#in a therapists office and crying about her trauma or whatever.

[sweatervest-obsessed]

You're Keeping Me Down

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (she/her)

WC: ~5.8k

TW: mentions of trauma, mentions of Maeve, kissing, previous relationships, swearing, alcohol, so much crying, bad decisions, girlbossing

A/N: ayo....angsty teehee. I hope y'all like it! It's a sequel to Dedicated to New Lovers and was inspired mainly by Sara Bareilles's Gravity, some Harry Styles, and other sad songs. I hope y'all enjoy it!! I really do love reading all of your comments, and tags, and feedback because it makes me so happy to know you guys are enjoying the writing!! <3

“You may not control all the events that happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them.” ~Maya Angelou

Something always brought you back to Doctor Spencer Reid. No matter how hard you tried, no matter how much you fought it, something about the universe could not keep you away from him for too long. 

It was like the two of you were attached at opposite ends of a string, always pulling you towards one another, ignoring whatever you had been feeling beforehand. 

There was nothing you could do to escape him. You had tried traversing the globe, studying in Greece and Turkey, or taking vacations in the most remote villages of China; you had even done a two-week expedition traveling to Antarctica. But somehow, some way, Spencer Reid stayed in the back of your mind. 

Sometimes, it was like he was right next to you. You could still feel him next to you in your bed, or if you were alone in your car, your hand was absently reaching toward the passenger seat, only to feel the leather and not his leg. 

Maybe it was because all of those stupid little facts he had spouted to you were resting in the back of your mind, popping up when you’d come across anything he would have told you about. 

It was something you missed. He would just ramble on about anything to you, watching the joy on his face as he continued to speak, so grateful to have an audience, to have someone who cared. But you’d have to remind yourself that Spencer chose her as his audience instead of you. 

Her. 

The guilt of Maeve’s death followed you around more than Spencer did. At first, it was anything to do with therapists. The thought of choosing someone to speak to outside of your circle was a betrayal you had felt, and you couldn’t bring yourself to do the same. Then it was your distrust of your friends, watching as they became less and less frequent in your life. 

Work was all-consuming. You knew this fact well. Being one of the top profilers in the FBI meant that news of your transfer went fast, and the job offers came even quicker. But you decided to take some time off to rediscover the girl you once knew, someone outside her job. 

The BAU was simply your life for the past eight years. You worked at the BAU, you dated inside of the BAU, and your friends were all within the BAU–It was honestly a joke that it all had decided to come crumbling down once you felt secure in your life, in your job, in your relationship. 

You had filed the paperwork that allowed you to take two months of paid leave, not to leave the department. Your social media suddenly became filled with images of Ancient Greek monuments, Italian Vineyards, the French and Swiss Alps, and cities you once only visited in your wildest dreams. 

Escaping reality was the best way to rediscover who you are. And so you tried.

When you returned from your two months, you had walked into the BAU bullpen and straight to Hotch’s office. Your skin was tanner, and your hair was a bit lighter from all of the sun. You were suddenly this confident woman again, but you weren’t who you were before, making you nearly unrecognizable. 

“Y/N, please come in.” 

You smiled warmly at Hotch, giving him a quick hug. 

“You look good. How were your travels?” 

You smiled and leaned against the wall, not wanting to sit since that meant you would be here longer than you wanted. 

“It was everything I needed it to be, Hotch .” You nodded to the file on his desk with your name on it. “I take it Garcia ‘accidentally’ discovered my file and decided to drop it off?” 

Hotch sighed and opened the file, looking over at you. “Of course she did. I thought you were just transferring after your leave; I didn’t know you were leaving the Bureau entirely.” 

You nodded, a sad smile making its way onto your face. 

Hotch looked at you, replicating the same sad smile. 

“I wanted to tell you in person since I didn’t want you to find out via paperwork, but I should have known to come to your office first and then file it instead of filing it on my way to your office.” 

A soft chuckle passed through Hotch’s lips as he nodded. “We’re going to miss you more than before, Y/N.” 

“I won't be gone forever, Hotch. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

“I know.” He rounded the desk, giving you a quick hug, arm on your shoulder. “You have my number.” 

You gave him a quick smile, nodding, “Don’t worry, Jack will still be getting weekly updates about my travels, and expect a box of goodies occasionally. I have to uphold my reigning title of the coolest aunt ever.” 

As you left Hotch’s office, you didn’t notice Spencer at the coffee station. You didn’t see as he watched you quickly drop a note off on Emily’s desk and another on Derek’s desk before stepping into the elevator for the last time for the next two years. 

You didn’t notice the heartbreak in his eyes, and you didn’t notice the fact that he had overheard as you told Hotch you weren’t coming back to the FBI at all. 

But somehow, you found yourself back in that same elevator, visitor badge clipped to the new dress you had received as a gift from a friend during your month-long stay in India last year. The fabric draped across your body, highlighting how beautiful your curves were, and the colors brought out this newfound radiance in your skin, your eyes, your smile...

Color was the newest development in your life. The BAU meant that everything was in professional shades of blue, black, white, or maybe a subdued purple or green if you felt risky. But suddenly, your wardrobe burst through the rainbow as you experimented with patterns and shades, basking in this newfound joy beyond the world of suits. 

Eighteen months of experimenting–with life, with colors, with places you called home, with love.

You had two brief “love affairs” as Garcia lovingly called them. One was only two weeks long, but the other was a few months. Yet both were missing something special and could barely converse with you. Maybe that was how Spencer felt. And the sex wasn’t all that great either.  

And yet, after Eighteen months, an award, four nominations, a cat, a mediocre short-term relationship, and one groundbreaking dissertation that led to a Ph.D. later, you found yourself back in that damned elevator. 

You inhaled sharply as you heard the tiny ding, doors opening up to a sight that made your stomach twist. It was truly bittersweet to be back, to visit the place that once carried everything in your life, and to have it be so foreign to you. 

But what was not so foreign was how one Derek Morgan looked up as the door opened and his eyes filled to the brim with light. 

“Well, well, well, look who it is.” He dropped his file on his desk and met you in the middle of the side aisle of the bullpen, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. “My woman.” He muttered into your hair, giving you an extra squeeze before pulling away slightly. 

“What’s up, sexy.” You laughed, thrilled to hear he hadn’t changed too much while you were away. 

“I’m sexy? Have you seen yourself recently?” He laughed, and you gave him a twirl, eager to show off one of your favorite dresses. “And where did you get this? Wait, wait, let me guess.” 

You pursed your lips, failing to hide the smile that was beaming across your face. 

“Was it your time in Taiwan? No no…Pakistan?” 

“So close. India. Maybe next time, champ.” You patted his arm, turning your head at the gasp behind me. 

“Do my eyes deceive me, or is that Doctor Y/N Y/L/N, world traveler extraordinaire?” 

“JJ, you saw me three days ago.” 

JJ pulled you into a hug. “Yeah, over Facetime,” she grumbled, not even trying to pretend she was upset at the sight of you in person. “You seriously have to stop sending Henry so much stuff.” 

“Some of it is for the other one, too.” You muttered to her, knowing she wasn’t fully public with her pregnancy at the BAU just yet. 

“I’ll be right back, I promise, I just have to say hi to Hotch first.” You placed your hands on their arms, turning towards Hotch’s office. As you went to knock on the door, it opened, leaving you face to face with the only person you weren’t ready to confront just yet. 

“Hi.” He breathed out.

And fuck you, he looked so good. 

“Hi, Spencer.” 

You watched as a wave of emotion rippled across his face. His name almost tasted weird in your mouth, not something you’ve often said in the two years apart. 

“I’ll, um..” He moved to step out of the way, letting you maneuver into Hotch’s office. 

But you had also tried to move, causing you and Spencer to almost collide, causing his hand to barely grace your waist. A spark flew through your skin at the thought of his touch, causing goosebumps up and down your body. 

You both muttered an apology, eyes not leaving the other until you quickly moved into Hotch’s office, causing him to move back, still watching as you closed the door in his face.

While you spoke to Hotch, catching up, Spencer was down in the bullpen at his desk, barely even trying to move them away from the windows. 

JJ and Derek stood around his desk, looking from the office to Spencer and back again. 

“She’s back.” He said simply when Kate approached them, wondering why they were all standing around, staring at Hotch’s office. 

“Who?” Kate crossed her arms, looking between the agents, hoping for an answer.

Spencer said your name for the first time in a very long time. And it was almost as if his brain whirred to life, like some part of him had been dormant for a long time. 

“Doctor.” 

Spencer gave Derek a weird look. “What?” 

“It’s Doctor Y/N Y/L/N now, Pretty Boy.” 

Spencer let his mouth fall into a small oh, letting his mind sink deeper and deeper into the pit of you. 

When you had originally left, Spencer decided to try and ignore you. It didn’t work, but he wouldn’t seek you out purposefully. He never looked up your name and tried to steer clear of the conversations involving you. But he wondered why you had never mentioned wanting to get a doctorate beforehand. He would have remembered something like that. He should have remembered something like that. ______________________________________________________________

The thought of Spencer’s fingers on your waist was the only thing you could think about for the rest of the day. Your skin hadn’t stopped tingling, and suddenly you wanted to drown in his touch, let his hands roam over your body and— “Stop it.” You said out loud as you put in your earrings. 

Your mind wasn’t playing far. 

“What did you say, sweetheart?” 

“Nothing, just talking to myself!” You called back, sighing as you smoothed out the front of the dress you had changed into. 

The team had decided to throw you a welcome-back party that night, generously hosted by David Rossi. And since they had all wanted an excuse to get dressed up, you gave them that much, meaning you had to dawn heels and a touch of makeup to accentuate the features you wanted. It also meant you got to pull out another stunning dress you had bought. 

Celebrating your doctorate, which you completed a year early, you had flown to Milan with Emily Prentiss and decided to go shopping, which is how you ended up with the current dress you were wearing. 

It fits you in all the right places, showing off just enough cleavage to be tasteful but maybe tempt something a bit more. You wondered if Spencer would like—

“God, I forgot how hot you look in that dress.” 

“Emily Prentiss, I could kiss you on the mouth.” 

Emily laughed and looped her arm through yours, staring at the two of you in the mirror. 

“Thank you for flying in on such short notice.” You whispered, unable to take your eyes off of the reflection staring back at you.

“We can call the whole thing off right now…”

You shook your head and smiled at her. “It’s for me. And I really want some of Rossi’s cooking right about now. Especially now that I can compare my worldly experiences with the Italian Masterchef himself.” You laughed, causing Emily to laugh with you. 

“Let's get going, yeah?” 

The ride to Rossi’s house on the outskirts of Washington D.C. made for a relaxing drive, filled with updates from your best friend about each other’s lives, even though it had only been a month since you had seen each other last. 

“I think you’re being perfectly reasonable, hun.” 

“You’re saying that because all I do is cry these days,” you grumbled, kissing the head of the black cat in your lap. 

Emily laughed and took a sip of her wine. “Or maybe I just know that you need a change of scenery. You’ve dedicated your entire life to the BAU and now you need to explore the entire rest of the world.” 

“I think you just want to go to Greece with me.” 

“You know how much I love Mamma Mia….”

You cracked a smile and picked up your glass. “Maybe Em, I’m not sure…I just…”

Emily watched as you looked up, trying to keep the tears from your eyes. 

“I know he’s not worth the tears,” you mumbled, but you exhaled slowly. “It’ll just hit me sometimes.” 

She stayed quiet, watching as you slowly worked through whatever was happening in your head. 

“It’s like he’s right next to me sometimes. I…It’s like sometimes my own head is against me for not talking to him. I heard a song the other day, and I immediately turned to tell him something about it and–It’s like he’s ruling over my mind—” You huffed angrily. “I feel like I’m not making any sense–god.” You downed your wine and placed the glass on the table. “Maybe I’m just meant to wallow and drink wine and be completely useless for the rest of my life…past my prime, past my worth. I was so—I was so fucking sure he was the one…Like there's this strong attachment to my chest and I’m connected to him for eternity, regardless of whether he loves me or not.” 

Emily pulled you into her arms while you cried, rubbing your back. 

“You are so much more than him, hun. You will go out in the world, figure out who you are again, and stand so tall, just how you’re supposed to.”

“So tall.” Emily looked at you as she parked the car in Rossi’s driveway. 

“Just the way I’m supposed to be.” You whispered, looking over at her, smiling.  ______________________________________________________________

You’ve been to Rossi’s more times than you could ever admit, but it managed to take your breath away every single time. After his first wife had passed away, he had put in a garden near the edge of his backyard, providing beautiful color for you to look at from the porch. 

Somehow, you always had a half-full glass, managing to have someone always get you a new drink when you seemed low. 

You managed to talk to Jack and Henry, telling them all about the wonders of the world you had seen, then being pulled away by Garcia to discuss that brief love affair you had in Argentina, which then led to telling Derek about your time in England, studying for your doctorate. 

Gratefully, you excused yourself when Rossi announced that dinner had been served, leading you to the tables set up in the backyard, filled to the brim with all your favorite foods. He had simply done too much. 

Dinner was filled with smiles, laughs, and chatter about the ‘good ol days’ and the newer memories being made. You had become acquainted with Kate Callahan, Emily’s replacement. She seemed nice enough, but you both were hesitant of one another. 

Spencer was sitting across the table from you. The two of you would catch glances at one another, passing moments where you couldn’t help but notice the way the wind ruffled his hair or the way the garden’s fairy lights reflected in his eyes. 

“So, what brings you back to Washington,” Hotch asks you the question every person at the table has been dying to hear the answer to. 

“Oh! Well…” You blushed slightly and shrugged. “It’s not that big of a deal, but I was just offered a position at Georgetown as an adjunct professor. If I take it, I’ll teach classes for at least the next semester. That is if I like it more than King’s College in London..”

The table erupted into congratulations, ending with a toast from Rossi.

You all raised your glass in “Salut”, and took a sip from your drink, but you couldn't help but look at Spencer, who was already looking at you. 

Excusing yourself from the table, you went inside quickly, walking towards the kitchen sink. You ran your hands under the cool water before splashing it across your face. 

“Y/n…”

There it was. The moment you had been dreading. The two of you were alone, no one else to buffer you, no one else to take your arm and drag you to the dance floor. 

“Spencer.” You turned around, your body leaning against the sink. God, you felt so small, so unable to watch yourself. 

“That’s a–that’s a beautiful dress.” 

“Milan.” You mused, fiddling with the ring on your pinky finger, unable to look away from the man before you. 

“Ah.” 

The silence hurt. Watching the two of you must have been painful because you could feel it. You once told this man everything about yourself; he once knew how your day went by one singular sigh. He could have told you what you were in the mood to eat for breakfast just by how you woke up. 

But now, you didn’t even know what to say. 

“Georgetown.” 

You nodded and looked down at your nails, seeming that they felt like a safer bet to look at. “Yeah, uh…should be fun. Can I–” You looked up at him. “Can I ask you something?” 

Spencer’s head nodded, and you pursed your lips, looking out the window and watching as your friends and family all laughed together and ate together. 

“When I was…um.” You cleared your throat, willing away the tears that had instantly sprung to your eyes. “When I was packing up all my stuff two years ago…I found the…W-Was it for her or…” You braced yourself for impact. Waiting for him to respond. 

Spencer’s eyes glassed over, and his mouth formed a small oh. He fiddled with his ring finger and looked out past you through the window. He couldn’t bear to watch the travesty he was about to cause. 

“You.” 

“Oh.” Fuck this. Fuck. You had sobbed over finding it for three hours while packing and then  sobbed again as you moved out. Somehow, hearing it out loud was worse. 

He was going to propose to you.

Spencer Reid had wanted to marry you. And god, that hurt. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, and then he told you that he wasn’t in love with you anymore. 

You didn’t care if you were reserving a spot in hell for yourself by damning an already dead woman. Her death meant Spencer could feel an ounce of the grief you just dug up. A sliver of the pain. 

Suddenly, you felt his hand on your jaw, a thumb on your cheek, wiping away the tear that had escaped your eye. “I am so sorry.” He whispered. 

And that broke the damn. 

He pulled you into his arms, and you let him, surrounding yourself with Spencer. Letting the smell of his cologne wash over you, letting him squeeze you tightly like he used to so long ago. The feeling of his chest rising and falling gave you such comfort that your brain was screaming at you to run away from it. You had finally built all your walls back up; you felt as if you could finally exist, but here in his arms, the world was silent. 

In his arms, you felt fragile; you felt so small. All of the strength you had was gone. And it felt so fucking good to not have to be the strong one, the person with the brave face. 

“I’m so sorry.” 

His lips kissed your hair, arm running up and down your back, trying so desperately to bring back that sense of comfort he once could provide you. And it was fucking working. God, why was it working. Why did it feel good? Why couldn’t you pull away? 

“Spence…” You mumbled into his shirt, that had been stained by your tears. You shook your head. “I can’t…We can’t…”

He pulled away from you slightly, eyes saddened, and you couldn’t tell if it was because you were rejecting him or because he still loved you just as much as you loved him. 

“I love you.” 

You pulled away from the kiss, hand on his chest, smiling brightly at him. “What?”

It was the most beautiful you had ever looked, Spencer decided. 

Your lips were puffy from how much the two of you were kissing, hair messy from his hands running through it, eyes wide with just as much love repeated in his own. 

“I love you.” He repeated, smiling beyond measure.

“Say it again.” You mumbled, yanking him back down to your lips, kissing him again and again. 

“I love you so much, y/n y/l/n.” 

You pulled away, laughter filling up the entire room. Pure joy echoed and bounced off of the walls. 

Spencer bit his lip, pulling away slightly. You hadn’t set it back. 

“Spence…” You cupped both cheeks with your hand, thumb rubbing over his bottom lip. “I love you too.” 

Just saying it caused you to giggle, full of love and pure joy. 

Loving anyone else would have caused you to gag–it still does. 

But the memory makes you shudder, causing you to step out of his arms, quickly wiping away your tears or trying your best to. 

The thought of love made you want to rip your head off. It made you want to sink to the bottom of the ocean and never resurface. 

Spencer said your name, making you shake your head. 

“You don’t love me Spencer. You haven’t for a long time.” The admission caused a resurgence of tears, making him take a step towards you. “No, Spencer, no.” 

You shook your head again. “I-I can’t…you hurt me. You…you left me for someone you had never even met. She was–god.” 

“I never loved her the way I love you.” 

“No.” You whispered, chest heaving. “No, no. You can’t..fuck. Don’t say that shit–why would you say that shit to me.” 

“Because it's the truth.” He said softly, too calmly for you to just ignore it. 

“How can you stand there and say that to me? You don’t mean it—You can’t..” The past two year’s worth of therapy, of moving on, of becoming your own, came crumbling down because fuck, you didn’t know what to believe anymore. “How can you just…You don’t fucking mean it.” 

“I know you don’t believe me, but I–”

“Don’t believe you?” You laughed at that, tears mixing with the stabs in your chest, dropping past your mouth as it laughed and laughed and laughed. “Then why did you fucking leave me. Why–Why–Why did you tell me to move out and…God Spencer, why did you come here tonight.” 

You were almost hysterical at that point; all Spencer could do was watch. He couldn't touch you because every time he tried, you’d move away or lose some part of your mind even more. 

“What about me was so–so–so, so boring, so understimulating to you, so desperately ignorant that you told me you didn’t love me anymore, that you kicked me out of our home, that made you reconsider wanting to marry me. And you know, I get it, I do. You found someone on your level intellectually, I get it. But still, I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life–what did she have that I didn’t, huh? What about her made her more appealing to talk to than me? ” 

“She…”

“She what, Spencer.”

“I wasn’t–”

“No.” You were leaning back against the counter, trying to gain some semblance of yourself back from the spiral you were on. “Don’t lie to me. Don’t give me some ‘unworthy’ thought process because maybe you’re fucking eidetic memory doesn’t remember all of the conversations we used to have, but I fucking do. I couldn’t cut them out of my skin if I tried, and god did I try.” 

Spencer stared at you, dumbfounded. He didn’t know what to do; he couldn’t function. All he could do was watch the pieces of you shatter all over, reliving the exact moments you were, but instead of being able to make it right, all he could watch as you closed yourself off more and more. 

“Y-you tried?” 

“God, Spencer, did you even look at me during those months.” 

“I…” He just looked at you, really looked at you. “I couldn’t.”

You scoffed, wiping away the tears on your cheeks, and straightened out your dress. 

“The only fucking thing I know is that if I don’t walk away now, then I will hate myself for the rest of my life for letting you talk me back into loving you again. And the worst part is, I still do. I don’t think I could ever love anyone again because of how much love I have for you, after everything we had been through, but—”

He kissed you.

Or you kissed him. 

You weren’t sure. 

But all you knew was that his hands were on your waist, and your hands were on his cheeks, and his lips were touching yours, and everything felt so right within the world, and your body was against his and just–

“Fuck.” You quickly pulled away, both of you panting, staring at one another, unsure about what happened. 

You two just stared at one another for what felt like forever until you heard Emily call your name from the porch. You took another step away, back against the kitchen counter, smoothing your hair and crossing your arms. 

Emily walked in and eyed the two of you, misreading the tension as something more antagonistic from before than what had actually happened. 

“Uh, Rossi made you a cake…” She looked between the both of you, watching as you nodded at her, standing up fully. You followed behind her, sparing one last look at Spencer, who was just looking at where you were standing. 

______________________________________________________________

“Uh, hi, sorry, could you point me toward Agent Hotchner’s Office.” 

The person whose shoulder you tapped turned around and gave you one of the most beautiful smiles you had ever seen. 

“Well hello, gorg–”

“Derek. Don’t be rude.” The woman next to Derek had elbowed him in the ribs, preventing more HR training for the both of them. “Hi. You must be Y/n. I’m Penelope, and that’s Derek, don’t mind him.” She looped her arm through yours and started to lead you towards the little staircase on the side of the room. 

“Hotch’s office is right up here.” 

“I–Thank you, Penelope.” You smiled at her. 

“I’ve read your file.” She whispered, smiling back at you. “I’m really excited to work with you because you are one impressive woman, let me tell you.” 

You blushed slightly, about to respond, but Penelope had knocked on Hotch’s door, causing a voice to tell you to “come in.” 

