#and i remember my therapist (in one of the few sessions i had) asked me if i was suicidal and i was like

[your--isgayrights]

Outside of Lee Seolhwa and Lee Sookyung, do you have plans for any other character outside of Kim Dokja’s primary companions (like Gong Pildu or Han Doonghoon) for your soulmate fanfiction? Constellations like Persephone or Uriel or Sun Wukong probably wouldn’t make sense to exist in real life but maybe characters such as Han Myungoh/Han Dareum or Jang Hayoung could fit? If I recall correctly, Jang Hayoung in particular is the one responsible for the title of the fanfiction, right? I feel like she alongside the Unidentifiable Wall and the Fourth Wall would be so thematically appropriate but I couldn’t imagine how you would do it if at all. I also want to say that I’m impressed how you managed to seamlessly incorporate so many references to the original ORV into your work. It must have required you to reread and recheck the wiki.

Yess, I'm glad you asked this anon bc literally I just threw in a little reference to Han Doonghoon and Lee Sungkook in the 4.4 update and got worried people would think they had to remember the characters well to understand the surrounding plot point better than Kim Dokja does. But I think I should trust the reader a bit more lol.

Unfortunately my inclusion of Aileen and Jang Hayoung isn't going to be as big as the other kdjco members, but they're sort of already set up in the fic and have a role in chap 5. I think JHY doesn't appear directly bc to me the relationship between her and KDJ is harder to make 'real,' though I have some ideas depending on how much I decide to include in chap 5. In my plans 5 will have a gaming tourney featured, so other big 'wos players' may be referenced further there as well.

Of course like you mention the fic title and many of the chapter titles are coming directly from the mouth of Jang Hayoung, so in that way she is constantly being referenced, haha.

Han Myungoh and his daughter are referenced earlier in Chapter 4. It's sort of a drive by.

I do make use of the wiki (bless the editorsn🙏), though mostly just to check dates, numbers, and spellings of names. I like to think of myself as someone with a pretty decent memory tho, so a lot of the more specific story references are definitely just me pulling in stuff I remember from my novel read throughs. Like I might have to look at the wiki to remember Han Dareum's name, but I'll never forget Han Myungoh's entire Male Pregnancy that he had like that was a crazy random W to me on my first ORV read through I was like hello??? Also that being around when JHY was being confirmed trans haha. I think I was only out for like a year or so before reading orv so the little gender fucky moments really stuck out to me.

Sometimes rereading my old work I also remember things I forgot happened in ORV. I think part of the reason I'm struggling so much with chap 4 and onward is that now that the wall fic characters have sort of developed to where they are some of the scenes I had in mind are less 1 to 1 with the OG. For instance, I'm trying to rewrite a scene I have of YJH and KDJ having a rooftop chat that like parallels the one back before the seoul's strongest incarnation arc in the novel, but it's a bit difficult. At first I wanted to include a lot more of KDJ interacting with the rest of YJH's team, but the rooftop Scene makes more sense to put a cap on the themes explored in chap 4. But when I first wrote this scene it was less specifically addressing that theme, because it was in the outline of like right after I wrote chapter 1, so it was kind of just the OG ORV scene with the flavoring of my AU on top. A lot of the little things they do and say in the OG novel would have to be quite finagled to fit anymore, so reworking it is the big task rn.

Anyway I'm really appreciative of people like you who take note of these small details <3. it's kind of helping me remember and appreciate a lot of the parts of me that were behind a lot of Wall fic originally if that makes sense? I am like reintroducing myself to him and giving him a hug instead of running away cringing just because it's me lol.

[dawnwriterimagines]

The Guilty Plea

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x FEM!READER TASK FORCE 141 x FEM!READER

Traitors Among Us (Part 1) and Innocents Among You (Part 2)

Verdict Due (Part 4)

Summary: As you're discharged from the infirmary, under watchful eye, you head to Laswell to talk on the rest of your now ruined military career. Of course, you're forced to confront your team as it happens, the last people on earth you'd like to see.

If you liked this would you Buy me a Coffee?

---

Running your fingers along the raised, pink scar across you cheek, the feeling of it...it really looked terrible. A part of you thought it would disappear, hoped it would, but it didn't. It just became severely more noticeable. Looking at this, you knew you'd always have to think of it. You'd sport this reminder for the rest of your life.

Looking away from it, you find your own tired eyes in the mirror, you haven't been sleeping well. Or at all. You can't remember the last time you got 4 hours, let alone 8. Dark circles still surrounded them but at least the bruising and the swelling had gone down.

You couldn't recognize yourself. Not really.

This woman looked so exhausted, so frail and so goddamn angry. It was accurate, it was how you felt. All of it. So, you supposed that the mirror's reflection was the truth, this was you indeed.

"If you need another day or two, no one will ask questions."

You glance over towards your psychologist, your fucking therapist, a nice little 'gift' sent over by the bureau to check in on your mental state after your ordeal. Glaring at him through the reflection of your mirror, he sighs, putting down his pen that slaps against his notepad, "I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

"I'm going to Laswell." Ignoring his statement, you speak. "I'm ready. I'll pack up. Get back to base. Vera had me discharged from the infirmary. I can start ov--"

"Vera?"

"My nurse. You met her," you continued, annoyance spiking at the interruption. Your wrist brace squeaking quietly under the pressure of your fist tightening beneath the table.

"Right..."

"Do you listen to a word I say outside of...my 'trauma'?" You wonder, bluntly.

Your psychologist blinks, surprised, before clearing his throat, appalled. "If you feel I can be more attentive to your state of well-being throughout our process, than by all means--"

"Oh, so 'no'?" you lean back into your seat, a strained laugh leaving you. His lips press together and you continue before he can find the words. "Because whenever I mention leaving this fucking team, you either adjust our schedule for another two weeks or suggest hypnotic therapy, as if I need anyone else digging around to fuck up my mental state."

"I never meant to imply--"

"Oh, you implied it," you interrupted, gritting your teeth. "I know what I want. And I want off Task Force 141."

He taps at the leather of his notebook. "Scars heal, just remember that, Ms. (L/n). The reminders of your experience shouldn't have to haunt you."

"It's not the scars, I've had my share way before this," you admitted, rising to your feet. You exhale deeply that tells to the effort of it, the steel gear hinges along your leg braces shift with your change of position. Still getting use to them. "It's the person."

"Has she changed, you think?" the psychologist begins to write, getting somewhere.

"She doesn't exist anymore."

Finally, placing the mirror down and onto the side table, you pushed off of the table, rolling your IV pole along with you. Passing the chair your psychologist sits on, he closes his notebook with a frustrated huff, looking over his shoulder. "Session over for you already, Ms. (L/n)?" he sighs. "We've still got the hour."

"I'm done," you take the knob in your hand. Turning.

In more ways than one.

"You understand that, informing your captain on your leave is required of you. Have you spoken to any of them, in the last few weeks?" he spoke up, quickly. "I'm sure giving them a space to open up, share from their view--"

"Why should I care--"

"--will give you better understanding, better clarity of the situation they were in--

Appalled. "What the fuck?" Jamming the door closed with a loud, shuttering thud, you whip around. "IT'S NOT ABOUT THEM!" you could just rip your hair out. "Who--who says that to someone?!"

Your psychologist sits there, eyes wide in confusion. "What--"

"Christ, can you hear me? Can you--can you see me? I've got metal plates in my spine, braces holding my knees in place and nerve damage that'll never heal! Who gives a fuck about them!" your skin feels red hot, your face twisted in rage. "I gave my life! My life to this! And then I'm tortured, I'm threatened, drugged and beaten by my own team, my f--my family for eight fucking years..."

You continue with a heavy chest. "And I'm supposed to invite them for dinner to talk and listen them bitch and moan about why they thought it was necessary to beat me to death for two weeks?! Fuck you!" you spat. "I don't owe them anything!"

"That's not what I was trying to say, Ms. (L/N). I apologize, I overstepped. Come sit down--"

"Of course you meant it," you interrupted, mock humor. "Don't be a pussy, own up to it. Revel in your truth. Be tter yet--" you snatch a journal from the cabinet. Tossing it his way. "Make a note of it."

Turning the knob, you leave the room with a slam of the metal door.

---

You were officially famous. On the base, you were now a legend.

A story that would be mentioned and told at lunch for months. Probably years.

First, you were a rat. Next, you were innocent. This was the most gossip any of those in service had ever seen in their years of service.

An interesting reminder to those in service that you weren't safe off duty either.

You learned a few days ago that there was an update put into the interrogational unit, something about how to properly go about dissecting evidence and being on the lookout for enemy spies in the militia.

You guessed you had been told about it in an effort to be appeased by the thought that the head of control paid attention to anything beyond their own noses for once. But, you had little to no faith in a system that's nearly killed you on and off the field by now, so it didn't matter.

You doubted the new rules would be followed though, there was a plethora of things they'd done to you in that cell that were both illegal and unsanctioned. Most of all, that were expected towards an enemy, a prisoner of war at best, and not a fellow marine.

You arrive at the housing quarters, swiping your key card, pulling the handle and entering the wing. Immediately, you're greeted by a dozen eyes, conversations stopping short and clothes ruffling to silence, suddenly whispers fill the space and eyes turn away.

"Oh, god, it's her..." says one man in the far corner.

"Shut the fuck up, man!" came a harsh whisper back.

"I didn't know it was that bad..."

All those eyes on you, makes you pause in your step, looking around at all of your fellow soldiers, the men and women you've served with for years. Many you recognized, ate with, fought beside that turned their backs to you now. Out of respect? Out of distaste, morale, nerves, pity, it all didn't matter. It all felt the same.

The wheels attached to your IV pole suddenly sounded much too loud on the polished flooring, as you walked down the hall as fast as you were able to.

Breathing out deeply, you get to an elevator, pushing on the button, once, twice, three times, just open goddamn it.

With a ding, the metal doors open, and suddenly you're aware that people could be in the elevator, they could be in this elevator, he could be in this elevator. Your eyes flicker down to the floor, your grip on the pole of your iv tightens, your shoulders stiffen, waiting for a blow that will never come.

You stand there as the doors open up, the small space empty, the metal walls reflect only her and a streak of lighting from the ceiling.

Looking up slowly, finally taking a breath, before sliding the iv up and onto the elevator, following it as you press your floor number along the way.

The ride up is fast, a little rumble as it stops, and then the doors open. Faster than you were prepared for.

Peeking out down the hallway, luckily no one to bump into, which you were thankful for. But, it didn't make this hall any less haunting. You'd been cornered in this same hall, you could recall being hauled out of the room after the solid handle of a knife hits your temple.

You don't go down fast enough, whipping around as you stumble to take the wrist of your attacker, mostly for balance, it's Price. In shock, you're unprepared as Johnny's arm encircle your neck, locking you into position as you both stumble backwards onto the floor. He blocks your airways, hushing you harshly as you struggle, feet kicking out and your vision blurring as your team surrounds you. Your family.

That was quite the headache to wakeup with afterwards.

You hadn't quite remembered until now. Being back served as a hell of a kickstart to your memory.

Just a few more reasons to get the fuck off of 141.

Getting off the elevators, the metal doors sliding closed behind you, you make your way down the hall. The polished flooring creates a subtle squeak through the wheels of your iv pole, your hand absently running over the fading stitches along your side.

Passing the shadows of your tortured memory, the doorway of the office was closed, locked.

You pass Kyle's room.

Johnny's.

Finally, you rush up to the next room on the left, grabbing the handle, before beginning to twist, but then you're yanking your hand back as if the metal had burned you. Your back ramming into the back wall, catching yourself, this wasn't your room.

It was Simon's.

You'd spent hours, days, in that room. More than your own.

Why wouldn't you? You were about to get married to the man. You had more in this room than you had in yours.

Sharp breaths leave you, shivering in your effort to keep yourself together, your head goes back into the wall, swallowing down the ache in your chest.

