#i’m doing better i know i have been and my therapist agrees but i got my period and it always puts me into a mental and emotional coma on a

[niningtori]

cruel intentions | part two

part one

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: in the wake following the revelation that your boyfriend, beomgyu, only dated you for a bet in order to get his rent paid, you're actually doing pretty well. on beomgyu's end? he can't say the same.

genre: romance, angst, melodrama, fluff

warnings: clichés everywhere

word count: 3.8k

notes: she's here! i fear that this might be super corny and somewhat abrupt but that's fine i think!

beomgyu is not okay. he really, really isn’t. how could anyone expect anything other than that? it’s been a year since he saw you last, but he’s starting to believe that whoever said time heals all wounds was just blowing smoke up his ass. if anything, the longer he’s spent away from you, the worse his heart aches. that’s natural, he supposes, because you’re definitely the one that got away, and the fact that he drove you to leave only twists the knife. he wishes he could go back to the day he agreed to that stupid fucking bet and wring his own neck — maybe that'd talk some sense into his old self. but like you said all that time ago, he can’t. he even wishes he could go back to the first day of freshman year just so he could meet you sooner. that way, he could have been in your life and alleviated some of the stress and pain you always felt. but, and he cannot stress this enough, he can’t.

you may have blocked him on everything he can think of, but that doesn’t stop him from asking about you. luckily, taehyun made good on his intentions to get to know you better before realizing that you were the girl beomgyu had secretly been dating for months. as a good friend, taehyun declared you as totally off-limits, but that didn’t stop your all’s friendship from blossoming. as it is, your friendship with taehyun is only rivaled by your friendship with chaeyoung — a fact that she is all too aware of.

“when are you gonna stop beating around the bush and just get with him already?” she pouts.

“never,” you snort. “i told you, we’re friends and nothing else.”

“i know, i know, but i think he’d be good for you,” she insists.

“you’re only saying that ‘cause you’re worried he’ll replace you as my best friend, which he won’t, by the way,” you tease.

“you caught me,” she says playfully. 

truthfully, your friendship with chaeyoung has only strengthened after graduation. with the help of your therapist and a certain someone whose name you can’t bear to speak these days, you finally grew enough courage to tell her how you’ve felt like you were nothing more than her shadow since you were a preteen. you even told her about all of the times men (and women alike) only talked to you to get to her. to say she was horrified is the understatement of the century. after endless reassurances that you bore no ill will towards her and didn’t fault her for anything, she finally stopped apologizing. now, you two are closer than ever. 

“it’s just… i want to see you happy with someone,” she adds. she doesn’t have to end her sentence with  “again”, since you already know what she means: she wants to see you as happy as you were with beomgyu, again. except, for real this time. not for a bet or for fun.

“it’s okay, chae,” you say with a smile. “i’m happy as i am, i mean it.” and you do. working in your desired career field has helped you tremendously with income, and you’re actually able to provide for yourself and for your family without killing yourself with working overtime. you have so much free time, you're even able to date around a little bit. it never amounts to anything particularly serious, but it’s enough as it is. gone is the permanent storm cloud looming over your head and you’re finally able to breathe for the first time since, well, your relationship with beomgyu.

“i know,” she replies. “i just want my best friend to be even happier; is that so bad?” you roll your eyes good naturedly and she grins. 

“who knows? maybe i’ll meet someone tonight,” you muse, but you don’t really mean it. taehyun, or “tyun” as you affectionately call him, is having a get together at his place. he hinted at bringing some of his single friends, but you don’t expect anything to come of it. while it’s true that with the help of therapy and being completely honest about the nature of your inferiority complex with your best friend has helped boost your confidence, you never expect much from prospective romantic partners. you’ll never say it, but everyone knows it’s because of beomgyu.

“maybe. y’know, soobin is pretty cute,” she says with a nod, taking everything you say way too seriously. 

“yeah. he is.” 

-

while you have been to many, many events taehyun has invited you to, there has always been an unspoken rule that beomgyu would not be there. it seems that taehyun is able to perfectly juggle you two without having you all appear at the same place at the same time. that is, until you arrive at his apartment with a big smile and a 12-pack of beer and see the man who haunts you religiously sitting listlessly on taehyun’s couch. he doesn’t usually care enough to look up from his drink when new arrivals step foot through the door, but for some odd reason, he does when you walk in. it’s almost as if his truly supernatural intuition tells him to. unfortunately for you, his intuition is a pain in your fucking ass. 

when you meet eyes (lock eyes, really) you feel a pit of dread bloom in your stomach, threatening to swallow you whole. still, there’s a light fluttering of your heart that you wish to god you could deny, but it’s there, nonetheless.

you all stay in a deadlock for what feels like a lifetime before taehyun pulls you from it with a smile and hug.

“i’m glad you made it,” he says lightly. 

“of course, tyun,” you smile, successfully pulled out from your daze and back into the real world. it’s okay. you can do this. you’re a different person now that a year has passed. you’re mature enough to be in the same place as beomgyu. what you’re not mature enough for, though, is actually having to speak to him. luckily, you have no plans to do so now (or ever). 

beomgyu thinks… differently. 

when you’re standing in a quiet corner nursing a drink and wondering what the hell you’re still doing here, you almost miss the sound of feet shuffling towards you. your eyes lazily glance up and see beomgyu himself unsurely leaning against the wall next to you. 

“h-hey,” he says softly, cautiously. you look confused for a second, almost like you’re unsure if he’s addressing you, but his eyes look so earnest, there's no way he’s not. 

“hey?” you reply before fussing with your cup and watching the alcohol swirl around, threatening to spill over the rim of your solo cup.

“uh, how… how have you been?” he asks so nervously that it sounds like he’s surprised that you even responded. and he is. if he were you, he wouldn’t give himself the time of day. why would he? he doesn't deserve it.

“good,” you say with a ghost of a genuine smile. if he knew you less, he wouldn’t even be able to catch it. thankfully, he does know you, for better or for worse. his heart sings at the thought that you’re able to smile at him like you did before.

he waits for you to ask him how he is — that’d be the perfect segue into his apology — but you don’t. it’s like you don’t care to know, and any tune his heart was previously singing is strangled in an instant.

well, he supposes that he’s lucky that you’ve even said two words to him (two words in the literal sense that you’ve only actually said two words in total, but that's not the point). he’s even luckier that you actually seem to mean that you’re doing well. taehyun had told him as much, but it’s not nearly as effective as seeing you glowing the way you do with his own eyes. you look normal. you look happy. there was a point in his life where he thought that’s all he wanted, but he realizes he was wrong. he shamelessly wants to be happy, too, and he knows the only way he can do that is if he’s with you.

the air is awkward and heavy for a few minutes, but neither of you make a move to break it until you decide enough is enough. you purse your lips and are about to bid him goodbye so you can get home and ruminate on your very, very brief interaction, but he notices your movement and reaches out to grab your arm before he can stop himself. instinctively, you smack his hand away. not hard at all, more like a swipe than a smack, really, but he recoils as if you’ve just backhanded him.

“s-sorry,” you stammer. “it was just a gut reaction.” 

somehow, that makes him feel even worse. there was a time where his touch soothed you like nothing else, but now all it does is put you on your guard. 

“it’s fine,” he says with a forced smile, and your heart aches. “i was just gonna see if you wanted a ride home. i haven’t drank anything, so i just thought that… maybe…”

“oh, it’s okay,” you politely decline. “chae is going to pick me up.” he flinches at the name and as much as he wishes you couldn’t tell, you definitely do. 

“but i can take you!” he insists a little too desperately. “i just thought, you know, that we could talk or something,” he mumbles. 

“talk? about what?” you ask sharply. you begin feeling like you’re going to lose your temper. why is he making this so hard? it’s starting to piss you off.

“i—”

“if you’re going to apologize to me again, i don't want to hear it,” you sneer. you said you weren't mad at him and that you forgave him, which felt true at the time, but the more you started respecting yourself, the less patience you had for him. as you look at him, looking like he's every part like a victim in this ordeal, you realize that you’re angrier than you previously let on. “you know, i’ve thought more about what you did.” he looks like he’s just been kicked in the stomach, but you don't stop.

“and i’ve thought about what i would do for rent. i thought, ‘well, maybe if i were desperate enough for the money, i could do that, too’, and you know how desperate i was.” his lips tremble because he does know. he knows it all too well. “but i realized i couldn’t, and even if i could, i never would. the shame? the humiliation? i would never put someone through that, and i thought you would never, either, but i was wrong. i was wrong about you and the kind of person you are, or were, or whatever. and i thought, at the very least, you had enough decency to at least leave me the fuck alone, but i guess i was wrong about you again, as always.” you don’t mean for your voice to get so loud, but it does. each syllable is ripping through beomgyu like a punch to his gut, but he can’t find it within himself to defend his actions. all he can do is sit there and take it. 

devastated doesn’t even begin to encapsulate how beomgyu looks and feels, but you don’t really give a shit. you’re absolutely fuming right now, nearly shaking from releasing the anger you’ve felt for months, and he has the nerve to look like the one who’s hurt? what about you? what about how you felt when your boyfriend admitted he only dated you because he needed (more like wanted) the cash?

“babe…” you hear a familiar voice say. chaeyoung. she must be here to pick you up. your attention snaps from her to the rest of the room and you finally register that everyone has gone silent, all their stares directed towards you. embarrassed isn’t even the word. mortified is more like it. you awkwardly clear your throat and take one last scathing glance at beomgyu before grabbing chaeyoung’s arm and storming outside of taehyun’s place.

the ride home is silent — unsettlingly silent — until chaeyoung pipes up after a few minutes of driving.

“why don’t you just talk to him?” chaeyoung asks tentatively.

“what?!” you exclaim, whipping your head around to meet her gaze. 

“it’s just — i mean, i don’t think it would hurt anything if you tried,” she says cautiously, which is very, very much unlike her. 

“why? i thought you, of all people, would understand. you know what he did to me.”

“i’m not defending him, honey,” she coos, as if she’s soothing a child during a tantrum. “i’m always on your side. always.”

“then why are you saying i should hear him out? i thought you hated him!” you don't really know why, but you’re becoming more and more defensive as you speak to her. 

“i did hate him. i just think there’s more to it than that. why don't you talk me through how you’re feeling?” she suggests.

“i… i just don’t understand. i’m not who i used to be — i’m not some spineless doormat who lets people treat me like shit. don’t you think so?” you ask, sounding increasingly unsure about that sentiment to the point where it’s nearly laughable. 

“what does that have to do with hearing somebody out when you clearly want to?” she argues patiently.

“it’s just… it’s just not fair!” you exclaim. “it’s not fair how he used me. i had to try so fucking hard to rebuild myself after him.”

“as much as i love you, you and i both know you weren’t rebuilding yourself; you never had that foundation in the first place, and that’s not your fault, but it’s not beomgyu’s, either. it’s true that he treated you like shit, and you don’t have to forgive him for that, but how you felt about yourself was always so much bigger than him.”

you find yourself recoiling with each point she makes.

you hate how much she makes sense. 

“b-but still, i’m different now,” you argue, more like you’re convincing yourself instead of her. “i won’t let myself fall back into him like that.” 

“don't you trust yourself to make the right decisions? people change — you know that better than anyone. look, i’m not saying you have to or should do anything, but i think it’d be good for you to at least listen to him. you’re not doing yourself any favors by torturing yourself with ‘what if’s’ instead of just, well, talking to him.”

-

you think about it, and think about it, then think about it some more. you wonder what beomgyu could say to change anything he's done before realizing that it's impossible. but maybe chaeyoung's right, maybe he did change. does that matter, though? probably not, but you still find yourself wanting to know what he has to say. maybe you'll find it within yourself to finally let him go.

you unblock his number and, before you can think too much about it, you’re calling him. it doesn’t ring more than once before you hear the line connect.

“h-hello?”

“i’ve thought about it, and i'd like to talk.” 

“s-sure. uh, when?” he stammers.

“whenever.”

“i'll be there in 15,” he hurriedly says, as if wasting a single second will lead you to change your mind.

“okay,” you reply with a soft smile on your face, hanging up shortly thereafter.

12 minutes later, you hear a frantic knocking on your door. you open it to find beomgyu out of breath and looking incredibly disheveled. your lips almost curl up at his sorry state, but they don’t quite make it there.

“hey,” he says between pants.

you don’t respond, but you crack your door open further to let him in. he takes your cue and stands awkwardly in your living room, almost as if he’s afraid to actually touch anything. you don’t miss the way he takes everything in. some of the interior is different, but the bones of it are still the same. he doesn't know why, but the thought relieves him.

“so?” you ask after clearing your throat, effectively breaking the silence. he looks at you confusedly before seeming to remember what he’s doing here.

“r-right. i’m— i mean, i just wanted to explain,” he says meekly. 

“explain what?” 

“explain why i, uh, why i d-d—”

“dated me for a bet?” you finish, and mercifully so, because the words feel like nails when they try to leave his own throat.

“yeah. that,” he says, taking his hand and nervously scratching the back of his neck.

“mm,” you hum.

“i just want you to know that i’m sorry,” he blurts out before he has half a mind to stop himself. he knows it’s the wrong thing to say when he sees impatience flash across your features.

“we’ve established that.”

“oh. right,” he croaks, looking more and more crestfallen and lost by the second. 

“listen, beomgyu,” you sigh. “if you don’t have anything to say, i think you should just l—” 

“i do! i do have something to say!” he exclaims. you still seem agitated, but against all odds, you nod.

“back when heeseung and i, you know, made the b-bet, i knew it was wrong,” he says. “i knew it was wrong, but i still did it. i guess i just saw you as, like, a challenge or something.” you flinch at his words and cross your arms as if your insides will spill out if you don’t. he winces, but continues, anyway.

“but then i got to know you,” he quickly adds. “really know you. and i realized that you’re so much more to me than that. every day i spent with you taught me more about myself, and i didn’t like what i learned; but  i think even just being around you made me into a better person. i don’t know how to ever thank you for that, but i guess it’s worth a shot, so thank you. really.” you can’t help but feel your eyes water. you were that important to him? “and every day, i want to fucking strangle myself when i think about how much i hurt you,” he says, voice cracking at the end of his sentence. you take him all in, finally noticing the fatigue in his gaze, in his entire being. reminiscent of the way you looked nearly a year ago. instead of satisfaction at the thought that he finally knows how you felt, all you can feel is sympathy. you know how it feels to be the kind of tired even sleep can't pacify.

“i want you to know that you are the most important person in my life, a-and even if you don’t forgive me, it’s… well, i understand. but you are not a joke to me, or a challenge, or whatever. i guess i just want to tell you that i meant it when i said that i loved you, and i mean it when i say it now. because i do. i really, really do.” you are silent, trying to scan his eyes for any signs of deception or ill intent, but you can’t find any. his teary eyes and quivering lips tell you that he really means what he says. is that enough, though? can it ever be enough? maybe not, probably not, but as you stare at the tears that threaten to leave his eyes, you decide you’d like to try.

“okay,” you say. 

“o-okay? does that mean—” 

“it means we can try again. as friends. for real this time. but i’m not the same person i was. is that okay?” the tears that were once on the precipice of leaving his waterline have now begun to flow freely. fuck his stupid pride, you can have all of it if you just let him give it to you.

“y-yeah. me neither. i mean, i’m not the same person, either,” he babbles. 

“okay,” you say with a nod, ever-so-graciously wiping his tears with the pads of your thumbs, smile floating on your lips. and he just can’t help himself. 

“can i kiss you?” he asks. 

“that’s not what friends do,” you chastise playfully, “but alright. just this once.” and you’re still as kind and merciful as ever. he lets out a shaky breath.

slowly, he takes his trembling hands and pushes your hair behind your ear before leaning down and planting his lips against yours. you melt into the feeling, just like you always did when he kissed you, and you feel your heart fluttering in your chest. on beomgyu’s part, he feels like he’s in a dream. to be perfectly honest, he’s had many dreams like this since you left, but nothing compares to how sweet his present reality is. 

when he deepens the kiss, you let him. you want to say you’re unsure why, but you know it’s because you don’t want this moment to end. you two stay in each other’s arms for longer than you’d like to admit. who can blame you for it when nothing in your life has felt this right in such a long, long time? 

for beomgyu, when you two finally part, he thinks it wasn’t long enough, at all. but then, no amount of time could really satisfy him, anyway. still, when he looks into your eyes, he can’t help the unconscious pout that adorns his face when he realizes the moment is over. you can’t control the way you let out a soft laugh at it.

-

being friends with you is very, very hard. not because you're hard to be around or because there's anything wrong with you, but because, to beomgyu, you're so easy and comforting to be with. it’s all too familiar to beomgyu and he finds himself slipping into old habits such as holding your hand and tucking your hair behind your ear when you let it fall into your face. surprisingly, you let him do whatever he wants. whether that's because you missed his touch or because you just don’t want him to stop, you don’t care to figure out. when taehyun brings up the unnecessary intimacy between you two, you can’t help but blush and deny anything crooked going on, which beomgyu takes to heart every time.

he’ll wait for you to accept him, though. he’ll always wait. 

and one night when you’re watching cheesy movies on your couch with him and you look down at your intertwined hands, his thumb unconsciously rubbing against your smaller one, you realize you don’t want to deny him. 

“beomgyu?” you whisper, drawing his gaze from the screen.

“yes?” he asks, attention fully on you like a puppy ready to listen to whatever you say.

“you don’t have to wait anymore.”

-

notes pt. 2: yeah sorry if this is the corniest thing u have ever read... my fault!

permanent (sfw only): @zzhyuu @defnotleee

permanent taglist (sfw/[n]sfw): @my313 @superbbananananana @lonelybutterflytae @cherrycolaberry @midwinterblizzard @everythingvirgoes @sooberryworld @20-cms @inkigayocamman @hyueika @boba-beom @vicurious28 @blossommi @lickingan0rchid @katsukis1wife @binniebakery @notevenheretbh1

series taglist: @vixensss @dejavu-jun @gyuchubss @missychief1404 @hihello-pinky @dojdcmidcmkmfekdvmkrkmvvrm

*bold names could not be tagged

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 15.5 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: curses, mentions of jk's unaliving attempt, explicit content: hickeys, fingering, they are so in love and can't stop saying it, unprotected sex, creampie

☆word count: 2.6k

☆a/n: i love them, and my bad if there are any typos this is heavily unedited haha let me know if you see any!

☆series masterpost

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Jungkook feels anxious. Ever since Taehyung asked him to meet up to talk, he’s been feeling incredibly anxious, like his heart might explode in his chest. Even worse - he’s afraid he’ll run into you when he gets to the apartment, and after what you said on Thursday, he thinks he might break with no way to heal if he sees you.