“Welcome to the team.” She pulled away, leaving you to enter Aaron Hotchner’s office for the first of many times. 

You opened the door and smiled at the man at the desk. “Hi, I’m–”

“Y/n Y/l/n, You have a very impressive resume. Please, take a seat.” He stood to shake your hand, gesturing to the chair before his desk. You quickly scanned the photos along the walls, the books on his shelves. 

“Everyone knows who I am before I know who they are.” You laughed slightly, taking the seat. 

“Yes, well, We’re all very excited to have you join us here.” 

The memory of your first day hit you like a wave when Aaron pulled your seat out for you back at the table outside. You stalled for only a second, but it was long enough for any of the various profilers at the table to notice something was off. 

You smiled through the speeches, and you laughed at the jokes and cried at the sweetness of your friends, but you were somewhere far away, dreaming about the moments that led you up to where you were. 

“And that is why I am glad to have you back because clearly, the universe respects you enough to let us all come together to celebrate the return of our Y/n.” You raised your glass and cheer with Rossi, standing up to hug him. 

“Now.” You smiled at all of the faces that looked up at you. “Let us eat cake!!” 

The table erupted and while Rossi cut slices for each of you, you sat back down, listening to what Garcia was telling you, but your eyes kept darting to the person directly across from you. 

You could feel his eyes any time they were on you, and you knew they were fleeting glances, but it was just too much. 

“Want to take a walk with me through the rose garden?” 

You nodded, standing up and accepting Derek’s arm, letting him lead you towards the garden, enjoying the fresh air and the sudden weight off of your shoulders. You couldn’t feel his gaze anymore but you knew he was still looking at you. 

“What’s next on your list of adventures.” Derek looked at you, watching the millions of emotions race across your face before settling on a smile and a shrug. 

“I’m not sure yet. You know about Georgetown, but I don’t know about D.C. anymore….”

Derek nodded and pulled out the chair at the small wire table. It sat under a trellis filled with gorgeously bloomed roses and baby’s breath. The smell was almost overwhelmingly fragrant. 

You gratefully took it and watched as he went and sat across from you. 

“You looked like you got a bit overwhelmed back there.” 

“What happened to not profiling me like I asked?” 

Derek chuckled, “It’s not profiling if it’s written on your sleeve.” 

You sighed and looked out at some of the flowers. “I don't…”

He let you work through it in your mind, just glad to keep you company while you figured your shit out. 

Eventually, you spoke up. “It’s weird.” 

Derek hummed in agreement. 

“I don’t know. Just. I felt like I was doing so well, and I was becoming my own person, figuring out who I was, and then I come back here, and suddenly I’m back to being that twenty-two-year-old kid who breezed her way through the academy. It’s like I did everything in my power to end up where I did, and then the universe told me I fucked up and should have done something else.” 

“I don’t think you fucked up in the slightest. Do you know how many people you saved?”

You went to brush off his comment, but Derek didn’t let you get a word in. 

“I know your entire world got completely fucked over, but you were meant to be in BAU. You were supposed to be there. I cannot think of my life without you, I know Garcia can’t, and I know Emily would tear you a new one if you even brought up to her the possibility that you being in her life was a mistake.” 

“Yeah, and now I’m thirty, with a doctorate and a cat, and no idea what to do with my life.” 

“But you also just spent the last two years seeing the world–how many countries did you go to…”

You pursued your lips, trying to count in your head. A blush spread across your face as you mumbled the number. 

“Sorry, wanna repeat that for me?” 

“At least fifty…” 

“That’s what I thought.” A very proud look crossed Derek's face, smiling at you. 

You looked down at your left hand, fiddling with your ring finger. No matter how hard Derek tried, no matter how much you enjoyed his company and the way he was keeping your ego healthily inflated, you couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that you could have been married–you could have been happy. 

“He told me when he bought it.” 

Your eyes snapped to Derek’s, and he looked at you with such soft eyes. 

That was something you had always loved about Derek. No matter how much he cared for you, no matter how gently he was being, he never treated you like a piece of glass.

“He, uh, I was the only one he told.” 

You nodded, waiting for him to continue. 

“When did you find it?” 

“When I was moving my things out of the apartment.” 

“Damn…” 

“Yeah.” You laughed. It was colder than usual but still antagonistic at the whole situation. “I…um. I found it on the last day when I was cleaning out my bedside table. He knew I never went into the bottom drawer because I literally never kept anything in there, but I checked because, you know, I was asked to leave, and…there it was. It was just…It’s ironic, really, how perfect it was, too. They say that if a guy can’t get the ring right, then he’s not the one for you, but no one preps you on if it’s the perfect ring, perfect size, but you had just broken up two days before you found it…” 

Derek nodded, letting you ramble. 

“I feel like I’m being weighed down by a million different things, yet they’re all him.” 

“What are you going to do about it?”

“I have no fucking idea.” 

"Sometimes good things fall apart, so that better things can fall together." ~ Marilyn Monroe

Part 3

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Tags: @lilrios-world @gubzgirl @mynameisnotokay @hereforfun22-blog @yoursarahg @mega-kittyglitter-1 @onlyspence

[valentijnsstuff]

AAAAAAAAAA week Report

Monday I have an intake at the waayyyy too fancy new therapist office. The building alone makes me afraid that I will never financially recover. I run into neighbor that I ghosted on the way back (oops) and cook dinner for my homies.

Tuesday I am SUPPOSED to have my intake for a caseworker. But the administration lost my appointment somehow. Big frustration. I have another intake in the afternoon, at a humanitarian organisation that organizes group sessions for trans people. I tell them its the third intake of the week. They tell me that I really dont have to do this many intakes in this short of a time. I am somewhat taken aback, my anxiety to do everything as quickly as possible has fooled me again.

Wednesday I am ??? Stressed. My in home care homies are getting a bit tired bc its week three. The tension of 'should I stay or should I go' is very present. Me and a homie go bring stuff to second hand store. I get last minute email asking if I can do an intake at the gender clinic tommorow. With a lot of huff and puff, I get myself to sleep at home for the first time in weeks.

Thursday morning I hang out with my dad and my sister, sis is going to asia for a month. I am tired as shit. I hang around in the city and end up at the gay fraternity building where I'm a member, I do my video intake for the gender clinic there. I try to nap on the couch before going home, but a cute transfemme who plays guitar is writing lyrics and I HAVE to help her. Chill for an hour at home. Go to a hangout of queer people I dont know so well, but they love my tshirts and I get had scratches, so all is well.

Friday is somewhat insane. Early morning, I go to the next city over with my bestie, to get psych eval from a the crisis phychiatrist that I dont like. He says a whole bunch of things that make me very defensive and I leave feeling frustrated, because I sat trough the session with gritted teeth. Me and the bestie talk about it for a while, on our way back to the home city, where we have lunch and also visit the comics festival. I am greeted by familiar faces, and am happy to see them, despite being a mess. I remember that I have my on-call therapy session and proceed to have a crying session with my therapist, while at the festival. This should have been my que to go home. But nooooo. I go to the casual trans meetup to top it all off, where my friendliness is mistaken for open invitation for trauma dumping and unwanted advice from an older trans lady. Regret going. Go home tired. See that the plans for saturday are last minute canceled. Anxiouy ask one of the queers I just met if they want to come to your house tommorow. Get a message from a twink on Grindr and respond wayyy to eagerly. Now I can't sleep.

Saturday, I feel okay in the morning, but as soon as the friendly new queer person shows up and we finish brunch, it becomes clear how beat I am. I pass out on the couch, feeling somewhat guilty for inviting this person over, with no energy to actually play host. They are very cool and sweet about it. I am exhausted. I ask if I can sleep at the homies house for a night.

Sunday. I have learned my lesson. Hopefully. No more doing whatever the hell all that was. My body is kranky as hell. I want to go see my lesbian bestie, but I can barely get of the couch. She ends up coming over to my house, where we just huddle up, updating eachother frantically, but also exhausted.

I don't recommend doing whatever hell I am doing while handling trauma/depression/burn out

[sincelastsession]

I'm still upset. I don't want to be upset. I had plans. Now I'm under a stupid weighted blanket still upset. And it wasn't that big of a thing but im triggered to fuck and I can't figure out where I got triggered at specifically.

I mean it was probably a combo.

I talked to Travis and basically had a meltdown. He's really good at listening and I can have a clear conversation with him. He also has a brother my age with Autism that he grew up with so I feel that that is why it's so easy to explain shit to him and be heard and understood.

He and other people I know who have had very hard lives are easier to talk to and relate to.

I have a very hard time communicating with your average neurotypical person.

I'm still frustrated that therapy didn't go as planned in my head. I know that's silly but I'd mentally prepared myself. I got thrown off. I started with something I wasn't really ready to get into and it snowballed into stuff that was too much and I was too anxious and when the anxiety starts it knocks everything over like dominoes like a Rube Goldberg machine from hell.

I'm angry. I'm so angry at everything.

I'm in my stupid bed still crying. I don't feel 37 right now.

Sure I articulate many things and pretty much over communicate or whatever at least I've been told that. I've been told every single lady thing everyone thinks is wrong with me.

I don't feel like there's anything I do right.

I'd planned to get food, go to the post office. Talk to the front office about kids unattended in the pool but the answering service last night didn't seem to care about it. I had this whole list of shit I needed to do and I feel stupid laying here crying under a weighted blanket wanting to unzip from my skin suit sort of feeling.

I feel defeated.

I'm scared that all this is just gonna go like it usually does which I cannot explain I can just recognize the patterns

I'm scared if it doesn't work out then there's no one really left who wants my case and I do miss my last EMDR therapist and I wish we'd get the charts and you could possibly chat with her.

I don't know what therapy system you're trying with me vs what she (Johanna Martinez-Rink) employed.

I feel like there's never enough time but I'd like to go at a slower pace but I feel rushed like it's always been a race to become "fixed"

No one ever looked at what they were doing that I was mirroring and projecting at an early age and thought "oh I am the problem" They just threw me in therapy and onto the next therapist or psychiatrist and inpatient because I wasn't "fixed"

I didn't do anything to deserve that.

How do you get therapy for therapy trauma too?

How do I teach you about me and how to treat me and vice versa without this happening again.

It's hard to be truly known and understood but it's harder to be truly known and understood and trust that you've been seen and heard the way you need to be.

Dr. Todd told me I process out loud. The concussion really got me there. I hadn't done it to this extent before.

I remember how I was before but I can't make myself go back to it.

Honestly ok I hot no contact wrong. I'm pissed that my boundaries were crossed when I clearly set them.

I'd like to have good communication with my family. I don't want to have to do no contact.

But it doesn't seem to matter what I do.

I know locus of control and I know circle of control.

I can't control shit. I've never had the upper hand. I do fight I do get defensive. I can be a huge bitch. I'll admit it.

Do I feel bad abt it? Most of it.

Do I think it's deserved sometimes? Yes

Do I think I need justice for what has been done to me? Yes.

And I've had to fight and stand up for myself my entire life. There was no one there.

You don't know but like a tiny fraction of it.

I don't even feel like a person half the time. I don't know what is ME.

I don't know where my inner child is.

It to my understanding that I didn't hit psychosocial stages correctly

I don't think people understand the difference between negativity and the cptsd brain that is looking for things and wired all wrong.

How can I be so observant and still not be in control? Am I having a dissociative disorder of some sort? Is it this is it that?

Should I just hope my dad lives long enough and go to school and get my lcsw etc and try to treat myself? Could I handle school? Probably not right now. Do I actually need to be doing EMDR? Oh Probably but I can't find a therapist that takes medicaid and I can't afford out of pocket.

I live on 943.00 a month. I try to save 300-400.00 a month in case of emergency mostly for my therapy cats that alert me on their own like good babies. Groceries even on a budget aren't cheap. I'm trying not to kick the eating disorder up. I never wanna deal with inpatient again I don't care how fancy those places are been there done that almost died because they didn't know what they were doing and had all these ideas about me that weren't true.

People talking about diets or rudely making mention of what I choose to eat is so incredibly triggering.

I feel like no matter how hard I try everyone just hates me or secretly does and won't just tell me their problem.

My father idk what he will say. He is a wildcard. He acts like a dry drunk. His side of the family back through generations has had mental disorders that meds other than anxiety meds just didn't touch. Usually his problems with me are his doing and he views everything I say as a threat or controlling or a criticism despite me trying to get him to understand I'm neurodivergent. He doesn't believe I have anything wrong and that I'm faking. He resents me and I've had my last emdr therapist point out the resentment everyone holds. According to mom he hates me because I'm like him. I don't know what that means. I don't have a very good sense of self but I know what I'm not. I'm not him. I don't aspire to be him. He doesn't know how to show me compassion or empathy.

My mom will do the typical shit she always does. Act clueless and point fingers at me. Gets mad and leaves when I talk about various subjects that she just avoids answering

My sister is the best actress. She's the one that will play up to a therapist and act innocent and escalate shit twist it and point the finger at me so mom and dad jump my ass.

She used to say I hit her and smile when my parents would scream at me. I never did anything to her as a little kid. She damaged a 2k laptop I had just been gifted by a friend. Kicked the screen. Never got fixed. She steals my things and my mom's things. She's a compulsive liar. She has absolutely no real idea of my traumas. She has been very lucky to have never been in positions I was in. It hurts to see her fucking her life up engaged due to me helping so it wouldn't be a bad experience because her fiancé is a fucking idiot. Everyone favors her because she knows how to manipulate them. I'm watching her do many of the things I did that were stupid. I really don't trust much of what she says. She really is a good liar. It's hard to tell. She has become more like my father in many ways towards me. I'm sure she's been experiencing a small fraction of the abuse I had bit she abusing and pushing limits at home with my dad. Bringing friends over to stay till morning partying etc. She thinks she owns the house and has gotten in my mom's face abt it.

I'm not trying to trash these people. I'm going to tell you more and more of what has happened to me. It's a lot. Sometimes it's easier to say that I have much more lore than ppl think. Some of it I easily mention and other bits not so easy. But I want people to know. I want people to know. I'm too old to be saved. I wish I wasn't. I wish I could start over with what I know now. I'd be more prepared. I'd change things I cannot change now.

[grace-lost-in-space]

Foster Care/Therapy Update

Today was so hard. I go to a day center now and I had a huge meltdown today. I hid under the table but I could not exactly hide because of my TPN being connected and because of my rollator. I asked for a therapist at a different office (but the same agency) and they told me I will have to make the appointment because it is at a different office. But they know I cannot speak. So how am I going to do that? I feel like they are just being difficult. It makes no sense at all. Tomorrow is my last session with Charlotte. I cannot believe I just had to type that. I cannot believe this is happening.

During my meltdown at the day center, 4 staff sat on the floor with me and I really did not like that because when I am having a meltdown I just need my own space. They were being so kind but I just needed them to get away. Then the director came over and she said “Grace, I have something for you.” It was a book. She is so nice. I really like her a lot. I stayed under the table for I think about an hour…until the foster care agency/DCFS got there.

I ended up writing out 26 questions/statements. I am so thankful for all of you who made suggestions. I wrote down all of them.

There were two people from the foster care agency, my DCFS worker, and the day center director in the meeting. It was overwhelming because the foster care agency people were patting me on the back and talking to me like they knew me and I got scared and hid behind my DCFS worker. They were really nice but it was just too much at once. I never thought I would have to say I hid behind a DCFS worker. Everyone here knows how I feel about DCFS. They have never helped me. Ever. Until now. Then my DCFS worker talked about attachment and told them it has taken her 4 months to get to “this point” with me (AKA: me telling her things, trusting her, not being scared of her, giving her hugs). And then I felt this sense of panic because the foster care workers both said “oh. Ohhh. Okay.” So who is even going to want me? What will they tell the families? I imagine it will be like one of those ads you see for a dog who desperately needs a home but they add in the description that the dog “takes a bit to warm up”. That would be me.

The foster care agency people seemed confused by my questions. Without triggering anyone on here, they were serious questions like making sure bad things will not happen at my new family but the two workers looked at me like I had 3 heads. And then my DCFS worker and the center director both explained that all of these things HAVE happened to me and then the foster care workers kept saying how awful and sad that is. I guess they did not know the extent of my trauma. Now they do.

They said they think families will “line up” to take me. Whatever. All of this is stupid. No family will want me. They said they want to bring families to the center to meet me next week. Then once I find families I might like, I will visit them at their house.

I am scared.

I am scared of so many things. Foster care. No more therapy. I will never see my mom again and if I do, the visits will be supervised.

I cannot stop crying. I feel like I am betraying my mom even though she has abused me and let me be abused for my entire life.

They asked me what kind of family I want and I showed them CB’s Christmas card. I told them about little CB (her adopted daughter). I told them my grandma’s last words were “please make sure someone takes care of grace” and my DCFS worker said “Grace, when I pray tonight, I am going to ask God to tell your grandma that you are finally getting taken care of and she can rest now” then I think that is when everyone started crying. God it was awful. It was so hard. Then the foster care worker held up CB’s Christmas card and said “you know what little CB got? That’s what you’re getting. Are you so excited?” And I just cried. My nose is raw from crying.

I cannot do this. I am going to miss Charlotte so much. I feel so sad. I feel so sad about everything. All of it.

[codename-adler]

foxes + onesies (8/9)

based off of that one post i saw and don’t remember, where people once caught Allison wandering around Fox Tower in a giraffe onesie, and i absolutely melted for her. here is the Foxes’ journey to getting a onesie each!

Aaron

TW: mentions of hospitalization and drugs, implications of abuse, mental illness and murder

Aaron tries very hard

that phrase alone could very well sum up his existence

he tries to be a good student

he tries to be a good backliner

he tries to be a good teammate

he tries to be a good person

he tries to be a go- he tries to be a brother

he tries so, so hard

but life is harder

he’d tried being a good son, and failed

his mother was dead, and died hating him

he’d tried being a good boyfriend, and failed

Katelyn was gone, and left him crying

so Aaron was trying, and now?

he was trying to find himself, to grow, to heal…

which was very, very difficult when in counselling sessions with your just-as-traumatized twin brother

they’d both worked through Andrew and Neil’s non-relationship, and through Aaron and Katelyn’s fallout

Aaron had expected it to be the other way around

turns out that while he thought Katelyn deserved better, she thought he deserved better too

she had her own demons to deal with too, in the end

and so while everyone pretty much expected Aaron’s demons to be too big for Katelyn, it was hers that had been too much for the both of them

he couldn’t reach her, couldn’t get through to her, couldn’t help her

one fateful night, she had asked him, sobbing and breathless, to make the call

the call to take her away, the call to save her from herself

the paramedics had put her on a gurney, and they had said their goodbyes

I’m sorry Aaron… I’m so sorry, I wanted to be strong for you… I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I’m so scared… It hurts so much, Aaron… I’m sorry… Please take care of yourself, baby, please… I’m sorry…

she was wheeled away, and hadn’t seen her in a year since

they corresponded, though

4 months into her admission at a private psychiatric hospital, she had sent him a handwritten letter

she had told him about her routine, her new friendships, her therapists…

she’d told him about the work she was doing on herself, about the traumas she had been too ashamed to share with him…

after the fifth or sixth letter, Aaron had started responding

he never told anyone

until this week

he’d lost count of how many letters he’d received from her, and how many he’d sent her back

but this letter…

this one was different

this one broke his heart so much, that he walked out of his dorm, the letter still clutched in one hand, grabbed Andrew on his way out of Fox Tower, and made him drive to Betsy’s office

without a single word

Betsy was surprised, to say the least, to see Aaron entering first, distress in his eyes, and Andrew following close behind, clueless

Aaron handed Betsy the letter, sat down, elbows on his knees, head in his hands, eyes closed

Bee: Correct me if I’m wrong, Aaron, but from what I understand of the situation, you would like to share this with Andrew?

Aaron: And with you. Bee.

Bee: That is very generous of you Aaron. And brave. Would you like me to read the letter out loud?

Aaron nodded, never looking up

My dear Aaron,

What I’m about to tell you in this letter is very different from our usual correspondence. You know I’ve been working on things since the beginning of my hospitalization. Big things. Ugly things. But important things. And you are not a thing, Aaron, but you are important. You were forced to play a role in the mess that was my life, but that role saved me. From myself. You made the tough call, you took it upon yourself to protect me, even if it meant putting me away and losing me. Losing us.

I’m not so good with spoken words, and I feel safe here, in this bubble we’ve created for ourselves. But I would like you to believe me when I say that the words I’m about to tell you, I would repeat them to you outloud for the rest of my life if it could make amends for what I’ve put you through. One word from you and I would come in person to tell you how much I mean them.

I am grateful for you, Aaron Minyard.

I am eternally thankful that you have crossed the path of my life. You have helped me in more ways than you know, in more ways that I could possibly imagine. It’s so important that you know that, Aaron. It’s important to me, because you deserve to know, and you deserve the recognition. Because I know you don’t think much of yourself. Because I know you think this was all your fault. Because I know you, a little bit, at least. You did the best you could with what you had, and it was enough, Aaron. You cared for me when you didn’t have to, when you couldn’t, when you were going through it yourself, and I can’t thank you enough. But I can try. So here it is: Thank you, Aaron. Thank you. For everything. You were amazing.

However, there is another thing I need to say. A harder thing. But I must take responsibility for my actions, for both my sake and yours. You need to know. You need to know.

I am sorry, Aaron. I am sorry that you had to make that call. I am sorry that you had to witness my breakdown. I am sorry that I had to leave like that. I am sorry that I broke your heart. I am sorry for all the pain and hardship I’ve put you through. I am sorry for all the times I’ve lashed out at you, when really I wanted to lash out at my life. I am sorry for all the times I hurt you, when really I wanted to hurt myself. I am sorry that you had to watch me fall like that. I am sorry that you had to pick up the pieces alone, that you had to get back up alone. I am sorry for all the times I’ve said cruel things just to be mean and to hurt you, for all the grief I’ve caused you, all of it. This is my official, explicit, conscious and honest apology to you. I’m apologizing for all the wrongs I’ve done you, because it was my fault and you didn’t deserve any of it. I take full responsibility. And I am not expecting forgiveness in return. This is a no-strings-attached apology. I could apologize to you forever and still not be worthy of your forgiveness. So I won’t be waiting for it. I won’t be begging for it. This is all yours. I’m sorry, Aaron. I need you to know that. Because I know you think you deserve what happened, because I know you think it was all your fault. It wasn’t. It was mine. It is still mine. And know that I am not only apologizing in words. I will try everything in my power to make it up to you. Whatever it takes. I promise you that, Aaron.