You wait, muscles tensed and your body pressing back into the wall, hoping it'd absorb you if that door opens. Listening for every sound, any pin drop, even an exhale from beyond that doorway. Luckily, Simon seemed to be out for the day.

Hurriedly, nearly running, you steady yourself against the wall as you rush down to the corner of the hallway, finally finding your room.

Turning the handle, it's not locked, it's broken. It opens with ease.

Entering the room slowly, pushing the doorway aside, the crackle of glass beneath your boots as you step forwards, clothes and picture frames laying scattered.

The mattress flipped and ripped open, springs and cotton cut from it. Your wall of metals and certificates, from acts of bravery and mementos of valor, discarded, later you'd find them in the trash, one with a bullet lodged into the gold.

Sniffling as you leaned down, picking a specific frame off the ground, the only one that hadn't been broken. Laying along the ruined rug, with no care for the glass digging through your jeans, you stare at the still shot of your family.

The only family you had outside of Task Force 141, your father and his sister, military brats themselves, until their retirement. Your mother had passed, or just up and left, days after your 5th birthday, you weren't completely sure, the story kept changing every year. But, these two were the only family you've ever known, ever had, until you joined the military, following in their footsteps.

They'd been so proud when you arrived back after your first assignment, in truth you were heavily traumatized, but seeing them, you just had to smile. Having a family that understood the harsh toll on the line of a trooper, now a lieutenant, it was always easier to bring your troubles to them. But, they were also military nuts so "suck it up" was also a quick go to answer from your aunt, while your father was the smoother talker.

They had met Simon, loved him, his rank, his love for you, his seriousness. They trusted him completely with your heart.

So, when he called them, after the evidence leaked...

They believed him.

"What're you talking about?" You took the handle of the chair in your grip, easing you down into it as your legs do weak at what you were hearing. "I didn't...I didn't do it, Dad."

"Do you know how humiliating and disappointing--how it felt to hear him say that to me, hm?" he says, static crackles on the reciever. "My daughter...my own flesh and blood...working with terrorists--"

"I'm not working with anyone! Are you-" you huff out a breath of disbelief. "Are you even listening to me? I've never betrayed the code. How can you think that way of me?"

For a moment, he's silent. "Alright, then," he began. "Than, what'd you do? huh?"

"What--what..."

"Oh, come on, (Y/n)!" your father yells. "What did you do?! What could they possibly have had on you that made you the most likely target? You had to have had done something, been somewhere, were with somebody you weren't supposed to be with! They didn't just get that information from anywhere."

"What the fuck--" Your expression twists with frustration and misery, running your hand through your hair, pulling at it. "I've sacrificed every part of myself for this job, for this team, what do I have to gain from throwing that all away? They send me everywhere, places you've never heard of, places you'll never hear about and people you'll never have to meet, because of me! Why would you just believe Simon? Why couldn't you just wait to talk to me?!"

Hearing your father scoff at your words was painful. "What reason do I have not to believe him? He knows you, maybe even better than any of us. Besides, he was going to be my son in law--"

"I'm your daughter! Fuck Simon, what about me? You'd believe him instead?"

He sighs. "Listen, you're upsetting Cass. We didn't expect your call. I gotta make this brief..."

"You're upset?" pulling at your hair, sucking in sharply. "I'm the one who's permanently fucking altered here. What do either of you have to be upset about?!"

"Watch your fucking mouth!" he seethes. The anger in his voice isn't new, but the way he spits it at you is. "You did this to yourself, I didn't. Maybe that's what your nightmares were about, am I right? Your guilt?"

Wiping the streaks of tears that had fallen down your face, lips quivering and chest aching with sobs you frustratedly shoved down. "Why don't you believe me?"

"I don't deserve the disgrace that will come with you as my kin, I've lived my part of this war. No daughter of mine should even be in this fucking position," your father spat, disgusted into the receiver. Suddenly, he was the cruel, bitter old man your mother had always known him to be, you wished she had stayed to at least remind you of that. Maybe it wouldn't have hurt as much. "You should be ashamed of yourself, but at least you got yourself out it. The least you could do for us."

"Well--what does that mean?" you spoke, quietly.

"Don't call again..."

"Dad, no--" you break this time, a sob escaping you.

"Me and your Aunt Cass..."

"Daddy please, don't do this--"

"..We've decided to cut ties. We're not taking any heat from this, you're on your own," he finishes, clearing his throat, waiting a moment, listening to the pleads and cries of his only daughter, his once pride. "You take care of yourself. Goodbye, kid."

"Why can't you just believe me? Why?!" you cried.

"Don't come to the house."

"No, no,--" the line goes dead. And staring down at your phone, his caller id going blank and the call disconnecting.

Your phone all of a sudden feels heavy, the device and your hand falling down to your thigh, before the phone slips out of your grip and onto the floor. You sit there silently, until your tears drop up and even after.

Staring at the photo now was haunting in its own way, it was just another painful reminder.

Using the bed frame to stand to your feet, your grip on the frame is painful as you squeeze it, the glass cracks audibly.

"Bonnie..."

Whipping around at the sound of John MacTavish's voice, you back up a few steps at the sight of him, your back hitting the edge of your desk.

He reaches out as you stumble, before his fingers curl back into his palm as you find your balance, his hands receding back to his sides. He doesn't enter the room, just lingering just beyond the doorway, his eyes flickering around the room, guiltily.

"I didn't know--we didn't know you were out," he speaks quietly, as opposed prideful personality that translated into his voice usually.

You say nothing.

In the dark, your eyes are wide and your shoulders are tensed up, he can see the glint of your leg braces, the iv pole at the side, the scar beneath your eye. You looked terrified to see him.

"We were coming back to clean up today, just got back from...from a mission..." he stutters on his words, shifting his feet.

"It's been a week."

His lips press together hearing your voice. "I know..." Johnny glances around at the room he'd let those officers destroy, it hadn't been them, but they might as well had done it. "I know...we just...didn't know it was so bad."

"Really?" your voice is mockingly sweet, drawing out the word. "You didn't know? Well look..." you hold up your family photo, the light in the hallway catching on the glass. "You missed one."

Your hand dropping, the heavy frame comes down just as fast, ramming into the ground, the glass practically exploding on impact.

Johnny flinches, the photo of your family...He looks back to you, surprised. "Bonnie..."

Snatching the next closest thing from your desk, a ceramic cup. "Oh, wow, can't believe you guys missed this one," you chuck it into the wall. It breaks on impact, the remains scatter along the flipped mattress and onto the floor. "That used to be my favorite mug by the way."

The Scotsman worriedly steps forwards, 'Lass, I'm sorry--"

"FUCK YOU!" you spat, coming into the light. You're sure you look deranged, and you didn't care. You could've wrapped your hands around his throat, killed him right on the floor and you wouldn't have blinked. "It doesn't mean anything! 'I'm sorry', 'I'm sorry', 'I'm sorry', over and over and over again! As if you shouldn't be! Your apologies mean fuck all."

"I know...I know," he breathes. "But, I've gotta say it anyway, bonnie. I should've believed you, there was no reason not to. I know that now. I just--"

"Believe me!" you cut him off with a yell. "Trust me! Fucking 'HELP ME'!" you screamed with the same fever as your days in the interrogation room, that terrible cell, the cold, the burn and pain. "I cried it all to you, to all of you, and nobody came. Nobody came for me," you breathe in sharply. "It doesn't matter what you should've done. You didn't do it!"

Johnny's eyes are red, he opens his mouth, closes it and then swallows down whatever chokes him up as he looks at you. "I should've came for you. I wish I did. I wanted to, Bonnie..." he steps forwards, and you recede back away from him, your eyes narrowed with violence. "I'll never forgive myself for not listening to you. For not coming to help you. For laying a hand on you. I'm so sorry, (Y/n). I'm sorry..."

I'll never forgive myself... "That makes two of us," you assured.

Johnny's eyes widen, before they close, his guilt ever consuming. He can't help but understand, to respect your decision, to know things can never be ok again. "(Y/n)...."

Grabbing hold of the nearest thing, a pencil cup, you hurl it at Johnny. He doesn't put his hands up, flinching as it hits him, the metal clinking against his kevlar, eyes closing then opening, he stands still. "I don't forgive. I don't accept your apology. I don't fucking care about it!" with each sentence you throw something else his way, a broken frame, the trash bin, a pillow, the CD player.

His hand has to come up for the knife you unsheathe, a memento from one of your missions, it's rusted, ancient probably. But, you hadn't given it up to a museum or to pawn, you had nearly died on this mission, saving Johnny ironically. You had to keep it.

Seeing the weapon, his defensive position is instinctive but his hands drop just as fast, he understands, you need this. You deserve this. "If you need to..." he speaks. Your eyes flicker up to him, away from the knife. "If you need to, I get it..."

And you need to. You really fucking do.

Your grip on the knife is dangerously hard, it hurts.

Looking at Johnny, he'd been your brother in more than a few ways on and off the field, he had been your comfort, your friend, your family. You had bled with him, held onto him as he carried you from the battlefield, joked, laughed, screamed and cried. You've loved him for years.

He'd had a rough few nights you could see that. He was quieter, reserved. Almost as terrified to see you, as you had been of him.

And you could kill him right now and never bat an eye.

And so, throwing that knife was so fucking easy.

Johnny's eyes close as you do just that, fists clenching and teeth biting down on his tongue to prepare for the pain.

The ancient weapon whiz's through the air, the sound is sharp and he knows it will cut through him like butter.

The thud rings in the room, and Johnny's eyes blow open wide, holding his breath as he collapses to his knees, before turning to you.

You dig into the pile of clothes that had been cast aside, a pair of sneakers and a new shirt. You don't look at him a single time as you take it all, stuffing them in a bag, and leaving the room, passing him completely, a limp in your step.

Johnny releases a pained breath, tears finally leaving him as he looks up, the knife lodged into the frame of the doorway, just barely missing him. The sleeve of his uniform ripped open.

He sits there in the quiet, destroyed room. A testimony to the relationship he's destroyed between you.

Part 4!! OUT NOW

[loverboybrightsideghost]

.

[specialagentlokitty]

Hannibal lector x teen!reader - ensure you’re safe

Hi 👋🏻 Saw you wanted to try to write for Hannibal characters and for me the easiest way to start writing for Hannibal was to write like a therapy session with Hannibal. So thought maybe you could write teen!reader or just regular reader at a therapy session with Hannibal, of course there’s no worries if you don’t write it, just thought it might help you out <3 I will probably request something with Will later as he’s my fave character but can’t come up with anything right now - @panic-in-the-multiverse 💜

TW: mentions of abusive parents

Sitting outside in the waiting room to your new therapists office, you sighed heavily, pulling your headphones back over your head.

You weren’t sure what you wanted to do, a large part of you wanted to just leave, but you had to be there, the officer sitting next to you was there to make sure of that.

But just because you had to be there didn’t mean you had to say anything, or actually take part, you simply just had to attend the session.

You watched as a bit of paper was held out in front of your face, and you sighed, turning your gaze to the man sitting next to you, pulling your headphones back down.

“What?” You snapped.

“Don’t be rude, keep your headphones down, and please try take part.”

“I don’t see why I have to, I didn’t do shit wrong.”

“Well, apparently everybody else sees differently kiddo, so please try.”

You stuck your middle finger up at him, pulling your headphones back over your head to carry on blocking out of the world.

You weren’t paying all that much attention, but you did notice when the officer next to you stood up and you turned your head to look at him in uninterest as he spoke to the man who came out of the office.

Then he turned back to you and pushed your headphones down.

“You’re up kid, I’ll wait out here to take you home but then you’re on your own to make sure you come to these sessions, got it? Twice a week.”

“Get lost Daniels.”

“Alright, but remember no wondering off because we’ll know.”

You just scowled and he grinned a little at you, holding up your bag for you to take as you stood up.