He’s scheduled an appointment with his therapist later today. All he can do is hope that it’ll help. And that his conversation with Taehyung will help, too.

Taehyung is in the living room when Jungkook gets home, playing on the Switch. He pauses his game the second Jungkook walks in, and they both stare at each other for a time, an uneasy silence filling the apartment.

Taehyung breaks it first. “Hey.”

Jungkook takes off his shoes but keeps his coat on as he heads towards the living room. “Hey.”

“How have you been?” Taehyung asks.

It’s awkward, and Jungkook hates it. He’s been hating way too much stuff in his life lately.

“Fine,” Jungkook replies. 

He can’t bring himself to return the question, and he sits at the other extremity of the couch, as far away from Taehyung as he possibly can.

“Listen…” Taehyung says when he realizes Jungkook won’t say anything else. “I’m sorry I punched you.” He winces as his eyes go over the bruise and wound Jungkook knows adorn his cheek. “Shit, I actually got you good.”

“You did,” Jungkook coldly replies.

Taehyung eyes his knuckles, which have also turned red and purple from the blow. “I really am sorry for that. I don’t know why I punched you, and I’m a little disgusted with myself that I did.”

“You were mad. It makes sense.”

Taehyung shakes his head no. “It doesn’t make sense. But… man, why didn’t you tell me about her?”

“Because you told me you’d kill me if I did touch her?” Jungkook chuckles bitterly. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“Yet you still went behind my back and fucked her,” Taehyung states, a hint of anger flashing behind the words.

“I didn’t fuck your sister,” Jungkook spits. “It’s never been like that with her.”

Taehyung remains silent for a few seconds and then sighs deeply. “Then how is it?”

His tone is cool, composed, and a lot nicer than Jungkook expected it to be. It calms down the anger that was starting to simmer in his blood better than a cold shower would have.

“Wha - what?” Jungkook lets out.

Taehyung offers him a smile that seems forced, yet Jungkook sees it for what it is - he’s trying to make an effort.

“How is it with Y/n?”

Jungkook gulps, gaze widening. “Huh… well…” he trails off, eyes falling to his hands, where he’s been mindlessly pulling at the calluses he gets from working out. “It’s… great. I know she’s your sister but fuck… she’s amazing.”

“She is,” Taehyung agrees.

“But I fucked everything up in Paris when I kissed Gabrielle.”

The silence that follows is heavy, interrupted by Taehyung’s sigh what feels like an eternity later.

“Were you guys together then?” Taehyung asks.

Jungkook shrugs. “We weren’t together together. But yes we were.” He pauses, and his throat is so dry it feels like sandpaper when he tries to swallow. “We started on Valentine’s Day.”

Taehyung’s nose is scrunched up, much like you sometimes do, when Jungkook looks at him. “That’s… a long time ago.”

“We ended in Paris, though,” Jungkook adds. “Except last Thursday.”

“I thought you and Lisa…” Taehyung trails off.

“It happened once last month,” Jungkook immediately explains, probably far more defensive than necessary. “And Y/n actually caught us together so… I ended things with Lisa right away.”

“I remember Lisa being pissed about it,” Taehyung admits. “But then she said that it was because of another girl, and looking back I was stupid to think it was Gaby.”

Jungkook purses his lips. “I haven’t spoken to Gaby in person since Paris. We only texted a couple of times.”

Including that one time she’d given him shit for not telling you about his promise to her.

“Right…” Taehyung trails off. He sighs, sitting back on the couch, throwing Jungkook a look. “What do you want with my sister?”

Jungkook gulps around a sudden lump in his throat. What does he want with you? He already knows, but can he tell Taehyung? Can he tell your brother that he’s so irreversibly in love with you he thinks he’s been dying since you said it was a lapse of judgment on Thursday?

That he almost died in July after he lost you?

“You want the truth?” Jungkook asks, his heart rate spiking. “I’m in love with her. I just want her to be happy, and of course I wish she’d want to be happy with me, but I don’t think that’ll happen after last Thursday.”

“You’re in love with her?” Taehyung repeats.

Jungkook gulps. “Yes.”

Taehyung nods and, to Jungkook’s surprise, taps Jungkook’s shoulder. “Noted. Come home, Jungkook. You should talk to her.”

Jungkook is stunned silent, and he just stares at Taehyung, just stares at his best friend unblinkingly, not understanding where the conversation went.

“What?”

“Come home,” Taehyung repeats. “I’m not mad at you. I was mostly mad that you both hid it from me for months, but clearly I was wrong.” He pauses, chuckles lightly. “At least that’s what Ari said. She quite literally beat some sense into me.”

So… this is it? The biggest obstacle to you and him… wasn’t even an obstacle?

“She did?”

“Yeah.” Taehyung tilts his head to the side, gaze widening as if he’s reminiscing about what happened with Ariane. “She said that I was a dick for not letting you guys figure your shit out. I think Gaby told her about the two of you.”

That would make sense, considering that the two girls are best friends. 

“Oh,” is all Jungkook manages to say.

Taehyung surveys him for a few seconds, as Jungkook’s world crumbles down around him. It’s like the floor disappeared, and he’s plummeting towards the ground with no parachute to save him.

Taehyung is not opposed to your relationship.

If you want it, Jungkook can be with you.

“So come home,” Taehyung repeats. “Talk to Y/n. Fix shit with her.” Taehyung smiles, and this time it’s fully genuine. “I just want you both to be happy.”

Jungkook nods, and he has to take a deep breath to refrain from crying then and there. “Okay.” He nods again. “Okay, I will talk to her.”

There’s a moment of silence as Taehyung just carefully observes Jungkook. Jungkook wonders, can Taehyung hear the wild beats of his heart at the perspective of talking to you?

“Can I…” Taehyung starts, and then his eyes drop to his hands in his lap. “Can I ask you something?”

Jungkook’s heart seems to come to a full halt in his chest. “Yeah?”

“What happened last summer…” Taehyung trails off. “Is it related to Y/n?”

A bottle of wine crashing on the pavement comes to Jungkook’s mind. But he never told Taehyung - how would he know?

“What do you mean?” Jungkook replies, pulling on his piercings.

“In July.” Taehyung sighs, meeting Jungkook’s gaze for a few seconds. “Lisa told Sera, and she told me and Jimin.”

Jungkook hates it. He hates it so much, hating the vulnerability that it imposes him.

“Ah.” He gulps, and he thinks about you for a moment.

Thinks about the fact that you were the only thing on his mind when he was so close to ending it.

“It was partly caused by losing her, yes,” Jungkook finally answers, and he’s suddenly blinking back tears.

“Fuck, JK…” Taehyung trails off. “You really should have told me about her…”

“I didn’t think you’d be… open-minded,” Jungkook says, shrugging his shoulders. “And she’d already ended things with me then.”

Taehyung nods once, and then sighs again. “Please don’t keep everything to yourself now, okay? I really don’t want you to think you’re alone. And I really don’t want you to ever feel like… that is a solution. So please talk to me, talk to Jimin whenever you need help, okay?”

Jungkook can’t speak around the lump in his throat, so all he does is nod. Taehyung understands - they’re best friends after all.

“I love you, bro,” Taehyung adds. “Please talk to Y/n.”

“I will,” Jungkook answers, his voice choked up with emotion.

All he can hope for is for you to be open to the conversation, whenever it comes. 

*****

For the first time in months, Jungkook feels at peace.

You’re here with him, and for the first time, he knows he won’t have to let go. Maybe that’s why he’s kissing you slowly, softly - you have all of eternity stretched ahead of you. Yet it seems you want more. Your kisses grow deeper, and soon his blood is pulsing at his ears, shooting down to his dick, and Jungkook pushes his tongue in your mouth.

It’s like he’s discovering you for the first time. He marvels at your sight, at your taste, at the way you moan softly against his lips. He swallows your sounds, inhales your inebriating scent, and he climbs on top of you, gently parting your legs with his knee so that he can be as close to you as possible.

He has half a thought that Taehyung is somewhere in the apartment, but the way you wrap your legs around his waist makes him forget everything until there’s just you and him.

He leaves your mouth to find your neck, his tongue darting out to taste you. A second later he’s sucking a hickey on your skin, and you moan softly, hand pulling at his hair.

“Kook,” you breathe out.

He pauses, just content with being close to you. “I love you, peach.”

Your arms wrap tightly around him, and though you have to be aware of his erection pressing against you, you both just stay there for a moment. 

“Love you too, Kook. So, so much.”

It’s the way you say the words. Jungkook immediately feels the need to be inside you, to be surrounded by you, and he kneels between your legs so that he can take off his shirt. You run a hand on his body, awe in your eyes like you, too, can’t believe you made it in the end. He takes a moment to look at you, to take in the way your eyes sparkle with emotion - with love, lust and yearning.

He loves you. And the best part about it is, you love him too.

“Fuck, peach,” he whispers. “You’re so beautiful.”

You sit up, taking off your shirt in one swift motion that reveals so much skin - you weren’t wearing a bra - and Jungkook thinks he’ll go insane. It’s like he forgot what you looked like despite seeing you just a few days ago - it feels like a whole lifetime ago.

You’ve gained muscles over the months apart. You’re leaner, and there’s a strength to your curves that makes Jungkook’s dick twitch in his pants. The tattoo on your ribs is all too attractive too, and Jungkook takes a moment to trace it as you lie back down under his watchful gaze.

The art is beautiful. Delicate, with fine lines that have sunk perfectly in your skin. Jungkook wonders who your artist is, if they’d be able to tattoo something on him too, something to remind him of you. But then you’re whining from lack of attention, and Jungkook leans down, kissing you deeply.

You run your hands on the skin of his back, nails lightly digging in his skin, and when he grunts softly, you whisper, “I’m so happy to be here with you.”

He goes fully insane. Insanely in love, perhaps. He undresses you, kissing every inch of skin revealed, and though he wants to taste you, to eat you out until you come undone on his tongue, his dick is throbbing too painfully for him to ignore it.

You’re glistening, your arousal evident the second his eyes land on you. He still takes a moment to slip two fingers inside of you as he kisses you again, swallowing your soft moans as they come. And when he thinks you’re ready, stretched enough for his dick, Jungkook takes off the rest of his clothes. His dick springs free, already rock hard like it always is with you, and he jerks himself off a couple of times as he watches you, as you watch him through half-lidded eyes.

“Condom?” he asks, though he hopes you’ll say no.

He wants to feel all of you again.

You shake your head no. “Please just fuck me already.”

“Fuck,” he curses, his dick hardening even more. “Fuck, peach, I love you.”

He comes closer, rubbing his tip on you, collecting your juices. It’s so sensitive without a condom, and he has to bite the tip of his tongue so that he doesn’t come right away. It doesn’t help that you’re so wet. That a moment later he’s slipping in, inch after inch, your walls sucking him in. 

It doesn’t help that you moan softly, eyes fluttering shut as your eyebrows bunch together from the pleasure. You’re so hot like this, so sinfully beautiful, and some feral part of him just wants to pound into you, to fuck you until the whole neighbourhood knows that you’re his forever now.

But he tames himself, slowly pulls out before pushing all the way in again. 

“Kook,” you moan, and your hand finds one of his where it’s holding your waist. “Come close.”

You don’t have to ask twice, especially not as he wants you close, too. So he bends down, cages you between his forearms, and then he establishes a slow rhythm. Your hips lift to meet his, your walls tightening around him from the motion, and he knows he’ll come fast.

You’re too tight, too wet, for him to hold on for a long time. So he tells you how much he loves you. Whispers on your lips that he never wants to be separated from you again, that he thinks you’re the reason he’s alive. You confess your love back, tell him that he’s so worthy of your love, that you wouldn’t want anyone other than him. 

You tell him that you’ll love him when you’re old, which makes him laugh against your lips. There’s beauty in the thought, in the knowledge that he does have a lifetime with you.

“You’re…” he trails off, because he has no words to describe how amazing you are, and his dick is stealing most of the blood from his brain.

So he kisses you instead. Kisses you slow, kisses you deep, his motions growing faster until they turn sloppy, and then he pushes all the way in, his dick twitching as he unloads his cum deep inside of you. You hold him tight, pussy pulsating around him, and Jungkook’s high keeps going on and on, your lips muffling his groans and soft moans.

“I love you,” he says again when he starts being able to think once more.

He’ll never get tired of telling you.

“I love you too, Kook,” you whisper.

He’ll never get tired of hearing that, too.

Read chapter fifteen here!

☆☆☆☆☆

he is so in love with her please send help. Let me know what you think of the drabble!

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[kjack89]

New year, same bullshit. I’m sorry I’ve been so MIA, friends, but I hope you accept this drabble as an explanation of sorts. Love you all ❤️

“Should I be worried?”

Grantaire’s eyes flicker up to Enjolras’s, his cereal spoon halfway to his mouth. “Do you mean, like, in general?” he asks. “Because I mean, like, it’s 2025. And we’re all fucked. So.”

He sticks his spoon in his mouth and shrugs. Enjolras doesn’t smile. “That’s on me for not being more specific, I guess,” he says, scrubbing a hand across his mouth before crossing his arms in front of his chest. “You’re not painting.”

Grantaire swallows. “Well, no,” he allows, “mainly because I’m eating breakfast at the moment.”

“Be serious.”

Grantaire’s lips twitch. “It’s somewhat less funny when you know it’s coming.”

Enjolras arches an eyebrow. “And yet that’s never stopped you before.”

“Fair.” Grantaire twirls his spoon between his fingers before pronouncing, like the well-worn, inside joke it had become, “I am wild.”

Almost certainly despite himself, Enjolras smiles, just slightly. “Yeah, you are,” he agrees. “But you’re also not painting.”

Grantaire’s answering smile fades. “Could be,” he says, a little sullenly. “It’s not like you’re around enough to know.”

It’s a low blow and he knows it, but Enjolras doesn’t flinch. “Maybe not but we live in a late capitalist surveillance state so I have my ways of finding out.”

“Well, well, well, typical white man, complaining about the system except for when it directly benefits you.”

“Yep,” Enjolras says. “Are you going to keep deflecting? Because I can do this all day.”

For a moment, Grantaire’s tempted to take him up on it, to see just how long he’ll actually allow this to drag on. It’d almost certainly be good fun, and it isn’t like Grantaire’s got anything better to do.

But he can also see that Enjolras is genuinely worried, can see it in the tightness of his shoulders and the lines at the corners of his eyes that he tries to claim aren’t crow’s feet because he’s not old enough to have crow’s feet. And considering Grantaire’s previous point about all of the other things that are almost certainly more worth Enjolras’s worry, he supposes he owes him at least a semblance of the truth.

“Yes, I haven’t been painting,” he says, dipping his spoon in his bowl of cereal and stirring it, mostly to give himself something to do with his hands. “No, you shouldn’t be worried.”

Enjolras nods like he didn’t really expect a different answer. “Are you depressed again?”

Enjolras’s bluntness, characteristic though it may be, still startles a laugh from Grantaire. He sighs and looks down at his cereal bowl. “There’s not really a way to say this that won’t worry you.”

When he sneaks a glance at him, Enjolras meets his eyes evenly. “Try me.”

Grantaire jerks a shrug. “I’ve never really not been depressed,” he admits, which isn’t really a dirty secret so he’s not entirely sure why he’s saying it like it is.

Maybe because he really doesn’t want Enjolras to worry. They don’t talk about this, really, other than for Enjolras to reiterate more times than Grantaire can count that he’s always there to listen if ever Grantaire wants or needs to talk.

He knows that Grantaire’s in therapy, and takes meds, and had some very low lows previously, but Grantaire’s never felt the need to fill him in on the specifics.

It was depressing enough living it the first time.

He made that joke, such as it was, to his therapist, who didn’t laugh. “Do you frequently feel like you’re a burden to your loved ones?” she asked in response.

Of course Grantaire does, but again, he won’t tell Enjolras that.

Enjolras taps his fingers on the table, the way he does when he’s deciding on the best plan of attack or how to most effectively dismantle whatever asinine argument Grantaire’s brought up. “I thought you were doing better,” he says hesitantly after a moment.

He doesn’t pitch it as a question but Grantaire still nods. “I was.”

“What happened?” Enjolras asks, before pausing and asking, “Did something happen?”

Grantaire sighs and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “It doesn’t always work that way,” he says. “It’s not always triggered by something happening.”

Enjolras’s brow furrows. “Right,” he says shortly, something like disappointment flitting across his expression.

It took Grantaire a very long time when they got together to realize that this kind of disappointment isn’t aimed at him, but at a problem Enjolras can’t fix, an enemy he can’t fight.

At least, not directly.

He clears his throat. “But in this case, I think probably everything over the past few months played at least a contributory role, shall we say.”

True though it is, he mostly says it for Enjolras’s sake. Enjolras just nods slowly. “Are you not painting because your depression is bad again?”

Grantaire exhales sharply. “I’ve painted a lot while depressed.”

Enjolras’s expression doesn’t shift. “Another excellent deflection.”

Grantaire barks a laugh and scrubs both hands across his face. “You know me too fucking well.”

“Or just well enough.”

Grantaire lowers his hands and sighs again. He doesn’t quite meet Enjolras’s eyes as he says, “Every time I go try to paint…it’s like I can’t see it anymore, you know?” Enjolras almost certainly doesn’t know, but he’s struggling to put it into words in a way he can understand. “Like I can’t picture it in my mind, how I want it to look, or how to get there. It’s– it’s like trying to paint in fog.”

It’s not an exact metaphor, but it’ll do.

Enjolras nods slowly. “But I don’t need to be worried.”

“No,” Grantaire says, before wrinkling his nose. “Yes? I never know what the correct response is.” Enjolras just gives him a look, and Grantaire tells him, “No, you don’t need to be worried.” He pauses, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth before telling Enjolras with an almost tired conviction, “It’ll come back. It always has.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Enjolras asks.

Grantaire cracks a smile. “Then you can worry.”

Enjolras takes a deep breath. “Ok,” he says simply.

Grantaire eyes him resignedly. “You’re going to worry anyway, aren’t you?”

A smile twitches at the corners of Enjolras’s mouth. “Newsflash, asshole, I’ve been worried this whole time,” he says dryly, and Grantaire’s smile widens at the quote.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Enjolras’s smile disappears.

“What? Why?”

Grantaire shakes his head, mostly because he knows Enjolras won’t like his explanation. “Because you shouldn’t have to—”

Sure enough, Enjolras cuts him off with a scowl, though his voice is gentle as he tells him, “That ship I’m pretty sure sailed when I fell in love with you. Or, frankly, probably a good deal sooner than that.”