Love,

Katelyn

as Betsy folded the letter, Aaron’s tears dripped down on the office carpet

Andrew was silent, eyes fixed on the piece of paper

Betsy waited a few minutes to let everyone soak in the moment

Bee: This is a very beautiful and heartfelt letter, Aaron. From what I understand, you and Katelyn have been writing letters since she “moved”?

Aaron nodded, still silently crying in his hands

Bee: Are your exchanges always like this?

Aaron shook his head

Bee: Okay, I see. Is this the first time a letter from her has made you cry?

another nod from Aaron

Bee: And why do you think that is?

Aaron: I don’t know…

his voice was rough from crying

Bee: Well, I think I might have an inkling, you tell me if it resonates with you. I believe, Aaron, that this is the first time someone has ever formally apologized to you, yeah? You are not someone that has grown up with that kind of care, that kind of responsibility. That kind of praise. I think you know that this is some kind of opportunity for closure, of course, but it goes deeper than that, doesn’t it? Someone cares for the wrongs they’ve done, for the hurt they’ve caused you. And you are not used to that. You are not used to being apologized to. You are not used to this type of kindness. Katelyn did not have to apologize and express her gratefulness. You didn’t expect her to. But she did. That means something to you, yeah?

Aaron’s heart broke a little more at that, before mending a little, too

he cried harder

and Andrew was watching all of this from his seat, seemingly unconcerned

he knew this wasn’t necessarily about him, that this was about Katelyn, and Aaron, and about showing Andrew that she didn’t deserve his hatred and his knives

but he did care

after he drove Aaron back to the dorms and told Kevin to watch his brother, he went for a drive

to think

he only came back once he had thought of something to do with Aaron

damn Josten for softening him

he threw Neil and Nicky out of their dorm, and went to retrieve the Stitch onesie from the back of his closet

he looked for the brand tag, looked it up online and made his purchase

he even paid for accelerated shipping

the day his order arrived, he went to the same convenience store where he’d found his precious DVD, and bought a stupid ugly postcard with a lighthouse on it

in a very neat handwriting, Andrew wrote what he had to say

he then went looking for his brother, but he didn’t have to look far

since that session with Bee, where Kevin was, Aaron usually was too

and Kevin was always at the court

but Andrew found them both sitting on the court’s floor, all geared up, yet watching something non Exy-related on Kevin’s phone

weird

that didn’t stop Andrew

he went back to the locker room, refusing to disturb the weird little thing that was going on there

he left the package and the postcard in Aaron’s locker, and left

a few hours later, as Kevin went to shower and Aaron opened his locker, Andrew’s gift was found

the postcard had slipped to the back of the locker, so Aaron retrieved the plastic bag and opened it first

he didn’t understand

it was a big, fluffy thing, bright yellow

what the fuck

it’s Pikachu

it’s a Pikachu onesie

it’s a fucking Pikachu onesie

what the fuck

he hadn’t thought about Pokemons since… well, since Tilda died

he had collected them, the cards, and the figurines

but he’d sold the toys for drug money

and he’d lost all his cards in the… accident

he’d left his three hundred-something card collection in the car, for some reason he couldn’t remember

but the crash had burnt and bloodied them all

when Nicky had adopted the twins, he had bought Aaron some new ones, but it didn’t compare… it couldn’t replace what he had lost

and now he was holding an adult-sized Pikachu one-piece pajama

he still couldn’t wrap his head around it when he found the postcard peeking from the back of his locker

he took it, his hand trembling terribly

he read the back

later, Kevin found Aaron sitting on the bench, still in his Exy uniform, smiling but crying

He’s so fucking stupid, Kevin, look at this shit

Kevin looked, indeed, at this shit

Kevin didn’t understand what he was looking at, but then Aaron handed him the postcard

Aaaron hadn’t told this story to anyone but Kevin, so he understood immediately what it said, and who wrote it

Kevin placed his big hand on the back of Aaron’s neck and squeezed a bit, an offer of comfort

he still didn’t understand what the yellow monstrosity was supposed to be, but he understood what it all meant

Aaron held the card closer to his heart than the onesie

everytime things became hard with Andrew, he wore Pikachu and he looked at the postcard

he focused on the little lighthouse, on the small, precise letters, on the ink of the pen

he focused on the words

Sorry I trashed your Pokemon cards

[isdisorigionalenoughforyou]

Super sexy aa7 ideas that will never happen

*puts on my clown shoes

Themes: “the worst times are when lawyers have to smile their brightest, but you can’t be a lawyer 24/7” “sometimes (esp now) the system is WRONG”

CASE 1

Klavier Gavin prosecutes, because society has progressed beyond needing Paynes

And if the widespread complaint is that he’s too nice, this position is perfect

Make a witty remark abt feeling demoted >:(

Athena and Trucy dream team girls

Murder took place at a theater/has something to do with acoustics, to ~fit the characters~

Maybe Lamiroir was there 👀

Phoenix is once again a witness, but hes less infuriating. But still fucking funny infuriating

He mentions his college degree, vaguely. Pressing him reveals nothing.

Also address that TRUCY AND KLAVIER PROBABLY HAVE SOME TRAUMA FROM MURDERS AT THEIR PERFORMANCES

Defend a rando

The twist: the murder only could’ve been committed by someone with superhuman hearing, so Athena’s senses are vital here!!

End: the culprit tries to psychologically fuck with everyone, but Athena stays strong, maybe uses some noise cancelling headphones, and corners the SHIT out of them

Also, there’s a new judge. A higher judge than your normal judge, who is a boomer. BOOMER JUDGE

Post-trial: a comment about all them missing Apollo…

CASE 2

Athena vs Franziska von Karma

Athena calls her out on the whipping if that’s still a thing

[Maybe Trucy is there again for extra spice,,,] but Solo Thena would be EPIC

NEW FRANZISKA DESIGN

Maybe we can bring Maya back here, but NOT ACCUSE HER FOR MURDER

Or accuse her at the scene but quickly disprove it

Idk also address her trauma

Wow this is turning into ATHENA CYKES- ACE THERAPIST

Put Simon there too because he’s hilarious

Maybe him and Maya are casually attending Comic-Con for the Steel Samurai panel

Defendant: some toxic celebrity with DRAMA

the twist: the murderer was targeting several high-profile ppl, but only killed like. A janitor instead. They aren’t found OR arrested, but you get a not guilty by… indicting their accomplice. And it HURTS but you have to or its your not-guilty kinda-a-dick client that gets guilty

New judge plays by the written rules, so u can’t ague ur case

Franziska is skeptical of the Accomplice’s guilt, but she lets the verdict go because your client is innocent.

Athena cries to Phoenix about how she feels like she fricked up b/c she empathizes with the accomplice but also everyone, Phoenix does his best dad comfort—this is the truth that’s allowed in the confines of their court system.

CASE 3

NARUMITSU DATE

Open with a call from Maya. She loudly thanks the god/the holy mother for this

MURDER!!! AT THE VENUE  

Kay and Sebastian are there

GUMSHOEEEEE (OLDER SPRITE??? Higher salary?? Maggey too?)

Classic Wright vs Edgeworth

All the options are flirty

Everything is an innuendo

Trucy co-council is embarrassed by ur Old Man Flirting (NEW SPRITES)

Lampshade conflict of interest what with dating opposing council. Gloss over it completely

Phoenix’s college degree is vaguely mentioned to be helping him. This is Not elaborated on

The murder is some crazy shit that basically parodies the whole series

TWO SETS OF EVIL TWINS

3 cross poisonings and with INTERESTING results of chemicals mixing (Ema: 👀)

All the dying messages were faked

Handedness contradiction.

Some gross old guy appears, but you can punch him

The murder weapon goes from bloody knife with defendants fingerprints on it to glass shards of a broken bottle to an icicle to an overly spikey piece of hair

EXTRATERRITORIAL RIGHTS

For extra funnies: BOOMER JUDGE IS NOT USED TO THIS. They are the straight person of this comedy clown case.

For extra feels (the twist): Phoenix actually has an emotional breakdown on one of the investigation days. Maybe Trucy gets put at risk again, or something with poisoning, or even something with Kay or Seb (to show how much Phoenix cares, in general) and we address all the shit that he’s gone thru

Awkward comforting by miles

HUG SPRITE/ART

CASE 4

(shoves Klavier into Khura’in) GO FAKEGERMANBOY GO

Play as Apollo (khura’inese clothes sprites)

KLAVIER CO-COUNCIL (CASUAL SPRITES?? Put his hair up in a bun capcom im begging)

ADRESS AA4

Maybe at the end of one investigation, theres just. A heartfelt talk.

Ok ill make it heavy (b/c if its lighthearted these fuckos will never talk about their feelings)

LAMIROIR IS HERE TOO??

TRUCY ALSO- im sorry truce im shoving you everywhere because I want you to develop

maybe she and Klavier are like, performer bros

Apollo is happy that Trucy is but also feels alienated, like AA6 totally pulled him from his AA4 roots [COUGH]

CASUAL TRUCY SPRITE??? I would cry capcom

Nahyuta, Rayfa, and Apollo being awkward but trying (and mostly succeeding) siblings, Amara being a scary but p good queen momther

FRANZISKA INTERNATIONAL PROSECUTING??? Idk it’d be epic tho

She roasts Klavier so bad

Though he is very smart so she just roasts his terrible German

Resolve the Gramarye siblings here?

Include something with gender dysphoria to contrast how they butchered Robin Newman???

This is huge headcanon territory here tho

The Twist: realizing that this case cannot POSSIBLY be resolved in 3 fucking days. Also that Apollo is so backlogged that hes stressed and he probably needs help

Also someone tries to frame Klavier with his Gavinners-brand shoeprints

End: answer yes/no to Klavier working at Justice Law Offices. The choice affects his dialogue with Apollo in 7-5

CASE 5

Some fuckin. International level scandal

Elaborate on whatever the fuck “the phantom” was spying for? btw is the same that the culprits froms 7-2 and 7-4. maaybe 7-1?

And it involves MORE AUDITORIUMS

Open w/ calling Trucy, whos in the states. She mentions that Klavier casually got a Japanifornian defense attorney badge. Cue exasperation/fondness/incredulity (I promise this is relevant)

In Khura’in

Starts small- like a robbery, which leads to an attempt on Thalassa’s life. Again

Athena gets to therapy her

Then someone high-profile actually fucking dies

Athena (co-council Apollo) vs FINAL BOSS FRANZISKA

Lots of investigating with them

Talk about space center and grief

The twist: a person with low emotional output is framed, but they are innocent because LOWER EMOTIONAL REACTIONS DOESN’T MAKE YOU FUCKING EVIL

The other twist: Bring in 7-2 framed person for a character witness, show that they’re innocent. Athena is panicking because of Fear(?) so Apollo is determined to Do Something, and points out how this only happened because the system is Stupid and calls Klavier and Trucy

BECAUSE:

At the same time, there’s a stateside investigation. some botched, continued interreference at the Space Station

Klavier can pull an Edgeworth and investigate with Trucy

With parently narumitsu

Klavier talks about Apollo a lot, Trucy calls him out on it

Nahyuta is prosecuting this case

Depending on the relations between Klavier and Nahyuta established in 7-4, this will be hilarious or disastrous

Protective Yuty route: makes scathing comments about petty parts of Klavier- a petty-off

Teasing Yuty route: brings it up whenever Klavier talks about Apollo. Rlly funny banter. Klavier showing more human emotions sprites!!

Revisit the Space Center and get emo. Simon is here, arguing with Nahyuta

Because the cases go to trial simultaneously, the comment about the wrong conviction in 7-2 can be brought to the Japanifornian courts by Klavier and Trucy

They argue that Athena was forced to do that to spare an innocent and press HARD for legal reform

They call in Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth for reforms??

They also start a twitter war (that can be investigation minigame) and get public opinion up abt it

Yuty vouches for change, w/ khura’in as evidence

SO AA4 CAN GET KINDA RESOLVED!!

DUNK ON BOOMER JUDGE

BONUS: CASE 6: TURNABOUT CHILLOUT

Phoenix vs Franziska

Larry time

Scruffy time

Idk man. No more international stuff, just good old fashioned cleaning up ur shitty dad’s messes amiright

Resolve things with the Shelly card?

oldbag cameo but you file a restraining order

help trucy and pearls with college

TLDR: Athena actually tracks an international conspiracy that has weight, the AJ gang once again changes the system, Phoenix gets emotional resolution, Franziska helps international stuff AND gets emotional resolution, and i finally stop trying to throw hands with capcom. 

[tinyboxxtink]

"Clueless" *Part 3*

Okay so my dog ended up being totally fine, and luckily I had most of this written beforehand. <3

PS- REALLY shouldn't have watched the actual movie while writing this...lulz. Count how many actual lines from the movie you catch.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 4

Tag List:

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@wanniiieeee

@milkshqke

@gibbs274

@aprildecker-blog

@objection-argumentative

@word-scribbless

@stars-in-the-skies-world

-----

He drove back up the Beach House, but you and Ariel had abandoned it for a loft in the city, no forwarding address. He asked himself why he was putting so much effort just to get back in contact with you. He couldn’t explain it, it was like something against logic.

He dialed Ariel’s number.

IGNORE.

Redial.

IGNORE.

Text: “Answer your phone!!!”

Redial.

“What do you want?”

“I want to talk to Y/N,”

“Well she doesn't want to talk to you,”

“What did you tell her, Ariel?”

“The truth,”

“I don’t...I can’t even begin to imagine what that means in your language,”

“Oh whatever Raf, what does it matter what I told her? She’s MY friend, not yours!”

“You don’t OWN her Ariel,”

“Don’t I?” She smirked. “I feed her, I clothe her, I give her a roof to sleep under. I even gave her a cute necklace with her name on it, like a collar,” she smirked.

"You're evil," he sneered.

“I’m a saint,” She scoffed. “Do you know where that girl would be without me? Do you know the years it would take in a therapist's office to heal the emotional trauma I so selflessly saved her from? Her life will be enriched and better because of me, how many girls can say that about you?"

“Oh right, like helping her hasn’t served you any purpose?”

“What purpose could it possibly have?”

“Please, if I ever saw you do anything less than 90% selfish I’d die of shock,”

“Oh that would be reason enough for me,”

“Look, I get it. You've never had a mother so you're treating her like your personal Barbie doll,"

“And what, you wanna be her Prince Ken? Or, lawyer Ken,”

“She’s NOT a Barbie doll!”

“You’re right, she’s not. So I’m not going to let you play with her emotions,”

“What does that even mean? For fuck’s sake Ariel, I just want to be her mentor,”

“Really?” Rafael could hear her rolling her eyes through the phone. “You’re trying THIS hard to mentor some girl you met less than 24 hours ago? REALLY,” She chuckled.

“I may not be ‘Harvard’ smart BRO, but I’m not stupid. I know when a guy has let’s say, less than moral intentions with a girl,”

“It’s not like that,” He growled. “She’s a sweet girl, Ariel. And I’m not going to let you try and change her into your clone,”

“Wha--my clone? Please, Raf she could NEVER reach my level. Believe me, I’ve tried for four years. She’s a good sidekick,”

“This isn’t over,”

“Isn’t it? You have ZERO idea where we are,”

“Please, there’s maybe 5 places in Manhattan you’ll go, and they’re all on the Upper East Side. It’s not hard,”

“Well then, I guess we’ll see who’s better at hide and seek!”

CLICK.

------

Ariel rolled her eyes with a smile just as you walked in the living room.

“Who was that?” You asked, toweling your hair from the shower you had just exited.

“Mom,” She rolled her eyes. “She wanted to make sure we weren’t tearing this place up,”

“Oh?” You asked, suddenly hopeful. “Was she going to ask Rafael to check?”

“What? NO,” Ariel shut down that thought quickly. “I assured her she didn’t need to send that dog over here to sniff around you anymore,”

“Ariel,” You rolled your eyes with a sigh. “I’m a big girl,”

“I know sweetie,” She walked over and scrunched your face. “Such a big girl,”

“Whatever,” You rolled your eyes again walking back to the bedroom.

“Hey…” Ariel grabbed the TV remote. “Do you wanna watch Clueless?”

“What? ….Why?”

“I don’t know, you mentioned it yesterday and now I can’t stop thinking about a young Paul Rudd,”

“....Who looks exactly like present Paul Rudd,” You laughed.

“I know right? I want the magic face cream he must use,” She giggled as you both sat down on the couch to watch the movie.

----

“See, Cher isn’t a bad person, right? She saved Tai,” Ariel gestured to the TV.

“Am I Tai in this situation?” You eyed her.

“Well, yeah,” She shrugged. “Duh,”

“I’ll take it, I love Brittany Murphy,” You shrugged.

“RIP,” Ariel made a sign of the cross with a kiss looking up to heaven. “We should pour one out for her,”

“On your mom’s thousand dollar rug?”

“Okay, so maybe just pour one for us,”

Her phone vibrated wildly; it vibrated so hard it fell off the coffee table onto the floor. You picked it up to put it back, but you happened to glance at the screen.

BHOLE BARBA: You can’t keep her from me forever, Ariel

Wha….keep who from him? You? Did...was he...did Ariel….?

“Alright, who’s ready for mimosas?!” Ariel said in a singsongy voice as she returned with two flutes of champagne.

“What is this?” You held the phone up to her. She read it, her eyes grew wide.

“I...He’s talking about the Adele CD I borrowed from him forever ago, he’s weirdly possessive about ‘her’,”

“Ariel,” You interrupted her with a stern face.

“What?” She played dumb.

“...How could you do this to me?” You asked with a hurt expression.

“Do what?” She rolled her eyes with a laugh. “Protect you from my loser ex brother?”

“You--! Oh my god,” You couldn’t believe it. Your own best friend was trying to mess with your happiness?

“Oh come on Y/N, it’s not that big of a--” She rolled her eyes with a laugh, pissing you off even more.

“It IS a big deal!” Tears stung your eyes, you hated that you started crying when you got angry. How pathetic was that?

“Why? You can’t possibly be in love with him or something,” She scoffed.

“NO! Of course not,” You crossed your arms. “But he could help me with school, with my career! Don’t you want me to get a good job, eventually move out of here?”

“Maybe I don’t!” She yelled suddenly.

“...What?” You asked in disbelief.

“Look, Y/N,” She sighed. “I...you...we both know under normal circumstances, we would never be friends,”

“...I mean, I guess…” You shrugged.

“Oh come on,” She gave you a look. “You’d have to explain every sentence you spoke to me,” She had crocodile tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Oh come on Ariel,” You sighed and sat next to her. “You’re NOT stupid,”

“I’m stupider than you!” She cried.

“...More stupid,” You corrected her.

“See?” She sniffled.

“Okay, but-- still,” You took her hand. "You're my best friend. Do you think that if I don't have to live with you anymore, I won't be your friend?"

"Maybe…" She looked at the floor.

"Ariel!" You cried. "Really? Come on,"

"You come on!" She was actually getting upset now. "Look, Y/N. I don't have...friends,"

"What?" You snorted. "You have the biggest social circle I know!"

"Yeah but--" she tried to find the right words. "They're not like….friends, friends ya know? They're more like…. followers, or leeches, of--"

"Sycophants," you chuckled. She did surround herself with as many people who would tell her she was amazing as possible.

"I don't know what that means but probably, yes," She nodded. “You’re the only one who I can actually talk to, you’re like my little sister,”

“....Right, so…? You think I’ll just give all that up if I move out? If I don’t need you financially anymore?”

“Maybe…” She mumbled. “But ALSO, if that stupid asshole gets into your head about me!”

“Oh God…” You put a hand over your head. “Ariel,” You took both of her hands and looked at her very seriously.

“You are my absolute best friend in this entire world, no…’boy’ could change that! I’ve known you so long, I know you completely. Nothing he could tell me would make me turn on you, I swear it,”

“Really?” She raised an eyebrow at you.

“Really! You held a hand up like an oath. “AND, even if-- WHEN, I get financially stable and can live on my own two feet, I will ALWAYS be your friend,” You used the oath hand and placed it in hers again. “I swear it,”

“....Okay, but absolutely ZERO sleepovers here,”

“Oh, my god, ARIEL,” You gasped. “I JUST want to talk to him about law stuff!”

“Yeah, that’s what he said too,” She rolled her eyes, not believing either of you.

“He did?” You felt your face fall.

“Ah HA! See? Disappointment!”

“Shut up,” You hit her. “I don’t care, we should just be professional anyway,”

“Uh huh,” She nodded sarcastically.

“Are you going to give me his number or not?” You gave her a look.

“No,”

“ARIEL,” You crossed your arms.

“No, then you’re going to immediately call him and give him ALL the power,” She wagged a finger at you. “I’m going to give him YOUR number, and if he calls you, he calls you,”

“Ariel…” You gave her another look.

“What? You don’t believe me?” She feigned offense.

“I really don’t,” You shook your head.

“Alright FINE,” She pulled out her phone and opened her texts with Rafael, typed in your number and hit SEND.

“Happy?” She showed you her phone.

“....Maybe,” You hid the giddiness that was building in your stomach.

Almost IMMEDIATELY after sending the text, your phone lit up wildly.

“Good god I’m gonna get out of here before the nerdy phone sex starts,” She ran out of the room with her mimosa in tow.

“Shut up!” You hissed, mentally preparing yourself for this phone call. The phone call you’d been waiting for for days, even when you thought he was a “player”. You took a deep breath and hit ANSWER:

“Hello?”

“Y/N?”

“Yeah who’s this?” You asked coyly.

“It’s...Rafael, Barba…”

“I’m sorry, who?” You teased.

“Ariel’s….brother?” He skipped the asterisk that went along with “Brother”.

“Ohhhh right right right,” You nodded, keeping him nervous. “Yeah, Ariel told me all about you,”

“I knew it,” He growled thinking about Ariel and her lies. “Whatever she said, she’s lying,”

“Oh so you don’t want to be my mentor?”

