#theo is explaining his last therapy session

[strapinandstraponyourstrapons]

thinking about liam and theo at a house party drunk as skunks fully clothed in a bathtub together and laughing about how fucked up they are

[dreaming-about-fanfictions]

Choose Me Instead II Draco Malfoy x Reader II Ch. 24 of 27: Graduation

Summary: Pretending to be in a relationship with Draco Malfoy to get back at your ex might have not been the smartest idea you ever had. Especially during your last year of Hogwarts where you should be focusing on exams and your future plans. However, you were just pretending. There was no way in hell you could actually catch feelings for someone like Malfoy. … Right?

Choose Me Instead Masterlist

Words: 3.2k Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!Reader, post-war Warnings: mentions of mental health issues incl. self-harm (only in like 2 sentences tho)

Four weeks until graduation …

Draco Malfoy and you were over. Whatever glimpse of happiness and fleeting bliss had been bestowed upon you – it was gone. It was gone and you were alone again. In your head, you replayed your last time together over and over and over until you felt sick to your stomach. For months did you pretend not to feel anything for him beyond friendship but damn, you loved him. You loved with him with every fiber of your body. Every thought on every day was devoted to him and him only. You looked for him in the hallways, glanced at him during class and each time your eyes met, another piece of your heart broke.

To be quite honest, you weren’t worried about yourself as much as you worried about him. You spoke to Theo from time to time, asking him about Draco. He told you exactly what you had suspected all along: his dreams had gotten worse. He skipped therapy sessions, spent his days scribbling in his black notebook instead. You knew it wasn’t fair to you but you still couldn’t help but blame yourself.

During meals, you watched him with Astoria who was glued to his side. To your surprise, she seemed happier. Even though she grew paler with each day she wore a smile on her face. An honest, happy smile. You heard her laugh and wondered if it had been this beautiful all the time. You watched her talk to Draco with a spark in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. You wanted to hate her but seeing her like this? It certainly made it harder for you to do so. Still, each time you saw them walking to class or sit outside on the grass, your stomach plummeted and on particularly bad days, tears filled your eyes.

Eventually, you grew sick of feeling this way. You had fought hard for your own happiness to return after all the shit you went through and to now have it taken away from you in an instant by him felt humiliating. The whole mess started because you wanted to hurt Ron. So how did you end up hurting instead?

You tried tuning out the pain by burying yourself in work. Studying, quidditch training, stupid parties in the Gryffindor common room – you tried anything and everything to numb down the pain. It worked. For the most part. However, your thoughts always began to stray after a while. As soon as his image popped up in your mind, you pinched yourself as if you were trying to wake up from a bad dream. One time, you did it during a therapy session and Merlin, did you regret that. The lecture about self-harm that followed was definitely not worth it.

The days grew warmer. Sunlight fell through the dusty windows of the Hogwarts classrooms, the smell of flowers and freshly cut grass filled the air. Summer had begun to knock on the door. You weren’t ready to open it yet. Once summer arrived, your life would change once again.

However, before that happened you still had to get through your exams. You dreaded the thought of taking them. These past months … well, to put it gently, your focus hadn’t been on school exactly. Sure, you spent hours upon hours in the library but you weren’t sure how much of the things you read actually stuck with you.

“Ready?”, Ginny asked you the morning of your final exams.

You glanced at her and shook your head. She laughed. “Come on, it won’t be that bad. We’ve taken thousands of exams, we’ll get through it. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Y/N doesn’t achieve the grades she needs to become an auror,” Hermione chimed in matter-of-factly. “That’s the worst that can happen.”

“Thanks, Mione,” you said dryly.

She smiled at you apologetically. “It won’t come to this, don’t worry. You got this. We all do.” She took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

 ***

Two weeks until graduation …

You sat together with Ginny and Hermione at the Black Lake, feet dangling in the water, eyes closed as you enjoyed the sunrays warming your face. Ginny kept on talking about the tryouts for the Holyhead Harpies that would take place just a few days after graduation while you and Hermione only occasionally commented. You reassured her that she would do just fine. After all, there was no doubt in your mind that Ginny Weasley would join the team and have a successful quidditch career ahead of her.

After a while, the conversation shifted. Hermione worried about the amount of reading she had to do before her internship at the Ministry of Magic started, and you snorted. “They don’t expect you to know everything about the job beforehand, y’know?”

“Well, good impressions are important,” she replied.

During the whole afternoon, the topic of your future plans didn’t come up. Your friends sensed your apprehension regarding that particular topic. After the utter debacle that was your exams, you tried to forget that you were supposed to have an idea of what to do with your life in just about two weeks. You still waited on a letter from the Ministry, waited for the news that your plan had worked out. That you could become an auror, a dream you had since you could think. Yet, you screwed up and you weren’t sure if your performance in the final exams was enough to get you a placement. Thankfully, your parents were still too wound up in the whole drama Alissa brought with her. They didn’t even ask how your exams went and you weren’t mad. The importance of exams paled in comparison to the prospect of a life sentence in Azkaban.

A bee buzzed close to your ear and you opened your eyes again.

 ***

One week before graduation …

“You look horrible, darling.”

You rolled your eyes when Theo appeared by your side. You were on your way to the Great Hall, earlier than usual in an attempt to study a few more minutes in the library before your first class. “Thank you, Theodore. Just what a woman wants to hear before breakfast.”

He snickered. “Apologies.” Then he held his hands out, motioning you to give him some of the books in your arms to help you carry them.

“Accepted,” you said and gave him the whole pile of books instead. He groaned and you chuckled at him. “How are you then?”, you asked.

“Relieved about the fact that school is almost over.” He dodged a first year student who ran past him and one books slid dangerously close to the edge of the pile. You were surprised by how many students were already awake.

“Any plans for what comes after?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Travel.”

You looked at him in surprise. “Travel?”

“Blaise and I are going to travel around Europe for a few months,” he explained. “I need to get out of the country where everyone knows me as ‘that Death Eaters kid’ and Blaise is simply loaded with money and doesn’t want to work.” The two of you laughed at the last statement. “And afterwards …” Theo shrugged. “I don’t know yet.”

“That sounds nice,” you sighed. “When will you leave?”

“After Draco’s wed-” He stopped midsentence. “Ah, shit.”

You bit your tongue. Actually bit it. “It’s official then,” you said softly. “I haven’t seen the announcement yet.”

Theo stopped. You had almost reached the Great Hall. The Slytherin looked at you with sympathy. “It’ll come out today.” He lowered his voice: “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You avoided his gaze. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Theodore stayed quiet until you resumed your walk. “For what it’s worth, he doesn’t love her,” he finally said. The statement hurt even more.

“What a fucking mess we made.”

Theo nodded. He didn’t say anything else. When you walked into the Great Hall, he handed you the books back and softly squeezed your arm before mumbling: “I’m really sorry.”

He was right – the Daily Prophet printed the announcement of the wedding on that same day. Yet, when an owl dropped the paper onto your plate, you were oddly calm. You lowered the glass of orange juice carefully and rolled up the newspaper. Their picture was on the front page.

Astoria’s beauty was unlike anything you had ever seen. She wore a simple black dress and was glowing in the picture. She smiled widely as her gaze switched between Draco and the camera. Spooky how different she looked. You wondered if they had used magic to hide the circles underneath her eyes and the sunken-in cheeks. Draco stood beside her, wearing his trademark simple, black suit. His back was straight, his eyes focused on the camera. He didn’t smile.

As if you had felt his stare, you looked up. Draco sat across the hall at the Slytherin table, Greengrass – his fiancée – by his side who excitedly showed the article to Parkinson. You forced yourself to smile but it didn’t reach your eyes. He turned away. Just in time to miss the tears you had to blink away.

This isn’t right, you thought, none of this is right.

 ***

One day before graduation …

Tears streamed down your face as another sob shook your body. You stared at the letter in your hand, reading it over and over again. At this point, you had memorized every word but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

Dear Ms. Y/N Y/L/N,

When an owl brought you the letter, you didn’t open it immediately. You didn’t want to do it in front of your friends, already sensing what was written inside of it. So instead you grabbed it and went to the bleachers of the Quidditch field. High up above, where no one would interrupt you.

We regret to inform you …

It wasn’t entirely unsuspected but it didn’t hinder the tears from dwelling up. Before you knew it, they streamed down your face. Cold fear gripped your heart. This is it, you thought, it’s all over now. Your entirely life you wanted to become an auror. You had no plan b, no other option, it had always been this. And now you failed.

“Y/N?” The voice caused you to whirl around. “What happened?” Draco. His eyes widened in shock and concern when he saw your face. With three long strides he crossed the distance between the two of you.

“Draco …”, you whimpered and then he was there, pulling you into a tight hug.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he whispered and held you tighter. Instinctively, you relaxed against his body and let him embrace you. It felt so right. “Shh, it’s fine, it’s all going to be fine.” He repeated over and over. Sobs shook your body while your tears drenched his uniform. It felt as if hours had passed until you finally began to calm down. With each shaking breath, the scent of his cologne wrapped itself around you.

“What happened?”, Draco asked again when no more sobs escaped you and you quietly buried your face in his shoulders. Without a word, you held up the letter. A few seconds passed and Draco snorted. “Well, their loss,” he said, audibly disgusted.

You whimpered another time. “It’s all my fault. I should’ve done more, I-I …” You wiped over your eyes. “What do I do now, Draco?”

He sighed before he answered: “Anything you want. Y/N, you’re intelligent, clever, witty, beautiful – you can do anything you want.”

“Except for becoming an auror,” you scoffed.

“Maybe. So what?” He shrugged. “Fuck them. It’s their loss.”

You remained silent. Draco had his arms still wrapped around you. In this position, you almost forgot your situation. This felt so … normal. So right, so natural. As if it was meant to be. As if he was the one to hold you in this exact moment. You thought about asking why he was up here on this night but held your tongue. A part of you wanted to believe that it was because of you. Everything started up here on the bleachers, last year in September. Right here, the two of you talked for the first time in years. A conversation, you could recall to this day. Everything began here. Maybe he came back because he hoped to find you here. You wanted to believe that.

“It’s all I ever wanted to do,” you whispered after a moment. “I don’t have a plan b. I –” Another tear rolled down your cheek. He looked at you, his grey eyes full of love and adoration, and wiped it away.

“You’re hurting, I know. I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s going to be alright though, I promise.”

You smiled sadly. “Everything goes to shit in my life, everything! The fucking war is over and yet I can’t seem to catch a fucking breath.”

“I believe, the war will stay with us for a lot longer than we thought,” Draco whispered. He didn’t let go of you as he watched the castle in the distance. The sun begun to set and drowned the Scottish landscape in its golden light. It was a marvelous sight.

Sudden music caused you to flinch. A group of seventh year students had arrived on the Quidditch field. Loud voices and laughter mixed with the rhythm of a new popular song. They weren’t from your house, you realized.

“I should leave,” Draco said. And when you recognized Astoria’s high-pitched scream as a drunken Blaise picked her up, you knew why he was here to begin with. Not for you. For them.

“Yes, right, I’m sorry.” You cleared your throat and sat up straight. Draco let go of you reluctantly before he got up. He looked at you and you wondered if he was going to say something. But even if he wanted to, he didn’t. He only nodded and then made his way towards the stairs.

“I feel as if I should congratulate you on the engagement but …”, you suddenly spoke up.

Draco stopped and glanced at you. “Don’t.”

You saw how a shadow flickered over his face. Then you remembered something else. “Wait, I have something for you.” You reached inside your back and pulled out a picture. He looked at you in surprise when he gave it to you. It was a picture of you two from the last Christmas, taken during a dinner. Draco had his arm wrapped around you and raised a glass of wine, an amused smirk on his face. You laughed in it, covering your mouth with your hand. It was the only picture of the two of you but you loved it. It showed Draco the way he truly was. The way he made you feel every time you looked at him.

“You carried it with you this whole time?”, he asked softly. He held the picture so carefully as if he was afraid to accidentally damage it.

You gave a half shrug. “Only for the last few days. I hoped to catch you alone at some point.”

“Thank you.”

“Will I see you?”

He looked up at the question.

“After graduation, I mean?”, you clarified. “Maybe send me an owl once or twice a year? I need to know you’re okay.”

“So you can rip out my heart again, little Gryffindor?”

You opened and closed your mouth at the statement. Draco chuckled. “I’ll do it. If you promise me to reply.”

“I promise.”

You didn’t know it yet but Draco would keep his promise. However, when you received his first letter, you broke yours.

 ***

A few weeks after graduation …

The last day of school came and went. Funny how you had expected it to be filled with tears and laughter when, in the end, it was just another insignificant day of the year. To be fair, some tears had been shed. Long hugs with your friends and promises to stay in touch were shared on the train station in King’s Cross before all of you parted ways.

Your parents picked you up. They looked like mere shells of themselves as they kissed you on the cheek. A lump formed in your throat when you saw their sad faces. They had aged immensely in these past few months, the stress had left deep wrinkles and tired eyes behind.

They didn’t speak much on this day. They only hugged you when you told them about the rejection from the Ministry. “I’m so sorry, darling,” your father had mumbled, “you’ll find something else, I’m sure.” A part of you was relieved they didn’t ask any further questions.

The next morning, your mother had asked you if you wanted to see Alissa. You didn’t. You couldn’t. The mere mention of her name made you grit your teeth. Alissa was the reason for all the suffering in your family’s life. For all the heartbreak and tears. All the sisterly feelings had shrunken during the past year. Now you were left with rage and hatred when you heard her name.

“Will you please come to the court hearing in two weeks then?”, your mother had asked when she noticed the expression on your face and you had agreed.

And here you were. Standing in your kitchen, a cup of freshly brewed tea in your hand while you listened to your parents screaming at each other upstairs. You had just come home from the hearing and now looked outside into the garden. The roses, once your mother’s pride and joy, were neglected, you noticed. Their heads hung, most of them dried up from the summer sun.

“Twenty-five years in Azkaban,” you mumbled to yourself. Alissa’s future. Twenty-five years locked away on an island. You had hoped the sentence would give you satisfaction. It didn’t. Instead it frightened you. Would Alissa survive this? Twenty-five years without seeing her family? Would your mother survive it? Or would she wither like the roses in her garden?

You took a sip of your tea and wondered how your life changed once again, now that the problem of Alissa was finally … resolved. It ended. The anxious waiting, the not knowing … it all ended. By now, she would have already arrived in the prison cell that would be her home for the years to come.

You hadn’t spoken to her. You had watched her in the courtroom while she didn’t look up at your family. During the whole hearing, her eyes were locked on the ground and she remained silent. It was the strangest sight – the broken-down woman in the dirty dress wasn’t your sister. The fiery spirit inside her had left a long time ago together with her beauty and wits. You stared at Alissa, desperately trying to find a glimpse of the sister you once knew and loved. You were unsuccessful. This woman was a stranger and your sister was dead. And you wanted nothing more than to simply move on.

“The nerve this family has,” your father muttered behind you. “Unbelievable.”

You sat the tea cup down on the counter and turned to him. The screaming had stopped, you realized. You had been so lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed how your father came downstairs again.

“What are you talking about?”, you asked.

Your father shook his head and handed you an envelope without another word. Your gaze fell onto the dark green emblem printed on the back and suddenly, your throat felt very, very dry. You’d recognize the sign anywhere. With shaking hands you opened the envelope and pulled out a card. 

“Can you believe it?”, your father asked. “They actually have the nerve to invite us to his wedding?”