There are so many things that Grantaire wants to say that, but he can’t bring himself to. Instead, he stretches his hand across the table and tells Enjolras, sincerely, “I love you.”

Enjolras takes his hand, lacing their fingers together. “I know,” he says softly. “I love you, too.” He squeezes Grantaire’s hand before adding, “I hope it comes back soon.”

“Yeah,” Grantaire agrees. “So do I.”

[samkerrworshipper]

beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful girl

leah williamson x reader, jordan nobbs x reader (wobbs as coparents)

reconciliation … the final part in this series x

2 months later:

“My name is y/n Williamson-Nobbs, and I am an addict.”

There are things you appreciate nowadays, more then you did before. Fresh air, the flowers blooming in spring, a strong coffee, smiles from strangers, a warm bed, hugs, being told you are enough, a classic movie, the sun, fruit, water, being clean.

“I didn’t ever take drugs to hurt anybody, or hurt anybody knowingly. I didn’t take drugs to have fun, or party, I didn’t get addicted because I liked it.”

You like taking your dog on walks, going and getting your hair done, floating in the ocean, lying in grass, being sober.

“I took drugs because it made me feel whole. I’ve never felt whole in my entire life, everyday in my life I’ve used something to patch that hole up, during my childhood I tried to fix every single problem, I fixed myself by fixing everybody else in my life, my mom, my non existent dad. As I got older it changed, I seeked validation to patch the hole, it was healthy, but I think I’ve always been an addict and I always will be. I’ve been addicted to filling that hole, it was disguised as being healthy for most of my life until I switched the validation for drugs.”

You don’t avoid peoples eye contact as you walk along the street anymore, you don’t avoid your moms, you don’t lie to people anymore, you don’t put yourself in danger.

“It started with nicotine, because my mom enabled it. I think she was more scared for me then anything. I was spiralling, who wouldn’t be in this day and age? I mean any parent of a teen must be terrified in this day and age, I know I would be. The nicotine was good, but then I got introduced to weed, and it felt like every problem I’ve ever had was fixed.”

You talk about your feelings now, you identify every single thing that you feel and you talk about it with as much detail as your moms and therapist want to hear. You don’t study the different chemicals entering your body every time you shoot up anymore, you study the intricacy and meaning of what you are going through. You take medicine for your depression and anxiety, not drugs for your hopelessness.

“They say weed is the pipeline drug, it’s true. After weed, I felt on top of the world and there was no stopping me. Molly, LSD, coke, heroin, benzos, fentanyl, ketamine, oxy, speed, and eventually meth, which I now know to be the worst of all of them. I didn’t know it at the time, there wasn’t anybody in my life, or in the life I’d created forn myself that was willing to tell me how dangerous what I was doing was.”

Jordan moved back in, whilst you were in rehab. It had been two weeks, that’s what you agreed to. It was the worst two weeks of your life without any doubt. But when you were picked up, both your moms were there, both of them were there for you. They both took time off, time off to take you away, across to France for a week.

“Meth will always be the thing that destroyed my life. My parents don’t trust me anymore, I get why. I lashed out, I became devoid of everything, I was convinced that everybody hated me, and that I was the cause of everybody’s pain, including my own. I convinced myself that the people who loved me the very most didn’t, and that I was the bomb that had torn all of my relationships in my life apart. I was a kid though, I still am, and I’m trying to be better.”

The trust was a hard thing. Your therapist saw Leah and Jordan twice a week, and that was when they would discuss the things that they could start reintroducing you to. School was a no, for now. You were yet to be permitted to stay at the house, alone, for longer then an hour, so every training session, gym session, appointment, media duty, catch up with friends, you were dragged to. It had been tough in the beginning, but you understood, trust had to be earnt. Every week there was something to look forward to, Jordan had been teaching you to drive after you’d gotten out of rehab, and as of a week ago you were permitted to drive yourself to and from your NA meetings.

“Meth made me feel like I was on top of the world, even though i was at my rock bottom. I had bad friends, I fell into a bad group of people, people who took advantage of the fact that I was so vulnerable and hurt. I’ll never forgive them for that, I’ll never be able to forgive them for taking advantage of a girl nearly ten years younger then them. They were hurting too, but that doesn’t excuse manipulating another person. They hurt me, they enabled me, they assaulted me, they took things from me that I’ll never get back.”

The first thing your mothers had wanted when after you’d come clean to them about everything was for you to get a rape kit. You’d outright refused, you were protecting the people, you didn’t want to relive what had happened to you but also a part of you didn’t want Matt and Maya to go down, even if you could now recognise that they’d done unforgivable things to you. Eventually, you agreed to it. You were glad you did, Matt had passed on chlamydia to you, which you thought was some kind of sick joke, that even after he’d deserted you there was still parts of him that were hurting you from the insides. Karma came in the form of a sexual assault report, one which had the policemen heading to his home to arresst him, only to finds thousands of dollars worth of illicit substances.

“I’m not proud of what I did to get a fix, I don’t think any recovering addict is. A couple of months ago I would have ruined every single relationship I had with all of the people I loved just to get a hit of what I was craving, and nowadays I would probably do the same, but I don’t need to. Meth was the love of my life, I think it always will be, or maybe the craving for something to fill me up is what I crave, I don’t really know, I’m still working everyday to try and figure that out.”

Sometimes, as you drove home at night, around every corner towards the house, you considered taking a stop at a side street, one that you knew a dealer would be sitting on. Somedays, you considered driving the car off of the highway and into a tree. Somedays, you considered taking a blade to your throat so you didn’t have to do rehab. Somedays though, you felt so incredibly blessed to be alive. Sometimes, you would sit outside, in the sun and just feel, allow yourself to feel everything that you’d always pushed down out of fear that you’d be deserted if you let any true emotion show.

“We’re all human, we all have the same dignity, no matter who we are. I made some stupid choices, choices that I won’t ever be able to reckon with, choices that for the rest of my life will haunt me. Don’t we all though? Don’t we all lie awake at night worrying about the things that we’ve done, that are out of our control now?”

You’d come to not fear desertion, the people who you’d hated most in the world but also loved most in the world had deserted you. Your parents had deserted you, you closest friends, people you would have considered your found family, deserted you. It was something you had no control over, something that you would never have control over and focusing all of your energy on trying to fix that had become something that you’d give up on.

“I’m not perfect, I never have been, I never will be. I can guarantee though that nobody in this room feels like they are perfect. We’re all hurt people, everybody has something that they keep hidden from people because they are scared that somehow it is going to make people see them differently. I’m guilty of it, my whole life i’ve been hiding, I still am. I’m not ashamed to admit that coming here every night terrifies me, that somebody I’ve known at some stage of my life will walk through the same doors I do and I’ll be put face to face with that, but it’s life. We all make our own mistakes, we all pave our own ways.”

Leah and Jordan still fought, you were secretly glad. It was clear that everything between them was done, which you hated to be happy about, You weren’t ready for that to be back to normal, you weren’t ready to feel like you were able to go back to the way life was when they were together. Lia mediated them, she balanced everything out and the two of you had managed to build a relationship. She was like the older sister you’d never had and you were happier to have her around knowing that she was happy to support you in the same way your moms would, even if she wasn’t living in the same house as you all anymore.

“I will never be able to properly apologise for how I acted, I’ll never be able to repay the people that found me at my lowest and still showed uo for me. I owe my life to those people, and I will spend every single day of my life being so thankful for the opportunity they have given me to have a second chance.”

Life was better, everything was better, you were recovering, you were learning. You felt more connected and loved by the people around you in your whole life. You didn’t feel like you had to seek out love anymore, you didn’t feel like you had to do something to earn it. Leah spent every minute of everyday doing small things to make you feel loved, dragging you out of the house to get coffee with her, reading with you every night before bed, sitting through you when the cravings were making your day harder, driving you to the beach when you felt like you needed fresh air, dragging you to physio appointments so you could hang out with your aunties, buying you fresh flowers to put in your room to make the dark memories of it a little bit nicer, helping you redecorate the space, letting you sleep in her bed when the tendencies started to burn all over your skin.

“I have a disease, I have a terminal illness that will forever impair my ability to live life normally. I will forever be attached to my past, and that’s really tough, I won’t ever be cured of my past, I won’t ever be able to say that I am free of my addiction, I will forever be tied to my decisions.”

Your therapist was helping you weed out all the bad, helping you to identify the different patterns of self destructive behaviour that you chose, helping you to make better decisions for yourself, decisions that didn’t end in you destroying everything you’d worked for.

“I’m an addict, we all are, we all know what it feels like to be plagued with our past. We all get up here every week and speak about our demons, because we all get it. We get what it feels like to lose everything, we all understand the terror that crosses over a persons face when you overdose, or tell them that you’re using, or when they wake up across from your hospital bed. We’re all going through our own shit, we’re all struggling everyday. I struggle everyday, because I’m an addict, for the rest of my life I will struggle because I’m an addict, but there isn’t anybody who understands me better than all of you. I’ve been sober for two months, there have been relapses, there have been struggles, there has been pain and so much for me to be ashamed of. There has been so many positives though, there has been so much good, so much happiness, so many good moments. I don’t believe that everything happens for a reason, there is too much bad in this world for me to believe in that, but I do believe that this experience has made me a better person, it’s made me stronger, its made me more resilient. The past two months have been some of the best parts of my life, and i intend for the rest of my life to be the same. This chip means a lot to me, but it’s the progress that makes all of this better, knowing that I’ve left parts of me behind that will now stay behind me forever.”

You looked down at the chip in your hands, the little bronzey coin that was so small but felt like it was bigger then the world to you. You smiled at the group of people around you, nodding your head once again before walking towards you sponsor and giving them a hug. It felt good, like a big weight had been lifted from your shoulders. You’d never spoken much in meetings, you were more than happy to hear other peoples stories, but tonight had been special to you. You’d thought about what you were going to say, much of it being what you’d talked about with your moms earlier in the week during family therapy. It had been hard, talking to your moms so openly about how you felt, but it was something you were becoming better at as the days passed.

You stayed around for the coffee and biscuits, talking with the people that you’d grown close to over the past month and a half in the mildewy church which smelt a little bit too similar to your great grandmothers living room.

You stuck around until the first few people started to trail out, before you made the decision it was time to get home. You said your goodbyes, farewelling your friends before dismissing yourself and making the walk out to the carpark, towards Leah’s car.

Driving had become your one piece of real freedom, it was the only time where you got to think to yourself. A couple of months ago, you would have found solace in continuous loneliness, you would have sat in the car for hours and been happy. Now though, you found yourself navigating your way back home as fast as possible, whilst still abiding by road rules.

The gravel driveway underneath the wheels of a car used to make you nervous, if anything it now made you feel anticipation.

You jumped from the car with a hop in your step, the bronze chip still clutched in your palm, the metal now warm against your skin after the acclimation of the metal to your body temperature.

You used your key to enter the door, smiling at the warmth and scent that you were met with as you untied your shoes and left them by the front door.

Leah was waiting for you in the kitchen, she always was, every night you decided to go to a meeting. You knew that she still worried, that she spent nights awake worrying about you. You’d lost count of how many times on the nights you spent in your own bed how often she’d come to check to make sure you were still lying there. She probably always would worry, you wouldn’t blame her if she did, you’d put her through a lot.

She brought you into a hug, the same hug as every night, it always lasted for a little bit too long, but you never brought it up.

She would hug you tighter every single time, it was clockwork.

“Lia’s come over for dinner, she’s cooked spaghetti for everybody, but she made bangers and mash for you special, no pasta.”

You smiled at your mom, letting her press a chaste kiss to your forehead before you followed her into the dining room, where dinner was already plated up and Jordan and Lia were already seated at the table.

Jordan sent a smile your way as you sat down, things were still rocky between the two of you, it was never going to be perfect, it was never going to be as good as before, but you were both doing the work to heal bits of it and that was what mattered.

“Hey bubba, how was your meeting?”

Most nights you answered the same, with something simple.

“Good, I got this today.”

You pushed the chip onto the table, pulling your phone out of your pocket so you didn’t have to witness their raw reactions.

“Bubba, we’ve talked about this, no phones at the table.”

You frowned, pushing your phone back into your trackpant pocket, and looking up at your moms.

“This is awesome bubba, we’re both so proud of you.”

Jordan had picked up the coin, looking at it with glazed eyes.

There had been a lot of that since you’d come out of rehab, a lot of crying, a lot more than you were comfortable with.

“I want you to keep it.”

Jordan looked up at you, mildly confused.

“Bubba, it’s your token, your progress, your hardwork, you should keep it.”

You shook your head.

“Mom has my one month one, I want you to keep this one. I’m doing it for you two, I’m trying to be better for you two, and I want you to know that I’m committed to it and that without you guys I wouldn’t be able to do this.”

You could see tears pooling in Leah’s eyes from the other side of the table, jordan’s own ones beginning to drip down her face.

“Anyways, it’s not big deal, let’s have dinner, I’m sure whatever Lia cooked up is better than anything you and mom could have managed.”

You tried to pass it off with some lighthearted humour, but based off of the tears on your parents face, it wasn’t doing much.

Jordan and Leah both reached over, taking a hand in each of yours.

“You know that no matter what happens, no matter where you go, who you become, what you do, how you live your life, you will always be our beautiful girl.”

[catgirlcalling]

Potential dialogue prompt:

"What did I do? Was i too much for you?"

"Oh god no Evan, it's me. I'm the one who's not enough, you're perfect."

We have a winner folks, you got me! Thank you so much for the prompt, because I just wrote my first little fanficlet since I was in the LOTR fandom back in 2004 😅 Here you go:

"What did I do? Was I too much for you?"

"Oh god no Evan, it's me. I'm the one who's not enough, you're perfect."

I’m not, is on the tip of Bucks’ tongue, and he knows Tommy can see it on his face when he presses on before the protest forms.

“The way you just accepted yourself, you agreed to a date with a man with no hesitation when you’d only realised it was an option a minute before,” a sad smile crosses Tommy’s face that Buck feels himself mirroring. “The way you didn’t question it until we ran into Eddie, and even then you were more worried you’d hurt me and lied to him than you were about coming out. You came out at your sisters’ wedding without a care in the world,”

Tommy pauses and looks up at the high ceiling of the loft. Buck watches his fingers clench and unclench in his lap as he tries to find the words, soot from the four alarm fire staining his nails still. Both the 118 and the 217 had been called to the warehouse fire and by luck, or serendipity or another damn curse they’d run into each other on site.

After an awkward minutes silence staring at each other between the firetrucks, something in Buck had finally snapped. He needed answers, but mostly he wanted…needed to talk to Tommy. But not here.

“Uhm, h-hi,” he stammers, then steels himself, tries to think what his therapist would tell him to do. “There’s a lot I want to say, a-and I think we need to talk, but we’re working. Call me, when we’re done?”

He swallows hard, and moves to walk past Tommy when he gets no answer after a beat. Before he makes it past the end of the truck, he hears Tommy’s voice, low and sad. “Yeah, ok.”

Which was how they ended up here, seated at the kitchen counter in Bucks loft, the deja vu from the last time they sat here not lost on either of them.

Tommy’s eyes finally fall and return to Buck’s, with a gentle sigh, “You said you admired me, and the way you talked about me…I don’t deserve any of that praise. I’m not perfect, Evan. I’ve done and said some awful things just to save my own skin, I was ashamed of who I am for so long, and I’m even a little jealous of you for how easily you accepted yourself and how you stood up for others. The way you see me, it’s amazing, it is…but it’s not me. And I won’t be able to take it the day you see me for the mess I really am. You deserve better than me, Evan. You’re perfect, and I’m so far from it. I didn’t do it just to protect my own heart, but yours too.”

Buck feels the tears sting his eyes as he stares Tommy down, weighing up his words. Then with a sniffle, and to Tommy’s surprise- a chuckle, he gives him a watery grin.

“The day you kissed me, what was I teasing you for?” Buck asked, making Tommy duck his head and give his own sniffly chuckle.

“You have the worst fake mouth static, and you’re a terrible liar- not as bad as Chim but you’re up there. Your taste in coffee is just weird, that amount of sugar is insane. You and my best friend made fun of me for believing in curses. I know you’re not perfect, Tommy. But I was an absolute brat the entire time I was cursed, whining and insecure and needy and too much and….” He pauses and takes a breath, leaning over and reaching for Tommy’s hand, hoping he doesn’t pull away.

“And you saw all of that, and looked after me anyway. You cared even when I was being my worst. Even when you dumped me, even right now I care about you. I know you’re not perfect Tommy…but I-I think you are perfect for me. We can work this out together. Please?”

Buck’s fingers brush against his across the kitchen bench, and they tangle together. Tommy doesn’t pull away.

X

[musings-of-a-rose]

First sentence prompt (use whichever character your heart desires)

“Don’t look at me, I thought we were going for tacos.”

Taco Tuesday

Pairing: Benny Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 630+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: So @theewokingdead originally gave me this idea for Tommy, but it fits for Benny as well. And then I got this one sentence fic starter and instantly knew what to write!  

“You text Tommy to prepare for taco Tuesday. You later show up to his house with tacos, and when you walk in you find him naked and realize he thought taco Tuesday meant something else entirely.”

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Benny Miller Masterlist

Dating Benny was always a blast. He has so much energy that he pours into everything he does, whether it’s his MMA fighting or going to the movies. He always gets super into whatever we’re doing and it just makes my life so much brighter. Don’t get me wrong, he has his moments where he’s not quite himself, his past consuming him. But he’s been working through it with the help of his best friends, myself, and a great therapist. 

It’s Tuesday and it’s been a long day. I walk inside my apartment, kicking off my shoes and leaving them on the mat near the door, heading into the kitchen to get a glass of water. As I’m drinking, my phone pings, so I fish it out of my purse. Benny’s picture, one of us together at the State Fair with turkey legs the size of our heads, fills my screen and instantly my mood lifts. 

BENNYKINS: How’s my most beautiful girl?

Me: Most beautiful? Is there more than one of us?

BENNYKINS: yup. The one of you that goes in public and the one that does freaky shit in bed 🥵😘😈

Me: you bring out the freak in me what can I say?

…

BENNYKINS: good to know 😉 

Me: you free tonight? 

BENNYKINS: you asking me out?

Me: always. I was thinking it’s Tuesday so taco night at your place?

…

BENNYKINS: sounds perfect

Me: great! I’ll bring supplies

BENNYKINS: I bet you will 😉

I stop at the store on my way to Benny’s, gathering up the stuff we’d need to make tacos. Quickly making my way through the store, I’m grateful that there was no line at checkout. The quicker I can get to Benny the better. I really miss just being around him. 