“Wha--?” He was shocked. Did Ariel actually change her mind? Or dare he think...a change of heart?

“Yes! I mean, I do! I absolutely do!” He may have said that a little too overzealous, so he dialed it back. “I mean, if I have some time I’d be up for it, if that’s okay with you,”

“I might, maybe…” You were twirling your hair in your fingers. “When do you think you might have time?”

“Well you know I was thinking--” He started, but there was a knock at the door.

“Oh sorry, one second,” You got up and walked over to the door and swung it open to reveal Rafael standing there, right in front of you. He was dressed in a black suit with a pink tie. As amazing as he looked in street clothes, you thought you might mount him right there in that suit.

“I have some time right now,” He smiled, acting as if he was still on the phone. You couldn’t help yourself, you leapt into his arms and kissed him, HARD.

-------

“Hello? Y/N?”

You snapped back to reality, Rafael was talking to you on the phone.

“Oh! Um, Yeah, sorry what?”

“I said I have some time right now, if you wanna meet for coffee or something,” He half laughed, still enchanted by your awkwardness.

“Yes! Sure! I...let me just get dressed, just text me the address, I’ll meet you in a few,” You were so glad he couldn’t see how beet red you were from that little fantasy you had just been in.

“Sounds good,” You could hear him smile; even through the phone it made you weak in the knees.

You hung up and ran to Ariel’s room, hoping she’d help you get dressed.

What could you wear to impress him?

[gaemkyuu]

The Recovery

Warnings: Recovery from a traumatic event, mood swings, vomiting A/N: Writing this part was therapeutic for me. In a way, this piece describes moments of what my life looked like for two years after an extremely traumatic event. I felt that maybe sharing my story this way, it could provide comfort to those who have been there or who are still there. It might even provide perspective to someone who knows a friend or family member going through something similar. Disclaimer: This is a FICITONAL writing piece on Charlie Gillespie. In no way do I claim or declare that Charlie’s portrayal is accurate to real life. I do however, own Teagan Valencia :)

Masterlist *now taking requests ;)

The Teagan Valencia Series: The Meeting  / The Fight / The Proposal / The Present / The Recovery / The Future

*The song used in this piece was ‘Porcelain’ by Marianas Trench

The Recovery

Charlie was suddenly awakened by a sudden movement from the bed. Rolling over, he noticed the fading warmth, the sudden brightness of the ensuite light and the sounds of vomiting. He abruptly rose from the bed, threw on a hoodie and dashed over to help the poor girl emptying the contents of her stomach into the porcelain bowl. Charlie held her hair back and soothed her back, patting it at times, as she continued to vomit. As soon as she stopped and sat back slightly on her knees, Charlie put the lid down and flushed, opening the water bottle the girl had grabbed on her dash to the toilet.

“Same dream?” she nodded, rinsing her mouth with the water and spitting it back into the toilet. He glanced at the clock that sat above their bedroom window. 2am. Even though it was dark outside, the Vancouver city line still looked so beautiful.

You thought by now You'd have it figured out

She dry heaved and Charlie instinctively pulled her hair back again. When nothing came out, he flushed the toilet again and rubbed her back. Charlie noticed that the tears in her eyes were no longer due to the vomiting, but rather the girl was starting to cry. He sat against the open door and pulled her into his lap, as she curled into a ball.

You can't erase the way it pulls When seasons change

It had been three months since the incident.  Three months of on-and-off personal leave. Three months of meetings with lawyers and court appearances. Three months of trauma therapy. Three months of being afraid to be alone. Three months of feeling insecure about herself. Three months of waking up from a dream that reminded her of the events that day.

“I’m right here. No one is going to hurt you” Charlie kissed her head softly and held onto her tightly, his own tears threatening to spill. He couldn’t bear to see you like this. It didn’t matter how many therapy sessions he accompanied her to, or how many times they’ve talked about what they could do to help her heal. Seeing her like this broke his heart.

He held her until her cries softened and eventually stopped. Escorting her to the bed, he tucked her in tightly, snuggling up to her. He kissed her forehead, examining her tired face. 

“I’m sorry for waking you up, Char” she whispered, inching closer to him. She hid her face in the crook of his neck and took a deep-breath. Charlie smiled softly to himself, pulling her close, knowing that she was practicing a strategy she had learned from therapy.

It hurts sometimes To find where you begin

“Teags, there is nothing to be sorry for” he kissed the top of her head, wrapping his arms around her and rubbing her back. Her 5”1 frame fit his 5”8 perfectly like two puzzle pieces. The two lay there in silence for a moment or two, but Charlie knew he had to “address the situation” like they learned at her therapy sessions. “This is all a part of the recovery process Teags. Although it sucks, you can’t be mad at the way your body and mind are responding to the trauma”

“Thanks for the reminder Dr. Cheung” He grimaced at her sarcasm and cynicism. 

But you are perfect porcelain

He pulled away from her to look at her eye to eye. Charlie thought that even when she was like this she was still the most amazing and beautiful woman he had ever met. She avoided eye contact, fiddling with the blanket. He kissed her nose, offering her a gentle smile. “Do you want to start or do you want me to start?” 

She sighed heavily, but Charlie could feel that she was slightly annoyed with his persistence. It didn’t help that she moved to lie on her back to face away from him. She knew that Charlie was not going to let them sleep until they had this conversation, even though she knew she probably wouldn’t even go back to sleep. “Char, you have to get up early... Can’t this wait until the morning?”

“Okay, I will start” Charlie could feel her roll her eyes, but he persisted. “This is the third time this week that you’ve woken up due to a bad dream. After every dream, you’ve avoided talking about anything, insisting that we go back to sleep, even though you lay here pretending to sleep. I feel like there is a lot on your mind that you are harbouring. If you don’t find an outlet, it won’t help you heal.” She knew he was only trying to help, but she couldn’t help but feel angry with his attempts to help her...

Or was it that she was angry with herself?

The slow and simple melody Of tears you cannot keep from me It's alright if you don't know what you need

“Why are we still talking about this Charlie?!” it came out harsher than she intended to, a complete mood swing from her previous calm demeanour.

She felt Charlie flinch at her outburst.  She wiped away the hot tears leaving her eyes. She immediately regretted her actions.  She lost control.

Teagan hated that she was crying again. She felt like a stupid child who couldn’t control their emotions and simply move on. She knew that Charlie wasn’t the source of her anger and she knew that he didn’t deserve to be lashed at. Annoyed with herself, she sat up against their headboard and scratched her head furiously. Teagan angrily wiped her tears away, knowing what she wanted to say but not knowing how to say it. “Can’t we just drop it? I’m fine, everything’s fine!”

Charlie sighed deeply. He knew that Teagan didn’t mean to take out her emotions on him, but this hadn’t been the first time. Sometimes it made Charlie angry or upset, but he always brought himself back to the point that she didn’t mean it. What could Charlie expect of her? What happened to her would’ve messed anyone up! Heck, the therapy sessions weren’t only for Teagan... Her therapist would check up on him and give him the space to talk about how Teagan had been around him when they weren’t in the office. Sitting up to sit beside her, he wrapped an arm around her lower back and leaned his head on her shoulder. Something he always did when he needed comfort from her.

I'm right here when You need someone to see It's not speak or forever hold your peace

No words were exchanged for a while. Charlie’s head rested on her shoulder and she eventually rested her head on his, silent tears falling from her eyes, wetting his hair. He held her hand with his free one and rubbed soft circles on the back of her palm. ‘Sometimes you just have to wait until the other person is ready to talk’ these familiar words from Dr. Cheung rang through his mind as they sat there in the darkness, Charlie waiting for Teagan to start talking. 

Teagan was always the strong type. She believed that everyone deserves a chance and that the world wasn’t as crappy as people thought it was. Charlie fell in love with her optimism and excitement for life. Teagan was the type of girl who hated hiking, but she would do it so she could see the beautiful view from the top of the mountain. She always believed in trying everything before deciding how she felt about it and Charlie loved this about her. Her compassion and empathy for others was uncommon, and everyone would always describe her this way. Every night before bed, Teagan would journal about what she did great that day, what she wanted to improve tomorrow and how she planned to do that. Charlie admired how intentional she was about each day and how committed she was to making the world a better place.

Her determination and conviction was so intense that Teagan was very hard on herself. It also didn’t help that her parents weren’t always the most optimistic. Charlie was sure they didn’t mean to hurt their daughter with their words, but he couldn’t help but notice how her excitement was sometimes snuffed by a comment her parents made. She would always tell him that they just thought differently and that one day they would understand, but he knew that it did bother her. He suspected that her determination was fueled by this upbringing, always being held to a higher standard because she was the oldest. 

After being with her for three years, he knew that she didn’t always ask for help. He knew that she never wanted to bother anyone or admit to herself that she couldn’t do it alone. In their relationship, she had begun to start opening up more and reaching out to others for support, but after the incident, that changed. At first, Teagan was her usual self, just jumpy, but soon started to close off to others, returning to old habits. She went back to the mentality that whatever it was, if she just focused hard on it and worked hard at it, she could achieve it... But this time was different...

Teagan was focusing hard and working hard on healing, but she didn’t feel like it was working.

It's alright to take time And find where you've been

“Why am I not getting better Char?” the question came out in the quietest whisper. Charlie bit his tongue, knowing that if he stayed quiet a little longer, she would continue talking. “I’m doing everything that Dr. Cheung is saying. I’m doing everything that those self-help books and podcasts are saying. I’m doing everything that I can, but no matter what I do, it won’t go away” as she said this her voice rose but fell to a quiet whimper. “I’m trying so hard to get better but it doesn’t feel like anything is working!” Teagan felt herself tearing up again, but quickly blinked them away. 

“Why are you rushing the process of healing?” Charlie’s question was simple but it made Teagan face some harsh truths that she wasn’t wanting to face. Teagan approached her trauma as if it were any other goal she had set for herself. Identify the goal and work to complete the goal. Charlie’s question was making her face the fact that this whole ordeal was out of her control and that it was going to take time. It also made her face the truth as to why she was trying to be systematic about the goal.

Charlie had been there every step of the way. She knew that he begged Kenny to work his filming schedule around her therapy sessions. She saw the way he yawned in the mornings after she had a rough night. There was only so much that movie magic could cover up and she felt guilty that her trauma was affecting him. He never had a single complaint and never got mad at her or took his frustrations out on her. The instagram comments didn’t help either as the fans noticed the weariness showing on Charlie’s normally bright face. She felt guilty for being a burden on him and she was desperately trying to get better so she wouldn’t be one.

“Because I don’t want you to leave me.”

You are perfect porcelain

Charlie snapped his head in her direction and in the moonlight, she could see his eyes wide as saucers. His mouth slightly agape and pure shock encompassed his body. He sat there in disbelief but quickly came to the realization as to what had been heavily weighing on Teagan’s chest.

“Do you feel guilty?” She bowed her head, more tears falling, but she shyly nodded her head. Charlie clicked his tongue in disappointment, not at Teagan but himself, for not realizing sooner what she had been struggling with. He moved to straddle her on his knees, his legs on either side of hers, and held her face in his hands, his own face inches away from hers. “Teagan Jillian Valencia. I will never leave you, do you understand me? I am doing this because I love you. I don’t care what I have to do but I will do whatever I can to support you.”

He kissed her forehead, nose and lips, searching her eyes for some sort of acknowledgement. He saw her hurt and her guilt for the first time, and knew that she didn’t quite believe what he was telling her. “Teags, I. Love. You. I would give up my entire career to move to the mountains and live the rest of my days there with you and our future kids. This? All of this? As much as I hate that this whole thing has been destroying you, if I had to do it again I would. Call me a simp, but I will do anything for you. Je t’aime Teagan. Il n’y a personne dans le monde pour moi, excepté you.”

When your heart releases You won't fall to pieces You'll let those old diseases lie And your breath comes crashing in

Teagan smiled for the first time that night at Charlie’s ‘simp’ comment, but she saw the sincerity in his eyes. It was the same look he held when they first met, when they fought and when he asked her to marry him. Charlie spoke through his eyes and all Teagan could see was love. 

“Tu comprends? Je ne te laisserai jamais. Ever” Teagan nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him tightly. He naturally reciprocated the hug and held her tightly, even when her grip loosened. He held both sides of her face and gave her the most passionate kiss he could muster, to which Teagan reciprocated. “I promise” he kissed her ring finger and engagement ring. 

With everything going on, they couldn’t even discuss wedding plans. They were both so focused on moving past this hurdle, but Teagan realized that instead of trying to move past it, she just had to face it bit by bit, little by little. She had to admit to herself that no matter how much she wished the whole thing away, she couldn’t. She had to accept that it happened and that she can’t simply work on it like a regular goal. It was something that was going to be a part of her, where one day she would find peace and strength from it.

“Now, why don’t we cuddle and try to fall asleep?” she smiled sheepishly at him and nodded, “there’s the smile I love so much.” The both of them settled back into their bed, but this time Teagan rested her head on Charlie’s chest as he massaged her scalp, lulling her to sleep. Charlie could see that Teagan was slightly resisting the sleep befalling her, so he moved to gently massage the spot in between her eyebrows. It was an odd place to massage, but Teagan’s dad once shared that when she was little and had nightmares, this action would calm her down and put her back to bed. It worked without fail and Charlie kissed her head before settling himself into the pillow. Maybe tomorrow he would ask Savannah to come over with wedding catalogues and help Teagan start thinking about the wedding. As his tired eyes closed, he found comfort in knowing that tonight was a big step. Teagan opened up for the first time in a long time and he hoped that this was not a one time thing, but a beginning.

Like perfect porcelain

[blorbo-from-your-nightmares]

The Office

You have come to find out very quickly over the past few days that most people are incredibly dismissive of problems they cannot themselves see. You understand the struggles of those who battle with issues involving their mental health. You have tried talking with friends and family about your recent dreams - the waking terrors that are driving you to distraction - but you receive not the slightest ounce of sympathy from any of them. If anything, you are almost met with contempt as some accuse you of being over dramatic or just seeking attention.

When you tell coworkers about the shadow, and the power it seems to hold over your subconscious world, the fear and the powerlessness that is makes you feel, you are met with raised eyebrows, laughter, or blatant dismissal. They tell you not to watch so many horror movies, or they say to start working out to help clear your head. Your eccentric aunt even recommended that you see a psychic to help you read your dreams because she believe it *HAS* to be something to do with another stress or trauma in your life that you are trying to hide from. No one believes you, and even less seem to care about the constant distress you seem to be in.

How long, you wonder, before people start blatantly treating you like an inconvenience? Why do they treat you so different because you aren’t okay; when you are not as they have come to expect you to be?

You have instead gotten in contact with a hypno-therapist. You have always been skeptical of such things. Therapy alone is something you never thought you would take part in, let alone something considered so niche. But if anyone was going to be able to get into your mind and find out what the problem is, it would be one of them. You scoured around online finding one that seemed legitimate. a Dr. Andrew Michaels, PHD in psychology from Princeton, over 20 years of experience in his field, and dozens of glowing reviews. He seems to be the real deal, or at least his past patients seem to believe that he is.

You arrive for your appointment a couple of minutes early. The office building is actually a converted Victorian style home. the outside is painted a vibrant plum color that contrasts well with the black tiles on the roof. The main hall as you entire has been turned into a waiting room and the actual office is upstairs. The dark wood of the house should normally make it seem very dingey, but they have ensured that there is plenty of natural and artificial light, and they use bright and pastel colors for many of their decorations to make the space more inviting to patients. You appreciate the effort, as it feels far less sterile than you expected without feeling unprofessional.

The receptionist checks you in and you take a seat on one of the arm chairs they have provided. You wait for about 15 minutes before you are told to ascend the staircase. The wood is slightly creaky as you make your way towards the office and you can tell that the lacquer on the railing is very old. Once at the top, you pass by a young woman who looks as though she has been crying, but she has a smile on her face. Whatever happened during their session must have been very cathartic for her. As you enter you are greeted by a tall gentleman in his mid to late 50s. His hair and beard are trimmed short and styled, and they have a salt and pepper coloration to them. Dr. Michaels introduces himself and asks you to take a seat.

You take off your jacket and set it down on a nearby side table. He speaks very softly, and there is a warmth about him. He does very well with putting his patients at ease. He tells you about the procedure of hypnotherapy and ensures you and you will not be made to do anything beyond your will, as hypnosis is a completely voluntary act. He lets you know however that for the therapy to work, you will need to give him your full trust and be willing to let down your mental guard to him so that he can help you. You don’t like the idea terribly, but you have already come this far, and besides, you paid in advance, so you may as well give it a shot.

You lay back on the lounger as Dr. Michaels begins asking you about your recent issues. As you tell him about the dreams and the entity, he doesn’t judge you. And when he asks questions about certain details, he seems genuinely curious, and not condescending. It’s nice to have someone actually listen and understand you, even if they are only doing so because you paid them to. After that he instructs you to close your eyes and allow your entire body to become as slack as rope. He takes you through the steps of counting back, letting your mind sink, giving up your defenses, and allowing yourself to open up as you breathe deep into your core letting go of your worries and your tension.

You do you best to follow his instructions. And as you begin to drift as you follow his voice, there are about five minutes of silent darkness that you cannot account for, but eventually you hear the sound of someone snapping their fingers. You open your eyes and Dr. Michaels helps you sit up. “Welcome back.” He says. “How was that?” You lightly shake your head; you don’t really know how it was. “Good... I think.” You say, still feeling in a bit of a haze. He asks “Do you think it worked?” You look at him with confusion for a moment, but as you do, something seems wrong. The rest of the room seems out of focus, and you feel dizzy.

The kind smile on his face begins to widen, far beyond that of a normal smile. Then as he speaks again, the voice is not his. “Well? Do you think his little treatment worked, pet?” You hear him say in the voice of the demon. “No!” You think to yourself. “This cannot be happening! Not again!” It speaks again, more aggressively this time. “Did you really think you could get rid of me so easily?” The creature quickly abandons the form of the doctors and begins to morph back into its smoke-like physiology. “Did you think I would so easily let you go?!” The creature shouts are you in rage.

In one fluid movement you spring from your seat and sprint towards the door, desperately hoping that if you can just get out, you can escape, forgetting its powers to shape the dreamscape to its whim. But just as you reach the handle your entire body is violently shunted backwards as you hear the demon say “Oh no no no you don’t my little pet. You don’t get to run!” You are thrown back onto the lounger, the impact nearly enough that landing the wrong way would have likely broken your spine.

The entity pins you down, with one spectral hand again on your throat and the other tracing a claw like talon, which it has manifested, across your cheek. You scream at the top of your lungs “What do you want from me!” This time your voice actually being heard. “Oh my little pet. I want you. You feed me. You entertain me. And like all of my other pets before you, you will continue to do so until you have nothing left to give me.” As it says that, like a rusty blade, the claw digs into the flesh of your face and you can feel the blood starting to flow from the wide but shallow wound. You scream in pain and it begins to shriek with laughter, causing a ringing in your ears.

You try to struggle as its entire form seems to envelope you at once. You again feel the familiar burning sensation, but this time spreading through your entire body as this thing seems to siphon your very essence from you. You try to fight, but as always, there is little use. You can barely move a muscle as what feels like the entire weight of a blackhole is pressed down on your chest. Your heart beats so fast that it feels about to explode, and you feel like vomiting. As you attempt to break free from its infernal clutches you can almost see the faint silhouette of a face fade in and out of existence on the form of the shadow. Its eyes are wild and feral, yet cold and distant.

They are the eyes of a sadist; eyes that lack all empathy or humanity.

You feel yourself slipping, like you are going to pass out, but you are already unconscious. Is this what it feels like to die? In this moment of despair in hopelessness, there is a thought in your mind to simply stop fighting, but just as it crosses your mind, you hear another finger snap. As your eyes open once again, you throw yourself from the lounger with a violent energy, grabbing a letter opener off of the nearby desk and holding it in front of you as you wheeze, attempting to catch your breath. Dr. Michaels is again himself, sitting back in his chair, his hands are raised.

“Please, stay calm. You’re alright. You’re safe now.” He says as he begins to stand. You take a step back, raising the small blade up threateningly as you scream for him to stay back. He nods his head lightly and takes a few steps away from you, his hands still up. He keeps his head low as he speaks. “I’m sorry. We must have delved too deeply too quickly. I did not expect an attack to happen here or now.” There is silence between the two of you for a moment before you say, in a shaking voice “It’s getting stronger.” The doctor gently nods his head. “It would appear so, and more aggressive.” You collapse to your knees and start crying a loud, unrelenting ugly cry you have not experienced since you lost your grandmother.

Slowly, the doctor walks towards you and kneels down next to you, placing a supportive hand on your back as your tears flow. First you want to scream at him again to keep away from you, but in this moment you feel he is the only person you can trust. He gently says. “I think I understand. And I am going to do everything within my power to help you. We cannot let this being torment you any longer.” As you slowly stop crying and you look at his face again, it is now very stoic. His smile is gone and he looks almost angry. He stands up and offers you a hand to help you to your feet.

He then walks over to the phone on his desk, presses one of the buttons, and informs his secretary to cancel all other appointments for the afternoon. You do not know how much he heard when you were out, but he must have heard enough. The doctor informs you that the two of you are going to meet a friend of his who he believes may be able to help you. You agree to go with him, you don’t feel like you have any other options. So, you grab your jacket and, as you are escorted outside to a dark blue SUV, your mind swirls with all manner of questions.

As he starts the car, there is a crack of thunder overhead and it begins raining heavily. He turns on the AC to keep the windshield from fogging up, and he turns on the radio to help keep you from falling asleep on the drive. You do not know where you are going, but if it ends this living hell once and for all, you will gladly go without complaint.

To be continued.

[tarlosprompts]

Can I prompt a Judd helping calm Tk down after a rough call, and just having that brotherly fluff vibe?

Days Like These

Claimed by Red💋

Paramedic TK, Firefighter Carlos

Warnings: cursing, violence, minor character death, trauma, bombs, blood, past addiction, mention of guns, anxiety, beginnings of a panic attack

Notes: Let me know if I missed any warnings! (I think I got them all). Sorry for this taking so long and sorry if it’s not what you wanted. If you want me to rewrite it, just let me know!