“This is Doctor Hannibal Lector, he’s going to be your new therapist, be polite, respectful, and remember to keep your temper.” Daniels warned.

You said nothing as he left, and you turned to the therapist.

“Hello (Y/N), would you like to come in?”

You set your bag down and sat down back in the chair you were waiting in.

Hannibal smiled slightly, and closing his office door, walking over to sit next to you, sitting forward slightly, clasping his hands together.

He took a moment to study you, how uninterested you were, the fact you wouldn’t even look at him, you were dressed in ripped jeans, well worn trainers, a hoodie.

But it was your face that he was drawn to, the stitches on your eyebrow, a little bit of dried blood just at the side, clearly you had ripped one or two earlier that day. What looked to be a broken nose, split lip, and from the brief glance of your knuckles he had gotten they were bruised and blooded.

He made a few mental notes before he finally spoke first, seeing you weren’t going to initiate a conversation with him.

“Would you like to start by telling me a little bit about yourself?” He asked.

“No.”

“Well, how about we start with why you’re here. Why have you been referred to me (Y/N)?”

“You have my file. You know why.” You grumbled.

“Yes, I am aware this is court mandated therapy. I would like to know why you think you were sentenced to therapy, what are your thoughts about this?”

You didn’t say anything, you just slumped down in the chair, pulling your hood up so he wasn’t able to look at you.

“You have no interest in being here.” He noted.

“Nope.”

“I see, yet you’re staying for what reason? What happens if you walk out of those doors before our session has ended?”

You didn’t say anything, and he just sat there silently for the rest of the session with you.

Every session went the same, you would sit outside, refuse to come in or answer his questions, then the pair of you would sit outside the office while he read or made notes and you listened to your music.

It went that way for nearly two months, and Hannibal followed the same routine this time around, opening his office door and you looked up at him.

He paused, taking in your bloodied hoodie and nose.

“(Y/N), what happened?” He asked.

You got up, and he stepped aside, holding the door for you as you walked in for the first time since you began to see him.

Hannibal carefully closed the door, watched as you walked around until you stopped by the ladders and you sat down on them.

“There are more comfortable places to sit if you would prefer.”

“I’m fine.”

He hummed a little bit, sitting in a chair as he looked over at you.

You were one to keep your distance, so he wanted to respect that boundary and stayed where he was on the other side of the room.

“Are you? In the two months that we have known one another you have never stepped foot inside my office until now. Today is the only day you have come in looking as if you were in a fight just before arriving.”

You didn’t say anything.

“I have read your file numerous times, you’re known for your rather unpleasant temper, you have been arrest on multiple occasions for assault, your most previous charge is listed as aggregated assault.”

“So what?” You snapped slightly.

“There is no need to get angry, I am not here to judge you. I am simply here to assist you, find out why you are so angry all the time and what led to your anger.”

You pulled the sleeve of your hoodie down, pressing it to your nose, wiping some of the blood on it.

Hannibal got up, walking over he took the handkerchief from his pocket and held it out to you, making sure he kept his distance.

“I don’t need your help…” you grumbled.

“Well, blood can be rather hard to wash out of clothing, you may ruin your jacket if you keep that up.”

“It’s a hoodie.”

Hannibal chuckled slightly.

“Very well, you will ruin your hoodie.”

“Like I said, don’t need your help.”

Hannibal sighed, laying the handkerchief down on the floor just a few steps away from your and he clasped his hands behind his back.

“You are a deeply mistrusting person, I understand that. But perhaps if you are willing to give someone a chance you will see that some people can be trusted.”

You glanced up at him, then quickly averted your gaze, going back to looking at the floor instead, but he knew you were watching him.

You had your head lowered, but just barely high enough to look at his shoes.

“Who hurt you?” He pressed carefully.

“What makes you think I didn’t start it?”

“The lack of bruises or scrapes on your hands, your clothes are rather dirty, defensive wounds I would say. Am I correct?”

You shrugged a little bit.

“Maybe I just like it, getting into fights and all.”

“I have a reason that perhaps you don’t enjoy it.”

You looked up at Hannibal, getting up and you stuffed your hands into the pockets of your jeans.

“Maybe I do. Maybe it fun, beating the crap out of someone until their blood is all over their face, watching as they beg me to stop, to leave them alone. Maybe I like the fear in the eyes.” You taunted.

“Is that so?”

Hannibal watched as you studied him, getting a read on him, trying size him up to see if you could take him on in a fight or not.

“Do you want to hurt me (Y/N)?”

You didn’t say anything.

“Who do you really want to hurt? When you get into all these fights you claim to enjoy, who do you think off when you’re knocking them to the ground and beating them within an inch of their lives?”

“No one.”

“Anybody with that much rage thinks of somebody, targets somebody.”

You just scoffed, making your way past him to head to the door.

You left without another wait, having reached the exact time limit of the session and Hannibal walked over to his desk, opening his book.

He wrote down what you had told him, and sat reflecting on it.

Clearly you were an angry person, you were a teenager with a lot of anger and hatred, but not at the world.

It was directed at one single person, because if your anger was random he had no doubt in his mind you would’ve already tried to attack him, but you didn’t.

You simply just refused to acknowledge whatever he said, you didn’t attempt to hurt him.

Intimidate? Yes. But not hurt.

It was a few days when your next session came around, and you walked into the office once more, taking a seat in your usual spot, this time a little more slowly.

Hannibal frowned, but carried on his session.

And he began to pick up on every time you came into the sessions either hurt, or fresh out of a fight.

And the timeframe between these seemed to get smaller and smaller, up until the point today.

Hannibal opened his door and you looked worse than ever as you pushed past him, dripping some blood on to the floor, limping into the middle of the room.

You took a few shoe breaths and he closed the door, making his way over to you.

“(Y/N), can you hear me?”

You slowly turned to him, nodding your head, stumbling a couple of steps.

“Tell me what happened? Who did this to you?”

You shook your head, slowly sitting down on the floor so you wouldn’t have to get blood on any of his furniture.

“Stay here, I will call the police, and for an ambulance.”

“No!”

Hannibal turned at your outburst, and you looked at him, rage with slight fear mixed in your eyes.

“Don’t you dare, don’t… don’t call anyone…” you warned.

“Alright.”

Hannibal set his phone back down and he walked over, kneeling down in front of you, resting an arm on his leg.

“Tell me what happened.”

You took a small breath, leaning back on one of your hands.

“I fucked up… real bad doctor Lector… like.. like real bad…”

“I need you to tell me what happened.” He pressed carefully.

You sighed a little bit.

“He got drunk again, got pissed, I talked back. He swung for me so I fought back, hit him with a chair. She got pissed at me, pushed me down a few stairs.”

“Who is the ‘he’ you keep referring to?”

“My dad.”

Hannibal nodded his head.

“I assume the ‘she’ would then be your mother?”

“Bingo, right on the money doc. I can see why you’re a therapist.”

Hannibal noticed how you deflected the serious topic with unserious remarks or a slightly snappy tone towards him.

“I see, you are aware that I have to call the police, and I strongly recommend you allow me to take you to the hospital. A fall down the stairs is not something to take so lightly.”

“You call police and I’m gone.”

“Why?”

You stayed quiet, shifting a little with pain and he sighed.

“You have strong issues with authority, but unfortunately I have to call them, I have a duty of care to ensure your well-being. Which means if I suspect that someone or yourself will cause you harm I have to report it. I can request to be with you every step of the way if that makes you comfortable.”

You pushed yourself up with a grunt of pain, stumbling a few steps backwards and Hannibal quickly stood up, placing his hand on your back to keep you stable.

You moved away quickly, and made your way to the door.

“At least allow me to take you to the hospital.” Hannibal said.

He turned around to get his keys from his desk and when he turned around you were gone.

He sighed, picking up his phone in order to call for your parole officer.

He had had the number his his phone since the first session, but he had never had to call the officer about you.

Not until now.

He quickly relayed on the fact that you had come into his officer severely injured.

You hadn’t made it far when Daniels picked you up, despite the fact you tried running you couldn’t exactly outrun a police officer in your injured state and you were taken to the hospital.

The ran some tests, stitched up your cuts, and placed you in a room while you awaited the results of your tests.

“So, want to tell me what happened?” Daniels asked.

“Go fuck yourself.” You growled.

“Hey, I want to help kid. But I can’t if I don’t know what happened to you.”

“You know what happened you prick, you all know what happened but you won’t do fuck all about it!”

“Calm down right now.”

“Or what?!”

You ripped the IV out of your arm, and you stood up, nearly falling to the side but you didn’t falter.

Daniels stood up as well.

“You can’t do shit.”

“Look, doctor lector is on his way, and they’re taking your parents in for questioning right now but you need to stay here.”

“Like fuck do I have to stay here. You can’t hold me for shit.”

You barged past him, throwing down the tray as he tried to follow you.

It would stall him for a few minutes while nurses and doctors quickly tried to gathering everything up so nobody would get hurt.

You left the hospital, making your way to your usual hideout spot when you didn’t want to go home.

It wasn’t the best, an old and abandoned construction site, but it was full of more than enough hiding places, and you went to your favourite one.

Sitting in the concrete pipe, you rested your back on a blanket you had in there, closing your eyes as you breathed through the discomfort.

Your phone was ringing endlessly, and you turned it off, getting bored of hearing the sound.

Though the silence was helpful when it came to hearing the creaking of the large metal gate being opened and closed.

“(Y/N), I know you’re here, come out so we can talk!” Hannibal called.

You stayed quiet.

You knew he would eventually and it only took a few minutes for him to appear at the entrance to your hiding spot.

He offered you a gentle smile.

“You need to go back to the hospital.”

“No.”

“Your parents are currently in custody, you’re safe. Nobody here is going to hurt you, nobody there will hurt you either.”

You scoffed.

“You really believe that? Give it a day or two, they’ll be back out.”

“Yet you always go back, why?”

“Because I have to, court order. Every. Single. Time.”

Hannibal sighed, and he offered you a reassuring smile.

“Come with me, I assure you that no more harm will come to you.”

You didn’t believe him, you simply just left the other end of the pipe you were sat in and Hannibal got up to follow you.

“You have internal bleeding, if you do not go back to the hospital you’ll die within hours.”

“Great, makes life easier for everybody. Gives me a way out.”

“Do you wish to die?”

You paused, giving the man a chance to walk over to you and stand in front of you.

“Do you wish to die (Y/N)?”

“No.”

“So, allow me to take you back to the hospital then. We will let the surgeons fix whatever inside you is bleeding, then when you wake up I will be right there waiting.”

“Yeah, and they’ll be there too.”

“You have my word, you parents will not be allowed in the room.”

You scoffed.

“Yeah, I’ll take my chances bleeding internally.”

“What if I can prove to you that they won’t be allowed in the same room as you?”

This seemed to gain your interested, and he gestured to the front of the construction sight.

“Do you see that man over there?”

You nodded.

“His name is Jack Crawford, he works for the FBI. He has read over your case file, he along with another agent will be outside your room the entire time you are there in recovery while we sort a safer place for you.”

Hannibal held his hand out to you.

“Do you trust me, even just a little bit?”

You looked at him, and you slowly nodded your head.

Hannibal smiled, walking over and he reached out, wrapping his arm around you, letting you hold his other arm to steady yourself while you both walked.

“They will never hurt you again (Y/N).”

Hannibal helped you into his car and got into the drivers seat, adjusting the mirror, wiping the little bit of blood that was on it so you wouldn’t see it

[abbyromanoff]

Hi 👋🏻 could u write gpWanda x reader x gpNatasha where Wanda is r gf and she doesn't know how to fuck reader properly so she ask Nat for help and N fuck r while W is watching?

I'm sorry if there are mistakes, english isn't my first language

ACQUAINTED

PAIRINGS: Wanda x reader, Wanda x Nat, Nat x reader

WORD COUNT: 3,697

WARNINGS: therapist/patient relationship, perv!Nat, nat and Wanda have dicks, subby!Wanda, Miss (N), threesome, exhibition, voyerisum, degrading, praising, breeding, therapist!Natasha, pet names, smut (obvi), pining, cunnilingus, dry-humping (kinda), bottom!R, top!Nat, Nat treating R like an object,

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

Wanda sat on the couch with Natasha in front of her, sitting at her desk with a notebook in hand. The walls were painted a soothing gray, only adorning a few pieces of artwork. She had been seeing Ms. Romanoff for close to a year now after you suggested the idea of therapy, already having one of your own.

“I don’t know, it’s just hard I guess. I mean, I love them so much and I see myself having a future with them, but-” She paused, rubbing the back of her neck and adjusting her potion. Nat hummed, waiting for a response but speaking up when receiving none.

“But, what?”

“I- I want to- well, we don’t really-” She didn’t know why she was so nervous all of the sudden, she had been able to tell Nat almost everything but this seemed to be different.

“Trust me, I’ve most likely heard much worse here, whatever you say is confidential and free of judgment. Just take your time.” Wanda sighed and nodded, trying to figure out the words in her mind before speaking.

“I guess I just want to spice things up, you know? And don’t get me wrong, the sex is great but- but they were the first person I’ve ever done it with. I’m just scared they’re not satisfied and it worries me to think that I’m nowhere near as good as their past boyfriends or girlfriends.” She shrugged as if it wasn’t anything serious, but it was to her. She was a giving person, all she wanted was for you to be happy and well-pleasured, she wanted to impress you. But there was nothing to show off with, she had no skills in that aspect, that’s what she thought at least.

“Okay, that’s understandable.” Nat started. “Have you ever tried, say, having a conversation with them about this? I know you’re not great with communication but maybe just asking them what are some of the things they like or maybe even expressing your worries, I’m sure they’d listen.” She knew you would, but the idea of bringing such a thing up felt uncomfortable. She didn’t hate the thought of sex, but she hated the thought of talking about it. It felt like watching a sex scene on the television with your parents right next to you.

“I know they’d listen, I just don’t know how to, like, bring it up.” Wanda watched as Natasha moved her pen gently against the piece of paper, writing something down that she wished she could see.

“Alright, well, what if you invited them to a session, possibly our next one? We can bring up our discussion and your worries and maybe it could help ease them.” She spoke with such gentleness that it always made Wanda even more nervous. You had picked up on the way she’d always come home with a blush and a small smile after her appointments, but you just assumed she was happy to see you. And she was, but that wasn’t the full reason for her expressions.

“So it would be like couple’s therapy?”

“Yes, pretty much. I’ll have you two both share your sides and your feelings and we go from there.” Wanda could do that, she hoped so.

The one hour ended in what seemed like a few minutes as Nat said her goodbye’s to the woman, watching her leave as her eyes trailed down to her ass. The jeans fit her ass perfectly, it was impossible to stop the biting of her lip and the long sigh.

Truth be told, she had been planning this moment for too long. She remembered when she first ever saw you, Wanda showed her the picture she kept in her wallet of the two of you holding hands that were pointed to the camera with your lips attached in a sweet kiss. Before, she had been slightly upset when finding out that her client had a partner, even with the knowledge that it would ruin her career if she did anything. But then there was you, she didn’t expect you to be so beautiful.

The moment her last client left she went searching through your accounts, using your name to find anything on you. She was embarrassed to say she had stroked herself to multiple orgasms while scrolling through both you and your girlfriend’s photos. She was beyond ecstatic about next week’s visit, she could only hope you’d agree to go.

Luckily, you did. It took a little bit of convincing, when Wanda brought the idea up to you, you were frightened that you did something to upset her, but she quickly rushed that thought out of your mind. She didn’t tell you what exactly it was for, although you assumed it would be nice. You knew Natasha was an amazing therapist, she helped Wanda with all the things you struggled to help with. You were only human, and you didn’t have a degree like Nat, but your moral support meant just as much to your girlfriend.

“Wanda?” Her head shot up at the sound of Natasha’s voice, she quickly grabbed your hand and the two of you walked into her office. She closed the door behind you, her eyes catching a quick glimpse of your body. You were even better than the photos, she couldn’t wait.

“And you must be Y/N if I’m correct.” You nodded and shook her hand, giving her a warm smile as you removed your coat. Wanda did the same, grabbing yours and placing it on the coat rack in the corner of the room.

“So, I’m assuming Wanda has told you why you’re here?” When she looked down at her knees where her fingers rested, nervously picking the skin off of them, she knew her answer.

“Uh, not really. I was a little bit hesitant about this, but she told me there was nothing to worry about, so I’m hoping it’s nothing bad.” You shied away from Nat’s eyes, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks at the woman’s clear attractiveness. You didn’t exactly know what her therapist looked like, but now you wished you had done your research beforehand. She was stunning, breathtaking.

“Well, I can assure you that you have done nothing wrong, honey, there are just some topics we’d like to approach if that’s alright with you.” You nodded and interlaced your hand with Wanda’s, giving a small squeeze to assure her you weren’t upset. She had been planning what to bring up since the moment she left last week, but it seemingly all vanished by now.

“Do you have a therapist or a counselor of your own, Y/N?” It started off with simple questions, ones that you’d expect. That was until she started asking about your relationship and prior ones too. You shifted in your seat as she continued, feeling the immense pressure with both of their eyes on you.

“Now, tell me, Y/N, do you feel satisfied with Wanda?”

“Of course, I do. She’s such a great woman and I can really feel her love, I haven’t ever had someone like her.” You could see Wanda smiling next to you and you joined her. You truly loved this woman more than anything, you wanted to marry her someday and you hoped she thought the same.

“And sexually? Do you feel sexually satisfied with Wanda?” You nearly choked on your spit from her words, nervously chuckling in hopes to redeem yourself. She noticed your expressions and tried reassuring you, holding back as best she could when she patted your knee.

“It’s nothing I haven’t heard before, trust me. It’s normal to feel a sense of discomfort in these situations, but I promise that everything here stays confidential.” Her voice was able to soothe you and calm your nerves.

“Uhm, I’d say so, yeah. Obviously, there are some…things I’d like to try, but we haven’t approached that.” She nodded, as if she wanted you to go on. You didn’t know what to say, your words were stuck in your throat. You were experienced with the topic, but it wasn’t one you openly shared or talked about with others.

“Would you say your sex life is more vanilla than you want it to be?” You loved Wanda, you really did, but she wasn’t the greatest when it came to your intimate moments. You could feel her love through it, but you wanted to see her rougher side, you knew she was holding back on you.

“To be honest, yeah. I kind of like things to be a bit more..kinky, you know?” You could see the redness on Wanda’s cheeks and the tip of her ears as she shuffled her feet around. You felt sorry for making her embarrassed, but that’s why she brought you here in the first place.

“What would you consider kinky, darling?” Her pet name had your lips quivering ever-so-slightly before you came up with a response.

“I guess I just wish she was a bit more rough with me. And don’t get me wrong, I love that I can really feel her care for me but sometimes I just want her to, like, use me.” Nat scooted her desk chair closer to you two, placing her hand on your thigh softly. Wanda was still silent, she was probably too scared to speak up.

“You want to be used, Y/N?” You nodded slowly, feeling your eyes drift to her lips. You felt so dirty looking at her the way you did your girlfriend, but you also knew she was doing the same.

“Hm, who knew such a sweet little thing could be so dirty?” You could feel her hand rubbing small circles on your covered skin, her eyes staring deeply into yours. She trailed them over your body, taking all of you in.

“Does this turn you on, honey?” You nodded once again. “Yeah? Me touching you while your girlfriend watches, that makes you wet?” You gulped down your arousal as you felt her thumb teasing your clit through the fabric, your legs instinctively opening for more.

“Kiss them for me, Wanda; act like I’m not even here.” You looked in the brunette's direction, watching as she snuck glances between the two of you. She placed one hand on your cheek and the other on your lower back as you leaned in for her lips to meet yours. You moaned into the kiss as Nat rid you of your pants, dragging her fingers across your panties and smiling at the wet patch adorning them. The noise allowed Wanda’s tongue to slip into your mouth, the intrusion causing you to groan in pleasure.

Your fingers ran through Nat’s hair, pleading her to come closer. You could feel her hot breath teasing your slit as she slid your panties to the side, small kisses being pressed against your clit.

“Please, Ms. Romanoff.” You pulled away from Wanda to catch your breath, your head resting on her shoulder. Your eyes landed on her crotch as you noticed her palming herself, her hips bucking into her hand.

“You’re such a good girl. Say, why don’t we give Wanda a little lesson, okay?” She smiled when you complied without a thought in your mind. She stood up, guiding you to join her as she removed your shirt, grinning when she took notice of your lacey bra.

“It’s Wanda’s favorite, I was going to surprise her tonight.” She huffed out a chuckle and reached around behind you to unclasp it, shuddering as it fell and you were left in nothing but your panties.

“I’ve been wanting to fuck you for so long, baby. Now I can finally get my hands on you.” She had been so desperate to be alone in her office with the both of you, she wanted nothing more than to mark you both as hers.

She led you to her desk, her kisses trailing from your neck to your chest where her lips wrapped around your hardened bud. Your back was met with the wooden table as she lifted you to sit on it, her palms lingering on your soft thighs after she guided your last piece of clothing off of you. She parted them, dropping to her knees in front of you and staring up at you with lust in her eyes.

“Watch closely, Wanda.” You looked over to the woman at the mention of her name, biting your lip with hunger as you noticed her unbuttoned pants and her hand hidden inside of her boxers. She shuddered when you cupped your breast, using Nat’s saliva to help create a small rhythm.

Nat blew a teasing breath onto your pulsing clit before leaning in, taking the bud into her mouth. She sucked delicately, soaking in your moans and twitches. She was too engrossed in your taste to take notice of her growing erection in her pants.

“Oh, you look so pretty on your knees for me, Miss.” It was clear that she was still the one in charge, but her need for you was so great, she couldn’t care if she seemed weak. Wanda, while feeling a pang of jealousy, couldn’t deny the heat that was growing in her stomach. She felt as though she would burst any second, but she was trying to hold back. Her thumb would occasionally brush over her tip, causing her eyes to squeeze shut.

“Look at me, Wands; watch me.” She pried her eyelids open willingly, nearly whining when she saw you wrap your legs around her therapist’s head. You grinded into her face as her tongue tortured your hole, diving in and out repeatedly. She groped your ass in order to push you closer into her, her nose poking at your clit.

“Fuck! Fuck- right there, yes!” You covered your mouth with your hand in order to silence yourself, becoming ashamed of how loud you were. Neither of them were complaining though, they thrived off of your noises; it brought satisfaction knowing that they were the reason you were in such a deep state of pleasure.

“I’m- I’m gonna cum.” Nat smirked into your cunt as you were brought over the edge, your head falling back and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your silent screams filled the room as Nat continued to lap up your juices, Wanda watching with the wish that she was the one tasting you. You were addicting, a drug that she couldn’t get enough of. Every sway of your hips, every lick of your lips, every noise, and every word that left that sweet mouth was so alluring.

You were suddenly pushed to lie down, feeling the lumber underneath you bruise your back. You leaned up on your elbows to admire the woman as she undressed herself, running her hand through her short hair once as to fix what you tugged.

“Tell me, love, have you ever heard of breeding?” You nodded, receiving a slap to your cheek. Wanda widened her eyes at both the words and the rough contact, is this what you meant? Is this how you wanted her to treat you, like you were some no-good slut?

“Yes, Miss, I have.” She hummed, guiding her tip through your slit and gathering the wetness as a replacement for lube.

“When was the last time you ever pleaded to milk Wanda dry, hm? Beg her to slap you ‘till your skin turned black and blue? Or, better yet, when was the last time you got on your knees and asked her in that sweet little tone of yours to treat you like the dirty whore you are?” Your chest rose and fell with every breath you took, each one not feeling like it was enough.