I pull up to his house, parking behind his Jeep. A quick glance in the mirror to make sure I look ok, not that it matters to Benny in the slightest, and I grab the bag of food, heading up to the front door. I shift the bag and knock, hearing him yell  “Come in!” from somewhere in the house. I open the door and close it behind me, sliding the lock into place and kicking off my shoes before I head into the kitchen, setting the bag down on the counter. 

“Benny?”

“In here!”

I head down the hall, gently pushing open the door to his bedroom where I’d heard his voice coming from. My breath catches in my throat and I freeze - Benny was on his bed, completely naked, laying sideways with a giant grin on his face. 

“Hey pretty lady!”

“I..wh…what are you doing?” I can’t help the smile creeping across my face, but I still haven’t moved, unsure of what to do.

Benny cocks his eyebrow up. “It’s taco Tuesday.”

“Yeah. I have the food on the counter, but what?” I gesture towards him.

His smile falters just a little. “You said you were bringing your taco.”

A laugh erupts from the back of my throat, my head falling back with the weight of it as I realize what he’s thinking. “I said I’ll brings tacosss. Not just my taco!” 

“Oh.” He shakes his head, momentarily caught off guard before the smile returns and he jumps up, his whole uh body bouncing with the motion as he bounds over to me, cupping my face with both hands and placing a soft kiss to my lips.

“You brought your taco, and I have the sour cream.” How he says this with sincerity and a straight face, I’ll never know.

“How does that turn me on?”

He smiles, his eyes studying my face as he dusts his nose across mine. “Because you love me. Now come on - let me stuff your taco.”

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed   @ladykatakuri @marrianena  @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol   @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @ichigodjarin @justreblogginfics @sullyosully @kmc1989 @veryprairieberry

[jacksdinonuggets]

~ T r a u m a ~

Summary:Lucifer is trying to spend some time to get to know Vaggie but she ends up in littlespace so Lucifer takes care of her.

It was rough keeping a big secret from Charlie. Even though she accepted her now and they were on good terms, things were still very stressful. Her wings contributed to that factor as well. They reminded her of what she did before Charlie found her and it gave her a lot of guilt. A few panic attacks later, she decided to talk about it to Charlie one day, hoping that she’ll feel better.

“Maybe you should talk to someone about this,” Charlie suggested, “I’m not exactly qualified and there aren’t many therapists in hell, but maybe you could talk to my dad,”

“Why Lucifer?” Vaggie asked, a little bit nervous. She didn’t exactly want to talk about all this heavy shit to her girlfriend’s dad. What if she makes herself look bad and he’s unaccepting of them? He did know she was an exorcist but never knew why she fell in the first place. It was too heavy to talk about in their little time together.

“Well, he’s also a fallen angel, he might understand how it feels,” The princess prompted.

Vaggie bit her lip, wondering what she should do. Finally, after a moment of hesitation, she sighed and agreed.

A day or two later, Vaggie stands in front of Lucifer’s room. It was just one of the nicer hotel rooms, so it wasn’t supposed to be as intimidating. But it was. She took a deep breath before knocking on the door.

“Mr Morningstar?” She called out, slowly opening the door and entering. He had one of the suites so she assumed he was just in one of the bedrooms.

“Ah, Maggie! Good to see you!” He popped up to her side and gave her a hug. She flinched, but then relaxed.

“It’s Vaggie, Sir,” She calmly corrected him.

“Vaggie, got it. Anyways, what brings you to my humble abode,” He asked, leading her to the kitchen area where he poured himself a glass of water.

“I- uhhh, I was hoping to talk to you about something,” She nervously looked around the room, trying to avoid eye contact. She really didn’t want to make this more awkward and terrifying than it already was.

“Oh, alright, let's sit then,” he walked over to the couch and gestured a hand to the one in front of it so they sat facing towards each other.

“So, I- Uh, Charlie wanted me to talk to you about some struggles I’ve been having that have to do with being a fallen angel,” she began, “I don’t even know how to start,” 

She thought about it for a second and took a deep breath.

“What do you do when… you feel so ashamed for being an angel that you think it would be better if you were gone?”

“That’s a tough question. Mind telling me why you feel ashamed first?” he asked. He would probably have to tell Charlie about these thoughts. It definitely wasn’t healthy.

Vaggie’s memories and reasons why she was guilty flashed in her head. The people she’s killed. The souls lost. It's all her fault. 

“I- I- I-,” She stuttered.

“Hey, it’s okay, take a deep breath,” he instructed. After she took a couple, she felt a bit calmer.

“I was an exorcist for years. I killed so many and hurt many more. I lied to Charlie, I lied to my friends, I even lied to myself. I kept saying that it was okay but it wasn’t! Nothing is okay! I’m not fucking okay! I’m a murderer.…” she confessed. He sucked in a breath but she wasn’t done.

“I wasn’t even punished! I- I deserve to feel hurt and pain. I deserve agony but no one will give it to me. My stupid wings are a constant reminder of the monster I am,” She began to stumble on her words as her lip began to quiver. She’s held so much in that she was an absolute mess now that she was talking about it. It made her headspace immediately fall like a bag of sand being thrown off a cliff. 

Before she knew it, she started crying, sobbing even. Lucifer got really worried and moved to sit next to her. He wrapped his arms around her shaking body. She was very much ugly crying. The hiccuping, hyperventilating kind too. Why was he giving her comfort. He should be upset with her.

“Vaggie, you don’t deserve any pain. You’ve changed. You’re not deserving of a punishment anymore. You deserve comfort and help,” He told her in a calm, gentle voice. It was quite nurturing too.

Being a caregiver, he could notice easily when a headspace dropped and he could tell hers went deep down fast. He gently pulled her into his lap and began to rock her, trying to calm the baby down.

“Shh, shhh, you’re okay, we all forgive you, shh, shhh,” He spoke soothingly into her ear. 

He made a rubber duck appear and held it in front of her.

“Look! It’s a ducky!” he sqeaked it, trying to get her attention. She looked up at it, still crying but not as many hiccups. Lucifer moved it around and made little quacking noises to entertain her. It seemed to help.

He gave the ducky to her once she stopped crying. She immediately tried to put it in her mouth.

“Ah, ah, ah, you don’t know where that’s been,” he took it out of her mouth and made a pacifier appear in her mouth. She sucked on while playing the rubber duck.

He lifted her up and placed her on the second couch. He snapped his fingers and her clothing changed. She was now in a thick diaper and onesie. Lucifer had babysat enough times to know what clothing helped her feel safe. 

He brought her over to the bedroom and laid her down in bed before he took off his shoes and climbed in too. She seemed very clingy so he definitely would need to cuddle with her.

She snuggled up close to him as he massaged her scalp. He felt bad that she had to deal with all of this guilt. It was upsetting to say the least. Even though they weren’t very close, he still cared and worried about her.

He felt content once he heard soft snoring coming from the girl. It was a peaceful sight, knowing that she was no longer fighting her inner demons. He slipped out of the bed without waking her up and went back into the small living room area.

He brainstormed what kind of toys Vaggie would like. He wanted to make sure she had something to do when she woke up. After summoning a couple of blocks, a shape sorting game, and setting up a cute purple tent and filled it with a bunch of pillows and blankets, he sat on the couch and scrolled on his hellphone. He contemplated calling Charlie but he didn’t want her to think he wasn’t good enough to take care of Vaggie.

He sat there for a while until a scream erupted from the bedroom. He shot up and scrambled towards the sound. He followed it and opened the door. The sight he was greeted with was sad to say the least. The poor girl was shot up in bed, bawling while clutching the blankets. He could easily see sweat beads rolling down her forehead too. Using context clues, he realized that she must’ve had a nightmare.

“Sweetie,” he sat down next to her on the bed. He rubbed her back and kissed her forehead, waiting patiently for her to calm down. He wiped away her tears and held a tissue to her nose, which she blew into, clearing her sinuses. She cried for a minute or two until she was feeling a bit better.

Lucifer summoned a bottle filled with cold water and pulled her into his lap. A diaper change was in order afterwards but for now, he fed her the water, knowing that it would help. Once she finished it, she mumbled a “t’ank you,” 

“You’re welcome, Little ducky. Do you want to talk about your bad dream?” Lucifer asked. 

“Dun wanna think about it,” She told him. “Scary,” 

“It’s okay, baby, you don’t need to talk about it. I have a small surprise for you but do you need any help getting your diapy changed?” He asked. She nodded, feeling way too small to do it herself. 

He laid her down on the ground and began to make quick work of the change. Vaggie played with a small fidget cube so it wasn’t so overwhelming. Once he was done and taped everything up, he carried her on his hip into the living room where watched her play with blocks and sorting games.

Lucifer never realized how intense her trauma was. He was glad that he now knew so he could prepare for any future mishaps. It made him determined to be the best caregiver ever. He would make the small and scared fallen angel feel happy with herself again.

[sataara]

Sibling Energy

"Ingo and Emmet talk after he explains where he was for the last few years"

Hello again! This is a small one shot that I wrote a long time ago and only now edited and cleaned it up so I could post it 😅

The bootleg merch mention comes from a convo that happened at @evtraininguniversity 's tumblr, here's a part of it but there was a lot more talked about at the time!!! Also go read Ev's stuff if you haven't already, she's great!!!

Either way, enjoy!!!

“Ok. Let me see if I got it. You still don’t know exactly how, but you were thrown in the past.”

“Correct.”

“Of another region entirely.”

“Right again.”

“Somehow you lost your memories in the way there.”

“Hm hm.”

“So you lived there, until a random kid brought Arceus to you and he gave you your memory back.”

“Yup.”

“And then, with your memory back, you asked to be sent back here after saying your goodbyes.”

“You are a very good listener, Emmet.”

“Shut the fuck up, this is the most bizarre thing you’ve ever told me and yet I have no better explanation. I could say that the old timey clothes you got in a museum or from reenactors, the destruction to your uniform from living in the wild for years, but how the fuck else would you get those extinct pokémon?”

“Guess you’ll have to believe me, then, asshole.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to, but you are talking about fucking Arceus, over here.”

“I guess that is fair, I had the same reaction before seeing the supposed creator with my own eyes.”

“Calling him “supposed” wouldn’t be heresy, then?”

“I fought him and won, I don’t care.”

“You fought him without me?!”

“I knew you would say that, so technically they owe me for the mess they put me through, I didn’t want to go to Hisui but apparently I had to, because technically that had already happened? Something about time paradoxes. Regardless, their influence made sure that no one connected my image in the history books with Subway Boss Ingo, so no one would alert you or try to get me back before I was supposed to return. I didn’t choose any of that, though, so after winning I got them to agree to fight you too, next time we played the Azure Flute in Spear Pillar.”

Emmet punched the air in excitement. He had the look he always did when going through strategies on his head, until a thought made him get back on track.

“Right, so, assuming you really did spend these last three years in ancient Sinnoh,” Ingo huffs in amusement at his brother persistent disbelief, “does that mean you know why they don’t have a rail system?”

That grabs his attention and suddenly he is furious.

“Professor Laventon kept making incredible remarks about trains and how helpful they are, I added my own agreement and yet! The construction corps were so prideful! They didn’t want to look into the system to see if they could adopt it as well! They kept saying that those “metal beasts” could not be safe!” His hands in constant movement, following his rage. “And now, the kid that helped me, told me that they have been starting construction in Jubilife City and that Sinnoh now regrets how long it took to adopt the rail system!”

“Oh, I did hear news of that a few years ago, I had bigger worries then.”

That gave Ingo’s rage pause.

“I’m sorry, Emmet, I wish-“

“Nope! Can’t change the past, it is what it is, do not go down those tracks.”

“Did your therapist tell you that?”

“More like he drilled it into my head.”

“I’m happy to hear it.”

“We can talk about me later. Don’t give me that look, I know I can’t avoid your older brother tendencies forever. But, that is why you want to go back there, then? You want to supervise the construction?”

“I don’t want to go back exactly, I want to give them our expertise on the subject, we might not have started the subway and train systems in Unova but we did expand on it. I also can not say I told you so to Kamado, so I want to do that to the closest descendent of his that I can find.”

“You are such a petty bitch sometimes.”

“Go fuck yourself, Emmet.”

Despite the jabs, that were all friendly at the end of the day, Ingo loved listening to his brother snickering laugh. Oh, how he missed his favorite problem while walking through the vast expanse of Hisui.

"Oh, and before I forget, I did get something in Hisui that reminded me of you." He leaned over the arm of the couch to reach the basket he had brought with him. "Emmet, I want you to meet Impostermet. I hope you two will play nicely."

Emmet left a bark of a laugh, he couldn't believe that, depite being stuck in the past, his brother was still able to find their bootleg merch.

"Impostergo is a part of a set now! I can not believe you, Ingo!"

"Since we're already on the subject, you didn't burn The Blanket, did you?"

"I think Crustle found it in a day he was very mad and it became rags, sadly, you can find my teeth around the house, I use it to clean."

"That's a terrifying sentence Emmet."

"You have no one to blame but yourself. I never told you to buy that fucking monstrosity in the first place."

"Oh, how terrible my brother is, I buy a gift of his likeness to bestow upon him and that's how he thanks me."

"If I wasn't so happy to have you back I would fucking kill you right now."

"As if you ever could, I'm the bigger twin after all."

"We're identical, you fuck!"

And that's how they ended up wrestling on the floor of their living room, Ingo having his brother in a headlock while Emmet kicked and refused to surrender. Eelektross glared at his trainer and his brother's antics, before giving a slight shock to the pile of squirming limbs, making them release each other with pained yelps.

"Eelektross is right, we have far more important things to do."

"Eelektross is always right! He is the best boy! We need to go to a police station and then do a looooot of paperwork to prove you're alive and to get you your job back."

"Maybe I should have stayed in Hisui."

"Oh no, you're not running away from the paperwork!"

"I think I can hear Sneasler calling me, Emmet, I have to go."

"Come back here, Ingo!"

"Well, who arrives first at the station is free from paperwork!"

"You're already at the door, that's not fair! Ingo! Ingo, stop!"

The twins should be thankful that their pokemon were as intelligent as they were, Chandelure stopped the siblings using psychic, while bringing them back to get their pokeballs and properly lock the door, before they actually teared down the streets, throwing quips at each other and laughing until they were red in the face. They tied at the end, as Emmet saw Ingo was about to win, and decided to tackle his brother inside the station, making them end up crossing the threshold at the same time. Ingo could only wheeze as his brother fell on top of him and crushed all of his precious organs, only moving when the depot agents came over, helping them stand up and properly welcoming back the siblings to their home, finally together once more.

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

What is L-O-V-E? - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Bradshaw!Fem!OC (Lena) (Ex-Wife!OC)

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Divorce and Separation; Angst; References to Child Custody Agreements; One Sided Feelings; Toxic/Conflictual Dynamics; References to Goose and Carole; Female Bradshaw OC and Named Son OC

This work, all of my works, and my entire blog is 18+ Only!

Summary: Lena Bradshaw (formerly Seresin) struggles once again to keep the peace between her ex-husband Jake and her older brother Bradley for her son's sake. And the uranium facility mission only seems to heighten the stakes of it all.

A.N. Everyone's a little toxic here. Just so we're clear.

Part 2 Part 3

Master List

Lena Bradshaw was not the best when it came to dealing with conflict.

If she were to see a therapist, they probably would have blamed that on the fact that she was an orphan before she was even a teenager and didn’t remember her biological father. Childhood trauma and all that. But either way, she was horrible at dealing with conflict.

Especially in her personal life.

There was the fight between Bradley and Maverick over the Naval Academy. Then there were the fights between Bradley and her now ex-husband Jake. And then, of course, there was her divorce. She simultaneously was both too compromising and too difficult at the same time.

But regardless, Lena had one main priority in her life now. And that was her son, Nickie. Nicholas Jacob Seresin-Bradshaw. The ‘Bradshaw’ got added on after the divorce.

Nickie was on the cusp of turning four now and quickly growing more curious about the world around him. And that raised a lot of maternal anxiety in Lena. Especially when it came to Nickie’s fascination with aviation. Particularly naval aviation. She shouldn’t have been surprised. Every single important male figure in Nickie’s life was a naval aviator. But it still scared her.

“Look at all the planes, Mommy!” Nickie shouted, causing Lena to snap out of her thoughts.

“I know, there’s a lot of them,” she agreed softly.

Lena turned back to the road and changed lanes, heading for the San Diego International Airport to pick up her brother. Bradley called her yesterday to tell her that he was returning to Top Gun for some mission and Lena was sure that her blood pressure hadn’t returned to a normal level since then.

“Is Uncle Roos on one of those planes?” Nickie questioned excitedly, pressing his face to the window.

“He should have landed by now.”

Lena pulled out her phone and pressed on Bradley’s contact. Nickie peeled his face off of the window, leaving marks where his nose and forehead were leaned up against it.

“Are you calling him?”

“Yes, because your uncle never tells me where he is,” Lena replied dryly.

She was also waiting for a text or call from her ex-husband, but so far it was radio silence. That wasn’t necessarily odd, however. After one of Jake’s deployments got extended last minute and Nickie was inconsolable when Lena broke the news to him, Jake didn’t call her until he was actually standing on American soil.

But if Bradley got the call back to Top Gun for some big mission, Lena had to assume that Jake would also be returning to Miramar. Lena didn’t want to wade into the rivalry between her brother and her ex-husband, but Jake was the better pilot.

Don’t tell Bradley that she said that. Ever.

“Hello, this is your captain speaking,” Rooster answered the call in a mock-pilot voice. Lena rolled her eyes as Nickie giggled from the backseat.

“Where am I picking you up again?” she asked, glancing at the sidewalk.

“Aw, you’re no fun,” Rooster jokingly whined.

“Hi, Uncle Roos!” Nickie shouted from the backseat.

“Hey, buddy! How are you?” Bradley asked, reverting back to his normal voice.

“Good! There’s lots of planes here!”

“There are,” Rooster agreed.

“Look, if you want the free ride and meal that I promised, you do have to tell me where you are so that I can pick you up,” Lena sighed, driving slowly through the terminal.

“I’m down at the end. Right past the last set of speed bumps before you get to the next airline.”

“Okay, then we’ll see you in a few seconds.”

“No, no, Mommy, you’re supposed to say, ‘copy that’,” Nickie corrected her.

“You tell her, Nickie!”

“Goodbye,” Lena stressed, ending the call.

She plopped her phone into the cupholder and looked through the crowded mess on the sidewalk. Lena slowly rolled over the last set of speed bumps before Nickie began to eagerly bounce in his seat and press his hands against the window.

“There he is!”

“Still dressed like its 1986,” Lena mumbled under her breath.

Rooster waved comedically to Nickie as he followed Lena’s car, causing Nickie to laugh and wave back to him just as dramatically. Lena slowed the car down before putting it into park. Rooster walked around to the back, opened the trunk, and placed his duffel bag down.

“Uncle Roos!” Nickie called excitedly.

“Is that Nickie? Nah, you’re too big to be Nickie,” Rooster teased his nephew.

“It’s me!” Nickie huffed as Rooster walked around the car.

“Thanks for picking me up, Sis. You’re too kind,” Rooster joked, sliding into the passenger seat.

“I know, I am,” Lena replied with a small smile.

She leaned over and tugged her brother into a tight hug that Bradley happily returned. It had been a solid eight months since the Bradshaw siblings were in the same city. And even though Bradley called and emailed her whenever he could, it was nice to have her brother sitting beside her again.

“How was your flight?” Lena asked, turning to pull out of the airport.

“Not too bad. Long. But now I get to hang out with my favorite nephew all day!” Rooster replied, spinning around to face Nickie.

“I’m your only nephew!”

“Still counts!”

“Seatbelt,” Lena stated, smacking Rooster on the arm. “Even fighter pilots need to wear their seatbelts.”

“Yeah, Uncle Roos!”

Lena drove them away from the airport, chatting casually with Rooster about his most recent deployment and any other life updates. But Nickie quickly butted into the conversation and informed Uncle Rooster all about his life. Rooster listened along intently, adding commentary where necessary, and genuinely making Nickie feel heard.

After all, Nickie was Rooster’s godson. Jake was more than a little annoyed about it at the time, but Rooster was Nickie’s godfather. And Rooster absolutely adored Nickie. He hated the fact that Nickie’s dad was Jake, but he wouldn’t hesitate to spend any time with Nickie. Ever.

“And Daddy promised to take me to a football game soon!” Nickie yelled out excitedly, missing how Rooster’s expression changed.

“Did you get that in writing?” Rooster asked Nickie dryly.

Lena immediately smacked Rooster on the arm, causing him to huff and rub the tender skin. Nickie was a little confused about the shift in the atmosphere, but he just laughed off the interaction between his mom and his uncle. Lena shot her brother a look before turning back to the road.

“Do not talk bad about J-A-K-E in front of Nickie,” she stated, leaving no room for argument.

The only time that Lena ever saw her brother turn purple with rage, minus the paper pulling situation, was when she told him about her and Jake. Rooster spouted off just about every bad word that he ever heard about Jake, told Lena that she was making the biggest mistake of her life, and swore up and down that Jake was just going to break her heart.

Rooster quieted down about his distaste for Jake around the time that Nickie was born and they both used Nickie as a buffer between them when they were forced to be around each other. But Lena just wished that they would just bury the hatchet already. And she definitely would not tolerate either of them talking bad about the other in front of Nickie.

Absolutely not.

“I’m just saying—”

“—And you’re going to stop saying whatever it is,” Lena interjected, shooting her brother a sharp glare. “He apologized for that and he made it up. So, drop it.”

“I’m just saying that he’s an A-S-S-H-O—”

“—Brad, I know, okay?” Lena huffed, getting a little aggravated with her brother. “I left him for a reason. But don’t talk bad about him in front of your nephew. He’s still part of our lives whether you like it or not. So, don’t talk about him like that. Got it?”

“Fine,” Rooster replied, dropping the discussion. He turned back to Nickie with a new and slightly forced smile. “We can toss a ball around in the backyard when we get to your house, Nickie.”

“Yay!”

Lena pulled up to her and Nickie’s home a few minutes later. The house that actually used to belong to Maverick and was the house that she and Bradley lived in after their mom passed. When Lena called Maverick crying about her divorce, he gifted her the house. Unprompted and despite the fact that Lena told him that it was too much.

Maverick called it a fresh start. And, so, Lena took it.

“I’ll race you inside,” Rooster told Nickie, who hurriedly tugged at his car seat.

“There’s a child lock on his door,” Lena sighed, causing Rooster to glance back at her.

“Well, then I’ll get you out and then we’ll race, Nickie.”

Rooster pulled Nickie out of his car seat and set him on the ground. But Nickie wasn’t going to wait for anyone and took off for the house. Rooster was right behind him, which caused Nickie to squeal. Lena smiled to herself and slid out of the car. Lena walked up after them and unlocked the door.

“The baseball stuff is in that closet. Do not trek dirt into my house, Bradley.”

“Copy that,” Rooster replied, barely listening, as Nickie ran over to his toy closet.

Nickie and Rooster headed outside to toss a baseball around while Lena started on lunch. She was in the middle of pulling out ingredients for sandwiches when her phone started to buzz. Noting the contact, Lena let out a sigh and answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Are you at work?” Jake asked as Lena moved around her kitchen.

“No, I took the day off. My brother is in town.”

“Did he get called back to Top Gun?” Jake immediately questioned, unable to hide his distaste.

“Yes, why?”

“I got called up too. And so did Javy.”

Lena paused for a moment, staring out the window. If the Navy already called in Jake, Bradley, and Javy, she had to assume that something big was happening. And by ‘big’ she meant dangerous. And Lena preferred to stay away from the danger zone. Very far away from the danger zone.

“So, are you coming to Miramar soon then?” Lena asked, refocusing on the phone call.

“I’m driving down from Lemoore now. It says that I’m about four hours away.” There was a beat of silence before Jake asked, “Am I allowed to come over since the chicken is there?”

“Jake,” Lena pleaded quietly, “he’s still Nickie’s uncle. We haven’t seen him in nearly a year.”

“Well, I’m Nickie’s dad.”

“I’m aware,” Lena sighed, leaning on the countertop. “And Nickie knows that too.” Lena glanced out the window before turning back to her call. “Bradley isn’t staying for dinner. He should be gone by the time that you get here.”

“Thank you.”

“Did you want me to tell Nickie that you’re coming here?”

“No, I’ll surprise him.”

“Okay. Text me when you get to Miramar.”

“I will. Bye.”

“Bye, Jake.”

Setting her phone down on the countertop, Lena held her head in her hands and took a breath.

She didn’t plan on getting divorced. She didn’t want to get divorced. She tried to make it work. She tried to get them into counseling, she tried to communicate how she was feeling and what she needed from their relationship, and she reminded herself over and over again about how miserable her mom was as a single mom.

But she wasn’t her mom. She wasn’t strong like her mom. She didn’t lose Jake like Carole lost Goose. She lost Jake while he was standing right there in front of her. The fantasy that she had in her head shattered and there were too many pieces to pick up and put back together.

And even though her ex-mother-in-law accused her of enjoying the divorce, Lena didn’t take any pleasure in it. But she tried and she failed. And she tried again and she failed. And there were only so many times that she could try before she lost it. So, she got divorced.

Turning back to the bread, Lena simply focused on making lunch. She eventually set the plates down on the table and walked over to the sliding door. Pushing it open, she stuck her head outside.

“Lunch is ready. But leave your dirty shoes on the steps,” she called, shooting a look at Rooster.

“Copy that, Mommy!” Nickie shouted happily.

They all sat around the table, enjoying lunch and catching up. Taking a sip from her drink, Lena turned to her brother.

“So, what time are you leaving?”

“Before dinner time. I should see who else got the call up. And they’ll all be at the Hard Deck.”

“Say ‘hi’ to Penny for me,” Lena replied, wiping at Nickie’s face.

“I will,” Rooster promised.

“I like Penny,” Nickie announced, pushing his vegetables around on his plate. “She gave me a pop-sickle. And let me ring the bell!”

“I’ve always wanted to ring the bell,” Rooster told Nickie, as if he were sharing top-secret government information. “What was it like?”

“Really loud! Mommy didn’t like it.”

Rooster laughed as Lena shook her head at the memory. She distinctly recalled dragging Nickie away from the bell because he wouldn’t let go. Luckily, it was just Penny, Jimmy, and Amelia in the bar at the time. But poor Theo the dog had to run for cover.

“Because you did it when I was standing right next to the bell, Nickie. And you wouldn’t let go,” Lena reminded her son, poking his cheek.

“‘Cause it was fun!”

“Mhmm,” Lena teased her son. Glancing down at his plate, she sighed and set down her utensils. “Nickie, can you try eating some of the vegetables?”

“I don’t want broccoli. It’s gross!”

“What about the carrots then?” Lena tried to negotiate. “If you eat two carrots, we’ll have some ice cream. How about that?”

“Ice cream?” Nickie repeated, perking up instantly.

“Now that sounds like an even trade to me,” Rooster agreed, earning a thankful nod from Lena.

“I think so. Here, we’ll all eat one together.”

Lena and Rooster picked up a carrot each and Nickie begrudgingly followed along. And even though he looked like he hated his life while he chewed on the carrots, Nickie still ate two of them without too much protest. Quickly hopping up when he was done, Nickie turned to his mom.

“Ice cream!”

Lena shot her son a look, earning a sheepish smile in return that definitely came from his dad’s side of the family.

“Please,” Nickie added on at the end.

After Nickie scarfed down a scoop of ice cream, they headed outside. Nickie happily ran around the driveway. Sometimes he would toss a ball to Rooster and sometimes he would shoot it at the small basketball hoop, but Nickie happily entertained himself while on his sugar high. And that left Lena and Rooster some space to catch up on topics that Lena didn’t want Nickie to hear.

“So, is he coming?” Rooster asked, causing Lena to sigh.

“Yes, he’s coming,” she confirmed quietly. “Don’t tell Nickie. He wants to surprise him.”

“Do you need me to leave?”

“No, I told him to come around dinner. He’ll text me when he’s close and ready,” Lena replied, fiddling with her necklace. “But please don’t antagonize him if you see him.”

“It’s usually the other way around.”

“Just please don’t try and make things worse,” Lena sighed, turning to her brother.

“I’m always on my best behavior.”

Lena let out an incredulous laugh that immediately had Rooster rolling his eyes. It was the godawful laugh that Lena always used when he was being an asshole to piss him off even more. He hated it. And he knew that Hangman hated it too. And Bradley guessed that their mom Carole and Maverick hated it as well because it always made them go ghost white when they heard it.

“Oh, you kill me, you really do,” Lena sighed, wiping fake tears away.

~~~~~

Jake knew that as soon as Rooster started up the piano routine, he was going to leave.

He studied the competition, caught up with Javy, and had a nice cold beer for the first time in five months. So, when the chord to the jukebox was pulled, Jake left the Hard Deck.

Hell, if he had it his way, he would have already been with Lena and Nickie, but Jake didn’t get his way.

He didn’t get his way when he was served with divorce papers. He didn’t get his way when Lena moved with Nickie down to San Diego. He didn’t get his way when Lena was awarded primary custody by the courts because he was active-duty.

Jake Seresin just didn’t get his way when it came to Lena Bradshaw.

If Jake had it his way, he would still be married to Lena, living in Lemoore in the house that he handpicked for them, and the damn chicken would mind his fucking business. He would see Nickie every day that he was in the States. Maybe they would have even had a second or third kid by now.

But Jake didn’t get his way.

Pulling up to Lena’s house, Jake headed for the side door. It was unlocked and Jake let himself inside the house. he took a few steps until he saw Lena cooking dinner in the kitchen. She glanced up and smiled when she spotted him.

“Nickie, sweetie, can you come in here for me?” Lena called, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

Nickie walked into Jake’s view from the family room, where he was probably playing with his toys or watching cartoons. Nickie held the coyote plushie—even though Jake was a hundred percent sure that it was actually a wolf—that Javy got him to his chest as he walked over to the kitchen, completely unaware of Jake’s presence.

“Hey, who’s that?” Lena asked Nickie, pointing in Jake’s direction.

Nickie turned around, following his mom’s finger. But when he spotted Jake, his dad who he hadn’t seen in nearly five months, Nickie let out a little delighted gasp and ran over. Jake bent down and caught Nickie as he flung himself forward.

“Daddy!” Nickie yelled out.

“Hey, little man,” Jake called, scooping Nickie up into a tight hug.

Jake held his son to his chest and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. Rocking his son back and forth, Jake tried to keep a lid on his own emotions.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Daddy.”

“God, you’re getting so big,” Jake murmured, mostly to himself, as he brushed Nickie’s hair back.

“Bigger than you!” Nickie stated, sitting up straighter.

“Someday, maybe,” Jake agreed with a light chuckle. “Are you being a good boy for Mommy?”

Nickie nodded quickly with a small, mischievous grin. It was the grin that always popped up when Nickie got caught doing something that he wasn’t supposed to do. It also usually resulted in Lena turning to Jake with an exasperated ‘he gets that from your side of the family’ expression.

“Most of the time,” Lena joked, standing a few steps away.

Jake straightened up a bit more and nodded to his ex-wife with a small smile. He tried to not let his eyes linger on her bare left ring finger and turned to meet her gaze. And even though it had been about seven years since he met Lena Bradshaw—though she was still Lena Seresin in his mind—he still got that same warm feeling crawling up his neck whenever he saw her.

“Lena,” Jake greeted her softly.

“It’s good to see you, Jake,” she returned quietly. “We were just about to eat. Are you hungry?”

“I could definitely eat,” Jake agreed with a nod. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

“Are you staying all night, Daddy?” Nickie called, redirecting Jake’s attention.

“I don’t think so, Nick,” Jake replied, fixing Nickie’s shirt for him.

“Aw,” Nickie complained, causing both Lena and Jake to wince. “Why not?”

“I’ve got training tomorrow morning. Super early,” Jake explained, not even completely lying.

“Can he stay another night, Mommy?” Nickie asked Lena, causing her to freeze for a moment.

“Yeah, he can stay another night,” she agreed, nodding along. “But let’s eat dinner first, okay?”

They sat around the table as a family. It was times like those that Jake sometimes forgot that they weren’t married anymore. This house wasn’t his home. It wasn’t their home. And well, Jake could never dwell on those feelings anyways. Not without whiskey on hand, anyways. Jake helped Nickie cut the bigger piece of chicken into little bits while Lena placed a scoop of vegetables on Nickie’s plate.

“How was the Hard Deck?” Lena asked, turning to her ex.

“It was fine. Scoped out the competition. Played a little pool. Made an early exit,” Jake replied, causing Lena to nod along. “Maverick got thrown out.”

Lena picked her head up sharply at the news and Nickie started to bounce in his seat at the mention of his great uncle. Though more often than not, Nickie called Maverick something along the lines of ‘Grandpa Mav’ because Maverick was the closest figure to a grandfather that Nickie had. Jake’s parents stopped visiting after the divorce, after all.

“Maverick is in town?” Lena asked Jake quietly.

“He didn’t tell you?” Jake returned, raising an eyebrow.

“No, he didn’t,” Lena stated, shaking her head. “And he got thrown out?”

“He left his phone on the bar and couldn’t pay his tab.”

“I told him not to go there,” Lena sighed, shaking her head.

“And your brother was there too,” Jake replied, causing Lena to reluctantly meet his gaze.

“How was that?” she asked quietly, glancing down at her plate.

“It was how it normally goes,” Jake muttered, causing Lena to wince.

“Daddy, can we watch a movie together? Please!” Nickie asked, grabbing Jake’s arm.

“Yeah, we can watch a movie, Nick. But we have to finish eating first, okay?”

“Okay!”

Jake asked Nickie about how things were going at daycare. Nickie happily told his dad everything that was going on in his life and held onto every single word that Jake spoke about aviation. Lena glanced between her son and Jake, easily picking out the similarities between them. After all, Nickie was quickly growing to look like his dad’s twin.

They eventually cleaned up and Jake settled on the couch with Nickie, who picked out a movie for them to watch. Lena gave them their space and went back to her office to catch up on some work. Lena poked her head out once to remind Jake about Nickie’s bedtime, but Jake was already giving Nickie a bath, so she just went back to work.

Jake came and knocked on the door to her office when it was time to put Nickie to bed. They walked into Nickie’s bedroom together like the divorce was just some bad dream that they already forgot about. Lena pulled back the blankets on Nickie’s bed and stepped aside for Jake.

“Alright, time for bed, Nickie.”

Jake laid Nickie down on his bed and pulled up Nickie’s blankets over him. Tucking Nickie into bed for the night, Jake handed Nickie his coyote plushie and ruffled Nickie’s still wet hair.

“Are you coming back, Daddy?” Nickie asked, causing Jake to nod quickly.

“Yeah, I’m coming back. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” Nickie replied, immediately perking up.

“I love you, Nickie.”

“Love you too, Daddy.”

Nickie sat up and wrapped his little arms around Jake’s neck to hug him. Jake quickly hugged Nickie back and pressed a kiss to Nickie’s head. After holding onto Nickie for a bit longer, Jake reluctantly released his son and stepped aside. Lena walked over, pressed a kiss to Nickie’s head, and told him that she loved him before she and Jake headed out of Nickie’s bedroom.

Carefully shutting the door, Lena waited a moment before she turned to Jake.

“I’m working tomorrow, so if you get out before four, you can pick him up if you want. Just text me,” Lena offered as she and Jake walked towards the door.

“I will if we get out,” Jake replied immediately.

“Do you still have the car seat your truck?”

“Never took it out,” Jake assured her, grabbing his wallet and keys.

“Okay,” she agreed softly, nodding along. Wrapping her arms around herself, Lena nodded to him before stepping to the side. “Goodnight, Jake.”

“Night,” he whispered back, reaching for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” she returned quietly.

Jake nodded to her one last time before taking his leave and heading over to his car. Lena closed the door behind him and locked it for the night. Watching Jake’s truck drive off into the night, Lena sighed and leaned on the door, resting her head against the wood.

“Talk to me, Mom,” she murmured, glancing up at the ceiling with a conflicted expression. “What do I do?”

Part 2 Part 3

[simslegacy5083]

Today's (12/25/2024) Episode: Coping Strategies

Now that Skye was willing to try therapy, Noemi rushed to set up an appointment with the child psychology specialist Dr. Valasquez had suggested.

Meanwhile, her child was in the kitchen with xir father, preparing a simple oatmeal breakfast and telling him about xir gender identity discovery.

“I’m so glad you felt comfortable sharing this with me” Luigi said “I’ve actually suspected something like this was coming ever since you came home from your shopping trip and were so put out by the great “perfume vs. cologne” conspiracy” he laughed “you know, I’m supposed to film a promo for PrimSims new spa on the Promenade, why don’t you come with, add some blue flair to your fingers and toes. How’s that sound?”

Skye was relieved that xir mom had been right about xir dad’s unquestioning acceptance and excited by his idea. “That sounds like fun… but what if getting my nails done hurts? When I got my foot massage, they pressed hard on my feet and ankles. It felt good then but… ” Skye frowned.

“OK, well, maybe not a pedicure until your ankle feels better” Luigi agreed “but I think a manicure should be safe enough with your cast. You can just ask for a break if your wrist starts to bother you.” Skye nodded “I’d like that.”

“Perfect! I’ll get it all setup for this weekend” Luigi enthused “This is going to be great!”

As Skye had feared, explaining xir long history of sad, anxious and invasive thoughts to the therapist led to a diagnosis of generalized anxiety disorder. However, Skye was surprised to find that, just like discovering they were agender, having a name for the feelings that were always swirling through them and knowing that it was normal (for them) actually made them feel better, and more able to deal with the situation.

Dr. Blevins suggested Skye come in for regular, weekly sessions to work on coping strategies, and consider some medications that might also help.

Noemi, remembering her own bad experience with psych meds to treat her autism, suggested Skye try talk therapy alone first, and xe agreed.

Xe left xir first appointment feeling good about having a regular block of time set aside to discuss all the ups and downs of the week.

Following the appointment Skye starting turning things around, putting Dr. Blevin's suggestions into action.

Since writing in xir journal had become a struggle, xe turned to Yoshi to record xir feelings, stowing the tapes away in xir inventory. Xe also spent more time with Meelee, both of them enjoying the relaxation of a nice long session stroking the cat’s soft fur.

Skye also started slowly telling xir closest friends about xir new gender identity. Armed with the understanding that they might not be familiar with neo pronouns xe avoided the misunderstanding xe’d had with Elyse and found their reception to xir news to be overwhelmingly positive.

Bruce’s reaction was by far the most surprising “Well that explains SO MUCH” he said, “You let me know if anyone gives you any grief, I’ve got your back.” “Really!?” Skye asked, shocked. That was the last thing xe’d expected “Of course. No one has the right to tell anyone else who they “should” be.” Bruce shrugged “Even if I’m still going to call you out on your more questionable fashion choices.”

Xir conversation with Gretchen was probably xir favorite “Well duh!” she laughed “what took you so long!? Congrats on figuring yourself out!”

When Noemi told Luigi about Skye’s issues finding a comfortable position to sleep, he surprised them by knowing exactly what to do.

“You know my fathers most popular skit was the one he first performed when he was pregnant with me. I’ve heard snippets from it so many times I have it memorized, Grim help me. At least now I can finally use some of that useless knowledge!”

Skye wasn’t sure what his grandfather’s pregnancy had to do with xir broken bone, until xir father explained about the foot fracture Peachy had sustained in his third trimester. “He swore by the pregnancy pillow Papa picked up for him. You don’t have any stomach to support…” Luigi poked playfully at his child’s concave belly “but I bet a fluffy shelf to prop your arm up on overnight will make a big difference.”

That night Skye had to agree xir grandfather had been onto something – the elevation and support for xir arm while xe slept was almost magical.

Finally, Skye got over their embarrassment and asked Dr. Haas for permission to put down their pen and use their laptop for homework and tests.

To xir surprise xir teacher readily agreed to the accommodation. Skye’s impressive score on xir next exams delighted xir parents and teacher alike.

Leaving the theater after a celebratory afternoon at the movies with Denton and his family Skye was feeling good and looking forward to a long break to rest, recharge, and be ready for what the next semester of high school had in store.

Using a body pillow (or even better a double-sided maternity pillow for ease of rolling over in the night) is a real-life pro tip for sleeping with a broken bone.

I pulled out my old one when I was dealing with my own break, and it was super helpful. They can be a little bit pricy but if you are going to be dealing with a cast for weeks on end and its in the budget, I say its well worth the investment!

[sunkissedliterarylightofchrist]

The next time I tell someone about my past and then they try to diagnose me with mental health issues that I don’t even have I am going to lose my mind.

Yes, when I was eleven, I had a brief period where I did in fact have depressive symptoms, but it was nowhere near bad enough to be considered depression. And when I was fifteen I did in fact struggle with suicidal ideation, but it was nowhere near bad enough for me to even consider myself as suicidal. It was more the fact that I thought that life would be better for everyone if I didn’t exist, but I never got anywhere near enough to actually seriously make a plan, let alone attempt, to go through with it.

Yes, I had those struggles. And once in a while those feelings might crop up again to one extent or another. These past two years I have gone through some incredibly terrible life circumstances that have hurt me. But it’s not even bad enough for me to say to someone ‘I struggle with mental health’. My emotions can be extreme, and I’ve lived through really extreme circumstances that very few people know about. And that’s it, I know how to handle it, I don’t need to diagnose myself with things I don’t even have.

And this isn’t even me trying to be humble or anything, I’ve talked to therapists and trained doctors and experts in this area, and they agree with me. I may have in the past, or once in a while in the present, experience and show symptoms of these things, but not enough for it to be a serious problem that I am constantly concerned with.

Why do I bring this up? Because I’m tired of each time that I talk about these things, people telling me, ‘Oh honey, you had serious depression. Sweetie, you were suicidal. Girl, are you sure you’re okay, I think you struggle with anxiety.’

No. I had symptoms of those things, but I didn’t actually have those things to the extent of it being classified as such, there is a difference. I am not going to take those titles from actual victims who have actually been incredibly hurt by these things to gain sympathy.

And even better yet, you weren’t even there. You didn’t know me, let alone what was going on in my head. Don’t throw around diagnosis for mental health that aren’t actually warranted. Mental health is serious and people’s lives are ruined by it. Mine hasn’t been. I’ve had symptoms of it. Some weeks or months are harder than others. But that’s it.

Stop taking these things away from actual victims to make yourself feel better. No one but a trained and certified expert should be diagnosing anyone with mental health disorders.

[maskedemerald]

Weaving Webs CH9

Here is chapter nine of my Invisobang fic! Enjoy the hardest chapter to write and some Danny POV!

The wonderful @pricklenettle did some fantastic art that you'll see embedded through out the first half of the fic so if you haven't seen it go check out their blog now!

You can check out the fic here or on AO3!

If you like this consider dropping us both a follow!

Warnings: Body horror, manipulation, Spectra is her own content warning, Burns, Spider - for like 2 chapters then it goes away.

The Fenton parents were there when the accident happened, they saw Danny die in an act of sabotage. Now they’re just trying to go on with the strange ghost that is all that's left of Danny. While their old college friend is wondering where the subjects of his revenge are.

[First] [Previous] [Next]

Chapter Nine

Fizzt fizzt, the old screen crackled flickering with sparks of white in the black between his fingers. He chewed on its corners. Night, like night. He frowned, eyes cast towards the window. Blocked, hide, Mom said he had to hide. There was still light escaping through the gaps. Not night yet. He was bored. Night meant stars. Not that he could see. Hiding. Sneak a peek while everyone’s eyes were closed. He grumbled a bunch of crackles as he curled around Jazz before starting up a more constant rumbling. She crackled back. Better. Leaving soon. Miss having her.

He startled, loud chime. Door. Guests. Hide even more. Mom said. Worried about him. They’d take him. Take Jazz. Then he couldn’t keep safe. Jazz untangled herself from him. He whined and flickered out of sight.

Mom got there first. Guest? Unfamiliar voice. Sharp cold that stuck in his visor. There was something in his house. Looked human. Wasn’t.

“Dr Spectra? What are you doing here?” Jazz asked. Irritated. Fake.

“Oh you must be the school counselor?” Mom started.

“I’m here to check up on your brother. A wellness check considering how you yourself are doing.” False smile. False cheer. He agreed with Jazz, she was irritating.

“He’s fine.” Jazz replied, firm. Want gone.

“What Jazz means is Danny is fine but not really well enough for visitors.” Mom was more polite, worry.

“I would like to see that for myself.” She pushed her way into the house as if she had been let in.

“I’d rather you not!” Jazz snapped. “I’m not having you talk to him like you’ve been talking to me!”

“I don’t know what you mean. I’ve been helping you. You just don’t understand that.” she waved her off. Sour, liar.

“I think I understand very well.” growled Jazz, he almost expected a flicker.

“Maybe we should get the authorities involved if you are going to refuse me?”

“Ah there’s no need for that… I’m sure we can work something out. Another time though, really Danny isn’t ready for…” Mom tried.

“It is rather neglectful to refuse letting a traumatized child talk to a therapist.”

Red, rage. Snapped thread. “Like hell you’re a therapist!” Jazz snapped.

He was angry too. Head hurt, sharp cold stuck. Building. This one had hurt Jazz. That wasn’t allowed. But he had to hide. Hold it in. He had to hold back. He growled a low crackling growl. Sharp cold slipped out. Too loud, too obvious. A sharp hiss, like boiling water. It curled in the air, too slow to fade. The threat’s eyes fixed on him. No through him. Still invisible. Still hidden.

“Oh what was that?” She stepped forward.

Jazz grabbed her arm. “Nothing, just an incense burner.”

“You really are a terrible liar.” She smirked, pulling her arm free and knocking Jazz to the ground.

Not accident. Intentional. “Oh, oh no. I am sorry. Mr and Mrs Fenton. I am concerned your daughter might be smoking. Leaving a lit one like that is such a fire hazard.”

Jazz bubbled with anger. Fear, from his family. Satisfied feeling. Not his. Someone else consuming. No, those were his. She didn’t get to do that. He didn’t even get to do that. They didn’t like it. He stopped. Safe feelings only! Not allowed. Not human. Not like family. No need to hide. Need to defend his.

Danny charged as she held out a hand to help Jazz up. False. Pretend. Would hurt her again. He lunged between them, returning to visibility with a vicious crackling. Aura expanding. Defensive, protective, angry.

“Danny” Jazz hissed.

The intruder’s face cracked with a toothy grin. Dangerous. “So this is the dirty little secret that you’ve been hiding.” A feeling of victory. “How disgusting that you keep him around like that, no better than just parading his corpse around really.”

“How dare you!” Mom snapped, her body lowered. Tense. Ready. Attack intended.

“He’s more… he’s still here. It's not disgusting.” Jazz defended.

Her eyebrows raised. “Wait? You’re ghost hunters, are you really keeping the little ghost like a pet?” crackling laughter.

“Danno’s not a pet and we… we’re not hunters, not anymore. Right Mads!” Dad said.

“Ghost scientists then.” she waved her hand. “Maybe it was intentional? You have two children, it makes sense really. Kill one and then whala you have a ghost to study. Not like you need two.”

Anger, rage. “Never.” Dad growled.

“How dare you insinuate that.” Mom reached for her. Fast. Violent. Impact… no impact.

Her fist passed through. Not human

“You! You’re a ghost! That’s why you kept it cold,” Jazz said with a sharp woosh of air, gas. Shock, bitter, anger.

“Wow, you would think the child of ghost hunters would figure that out faster,” Spectra teased unfazed as pistols were turned on her, “Oh well I suppose there’s no more need to play nice.”

She shrugged and then her skin seemed to unravel, peeling away against the licking of black flames that ignited across her body. She seemed to expand. The room darkened. Shadows blending. No, she couldn’t do that. This was his house. His space. It should bend to him not her.

“Bertrand, feel free to join the fun.” she called out.

Another intruder faded in. Shorter, shifting. Leopard. Danny growled, he’d missed the second one.

“About time. I have been so bored.” He grinned as the dark swallowed him and the rest of the room. Leaving them only what Danny’s aura could fight off. He flared. Family shivered, he hated that.

Danny growled defensively at the dark behind them, tail swishing. Hovering close to his family. Green shot over his shoulders into nebulous dark. Too dark. Not night. No stars. Dark flames flickered and reached out snatching at Jazz’s legs. Would be easier if she didn’t have those. She still needed them. He snarled, pulling her away, snapping at the black. Was it edible? Could he deal with it that way? Smelt like batteries. He wasn’t allowed batteries. He held her close, guarding. Safe.

“You really think that little monster is a good thing to have around your still living daughter.” The voice echoed out of the dark. Laughing. Smug.

“Danno’s a Fenton! He won’t hurt her! He’s a good ghost!” Dad snapped back, right. Danny wouldn’t.

“He might be harmless now but it's only a matter of time.” The green coloured leopard that was Bertrand leapt from the shadows lunging at them. “Just look at Bertrand here. Look at me even” Dad’s shots went wide as he scrambled to dodge the ghost. Red eyes hung behind Mom and clawed hands reached out. Danny lunged, snapping, unwrapping from Jazz. Shouldn’t, shouldn’t. Bad. Couldn’t be in two places.

Hands pulled back. Mom shot blindly into the dark. He curled round her defensively. Too many to protect. Too many places to be.

“Pathetic, you aren’t really that good at this whole ghost hunting thing.” Spectra taunted from the shadows. “Missing someone?”

Danny whipped round. Mom, Dad… no Jazz. Jazz was gone. Stolen. He screeched. Or tried, it came out weirdly quiet. Just the phone speaker. She’d stolen the house.

“Give her back!” Dad started blasting wildly. Danny growled and bit at the shadows with glass teeth.

“Some parents you are. Letting your daughter get taken so easily” Bertrand taunted slipping out of the shadows.

“Back off! Give her back” Dad bellowed, blasting at the ghost.

Green seared and Bertrand snarled, leaping back into the shadow at the hit.

“And miss this tasty misery? Not happening.”

Danny resisted the urge to chase. He flitted between his parents, staying close and growling like grinding gears. He wanted to save Jazz but that would mean leaving someone unprotected. If he stuck close to Mom then Dad wasn’t safe. The same in reverse. He couldn’t stay near both. Not when the two in the shadows were driving them apart with attacks.

He was knocked from the air by Bertrand’s pounce. He struggled and bit at the ghost pinning him down. The green tasted like the green he was both allowed and not allowed.

“Speaking of tasty, this ones pretty fresh. It's been a while since we’ve had a new ghost.” Bertrand sniffed.

Mom blasted him off with a well aimed shot, “stay away from him.”

Danny bolted up, darting over to her. Clinging close. His head swiveled till he found Dad. Good, no one else had been stolen while he was distracted. He couldn’t let that happen again.

They kept being pushed back, up the stairs. Shots firing. Danny hated. Hated feeling helpless. Couldn’t grab. The intruders mostly were too quick to bite. Useless. Unable to fight. Mom’s blaster beeped.

“Jack? Please tell me you left some more weapons up here?” she asked. Urgent, hopeful.

He shook his head, “not with Danno, some in the ops center I think.”

“Then we need to get there.”

Mom made a break for the upstairs. Dad followed behind blasting. Danny hated being stuck in the middle. He wanted to help. To protect. The ladder dropped.

“Trying to escape? Honestly, what kind of parents are you, abandoning your daughter?”

“We’re not!” Jack snapped.

“Jack, don’t listen to her!” Mom yelled blasting where she hung on the ladder.

“Right, right. We’ll get the weapons and then rescue Jazzy.” He clambered up and Danny clung to him defensively while it was harder for him to protect himself.

Mom slammed down the hatch after them. Danny was comforted by the static fuzz from nearby speakers and the light. He didn’t flicker that. That would scare his family. Even with that comfort he didn’t leave the hatch. Floating back and forth as Mom and Dad rummaged for weapons. Batteries. Anything. He wanted to go after Jazz. Not wait. But wait was needed.

It took far too long for Danny’s liking. He was grumbling frustratedly by the time Mom reopened the hatch. A snowstorm of static background noise filling the ops center. The bottom of the ladder was completely lost in the dark. Mom shot a few testing blasts into the dark. Nothing shifted. Nothing reacted. He whined as she started down. Shot down after her. Curling round her and casting a small light. Not safe.

Dad stepped onto the ladder. Dark shifted. Danny panicked. Wrong. Mistake. Shouldn’t have left. The ops center went dark and clawed hands pulled him back with a yelp.

“Jack!” Mom blasted into the opening hoping to hit spectra.

“Woops there goes the oaf. Bet you think you’ve got a better chance without him. How heartless.”

“Shut up.” Maddie growled.

“You can’t really not think that. He was pulling you down. Loud, obnoxious and incompetent. Everyone knows you’re far more capable.”

“We’re a team.” She defended.

“And yet alone you could just leave.”

The dark vanished, pulling back like it was peeling from the walls. There was the stairs back to the living room, clear as day. There was a silence. Danny snarled. Trick, lie. Wouldn’t leave Jazz and Dad anyway. Mom kept her weapon drawn as she approached the stairs. The way to the lab was still wrapped in shadow. Danny clung close as they approached. One left he could still protect.

“Please don’t let them have taken them through the portal.” She muttered.

Danny growled, not through. He hoped not. Portal was bad. Portal was dangerous. Portal hurt. Other side was curious but dangerous. Like stars. Interesting but not a good idea to try and touch. He curled round her as she stopped in front of the door.

She shifted trying to get out of his tangle. “Danny no, you can’t. You can’t come with me. I can’t lose you too.”

“Have to. Need to help. Keep safe.” Danny growled back with static.

“No, no. Don’t worry I’ve got this. You’ll be safe up here and I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Lie, need help. Not safe here either.” He whined.

Mom nervous, anxious. Fear. Glanced around. Sigh, “Okay, fine. I can’t leave you here either. She’d just pick us off the moment we split up. Stay close… and Danny if this goes wrong leave. Get help somehow but don’t get yourself… caught.”

“Help protect.” He grumbled.

He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to help. If she could lie then so could he. He nodded. He’d help. He’d protect. He’d watch her back as best he could. He wanted a better weapon than biting though.

Danny clung close to her as she descended into the lab. His glow barely piercing the dark. Mom scanned the dark for anything distinct. He couldn’t even see the portal. Shadows clung tight, not like the small bubble they’d been given before. All a game. Just toying with them.

“Foolish.” Spectra laughed. “You could have left. You could have saved yourself and yet you walk into the lion’s den to save them. How stupid.”

Bertrand lunged out of the shadows knocking Mom down the stairs. Clattering. Painful tumble. Thump. Danny screeched and rushed at the dark. He couldn’t see her. He heard the whine and zap of Mom’s pistol.

“Useless. Should have fled while you could. You know what that means for him right?” Bertrand chuckled a growl somewhere in the dark.

“He’s so fresh, just a few months. Oh how tender he’ll be.” claws grasped at him. “And how sweet your misery will be to see it happen.”

He lashed out at the grasping hands, his hands tingling. Burning cold. There was a flash and the intruder hissed. He launched himself in the direction of the hiss. Mom shot green blasts from somewhere. He had to help her. He had to fight. He caught sight of Bertrand. Too many limbs. Half way between the leopard he had been and something with far more legs. Too many eyes and insect like. He hit something. Sticky and tangling.

[First] [Previous] [Next]

[snelbz]

Better or Worse {8}

Nessian. Angst. Modern au.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

Warnings: language.

Every session with Gwyn is easier.

I’m still tense as hell when we arrive, but as Cassian and I leave our most recent appointment with her, I actually feel like we might actually be getting back on the right track.

His hand is in mine, which has been a much more common occurrence in the past few days than it had in the last year.

Gwyn knows what she’s talking about, that’s for sure. As a relationship therapist, I would really hope she’s good at what she does, but I didn’t realize just how much I missed Cassian’s touch, the feel of his rough hands on my skin.

Nothing past PG has happened, but every time he tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear or takes my hand in his, my stomach does a little flip and I feel like a teenager with a crush.

Except this isn’t just a silly crush.

He’s the love of my life. I knew it, even in my darkest hour, even when we rarely spoke, even when it felt like we did not exist within the same space. I have never doubted that Cassian is the one and only man I am meant to be with, which is somehow even more terrifying than having a simple teenage crush. I wasn’t even this scared when we were engaged, when we were about to be married. Then, I felt like I had nothing to lose, there was no question about it, about us. Now, I feel like I have everything to lose. Even though things are getting better, we aren’t back to being us, and even though I feel like we’ll get there, that we’re on the right track, the fact that we’re not still leaves me scared shitless. 

“You’re quiet,” Cassian says, as he pulls us out of the parking lot. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” I say, and it’s an honest response, even though he looks unsure. “Just reflecting.”

He nods, looking both ways before pulling out onto the main street. “I get that.” There’s a beat of silence, then he says, “I think we should go out tonight.”

I look at him, brow raised, instantly thinking about the last time we tried to go out a few weeks ago. “Really?”

He shrugs, fingers dancing on the steering wheel. “Yeah, I’d kind of like to erase the last date we had. Thought we should try again.” Another beat of silence passes. “But, if you’re not ready, that’s fine—”

“I think that sounds nice,” I interrupt, afraid I was giving off the wrong vibes. I’m more surprised that he wanted to try date night again after I messed the last one up so badly, but he gives me a smile that I know is genuine, and slightly full of mischief, which reminds me of the old him, the one that didn’t want to leave me.

I miss him.

And even though I see glimpses of that old Cassian lately, I know he’s still holding back. 

“Good,” he says, and we spend the rest of the way home in a comfortable silence. 

We agreed we’d leave at six-thirty, which allows me two hours to respond to some emails before I have to start getting ready. While I’m in my office, Cassian’s downstairs going over a few new menu items for the restaurant. Half of my inbox is nasty emails from Eris, which tries to dampen my mood but I won’t let it. If I got pissed and upset everytime Eris told me something I don’t want to hear, I’d never feel a single ounce of joy. I send him one email as a response to all, letting him know that everything is on track and I’ll send him an update at the end of the day tomorrow. 

It’s just after five-thirty when a soft knock comes to the office door and Cassian peeks in. He’s shirtless, yet again, and I’m starting to think that he’s coming around shirtless more and more just to watch me ogle, which I do, with no shame. Especially when he’s sweating, looking like he’s just conquered a thousand pushups. “Red or blue?”

I lift a brow. “What?”

He smiles. “Red or blue?”

I snort. “Blue?” 

“Seafood or steak?”

I cock my head to the side. “Is this how you're planning our night? Twenty questions?”

His grin widens. My eyes fall to his chest, his abs, back up to his lips, then his eyes as he asks, “Seafood or steak?”

I think about it for a second. “Steak.” 

“Inside or outside?”

Thinking about the warm, clear day we’ve had, I say, “Outside.”

“I’m getting in the shower.” With a wink, he’s gone.

I decide I should probably start getting ready too and close my laptop, deciding to ignore all work related bullshit for the rest of the night. Tonight is about me and Cassian, and everything else officially doesn’t exist. 

When I enter our bedroom, the bathroom door is cracked and I can see the inside getting steamy from the shower. Gray pants and a navy blue button down are sitting on the bed. 

I’m glad I went with blue.

I grab a brush from my nightstand before sitting at my vanity and setting out what makeup I’m going to use. I need to wash my face first, and glance towards the bathroom door that’s slightly ajar. Surely if he left it open, he doesn’t mind if I go in.

Right?

After debating it for far too long, I walk to the bathroom door and softly knock, nudging it open an inch or two more as I do so.

“Yeah?”

“I need to wash my face,” I say, peeking my head in.

The shower door opens just a bit and out pops his arm, my bottle of face wash in his hand.

I take the bottle, doing my best not to look at the expanse of toned skin and dark ink on display, but failing miserably.

Gods, he’s mouthwatering.

Heading straight for the sink, I turn it on and wet my face. As I squeeze a good amount of the product onto my fingers and form a lather, I clear my throat. “So is our game of twenty questions over or will there be more?”

Cassian chuckles and the sound makes my nipples tighten. A husky laugh shouldn’t undo me so easily, but gods, it’s been so long. “There are a few more,” he says, as I scrub. “But I was going to wait until we were on the way to ask.”

After rinsing my face and drying it off with a hand towel, I turn to lean against the bathroom counter. “And if I have one for you?”

The water shuts off and the bathroom becomes unnervingly quiet for a moment as Cassian towels off. The shower door opens and he’s once again wearing nothing but that towel slung low on his hips. The well defined muscles leading down into the towel may as well be an arrow pointing at his cock because it’s all I can focus on.

“Nesta?”

Right, I said I was going to ask him a question.

Clearing my throat, I ask, “Legs or breasts?”

The only sound is the shower head slowly dripping water onto the tile floor. Cassian blinks, likely making sure he heard me right. “What?”

“Legs or breasts,” I repeat, heading for my closet.

“Are we going to KFC on the way home?” He asks, shaking his head.

I can’t help my own laugh as I look at him. “Just pick one, you ass.”

“Breasts.” His eyes are focused on my face, trying his hardest not to let his gaze dip to the aforementioned part of my body.

“Okay,” I smirk, stepping into my closet.

I can still feel him watching me as I disappear into my chaos of clothing, searching for a dress that shows off my best assets. A few come to mind, but there’s one in particular that I’m hoping to dig out for tonight’s occasion. It takes me a minute to find it, and when I take it out of the closet, my face now clean, Cassian’s still standing there in the bathroom, that fucking towel still barely hiding all that’s beneath. 

I wonder what he would do if I kissed him. Without warning, if I just grabbed his face and kissed him, I wonder how he would react. It’s ridiculous, being nervous to kiss your own husband, but I am. His eyes dart to the dress that’s hanging on the hanger in my hand. His eyes darken. He knows exactly what dress this is. 

“Give me half an hour, and I’ll be ready,” I say, as I go by him, into the bedroom. When I look over my shoulder, his eyes are on my ass.

They snap up to mine and he clears his throat. I try to ignore the fact that I can see something happening beneath that towel of his, even though it causes a longing throughout my body that I haven’t felt in a long, long time. “Sounds good. Yeah, me too.”

I leave him in the bathroom and sit at my vanity, getting to work on my appearance. Cassian’s voice comes from the bathroom. “Twenty questions — clean shave or no?”

I laugh quietly to myself. I like this little game we’re playing. As I dab on my foundation, I say, “Keep the scruff.” 

He comes out a few minutes later, his long, wavy hair brushed and dried and loose above his shoulders. He notices me looking and smiles as he takes his clothes off the bed and goes back to the bathroom. I suddenly realize how much I wanted him to drop that towel, right here, right now.

I focus on my eyeshadow. 

Once I’m done with my makeup, I brush through my hair and add a few more curls since some had fallen loose before spraying it. 

I’m halfway into my dress when the bathroom door opens again, and Cassian is dressed to perfection. He smells phenomenal, like my favorite cologne. When he sees me, he stops.

“Perfect timing,” I say, although I find it hard to find my voice. “Help me zip?”

I turn around and move my hair out of the way. For a moment, he doesn’t come, but then he’s moving toward me, silently. 

He finds the zipper that’s just above my waist, and my breath catches as his fingertips brush the bare skin of my lower back. He takes his time, and every time his fingers make contact with my skin, an ache that’s newly been awakened throbs between my thighs. 

I never thought zipping up my dress would be erotic. I was wrong.

“Ready?” He asks, hands still lingering on my waist.

Ready to throw you down on the bed and say to hell with our date.

I smile at him in the mirror and shake my head. “Almost.”

He steps back, letting me cross the room to my jewelry box. I retrieve a necklace he gave me for our anniversary a few years back. I don’t wear it often, despite loving it, because of the length of the chain. The diamond pendant fell right between breast and as I fluff my hair out around me, I turn and face my husband.

“Now I’m ready,” I say and I don’t know why I sound so breathless.

Okay, I do. If Cassian’s gaze could set something on fire, my dress would be ashes.

Silently, he holds out his hand. I take it, loving the feel of his rough callouses against my skin. I don’t let myself think about how those hands feel on other parts of my body, despite it having been months since I felt them.

Once downstairs, he swipes his keys and wallet, and then we’re headed to the restaurant.

He takes me to one of the best steakhouses in Velaris and we sit on the roof, where string lights and live music surrounds our candlelit table. The conversation is easy, nothing is forced, and it’s like a breath of fresh air.

We talk about our most memorable dates, once Cassian mentioned that one time we skipped a group date because we saw a new taco stand on the way and ate there instead, just the two of us. We sat on the steps of the art museum, dressed in some of our finest, eating a heap of messy tacos. That had been about eight years ago, and I hadn’t realized just how much time has passed between the two of us.

Nearly ten years of marriage.

A decade since we swore our lives to one another.

And I almost let it all go. Looking at my husband across the table, I don’t know how I could have ever been so foolish, so selfish.

He sees me watching him and smiles, setting his fork down, his plate now cleared. I take a sip of my wine. He refills it once it’s almost empty, until the bottle that the waiter left us is almost gone.

After calling for the check, Cassian looks up at me. “Should we head home or walk around for a bit?”

I set down my empty wine glass. “Is this a part of twenty questions?”

He chuckles. “I haven’t exceeded twenty questions yet?”

I shake my head.

“Then yes,” he says, quietly, the toe of his boot nudging the toe of my stiletto. 

“A little walk sounds nice,” I say, afraid that when we get back home we’ll fall back into our polite small talk. Small talk isn’t bad, but this easy conversation we’ve had between us today… I like it.

We walk along the Sidra, the warm, clear day making way for a beautiful night, and I listen as Cassian regales me with tales of a new chef at the restaurant. She’s young and has never had an official kitchen job before, only graduating from culinary school the year before. I glance over at him, with lips pursed. He usually isn’t willing to put his restaurant’s reputation on the line like that. His chefs and sous chefs all have long lists of accomplishments and recognition, upholding the notoriety he’s earned.

We walk on, pausing at an ice cream stand to get to two cones.

“What?”

I look over at him and he’s already watching me as we walk.

I repeat his question. “What?”

He reached out and skims a thumb over my brow. “You’re thinking too hard about something.”

I push him away, rolling my eyes, but he catches my hand and we’re heading back towards the car.

“What’s on your mind, Nes?” He pushes, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the back of my hand.

For a brief second, I consider lying to him. I could tell him it’s nothing, tell him there really isn’t anything on my mind. But we haven’t gone through four weeks of marriage counseling for nothing.

“I just… This new girl, Emerie,” I start, hoping he doesn’t see my question as a sign of jealousy. “What exactly made you bring her on? She’s pretty green, as far as your assistant chefs go.”

I don’t think there’s any nefarious reasoning behind his hiring her. I just don’t understand his sudden change in pace.

He’s quiet a minute, which only makes my nerves ratchet higher. When he finally speaks, his words are low, almost too soft to hear over the sound of the city around us. “She’s from the same small town as I am. Similar upbringing, no dad, single mom that worked way too much.”

My heart fractured a bit inside my chest.

I stop, tugging on his hand to make him stop, too. I look at him. Really look at him. My husband is a damn good man. I’ve always known it, and I know that he’s proud of his past, although a lot of it is tragic. He loved his mother, before she passed, considering she had raised him on her own and fought tooth and nail for everything they had. It would make sense he would be sympathetic for someone of a very similar life. 

When it’s clear I’m not saying anything, because I truly cannot find the words, his brows furrow. Before he can ask me what’s wrong, I lean up on my toes and press my lips to his cheek. He inhales, as if he’s shocked, and I let the kiss linger against his warm, stubbled cheek. Our hands remain clasped together and when I lean back, his eyes are searching mine.

“You’re a good man,” I say, my voice hoarse. “And a good boss.”

He swallows, but he nods as he brushes his thumb over the back of my hand. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. 

I want to yank his mouth down to mine, but this moment is cherished and I don’t want to overstep, don’t want to ruin what we’ve built here. I give him a smile and we resume our walk. 

I make a note to stop by the restaurant this week and meet Emerie as we find our way back to the truck. Cassian helps me inside the cab and his hand lingers on mine, even after I’ve sat, before he closes the door and finds his way behind the wheel. 

We listen to music on the way home and he makes me laugh when he sings along to some nineties R&B song that definitely should’ve been left in the nineties. He catches me watching him on more than one occasion, and his smile softens every time he does. 

When we’ve made it home and witnessed Greg sprawled out next to the fruit bowl on the island, Cassian says, “I had a really good time tonight.”

“Yeah,” I say, setting my clutch on the counter. “It was a good night.”

He nods, and for a moment we just stand in the silence, staring at one another. He’s the one to break it.

“I have to be at the restaurant early tomorrow,” he says, but he’s stepped closer to me. “I should get ready for bed.”

“Right.” I clear my throat, not sure what to say, as I edge around the island, closer to him. “I have to go in early, too.”

Meetings with my manager and the publishing company start tomorrow. I have no idea where the future of my books are with this company, but they have to understand that I can’t keep putting out the same volume of content out. Not if I have any hope of salvaging my marriage.

He sets his keys in the center of the island, which puts him right in front of me. Staring up at him, I watch as his eyes dip down to my lips and his Adam’s apple bobs. “Can I…kiss you?”

I nod, not trusting my voice, holding my breath. He leans in and my eyes fall closed.

After a second, his lips press against mine and I’m lost. It’s been so long since he’s kissed me. I’d forgotten how soft his lips were, how heady his cologne made me feel, the feel of his arm wrapping around my waist and pulling me close.

I melt into him, losing myself in the feel of his kiss, clinging to his shirt with both hands.

It’s over as quickly as it began.

When he pulls back, his hazel eyes are bright and he’s breathing heavily. I want to pull his face back to mine, want to grab him and drag him upstairs with me.

But Gwyn told us to hold off on sex.

Reaching up, I caress his stubbled cheek. “We should get to bed.”

He nods and swallows, not making a move to let me go any more than I’m making a move to let him go. I can tell his self control is on a short leash, just as mine is. So I step back and make my way upstairs.

He’s just behind me.

When we’ve reached our bedroom, Cassian quickly brushes his teeth before getting a pair of sweatpants. I’m watching him on the bed the entire time, suddenly not trusting myself to be too close to him. Before he leaves to go downstairs, he kisses my forehead, quickly. “Night, Nes.”

“Goodnight,” I say, but barely anything is audible as the word leaves my mouth. He leaves, and I feel empty once I’m alone. 

After stripping out of my dress and pulling on an old t-shirt, I wash my face and brush my teeth, and bury myself beneath the blankets of our bed. I miss Cassian sleeping next to me. Tonight, more than ever, the bed feels lonely. 

My heart is racing and I’m not tired in the slightest, despite the fact that I know I need to go to bed. I need to be well rested to deal with Eris’ shit in the morning.

But I can’t stop thinking about my husband, sleeping on the couch downstairs. I wonder if he wants to come up here, wants to climb into bed with me, wants to hold me until the sun comes up tomorrow morning.

I want his body pressed up against me.

I want to feel his skin on mine.

Fuck, the throbbing between my thighs is unbearable. I don’t want to touch myself, I want to run downstairs and have him touch me, taste me, fuck me until I can’t think straight. I’m not thinking straight now, I’m too horny, too needy.