Most days, TK loved walking into work. Being a paramedic made him happier than he’d been in a while. Being pushed by his father to take the exam was his best decision. Sure, he enjoyed the Adrenalin of the fires, but he had always wanted to help others more than just handing them off the medics. Now, he got the best of both worlds. If his dad needed his help on a fire, he would help but he also got to treat others. It was a win win for not only TK, but his father and the medics. 

TK tended to spend more time with the paramedics than the firemen on calls, so his father had to take on another firefighter. That’s how TK met the most beautiful man in the world...Carlos Reyes. Carlos transferred in and, had TK not been reeling from Alex, TK would have asked the man out. Sadly, TK was apprehensive about starting another relationship, though that didn’t mean that TK didn’t take time to admire the lovely view Carlos Reyes gave. 

Something about Reyes drew TK in. They became good friends and amazing partners when needed. Carlos knew an awful lot about treating patients meaning that he could help out when the medics were swamped and TK would be paired with Carlos when Owen needed his help on calls. Through that, they became best friends. They shared everything with one another...well, almost everything. TK most definitely wasn’t going to tell the man of his Texas sized crush on him...nor was he going to mention his past drug addiction...how would he even bring that up? Just as they’re talking about their last call, ‘yeah, by the way, I have a drug problem and I overdosed before the move down here.’ That was absolutely not happening.

TK was roused from his thoughts as the ambulance stopped. He followed Michelle and Gillian out of the vehicle, turning around in confusion. “Are we sure this is the right place,” he asked. 

“This is what dispatch said. Gillain, call them and ask again,” Michelle stated. Gillian stopped walking, holding the radio between her  hands as she spoke. 

As TK and Michelle moved farther towards the abandoned warehouse, something felt off. “Michelle, we should wait in the ambo. This doesn’t feel right,” TK whispered. 

“We still need to check it out, make sure that no one needs help.”

Gillian caught up, voice shaking slightly, “I can’t contact dispatch.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean no one is answering. I even tried calling, but we’re out of range. I have no signal.”

“‘Chelle, we should-”

Three red dots focused on the three paramedics’ chests. “Don’t move and you won’t be shot.”

_____________

TK was having a hard time reframing his situation. His therapist had suggested the idea of changing the way he looked at a situation in order to find the silver lining...he really couldn’t find the silver lining in having a bomb strapped to his chest. Nor could he find the silver lining in not being to help Gillian as she bled out in front of him. He couldn’t find the silver lining in not being able to help Michelle as the last of the bomb vest was strapped into place. 

Being ushered towards the ambulance sent another wave of panic over him. They were probably going to transport them somewhere more public to have them take out more people. They wanted to make a statement. TK could feel himself shaking as the ambulance started moving. He could only watch as Michelle tried to check on Gillian before her head was thrown to the side by the butt of a gun one of the men held. 

It wasn’t long before the ambulance stopped and the doors opened. Gillian was unceremoniously pulled from the ambulance and thrown to the ground, pulling shouts from bystanders. TK and Michelle were roughly pushed out of the ambulance and pulled into a building. It took a couple of minutes to realize they were at the dispatch center. While TK wasn’t one to hope for bad will on specific people, he certainly hoped Grace wasn’t working and that the men who were forcing their way through the center would suffer the most painful of deaths. 

The gunshots shocked TK. It brought him back to the day he used the battering ram to get to a cardiac failure and a little boy pulled the trigger, hitting him. He flinched as the gunshots went off. He was placed directly across from Michelle, in the center of the dispatch hub. “Here’s how this is going to go,” the head of the group called. “Everyone does as I say, everyone goes home...even these two lovely paramedics. Anyone tries to be the hero...well, we’ll see if someone pulls the trigger faster than I press the button on one of these paramedic’s vests.”

The room was silent as they watched the man in the center of the room. “You, you, and you,” he called out, pointing to a couple of dispatchers, “on the phones. Follow what the three men behind you say and everyone stays alive.”

Hours passed and TK could do nothing but watch as the group got more anxious. Whatever they were planning wasn’t going to plan and that was going to end up in someone getting hurt. The head man cursed before walking towards TK, “you’re coming with me. Seems like your friends came looking for you,” he growled. 

TK dug his feet into the ground. There was no way in hell he was going to let this man take him out for his father to see him strapped to a suicide vest. The punch that slammed his head to the right, split his lip and had him stumbling. He was practically dragged out of the dispatch center. The light assaulted his eyes and it took him a minute to adjust. 

When his eyes adjusted, TK grimaced. His crew was there along with multiple APD members and front and center was his dad. Shit.

TK wanted to be anywhere but there in the moment. He wished that the men’s plan had all worked out and they had left...though if he was being honest, he knew that once their plan concluded, they would have killed all of them anyway. He’d heard them talking about ‘no witnesses’ and what not earlier. He paid no attention to the man talking to the officers and firemen standing around. He didn’t want to look at his father and crew, didn’t want to be in this situation at all. 

“...and if I don’t get what I want or if anyone tries to breach the building, Pretty Boy and his friend are going to blow up the dispatch center,” the man called. 

“You don’t actually think that they’re going to listen to you, do you,” TK heard himself ask. He’d always had a big mouth, didn’t really like bullies. “You’re all the same. You think you’ll place some demands and maybe some of them get met, but really you’re just buying yourself time. They know you’re buying time and are preparing to move in. No one believes that once you’re done with your plan that you’ll let any of us live. You probably already plan to set these vests off once you’re through with whatever it is you’re doing.” TK expected the backlash. He definitely knew how to piss people off. 

He could hear yelling from multiple people. He couldn’t make out the words as he was pulled back into the center. He was shoved to the floor in the middle of the dispatch work floor. His head bounced off the tile and TK barely bit back a groan of displeasure. Hands found his neck and TK jerked to try to move them. “You think you’re so smart? Before they even know what hit them, they’ll be going up in smoke because of you and your partner. You think that by talking like that, you gave them some insight to our plan? Because of you, we had more time to finish what needed to be done!”

TK coughed as the man let his throat go. “I think you’re bluffing,” TK gasped. 

Michelle made a noise of protest as the man rounded and hit TK’s face. “You’re lucky I need you alive to keep your crew out from here. I hear that you’re that Captain’s son. He won’t let you come to any harm.”

_____________

It feels like forever before there’s more movement in the center. The men were wrapping up their plan. TK met Michelle’s eyes, they both nodded. They weren’t going down without a fight. Before they could get up, four doors busted open and flash bombs were going off.

TK covered his ears, eyes shutting to protect him from the bright flashes. Everything was muffled sounding. Opening his eyes and uncovering his ears, TK had to blink multiple times before he could make out what was going on in the room. S.W.A.T. had taken out the men and were escorting them out. The leader of the team was making his way towards Michelle and TK. 

“I’m Captain Pack, I need you both to stay still while the bomb squad gets in here to get these vests off of you.”

TK nodded, his ears picking up a scuffle near one of the entrances, “that’s my son in there! Let me see my son!” 

TK licked his lips. “Can you tell my dad that I’m fine? Tell him to let the bomb squad do their job and I’ll be out in a bit?”

“You’ve got it, Strand.”

_____________

TK hated hospitals. They reminded him of when he overdosed, having woken up in a hospital room with his dad crying and telling him that it was going to be okay. TK hated hospitals. He would tell the hospitals that he didn’t want narcotics when he was hurt and the workers would just give him looks like they could judge someone they don’t even know. TK fucking hated hospitals. 

After the bomb squad had gotten rid of the vests, another team of paramedics had checked them out. He had seen his crew in the background as he had been loaded into an ambulance. He knew it was only a matter of time before they showed up. He was allowed to head home and had already texted his dad to let him know. 

A soft knock on the door frame brought TK’s attention to it. Judd stood in the doorway , arms crossed, an unreadable look on his face. “Owen wanted to come get you, but we got a call out right after your text. Seemed like a big one. I offered to come get ya.”

TK nodded, slowly getting off the bed and grabbing his uniform shirt. It was silent as they walked to Judd’s truck. Gingerly, TK pulled himself into the truck and Judd shut the door behind him. TK knew that Judd wanted to talk as the man started the truck and pulled out of the parking lot. TK, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to be dropped at home so that he could burrow under the covers of his bed and never come out again.

“You had a shit day,” Judd stated as he pulled up to a red light. 

Not expecting the remark, a laugh bumbled out of TK’s mouth. “No shit,” he responded. 

“Reyes was really worried about you.” Before TK could respond, Judd continued. “We all were. We knew Michelle would be fine, but you have a tendency to get yourself hurt and generally run your mouth off at people. And, let’s be honest, even when you’re not actively trying to piss someone off, you tend to get hurt anyway.”

TK glanced at Judd as he rolled forward as the light turned green. He could see the set in Judd’s jaw which told him how Judd was trying to keep his emotions in check. “To be fair, I don’t look for trouble...I just sometimes invoke the wrath of the trouble that has found me.”

A small chuckle passed Judd’s lips. “That’s a nice way of saying that you couldn’t shut your big mouth long enough to get out of there without your pretty face getting bruised and cut up.”

TK rolled his eyes, “it was like I couldn’t stop myself. He always turned so red when I talked back to him. I think part of me wanted to see how red I could get him, if he’d turn purple or something.” TK could feel the heaviness that had been on his chest starting to lift as he and Judd fell into their regular banter for the rest of the ride home. By the time they reached his house, TK didn’t feel jittery.

Spotting a familiar Camero in the driveway, TK felt a small smile grace his face. “Looks like Lover Boy wants to make sure you’re alright for himself,” Judd smirked. 

TK could feel his face heat up. “We’re friends, Judd. Just like you and me. You wanted to make sure I was alright and he wants to do the same.”

Parking the truck, Judd turned to him. “We both know that’s some bullshit. I don’t see why you don’t make a move on him. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He looked like a kicked puppy today when everything happened. He wanted nothing more than to storm into the dispatch center and get you the hell out of there. That man cares about you, TK. You deserve someone that good, someone who thinks of you as the man who hung the moon.”

TK shook his head. “Carlos doesn’t like me like that, Judd. Why would he? He doesn’t even know how fucked up I am,” he mumbled. 

TK wasn’t expecting the light slap to the back of his head. His eyes shot up to Judd’s, a frown firmly on his face. “You’re not fucked up. You’ve had some fucked up situations in your life that have shaped you into a strong, capable man, TK. Your past addiction doesn’t make you weaker, it makes you so fucking strong. You’re allowed to have reservations, but Carlos is gone for you, Brother. You love him, he loves you...take the chance and jump. He’ll catch you.”

TK studied Judd’s face, seeing nothing but the truth. He wiped his palms on his pants, licking his lips. “I’m blaming you when he laughs in my face.”

Before TK could exit the truck, Judd placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I wouldn’t lie to you about something like this, TK. Feel better soon, okay? Grace wants to have you over in a few days for dinner.”

TK nodded his head, letting himself out of the truck and waving Judd off. Turning towards his driveway, TK could see Carlos leaning against his vehicle. He walked slowly over to the man, feeling some of the heaviness from before return. He could feel the tears building up behind his eyelids and his throat closing from the stresses of the day. 

As he got closer to Carlos, the man pushed himself off his car. TK didn’t give Carlos time to talk, he just dived in, burying his head in Carlos’ chest and winding his arms around the man’s middle. Immediately Carlos wrapped his arms around TK tightly but not tight enough to hurt the slightly smaller man. That’s when the floodgates opened and TK let himself cry knowing Carlos was going to catch him.

TK doesn’t know how long they stay in their embrace, but he almost instantly feels embarrassed. He backed out of the embrace, motioning towards the house and walking away from the man. Shakily, he unlocks the door, leaving it open for Carlos as he makes his way to the couch. “If you need to talk-”

“I-I don’t want,” TK blew out a breath, “I don’t want to talk...about it...I-there’s nothing to say. We were sent there by chance, we didn’t know it wasn’t an emergency. We were blindsided. We had to make sure there was no one that actually needed our help and even though I told Michelle that it didn’t feel right and we should leave, we had to check. There’s nothing to talk about, okay? They shot-they shot Gillian and wouldn’t let us help her and they strapped bombs to our chest and put us back in our ambulance. They threw Gillian on the street without letting us help her and they took us into the dispatch center and they threatened to use us to kill everyone in the center. They were brutish and I fucking hate bullies so I just had to tell him off like the little twat I am. I know it was stupid, okay?” TK took a shuddering breath in. All the anxiety from the day came rushing back. “And-and he dragged me out there and I saw you guys and I just kept thinking that I couldn’t put my dad through losing his son. I couldn’t make him watch me get blown up but I just kept antagonizing the man because I hated the idea of him. And I just-I kept thinking about you and my dad. I wanted to get back to you both because I love you both so much and the thought of hurting you kills me,” TK was breathing raggedly at this point. He’d just admitted to Carlos that he was in love with him.

Tears fogged TK’s vision as his breathing worsened. Hands were on his face soon after, words muffled in his ears. TK was spiraling. Lips touched his and TK caught his breath, tensing before quickly relaxing at the calm hands stroking his face. As the lips separated from his, he opened his eyes to see Carlos already looking at him. “I hope that was okay. It was the only way I could think to keep you from going into a panic attack. Our first kiss shouldn’t have been that, but I didn’t know what to do and-”

“Carlos,” TK’s voice was soft and ragged. “The only reason that wouldn’t be alright is if you didn’t mean it.”

Carlos rested his forehead against TK’s. “I meant it and so much more, Amore.” 

“Promise?”

“Forever.”

[lia-jones]

Growing Together - Chapter Twelve - Father Material

The last injection was one of the worst Victor had had so far. He felt feverish, his stomach churning, angry, revolting against itself. But he knew what would happen should he vomit, so he did his best to keep whatever gunk they gave him that morning inside him.

This time they put them all together in a room, a lady coming in now and then to check their temperatures. He noticed a small boy, probably four or five years old, weeping in the corner of the room. He hadn’t seen any of these kids before, this was obviously their first week there, but they already knew better than to comfort the small boy.

The boy tossed and turned, hands rubbing his tummy, occasionally moaning in pain. Victor immediately understood what was wrong. The injection was making him want to go too.

“Don’t do it here. If you do, they will hurt you.” He whispered to the kid, but his voice was so strained and low from his own suffering that he wasn’t sure if the kid was able to hear it.

And sure enough, a few minutes later, the kid turned to the wall sobbing loudly, his grey sweatpants wet with a brown stain, the room suddenly filled with a putrid smell. Something inside Victor snapped. In seconds he lost all sense of self-preservation, and before he noticed, he was by the kid’s side, stroking his back.

“It’s ok, it won’t be so bad.” He tried to console the kid. “They’ll probably go easy on you because you’re small.”

“What do we have here?” Came the guard, poking the boy with his stun baton to tease him.

The boy’s sobs only grew louder, as he shook in fear. Probably not his first encounter with that baton.

“He didn’t do it on purpose.” Victor intervened. “He’s sick and scared. Please don’t hurt him.”

“Oh but you see, I turned it on already.” He touched Victor’s nose with his baton, the blue light in the tip looking ominous. “What should I do with it?”

Before Victor could answer, the guard hit him right in the gut with his stick, tasing him. Immediately he lost all the strength he had left in his body and dropped on the floor, the contents of his stomach leaving his body, gushing from his mouth and nose. Victor coughed, trying hard not to choke on his own vomit, as the guard chuckled, playfully patting him on the back.

“Look at you, so strong, trying to be a hero.” The guard teased him. “Everybody knows who you are. Mommy and Daddy aren’t coming to save you, maggot. Here, you are just an orphan, and your parents are as good as dead.”

Victor closed his eyes tightly, not wanting the guard to see him cry.

“And tonight, my little boy, me and my baton will pay you a visit.” Victor opened up his eyes to meet an evil grin. “We are having a little slumber party.”

The baton snapped again on his chest.

“Did you hear what I said?” He felt his wife’s hand on his shoulder. He found himself back in the orphanage’s Director’s office, and beside him was the woman he loved. He was safe.

“Yes, it’s taking too long.” He guessed. “Don’t worry, this is just a formality. We were already accepted as Owen’s adoptive parents.”

Right on cue, they heard the office’s door open.

“I’m so sorry for keeping you waiting, we have a new child that is having a hard time adapting. I want to thank you for being here. I was very pleased to know you want to continue with Owen’s adoption.” The director shook our hands and took a seat in front of us. “However, I feel there is a need to discuss this a little further.”

“Why, what’s wrong?” Andrea fidgeted in her seat.

"Please understand that most of these children have arrived here due to very dire circumstances. Although he's only four, Owen is no exception. It's rare to see a child go through so much at such a young age."

“What do you mean?” Victor asked. Owen looked like a fairly happy child. At least, as happy as one can get living at an orphanage.

"Owen's mother took her own life, she hung herself on a pillar of their old house. The police told us that they found Owen, desperate, trying to pull his mother down. He was alone, his stepfather nowhere to be found. He also presented bruises all over his body. We believe he lived in a very toxic environment and was a victim of abuse." The director declared with a heavy voice.

“Oh my-” Andrea jumped from her seat, covering her mouth. Victor had no idea of what to say. No child should have to go through that.

“We inserted him in a foster family as soon as we could. Children are resilient at this age, and we believed that the sooner Owen was in a loving family, the faster he would move on from that horrible experience. But unfortunately, it didn’t go quite as we expected.” Miss Dillon sat straighter on her chair. “You see, Owen is a very bright child who has seen quite enough. Not many adults can deal with that. But my hope is with you, things will be different. You understand what trauma can do to a child.”

Andrea fidgeted on her chair nervously, remembering her trauma printed all over the tabloids.

“She means me.” Victor confessed, his poker face instinctively on.

Andrea looked at him with wide eyes, astonished with his confession.

“When I was rescued from the orphanage, Miss Dillon was there.” He explained. “She was the one that stayed with me until my father came to pick me up.”

Andrea’s jaw dropped and she remained silent, not knowing what to say.

“I still have nightmares of the atrocities I saw in that God-forsaken place.” The Director’s smile fell into a disgusted frown. “I can only imagine how hard it was for Victor to cope with it all.” She gave him a weak smile. “But now, it can serve as something good. Owen will finally have a family that can understand him and help him the way he needs.”

Victor nodded silently. She was right, but for him, it didn't feel good at all. There’s no measure to what he would have given not to have gone through that, or not to have Owen go through losing his only family in such a horrible way.

“Where do we sign?” He finally spoke. “And when is Owen coming home?”

“Well, we should give you some time to prepare a room-”

“It’s ready.” Victor and his wife spoke in unison.

“Then I guess there’s no point in delaying any further.” Miss Dillon got up from her chair. “You can pick him up next Saturday, after lunch.”

Back in the car, Andrea was silent. Victor didn’t need to ask why, he had blindsided her, by concealing the true nature of his relationship with that orphanage. Miss Dillon was one of the few good outcomes of that incident. Seeing children unprotected in such a manner, and subject to such horrifying actions, Miss Dillon had quit her practice as a child therapist and collected as much as she could from benefactors to open her own orphanage, with the solemn promise that if it depended on her, no child would be forsaken. When Victor saw her again, decades later, they were barely scraping by. He used his money and influence to help the orphanage and would make frequent donations to ensure it ran properly.

"I'm sorry.” He sighed. He had his reasons to keep her out of the loop, but this wasn’t fair on her either. Andrea was his wife, he was supposed to share everything with her. Even the things that were too painful to share.

“You don’t need to be.” She looked at him with earnest eyes, yet she didn’t smile.

“I do.” He looked away from her. “I should have told you right away, I-”

“Victor, when we first spoke about it you told me you hadn’t revealed the whole truth, because it was hard to.” She held his hand on the gearshift. “I understand why you didn't tell me about Miss Dillon at first. You didn’t deceive me. You were very clear it would be this way.”

“Why are you being so understanding?” He frowned. “I thought you’d be angry.”

“Ok, listen, I’m not going to say it doesn’t hurt a little that there are things about you that I don’t know.” Her voice was pained, and he looked at her again, worried. “But I also know this is hard on you. So, even if I don’t fully understand, I’ll support you.”

Victor took his wife’s hand lovingly.

“Thank you.” He smiled slightly. “I didn’t mean to upset you, it just didn’t seem relevant.”

“I’m more worried about Owen, honestly.” She leaned on her seat with a sigh. “He’s been through a lot.”

Victor had plenty in his heart to let out about that subject, but he chose silence instead, as he drove them to their home.

“Are you studying those again?” Andrea pointed to his books on the nightstand, as they were going to bed.

“There’s a last one that I didn’t finish.” Victor picked it up and showed it to his wife. “Knowledge is power.”

“We’ll be fine.” She sighed while she pulled the covers to enter the bed, by his side. “You don’t need to be nervous.”

“I’m not nervous.” He opened the book to the page marked by one of Andrea’s post-its. “I just like to be prepared.”

“Fair enough.” She turned off the light from her nightstand and crawled under the comforter. “I am going to go straight to sleep, I’m beat. Have fun with your books.” She turned to the other side.

“Where are you going?” He pulled her arm. “Come here. Rest your head on my chest.”

Andrea immediately turned to him, coming closer.

“That is much better, you’re warm.” She snuggled against him. “Are you sure you can read with me on you?”

“Wouldn’t I say so if I couldn’t?” He answered flatly, as he snaked his arm under her.

“Ok, ok, I’m here.” She defended herself, nuzzling his chest. “Grumpy.”

He kissed the top of her hair, his hand caressing her curls.

“Better?” He asked with a softer voice.

“So much better.” She looked up to him, and, understanding her cue, he pecked her lips. “Goodnight, handsome.”

“Goodnight, my light.” Victor turned to his book again.

Although it may seem a good idea to parents to give their children as many toys as they can have, even educational ones, they are depriving the child of the biggest satisfaction in life: to earn things. The very fact that they can earn something by working for it, e.g. by cleaning their room or setting the table, gives the child a sense of confidence and self-esteem that praise alone cannot provide.

“Do you think Owen has too many toys?” Victor frowned.

“Humm?” Andrea sighed sleepily.

“Nothing.” He pecked her head again, chuckling. “Go back to sleep.”