“Never.” You shook your head as you answered, your eyes not being able to meet hers. She gripped your chin roughly, pulling you in close so her nose was practically touching yours.

“What was that?” She asked again, even if she had already heard you well enough.

“Never.” You repeated, this time louder. She clicked her tongue and shot you a disapproving glance.

“Mm, there’s always two sides to the matter. Here Wanda was not knowing what to do because you couldn’t communicate, do you think that’s fair on her?” The way she spoke, the light rasp to her voice was what caused the wetness already coating your thighs to increase.

“N-no, Miss.” She turned your head to face Wanda and she blushed in the moment you caught her. You could notice the stains now coating her boxers and the shameful look on her face; she had peaked with you. You didn’t know how you didn’t hear her, she was usually the louder one of you both. But you guessed that you were too far into your orgasm to care for anything else.

“Apologize to your girlfriend, Y/N, and tell her how sorry you are.”

“I’m sorry, Wanda, I’m sorry for not- not talking about my needs and wants when I should’ve. I’m sorry.” You stuttered over your words as you felt Nat’s cock prodding at your hole, her tip breaking way and creating a small stretch.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry too.” She spoke up, and for the first time this entire session, you were able to hear her voice. It was coated thickly with her Sokovian accent seeing as she had just moved here nearly eight months ago. You hoped it would never go away, no matter how long she lived in this country.

“See? You’re both already doing such a good job.” You both smiled at the praises, seeming to fish for them from the woman at bay. You sent a small ‘I love you’ to Wanda from across the room, although it was only mouthed out. Nat grabbed hold of your waist, pulling you towards her and causing her length to fill you up almost entirely. You gasped at the intrusion, crying out in pain as you clawed at the desk.

She continued to slowly lead you further, moaning to herself as your warmth clamped around her. Your tears only brought more delight to her heart, she could only grin when seeing them.

“You’ve been begging for Wanda to use you yet you can barely even take me? Aren’t you just a pathetic fucking slut.” Her fingertips ran along your face, her thumb rubbing gentle circles as a faux sense of comfort. She then brought them down to your neck, wrapping her palm around it and cutting off your airways. The only thing you could manage to get out were choked sobs and moans. The burning discomfort slowly eased into one of satisfaction as Nat slowly thrusted her hips into you, the sounds of skin clapping together ringing through all three of you guys’ ears.

“Did you know your girl likes to be choked, Wanda?”

“N-no, ma’am.” She chuckled at the title given to her. Her breasts bounced with every movement of her hips, her cock hitting your womb. There was a small yet noticeable bulge carved out on your stomach making her groan, she was so big compared to you.

“Hm, maybe in our next session we can teach Y/N a lesson too, what do you say?” She didn’t need another opinion to decide her answer, it was final. It wasn’t just the brunette at fault, you were required to voice your wants too, even if she’d have to force it out of you.

“Please-” You managed to get out when her hand removed itself from your bruising neck and found a spot on your waist, pressing down harder than before. She was practically resting her weight on top of you, causing the bone to struggle in holding her up.

“Shut your dirty fucking mouth, I don’t want to hear another word from you.” You were close, so close, and so was she. She was forcing her body to hold back, ensuring that you were to finish first.

Wanda’s erection only grew after her orgasm, her greed making her yearn for another. You were the only one who had ever been able to make her cum, she assumed there was no better. Shyly, she walked forward, her soiled clothing still masking her bottom half. She gave Nat a look, asking for permission to which she was granted.

“Don’t ask, sweetheart, force it.” She was so used to constantly asking if it was okay to do something to your body, after all, it wasn’t her choice. Every time you’d say yes, but there was always a nagging fear that you’d not want it and she had forgotten to ask. The thought made her sick, who would ever think to do such a thing?

“They want it, Wanda. Just rub yourself against them- perfect, just like that.” She praised when Wanda held you by the back of your neck and rutted her bulge against your face, the fabric rubbing against her hard length. She whimpered when your hand came up to rub her balls, your mouth peppering kisses over her cock.

“You close, baby?” You didn’t know who she was asking, but you both agreed. You continued to gently suckle while wishing you were able to truly feel her instead of the wrinkles in her trousers.

“Ah! S-shit, cum with me.” You followed her orders and let the coil in your stomach snap as you soaked her cock, feeling her release shoot deep inside of you.

You nuzzled against Wanda as you felt her twitching, only to notice a wet patch forming on her pants. She had leaked through her underwear while itching for more, the knowledge only fueled your pride.

You mewled as Nat pulled out of you, watching as the cum dripped down your cunt, some landing on the desk while other droplets fell to the floor. She didn’t bother looking for her clothes, instead pulling the younger girl in for a kiss before doing the same with you. It was passionate, both kisses were. You could sense the longing and the emotions in it that she tried to mask, only making you chase after her lips for more once she leaned back.

“Shall we plan your next appointment then?”

[doin-just-fine]

MAJOR UPDATE: Questioning systems or systems in a doubt spiral pls read.

I recently told my therapist about potentially being a system. This was a scary move because she has previously had some iffy takes about systemhood. But I told her because I trusted that she would meet me where I was at and help me navigate , at the least, the general idea of not understanding my own brain if nothing else which I was ok with. I told her and it went as expected. I explained why I thought I might be a system but also the doubts I had about it and how it was distressing me to not understand myself. She agreed to use the language I was using for it and was happy to help me through (as is her job) and also because whether it was systemhood or not it was something in me that was trying to be seen and we would work on figuring out what it was.

Fast forward a few session, and I was going through another bout of "what the fuck even is my brain". I was starting to realize that my "systemhood" is very different from the things I've been seeing online. In the ways that it's different to other systems is: - I'm always in the front, always in the captains chair - I have no amnesia because I never switch out - My hyper-vigilance never lets me dissociate fully though i definitely "check out" in my own way - Head mates just feel like vague ideas or emotions

But the ways that are similar are: - These vague ideas or emotions have opinions and feelings that are different from my own. - Though they are vague, I can definitely tell they are separate from what I have come to understand as "me" - I become "a different person" in the sense of my attitude, vibe, behavior, and opinions change from where they were 5 mins ago, but I am still me, just a different me.

Anyway, I was already trying to make sense of all of this and was not planning on talking about it with my therapist because nervous... However, my therapist ask me about it first. She asked some clarifying questions about my partners system vs my own and how they are different. When I explained what I just wrote above to my therapist she said "Thats what I thought and I owe you an apology."

Basically, my therapist, like any good therapist should when confronted by something they don't know a lot about, had been doing research on complex forms of trauma and coping. Things in the same vain as CPTSD and Plurality including those two topics. She had specifically been reading a book called "The Body Keeps The Score" (TW it is a book about trauma and studies of trauma so it has details of case studies that some people may find incredibly triggering). I did some research on what exactly the book was talking about in regards to "systemhood" and from what I've found, chapter 14 at the end of a section called "Writing to yourself" and the first parts of chapter 17 have interesting information regarding systemhood and how its not entirely limited to things that are diagnosable like DID or OSDD. It seems to talk about how we all have several selves and trauma can get in the way of those selves communicating effectively. My therapist told me about this book and what she learned from it and apologized to me because the book made her realize that she was wrong and that I was in fact a system....

The session ended and I just kind of sat there... not sure how to feel but definitely feeling relief and validation.

After doing research on the book to write this I have some words of wisdom. If you are a questioning system or are doubting your validity remember this: The human brain is so incredibly complex and no one actually understands how it does anything beyond its basic physical functionality... the conceptual abilities of our mind are a mystery. How we define self is just theory. If you don't fit into boxes, labels, identities, or diagnoses that does not mean your experiences aren't real. You are going to be ok. Understand YOUR mind and how it works for YOU, not through a label or diagnosis. If those things come later, great! Do not let them destroy you just because you don’t fit perfectly. I am a system. Simply. No types, labels, or diagnosis. I am a system. I have a unique experience because my brain is no one elses. I am a system. I may not have people in my head in the traditional sense but I'm also not alone up here either. I am a system. I am a system. I am a system. Nobody has the right to deny me this for they do not live behind my eyes.

As I understand myself: I am a system.

[miyamiwu]

Last updated: Aug. 8, 09:30pm GMT+8

I first posted about this 2 days ago, but only now did I have the time to sort out how much I exactly need and… it’s a lot

Dorm rent: 1,624 PHP (~29 USD)

Laptop credit bill: 4,000 PHP (~70 USD)

Consultation fee on different psychiatrist: P1,500 (26 USD) 3,000 PHP (~52 USD)

College tuition: 5,000-7,500 PHP (86-130 USD)

Passport: 1,200 PHP (~21 USD)

Total: 13,000-16,000 PHP (225-280 USD) 14,824 - 17,324 PHP (258 - 300 USD)

But the college tuition one is just a rough estimate! Enrollment is still ongoing, so I don’t know yet exactly how much I have to pay for.

If you have any spare cash, please consider helping me out by donating to my Ko-fi:

Or, you can also avail of my alpha reading service on my Ko-fi commissions page. It’s only $5 right now!

Breakdown and explanation of the amounts under the cut

In the post linked above, I mentioned struggling on the June-July dorm payment, but that’s okay now. My mom was able to find a way, but now I have another problem and that’s the August payment and the December deposit. It will be the start of a new semester, and as always, I have to pay for the first month and the last month of the semester upfront. That would be P1,624 (~$29).

I really don’t want to also ask my mom for this, as my youngest sibling just told us in the sibling group chat that she’s been having suicidal thoughts (everyone in this family has mental health issues 😔). And apparently, she also just had an argument with her boyfriend (I didn’t even know she had a boyfriend…)

With that, I will also need P4,000 (~$70), to pay for my laptop’s monthly dues. My mom bought it on credit and she has to pay for it monthly… but seeing as how she’s already depressed over her multitude of debts, I really couldn’t bring myself to burden her with this as well.

Then yesterday, I started my sessions with a new therapist, and she’s telling me to get a second opinion on ADHD.

Remember how a few months back I went to see a psychiatrist? Well, that doctor turned out to be a traumatic experience. She gaslighted me, then denied me having ADHD on the basis of my mom saying that I was a “quiet child who kept to herself.”

Current therapist asked me if I have been considered for ADHD/OCD before, and when I brought up the previous diagnosis, she was unconvinced coz she thinks I may have the inattentive type of ADHD. Now, she’s referring me to a psychiatrist she knows that specializes in my case, but the consultation won’t be free.

Update: I initially thought she’d refer me to someone from the Philippine Mental Health Association (PMHA), where the consultation fee is only P1,500 ($26) since that’s what she mentioned during our session and the PMHA is also on our uni’s list of recommended mental health services. But earlier, she emailed me the three doctors she recommends, and all of them turned out to be from private hospitals/clinics with fees of around P3,000 (~$52) per session… which is twice the amount charged by the PMHA

Next, my college tuition.

I go to a state university, and in my country, tuition should be free for up to 5 years in my course. But due to mental health issues, I’ve had to retake several classes because I could never complete them on time. I also took a leave twice so uhh… I’ve used up my free tuition rights and now have to pay.

I don’t know the exact amount yet, as we are charged by the number of units we are enrolled for… and well, enrollment is still ongoing, and I’m not guaranteed any units as slots are extremely limited. But going from previous receipts, it should be around P25,000 (~S434).

I’m not gonna ask for help on that full amount, though! Because, god, it really is too much. I plan to apply for tuition loan in my uni, and apparently I can get up to 70-80% discount once approved, so after deduction, I’ll only have to pay P5,000-7,500 ($86-130)

Lastly, the passport. I really need to apply for a passport already. I posted about my valid ID woes a while back, but I really can’t find the post again, but long story short, I don’t have a single, valid government ID at the moment, and it’s hindering my access to a lot of services.

I used to have a postal ID, but it expired last year and I can’t renew it because postal ID issuance has been suspended throughout the country for maintenance.

I also applied for a national ID last year, but until now I still haven’t received it. That’s just how fucking inefficient my country is.

The one ID left that’s easy to apply for without a pre-existing valid ID is the passport, so yeah, I really have no choice but to apply for it now. The regular passport fee is 950 PHP, but I listed the price for the expedited one because I need it urgently. That would be P1,200 (~$21).

I need a valid ID to open an account at this one bank that my uni requires for all those aspiring to be student assistants. And in the case my uni scholarship application gets approved, I will also need the account to receive any stipend I may get as they only do it via that bank.

I will also be needing the account to encash stipend cheques I get from a government-funded scholarship (they still haven’t given me my stipend for the previous semester, though). The bank teller has already been lenient with me three times in the past by allowing me to use an expired ID along with my student ID, the latter which they don’t even accept. I really can’t bear to do it again.

Aside these, I will definitely be needing a valid ID and a bank account should I get accepted in any of the jobs I’m applying for… so yeah, I really need the ID 😭

No pressure at all, but if you have a little extra cash, I would be eternally grateful if you donate

USD to PHP conversion is high, so a little goes a long way for me

[slut4thebroken]

The Incident

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x patient!reader

Summary | Dr. Crane talks to a new patient.

Warnings | Smut, 18+, sexual content, non con, use of r word multiple times, violence, Jon is a douche, masturbation, blackmail?, abuse of power, gaslighting probably, breeding kink, he’s a bad therapist.

Words | 2.9 k

Notes | I don’t even know anymore. Like I probably need a psych eval because of all the fucked up shit I come up with😭

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

I want to make it clear that while Jon doesn’t assault reader, rape is talked about heavily. Reminder: I’m not responsible for the content you choose to view.

“I prefer to record my sessions rather than take notes so I can give you my undivided attention. Is that okay with you?”

“Yes.” You said quietly. 

“Good.” He pushed a button on the tape recorder, then set it on his desk. “Why don’t you tell me a little bit about the incident? You can start with the end because I'm rather curious to hear from you directly what got you put in here.” He smiled, watching your leg bounce incessantly as you picked at your nails. 

“Um— okay…” You swallowed audibly and looked down. “When it was— when it was over, I tried running away.” You started, letting out a shaky breath. “He ran after me and tackled me to the ground… I landed on a big rock, that’s what,” you paused and lifted your hand to gesture at a healing cut on your forehead, “this is.” He nodded, waiting for you to continue. 

“Go on.” He said softly, trying to comfort you. 

“I don’t,” you cleared your throat and shifted uncomfortably in your seat, “It’s a little spotty, my memory of this, but I grabbed the rock and hit him with it, making him roll off of me.” He noticed that your hands were trembling as you stared at them. “And then I— I just… started hitting him. I couldn’t stop.” Your voice trembled as you spoke. When you paused, you took a deep breath, trying to collect yourself. “There was a cop who was on duty at the park I guess… and he stopped me, but—”

“By then it was too late.” He finished for you and you nodded as you closed your eyes. 

“I didn’t— I didn’t mean to… I just,”

“I know.” He said with a warm smile. “That’s why you’re here with me, instead of in prison.” You nodded and sniffled, so he pushed a tissue box toward you on his desk. He waited until you were a little calmer before continuing. “I need you to walk me through what happened before that. I know it will be hard, but I only want to help you.” 

“Okay— okay, I know. I trust you.” You said shakily, making him smile. “Um… My friend and I were at the park for a few hours. When it was getting dark, we decided to go home, but we live in opposite directions so I had to go alone.” He nodded, patiently waiting for you to keep talking. “I don’t.. I don’t really know where he came from or how it happened. It felt like one second I was walking and the next I was on the ground a few feet away from the path.” 

“Was it completely dark out by that time?” He asked curiously. 

“N-no. The sun was just starting to set.” He nodded and motioned for you to continue. “He, um… I was on my back and he- he opened his pants then just…” You trailed off, letting out a shaky breath. His cock was already fattening up at just the thought of what you were about to say. 

“I know it’s hard, but in order for me to help you to the best of my ability, I need to know exactly what happened. You have to be very specific.” You bit your lip and nodded in agreement. 

“I tried screaming and pushing him away, but he covered my mouth. And when I bit his hand, he punched me. I remember my vision getting blurry, then just… pain.” You whispered, crying silently. He reached under his desk and unzipped his pants, pulling his already hard cock out without unbuckling his belt or doing anything else that would make too much noise. He stroked himself slowly, watching the way your bottom lip wobbled as tears rolled down your cheeks. 

“Be specific.” He urged gently— well, as gently as he could with his dick in his hand. 

“It— it burned and it felt like I was being… ripped open.” You whimpered. “When I screamed, he covered my mouth again, but I didn’t try to bite him that time.” He let out a quiet breath and dragged his thumb over the tip, smearing the bead of precum. “He pulled my dress and bra down and started… grabbing me there.” 

“You mean your breasts.” His voice was already thick with arousal and you nodded wordlessly. 

“All of it just.. it hurt so badly.” You whispered. “I couldn’t do anything but… lay there and cry.” The shame you felt about how you handled the situation would’ve been obvious to anyone. 

“He was bigger than you? You couldn’t fight him off?” 

“I've never been very strong and he was putting most of his weight on me to hold me down.” You said quietly. 

“I see… And what happened after that?” He started stroking himself faster, imagining forcing you to the ground, making you tell him all of your trauma while he held you down and raped you again. 

“He said.. upsetting things, and I just cried harder. I didn’t know what else to do.” 

“What did he say to you?” He asked eagerly. 

“He called me a w-whore for the dress I was wearing. And said that I was asking for it.” You trailed off into another sob and he bit his lips to stifle any sounds. “He said that I deserved it.” 

“Did you?” You finally looked at him when he asked that. 

“What?” Your voice was breathy and strained. 

“Did you deserve it? Were you dressed like a whore, tempting him?” Your brows scrunched together and more tears filled your eyes. 

“I— It was just a normal sundress.” 

“You weren’t wearing anything else?” He wanted a very clear picture of the scene so he could see it more vividly when he replaced that man with himself. 

“No, but— it almost went down to my knees and…” He almost laughed at the way you were trying so desperately to prove yourself to him. Instead, he gave you a warm smile and shushed you softly. 

“Relax, I believe you.” He cooed. “Please continue.” 

“Um… he kept doing it for a while— I don’t really know how long. Then he called me a… a dumb- cunt,” you closed your eyes again and tried to keep your breathing steady, “and said he was going to… breed me. That I was just asking to be knocked up.” Jonathan’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he reclined in his chair a little. 

“And,” he had to clear his throat when he heard how raspy it was, “what did you do after that?” 

“I tried begging him not to and screaming because I…” 

“You’re not on birth control. Yes, I remember seeing that in your medical history file.” You nodded in response. 

“But he didn’t listen.” You whispered. He couldn’t believe that man was stupid enough to cover your mouth. Jonathan wanted nothing more than to listen to you cry and beg him not to come deep in your fucking womb— breed you properly the way a dumb whore deserves.

“Did you start fighting again? Or were you still just laying under him.” 

“I tried.” You said through a small whimper. “I tried pushing him away and getting out from under him, but I just— I felt trapped with how he was laying on me.” 

“Are you claustrophobic?” 

“I- I don’t know. I didn’t think I was…” You said, unsure, and he hummed in acknowledgment, but it was more of a quiet moan. You’d look so adorable underneath him, trying to squirm out of his grip and crawl away, free yourself from his assault. “Keep going. You’re doing so well.” He was already getting close. 

“He started moving faster and harder, which just made it hurt even more. But after another few minutes of that, he— he finished…” 

“Tell me about that. What did it feel like? What emotions did it invoke?” He practically begged, stroking himself even faster. 

“I felt disgusted because of the way his breath felt on my neck and how his body felt pressed against mine… I felt.. scared because I’ve never had to deal with the consequences of this— I didn’t know what I should do after. But I also felt… relieved? Because I knew it was almost over.” 

“You always use protection?” 

“Yes.” He tried not to scoff at that. If he was your boyfriend and you were selfish enough to deny him that pleasure, he’d either break up with you or start raping you raw. 

“This was the first time a man has ever ejactulated inside?” You nodded with a dark blush. “How did that feel? Physically I mean.” 

“Um, I… I don’t really know how to describe it.” You said, almost sheepishly. 

“That’s okay. Why don’t you tell me what he did after that?” 

“When I stopped screaming, he took his hand off my mouth. Then he pulled out and stood up to start buttoning his pants again. That was when I ran.” Of course this man was pathetic enough that he couldn’t even be bothered to properly enjoy his efforts. Jonathan wanted to push your legs open, see how puffy and abused your little pussy would look… and he wanted to watch his come leak out of you. He’d have it no other way. 

“Why risk running? If you thought he was finished, why not wait for him to leave?”

“I just— I panicked. I didn’t… I wasn’t sure what else to do.” He nodded, thinking of what he was going to say next. 

“So. You were raped violently in the middle of the park in almost broad daylight, then you beat a man to death with a rock. Which do you think was more painful for you?” You stared at him in shock, clearly not expecting him to be so blunt. “I understand it is a hard question, but I need to know. It will help me figure out how to treat you.” He said calmly. 

“I-I’m not scared that I’ll… do that again. But I am scared that it will happen to me again.” You whispered, unable to say the words. 

“You’re scared you’ll be raped again, you mean.” You nodded and he could feel himself nearing the edge. He just needed one final push. “Are you finding it hard to trust people now? Men in particular.” 

“Yes.” 

“But you trust me.” He pointed out, watching you stiffen as panic flooded your body. “That’s the thing about rape, most of the time, it’s not a stranger in a park. It’s usually someone you trust; a friend, coworker, classmate, doctor, etc. It could even be a family member that you trust.” You swallowed audibly, keeping your eyes on your lap. “How do you think you’ll react when it happens again?” Not if… When.

“Um… I- I don’t…” You cleared your throat, getting even more uncomfortable and scared. 

“Will you handle it better? Or will you snap and kill again.” 

“I didn’t mean to,” You whimpered. 

“I know. Don’t worry, I know.” He cooed sympathetically, but his voice was getting noticeably breathy now. “However, we don’t know whether or not you’ll be raped again. I must consider the fact that it led you to kill a man when deciding how to proceed.” He could see that you were trying to find the words, but couldn’t figure out how to respond. “That’s why I need to know if you think you’ll handle it better the second time.” He explained. 

“I- I’m…” You swallowed and let out a shaky breath. He stared at you for a moment, then his eyes narrowed and his lips curled into a smile. 

“Oh I see. You don’t think it will happen again do you?” He tried not to laugh. “You think now that you’re part of the statistic, you’re safe from it happening again… Unfortunately, most rape victims will be assaulted more than once— more than twice, even. So it’s only a matter of time.” He didn’t know shit about rape statistics, but it was making you cry more and that’s all that mattered. 

“Dr. Crane…” You whimpered, tears rolling down your cheeks. It took everything he had to swallow down the moan that almost escaped when you said his name like that. 

“Hm?” He stroked himself impossibly faster, if you weren’t such a mess you would’ve noticed the movement of his arm by now. “Will you cry like you’re doing now? Will you beg, plead, and scream to not get pregnant with your rapist’s child again?” He doesn’t know if you’re pregnant right now, but he’s pretty sure you didn’t pick up a morning after pill on your way to the police station. He’ll be sure to give you one to deem otherwise though. If you’re going to get knocked up, it won’t be from anyone other than himself.  

“Or will you lay nice and quiet like a good little girl, and just take it.” Even though he liked the thought of you screaming for him to stop, he also liked the idea of you being so broken that you just let it happen. “Because we both know you’re too weak to fight back, so that’s not even an option.” He said amusedly. Your body was shaking almost violently now— you were obviously having a stress response, but it just made his cock throb even more. 

“If you refuse to answer, I’ll have no choice but to have you transferred to prison instead.” He warned and you let out a choked sob in response. 

“First.” You whispered, so quiet that he almost didn’t hear it.

“Speak up.” He snapped, enjoying the way you flinched. 

“The first!” You sobbed out. “The first one.”

“What about the first one?” You cried harder, still looking at your lap. 

“I- I’d cry. And… and beg.”

“Really? Show me how you’d beg.” He smirked. When you stayed silent, he continued. “If I don’t know that you can properly beg, how do I know you’re not lying? How do I know you won’t murder a man with your bare hands again?” You let out a strangled sob at his words. 

“P-please..”

“I’m not convinced.” He said plainly. “You have one last try to show me how you’ll beg the next lucky guy who rapes you or I’ll make the call right now to have you transferred.” If you noticed his slip up, you didn’t react to it, which he was grateful for. He does not want to waste time getting your trust back. 

“Please!” You cried out. He couldn’t tell if you were begging him or showing him until you continued. “Please stop— please.” 

“Stop what?”

“Fucking me!” That made him laugh quietly. 

“Use the proper word, darling.” He tried not to sound too patronizing. 

“Please stop r-raping me.” You whimpered. 

“What else? Use the right words on the first try because you don’t have another chance.” He couldn’t wait to play with you like this again while he tormented you. Your teary eyes and whimpering voice were just too pretty. 

“Please don’t… don’t- breed me..” Your words were almost incoherent through all of the crying now. But he wasn’t going to let you stop, not when he was so close. 

“Do better.” He suddenly yelled, making you jump and cry even harder. 

“Please don’t breed me! I- I don’t want to get pregnant, please..” He closed his eyes and let his head drop forward, seconds away from release. 

“Should I make the call?” 

“No! No, I'm sorry! Please don’t,” the words caught in your throat and you let out another sob before sputtering out, “Don’t breed me! Please, I- I don’t want to be pregnant with your child…” You trailed off and started crying even harder. It was so easy to imagine that you were truly begging him to not knock you up right now and he couldn’t wait to listen back to the recording. To hear the fear and desperation in your voice and the way you sobbed.

He groaned quietly, then felt his orgasm finally crash over him. Ropes of come spurted out from his cock, landing on the floor, but he imagined he was deep inside your little cunt right now. Splitting you open on his cock, making you beg him to stop, raping a kid into you. He couldn’t stifle the moan in time when he had that thought, but you were crying hard enough that he’s pretty sure you didn’t even notice. When his orgasm finally faded and his fist slowed to a stop, he caught his breath for a moment, then cleared his throat and sat up in his seat again. 

“That was good. It’ll be a challenge, but I think I can help you.” He smiled, already thinking of a “treatment” plan for you. “Is that what you want? For me to fix your broken little head and make you all better again?” He cooed almost mockingly. You nodded in response. 

“Look at me.” He ordered, waiting to continue until you were staring at him with teary eyes. “Answer verbally.” 

“Yes.” You whispered. 

“Good. While I work out the best treatment for you, I’m going to give you a mild sedative. It will help calm you down and keep you stable.” The closest thing to a vegetative state that is actually reversible, is what he didn’t say. He wanted a chance to see what he was working with and he knew if you were fully conscious you’d never allow him anywhere near your body, no matter how much you trust him. 

“Okay.” You said quietly. 

“I promise you, you’re in very good hands. The only thing I want is to help you.” He smiled, deliberately avoiding details on how he would help, or what his ‘help’ would result in. 

“Thank you.” You spoke through a whimper, making his smile widen into something more sinister. He’s going to have so much fun with his new toy. 

Taglist (join here)

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[iamknicole]

Chapter Eleven

A/N: I'm on a roll, yall! Enjoy! Please remember to ⭐Comment, reblog & share⭐

Warnings: Slight mentions of abortion, cursing, physical violence. TYPOS. 18+ MINORS DNI

Masterlist

Chapter Ten

Saturday had rolled around quicker than Zilla would have liked. His first go round in therapy was mandated, though he did learn a couple things he didn't take much from it. The therapist they paid him with wasn't a good match and they wouldn't let him swap. But this time his therapist was someone chosen by a loved one. While he trusted Kamille's decision he wondered how this therapist would be. She had told him that he could take Moriah but with everything that's transpired between them, he figured it wouldn't be a good idea to take her. 

The suede sofa felt good under him, he rubbed his left hand back and forth on the arm of the sofa. Dr. Barnes sat in the matching chair across from Zilla awaiting the answer to his question. 

“If you don't wanna answer, we can circle back to it at the end of the session, Mr. Fatu.”

At the sound of his name, Zilla's eyes moved from the sofa to his new therapist. 

“Can you ask it again?”

“Sure,” Dr. Barnes chuckled, “What landed you on my sofa?”

Zilla's eyebrows rose for a second. “You want the long answer or the short answer?”

Again, he chuckled. “For the sake of time, since we have a shorter session today you can go ahead and give me the short version.”

“Short version is Pops died when I was little and I just found out I had a kid, they dead too.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your father and your child. Which one would you like to talk about first, Mr. Fatu?”

Zilla scratched his face, chuckling. “You can call me Zilla, man. You ain’t gotta call me mister. But uuuh I guess Angel.”

Dr. Barnes nodded, giving the younger man his undivided attention. “Zilla it is. Angel is your child, I’m assuming. Boy or girl.”

“Boy.”

“How old?”

He rubbed at his nose, deflating against the suede material. “I guess you could say 12 week or sum’ like that.”

Dr. Barnes studied his reaction with a slight brow raise. “Tell me about the circumstances.”

“Uuh, my girlfriend she found she was pregnant after I got locked up and when she was 12 weeks I think, her mom made her,” he paused rubbing his hands together, “She made her get rid of the baby.”

Dr. Barnes wrote a few things down.

“You said that you are just finding out about his passing so no one told you when it happened. How did that make you feel that no one told you?”

He sat quietly for a few minutes then shrugged. “I mean I was pissed at first that they hid it from me.”

“And now?”

“I get it. They weren’t not tellin’ me at first cause they ain’t know how but they were gonna tell me. Then when that bi–that lady did what she did, they felt like it was Fat place to tell me and she was scared to tell me.”

Dr. Barnes wrote a few things then looked up with a smile on his face. “Fat?”

“Oh, Moriah, that’s my lady.” He informed him with a proud smile on his face. “Wanna see her?”

Dr. Barnes chuckled out his response then sat his notepad aside so he could lean up. He took Zilla’s phone, a smile on his face while he studied it for a moment then gave it back. 

“She's beautiful. Who else is in the picture?”

“Thank you. Our niece and my mama,” he said, glancing at the screensaver before putting it away. 

“Have you and your mom talked about the circumstances with Angel?”

“Not really no. Like for a second but nothin past that. I wanted Rye to be involved when we talked and she's finally off today.”

Dr. Barnes smiled. “Today is the day then. How does that feel? From the picture it seems you and your mother have a good relationship.”

His smile was back again. “Yeah, we do. It got better when I got out. I feel kinda nervous.”

“Tell me about that.”

“Cause me and Fat talked to each other about it and I talked to one of my brothers but it's different with our parents. Well my mama and her dad.”

“You think you're gonna hear something that might make you emotional or you think she's gonna tell you something that you and Moriah may not already know?”

“Is both a good answer?”

Dr. Barnes leaned up, resting his arms on his thighs. “There's no right or wrong answer. Whatever answer you give is the answer, Zilla.”

He nodded slowly stroking his chin hair. “Then both.”

“It's okay to feel nervous or apprehensive to talk about something as long as you do it. Going through with it is the focus. Make sure you're open to listening to what your mom says and that you get whatever questions out. If you feel like you might forget, type them up on your phone.”

“Yeah … maybe, man.”

Checking his watch, Dr. Barnes steepled his fingers, pointing his index fingers at Zilla. “You almost made it through your first session. How do you feel about making this a regular meet up? I promise if you're not comfortable, I'm okay with that. You can't heal and grow properly if you're not comfortable.”

Zilla thought for a second, making the commitment of talking about his feelings every other week made him nervous. The question echoed in his head a few times then his mind went to his relationship and his family. 

“I'm coo’ with that.” He answered with a small smile. “We can do that.”

“Great, great. So I'm going to give you a little homework.” Dr. Barnes chuckled at his frown. “You act like I'm about to assign you geometry homework or something. It's something easy and you don't even have to write anything down.”

Zilla laughed a little sitting back up. “My bad. Homework ain't ever been my thang.”

“Mine either,” he chuckled. “Your homework is for you to plan something for you and Moriah to celebrate Angel. Doesn't have to be extravagant unless you want it to be. Just something. Sound good?”

Zilla scrunched his face a little. “Like something fa kids?”

“Whatever you think is appropriate to celebrate you and Moriah's son. Something that you can look back on and always think of him. Okay?”

“Aight, I can do that.”

“I know you can. I’ll see you in two weeks, can't wait to hear about what you planned.”

After therapy, Zilla stopped by a floral shop and a bakery he passed on the way home. He eased into their apartment, sat her gifts on the coffee table then followed her voice to their bathroom. Moriah rapped along to her music as she finished up her skin care routine, Zilla stood in the doorway watching her with a smile on his face. 

“That's yo shit, huh?” He laughed seeing her jump. “How you scary listenin to thug ass music?”

“You're gonna give me a heart attack, Isayah!”

“Naaaah,” he laughed, going to give her a kiss, “You'll be aight.”

Pulling him closer, she kissed him a few more times and hugged him. “Oh whatever. How'd it go?”

“Went good, Auntie picked a good one.”

Moriah clapped excitedly then grabbed one of her moisturizers from the counter. She squeezed a little bit into her hand. “So you're gonna go back then?”

“Yeah, ima go back, Fat.”

“Tell me about it.” She dabbed a bit of the moisturizer onto her fingertips then started to massage it into his face, “Girl or guy? Old or young? Me or them or you?”

He laughed trying to get away from her hands. “Mane, what is you puttin on me?”

“I thought you were losing your thick ass accent but I see it's still there,” she joked. “Moisturizer. Now answer please.”

“I don't need that.” He complained allowing her to continue. “Man, older, you. Aight na, you don't gotta squeeze my cheeks like that.”

She giggled while still doing it. “You squeeze mine and I don't say nothing.”

Grabbing her hips, Zilla pulled her closer to him then slid his hand to her butt and squeezed.

“Cause you like that shit. Duh.”

“Isayah,” she squealed, “Stop that, I'm tryna help you moisturize.”

“I already got my own moisturizer, I don't need that.”

She stared at him. “Boy what moisturizer you got? I have never seen you use moisturizer. I have to put everything on your face.”

“You know what moisturizer I got, Fat.”

“Nope, I don't. Tell me.”

His eyes met hers, glanced down briefly then back up with a smirk on his face. She stared at him for a moment before it hit her. 

“Why are you like this?”

“Like what?”

“Nasty for no reason.”

“It ain't for no reason,” he laughed, “It's all to make you happy so say thank you.”

Laughing, Moriah stepped away from him to the sink to wash her hands. Not one to be away from her, Zilla moved to stand behind her, staring at her through the mirror. Her eyes met his for a brief moment making her smile. 

“Zay,” she called out softly. 

He hummed out a response.

“I don't know if you know this but,” she paused to turn the water off and dry her hands, “There's no other place I'd rather be than here with you.”

Her heart swelled watching the tint rise to his cheeks as his smile spread across his face. It wasn't often she was able to make him blush so when she did, she enjoyed it. Pulling her closer once again, Zilla put his face in her neck kissing her there then lifted his head to look at her through the mirror. 

“You sure?” He asked softly. 

“Of course, I am.”

He kissed her face a few times. “I got you something. Come on.”

Moriah allowed him to lead her out to the gifts. Immediately she went to the flowers, inhaling their scent and gently caressing their petals. Zilla quickly snuck a couple of pictures of her.

“They're so pretty, Zay. I love them. You picked them?”

He scrunched his face playfully. “What I get if I say yes?”

She laughed softly looking over at him. “The same thing you'd get if you had help.”

“Mmm then yeah, I did. I did good? I think I remembered all the ones you like.”

She nodded, moving her eyes back to the flowers. “You did. All that time I thought you weren't listening to me but you were.”

“I tell you all the time, even though I wasn't actin like it all the time, you was and is the most important to me, Fat. I listened to everything you said to me.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, girl. I mean it.”

She tilted her head back and puckered her lips at him. He put a hand on her throat, pecking her lips a few times. They held each other's stare for a moment until she stuck her tongue out at him making him laugh. 

“Silly ass, I got you something else. I'm surprised you ain't see it first.”

She frowned a little, turning to look. “Ooooh that's a bakery box. What you get me?”

“Open it and see.”

She eyed him before turning to the box that sat on their coffee table alongside the vase of flowers. She slowly opened it, excitedly wiggling when her eyes landed on the contents. 

“I haven't had good red velvet cake since we left Texas, babe. Wait … is it good?”

He sucked his teeth playfully. “I'm not tryna get cussed out about that damn cake, I wouldn't give it to you if it wasn't, Fat. And I damn sure wouldn't have got you a whole cake if it wasn't.”

She laughed. “I cussed you out one time and you won't let it go.”

He stared at her. “Twice. Both times you went on for a hour and a half.”

“Blah, blah,” she said, picking the box up, carrying it to the kitchen, “You want a piece?”

“No and neither do you.”

“Wait, what?”

He chuckled. “You heard me. You not eatin that right now. Close it up and get back over here.”

She pouted. “But why not?”

“Cause I said so. I know you ain't ate no real food so you not eatin no cake right now.”

The following silence made him chuckle. Quietly, he crossed their apartment to the kitchen. He watched her try to quietly cut a piece. 

“Moriah,” he called out sternly. 

She jumped and pouted. “Just a little piece.”

“What I say?”

Rolling her eyes, Moriah closed the box lying the knife across the top and slid her feet over to him. He kissed her head ignoring her pouting.

“Think you my Daddy,” she mumbled as she walked past him. 

He laughed. “I know I am cause you told me. Get in that room so we can call Mama.”

The couple laid across their bed with Moriah's iPad in front of them waiting for Leata to answer their facetime. Zilla bothered Moriah while they waited. 

“If you lick my face again, I'm gonna bite you.” She warned. 

Zilla paused for a second then laughed as he leaned in to lick up her jaw to her cheek. Grabbing his face, Moriah pulled him closer and bit his cheek just as Leata answered the call. She sat quietly watching them, glad they were in a good place still. Laughing, Zilla pulled away from her grasp and wiped his cheek.

“Don't lick me again, Fatu.” She laughed. 

He leaned forward and licked her lips. “You say I don't listen anyway so.”

“Isayah, stoooop.” She laughed, wiping her lips. “You so annoying.”

“But you love me,” he laughed, leaning over to do it again. 

“Zilla, what are you doin to her?”

“Making her laugh, Mama.”

“No, you're annoying me,” Moriah corrected, laughing. “Tell him to leave me alone, Ma.”

She chuckled softly. “Behave, Zilla. How are you two?”

“I'm aight. How you?”

“I'm good, son. Rye, how are you?”

“Well,” she said bumping Zilla, “I was good till your son started bothering me. And he wouldn't let me have any of the cake that he got me. He's being annoying and mean.”

Leata looked between the two of them. “Why can't she have cake?”

“Cause big head ain't ate real food since last night.”

“Rye, its what,” she paused to look at the time, “Almost 2 and you haven't eaten yet? You need to eat before all that sweet stuff.”

Moriah pouted. “Yes ma'am but only cause you said it and not him.”

Zilla mushed her head playfully. “Either way you ain't gettin it right now.”

“Alright, are yall ready to talk?” She asked stopping them before they could start arguing. They nodded putting their attention back on her. “Okay so where are we starting?”

Moriah nodded for Zilla to go.

“Um when yall found out Fat was pregnant, did you and her people talk without her?”

“We did. We actually spoke a few times. Rye, you don't know this but Hassan knew before you told him. You said you wanted to tell the two of them at the same time but you and I were going to need him as an ally while you told Nadine.” She explained. “When he got in town, I had him come to the house first so I could talk to him. He understood my point of view and he was glad that I had told him prior to. His main concern was the two of you and the baby.”

“Wow … thank you. I didn't even think about that.” Moriah admitted.

“Of course, manamea. While Rye were in school, the three of us got together to discuss the whole situation. It was made clear that no one was to say anything to you until I figured out how to tell you. Surprisingly enough, Nadine agreed to that but knowing what she did that's probably why.”

Zilla nodded, rubbing over his chin hairs. “Anything else?”

Leata thought for a few seconds. “Just that even though the timing of the pregnancy wasn't ideal, Hassan and I were never mad at you two. A little disappointed but we were honest with ourselves,” she chuckled, “We saw it coming from a mile away. We thought it'd be a little later but we knew.”

Moriah and Zilla looked at each other then back at the screen. 

“Knew what, Ma?” She asked with her brow raised. 

“That there was gonna be a pregnancy or a scare at some point in high school. We knew it.”

Zilla scrunched his face up. “We wasn't even datin then.”

Again she chuckled. “You two never put a name to it but yall were. You went on dates, you were always cuddled up on my sofa, in your bedroom with the door closed and locked and sneaking out together.”

The couple laughed softly. 

“We wasn't doin nothin that most of that time. Not till later.”

“Oh trust me, son.” She laughed. “I know when yall started. I just didn't say anything. You didn't wonder why all of a sudden your brothers were giving you condoms and talking to you?”

Zilla laughed thinking back about it while Moriah sat mortified with small giggles escaping her. 

“I'm embarrassed,” she declared. “I told you, Zay.”

He laughed. “You was always scary anyway so I ain't pay you no attention.”

“Any other questions for me?”

Moriah looked to her boyfriend for his response. 

“Uuuh … after Fat told you what happened, what did you do?”

“Well first I went to pray,” she chuckled humorlessly, “Because if I didn't, I knew whatever I would've done would not have been good. I consoled and talked to Rye until she had to go back home afterwards I went to my bedroom and I cried. I called Arthur to tell him, he was livid. I had to keep him from going to see Nadine. And then you ended up calling me, Isayah. You usually never called as late as you did but I remember you saying something was telling you to call me so you did.”

Zilla tried hard to remember that call, he could recall certain parts of the conversation but not all of it. 

She continued on. 

“It was hard to act like everything was okay but I had to because I knew it wasn't my place to tell you. I could assist Rye with it but that was all. Plus telling you while you were in there would not have been good.”

Moriah reached over to wipe the few stray tears from his face. He sniffed a few times. 

“I appreciate y'all for carin enough about me not tell tell me then cause I prolly would've got more time. I woulda caused hell in that place.”

“And that's what we didn't want.” Leata said softly. 

Zilla leaned over, kissing Moriah's cheek then whispered for her to go ahead. She nodded, starting to play with her fingernails. 

“I gotta tell you something else about this whole thing, Ma.”

“I'm listening, Rye. Whatever it is, it's got you nervous. You only do that with your nails when you're nervous.”

She smiled a little, trying to stop clicking her nails. “After everything, I kept asking my mom for information. I wanted to know if she knew the gender and what they did with my baby afterwards. Then finally she told me that she had the gender and she had them cremate the remains. And she said the only way I was getting any of that and my sonograms was under one condition.”

“Which was what?”

Moriah bit her lip, fighting the urge to cry. “I had to get my tubes tied.”

Leata frowned, leaning in a bit closer. “You had to what? Cause I know Nadine did not.”

“I had to get my tubes tied, Ma. I wanted what I had left of my baby so I agreed.”

Leata's face was set in shock on the other side of the facetime. There were so many words that wanted to come out but she was unable to say a thing. Moriah asked Zilla to pass her the baby blue box from his nightstand, when she got it she held it in view for Leata to see. Zilla rubbed soothing circles on her back. 

“She just had him in this ugly carton thing so I used the money that my dad had given me for something else to buy him this. He's gone everywhere with me even college,” she chuckled softly.

Trying to process everything, Leata brought her hands to her face for a moment. She allowed her tears to fall freely as she stared at the screen. 

“He?”

“Yes ma'am,” Moriah tilted it a bit to show where his name was engraved at the top. “I was having a boy. I named him Angel.”

“Oh, Rye. This just makes what she did that much worse. It wasn't enough that she made you abort Angel but then continued to use him to manipulate you and pretty much take away the chance to have another.”

Zilla and Moriah sat quietly listening to her come to terms with everything.

Leata took slow deep breaths. “That is an evil woman that neither of you need to be around. I know that's your mother, Moriah but you have done all you can do. There is no saving grace for her and you will not give her any. Do you hear me?”

“Yes ma'am.”

“I am so sorry that she did that to you, Rye. If I would've known I would've done something to stop it. Does Hassan know?”

“I know, Ma. No, I never told anyone until now so only you, Zay, my mom and me know.”

She nodded. “Well no one will find out from me, that is your business to tell. I um I need to go. I love the two … the three of you so much. Call me or text me if you need me.”

Zilla noticed the look on his mother's face and got concerned. “You good, Mama? You look pale.”

“I'm okay, I'm okay. Just processing. I'm gonna go.”

Without waiting on them to respond, she disconnected the call. Moriah closed her iPad case then rolled onto her side to look at her boyfriend.

“She is not okay.”

“She ain't,” he agreed. He grabbed his phone sending out a quick text, “I told Arthur to go check on her.”

“She looked pissed. I'm pretty sure if not now, in the next few days she's gonna go see my mom.”

Zilla thought then shrugged. “Nadine need her ass whooped anyway. She get what she get.”

Moriah laughed, “You not wrong but Ma do not need to be doing that. We don't want her to get in any trouble.”

He huffed loudly. “You right but Nadine still need her ass whooped. I guess text Auntie Kami too but that would mean you gotta tell her.”

Moriah tapped on her phone, sighing softly. “The good thing about Auntie Kami is I don't need to tell her right now and even though she'll find out in the midst, I can still talk to her about it later and she'll be okay with it.”

Zilla gently pushed Moriah back, making her lie on her back so he could put his head on her chest. She reached one hand down to rub his head while she continued to text. 

“I'm proud of you, Fat.”

“What did I do?”

“Everything. You went through all that plus her basically torturin you till I got out and you stood ya ground. You strong baby.” He praised softly. “You got a good ass heart too. I ain't gon let nobody else play with that shit or you. Zilla got you.”

“And Fat got you. You know I do not play about you.”

He laughed a bit. “Shit, I know. Remember ole girl you beat up at that skate party? Made that girl piss herself.”

Moriah busted out laughing, almost dropping her phone. “I did not.”

“Yeah you did. I remember,” He laughed “I remember cause when you realized it got on your hand, you punched her ass in the mouth.”

“Cause that shit was nasty. If she couldn't hold her bladder she shouldn't have started with you.”

He turned over to look at her, a smile on his face. “I thought you said you ain't do that?”

She stared at him trying not to laugh. “Okay, fine, I did. But in my defense I was only doing what Pops, Ejay, and your cousins taught me to do.”

“They did not tell you to make nobody piss they self, mane. You did that.” He laughed now sitting up.

“They did so. They said make sure whoever I fight is leaking by the end. They never specified what kind of leak.” She shrugged playfully. “Point is, I won, she apologized and never bothered you again.”

He shook his head at her, still laughing. “And that's why I tell people not fuck witchu cause they don't want them problems. And I don't either.”

She swatted at his arm after she put her phone down. “Don't tell people that. They gon think I'm mean.”

He pushed his lips to the side staring at her. “That ain't a secret, Fat. