie asks when he puts her back on her feet.

“Completely.” He murmurs. 

“I’m so proud of you.” Connor clasps Lio on the back as they hug tightly. “Welcome to the girl dad club, buddy.”

“It's an honor to be a member." He responds incredulously. "Thank you for coming. It helped us both.” 

“Good. We are happy to do our part. Ignore the texts we sent you about it taking too long.” Lio chuckles.

“I haven’t even checked my phone.”

“Scroll right past Connor’s comments about a grill.”

“What?” Lio asks, confused.

“The sign over there says I can’t bring in a grill. Who did that? Who brought in a fucking grill into the hospital that they had to call that out on a sign?”

“Probably weirdos like you.” She slaps his stomach. “I’m so hungry.” She mocks her husband. “That’s all I heard during Winnie’s birth. Like I hadn’t eaten in 18 hours, but sure buddy. Tell me more about your hunger pains.” Connor frowns.

“Why are you harping on me? I brought you a boat of sushi after that.”

“And ate three quarters of it. So what’s your daughter’s name?” Lucie asks, turning the conversation away from them.

“Gracie.”

“GRACIE!!!!!” Lucie squeals. “Oh my god that is so perfect.” She sighs dreamily,

“Everything about her is perfect. You should come meet her.”

They both noticeably perk up.

“Wait, are you sure? We definitely don’t expect that you’re ready for visitors.”

“Yes, we all are. Sav wants to see you.” 

“Okay.” Lucie says, clutching her throat. “Oh my god, I’m already crying.” She hiccups as they start to walk down the hallway. Lio throws his arm over her shoulders. Lucie squeezes herself into his side. Connor trails behind, allowing them their moment of celebration together. 

Lio and Lucie get to the doorway of the room, where Lio breaks away to check that Savannah is ready. Then he comes back around the curtain, pushing it back so they can enter. Lucie gasps at the baby bundled up in the hospital blanket.

“Hi! Oh my god.” She sobs losing it completely as she comes to hug Savannah. “How are you? Look at this perfect little peach you made! I’m sorry we don’t have flowers or balloons or anything. We didn’t think we would see you. It’s all at home.”

“Don’t worry about it. We are so glad you’re here. Say hi to Auntie Luc, Gracie.” 

“An aunt twice in under a month. You and Mack are killing me.” Lucie sighs, collecting Gracie from Savannah’s hands after washing hers. She curls the baby into her chest, looking down at the best new addition. Lio watches with Connor from across the room, smiling with pride as his ride or die holds onto his whole world. 

“This is the best thing you have ever done for me.” Lucie sniffs to her cousin.

“Makes you want another huh?” Connor asks.

“No, shut up.” Lucie snaps. Savannah laughs. 

“You were right. This shit is hard.”

“I know, but haven’t you already kind of forgotten?” Lucie smirks at her.

‘“Yeah… what is that?”

“Hormones. Get ready for the ride of your life girl.” Lucie shakes her head. “But honestly, it’s so amazing. This time goes so fast. Soak it all in. Every little noise and movement and new milestone. Everyone will tell you this and you have to know it goes even faster than they say.” Lucie murmurs as she strokes the peach fuzz on Gracie's face. “Wow, Sav, I don’t think you have anything on this baby. She looks like Livy!” 

Lio grins across the room when Lucie says that because he thought the same thing when he saw her.

“Your parents are gonna die when they see her.” 

Lio calls his parents later that night to introduce them to Gracie, then requests for them to come to the hospital the following day to meet her in person. Connor and Lucie were enough visitors for the first day. After ending the call with his parents, he rotates through his siblings and his cousins, including Mack and David who put her barely older cousin on the screen so he can say hi too. He sleeps through the whole thing. But it's nice that Lio and Mack finally have something to bond over.

The rest of the night is filled with diaper changes, feedings, burping, and learning how to take care of a newborn for both Lio and Savannah. Everything that happens, they try to do as a team. It’s surprisingly fun to be figuring it out together. 

The next morning, Savannah takes another shower and puts on some make up to feel a little more human. She sheds the weird billowing hospital gown and slides into soft, forgiving pajamas that Lucie had recommended. Lio steps out to grab some coffee for the two of them, then comes back with a few pastries for Savannah to choose from. They eat together, staring down at Gracie nursing while falling back asleep.

Lio’s phone buzzing on the tray have them both startling out of their baby trance.

“Oh maybe your parents are here?”

“I think so.” He says, looking at his phone to see his mom’s text. “I'm going to go grab them from the lobby.” He responds. He kisses her- long and proud- then does the same to Gracie’s dark hair. “I love you.” He tells both his girls. Then he heads out of the room.

He rushes a hand through his hair, blinking away the grit he feels in his blue eyes. Since they arrived here, everything has been a total blur. His feet practically float along the bright tile of the hospital as he follows the signs to the lobby. He stretches his shoulders and neck, then pushes through the doors. The lobby is relatively quiet for a Monday, but it spreads across both sides of the walkway. He looks left, not seeing them.

“Lee! Baby!” He hears his mom to his right. He turns, seeing her launch out of her chair. Her hand is still tightly gripping his dad’s as he stands too. 

“I have a daughter.” He says with a relieved sigh and smile. Last time he saw them, he didn’t have a daughter. They had weeks to go and no name for her yet.

“Yay!” Emma cheers, tears building in her brown eyes. She opens her arms, collecting her first baby into her arms. Lio breathes in the scent of her flower perfume beneath his nose. “Congratulations, Lio.” Her hand falls to the back of his head. He feels his dad’s hand press into the middle of his shoulders so both his parents are hugging him. Lio’s hands tighten around his mom, feeling extremely emotional. Hot tears leak from his lashes as they stay there, huddled together in a bundle of love. 

“We are so proud of you.” Timo murmurs, rubbing Lio’s back over his shirt.

“Thank you. But it was all her.” He says, speaking of his wife.

“How is she?”

“Good. She did so good, mama. Soooo good. Like she was made for that moment.” He says, pulling away from the hug. He moves to his dad, hugging him just as tightly as he did his mom. He is so grateful his parents are here.

“Love you.” He sighs to his dad, letting his face fall to his shoulder for a moment. 

“I love you so much, Lio. I’m so happy you get to know what this feels like.” The older Meier tells him.

“I get it.” He pulls away. He grabs his mom’s hand so she is part of this too. “ I completely understand what it feels like now to want to do anything in your power to protect your kid. I’ve known her less than a day, but I’d die for her. Everything is about her. I get it.”

Timo wraps an arm around his wife, who tangles her fingers in his hanging off her shoulder. There were so many moments Lio’s parents worried about their missteps with him. He was the first, a total surprise when they were nowhere near ready. They certainly stumbled while raising him, but looking at the man he is now, despite those things, has both of them feeling an immense amount of pride for their boy.

“That’s all you need to know about being a father. You learned it all in a day.” Timo jokes.

“No, I have a lot to learn. Hopefully you can teach me some things.” Lio says. “Wanna learn from the best.”

“You better call Uncle Neeks.” Timo smiles, slightly teary at the compliment. 

“We all see how Lucie turned out…” Lio chuckles. “Don’t tell her I said that.” He says immediately. “Do you want to meet your granddaughter?”

Both his parents nod excitedly. Together they walk back to Savannah’s room. She looks up happily when the three of them walk in. 

“Hi honey!” Emma exclaims to Savannah. She completely ignores the baby, checking in only with mama right away. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good. Drunk on the craziest love I’ve ever felt.” Emma grins.

“Bless the hormones that make you forget.” Emma shakes her head. “Congratulations, sweetheart. We love you so much and are so proud of you. You have handled this really hard journey with such grace.” Emma winks.

“Thank you.” Savannah smiles. “She was so worth it all.” Lio comes around to the other side of the bed from his mom so he can sit with his wife. 

“So this is Livia Meier 2.0.” Lio chuckles as Gracie is transferred to his mom’s arms from Savannah. “Watch her head.”

“Lio.” Emma laughs heartily. “I have four of these, baby. I know what I’m doing.” Emma’s eye’s drift down. “Oh wow, Livy through and through.” Emma murmurs, stroking her granddaughter’s cheek. “Hi baby. You are incredibly loved.” 

Timo comes to sit next to his wife on the bed. He glides a hand under her arm to hold their granddaughter together. It isn’t long before eyes are misting all over the room. 

The happiness Gracie is bringing to their family is already blossoming into a garden of joy they want to lay in forever. 

- - - 

Two days later, Lio jogs out of the hospital, scanning the attached parking lot for his car. Where did he park it? It’s all fuzzy from when he dropped Savannah off. He shields his eyes from the sun, walking to the left. He is pretty sure he came in from this direction. Eventually, he finds the SUV sitting alone towards the back of the parking lot. Things were a lot busier here during the weekend. 

He climbs into the back seat, then pulls the car around to stop in front of Savannah in a wheelchair. A nurse sits with her and Gracie who is already strapped into her car seat. Savannah stands up as Lio hustles out of the car. 

“Have a safe ride home!” The nurse cheers, then heads back into the sliding glass doors. 

“Home.” Savannah grins. They are both so excited to bring Gracie home and leave the hospital life behind. Sure, they both got a little freaked out earlier this morning, but then seconds dragged on until the staff came in with her and Gracie’s discharge paperwork. By the time they were signing everything, Lio was already pulling his keys out of his pocket to grab the car.

“You ready, baby?” He asks Gracie. She’s passed out, little lips puffed in a pout as she sleeps. “Yeah you are.” He answers for her.

Lio carefully locks Gracie’s car seat in place, double checking the straps on her chest a tenth time. Savannah slides into the other side of the backseat. She reaches for Lio’s hand on the straps. He pauses, seeing the tears on her cheeks. He smiles, leaning across their daughter to kiss his wife. 

“Let’s go home with our girl.” He mumbles into their kiss. 

Lio’s black Mercedes crawls down the New Jersey interstate the few miles back to their building. He has one hand on the wheel, the other on Savannah’s calf in the back seat. 

Savannah can’t see him clearly, but she suspects and confirms when the car stops: Lio cried the whole way home.

Sometimes Lio wishes he could go back to that devastated morning waking up in Switzerland after losing everything over a false alarm pregnancy. He wants to be able to tell himself it is all going to work out, that him and Savannah will find a way back to each other and create a perfect life, more fulfilling than he was even capable of dreaming about then.

But as he watches his wife adjust their daughter’s hat on her soft head, Lio knows it would be pointless.

Nothing about their current chapter would have been comprehendible to him then. 

He had to live it all to believe it.

[bullet-prooflove]

No more Mrs. Fuckin' Polite

OMFG! WHAT DID YOU DO WITH THIS PROMPT!

Tagging: @kmc1989 @caffeinatedwoman @maryelizabeth13 @toasted-stiletto @district447

Companion piece to:

Divorce!Series:

Part One: The Fight Before Christmas - You and Sam get into a fight after he discovers you've been keeping a secret from him.

Part Two: Should Have - There's a lot of things Sam should have done.

Part Three: Fraught - Sam makes a decision regarding your relationship.

Part Four: Sign Here - Sam serves you with divorce papers.

Part Five: Don't Look Back - After running into you at the hospital Sam tries to convince himself not to look back.

Part Six: Lost - You and Sam reaquaint the day the divorce comes through.

Part Seven: Martial Affairs - There's debate regarding yours and Sam's status.

Couples Counselling - Sam and you start to date again after couple's counselling.

Sam can count the amount of times he’s seen you lose your shit on one hand. You’re a placid person by nature, with an even temperament and a calm disposition. You don’t get angry…

Which is why he’s so surprised when he unlocks the door and steps inside the house to hear giving both barrels to someone in the kitchen. The sound of your raised voice has him running because you don’t shout, you never shout.

The scene he steps into is one his brain struggles to comprehend because there’s a coffee splattered all over the wall, a shattered mug on the floor and a detective seated at his table looking suitably chastised. You’re on your feet, pacing the length of the kitchen with fire in your eyes.

“What’s going on?” He asks and both you and Alvin Olinsky look up to see him standing there in the doorway. “Oh God is it Lucy?”

His hand is already scrambling in his pocket for his phone when Olinsky raises to his feet and places his hand on Sam’s arm, guiding him towards the empty seat.

“Let’s just sit down and talk a sec.” He says in a tone that’s meant to sooth but all it does is throw a match on the kindling of Sam’s anxiety.

“Will one of you please tell me what the hell is going on?” Sam snaps and you take a deep breath to steady yourself as your palms come to rest upon the table.

“Sam.” You say softly. “It’s not Lucy but it is Lucy adjacent.”

“I don’t understand.” He says his dark eyebrows furrowing into a frown and you look to Olinsky because you cannot physically force the words out of your throat without the urge to throw something else at the wall.

“Marcus Croyton made a deal.” Olinsky says adjusting his hat. “He’s getting out.”

Sam’s breath catches in his throat and he’s filled with his fire, this violent, rampant emotion that sears through his body as his fists clench and his jaw tightens.

“I’m sorry.” He says with a dangerous lilt to voice. “For a minute I thought you were in my house, telling me that the man that raped my daughter was about to be set free from prison.”

He’s yelling now, he can hear the volume of his voice exploding through the room as Olinsky stands before him, his hands clasped in front of him looking contrite.

“Is that what you’re telling me?” He snarls at the other man. “Is that what your fucking telling me right now?”

Olinsky clears his throat, his chin jutting up as he meets Sam’s gaze.

“Yes.” Olinsky says, his voice full of remorse. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

Love Sam? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[alisonfelixwrites]

Informed consent: chapter 2

Word count: 6,889

Hazel was pretending to be busy in the kitchen while subtly listening in to Mia’s phone call. Her roommate was pacing around the living room, one hand holding the black phone to her ear, the other mindlessly fiddling with a loose thread of her jumper that she was only making worse.

Hazel already knew Mia would feel bad about that one later on, and she’d probably assist as they attempted to sow the jumper back together. It was a soft green one and Hazel knew it was one of Mia’s favourites. Somehow it stood out how Mia always reached for it on days she felt a little under the weather, or on days where she was extra tired and sleepy.

Living with a roommate was new for the both of them, and even if they looked like polar opposites to the outside world, it had been working in their favour so far. Mia and Hazel had been living together for all of two months, and surprisingly last night hadn’t been the first time Mia had stood by the edge of Hazel’s bed, desperately trying to push her tears back before she politely asked if she could get into Hazel’s bed with her to cry her little heart out.

It had shocked Hazel the first time, Mia blatantly asking if she was allowed to show emotion and her needing Hazel’s approval for it. It never went further than this. Hazel never tried to coax anything out of Mia, she never tried to hold her or she never tried to console her. Mia didn’t need any of that, Hazel thought. Just the comforting presence of another silent person near her seemed enough.

It did give Hazel quite a clear view of what Mia’s upbringing had been like. 

She stored away some clean dishes silently as Mia hummed and nodded on the phone, her lip nervously tucked into her teeth and her hair in its usual braid, although slightly more messy from being in that hairstyle all day. Mia paced around, sighing and humming, hardly getting a word in between what her parents were talking about. Hazel wasn’t sure if it was her mum or her dad, neither of them really left room for Mia to say much.

The start of the call had been hard to hear, where Mia carefully tried to explain her slipping grades. She was still a great student, Hazel felt. Above average even, but there was just so much pressure from her parents and from Mia herself, that it was never really good enough.

What a life, Hazel thought. She felt sorry for Mia. They lived in a fun apartment, close to campus and they were two young girls leaving home for the first time. They lived close to the nightlife of their student neighbourhood, yet Mia hardly left the apartment. Hazel had known since the beginning that Mia was shy and suffered from some social anxiety, but this was making it worse.

Her friends questioned her mysterious roommate and Hazel defended Mia for not meeting them because they eventually thought she just didn’t want to meet them. Which wasn’t the case.

On the other side of the living room, Mia was on a call with her mother. She was listening to a rant about how she had to pick up her slacking grades or else they’d pull her from the apartment and she’d have to study from home so they could keep an eye on her.

Mia was desperately holding onto the small amount of freedom she had just received weeks ago and definitely was not ready to give it up yet.

“So you’ll get a tutor?” Her mother concluded. Mia sighed out, rubbing her forehead tiredly as she swallowed away the lump in her throat. She had no clue where to even find the time to get tutoring lessons, but she did need it if she wanted to keep living her life this way.

“Yes.” Mia eventually answered and her mother hummed, “Good. And you’re still doing those counselling sessions?”

“Yes.”

The thought alone made Mia’s stomach knot. She had said counselling sessions tomorrow before noon. She had three of them and she had no idea if the first would show up. She hadn’t seen or heard from Harry since he ran out of room two on Monday afternoon. It was a Wednesday evening now and Mia was downright exhausted after meeting a deadline at midnight last night, hardly having time to proofread her work for the fourth time before she had to hand it in.

She got slightly scolded in school today for being so tired during her classes and she sipped more coffee to stay up before tiredly dragging herself home and then receiving a call from her mother. 

Hazel had been kind to her, being more mindful around the apartment. Living with Hazel had been fun, but Mia had a hard time letting go of some structural rules she had set for herself. She preferred the dishes to always be done and she couldn’t stand crumbs on the counter. Hazel usually didn’t mind either of those, but Mia noticed how she tried to clean up neatly after herself in the past few days.

It was cute, Mia thought, the small acts of care. She was sure that when she felt a little better about herself, she’d drop the neurotic little traits and be more tolerant to Hazel’s chaos. Hazel had managed to get through some of her own routines into Mia’s life, but with difficulty.

So far, Hazel had coaxed Mia into dropping the pre-chosen week menus. Rather, they chose what to eat on the night itself, an act of spontaneity that Mia was unfamiliar with. She had never gone grocery shopping without a list. And while it was chaotic, it was also fun to load up the cart with whatever they felt like. 

So now, every night was a surprise. She had also let go in wanting to cook every night. Rather, Mia opened herself up to whatever Hazel came up with. She was a mess in the kitchen, and while Mia’s fingers itched to clean up the drops of sauce on the cabinets, she refrained herself from doing so.

She was letting go.

But on days like these, where she had a hard time being kind to herself, those old habits resurfaced and she couldn’t help but give into them, tiring herself even more by cleaning neurotically. 

“Are you okay?” Hazel asked from behind her as Mia had finished up her phone call. Her lip was red from biting on it so hard all day and she braced herself, putting on a forced smile before turning around and facing her roommate, “Yeah. My mother came up with the idea to get tutoring lessons.”

Hazel’s brow turned into a frown as she waited for the water to boil to make her and Mia some tea, “Tutoring lessons? Mia, you’re a better student than everyone I know.”

Mia ran a nervous hand through her hair, “I mean, it couldn’t hurt, right? For me to understand the material a little better. My grades have been slipping.”

“They really have not.” Hazel sighed, shooting her roommate a sympathetic look, “But if you feel like you have to, you should. I think there’s a link on the school website where you can book tutoring sessions online.”

“Really?” Mia’s head lifted, a slight bounce of anxiety in her chest. She had somehow hoped it was impossible to find a tutor and that she didn’t have to do these lessons, but if the road to tutoring sessions was that easy, there was no way she could skip it.

Hazel nodded, “Yeah. Here, I’ll show you.” She opened up her laptop which sat at the end of the counter and Mia padded over, stifling a yawn while looking over Hazel’s shoulder to follow along. She slowly nodded as Hazel put in some of her information.

“Here,” She pointed to the screen, “there’s a session on neuropsychology tomorrow morning.”

Mia bit her bitten lip again and winced under her breath, “Tomorrow morning?”

“Mhm.” Hazel nodded, “At nine. It’s pretty early and you’re already so tired...” She tried but Mia exhaled a breath, “No, no, I’ll be fine. I think it’s good, it’s one of my most difficult subjects.” She leaned her elbows on the countertop and played with the end of her braid, “Can you sign me up?”

Hazel warily nodded, “I can. Are you sure? You can wait a week, maybe catch up on some sleep… Also, don’t you have those counselling sessions tomorrow?”

Mia palmed her forehead, “Yes, I do. I’ll – uh, I’ll send them an email to reschedule.” Mia sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose to try and mentally figure out her schedule. It was around nine in the evening and her and Hazel had dinner not too long ago after she managed to coax Mia out of her room.

She had been studying all evening and her brain felt like it might explode, but she had to do good for this. While Hazel booked Mia’s tutoring session for the next day, Mia pulled out her phone to send a polite and apologetic email to the three appointments she had set the following morning for therapy. She also emailed professor Dillon to let her know of the change in schedule.

She was sure that if she could still schedule them this week, he wouldn’t make an issue out of it. After all, the tutoring sessions were also to boost her study career, much like the therapy sessions.

“Thank you.” Mia sighed once Hazel showed her the confirmation of Mia’s submission into the tutoring session and Hazel shortly nodded, “It’s okay. D’you want some tea?”

“Yes, please.”

While Hazel poured the two of them a mug of hot tea, Mia rolled on the balls of her sore feet, back and forth to get some of the strain out of them. She had worn her new boots this morning and her feet weren’t all that grateful. She made it a point to wear her old ones again tomorrow to grant herself some comfort.

“So when are you going to schedule the three appointments then?” Hazel asked while passing Mia her cup. This one had little pink bows on it and Mia absently smiled at the funky mug from Hazel’s mug collection before clasping her fingers around the hot drink to keep warm.

She nibbled her lip at Hazel’s question, “Uh, maybe Friday after hours?”

“Ooof, on a Friday?”

Mia nodded, “I know. Maybe if it’s just after hours, they won’t mind that I’m picking some of their Friday. Or maybe on the weekend.”

“Mia.” Hazel frowned as if shocked by her words, “You’re not seriously thinking of doing school work like that on a weekend? You’re already doing so much and you study all throughout the weekends, at least grant yourself some time away from campus.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Mia murmured, dropping her eyes. Hazel leaned over the counter, “That dickhead who made you cry on Monday isn’t one of the three appointments, is he?”

“He is.” Mia sighed, remembering how emotional she had felt after her failed counselling session with Harry on Monday. How he stormed out, how he said she looked like she belonged in church, how he didn’t want to speak to her or even look at her. The thought alone made her stomach tight. She hadn’t said much to Hazel about him. First of all, she wasn’t allowed to speak his name because of the confidentiality and the informed consent. Second of all, she didn’t want to betray Harry like that, especially because the nature of the reason why he was in therapy to begin with, was rather… unconventional.

Mia got pink cheeks just remembering the words she had read over and over again. Him and a casual friend in the library, going at it and destroying furniture as they went. 

Third of all, she felt like maybe Hazel might know Harry. He said he was still redoing some first year subjects and studied philosophy, so chances were big they at least had a couple of classes together. He didn’t exactly strike me as someone who always went to his classes, but the campus was rather small and most people knew the others in their study group.

“Thank you for the tea.” Mia mumbled, “I’m going to take a quick shower and then revise some more for neuropsychology before going to bed.”

Hazel shot her a look, shaking her head at Mia’s inability to leave work behind. She didn’t say anything though, and Mia took her cup of tea before disappearing into the bathroom. She stared at her puffy, tired eyes in the mirror while taking out her braid. Her long brown hair laid in waves over her shoulders and she used the strength her arms had left to put it all up in a high bun before she hopped into the warm shower.

With each passing second, she knew she wouldn’t be able to revise anymore before tomorrow’s tutoring session. Her brain was clouded and she felt a little shaken up after the phone call to her mum. Her parents weren’t the most understanding, and even if she knew she was above average in her grades and most people thought she was such a teacher’s pet, it never was really going to be enough.

She didn’t think her parents had ever really been proud of her.

The entire thing made her nervous and provided her with an anxiety she couldn’t shake, which was an indication that she wouldn’t be able to read anymore tonight. Feeling like this had great effects on her dyslexia. Another thing her parents were slightly in denial about. They couldn’t understand that being dyslexic also meant that she had more trouble processing information and that might be one of the reasons she was a bit slower than they had expected her to be.

Leaving the bathroom, she took the remainder of her tea and disappeared into her room, noticing that Hazel’s door was already closed and she was watching something on her laptop in bed. Flicking on the lights in her room, the busy cluttered desk with stacks of her books made Mia wince a little under her breath. It was a constant reminder of all the work she had yet to do.

They each had a small bedroom here, Hazel’s decorated a lot more nicely – Mia thought – than her own. She didn’t have a knack for it. Hazel’s was cluttered in a way that made it very cosy and even though the ‘mess’ gave Mia some anxiety, it also gave her a sense of comfort. Her own room was rather bland. She didn’t have too many knickknacks and when shopping with Hazel, Mia safely chose the plain white bedsheets rather than the floral pink ones that Hazel had picked out for herself.

Tomorrow was bound to be another long day. She didn’t have classes in the morning but they carried on through the afternoon until late in the evening. She’d only get home around seven thirty and she wanted to stay in the library for a bit before heading home. The free morning was usually filled up with therapy and from tomorrow on, those tutoring sessions.

She could only hope that the rescheduling didn’t make Harry more angry with her.

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

Mia was wrong.

It was lunchtime when she sat with her eyes half closed and her breadbox in front of her. She chewed on some pieces of cucumber and carrots that she had sliced the evening before to make a quick getaway this morning.

Message from: Hazel

How did it go? Are you okay?

The care from her friend warmed Mia’s heart and she softly smiled at her phone, responding to Hazel that she was fine and that the tutoring session had gone alright.

The tutor – a girl a few years above her – had explained some of the course material. She was a little baffled upon finding out that Mia already knew quite a bit and then explained that she usually assisted students who struggled way more than her. Still, she went over some of the harder parts with Mia and let her do some questionnaires about neuropsychology to prepare her for exams.

So with one hour and a half of lunch time, Mia sat down at her usual table far in the back. She once more pushed away some dirty trays left there by students before cleaning up her area a little. Hazel was studying at a friend’s house today but it still warmed Mia’s heart that she checked up on her like this.

“Are you serious?!”

The sharp, angry tone of Harry’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. Mia jumped up in surprise, near dropping her phone as she quickly lifted her head to see Harry standing over her table with a scowl on his face.

Mia noticed the deep green of his eyes again, tendrils of floppy chestnut hair laid over his forehead with little drops falling from them. He had been caught in today’s drizzle recently, that was obvious. If not by his hair, then by his wet overcoat. It resembled the colour of his eyes, Mia noticed, and covered up a thick black cable jumper he wore underneath.

“I’m sorry.” Mia instantly peeped, unsure of where this conversation was going but she could sense Harry’s annoyance and she felt the immediate need to apologise. Harry frowned down at her, letting his own eyes rack over her appearance as she so unsubtly did to him.

Beneath his bubbling anger, he did notice how tired her dark blue eyes were and how shadowy the bags underneath them were. She stared up at him with a rounded gaze, shock written all over her pale face at his little outburst. 

Harry had woken up nicely on time to try and give his counselling sessions with Mia a second shot. He truly could not afford to pay for that stupid ancient bookcase and hyped himself up, telling himself he could get through eight hours of talking about his sex life to a stranger. He didn’t see any issue in what had happened. Sex was human and it was natural, maybe the location of it had been unconventional, but he didn’t understand why he was punished like this.

Punished by putting him in the same room as Mia Brown, who looked at him like she was scared of him even upon opening that door to room two the first moment they met. She looked fragile, even more now that she was clearly sleep-deprived.

The second Harry saw the guilt on her face, his features softened a little bit.

Skipping out on an evening with his friends to meet Mia on time – nine in the morning was the earliest he had been anywhere recently so that was a challenge on its own – only to read her email from late last night telling him she couldn’t make it. And then the email had a bunch of typos in it too, something Harry just found plain impolite from her part.

He felt the wet droplets of his hair dripping down onto his shoulders after he made a run through campus to grab some lunch. He had been unable to fall back asleep after his early alarm and had been sulking and angry the entire morning before getting ready for class.

And then he saw her. At the far end table, by herself, her eyes on her phone as she slowly nibbled on some carrots.

He exhaled a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to calm down a little, “When can we reschedule?”

Mia swallowed the piece of carrot in her mouth, surprised to find him in front of her. She blushed at just how shocked she felt, casting her eyes down as she laid her phone on the table and then flicked them back up to Harry. 

She was just about to speak when someone walked by and dropped an empty bag with food scraps on the table, making Mia jolt up once more at the unexpected noise. Harry glanced at it too, frowning harder at the filth being dropped on the table where Mia was eating.

“Hey.” He bit at the guy who had dropped the garbage. He turned around with raised brows and Harry shot him an angry look, “Can you just put your garbage in the trash can? She’s eating here, it’s disrespectful.”

Mia didn’t say anything, near feeling the need to apologise in his name. If there was one thing she hated the most in the world, it was confrontation. She had never been good at it.

The guy didn’t seem very intimidated by Harry’s words as he just shrugged and continued walking. Harry sighed and used the side of his hand to brush the trash to the side before he slid back the chair opposite Mia, surprising her more when he sat down.

Mia fidgeted on her seat a little uncomfortably before clearing her throat, “You don’t have to sit down, you know?” She timidly spoke.

Harry frowned, “What?”

“W-With me.” She clarified, trying to make her voice sound heard instead of the usual mumbling and whispering she did. She shifted again, “You don’t have to sit with me.”

Harry stared at her for a moment, noticing how she uncomfortably looked around, as if checking to see if anyone was staring at this interaction. He wanted to tell her that this was university and that people honestly didn’t care, but he just kept my mouth closed and stared at her a little more. She refused to look into Harry’s eyes, something he had noticed on Monday as well.

“I don’t mind sitting with you. Why are you sitting here anyway? Everyone knows this is the trash table.”

Mia played with the end of her braid and crossed her legs the other side, shrugging her shoulders, “I don’t know. There wasn’t room anywhere else.”

Harry shrugged off his wet coat and rolled up the sleeves of his cable jumper a little, just enough to expose his forearms. Mia’s eyes curiously dragged up the exposed piece of tan skin, her shock only rising when she saw the tattoos littering his skin. She hadn’t expected those to be there, her head tilting to the side as she tried to read an ink around his wrist but the way his arm was laying down, prevented her from seeing the final few letters.

Harry had never attempted a conversation with someone who just refused to… talk. Like Mia did. She just left so much silence and it made him so uncomfortable. He clasped his fingers together, breaking her spell of staring at his tattoos and she lifted her eyes, nibbling on her lip which Harry noticed was swollen and raw.

“I-I’m sorry about the cancellation. Something just came up.” Mia explained and Harry exhaled a breath, “I understand, but we don’t all have a fluid schedule like you do.” He couldn’t help the little dig, still feeling angry about her need to reschedule right after he decided to give it another go.

Mia felt a pang to her chest at Harry’s harsh words. He hadn’t liked her since the first second, and she had no idea why. 

“I signed up for tutoring at the last moment. This morning was the only available time slot this week.” She murmured, keeping her eyes low. Harry took notice of the raspiness of her voice and at the explanation she gave him, his shoulders deflated, “Oh.”

Harry knew what it was like to struggle with the course materials better than most people. He struggled last year and eventually kind of gave up, meaning he had to redo some of his subjects from the first year and was behind already even if he had just started. Mia, explaining to him that she needed tutoring, actually pulled on a heartstring because he had thought often about signing up for tutoring. 

“Psychology, right? I heard the first year is the toughest.” He spoke. Mia lifted her eyes in surprise at his words, seeing how he stared at his fingers. Much like last time, he wore a few silver rings on some of them. She had been too busy staring at the tattoos earlier that she hadn’t even properly noticed the rings.

Harry was broad-shouldered and his form kind of shielded her from the rest of the cafeteria, a feeling she quite liked. Mia felt like a lot of times she preferred to hide.

“So about the rescheduling, how about tomorrow after class? I’m free after four.” Mia spoke, glancing at her calendar on her phone. Harry gave it a look too, seeing it only upside down but the array of appointments and colours in there made him frown, “You have a busy schedule.” He remarked. 

“Oh.” Mia tucked a strand of loose brown hair behind her ear, “I-I gave each subject a different colour.” She explained and Harry frowned deeper, “Wait, that’s all for studying?”

Mia flicked her eyes up at him and blushed a little in embarrassment at how much of a nerd she seemed to be, “Yes.”

Harry scratched the back of his neck, “Well – uh… Tomorrow at four is not the best time. How about next week? You seem tired, maybe you should use tomorrow after school to just relax or hang out with friends.” He suggested.

Mia shot him a small smile, grateful for his suggestion and the care for how she spent her time, “That’s alright. I need the extra credit.”

“W- oh.” Harry blurted in sheer realisation before his eyes widened, “You… you give therapy for extra credit?”

Mia took a slow sip of her water bottle and nodded slowly, “Yes.”

“Shit.” He mumbled, rubbing his fingers through his damp hair, pushing it away from his forehead which Mia felt like suited him a lot. Harry shamefully looked down, “I’m sorry I gave you such a shit time before. About volunteering and not needing the money. It was a dick move.” He apologised, now realising Mia only volunteered to lift up her grades, much like she took tutoring sessions for that same reason. Once more, he felt kind of connected in how he used to try everything to attempt and keep his grades up. He never went this far in spending all his time on school, but he couldn’t hold it against Mia that she kept trying. He should’ve done the same thing last year.

“It’s okay,” Mia shook her head, “you don’t have to apologise, I know how it looked.” She tried not to focus on the swear words he used so easily while they felt so foreign to her, even just hearing them. Harry shook his head too, “No, it’s not okay. I made a judgement while you were only trying to help.”

Mia fiddled with her earlobe, unsure of how to take his words. It sounded like a compliment, but then again it would seem foreign of Harry to just compliment her after being very distant the entire time. She felt like they just weren’t compatible as two people. So much so that even a conversation was difficult. She hoped Harry could feel that she was trying.

“Speaking of that,” Harry cleared his throat, deciding to use this to steer the conversation into another thing he wanted to talk to her about. He pulled a sheet out of his backpack and straightened it a little before laying it on the table, “you never signed off on the first session.”

Mia stared at the copy of the informed consent form that both her and Harry signed at the beginning of the first session. She saw her name and signature on there, as well as his, before there was a grid with eight rows. She was supposed to fill in the date and put down a stamp and her signature to sign off on each of the eight sessions that would put Harry in the clear of having to pay for the broken bookcase.

She nibbled her lip, immediately feeling uncomfortable again by having to turn him down, “You – uh… you didn’t follow the session. So I can’t sign off.” She mumbled carefully.

Harry frowned, “I was there, wasn’t I?”

“You were.” Mia nodded slowly while trying to stand her ground, “For about fifteen minutes. The sessions are an hour.” Everything inside of her was itching to just put her signature down and get this conversation over with.

“Fuck.” Harry breathed, leaning back into his seat and harshly grabbing the sheet again before folding it completely crookedly and stuffing it back into his backpack, “So we have to start over again?” He sounded disappointed and frustrated all over again.

Mia hardly dared looking at him but eventually did lift her eyes, “Yes.” Her voice cracked slightly and she knew it wasn’t doing any good to show how self-conscious she was about standing up to someone like this. Harry sighed and crossed his arms, making his biceps bulge out.

Even with Harry’s anger directed towards her, Mia couldn’t deny that he was very beautiful to look at. She felt like every pair of eyes in the room was immediately glued to him when he walked in. He had this aura, this magnetism about him. She found it hard to focus on whatever she was thinking about when he was in front of her. Especially when he was this close and she could feel the warmth of his knee radiating to hers underneath the table, and she could inhale the subtle lingering scent of perfume around him.

She could see the little birthmark by the left corner of his mouth, and once again found herself mesmerised by his imperfections. He made them look so effortless and if anything, they only made him more gorgeous. Little smile wrinkles by the corners of his eyes, the drops falling from his dark hair, the remainder of chipped nail polish on some of his nails and Mia swore she could see a faint scar of a piercing that once decorated the right side of his nostril. She instantly imagined what he would look like with a little silver hoop pierced through his nose.

“Well,” Harry sighed, leaning his elbows on the table and shrugging, “can we just do that first session now? How long do you have?”

Mia raised her brows, “Now? Like, h-here? We’re in a cafeteria."

“So?” He shrugged again, “Didn’t seem like you were busy. First one now, second one tomorrow at four?”

“I’ve…” She let out a shaky breath, “I don’t think it’s a good idea to do them so quickly in a row.”

“Mia.” He rolled his eyes and she shuddered slightly just from the way her name sounded rolling off of his pink lips. Like he had been saying it all his life, like it was so natural, “It’s just talking. I’m sure I’ll manage.”

Mia was almost too busy staring at the way his lips moved to even properly hear anything he said. Harry caught on, narrowing his eyes, “Hello?”

“Oh.” She straightened up, “I-I’m sorry, what?” Her neck turned red from embarrassment but Harry didn’t seem to notice, simply reaching into his bag to pick out a pen and a little notebook, “I said it’s just talking so I’ll manage.” He slid the notebook and pen over to her side of the table, bumping into the tray that held the remainder of her food, “Here. To take your notes.”

Mia curled her lips inside of her mouth, staring at the pen he pulled out. It was pink and sparkly and she loved it immediately. The notebook was plain black and the edges had been a bit roughed up. It looked like something he had used a lot.

The second Mia sighed and opened up the notebook, Harry smiled slightly upon realising she was giving in. He drummed his fingers on the table in victory as she skimmed through the pages to find the first fully empty one. Mia’s brows knitted into a small frown, “Are you sure I can write in this? Don’t you need that?”

“Nah, it’s just old stuff.” Harry waved it away. Mia paused on one of the pages to study his scribbly handwriting, wondering if he wrote all of this while paying attention in class and if so, did he use his pink sparkly pen to do so? She could hardly read the words and eventually just settled on an empty page.

She straightened up and then gently pushed her tray to the side to make room for the notebook. She hardly dared lifting her eyes to stare into his, knowing full well the effect his green irises had on the feeling of her limbs. Harry rummaged his bag again before taking out a little jar, opening it up to pick out a piece of gum. He popped it in his mouth, the air immediately lingering in fresh spearmint before he held out the jar for her, “Gum?”

Mia blinked twice before managing to shake her head, “No, I’m okay. Thank you.”

Harry nodded and chucked the jar of gum away again while Mia fully swooned over the way his jaw sharpened with each chew on the piece in his mouth. He sat up again and exhaled a breath, “So, how does this work?”

Mia had to force herself out of her daydreams about the student in front of her, unsure of what to do with all these hot and inappropriate thoughts. She cleared her throat, trying to seem as if she had her act together, “Well, usually I have some sort of file with a little bit of information about you and why you’re here.” She explained.

He huffed humorously, “We’ve established that, no? I fucked someone in the library and defiled school property.” He shrugged. Mia’s eyes widened at the use of his blunt vocabulary and she shifted in her seat, “R-Right.” Her throat sounded dry.

“So, you’re going to like heal me? Make me do abstinence?” He teased, “Should I call you Dr. Phil?”

It was Mia’s turn to huff out a chuckle, keeping her eyes on the open notebook in front of her while fiddling with the earring in her lobe again, “Definitely not. And ‘m not here to heal you in any way. This is just talking.”

“You’re going to lurk around my soul, aren’t you?” He continued his teasing, “Isn’t that what psychology is?”

“You know a lot about psychology?” Mia questioned and Harry shrugged, “I know I usually don’t agree with it.”

Mia clicked open her pen, “How do you mean?”

Harry leaned back into his seat and pressed his lips together with a shrug, “It’s really uptight to me. It’s why I prefer my field, philosophy. The purpose is to solve things that occur in real life, like real problems. Not people following their human urges and having sex, that’s not a problem.”

Mia puckered her lips in thought, “It might be when it’s in a public space.”

“You psychologists and your need for intervention.” Harry sighed with a shake of his head, “I’ll never understand. Did you know psychology stems from philosophy?”

“I do.” Mia nodded and Harry hummed, “First psychology student I know who can admit defeat that easily.”

She chuckled and shrugged, “It’s not defeat, it’s not a race. It’s just history and the truth. Both can coexist.”

“Yeah, but… I don’t know, psychology is so biological.” Harry spoke in thought and Mia tilted her head to the side, “Says the person who studies morality. Aren’t philosophers the ones telling people what’s right and wrong behaviour?”

“Some maybe.” Harry nodded, “But not me. I’m all for the free spirit. Let people live their lives and let them do what they want. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Is that why you slept with that girl in the library?” Mia bravely asked.

Harry smiled and his dimple popped, making Mia’s heart beat twice as fast at the toothy grin he shot her. She saw a sliver of the piece of gum in his mouth as he shook his head, “I guess. I just did it because I felt like it.”

Mia wrote something down and nodded, “So I assume you like the field you’re studying, right?”

“I do.” Harry nodded, “I take a big interest in sexual philosophy. Had a class on it last year.”

Mia nodded distantly, knowing full well that Hazel studied that subject this year. She had seen the books lying around the apartment, sometimes with ancient erotic art on the cover. It made Mia blush either way.

“Sexuality is super ambivalent in philosophy,” Harry said, “like on one hand it’s godly and spiritual. Socrates called it the ‘pure and true’. On the other hand, it’s feared. Because it’s animalistic, irrational and selfish. But I mean, who’s to say what’s good and bad sex, right? I mean, except for the obvious,” Harry mumbled, almost more to himself as if lost in thought, “I mean, who’s to say what’s a good or bad way to have sex?”

Mia didn’t say much, but wrote stuff down as Harry spoke passionately about his studies.

“I definitely follow the idea of metaphysical optimism.” He continued, “That sex connects and adds to one’s happiness. So it’s morally good. It’s liberal and free and tolerant and an autonomous choice.”

“Okay.” Mia slowly found herself nodding, “But what about the transdisciplinary approach? That it causes power and a shift in it? That’s a way to suppress someone? It’s not always as safe as you say it is. It’d be nice if it was, but then there wouldn’t be all these stories about people not enjoying it.”

Harry smirked, “Foucault, right? Such a psychologist.” He tutted before shaking his head, “You lot think too much.”

“I don’t think it’s thinking. It’s an experience. And sure you can say everyone is free and liberal and makes the choice to be… active.” She carefully jumped around the words before taking a breath, “But it’s epistemological, right? It’s still a science.”

“But why does it have to be a science? Can’t it just be a feeling?”

“Sure, b-“

“Haven’t you ever wanted to have sex so bad that you didn’t even care when or where? Have you never felt that primal, animalistic need to just… have someone?” Harry used his hands to bring his words extra power.

Mia stared at him and tried to stop the deep flush from rising up her cheeks, but Harry had seen. He tilted his head to the side with a small smirk, as if silently telling her that he knew her secret or something. Mia avoided his gaze and shifted on her chair, clearing her throat and leaving a silence.

“You have, haven’t you?” Harry pushed softly. Mia kept her eyes down while writing down a few things to keep herself from crumpling under his gaze.

“Mia.” Harry tried to get her attention, “You have, haven’t you?”

She exhaled a sharp breath, “I have.” She lied. Harry didn’t respond, and she didn’t have to lift her head to know the curious smirk he had on his lips, as if waiting for her to look up so he could pry the truth from her embarrassed gaze.

“Have you?”

“Yes.” She shortly answered.

“Why don’t you tell me about it?”

She huffed out a shaky breath, “This isn’t about me.” She murmured, digging the pen harder into the paper while writing down complete nonsense. Harry didn’t respond for a moment, “Okay, but we’re having a conversation, right? And I asked you a question?”

“This is not a conversation.” She spoke, “This is therapy.” She remembered professor Dillon teaching her about boundaries and Mia straightened up, “I don’t feel comfortable sharing things about that topic with you, or anyone. It’s a private matter.”

“It is for you, but not for me?” He frowned when she finally raised her eyes.

“I-I’m not asking for details here, Harry.” She tried to reason, “These talks are just to get to the root of why you did what you did, hoping it’s sufficient enough for the school to drop the fine and just let you get off with a warning.”

“God,” Harry exhaled in a whine, dropping his head back, “Why am I being treated like some sort of A-class criminal? I was horny, I was hard and she was wet and we fucked. It’s not that hard to understand. It’s simple biology, I thought you were so good at that?”

The bite in his tone was back and Mia flinched ever so slightly at his raised voice. She tried her best to not break the eye-contact, but his intense eyes quickly made her cast hers down.

A coping mechanism of his, apparently, the snarling. She got close to something he didn’t want to share with her or talk about, so he bit at her. Mia realised this, and hoped that she could get through or it would be eight very long sessions with Harry.

She cleared her throat, trying hard not to let it get to her. She turned a page of her notebook and drew a breath, “Let’s move on.”

[fizzyxcustard]

Covert Eyes (23)

Prologue| Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6| Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: Spooks

Pairings: Lucas North x OC (Amy Holland)

Warnings: Stalking behaviour, anxiety, language, sexual references, angst, smut, heartbreak, gunshot wounds and recovery, abduction, hostage situation.

Summary: Lucas takes notice of a young woman, Amy, but his obsession and want to get to know her begin to spiral out of control. Amy is now working for MI-5, after being recruited by Ros. But will her involvement with Lucas cause even more problems and heartbreak?

When Amy's parents get involved, how will things pan out for Amy and Lucas?

Official soundtrack list:  here

Comments/Notes: If you wish to be tagged in any of my tag lists for fics or characters, please let me know, and stipulate what you want to be tagged in.

People who don't interact with my fics over a few months will be removed from tag lists.

Bright light burst into the room and the familiar voices of Ros and Jo broke through the shroud of silence that had formed in the room. Halos around their heads. Amy winced against the light…. 

As Amy lay in bed, waking, she saw Lucas’ outline, his form haloed by a bright light. He was in the doorway. Every time he stood in the doorway, the room dark, with only light from the hallway behind him, it took her back. It felt as if she were time travelling back to her time locked away with nothing by Simon Caulfield’s slimy words for company. 

Lucas limped into the room. She could hear his shouts in her mind as Simon Caulfield had put a bullet in his thigh merely seconds before Ros and Jo saved them. Then once they had both been released, Amy and Lucas had been in hospital overnight. They had been given their own private room due to the nature of their reasoning for being in hospital. 

Harry had given them both time off to recuperate, and offered counselling. Lucas, as he had done many times, politely rejected Harry’s offer. However, Amy knew that she would probably find herself fighting against the memories for some time. 

Lucas got into bed beside Amy, and studied her for a moment. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, but gradually they had begun to fade and the light in her eyes was starting to reappear. 

Amy curled her arm around his head, her fingers sifting through his short hair. He was literally her everything. 

***

Richard Holland held a small package in his hand, thinking back on the postman’s words that it had been sent first class but accidentally got lost at the depot, so was a week late. He ripped open the thick envelope finding a small stack of papers inside. On the top was a note, written in capital letters. 

RICHARD AND SHARON HOLLAND, 

THE ENCLOSED PHOTOGRAPHS ARE PROOF THAT LUCAS NORTH IS NOT WHO HE APPEARS TO BE. YOUR DAUGHTER IS IN DANGER. 

Richard felt his whole body grow cold at the sight of photos of Amy bound to a chair and blindfolded. Then further photographs showed Amy lying on the pavement in a pool of her own blood, next to another woman also shot. With Lucas standing over both of them, a gun in his hand. 

***

Amy and Lucas were still off work when the phone call came. Lucas was sat on the sofa with a mug of coffee, flicking through the channels, rolling his eyes at how shit day time TV was. Amy had been cleaning the kitchen; mundane tasks were enough to take her mind away from the thoughts of Simon Caulfield. The pain in her neck and back was fading day by day, but still enough to cause her grief and keep up a steady dose of painkillers. 

“Dad?” Amy asked. “Everything okay?” Amy sat down at the kitchen table and sighed, wincing at sharp stab of pain which shot through her neck. 

“I’m coming to fetch you, Amy. You’re not to stay with that bastard any longer!” Richard Holland demanded. “Your mum knew there was something behind the shooter; I know she was involved with Lucas. And I know you were took hostage last week.”

A rod of ice shot down Amy’s back and her heart raced in her chest. “D…Dad….what’s happened?” 

“I’m coming to London to get you. He better not be there when I come because I’ll kill the bastard!” Richard seethed. 

“Dad, please, stop it.” 

“No, I won’t stop it, Amy. I am not prepared to let him do this to you. It’s a good job your mum is at work and hasn’t seen the photos. I won’t let her see them.” 

“Who sent you the photos?” 

“It doesn’t matter who sent them. I’m coming to get you. Pack some things.” 

“Dad…please….”

Lucas could hear Amy’s pleas and hobbled into the kitchen. “Aim, what’s going on?” 

Richard growled down the phone line. “Trying to play the protector now, is he? He can fuck himself. He’d better not be there when I come and get you because I really will kill him…” 

Amy was weeping as her father disconnected the call. She held the phone in her shaking hand, until it finally fell from her grasp and hit the floor. “Dad knows!” she sobbed. “He’s got photos of me from last week and when I was shot. He’s coming to take me back to Coventry. I can’t leave.” 

Lucas’ breath caught in his throat. Everything he loved was slipping away, and for a few seconds he tried to grapple with some kind of rational thought. He knew he couldn’t fight this one; Amy’s father was right. Despite having not heard Richard’s side of the conversation, Lucas knew he was doing the right thing. Amy had to be safe. 

Amy dashed at Lucas, grabbing his shirt. She could see in his face that he was admitting defeat. 

“You need to go with him, Aim. They can keep you safe: I can’t,” Lucas said, his voice breaking. “I love you too much to let you keep being hurt. He’s doing this because he loves you, Amy. He fucking loves you…and so do I.” His voice finally broke. Tears fell down Lucas’ cheeks and he took Amy into his arms, holding her tight. “Go with him, angel. I can’t keep you safe anymore.” 

“You can,” Amy wept, looking up at him. “I want to be with you, Lucas. More than anything. Don’t push me away.” 

“I’m not pushing you away because I want to. Fuck. Can’t you see that? It’s because I love you more than anything that I’m doing this.” 

“If I do go, I’ll come back,” Amy argued. “They can’t make me stay.” 