It’s been too damn long.

But Gwyn is right. Nothing should be rushed. We need to wait until we’re good again, until we’re back to being Nesta and Cassian.

That doesn’t mean that he can’t sleep in his own bed, though.

Sex may be off the table, at least for now, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t share the same bed.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed before I can think better of it. The house is quiet as I make my way to the door and push it open. Everything’s dark, and I try to be as quiet as possible as I make my way down the hall. At the top of the stairs, I stop, making out Cassian’s massive figure on the couch. There’s no way he’s comfortable. Half of him is nearly hanging off of it. 

But he’s asleep.

At least, I think he’s asleep. The living room is dark, silent. He’s not moving. I think about walking down the stairs anyway, to brush his hair off his face and ask if he wants to join me, but I can’t seem to convince my feet to move. If he’s already asleep, he’s apparently not having the same internal crisis that I am. 

Silently, I turn around and go back to bed, careful not to make any noise, careful not to wake him. 

When I’m back beneath the blankets, I slip my hand beneath my panties and rub one out until that throbbing ache between my thighs is no more. 

[ynverse]

it’s a match - shush

CHILDE x gn! reader

“uhm,” you mumbled, turning towards childe, “hi?”

childe only looked at you and put a finger over his lips, a dorky smile on his face. you could only watch as a grown man, who willingly chose to sit next to you, shushed you. you weren’t sure if you felt more embarrassed or annoyed but you immediately tried to make yourself smaller.

“the 2pm appointment?”

the voice of an old man stopped your mind from spiraling over your first interaction with childe. your “partner” nodded his head and outstretched a hand towards you, frowning slightly as you stood up. he must have been insane to think you would reach for his hand after he told shushed you. you were already starting to regret your deal with venti.

“right this way,” the man motioned into his office, though you caught his eyes looking at childe’s hand.

he was already started to analyze you guys…how fun.

you and childe followed him, sitting yourselves down on a couch that sat across a single chair. still reeling in your embarrassment, you sat at the far right corner while childe sat at the far left corner. the atmosphere was almost suffocating as you desperately tried to find anything to look at.

“thank you for seeing us,” childe spoke joyfully.

“no need to thank me,” the therapist sat down and got out some sheets of paper and a pen, “i’m glad you two are here to better your relationship!”

you thought introductions and initial questions would be the most awkward but the therapist seemed to want to prove you wrong.

“i just feel like there are always walls between us. it’s as if we don’t really know each other.”

“childe, please refrain from generalizations and use i statements to talk about your feelings.”

“i’m sorry. i personally feel like we aren’t as close as before. sometimes, i feel like we are just strangers.”

it took everything for you to not laugh or cringe as he spoke.

“and y/n? how do you feel?”

“i don’t know?”

the whole idea was funnier in your head but having to try and gaslight a therapist was way more intimidating in action. you also wanted to hold on to the tiniest bit of pride you had left and it was slowly slipping as childe spoke. you did not want to be the problem in the relationship, fake or not.

“i guess i feel like childe doesn’t know me that well? so it’s hard for me to be open around him. i don’t doubt his feelings but i guess i think it’s…misdirected? like he is in love with the idea of me instead of who i am.”

you both thanked the therapist and went to the parking lot. both of you said nothing as you made your way out, only nodding your head as a thanks when one of you held the door open for each other.

“so…how was it?”

“childe…what?”

“did you think it was fun? like do you want to keep doing this?”

he seemed a lot more shy than before, trying to use hand gestures to get his point across. for the first time today, you let out a laugh. maybe it was the weirdness of the situation finally getting to you, but seeing childe ask if you want to continue therapy was the funniest thing you heard all day.

“is that a yes?”

“sure.”

“okay good,” he laughs as he grabs his car keys, “i can walk you to your car, if that’s okay?”

“oh, i didn’t drive here. i had my friend drop me off.”

“do you want me to take you home?”

childe noticed the way you stiffened a little, realizing how sudden it must have felt for you. he quickly waved his hands in front of him while speaking quickly.

“wait. i swear i’m not like a predator or anything i just feel bad cause i mean i am fake dating you and like what kind of fake boyfriend would i be…but you don’t have to agree because i know-“

“thank you. i’d love a ride.”

prev | masterlist | next

fun facts

the therapist’s first impression is that you guys aren’t dating for love but just to not feel alone (rude)

venti was in the living room with xiao and he laughed so hard when he read that childe shushed you. he started wheezing and xiao had to get him some water

you are definitely thinking about how he shushed you on the ride home

a/n: I KEPT CRINGING WHILE WRITING… like guys the second hand embarrassment i keep getting… like imagine having to look a therapist in the eye and lie like this

taglist [open]: @gekkow @aemiko @kamikoii @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 @tsunotaro-san @dazaisboner @elektranxtchiios @hh0pe @softlie @akxtagawaxryxn0sxke @saeransblush @duckyyyx @iv-vee @brfrtbrt @ilyuu @eternal-dokja @boywxonder @sainthoma @ahnneyong @hollythius-rising @fallencrescentmoon @elernity

[chcltroses]

Hi Chocolate,

It’s been a while since I’ve seen you on Tumblr, and I hate that the reason I’m running into you now is because you’re feeling so stressed. I just want to start by saying—you are doing the best you can, and that is enough. Try not to let what your family says about your parenting get to you. Everyone has an opinion, but that doesn’t mean they’re right.

If you’re feeling overwhelmed, maybe looking into a therapist could help—someone who could even come to your home to meet your daughter and talk with her in a familiar setting. If that’s not an option, here’s another idea (and okay, it’s a little sneaky, but it might be worth a shot): take her out for lunch, then casually introduce the idea of meeting with a therapist, just to feel it out. Reassure her that this isn’t about forcing her into anything, but about giving her the space to talk to someone neutral, someone who might actually help.

I understand where you’re coming from. When my son was younger, he had ADHD, and it was tough. He acted out in class, lied, stole, and fought with his little brother constantly. His father didn’t believe ADHD was real—he just thought our son was being difficult and called him names that only made things worse. I tried every approach: punishments, long lectures, even spankings. But nothing worked. I felt lost and exhausted.

Eventually, I reached my breaking point. I stopped waiting for my husband to agree with me and took my son to a doctor on my own. Therapy and medication changed everything. He actually liked talking to his doctor—having a safe space to vent, without judgment, was life-changing for him. And in the end, he didn’t hate me or his dad. He just needed help that he didn’t even know he needed. Now, he’s a 34-year-old dad of two, a truck driver in Florida, no trouble with the law, no addictions—just a good man that I’m so proud of.

So please, Chocolate, don’t give up on your daughter. Keep trying, and don’t let the negativity from others shake you. If you have to, set boundaries—even if that means cutting off toxic family members for your own peace. Talk to God instead. He listens, and He understands.

You’ve got this. And I’m always here if you need to talk.

Sending you love and strength, TAMMY

Thank you so much, Tammy. I have gotten her a therapist and a CMO. She will not engage, but Thursday she was supposed to see her and she fell asleep. I tried to wake her up and nothing happened. She woke up 30 minutes later. I’m talking to a therapist now.

It’s hard because she was not always like this. She was a sweet little lady. She was a love bug. I just wish I could get through to her. I talk to her and so does her siblings. I’m praying that she gets better and decides to see her therapist

[chicgeekgirl89]

Chapter 10 is up now! Just in time for your Tarlos anniversary reading!

This is the best night of his life. 

If you’d told him a year ago that the best night of his life would look like this, hanging with his friends and a hot guy at a honky-tonk, followed by a little bathroom fooling around with the same hot guy, he’s not sure he would have believed you. It’s a far cry from his last relationship. Alex never would have wanted to hang out with his friends instead of alone. And it would have been dinner at some swanky place with tiny portions, not nachos at a honky-tonk.

The bathroom stuff might still have happened, but it wouldn’t have been nearly as fun. T.K.’s entire body is still tingling with the feeling of pressing up against Carlos. Carlos who is driving through the Austin night with only one hand on the wheel, which is hot as fuck. 

“So your team is cool,” Carlos says.

“They’re great,” T.K. tells him. “Coming here to Austin was really hard. They made it easier. I never have to worry whether or not they’ve got my back. They always do.”

“That’s amazing,” Carlos says. “I’m glad you have them.”

“Me too.” God is he so grateful. This year has changed his life. And sitting here in this car…it feels like he’s been given a gift. A second chance. An opportunity to keep himself on the right track once and for all.

He’s never been so determined not to fuck something up.

They pull up to Carlos’ condo and Carlos cuts the engine. “Any sisters or moms hiding in there this time?” T.K. asks. 

“They’d better not be,” Carlos says with a laugh as they get out of the car. 

“You sure? They’re always here when I come by. I thought maybe they just came standard with the place like the shower and the kitchen sink.”

“If they’re here I’ll kick them out and lock the door behind them,” Carlos says.

“They don’t have keys?”

Carlos pauses with his hand on the doorknob. “Okay, that could be a problem.”

T.K. hooks a finger through Carlos’ belt loop. “I’m willing to risk it if you are.”

He presses a kiss to Carlos’ lips and he means it to be quick, just a reassuring peck, but Carlos immediately melts against him, sliding a hand into the small of his back to pull him close and mold their bodies together. 

Okay, yes, he’d told his therapist that this thing with Carlos wasn’t just about sex. That he wasn’t going into the date expecting it. But they’re two consenting adults. If it happens organically…there’s nothing wrong with that, right? And really Carlos was the one who suggested they leave the honky-tonk. T.K. is just along for the ride.

“If this is what I get for ten minutes in a bathroom, I can’t wait to see what happens next,” T.K. mumbles against his lips.

“Me neither,” Carlos says. He pulls back a bit, caressing T.K.’s cheek and shoving his fingers into his hair. “Come on.”

He opens the door and they move inside, slightly awkwardly as T.K. is still attached to Carlos’ belt loop and not super interested in letting go. As soon as the door is closed Carlos turns around and crowds him up against it. He stares intensely at T.K.’s face. “What are you doing to me T.K. Strand?” he asks, so softly T.K. wonders if he even meant to say it out loud. “I have never in my life let a man put his hand down my pants in a dirty bathroom.”

“I’m honored to be your first,” T.K. teases. “It’s kind of a right of passage.”

Those dark eyes study him again and T.K. wants to drown inside them, to find out all of Carlos’ secrets, to open him up, and make him feel things he’s never felt before. He wants to know what every quirk of his lips and every flicker of his eyelashes mean. He wants to take this kind, calm, collected man and find out what he’s like when he loses control. 

And he really, really wants to see what’s under all those clothes.

“Mmm,” Carlos hums and strokes a thumb across his cheek, sending a thrill down T.K.’s spine. “As great as that was, I think we can probably do a little better here.”

“Oh definitely,” T.K. agrees and then they’re kissing again and god, why does it feel like his body already knows Carlos’? This is not the awkward kissing of practical strangers. It’s warm and inviting and intense, like they’ve been doing this all their lives. 

“My bed is upstairs,” Carlos says when they pause for a breath.

“Are we going to make it that far?” T.K. asks, rocking his hips forward a little so they rut against Carlos’. That move got him exactly what he wanted earlier and he grins as Carlos instinctively leans into the motion.

“Um,” Carlos looks like he’s struggling to think clearly through what T.K.’s doing to him. “My sister was right. My couch actually isn’t that comfortable.”

T.K. snorts. “Bed it is then.”

Carlos takes his hand and tows him up the stairs, past the masks hanging on the wall that T.K. has a lot of questions about. He bites his tongue. He wants Carlos’ body now. There will be time to ask him about his decor choices later.

Carlos’ bedroom is decorated in the same dark, monochromatic colors as the rest of the condo. He turns on the light and then stands nervously in the center of the room. “So,” Carlos says. “This is it. Bathroom is through that door if you need it. Do you want something to drink? I should have asked while we were downstairs—“

“Carlos?”

“Yeah.”

“Stop being so polite.” T.K. takes two steps toward him and grabs his face in both hands, kissing him to shut him up. 

Carlos responds the same way he has all the other times, opening his mouth and inviting T.K. inside the second their lips meet. God damn. Carlos wasn’t bluffing in those initial texts he sent. He is a fucking amazing kisser.

Carlos works the buttons on T.K.’s shirt as he backs him toward the bed, while T.K. busies his own hands with Carlos’ belt, whipping it off with now practiced ease. As soon as he drops it to the floor he yanks Carlos’ shirt free of his pants and shoves his hands underneath, fingertips gliding over Carlos’ stomach and back.

The back of his knees hit the edge of the bed and they break apart for a second to start pulling off clothes. T.K. tosses his shirt into the unknown corners of Carlos’ bedroom and then fumbles to get his jeans undone and down his hips. 

As soon as he’s down to his boxer briefs he watches Carlos work on his own clothes. A delighted smile touches his lips as Carlos does a little wiggle to remove his jeans. It’s freaking adorable and as they slide down his legs T.K. takes a moment to look and admire, to discover where his fantasies end and reality begins. Turns out, nothing in T.K.’s fantasies prepared him for seeing Carlos’ body in real life. 

The dim light of the bedroom seems to sharpen the lines of his pecs and stomach. Everything about him is gorgeous, smooth brown skin and muscle, like he’s been sculpted by a great European artists. T.K. can’t wait to touch every part of him and learn what he feels like between his hands.

He doesn’t even track on the fact that Carlos has been looking back at him with equal intensity until he speaks. “God, you’re really beautiful,” he says and it sends an oddly sharp pang of something through T.K.’s heart. 

No one has ever called him beautiful before.

They’ve told him he’s good, that they want him, he’s so hot, perfect, to keep going, to never stop. All the things you say to someone in the throes of passion to ensure it doesn’t end. But no one has ever looked at his body the way Carlos is; like it’s something to be treasured. 

It makes him feel oddly uncertain and shy.

Carlos’ gaze drops to the spot directly over T.K.’s heart and he knows Carlos is looking at the scar from the bullet that nearly ended his life a year ago. He nods toward it. “Is that…?”

T.K. glances down, a little self conscious. “Yeah. That’s where the bullet went in.”

Carlos looks up and meets his eyes. “Can I?”

T.K. nods, his heart doing an anxious fluttery thing as Carlos’ fingers brush gently over the puckered skin. His hand splays over T.K.’s heart, his thumb rubbing slowly back and forth over the scar. “I could have lost you before I even met you,” he says. 

T.K. has never felt this kind of pull toward another human being before, and it’s a little terrifying. Like if they take this step, he’s not sure he’ll ever be the same. “That would have been a tragedy,” he says, instinctively trying to lighten the heaviness of this moment. “You haven’t even seen my ass yet. It’s spectacular.”

Carlos snorts. “Well we should probably do something about that.” His free hand wraps around T.K.’s right bicep in a possessive, but not uncomfortable grip. 

“Yes, we should officer,” T.K. teases.

Carlos’ body seems to instinctively rock into his at those words and T.K. smiles in delight. “Oh officer?” he says again. “Is that what does it for you? Is that what turns you on?”

“Not usually,” Carlos says, his voice a little strained. “But uh, for some reason when you say it, it’s really working for me.”

“Good to know,” T.K. says, filing that away to use as a weapon in the future. 

Carlos nudges him backward and T.K. sinks down onto the bed, sliding back a little as Carlos follows him and straddles his hips. He reaches out, cradling the back of Carlos’ neck to pull him close, letting the kiss be soft and slow. He’s such a fan of hard and hot and fast, but this moment has been so long in the making that he wants to savor it. 

He lets his hands roam, tracing his fingers over miles of smooth skin and firm muscle, a contrast to the softness of Carlos’ tongue as it slides against his own. The noise Carlos made in the bathroom flits through T.K.’s brain and he becomes determined to draw it out of him again, so he grabs Carlos’ ass and Carlos groans into him, the sound vibrating down T.K.’s throat, into his lungs, until it resonates through his whole body.

Where T.K.’s hands can’t seem to stop their exploration, Carlos’ are steady, one gripping into T.K.’s hip, keeping him anchored, while the other slides its way through his hair. He tightens it, just enough that it drives T.K. a little crazy, and then grinds his hips down and now T.K. is the one letting out a grunt of pleasure as a shower of sparks shoots through his groin.

He breaks the kiss sharply. “Do that again,” he demands and Carlos obliges, the sparks intensifying as the weight of Carlos’ body presses into him. “God you feel amazing,” T.K. murmurs as Carlos moves his lips to T.K.’s neck, teeth scraping over his pulse point.

“Tell me what you want,” Carlos breathes.

“I want,” T.K. sucks in a breath, his mind going fuzzy as Carlos nips into his skin, “ah, god, Carlos. I want your hands. Your mouth. Just, god, don’t stop.”

“You want me to make you feel good?” Carlos mumbles the words into the softness of his shoulder, no longer kissing really, just sliding his lips inch by inch across T.K.’s chest like he did in the honky-tonk bathroom.

T.K.’s back arches as Carlos licks over his nipple “Yes,” he squeaks out.

Carlos sits up, his eyes raking down T.K.’s body and T.K. finds himself holding his breath in anticipation as his gaze travels lower and lower and finally lands on T.K.’s boxer clad groin. He smirks. “I think you’re already feeling pretty good.”

“Carlos.” T.K. grinds it out, squirming a little, desperate for Carlos to touch some part of him again.

Carlos bites his lip, his index finger tracing a path between the band of T.K.’s underwear and his bellybutton. His touch is featherlight and T.K. can hardly breathe because of it. “I bet we can make you feel even better though.”

He makes very, very good on that statement over the next hour. And T.K. does his best to return the favor in equally spectacular fashion.

“You’re really good at that,” Carlos says when they’ve both finished, his body soft and pliant underneath where T.K. is laying across his chest. 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” T.K. says. He pushes up onto his elbow and sloppily mouths his way along the pink line of still healing tissue that runs jaggedly across Carlos’ rib cage. “I should probably get going.”

“You can stay,” Carlos says, readjusting himself a little bit to get more comfortable. “I’d like it if you stayed.”

T.K. closes his eyes and lets those words settle on his heart. He’s never had a guy ask him to stay over on the first night. It all feels like a little too much. In a good way. But a way he needs time to process.

“I promised my dad I’d be home,” he says. “But thanks for asking.”

“Maybe next time?”

T.K. props himself up and grins lazily at Carlos. “Next time? We’ve barely even finished this time and you’re asking for a next time?”

“You have to ask for what you want, right?” Carlos says, matching his grin. “That was amazing and you know it. It deserves a repeat performance.”

T.K. laughs. “Okay. Maybe next time.”

It takes a lot of effort to get up and dressed. It also takes a long time because they both keep stopping to kiss and touch just a little more. It’s so tempting to say fuck it and fall back into bed, but T.K. knows he could use the space. 

Having sex is one thing. Making himself at home here is entirely another. He is definitely not ready for that yet. He needs some time to think about what just happened and the incredibly intense feelings that came along with it or he’s going to freak out.

And he really doesn’t want to freak out about this. 

“Let me drive you,” Carlos says for the third time as they head downstairs.

“Carlos, I already called an Uber,” T.K. tells him. “It’s fine.”

“It’s late,” Carlos argues. “What if the Uber driver is sketchy?”

T.K. turns around and taps his chest. “Then investigate my murder with all your cop powers and don’t stop until you’ve solved it.”

Carlos looks unconvinced and T.K. chuckles. “If you knew how many sketchy cab drivers I survived in New York you wouldn’t be the least bit worried. I can get myself home. I promise.”

Carlos sighs. “Fine. Okay. Text me when you get there though.”

“Will do.”

He checks his phone and sees the Uber pulling up outside. “My ride’s here.”

He kisses Carlos one last time and then turns to go. 

“Wait.” Carlos catches his hand. “This um…this wasn’t a one time thing, right? You’re not going to leave here and ghost me?”

T.K. gives him a soft smile. “Three months of trying to get to tonight? You’re going to have to work really hard to get rid of me.”

Carlos echoes the smile with his own. “Good.”

It’s after one am by the time T.K. slides tiredly out of his Uber and opens the front door of his dad’s house. He slips off his shoes and tiptoes quietly into the kitchen, stepping carefully over Buttercup’s sleeping form on the floor.

“Evening son.”

“Holy fuck!” T.K. drops the water bottle he’d just grabbed from the fridge and claps a hand over his heart. “Dad! Jesus!”

Owen Strand is standing on the other side of the island looking far too put together for one in the morning.

“Oh my god, never do that again,” T.K. says, massaging his chest in an attempt to slow down his panicking heart.

“What? Greet my son when he sneaks in after midnight looking like he’s just had quite the roll in the hay?” Owen asks. 

He glares at his dad in the soft glow of the under cabinet lighting. “Were you waiting up for me? I’m not a teenager with a curfew anymore Dad.”

“I wasn’t waiting up,” Owen says. “Well. Not intentionally. You’ll understand someday when you have a kid. I take it the date went well?”

“Yeah, it was great actually,” T.K. says, popping the cap off the bottle and taking a long drink. “Carlos is…he’s everything I thought he was. More actually.”

“Mhm, glad to hear it,” Owen says. “I assume you were safe? Don’t need any little T.K. juniors running around Austin anytime soon.” He smiles at his stupid joke, clearly pleased with himself.

T.K. rolls his eyes. “At the risk of sounding like a petulant teenager, that’s none of your business. But yes, of course we were careful.”

“Great!” Owen says with a smile. “I look forward to hearing all about it in the morning. Now get to bed. You need your beauty rest or that hot cop isn’t going to want to kiss you anymore.”

“Dad!”