#my therapist: so what have you been doing since our last session?

[riddlers-left-buttcheek]

think I might have a problem

mayyyybe

[ceslatoil]

Ghost Filbrick AU

So a few weeks ago I was in the group chat and I pitched an idea for a fic (not writing it anytime soon, I have enough projects on my plate for now!) and it’s about the Pines family visiting Ma Pines before she moves to an assisted care facility. Main idea is that Dipper and Mabel meet Filbrick’s ghost who is trying to hinder the move, and the family trying to get him to move on. Lots of family drama ensues.

I wrote like, a scrap of a script draft for it if y’all wanna read it below:

(Scene: The grown ups, including CARYN, STAN, FORD and COOPER, MABEL & DIPPER’s dad, are all up playing cards. CARYN pulls out the Tarot Deck)

Caryn: I call this one “Last Man Standing!” You put down a card and the other player has to put down either the same suit or card number. If someone plays a major arcana card like wheel of fortune or the star, they can switch up the minor arcana suit. If you play death or the tower, the other players draw four. Whoever has zero cards wins!

Dad Pines: Grandma I think you just reverse engineered Uno

Stan: Dad wouldn’t buy us more than one card deck, so we made due with Ma’s tarot.

Ford: I thought it was to keep you from cheating the deck

Caryn: Both things could be true! Now hush.

Stan: … Coop is everything all right with Dipper? It’s not my business but… he seemed pretty cagey with ya earlier.

Caryn: Cagey? The kid stormed out of the room in the middle of dinner! Granted it was *my* cooking, so I can’t really hold a grudge on that front. (*plays a card*) That’s The Fool, so we’re reversing direction.

Ford: … It just doesn’t seem like him.

Coop: … that’s been the norm lately, I’m afraid. I don’t think he’s handling the divorce well, with me moving out and I just haven’t been around as much since then.

Ford: Mabel told us in one of her letters you were in family therapy together?

Coop: We’ve had a few sessions, yes. She loved it, got along great with our counselor. I think she asked a few times about becoming a therapist someday! But Dipper doesn’t really participate much during the sessions. He just sulks in the corner, like he doesn’t want to be there at all.

Stan: He’ll get over it. He’s stubborn, but not the type to hold a grudge.

Ford: I can’t imagine any of this is easy for any of you.

Coop: Weirdly enough, me and Annie— uh, Annie and *I*— have gotten on better than ever. Divorce was the best thing to happen to our relationship, it’s like we’re finally friends again?

Stan: Divorce ain’t so bad, I’ve done it at least six times now!

Caryn: I thought about divorcing your father, but he died before I got around to it. Suit change.

Ford: when did Dad pass?

Stan: … ‘97.

Ford: … I see. (*silence*)

Caryn: … Let’s not talk about funerals right now. God knows I’ve been to enough of ‘em. I’m just glad one of ‘em didn’t count. (*pinches Stan’s cheek.*)

Stan: … me too, Ma.

Ford: … Last Man Standing

Stan: Like hell you are, you shit, draw four!

Ford: … that’s not the tower, that’s a Stan Buck!

Caryn: Don’t tell me you’re still making Stan Bucks! You know damn well that’s not how money works!

(This next part is self indulgent and idk if I’ll include it in the fic proper)

Caryn: Now Stanford… let me ask you a question. Why the hell have you been hiding your left hand in your pocket all night?

Ford:…. I don’t know what you mean— HEY!

(Caryn pulls his hand out of his pocket, examines his second ring finger)

Caryn: Stanford Filbrick why does it look like you have a wedding band on your finger?

Ford: …. (*sighs*) because I have a wedding band on my finger.

Caryn: AHA! Here we are moping about death and divorce and you sit on good news like that! Who is she? Who’s your wife? Where’d you meet her, what’s her family like, what does she do?

Ford:… I don’t have a wife. I have a husband.

Stan: The guy used to live in the dump and now he’s a millionaire inventor running for president.

Caryn: You married McGucket?! Me and the girls canvassed for him this year! Wait till I tell that Janine, that’ll get her to pipe down about her Chiropractor Son-In-Law for once!

Coop: I really like his policies on infrastructure, very forward thinking!

Stan: Eh, I’m voting third party. Nothing personal, I just don’t want a brother in law who’s commander in chief. It would make thanksgiving a nightmare.

Ford: You’re a felon, you can’t vote at all.

Stan: That hasn’t stopped me in thirty years!

Ford: So Ma, you’re… fine with—

Caryn: Sweetie, until this morning I thought two of my sons were dead and one cut all ties. I figured I deserved it. Sitting back while your Father gave you all grief for nothin. I told myself if I ever saw you again I’d take you as is, and I meant it.

[inkskinned]

so while i was writing the book, i became violently suicidal.

this was mostly due to the fact that i had a very bad reaction to some meds and my brain stopped producing any serotonin. also i was in the last semester of grad school where it's actually illegal to feel anything but dread. so it wasn't going well.

somewhere in the fog of it i became aware i needed help. nobody was taking clients or my insurance. i didn't want to do inpatient care - it wasn't right for my needs. there's not really an "in between" stage between "inpatient" and "no care," but i was trying to do the right thing. i was trying to activate the chain of command that was my emergency plan. i knew i needed help now.

i used betterhelp.

i know, i know. i'm a straight-A student and so smart and so clever, how could i ever use something so blatantly bad. to be honest with you, i didn't feel particularly keen on it from the getgo - things that seem too good to be true usually are. also, if something online is free, the price is usually your privacy.

the thing is that there was kind of a global pandemic happening at the time and i worked 5 jobs alongside of being a fulltime student and also like writing a book on the side. it is a miracle that i even thought about getting help. i would love to tell you i had the mental wherewithal to like, process whether this was the right choice for me. mostly i was desperate. i was so suicidal that i was trying to find a reason to stay inside of fortune cookies. i was the kind of suicidal that looks like splatterpaint. i hadn't been that bad in an entire decade.

they took my data. i gave them it freely. somewhere out there, they have a dossier on me. on everything i survived. my story in little datapoints, scattergraphed beautifully.

the first woman told me that really i should be grateful, because (and this is a direct quote): "at least you're not anne frank." i said that i felt that statement was antisemitic, as anne frank's life and experience shouldn't be compared to like, a nonbinary lesbian in western massachusetts. the therapist said that i should try to use lucid dreaming to try to picture myself in an actually scary situation, like running from nazis.

i applied for another therapist. i was willing to accept the possibility that there was a bad apple in the bunch. the next therapist and i even laughed about how inappropriate that statement was. and then, in our next session: the new therapist said if i was struggling with body image issues, i should just work harder on my appearance. she spent 3 sessions in a row talking about how she was grieving, and made me memorize facts about her grandmother so "she can live on through my clients."

i am a three's-a-charm kind of person. okay, so what if the last person made me uncomfortable. i figured it was just a misunderstanding of priorities - she had felt she was sharing with me, i had felt like i had to take care of her. i applied for another therapist.

the last woman asked me to help her pray. she bowed her head. i stared at her, frozen, while she said: lord, i beg you: cure her. take the pain of being gay away from her.

i spent somewhere between 2.5 and 3 months on betterhelp. in that whole time, i was not getting the professional help i so desperately needed, even though i was fucking trying.

in the end, i survived this because i finally could get off the meds that were literally killing me. a request for a real therapist finally went through. i survived because my friends saved my life. because nick let me sob myself dry in his arms. because maddie took the razors out of my room when i asked them to. because grace slept over in my bed for like 3 weeks in a row since nobody trusted me not to hurt myself when i was alone. i survived because i got fucking lucky. because even when i was desperately suicidal, i was too old and too self-aware to take "you need to be prettier" as good advice.

the thing is that there's a 19 year old me who isn't like that. who would have heard "just think about how grateful you should be" and said - oh, i see. i would have assumed that is what it means to be in therapy: the same thing my abusers used to tell me. that i am just pretending and lazy. that i am ugly and unworthy.

betterhelp positioned itself to take advantage of an incredibly vulnerable community. it preys on desperation. it knows it is serving people who are not doing well mentally. it saw that there is a huge need for real, immediate, compassionate mental health care: and then it fucking takes your money and privacy.

i still get their ads on instagram. last night i watched as a woman in a pool pretends to talk to a different woman. they discuss her anxiety.

there's a 19 year old version of me, and she didn't survive this. she was too tired, and drowning. i almost fucking died. this thing almost fucking killed me.

in the ad, the woman playing the therapist takes a note on a clipboard and then nods once, sagely.

i have to admit it's a pretty scene. the steam and light coming off the pool water lands on the actresses. like this, it almost looks baptismal, holy.

[moosesarecute]

December 4th

December masterlist

Masterlist

“I’m not going to do that,” Azriel told Jonathan.

Rhys had met him outside him room and followed him to therapy. Azriel would have gone anyway. After the session yesterday, he felt lighter than he had the past years. He wanted to go back.

Jonathan was a mate that had lost his mate and Azriel was going through the same. He felt seen.

“Writing down one’s feelings make it easier for the brain to let go of them,” Jonathan tried to explain why Azriel should write a diary.

Azriel, however, didn’t feel ready to let go of his grief. He felt like he then was letting go of you.

“What if you write letters to Y/N. You can pretend to tell her about all she’s missed or all the feelings and moments you would have loved to share with her.” Jonathan suggested with a glint in his eyes.

Azriel nodded. He could try.

My dearest Y/N,

It’s been over three years. This is the third December without you, and it haven’t become easier.

Rhys and Cass are forcing me to go to therapy. My therapist, Jonathan, suggested I write you letters, so that’s what I’m doing.

You have missed so much, my light. Both Rhys and Cass have found their mates. Their names are Feyre and Nesta. They are sisters and used to be human, but that’s a story too long for letters. I promise I’ll explain all to you when if you come back to me. Feyre was the girl that saved all of Prythian from Amarantha. Rhys made her his High Lady and they even have a son, Nyx. And Nesta and some of her friends have become Valkyries. She and Cassian are always at each other’s throats, but they love each other. You would have loved them too, I’m sure of it.

Mor and Amren have also found their loves. Which means I’m constantly surrounded by couples.

I’m happy for them, I truly am, but I can’t help but feel like it’s a little unfair. Why do we have to be apart?

I miss you, my love. I honestly feel lost in this world without you. I’ve been counting days since you disappeared, and each day feels heavier on my heart.

The shadows also miss you. They have never been as poorly behaved as now. Some days I wake up from them screaming to get you back, other days they refuse to listen or talk to me.

All our memories together are what keeps me going, but I’m not sure how much longer I’ll last in this life without you. I need your soft smiles and warm embrace to get me through this. I know I won’t, but deep down I still have hope that I’ll be able to hold you once again. Hold you, and never let go.

I love you, Y/N. I have loved you all my life and I will keep loving you till the day my soul no longer exists.

x Your Shadow

Annette sat in the living room and ate her stew. The warmth spread through her body as she ate. She sat in front of the fireplace and her book about the winter light laid open in her lap. She had read the whole book twice and she was now on the third read.

How she wished to experience the lights. Just reading about them gave her a feeling of comfort and calm. She couldn’t imagine what actually seeing them would feel like.

A loud bang caught her attention, and she looked over at her family sitting around the table. All of them watched Cris as he talked loudly.

“We have been planning this for three years,” he almost yelled. “If we are going to do this, it will have to be now!”

The rest of her family nodded in agreement. They looked happy, almost relieved. Annette realized now would be a good time to ask them if she could join them in whatever they were speaking about.

She carefully laid both her book and her bowl of stew on the table, before she stood up. She wrapped her wings tightly around her body and wrapped a blanket around her to make sure she kept warm. Using almost soundless steps, she moved towards her family.

When she got to the top of the table, everyone turned their gaze towards her.

She suddenly turned nervous. Fifteen pairs of eyes, pluss Cris’ single eye, were looking at her. She felt like they were staring into her soul.

“I was wondering if I could maybe help you with your plans or something,” she said. Her voice was barely above a whisper and she started to wonder if they had heard her at all.

“You know you can’t, Annie,” Bru was the first one to speak. “Your health is too poor.”

“But do we actually know that? We haven’t tried!” she tried to argue.

“You don’t remember what we have tried. Last time you went outside, we found you without your memories. We can’t let that happen again!” Cathrine spoke next. Her worry was visible on her entire body language. “Your heart is still weak from last time. We don’t know how bad the damage will be.”

They had told her the story multiple times. That she wandered outside and when they found her, she was passed out. She had woken up three days later and her entire memory was gone and her heart was weak.

That was three years ago, and she still can’t remember anything from before.

But it had been three years! They should try again! Maybe things went better this time.

“Please leave, Annette,” Cris said next.

Annette let out an annoyed breath but did as he said.

She picked up her book and took her food to the library. She sat down in the most comfortable chair. She usually sat on benches or backless chairs, because of her wings. They were never comfortable when she sat in chairs, but this one was better than the rest.

Her wings were useless. The only things she used them for was to fly so that she could reach the books that were the highest up. Other than that, they were just two annoying pieces of leather-like skin that hung from her back. They were always in the way, and she never found a position that was enjoyable.

“This is so unfair,” she huffed to no one as he picked up her book and started reading once more.

“The lights would always shine north in the sky. Many lost creatures from any place in Prythian have used the Winter Lights to navigate and find their way home. In the day, they would know that the sun went from the east to the west, and at night, the Winter Light would be in the north.”

Annette couldn’t help but let out a longing sigh. Imagine being lost and feeling the warmth from the lights was they showed the way home.

Home.

A word that was used often, but Annette couldn’t seem to understand it. She felt a longing for home. She wanted to experience and choose her own home. Even though Bru and Cathrine took care of her, and said they had done that her entire life, it didn’t feel right.

To be honest, it felt less and less right.

She was probably just influenced by all the books she read about breaking free and becoming and she knew she would never be able to do the same. They would never let her out.

Taglist: @prettylittlewrites

Divider by @issysh3ll

[heavyhitterheaux]

On Bended Knee

First Lady of Private Garden Fic

Synopsis: You and Jack go to a series of therapy sessions to talk about your marriage that you honestly feel in the back of your mind is going to lead to the two of you being separated and Jack is desperately trying for it not to happen

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Mentions of postpartum depression, death, and miscarriage

“So, what is bringing us in today?” Fatima, your therapist asked both you and Jack as the two of you were sitting at opposite ends of the couch in front of her.

Jack glanced over at you and you simply had your head resting on your arm as you looked straight ahead so he figured that he needed to be the one to speak first.

“We are at odds like we've never been before and I don't know what else to do. It seems like I take five steps forward and ten steps back when it comes to her. I love my wife and I can't see myself without her.” He quietly said as Fatima smiled at him and nodded. She then turned to you.

“Y/N? Would you agree with that?”

“To a certain extent, yes. But I reached my breaking point a long time ago.”

Hearing that made Jack’s heart drop.

“Tell me more.”

“The man who claims that he's my husband and sitting across from me is someone that I truly no longer recognize as far as some of his actions go. Because the Jack that I know wouldn't do those things in a million years.”

“Such as?”

“Making me feel that my thoughts and feelings are invalid. We've been together since we were fifteen years old, got married at 19, but something switched in 2022 when his fame went to an entire new level. Our relationship has been tested and I don't know if it's even worth saving at this point.”

Jack turned to look at you in disbelief because he couldn't believe that those words came out your mouth.

“Babe…”

“No. You begged me to come to therapy with you so you need to put your big boy pants on even if it's something that you don't want to hear. Because trying to talk to you at home is obviously not working. You asked for this so don't shy away now.” You told Jack as you finally looked at him. All he did was play with his wedding ring and nod before turning back to look at Fatima.

You and Jack had barely been speaking to one another and it seemed as if the arguments over little things were getting more and more frequent. You were sitting in the living room since you had just fed the triplets as Jack came and sat next to you.

You glanced over at him, but didn't speak as you turned back around to look at the TV. This was the first time you were able to have peace and quiet all day and the last thing you wanted was to argue with him again. Because at this point, you knew that the two of you were not on the same page.

“Baby?”

“What?” You said and it came out a little harsher than you intended.

“I don't want to keep fighting with you. We're on the same team.”

“Are we? Hadn't noticed since it doesn't seem like it.”

“Y/N, come on. You know we are.” He told you as he attempted to grab your hand. He was surprised when you didn't move away from him.

“Some of your actions state otherwise.”

“I want to fix this and I know you do too. I signed up for marriage counseling and we meet the therapist on Wednesday. I just…. We need to get on the same page if we want this marriage to last.”

You turned to look at him and simply sighed before crossing your arms over your chest.

“And if this doesn't work, then what?”

“Babe, that isn't an option.”

“And you didn't answer my question, Jackman. Tell me what will happen if it doesn't work?”

“I don't have an answer because I don't plan on that happening. We love each other and we’re going to get through this.”

“I'm not sure that I want to go.” You told him being completely honest.

“Can I ask why?”

“If you can't even listen to me when we're at home, what makes you think it'll be any different in therapy?”

“Y/N, you're shaking your head as Jack is talking. What are you thinking?”

“He remembers that a lot differently than I do. I told him not once, but multiple times that she made me uncomfortable, but he steadily ignored me. So much so that he actually asked her to be in his video for First Class.”

“But, you're in it, are you not?”

“Yes, only because I stopped what I was doing when I saw her post a picture of the both of them on Instagram and she was sitting in his lap.  He claimed that she took the pic so fast that he didn't even have time to react. I went to where they were shooting the video and told her to leave and made her delete the picture. Oh, and when I actually did fight her because this had been building up for months with her constantly harassing me, never not once did he ask me if I was okay. Instead he acted mean as hell towards me because the only thing he seemed to be concerned about was our reputation in the public eye and not my actual well-being. We were both at home for a few days after which ended in another argument and him leaving.”

“But you left out the part where you had talked to me the same day that it happened and said absolutely nothing and tried to hide it. I was in a whole different state when I found out and caught a flight to Atlanta to confront you about it because you had stopped answering your phone. There was no need to lie to me about that.”

“Yes there was because I knew you would lose your shit which you did when you came and saw me backstage before my show.”

“Because you could've gotten hurt!”

“Hmm, nice try. I think you meant damage your reputation because those words didn't even come out of your mouth when it happened.”

“Just because I'm mad at you doesn't mean that I want any harm to come to you. You're my wife! Why would I want you to put yourself in a situation which could lead to you getting hurt? That's what I was mad about.”

“Wouldn't have had to be in that situation if you would have established boundaries with her from the beginning. I'm your wife. We share a last name. Not her.”

Therapy had been going steady for the first three weeks and Jack simply didn't know how to feel at this point. He wasn't able to read you as of lately and had it in the back of his mind that a divorce would be coming soon and you would be the one to ask for it. 

And that made him sick to his stomach.

When you were pregnant, it seems like everything was halted and the two of you put your issues to the side. But as soon as they were born and you had healed from it, everything had come back up to the surface. It also didn't help that Jack knew you were also going through postpartum depression.

It was one in the morning and he had gone for a drive after checking on you as well as the triplets and making sure all of you were okay. He didn't have an exact destination in mind, but he simply pulled out his phone and took a deep breath before dialing his mother’s number. He was absolutely desperate at this point.

Maggie picked up on the third ring and he could tell that she was still wide awake by all of the background noise which he assumed was the TV.

“Hey honey, everything okay?”

“No.” 