***

A/N: I hope you liked it! Feedback is always appreciated! We’re almost finished with this story, I’m so sad btw.

CHAPTER 25

CMI Masterlist HP Masterlist

The tag list for this story is closed! <3

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[jadedxrealityw]

-Chapstick- Pansy Parkinson x Female Reader

    ☼-☪-☼

   Kody: the lesbians have risen

  Request: pansy x reader where they are friends & reader loves chapsticks very much because chapped lips also the taste and the smell are cute ?? and then she has different variants of it. Pans could smell it sometimes when she purposely gets closer, got curious one time and asked for it and she casually gave it. One time Pans asked what flavour was the one on her lips right now because it's different from the usual??? and reader was like see for yourself and then they ki- IM SO GAY FOR PANSY PARKINSON - 💐

  House: Slytherin

  Possible Triggers / Warnings: lesbian power couple baby, cursing, y/n being a bottom, making out. 

    ☼-☪-☼

   since day one you had been best friends with Pansy Parkinson. Even in your small little friend group that consisted of Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott, you just gravitated towards Pansy more. Maybe it was because you were both girls or the fact that you had met her first.

   throughout your school years you and Pansy were like a power duo. Some were scared, some wanted your title, and the rest despised you both. Even with all the popularity you weren’t mean or cude to people who didn’t deserve it. Kill them with kindness is what you’d always say.

   around your 6th year is when you enveloped your slight chapstick addiction. You had noticed your lips become more flaking and chapped as you grew up so over the summer when you visited america you bought a pack with a variety of different flavors. 

   Pansy made fun of you at first because of how quickly you had started to buy more and more until you had a collection. After all the teasing you two developed a sort of game you could say. Anytime Pansy could smell the chapstick on you she would try and guess what scent it was.

   at first it was cute and friendly, but out of nowhere she would grab your face and bring it close to hers so she could smell the chapstick. It would be so sudden and make your stomach twist in a way you had never felt before, especially when she would send you a wink after she backed away. 

   after a lot of thinking and ‘therapy’ sessions with Theo you had come to the conclusion that you had fell for your best friend. It was very cheesy, but it was true. Pansy Parkinson had stolen your heart and you terrified at the power she held over you.

    ☼-☪-☼

   7th year

   you were practically running towards the field, hoping the outfit you chose would keep you warm enough in the nippy weather. You did not want to be late to Draco and Blaises quidditch match against Gryffindor. Of course you cheered on your friends, who wouldn’t?

   you began to climb up the stairs to make your way into the stands. Once you make it to the top you gaze through the crowd and spot the familiar black haired female leaning back to look up at the sky. She looked very focused on something in the sky.

   Pansy was wearing a large black sweater with some kind of white t-shirt sticking out from the bottom with matching black pants and shoes. She looked in casual clothes- in anything really. You make your way through the crowd, pushing past a couple people while mumbling ‘excuse me’ and such.

   you take a seat next to Pansy who looks back down to face you “Thought you weren’t gonna show. You look nice by the way” she comments and you shake your head. You were wearing a black crop with matching pants and a oversized navy blue hoodie. 

   your stomach twist like many times before. “Thanks” you reply before suddenly realizing you were missing a friend “Where’s Theo?” you ask. Pansy lifts up her hand to point in front of her. You follow her finger until you spot the back of Theos head “He wanted to be closer to watch Blaise”

   you nod once before you heard Lee Jordan begin the announcements.

    ☼-☪-☼

   while watching a breeze blew past you and towards Pansy. The Slytherin girls nose scrunched up as she smelled something, something fruity? (because your gay duh) She turns to look at you, brown eyes narrowed. You felt her eyes on you and face her “What?-” 

   Pansy grabs your face with both of her hands. You could feel the cold metal of the rings she wore against your cheek. Pansy leans in close, her nose centimeters from your mouth. You could hear her sniff as your face began to feel hot. 

   she was so close. The smell of hrt minty breath from her gum she had been chewing made everything in your body flare up. It was only a second, but felt like hours before she pulled away “Your wearing strawberry” Pansy had a cocky smirk on her face as she spoke, her hands slowly falling from your face

   you blink mindlessly as you reach into the packet of your jacket. You pull out the tube of strawberry chapstick. Pansy’s smirk only grows wider “Knew it, what's my prize?” she asked. Your face twist a bit. A prize? She had never asked for one before.

   “What do you want?”

   “A Kiss”

   your mouth opens a bit to speak, but you choke on your words instead. Pansy lets out a chuckle and turns to face forward again “I’m only kidding”

    ☼-☪-☼

   you were walking alongside Pansy, Theo, Draco and Blaise. You were all leaving the quidditch field and head back to the common room. Slytherin had won and the team was going out for butterbeer at the three broomsticks. Draco and Blaise had opted out saying they wanted to celebrate with close friends.

   just you guys, how sweet.

   “So- did Y/n and Pans. I flew past you guys and for a brief second and i swore i saw you guys making out” Draco spoke making Blaise and Theo laugh. “You guys were what now? I knew you were close, but no that close damn” Draco adds were made the boys laugh even harder.

   you roll your eyes playfully and walk behind behind Draco. He doesn’t see you as you wack the back of his head “Ow!” he exclaimed. Pansy chuckles “We were not making out by the way. I was smelling her chapstick” she explains. The boys nod and silence consumes you all after that.

   that is until Theo speaks up “That’s still gay”

    ☼-☪-☼

   you all spent the night together, talking, goofing around, and drinking firewhiskey. It was a fun idea at the time, but you all got wasted more than you’d like to admit. Your E/c eyes open slowly and your met with skin? You lift your head up, you were laying on top of Pansy.

   Y/n.exe has stopped working

   she was wearing her black flannel pants as well as her matching sports bra. Your heart might have stopped right then and there. You look down at what you were wearing and noticed you only had your undergarments and Pansy’s sweater that she had worn at the game. 

   before having time to freak the hell out you heard the black haired girl mumble under you “morning” she mumbles, her eyes opening slowly. You give her a half smile before sitting up “Um- how did- how did i end up here?” you ask. Pansy uses her elbows to prop herself up.

   she pushes her bangs from her face. They had began to grow over her eyes, but refused to cut them after you said you liked them longer. “You got a bit tipsy so i brought you here to rest. As well as those three” she says and points to the floor. You raise a brow and crawl to the edge of the bed.

   on the floor was Blaise and Theo cuddling on the ground. Cute. Draco was laying next to Blaise curled up in a ball with a blanket over him. Also cute. “Damn, i guess you played mom for a bit huh?” you joke, sitting back down on the bed. 

   Pansy shrugs her shoulders “You could say that. Your hug things in your sleep, did you know that?”

   “I’m sorry what?”

    ☼-☪-☼

   later in the day you were in your own dorm room studying for an exam in charms you had the next day. While writing down a few notes you heard your door open. You place the quill down and turn in your chair to see Pansy at the door. 

   she had on a black t-shirt with a sheer long sleeve one underneath, black pants with a white dragon that stopped above her ankles and black socks with checkered vans. Pansy had a plate of food in each hand “Theo told me you hadn’t eaten lunch yet so i brought you some.”

   “You look cute by the way” she adds with a wink

   you smile lightly and pat the chair next to yours “I’m guessing you came to eat with me as well?” you ask and she nods, taking a seat. She places the plate of food in front of you and places her down as well. Pansy began to move your textbooks around as you reached into the pocket off your black jeans.

   you pulled out your new chapstick ‘fruit punch’ and took off the cap. You smear it on your bottom lip before popping the cap back on and into your pocket while rubbing both your lips together to apply it evenly. Pansy smells something fruity again and smiles lightly.

   except for this smelt different. Way different. Nothing you had worn before.

   Pansy looks at you as you grab a fork with a amused smirk “New chapstick?” she asked. You noticed her playful tone. Turning in your sea you face Pansy “Maybe, maybe not” you say vaguely, shrugging your shoulders. Pansy rolls her eyes and faces you too.

   like last time she reaches up and grabs your face, pulling it close to hers. You hear her sniff just like before, but this time her eyebrows furrow “What the fuck is that?” she asks, making you laugh quietly “Can’t figure it out?” you tease. Her brown eyes narrow into a glare “Shut up” she hisses.

   what a baby

   Pansy stays like that for a couple seconds before exhaling loudly “What the hell is it” she grumbles. A risky idea popped into your mind in an instant. It was dumb, but you were so tired of just being friends with her. You were willing to risk it all in one question.

   “See for yourself then”

   you couldn’t really remember much between the the couple seconds of silence. All you remember is Pansy’s lips on your feverishly. She leaned into kiss you deeper, making you almost fall out the chair. She was not taking it slow in the slightest.

   As Pansy’s mouth moves against yours she leans down and uses her hands to scoop up your thighs. She lifts you up and you wrap your arms around her waist tightly, making Pansy let out a muffled noise. You felt a hard surface hit your back and assumed Pansy had leant you against the wall.

   Pansy ran her tongue against your bottom lip. You open your mouth slightly for her and Pansy’s tongue slipped into your mouth instantly. You felt a cold piece of metal on your tongue that connected to hers. It took you a second to process what it was.

   she had a tongue piercing

   “You have a tongue piercing?” you ask between hot kisses. You feel her smirk against your lips as one hand traces circles on your exposed stomach. She pulls away for a moment “Yeah. Problem?” she questions, panting slightly. You shake your head quickly “Nope- it’s just really hot”

    ☼-☪-☼

   an hour later

   “You owe me ten galleons” Draco spoke.

   Blaise groans and reaches into his pocket to dig out the money and place it in his hands “Yeah, yeah whatever” he grumbles.

   Theo smiles happily “I’m so happy for them!”

   Draco nods slowly “I’m pretty sure the whole house heard them though”

    ☼-☪-☼

   Taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @sonbelleame @dracosathenaeum @pxroxide-prinxcesss 

    ☼-☪-☼

   Kody- lesbian things lesbian things. Anyways request are open, peace.

[enthusiasticharry]

Baby Steps

summary: you’re harry’s sons therapist, and he isn't the only one you end up helping.

word count: hi! it has been a long while since I’ve posted on here so I hope you enjoy this 8.6k piece of pure fluff and smut!

masterlist  |    asks

As a child, Harry had never been given many opportunities to freely express himself. He grew up in a rural area where the sheep overruled the people and the only extra-circular activity available was playing football at the park with his friends that weren’t truly his friends. He was only a mere teenager when he decided that whenever he had kids, he would give them as many opportunities as possible. 

He tried in school, don’t discourage him about that, but it didn’t work out as planned. That’s how he ended up working within the company he did. He started from the bottom, working 9 to 5 within a cubicle everyday until he had worked up to become chief editor. He had his own office, with his name written on a plaque upon the door and his photos sat upon the desk. It made day to day that little bit more enjoyable.

“Finishing early today, Mr. Styles?” Genevieve asked, watching as he closes his door behind him. 

“Yes, I am.” He smiles politely, “It’s been in the calendar for weeks.” 

“I’ve noticed.” He knew she hadn’t. Genevieve was okay at her job, he supposed. She was an apprentice the company had hired straight out of university and of course he didn’t mind that she was still finding her feet, “Enjoy your evening, Mr. Styles.” 

“You too, Genevieve.” He nods his head at the girl and walks towards the exit. 

At the ripe age of twenty-eight, Harry knew that he still had his entire life ahead of him but at the same time he was pretty content. He had his job, his small town house and more importantly his son, Theo. He hadn’t expected his girlfriend of a couple of months to get pregnant but in his mind he knew what had happened and that it was something that the two of them had to take responsibility for, but she didn’t think the same thing. Harry had loved her, and he had hoped that she had loved him and their son as much as he did but it just wasn’t meant to be. He had suspected that she was going to leave, he just hadn’t expected it to be in the middle of the night whilst their son was a month old and still nursing. 

It was the following morning that Harry knew that he was going try his damned hardest to be the best Father possible for his son, try to give him the world and everything good that came along with it. 

“Harry!” Mrs. Walters, the woman who lives next door exclaims as she throws the door open, “Please come in.” 

“Hi Mrs. Walters.” He smiles, following the elderly woman into the living room, “Has he been good today?” 

“We had a little disagreement at nap time but apart from that he’s been perfect!” 

“I’m glad to hear it. He’s never been the biggest fan of naps.” 

Just seeing Theo’s little face light up as he walked into the room was enough reason to keep his heart beating for centuries. Theo was the absolute double of Harry, and he could even see it himself. Even at three years old he had his father’s green eyes and curly brown hair and it was another thing that caused his love for his little man to grown everyday.

“Dada!” He toddled over to his father, only just starting to feel confident upon his feet, and wrapped his arms around Harry’s legs, his chunky cheeks pressed against his shin. 

“Hi bubba.” He picks his son up and rests him upon his hip, “Did you have a nice day with Mrs. West?” 

Theo nods and drops his head down upon Harry’s shoulder with a light sigh of content.

“He’s been amazing, Harry, don’t worry.” The older woman drops her head to Harry’s free shoulder, “I’ll see you two tomorrow.” 

“See you tomorrow, Mrs. West.” 

Theo’s little hand rests comfortably within Harry’s as they walk through the door of community centre, his little feet tapping upon the wood in his trainers. 

“Harry! Theo!” You exclaim, walking over to the two of them with a large smile across your face, “I’m so glad you could make it this week!” 

“Yeah. Sorry about last week, I couldn’t get out of work on time and then once I did he wasn’t in the best of moods.” 

“Don’t worry about it! It’s totally fine, we understand that you can’t make every week.” 

Harry nods his head. 

“Anyway.” You have a nice smile and it was probably the first thing that Harry noticed about you when you met, “We’re just about to get started.” 

Harry sits down, crossing his legs as he does so. Theo drops down upon his father’s lap straight afterwards, his face pressed into the material of Harry’s crisp white dress shirt. Harry’s eyes bounce to look over the other children, the ones who acted similarly too Theo when they first joined. They all either sat in their parents laps comfortably or on the floor now, not one with a flicker of anxiousness across their features.

Theo and Harry have attended three of these sessions to help with confidence, and Theo had only just started to leave his shell in the last twenty minutes of the last session they went to and now it felt as though Harry had messed everything up again. He felt as though they were back to square one.

Then he feels a hand upon his shoulder. 

“Its okay.” You smile, squeezing gently, “He’ll be okay, don’t worry.” 

He will be, Harry knows that. 

Another week had passed and Harry was yet again sat in a circle in the children’s room of the community centre with Theo sat upon his lap. Harry felt a little more at ease this week, since his little boy sat forward with a small, very small smile on his lips as he looked at… you? You hadn’t been there to greet them like you were last week, and he certainly hadn’t had the chance to say hello yet. It had been a warm-ish day today and Harry concluded that was probably why you were wearing a cute yellow sundress with small white flowers on it, something he had never seen you in before. You still wore your smile, Harry had noticed. 

“Today.” You always overplayed your facial features to interest the children, “We are all going to write a story together.” 

Theo’s little eyes widened in excitement. 

“You like that idea, bub?” Harry whispered. Theo nodded. 

“So I’ll start.” You touch your chest, “Then we’ll pass to Edith’s mummy and then Edith and we’ll continue that way around the circle!” 

Harry and Theo would be third, which wasn’t too bad. He just hoped that Theo would get involved, he loved stories enough to have a mind spiralling with ideas. 

“Once upon a time, in a land far, far away there lived a princess…” You start, smiling to the person next within the circle. 

“…in a big castle with a swimming pool!” 

“She has dog!” 

“…called muffin who she loves to play with in the…” 

“Park!” 

“Then.” Harry started, leaning so that he was speaking to Theo as well as the rest of the group, “One day, something magical appeared in front of her…”

“Dinosaur!” 

Harry beams and whispers, “Well done Theo!”

The story finishes with the princess riding the dinosaur along a rainbow, courtesy of the little girl called Tara who finishes the circle. Normally the children disperse the last twenty minutes or so to play amongst themselves whilst the adults talk about what type of week they’ve had. They were doing just that, but today, Harry’s heart stopped at the sight of his little boy sat with little Tara drawing at the tiny desk when usually he just does that on his own. 

Harry had honestly never thought that he would be going to group behavioural therapy for his three year old son, but, he promised he would do anything for his little boy.

“Hi everyone.” They were now sat around a table, one fit for adults, whilst a few of your colleagues watched the children, “I’m excited to hear how all your weeks have been!”

Tara’s mum starts, explaining that this week the nursery had phoned up to explain that she hadn’t spoken to anyone at lunchtime but there had been the odd time where she’d had a small conversation with a couple of classmates. 

Harry listens to a few others. How Ryan had bit a kid at school the other day, how Delilah refused to say anything for a couple of days that week. Harry had never experienced Theo biting or injuring other kids but he had experienced him shutting down and not speaking to anyone. 

“Harry.” You smile, “How has little Theo been this week?” 

“He’s, uh, been okay I suppose.” He runs his finger across his bottom lip, “Nothing out of the ordinary. Had an odd hour or so yesterday.” 

“Has he made any friends at nursery, yet?” 

“No. I don’t think so. I’m trying to get him in everyday but it’s proving to be difficult.” 

You smile, “He’ll get there Harry. It might take him a bit longer than normal but he will get there.” 

After listening to the other parents, the meeting for that week finishes. Harry waits for Theo to finish his drawing before helping him into his coat. Your words pondered through his mind — he certainly hoped that Theo would get better but it was a walk, not a sprint. 

“Hi Theo.” You beam as you walk towards the two, “Can I see your drawing?” 

After a few moments of contemplation, he passes the drawing to you.

“Wow! It’s beautiful! Can you draw me one whilst I talk to your Daddy?” 

Theo listens to your request and starts on the drawing straight away, picking up colour after colour whilst Harry looks at you with furrowed eyebrows. 

“I just wanted to have a quick word, nothing bad, I promise.” 

Harry nods. 

“Theo is making excellent progress in the program and I’m sure you’ve seen the results for yourself but as you know he is going a little slower than the rest of the kids.” 

“If this is because we missed one then it’s completely my fault—”

“It’s not! Don’t think that, it’s not!” You’re quick to say, “I was thinking the other day of ways to help and I remembered that my friend runs a group at the weekend for children that are struggling to cope with the loss of a parent.” 

“But I thought he was too young to be affected by that?” 

“I thought so too but I did some more research and even though he was very, very young when his mother left, it could still be affecting him.” You swallow and tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear, “He will have noticed that he doesn’t have two parents and that could be the stem of all of the problems.” 

Of course this had run through Harry’s mind a few time but he always brushed it off because he was so young when it happened. The fact that woman might be the reason his son was so quiet and not himself all of the time caused his stomach to flip. He hadn’t seen her since that night but she was still affecting him day upon day and he hated it. 

“When is this group?” 

“Oh!” You exclaim, happy that he hadn’t just shut the idea down, “It’s on Saturday at ten whilst twelve but you can come and go as you please.” 

“Will you be there?” Why had he just asked that? He probably sounded like such a weirdo. 

“I will.” You smiled, “Just for you.” 

Harry certainly hadn’t expected to spend his Saturday morning sat at upon a bench outside the community centre watching Theo play with other kids. He was surprised how easily Theo had left his shell around all of these kids but he supposed they all had something in common, that they were raised by only one parent. 

Another thing he hadn’t expected was to be sat sharing the said bench with you, but he wasn’t complaining. 

“Black coffee.” You smile, holding out the cup for him to take. 

“Thank you.” 

“It’s no problem.” You take a sip of your own cup of tea, “He seems to be doing well.” 

“I’m really surprised. The last time I saw him gel to someone so quickly was when he met our neighbour, Mrs. West.” 

You smile, “It’s good. You’ll be able to figure out which group works the best for you both.” 

“Will you be here every week?” 

Is he flirting? You certainly weren’t complaining, anyone with eyes could see that Harry is a very handsome man but never in a million years did you think that he would be flirting with you. Maybe he wasn’t even flirting and you were just letting your imagination run a little too wild. 

“I—”

“I’m sorry.” He’s quick to say, “What I meant is that he’s comfortable around you, and I would hate for him to loose that sort of comfort.”

“I completely understand.” You nod. So he wasn’t flirting with you. There was a part of you that was sort of disappointed and wished that he had been flirting with you, “Well he seems to be enjoying himself here so how about we slowly introduce him to just coming here. I’ll come for the first couple of weeks so that he’s comfortable.” 

“Thank you. I haven’t said that enough but I honestly can’t thank you enough for what you’re doing for my son.” 

“It’s my job, Harry. I do this for a reason.” 

“But you didn’t have to do this. Spend your Saturday morning sat on a bench with me to make sure that Theo is okay. You didn’t have to do this.” 

“But I am. I’m doing it because I care about that little boy and I want him to get better. And you’re certainly not bad company.”

Harry smiles and looks away. It probably makes it more obvious that his cheeks are flushing at her words. You have always made Harry nervous, even from the first meeting when he asked whether you could help his son. Was it wrong? Probably. Did he care? No, as far as he knew this crush was harmless and it wasn’t as though it was reciprocated he supposed. 

“I know I’m not as exciting at Theo but I do try.” 

“I can tell.” You smile, “Was he okay at nursery yesterday?” 

“The same I think. Nursery didn’t say anything when I picked him up and they usually do if something happened. Good or bad.” 

“That’s good. Some will just ignore the problem. I’ve helped a few parents who have struggled with that.” 

“I’m lucky.” He nodded, “We’re lucky.” 

“How are you?” 

“I’m fine. Theo’s getting better, that’s the most important thing.” 

You sigh, “Not Theo. How are you?” 

“I’m getting there. I’m taking each day as it comes, I suppose.” 

“Do you have people that you talk to?” You ask before immediately trying to retract your question, “I understand if you don’t want to tell me. I can be nosey sometimes.” 

“No. It’s fine.” He coughs to clear his voice, his eyes watching as Theo sits in the sand pit with a bucket and spade, “I talk to my mum and sister if there’s anything really wrong.” 

“Nobody else?” You’re daring, and your eyebrow raises in nervousness. 

“I’m single if that’s what you’re asking.” He chuckles. 

Your eyes bug, “Well I—”

“Its okay, YN.” He laughs now, his dimples deepening, “Are you single?” 

“I am.” You smile, “I’m glad you have someone to talk to that isn’t your three year old son. It’s important.” 

“I know. I kept a lot of it to myself at the start and just tried to be the best that I could be for Theo but it hit a point where I needed help, and I knew I did.” 

“It’s commendable that you did that. Too many single parents try to do it on their own and it just doesn’t work. It not only causes them to fizzle out but it causes strain on the kids.” 

“Have you got children?”

“No.” Your lips curl, “I just enjoy working with them — to a degree obviously.” 

A chuckle passes. It’s at this point that Harry realises that this is the first conversation you have had with him that passes the point of being somewhat professional. You’re dipping your toes in the idea of the conversation being about getting to know each other rather than being about Theo or any information about the group. 

“I can’t imagine.” 

“You never know what the days going to hold when you walk through the door. They say to never work with children and animals.” You laugh, “Where you do you work?” 

“I work at a publishing company. I’m the chief editor. It’s not the best but it pays the bills.” 

“It sounds very interesting.” 

“It isn’t. The amount of articles about interior design I read on a weekly basis is sort of absurd.” 

“Interior design?” 

“I work for an interior design magazine. I probably should’ve explained that first.” 

You giggle, “I bet your house is immaculately decorated.” 

“To a degree.” He chuckles, “Living with a three year old sort of means you’re house always looks like a bomb has hit it.” 

“I can imagine.” 

“I wouldn’t change it for anything. Yeah it is a mess but it isn’t too bad and he’s leaning that he won’t get treats if he doesn’t clean up after himself.”

“Nice. I’m sure that works a treat.” 

“It does.” He laughs, “Literally.”

“He’s a good kid, Harry. You can tell. He’ll be perfectly fine.”

You keep saying that. 

Harry received a message the following Wednesday around lunch time that he hadn’t expected. He was just about to tuck into the salad he had pre-made this morning fort lunch when his phone lit up on the desk. A small message box covers up his wallpaper which was a photo of Theo in the bath, bubbles on his head in a cone shape and upon his chin like a beard. 

Hi Harry, Its YN. I promise I’m not weird I just got your number of the system to send this. I’m just letting you know that tonight’s group is cancelled, I’m bunged up with a cold and would hate to pass it onto any of the kiddies :) Hope you are well.

Hi YN. I’m sorry to hear that. I hope you feel better soon. See you next week. H. 

Harry couldn’t hide that he was a little disappointed. He was starting to enjoy going to the centre every week. He could say that it was because his son was slowly coming out of his shell, and that was part of it, but ever since your conversation he had that one weekend he enjoyed the few words you spoke to each other. 

If he was more confident in the way you felt about him, he probably would’ve messaged to ask if you needed anything bringing but he thought that it would’ve been a little bit odd. Hopefully in the future it wouldn’t be as odd. 

\\

“You can’t eat your chips yet, buddy, they’re too hot.” Harry explains, picking a couple of the chips from Theo’s plate and blowing on them. The young boy sat and watched his father, waiting for his chips before chewing them happily. 

“Oh! Harry!” 

You’re stood with a drink in your hand, jeans and a floral blouse hanging loosely upon your figure. You looked cute and cuddly, something that Harry had missed seeing over the past week or so. 

“Hi YN.” He smiles, wiping his mouth with his napkin momentarily, “How are you feeling?” 

“Much better, thank you very much.” You smile. 

“Would you like to sit?” He asks, motioning to the spare seat, “You don’t have to if you’re busy or anything.” 

“No. I would love to. Are you okay with that Theo?” 

For the first time since you’ve arrived the little boy looks up at his  eyes immediately light up at the sight of you stood there. 

“Miss YN!” 

“I’m guessing he’s okay with it.” Harry smiles, watching as you pull out the seat and seat and sit down. “You weren’t in a rush, were you?” 

“No.” You smile, sipping on the hot cocoa you had just bought, “I had just finished for the day actually. Did a bit of shopping and then decided to walk over here.” 

“Sounds lovely. Anything exciting?” 

“If fruit and veg is exciting, then exciting.” 

“Hey, take it from me, trying to make fruit and veg exciting for your kids is the most exciting thing about fruit and veg.” 

“Not a fan?” You ask, looking at the young boy who had started to munch on his chicken nuggets. 

“Not really. Can you not tell?” 

You laugh, looking at Theo’s plate which just had chips and chicken nuggets on with a blob of ketchup on the side. 

“He seems to be enjoying those?” 

“Oh god yeah.” Harry laughs, “He can eat for England. Takes after me in that sense.” 

“That’s good. Some parents sometimes come in saying that their children don’t eat and it’s worrying them.” 

“He went through a phase when he turned around two and a half of not eating but he rectified that very quickly himself.”

“That’s good? Have you had work today?” 

It was only then that you had noticed his attire. Jean flares and a shirt that said something about eating honey. On anyone else you it would’ve set warning alarms within your head but he made it look suave and quite attractive. 

“No. I have weekends off so I can spend them with Theo. I sometimes do a bit of work from home but not a lot, do you?” 

“Sometimes. If there’s an emergency I’ll sometimes have to go in.” 

“Is it hard? Do you find working with vulnerable children hard?” 

“Challenging, I’d say. Maybe not hard. Some of the things that have happened to the children to cause them to behave the way they do are hard to listen to. Trying to get them to talk or just explain how they feel is even harder.” 

“You do God’s work, YN.” 

“I wouldn’t say that. I hate the though of children suffering, and I’d like to think I do my best to help with that.” 

“You do. From experience you do.” 

“You’re forever feeding my ego. I kind of like it, keep it coming.” 

“Eh.” He curves his lips and moves his head from side to side, “You’re not that bad to look at either.” 

“Cheeky! But you’re not too bad yourself, Styles.” 

“Daddy!” Theo interrupts, “Toilet, please.”

“Okay bud.” Harry stands up and so do you, “You don’t have to go, I’ll be back in a minute.”

“No it’s okay, I probably should leave.” You smile, “I told Norman that I’d only been ten minutes and that was half an hour ago.”

“Norman?” 

“My dog! God, I probably should’ve specified that. Norman’s my dog.”

“Ah.” Harry laughs, “That makes more sense. I’ll see you later YN.”

“Bye Harry.” 

When you got home that night, you see the majority of the time sat staring at your phone whilst Norman stares at you as though you’ve gone crazy.

“I should just text him.” You sound crazy talking to your job but it is oddly comforting, “What’s the worst that could happen?” 

Hi Harry! It was lovely seeing you and Theo today. I hope you had a lovely rest of your day :)

You immediately regretted sending the message. Would he think you were weird? Had you just ruined any chance you had of it going any further? Your stomach twisted and your phone lit up. 

We did thank you, YN. I hope Norman wasn’t too mad that we kept you out longer than expected. H.

You giggled. He remembered. 

He got over it pretty quickly. Gave him a treat and everything was back to normal.

That’s good. It’s a good thing dogs are forgiving creatures.

Rather I bribed him to forgive me. He can be stubborn when he wants to be.

I think you might be describing my son. He certainly didn’t get his stubborn side from me.

Good. I would hate to have to bribe you to speak to me.

Well that depends what you would have bribed me with. But hopefully you’ll never be in the bad books.

You seem to have very high expectations of me, Styles. I might just surprise you.

I’m going to hold you to that. The next time I see you I expect to be surprised.

Are you free any time soon?

Not until next weekend really. I finish work at five-ish everyday.

Is there any chance that you’d maybe want to do something after work? I can hopefully surprise you?

I’d like that very much. Tuesday okay?

Perfect! See you then, Harry.

Sweet dreams, YN.

Tuesday couldn’t come quick enough in your eyes. You were pleasantly surprised that you’d even managed to bag yourself a date with the man, usually you’d shy away from the male species as much as possible. That didn’t mean that you didn’t spend the entire time messaging Harry the other day with warm cheeks and a fuzzy tummy. The fact that he could’ve thrown everything back into your face being the thing that scared you the most. 

You had messaged Harry last night that you were going to a restaurant, not a fancy one but one that required a smart/casual dress code. You spent probably a little too long getting ready, curling your hair and applying the make up you wore too perfection, dressing in some high-waisted trousers with a long-sleeved tucked in to reserve the warmth that the British summertime had selfishly taken away. 

You had hundred’s of thoughts bouncing around in your brain. It wasn’t everyday that you bagged a date with the man of your dreams and even if it didn’t work out — at least you could say that it had happened. If it didn’t work out it was probably a good thing that Theo had started to make the move from your group to your friend’s to avoid uncomfortable confrontation. 

The reservation at the restaurant was for eight, so you had arranged to meet there for around politely declined. The drive was quick but the wait for Harry seemed to take hours. 

When he did arrive, your breath caught within your throat. He was wearing simple dress pants with a silk floral shirt tucked in, the first couple of buttons undone. It revealed tattoos that you were shocked to see that he had upon his chest and stomach. It intrigued you to know whether he had more tattoos. A part of really wanted to see them. 

“Hi.” He smiles and wraps his arms around you in a welcoming hug. He smelt really good. 

“Hi.” 

“You look lovely.” 

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Styles.” 

“Shall we go in?” You nodded. 

The table reserved for the two of you was small but lovely, located in the corner of the restaurant by the floor to ceiling windows. You had been to this Italian plenty of times in the past and it had become one of your favourites. As you sat down, you had ordered a bottle of wine to share between the two of you. 

“Is that your first surprise?” He asked as the two you tapped your glasses together in cheers, “Drinking on a work night?”

“It’s a special occasion.” You shrug, “You’ll have to figure out yourself whether it’s part of the surprise or not.” 

He raised his eyebrow at you before he broke into a smile. 

“I’m looking forward to it.” 

The waiter comes a few ticks after that, asking what we would like. I order a bowl of pasta whilst Harry orders a pizza of some sort. 

“How was Theo when you left him today?” You started to tuck into the bread and dips that the waiter had brought as an appetiser. 

“Absolutely fine. I’ve never seen someone so exciting to spend time with their grandmother.” 

“Weekend’s with my Grandma were the shit!” You exclaim with a smile, “We used to bake and she’d cook me all of my favourite dinners.” 

“You were spoilt rotten, to say the least?” 

“Of course I was! That’s how little Theo is feeling.” 

“Are you close to your family?” 

“Yeah I am. More so my Mum and Grandma. I don’t really have the best relationship with my Dad.” 

He nods, “My mum and Dad divorced when I was young so I was brought up my Mum. She remarried when I was nineteen.” 

You hummed, “Are you close with your stepfather?”

“I was.” Harry coughed to clear his throat, “He died in 2017.” 

You immediately felt bad. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.” 

He stops the sip of his drink quick, “You haven’t, I promised. How are we supposed to get to know each other if you don’t ask questions?” 

“We sort dived right into the deep shit straight away.” You laughed, “Quick fire questions: favourite band?” 

“I honestly couldn’t pick one.” 

“Well.” You sighed, “I tried but that answer was boring. Pick one!”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, his smile growing, “I love Fleetwood Mac, The Zombies, The Kinks—”

“Basically anything from the past?” 

“Pretty much.” He laughed, “I grew up listening to Shania Twain and Joni Mitchell with my mum.” 

“I would’ve loved to have that childhood.” You laughed, “My mum was all for Bon Jovi, Meatloaf and Prince. Always said ‘I could’ve been a rock chick’.” 

He laughs and sips his drink. 

The conversation for the rest of the evening flowed better than you could have expected. You honestly don’t think you’ve ever been on such a lovely date before in your life, if you could even call it that. 

You learnt about his childhood living in Holmes Chapel whilst he learnt about yours. You hadn’t expected to enjoy his company so much and even as the night came to a close you found yourself not wanting to leave. 

“I must admit.” He starts as her walks you towards your car, “I was quite disappointed when you said I couldn’t pick you up.” 

“Why was that?” 

“Because I’m not able to drive you home, walk you to your door and hopefully give you a little something to remember me for the night.” 

“Really? Who said that I would have let you?” 

“You wouldn’t have?” 

“I don’t know.” You tease, “Why don’t you come over and try?” 

The smile on his face as he leaned in is something that will haunt your dreams at night for the better. Your eyes flutter closed and sigh in content as his lips touch yours. It was a little embarrassing, but there had been a few moments late at night where you have wondered what this would feel like. Those were enjoyable dreams but the real this was so much better. 

No tongue was involved but you already knew that this was something you could become addicted to. The feeling of his large palm against your cheek as his kissed any worry you had away from the night. Your whole body tingled and if you weren’t in a public car park, you wouldn’t know whether you’d be able to contain yourself. 

You both pull away breathlessly. 

“I think you would’ve let me.” 

“I certainly fucking would.”

If Harry had any other option — he would’ve taken it in a heartbeat. 

When Harry had woke up this morning, he had expected it to be like his normal Monday morning. Waking up early and making breakfast whilst Theo sleep in. Then he’d wake Theo up to have breakfast and then Harry would dress him for the day. 

That hadn’t happened this morning. 

When Harry had walked into Theo’s room that morning he found his son, already awake with tears streaming down his face. He tried to comfort his son, and tried to get him to talk but he just didn’t stop crying. 

That’s how he ended up stood in the corner of his son’s room with his phone pressed tightly to his ear. 

“Harry? Hello?” 

“Hi.” 

“Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, well uh, not really.” He scratches the back of his neck, “There’s something wrong with Theo.” 

“Is he okay?” 

“No. I came into his room this morning and he’s non-stop crying and he won’t talk to me.” 

“I’m on my way.” 

You drove as fast as you could. The sound of Harry’s voice, mixed with his words and the faint sniffles in the background was enough to send your heart spiralling. You used the message that Harry had sent with address to navigate your way towards his house. 

Doors unlocked. 

You raced your way up the stairs, taking two at a time and saw Harry waiting at the top of the stairs. 

“Thank you.” 

“It’s no problem.” You squeezed his arm in reassurance, “Is he in there?” 

“Yeah.” 

Then you saw him. The small boy with the brown curly hair and the green eyes that matched his Father’s peering up at you, small sobs leaving his lips. 

“Hi bud.” You smile, “Is it okay if I sit down?” 

The small boy nods and you do so, a small sigh escaping your smiling lips. 

“Your Daddy phoned and said you were feeling a little upset this morning and asked if I could come and talk to you. Is that okay?” 

He nods again, sniffling slightly. 

“Is there anything you want to tell me?” 

He shakes his head. 

“Can you tell me why you’re crying?” 

“Dream.” His chest heaves up and down. 

“Did you have a bad dream?” A nod. Okay, you could work with that. 

You hadn’t realised that Harry was stood at the door, leant against the frame with his eyebrows furrowed and his thumb running across his lip. He honestly wouldn’t know what he was going to do if you hadn’t been so lovely and come to check on Theo at such short notice. 

“Was your dream about Daddy?” Another nod. 

It honestly broke Harry’s heart. He had never ever though that something like this was the reason his son had gotten himself into such a state. 

“Have you been having a lot of these dreams?” Nodding. So much nodding, “Are they scaring you?” 

“Daddy hurt.” His voice was so quiet and unsteady.

“Daddy gets hurt?” Your palms start sweating, “Is that why you’re so upset? And you go quiet sometimes? You think Daddy’s going to get hurt?” 

“I’m right here Theo.” Harry walks over and drops down to be face to face with his son, “I’m not hurt, and I’m not going to hurt.” 

“You don’t move.” He cries become louder and louder the more they spoke. 

Harry leans over and pulls his son off the bed, dropping him onto his lap and wrapping his arms tightly around him. You watch as Harry smooths his hand across his son’s back, hoping that it will calm him down and stop the crying. Harry’s catch yours and your heart physically breaks for him. You’d never seen anything like this in your four year career. 

“Listen to this, bud.” Harry wipes his tear stained face briefly, “How about we take today off nursery and work and we’ll spend the day together.” 

Theo nods and you smile, gently standing up and removing yourself from the situation. For the first time you can look at Harry’s house. It was exactly how you had pictured it to be — immaculately designed with a splash of Theo in ever corner. You drop down upon the sofa with a sigh and use your hand to try to rub the fatigue away from your face. You hadn’t had a morning like this in a long time. 

Twenty minutes or so later, Harry joins you on the sofa with a deep sigh. 

“How is he?” 

“He’s asleep right now. I laid with him and he drifted off.” 

“That’s good.” 

He reaches over to grab your hand that was comfortably rested upon your thigh, threading his fingers nicely between your own. 

“I’m sorry for calling so early. I know you were probably busy and this didn’t help.” 

“It’s okay.” You give his hand another squeeze, “I told you that I’d help in any way that I could.” 

“I know.” He nods, his voice starting to break, “It’s just so fucking hard YN.” 

“Hey, don’t cry.” You move so that you can wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a comforting hug, “I know it is but we can sort this out, I promise.” 

“Just knowing that this was because he has been worried about me. What kind of parent does that?” 

“I want you to listen to me now, Harry.” You place your hands upon his cheeks, pulling his head up from your shoulder so that he’s looking directly at you, “You have done nothing wrong. This was completely out of your control.” 

He nods and you wipe the tear that had fallen down his cheek away. 

“I’m going to help you now and we’re going to get Theo better.” 

He leans forward and to your surprise places a deep kiss to your lips. 

“Thank you.” 

Harry had invited you over as a thank you a couple of days later. You had told him multiple times that he didn’t have to thank you for anything and that you’d do anything for him and Theo but he insisted. Theo was still next door with Mrs. West after being picked up from nursery and she made it complete aware that she didn’t mind watching him for a few extra hours so that he could do this for his friend. 

If Harry was honest, he doesn’t have many friends. Mrs. West has spoken to him about it on many occasions and he supposed that the old woman was just excited that he might actually have a friend that wasn’t herself or his son. 

You had arrived at Harry’s house to see the dining room set out with plates and cutlery and wine glasses with delicious smell coming from the kitchen. He greeted you with a soft kiss upon the lips and a small hug. 

“Has Theo been okay?” You ask, leaning against the counter as you watch Harry fry the vegetables for the stir fry.

“He’s been better. He’s been talking a little more according to to the teachers.” He starts to plate up the noodles, “For the first couple of nights he stayed in bed with me, as you suggested but last night he stayed in his own.” 

“Did it go okay?” The two of you walk with full plates to the dining room.

“There were a few tears but he slept through the night.” 

You honestly couldn’t have been happier for the two of them. You have worked with the two of them for a couple of months and now finding out that things were actually starting to work left you feeling happier than you had ever expected to be. 

“That’s really good. I’m happy for you.” 

Before you knew it the time had escaped from the two of you. Somehow, you had made your way to the sofa and now sat with large glasses of red wine in your hands. 

“Are you sure you don’t need to get Theo?” 

It was nearing seven, and you started to worry. 

“If I go now he’ll probably kill me.” He laughs, “Mrs. West brings out the sweet treats around this time.” 

You giggle and lean forward to capture your lips upon his. His hand reaches up to cup your cheek, the other resting lightly upon her thigh. In one confident movement, you shift your body so that your knees are either side of his hips. A part of you still couldn’t believe that this was happening, not only with anyone but with Harry. 

This had all happened quicker than you had expected but you weren’t complaining. 

“YN.” He pulls away breathlessly, “Hey, are you sure?” 

“God yes.” 

“Okay then.’ 

He skilfully picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you towards his bedroom. You land upon the bed with a small thud that causes you both to giggle. He presses his lips to yours one last time in a breath-taking, heart-stopping kiss. 

“Move up.” You shuffle your bum up the bed so that your head is rested upon the lush pillows. Harry’s fingers toy with the zipper of your jeans, his eyes looking for any sign of uncomforted on your face, “This okay?” 

You nod quickly, “It is.” 

He sighs shakily, his fingers slipping into the band of your jeans, pulling them down your legs. You lift your hips up to aid him in the movement. At this point you were glad that a day ago you hd decided to have a pamper session and shave your entire body. 

His lips place small kisses along the inside of your thighs, your body withering under his touch. It had been a long time since someone had touched you in this way, and your senses felt as though they were on override. 

“Harry.” The small moan escapes your lips as he licks a stripe along your clothed centre. 

“God.” He hooks his fingers into the material and pulls them down your legs, “You’re so fucking wet.” 

You hum as his lips wrap around your clit, your chest heaving up and down as he uses his tongue to flick the sensitive nub over and over again. This had all happened so quickly and you felt so overwhelmed that you had no idea if you were going to last very long at all. 

“Fuck.” You moan, “Harry.” 

“That’s it.” He murmurs against your centre, giving your clit a few kitten licks afterwards, “Say my name again.” 

“Harry.” 

He suckles on your clit so quickly that you’re left breathless, your fingers threading through his curly brown hair. You tug on it causing a groan to escape his lips against you, sending your orgasm rushing in. 

“M’coming.” Your chest heaves, “Fuck, baby.” 

Harry pulls away after coaxing you through your high, his lips and chin glistening with your juices. He licks what he can before lifting up so that you can kiss him. He drops down, his head falling into your neck and for the first time you can feel him against your exposed thigh. 

“Do you want me to help?’ 

“No.” He smiles, pushing your hair away from your face, “Tonight was a thanks to you. Hopefully there will plenty more opportunities for you to repay me in the future.” 

“I’m excited for that.” 

“Daddy?” The little voice wakes the two of you up from your slumber, “Miss. YN?” 

“Hiya buddy.” Harry’s quick to pick the little boy up and drop him in the middle of the two of you, “Did you have a good sleep?” 

Theo hums and cuddles into his Dad’s chest, “Morning Miss. YN.” 

“Morning Theo.” You smile, “I’ve told you before, you can call me just YN.” 

You and Harry had started to see each other frequently since the last date and very recently, in the past few days or so you’ve both made the jump of having sleepovers. With Theo it made it difficult for Harry to stay over at yours so you stayed over at Harry’s — not that you minded one bit. 

“Okay, YN.” He smiles, leaning forward to place a kiss to Harry’s dimpled cheek. 

“What do you fancy doing today bud? If you ask nicely YN might be able to stay with us today.” 

“Really?” His eyes widen in excitement. 

“Of course.” You smile and ruffle his hair, “But it’s your day, what do you want to do?” 

“Can we go to the cinema?” You both nod, seeing as though that’s a very doable request from the little man. 

“What do you want to go see?” 

“Frozen 2 please, daddy.” 

“Of course.” Harry kisses his cheek and your heart swells at the sight. 

Theo sat the entire time in the cinema contently chewing on his popcorn as his eyes never left the screen. Harry’s hand was firmly grasped within yours and you both repeatedly picked it up to kiss the back of each other’s. It was the simple gestures that drew you to Harry in the first place, from that very first day at the centre. 

“Did you enjoy it?” You both have one of Theo’s hands in yours, swinging him up as you walk along the pavement. 

“Yes Daddy.” He beams. 

“What do you fancy doing now? Fancy a McDonalds?” 

“Can I have an ice cream, please?”

“Of course, baby.” 

It was rare that you and Harry managed to get a night alone with each other, but this specific Saturday night Anne had offered to take Theo and the two of you weren’t complaining. It had been two or so months since your relationship grew from being professional into something more and you were yet to fully consummate your relationship. 

You did other things, of course, in the dead of night when Theo was fast asleep. You were both just uncomfortable with the idea of having sex and reaching that last level of intimacy whilst he was in the other room. 

The thought physically made you shudder. 

“Are you hungry, baby?” 

“I could eat.” You respond, sitting across from Harry as he scrolls through his phone whilst leaning upon the kitchen island. 

“Pizza?” 

You scoff, “Is that even a question?” 

Once the delivery of your pizza’s arrive, you don’t think you’ve ever seen someone inhale a pizza as quickly as Harry did. He even ended up eating a slice of your own. 

Cleaning up was easy and before you knew anything, you were both changing and getting ready for bed. It was at this point you could go through the plan that you’d created a week or so ago when you learnt that this day would be happening. 

You dressed yourself in delicate white lingerie that would have anyone swooning and dropping to their knees. You tousled your hair, applied some lip balm to your lips and walk out to the bedroom. 

“Fucking hell.” He drops his phone onto the bed beside him, “Where have you been keeping that?” 

“It’s one of the surprises I always ramble on about.” 

“Totally worth it.” He throws his hands up and makes grabby movements towards you which you give in to. 

His arms wrap around you waist and pull you down so you could press your lips to his. There was something different within the air today and you could both feel it. 

“You wanna feel me?” 

“Always.” 

His fingers reach up to unclasp your bra, dropping the lace material to the floor as you clamber upon his lap. His lips wrap around your pebbled nipples, the feeling of his swirling tongue earning breathy moans to escape your lips. 

“Sensitive?” 

“Just finished my period.” 

“Ah.” You thread your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly. 

You drop to your knees, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you use your hand to palm him through his boxers. You place two kisses to each of the ferns, another one at the top of his happy trail before you hook your fingers into the material of his briefs, pulling them down as he lifted his hips to help. 

This wasn’t your first rodeo with Harry’s dick, but that didn’t mean that you became any less nervous every time you saw it. 

“Are you just going to stare?” 

“I’m contemplating?” 

“Contemplating what?” 

“Whether or not you deserve me to suck your dick. Leave me to it, baby.” 

He shuts his mouth the second to place one kitten lip to his base, your eyes watching as his stomach heaves up and down at the feeling. Wrapping your lips around the tip, you start to bob your head up and down, using your spit to ease yourself into it. Harry’s hand reaches out to grip your hair, guiding your head up and down but making sure to not go too far. 

“You’re amazing. Fuck, YN baby.” 

You use the free hand that wasn’t aiding you by jerking the length that you couldn’t take to squeeze his thigh, right by his tiger once before allowing your finger to rub over your sensitive nub through your panties, allowing any sort of friction to be released. 

“Gotta stop baby.” He gently pushes you off of him, your mouth releasing him with a pop, “Need to last for you.” 

Once you’re stood up he pulls your panties down your legs, watching as you step out of them. You both switch positions so that you’re laid on top of the plush comforter whilst Harry fumbles through his bedside table, taking a foil packet out. 

Your eyes never leave him as he gives himself a few tugs before rolling the condom on, giving you a once over before bending down. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He questions once and you nod, muttering confirmation as he moves to hover above you. 

You feel a little discomfort at first, probably due to how long it had been since you last had sex. 

“Move, Harry.” 

“M’kay.” 

His lips are on yours again as he starts to move his hips, finding his rhythm as he thrusts in and out of you. You whine into his mouth whilst he groans into yours, the feeling becoming all too unbearable for the two of you. 

“Feel so good, H. So big, so full.” 

The chuffed face he pulled as he continued to thrust his hips to yours, his lips wrapping around your nipple briefly was enough for you to fall for him again. 

“M’gonna come, baby.” 

“I know, H, me too.” 

He slipped his hand down between you both to use his fingers to rub your sensitive bundle of nerves, sending you over the edge. A long moan of his name leaves your lips, your back arches and your eyes start to water. 

“That’s it. Fuck! Squeezin’ me so tight.” 

He moans as he comes, spilling into the condom whilst his movements halt inside of you. 

He head drops forward upon your shoulder, the two of you masking in the overwhelming thing your had just experienced. 

“There’s no one else I ever want to do that with.” 

“Looks like you’re stuck with me, then.” 

“YN.” Theo catches your attention as you wash both of your hands after the painting session you had both just had, “Are you my new Mummy?” 

Your movements halt as you look down at the little boy, his features becoming more and more like Harry’s everyday. 

You look up to Harry who’s stood drying his hand a couple of metres away, a goofy smile present on his lips as he nods at you. 

“If you want me to be Theo, but are you sure?” 

“I love you, YN.” 

“I love you too, now go dry your hands.” 

Harry passes him the towel to dry his hands which he does with little no disagreement. 

“Are you going to go turn the TV on whilst Daddy talks to Mummy?” 

The words felt odd leaving his lips, but a good kind of odd. You watch as he leaves the bathroom and bounds towards the living room. 

You wrap your arms around Harry and sigh contently into his chest. 

“I can’t believe he just said that.” 

“I can. There’s no one else I’d want to be his mother.” 

You stand on your tip toes to kiss his lips once. 

“I love you, Harry.” 

“I love you too.” 

[songtoyou]

Epiphany - Part One

Paring: Luke Crain x Female Reader

Chapter Rating: PG-13 

Word Count: 2,204

Warnings: Talks of drug use and recovery, mention death of a family member. 

Description: Life has never been easy for Luke Crain. After the death of Nell, Luke realizes that he needs to make some changes. He decided to stay in Massachusetts and attend rehab. He was determined to remain on his path of sobriety. When you get assigned to be Luke’s sponsor, it opens a new door of possibilities that neither you nor Luke expected.  

A/N: I finally watched the Haunting of Hill House a while back. I found Luke to be very interesting. This is my take on how Luke would go on with life after Nell’s death and how his continued path to remain sober would look like.

I do not permit my work to be posted on any other site without my permission.

Updated: Cleaned up for grammar and punctuation errors.

An epiphany is when a sudden and intuitive perception of insight into reality. It can provide a great moment of revelation and present itself as symbolic insight. Some people experience it while others often search for it.

Life was not easy for Luke Crain or his siblings. After the recent events of Hill House, Luke was scared of a life without his twin sister, Nell. Despite Luke being ninety seconds older, he always felt that Nell was his big sister. She was his protector. The only person to believe in him when others constantly sowed doubt. Unfortunately, Hill House ended up taking Nell in the end, along with his father Hugh. Luke was scared. More scared than he had ever been now that Nell was gone.

However, Luke was determined to get clean. To remain clean. He had to do it, not only for Nell but for himself. Both Steve and Theo pitched in to help pay for a good rehab center for Luke to stay. At first, Luke told them, no, but it was Theo who adamantly expressed her desire to support him.

“Luke, you have made it to 90-days. I can tell you want to remain clean. We all see it. Nell still believes in you and so do we. I want to be supportive of you because you’re my little brother and I love you,” said Theo.

With the support and help of his siblings, Luke decided to stay in Massachusetts for treatment. He took up residence with Shirley in the guest house since Theo decided to move out to live on her own. Despite her worries, Shirley believed in her little brother and his determination to remain clean. One could say it was her way to make amends for the guilt she held by not allowing Luke to attend Nell’s wedding.

It was actually Shirley’s husband Kevin, who recommended Banyan Treatment Center in Wilmington, Massachusetts. “One of my sisters went there for her alcohol addiction. She responded well to the program and has continued to stay sober for two-years. Banyan has a good family counseling program, along with outpatient therapy. Pretty much will have everything you need to continue your path for sobriety,” said Kevin one night after dinner.

It did not take long for Steve and Theo to be on board with Luke deciding on Banyan. Both liked what they read of the place. The treatment center was not uber fancy, like the one Shirley paid for all those years ago but also was a tad upscale compared to the rehab center in Los Angeles Luke recently attended.

The therapists and case managers at Banyan were nice and friendly. Rob, Luke’s primary therapist, helped ease him into a routine. Even though Luke was now over 90 days sober, Rob recommended intensive outpatient therapy every day for an hour session. Luke admitted to Rob, along with his siblings, that he was worried about relapsing due to Nell and Hugh’s deaths. He did not want to fall back into old and dangerous habits.

For 30 days, Luke was committed to his intensive outpatient therapy. Talking over his childhood trauma at Hill House and the recent events helped, not only explain his phobias but also tackle his post-traumatic stress. Hill House had a long-lasting effect that damaged his entire family. So much so, that all he wanted to be was numb. To not have to deal with the images in his mind or how the loss of his mother disturbed him.

When Luke “graduated” from intensive outpatient therapy to regular outpatient therapy, Rob recommended a sponsor for him. The Center’s alumni recovery program allowed for past patients who have succeeded in their program to help mentor those currently in the early stages of detox, treatment, and recovery. Having a strong and influential network of sober peers can make all of the difference between an addict relapsing or staying strong through hard times.

That is how you came into Luke Crain’s life. Rob recommended you to Luke as a sponsor. You had just celebrated your third anniversary of recovery. It was not that you had a bad childhood as the reason you turned to drugs. You were not abused, both of your parents were still alive, nor had you experienced any other forms of childhood trauma. Similar to Luke, heroin was your choice of escapism; the way to ease the feeling of pain and suffering. Not your own, but other peoples’.

That was the downside of being an empath.

Of course, no one believed you about being an empath. Your mother had always referred to you as an overly sensitive child and that stress was not something you handled very well. When having to deal with the ability to sense what people are feeling, whether the emotions are happy, sad, scared, stressed, disturbed, or angry, can be a lot for a person to handle. There came a time when taking on the pain of others became too much. You no longer wanted that burden. You no longer wanted to feel anything.

It did not matter how many rehab facilities your parents sent you to or how many times they pleaded; you did not care. For once, you put yourself first. Heroin helped you stop feeling. Helped you feel numb and content. You were happy. Of course, when the high wore off, as it always does, you were back to reality. You hated reality.

The last hit you had made you end up in the hospital. The doctor explained how you overdosed but were able to resuscitate you in time. That was when you finally realized you needed to change. Needed to get clean once and for all. You knew it would take time and patience. That you would not magically become clean and sober overnight. It was a process. Setbacks were a possibility. However, there was always a little voice in the back of your head that helped pull you through the dark times, to motivate you to keep going.

Now here you were about to meet the new mentee that Rob assigned you to. He only gave a little backstory about Luke, but not many other details. You ended up texting Luke asking him to meet you on Sunday at your favorite coffee shop, the As Good As It Gets Café. He promptly replied that he would see you there around noon.

 When Sunday finally rolled around, you headed to the café and waited. It was a quarter past twelve and Luke still had not shown up. You were starting to get nervous and wondering if he would ever appear. You were on the verge of texting him when the bell on the entry door chimed, indicating that someone was entering the café. You looked up and saw a very tall, scruffy, and attractive looking man standing by the door. The way he was looking around with a lost kind of look helped pinpoint that this was Luke. You got up from your booth and walked over to him.

“Luke?” you politely asked.

“Yes,” he said.

You introduced yourself and held your hand out for him to shake, which he took. You immediately became overwhelmed with the emotions that permeated this man. There was a lot of pain and loss underneath. But there was also a sense of hope and happiness that felt nice.

“Are you okay?” Luke asked wondering why all of a sudden you had a weird look on your face.

“Hmm? I’m sorry. I’m fine. I didn’t mean to…daze off for a second,” you laughed and pointed over to the booth you previously occupied. You walked over with Luke following.

“I’m sorry that I’m late. I was finishing up some homework and didn’t track the time properly,” Luke shared.

“Oh, where do you go to school?”

“Uh…I take a creative writing course at Bunker Hill Community College,” he replied.

“Nice. How are you liking it so far?” you asked him.

Before Luke could respond, one of the waitresses came over asking if Luke wanted anything to drink. Indicating that he just wanted coffee, the two of you were soon left alone.

“I like it. The instructor is really nice. It is the only course I am taking, so it doesn’t take up too much of my time. My older brother, Steve, actually encouraged me to enroll after I shared some of my writing with him. He’s a writer himself. I don’t know if you ever heard of him, Steven Crain? He has written a lot of books, mostly ghost stories. His most famous one is, ‘The Haunting of Hill House’. Have you read that book?”

“I have not. I tend to stay away from horror genres,” you told Luke.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you. Luke was adverting his gaze to anywhere but you. It was easy to tell that he was nervous and unsure of himself.

“Luke,” you spoke up to get his attention and said, “You don’t have to be anxious or feel uneasy. Getting here, to this step, is a big freaking deal. I get it, trust me. I absolutely get it. I never thought I’d be here. To be completely frank, I always pictured myself dead somewhere in the streets. I’m sure you pictured the same for yourself. But it didn’t. You’re here today because you wanted more for yourself. That is something to be proud of.”

Letting out a sigh, Luke sat back in the booth and crossed his arms over his chest. Sometimes he did not feel proud. He missed Nell. He missed her all of the time. She always believed in him no matter how many times he broke her heart. Nell always forgave him. She was always there when he needed someone to bail him out of trouble.

“You okay, Luke? If you would rather do this another time, that is okay. We can reschedule,” you offered. You could sense a feeling of grief underneath the surface of the man sitting before you.

“No. No, I’m sorry. I…uh…I was thinking about Nellie. My twin sister. She…she died recently. Well, not recent, two months ago. So, it’s still…very…it’s still a lot to handle.”

“I’m sorry,” you told him earnestly. “What was it like having a twin? I don’t have any siblings, so I always like to hear other people’s sibling stories.”

“Having siblings has its pros and cons,” Luke laughed, but continued, “They can be much at times, but I’m glad to have them. Especially now that Nellie is gone. They have been incredibly supportive, which makes all the difference in the world.”

“I really appreciate you sharing this with me, Luke. I know it can’t be easy. I am a stranger after all. You’re actually my second mentee from the alumni recovery program. My previous one …well her story didn’t have a happy ending,” you shared with Luke.

He could relate. When he left the clinic in Los Angeles to find Joey and bring her back to get her clean again. She was nine-months clean at the time but ended up using while being back on the streets. Luke would be lying to himself if he did not say he was rather disappointed in Joey. To him, Joey was someone who he could look up to while trying to get clean. He should have known something was off with her during what would be their last night at the clinic. Joey reminded him of Nell, so he could not stand by and do nothing. Joey helped him during his first week at the clinic. So, Luke felt that he owed it to her to return the favor.

Unfortunately, Joey did not want his help in the end. To this day, Luke still does not know what really happened to her after she swiped the drugs off him and headed towards that alley. But deep inside, Luke knew she did not make it. That her body would either be discovered or continue to rot in that alley. Theo would tell him that Joey was not his responsibility. That he had to put himself first when it came to recovery.

Luke pushed his coffee cup to the side and leaned on the table. You were so focused on your own coffee cup that you did not notice him staring at you intently. He was taking you in and assessing you. So far, he could admit that he found you attractive. You had a nice built. Your clothing was not too flashy. He could tell that you were the type to choose comfortable clothing over fashionable attire. However, it was your eyes that stood out. There was a softness and warmness to them that he found quite soothing. There were no ulterior motives behind them or any sense of malice. Luke could see that your intentions with him were good and that you really wanted to help him in his recovery by being a supportive mentor.

“Hey,” he said to get your attention. “I promised that I’ll come to talk to you if I ever feel like I might…. Or if I just feel like I need someone to talk to.”

“I appreciate that, Luke,” you told him sincerely.

[enkelimagnus]

Raised Jewish

Bucky Barnes Gen, 2709 words, rated M for Hydra shit

Jewish Bucky Barnes, pre TFATWS, post Endgame

Bucky's therapy session with Dr Raynor takes a turn for the worse when Raynor starts asking him about his identity.

TW: queer used as a slur, mention of Bucky's 1945 "death", Raynor being the worst therapist

Read on AO3

Part 5 of Making a Home - the Jewish Bucky series

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

Dr Raynor isn’t nice.

She’s not kind, or sweet. She doesn’t speak the way Sam does when he’s trying to figure out if Bucky’s okay. She’s harsher, more commanding. She seems more used to orders than to niceties, and so is he.

Yet, he can’t stand it.

He can’t stand her. He can’t stand the way she looks at him, with her notebook and her pencil clicking. He can’t stand her questions, and the fact she knows everything he’s talking about. She has access to all his files, the Hydra ones, the Army ones, everything. She knows everything about him.

Why is she asking all these questions? Why is she even pretending to give a fuck? She’s here for a paycheck, and he’s here because he has to be. He suffers through this shit because he doesn’t want to go back to prison.

He spent one month in the Raft after Stark’s funeral. They put him in custody the day after Steve left, and he was there until his trial. It was hell. Claustrophobic and silent and… he has to breathe in deeply whenever he thinks about the absolute despair of that month.

The whole prison smelled like seawater and cleaning products, there was a heavy, unmistakably nefarious bracelet around his left wrist, and the cell was too small. Way too small.

Bucky closes his eyes and inhales deeply, trying to chase the phantom of the Raft’s smell from his nostrils. He gets drying flowers and washed out perfume instead, coming from the vase on the table by Dr Raynor’s chair and from the woman herself. It’s not unpleasant, as far as smells go.

He’s stopped paying attention for a moment, and when his eyes refocus, she’s staring at him with that pinched look that says she’s expecting him to explain what he was thinking about, what pulled him from the session and made him lose focus. She hates when he’s not focused.

He sets his jaw and shifts his fingers in his gloves, hearing leather creak over his left knuckles, and stares right back at her, silent. He doesn’t like talking to her about the things in his head. He’s fought for them too long and too hard to give them to the first person he’s told to give them to.

She’s the closest to a handler he’s had since Colonel Helmut Zemo in Berlin. Or, as he introduced himself back then, Doctor Theo Broussard. What is it with Bucky and shrinks?

“I see our usual conversation isn’t enough to keep your attention, James,” she says. It feels like a reprimand. She says ‘James’ the way handlers said ‘Soldier’. Like it’s a threat.

He stays stubbornly silent. He’s always been the stubborn kind. Hard to get through, hard to break. Much stronger people than Dr Christina Raynor have attempted to break their way into his mind. They had to torture him to do so.

“Let’s change subjects then,” she nods, and pulls her notebook out. Bucky wants to scream. It’s not red, but it feels red.

“I think it’s time we dive deeper into your identity.”

Alarm bells go off in his mind and he freezes. Your identity . What is she referring to? What does she know? There are things that Bucky prays aren’t in the files. Things he never wants anyone to ever find out, especially her. Old instinctual fears of teenagehood suddenly rise and the leather creaks harder, the sound mixing with the wiring noises of the arm. It’s a quiet threat wrapped in a sound, like a wolf’s warning growl.

“Please remember to control yourself, James.”

She’s so very good at reminding him he’s only free because she wants him to be. The second he shows any sort of aggression, he’ll be put back in that tiny cell, with that bracelet and won’t see the sun for the rest of his overly long life. He knows it. He can feel it.

His obedience is part of the deal he made with the government. He has to comply with their demands. And that includes humoring Dr Raynor.

“What do you want to dive into?” He asks, letting his irritation obviously show. She can’t take that from him. He will comply, but fuck them if they believe he’ll do it without attitude.

If she starts asking about his relationships and Steve, he doesn’t know what he’ll do. He can’t escape. He’s trapped in this room, with this woman, until she decides that their session is over. This is the price of his freedom.

He can’t tell her, or anyone, about Steve. He can’t do that to him, to his name, to his legacy. He just can’t stain him this way. It’s the kind of secret that has to die with him. Captain America can’t be a queer.

He forces himself to stay still, to not let nervous motions betray his emotional state, and he just waits to see what Dr Raynor knows. The other shoe will drop. He’s just trying to prepare for it.

She drums her pencil against the side of the horrible notebook and exhales through her nose, obviously irritated by his attitude. He just stares back at her.

“I’ve read your files, James,” Dr Raynor starts, the way she does so often. “And you’ve mentioned the word shul some time ago. I’m guessing you did not use it to mean school. You don’t have German ancestry.”

Bucky relaxes a little at that. Alright, it’s not about Steve. He silently thanks anyone who might be listening.

“My mother spoke a little German,” he replies conversationally. From what he remembers, it was only bits and pieces, picked up from growing up in a large city. It was probably mostly Yiddish.

“You were raised Jewish.”

Bucky can’t help the full body shift at that. He bristles. It feels like an attack, like an accusation. It feels ugly and menacing coming from that woman who knows too much. It feels disgusting in her mouth.

What does she want him to answer to that? What does she want from him?

He knows he’s not much of a Jew anymore. He knows what he’s done is too much, too ugly, too against everything he was ever taught. He was taught to save lives even if it breaks religious rules, to take care of people, to be kind and helpful and make sure to do good in the world and all he’ll ever be remembered for is ugly disgusting acts of horror.

He knows all of what he was raised to be is gone. He’s pretty sure it was gone the instant his hand slid on the train railing and he felt himself pulled down by gravity.

That moment where he saw the horror and anguish written all over Steve’s beautiful face. That moment where he knew he’d never see his mother again. His sisters. That moment he screamed in fear but tried to drink in Steve’s face for the last time. As if it could make it less terrifying and painful and lonely.

There was too much time during the fall. Too much time for him to think and feel. I’m going to die alone. He’d wanted to die old with his loved ones or the Chevra Kadisha with him. No one’s supposed to die alone.

The pain had been blinding. Some nights, he can hear his own wails again. Life and death have that in common. The screams.

“James.” Dr Raynor’s voice snaps him back to the present and she still looks pissed at him.

Bucky exhales and his breath is shaky. Panic curls into his bones. He can feel something inside of him tremble and he looks at the window. He could jump through it. Escape it that way. There are no bars on the window, it’s just glass, and it’s only two levels high. It’s doable, easy even. It won’t hurt that badly. He inhales, deep. Ayo taught him that one. Breathing. Focus on your body rather than on the storm in your mind, White Wolf.  

He focuses on his body, but mostly on Ayo. The memory of her is strong and firm in his mind, in the same way she talks and walks. Ayo’s eyes always have weight. The kind of weight - smothering or comforting - depend on how he behaves. He’s trying to be good. He’s trying to be good for Wakanda, for Ayo, and for Princess Shuri and for King T’Challa.

Dr Raynor should be the one helping him, not the memory of Ayo.

He calms down, eventually, and sighs deeply, closing his eyes for a second. There’s a clock ticking loudly. It’s a wonderful sort of noise for him in this moment. It’s rhythmic and predictable.

“I was,” Bucky replies to Raynor’s earlier comment. He was raised Jewish.

In all truth, he was born Jewish more than he was raised Jewish. At least that’s what his father would say. That he was born into a legacy, born into a community. Born to sing songs in age-old tongues. Born with knowledge and strength in his soul.

He hasn’t thought about those words in years.

“You don’t talk about it.”

Why would he? There’s nothing to say. Words and experiences that he’s half-forgotten over the time, that he doesn’t have anyone to share with anymore. Community and family were such important parts of every ritual, and now he’s alone. Completely and utterly alone.

“There’s nothing to say,” he says out loud.

Raynor crosses her legs and leans back in her seat, watching him. “I would expect there’s a lot. You worked for an organisation that was born from Hitler’s government. You spent seventy years furthering nazi ideology and agenda.”

Bucky wants to scream. It’s salt in an open wound. It’s violent. He closes his eyes and tries to keep his cool. He can’t lose it here. He has work to do still, amends to make still, in the free world, and he is so desperate to stay out of prison.

“I know,” he replies. His voice is so tight it might break any second.

He knows. He’s very intimately aware of what he did, what it meant, who he was for seventy godforsaken years. He’s aware that it means he can’t possibly claim that part of his life back. He can’t be a Jew anymore. Not after being a Nazi agent for so long.

Even if he wasn’t actually one, even if he had no choice. He killed people and said ‘Hail Hydra’ and made the world a worse place every day of his existence. His actions are why fascism has such a prominent place in today’s political landscape. He’s responsible for it, for putting people in power, for killing good people. It’s on him. It isn’t his fault. It’s still on him.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he tells Dr Raynor, and now his voice is quiet. “Not to you. Not to anyone. Ever.”

How can this part of his life possibly be of interest to the government? Do they think his jewish upbringing means he’s less likely to go back to Hydra and their neo-nazi friends? Do they see him reclaiming that part of his identity one more reason to keep him free? Is it a ploy? Is this going to be used against him, again? Can’t he have one thing in his life that isn’t used by someone else for their gain?

“It could be a way for you to form connections.” As if she gives a flying fuck if he has friends and family. As long as he doesn’t start killing people, comes to his appointments and does whatever the government tells him like a good fucking dog, he can pretty much go fuck himself.

He doesn’t know if he’s ever felt this angry with her before.

How dare she touch this part of his life? How dare she prod him about it, let him know she knows? How dare she take that one thing that no one has been able to touch before?

Even Hydra didn’t know.

They never asked, his dog tags had P on them, and there are a lot of other Americans that were circumcised. They didn’t know.

But she does. The US government does. And he can’t have it be his secret anymore.

“Stop,” he asks, louder than he expected. “Stop, I said no.”

As if that has ever stopped anyone. As if those words have ever brought him anything but renewed suffering.

He doesn’t see her anymore. His eyes are open but he can’t see anything, and he’s panicking and he wants to run so far away. He wants to leave Brooklyn, and leave the US, and disappear and never come back. Fuck his pardon, fuck Sam, fuck everything and everyone, and he can go back to living in Romania and having no name and no handlers and no one.

He stands up suddenly and she flinches. She’s scared of him. Of course she is.

“The session’s not over,” Raynor tells him quietly, calmly, despite her earlier flinch. “Sit back down.”

“No,” he bites back.

He’s trapped, and he can’t actually leave because they’ll put him in prison for it, and he can’t do anything but stand there and shake with barely controlled emotion and try to wait it out. But he doesn’t have to take her orders, and he doesn’t have to be happy about it, all he has to do is be here and answer with more than a grunt.

He can say no. She can’t make him sit down. She’s not strong enough. Physically, anyway.

It takes on average three expertly-trained soldiers to take him down, and that’s when he’s half-starved and in pain. He’s been eating well, he’s clear of any sedative, and he’s not in physical pain. There is no way she can take him down, unless she has a gun. But in this room, if she makes a move for a gun; he’ll snap her wrist before she manages to touch it. She can’t do shit.

“Alright then,” she nods.

He narrows his eyes. She should be mad at him.

She looks down at her notebook and back at him. He stares at her, glares at her, trying to convey that if she starts writing in that fucking book, shit is going to happen. So she doesn’t.

“Why is this upsetting to you?” She asks him, back to her bullshit questions, and it makes Bucky want to punch something, anything. But he can’t.

Everything he has is devoted to controlling himself. His gloves creak again, with the exertion of containing his fists. The prosthetic is loud in the silence, threatening. At least it’s loud to him.

“I said no.”

“So it’s all off limits?”

He nods. “Yes.”

Boundaries, that’s what they’re called. And that part of his identity is behind the line. He thought he was ready to talk about everything that’s in the files, but he was wrong. Not that. Never that.

Dr Raynor sighs heavily, looking away from him. He can tell she’s only pretending, trying to make him feel a little more at ease.

“I need to know about these things, James.”

He huffs. “I’m doing the work you want me to do. I have a quiet life.”

“You’ve told me about the shul already,” Dr Raynor points out.

“Yeah. I did.” And it was a mistake.

He just wants to be left alone. He wants to do his job and be left alone. And she doesn’t get that. She scoffs when he tells her he wants peace and serenity, she needles him about the things he’s not ready to say. He’s pretty sure she’s not a good therapist, and he literally doesn’t have any other experience.

Dr Raynor sighs heavily again, parading her irritation out to him. He doesn’t move.

“Well. We won’t get anywhere today. You’ve won. The session’s over, you can go home.”

You’ve won. He tastes something sour.

He shoves his hands in his pockets and nods at her. There’s no use in dignifying her with much of anything. He mumbles ‘goodbye’ because he was raised right by his ma and calls it a fucking day.

He’s pretty sure he finishes his pack of cigarettes by the time he gets home.

[chocolate-parfait]

Matchup for @bigwintter

bigwintter , dear, tumbrl ate your ask away and I can't seem to be able to tag you for whatever reason. I hope you'll be able to see this nonetheless!

I match you up with... William!

You two are the embodiment of the dark academia aesthetic tbh✨

During your first encounter, you mostly keep to yourself, but Will can tell that you two are, in a way, similar to each other. It all starts with casual and sporadic encounters where the general ambiance is “Oh God, I’m talking to THE William Shakespeare”, but all that quickly dissolves through time. The writer instantly takes a liking to you, a normal reaction to your genuine love for literature, but the more he talks to you, the more he realizes there’s something more to it.

Your aura kinda works like a magnet. It’s in your little gestures, the way you carry yourself, completely at ease despite a 200 years-wide gap between your time and your new surroundings. Most of all, he’s genuinely amazed each time you give him deep and psychological insight about a recently published novel or sometimes even a piece he has written himself. Sometimes you stumble a bit and don’t exactly know how to convey your thoughts in a precise way, but this makes him all the more curious(he finds it very cute, actually). He truly wonders how come you’re able to give a fascinatingly knowledgeable answer to whatever topic the two of you are discussing, and this ignites an always increasingly burning fire deep inside of him.

He tries (unless SOMEONE cough Theo cough forcefully kicks him out) to visit the mansion more often, other times he invites you over to his residence to have a nice chat over some tea. If you feel like it, he even plans some rendezvous in the city to show you around. It’s very nice of him and he acts like a total gentleman! But... some problems may arise when he starts showing his overly possessive side.

Since you know your fair share of information when it comes to psychology and all that may come in handy to diagnose someone with being a yandere (and whatever type of mental illness Shakespeare has), you notice the signs early on, so at least you’re not completely caught off guard. As to how to act next... well, that’s pretty much up to you. You can ask Comte for protection for the rest of the month and then go back home, or you can try and talk it out with him if you prefer.

Since this is a matchup, let’s pretend you chose to stay in the past and confront him about it. You go to his house and he’s acting like usual, although there’s a glint in his eyes that sends a shiver down your spine. When you finally bring up his weird behaviors a switch in his mind flips the other way. It’s a really intense moment because as he’s explaining all the reasons why he deemed it necessary to “protect” you from others, he suddenly realizes that at the root of the whole problem there’s only his genuine affection towards you. But would he act the same way with Vincent? No, of course not. Then, there must be something else to his feelings, right? And the word he had written so many times, the main theme of most of his stories, comes crashing down on him. Love.

He doesn’t outright say it, but it’s subtle and you already know about it. Once more, you can decide whether to correspond to his feelings right away or wait a little longer, just know that you’ll be in for a lot of therapy sessions. This man needs three things: affection, a LOT of reassurance, and someone to show him how healthy relationships work. You can provide him with all three, and though he might reject the idea of change (perhaps even in a violent manner), with time and care he’ll come to understand where the boundaries of a relationship lie. Surely, there will be times in which he falls prey to his darkest thoughts, but the progress is admirable.

His recovery aside, he’s truly one of the kindest lovers out there, getting slightly rough only during horny times (he wouldn’t be able to withstand the guilt of having hurt you), and he never misses out on important dates and small details. There is a lot of unspoken understanding between you two, and with just a glance, you can convey everything that words wouldn’t suffice to describe. Regardless, he still loves composing little poems on the spot just for you (he later writes them down in a thick book that he gifts you for your birthday), pressing a soft kiss to your lips when he’s done reciting his small part.

As a couple, you pretty much have all the freedom in the world. Living in a house far from prying eyes and unwelcome visitors, you can enjoy your much-beloved solitude from the rest of the world. Even in the same house, he will eventually come to respect your wish for independence and alone-time. Though there is a lot of work behind it, you and William finally reach an equilibrium that few couples would be able to maintain for long.

Second choice: Dazai

Despite being quite the trickster, an unprovoked Dazai is a person that enjoys quiet spaces and his fair share of alone time. You two could definitely get along pretty well, but getting past the acquaintances-who-have-some-idle-chat-every-now and then phase? That could be slightly harder.

Everyone has their bad days, and depending on the person, some may want to let the whole world know about their feelings, whether others prefer keeping everything inside. Well, Dazai is definitely the second case. Just as usual, he puts on his happy mask and clown nose in the poor attempt of shifting his focus on his surroundings, but ever so often his facade slips off completely. Be it a glance, an unhappy comment or the sudden quietness, you pick up on it quite easily.

There are many strong personalities that leave their lasting impressions in the mansion. For each you could find at least 10 adjectives to describe them without you even being close, but what about Dazai? At first glance, he seems like one of the most dual characters in the vampiric group; one side of him is warm and caring, completely in the norm, but most things he says leave a certain bitter aftertaste. One could describe him as a breeze, but you had noticed that this warm spring breeze could turn into a chilly autumn one in the blink of an eye.

He’s seemingly a superficial man, but many little details convince you otherwise. Spending a whole month in the past with no one to talk to was out of the question, and mystery man here is the tragic hero that had piqued your curiosity the most so... why not give it a try? You would have to approach him first (he reaches out to people mainly when he sees they're struggling with their emotions), and with the right words here and there his fake smile will crumble away. (you don't necessarily need to be an expert speaker, he's a smart one and will understand what you mean)

Of course, he won't be giving in too easily, but he's quick to notice your genuine interest and curiosity towards him. You'll be going back in a month, so even if he let you see a snippet of who he truly was... it wouldn't be such a bad thing, right? Unfortunately for him, all the romance he has ever experienced in his life was tied to his and his partner's mental health, so with you there to help him out with his emotional state, he's quick to fall for you. (these aren't really spoilers,, its just facts about irl dazai but idk how much they decided to keep in his route tbh, I've only read a general summary)

On the other hand, it may take you some time to realize your feelings, and sometimes you wonder whether your initial reason to get close to him was just your love for psychology. With time, that will all become a secondary matter, for thus you'll start seeing him as a true friend, and perhaps something more.

Oftentimes you hang out in his room and have long discussions while sharing some tea and sweets together. Topics may vary from analysis of fictional characters to more philosophical matter, and a couple dumb jokes here and there: other times the room falls in the most comfortable of silences, the atmosphere warm and relaxed.

Dazai definitely doesn't mind your goofy side, he actually enjoys it quite a lot. You, him, and Arthur could team up and become the most annoying trio of the mansion, much to Isaac's dismay. It's very clear to the Englishman though, that you two have something going on, although you don't seem to be aware of it. He will start teasing you and dropping heavy hints until Dazai eventually confronts him about it. 

When it dawns on you, it doesn't take long before you and Dazai confess to each other and become a couple. If you're both mutually interested then why wait? Your straightforward nature plays a big part in this, despite your communication skills. Dazai secretly admires this aspect of yours, and if you question him about it, he will admit it without embarrassment and the fondest of looks.

As partners, you have a very mature relationship, and neither of you has a problem with meeting the other's needs. The Japanese writer will always respect your wishes and opinions, but every now and then, mostly at nighttime, he will crave your touch and comfort. Old habits die hard, and it's not easy to completely let go of one's past, that is why he seeks your warmth. Offer him your lap, pepper his face with delicate kisses, tenderly stroke his hair; whatever you have to offer will be more than enough for him. These are very intimate and romantic moments between the two of you, in which your bond gets stronger and stronger, although through quiet reassurance and support.

He doesn't necessarily mind PDA, but he'd rather you keep your most explicit gestures to the privacy of your rooms. Nevertheless is a man of great calm and patience, and he's a great actor, too; don't be too surprised if he decides to tease you in public. Generally speaking though, he'll stick to basic stuff like hand-holding and such.

You have dates in the most random of places! The termae, the gazebo, on the riverbank or in some obscure neighborhood of the city. He loves strolling around with you, and he'll get so lost in the feeling of your hand in his that once he snaps out of it he doesn't realize where your feet have taken you.

Another activity that you two could end up doing together is drinking. He takes you to his favorite bar, where he orders his favorite drink, cigarette in hand (he smokes only if you're okay with it) while looking impossibly hot. You can order yourself a beer and then you can have whatever discussion you feel like having. He is not one to judge, and will happily comply and talk about all topics. Whether it's a book you've read or something that happened to someone in the mansion, he will quietly listen to you as he sips on his whiskey or brandy or whatever, adding a thoughtful comment here and there.

[theohollis]

self para ✘ falling again

trigger warnings to be aware of before reading on: mentions of death, cancer/illness, anxiety, prostitution

the deferral form had been sitting open on theo’s laptop for days. he’d started filling it out on the off chance that he’d decide to stay in lake wisteria until the new year. he thought that a break from the city was what he needed -- time with his friends and family, miles and cj, was more important than fast-tracking his master’s degree. the form had once been a beacon of hope, in a way. but now, it felt like a confirmation of everything theo didn’t want to face.

after delilah and brandon broke the news to him and miles about their mother’s cancer, theo had fallen into a whirlwind, but memories of the few hours afterwards were blurry. he remembers rushing out of the room, out of the house to the front yard, where the tears had finally made their descent down his cheeks. 

why why why why why.

the next thing he knew he was in his car, driving, heading away from the town that held so much good, yet so many devastating memories for the young man. he was only twenty two and had already experienced so much loss and pain, been broken down by the world over and over again. and here he was, faced with the fact that he could possibly lose the woman who he called mom for the past fifteen years. he wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take before he was too broken beyond repair.

at some point, he pulled off to the side of the road ( most likely about ten miles outside of town ). his tears were blurring his vision, making it too difficult to see the road in front of him. balled fists pounded against the steering wheel and sobs racked theo’s shoulders for hours, it felt like. he was so sad, so frustrated, with everything the universe kept throwing at him. he had been so young when he lost his mother, at an age when the trauma of losing the only family you had ever known was internalized because even the child psychologists believed it hadn’t affected his young brain at the time. but the trauma came later. 

it came when he found himself crying over a pathetic family tree in the sixth grade, where all he could include was himself, sofia, miles, brandon, and delilah. he was encouraged to include the rest of the hollis family, but it didn’t feel right. they weren’t his family.

it came when theo watched ezra cope with the death of his own mother, realizing that there were so many stages of grief that he had never gone through himself. when he’d sneak into ezra’s room in the middle of the night just to hold him and tell him it was okay, he’d let his own grief-filled tears stain pillowcases -- not only for ezra’s mother, but for his own.

it came when he’d woken up next to a prominent editor with only blurry memories to piece together what had happened. the first thought that came to mind was his mother. what would she think of him, waking up next to someone who’d so clearly taken advantage of him and would continue to do so for years?

it came during his first therapy session in new york, when he was asked about his family health history -- unknown. he couldn’t tell his therapist whether or not his mother had battled depression or if his father was medicated for anxiety because he just didn’t know. he would never know the answer to those questions.

and it was coming now, the underlying trauma rooted in the premature death of his mother shaking him to his core as he tried to grapple with the fact that delilah had been diagnosed with breast cancer. it was almost two hours of an uninterrupted anxiety attack before theo was able to pull himself together and drive home.

unbeknownst to him at the time, he would spend the next few days hidden away in his room, unable to fully bring himself to the level of functioning that he’d managed to adhere to since coming back home. his phone would lay abandoned on his night stand, with the occasional buzz of the group chat. he’d respond every now and then, ensuring no one had any reason to worry -- even send out individual texts to cj and august, explaining away his absence in the past few days. emails about his potential book contract would pile up in his inbox, wondering where the first few poem drafts were and why he hadn’t submitted them by the deadline the day before. the pages full of potential poems he could send to his editor lay abandoned on his desk next to his laptop, where the deferral form glared at him in bright led light. calls from new york would go unanswered, voicemails filling his phone, each one angrier than the last, wondering why he wasn’t responding and threatening to pull the plug on his career that was so deeply rooted in circumstances theo could hardly think about.

in the first few days of his reclusiveness, delilah tried to talk to theo, about her diagnosis, about how it didn’t mean the worst for her, about the options she had to beat it. but theo would just lay in bed, his back to her, not responding. to acknowledge the fact that delilah was sick was to acknowledge that he could lose her. and he couldn’t lose another mom, the emotional toll would be too much.

every so often there would be a knock on theo’s door and he knew right away that it was miles. each knock would be followed up with a text from his brother, never anything that would be classified as substantial to anyone outside of the two boys, but it meant a lot to theo. it was his older brother letting him know that he was there for him, the simple texts and mugs of tea left outside his door. every time he was reminded of the fact that he wasn’t going through any of this alone, that his feelings probably weren’t unique to just him. delilah was miles’s mom too, even more so than she was theo’s. and if things were this bad for him, he could only imagine what miles was going through. it seemed like neither of them could escape the weight of the world around them, no matter how hard they tried to shove it off.

the fighting in the group chat had been the last straw for theo. he couldn’t bear to watch all of his friends, people he loved, constantly bicker all the time because of stupid shit when there were more important things going on. so he’d left the group chat, the one he created with the hopes of creating a feeling of nostalgia for his friends -- though it only seemed to bring negative feelings for everyone, including himself.

that night, theo sat down at his laptop and finished filling out the deferral form. with one click of the touch pad, the email was sent and he just had to wait for approval before he would text one of his friends in the city that he would need them to water his plants for a few more months.

on the line that asked for the reason for the deferral request, theo wrote simply: wanting to spend more time with the people he loved.

[sapphicunicorn]

Year One: DNF

DNF at chapter fourteen. Back to the library!

This was my first, and possibly only, Nora Roberts. I just didn’t get it? And the writing style wasn’t my thing. There was a lot of repetition, like, the characters literally repeat what they just said. Literally repeat what they just said.

The characters weren’t interesting. The only two I liked were Arlys and Fred, and after skipping ahead, I saw they disappear later in the book and we continue to follow Lana. Boring, boring Lana. And there’s all this talk of The One and a random wizard straight out of a fantasy novel appears to lay down prophecy and I just… didn’t get it??? But the atmosphere was cool. The silence, the doom, the barbaric nature of men in a crisis. Yeah, it was depressing and I struggled to get through the chapters Arlys and Fred were in the subway tunnels. So for being a doomsday novel, the atmosphere was spot on.

State of Wonder: DNF

DNF around page 200-something. Back to the library, babe. I found the idea of the book intriguing, especially about big pharma business, but it doesn’t truly play into anything. It takes at least 200 pages for Marina to even get to the Amazon. The poor girl was in her forties, had enough life experiences that were glanced over, so you might think that she was compelling and complex and fleshed out as our main character. Nope. Marina was flat. The surrounding characters, especially two people who were described as bohemians and were supposed to be fun and quirky, were flat. The writing was flat. The pace was glacial. Flipping through the book, nothing changes. What should be exciting and overwhelming is described as drab and gray as a rain cloud. There are, I think, six pages of a hypothetical conversation that goes in circles. Marina never pops out as a real character, her entire purpose of going to the Amazon is pushed aside and forgotten. The ending was beyond dumb. I’ve been wanting to read The Magician’s Assistant for a long time and haven’t been able to find a Patchett book until now, but after State of Wonder, I’m not sure I actually want to read it now…

The Silent Patient: DNF

DNF at page 65. I couldn’t get into it. I couldn’t take Theo’s ego anymore, or the filler conversations that added no depth to characters. Or the way women were portrayed. I understand his ego plays into the story later on but wow. Just wow. The book mentions film rights, and I’m assuming it was written as a screenplay first and then turned into a novel.

Skimming ahead, the characters are wooden and women are overly sexualized beasts. Don’t get me wrong; I love women who embrace their need for satisfaction. We’re humans, too. But sex plays into betrayal, and just about every mention is either a bargaining chip or cheating in a relationship. Ew.

The twist is decent, not groundbreaking, but decent. Again, it plays into Theo’s massive ego. I’m just not sure it’s a good enough pay off for me to suffer through the whole thing. There were two (two and a half, three?) pages of text wall where Theo describes his dependency on marijuana. In college. Far in the past. Like, I get it. You had problems in your family and used drugs to escape. Do I need long walls of text of every tiny detail, including your own therapy sessions? No, I can figure out context clues.

Anyway, this thing is going back to the library. And maybe it’s just my version. The version my library has is an ARC. Maybe the full release was touched up?

Wish You Were Here: 2 ½ stars

Another day, another chick lit. Another book where the heroine doesn’t realize her worth until a man teaches her. The pace was break-neck, the writing wasn’t anything special. For a book that’s supposed to be emotional, there was a huge disconnect because none of the characters really felt anything. We were just told there was a lot of crying or smiling or squinting. But I guess the message was sweet?

The Royal Runaway: 2 ½ stars

I didn’t really feel one way or another about this book. There was no chemistry between Nick and Thea; neither one really had a personality, just a few traits. The plot was… silly? It started out as a legitimate mystery but didn’t last. The writing wasn’t anything special; Thea didn’t have a voice, didn’t explain herself or her surroundings. Everything was flat but it made for a quick, easy read.

The Face of Deception: 3 stars

There was always a trend of "one of the guys" women in cop thrillers during the 90s, and this book was no different. Except. Except it was kind of different. Eve isn't part of a police crew, she doesn't rub elbows with the FBI, doesn't carry a gun. She has more humanity than the other women I've read in this genre, and she's still recovering from the trauma of losing her child to a murderer. She's not a fan of violence. She's desperate to protect others, but she knows she doesn't need a gun to do it. Her weakness and vulnerability was a breath of fresh air compared to other women in her genre.

Sisters of Heart and Snow: 3 stars

What a genuinely cozy read! As much as I hate chick lit, I found myself gobbling this one up. The sisters kind of bored me, but Tomoe’s story kept me reading. And reading. And reading. And surprisingly, even though it’s chick lit, not everything was wrapped up in a neat little bow. Not every problem can be fixed.

Nearly Gone: 3 stars

Wait, a YA book that I actually liked??? The plot was enough to carry the book that the “supernatural” element of Nearly being able to feel emotions was pointless. Were there cliches? Sure. But I got duped! A YA that actually tricked me! I kinda have to like it. Oh, and the writing was nice; Nearly wasn’t a thirty year old narrator stuck in high school. But on the opposite side of the spectrum, Nearly really needs to get a life outside of her new boyfriend. Once again a high school heroine who throws her friends aside for the boyfriend.

[theabominableblogger]

My Reaction to “Gotham” S2E19

Yep.  Told ya I’d get this one up.

AN:  I managed to record my reactions to this episode and hopefully I can transcribe what I said into this post.

Whoa....

What the....

“Has there been any improvement since he [Theo] woke up yesterday?”  “No.  But he's wonderful, isn't he?“  I... I wouldn’t say that...

“The Will and Order of St. Dumas.”  What?

*Jim stops by Arkham*  Oh SNAAAAAPPP!

“Pinewood Farms was started by Thomas Wayne in an attempt to cure humanity's greatest ailments on the genetic level old age, disease, even death.”  “But that's not what happened, is it?“  *snaps sassy Z-line in the air*  No it ain’t!

“Karen said the program tried to play God, and you [Hugo] ended up creating monsters.”  “I was just a researcher with no knowledge of that until it was too late.“  Uhh, ha ha, no.

“I’m [Jim] not here for a therapy session, Professor.”  Thank you.

“No.  It’s more like an interrogation by a man who is no longer a police officer.”  Ohh!

“[Jim] You're trying to make up for the sins of your past, and you believe that this case will somehow bring about your own personal redemption.”  *grimaces*

“Victor Fries is dead, Mr. Gordon.”  Well that is a lie.

“Really?  I saw him last night.”  Thank you!

“I [JIm] can read tells, too.  [Hugo] You’re lying.”  *claps and points at screen*  Yeeess!

Oh there it is!  There’s the theme!

*Ed explains to Aaron that the other inmate’s personality is not him via pretending to scold the air AKA “Lucy”*  OK, this is actually not a bad way to diffuse the situation.

Look at Ed being the negotiator when it comes to situations in Arkham! 

*claps*

“Go to hell, Ed.”  Thank you!

“Nobody beats me.”  Really?

“I [Jim] did.  See you never, Ed.”  Hahahaha!

There’s the Jim Gordon I know!

“What has no hands but might knock on your door, and you better open up if it does?“  Fate?

“I [Ed] can help you [Hugo] take him [Jim] down.“  You better not!

*One of the inmates tries to lick Ed*  EEEWWW!!

*Ed explains to Hugo how he manipulated the other inmates by simply listening to them and what they want*  Holy crap, Ed!

This is the Riddler!

“Everyone has a story...”  Azrael?

Ed, what did you do?

“We have got to give him [Theo] a great, heroic story.”  “We need to give him a good heroic dose of Thorazine, but you're [Hugo] the boss.“  ...Yes.

Uhhh.... is this a good idea??

“Hello?”  *in best Hugo Strange voice*  It’s me.

WHOA

“Don’t you [Theo] feel a father’s love when I [Hugo] look into your eyes?” *in high pitched voice* NOT REALLY!

“No. No. There is another life. There is a sister, a high tower-”  *puts hands on head in shock*  Ohhh, he [Theo] remembers Tabitha!

Whoaaa ho ho hoooo... oh my gosshhh...

“This man [Hugo] ordered my parents' death?  You're sure?“  Why would Hugo Strange order the deaths of Thomas and Martha Wayne?

“Bruce, I [Jim] know you're frustrated, but we need to do this the right way.”  “The right way? And how many times did that fail with Galavan?“  HOOO!!

“We'll work on Barnes, get him to sign off on a warrant and put Strange away for good.  The right way.“  Where are they gonna put Strange if they do arrest him?  Blackgate?  Probably not Arkham.

Is this immersion therapy [the St. Dumas video Strange is showing Azrael]?

AN:  The video actually reminded me of the conversion video from the video game “Outlast” (and no, I’m putting a link of that video in because it is also a trigger video from a disturbing game- a game that I’ve only seen gameplays for and don’t actually plan on playing anytime soon).

“This Dumas character was made a saint, performed a lot of miracles and so forth. And one of the miracles was bringing Azrael back to life.”  “I [Miss Peabody] still prefer Thorazine.“  Heeheehee!

What the heck did they do to Theo’s face?  Was that from when they re-stitched his face back together after removing the umbrella from the back of his head??

*Ed watches Miss Peabody take Aaron down to Indian Hill*  Oooohhh...

Oh my God, is this gonna be how Ed escapes?  Please do not follow them!

Yeah, where are they taking Aaron?

Waaait, they’re taking him to Azrael!  Oooohhhh...

Oh I like that shot of Ed with the rose-tinted windows behind him.

*Aaron meets Azrael*  Oh.  Snaaaappp...

“I [Hugo] am crafting your [Azrael’s] armor as we speak, but first, your skills must be tested.“  NOOO, he’s gonna kill Aaron!!

*gasps when Azrael knocks out Aaron with the briefcase*

“Not exactly what I had in mind, but good enough.  Try opening the chest, my son.“  Hahahaha...

[It’s like in “Hercules”]  “USE YOUR HEAD!”  “Riightt...”

Hahaha, this is exactly what happened!

“The Sword of Sin.  Your [Azrael’s] ally and instrument of justice, a vanquisher of evil for generations.  She thirsts for blood.”  How’d they get a sword?

“My lord, I [Azrael] am the Angel of Death.  James Gordon dies... tonight.”  Hooo!

Why would they [the GCPD] let the press anywhere near the crime scene?  That is way too close!

Where is the tape?  Where is the line?

“Listen, kid- Mr. Wayne- I [Barnes] don't care how much money or pull you have in this town.  I'm through talking to him [Jim].”  “Are you through listening to the truth?“  Whooo...

“What are you [Ed] gonna do with all this stuff, anyway?”  That’s a good question...

“I think Professor Strange is hiding something.  And I think that something is a secret way out of this dump.  So I'm gonna use this stuff to find it.“  This is totally like Jim Carrey-level Riddler right here... and I like this better than the actual Jim Carrey Riddler!

I like the Riddler better than Ed.  What’s goin’ ON?!?

“[JIm] You self-righteous punk.  You think you have all the answers?  Maybe you should run it yourself!”  “Maybe I will one day.“  HE DOES!

*softly gasps when the precinct lights go out*

“Who’s there?”  OH SNAP!

Here’s my question:  how did Hugo Strange get all the armor for Azrael?

If this armor’s bulletproof, I swear to God...

WHOA!

Grab his [Azrael’s] cape!

*Azrael leaps out of the precinct*  Whoa...

Masked man in a cape- Bruce, do not take any ideas from this for Batman!

“Calls himself Azrael.  Wants to kill me [Jim].  We know Hugo Strange is responsible.“  Do you?

“Excuse me, Captain.  I [Bruce] find your flippant attitude to be inappropriate.“  Hoo hoo hooo!

“I [Jim] can't make the moves I need to make if I'm worrying about you [Bruce].  You need to be at home, where Alfred can look after you.“  Bruce is like “...no... I’m never liking this.  When has there ever been a situation that I liked?”

Whoa!  Oswald, what the heck happened to you?

*gasps when Azrael gets flashbacks of his past life*

Whoaaa!

“I'm [JIm] not a cop anymore, remember?  I don't need to follow your [Barnes’s] orders.“  No, but you’re a citizen now, technically.

Through the Looking Glass?  We’re getting a sneak peek of Mad Hatter this season?

Dutch angle!

If Azrael tries to storm the GCPD to get Jim, I swear to God..

*The lights go out*  Oh snap, are you freaking kidding me?

Yeah, that’s freaking him [Azrael].  Hooooly crap.

He’s gonna bust through that window-

*Azrael crashes through the window*  Oooohhh!!

Oh he’s [Azrael] gonna do the superhero landing.  Wait for it!

Oh he didn’t- THERE WE GO!

*claps*  WHOO!  Superhero landing!

How do they not recognize Theo’s voice?

*gasps when Azrael butchers one of the cops*

Whoa!

*Barnes knocks Azrael to the ground*  Oh, go Barnes!

“We need a bigger gun.”  *laughing*  Yeah...

You’re gonna have to like nuke him!

Oh yeah, like a freaking pipe [wedged in the door handles] is gonna stop Azrael.  When he can literally punch a hole through the door!

[Barnes] Do not go at freaking Azrael WITH A PIPE.

“Let’s dance.”  *after a five second pause*  Put on your red shoes and dance the blues...  let’s sway!

*gasps when Barnes knocks Azrael to the ground*  Oh snap!

He’s [Barnes] gonna see his [Azrael’s] face!

*gasps when Azrael stabs Barnes in the knee*

NOOOOO!  NOOOO oh my God!

Nooooo!

*Jim comes onto the rooftop*  Ohhh snaaaappp...

This better not the end of the freaking episode.  I’m gonna riot.

“Come to me [Azrael], and I will show you [Jim] the way to hell.”  “I know the way.“  Whoooo....

*Jim manages to shoot Azrael off the rooftop*  OooohhhH!

*gasps when Azrael falls on top of the news van*

Nah, no no no no, Barnes ain’t freaking dying nope!  We’re not doin’ this.

*Tabitha, Butch, and Barbara go through the TV channels*  OH SNAP!  They’re gonna see the TV!

What the heck...

“OK, she [Barbara] scares me [Butch].”  Heeheehee!

“Do we have any limes?”  HAHAHAHA!

Oh my God, Oswald’s gonna go after hiiiimm [Azrael] ...

*counts off with fingers*  Wait, so Jim’s going after him, Hugo Strange is going after him, probably Tabitha’s gonna go after him to... teach him his humanity, Bruce is probably gonna go after him....

“Strange must be behind this.”  He’s always behind this.

“What the hell is happening to our city?”  That’s a very good question, Alfred!  You should ask that every single freaking time!

*trying not to laugh*  What the heck is this music?

*ends up boogie-ing to music while laughing*  This music!

AN:  It’s “I’m Looking Over a Four Leaf Clover” by Mitch Miller

Is Ed gonna encounter Azrael at the end of this episode?  Hoooly snot!

Hiii Indian Hill...

“Oh my.”  Oh my, indeed.

That’s a really good shot of Ed in the middle of the aisle

Oooooh, is this Jim’s leitmotif?

*puts hands around mouth* CGI TRANSITION PANNING SHOT!

*Azrael stands on top of the bridge overlooking the city*  Oh my God... that’s a freaking Batman pose!

*Azrael brings about the end logo by flourishing his cape*  YOOOO!!!

*about ready to lose voice*  That was so much Batman!  Before we even get Batman!  Aaaaahhh ha ha...

*jams out to ending theme*

[usnewsaggregator-blog]

Theo's journey: A transgender child at war with his body

New Post has been published on http://usnewsaggregator.com/theos-journey-a-transgender-child-at-war-with-his-body/

Theo's journey: A transgender child at war with his body

Theo Ramos learned how to cut himself when he was in fifth grade, when his body seemed to revolt.

Exploring online was easy, with hashtags like #scars, #hurt and #brokeninside.

Nothing made sense back then, but Theo absorbed what he saw on websites like a religion. All he could focus on was how the exterior he was born with — that of a girl — didn’t look or feel right. That was six years ago, when he had another name and a different gender.

Back then, Theo felt that his body was rebelling in disturbing ways. He developed breasts and got his period. He felt like a boy, but every month, the cramps reminded him of reality.

He became a child at war with his body. He wasn’t aware of words like gender dysphoria or transgender; those would come later. So would the national debates, the furor over bathrooms, and discussions of how to help children who didn’t feel right in their own skin.

“When you’re 10 years old, you really shouldn’t be worried about who you are,” Theo would say years later, in a moment of reflection. “You shouldn’t be having that existential question when you’re in fifth grade. You should be worried about homework and the fifth-grade dance coming up.”

He knew he was different from other kids in class. One day in the girls’ bathroom at his South Florida elementary school, Theo made the first of many gouges in his arm, using a paperclip. Pricks of blood bloomed on his fair skin. A teacher and a school nurse whisked Theo to safety.

Theo’s mother, Lori Ramos, got the call from the principal. Her child was in the hospital. Ramos burst into the ER: Was it a fall, a fight, a shooting?

“What’s going on here?” Ramos demanded of doctors and school staff. The answers were confusing: Her child had asked a teacher to call her by a different name, use different pronouns. Her child didn’t feel normal and wanted to be a boy.

Ramos was bewildered — she saw no prior clues her child felt this way. And she was no stranger to transgender, gay, lesbian and bisexual issues — she worked in a clinic for HIV patients.

When she’d given birth in 2001, in a hot tub on the family’s back porch in a Florida suburb an hour south of glitzy Miami Beach, she was thrilled. “I had my older son, and I had my girl, and my family was complete,” Ramos said.

Her baby. Her “sunshine girl.” One who was no longer filled with light.

Theo was involuntarily committed for 72 hours so doctors could determine whether he was a danger to himself or others. Soon, therapists and doctors had a diagnosis: gender dysphoria, a conflict between a person’s physical or assigned gender and the gender with which they identify.

But a diagnosis didn’t solve Theo’s problems or make him feel better. When he tried to look like a boy, everyone at school noticed. His mother was accepting; his father wasn’t. He threatened to disown Theo.

Theo again turned to the internet. He started cutting around his thighs and hips — his “problem areas.”

When Theo saw thin kids online, he looked at his own baby fat and, once again, didn’t fit in. He wouldn’t eat for days, or he’d force himself to throw up.

Cutting and vomiting weren’t painful, not exactly. They were more of a stress release, a way to match physical pain to what he felt inside: “I just know that it isn’t right, that the body I have isn’t supposed to be this way.”

Small aggressions at school led to outright bullying. Other kids asked what was in Theo’s pants, if he had a penis, if he could show them. Theo started missing school. A therapist diagnosed depression and anxiety disorder.

If only Theo could become a boy through hormone therapy — that, he thought, would solve his problems.

“It’s just like every time I’m misgendered it feels like a wrench clamping around my heart and it slowly grows tighter and tighter,” he explained. “Being addressed as female or identifying as female never felt right to me; it always gave me this acute sense of discomfort and pain.”

Hormone therapy for transgender children is a recent, controversial practice. It hasn’t been studied much. The concept that children can be transgender has been discussed in the open only recently; previously, it was something to be hidden, squashed and ignored. About 150,000 teenagers in the U.S. identify as transgender, according to a 2017 study by the Williams Institute at UCLA’s School of Law. About 1.4 million U.S. adults identify as transgender.

Medical professionals have come up with protocols for children and teens. They recommend that some kids with gender dysphoria essentially pause puberty with hormone blockers until they’re certain they want to live as a different gender. But the child must be prepubescent. It was too late when Theo and his parents learned about the option.

Theo could take testosterone, but rigorous counseling sessions were recommended first. This annoyed Theo: Why not become a boy right away?

Experts say impatience is common: Transgender children want to transition, and waiting is frustrating. Even under regular circumstances, teens and patience aren’t usually mentioned in the same sentence.

Doctors say going slow when treating trans teens is essential for physical and emotional well-being, and note that if a teen’s feelings last until age 16, the desires are probably permanent.

Theo insisted testosterone could bring peace with his body: “If I could just start T therapy, I would know I was on the way to being who I’m supposed to be.”

His parents, though, worried about the effects on their growing child.

Theo wanted testosterone, but his anxiety sometimes made him question his desires. It became a regular topic of conversation between mother and son.

“I’m nervous,” Theo said in the spring of 2016. He was 14. “What if I do change my mind?”

“Well, what if you do?” asked his mother.

“I can always stop,” Theo said.

Ramos shook her head. “The changes are permanent.”

———

EDITOR’S NOTE: The Associated Press followed Theo Ramos for more than a year as he grappled with his gender dysphoria. This is the first installment of a three-part story.

PART ONE: As a child grappling with gender dysphoria, Theo Ramos found himself at war with his body.

PART TWO: Living with a transitioning transgender child “is anything but a straight line,” as his mom says.

PART THREE: Visibility of transgender issues is at a high, but all the talk in the world doesn’t make life any easier as a gender-fluid or transitioning kid.

———

Follow Tamara Lush on Twitter at https://twitter.com/tamaralush .

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