Lucas smiled through the tears. “You are the bravest person I’ve ever met.” 

The next two hours were crippling as Amy packed two suitcases full of clothing. Lucas watched her from the doorway, knowing that letting her go was the only way to keep her safe. Amy belonged with her family who could be the stability she needed. “I am coming back,” Amy said defiantly, stopping for a second with a pile of underclothes in her hands. “I don’t intend on staying there for long.” 

“You’ll stay as long as you need to.” 

“I’m only doing this to please you and Dad for now, but I’ll be coming back,” Amy countered. She approached Lucas and lifted her hand, cupping his cheek. He kissed her palm, turning into her touch. Then suddenly he kissed her hard, catching her off guard. Heat mounted so high between them and within seconds, Lucas’ lips were trailing down Amy’s throat. 

They made love on the bed. It was like the very first time they had made love: intense, passionate, full of want. As Lucas came and then rested his head on her chest, he whispered, “I need to let you go.” 

“Lucas, no!” Amy whimpered. “Don’t you dare!”

Lucas got up from the bed, untangling himself from her and re-buttoned his shirt, and then pulled his jeans up, re-buckling his belt. 

“When we got back together, I should have known I wouldn’t be worth it,” Amy growled. “I’m never worth it, am I?” 

“You are worth everything!” Lucas shot back. His eyes were wide and his whole face was contorted in anger and frustration. “How the fuck can you say you’re not worth it? I’m doing this because I love you. I should have known better than ever bring you into any of this. I should have stayed away when I first saw you.” 

Amy choked as she heard those words and dropped to the bed. “You regret me….” 

“I would never regret you. I only regret that I caused you so much pain. Your dad won’t be too much longer, I don’t think.” He looked at the clock; Coventry was about a three hour drive away from London. It was now just after one in the afternoon and Richard had called at eleven. “Go with your dad. You are loved so much more than you could ever imagine. By all of us.” 

Lucas walked out of the room and picked up his keys in the hallway. 

Amy followed on behind, calling after him. 

Before Lucas left the flat, he kissed Amy hard one last time. “I adore you so much,” he choked. “Be happy, angel, but more important, be safe.” 

Amy sobbed on the doorstep as Lucas left. She watched his form walk down the hallway and out the main door into the street. Pain was ripping her so raw inside and in her own mind she knew that she could never give up on Lucas North completely. No matter what happened and what evil things were thrown at them. Their love would be stronger than any of it. 

***

Amy sat in her dad’s car as they drove back to Coventry. There was only silence and the gentle sway of the car as it swept along the motorway. Until Richard broke open the silence. “Fancy a coffee?” 

“Okay,” Amy whispered, her voice so hoarse after sobbing. Her cheeks were still vivid red and her eyes full of unshed tears. They threatened to fall at any moment. Just her dad’s kindness and soft voice made her want to cry all over again. Of course he was only protecting her; that had never been in dispute. That was all he and Lucas were doing. 

Richard slipped out of the car and headed into a Costa at a motorway service station. Rain was beginning to spit as dark clouds began to move in. Amy stared out of the window, her focus glued to the spot in front of her where a family were getting into their car. A dark haired man, accompanied by a blonde woman. A toddler and an older child, who looked to be around ten. They looked happy. 

The sound of the driver door opening snapped Amy back to reality and made her jump. Richard noticed his daughter’s shock and smiled sadly at her. “Here you go, love,” he said, offering her a large latte. “Extra shot of caramel.” Then he winked. 

As Richard started the engine, he sighed. “I’m sorry, Amy,” he said. “I’m only doing this for your good; you know that, don’t you? I know you love Lucas. But being with him is going to put you at risk.” 

“I know, Dad,” Amy said, her voice quiet. “I know you’re doing this to help me and because you love me.” 

“You might be a grown woman, but your mum and I would do anything for you, you know that. We want you safe. No matter how old your children get, your responsibility for them never stops.” 

The car was still stationary as Richard glanced across at Amy’s hands in her lap, and he noticed something dark around her wrist as her jumper sleeve had ridden up her arm. “Fucking hell,” he whispered. “Your wrists.” 

***

Lucas slammed the flat door as he walked back inside, knowing Amy would be gone by now. The silence was deafening, and a gasp came from the very back of his throat. She’d gone. Her room was tidy, but her diary from her bedside table was gone, along with her slippers and most of the toiletries from the bathroom. He opened her wardrobe, just to feel the pain of her departure even more. There were barely any clothes left. 

In the kitchen and Lucas slumped down on the floor, feeling the cold of tiles against his backside and thighs. Pain from the bullet wound shot down his leg, but he didn’t care. The pain couldn’t compare to that of letting Amy go. He pulled his phone from his jeans pocket and looked at the photo of them on his lock screen. She was his everything. Though the pain was excruciating, her very presence in his life had helped him to feel once more. All of the emotional and mental numbness he had felt since coming home from Russia, had been burned away by Amy Holland. She made him feel happiness, contentment, love, pleasure. But also pain. Pain seemed to be a constant in his life now, a permanent friend. 

***

Amy stepped into her parents’ house, feeling the wave of familiarity rush through her. The smell of a home she had left many years ago – it was still exactly the same. It hadn’t been that long since she and Lucas had been visiting for new year, but this was different. Today marked the day she would be staying for longer. Maybe until all of this blew over, and then she could be with Lucas again. So she hoped. 

“Your mum isn’t home yet, but I’ve burned the photos. I can’t let her see those. What happened, Amy? The truth, please,” Richard asked, his voice was low but firm. He had never been a demanding man, instead always being gentle with his daughters. But today had shown Amy just how fierce he really could be. “You know who sent those images, don’t you?” 

“It’s all secret information…”

“No, Amy! I won’t have that shit,” Richard growled. “Tell me. I don’t care if it’s top secret and a risk to national security, or whatever, you’re my daughter and I deserve to know what happened to you.” 

Amy stood in the kitchen and looked up at her dad who was waiting for an answer. He had his arms folded and his face was set in a straight expression. 

“The woman who shot me was Lucas’ ex and a CIA agent. She faked her death because she killed her boss and went on the run. Then she must have found out about me and Lucas, and tried to make me think he wasn’t really in love with me. And she collared us outside the café that morning and went to shoot Lucas, but I stopped her. And Lucas killed her.” 

Richard sighed and held his hand to his mouth. “Fucking hell, Amy.” 

“It was Sarah’s brother who took me hostage, wanting to get revenge on him. Apparently, the accomplice of Simon Caulfield was Sarah’s ex-husband; I was told that in the hospital. They went rogue together to get revenge on Lucas.” 

“And you were still prepared to stay with him after all this?” Richard asked, his eyes wide. 

“I love him,” Amy replied softly. Tears were falling down her cheeks again. “I’ve never loved anyone else like this, and he actually loves me back. For so long I never felt I’d ever find a man who could love me...”

“Oh, love,” Richard sighed. He took Amy into his arms and held her tight as she wept on him. Through tears, Richard looked up at the ceiling, asking in prayer for the strength to be what his daughter needed. 

Once Sharon was home from work, Richard explained the whole story to his wife. 

“Where are the photos, Rich?” Sharon asked. Her dark eyes were wide with shock and her hands were shaking. 

Amy was sat at the other end of the table, feeling as though her whole body was closed off. She hung her head, feeling ashamed of everything that had occurred. 

“It doesn’t matter about the photos. I got rid of them. I wasn’t letting you see them,” Richard replied. 

Sharon walked towards her daughter. She was slow and deliberate, and her gaze was locked on her daughter’s arms. Her skin was concealed by a thick jumper. Sharon leaned down and gently pushed the sleeve up on Amy’s left arm. “Oh, God,” she gasped, seeing black and purple bruising around Amy’s wrist. 

***

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[dozing-marshmallow]

Hi!! Love the fic that you wrote of reader visiting Chris in prison. Could you write an angsty follow-up of reader finally breaking up with him after he gets out of prison with her being fed up with his unablity to change his negative thoughts and actions.

Ouchhh! Quite angsty, indeed!

HEY EVERYONE! Sorry for my long due absence. I’m currently in the middle of exam season, so that’s been taking up majority of my time, but I can say with certainty that afterwards (in four weeks), I’ll be free to post as frequently as I did before and complete all the requests I received! Thank you all for being so patient, and I hope you enjoy part 2 of this one shot!

Content warning, this one shot involves dysfunctional relationships, so please read at own risk.

CHRIS MCLEAN IN JAIL PART 2- ANGST

“(Y/NNNNN)!” your sweet separated husband exclaims, fixing his arms around you on his return home,“It’s so great to be back again!”

“H-Hi Chris...” you cough, squeezing him back,“How do you feel?”

“Better!” he chirped, patting your spine,“You know, I actually feel like a changed person!”

“Really?” Yeah right.

He nods, pulling away, that grin of his never ageing,“Yep! I realllyyy feel like a functioning member of society, ready to amend and give back!”

Yeah right.

You never thought you would be in the back kitchen with Chef about this.

Two years after his first release.

That’s right.

With heavy bags and sore limbs, you desperately explain,“I’ve tried to convince him to see a therapist or go to marriage counselling sessions with me, but he doesn’t listen!” you wince down to the ground. That word “marriage” felt more like “Hell” to you,“I feel like he’s getting worse and worse...”

“What can you do, (Y/N)? By law, he’s a grown man. No one, not even his mom can tell him what to do.” Chef Hatchet grunted, slicing some potatoes, as though he was not surprised,“Have you considered divorce?”

Divorce!,“That’s ridiculous, Chef. You know you can’t just file a divorce whenever you want. Marriage is a lifetime commitment and I still see the man I love.”

“And it’s that he’s takin’ advantage of.” That knife went blunter this time around,“He thinks it’s okay to go about like a criminal, because he has the money and popularity to get out of it, but if you walk out on him, he’ll eventually realise what he’s lost. I’m dead serious. You keep sticking by him like this, he’ll never change.”

“Hm...” that was an interesting way of thinking, you’ll admit. Maybe it was time to start looking into divorce? But... “What if that approach just turns out for the worst? You know how he is. He’ll turn the tables and play victim, putting the blame on me for not being strong enough to support him and for breaking my promise for making my love conditional-“

Chef looks at you like the pieces were threatening to cut your fingers off,“Do you even hear yourself as you speak about him?”

You stop. 

Dang it, he had a point,“But divorce... It still feels a bit too drastic. Besides, I want to give him a chance.” you offer a strong smile.

He paused entirely in his vegetable slicing this time,“A chance?”

Oh... Yes, you’ve given him plenty of chances already. You force the smile to stay on, as convincing as you tried,“W-We’ll just see how it goes. Besides, I still really wanna make this work.”

Your husband’s so-called best friend shakes his head, leaving you with a pitiful glimmer in his eye,“You’re a good woman, (Y/N). You don’t deserve this.”

Well, you wish you listened to him sooner.

And at some point, you couldn’t take it anymore.

So one day, when you got your suitcase ready and your temporary accommodation sorted in secret, you mustered the courage to break it off.

Your heart was leaping. From what? Anxiety? Excitement? Both? You’ll never know.

It took a lot to get this far. You were going to see it through the end.

No matter how messy it will be.

Obviously when you gently touched on Chris’ behaviour as the reason why you were filing for divorce, he tried denying it,“What are you talking about? I’m a changed man! Prison’s changed me for the better!”

Oh please,“Unless it’s Opposite Day, you should not be using that word.”

You weren’t afraid and that’s what startled him,"N-Now who gave you the right to declare the end of this relationship?! Only I get to choose whether to throw you out on the street or keep you around!” he then strangely turned his head to lean the smooth skin on his cheekbone in your face,“Now give me a kiss."

You almost puke in your mouth,“I’m serious, Chris. I want nothing to do with you anymore.”

“Serious? What do you know about serious? You don’t understand anything!” he barked, slamming his fist on the table.

Your eyelids remained just halfway down,“I understand plenty.”

“No, you don’t! You don’t understand that this is a really dumb decision! We’ve had so many great memories (Y/N), you and I!” his defensive tone morphs into a tone of love,“I love you so much, more than Total Drama ratings! And you give meaning to my life, more than any show I’ve ever hosted!”

There it is. He says all these words then treats you like a broken clock. You made sure he witnessed your sight tap on the papers you laid out for him.

“You’re totally being dramatic! In the worst way possible! I literally give you the life, not even middle class peasants can dream of, and this is what you do to me!?” he was raising his voice. The sign of desperation,“How do you think I feel? Have some respect!”

Respect, huh? You scoffed, rolling the pen further to him,“Oh I’ve tried to be respectful, Chris. In fact, I would much rather live as a “middle class peasant” than live with you any longer.”

He gasps, before snarling,“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do.” Chris was too arrogant to get physical with you, and you knew that. The worst he was gonna do is throw petty insults at you.

But he took a scarier approach. He wasn’t fuming or swearing or raving; a smile drew on his lips instead as he sprinkled sugar laced words in your direction.

“Awww. Don’t let your anger speak for you, darling. You know sooner or later, you’re gonna regret ending us like this. And I won’t let that happen. I won’t let you regret losing me. Losing us,” now he has your waist in his arm,“Come on sweetheart, talk to me. I know you just need someone to listen.”

Listen. Is that a fucking joke?

Adoration emitted from his eyes into yours,“We can talk about this. We can talk and exchange forgiveness like we always do. Because we love each other. We’ll come around to see eye to eye and I’ll forgive you for being so annoying.” His other hand begins to comb your hair,“We can forget this ever happened and I’ll even treat you to an awesome date night. I know you really love those, and I would be more than happy to give it to you, as your beloved husband.”

...The thought was tempting.

TAKE YOUR FILTHY HAND OFF ME.

But that was a lot more motivating.

“Nice try. Your empty promises won’t work on me this time.” you push him away. That’s it. You’re strong, you’re strong, you’re strong!,“I don’t need your money. Or your time. I can do fine on my own.”

He stopped running his hand in your hair. Oh, the pride you felt when you watched his bottom lip quiver! You could watch the scene over and over again.

Your instinct to smirk is quickly cowered when Chris shoves you away, thankfully not so forceful to make you lose balance completely as he huffed, that charming persona displaced by his true ugly.

“You want your stupid divorce? Fine!” He angrily scratches the papers with his signature,“There’s your stupid divorce! Now get out of my sight before I change my mind! Only a stupid whore like you would go through with making the awesomest celebrity in the world give up on you! You better not come crawling back after selling your body around for six dollars!”

Wow! Who knew he would resort to sexualising you in such a derogatory way to try get a reaction from you? “No... That’s not true! You know I would never do that! I’m more than just my body!”

“I’ll take the six dollars over you any day.” Hah! Who cares what he had to say? He’s not your husband anymore!

He gritted his teeth as he witnessed you leave his mansion one last time,“You’re ruined, you hear me!? I’ll make sure you lose your job and never find one again!” That’s not true. That’s not true,“I’ll see to it that you live on animal carcasses disposed by yours truly for the rest of your moping days, in conditions more suffocating than maximum prison!”

Such is the behaviour of a scumbag who lost control.

That was the right thing.

Thank Heavens you had your loyal friends and your own ethical job. If any of these things were different, even by a tiny bit, you probably would have still been stuck with Chris McLean. Chained. Trapped. Miserable.

This was the right thing.

You don’t want to think about what could have happened. The important thing was, you got out of it, and he wasn’t your problem anymore. Yet a part of you felt so dissatisfied with how the whole ordeal went. I thought I would feel more different... Why do I still feel something missing? Is this actually the end of our life together?

And your mind, learning from the worst, continued the cycle of torment. Was that really the best way to end things? Why didn’t you leave sooner? Was it really the right choice? Why did you waste so much with him? Were you still in love with him? Is it really too late to start over with love again? Did you really make the worst choice yet by leaving him?

You take a deep breath, and stare back into the eyes of the solitary woman, whose worth was still blinded by the thorns of that demon.

Her brain is pounding from the silence. This might take some getting used to.

You turn the tap on and sigh. For now, you’ll take a nice long shower.

[mackenzielovee]

sixth sense: part fifteen

synopsis: "Your gaze drops down to your hands in your lap, twisting your fingers together in anticipation of the clock moving just a little faster so you can go home to Rafe."

warnings: swearing, kissing, implied smut, discussion of ptsd (nightmares, anxiety, panic attacks), counseling, mention and discussion of food

wc: 3.8k

a/n: oh my goodness, this is entirely too late, but i hope you all enjoy regardless. thank you so much for all of your support on this series and i hope you enjoy! leave some words if you can. xoxo

series masterlist

     The sound of the clock ticking seems to be the loudest thing in the room — drowning out Marian’s long-winded question. You swallow and look back up at her just as she completes her sentence, her pen already touching paper as she prepares to take note of your answer. 

“Good,” you reply, giving her a smile that you don’t force, “I’ve been sticking to the sleep schedule we made.”

You don’t tell her, however, that Rafe is the reason you do. 

You started seeing Marian two months ago. She’s been helping to work through the panic attacks, nightmares, and any potential triggers you discover throughout the week before you see her. With every recommendation she makes to your life, Rafe is sure to incorporate it in every way he can. 

When she told you that she thought it would be best if you cut out alcohol for a month to assess how you feel, Rafe made sure to plan weekends that didn’t revolve around parties, his frat, or alcohol consumption. 

When she told you that she thought Jamie was harming your mental health, and would probably turn out to be another Campbell figure in your life, Rafe told you to quit your job without batting an eye. Then, he got online and showed you every job he thought suited you. 

And, when she told you that getting eight hours of sleep a night would help regulate your body — in bed by eleven and up by seven every morning —- Rafe set his alarm by it, too. 

“I’m so glad,” she replies, “Do you notice a difference in your energy levels?”

“Yes,” you answer truthfully. 

“And the nightmares?”

You swallow, “Not entirely gone, but improved.”

“We can work with that,” she smiles, “Has the impending move had any impact on your mental state?”

You picture the cardboard boxes that currently sit in your living room, bedroom, and kitchen, and you can’t help but smile. You know exactly what’s going on right now; Rafe is drinking coffee, listening to music, and packing up your pots and pans. He’s probably shirtless, you think, and you swallow down every thought that comes along with that tattooed arm and his hands touching everything you own. 

“Rafe’s making it easy,” you admit, “He’s handled all the stressful stuff.”

She smiles genuinely at that, “What kind of stressful stuff?”

“Paperwork, packing the boxes, forwarding our mail. The place we’re moving into always seems to be calling and needing something else, but he never complains.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a good one,” she grins, teasing you, “I’m happy for you, Y/N. You seem to be doing very well.”

You smile at her compliment, and nod, because you agree. Things feel like they’re settling into place for you, and you couldn’t be more relieved. 

“Thank you,” you reply. 

She nods and shuffles her papers around before shifting, crossing one leg over the other. Your gaze drops down to your hands in your lap, twisting your fingers together in anticipation of the clock moving just a little faster so you can go home to Rafe. 

“Now, I want to discuss your adjustment to the new job.”

     You practically race home at the promise of catching a little bit of the morning with Rafe before real life sets in. You hurry up the stairs and pause at the door just for a moment to catch your breath before you enter your apartment; which looks entirely different from what you’re used to. 

Rafe’s music plays in the kitchen, and when you enter, you find the sight you’d been dreaming about all through your session. 

Shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, back muscles in full view. He’s singing softly to himself as he wraps up a mug in bubble wrap, then turns to place it in a box behind him. His gaze snags on you and he jumps, making you giggle. 

“Jeez, baby, a little warning,” he shakes his head, setting the mug in the box. 

“Sorry,” you reply, smiling. 

“Mhm,” he hums, “C’mere.”

He welcomes you home in his arms, taking your purse from your shoulder and setting it down on the counter. He’s warm, despite being shirtless, and you smile when your cheek rests against his bare chest. 

He squeezes tight, kissing the top of your head and breathing you in. His music fades, somehow, and all you can feel, hear, and see, is him. 

“How was the session?” he asks. 

“It was good,” you reply, “We talked about you.”

“Oh, God,” he laughs lightly. 

“All good,” you assure him, “She’s glad I have you.”

He hums contently at that, squeezing you even tighter. 

“I’m glad, too,” he practically whispers. 

You smile, and when you finally pull back, Rafe leans down to give you a kiss. He keeps it short and sweet, but you love it nonetheless. 

“It looks like you made a lot of progress,” you comment, looking around the almost entirely packed kitchen. 

“You have a lot of shit,” he teases. 

You scoff and swat at his chest, making him laugh. As an apology, he kisses your forehead, then pulls back from you. 

“Rude,” you mutter. 

He laughs once more, “Want coffee?”

“Yes, please,” you answer, removing your jacket, “I’m gonna change.”

“I already packed your underwear!” he calls after you, bringing out another laugh from you at his joke. 

You hurry and change, provided Rafe leaves his clothes where you can always find them, and hurry back out to the kitchen. He smiles and offers you a kiss when you return, which you accept before stepping over to the latest box. It’s full, so you tape it up and write out the contents on the outside before putting another one together. 

Silently, Rafe switches the music to an album he knows you love, then grabs a bottle of juice from the fridge. He unscrews the cap and hands it off to you — under the promise of stealing it back to take a few sips here and there for himself. 

The two of you work effortlessly around each other until you lose track of time. The knock at the front door jolts you back into reality, and when you look up to see who has entered, you smile at the sight of Topper and Bryn. 

Three weeks together and you can’t tell who looks happier. Bryn had finally given in and let Topper take her out, then pulled back when she feared commitment. You, with a little help from Topper, talked her down off the ledge and now, they are practically inseparable. 

Topper carries two pizzas and Bryn holds two-liters of soda; both of them refusing to partake in the alcohol with you and Rafe abstaining. 

“We’re here to pack!” Bryn announces proudly. 

“Mostly just to eat,” Topper adds. 

You laugh and embrace Bryn as she rounds the counter, flinging herself into your arms. 

“You guys are making good progress,” she comments, squeezing you tight. 

“It’s all Rafe,” you tell her. 

Topper snorts, “Whipped.”

“And you’re not?” Bryn fires back, raising an accusing eyebrow at him. 

With a clenched jaw, Topper looks down, shaking his head at himself. You laugh and so does Rafe, who slaps Topper on the back. 

“It’s alright, buddy,” Rafe jokes. 

Bryn turns to you, scanning your face in her silent assessment that she’s been doing every time she sees you. You just smile, letting her do her thing. 

“How was your session?” she asks quietly. 

“It was good,” you say, “Everything’s good.”

She beams, “Good.”

Bryn left Black Boar the same day you did, finding a waitressing job a week later that paid her almost exactly the same. She told you she’d take a little less if it means not having to be sexually harrassed by her boss, to which you agreed. 

“So,” Rafe says, earning the attention of everyone in the kitchen, “You two made a plan yet?”

With Christmas fast approaching, Bryn and Topper had yet to make a plan on what the couple would be doing. Rafe told you that Topper invited Bryn back home to spend the holiday with him and his family, but Bryn told Topper it was too early and she was too nervous. A week later, she told him she might like to try after all. Since then, their plans have been jumping around.

“Yeah, actually,” Bryn nods, glancing up at Topper, who grins, “I’m going to the Thorton’s for Christmas.”

You and Rafe both erupt in cheers; clapping and holding up your solo cups that are half-full of soda in a cheers. 

“Finally talked her into it, for real,” Topper teases, “What about you two?”

“Oh, we’ve got plans,” Rafe says, tucking an arm around your waist. 

“Gross,” Bryn jokes. 

Rafe chuckles, “That’s not what I mean.”

“What do you mean, then, Romeo?” Topper questions. 

Rafe rolls his eyes and looks down at you, raising a brow as if asking for permission. You shrug, giving him a teasing smirk. 

“Well,” Rafe starts, “Y/N’s parents are out of the country, so my sister’s coming to stay with us the day after Christmas. But, as for Christmas Eve, Y/N and I are thinking about adopting a dog.”

Bryn’s eyes go wide, “Yes.”

“Dude,” Topper cringes, “Your new place is so nice, you sure you wanna add a dog to that?”

“Topper,” Bryn groans, “He doesn’t mean that. You two should totally get a dog. It’ll be like a new member of your family, and the two of you deserve that.”

You smile, “Thanks, Bryn. We think it’ll be a good thing, too.”

“Just as long as the two of you don’t get all extra about it,” Topper grunts, “Like, doing the birthday shit. It’s a dog.”

Rafe laughs, “Always so supportive, Thornton.”

“Whatever. Let’s just pack your girlfriend’s shit.”

You jokingly shove Topper’s shoulder, forcing a laugh from his lips. Bryn mutters a play nice under her breath, which seems to change Topper’s mood regardless of his denial of being ‘whipped’. 

Soon, your apartment is almost entirely packed, two pizzas are almost entirely consumed, and you’re falling asleep on Rafe’s chest in the middle of the living room floor. Seeing this, Bryn and Topper excuse themselves, promising to see both of you tomorrow so you can physically move everything out of here and into your new place. 

“Hey, baby,” Rafe whispers to you, “Can we move to the bed? Please?”

“I’m comfortable,” you whine, cuddling deeper into his chest and listening to his husky laugh sound from beneath you. 

“Okay,” he says, the smile on his face audible.

“I’m just teasing, Rafe,” you tell him. 

He chuckles, “I know. Just sleep.”

You don’t object, knowing that he’ll get up and carry you to bed eventually. With a smile, you stay exactly where you are, planning on doing that forever, if he’ll let you. 

     It’s three-forty seven when it happens. You’d made it to your bed, the way you knew you would, but wake in a sweat and a panic. The second your eyes open, you can’t even remember why. There’s nothing in your head except the thought that you’re in danger, that you’re not safe, and you have to hide. 

You gasp and sit up, tossing the blanket away as if it’s personally stung you. Your gasps awaken Rafe, who immediately sits up. He doesn’t touch you right away, but instead, moves so he’s sitting directly beside you. 

“Y/N—” he starts, but you cut him off. 

“Is the door locked?”

“Yes, baby, it’s locked,” he replies, “Would you feel better if I check again?”

“Yes.”

He nods and stands from the bed, running a hand through his hair to try and tame it. He unlocks your bedroom door and lets himself out, where he re-checks the front door to the apartment before returning. You watch as he locks your bedroom door again, then steps over and kneels in front of you. 

“You’re safe. Everything is locked. I promise. Can I touch you?” 

His voice is gentle, soothing, safe. Everything you need it to be. You nod as you try to catch your breath, and he quickly pulls you into his arms. He finds a seat once again on the mattress and tucks you into his lap, cradling you close. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper into his chest, your voice barely audible. 

“What’d I tell you about saying that?”

You swallow, “Not to say it.”

“Right,” he replies, kissing your forehead, “I’ve got you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Ever.”

You nod, letting his words sink in completely, “Thank you.”

He lets out a small chuckle, “What’d I tell you about saying that?”

Your lips twitch upward, “Not to say it.”

“Exactly,” he whispers, “Let’s lay down.”

You let him pull you with him onto the mattress, where he places you on your back. He lays down beside you, letting you figure out what position is best for you. Ultimately, you settle into placing your head on his chest, letting his hand find its way to your hair. His fingers comb through it and then travel down your back, scratching slightly to calm you. 

“I love you,” you remind him, letting the words sit between the two of you as they have many times before. 

“I love you, too.”

You know he won’t fall asleep until you do. In fact, you’re sure he will stay up far past the sounds of your snores. A part of you hates that he has to do this, but you know you’re on the right track and improving with your sessions. Another part of you is sure this will be solved once the two of you move. And even then, you know that if not, Rafe will be there for you. Regardless. 

     “Well, good news, Rafe,” Topper grunts, entering your new apartment with yet another heavy box, “You won’t have to get Y/N a Christmas present this year because she already owns everything.”

Rafe laughs, but knows better than to say anything back. You narrow your eyes at Topper, who merely shakes his head at you as he sets the box down. 

“Someone doesn’t seem to be in the Christmas spirit,” you tease him. 

He rolls his eyes, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just tell me where you want the next box full of shit.”

You just laugh as Topper retreats back downstairs. Rafe moves to follow, giving you a head-nod that tells you he’ll be back in a few minutes. 

“You guys really aren’t setting up a tree?” Bryn calls from your new kitchen, where she’s already unpacking your dishes. 

“It’s too much work,” you reply, “I told Rafe that we need to get settled in, first.”

“Fair. Hey, do you want mugs in their own cabinet?”

You chuckle at the question and enter the kitchen — the one that is currently flooded with discarded bubble wrap and lined with boxes. Bryn has half of your dishes spread out on the counter, which makes you shake your head at her organizational obsession. 

“Sure. But, you really don’t have to—”

“Yes,” she interrupts, “I do. I’m already afraid of what’s going to happen if I move in with Topper. He is the most unorganized person I have ever met.”

You laugh and hop up on your new counter, sitting in the only clear section of space. 

“You’re already thinking about moving in, huh?” you ask, your tone teasing. 

Bryn points an accusing finger, “Don’t twist my words.”

“I’m not twisting anything,” you defend, “It’s cute.”

“Cute,” she scoffs, “He pisses me off a lot. It would probably never work.”

You laugh, “You love him.”

Bryn bites her lip and turns around, putting all her focus back onto the mugs in front of her. Your eyebrows raise, but you don’t push her; instead, letting the silence speak for itself. 

The boys come back up a few minutes later, placing a few boxes down before making their way into the kitchen. Rafe immediately steps over to you, slotting himself in between your legs. You rub his back and give him a smile while Topper steps to Bryn, placing his arm around her shoulders and whispering in her ear. 

“Hey, so, listen,” Rafe says to you, drawing your attention away from the other two, “I completely forgot to pick up the screws I need to put those shelves up in the bathroom.”

You shrug, “No big deal. We can go get them tomorrow.”

“Actually, Topper was gonna help me with it. Would you and Bryn mind running out?”

“Oh, sure,” you nod, “Just tell me exactly what to get.”

He smiles and pecks your lips, “Of course.”

     What you thought would be a quick run to the hardware store turned into far too long away from your new apartment. Bryn, who is usually so on it when it comes to these types of errands, accidentally stood in front of the correct screws for twenty minutes before either of you realized. Then, on the drive home, she told you she wanted to grab a bite to eat, which turned into an almost two hour gossip session over appetizers and soda. 

When you finally pull into your apartment complex, just as the sun is setting, Bryn hands you the bag of screws and tells you she will call you tomorrow. 

“Aren’t you coming up?” you question her. 

“No. Topper took off and he’s waiting on me at the house,” she explains. 

You furrow your brows, “I thought he was going to help Rafe with the shelves.”

She just smiles, instantly telling you that the shelves had never been important. You sigh, wondering how you didn’t see it sooner, and shake your head.

“Go upstairs, Y/N,” she says quietly, patting your leg, “That man loves you more than anything. Go upstairs.”

“Fine,” you say, biting back a smile, “But, next time you want to stall me over appetizers, we’re getting mozzarella sticks.”

She laughs, “Okay. Whatever you want. Go.”

You hop out of the car and tuck the screws into your jacket, then hurry up the stairs. Excitement bubbles up in your stomach as your mind races with whatever Rafe could’ve possibly done to need you out of the house. 

Your key meets the lock and you pull open the door, instantly registering the lights that are off. Part of you wonders if Rafe left with Topper; if he’s even here.

“Rafe?” you call. 

“Living room.”

You relax and take a few steps forward, observing the faint, white-light glow on the opposite wall just as you round the corner into your new living room. The boxes are stacked neatly against one wall, and you find Rafe standing next to the furniture you’d purchased to put the TV on. He grins when your eyes find him, quickly moving to the decorated Christmas tree beside him. He watches your jaw drop as you take it in, unable to believe he’d pulled one over on you. 

“Decorations are pretty generic,” he says, “Couldn’t really find much else this close to Christmas. And, y’know, the star’s a piece of shit. Kept falling every time I tried to put it on. We’ll have to get a new one, but, I thought—-”

“You got me a Christmas tree,” you breathe, finally looking from the tree to him, “Rafe, I can’t believe you did this.”

He shrugs, “You deserve a Christmas tree. I mean, you deserve a hell of a lot more, but, this is all I could do in one afternoon. And, hey, I got us stockings, too. I figured we could just fill them with candy and eat it all on Christmas day.”

You laugh, but the tears that well in your eyes tell Rafe exactly what he needs to know. He takes one step forward, then another, and waits for you to do the rest. You fling yourself onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist and squeezing him tight. 

“Thank you,” you whisper to him, “I haven’t had a Christmas tree since—”

“I know, baby,” he says, not wanting you to remind him how long it’s been since you’ve had a proper holiday season, “I hope you like it.”

“I love it,” you promise him, pulling back to see his face. 

“Good,” he smiles. 

You kiss him a few times before he sets you back down on your feet, where you shift to look over at the tree. 

The star leans too far forward, and after another minute, it falls from the top of the tree completely. 

“Fuck,” Rafe mutters, “Sorry.”

You laugh, wiping a stray and stubborn tear from your cheek as he moves away to fix it. 

“Don’t,” you stop him, pulling him back to you, “It’s fine.”

He laughs along with you and kisses your forehead as you both stand in front of his handiwork, admiring all that he’s done to make this move special and meaningful. 

You shift your head to look up at him, finding him already looking down at you. Signaling for a kiss, he gives you one, then pulls you over to your couch to sit down. 

“You didn’t really need the screws, did you?” you ask, removing them from the pocket of your jacket. 

“The shelves are already up,” he admits, “But, it’s always good to have extra.”

You shake your head, “God, I love you.”

He grins, gripping your chin between his thumb and pointer finger to keep your gaze locked on his. 

“I love you, too,” he promises, “I’m so fucking proud of all the progress you’ve made. I hope you are, too.”

You smile softly, admiring the way the white light from the tree hits his skin and accentuates his blue eyes. 

“I am,” you murmur.

He guides your lips down to his, where he kisses you slowly. You get lost in him, the way you usually do, and before you know it, he’s peeling off your jacket, pulling you into his lap, and letting you settle in.

It’s not until later, after you and Rafe have christened your living room, bedroom and kitchen, that you lay beside him in the light of the Christmas tree, and let it all sink in. The progress, the apartment, the fact that it’s all here. That you’ve made it out of that pit of darkness you’d sworn you’d be in forever. 

And as Rafe lays beside you, stroking your arm with his thumb and smiling when you start to trace the outline of his tattoos, you realize that it’s all because of him. Because of that guy who let you cheat off of him before you even knew each other. He offered you a hand, pulled you out, and held you close when you needed it. Even though you know you can never repay him, and that he doesn’t want you to, no part of you hesitates in giving it your best shot. For the rest of your life.

Tags:

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[missywritesfor7]

❤️‍🩹Lifeline | MYG❤️‍🩹

Synopsis: It’s long been controversial for idols to date, but idols dating each other can be really beautiful or a complete nightmare. When Yoongi's relationship with another idol is discovered, he decides maybe it’s time to break the taboo and show people it’s ok for idols to date. Instead, they find themselves caught in the midst of one media frenzy after another and struggle to keep their relationship as strong as it had been the past 2 years. Yoongi finds a self destructive way to cope, and it causes even more problems than it solves. As they fight for their relationship and their careers, they discover that sometimes, the only way to truly be free is to let go.

Pairing: idol!Yoongi x idol!OC

Warnings: nsfw, alcoholism, cheating, depression, anxiety, Yoongi goes through a bisexy ho phase, Yoongi is also in his alcoholic phase, post-military BTS

Previous chapter | Next chapter | Masterlist

Ch. 16: Break

After a 5 hour drive, the manager escorting Yoongi to his temporary indefinite home pulls into the driveway of a cozy looking log cabin. The property is surrounded by nothing but trees and nature giving a very private and secluded feel. There’s an additional cabin on the property that’s slightly smaller and only has one bedroom as opposed to the 3 in the main cabin. Both have a kitchen and bathroom, living area, and plenty of windows that allow for natural lighting to come from all sides.

The manager shows Yoongi around and tells him of everything he’s able to do while he’s here. The main cabin has one of the rooms turned into an office space that Yoongi can use however he pleases. There’s a waist high bookshelf filled with a variety of books, a desk, a beanbag chair, and plenty more open space. The manager tells him he’s free to setup any instruments or recording equipment in there.

The master bedroom has a king sized bed and a large bathroom attached with a rainfall shower, separate jetted tub, and dual sinks. There’s also a closet attached that reminds Yoongi he left with only the clothes on his back. Since the original plan was to take Yoongi to the cabin immediately after their meeting anyway, the manager revealed that they already prepared a few things he would need. Basic clothes, hygiene products, plenty of food, and of course medicine.

For now they have something to help Yoongi sleep if he happens to feel symptoms of withdrawal. In the morning a doctor will come by to fully assess him. The doctor will be staying in the second cabin for at least a week to make sure Yoongi gets through detox without issues. A therapist will also visit regularly for counseling sessions.

Before leaving Yoongi to himself, the manager lets him know again that he can contact any of them if he needs anything at all. He’s not allowed visitors, but his means of communication won’t be taken away and he’ll still be able to have internet. As much as they wanted to try taking anything from him that would give him too much freedom to the outside world of temptations and triggers, they also didn’t want to make him feel like a complete criminal. However, that privilege will be revoked if he abuses that freedom. He’s not able to leave, though if he chooses to end treatment before being cleared then the terms that were laid out for him in the meeting earlier will go into effect.

The manager leaves and Yoongi is left in this lovely home on this gorgeous property alone. He trudges around outside a bit taking in the scenery. It’s nighttime now so the moon and stars are clearly visible and shining bright. He isn’t sure what to do with himself now. He’d eat, but he doesn’t have much of an appetite. It’s been a long exhausting day so he decides to just wash up and go to bed.

First he sends a text to Hyeri. He wasn’t going to at first because he knows she probably doesn’t want to speak to him right now. He knows she worries though and he doesn’t want to give her any more reasons to worry, so he simply tells her he made it to the property and that he loves her.

After a long shower with many more tears, Yoongi gets in bed and simply stares at his phone. Hyeri hasn’t responded. He knows she’s upset with him, but not hearing anything from her is like a knife in the chest. He sighs and closes his eyes but sleep doesn’t come. Not for a while.

Hyeri had been going through a range of emotions since Yoongi left. As happy as she is that he went to get treatment, she’s also very sad, disappointed, and angry. She knew he would fall for her trap, but for him to do it right before he’s supposed to go to treatment just lets her know how bad it really is for him. It breaks her heart and she hasn’t stopped crying since he left.

There’s a loneliness in the home that’s much different from any other time Yoongi has been gone. It’s a loneliness that’s so loud. So she cries until she falls asleep still fully clothed and clutching Yoongi’s pillow.

The next morning Hyeri wakes up with a throbbing headache. As many times as she’s cried herself to sleep, she’s used to it by now. Before getting out of bed she checks her phone and sees the message from Yoongi from the night before. She hates that she missed it, though she isn’t sure she wants to respond at all. She’s glad he made it though. It makes her feel just a slight bit lighter. He’s getting help, it’s the start of a new beginning.

She goes into the bathroom to wash up and get rid of any red and puffiness in her face. Thankfully she has a small bit of time before she has to leave for a commercial shoot. She gets dressed, makes a quick breakfast, then stares at the kitchen wall in a trance.

She’s trying her best to focus on her upcoming shoot but all she can think of is Yoongi. She wonders if he’s awake yet. If he ate breakfast and what was it. She wants to know how he slept and if the place he’s staying is nice. Of course she could simply respond to his text but once she’s finally about to, she gets a call from her agency JJS.

Having been finished with shooting on her mini series, she had asked about any upcoming projects that she would be a fit for. Initially JJS tried to convince her to take some time off. She declined, feeling she’s already missed out on a lot this year, partially because of the situation they put her in in the first place with the fake relationship with Kihyun. Since then nothing has been about her career and she’d like for it to get back to that.

Despite their reluctance, JJS said they would let her know of any openings. So far she’s gotten two commercials and a radio ad. It’s not what she asked them for, but she took it in stride thinking nothing was available. Then she found out there are other roles available. Many of them, JJS just didn’t want to offer them to her. Yesterday she sent the agency a message with a few roles she found on her own that she’s interested in. She was met with pushback and even a mild scolding for “going behind their back” to find the roles herself. Once again she felt like she’s being treated like a child and it’s only because she refused to continue going along with their fake relationship any longer.

Now they’re calling her to tell her they found a role for her. Actually, they found two and tried to sound really enthusiastic about it. The first role is for a supporting role in a new series. The “supporting” role is just a glorified extra. One thats in one episode and gets 10 more seconds of camera time than others, and if lucky, they’ll get to ad-lib a word or two.

The second role is another supporting role, but it’s more laughable than the first role they presented. It’s a small part for a smaller production with an even smaller budget that would practically amount to her doing it for free.

Neither role are close to what Hyeri wanted and definitely not what JJS said they would find for her. Small roles aren’t a problem for her, she knows she’s not a world star actress, but it’s not what JJS agreed to find her. On top of that, it’s not like other roles aren’t out there. She’s seen for herself what was out there and can’t believe JJS would have the nerve to lie to her face about it then make her seem like the bad guy.

“Due to your previous actions it’s been a little more difficult to market you at this time,” the agency rep tells her over the phone.

“My previous actions?” Hyeri asks trying to not raise her voice.

“We wanted you to take time off so things would die down.”

“It’s been months!”

“We had a procedure laid out and you chose to do your own thing. There are consequences to actions, Hyeri.”

“I chose to tell the truth! Are you serious right now? You guys are giving me the smallest things you can find on purpose because you’re mad that I told the truth!”

“We can’t keep having this discussion about your conduct, Na Hyeri. People see you as a risk right now.”

“A risk?!”

“I understand you have a commercial shoot so I’ll let you get to it. Think about it and let me know if you would like to move forward with either of these projects.”

[Call ended]

“You fucking bitch!” Hyeri roars.

She gathers her things and storms out to her car in a fit of rage. She’s pissed, and even more pissed that she now has to try calming herself down so she doesn’t look angry in her commercial. Her patience with JJS is wearing very thin.

Yoongi’s day started with him waking up and staring at the ceiling for about an hour. At first he had forgotten where he was. Then upon remembering, he looked at his phone to see he still hadn’t heard anything from Hyeri. He laid there stuck in his head until he began hearing someone in the house.

The manager told him that the entire management team, doctors, and therapist will have access to the house at any time. It’s primarily for safety reasons, but also to make sure Yoongi isn’t able to lock himself up and hide if he were to get into anything he shouldn’t. Not that he planned to anyway with the amount of restrictions he’s under.

He rolls himself out of bed to wash himself up a bit. He takes one look at himself in the mirror and he hates what he sees. He doesn’t even want whoever is in the house to see him in this state in broad daylight, but it’s clear he doesn’t have much of a choice. Whoever it is seems to be making a bit of a ruckus. Yoongi sighs and steps out to see who it is.

A different manager from the one who brought Yoongi here is in the kitchen while another man is standing by chatting with him. Manager Park Seungji has been tasked with staying near the property to take care of anything Yoongi needs. With the place being 5 hours from Seoul, someone had to stay close by to provide a quick response.

Seungji introduces the other man as Doctor Young who will care for all of Yoongi’s health needs. He will be staying in the smaller cabin to monitor Yoongi closely for any withdrawal complications. First he wants to do a full evaluation so he takes Yoongi back to the bedroom while Seungji prepares breakfast.

Dr. Young begins with simple questions. When and what his last drink was, how much he’d drink daily and what his drink of choice is. It’s a simple evaluation but it makes Yoongi feel embarrassed. He still hates that he even allowed what used to be a simple pastime turn into this.

After speaking with the doctor and getting plenty of information on what to expect and how to deal with withdrawal symptoms, Yoongi goes back out to the kitchen as Seungji completes breakfast. Hangover soup which Yoongi doesn’t have much of an appetite for, but he appreciates it. He’s not hungover, but he knows why Seungji might assume he is. Dr. Young takes a serving and heads back to the other cabin. Yoongi takes a serving and after assuring Seungji he’s fine at the moment, Seungji leaves.

Yoongi decides to have his soup at a small table outside overlooking the scenery. It’s beautiful and makes him think of Hyeri. She loves places like this and he just knows she would be in awe at the nature surrounding them and the overall seclusion of the place for the most privacy. He pulls out his phone and snaps a few pictures. She may not have responded to his message last night, but he hopes this could put her in a slightly better mood with a view from his new home.

It’s crazy how things change. When he was on tour ignoring her she continued sending messages daily giving him a diary of her days although he wasn’t responding to her. Now he finds himself doing the same. With a few pictures he details how he didn’t sleep well, what he discussed with the doctor, and how he’s not very hungry but still happy that Seungji made breakfast. Of course he included a photo of the soup as well. He sends the message then returns to slowly eating while soaking up the sun.

Not long after he finishes his meal he’s greeted by someone else who comes to join him at the table. The man introduces himself as Minho, Yoongi’s counselor during his treatment process. He tells Yoongi a little about himself and how he plans to take Yoongi through his recovery.

Yoongi has spoken to counselors before so this isn’t something that bothers him. Minho seems like a nice person who also appears to take good care of himself physically as much as mentally based on the way his black shirt hugs his well toned body like a second skin. His voice is deep yet soothing to Yoongi, almost like asmr. It makes Yoongi feel comfortable talking with him which is important in this situation.

Yet Yoongi can’t seem to understand why he’s starting to feel uneasy. He’s trying to not panic, but his heart is racing and he’s starting to sweat and he has no idea what’s happening. Every word Minho says sends another wave of anxiety through his body.

This plan. This entire treatment plan is overwhelming. For whatever reason, it’s in this moment Yoongi feels completely afraid of this entire process. He had already been told what treatment would entail. He was fine when the manager laid out all of the rules last night. He was even fine just earlier as Dr. Young explained the many issues and side effects that come with alcohol withdrawal. But hearing how he’ll have to work through the root of why he drinks makes him want to run and hide.

Drinking was to get away from the feelings stuck inside him. When he’d drink excessively those feelings never seemed quite as unbearable. He drank when those feelings were too strong for him to ignore but too tough for him to want to face. Now he has to face them and he’s not sure he’s ready to.

It’s easy for him to say it all started with Hyeri, but this is something that goes even beyond that. A collection of hidden and ignored emotions that he felt weren’t big enough to deal with at the time are now going to be released and dissected.

Yoongi looks at Minho unable to speak. Minho can see the discomfort on Yoongi’s face and is afraid he may faint from how pale he looks.

“Are you ok?” Minho asks. Yoongi just stares at him blankly. “Yoongi?”

Hyeri made it through her commercial shoot without much issue. Considering the mental state she’s in, having to do 3 retakes isn’t so bad. She isn’t fully satisfied, but she’s still too angry from her phone call earlier to care. She just can’t believe the way JJS is treating her. She rushed through the shoot as best she could while seething in frustration the entire time.

When she got to her car she took a look at her phone and saw the photos Yoongi sent. She wasn’t expecting to hear from him, especially since she hadn’t responded to his message from the night before. However his message made her briefly forget what she was upset about.

She’s happy to see the place looks very relaxing for him. She almost wants to stay there herself. She’s happy he saw the doctor, and even happier that he had breakfast. It’s the first real bit of happiness she’s felt all day. This time she responds to him. Not right away though.

When she started to text him back she also wanted to tell him about her day. She always does. However, she knows he’s at the very beginning of his recovery and causing him any worry or stress could make things much harder for him than they already are. Telling him about her company that he already hates and wants her to leave treating her unfairly would cause him worry and stress. She knows he’d be mad at JJS and worried about her. She doesn’t want him to feel like he needs to come save her or take care of her. She only wants him to focus on recovery.

She thought about it all through her drive home and once she got there she finally texted him back. She told him the place looks beautiful, she’s proud of him, and that she loves him. She tells him her commercial shoot went well and let him know her schedule for tomorrow and left it at that. Nothing about JJS, or how she’s afraid her career may be over because of them, or how she cried most of the way home. She kept it simple.

Yoongi feels like he lost consciousness, but he didn’t. Minho noticed what was happening and was able to ease Yoongi’s mind a bit. He explained to Yoongi that while it’s understandable for anyone to feel a little overwhelmed when starting a new treatment process, he’s also experiencing symptoms of withdrawal. Yoongi had already been told by the doctor what the symptoms were but he didn’t feel like he was experiencing any of them. He thought maybe he was just overwhelmed with everything Minho was saying, but perhaps not.

Minho takes his time to tell Yoongi the mental effects of withdrawal. The things he won’t feel physically, but they’ll wear him down mentally. Yoongi understands, but he still wonders. He had stopped drinking before and he didn’t deal with any side effects. To him he was perfectly fine that entire time.

Minho stayed with him for about an hour and a half to make sure he was ok. He helped Yoongi feel a bit better and was able to get him inside to the couch. After Minho left, Yoongi stayed in the same spot wondering what he’s truly gotten himself into.

[southpark-trashfactory]

Headcanons for the Main 5 being married and living together:

Stan can't cook and he will not learn, he's a decent handyman but only if he's asked specifically to do the thing by Kyle or Kenny. He would see the kitchen sink faucet broken and actively spraying water all over the floor, and then just close the door and ignore it

Kyle is good at cooking and doing his share of the chores usually but is also a workaholic and very focused on his counseling start up, so sometimes he gets so lost in the sauce of work that he forgets his other responsibilities. Probably has a home office he falls asleep in frequently

Leo tries to cook and clean but is very very very bad at it, mainly because he's got anxiety linked to household tasks cause of how his parents were, so he ends up messing up out of nerves.

Eric is fully capable of cooking and cleaning he just pretends he's bad at it so he can trick one of the others into doing his chores for him by showing him how to do it. None of them fall for this anymore and he's mad about it.

Kenny has a 9 to 5 job and never fails to do his chores or cook dinner when it's his turn and he has to come home and ask these guys why the house is in shambles more times in one week than he's pleased with.

He holds a house meeting talking about how he expects this from Eric but he thought Stan and Kyle had their shit together better than this

Leo is also there and feels bad and tries to apologize for his own short comings but Kenny won't let him, half because he gets Leo tries his best and half because he's just kind of a simp.

[elizabethplaid]

daily notes - sept 15, 2024

My library friend's wedding was yesterday. I stayed home, as I had predicted back in July. Wearing pants has been tough again these last few days. Still trying to have dinner in the kitchen, but I couldn't stand staying longer tonight.

Tried to start reading "Before I Go to Sleep", but I didn't vibe with the narrative style. It's first-person, narrated by a woman struggling with memory problems. I didn't like feeling helpless alongside her. (Hyper-empathy has been a struggle for enjoying books and movies for me.) It's just not the right time for me to read it.

Revisited "The Nameless Luna" on the Readict app - the story that got me to download it almost a year ago. She now has a name, one I really like. My goal is to finish this story and one about were-dragons (I'm rolling my eyes, too, but the mystery got exciting), then ditch the app.

Related: I read part of the synopsis for "Doctor Vagina" to my dad. He had to stop me, because I was using the same tone as that tiktok automated voice, the perky young woman. He praised my imitation, at least. Really, that awful smut is more enjoyable when read out loud in a silly voice.

Talked with phone-friend last night, which was fun, as usual. I mentioned some of the bad memories of my mom that have been plaguing me of late. They related to recurring dreams and bodily autonomy. It's already on my list of things for counseling this week.

We also discussed how neither of us can predict a good time to meet up again to hang out. Their current job site has them away from home, only at home on weekends. And god knows when I'll be able to calm my anxiety enough to cope with sensory issues.

I love spending time with this friend, so of course I miss them. But being internet friends for so long and being isolated by my anxiety over time, I don't feel like this distance is a burden. I'm busy with my own stuff right now, so it's working out fine for me.

Though I try to keep in good spirits, my life is just about getting through the day-to-day. When I can get back on track, back to volunteering at the library again, then I will worry about plans for the rest of my life.

It all wears on me; it really does. But I'm not ready to give up. I know this storm will pass; something else will come along in the future. And I'll keep repeating these little mantras to myself, so I don't feel so lost.

[writingcold]

Neapolitan: A Continuance 

A/N:  Hello there.  Wow.  I had intentions of picking this up a few months ago, but such as it is - it’s back.  We left off on New Years Eve…  Yeah.  We’re going to jump right back into it.  This was a hard chapter that sent me into a hesitation.   Please bear with me - there was a lot of storytelling that needed to happen in this chapter.  If you've not read the first parts of the story or Neapolitan - here are the links. You'll want to read the original story first to make sense. Neapolitan   Master List Neapolitan: A Continuance Master List

I also need to say, I do not know the members of GVF or their families.  Jake is my muse and is haunting my brain in so many different ways it’s scary.  This is a total work of my own fiction.

Content Warnings:  Mentions of physical, domestic abuse, language, panic attack, angst, smoking, alcohol.

Word count: approx. 5900

Part 6 Violet POV

     Violet took a long drag of her cigarette.  It did nothing for the fire that burned in her belly, nor did it aid in the anxiety that was flashing like a lightning storm through her heart and mind.  The thirteenth of January was bitterly cold and dark and heavy with clouds, but it was too cold to snow to give any relief to anyone.  Jake had gone into town in search of ingredients for some soup he wanted to make to take the chill out.  The letter was delivered within thirty minutes after he had left and resided on the kitchen island.  The words leered at her.  Dug under her skin and preyed upon her in ways that she had hoped would never happen again.

     Stumbling over the door jam, she fought to keep her eyes from the official request of her presence.  Legal counsel was advised, but not required.  An informal inquiry request - whatever the hell that meant.  Her face felt numb as she reached for the whiskey.  Her hands were shaking too badly to pour.  Instead she stared at the bottle, unsure of who the hell was whimpering and sobbing because, surely, it was not herself.  Her butt met the floor, her head rested on the cabinet behind her.  Everything felt weak.  Blurred.  Too hazy to accept to be real.

      Jake was gone maybe ninety minutes.  Tops.  She remained curled where she landed.  Violet heard the door slide open and closed.  She heard the grocery bags drop on the counter.  She heard his voice against her ear.  She just could not respond.  She could not unsee the awfulness that was ahead and what it would do to them.  It would leak that his girlfriend was abused and did nothing to stop the man to go on and cause more harm - to one of her own close friends.  And then it would get worse.  Jake would be framed as a sick fucker who likes women who want to be beat and bound and fucked sideways or something stupid.  It would cast a pallor over his career and she would be to blame.

      “Violet,”  he whispered, voice wobbling with rasp and concern.  “You have to talk to me.  What the hell is going on, baby?”

       He cupped her face, both cheeks in an attempt to capture her attention.  She vaguely could feel the wet on his palms and wondered if he had just washed his hands.  Why were there tears on his face?  Why did his eyes look like mirrors of smudged chocolate?  His body was shaking against hers.  He was scared.  Why would he be scared?  

     Violet tried to step forward.  Tried to reassure him that she was fine.  Why would he be panicking that way?  They should be loving on each other.  Smiling.  Happy.  Making whatever the fucking spicy soup he was raving about hours before.  She was trying to say his name, but her mouth was not working.  He had his phone out, was talking but it was like a foreign language.  Was it Josh he was talking to?  She wanted to say hello, but her throat was closing around a massive lump that seemed to suddenly appear right in the center.  It felt like a sharp ice cube that just wouldn’t go down and you have to wait for it to melt before it would go away, and even though it was melted and gone, you’d feel it for hours afterwards.  

      Jake was pulling her up to her feet, holding onto her body tightly.  His hands hurt against her skin.  Did he have to hold on so tight?  He was dragging her towards the living room, wrapping a blanket around her before he moved towards the slider door once more.  She did not want to head outside.  It was too damn cold for being outside.  And yet, he was stopping, forcing her ugly, clunky snow boots onto her bare feet before dragging her once more outside.  He was trying to bend her into the passenger seat of the car.  His face was hard.  Fuck.  Was he angry?  Was he angry with her?  It wasn’t like they didn’t disagree, but flat out anger?

      The car slid down the driveway with a string of expletives exploding from his mouth.  He made a full stop and seemed to be collecting himself.  He kept saying her name.  The heat was on full blast so why was she so damn cold?  It was like her whole body was shaking.  It was just stupid.  Really.  What the fuck was going on that she couldn’t function.

      They were heading to town.  Over the bridge.  The river looked so pretty when it was frozen.  The trees were bent with snow and ice, and just created the prettiest picture.  She had pictures of the spectacle from years past.  Perhaps it was time to take another one.  Jake’s voice called out to her.  Her hand was on the door.  She just wanted a picture.  Why would he react like that?

      Violet blinked her eyes and they seemed to appear in town.  The car was parked.  Jake was touching her face again.  Calling her name, but it was like he was underwater.  The sound was not right.  The car door opened and another set of hands was touching her, turning her.

      “Dad?”  she mumbled, her tongue feeling like a hundred pound weight.

      “Bear.  Let’s get you inside.”

      Her father’s voice was a little clearer than Jake’s had been.  His face was also full of concern.  Behind him, she could barely see her mother.  The woman’s face looked destroyed as her father pulled her out, blanket and all.  Jake fell on the other side of her, with the two men practically carrying her forward.  She did not understand why it was so ungodly bright in the room they took her into.  And it smelled vaguely like work.  Her stomach lurched.  Fuck.  Did she forget her shift?  Did she miss work?  She wanted to wipe at Jake’s face.  She hated seeing him upset.  Hated seeing anything but happy or totally fucked out tears in that man’s eyes.  There was a difference.  These were not suitable for his face.  

      There was a pinch in her arm.  There was a burn that ran through her skin.  You know.  Naps were wonderful.  Perhaps if she napped, Jake would nap.  And then when she woke up, he would feel better.

Jake POV

     Hospital protocol still called for limited visitors.  The ER did not allow visitors until patients were treated and stable.  He sat with Charlie and Madelyn in the waiting room, his heart in his throat and questions spinning around his brain.  Madelyn was holding onto his hand while she was talking on the phone with Ava.  In true mom fashion, she was circling the wagons to protect her baby and just asking for prayers and positives to be thrown her daughter’s way.  Down to his very core, Jake felt fear.  He had never seen anyone in such a state.  He could barely register that she was so small against him and totally checked out.  Madelyn must have picked up on his need, holding him close the entire time, while Charlie sat on her other side, stoically trying to figure out what the hell had happened to his daughter.

      Just before six, the doctor had come out to talk to them.  She smiled warmly as they stood to greet her.

      “It’s not bad,”  the doctor started.  “I need to say that right off.  I know it was probably pretty scary seeing that, but it’s not bad.  I’m Doctor Turner.  I’m going to assume that you are Jake?  Are you the husband?”

      He swallowed with a glance at Charlie.  “Uh, partner.”

      She smiled again.  “Okay, and these are -”

      “We’re Violet’s parents,”  Madelyn said before introducing themselves.

      “Well, it looks like she’s got a pretty sound support team here,”  the doctor remarked.  “But Jake is who she has on her admittance papers as contact…”

      Jake glanced at Charlie with uncertainty as the doctor led him away to talk further.  Her parents just nodded and moved away to give privacy.  The moment made his stomach churn.  He had never had to be responsible for anyone before, let alone someone whose parents were standing right there. 

     “We’re looking at a pretty severe panic attack.  She is physically fine.  Who found her?”

      Jake grimaced.  “I did.  I came into town to get some things for dinner.  She was in the kitchen when I got home.”

      “Was she alone?”  

      He nodded.  The thought of whatever caused the episode was going to be waiting for them when they did get home.  He tried to think back to whatever it could have been that would cause her to panic, but was drawing a blank.

      “So, we’ve given her something to help rest.  I suggest talking to a mental health specialist.  We do have a person on staff if she doesn’t have someone right now.”

      “Uh, I have the contact info.  She has regular therapy,”  Jake said stiffly, unsure if her parents knew the full scope of what Violet was having to do to be Violet.

      “Oh, very good.  I would suggest contacting them as soon as you can.  Do you know if she has a pending appointment?”  the doctor asked, her full focus on him.

      “Every Monday, but is reachable if she needs more,”  he answered.

      The doctor nodded.  “The most important thing here is for her to rest and be in contact with her therapist.  If she continues to have these symptoms, she will need to consult with her primary care provider.  There may be something that they can do in the long term for treatment.  I’ll get the paperwork going to release her.  Jake, if you’d like, you can come on back.  She’s been asking if you could come in.  I see no reason for you not to be with her.”

     “We’ll stay,”  Charlie assured as he started to follow the doctor.

     Jake nodded as he walked quickly to catch up.  The doctor held the heavy door open for him and he slid through.  His heart felt heavy in his chest as she waved him into the second room.  Violet was curled up in a load of blankets, her face still and calm.  He looked at the doctor once more, and she just smiled encouragingly as she moved towards the desk space on the right.

     The room was warm, and almost felt cozy with the lights turned low.  He stepped inside as quietly as he could.  She startled, but smiled as he drew near.  He touched her arm and reached with his other hand for hers.  She blushed and turned her nose into the pillow.

      “How you doing, gorgeous?”  he whispered, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

      She grinned sheepishly.  “Sorry, baby,”  she started as she tugged him down next to her.  

      “What do you have to be sorry for?”  His words were like a knife to his gut.  He was trying too hard to sound normal and be comforting.  He lay on his side next to her, tucking her hair behind her ear.  “Just tell me you are okay.”

      “They gave me the good shit, so I’m okay,”  she said as her eyes drifted closed.  

      “You want to go home?”  he asked quietly before pressing a kiss to her forehead.

      She nodded.  Violet threaded her hands in his flannel before tucking them inside against his sides.  “I’m so tired.”

      “We’ll get you home and we’ll sleep,”  he said as she snuggled into his chest.  “Charlie and Madelyn are out in the lobby waiting.  They want to make sure you’re okay.”

      She nodded once more.  A nurse stepped in quietly, papers in her hand.  Her eyes barely drifted across them as she moved around, tucking stuff away before finally expecting attention.

      “Alright, Miss Violet,”  she said.  “I have your marching orders, dear.  You feel like you’re ready to go?”

      “Yes, ma’am,”  Violet said quietly.  

      Jake slipped out of the bed and stood up as she slowly sat up.  

      “Do you have any questions?”  Violet shook her head.  “If you do, you can contact your primary care provider, or of course the nurse line…  Kind of strange I have to say this to you.  Sorry.”

      “Protocol.  It’s fine,”  Violet remarked, swinging her legs to the side of the bed and overshooting a bit.  

      Jake reached out to support her as stood up, wobbly from whatever they had given her.  He caught her eye to steady her.  She looped her arm through his with a tired smile.

      “Or, since the weekend is close, you can call here.  Dr. Turner will be on this weekend, so, be aware of that.  Be sure to contact your primary care provider if these symptoms persist, as well as talk to your therapist.  They will both have techniques that can help alleviate the more minor symptoms.”  

     She smiled and handed Jake the papers.  He barely glanced at them before she continued on about when to return to the ER if the symptoms worsen in the night.  She pointed out the provider number for mental health reach out that could also be utilized.  Violet thanked the woman quietly as she walked them towards the heavy entrance/exit door.  He kept his eyes fixed to the ugly flat carpet that he couldn’t quite discern if it was supposed to be ribbons or chains or a fever dream of a weaver.  He was pretty sure it was fun to trip on if given the opportunity.

      “There she is,”  Charlie called out as they moved together down the hallway into the lobby.

      Her parents look relieved to see her.  Jake stood to the side to allow Charlie and Madelyn love on her, though was surprised that Violet swiped a hand out searching for him to hold onto.  He grinned more so to himself as she remained close to him.  They parted with promises to call in the morning - or when she was awake.  He drove her home in silence.  He wanted to ask so many questions, but figured it would not help to barrage her over whatever it was that caused her attack.

      He was about to turn the car off and help her inside the house when she stopped him.  Jake waited, though he was sure he may look calm, inside felt like a thousand shards of glass were shredding his gut.  

      “There was a delivery after you left,”  she said quietly.  The lack of strength in her voice made him want to shake her until she brought his Violet back.  “I’ve been asked to Madison.  The prosecuting attorney is looking for more evidence, more situations, more complainants to fill out the case with Alison.  They would like me to sit for a deposition.”

      He felt his eyes close as his breath released.  “I didn’t see it when I came in.  I just saw you.”

      “It’s on the island.  I thought it was work stuff,”  she explained.  

      “Okay.  We’re going to go inside and I want you to head upstairs,”  he said, reaching for her hand.  “I’ll put the groceries away and see if I can put together some sandwiches.  Movies and sleep.  Sound okay to you?  We’ll talk about all that shit tomorrow.  Tonight is just this.  You and me.”

      She nodded.  “Black Sails?”

      “You only say that ‘cuz you got a thing for Anne Bonny,”  he teased, cutting the engine.

      “I got a type,”  she teased.

      He laughed as he touched her cheek.  “Oh baby, you sure do.”

Violet POV

     She stirred but it was still dark outside.  Jake had her wrapped tight against his torso and struggled when she tried to move.  She tapped at his bare chest and mumbled about the bathroom.  He let her go reluctantly, all the while he drifted back into deeper sleep.  Violet glanced at her phone, grimacing to find that it was only after four in the morning.  

     She slid back into bed after taking care of herself.  He instantly had his arm out for her to settle back in.  She breathed in the warm, sleepy scent of his skin as she rested her cheek against him.   

     “I don’t want to leave this room today,”  she whispered.

     “You don’t have to,”  he said, fingers combing through her hair.  “You don’t have to do anything today if you don’t want to.”

     She felt the tug of sleep as he rubbed at her neck and back.  Violet blinked and it was suddenly past noon.  Jake was not next to her and the sheets on his side were cool to the touch.  A thin string of curses and grunts and groans fell out of her mouth as she slid out of bed, her whole body sore from being inactive for so long.  He wasn’t in the bathroom.  She poked her head out the bedroom door and listened for a while, realizing that he was not in the house.  Pulling on her ugly fuzzy robe she drifted down the stairs.  Peeking outside, she found him on the deck, phone and smoke in hand.  He glanced back at the glass of the door and gave her a little wave before returning to his call.

      Coffee in hand, her eyes moved over the kitchen island in search of her certified letter.  Moving things around, she searched, until Jake made his way inside.  Boots and jacket off, he took a moment to watch her as if gauging what she was doing.  He pointed at the fridge behind her.

      “I put it there.  Didn’t want it to get lost,”  he said quietly.  

      She nodded as she exhaled.  “Thank you.”

      He moved past her, reaching for his coffee cup.  “Josh says ‘hi’.  He was checking in.  I, uh, also called Kirby.  She had a five o’clock opening and I took it.  Hope that was okay.”

      Jake had sat in on a fair share of appointments with her therapist.  Any time Kirby asked for his support, he was there.  No questions asked.  It was a first for him to reach out, which Violet was sure was a flag for the therapist.  Again, she nodded.  The air felt fuzzy around her.  She was sure it was just her after effect of the sedative they had given her, but she felt like even teeth had grown fur.

     “I guess there’s some phone calls I need to make as well,”  she whispered over the rim of her cup, allowing the steam to breathe into her nose.  

     “I need to know where my boundaries are here, Vi,”  he said softly, eyes downcast.

     “I’m not sure what you mean.”

     He inhaled deeply.  “I think I spent most of the night thinking about everything I should be doing to help, and I just don’t know.  I can jump in and call legal and see what they can extend.  I have family members as well as family friends who are lawyers that I could call to help.  If you find a lawyer, do you want me to be with you?  Do you want me to stay away?  I can do nothing.  Well…  No.  I can’t do nothing.  Please don’t ask me to do nothing.”

     “I…”  She did not know what to say.  “I don’t know the boundaries.  I had to do this mostly on my own last time.  I’m surprised they reached out to me at all, to be honest.”

     “Why’s that?”  

     Violet blew out a breath.  Her body felt like it was on fire as he looked at her, waited for her to answer his extremely simple question.  Taking a sip of her coffee, she did not know any other way but to let it out.

     “There’s a reason why my case fell apart,”  she started, voice level but quiet.  “I did not have to testify, however, my body was the evidence.  I was evidence.  Tim’s lawyers turned me into a sexual deviant.”

      Jake’s eyes widened with heat.  She held up a hand to stop him.

     “When the victim has questionable sexual practices, it was easy to spin it and reframe it like I asked for it,”  she started shaking as his jaw clenched.  “No matter what I did, testify or not - in person or on video - those lawyers turned me into a w-”

     “Motherfuckers,”  he whispered over her.  “Stop.  Just…  What fucking year are we in?  1950?”

     “The prosecutor tried to argue that it was slander, that it was casting prejudice onto the witness/victim - me - when any form of this information came in, but the judge allowed that in because it gave background to the victim.  Not the fact that I was in the top of my class in university.  Not that I had a stellar work record with commendations.  Not that I was part of a premiere surgical team in pediatrics that was world renowned for its work,”  she said, her voice shredded and thin like dry paper.  “Even if I removed my presence, those lawyers…  He fucking had me.  Tim still could harm me.”

     Jake covered his mouth as if he were trying to force his words not to tumble out.  Violet felt her body slump down on one of the stools of the island.  It had been more than a year since the feel of deep defeat had touched her brain.  

     “Oh my fucking god, he’s still doing it.  He’s still getting to me,”  she whispered.  

     Violet shoved her fingers through her hair.  Instead of buckling, she yanked her hair back, sitting up straight and tall.  Her mouth was a hard line as she shook her head.  Jake was white knuckling the counter with a look of anger that was frightening.  

     “I need a smoke.”

     She watched as he slammed his feet into his boots at the door and walked out without a coat.  She sipped at her icy coffee before sliding from the stool and heading for the stairs.  Her gut felt twisted.  It was more anger than defeat.  Hot and unvented with no way to actually emit without causing harm to everything and everyone around her.  Setting her cup into the sink, she started up the stairs.  Everything felt like it was tied down with cement blocks that were in turn tied with anchors.  She paused as she heard him come back through the door but continued on quietly.  A shower was in order.  She was sure a trainwreck looked better than what she did at the moment.

     Water on hot, she stepped out of her robe and ran a brush through her hair.  She looked at her fingers for a while.  They felt thicker than normal.  Unable to hold onto anything like she normally would.  Sliding out of her jams and moving under the spray, Violet gasped at the feel against her skin.  She waited for the sting to subside.  She waited for the shock to ease out through her toes and fingertips and welcome in the hottest heat she could have at the moment.

      “Can I come in?”  Jake asked from the open door.

      She let the pulse beat on her back for a moment before turning to peek through the curtain.  “I don’t have the fight in me.”

     “I don’t either,”  he whispered.

     She pulled the curtain back a bit to let him step in.  He wrapped his arms around her tight, allowing the water’s heat to hold them both close.  There were few things she liked more than the smell of Jake’s wet skin.  She tucked her nose against his neck as they swayed under the water like they were shuffling across a dance floor but not going anywhere.  

     “Love you,”  he whispered as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.  “Let me care for you.”

     Gently, he washed her hair.  Wiping the suds away so as not to allow anything near her eyes.  He washed their bodies together.  Violet kept her hands on him as if she needed to have a touch to ensure he was not going to disappear.  He’d plant little chaste kisses here and there, soothing her, grounding her.  He wrapped them both in towels after turning the water off.  He sat her down on the edge of the tub, taking the time to slowly rub her favorite lotion into her skin and brush her hair.  He grimaced as he took her face cream out and relented for a moment to allow her to finish.

     “I can -”  he started, but she pulled him close instead.  

     “Can we just lay down?”  she asked, nose to the middle of his chest.  “I’m not hungry.  I’m not anything.  Just be with me?”

     He pulled back the quilt and they slid in together.  Violet needed to feel his skin and feel his heartbeat.  Jake ran his fingers back and forth around the cap of her shoulder.  In what felt like the span of a few breaths his alarm was making both of them stir.  He barely moved to silence it.  His mouth brushed her skin, breathing life into her once more.

     “Violet,”  he murmured into her hair.  “Hey, you awake?”

     She drew her nose up his sternum, a move she had done what seemed a thousand times.  Each time, she would breathe him in, wondering if there would ever be a time that he would not stir something within her soul.  

     “I’ll make us some coffee if you can get us set up in the living room,”  he said, brushing her hair back.  

     She nodded, but they both seemed reluctant to leave the sanctity of their bed.  A second alarm made him laugh quietly.  

     “That’s a rarity,”  she muttered.  “Two alarms?”

     “I set four,”  he laughed as he turned off the alarms.  “Come on.  We’ll both feel better after a chat with Kirby.”

     Violet watched as Jake made sandwiches for them as soup heated on the stove.  The silence was only disturbed whenever he sliced something or stirred.  Their faces mirrored one another - quiet, contemplative.  Kirby had dug into them both - one for being such supportive partners to each other, but two for being such supportive partners to each other that neither could voice what they needed individually.  She commended Jake for taking those steps to reach out, especially after Violet’s episode.  She commended Violet for being open as to being totally unaware of her own expectations of Jake at that time.  The therapist warned the two that what was ahead was going to require good communication.  

     She was a bit taken aback by his hesitation to share how he felt about the hospital.  It took a little prying.  She swallowed over his sudden shyness in sharing.  Apparently, in the ER, the attending doctor had asked if he was ‘the husband’.  It was not the label that had upset him.  It was the fear that the doctor would not allow him to care for Violet in the manner that he knew she needed - simply to be with him in that moment because he was not ‘the husband’.  The added “whatever the fuck that means” put the feather in the conversation.  

     Kirby asked Violet how she had felt about the ‘husband’ label being thrown around in this instance.  Knowing that it was paperwork and assumptions, she had started to voice that it could be a typical assumption since she had put him on the contact sheet, but Kirby stopped her.  She had put Jake down as her contact - something she did not think twice about.  She had to pause.  She never once put that responsibility on Tim.  Never.  Not even during the trips that he supervised to the ER.  He had special privilege and he knew it and abused it.  Jake had looked at her over the admission.  

     “I want you to know that I’d like to call legal,”  he said.  His dark eyes flicked up to her before turning back to the cooktop.  “They cannot help, I know that, but they can perhaps reach out to someone who can.  I want to protect you.  It is something that I can do.”

     His words were not framed as a question.  Violet took a sip of her coffee.  She waited until he turned back to her with plates and bowls.  She nodded and his shoulders visibly dropped as he relaxed.  

     “Thank you,”  he said as he platted the sandwiches.

     The evening was quiet.  Jake practiced for a few hours while she was curled on the couch “reading”.  In truth, her brain was beyond the borders of the house, sitting with Ali in her posh apartment overlooking the Capital and the lake.  She was going to view Violet’s reluctance and outright resistance to assisting with her case as betrayal.  Worse, she knew in her heart that there was no telling Alison why she could not assist her in her trial.  There were things that Violet refused to share with the blunt instrument that was Dr. Alison Mundrow, even when they were very close.  The woman was a brick wall when it came to ideals that were not her own, but would gladly help anyone she could without a thought.

     The morning had arrived quickly.  Somehow, Violet had woken to find herself nearly on the edge of the bed with her hand in Jake’s hair, but the rest of her posed like she was ready to escape.  She was expected to tuck into a few of the training modules during the morning, so she slipped out and cleaned up in prep for work.  Jake had barely moved by the time she flitted from the bathroom to collect her laptop and move downstairs to the dining room table.  She had just enough time for coffee and yogurt before the first session started.  Halfway through the second module, she heard his voice upstairs, like he was talking on the phone in the front bedroom.  She retrained her focus, answering questions about protocols and expectations of teams when new members joined.  The third module was going to be the longest, tapping in at over an hour.  She listened to Jake moving around as she fixed another cup of coffee.  He caught her eye as he came down the stairs, dressed and keys in hand.  She held up a finger to her mouth before she moved back in front of the screen just in time as the last of the meeting modules started.  

     Violet followed along on the planned curriculum, her eyes tracing above the laptop, watching as Jake gathered his breakfast.  Every now and then he would turn to catch her out of the corner of his eye.  He winced and grimaced every time he banged or clattered.  Violet kept having to hide her mouth behind fingers and papers to keep from smiling or laughing.  His phone rang, effectively shutting it down, but she watched as his face turned stoic and he slid into his professional manner.

      The rest of her morning was wrapping up the training session, followed by paperwork that she worked on with her partner from the team, Shelli.  Jake remained upstairs until nearly  noon when he brought dishes down.  He peeked around the corner to make sure she was clear before heading into the kitchen with a wave.  He took the time to poke around in the freezer before tapping away on his phone.  Violet watched as he was literally rummaging around the kitchen, setting out ingredients, grabbing pots and pans and setting them out on the cooktop and counter.  Wrapping up the session with work, she shut the laptop and leaned against the table.

     “What are you doing?”  she asked, reaching for his pack of smokes on the table.

     He stopped.  “I have no idea, actually.  Wasting time I suppose.  Trying to avoid, as Kirby would say.”

     “Avoid?”

     He nodded.  “I talked with legal and they got back to me with not just the name of someone to contact, but had her on a conference call ready to talk with me.  Ms. Williams would like to speak with you.  She’s one of the top in these kinds of cases, Vi.  Domestic cases.”

     She couldn’t get anything but an ‘oh’ out of her mouth as he sat down on one of the stools.  Violet was already feeling the crawl beneath her skin.  To have to return to Madison was like asking her to walk across flaming broken glass.

     “She asked, if it is okay with you, she could visit us here,”  he continued, his eyes strayed to the side and not looking directly at her.  “She said that she is more concerned with you and your sense of safety.  I may have stepped across a line here, but I asked if she could be here at her first available time.  She’ll be here tomorrow afternoon.”

      The air rushed from her as she tried to swallow.  He was instantly up, hands shoved in his pockets and pacing, apologizing if he overstepped, he only wanted to…

     “Jake, it’s fine,”  she managed, wiping at her face.  “I’m surprised there are still people that do that.  Visit in person I mean.”

     “Yes.  She seemed kind,”  he said quietly.  “Understanding of the situation.  My legal fucks are a little freaked out, but screw them.”

     “PR nightmare ahead,”  she remarked, missing the sarcasm mark she had aimed for since it was her fear.  The look he gave her made her shake her head.  “Sorry.”

     “I’ve been reminded that the band has many under their employ and that they need to take precautions,”  he said quietly.  “Not sure what the fuck that means, but I don’t give a shit.”

      Violet felt quiet and retreated.  Jake seemed to pick up on her shift and backed off.  Instead, he reached for a glass of water and a softer tone.

     “Tomorrow - do you want me here?”

     “As much as I would like that,”  she started, but started to shake her head, “I don’t think that would be a good idea.  I’m sure she will want to discuss some of the really bad shit.”

     He looked like he wanted to ask if she was sure, but nodded instead.  “I can make a Hewit run.”

     In the space between them, there were words she was sure that needed to be brought forward, spoken gently, heated, argued over, maybe even cried over.  However, she watched as he moved away, reaching for his acoustic and heading upstairs to be alone.  The bruising around her spirit felt close.  It pressed against her tired flesh and left her wondering how much longer did she have to feel the weight of her past preclude her fully realizing what could be her future.

*whew* This feels good. I hope you enjoyed seeing Jake and Violet again. I'll post up every Wednesday. If you'd like to join the tag list in general - here you go

@lvnterninthenight @doodle417 @luverleaver @jakesgrapejuice @fictional-duchess @whitesuitjake @milkgemini @positivegvfthings @songbirds-sweet @streamingcolors-gvf @gretavanbitches @samsurfgreenbass @joshkiszkas-admin @gardensgatedaisy @babyhoneygvfarchive @myownparadise96 @josh-iamyour-mama @starcatchercarol @loveisonaroll @jakesstarlight @myownparadise96

[okayjokesover]

Hi guys

I feel like some of my close friends are only on here these days, so I think I should give an update on here as well; at some point on Thursday night my mum had a stroke. An extremely large one. I found her the next morning, and yes, I am going to go to grief counseling over how when I first saw her I just assumed she was very deeply asleep, & went out to breakfast, only to come home & find her in exactly the same position, unresponsive & barely conscious, because I will feel guilty about it for the next rest of my life despite literally everyone telling me there was nothing I could have done differently to change the outcome.

They told us today that at this point she isn’t going to get better; the entire left side of her brain was affected, & even if she doesn’t have another stroke or die from pneumonia, she will likely never walk, talk, read, write or do anything for herself again. It would be 24/7 care for everything, & based on the number of times she has told both me & my dad that she would rather die than be in a nursing home (the only option), & how excruciatingly bad her quality of life would be, we agreed with the neurologist & care team that our only option now is palliative care, & waiting for the inevitable with minor interventions to keep her comfortable.

Obviously this is a bit like the emotional equivalent of a frying pan to the face; she was up, talking to me like normal on Thursday night before I went to bed, we watched MasterChef & then some other cooking show & then I cleaned up the kitchen & said goodnight & went upstairs. Nothing weird at all, no warning signs, nothing. I have been crying pretty much continuously for 2 days on & off now, neither my dad nor I know what to do, everyone obviously wants to help but neither of us can say what we need (someone to force us to eat? A miracle cure for large brain bleeds? Someone to go to work for both of us as neither of us gets paid if we’re not at work?)

I think most of you that would want to talk to me have my phone number, but if not let me know because I’m not really talking on social media much & idk…I fluctuate between not wanting to discuss it ever because I’ll start crying again & needing to put the fucking weight of sadness & anxiety crushing my chest somewhere, so having a more private place to talk might be better?

Anyway, I figured you guys also deserved to know, because not all of you are on twitter, & we are friends, whether you fucking like it or not.

[lionfloss]

What are some things that helped you with cutting down so much on drinking? I was curious myself and I’m sure other people would love if you shared that as well 🖤 again I’m so proud of you!!

hello my love! so part of the reason i stopped drinking so much a couple years ago is because i was dealing with a lot of anxiety and panic attacks and its a long story dealing with nausea but pretty much anytime i would drink alcohol i would either have a panic attack or almost have one lol 🫠😂 so i fee lucky in that sense because i know for most people they don't have a negative physical reaction stopping them from drinking. when i cut way back i started noticing how much more money i had!! and how much less drama there was in my life due to people doing fucked up shit, then blaming it on being drunk. i removed myself from those situations and have found more peace.

obv if you are struggling to cut it out completely i'm someone who would always recommend trying AA or counseling or any impartial party that has experience with what you are dealing with, someone who will provide you with a safe space. i know it doesn't work for everyone but if you haven't tried, i would try!

but part of something that was hard for me to do, but had to happen was letting my friends/loved ones know that i need to be in an environment where if i say no to a drink, i'm not questioned about it or pressured. i've felt that most people were really supportive but it took me initiating that conversation with them and having to remind them a few times. it's awkward but worth it

i also started avoiding places that tend to be really crowded with no seating or no decent kitchen/menu. like i would go somewhere with my sister with a nice big patio that was self service so no one is paying attention. and we would just hang and play cards and get plenty of snacks throughout so it made having just a drink or two really enjoyable. no driving drunk, no making bad decisions, no hangover, etc!

hope that is slightly helpful :') <33