Victor closed his book, lost in thought. He had never considered that Owen could have too much and that it would hinder his development. He had had everything and that didn’t seem to affect him much. Victor never cared much about what he had. He liked the horses and some books his father gave him, but what Victor craved most from his parents wasn’t gifts. It was affection.

For some reason, his mind wandered to a particular moment in his childhood, when he found himself staring at the door of his father's study, wondering if he should knock.

“What do you need? Be quick.” His father spoke, not taking his eyes from some document he was reading.

Victor scraped the tip of his shoe on the carpet lightly.

“A child shouldn’t waste an adult's time.” His father reprimanded. “If it’s not important it can wait till dinner.”

It wouldn’t be important in his father’s eyes, but Victor knew his father would probably not be there for dinner.

“Do you know anything about the girl? And the other kids?” He asked in a weak voice. The nightmares wouldn’t let him sleep, maybe some information could ease his mind.

“What girl?” His father wrote a note on the document he was reading.

“The girl from the orphanage.” Victor tried again. “The one that saved my life.”

His father looked at him for the first time since he entered the study, his eyes full of contempt.

“You are never to speak about that day again, do you hear me? It upsets your mother.” His father turned again to the document. “And the girl you mention is dead. She didn’t survive.”

Victor’s heart broke with guilt. Mia was dead, trying to save him. Someone had died because of him. It was supposed to be him, not her. She was so little and fragile, and now she was dead. All because he was careless. This was all his fault. The walls of his father’s study spun, and Victor had to take a step back to steady himself.

“No, she can’t be.” Victor’s voice trembled, tears escaping his eyes. “She can’t be dead! You’re lying!”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Apart from his disgusted glance, his father seemed unaffected by his antics. “Lee men don’t cry. Now go make yourself useful and study. You need to be prepared for boarding school next week. Stop staining my carpet.”

He found himself back in his room, his loving wife still in his arms, but his heart was still in his father’s study, staining the carpet with tears. Pictures of his childhood flooded his brain, all those times he tried to please his father and he couldn’t, all those times he craved his father’s love, only to leave empty-handed. He held his wife tighter as she slept and inhaled deeply her perfume, trying to remind himself that he was a married man now, that he was happy, a far cry from the boy he once was. He was loved, and he had conquered the life that he used to fear.

He closed his eyes and felt her warmth, his fingers memorizing every detail of her skin and her curls, his ears mystified as she let out a sleepy sigh, thanking him for his love, and the memories faded away, one by one. However, the worry remained.

Some adults could be oblivious to the real responsibility of becoming a parent, but Victor wasn’t. Raising a child was an extremely important matter, especially for someone with Owen’s background, who had seen evil at such a tender age. Owen deserved the very best, and Andrea deserved the ideal husband and father by her side. But this wasn’t a business meeting, something that Victor could tackle with facts and figures alone. This particular task required feelings, and the knowledge of what it’s like to be in a family. Victor had a father and a mother, but he never had a family. He had progenitors, but not parents, not really. Well, he had his mother, but even so it was only for a short period of his life. His kidnappers had taken everything else away.

So how could he be a good father, if he didn’t have the faintest idea of how to be one? Even worse, what if he became his own father? He remembered how his father could be to his staff, he remembered how he acted, cold and dismissive, and it dawned on him that he was the same way. He remembered how his father’s employees looked at his father, with this blend of fear and respect, and wasn’t that exactly the way his staff looked at him? He blamed his father for so many things, but what if the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree? What if, even unwillingly, he would treat his son the same way?

Andrea had a good loving family, she didn’t have this problem. Her team loved her; they brought cookies on Fridays and had pizza together whenever Victor had a meeting and couldn’t pick her up for lunch. Andrea knew things like how to play hide and seek, and how to roast the perfect marshmallow with a candle, and what candies were the best. They went to the toy store and immediately she filled a basket with her childhood favorite things: some books, some playdoh, legos, and a slinky. She played with the slinky as they roamed through the store, Victor finding it insufferable, but that was his flaw, not hers. He did not understand what slinkies meant to a child; she did.

So what was his solution? The same as his father’s. The affection he didn’t know how to provide, Victor had compensated for in advance with toys, purchasing every educational toy he put his eyes on. As his father would, and had. Victor got everything he wanted, except for love. And he was doing the same thing already for his son. The thought disgusted him.

Victor left the bed carefully, trying not to wake Andrea up, going to Owen’s room. Although he had painted the walls of his son’s room himself, although he had decorated everything with the meticulous care of a loving father, all he could see now was ostentation, and it horrified him. Toys to fill the hole Victor would no doubt leave in his son’s heart. He couldn’t help but feel dirty. Not only was he being a lousy and lazy father, throwing money at everything, he was stunting his son’s development. That was despicable.

He started removing most of the toys from the shelves, leaving only the ones Andrea had picked. He would need to discuss it more thoroughly with Andrea later, but for now, he needed to make sure he wasn't doing anything wrong. He then looked at Owen's bookshelf, asking himself if all the books he had picked were age appropriate, even if on the cover it said so. Skimming through each one of them, Victor asked himself if stories of killing a wolf could lead to an adult that did not respect animals, or if reading about kissing a sleeping princess would teach Owen to love without consent. Soon he was surrounded by books and toys, frantically going through all of them, his mind reeling as he tried to discern the best options to keep.

His frenzy was interrupted by his wife's sleepy voice.

“What are you doing?” He turned to see her rubbing her eyes. "It's four AM.”

“Go back to bed, it’s cold.” He turned to her. “I just have to organize these, I will join you in a minute.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to do it in the morning. Come back to bed.” She came closer and held his hand, pulling him towards the door.

“I want to do it now!” He pulled away, grimacing as he observed his own reaction. “I just want to organize this, you don’t need to worry about me. I need to make sure everything is in order. Go back to bed.”

“Victor, Owen won’t care if his books are not alphabetically ordered.” Andrea looked at him with worry. He knew she meant well, but that only infuriated him more.

“Then what will he care about?!?” He felt himself snap again. “This is all I know how to do.” Holding a stuffed toy, he sat on the bed. “I’m terrible at everything else.”

Victor stared at the toy in his hands as he tried to keep himself in check. He hated when his feelings got the best of him, but he hated even more that he woke his wife up, and now she felt the need to comfort him. He abhorred being a nuisance.

Victor felt Andrea’s arms tighten their grip around his chest. He held her hands. They were cold.

“Do you want to catch a cold? You’re freezing.” He turned around, trying to pull her to his lap. “Come here, I’ll keep you warm.”

In a matter of seconds, Victor had successfully placed her in his lap, her arms resting on his shoulders, fingers running through his hair. She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to talk.

“Are you going to tell me what’s upsetting you?” She pressed.

“I don’t know if I can do this.” He wouldn’t dare look her in the eye, shame consuming him.

“You want to quit?!?” Andrea jumped in his lap, alarmed.

“No, I don’t want to quit.” He was offended. “I would never do that, especially with something so important. What I mean to say is that I feel unprepared.”

“No parent is prepared, Victor.”

“Spare me the clichés, you know what I mean.” He snapped, exasperated. “You know my family, you know how my childhood was.” He hesitated for a second, sharing insecurities wasn’t his thing. But this was his wife. He had to be truthful. “What if I’m just like my father? What if I’m not cut out to be a father? Owen has been through so much already, he deserves good loving parents. What if I can’t be any of those things?”

“Nonsense.” She chuckled. “Of course you are lo-”

“You didn’t like me when we first met.” He interrupted her, defying her. “Not for a long time.”

“That was before I knew you.”

“You had all those nicknames for me.” He frowned at her. “King of Highhorseland. You called me a bully.”

"But now I know better. I know who you truly are, and I know I was mistaken."

“You are kind, you see the best in me.” He caressed her curls. “I have to admit sometimes I question if I really do have all those qualities you see in me.”

“Victor…”

“I’m not good at expressing feelings in a way most people understand. I can also be cold and dismissive. Most people find me unpleasant to be with. Do you think those are traits a good parent has? What if I can’t be loving and caring in the way Owen needs? All I know how to do is to organize and buy him things. Just like my father did.”

“Ok, let me just set something straight.” Andrea turned to him in all seriousness. “You are one of, if not the, most caring person I have ever met. You are upset and still all you could be concerned about a few moments ago was that I was getting cold, and here I am in your arms now.”

Victor’s gaze turned to the floor again. Again, she was seeing the best in him, ignoring all the blatant flaws he had. She held his face, making him look her in the eyes.

"You are nothing like your father. You will be an excellent father to Owen and you will be able to understand his needs even more than I will because you had those very same needs. You'll be able to relate in ways I can't possibly ." She came closer, her nose almost touching his. "Do you know why I also think you'll be extremely caring? Because parents that don't give a crap don't waste time late at night wondering if they will be good parents."

Victor lifted a hand to her face. That light she had in her eyes, that beautiful light that warmed him, that could dissolve any ice wall in a heartbeat, he wished he had it. That light could do miracles.

She got out of his lap, sitting close to the headboard.

“Come, lean on me.”

“It’s alright, you don’t need to do this.” He instantly refuted.

“Victor Lee, will you let me be a good wife and take care of my husband?” She pretended to scold him. “Come.”

“I’m too heavy, I will probably crush you.” Despite his protest, he obediently entered the comfort of her arms, his head leaning on her chest, but still worried. “Let me know if you have trouble breathing.”

“You are not as big as you think.” She teased, earning from him a chuckle.

He had to admit, being in her arms and listening to her heartbeat was amazingly comforting. Her fingers ran through his hair, calming and nurturing, and for a moment he forgot his anxiety, and just watched the sun start to rise through the window. When his mind was still, he finally listened to his heart. The love he felt for his family would make up for any lack of experience he would have. This was him treading uncharted territory, like so many times before in his life, but this time he wasn’t alone. Along with his heart was another heartbeat, sweet and steady, the one he was hearing now.

“Thank you.” He whispered shyly, expecting a teasing remark .

None came. When he looked up, he saw the love of his life sleeping soundly, her fingers still threaded in his hair. Victor could almost laugh at the sight. He should've known she would fall asleep.

Slowly and carefully so as not to wake her up, he gathered her in his arms and cradled her to bed. It was indeed pleasant to be taken care of, but he liked it so much better this way, protecting her.

Author’s note: If you liked it, don’t forget to share your thoughts with me! It always brings warmth to my heart! And my ASK box is open! I love talking and hearing from you, beautiful people! Lots of love!

[chaoticgeminate]

Exposed

So I had a plot bunny that ran rampant, after reading the post about it being illegal in France to record/take pictures without consent. It was supposed to be short but apparently I can’t do that? IDK, what started as a 1k word blurb sort of evolved into nearly 7k words in like two hours.

So! Just a heads up for everyone before you click the Read More tag. Contained within this insanity is:

Class salt (moderate) Lila salt (major) Alya salt (moderate bordering major) Ladyblog salt (moderate bordering major) Crush reveal on the wrong side of the mask (MariChat) Supportive Gabriel (shocking, I know, but I had too much salt) Supportive Sabine (again, had a lot of salt, wanted some sweet)

[AO3]

Expelled, again.

Marinette stared at the online course schedule that was now hers to complete, after Lila spread a photo shopped picture that led to bullying and her second expulsion, the only change to this time and the last was that her parents were firmly on her side and didn’t want her going back. Once again there hadn’t been any investigations done, Lila’s mother hadn’t made an appearance in the office, and Principal Damocles hadn’t listened to any arguments of the crime that Marinette was being accused of.

Taking a candle, supposedly, to Lila’s homework packets; but Marinette wasn’t an idiot, she knew exactly what that picture was from and a part of her was pissed at the girl squad. The original photo was from a funeral for her great-grandmother, who had passed away recently, Marinette had been burning joss paper and her mother had taken the photo; the original picture had Marinette in tears with her hair done in a loose bun that her great-grandmother had loved to see her wear.

Lila had photo shopped a picture of Marinette wearing a vicious scowl, no doubt from an argument with Chloe, as well as the school hallway as the background; if you really looked there was obvious distortion around Marinette’s neck and a faint lining around her legs. But the Principal didn’t want to hear that, he declared her a problem and got rid of her, which was now leading to an outraged Tom and Sabine with an emotionally distressed teenager.

Then came the slander against the bakery, the Ladyblog outright posting articles about the supposed incident, with tabloids trying to hop on the trail. Thanks to Nadja Chamack and TVi, after the Ministry of National Education had been contacted with proper proof and documentation, the station had Aurore deliver a stunning counter article about the power abuse and out-of-control nature of the staff at François Dupont with her own private experiences adding to it all.

Chat Noir had been the first hero to make an appearance on the news, on TVi specifically with Aurore sitting across from him, his very public denouncement of the Ladyblog had stunned her to tears when she watched it.

“I’m not allowed to go into detail but I’ve met Marinette Dupain-Cheng, she is a hardworking young woman who fights for her friends and stands up for what she believes in, I can honestly say with one-hundred percent faith that she has never been a bully and that whatever she’s being accused of is just another lie because Lila Rossi feels threatened by her.”

“Another lie, Chat Noir?”

“Yes. I’ve spoken to officer Raincomrpix about this already but during the akuma that was faced named Oni-chan, which was created when Lila lied to get into Adrien Agreste’s manor and then kissed him without his consent before sending the picture to every female on his contact list, Lila Rossi also lied to me directly about being injured to separate me from Ladybug.”

“Wait, so on top of sexual harassment and possible stalking charges she could be possibly accused of aiding a terrorist?”

“Correct, but Ladybug and I agreed not to say anything at first because neither one of us could say for certain if she was trying to separate us or be seen carried by a hero so that she could get fifteen minutes of fame, we didn’t want to make that accusation and be incorrect since it’s a rather big one.”

“Why bring it up now?”

“Seeing as her track record is to lie and make things up, Aurore, I’m certain that photo is false and that she created evidence to frame the girl she sees as a threat in order to get rid of her; I’m angry that the school has mishandled this situation, as this is the second time Marinette has been accused of a supposed crime without investigation where Lila Rossi is concerned.”

“I know of the first, Marinette had told me about it, I cannot believe Principal Damocles and Madam Bustier made the call they did without pulling the CCTV footage from the security desk.”

“Indeed. But I’m here to say that Ladybug and I both publicly denounce the Ladyblog, from here on out, because we don’t endorse tabloids of any kind. Nor do we support or endorse bullying, which Alya Cesaire has been doing to Marinette ever since the accusations against her were made, so any more news on Ladybug and I that is correct will be delivered through TVi or through The Catbug News.”

“Oh, my blog? But I just post memes.”

“Well, Aurore, now you’re going to be our go-to; if you promise to help with submitting akuma locations, tips to avoid being akumatized, and a lot more cat memes.”

While his little stunt with the memes was entirely what she expected, though it was fair for him to ask those to continue because they were hilarious (something she would deny if asked), she had been so touched that she’d suited up and hugged him for a straight ten minutes without a single word before she remembered herself. “For Marinette, she wanted me to talk to you, I was talking with her about everything and she’s a little embarrassed because your faith in her made her cry off her make-up.” He’d gotten a funny shine to his eyes before nodding and purr-omising to stop by too on a night he didn’t have a ton of homework to do, then they patrolled as usual, Ladybug had made an appearance at Aurore’s window and given her own interview.

Talking about the emotional trauma, the fact that Marinette had lured no less than three akuma butterflies, and that she was ashamed that the reporter she once trusted had gone so far as to try and attack a business without proof or evidence. The heroine had gone on to agree with Chat, that The Catbug News would be the go-to source along with TVi for any official news that came from the heroes directly, before she looked right at the camera. “I also want it known that Rena Rouge and Carapace, along with Queen Bee for obvious reasons, have been permanently retired and will no longer be seen.” While she couldn’t have used them again after Hawkmoth learned their identities with Miracle Queen, something she’d planned to talk to them about, she’d purposefully made that public as a definite revenge move.

Hawkmoth had tried but with Ladybug and Chat on city watch, patrolling houses of all former heroes, there hadn’t been any akuma that spouted up because she was purifying them before they could reach a target.

That had all been two days ago, now Marinette was enrolled in classes online as the Ministry did their investigation into both incidents, the teenager stared until the screen blurred after a busy day of talking with agents and her new therapist; everyone was on self-harm watch, afraid she’d resort to cutting or starving herself out of misery. Gentle tapping at her skylight made her look up at the glowing green eyes, it was dark enough that they were the only visible thing in the square panel, Marinette moved up onto her bed and pushed the window open before gesturing the hero to enter.

He hesitated a moment, for good reason since this was Marinette and not Ladybug, they’d only had maybe three or four meetings outside of the suit; but he did take up her offer when the thunder rumbled, his lean form landing on his knees so he kept his boots off her blankets. “Uh, hi Princess, I wanted to check on you; Ladybug pointed out-“ He didn’t get to finish his statement at all as she threw herself at him with a wail, finally able to express her gratitude properly as she clung to him, his stiff posture faded as he wrapped his arms around her gently and rubbed her back.

“Ch-chat why is this happening? What did I- what did I do wrong?” It was a question she wondered for a while now, just what happened that led to the universe throwing all this at her, why was it that she always had to fight and struggle for every little thing? His grip tightened and a low croon vibrated through him, not quite a growl and not quite a comforting hum, something between that was a strange mix of human and cat.

His voice was rough and she felt his tears as he sniffled. “Nothing, Marinette, you have done nothing wrong; I am so sorry that this happened, that I let it get this bad without trying to do something about it sooner.” Like always he was trying to take the punishment and blame, in and out of the suit he was trying to keep all the fault and punishment off her, it was both heartwarming and heartbreaking enough that Marinette’s tears grew and her body broke into heaving sobs against his shoulder.

Calming down took a long time, especially since it led to calming him down too now that he was worked up from her own tears and misery, Marinette stroked his hair gently and made sure to help him dry his own eyes. “It’s not your fault, Chat, you had hero things to do and you have a life outside the suit that I don’t know about; but I can promise you that I don’t blame you, or anyone really, except Lila and now Alya and the other. Except Adrien, he did call me to apologize and promise he’d try and come up with something to help, but he was also the only one who knew that she was a liar aside from me. He was right though, in the beginning at least, because she should have lied herself into a corner by now if the teachers and students had paid attention at all. It wasn’t until the first expulsion incident that it got really bad, she accused me of cheating on a test and then stealing her grandmother’s pendant as well as pushing her down the stairs, Adrien tried to speak up for me but Principal Damocles wouldn’t listen.” Marinette couldn’t stop the soft blush or the warmth in her face, even if he didn’t like her back she was touched that he’d tried to do something.

Chat coughed into his hand and glanced around the room. “You a fan of his, Princess?” He nudged her and Marinette decided that she had to trust her partner with something.

“Well, I’m his friend… I hope. But, uh, I wanted to be more; at least, before he met Kagami and asked me to help him on his date with her. I mean, I like him and would love to hold his hand in a totally non-platonic way, but his happiness is more important and if he likes Kagami then I’m not going to interfere with that either.” Kagami was her friend and they had a long talk with a promise at the end, regardless of who Adrien chose (even if it wasn’t one of them) they would be friends and they would not treat whoever he dated with any negative attitude, Marinette was tired of everything she did being about a boy and all her negatives supposedly being about a boy.

There was a high-pitched sound, not unlike a tea kettle boiling, that made her look at Chat; his face was flushed and his pupils were shot wide, tail jerking and ears twitching. “You- him? For how long? If I might ask, I mean, I’m just- I thought you liked guitar boy.” Marinette tilted her head at the silly cat as she thought of Luka, then of the strange up and down relationship with Adrien that she had, before she smiled fondly.

It was sort of embarrassing but it was nice to talk about. “I, uh, didn’t like him at first; I didn’t even know who he was, I followed his father for fashion but most of my stuff is women’s wear so I wasn’t much for watching the men’s portion of runways. I thought he put gum on my seat and when Chloe and Sabrina giggled about it, well, I really just laid into him and didn’t even let him say anything before I accused him of being a bully. But, well, it was after you and Ladybug saved Ivan and Mylene the second time… I forgot my umbrella and it was raining. Adrien was- I wasn’t going to listen to him, but he went out of his way to admit the truth to me, he could have just gone on his way and not confessed anything at all.” Marinette would never forget that gentle, almost pleading expression, that he’d worn.

The lonely Prince trying to make friends. “He didn’t have to try and clear the air between us, he could have made friends with everyone else and ignored me, but he did try to make things right; then he, well, he offered me his umbrella. Since that afternoon I was lost, I fell for him really hard to the point that I still struggle to even talk around him, I mean… I know I’m not perfect but I want to be for him and I’m terrified that if I confess he’d tell me no and then decide that it was too awkward to even be my friend anymore.” A fear that she knew was sort of silly with how valuable Adrien held his friends, something she probably didn’t need to worry about at all, but it was one she couldn’t ignore.

Chat’s blush hadn’t quite died down but he had lost the shocked look, which was sort of a relief, Marinette looked at him and wondered if maybe he’d seen her with Luka sometime and jumped the gun on who she liked. “I don’t think he’d do that to you from what I’ve seen of him, but I won’t push you to confess or anything because that’s not fair to you.” Hearing him say that just brought another wave of emotions down on her that made a swell of relief flood her, she wasn’t at school and that meant no more set-ups by Alya, she could finally do things at her own pace.

“Thank you, Chat. My best friend-“ The words choked quiet and she drooped. “F-former. My former best friend, Alya, was really pushy when it came to trying to get me to confess to him. It’s a relief to hear you say that because you’re the first one.” His hand settled on her back and Marinette sank into his hold, he laid back and kept his feet off the bed as he pulled her into a cuddle with one hand carding through her now loose hair.

Marinette sighed as the exhaustion from stress finally took over, lids drooping as Chat purred her to sleep.

Working on her Physics, puzzling through the equation she had to do, Marinette completely missed her Maman calling out to her and missed the opening of her door. “Hey Marinette!” Adrien’s voice registered after all of two minutes and she abruptly shrieked as she turned, feet tangling in her blankets as she also tried to stand up, a painful kiss with the floor was inevitable until she was practically snatched out of the fall and pulled into a leaning position against Adrien. “It’s just me, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Mouth opening and closing rapidly, her face flushing with color since she was most definitely wearing her Chat Noir onesie that she’d made and never planned for anyone to see, the teen struggled against her blanket snare before shaking her head and clearing her throat.

“You’re fine! I mean, it’s fine- not that you aren’t fine- I mean, uh-“ His hands squeezed her shoulders and Adrien’s fond smile made her brain blank as he chuckled, his finger pressed to her lips and his bangs falling just so as he tilted his head. It was not a look she’d associate with Adrien, since she had only fantasized about his romantic gestures, but it was familiar in a way that she couldn’t quite place.

His cheeks were pink and she felt her own flame in response to his blush. “You’re so cute, Marinette.” Somewhere she thought a record scratched loudly, her heartbeat thundering in her ears at his words as they registered, she wasn’t even sure what color her face was anymore because she was sure that it was purple with how hard it was to breathe all of a sudden. “Uh, wait, I-“ A frantic sort of panic ruined the soft look on his face. “I mean- you are cute but I didn’t want to- I have an idea on how to really end the thing with Lila!” How did that equate to her being cute, she didn’t quite know, but all of a sudden she couldn’t tear her focus from the possible end to it all.

Marinette blinked rapidly and he took that as a sign to continue. “You heard Alix, Alya, and the others; she admitted she took that photo of you to them, they quoted her and Alya had video proof Lila verbally admitted it.” This made her nod warily since she knew that much, it was why the girls had gone on a crusade against her and reported it to the Principal. “It’s illegal in France to take pictures without anyone’s consent, why do you think fans don’t flood my photoshoots and paparazzi are practically non-existent unless they crowd me asking for my allowance?” Everything in her swelled and she couldn’t help but throw herself at him with a squeal of joy because, holy shit, she had everything she needed.

“Adrien Agreste, you genius, I could kiss the hell out of you right now!”

His arms had wrapped around her to hold her steady, as she’d thrown hers around his neck in her jump, so there was no escaping her words as she floundered in a panic and her brain scrambled for something to say. “I wouldn’t stop you, in fact I’d kiss you back if you did.” His voice made her pause, his words registered once her heartbeat muted a little for her poor brain, and then she found herself pulling back to stare up at him as he looked back at her. He slid one hand up to take one of her hands from behind his neck, kissing her knuckles as he wove their hands together and brought it to his mouth, her ears were ringing and she was struggling to even breathe.

A part of her worried that this was all a dream, that she’d wake up and be heartbroken, but when he smiled and leaned down a little she couldn’t find it in her to care. “With your permission?” His request was a whisper and his breath tickled her lips as his forehead pressed to hers, Marinette swallowed as she dipped her head a little.

“Please?”

He sighed into the kiss and she whined softly against his mouth, his lips were warm and soft and perfect, the whine faded to a satisfied hum of delight because she was finally kissing Adrien Agreste. One kiss became two, two became a few more, and soon she found that she quite liked when his hand pressed to her lower back and that he practically purred when she sank her hands into his hair. It was clumsy and wet, their teeth often scraped together as he angled his head to explore her, and she wasn’t quite sure what to do with her tongue but she didn’t care. It was perfectly imperfect for a first kiss.

Loud ringing from his cell made him wince and look at the alarm. “I told the Gorilla I’d be out before we couldn’t use traffic as an excuse, I really have to go, but look into suing her for use of your picture without consent. I’ll call you when I finish eating and we can talk about, well, us.” Marinette nodded and practically swooned as he turned to descend from her room, her face was warm and she was really happy, it was amazing. “Oh, uh-“ He peeked at her over the top of the floor. “I love your onesie, it’s really cute with a soft material.” Then he was gone and she was left staring down at herself, realizing she’d just kissed Adrien Agreste while wearing a Chat Noir onesie with cat ears on the hood and a fluffy belt tail that was very detail specific.

Tikki was shaking her head as she emerged from her hiding place, the string of silk lanterns were a great way to offer Tikki more than one place to hide if someone came in, they were all different colors and some had tealights while others didn’t; the Kwami giggled fondly when Marinette abruptly turned and returned to her schoolwork. Adrien still had to eat lunch and Marinette didn’t even know where to begin with pressing charges against Lila for the picture, whether it was the police she had to talk to or just a lawyer, but she had time to find out. “I’m happy for you, Marinette, even if the circumstances leading to this aren’t ideal. Maybe things will be better now.” A dreamy sigh escaped her and the teen knew that schoolwork was a bust until she and Adrien finally talked, choosing to take a break for lunch.

“Thank you, Tikki, I’m going to head downstairs. I’ll bring up some cookies for you.”

Hearing her Maman in the kitchen, grinning at the plate of bao on the table, the teen walked up and began helping with stuffing the remaining pouches of dough after washing her hands and tugging up her sleeves. “Maman, uh, Adrien kissed me.” It wouldn’t do to try and hide anything from her parents, not now that she had their trust in her again, if she wanted to hide being Ladybug and the Guardian than she’d have to admit about the relationship possibly changing. Her mother’s smile was warm and Marinette giggled as her Maman bumped her hip against her since their hands were now covered in filling.

Marinette heard the soft hum, affectionate and loving, before her Maman finally replied to her confession. “He told us when he dashed out that he liked you and wanted to take you on a date sometime when he was free, if his Father agreed to it, Tom nearly stopped him from leaving in order to ask him what the wedding colors would be.” That made her choke and very nearly fling pork filling into the air, laughter from the elder made her look and glare at the mischief in her expression. “Sorry Marinette, I couldn’t resist at all, but he did tell us about the date request. I’m happy for you, baobei, and if you need to talk to us about anything please don’t think we won’t listen to you first.” Marinette knew exactly what her Maman was talking about, since she told them about Evillustrator and they had been there for the Chat Noir fiasco, the elder woman had pulled her aside and talked about consent and STI’s as well as birth control.

While the topic had been embarrassing to endure, she was only fourteen and just the thought of kissing Adrien was enough to get her light-headed, she knew it came from a place of love and wanting her to be educated. Especially since Marinette knew that Alya and Nino had already done the horizontal tango, because Alya had gone right to the girl squad and told them in vague terms what happened, while her Maman knew because Marinette had asked if fourteen and fifteen were too young for that sort of thing. “I know that and I’m sorry I made you and Papa feel like you did something that made it so I didn’t trust you, I just wanted to try and handle it on my own since that’s what I thought I had to do, thank you for understanding. Oh!” Marinette had almost forgotten about the picture thing. “Adrien suggested I should look into pressing charges against Lila for taking a photo without my consent because it’s illegal in France, we know the photo is fake but the school doesn’t think so, if we press charges then she’ll have to admit it was false.” A considering look grew on her Maman’s face before she leaned down to kiss Marinette’s forehead and smiled.

“That boy is a genius, baobei, I never thought of that. I’ll discuss it with Officer Raincomprix after you return to your studies. Now I know you’re waiting on a phone call, instead of helping me why don’t you wash up and take some of the cooked bao to your room.” Marinette grinned and washed her hands after setting aside the last bun she was working on, taking three cooked bao for herself to munch on, she also snagged a few cookies as well as a small bowl of noodles before dashing upstairs. Tikki took her prizes to the shelf that sat just above the trash can, a small toothbrush had been modified to act as a duster so the Kwami could just brush her crumbs into the trash, Marinette pushed her keyboard aside and started eating as she turned on the demo album Jagged had sent her so she could work on the cover art.

Chiming made her answer the video call, Adrien was flushed and she realized he had the phone angled so she could be seen by the others in the room with him, Gabriel Agreste was seated behind his desk and Marinette nearly choked swallowing a mouthful of food. Adrien flushed in a slightly panic. “Sorry Marinette! I didn’t think to text you first, are you okay?” His concern was sweet and she gave him a thumbs up as she downed some water to regain her ability to talk and breathe.

He didn’t look convinced. “I’m okay Adrien, you just startled me, I wasn’t exactly expecting to be seen by too many people.” The unspoken indication to her pajamas were there and didn’t need to be verbalized.

“You are supposed to be comfortable in your own home, Miss Dupain-Cheng, I shouldn’t have asked Adrien to call you while I am an audience without proper warning. I merely wanted to ask you of your intentions with my son.”

Marinette blinked and then again, realizing Gabriel had sort of asked her a serious question. “Well, sir, I just was hoping to at least try and go on a few dates to see if we’re a compatible couple. I really like Adrien, not just because of his looks but because he was kind and he went out of his way to apologize to me for a rather dumb jump of conclusions on my part when he could have just ignored me for the rest of the year. He’s been nothing but kind, patient, and understanding while I really just fumbled around like a spazz worried about being perfect to make him look my way.” It was something she’d been fighting to admit to herself since her therapy visit a few days back, that she was so scared of disappointing people that it made her lose all will to say no or made her do stupid things to try and impress others, it was something her therapist wanted to work with her on specifically.

“Would you be adverse to attending dinner at our home, with your parents, on Thursday? I would very much like to meet you again, in person, with your parents to work out the boundaries and rules. I’d also like to offer some advice in dealing with the public reaction that will no doubt come when it reaches social media that you two are in a relationship.”

Dinner with Adrien and his Father? It almost made her want to hurl that he was, apparently, approving of their relationship being a thing. “Let me, uh, Maman is downstairs; let me find out if she and Papa have anything planned for Thursday.” Marinette took the phone with her as she hurried down the steps. “Maman? Do we have dinner plans for Thursday at all?” The elder turned around and Marinette turned the phone to show just who was on the call.

“Ah, hello again Adrien. Hello Monsieur Agreste. We do not, baobei, would you be asking for a date evening or is this for us to get acquainted with Adrien’s father?” The ridiculous levels of motherly intuition were still a shock and Marinette was wondering if maybe she wasn’t so slick in hiding her hero life, if she was hiding that from Maman’s apparent psychic abilities then it was where any and all good luck had to be going.

“I’d very much like to meet you and your husband in person, Madam Cheng, as well as discuss any boundaries or rules we’d like in place.”

“I think that’s a lovely idea, Thursday evening is perfectly fine, Tom and I can bring desert. Are there any food allergies we need to worry about?”

“None at all, Madam Cheng, do my chefs need to know anything to avoid?”

“Only that Marinette is extraordinarily picky with her vegetables will not touch brussel sprouts no matter how they’re prepared for her.”

“Maman! You’re embarrassing me.” Marinette’s whine earned a chuckle from the older woman along with a forehead kiss and a one-arm hug since she had one hand with bao filling on it still.

A blush had to be on Marinette’s face because she felt warmer. “Oh baobei, I’m your Maman and it’s my job to be embarrassing, I love you.” That made the teen tug at her hood in a guilty sort of way, she hadn’t meant to imply anything.

“I love you too, Maman.” The mumbled reply earned another chuckle from the elder woman.

“I shall ensure that the menu is acceptable to everyone, Miss Dupain-Cheng. Adrien and I still have a few things to discuss, he will be calling you after his fencing lessons today I’m afraid.”

Marinette nodded and ended the call after exchanging goodbyes. “I’m going to go finish lunch now.” Her Maman’s laughter followed her up the stairs and the teen quickly began to shovel food into her mouth.

School had become a warzone.

Adrien stalked by Kim, Max, and Alix as they murmured in low voices at their lockers; it had been a week since the incident and he was no less angry about how everything had turned out. Juleka and Rose were whispering with wide eyes and visual concern for the state of the tension in the room, Nathaniel was walking with his head ducked and hiding behind Ivan as the taller boy comforted the very flustered Mylene. Alya’s rampage hadn’t quite ended yet after he, in a protective decision that was admittedly very petty the more he thought back about doing it, publicly shamed her blog while in his other alias; the Ladyblog had gone from the number one source of Ladybug information to bottom of the bucket after TVi and the heroes had gotten done with it. The reporter was still stomping around spitting fire at anyone who so much as blinked at her wrong, Nino had backed away from trying to talk her down and instead could be found with his headphones on at his seat, Lila was happily sitting in Marinette’s former seat talking about how she and Ladybug were fighting after what they’d done to poor Alya when the reporter was only doing the right thing and making sure a bully was exposed.

People were wary of Lila, now Alya too, after the TVi return fire; naturally so after the station tore apart the interview that rocketed Alya to fame just the night before and Adrien knew that none of his class had seen it yet with just how they were not shouting or even attracting akuma yet. When they did, though, it would be even uglier. The station had contacted Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, Prince Ali’s PR team, and even the Italian Embassy just to prove what happened when a reporter never researched or checked their facts.

“Adrien, you’re still going to help me study today, I cleared my schedule for this afternoon.” Lila had waited for everyone except the teacher to enter the room, to hear the implication that he’d offered to help her before this, usually he would either make an excuse or he’d play along to avoid a scene. But after what she had done and the trouble she caused, hearing the anguished tears and seeing Marinette break down because people she thought were her friends hadn’t even believed her, Adrien was done playing nice.

There was no reasoning with someone who was proving to be a problem in the worst ways. “I never offered to help you study after you lied your way into my home and got my father’s assistant and my bodyguard in trouble because of it, Lila, I deal with enough stalker fans and I’m not going to tolerate my classmates doing the same.” Throwing the word stalker in there was all he needed to do to throw another wave of tension in the room, Chloé and Sabrina both jolted in their seats after they had dealt with a stalker at the hotel during the blank period after the blonde transformed on television, the rest of the class stared as Adrien leveled Lila with a look.

A touch of anger and disgust was blanked before a false confusion and whimper made her look very much like a victim, the fake tears were a decent touch. “I have CCTV footage from the mansion of everything that you said in the hall, when you first told Nathalie that you were there to help me catch up on my work and then when you told me father that Nathalie asked you to tutor me. Along with kissing me without my consent, as well as taking a photo of me without my consent, then sending it to every female on my contact list specifically? Every action of yours has proven that you’ll do and say anything to look good and get what you want, which obviously is me, but I’m no possession and I’m not going to tolerate some fangirl use me as a means to get famous.” He wasn’t shouting at all and his anger was quiet, calmer despite the intensity behind his words, it was very similar to his Father and Adrien could see that Lila was shaking.

But it wasn’t his place to fully expose her, it wasn’t his place to make the class see just yet how badly they’d messed up, he looked right at Ivan in the back row. “Ivan, can we switch seats? I don’t feel safe with Lila hovering behind me.” The taller boy goggled for a moment and then nodded while gathering his things as Adrien did the same, trading places and waiting for the teacher to enter without another word, Alya was staring at Lila who was frantically trying to regain control of the situation until Madam Bustier walked in with a few people.

Showtime was here and it was a lot sooner than he’d thought, which he should have expected after his Father heard the extent of just what Lila had done and caused, the AGRESTE legal team had been launched into action with lawsuit after lawsuit on behalf of the company as well as Adrien personally and the Dupain-Cheng family. 

Adrien didn’t hesitate to turn the recorder on his tablet, for Marinette to see later, since it wouldn’t go public. “Lila Justine Rossi you are hereby under arrest for two counts of unlawful photography, one count of verbal harassment, one felony count of truancy, multiple counts of false signatures on legal documentation, and one count of malicious intent to slander an innocent party.” Adrien blinked at just how much they were slamming on her now as her Mother, he could only assume by the quiet stare and droop of her shoulders, watched with a blend of horror and sadness.

Lila didn’t disappoint at all. “I’m the daughter of a diplomat, you can’t arrest me!” The real fear in her voice made it sort of a shriek.

“I suggest you remain quiet, as anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law, your diplomatic immunity was revoked the moment your truancy was revealed and once the French Court is done with you there will be a ban on your VISA as well as your Mothers and you will face justice under the Italian court system per the ruling of the Italian Embassy in accordance with France’s president.” Having her out of Paris was another plus, Adrien would admit, no akuma would pop up in her whole anger and hatred thing and he did cast a suspicious look around the school. But there were no signs of black butterflies, even Hawkmoth seemed to be avoiding this situation.

As she was handcuffed and her things were gathered, tears pooling in her eyes, the girl seemed to finally decide the truth was necessary. “I never took that picture of Marinette, it was photoshopped after Alya sent me a picture of her doing some stupid Chinese ritual thing, she bullied me first and-“ The officer didn’t even allow her to continue speaking.

“We have recorded evidence, from a video posted to the Ladyblog, where you specifically and verbally admitted to taking said picture which led to a vicious slander attempt of a local business. Please keep moving or I will be forced to carry you to the cruiser.” Adrien watched as the officers led them out and Lila finally quieted, he saved the recording to send to Marinette and made sure it went before he deleted it, the room was quiet enough that the buzzing from the fluorescent lights was deafening. Even Madam Bustier was staring outright at the door, sinking into her chair with a very heartbroken expression on her face, but she’d helped lead to this and Adrien wasn’t exactly happy with her either.

Adrien jolted in an instant. “Wait, that psycho photo shopped a picture of my girlfriend at a funeral for her tài lǎo lao?” He noticed the looks and glared at all of them. “Traditional Chinese funerals include burning joss paper.” It really explained the whole reason that Sabine, Marinette, and Tom were so infuriated by everything; Adrien really wanted to go cataclysm her, consequences be damned.

It was Alix who jolted out of her stupor first. “Guys there’s no way Marinette will ever forgive us.” The room burst into frantic murmurs of ‘oh God what have we done’ and ‘how could we have been so stupid’ around him, Alya was shaking in her seat and Nino wasn’t moving, but the worst of all was their teacher who was whiter than paper with tears sliding down her face as she clenched her eyes tightly. There was a light tap at the door before a severe man in a proper suit, along with another severe man in a less formal dress style, gestured to the redhead.

The less formal man entered the room and closed the door behind him. “Good morning students, I am Baxter Kennedy and I’ll be taking over the role as your teacher for the rest of the year, we are aware of what just occurred only minutes ago and as such I have had the Ministry of National Youth and Education send in a psychologist who specializes in youth groups to spend the rest of the day with you. We are quite understanding that nothing will really stick if we try teaching today.” Adrien watched as the severe man returned without Madam Bustier and leaned into his seat.

“I am Doctor Oscar Bennet, I would like you to introduce yourselves before we begin.”

He hadn’t expected a therapy session today but Adrien figured his input wouldn’t be as important. Oh, how wrong he had been though.

Doctor Bennet made it apparent quick quickly that while Adrien’s reasoning for being quiet was sound when dealing with the paparazzi and tabloid spreads, as denying it only made it seem truer, a school bully was an entirely different beast and his request for silence had helped bring things to this point. The model was left exhausted, picked apart mentally, and wondering if he could schedule sessions with Doctor Bennet privately because he’d actually learned a lot about himself and his reactions in his short talk with the man.

Like his relationship with his Father, which was almost nonexistent by this point, was actually a problem that needed to be addressed because Gabriel was prioritizing his grief and his company over his relationship with his own offspring. That his lack of control in things like his attire, his diet, his hobbies, was leading him to being a potential control freak when he did finally gain independence or not being able to exist on his own at all.

Alya had spent ten minutes into lunch screaming at him, blaming Adrien for not speaking up as to why her blog was ruined and she’d lost her best friend, until Doctor Bennet pulled her aside and disappeared into the room set up for him. Alya’s parents arrived not long after and Adrien shook his head, Nino looked a little disappointed but even agreed that he should have trusted Marinette and not blamed everything on her jealousy over Adrien. Nobody else tried talking to him, which was good, or even asked him to talk to Marinette for them.

Things were going to get better, he knew, now that the right steps were in place. Principal Damocles and Madam Bustier, as well as the rest of the staff, were required to take remedial training seminars on bullying; the Principal had been forced to forfeit his position to the man assigned by the National Youth and Education Ministry, Oswald McKinney. Madam Bustier’s teaching license was being revoked until she completed multiple courses on bullying, how to handle claims of plagiarism or theft and even destruction of private property. Chances of her being given to a higher-level class were slim after this, if she even was allowed to teach again, but that wasn��t his concern.

Adrien grinned at the big smile on Marinette’s face as he dipped into the bakery for lunch period and slipped a rose into her hand with a wink, her face flushed and he couldn’t help but press a kiss to her nose, he did squeak when she hauled him down by the collar to leave a searing kiss on his lips before she scampered up into the apartment with a giggle and a reminder that Kagami was waiting for him to join them.

Things weren’t perfect but they were getting there.

[grace-lost-in-space]

Therapy - “What a Dum-Dum”

With anxious hands, I clutch the letter to my professor which my therapist asked me to write last week. I did it. I was brave—or at least that is what people often call me. The dictionary defines B-R-A-V-E as: ready to face and endure danger or pain; showing courage. Courage? There is that word again, creeping up from the pits of my stomach into the back of my throat. I can almost say it, but not quite. My entire life has been spent preparing to endure danger or pain—it is what I do best. I am best defined by that very sentence. Perhaps my mom should have been more creative in naming me. 

I take a deep breath before using all of my energy to open the door to the lobby of my therapist’s office. Doing so forces my body to immediately retaliate with a loud wheeze. When people tell me to “take a deep breath”, they often forget that I have asthma and a dangerously low BMI, so this so-called simple therapeutic technique wreaks havoc on my body but, like the rule-follower that I am, I do it anyway. The door lets out a loud squeal as I concentrate all of my weight on pulling it open. A kind of foreshadowing, perhaps, of what is about to take place. 

“Hi, Grace. I’ll let Legs know you’re here.” I hear from behind the reception desk. Ms. Rita recites the exact same line every Monday and Wednesday. I smile—although, I have no idea if it is visible through my mask. I respond by waving politely because I have not truly spoken in 11 months. Through the dizziness which insists on accompanying me to each and every appointment, I make my way to my usual chair and I sit. I begin counting soon after and I get to  137 before my therapist arrives in the entryway and says “Grace.” After one year together, I still only know her by her shoes and her voice. As I stand unsteadily, I wonder about this trend with social workers wearing riding boots. Is this an unwritten rule of their ethical code? Is there some sort of advertisement during NASW conferences? “Invest in THESE fine leather boots and you won’t BELIEVE how much progress YOUR clients will make! Order now for $10 off. You may qualify for an additional discount if you have feathered hair. Offer not available in Alaska and Hawaii.”  I make a mental note that I must research this more and find an answer because it is a common theme of every social worker who has walked into and out of my life. Cue “these boots are made for walkin’…” lyrics. I stop myself before it gets too cheesy. 

I walk slowly behind her and after what feels like an hour, I make my way into her dimly lit office and find solace in my usual black leather chair. Although it squeaks, it has been faithful for the past twelve months and it has seen me through many meltdowns, remaining sturdy as I hide behind it. Like clockwork, it squeaks as I sit down and I decide to give it grace since, after all, it has been the most consistent thing in my life for the past year.  My feeding tube pump begins to beep, signaling a low battery, so I take out my charger and begrudgingly plug myself into the nearest outlet. “So, Grace,” she starts “how are you? Did you write the letter to Dr. W?” I respond by shoving the now crinkled papers into her lap, happy to rid myself of the trauma that haunts the wide-ruled pages. 

Legs and I sit in silence (see what I did there?) as she reads the letter which took me three days to write. I look to my right, at the dusty mahogany brown bookshelf which is adorned with a mixture of exactly 42 stuffed animals, toys, and action figures—my doing, of course. There was a day where an exhausted Legs decided it would be best for me to organize the shelves rather than doing any sort of processing—so I did just that and, in doing so, ruined a perfectly good pair of fishnet tights. But, I digress. 

After what feels like a less than sufficient amount of time to read this trauma-filled nightmare of a letter, she hands it back to me and says “Okay. Here you go. You can do whatever you want with it.” I look at her god-awful work boots as if I am looking into her eyes and I express obvious confusion. In true selective mutism fashion, I remain silent but my facial expression speaks volumes. I hastily shove the letter back at her and write on my note pad “you keep it.” I wait. What am I waiting for? That is a great question and one which Legs is also clearly eager to know the answer to. “So, how is pumping going?” She asks. Again, I glare at the hideous riding boots, wholly confused. Did I just spend three days writing this letter and disclosing mounds of trauma for her to read it and hand it back to me with no intention of processing it? Yes. Yes, I did. 

I look back to the bookshelf and re-count each and every item which remains beautifully organized if I do say so myself. I follow the rules again and force a deep breath before writing “Why did he do it? Why did he pick me? Why did he do this to me?” Almost immediately, she shoots back with “because it made him happy. He liked it.” I decide instantly that another deep breath is necessary and I question my insanity because surely no therapist would say what she just said to me. I remain still—a defense mechanism which I have learned is often useless. Continued silence looms over both of us like the beginning of a funnel cloud—eerily still but preparing to invoke chaos—until she asks “Why do you read Harry Potter books and watch the movies?” More silence. I begin to question how those boots do not yet have holes in them from my hazel laser pointers. She finally answers her own question, as my pen remains frozen in my hand. “Because you like it. It makes you happy.” 

My mouth gapes open which, thankfully, is hidden behind my Peppa Pig mask. I glance over to my right at the wall from which my feeding tube pump is getting its power. I realize that in order to run, I will first have to unplug myself which would surely be anticlimactic if I were to be so unlucky as to tangle the cord or trip over it. Unplugging yourself from the wall and leaving a therapy session seems simple enough but when you are accident prone and have a history of falling into bushes and rolling down hills, you learn to be cautious and question everything. I look around the room. No bushes. No hills. Only me and Legs and those atrocious riding boots. I stare down at my platform converse shoes. I wonder to myself why I choose to wear these shoes each week. These shoes are not optimal for running and I am a runner, or at least I am categorized as such in dusty medical charts which exist somewhere in what I imagine to be a damp basement of a two-star hospital. I make a mental note to never wear platform shoes to therapy again. 

As I continue with my silent existential crisis, Legs takes an early exit ramp and asks about the sucker from our last session—the one she handed me on my way out the door during my last session. “Did you practice eating the sucker?” She asks. I nod and smile, with tears beginning to form in my eyes. When I cry, my eyes turn from hazel to green. It is an easy task to recognize when I have been crying. I wonder if Legs has noticed this. She turns slightly to her right and reaches into her candy dish which sits on another dusty brown table. She grabs a pineapple flavored sucker and holds it up in front of my face. “Here” she insists. Pineapple? Are there creatures that enjoy pineapple flavored Dum-Dums? And, furthermore, why are they called Dum-Dums? Who chose that name? Who thought, “Aha! We shall call these…Dum-Dums”? Again, I digress. 

“You don’t want to be weird, right? You told me you don’t want to be called weird. It would be normal to eat a sucker. Normal people eat suckers.” Enticed by the idea of being called “normal,” (a rare occurrence in my world), I oblige. After 27 seconds, I manage to unwrap the sucker and put it against my lips. “Just eat it.” She says. Once again, I glare at The Boots. I manage to put the sucker—in all its sugary, pineapple glory—in my mouth and leave it there for exactly three seconds before the sensation becomes too much to handle. I smile as a steady stream of warm tears flows down my cheeks. I consider this progress, since it is the longest I have ever been able to keep a sucker in my mouth. My smile grows wider as I recognize this small victory and I feel truly proud of myself. 

“Eh…that was…okay…I guess. But it wasn’t a good job. You could just eat it but you won’t. When you eat the whole thing, that will be a good job.” She says. I immediately break into a full fledged sob and I wonder just how green my eyes must be at this point. I sob, and I sob, and I sob. It feels as though the tears are endless. My Peppa mask is now heavy from absorbing tears and snot. This must be attractive. 

And, at that moment, I manage to stutter over a word. “L_____.” If you are new to this circus, L is my previous therapist and a fellow boot-wearing social worker. “What?” Legs asks, obviously confused. 

My sobs grow louder. My brain wants to tell her that she is acting like L but my mouth refuses to function properly. I manage a hurried glance at my pump charger and I consider making a now-or-never break for it. I somehow sputter three words like a lemon on a used car lot. “Please…be…nice.” I say. It takes exactly 14.5 seconds for me to vocalize these three words but, again, it is progress. 

“I can’t understand what you’re saying but you are doing a good job with your words” Legs promises. 

Still sobbing, I try again. “L______.” I stutter on the L but it comes out clearly. 

“What?” She asks. 

“Mean” I say, choking back tears.

“Did you say mean?” She asks. 

I nod for “yes.” 

“Well, I’ve got another patient, so I guess—“ she starts. 

I interrupt her by yanking my pump charger out of the wall. I do so without proper planning and I let out a loud cry. I am not typically a loud crier. I am quite proficient in the art of “quiet tears.” Enduring many, many nights of various people hurting me has taught me to improve upon this skill. I try my very best to stop drowning in my own tears. I can feel it happening the same way it happened with L. 

And I run. And I run. And I run. 

Because I AM good at something: running. 

[adaywithandrew]

genuinely i know from experience that it’s easier to get onto the next level of life or back with the present or whatever you want to call it——- if you are just bored and numbed out of past trauma so it’s like why not continue might as well fill up the story with something else. It’s very hard to move on or go and pursue some other story if your mind is still very caught up in the last story and is living in some kind of ghostly present. like those feelings are too powerful and real. but I also think that it’s a catch bc it’s good to have real feelings and not be numb. And the amount of times I have had to bury old fears or traumatic things to keep moving at this point :( like I don’t know what god was thinking to make me so sensitive to this world. Bc it’s been so hard to interact with the present or the future like even when I know as a person “I want to be vulnerable and have an open heart” it’s still incredibly hard to be present and do that. bc all of these subconscious defense mechanisms that just surface immediately bc the root of what I fear was just ignored in the last life challenge for survival instead of being squashed. Like I truly don’t have a basis of trust in my situation that I’m in (my situation meaning how I pursue all relationships in my life) bc everything can just fall apart :( so how am I supposed to be open. Like all the it’s better to have loved and lost wisdom never sat that right with me bc I think some of us are just slated to be melancholic- like sometimes I feel like I’m mourning my last life. I was a super depressed child and didn’t understand why bc i was like ??? Why am I even sad??? My life is ok!!! and if that was my beginning it was always going to be a lot to have a loss. Like the fragility from the beginning was insane... the recovery from the losses hasn’t really gotten to a place where I am like :) wow so happy that happened so I could grow. Like to this day I think that falling in love at 17 was way too much and gave me a trauma brain to deal with. Like some people have to experience war or death or something at that age and that’s truly out of your hands and devastating!!! But with love it’s like I wish I had more self preservation at the time to have protected myself and turned away in time before the brain damage from the sadness hit that has effected me for yearssss. Like why was and is my self preservation so low especially if I knew how low I could feel and sad I could get. Like idk if I thought it was my destiny to lean into it but a. Lot of it was so unnecessary. And something else!!! You know how therapists and books and w/e are like when you get angry or sad don’t explode over everything...literally when I’m sad it’s like a mountain of sadness and it feels like I’m mourning all the times I was forgotten and hurt or mishandled. And also this deep nameless sadness that I don’t think is even mine :( but it’s like closing my throat up and forcing me to experience it. I also think I have a major life pattern of pursuing situations that are bound to fail (like that person has given me plenty of signals that they won’t be able to meet me or hold me through xyz but still I hope) bc I’m convinced I can open them up but really it’s like...why am I doing that. Then it fails and I feel so alone and abandoned and the cycle starts again. Like if I went out and found more people who are on this 👁 I’m awake with you I’m as sensitive as you level would this still be happening!? Or would I STILL be too scared to be witnessed by them somehow. Or what if it happens and we would just fall endlessly together in how sad it is like a train wreck because I’m not actually awake I’m just indulgent. Like sometimes I think I have this sick programming where I believe that the people that have denied me (the safe space to be vulnerable without judgement) are better and stronger than the potential people out there that could open the space. like they are just mentally tougher and an aspiration for me. I can’t honestly tell if that’s bad or that’s what makes the world keep moving into action. :(

Something else I have been thinking about is how that psychic told my mom that she was a new soul and had never been here before. And I think it’s incredibly true bc I have always felt that way with her...but it’s like as a child of a new soul does that mean I’m slated to be lonely for this entire life? I feel like I have such a weird relationship with adults of all kinds. If one that I respect tries to connect with me I actually have to get out of the room bc I just start crying from how vulnerable it feels to be speaking with someone who is actually actually older than me or “with me”. that’s something that haunts me from my gender studies major bc the profs were always like please remember I am not a therapist bc people misused them a lot..and I never wanted to do that so I just avoided them. The one time I thought wow I’m so far from crying why not talk to * in office hours? I had to pretend I had a meeting so I could leave when I felt the tears. Like 💀 I wish less of my life narrative had to be centered around this endless struggle to get more comfortable with true vulnerability. I think I’ve fooled myself into thinking I grew the thicker skin I was always told to grow but I don’t know if that’s true. I still feel so much of it and I just suppress and ignore that I feel it :(

[codename-adler]

Kevin Day and his Oblivious Literature Lover, pt. VII

Happy Birthday, Kevin. I’m so glad you exist. We all are. Here, I give to you friendship, love and care. You’re gonna get through this, I promise. ♥️

>> Table of Contents, TW and other parts are here!

Jean leaves

after their game against the Trojans, Kevin says goodbye to Jeremy Knox, and to Jean

Kevin feels heavy, he feels torn, and sad and scared, because he’s alone once again

and he’s afraid he’ll never see Jean again, that whatever they managed to have hear in Palmetto was their unofficial “break up” and that Jean will never speak to him again

Jean had cried, he’d begged, he didn’t want to go, he didn’t want to be abandoned again, he didn’t want to be away from Kevin again

but Jeremy Knox had somehow worked his magic, and Jean had genuinely (well, as genuine as one can be after the Nest) accepted Jeremy’s offer, and even chose to move immediately to South California with him instead of waiting for the summer

Kevin hoped it wasn’t in an attempt to put as much distance between them and more because Jean was on his way to healing, even if it was away from him

they had hugged one last time, in Abby’s guest room, and poured everything they felt for each other in their embrace

they both knew things would be different from now on

they knew it would be hard, and painful

they knew the healing would be slow, that nasty things would resurface

but in that moment, they didn’t care

“Jean… Jean listen to me,” Kevin whispered in Jean’s ear. “Hell is over. You got through it. You got out. You’ll be safe, now, okay? I know- I know we have to process things… Take your time. Rely on Jeremy. Rely on your team. The Trojans are great. And I’m not just talking about Exy. Okay, Jean? You’ll be safe now. You’ll be far away from all this mess. And if there is anything, anything, Jean, you call me. I’ll be there. I don’t care why or how; I’ll be there for you, Jean.”

they held on tighter to each other, tears silently streaming down their faces

Kevin cradled the back of Jean’s head as Jean clutched Kevin’s shirt in his fist

they had to let go, they had to, and yet…

I care for you. I love you. I do. I’ll always love you.

words left unsaid, barely exchanged in a look, barely understood in their eyes

words that had never held any meaning to them, words they’d never heard, words they’d never said

they weren���t about to start saying them now, but their presence was strong

But this is goodbye, for now.

they let go

Jean leaves

Jean is gone

none of the Foxes know what’s happened, but they do feel the consequences

and it doesn’t help that their next and ultimate game is against the Ravens, at Edgar Allen, their last chance at winning Championships, at beating the odds and their nemesis

Kevin is a huge fucking asshole all week

he can’t seem to help it

he lashes out, he fights, he drinks…

he’s obsessed, he’s panicking, he’s a monster

the high of helping Jean has worn off, the high of their win against the Trojans has worn off

fear is all that’s left

Wymack has to forcefully bring him to Betsy at 6 AM when he finds Kevin at the court, having passed the whole night practicing, even after Neil and Andrew left around 3 AM

Kevin is shaking all over in his chair

Betsy doesn’t offer hot cocoa

Kevin doesn’t want to be here, never did, never will

Betsy has to thread carefully, has to approach him from the right angle

“How is Jean settling in at USC?” she calmly asks

“We’re not talking about Jean,” Kevin spits back immediately

“Okay. What are we talking about?”

“We’re not talking.”

“That’s alright. I’ll talk for a bit, then. As your designated therapist, your health is under my care as much as it is under Abby’s and David’s. What this means is, my word weights as much as theirs when it comes to who plays, and who doesn’t. Exy has been good for you, Kevin. Exy is good for a lot of you, actually. However, what my professional advice would be, in your case, is that you are to be forbidden from playing this last game against Edgar Allen.”

Kevin gasps

Before he can unleash the thousands of obscenities on the tip of his tongue, Betsy raises a calm hand to hold him off

“I won’t do that. I should, but I won’t. Ultimately, not playing would aggravate your mental state more than facing Edgar Allen and pushing yourself past your limits. You need this. You need closure. You need proof. In my opinion, it won’t solve your problems, it won’t solve your traumas, your alcoholism, your PTSD, your anxiety, your anger issues, and I’m being brief. But this is something you want to do, and I understand its importance. So I won’t be interfering.”

Kevin scoffs, uncooperative

“But hear this, Kevin: at the rate you’re going, you are not going to win this game. You’re not. You’re going to break, you’re going to lose, and then you won’t be getting back up. This? Right now? This is your point of no return.”

Kevin gapes at her

he can’t believe the words that just came out of Betsy’s mouth

not because they are cruel, or unprofessional, or harmful

it’s because they are true

Kevin finds that her words resonate in him, like the echoes of a desperate cry for help within himself

Kevin doesn’t cry, because he can’t, he doesn’t remember how to

he does however go into full-blown panic

without a bottle in his clutch 

it’s bad

it’s really bad

he hears half the words Betsy says next

“Kevin, this is a panic attack. You know this, this is familiar. Don’t be afraid of it, you are not going to die. Not on my watch. I’m going to hold you now, okay? Do I have your permission?”

Kevin nods frantically as he chokes on air

Betsy gets up to come sit beside Kevin on the couch and takes him in her arms

she buries his head over her shoulders and crosses her arms behind his back; without rocking as to not increase the nausea, Betsy begins squeezing Kevin every three seconds, raising her shoulders everytime to encourage him to breathe

“One, two, three, in, Kevin. One, two, three, out, Kevin.”

the pressure of her arms and her deep, motherly voice bring Kevin down from his attack after a good twenty minutes

“I’m going to release you now, Kevin, okay? Can I let go of you?”

Kevin slowly nods, his eyes fixated on a point behind Betsy’s back

she doesn’t even have the time to sit back down on her own chair, though, before Kevin pulls a Neil and sprints out of her office

Wymack can’t even catch up to him

he runs, and runs, and runs

his feet should take him to his dorm, to the alcohol cabinet, or even to the court, to his gear

they don’t

he stops running right in front of Jackie Hall

rationally, Kevin knows classes start at 8:30, that Jules has been getting back in class progressively, that she was slowly getting back on her feet

irrationally, Kevin fears she won’t be there, or that she will, but in pieces on the floor, or that she won’t want to see him, or that she’ll know, or that-

his feet take him inside nonetheless

in a haze, he once again faces door 418

he doesn’t realize he’s knocked until his fist meets the air when the door opens

he woke up Jules, and she looks like it; eyes puffed from sleep, bonnet half off, naked feet

“Kev? Wha- You’re here. Why are you here? Are you- Are you okay? Why are you dressed like that?”

Kevin looks down, at his Exy clothes

his Exy clothes

Shit.

“Okay, no, it’s too early for this. Come on, don’t just stand there. Go shower. I’ll be there after, yeah?” she says as she ushers him inside her dorm room

but Kevin can’t seem to move, now that he has stopped

so Jules grabs two of his fingers and pulls him inside

which then pulls Kevin out of his apathy

“I don’t- I can’t- I-,” he tries

“Do I need to call someone? Are you in danger?” Jules panics a little bit

“N-No… I- Clothes… It’s all I have…” Kevin explains with difficulty

“Oh.”

Jules locks the door behind them and goes to her bed, only to pull out a pile of clothes from under the corner pillow

she brings them to Kevin

“You left this last time you were here… I figured if you didn’t ask for it back, it’d be more useful here in case… Well… You know… That,” she explains, a bit embarrassed

Kevin furrows his eyebrows, he looks like he is on the verge of crying

he doesn’t, of course he doesn’t, but if he could…

he gently takes the clothes and locks himself in the joint bathroom, without a word

Jules is left standing there, still shocked, nervous, overwhelmed…

she quickly undresses herself while Kevin is out of the room, puts on some more decent clothes that what he is used to see her in, washes her face in the tiny sink and fixes her hair for the day

she gets cold as she waits for Kevin, and pulls on a red polo sweater, the only one she has left that doesn’t need to be washed

she waits for Kevin on her bed

Kevin comes out of the bathroom at last, black sweatpants, black shirt, white socks on

he’s clutching his Exy uniform in his arms, close to his chest, close to his heart

Jules gets up to go fetch them two granola bars, the only two she has left of her oh so spare groceries

Kevin looks at it as if she’d handed him a live kitten

he gets that pained look again

“Are you sure that’s okay…?” he asks her

“Yeah, I’m sure. You need it, Kevin. Eat,” she answers him

she sits down on the floor and invites him to do the same

they eat in silence, Jules watching his every moves

Kevin barely nibbles at his bar

“Kevin… Tell me,” Jules finally speaks

and he can’t hold it in anymore

he tells her everything

everything.

from Betsy’s emergency session this morning all the way back to his mom’s death

and everything in between

Riko. The Nest. Exy. His hand. The Foxes. Thea. The alcohol. Andrew. Neil. The mafia. Jean, again, honestly this time.

everything.

it lasts for hours

or so they think

turns out the sun has barely been up for an hour when Kevin finally closes his mouth, emptied of all his bad history 

Jules has bitten the skin off of her lips, but has stayed put where she sat next to him nonetheless, through it all

after a while, breaking the heavy silence, Jules asked the only question one could ask after such a story

“What do you need, Kev?”

what did he need, indeed…

“I- Help me…” was the only answer he could think of

it chilled Juliet to her core

she couldn’t

she couldn’t do that

she was a mess

she didn’t have the strength

she was falling apart at the seams

“Kevin, I- Look at me… Look at my life… I am the last person you want help from… I can’t hold you up like that… I can’t be your anchor…”

she was on the verge of crying, too

but she could cry for real

it took her everything not to

Kevin blamed himself relentlessly

“No, no, no, no… I’m not- I just want… Someone,” Kevin tried to explain

Kevin took a deep breath, getting ready to confess

“I can’t do therapy. I can’t do it. Not alone. I just can’t. I hate is so fucking much. I can’t do it alone.”

Jules understood

her eyes widened in surprise

“You want to do… Joined therapy? With me?”

“Yes.”

“Why.”

“I can’t talk to her… I can’t talk to Betsy. I don’t know how to. I don’t even want to. But you… I can talk to you. I want to talk to you. But I can’t do that to you. We need an outlet. Hence, you, Betsy, and me… The dream team,” Kevin chuckled sadly

it made no sense

it was unconventional, unheard of

it was playing with fire, playing with their traumas

“Okay,” she said

“Okay?” he asked in disbelief

“Okay.”

---

and so they walked back to Betsy’s office, together

Betsy is quite surprised, to say the least

not that Kevin came back

but that he came back willingly, with a plan and desire to get better, and accompanied

before agreeing to Kevin’s deal, however, she has conditions of her own

“One: these sessions are to be once a week, and more if I deem it necessary, no arguing. Two: No more alcohol. You go sober or nothing of this will work. Three: As soon as this Exy season is over, you are to be put on antidepressants. Again, meds mean sobriety.”

Kevin nods, somber but willing to try

“Also: we will all sign a contract to prevent any more harm and to clarify the conditions under which these sessions are to take place. It will be a bit different, as you are not family, or a couple, but we can make this work.”

Juliet and Kevin consent

“One last thing: I will need a full session alone with you, Juliet. I have to evaluate you, evaluate if you are not a threat to Kevin’s well-being, and if Kevin is not a threat to yours. We also need to get to know each other, I’m sure you’d like to know who you’ll be dealing with, yeah? I promise I’m not usually so serious. Would that be okay with you, Juliet?” 

Juliet nods on her own, before she is hit with a heavy realization

“Ma’am- Doctor- I- I don’t have the money. I can’t. I should’ve thought about it sooner. I’m sorry, I didn’t think,” Jules apologizes

“Oh, that won’t be a problem, dear. I’m funded by the Palmetto Foxes. And believe me or not, they don’t use my services as much as they should. Right, Kevin? Besides, Kevin needs this. I need Kevin to do this. And I have a strong feeling you need this too. I assure you, money will not be a problem,” Betsy responds

“But… I’m not a- a Fox…”

“Oh, trust me, dear. You’re a Fox alright. Just not on a court.”