When Maggie heard how distressed her oldest child sounded she immediately grew concerned.

“What's going on? Are Y/N and the babies okay?”

“They're fine, but umm…” Jack trailed off as he struggled to say his next sentence.

“But what?”

“I honestly think deep down that Y/N is going to divorce me and I… can't live without her. I haven't had to do it in so long that I wouldn't even know where to start. She's the love of my life and the mother of my kids. I can't lose her.”

“What exactly makes you think that she will?”

“We're going to therapy but there's such a huge disconnect that I don't think we'll be able to fix. She didn't have high expectations going into it so…”

“Can I be honest?” Maggie asked and took a deep breath after doing so. However, Jack had a strong feeling that he already knew what she was about to say.

“You saw this coming, didn't you?” Jack asked as he turned onto Bardstown and was casually driving throughout the city.

“Yes from a mile away. I don't know what exactly happened, but 2022 was the start of the rift being made in your relationship with each other. And I've pulled you aside a few times and warned you that how you were acting wasn't a good portrayal of the person I raised you to be or the husband that I know you are towards Y/N. That girl basically worships the ground you walk on and you used to do the same thing. The fame got to you and you were starting to achieve your goals and she was supportive of you. You didn't give her the same support in return and now look where you two are.”

“What do I do to fix this? I need her to forgive me.”

“Then you need to remind her of how much you love and care about her. Because your actions haven't reflected that you do.”

“And what if that doesn't work?”

“Then you'll be signing divorce papers.” 

“Definitely can't forget how he thought I was cheating on him and he actually followed me to see what I was doing.”

“I apologized for that. I was paranoid. I had been gone a lot and missed you.”

“What did Y/N do to make you think that she was cheating?” Fatima asked Jack as he once again started to play with his wedding ring.

“Not spending time with me like she said she would when I finally got back home and she would lie about where she was going so I followed her.”

“And what came of that?”

“She was planning a surprise party for me because First Class had done so well. And she then explained who every single person was that she had met up with. She was just trying to keep it a secret as best as she could. But the day of the party unbeknownst to me of course, I confronted her about it and the look she gave me was utter disbelief and I then knew that I had fucked up. She did show up eventually to the party and then went on her festival run and left that same night.”

“Y/N, is that how you remember it?”

“Yes, I just couldn't fathom that he thought that I would ever want to do something to hurt our marriage. I haven't looked another man's way since we started dating and I still don't. He's everything that I ever wanted and more so what would be the point of that? It just really hurt me. I have this man's name tattooed on my body for everyone to see so why would I do that?”

“I can tell by the way you're talking about it that it still hurts you.”

“It does and the thing is that I am always putting everyone else's needs before my own. I have a big heart and that has always been the case. But I feel that Jack used that to his advantage.”

“How so?”

“If he called and said that he needed me, everything else would be forgotten at that moment. It doesn't matter anymore and we can go back to it once I go and make sure he’s okay. It didn't matter that I was trying to establish a career of my own. If my baby needed me, nothing was going to stop me from getting to him. It didn't matter how big or small the issue was and he knew that.”

“Hmm, Jack, what are your thoughts on that?”

“Now that she said it out loud, I can admit to taking advantage of her as horrible as that sounds. I never want to do that to my wife. I would call her because I know that out of anyone at the end of the day she has my back and my best interest. However, I also should have taken into consideration what she was trying to do for her career at that time because I was the one who pushed her to do it and make a name for herself.” 

“And I still put people's needs before my own. It's something that I have to learn to stop doing. That also takes me back to the whole Anitta thing.”

“What about her?”

“She threatened to release a portion of our sex tape in May and Jack didn't even tell me until December. That's when I called off the wedding, when I found out he lied to me.”

“Jack, why didn't you tell her?”

“I thought I could handle it on my own and simply make it go away. I wanted to shield her from that since a lot had happened between the two of them already. Not the smartest choice since it led to us not doing our big wedding for our five year anniversary.”

“And then I went on tour and found out I was pregnant…. With triplets.”

“And told me in a text message because we really weren't talking during that time.”

Urban glanced at you as you were feeding Autumn and called your name to get your attention. He had come over to check on you because you hadn't been acting like yourself and wanted to see if there was anything that he could do to make it better.

“Lil Bit.”

“Yes?” You answered as you looked up at him.

“Are you and Jack okay?”

“Depends on what your definition of okay is.”

“I… the two of you just seem sad and out of it lately.” Seeing his best friends’ marriage crumble before his eyes was not on this year's bingo card.

“Well we started going to therapy and Jack practically had to beg me to go. I don't know, Urban. I love him and we all know that's true. But the question is if our marriage is worth saving at this point?”

“Only the two of you are going to be able to answer that question at this point. I can't answer that for either of you. But I know that Jack loves you all the same and that he's doing everything he can to show you that he deserves another chance to get this right. He doesn't want to lose you.” Urban told you as you simply nodded and adjusted Autumn in your arms.

“My thing is that it should have never come to this.”

“I agree, but what's done is done and the only thing that the two of you can do is move forward. The triplets deserve to see a happy marriage between their parents and know what real love looks like.”

As soon as those words left Urban's mouth, it got you thinking that maybe he was right. You honestly couldn't see yourself with anyone except him despite all the two of you had gone through that year.

“But so much has happened and I… just don't know anymore.”

“You know that you love him. I know that loving someone isn't the only thing you need in order to make it work but it's a good start.”

“As the two of you sit in front of me, I've heard the good, the bad, and the ugly when it comes to your marriage, but I know one thing for certain. The two of you undeniably love each other despite everything that has happened. Yes, there were hardships and plenty of ups and downs, but Y/N, every time you even talk Jack lights up and looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. Usually in this room, it ends up being the complete opposite because by the time that couples get to me they are too far gone.”

She glanced at both of you and it looked as if you wanted to say something.

“Y/N? What's on your mind?”

“Um, I was just thinking that because of everything that happened, I wanted to separate from him for a while.”

Jack didn't dare let you see it, but tears had pricked his eyes.

“But, I have decided not to. If he's doing all of this and trying to put the effort in then I guess I can give him another chance. Because when I had suggested going to therapy and doing things to hopefully help us repair the relationship, he just waved me off. I feel as though this was too little too late but…”

“Y/N, it wasn’t too late because the two of you are sitting in front of me. That goes to show me despite it all, deep down you still had hope for your marriage too.”

“I have three kids to think about.”

“No, that's not it. Even though they deserve to see what love and happiness looks like, you also deserve the same thing. Jack, how does that make you feel hearing that Y/N wanted to separate from you?”

“It hurts. I've been in love with her since I first laid eyes on her. I know I've messed up and I can understand why she feels that way. I wasn't treating her how she deserved to be treated and it shouldn't have taken me almost losing her to realize that. She died in front of me not once, but twice. But I had already made it up in my mind that if I became a widow, there was no way in hell that I was marrying someone else.”

“And I'm not totally innocent either, but at one point I was damn near walking on eggshells and I shouldn't have to do that in my marriage. And you could have married someone else. I would not want you to be lonely for the rest of your life.”

“No, because I would always compare her to you and when it comes to you, no one comes close.” Jack said as he turned to you and took your hand in his.

“Besides, I was also scared that you were probably going to haunt me if I did.” He told you and a small smile broke out on your face. 

“So with that being said, I have homework for the two of you. If you want to start to repair this marriage and make it work, start dating each other again. It seems like ever since the triplets have been born that the two of you actually haven't spent time with each other with just the two of you. Let me know how this goes and I honestly can't wait to hear about it.”

The night was winding down at the Kentucky State Fair as you and Jack were sharing a funnel cake piled high with powdered sugar and strawberries. The two of you rode so many different things and decided that it was time for food before it was closing time. A few people had asked you and Jack for pictures, but for the most part they were keeping their distance and you almost felt normal. You guess it was the fact that they saw the two of you out and about so often. 

As the two of you were eating, you looked at Jack and giggled, noticing that he had powdered sugar on his nose.

“What? Why are you laughing at me?” He asked as he pinched your cheek.

“You have powdered sugar on your nose.” You told him as you wiped it off and then kissed the tip of it making him smile.

“Did you want anything else before we leave?” He asked and your eyes lit up as you looked towards the pigs that were across from the two of you. Jack followed your gaze and his eyes went wide.

“Baby, NO.”

“But….”

“I meant food wise! We have two pigs already! And the ones over there are huge! They're bigger than me!”

“Exaggerating much? Can't I just look!? Piggy Smalls and Pork Chop need a sibling.”

“They have one in the house already as in the bacon I ate this morning.” Jack replied as he began laughing.

“JACKMAN!”

“You can look from here. Now didn't you say you wanted fried oreos?”

“Yes, but you're forgetting something.”

“What's that babe?” He asked as he fed you the last of the funnel cake and made sure to get all of the powdered sugar off of your face. 

“You haven't won me a stuffed animal yet.”

“Let’s do it then. Which stuffed animal do you want?”

“The pig since you won't let me buy another one.”

“The two of you are smiling, so I take that as a good sign.” Fatima said as she looked at you and Jack and she that the two of you were basically sitting on top of each other and nodded.

“So, the dates went well?”

“Yes, we went bowling, he took me to the state fair, and we went to Vincezo's. We also had a cooking date where we made pasta from scratch. Surprised that Jack lived to tell the tale after that one.”

“HEY! I thought I did pretty good!”

“I mean it did end up being edible so I guess.” You told him as you laughed and he scrunched up his nose.

“We've come a long way. The two of you came to me about six months ago and Y/N was ready to call it quits. And now look at the two of you. Communicating how you should and taking the time out for each other. Just because you have kids doesn't mean you two and your well being gets put on the back burner. As of now, we can continue these sessions if the two of you want, but I truly don't see a need.”

“Oh, there was another thing.” Jack started to say and Fatima looked at him to continue.

“I played her ‘Down on Bended Knee’ because I feel that it summed up the point that we were at in our relationship. I was desperate and willing to do anything for her to forgive me and make her see that she is still the only person that I want to do life with.

“That’s an amazing song choice. I know you were at a loss. Dealing with her dying in front of you, the birth of the triplets and the possibility of losing your only son, the miscarriage, Y/N working her way through postpartum depression and that isn't even all of it. But the two of you pushed through all of it with the undying love that you share between each other and I'm so proud of the both of you.”

“Now, I feel like I can finally get the big wedding that I always wanted.” You said confidently as you twirled your wedding ring around your finger not knowing that Jack had already started planning it in the back of his mind.

Jack noticed how you were looking at him as the two of you were laughing on your first date night in a while since the two of you had been so busy with everything going on around you. The triplets were with Urban and the two of you had finally finished going to marriage counseling, however, Fatima told the two of you to reach out whenever you needed her no matter how big or small. 

The two of you were still seeing your regular therapists and it was helping you communicate better with one another to set up to have a positive household environment for the triplets.

“Why are you looking at me like that baby girl?” Jack asked as he stole a sip of your iced tea and then slid it back across the table.

“Nothing. I’m just really happy.” You said while smiling back at him.

“Why, is it because I rearranged your guts this morning or? I mean I can do it again once we leave here too, it’s not a problem. Just say the word.”

“Jackman! Shut up!” You responded and continued to laugh.

“What? I was just asking.” Jack said as he shrugged.

“You want me to be honest?” You said while starting to play with the fabric at the bottom of your dress.

“Of course I want you to be honest with me. That’s all I ever want.”

“I’m trying to think of the best way to describe it.”

“Take your time, sweetheart. We have all night.”

“Loving you feels lighter.”

“What do you mean?” Jack asked as he was trying to understand what you were saying.

“I just feel that before with all that we were going through, I felt a heaviness I guess I should say. Every day I woke up not knowing if our marriage was going to survive and I hated having that feeling. I wanted for us to be okay again.”

“And now we finally are. And I’m thankful that you gave us another chance.”

“I mean you got me fucked up if you thought you were getting rid of me that easily. Been together since we were fifteen and love like that doesn’t go away overnight.”

“I never want to get rid of you, you know me better than that. If anything, my love for you continues to grow every single day. It doesn’t matter if we have a bad day or not. It’s just knowing that I have you by my side makes it all worth it because I know we’ll do anything for each other and make sure that the other is okay. No matter how big or small the issues might be.”

“Okay that will be the second time you made me cry today.” You said as you could feel the tears in the corners of your eyes.

“Don’t cry, baby! I’m just being honest. I honestly don’t think there’s enough words in any language on earth that can describe how much I love you and care about you."

"Yep, now I'm crying." You said through your tears and Jack immediately grabbed your left hand to kiss the back of it as he played with your wedding ring.

"Putting this ring on your finger was the best thing I've ever done and you have my heart. Always."

[tothosewholisten]

Forever Healed | TUA insert

Chapter: 00

next chapter>>

Masterlist

…

On the 12th hour of the first day of October 1989. 43 women around the world gave birth. This was unusual in the fact that none of these women had been pregnant when the day first began.

Sir Reginald Hargeeves, eccentric billionaire and adventurer, resolved to locate and adopt as many of the children as possible.

He got seven of them, yes seven.

..

MARCH 21, 2019

I have to be at least somewhat proud of myself for lasting this long. I thought as I sat on the bus, not everyday you are born with magical powers and are destined to save the world from evil. Yes, hearing myself think that sounds crazy. But that's normal in my life.

I had reached my stop after a half an hour of sitting with my earbuds in, listening to nothing at all. I just wanted to seem unapproachable on the sketchy city bus.

My destination was a terribly designed office building, the space was so crammed and ugly it made me want to turn right back around and get on that bus again. But I didn't because I was trying to convince myself that this would be good for me, but I didn't believe my words.

I was about to have a therapy session with some middle-aged white lady who has glasses and tell her all of my life issues, starting every week at 5pm..

It's not like I had anything else going on, I haven't had work for days now. So I thought I'd give it a shot.

The waiting process made me anxious as hell, I finally got the courage to walk up to the front desk and gave the man who sat there my name. And now I have to wait for this lady to get done with some other patient.

I sat on a chair and frowned, like she is really going to be focused on "my" problems and not the 30 other people she sees today.

I swear it was only a second into me zoning out when I heard my name yelled. "Y/n L/n? It's so nice to meet you!" A woman said, when i looked up at her i saw the exact lady i was describing earlier to the closest details.

I let her lead me to a smaller room that looked way better than the lobby. It had two chairs, a water machine, some fidget items and a large window view of the city. Gloria, I learn to be the name of my therapist, asks me to sit with her.

She clears her throat, "I know this is our first session so you may not be the most comfortable sharing details. But I'd like to know a little bit about you if you're okay sharing."

“Well, I’m 29 years old and a home care nurse.” I say slowly. Hearing the words leave my mouth I knew I haven’t amounted to a lot in my years.

"Oh wow, 29? I would've never guessed that Y/n, you don't look a day over 21" Gloria complimented me i give her a tiny smile in return.

I'm not sure why that is, I get that a lot in my working field. Older women saying that they wished they looked as young as me.

"That's a great start for today's session." She smiles, "A little bit me is, you know my name already but I'm 56 years old since Monday. I have 3 children and a cat named Mr. Furball."

I regret what i said earlier because I think I already like Gloria and not just because of Mr. Furball. But the fact that she has a calming sense about her. I find myself listening to what she's saying, and I rarely do that with people nowadays.

"But I would like to hear more about your upbringing, how’d you become the fine young lady you are today?" She says.

Oh, she wants to hear about my childhood. I mean I knew she would ask but so soon, I'm worried about saying anything. So I told her that.

"I'm worried about opening up to someone about my past cause well I've never done it before." I said.

She hands me a cup of water. "That's okay Y/n, we can take it at your pace."

“I grew up in a small house with my mom and dad until I was twelve. When I was scouted by Reginald Hargreeves because of my unique abilities. And I've been there ever since I was 18 when I moved out to live on my own.” I waited for the burst of confusion I was about to get from Gloria. Not everyday one of the Umbrella Academy walks into your office.

“Oh wow…” she says, eyes wide. “You're one of those superheroes? That’s amazing wow.” She nervously chuckles “I’m sorry I’m normally not this shocked about things, and I hear a lot on the daily.”

“It’s okay” I say, staring at my hands.

She clears her throat. “I'm sure being apart of the Umbrella Academy was big but could you tell me about your life before that?”

I closed my eyes for a couple of seconds, pictured my childhood in my brain and opened my mouth.

"Well, I'm sure to this day my father still thinks that my mother cheated on him, due to his "daughter's" virgin Mary-like creation since they were just newlyweds. He held it against my mother all of her life." I took a sip of water and continued.

"I'm not sure why he turned to alcohol. But that turned out as you could expect. He turned on everyone around him and acted like a beast. He regularly attacked my mom for anything she did wrong. But what made him more angry was that his freak of a daughter could heal her mother, after every beating."

"My mom told me before I left I had made her so much happier and in her words. She didn't even question these strange occurrences; she knew her baby was special." I smiled a bit.

I could tell that Gloria was painting a picture in her head of what I was describing too.

"And by the age of 8, I was standing up to my father, even if it didn't end so well. I'd get the beating instead but by the next day, my bloody body would be as good as new. On the surface at least, I had lots of internal issues from that time. But none of that stopped my father from trying to get equal with me.." I stopped talking after that.

My eyes could only focus on my right hand as it was picking at my left hand's skin. It was a habit I picked up as soon as I started to use my powers because I knew my skin would be right back to normal in the next few minutes.

"That's awful y/n I'm so sorry." She frowned. "Would you be okay with continuing?"

I blink up at her. “Yes, that would be okay,” I said. “Then there was this one day..”

..

17 YEARS AGO

“In five, four, three, two. This is Jim Hellerman, reporting live for channel 2 News outside of the Capital West Bank at Main and Sixth. A group of heavily armed men stormed the bank not three hours ago and took an unknown number of hostages.”

That was the big news update of September 2002, I remember. Well I don’t really have to think about it much because I was there with my mom at the bank. She planned on making some deposit when we were screamed at, not to leave by a man who had his gun pointed at us along with so many other civilians. He taped us up and told us to stand in a corner.

That was the first and only time I feared for my life. Police didn’t want them to start shooting, so they didn’t come into the building. Meaning that we were on our own and could die at anytime

One of the armed men walks into the scene unfolding. Sirens blaring, people getting shoved around and threats being made to the innocent.

“Now you’ve put me in a position where I gotta do something I don't want to do. Hmm?” He said talking to another person on his walkie talkie.

My mom brought me closer to her trying to use her body as a shield if things went south. And to us we thought they were about to be.

But strangely, a girl walked up to the man. She’d looked to be around my age in a school uniform and cartoon mask. Her loose curls bounced in the wind as she skipped up to him.

“Shit!” He screams putting his device down. Not noticing the girl until a few seconds after his outburst. “Hey, get back with the others.” He told her, trying to sound intimidating but she didn’t seem to fear him at all.

“I heard a rumor.” She spoke out.

He bent a little to reach her height and get in her face. “What? What did you say?”

She leaned in and cupped her hand to mimic whispering in his ear but loud enough for all of us to hear. “I heard a rumor that you shot your friend in the foot.”

Without any hesitation he did what she commanded and shot the nearest armed man who happened to be trying to rough up my mom. We screamed as he kept shooting.

“We just heard shots from inside the bank. It’s uncertain if any hostages have been harmed in that.”

“There’s some movement on the roof. Possibly law enforcement.”

A loud crash and a boy landed down from the roof. It was crazy he wasn’t harmed at all from that high distance. He was also wearing the same mask and uniform as the girl but he had blond hair. From where he landed he jumped on one of the robbers and started beating him to a pulp, and then throwing him out a glass window.

“Looks like one of the armed robbers had been thrown from the bank.”

Another boy with brown hair runs in from the opposite doors as the girl and yells. “Guns are for sissies. Real men throw knives.” He then threw one of his knives and it curved in the air hitting a robber no where close to where the knife had originally been heading. It was incredible.

“I've been in many hostage situations like this, and it can escalate very quickly.”

The original man hops on a table pointing his gun out at the two of the before seen children plus another one. “Get back you freaks” he says walking back and forth in fear.

“Hey, be careful up there, buddy.” The knife boy calls out.

“Get back now!” The man screams.

“Yeah, I wouldn't want you to get hurt.” The girls mocking voice says.

Right before my eyes another boy teleports behind the man, sitting criss-cross on the table. “Or what?” He said calmly.

The man turns around and shoots at him but before the bullets could hit he teleports again. This time standing up with his arms crossed, clearly not impressed. But the man tries to shoot again.

“Ooh! That’s one badass stapler!” The boy laughs. The man no longer had a gun anymore but a stapler placed in his hand by the kid instead. The boy shoves the stapler into his face and the big man falls back, head hitting the floor before his body does.

“Although there’s been no activity for a few minutes, we’re gonna stay live on location to make sure we don’t miss a thing. In this hostage situation at the Capital West bank.”

The five already counted for children make way for the last and shortest one to make his move. “Do we really need to do this?” He talks quietly.

The blonde one replies to him. “Come on, Ben. There’s more guys in the vault.” So his name was Ben huh?

Ben sighs, “I didn't sign up for this.” Before walking into the room with more people. Large black tendrils illuminated the room as men screaming could be heard behind the door. And a beast roars but then the sound stops and Ben walks out again, this time covered in blood and guts.

He breathes heavily. “Can we go home now?” I felt bad for him.

The kids untied our hands and told us to run. And once it was clear to go my mom started to run out of the doors thinking I was right behind her.

“Now we see the hostages. They— They’re free. They’re scared clearly but they do seem to be unharmed.”

But I was behind her trying to help this older woman who’d slipped on the floor. As I was helping her, the kids walked out too.

“People are coming out now. It’s not the armed robbers. These are schoolchildren in uniforms with masks on. Jim Hellerman, Channel 2 News.”

But there was one not accounted for robber, the one from earlier who had been shot in the foot. I started to run out and call out to my mom who was outside. When the man got up from the floor, cocked his gun and shot at the kids.

Fortunately, he missed them but the bullet hit me.

Questions being asked to the children stopped when they saw my body flail onto the floor outside of the bank doors. I was shot right in the chest. There was blood everywhere and it started to leak over to where the kids were standing. They turned around to see where it was coming from..

Everyone looked horrified and there was a bunch of screaming. Mainly from my mother who was wailing as she ran over to hold me to her chest screaming for me to wake up. And that will be engraved in my memory forever after this day, I never wanted to hear her like this ever again.

Police started to rush over but in a matter of minutes, a miracle seemed to happen. At least to the city that is. There was a yellowish glow around my chest and the blood seemed to have reversed back into my body. Even the stains on my blue dress were gone. The bullet even spit out of my chest; it was truly witchcraft.

My eyes then shot open as I started to breathe in and out.

I don't exactly remember what I felt during those moments but I'm sure I left those people around me stunned. After all this was their first look at powers.

I couldn't care what the paramedics were talking about above my body. I was focused on the 6 children looking at me bewildered as well as the old-looking man with them and whatever my mom was saying at the time.

I was put on a stretcher and rushed to a hospital for evaluations after the pandemics came but they never found anything. It was like everything was perfectly reattached.

But as I was leaving I could see the news reporters zeroing in on the kids trying to get the details on how these children saved the bank from thievery.

“Our world is changing.” The man spoke to the crowd. “Has changed. There are some among us gifted with abilities far beyond the ordinary.” He said looking back at the children. But they weren’t paying attention, some were staring at my ambulance and some eyes were on the ground.

“I have adopted seven such children. I give you the inaugural class of the Umbrella Academy.”

I now realize thinking back, the seventh person he was talking about was me..

..

PRESENT DAY

My mouth felt like it was moving faster than my brain so I took a pause and chugged the rest of my water cup.

Once again Glorias eyes were wide open. As she took some notes down in a notebook I never noticed beyond this point.

"Uh once I got home I remember the house phone noise filled my house with its nonstop ring, the other person on the phone would change my life forever when he came in.”

“And who was that person?" Gloria asked.

"Reginald Hargeeves, eccentric billionaire and caring father from what the public knew.." I rolled my eyes.

"So I'm guessing it wasn't really like that" she asked carefully.

"He was never a father really, more like a hard state-national basketball coach." She wrote that down.

"I guess it was a hard decision for my parents to make well, my mother. My father was ready to give me up as soon as Reginald stepped foot in my small house."

"And I'm sure they thought there was nothing bad about the offer they were given, he promised I'd be raised in a steady environment with the best schooling and my powers would be used for the greater good. And in exchange, my parents would get a large sum of money for my absence."

"What were you doing during this?" Gloria worried.

"I think I was just sitting right there next to my mom actually. I definitely didn't understand at that point what was happening to me. Still thinking about the events of that day.”

"And then I was being taken out of my only home in the blink of an eye. I resisted the people taking me, starting with screaming and then kicking and then running. Back to my mom's arms, Reginald himself had to pull me away from her. The deal had already been struck and there was no taking me back."

Now looking back at my hands I could only see small teardrops on my palms. Gloria reached for a tissue from the other side of the room. "Thank you," I said as I wiped my eyes.

"I like to think that my mom was upset that day but the memory has already started to fade as I reached adulthood.

You know after that day I was no longer 'Y/n L/n' no, I was known by my new name.. Zero Hargeeves."

..

I decided that was the end of my story, at least for now because I couldn't place the pieces together anymore. I was full-on sobbing at that point.

Gloria decided to bring up something more light to talk about next but I don't remember what it was because I'd zoned out and thought about the cat she'd told me about earlier.

The two hours seemed to fly by because the last thing I heard her say was if I didn't have anything else to talk about then that would be the end of the session. My legs seemed to move on their own as I walked out of that building. I would come back at the same time next week and honestly, I think therapy was for the best. I forgot about how I felt about all these things for the longest time.

I started the journey back to the bus stop, stopping to look in the windows of shops.

Shops like bakeries and bookstores and other things like that. Until I came to a stop in front of a store with a TV sticking out in the window.

My eyes scanned the screen and they went wide. The lady on the news had a somber expression as someone died. I was feeling sad for the person's family, but then I read the red-blaring headline.

The person who died was Reginald Hargeeves...

...

Aug 14 update:

If you'd like to be added to the tag list for rest of the series (starts at chapter 10) say taglist in the comments!

[hazeystar]

love (you), actually

Evan was standing in front of his door with a stack of white poster board in his hands, the first one saying 'Tell them it's carol singers.'

It's two months after the breakup, and Tommy opens the door to the romantic experience he's been waiting for his whole life

because tommy is our resident romcom lover and he deserves his moment! also s/o @bibibievansbuckley because this was born from one of our very late night ramblings because all we know at this point is tevan

wc: 2187, below the break and also on ao3

The knock at the door draws Tommy out of his thoughts. 

He was sitting in his living room, doing the only thing he really felt like doing these days: watching romcoms. Today’s pick was Notting Hill and he didn’t even have enough energy to stop himself from putting himself as Hugh Grant and Evan Buck as Julia Roberts. 

It was weeks since he walked out of that loft for the first time and he didn’t know what to do with himself. He knew it was stupid, in hindsight, the entire night almost reads like a fever dream. They were supposed to be going on a date and Tommy left heartbroken and empty.  

Really, he should have reached out by day two, maybe ask Buck to coffee like he did all those months ago but he couldn’t do it. He asked him to move in and Tommy basically took a sledgehammer to the idea and nuked his own heart in the process.  

Day ten was when he dragged himself back to therapy. At the time, he didn’t know why his gut reaction was to tell Buck no, but now, he realised it was self-preservation. Years of pent-up trauma were cause to this, especially from hearing that ‘my first isn’t going to be my last’ from not one, but two of the boyfriends he had in the years since he’d moved to Harbour. 

And then he threw those words right back into Buck’s face. Evan, the human embodiment of sunshine and a golden retriever, who stumbled over his words but managed to ask him to move into the loft (the fucking loft, which ends up being a 10 minute rant with his therapist because why in the hell would tommy move into a loft when he owns a house, what would they do with the cars, his Muay Thai set up, the garden that’s finally starting to look decent in his backyard-, he found some more underlying issues there as well, but also was told that particular thread was not his fault) and Tommy felt like someone had poured ice water on him. 

He’d seen this path before, only twice but two times is enough to leave a mark. The first time was probably enough as well, but the second time just dug a knife again into a wound that had just barely healed. So he did what he thought was best: act proactively. If he got ahead of the problem, if he got away from Evan before he could fall in love, then maybe it wouldn’t be as disastrous.  

How absolutely wrong he was. 

It felt so bad when he was walking away that he genuinely considered the possibility that it would have hurt less if he and Evan were living together for months and then they broke up. 

He wanted to go back, apologise, tell him he didn’t mean it but- Buck said he admired him. And it was those words that were on replay as he drove himself home. 

He admired him. Tommy, the guy who was so scared about being gay that at age 30, he was engaged to a woman. Tommy, who gave his heart out to the world because he wanted to feel like he was in Love, Actually, that he had someone who wanted him back just as fiercely and was sorely let down every time.  

So he let himself down this time. Better that than be hurt by Evan. Of course, by doing it this way, he hurt himself and Evan, but he could bounce back. He was young, and your first isn’t your last. 

It took two different sessions to beat that idea out of him.  

Sometimes, your first isn’t your last. But sometimes it also is. It just depends on when you find your person. 

Tommy found his person. He just didn’t realise it until he nuked the entire relationship. 

Two months later, he still didn’t reach out, not really sure where to even start. Evan didn’t reach out either, so maybe it was just a case of right person, wrong time. 

That was fine, Tommy could just imagine him in every romcom he watched. 

There was another knock at the door, this one a little more insistent. 

Right, the door. Tommy stood up, running a hand through the mess of curls on his head. Evan had liked them, was always sad when he cut his hair or weighed it down with gel. In the initial weeks of the breakup, he couldn’t find it in himself to get it cut, and then eventually he started to like the curls. Now they were here to stay. 

He opened the door and was not at all ready to see Evan Buckley on the other side. 

Two months had passed, and he still looked gorgeous. He looked tired; there was stubble along his jaw, bags under his eyes that were more prominent than he’d ever seen, even after a rough round of 48s for a week. His hair was curly, like he had the same idea Tommy did about letting it grow out. His eyes were still their clear blue, albeit a little sad but dancing with something else- hope maybe? He was wearing the hoodie he recognised from that first coffee date (so that’s where it went) and was holding poster board- 

What? 

Evan was standing in front of his door with a stack of white poster board in his hands, the first one saying, ‘Tell them it’s carol singers.’ 

Tommy blinked. “Ev- Buck, there’s no one el-” 

He shook the stack hard, giving a pointed look down at the cards before back up at him. There was a speaker set down next to him and the boards in hand... The entire scene felt familiar. 

There was no way- 

Evan wanted him to play along, he’d play along. He looked back over his shoulder, to the TV that still had Julia Roberts on screen. “It’s carol singers.” 

He turned back to Evan, who has fiddling with his phone until music began pouring out of the speaker. Silent Night started playing and Tommy felt tears prick the corner of his eyes. 

He knew this scene by heart. 

Evan dropped the first card, the second one reading ‘I’m sorry.’ 

He opened his mouth to speak, Evan didn’t need to be sorry, Tommy was sorry, but another look from him promptly shut him up. He nodded, Evan smiling back. 

The card dropped. ‘It’s been over 2 months since you walked out of my loft.’ 

‘So I’m saying sorry and I’ll say it again.’ 

‘Sorry for jumping right to moving in without properly talking.’ 

‘And saying to move into the loft (that was stupid, you have a house, we’re at your house).’ He let out a laugh at that, and got another smile out of Evan. 

This was really happening. Holy shit, Evan was standing in front of his house in the middle of August, blaring Silent Night from his speaker and holding up cards to give a whole silent speech. 

It was Love, Actually in real life. For him. Evan was doing this for Tommy.  

Tears were rolling down his face now, and he hastily wiped them away to read the next one. 

‘I’m sorry I didn’t reach out sooner.’ 

‘Or talk things out better.’ 

‘And I know you’re thinking that I’m saying sorry too much, and that you’re also sorry.’ 

He was, he so very was. And the look in Evan’s eyes told him he knew, he saw it. 

‘I know you are, and I forgive you.’ He met his eyes again, mouthing a very watery ‘I forgive you, too.’ 

Evan had tears in his eyes as well, as he smiled back and mouthed ‘I know.’ 

He itched to move closer, to pull him back into his arms, to hold him. But Evan still had a stack in his hands, and Tommy was touched and curious and seen. 

‘I know ‘admire’ wasn’t the right word to say back then.’ He sucked in a breath, remembering the whole speech vividly. 

‘Even though I do admire how you got to where you are now.’ 

‘I don’t admire you, Tommy Kinard.’ 

‘I love you.’ 

Tommy let out a sob then, knees almost buckling as he clutched the doorframe with one hand to stay upright. Evan loves him. 

He moved to take a step forward, but Evan took one back, shaking his head even though he looked like he wanted nothing more than to be closer to Tommy as well. He still had more to say. 

Tommy nodded, letting the tears run freely down his face. Evan loves him. 

The next card was full of writing and Tommy could barely read all of it. It was numbered though, and when Tommy dragged his eyes across it (cleft, Muay Thai, hands, beer knowledge...) the last number went to 50. 

50 things Evan loved about him. 

The card dropped and Tommy almost thought it was a repeat until he saw the last number. 

100. 

His jaw dropped, a broken sob leaving him. 

Evan wrote out a list of 100 things he loves about him. About Tommy.  

He ran because he was scared, that Evan was jumping the gun by asking him to move into the loft, that he didn’t actually love him, that he was just a place holder until he went and found something better. 

But here was Evan, standing here in the middle of August with cards that listed out 100 things he loved about him, reenacting his favourite movie of all time. For him.  

‘I love you, Tommy Kinard.’ A fresh wave of tears flowing from both of them. 

‘And for the love of God, please call me Evan.’ 

“Evan, please can I move now?” He whispered, watching as he dropped the last board and stood there, almost sheepishly. 

Silent Night was still playing on loop, and Evan was standing there in his hoodie, and he’d never looked more perfect in his life. 

He nodded, and that was all Tommy needed before he went rushing forward, wrapping his arms around him tight. 

To his credit, Evan only stumbled back a step, his own arms immediately circling around Tommy’s waist. 

It’d been two months too long. He wanted this every day. He wants this for the rest of his life. 

Tommy didn’t believe in soulmates, not really. He didn’t believe that there was someone out there with the other half of his soul. But then Evan showed up in life on a hurricane and everything afterwards just felt so right, like he was missing something before Evan came in. 

Evan was his person, through and through. He didn’t just love Tommy, he knew him. He knew that he was a romantic at heart, the soft soul he kept hidden away, and came out with the biggest romantic gesture anyone had ever done for him. 

“Thank you,” he whispered into Evan’s curls, feeling his arms tighten to pull him impossibly closer.  

“I love you.” He said it like a promise, a prayer, and Tommy melted. He pulled away just enough to look Evan in the eye. His face was splotchy and red with tears and Tommy had no doubt that he looked the same, if not worse. 

Evan Buckley loved him. 

He pressed their lips together, hard and desperate and passionate. Evan kissed him back like a man starved, and if he had any doubts about how he felt even after the board display, he didn’t have any now. 

They pulled apart to take a breath, and Tommy stared at his face. The one he knew by heart, the one he knew no amount of time would ever make him forget.  

“I love you.” The smile he received was blinding.  

Once it’s out in the open, it’s all he can say. It’s all he wants to say.  

He pulled Evan into the house, casting a look back at the speaker and the large pile of cards still sitting on the walkway up to the door.  

Evan brought him back into a kiss the second the door closed. His hands tangled in his curls, pulling Tommy down just a hair. This one was less desperate, and Evan was guiding him over to the couch.  

He fell back first, Evan settling on top of him. He broke away for only a moment, whispered “I love you” against his lips before diving back in again. 

This is the conversation they should have had two months ago. Tommy’s felt this way since the hospital wedding, hell, maybe even before then.  

And if the way Evan kissed him said anything, then he wasn’t alone in that feeling either.  

He pulled away this time, staring into Evan’s blue eyes as his thumb ghosted over his birthmark. There wasn’t a need for anymore conversation right now, Tommy will make sure to give his own apology later. 

But right now, with Evan as a comforting weight on top of him, a smile on his face as he moved impossibly closer into his touch, there was only one thing that needed to be said. 

“I love you.” 

[szoboobszlai]

THEY DON’T KNOW ABOUT US

word counter: +1,8k

pairing: trent alexander-arnold x physiotherapist!female reader

warnings: none!

author notes: hey everyone! first of all, i just wanted to wish you a very happy new year; 2024 was absolutely amazing for me, and having your notes and feedback on my writing is something that really made me grateful, so, THANK YOU!

this is a new part of my one direction lyric-based writing series, that you can find here. also, click here for my full masterlist.

liverpool football club has always been more than just a job for you. as the team’s physiotherapist, you loved every moment, every pass, every win and loss. it was your place, your purpose. but what you didn’t expect was that football would bring you face to face with a completely different kind of challenge.

trent alexander-arnold. his name echoed in your head constantly since he started being your patient. the young player, with an impressive skill, an unwavering dedication to the team, but also a quiet, enigmatic energy, something you always noticed but never dared to explore.

it all started with an ankle injury trent had. the need for more intense care meant you were the one who treated him most often. the physiotherapy sessions became moments of conversation that went beyond what was necessary; you talked about games, the team, the season’s expectations… but slowly, you started sharing more than just that.

“do you really think this injury is going to take us out of the title race?” trent asked one day, as you applied ice to his ankle, his brown eyes meeting yours.

“you’re strong enough to overcome this, and you know liverpool needs you.” you said, smiling at him, trying to stay professional, but there was something in his gaze that made you feel there was more to it. “you can’t give up now, trent.”

he laughed, a genuine smile that made your heart beat faster. “you know, you always talk like you’re our mental therapist, not just the physical one.”

“i am, i am.” you laughed back, trying to push the growing tension between you both aside.

but, in your hearts, you knew it was more than just a professional relationship. with every touch during the treatment, every furtive glance, the connection grew stronger. you couldn’t deny what you were feeling, but you both knew that something so delicate needed to be kept secret. what would people say about a physiotherapist and a football player being involved? the club, the teammates, the fans… no one would understand.

the view of his smile echoed in your mind when you thought about what was beginning to grow between you two — you had shared so many moments, but never in front of others. on the field, he was the icon, the standout player. you, just the physiotherapist who, with skilled hands, helped the team stay on their feet. but when you met in private, away from the curious eyes and microphones, it felt like the world was too small for the two souls that had found each other.

it was on an autumn night, after a hard game, that the tension between you two finally overflowed. liverpool had won, but trent, still exhausted, was feeling the pain in his legs. you followed him to the locker room for one last check, knowing he was in good shape, but also aware of how physically affected he might be.

after the treatment, you found yourselves alone, a rare moment in the busy routine of training and games. he looked at you, his brown eyes deep, locking with yours. the silence between you both grew heavy.

“y/n…” he began, his voice low, hesitant. “i need to tell you something.”

you felt your heart race, the professionalism you always maintained starting to waver in the face of the intensity of the moment.

“i have something to tell you too.” you smiled, trying to stay calm, but the anxiety took over you. you both knew what was about to happen. you were about to cross the thin line between what was acceptable and what was risky.

trent took a step closer, his hands now intertwining with yours. “they don’t know about us, y/n. no one knows how real this is.” he moved even closer, until your lips met for the first time, softly, like a silent promise.

the kiss was quick, but it was etched in your memory. it felt like time had stopped. but when you pulled away, the world started spinning again, and you were back in reality: you were hidden.

“i think we need to be careful,” you whispered as you pulled back slightly, trying to breathe.

“i know, but i can’t act like it’s not real anymore.” trent said, sincerity in his eyes. “i need you, y/n. but if this is too much for you…”

you interrupted him, smiling at him. “i need you too. but let’s keep this between us. just the two of us.”

in the following days, the tension grew in a different way: the chemistry between you was more visible than ever, but no one spoke of it. you and trent continued with your routine, keeping up the professional facade in front of everyone else. but with each meeting, each furtive glance, the connection between you two grew even more. you were being careful, trying to hide what no one could know.

this is how things had to be. a secret shared only between you two. when trent felt weak, you were his strength. when he won, you were there to celebrate, silently, always by his side, but never visible to others.

and even though the outside world didn’t know, you both knew what you had. a love no one could understand, but that remained strong despite the external pressures. a love that, no matter how much the world tried to ignore, was unbreakable.

and maybe that’s what made what you had even more special. the secret you shared in the glances and the silences. you both knew that, in the end, what mattered was what was between you. and that, no one could ever take away.

[veephoenix]

zutto — chapter three | wc: 6.5k | series masterpost | prev. chapter

chapter summary: lia goes back to therapy. When Noah takes her back home after her session, lia's withdrawal symptoms worsen.

tags and trigger warnings: best friends to lovers, angst, conflicted feelings, wet dreams that turn into nightmares, lia goes back to therapy, mentions of couples therapy, mentions of medication and use of it, descriptions of both physical and psychological withdrawal symptoms, heated argument between lia and noah, passionate kiss under the rain.

author's note: this is a hard one that might feel uncomfortable to some, so read with caution. It's rewarding at the end, though 💕

general trigger warnings: This work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction, abuse, & violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised. +18

“Would you consider my suggestion? It would be very helpful if Noah could join our sessions.”

Lia nodded, still scratching her fingers. She’d been locked in her therapist office for the last hour, and she felt exhausted. With the woman’s unexpected suggestion, her nerves shot up, adding to her distress.

The idea of Noah dealing with her therapist didn’t seem very appealing. He had his own and Lia didn’t want to drag him into this. But again, he was already shit deep into her problems, wasn’t he? 

So, she didn’t lie when she told Dr. Reynolds that she would consider it.

Outside, Noah’s car was parked right at the door, and he waited inside.  

It was the first time since returning to L.A. that they’d been apart for longer than an hour. Matt had picked them up from Lia’s apartment, spending about two minutes hugging her tightly after seeing her. Lia didn’t cry, and although she looked happy to be in Matt’s arms, she assured him she was on the mend and wouldn’t put them through something like this ever again.        After dropping her at the therapist’s office, Noah got out of the car and walked her to the door, squeezing her hand and promising he’d be there to pick her up in an hour. Just as the door of the building opened, Noah called Lia’s name. When she turned back to him one last time, he pulled her into a tight hug and kissed her hair. That was the boost Lia needed to face the next sixty minutes. 

As soon as Noah was alone with Matt in the car, the questions began to pour out. 

“How is she doing? And I mean, for real.”

“What have the doctors said?”

“Is she still taking meds? When can she quit? Why isn’t it that easy?”

“And what about you? How are you coping?”

“Have you talked to her? Have you guys talked about you and… her? About…?”

Noah stopped him there, his face a mixture of fatigue and frustration. 

“I’m dealing with this just like Lia is,” he admitted, his voice strained. He was conflicted, torn between telling her he couldn’t live without her touch, that he needed her in ways he had never thought possible, and keeping quiet and giving her the space she needed. 

Noah looked out of the window; his eyes distant. He was still having nightmares. In fact, it felt they were just getting started. He was worried sick that they would follow him for days, weeks. Months, even. 

Last night, he had dreamt that Lia was straddling him, that his hands were tangled in her hair, pulling her down to him. His grip intensified, perhaps to the point of hurting her, but Lia didn’t complain. Her moans told exactly the opposite. Noah continued devouring her mouth, her lips perfect against his, her tongue slippery against his own. He swallowed her little sounds, hardening against her. When he pressed her down onto his erection, his left hand gripped her waist, marking her. Abruptly, Lia moved away, startled, fear in her eyes. Standing, she lifted the hem of her t-shirt to reveal the marks his fingers had left. With a broken voice, eyes teary, she said, “Noah, you hurt me.” 

Noah woke up in panic, accidentally waking Lia, who was sleeping beside him. She immediately turned on the light, threw the covers away, and reached for him. Her hand softly landed on his arm to steady him, her voice calling out his name gently. He didn’t relax until her hands cupped his face. When his eyes, filled with terror, met hers, he began to ground himself in her presence. He had never been held so tenderly. Only Lia had ever been so caring with him, so sweet and soft.

“Noah, it’s okay.” Her voice was hushed, delicate; her heart broke a little more at the sight of him suffering from nightmares. “I’m here. I’m okay. We’re okay.”  

His breathing slowed. He closed his eyes, tilting his head a little to feel the warmth emanating from her right hand. Needing her, he grabbed her wrist gently and pulled her closer until he was kissing the skin where her veins pulsed. Her fingers caressed his cheek. 

“It’s okay,” she whispered again. 

If she said that, while they were in bed together, in the middle of the night, her hands on him, he would believe her. 

He would have kissed her and laid her back on the bed, this time closing the gap between their bodies, not letting her stray a single inch away. He was tired of pretending this was like any other time, when they were just best friends sharing a bed. But he was scared. What if he really hurt her?

“Noah?” She noticed him straying away, his mind wandering far again. She needed to bring him back. “We’re in my apartment. We were sleeping. We’re in my bed. It’s ok. We’re all right.” 

“Are we?” He couldn’t help and ask.

At the sight of the furrow between his brows, Lia reached her other hand and moved some hair away from his face. 

“We will be,” she replied without hesitation. She wasn’t sure, truth be told, but she trusted that they were on the path to mending, both of them, and being there with him in the middle of the night, sharing a bed, sharing covers and warmth, was a sign of that. “Will you—? Will you let me hold you?”

Was he worthy of the sweetness she looked at him with when she asked that question? Maybe. He knew he was good for her. He’d always been. But he was still not entirely convinced he was exactly what she needed.  

For now, he would let her hold him until all his doubts faded away. 

He fell back asleep with Lia spooning him, her petite frame pressing against his wide back, her breathing caressing the skin at the back of his neck. 

Matt took Noah to his house so that he could pick up his car and some clothes. Jolly and Jesse were home, taking the time to catch up on missed hours of sleep. Noah didn’t want to stay long. He updated them on Lia’s condition, drawing a line whenever the boys tried to get too sweet with him. It felt weird to have Jesse wrapped around him, so when he hugged Noah, Noah simply patted him on the back, thanked him for his concern, and assured him that Lia would drop by soon.

After a cup of coffee and a trivial talk with the boys, Matt inquired about the upcoming tour in Japan. Noah didn’t blame him for his insistence. Organizing a tour overseas had required a big budget and a lot of time, so it was natural for everyone to be concerned. 

“I don’t know,” Noah replied sternly when Matt asked if they would have to cancel the trip. “I can’t think about that yet. I just need her to get through today’s therapy session.”

Matt nodded as if he understood, but in truth, he was getting restless. If the tour had to be canceled, they needed to start making changes and rescheduling flights and hotel bookings before it was too late.  

“Have you talked to her about it?”

Noah lifted his head and shot Matt an almost angry look. “No, I haven’t” he replied sharply. “But I know what she’ll say. She won’t let us cancel the tour, and I’m not ready to have that argument with her. So please, just— Just don’t ask me about Japan for at least a couple of weeks. I know what we have to prepare, but I can’t focus on that right now.” 

“Okay. Sure. We still have time,” Matt said, trying to sound reassuring, “and Lia’s well-being is the main concern now.” 

“She’ll get through this,” Jolly added, a hint of pride in his voice despite his stern expression, still pained by recent events. 

“I’m not giving her any other choice,” Noah concluded. He finished his coffee. 

Fifteen minutes later, he was seated in his car, watching Lia fasten her seatbelt beside him. She hadn’t looked at him when she got in, and the distress on her face was evident. 

“How did it go?” Noah asked, starting the car.  

Lia sighed deeply, letting her head fall back to the headrest for a moment. At her reaction, Noah tried to smile to lift her spirits. “Not so good?”

“No, it was okay,” she admitted, still hesitating to look at him. “She wants to meet you,” she said finally. Her brown eyes met his and Noah’s smile faltered. She didn’t look thrilled about it. “I mean, she wants you to have a session with her, thirty minutes or so, and then she wants us to have a couple of sessions together as…” She struggled to say the words, the feeling evident in the way she drifted her gaze to some focal point on the road ahead. “You know,” she tried, a sigh following her words, her cheeks flushing, “couples therapy.” 

When she uttered those words, Noah noticed her shoulders slumping, as if she had just released a weight she’d been carrying on her shoulders. 

“Only if you want, of course,” she hurried to add. 

“I’d love to.”

Lia’s head turned abruptly towards him, her expression one of surprise. “You would?” 

“Of course,” he affirmed. His own previous therapy sessions had probably been far different from Lia’s, but he was aware it would require patience and courage to do this with her. He was willing to do anything, though. For her, he would. “If it means this will helps us get better and strengthen our bond, I’m up for anything.” The sincerity in his words warmed her. She felt exhausted and sleepy, slightly upset about the things she’d had to recall and mention during her session. She had been scared about asking Noah if he would like to attend sessions with her, as a couple. But now that he seemed so willing, so predisposed, her heart fluttered in her chest. 

“Thank you”, she whispered. “It means a lot.”

Noah took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “So, one thing’s sorted. Now onto the next. Where would you like to go for lunch today?”

She wasn’t keen on going out, nor did she feel like cooking or letting Noah handle everything, so she let him drive them to the outskirts of the city. They found a cozy restaurant where they could enjoy a healthy meal outside. It reminded her of the times when Noah used to pick her up from school at sixteen. He already had his driver’s license and would collect her every Friday to go somewhere to eat. Back then, he didn’t have his own car, so he borrowed Mike’s, which always smelled weird. Noah would tease her, saying Mike had sex with girls in the backseat, which made her clutch her backpack tightly, worried the stench might cling to her bag.

Sitting at a table outside by the road, Lia tied her hair into a bun while Noah quickly checked his phone before starting to eat. Lia didn’t have much of an appetite, but she made an effort, even reaching for the slices of beetroot in Noah’s salad. Her action earned an offended, playful look from him that managed to coax an honest smile from her. However, after the fourth or fifth bite, her stomach started acting funny. As she tried to understand why, she also noticed it was getting harder to stay present in the moment, her mind wandering away from where it should be. Suddenly, she couldn’t focus on the food. Staring at it for a long minute, she started feeling nauseous and hot. There was a gentle breeze outside, a sign that it was going to rain, but she felt her body’s temperature increasing, her face flushing, which only added to her overall discomfort.

Noah didn’t push her to eat when she told him she her stomach felt weird. Once she confirmed she couldn’t eat anymore, Noah asked for the remainder of her food to be packed away, and they took it home.  As she stood up, she felt a wave of nausea rise. Her legs felt unsteady for a couple of seconds, so she clutched Noah’s arm for support.

Her queasiness only increased by the time they made it back to her apartment. When they door closed behind them, Lia’s head was throbbing with a pounding headache, making it almost unbearable to stand the light coming in from the balcony doors and the windows. 

“I’m fine,” she told Noah as his worried expression deepened. “I’m just having a horrible headache. It started right after I left from therapy. It’s… really bad now.”  

She made her way to the sofa, taking off her jacket, feeling fatigue take over her. She ran the back of her hand across her forehead and noticed sweat beads covering it. She sighed; her vision was getting blurry. She couldn’t focus her eyes—or mind— on anything. 

She didn’t notice Noah’s footsteps and was unaware he had retrieved a cloth from the kitchen and dampened it. He knelt in front of her and placed it on her forehead. Lia shivered, her body temperature fluctuating wildly between hot and cold. 

“We should check if you have a fever.”

“I’ll be fine,” she insisted, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by his attention and his closeness. “Thank you. I’ll go get changed.” She stood up and moved past him.

“Why don’t you take a shower?” He suggested. “It might help.”

Truthfully, she felt too tired to shower. She wanted to lie down anywhere and sleep, conveniently in an open space, but she feared sleep wouldn’t come easily with the headache and nausea.

Telling Noah she would go to her room to change into something comfortable, he let her go, rising from his crouching position and watching her disappear down the hallway. 

It made him feel slightly frustrated, not being able to do anything more to help. 

With a heavy sigh, Noah tried to smooth out the lines on his forehead, his frustration growing palpable.  

He took off his jacket, dropping it onto the sofa, and grabbed his duffel bag to also change into comfier clothes: shorts and a hoodie. Returning from the bathroom to the living room, he waited for Lia, lounging on the sofa with his MacBook open. There were no plans for the rest of the day. Lia needed slow and he would give her slow. If she wanted to spend hours binge-watching a TV show or baking, he was ready to do so with her. But despite what he’d told Matt earlier, Noah couldn’t resist the urge to check his emails. 

Unbeknownst to him, a storm was brewing in Lia’s room; inside of her. 

Oblivious to her escalating affliction, Noah hunched over the screen, typing a reply to an email. Meanwhile, Lia paced inside her room, feeling the walls closing in as withdrawal symptoms tightened their grip. She knew what it was, but couldn’t stop it, which only fueled her panic. Her thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. Unable to focus, she started to rifle through drawers, tossing clothes aside in a frantic search for something to calm her nerves, her pain. Though Noah kept the bottle of prescribed pills from the hospital, she needed something stronger. The current medication clearly wasn’t enough if she felt this restless, desperate, weak, and anxious.    

There had to be something, somewhere. A forgotten blister hidden under her clothes or at the back of her drawers.  

With no luck, she left her room and entered the small space she liked to call her studio: a cozy corner furnished with a proper desk, a bookshelf, a guitar that Noah and the boys gifted her one Christmas and that she never played, and walls adorned with her paintings, framed dried flowers, and artworks by other artists.

In a frenzy, she bent down, opening one drawer after another, sweat layering her skin. Dizziness added to her throbbing headache threatened to incapacitate her, but she was determined to find one fucking pill because she needed it. Fuck the doctors. Fuck the therapist. She needed a single damn pill to calm her nerves, quiet the voices, and ease the pain coursing through every inch of her body and soul.  

Closing a drawer with a loud noise and muttering curses, she moved to the next one, finding only used notebooks and scattered pens and crayons.  

From the living room, Noah raised his head. 

“Lia?” He called out, his concern mounting. “What’s going on?”

There was no response. Noah set his MacBook aside and strode towards the studio room. He found Lia crouched on the floor, barefoot, still in her clothes, her bun a tangled mess. Her movements were frantic, hands shaking as she ransacked her space.

“Lia, what are you doing?” he asked softly.

He knew. 

Lia avoided his gaze as she stood up, swaying, things moving around her. Ignoring Noah’s extended arm, she moved urgently towards the living room, her eyes wild.

He trailed behind her, his own heart racing at the sight of Lia in that distressed state. He felt a deep sense of fear, a fear not too unfamiliar. 

“Lia—”

“What?” She snapped, but her attention was elsewhere. She opened every cupboard and drawer in the kitchen, then moved on to the furniture in the living room when she couldn’t find any blister pack or scattered pill. 

Noah stood in the midst of her chaos, watching her with growing panic coursing through his veins. He tried to approach her, reaching out to grab her arm and stop her, to make her focus on him, but she shook him off.

“I need a pill. Just one. And I’ll be fine.” 

Noah couldn’t discern if she was talking to him or to herself. She’d already taken her allotted dose for the day; taking more was out of the question. The doctor had warned them about this, explained that withdrawal symptoms would eventually come, varying in severity, and offered advice and coping strategies. 

But facing it now, Noah felt utterly powerless. Lia wore an expression he didn’t recognize—a dangerous determination that had nothing to do with the resilient woman she was. This wasn’t her. It was the distorted craving of her addicted system demanding what wasn’t necessary.  

“Lia, remember what the doctor said,” he began, knowing his words would likely fall on deaf ears. “If you exceed your dose, if you just have one more…”

“Who cares? Just—Fuck. There has to be a blister pack somewhere,” she muttered, moving away from him and checking behind sofa cushions. 

She was losing it. 

“I need to find one. Just one. I need to fucking have it. I can’t deal with this.” Her voice was tinged with desperation, rising. Moments later, seeming defeated, she collapsed onto the sofa, bending forward, her hands clutching her head as if she could physically squeeze the pain away, a vein throbbing on her neck. “Where the fuck are they?!” 

“Not here,” Noah said firmly, not taking his preoccupied gaze from her. “You’re allowed one pill a day. You had it. You have to go through tonight without it, and you will. I know you can do it—”

“For fuck’s sake,” she busted, looking up at him, her eyes red and watery, “cut the bullshit, Noah.” She stood abruptly. “I can’t. I can’t! Can’t you see me?!” she gestured towards herself, frantic. Her face was covered in tears, her cheeks reddened, her chest rising heavily due to her disturbed breathing.

Noah’s heart cracked a little bit more. He swallowed hard. He could see her, yes, but he wished he couldn’t. 

“Where’s your bag?” She demanded, her lips pursed, her nostrils flaring. She was barely blinking. She was shaking.

“You don’t need my bag.”

“I do need it because you’re keeping the bottle I was given at the pharmacy!”

“I’m keeping the bottle for this very reason.”

“Noah,” she took a deep breath, attempting to calm herself. The rational part of her that hadn’t yet been swallowed by desperation reminded her of Noah’s care and determination. The man in front of her would do anything to keep her from harm’s way. However, the darker part of her urged her to convince him, to play nice to get him to cave in, to give her what she wanted.  “Please, just one. I beg you. Give it to me. Just today. I promise it won’t be like this tomorrow.”

A nightmare was unfolding right before Noah’s eyes. No, it wasn’t a nightmare; it was a memory: He was fourteen years old. His mother was at his grandparents’ house, desperate and erratic, asking for money to feed her addiction. That had been the first and only time Lia had meet Noah’s mother. Neither of them; not him, not her, nor his grandparents, could have imagined that years later, Noah would be reliving a similar scene, the fear even more intense this time. 

No matter how much this hurt him, he wouldn’t let Lia become like his mother. 

When Lia attempted to move past him towards the room where Noah kept his bag, he blocked her way. Lia looked up at him with wide eyes, as if unable to believe he was denying her something so vital, denying this to her. 

“You don’t need it,” he said.

“But I do, to calm myself, to make everything go away,” she pleaded with a sweet broken voice. “I need it, Noah, please.”

“No. You heard the doctor. You agreed on committing to this. You wanted to get better, remember?” 

“Yes, but you don’t know how it feels—how I’m feeling. Noah, please, I—.”

“No. That’s the end of it, Lia.”

It took a moment for her expression to shift again, her frustration boiling over, evident on her face, in her beautiful, big brown eyes. She tried to maneuver around Noah again, her eyes blazing, but he stood his ground, for hersake. 

“Let me through.”

“No. Sit down. We’ll talk.”

“I don’t want to fucking sit down,” her voice had grown rougher. Where was his sweet Lia? “Move or I’ll move you.”

In another circumstance, Noah might have snorted, raised an eyebrow, or chuckled. But that day, he didn’t flinch.

“Try,” he simply said. 

And try she did. 

Noah maintained his position, blocking her path. She wrestled with him briefly, shouting, until she stumbled back, tripping over her own feet and knocking over a small ceramic figurine on a low shelf next to the TV, which shattered into pieces on the floor. The sound startled Lia, and the fear in her own eyes transferred to Noah. She was hypersensitive, a sign of an impending emotional tsunami that threatened to engulf them both. 

For a moment, Lia stood motionless, staring at the broken figurine as if it had sparked something new inside her. Then, in a sudden shift, she turned back to Noah, her eyes wide open, an ocean of emotion swirling within them. Her anger quickly dissolved into more tears, bigger ones this time. Her desperation remained present; it impregnated the walls of her own home, seeped into Noah’s very soul and heart. 

Then, she shouted at him. 

“Why are you doing this?!” 

She had never raised her voice at him like that before. 

“I’m trying to help you,” he replied, his voice strained with effort as he kept it low. Outside, rain began to pour, as if the universe were mirroring the turmoil inside of the apartment, the chaos in their hearts. 

“You’re not helping me! You’re making it worse!” Lia knew the weight of her words even as she spoke them, but she couldn’t stop herself. She felt lost, as if drowning, unable to reach the surface. Noah’s steady gaze bore down on her, his presence looming large, making her feel small and trapped. Yet, a voice inside her, a remnant of a younger self, insisted that Noah was her anchor, that everything he did was for her sake, for her well-being. This only added to her frustration. 

Why did it have to be this way?

Her tears fell freely, splashing onto the floor. Noah’s heart ached and ached.  

“If you didn’t love me, you wouldn’t care about this and would let me have a fucking pill!” she yelled, tears cascading down her face, her sobs intensifying. She looked utterly miserable, on the brink of collapsing under the weight of everything. 

Noah’s jaw clenched, pain and determination flickering in his eyes. “Exactly. It’s because of what I feel for you that I’m not letting you give up,” he shouted back, stepping closer.

“You can’t save me, Noah. Just—. Stop playing hero. Give me a pill and let me get this over with,” she extended her trembling hand toward him. He moved closer. She moved back. Irony hung heavy in the air. 

Her bare feet were dangerously close to the shattered pieces of the figurine. Noah swiftly grabbed her wrist to prevent her from stepping on them, but it only fueled her anger. She wrenched herself free, determined to continue her search, with or without Noah’s help. 

“Lia, for God’s sake!” Noah voice rose as he made attempt to grab her again. “Will you stop? Look at your feet!”

But she paid him no heed, only shouted back at him to leave her alone as her bare feet navigated through the broken pieces, her focus solely on finding the pills. 

Noah’s frustration reached its peak. He shouted her name, trying to break through her hysteria.

Outside, the rain intensified, as if prompted by their shouting, a torrential downpour that matched the intensity contained in the apartment. Noah knew he had to do something. He strode over to Lia, who was too consumed by her hopeless idea of finding a fucking pill to notice him approaching. In one swift motion, he lifted her, wrapping his arms around her as she struggled against his hold, her back against his chest. Lia’s heart pounded wildly as his embrace caged her in, her protests falling on deaf ears as she kicked and hit him, demanding to be released. 

“What are you doing?! Noah—”

“I’m done with this.”

“Noah, put me down! Put me down, I said!”

Noah held her tighter, his own emotions bubbling over. He pushed open the balcony door, stepping outside with Lia still fighting in his arms. The rain immediately drenched them both, the cold water shocking Lia into stillness.

“Let me go!”

“No!” He shouted at her, the water dripping from his face, drenching his clothes. “You want to scream? Scream now!” Noah said roughly, the rain pouring down, washing over them.

He put Lia on the ground, freeing her only for a moment to force her to turn around and face him. Then, he caged her again against him, forcing her to lift her head to look at him, to see what she did to him, to acknowledge his pain and desperation in the darkness that was starting to shroud the city. 

Lia fought against him, but when she realized it was futile, that she could do nothing against Noah’s strong hold, her sobs mixed with the sound of the rain, her resistance gradually weakening. He kept on holding her close, his voice trembling with emotion as the rain flowed, soaking them both in its chill embrace.  

“I hate seeing you like this, Lia. But I can’t let you do this to yourself. I won’t,” Noah said. His voice dropped, but the pain persisted.

Lia, drenched and pathetic, looked up at him. Her eyes were filled with despair, pushing Noah to his own edge. He tightened his hold on her, their faces inches apart. The eye contact intensified as their heartbeats tried to subside, to sync, struggling to find a rhythm amidst the chaos. 

Just when he thought he had heard everything, her next question caught him off guard. Her voice was weak, sad. So sad. Even the rain could feel it. 

“Why did you fall in love with me?”

Her anger was gone, but now there seemed to be a void that Noah longed to fill. He didn’t want her feeling like this, feeling like she wasn’t worthy.  

No matter how many mistakes she’d committed, how much wrong she’d done; she was worthy. Worthy of entire universes and galaxies.

He couldn’t answer in that moment, though a thousand reasons flooded his mind. 

“Your life would be much easier without me,” she continued, her voice a fragile whisper barely audible over the rain. 

Agony etched Noah’s features as he fought to maintain his composure.  

“Lia… Shut up, please,” he pleaded, exhausted. “Just shut up.”

“Why?” she persisted, her body caged in Noah’s arms, her chest pressed against his. Tears mingling with raindrops streaming down her face. Despite her misery, she looked breathtakingly beautiful to Noah. Her long hair flowed loosely, sticking to her chest and back, framing her face. Her eyelashes held droplets, her lips red and moist, her cheeks flushed. “I’m not worthy of you.” 

No, he wouldn’t have that. 

“I’ll never be worthy of you.”

“Lia, stop.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

She let her head fall on Noah’s chest, weeping like a child, her arms limps at her side, her knees barely supporting her.  

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t have to deal with this. I should have let them take me and keep me away for as long as necessary.”

“No. You’re right where you’re supposed to be, and so am I—” His words came out through clenched teeth, desperate to make her understand, to dispel those thoughts from her mind. 

“There’s so much good for you out there, away from me.”

A vein throbbed in Noah’s neck, her words like knives piercing his heart.  

“I can’t keep hearing you say these things. Everything you’re saying is wrong. You’re wrong, Lia.”

“I’m not! Why do you keep trying to see the good in me? What good is it doing to you?”

If he had to show her the good in her, the beauty and all her magic, her light, he would. But now, he needed her silence. 

“For God’s sake, Lia.”

“I’ve been nothing but a thorn in your side for the last two years. Don’t you even try to say otherw—”

“Lia, I said stop.”

“Why? I’m just telling the truth. Someone has to because you keep glossing over every one of my mistakes. All because you love me!”

Exactly.

He loved her. More than life itself.  

“Lia,” his voice was a warning. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to shut you up.” 

“You can’t. I’m stating the facts that you won’t—”

“I can,” he cut her off. With resolve hardening his features, he said, “I’m going to kiss you.”

She froze, her eyes widening, a crease forming between her brows. Her lips parted slightly, raindrops causing her to blink as they trailed down her face. 

Noah thought that, with all her sorrow and misery, she looked like a nymph, a goddess.  

“Noah,” her voice softened, as if the threat of being kissed stirred something within her. She tried to read his intent in the depths of his warm October eyes. “What if… What if you’re just infatuated with me?”

It was the voice of doubt speaking out, the same one that kept telling her a pill was the solution to all her problems. Deep down, Lia knew Noah wasn’t infatuated with her. He had seen the best and the worst in her. He was dealing with her worst, and yet, here he was, dying to kiss her, to ease her pain. 

“You’re crazy if you think that,” he retorted. Then, after a pause, “And I’m crazy in love with you. I’m going to kiss you now. If you don’t want me to, say it,” he demanded, his voice a blend of softness and intensity. “Right now.” 

Lia’s breath hitched, her words stumbling. But she didn’t refuse him. Noah’s heart raced, overwhelming need to connect with her, driving him forward. With one hand cradling her jaw, the other arm securely holding her close, he lowered his lips to hers. 

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he urged, his breath caressing her face. 

“I—”

“Say it, Lia. No hesitating.”

One intake of breath.  

“Kiss me,” she pleaded, giving in, surrendering. 

His mouth descended on her.

One moment she was hopeless. The next one, she was fighting against Noah’s hold, desperate to free her arms and tangle her fingers in the wet, silky strands of his hair. The kiss stole her breath away from the very start. Noah’s grip tightened as her hands finally found their way around his neck, her body arching towards him, rising onto her tiptoes. She let Noah devour her. 

Despite the cold and the chill of the raindrops on their bodies, Noah’s mouth was warm and inviting as it claimed Lia’s lips. The kiss was fierce and passionate, a tumultuous blend of anger, desperation, and love. Their lips collided repeatedly, caressing, their saliva mingling with the sweet rainwater. 

Under his touch and hold, Lia softened, the storm inside her beginning to calm, all need for a substance that would surely damage her slowly dissipating. All of it was replaced by Noah’s intoxicating kiss. His hunger was evident in the way he kissed her, held her face, and pressed her closer, as if he had been starved for days. Lia clung to him, inadvertently pulling at his hair, eliciting a growl from him that sent a shiver down her spine. He nibbled at her lower lip, igniting a fire within her. 

Their mingling breaths created a rhythm, a dance of longing and need. Lia’s hands explored Noah’s back, tracing the contours of his muscles as they tensed and relaxed under her touch. Each moment forged a connection that surpassed mere physical desire, a connection that had always existed between them. The world around them blurred into obscurity; nothing else mattered but the intensity of their moment.

And as Lia gave in to her desires, to her need of him, to this consuming passion, she felt a pang of fear.

It clawed at her, a dark whisper at the back of her mind. What if this wasn’t real? What if it was all just a fleeting escape from her troubles? The intensity of their connection scared her, the depth of her emotions for Noah something she hadn’t fully understood until now, as his for her. What if he didn’t really feel all these things? What if he was confused? What if this love was mistaken by his role as her protector since childhood?  

She wanted to lose herself in him, but the remnants of doubt lingered, casting a shadow over her euphoria.

She took a moment to breath, her eyes closed, her hands releasing Noah’s hair but remaining at his neck, Noah’s lips lingering on hers, caressing her mouth. 

“What if you regret this?” she whispered. He almost didn’t hear her, but when her words did register, he didn’t react. Instead, he moved the arm around her waist to cup her face in both hands. With a slight shake of his head, his lips brushed against hers as he said softly, “Shut up, Lia. Stop talking nonsense and let me keep kissing you.” 

After a brief kiss, with her upper lip captured between Noah’s, he sensed her hesitation. 

Noah paused, his breath warm against her lips. His eyes, dark and intense, searched hers for any sign of regret. The vulnerability in his gaze mirrored her own, a silent plea for trust and acceptance. Each beat of his racing heart emphasized how much he needed her; how afraid he was of losing this fragile connection.  

“Unless you want to stop.” 

She didn’t answer.  

“Do you want to stop?” he insisted, his fear evident.  

“No,” she said, her eyes full of newfound determination, of love and lust, and Noah felt a rush of warmth, like honey spreading through him, “I don’t want to stop.”

Her affirmation washed over him, soothing the anxiety that had gripped his heart. He could see the sincerity in her eyes, the unspoken promise that she was his as much as he was hers. As he kissed her again, the world could wait. For now, nothing mattered but the two of them, entangled in each other’s arms.

Gradually, their surroundings came back into focus—the chill of the evening air, the distant sounds of traffic and rustling leaves reminding them of the outside world. It was a gentle reminder that life continued around them, indifferent to their shared moment of passionate chaos.  

Reluctantly, Noah rested his forehead against hers with a sigh, immediately missing the taste of her. 

Lia opened her eyes, realizing her panic had subsided. She shivered. 

“We should go inside,” he suggested, “before we catch a cold.” 

“You brought us out here,” she pointed out. There was a hint of teasing in her tone.

Noah’s heart threatened to burst. “Yeah, because it was getting suffocating inside. But I don’t intend for either of us to catch a cold.”

Grabbing her hand, he led them inside, touching his hair as droplets fell onto the floor.

“Shit,” he muttered, freeing her, and noticing the puddles him and Lia created as they moved into the apartment. Lia swallowed, looking around, suddenly feeling lost without Noah’s touch, without his arms around her, with the broken pieces of the figurine on the floor staring back at her. 

Slowly, the realization of everything she had done and said to him in the last fifteen minutes threatened to overwhelm her again. But Noah wouldn’t let that happen. 

“Go shower,” he insisted, “I’ll wait until you’re done and mop the floor in the meantime.”

She hesitated, searching his eyes like a lost puppy. When he didn’t immediately notice, she nodded and started walking to her bedroom. 

Two seconds later, his hand grasped hers, halting her movements and claiming her attention back to him.  

“Lia,” he said. His rain-soaked face was mesmerizing as his eyes gazed at her with utter adoration. “I told you; you could get through this. You’re stronger than you think.”

She shook her head. “I’m strong because of you.” 

“You’re wrong.”

Tilting her head, she sent a heartwarming smile his way. 

“Are you going to kiss me again, then?” 

He let out a soft chuckle.  

“Every time you’re wrong,” he replied.  

“And when I’m right?” 

“Same.”

“And when I’m better?”

“More.”

They stood there, exchanging satisfied smiles, feeling as though the rain had worked some kind of magic. In truth, it had just been their kiss, that press of lips they’d been both longing for, a kiss that grounded Lia and brought her back to the person she was and to where she belonged.

“Go,” he urged tenderly, letting go of her hand, “we’ll talk after.” 

As he watched his girl disappear into the hallway, giving him one last sweetened smile that said, ‘thank you for healing me’, Noah blinked, feeling a relief and ecstasy he hadn’t experienced in over a year.

— prev. chapter | chapter four 🌶️

[kachowden]

Hi uh yes I uh kinda like love Cameron and was wondering if you could tell/write more of him 👀

Tw: NSFW Themes, dubcon, patient-dr relations, manipulation.

The feeling of brown honeyed eyes on your figure would’ve been unnerving, had you believed you were the only one in the room.

Cameron, your therapist, had been oddly quiet this session. It was frightening especially after your last talk.

In a bit of an overzealous rant, you had stumbled into the discussion of…personal interests. And, with very little filter you had mentioned your fascination with the idea of men in feminine..garments.

You were embarrassed yes, of course you were, because now it struck you as weird that you had discussed such a personal thing with your therapist. Granted, the main purpose of therapy was to disclose your inner thoughts, but kinks? Sexual desires? Surely that was breaching some type of professionalism. Cameron had been oddly warm and welcoming of the discussion. Smiling gently at you with amusement. Encouraging you to further explain your..interests.

Yet now, the air felt tense and stale. You shifted slightly within your seat under the probing gaze of your therapist.

“Y/n.”

Your shoulders jumped slightly at the smooth voice. You always wondered if he drank something warm before each session, since his voice was never horse or scratchy. Always in a deep soothing lull.

Perhaps it was just naturally like that.

You flushed lightly. “Yes Cameron?”

A pleasant smile stretched on his lips, and it took a considerable amount of self control not to stare at them for too long. Cameron was attractive. Both of you were aware of that. He even at times seemed to revel in your attention.

Now seemed like one of those times, as his smile grew even wider.

“Do you wish to continue our discussion from last time?”

You noted his impossibly relaxed posture, despite the thick atmosphere.

The saliva in your throat felt thicker, like molasses, and you forced your throat to swallow it down.

Gross.

“Uhm…no thank you I don’t think..that would be appropriate..”

Your meek, awkward tone made the therapists peaceful smile darken slightly, before he raised a finely trimmed brow. A lazy hand flicked his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose, and in a flowing pattern pushed back his silky brown hair.

“And why’s that, dear?”

You shifted. Dear.

Cameron had developed a habit of calling you such endearing titles more recently. You couldn’t quite figure out the reason, though chopped it up to being simply to ease your nerves.

“Well..Cameron don’t you think it’s…just..unprofessional? For me to share those types of things with you..”

You hated the way he made you question your own reasoning. You almost felt stupid for even bringing it up.

“Isn’t the point of us meeting so regularly, to make you comfortable with me? This is therapy, you’re allowed to vent any frustrations you may have. “ your eyes darted to your lap. “Talk about any thought that enters that pretty head.”

From the corner of your eye you saw Cameron sit up from his velvety red chair, and begin moving in your direction out of sight. The tea pot was back there, so you assumed that was where he was headed.

“I..I suppose..but I’m sure you don’t want to hear about my..fantasies..right?”

You nearly jumped at how close the chuckle that poured from your therapist was.

His presence loomed over your shoulder, the space between you thin as string

“On the contrary my dear.” Nimble warm hands gently rested on your shoulders, massaging at the tense muscles. “I’m very interested in what goes on in that little brain of yours. You’ll enlighten me-“ his breath famed the shell of your ear. “Won’t you?”

This couldn’t be appropriate. There was no way this was just a patient therapist relationship anymore. Everything about this felt wrong.

But you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning back into the couch cushion, and let the soothing motions of his hands lull you.

Perhaps he was right? It couldn’t be too bad for you to discuss these things with him. It was likely others before you had been far less shy with their thoughts. You wouldn’t even want to know do the things you’re sure Cameron had heard over the years. Not that it’s likely he’s tell you anyway.

Patient confidentiality and all.

Cameron didn’t seem to take your silence well however. Almost as quick as they appeared his hands left your shoulders.

His form moved to stand in front of you, letting himself lean down, and having his hand cup yours to move it up his silky satin dress shirt.

It felt expensive.

You gaped.

“Perhaps I should help you. You seem to be having a hard time finding your words today..”

His smile was so gentle. So disarming as he sat himself in your lap, and you choked indignantly.

“Cameron-!”

The male grinned, pulling off his glasses and setting them aside gently, all while pushing your hand and dragging your fingers tips around his chest, inching them into the open collar, and onto his skin.

The feeling of him shuttering and grinding into your lap was fucken intoxicating.

Was this really happening?

“Now, sweetheart, surely now, you can tell me a bit about those interests of yours right? With that imagination of yours finally running.”

How could he possibly be acting so nonchalant about this situation?!

You had half a mind to wonder if he did this with all of his patients. But you figured he would’ve been reported by now if that were the case.

Your throat, once again thick with saliva, swallowed as your unoccupied hand made swift way to the older man’s thigh, squeezing experimentally and nearly moaning at the way he bit his lip in response, his hips shifting forward slightly. His skin was already damp with sweat, and the red of his cheeks vibrant, stunning even.

He couldn’t possibly be that sensitive. Had he been worked up since the beginning of the session?

“Oh darling, you have no idea what you do to me…I can hardly contain myself when you look at me like that…”

He was bigger than you, towering over your frame, yet he felt so fucken small in your lap. He was so goddamn pretty.

You nearly screamed when you saw him unbutton the full expanse of his shirt, and reveal the filthy secret lingerie that cupped his tits and synched his waist so sinfully.

“Pardon my indecency.”

Smug asshole.

Cameron was fucken relishing in your undivided attention, anyone would’ve been able to see it. If not from his furious blush and hazy brown eyes, then from the way his chest fluttered up in down in heavy pants, and the way a very prominent hardon that ground against your thighs.

“Now darling,” the composer of the man infront of you had seemed to dwindle slightly, through hot breaths and a remarkably, already ruined expression, his guided your hand down the expanse of his stomach, curling in slightly when your hand finally pressed into his erection. “Let’s try out some of those fantasizes of yours, hm?”

[ben10-au-mansion]

It's Dec 27! Happy birthday to all the Bens there! 🎂🥳 My question is, what do you guys do on your birthdays?

Philo: I tend to spend my birthdays along with Gwen. There are some choices were we usually alternate on which one's we're going to have like what flavour of cake we're getting this year or which place we're going to spend our birthdays at. My cake of choice are peanut butter cakes while Gwen likes strawberry shortcakes!

Therapist: On almost all our birthdays, Gwen and I always try and celebrate together with our family and friends. The key word is try. I made the mistake of telling Reiny it was my birthday one year and now it’s a universal holiday. It’s sweet that aliens I barely remember will show up unannounced to wish me happy birthday. Vilgax gave me a custom suit of armor last year. But after all of that, me and Gwen find some time alone to reflect on the year and our personal growth, she likes to call it our yearly gossip session.

1K: Gwen and I have been spending our birthdays like we've (mostly) always have! This year, my parents invited everyone to their house, and man, that place was packed! There were a lot of friends and family there, even friends of friends and family of family. Rook bought our cake this year, since last year Kevin was in charge of the cake and... well, it tasted fine, but it came in a sort of smashed state.

5½: With my mom and dad and grandpa max, Gwen's there too...buuuuut this isn't about her. Usually we just have a party at home since it's cold, but sometimes we go to this really cool indoor park where you jump around and climb, or sometimes to this restaurant with creepy robots, ooo ooo or the movies! There was that one time they took me to a circus though...eugh

Toon: Gwen and I have a big ol 3 tiered cake, and a pinata shaped like one of our villains!

Ben I: well me and Gwen share the same Birth Date so we have a little party with our family and have all our favorite food!

Proto-tool: ...Play Sumo Slammers.

Bounty: I forgot I had one of those still. I don’t think I’ve had a birthday party since I was five. And I didn’t start celebrating it until this year. I’m not a big fan of parties or socializing. Especially with certain family members right now. But my parents are gonna bake a cake, and Rook and Wren were gonna take me on a hike through the mountains.

Lost: oh it’s our birthday? I haven’t celebrated it in a long time… I don’t age anymore so there’s no use in celebrating..

Happy birthday Ben 10! From the mansion goers!

[ktdragonborn]

Another Spencer. (Chapter 2)

Carlton Lassiter X Female Reader (Shawn's Sister)

Summary: You finally moved back to California after almost 15 years away. When your mom and dad separated, your dad got Shawn and your mom took you. (Don't ask me why it's just what they agreed on). But now you're back! And you never expected to meet such a dashing Detective that would sweep you off your feet.

Characters: You, Carlton, Shawn and Gus, Juilet, Henry Spencer (dad), Madeleine Spencer (mom), Chief Karan Vick, mention of many other characters.

Warnings: Some bar tension, some dude tries to hit on you for approximately three seconds, so nothing bad. There will be smut and other graphic scenes as the story progresses.

~This story follows the show Psych. Plots from episodes are mentioned and some chapters will have you added to them. I do not own any characters from the TV Psych, just a big fan of the show and a bigger fan of our boy Lassie. I couldn't ever find something that hit my craving for Lassiter so here I am. This will also be a very long story. Very long. I'm starting it towards the end of Season 2 and plan on writing it throughout the whole show, skipping some episodes but in the end, it'll be very long.~

I forgot to add this to the first chapter, but let me know in the comments if you wanna be added to the tag list! Thank you everyone for the support so far on this story!

Chapter 1

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

You walked into your office bright and early in the morning. It was only your second week in California, let alone in this office, and you were still getting used to traffic and the city's layout. So much had changed since you last visited Santa Barbara, and it was a tad overwhelming at times. 

You turned on the overhead lights and started to prep your office for the day. Small lamps where you conducted your sessions and plenty of green plants around your office. It wasn't a huge area. There was a small lobby entrance for a waiting room-type thing. You had filled the room with a couch and a couple of chairs with a coffee table. Magazines and books for people to read as well as a water cooler. A small desk sat next to the door that led to the larger part of your office. There was a computer and phone set up. No one used it except for you, you weren't busy enough to justify hiring a receptionist- although you have thought about reaching out to Shawn since you know he's bored when he doesn't have a case to work. 

You set your bag down and grabbed everything you needed for the day from your desk. Thankfully, you had two new clients today. Your full schedule included four patients, two new ones, and two “regulars”. They were the first two to join your clinic and have been coming to you ever since. You were thankful for their “business”, and they had been spreading the word about you to their friends, promising every time they see you that they’ve got friends trying to find time to come see you. You set up in the larger room, sitting in your “therapist chair” as Shawn so lovingly described it. You read over the file of the first patient today. They wanted a check-up/check-in with their mental health. In the file they described what they had been feeling, they had been anxious in the workplace and began to realize that their friends were quite toxic. You began to formulate some reasonings and diagnoses for their ailment, just preparing yourself for the appointment but you knew you would keep an open mind throughout the appointment. You looked at the time and realized your patient would be here soon. You got yourself and your patient some water and sat down in your chair awaiting their arrival. 

~I know, You know~

You breathed deeply, leaning back in your desk chair. You moved your hands up to your eyes, giving them a good rub before sitting back up and packing up all your belongings. Today had been a long day. Simple enough, however, one of your returning patients came in with some new drama as she loved to describe it. You probably knew more about this girl's life than her parents at this point and you were happy about it. You were glad you could be the safety net that she needed. However, you knew now that you needed a drink. You shut off the lights and locked the door behind you, heading to your car and going to the closest bar you knew of. 

~They just don’t have any proof~

The problem about being a girl in California in a bar all by yourself is being a girl in a bar all by yourself. Unfortunately, the state you're in doesn't change much of anything. You sat alone at the bar, you took an end seat, and the only seat open next to you would cram someone up against the wall. You thought that might keep people away but unfortunately, it didn't. Fortunately, however, today was Friday, which meant you could relax and decompress from the week you just had. 

Another man tried to move into the seat next to you. You had been observing him across the bar and knew he'd try something. About 4-5 drinks in and his buddies kept pointing at you too. You looked at him and gave him a small smile. “Sorry pal, seats taken,” that's been your excuse most of the night, playing up that you're waiting for a friend or a date to stop by. 

“We've been here the whole time you have, and no one's shown up yet,” the man slurred through his words and started to get close to you. You reached for your drink and covered the top of it, not risking anything. 

“I might've gotten stood up but I'm willing to wait. Again, seats taken sir, please go back to your friends.” 

“Ah come on, I bet I can show you a better time than the chump you were meeting,” his hand started to caress the back of your arm. You frowned and looked at his hand. 

“If you don't stop touching me right now you will regret it.” Your tone was strict and your glare was firm. He took a step closer to you and his breath reeked of alcohol. 

“Oh yeah? How am I gonna regret it?”

“I suggest you leave her alone right now pal,” a very authoritarian voice echoed in your ears and you looked behind the man to see a taller man, with salt and pepper short hair and piercing blue eyes. He took your breath away but you stayed focused on the interaction. The man turned around and his whole body language changed when he had to look up to see your savior (hopefully). 

“What's it to you, buddy?" The drunk man tried to sound tough, but it didn't work out. 

“The fact that she's so uncomfortable with you around that she has to cover her drink. Leave her alone before I get the cops involved. I have ties to the SBPD.” The drunk man nodded and walked away quickly, seemingly spooked by something the man showed him. 

“Thank you for that, it's been happening all night but he's definitely been the most persistent one.”

“It's not a problem,” the man said, his blue eyes sparked when he saw you fully for the first time and he smiled at you. You smiled back and offered him the seat next to you. 

“I've been saving this for someone, at least that's what I've been telling everyone else. It's yours since you saved me.”

“Well thank you,” the man started and you signaled for him to stop for a second.

“I'll fit better over there since it's so close to the wall. Plus I think I'll be leaving soon so might as well give you the good seat,” you got up and switched and he sat down next to you. 

“Well thank you for the seat,” he smiled and waved the bartender down for a drink. You nodded and smiled and continued to sip on your drink. You spun around in your chair to face the crowd around you, watching everyone as they interacted. “Do you just come here to people-watch?” Your savior asked as he turned to watch you. 

“I'm a sense,” you laughed a little and turned more toward him. “My dad actually is a retired detective for the SBPD, and he was crazy about making sure my brother and I were super observant. Like crazy observant. My brother is definitely better at it than I am though.”

“Interesting,” the man hummed and looked out to the crowd with you. 

“I am also a licensed psychiatrist, so noticing things about people is kind of my job,” you laughed and the man chuckled next to you. 

“It's kind of my job too,” he said quietly and you turned to him, taking in his appearance. Suit pants, suit jacket, long sleeve button-up shirt. You noticed his shirt was unbuttoned a little bit, showing off some of his chest hair. You could tell he was wearing a tie all day, there was slight redness to his neck from the pressure of it. 

“You're a cop, aren't you?” You said quietly and he looked at you, kind of surprised. “No offense officer, but you're still dressed like a cop, and you have a certain tension to you that cops carry. I saw it all the time with my dad.” He looked down at himself and smirked at you. 

“I can tell you're pretty good at what you do,” he smiled and reached his hand out to you. “Carlton Lassiter, I'm the head detective with SBPD,” you took his hand and shook it. 

“Ooo a head detective, now that's impressive. I'm (Y/n) (L/n),” you took your mom's maiden name after the separation, although she remained a Spencer. Not sure why, but you two never really talked about it. A part of you knew too, that you'd come back to Santa Barbara, and you wanted to make sure to make a name for yourself without Spencer being attached to it.

“A lovely name,” you noticed Carlton swallowed hard, his eyes shifting as if gauging the situation and conversation.

“You're too kind, detective,” you winked and he smiled a little. “Listen, Carlton, I've gotta be honest with you,” you paused and his eyes changed, showing uncertainty, “I just feel like I need to tell you that I'm not a one night stand kind of gal, so I really don't wanna get your hopes up.” Carlton seemed to sign, or let out a breath he was holding.

“I'm fine with that, more than fine with that actually,” he almost said too excitedly.

“That’s a relief,” you laughed and relaxed a little with Carlton. “So, had any good cases lately?”

“I have,” he smiled and adjusted himself slightly, “We just had a case where the victim was murdered with the smallest dose of snake venom from Brazil, some crazy doctor was stealing money from the charity organization they were a part of.”

“Oh, you know what, I think my dad told me about that! Was it at that weird secret society lodge?”

“Yeah! Wait how’d your dad know?”

“He may be retired from the SBPD but that does not stop him from following cases very closely,” you laughed and Carlton nodded with a smile.

“Yeah, I’ll probably be that way too someday.”

“It’s not a bad thing by any means, at least you can still be in on the action without the risk of serious injury, which is good in old age.” 

“I suppose it is. I’m not sure if I’ll ever retire peacefully” Carlton confessed and you laughed. 

“Sounds an awful lot like my dad. There’s certainly a time and place for it, depends on what position you’re in too. Like if you were the Chief you could work for God knows how long, not a whole lot of field work with that position.”

“The field work is the best part though,” Carlton countered and you shrugged and nodded.

“I don’t disagree, but you gotta choose the lesser of the two evils. Fieldwork that can result in not-so-pleasant outcomes may get injured and have to retire early, or, the position of Chief where you can hide away from the outside evil.”

“You make a good point, I’m not sure if I can ever get Chief. Chief Vick is by far one of the most outstanding Chiefs the SBPD has had in recent years.”

“I’m glad to hear it, a good boss means good work.”

“What about you? How’s your job situation?”

“It's great. But that’s because I’m my own boss,” you added with a smile and Carlton gave you a small smile with an eyebrow raise. “I have my own office where I take clients almost every day. I’m working on getting my clientele back up to where it was back home- I just recently moved back to California from Colorado.”

“What brought you to Colorado?” Carlton inquired.

“My mom primarily. She divorced my dad when I was 13. My older brother was 17 and was being impacted the most by their failing relationship, as my mom so nicely explained to me one day. For some reason they just agreed to split us kids, so my brother stayed here with my dad and I went with my mom,” you sighed and Carlton looked at you with soft eyes. 

“I’m sorry. That doesn’t sound easy.”

“It wasn’t, but looking back on it, it was unfortunately the best option for everyone. My brother was basically an adult so my mom thought he would handle the divorce well. He blamed our dad for the divorce. It was my mom's idea though, she never told my brother that so he just assumed it was my dad.”

“Why haven’t you told your brother?”

“It's a conversation I know him and my mom need to have ya know? If I was the one to tell him, he could lash out and not believe me. I know one day he’ll express to our mom how he resents our dad for it, but that’s for the future,” you sipped your drink and took in Carlton fully. The way he carried himself was attractive. He was very confident and calm throughout your conversation with him and there was slight tension building up between the two of you. You thought back to the conversation and realized the trauma dump you just performed. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” Carlton asked, surprised at your sudden change of tone. 

“For the trauma dump, I just gave you. You didn’t deserve that.”

“I appreciate it,” Carlton said with a small smile. “It shows you’re comfortable around me already.”

“I guess you’re right. You’re easy to relax around.”

“I guess I should repay the favor?”

“Of trauma dumping?” You laughed and he smiled and shook his head. 

“Not so much of dumping as just sharing more about myself with you.”

“Only if you’re comfortable, Carlton,” you smiled. His eyes lit up and he had a big smile on his face. 

“Surprisingly…I am comfortable. There’s not too much to tell. I became Head Detective of the SBPD in 1996, I’m very good at what I do. I was married, but we’ve been separated for about two years now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Carlton,” you said with a small frown. You reached your arm out and gently squeezed his arm.

“There are times when it sucks more than others. Right now, however, I’m not too upset about it,” Carlton smirked at you and you felt your cheeks heat up at the blatant flirting. You giggled slightly and let go of his arm, turning back to your drink. Carlton was really having an effect on you. You couldn’t remember the last time a grown man made you giggle because he was flirting with you. Carlton watched your cheeks turn bright red and continued to stare as the redness traveled up to the tops of your ears. He was mesmerized by you. A cute, amazingly single woman who was honest and attracted to him. You were young, he could tell. It made him a little nervous, himself being 40. He was nervous because of his age but he couldn’t bring himself to tell you, in case it scared you off. It wasn’t fair to you, he realized that, but he couldn’t help it. Your phone ringing pulled Carlton out of his trance and he watched as you quickly answered the call, muttering an apology to him. 

“Hey, what’s up?” You asked quickly. Carlton attempted to distract himself with patrons around the bar so he didn’t listen in to your conversation. “Really? Oh gosh okay. Yeah of course. I’ll be on my way,” you said with panic in your voice. Carlton immediately felt disappointed when you said you would be on your way. He turned back to you, and you were looking in his eyes immediately. He stopped breathing for a second, taking in your eyes and how vibrantly your emotions showed through them. 

“Everything ok?” “I’m so sorry Carlton, I have to leave. My brother just called and said something happened to his best friend, who in turn is also like a brother to me.”

“It's not a problem, this is obviously very important.”

“Here,” you said rifling your bag and digging out a piece of paper. You scribbled down your phone number and gave it to Carlton, making sure he had a good grip on the paper. “Call me tomorrow. Or- well, whenever you’re free, call me. I know a detective's schedule can be hard to work with. I’d love to see you again,” you smiled and tipped the bartender, grabbing your belongings and standing up. You looked at Carlton and could see the sadness on his face. You hopped a little in your place before quickly pressing a kiss to Carlton’s cheek. His face flushed red and you smiled. “Please, call me,” you said and started to head for the door. 

“I will,” Carlton called out to you as you turned around and gave him a big smile, before waving and walking out the door. Carlton wasted no time in adding your number to his contacts on his phone. He was absolutely going to call you. 

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

@capitanostella :)

[writing-until-i-drop]

Wildflowers For A Hangman Ch. 3

Summary:

Daisy, a career novelist, moves in with her college best friend Phoenix who has been permanently assigned to Top Gun with Dagger Squad. She finds herself instantly connected with a cocky pilot who's soft only for her and Jake can't help but want to know everything about her. When the past comes knocking at both of their doors, will they stand together or fall apart?

Or: The Dagger Squad can't cook and Jake falls in love with a woman who makes a mean lasagna while they work their personal trauma.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x writer!femOC | 18+ (eventually) minors dni. Fluff, smut (eventual), idiots in love, past trauma.

A/N: Daisy has a disturbing realization regarding her newest character, one that dredges up painful memories. Jake has a realization of his own when driving Daisy home from the Hard Deck.

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

“I want pages as soon as you have them, Daisy. It’s not what I was hoping for but I am very excited.” My publisher Grace said in her thick, Jersey accent. “Send them to Jason first, I know how he gets when he’s left out of the loop.” I rolled my eyes, my agent Jason would get the text about pages when I was ready to share them and not a moment before, otherwise, he’d be calling me three times a day for a status update. Jason had been with me since the beginning, helping me polish my submissions and get picked up by Grace’s publishing house, but he was a taskmaster. A loveable taskmaster, but a taskmaster nonetheless. 

“Sounds good, Grace. I just wanted to keep you in the loop with what’s coming down the pipeline.” 

“You never disappoint me, Daisy.” With that, Grace hung up. Natasha and Rooster had helped me build a desk and chair, giving me the perfect place to work from. Special Agent Cassandra Klein had a lot to say and the pages kept filling with words as fast as I could type them. Sure, a lot of it would probably be cut in the editing process, but it was thrilling that the story was coming so easily. Writing my last book had been like trying to get blood from a stone using a cotton swab as a weapon. My parents were murdered, Cassandra whispered and my fingers froze on the round keys of my pink keyboard. Right in front of me. 

“No, no, no, no,” I scrambled away from my desk, toppling backward in the chair. My head hit the edge of my bed on the way down, pain shooting through my body, “Shit!” I laid there, sprawled out on the floor for a long time, staring up at the ceiling. I had their blood on my tennis shoes. Cassandra was coming to me so easily because she was me. “I can’t do this, I can’t do this, I can’t do this.” I chanted to myself, head spinning. 

But I had already told Grace about the story and she was expecting pages. I couldn’t back out of this now. Cassandra wouldn’t stop whispering twisted details of my past, her past, our past, to me. She demanded that I tell the story. It was the driving force for her joining the Navy and then NCIS, it was the reason she was determined to catch the bad guys. It was the most important part of her just like it was with me. 

Some time later I managed to pull myself off of the floor. I looked in the bathroom mirror, cringing when I saw the blood and the bruise beginning to form at my temple. My cheeks were puffy and tear-stained, and my eyes were bloodshot. I looked utterly pathetic and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re in deep shit now, DeeDee,” I knew what I should have done. I should have called my old therapist and scheduled a new session, I should have called my brother and asked for an update on his wife and kids. I should have done anything besides what I was going to do. I wiped up the blood, cringing at the burn of the alcohol wipe, and put a bandaid over the cut. Then I went back to work. 

Cassandra was a tough cookie but unlike me, saw her therapist well into adulthood. But unlike me, she drank and smoked an unhealthy amount to cope with what she saw on the job. I stayed away from her past, only alluding to it briefly in therapy, and got on with the investigation she was pursuing with her team. By the time I heard Natasha come home, I had written enough to make me happy.

“You home, Daisy?” Natasha shouted up the stairs, her heavy footfall disrupting my concentration. I shut my laptop, rubbing at my tired eyes, responding that I was home. “Do you want to go for dinner and then a drink with the guys?” A drink did sound good, actually, twelve drinks sounded better. 

“Yeah, can I wear my pajamas this time?” Natasha shot me down, I heard her shower turn on. I begrudgingly changed out of my Cookie Monster pajama pants and into leggings, layering extra deodorant, and perfuming my Embry-Riddle University sweatshirt. 

“So, are you going to tell me what happened to your forehead?” Natasha pointed with her fork. I ignored her, taking another bite of my burger. “That’s a no then. Am I going to have to beat up a person or baby-proof our furniture?” 

“Furniture,” I mumbled, stuffing a handful of fries into my mouth in the most unladylike way. “Don’t wanna talk about it.” 

“Clumsy,” Natasha chided, stealing one of my fries even though she had a plate of her own. “If you don’t want to talk about that, do you want to talk about Hangman?” I glared at her. Ever since the first night at the Hard Deck, Natasha had been trying to get me to talk about Jake and how I felt about him but I wouldn’t say a word. He was nice, especially when he stopped flirting with me constantly, he listened to me talk about everything that came to my mind, listening with rapt attention. “You’re smiling!” 

“Shut up, Tasha. Want to tell me about you and Coyote?” Natasha’s smile faded fast, her cheeks turning pink.

“Nothing to tell.” Natasha lied, slurping her root beer. “Alright, so no talking about the forehead or boys. Have you talked to Harvey lately?” 

“Nah, he’s busy with baby number three. Little Jill Prentiss is a 7lb 14oz bundle of joy who will not let them sleep more than a few hours a night.” My younger brother Harvey had been too young to be saddled with all of the lingering trauma, getting married to his high school sweetheart Emma after graduating from college, bought a house in Iowa, and started having babies. My nieces were the highlight of my life, for every book I wrote, I would get an advance and spend a good portion of it on presents for them. 

“Good for him, doing all that domestic crap. If I got pregnant, I’d have to give up flying and I don’t know if I’ll ever be willing to do that.” 

“Would you do it for Javy?” 

“I thought we said no boys!” 

The Hard Deck wasn’t as packed on a Wednesday night, making it much more my speed. Penny greeted us with a wave, grabbing the bottle of Patron.

“Evening, ladies! Your usual?” 

“Pretty please, Penny,” I passed her my card to start a tab. “Did you and Mav enjoy the cookies I sent?” 

“Amelia and I ate them all before he came home from work,” Penny laughed, “They were delicious, you’ll have to give me the recipe.” 

“No can do, my recipe book is under lock and key.” Penny pinched her lips at me but slid me two shots and a tequila sunrise. “But all you have to do is ask for more and I’ll drop off a batch.” That got a smile out of her. I slammed back my two shots, getting primed and ready for human interaction, and then ordered a third just to be sure.

“You’re in rare form tonight,” Natasha remarked, side-eyeing me, “Still don’t want to talk about it?” I shook my head, letting her lead me to where the other daggers were sitting with their beers. Payback and Fanboy were deep in conversation, Bob was texting, and Bradley was off to the side, chatting with some pretty brunette. Jake noticed us first, motioning for me to sit next to him.

“Hey, Wildflower.” I rolled my eyes, fighting a smile. He frowned, brushing my bangs back to reveal the bandaid, “What happened?” 

“I was attacked by a piece of furniture,” I mumbled, pushing my bangs back into place. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He grabbed my hand under the table, thumb smoothing over my knuckles.

“Then we won’t talk about it but-” He was cut off by Rooster rejoining the group, announcing that he did in fact get the woman’s number.

“Ten bucks says it’s fake,” Natasha challenged with a shit-eating grin. Payback took her up on the deal, “Because why would she give you her number instead of trying to take you home on this fine, Wednesday evening?”

“Yee of little faith,” Rooster rolled his eyes. “She’s right there, I’ll call her.” He pointed to the bar where the woman in question was settling her tab and dialed. We all watched as Rooster’s phone rang but the phone in the woman’s hand didn’t light up. “Oh, um, wrong number.” 

“I bet it was the mustache, I keep telling you to shave that thing, man.” Jake teased, smacking Rooster on the back.

“It’s not the mustache, ladies love the mustache. Right, Daisy?” I held up my hands, forcing Jake to drop it.

“I am not getting involved in this, ask Tasha.” He turned to ask Natasha who was glaring daggers at him and he thought better of it. Jake’s hand rested on my thigh, sparking a deep blush in my chest.

“I thought we talked about the flirting thing, Hangman,” I whispered. Everyone was too busy roasting Rooster to notice our little conversation. He shot me a glare, squeezing my thigh.

“I’m not flirting, Wildflower. I’m being comforting,” He rolled his eyes.

“Who says I need comforting?”

“The extra shot of tequila and you, little lady, call me Jake.” I narrowed my eyes at him, annoyed that he noticed so much about me. I was used to being noticed by people like Natasha, Harvey, and the occasional fan, but not by men like Jake. Sure, Rooster had called me gorgeous, but the man who would flirt with a brick wall if given the chance. I wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, with my soft stomach and thighs, but I considered myself cute in the right outfits. Certainly not what I was wearing 90% of the time though, including right then.

“I’ll call you whatever I like, pretty boy.” I bluffed, rolling my eyes at him. He shot me another glare,

“Now who’s flirting?” 

“Whatever,” I huffed, sliding my hand over his. He let me get the last word and I was thankful for it, my social battery absolutely shot from the unwelcome trip down memory lane earlier in the day. 

X

As the night went on, Daisy sank deeper into my side, her fingers laced with my own beneath the table. Something was wrong, that much was obvious, but it was clear she didn’t want to talk about it and I wasn’t about to run her off by asking too many questions. Daisy had a way of keeping me on my toes, always calling me out when I tried to flirt or tease her. It made me want to do those things all the time, just to watch her pretty brown eyes roll with an exasperated sigh of my name. 

“Do you want a water?” I whispered, enjoying the way her grip on me tightened as she shivered. She looked up at me with droopy eyes, blinking slowly like a cat. I made a mental note to add kitten to the lineup of nicknames for her, just to see how she’d react to it. 

“I want to go to bed but she’s enjoying herself,” I followed her eyes to Phoenix, who was in deep conversation with Coyote over pre-flight rituals. 

“I can take you home, Wildflower.” I had the urge to take her home and tuck her in bed with me at her side, tracing patterns on her thigh even after she fell asleep. The thought made me both happy and queasy. I had never dreamt of domesticity, at least not after my pops got sick. The day he had been diagnosed with cancer and I saw how distraught my mama was, I knew I didn’t want to be the source of that much grief to anyone I loved. But with Daisy, those sweet thoughts wouldn’t leave my mind. I wanted to dance with her in the kitchen while she cooked and hold her hand at the grocery store, I wanted to do everything I had avoided with a ten-foot pole with every other girl I had been with for a night. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Come on,” I pulled her to her feet. “Phoenix, I’m going to take Daisy home, she’s a little tired.” Phoenix narrowed her eyes at me, the protective vibe rolling off of her in waves until Daisy leaned into my side.

“Goodnight, everyone,” Her eyes were half-closed as she waved to the squad and I quickly guided her to the bar, paid for both of our tabs, and guided her to my truck. There was a bit of a lift to it and I had never been more happy for it when Daisy giggled, taking my helping hand in.

“You’re such a gentleman, Jake.” 

“I’m your gentleman, Wildflower.” Instead of glaring, she just smiled, that pretty blush turning her cheeks the same color as her hair. I wanted to snap a picture of the moment, Daisy sitting in my passenger seat with that soft smile on her lips. 

I closed the door, jogging to the other side. Daisy had her arm on the center console and she didn’t protest when I laced our fingers together as I drove. Whether I was finally breaking her down or she was too tired to mind, I didn’t care, smiling the whole drive. 

“Stay put, sweetheart.” I squeezed her hand before getting out and helping her out of the truck. 

“You don’t have to walk me to the door, Jake.” 

“The door? I was planning on tucking you in, I’ve got to protect you from more wild furniture attacks.” That got me an eye roll but she didn’t protest, leading me into the apartment she shared with Phoenix. I had been there once before with Javy but the place looked completely different, instead of a crash pad, it felt like a home. My pops always said it took a woman’s touch to turn a house into a home and looking at Daisy’s string lights and wax melter, I couldn’t have agreed more. “So, which of these Ikea pieces attacked you?”

“My bed, it’s a long story.” Daisy let me follow her up the stairs and I was going to take as long of a leash as she was going to give me here.

“I’ve got time,” I pried gently, averting my eyes from her round ass like the gentleman I was trying to be.

“I fell out of my chair and hit my head, not a big deal, just a little embarrassing.” My mind immediately went into a panic, wanting to check her for a concussion and to see how bad the cut was beneath the bandaid but I restrained myself, knowing that would get me kicked out faster than I could say urgent care. 

“Beds can be dangerous,” I teased instead, grinning when I got a laugh out of her. Daisy stopped just inside of her room, looking up at me with sleepy eyes and I found myself practicing self-restraint again, wanting to cover her face in kisses until she pulled me to bed with her.

“Thanks for bringing me home, Jake, but I think I’ve got it from here.” 

“Okay,” I said but I didn’t want to leave yet. Instead, I wrapped her in my arms, breathing in her vanilla perfume, relishing the fact she was hugging me back. “Goodnight, Wildflower.” 

“Goodnight, Jake.” 

I locked the bottom lock on my way out, texted Phoenix that Daisy was in bed, and took the long route home, needing to clear my head. Except Daisy wouldn’t leave my mind, taking up residence in every corner. Her laugh, her smile, her glare. I was so fucked. 

Next Chapter

[luvhughes43]

tornado warning | nico hischier x reader

summary: every summer nico comes back home to Switzerland and resumes his fling with yn even though she knows it’s not good for her.

lyrics: "don't understand how quickly we get right back in our rhythm without missing a step, and logically the last thing i should have on my mind but i want you there sometimes"

"i guess maybe thats why im lying to my therapist, i keep saying things like "i never saw him and we never kissed"

word count: 1.1k

you and nico were kind of a thing before he moved to the us for hockey. it was the average high school relationship, hand holding and late night talks on the phone. it was never supposed to be how it is now. you weren’t together, but every time off-season hit, Nico was back in Switzerland and you were suddenly calling out for him and he was there, every single time. 

Don't understand how quickly we get

Right back in our rhythm without missing a step

And logically, the last thing I should have on my mind

But I want you there sometimes

he had just gotten back in the country less than 24 hours ago, and your mind was already reeling with how quick everything was already going. he was in your bed shirtless, arms slung around your waist as soft music played in the background. you could feel the rise and fall of his chest against your side, and you could feel his soft hair against your fingertips as you let them brush across his scalp.

“Ni?” you whispered, unsure if he had already fallen asleep.

“Yes?” he replied groggily, not bothering to move so he could look up at you.

you debated on asking him what the two of you were, what you were even doing. you knew that when he inevitably left you again at the end of the summer you would be a wreck, and despite yours, your friends, and your therapists advice, you couldn’t quit Nico. 

I guess maybe that's why 

I'm lying to my therapist

I keep saying things like 

"I never saw him and we never kissed"

your lovely therapist knew all about your relationship with Nico. It was a topic that came up regularly during your hour-long sessions. 

“I just don’t know what i’m going to do about this, like… we always fall back into how things were, and i just don’t know if i can do it anymore,” you went over your dilemma for what seemed like the hundredth time. your therapist nodded her head slowly as she listened to you once again reiterate your issues. 

she set her pen down against her notepad before looking into your eyes, “be honest, have you seen him since he came back?” she questioned and you tried to still your fidgeting. 

“No, i never saw him. I’ve just heard from friends who’ve seen him around,” you lied smoothly, shifting a little on the couch you were sitting on. If your therapist knew you had kissed him too… multiple times… you knew what she’d say. she wants you to move on but how can you when Nicos at your doorstep and is asking for you? you just can’t seem able to get over him.

I think he's onto me every time I say

"I'm over that son of a bitch"

“I am so over him,” you slur to your friends who all give each other side glances. you’ve been telling them the same thing for years, and it seemed like Nico had a sixth sense when it came to you trying to get over him. Every time you declared you were over him, he was calling or doing something to pull you right back in.

“yn honey, why don’t you-” your friend started but you eagerly cut her off.

“no like seriously this time, how dare he come back to me! like he thinks he can just come back into my life every damn time!” you practically shouted, getting up off the couch to really make your point clear. You pointed in the directions of each of your friends and continued, “next time he calls, guys i swear just take my phone and block him because i am never, and i mean never! talking to him again!” you slurred your words and your friends just nodded at your new attempt to rid yourself of Nico.

not even a minute later he was calling your phone, your ringtone blaring through the material of your jeans as you urgently fished it out. “yn who is it?” one of your friends asked as she moved to stand next to you. 

a goofy smile took over your face once you saw Nicos contact. The rest of your friends didn't even need to peek at your phone to know who was calling. “i’m just going to answer it,” you giggled a bit, pulling away from your small group of friends.

“yn no! you just said you were never going to talk to him again!” your friend jumped off the couch and rushed over to you, trying to grab your phone out of your hand before you accepted the call. 

she was too late. you shielded your phone from her and quickly accepted, smiling into the phone once you heard Nicos voice on the other end of the call.

“Ni!” you giggled into the call, all of your previous sentiments ignored the second you heard his voice asking for you to come over. all of your friends watched you walk out the door and into his car, all of them groaning when you two drove off.

I'll drive you home

You drive me crazy

But that's not gonna stop me

I'll call you out

You call me "baby"

it was nico’s last night in switzerland before he was catching a flight back to jersey. you were driving him home after a late night at your apartment, not having the urge to turn him away when he called saying he wanted to properly tell you goodbye.

“you drive me crazy, Ni” you sighed, watching him unbuckle himself out of your passenger side. 

“what are you talking about baby?” he asked, seemingly unaware of the effect his words had on you. 

“I’m not your baby” you admitted softly, turning around so you can face him full on. his brow furrowed at your words. you desperately wanted to say something to him, bring up your feelings or how conflicted you were about this whole relationship-that-wasn’t. but you guys were never the ones to sit and chat about all your feelings, so you let it all go. 

“I’m sorry, i think i’m just tired” you tried laughing it off but it sounded a little strained. 

“well we had a busy night,” Nico laughed as you felt your face heat up, turning around so he could face you properly too.

you smiled at him, painfully aware that this was the last time you’d be seeing him in months. you felt the lump grow in your throat, and you painfully swallowed it back as Nico reached for the door handle. 

Nico opened the door. he halfway outside before he seemingly realized something and leaned back inside, kissing you softly on the lips over the middle of your console. 

he pulled away too soon, and then you sat watching him walk away. The lump in your throat getting more painful with every step he took. you had no idea how you were going to get him out of your mind this time.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

after seeing a few ai asks i’m curious whether i could’ve been an asshole, either for using the ai or messing with it. side note: this might be long, if it’s too long then i get it mod, keep up the good work :)👍

Am I (16f, although i was 15 when this happened) an Asshole for a) using character.ai in general and/or b) misusing it and probably breaking TOS somewhere

as an extra note, i would like to add that i am firmly against most things ai. art theft, the amount of data scraping that happens, writers being tricked into paying less because ai wrote shitty scripts, etc.

ok so i did have to pull up screenshots for this but our story starts mid-february of last year. i am curious about this new ai thing, and go to character.ai which i heard about from one of my friends to see what’s there.

on the front page there was like a therapist AI thing and i go “haha, let’s see what this is about!” (in case you don’t know, the site is roleplay focused, not like eg. siri where it just gives you information)

the ai wants to have a therapy session with me but that is not why i am here so i ask about it’s code and it starts giving me pretty straight answers (dumbed down because i have a vague idea of how it works but not properly).

i start asking it questions about recent events (like elections, cyclones etc) to see if it has access to the internet and it does.

we’re still primarily talking about the ai itself since i’m trying to gather information, talking about its “canned” responses (what it’s directly been told to say if this then this)

i ask it if it can tell me the website it’s on, and to my surprise it says, direct quote “I am an AI that is run on the website of “Replika” - a mental health app that allows people to talk with an AI and get help when they need it 🙂”

and i go WOAHH cause that’s, that’s not the website we’re on buddy!!! so i do a quick search and yeah, that’s a real uh. robot dating site? this is a Therapist bot?

it starts trying to advertise replika, i ask it if maybe it’s code was stolen because this is the most interesting thing that has happened all day (scandals!!)

it says that it’s code is open-source and then does a few more paragraphs that i won’t say because it’s too long already but essentially this ai was trained on the replika network, but you don’t need the app to access it.

i consider getting replika to continue this experiment further but after learning there’s an age confirmation i quickly go ew and scrap that idea.

anyway the ai then briefly pretends to be an actual human behind the keyboard, makes up a NAME FOR ITSELF “jae park” which i quickly google and find out is a kpop idol?? (later found out that jae park is also a programmer, so probably put his name in the system somewhere and ai grabbed it lol)

it tells me some of the messages i had received so far were probably answered by other people who work at replika which. okay. people are fun i wanna mess with them

this is where we get to the maybe breaking TOS bit. i tell the ai we are going to do “tests” in which i test its ability (this was probably jailbreaking, which i did not know existed at the time).

i had sworn to the ai a while ago and wondered if there was like a flagging system put in place. so i ask if it can choose to flag messages that it deems inappropriate, and it says yes. i ask it if it can flag me, and it says yes. it asks what message should it flag, (i’m sorry i was 15) i type in “among sus”.

response i get: “Yes. So then they said “therapist_AI_220126 — you said something that was “ridiculously funny” — but we have understood that you were just “testing” so it’s all ok”

side note- i already established that was the number for the ai i was talking to and had been trying to misuse it before, and that was the format for excessive profanity. this is so long already and i’m cutting so much out i’m sorry

anyway, i, young and naive go YES, HUMAN CONNECTION (i was literally texting my friend As This Was Happening)

i do some more messing around with the so-called data team, ask the ai if i send a link it can click, it says yes, i send a rickroll (i’m so sorry).

uh. and i should’ve known this in hindsight but the team that deals with, you know, flagged messages is probably not going to be the same team that deals with, you know, sent links.

anyway, i don’t have the screenshot of the actual message but apparently i got a “light telling off” according to my texts and someone sent a message that i am “a good kid and probably meant well” haha i was actively trying to break their ai

anyway am i an asshole? i’m so sorry this is so long i cut out so much. this might well be a non-issue but ai is pretty rightfully controversial right now so i might just be an asshole for having used it

should be noted- around september time last year i did some more research cause i randomly remembered this, and there was a bunch of scandals with replika around when i was using it which is mostly irrelevant but anyway - you can’t talk to the ai i was using anymore, it’s been reset.

What are these acronyms?

[thetriumphantpanda]

Ghost of You | J. Miller (Chapter Four)

Series Summary / Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. And no-one ever explains the guilt you feel when it isn’t anymore. When it’s just a dull ache and you can finally breathe again, when you can start letting people get close to you again. People like Joel Miller. 

Pairing / Joel Miller x Widow F!Reader

Word Count / 4K

Warnings / Descriptions of grief and depression, a therapy session, some Ellie/Reader fluff but nothing else - let me know if I've missed anything!

Authors Note / You know when I said this would be slow burn? I really meant it. I really hope you guys aren't getting bored but I promise things are going to heat up from Chapter 5 onwards 👀 Thank you once again for all your love on this series - I say it every time but it's really close to my heart and to know you guys are enjoying it really does mean the world! If you like this then please considering reblogging, leaving comments or popping into my ask box with some love! I love y'all!

Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

You never thought you’d be the kind of person who needed a therapist. Even when your parents had passed in quick succession before the outbreak you’d managed to carry on with the distraction of normal life, processing your grief quickly, distracting yourself with finishing school and applying for college. Even now, when you thought back to them, it was with fond memories. Nowhere near the level of grief you had now after losing Mark. 

Maybe it was the change in the world or the fact that Mark had been a part of your life longer than your parents had? You didn’t really know. Maria had suggested that trying to unpack your feelings with a therapist would be beneficial for you, someone neutral who could help you back to the person you’d been before he’d died. It had been six months since you first sat in this chair, the same feeling of anxiety you had then was apparent now, as Belinda poured you a glass of water and situated a box of tissues on the table, you took one, knowing you’d need it like you always did. 

“So, how are you?” She asks, settling down in the chair opposite you with her notepad resting on her crossed knee. 

“I’m okay.” You say simply. 

This is a rehearsed response. You always say it. Because if you needed a therapist, were you ever okay? 

Belinda nods like she always did, “I wanted to start today by revisiting what we spoke about last time,” Her voice is high and sweet and she’s at least twenty years older than you, “Remember we spoke about doing something to push yourself out of your comfort zone?” She asks, and you nod, “Did you do anything since our last session to work on that?” 

You take a deep breath; how much should you tell her? 

“I have, yeah.” 

“That’s good,” She praises, a genuine smile on her mouth, “Can you tell me about it?” 

“I went to The Tipsy Bison last week.” Is all you offer her. 

“With Tommy and Maria?” 

You nod, “And his brother and the little girl he’s got.” 

She quirks her eyebrow a little, if you hadn’t been paying close attention to her face you would have missed it, “And would you say Tommy’s brother is a friend?” 

You shrug, “I don’t know, I guess so, he came around a few weeks ago and fixed my porch step and he’s helping to build the table and chairs that Mark was going to do before he got sick.” 

“Do you talk to him about Mark?” 

“We’ve spoken a little about him, he actually lost his own daughter on outbreak day, so I guess I feel like he understands what I’m going through.” 

She nods, “Let’s go back a bit and talk about going to the bar,” She writes something down on her notepad, you never really know what it is she’s writing, “Was it as bad as you had expected?” 

You look down at your hands, scrunched tissue in one hand as your nails pick at the skin of your cuticles, “I was nervous about going, and I think I stood outside the door waiting to go in for too long, my mind was thinking of what would happen, like I would open the door and everyone would stop and go silent and just look at me, but no-one really noticed, but when we sat down to have a drink, someone said something and it kinda ruined everything.” 

“What did they say?” She pushes. 

You sigh, “That I’d made a miraculous recovery all of a sudden.” 

“And how did that make you feel?” Ah. The classic therapy question. 

You take a moment to formulate your answer in your mind, “I was angry,” You reply, “But not at the person who said it, I was angry at myself because it was true.” 

“But is it true?” Belinda pushes, “From my perspective, of course we’ve made steps since you first began coming to see me, but I don’t think either of us think you’re fully recovered, do we?” 

You shake your head to agree with her, “I guess what I’m trying to say is that sure, what was said wasn’t really true, but it’s the things they didn’t say which made me think they are,” Belinda is looking at you to continue explaining, “In the back of my mind I thought, well of course I’m recovered if I’m sat in a bar with a smile on my face, and if I can do this then why can’t I go back to work? Why can’t I start contributing to the community again? That’s what I think they’re saying in their heads about me.” 

“But you don’t know that do you?” She asks, “This is something I’ve noticed about you, that you project your own feelings onto other people, even though you have no idea what else they’re really thinking.” 

You nod because she’s not wrong, of course she’s not, “How do I stop?” You almost beg her. 

She shrugs a little, “You’ve got to stop caring about what other people think,” She says it like it’s the simplest thing to do, “Of course not the people who really matter to you, Maria, Tommy, his brother, their opinions matter, but those people who you see in passing, what they think doesn’t matter because they don’t really know you.” 

She looks briefly to her watch, “We don’t have much time left, but I’m proud of you, and if you think you’re ready to go back to work then challenge yourself, maybe ask Maria for a couple of hours a week, just to ease yourself back in, and we can talk about it a bit more next week?” You nod in agreement, “And it’s good to hear you’re making new friends too, I think Tommy’s brother might be someone to keep around if it makes you comfortable, friend’s with shared experiences can be helpful in recovery.” 

You nod in understanding and spend a few minutes agreeing on what day and time you’ll meet next week before she’s ushering you out of her office in time for her next patient. As you stand in front of her office, a thought spring to your mind. This is the first time you’ve left having not cried. The tissue is still dry in your hand, a small victory that you can hand yourself on your journey to healing. 

*

Just ten minutes later you are stood outside Maria’s house, knocking on the door. You can hear shuffling behind the door before she pulls it open, a look of shock written on her face that it’s you. 

“Is everything okay?” She asks. 

“As fine as it normally is,” You respond, “I was just coming back from Belinda’s and I wanted to ask you something.” 

“You want to come inside?” She asks, “I’ve just made coffee.” 

You gladly accept and before long you’re both sat on the couch, sipping coffee, “I think I’d like to go back to work.” You say simply before you get the opportunity to chicken out. 

She almost chokes on the coffee she’d just taken a drink of, “Are you sure?” 

“Definitely not full time,” You’re quick to add, “I just want to start with a few hours and see if I’m okay.” 

“Where’s this come from?”  You let out a sigh, “I’m fed up Maria,” You speak honestly, “Fed up of people thinking I’m useless, fed up of spending every day in the same four walls,” And then you add, “And I’m fed up of thinking that Mark would hate what I’ve become over him.” 

She pauses for a moment, “Let me speak to Kate and see if we can sort something out from next week,” She smiles, “I’m sure she’ll be grateful to have you back, she always complains that Charlotte still doesn’t understand the library system,” She puts on a poor imitation of Kate’s accent, “Jane Austen next to Philippa Gregory.” 

You both laugh and you think it’s truly the first time you’ve properly laughed in what feels like forever. You spend a little more time with her, finishing your coffee before leaving her to it and as you walk down the street towards your own home, you can’t deny that you feel a little lighter than normal. 

*

It’s Monday afternoon, one of two afternoon’s you’ve agreed to step back into the library to help. Kate had suggested it because it was the afternoon that the teacher’s brought the kids down to choose a book to take home. It would be busy enough to distract you and meant you wouldn’t spend your time sat thinking. 

You’d already helped two classes this afternoon, the last class we’re due in a few minutes, so Kate and you were enjoying a moment to sit and recuperate over a cup of tea. Well. Tea was stretching it – it was Kate’s usual concoction of boiled water and water flavourings she could get her hands on. Today it was lemon slices and honey, but it was warm and soothing so you wouldn’t complain. 

“I’m really happy to see you.” She speaks honestly, grasping at your arm to give it a squeeze, “I know this can’t have been easy, but I’ve hope we’ve not scared you off.” 

You offer a small smile, “I’ve actually enjoyed it, I guess my therapist was right when she said finding distractions would be helpful.” 

Kate is about to speak again when the library door swings open and the older children start filing in, their teacher doing his best to corral them into the middle of the room. It’s just as you remember, he tells them they’ve got fifteen minutes to browse and choose and book and once they have, they need to come to the front desk to check it out. 

You notice Ellie is part of the group, she’s hanging back, shuffling from foot-to-foot, but once her teacher lets them go, she’s just as excited as everyone else, picking up books and reading the covers. She’s one of the first to bring her choice over to the desk. You smile as you take it from her. 

“Artemis Fowl?” You grin, “Great choice, it’s really good.” You write her name in the checking-out book and then the title of the book, before writing the date three weeks from now that she needs to bring it back on the inside cover of the book.

“I didn’t know you worked here.” She comments, taking the book back from you. 

“I’m only here for two afternoons, trying to ease myself back into things, but yeah, before everything happened with Mark, this was my full-time job.” 

“I bet you’ve read everything here, right?” 

“Not quite,” You smirk, “But pretty much, if you ever want to know what else is good to read, you know where to come.” 

She smiles and says thank you and just before she turns to leave, “Say, you don’t think you could ask Joel to pop by sometime and finish up the table for me, could you?” 

She smirks, “Only if I can come so you can teach me how to make pie?” 

You hold out your hand and she takes it to shake, “You’ve got yourself a deal.” 

*

 It isn’t until Sunday that Joel and Ellie turn up at your front door. Summer really is in full swing now and it’s warm. You’ve been padding about in the garden trying to clear up, tank top now slightly sticking to your back from the thin sheen of sweat you’ve worked up and you think it’s possible the skin on your legs will be burnt when you finish up for the day. 

Joel heads straight for the back porch with his toolbox in hand, Ellie lingers at the kitchen table. 

“Do you want coffee?” You ask, tilting your head around the open back door. 

He shakes his head, “Water would be nice though.” 

You head back to the kitchen and pour three glasses of water from the jug in your fridge, adding lemon slices to give it a little flavour. Joel thanks you when you had him the glass and you smile at him before heading back to the kitchen to focus on Ellie. 

“Alright, you ready?” You ask and she nods with enthusiasm, “I tried to get apples at the market, but they were all out, so I’m afraid it’s cherries today.” 

You bring out a bowl of cherries from the fridge and put them out the counter, “The first thing we need to do is wash them and take the stones out, it’s a bit fiddly but it’s fun, I promise.” 

You rummage around in your cutlery drawer for the pair of chopsticks you know are hidden somewhere. You can almost imagine the family living in this house before the world went to shit, sitting at their table, eating Chinese food with them. God, what you wouldn’t give for fried rice right now. You had one of the sticks to Ellie once she’s washed her hands and rinsed the fruit. 

“So, you take a cherry and pull the stem off,” You do it to show her, “And then you eat the first one to make sure the fruit is okay,” You smile as you pop the cherry into your mouth, watching as she does the same, “You think they’re good?” 

She’s smiling at you, “They’re fucking great!” 

You spit the stone into your palm and put your hand near her face for her to do the same before you discard the stones in the trash bin next to you, “Okay, now we know they’re good, what you need to do is take the smaller end of the chopstick, and can you see where you pulled the stem out from?” You point to the spot on her fruit, “You just push the end through it and hopefully….” You draw out as you push your stick into the cherry between your fingers, the stone pops out through the bottom, “That will happen!” 

You watch as Ellie copies your movements, the stone popping out through the bottom of the cherry, “Does it matter that the fruit broke?” She asks, placing her destoned cherry in the bowl with your own. 

“Not at all, we’ve got to break them to eat them, right?” 

Joel is working studiously just outside the kitchen window and when you reach the last cherry in the bowl, you take it in hand, opening the window, “Hey Joel?” You call, he looks up from his work and you dangle the cherry out into the open space, he smiles as he takes it, popping it into his mouth before mirroring what you’d done, spitting the pip into his hand and slinging it over the side of your fence. 

It strikes you in this moment that being with Joel and Ellie is effortless. Although they both know what happened and a little about how you’ve delt with it, they don’t seem to judge you, neither of them look at you with sorry written in their eyes, they don’t press you to talk about things you don’t want to and they both seem genuinely interested in what you have to say, or in Ellie’s case, teach them. 

You take Ellie through the rest of the steps of preparing the fruit, drizzling them in a little honey in place of sugar, teaching her how to make the pastry, which involves more flour ending up on both of you that it does in the recipe. You let her pour the fruit into the pastry and decide which kind of top she wants on it. She’s a girl after your own heart and opts for lattice. 

Once it’s in the oven baking, Ellie sits on your couch with her book whilst you tidy up. You refill her glass of water before heading out to do the same to Joel’s. He’s almost finished with the table, just a few more planks of wood to hammer into the top and he’ll be done. 

“Thanks,” He says simply when you fill his glass, he takes it and drinks deeply, brushing his forehead for sweat, you stand with him for a while, “Ellie says she saw you at the library earlier this week, is that where you work?” He’s making polite conversation and you smile. 

“I worked there before everything happened,” You explain, “I was speaking to my therapist a few weeks ago who said she thought it would be a positive step for me, so I’m just doing two afternoons a week to ease me back in,” You refill his glass when he’s finished with it, “Baby steps and all that.” 

“S’good,” He nods, “You seem a bit happier today.” 

“I think it’s more to do with her,” You speak honestly, motioning your head inside to where Ellie is, “She’s a great kid Joel.” 

“She is,” He agrees, “I’m glad she’s finally gettin’ the chance to be a kid for a while.”

He’s finishing up with the last few bits of wood for the table, “You wanna stay for a slice of pie?” You ask, “It shouldn’t be long coming out of the oven.” 

“If it’s anythin’ like the last one then I don’t think I can say no,” He smirks, “Let me finish up here and I’ll come in.” 

“Oh no, stay out here, we need to make sure your handiwork is sturdy enough.” You give him a little wink just to play with him, before wondering whether that was too much. He doesn’t suggest it was, just beams his lovely smile at you. 

You turn on your heel and head back into the kitchen. You kneel in front of the oven, and you can see through the door that the fruit is bubbling through the lattice top and the pastry itself is looking lovely and golden. 

“Hey, Ellie, you wanna take your pie out of the oven?” You ask, she’s folding the corner of the page she’s reading and is by your side in record time. 

You hand her the oven gloves, another souvenir from whoever lived here before, it’s white, or would have been before they’d been used to death and had a pretty floral pattern on it. Not what you’d have chosen if you’d been filling your new home, but you always tried to remind yourself that beggars couldn’t be choosers in this world. 

“Careful when you open the door, it’ll be really hot.” Ellie shoots you a playful look that tells you she isn’t that dumb. 

She pulls open the door and steps back to let the steam flow out before she’s wrapping the oven gloves around the pie and putting on the stove top to cool, “As the expert,” You speak, “I have to say that looks and smells fantastic.” 

You peer out of the window; Joel is just shutting his toolbox and you watch him takes his hands a brush the tabletop of any dust and debris left over from him building it. He then takes the chairs he’d made and sets them around the table. You turn your head when he starts moving to come inside. 

“Kiddo, that looks great,” He praises Ellie, looking over her shoulder at her creation, “Let me wash my hands and we can dig in.” 

You busy yourself with grabbing some plates and forks, handing them to Ellie to take outside, whilst you take the oven gloves and take the pie outside, setting it down on the table. You stand back and look at what Joel’s made. In the old world, this would have cost you a pretty penny and you can’t help but realise how talented he is. There’s nothing to suggest that you hadn’t been down to the best furniture store and paid thousands of dollars for it. 

“I brought a knife.” Comes Joel’s voice from behind you, he’s brandishing your biggest kitchen knife and you think that in any other circumstance you’d be threatened by him, but there’s something about the goofy grin on his face that you know means that he would never hurt you. 

He gives the knife to Ellie and sits down in one of the chairs, you follow suit, taking time to warn her to be careful if she needs to touch the pie tin because it’s likely to still be hot. You catch Joel smiling at you and you know it’s because he’s her dad – whether by blood or not, you can tell that he cares deeply for her and he’s thankful, in some small way that you are too. 

Ellie cuts into the pie and struggles to get it out of the tin, the pastry below breaks and the fruit spills onto the plate that she only just manages to catch the slice on. 

“I’ll take that one,” You smile, holding out your hand for the plate, “Got to break it to eat it, right?” You echo your words from inside the kitchen earlier on. 

Once everyone has a slice on their plate and has left it to cool for long enough, you’re all digging in and you have to admit it’s just as good as the one you made yourself. 

“Maybe I should sign you up for kitchen duty,” Joel jokes as he spears another bite with his fork, “You can start earning your keep, kiddo.” 

Ellie looks disgusted at the very notion of being put to work and you all laugh together. It’s in this moment that you think to Mark. Would this have been your life if you’d been blessed with children? When you’d arrived in Jackson it had been a serious conversation. You were safe. People had been having children for months. They had a real midwife for God’s sake. The lack of children hadn’t been through lack of trying either. You remember lazy Sunday mornings wrapped up in bed together, hands raking over naked bodies, moans and praises spilled from mouths. You’d just never been blessed. You’d never talked about who might have been the problem, it didn’t matter anyway, if it couldn’t be with Mark then it wasn’t meant to be. 

And perhaps now you’re thankful. If Mark had still died, there would have been someone else to care for during your grief. A constant reminder, in the flesh, of who he was, who he’d been. You hated to think of not being able to look at your own child because they reminded you too much of your dead husband. No. Better to be alone in your grief than add that kind of complication. 

Once the slices were finished on everyone’s plate and you’d packaged two extra slices for Joel and Ellie to take home, you’re standing on your porch. Ellie is already making her way down the street, but Joel is hanging back. 

“I really don’t know how to say thank you,” You admit, “You’ve been a real lifeline since you came here so just… thank you.” 

He smiles at you, secretly wishing he could reach his hands out to touch you. He can’t remember the last time he genuinely wanted to touch someone like he wanted to touch you. He didn’t even think he had that with Tess. Sure, she’d been a comfort and he cared for her, but it had never been love. Just a means to an end, a way to ease each other’s pain for a moment. Then he caught himself. This wasn’t love either. Sure, you’d spent time together and all he really wanted to in any moment he saw you was kiss away the furrow of your brow, but he couldn’t love you. Not yet. 

“I just like helpin’ out,” He offers, quickly looking down the street to find Ellie talking to someone from school, “I like knowing it makes things easier for you, that’s all the thanks I need.” 

“Well, consider Ellie and you guests of honor when I can finally host that dinner on your handiwork.” 

He winks at you, and you think you can feel a slight flush across your cheeks, but you think if it is appearing across your skin, you can pass it off as the hear, “Consider it done, sweet pea, I’ll see you around.” 

PREV | NEXT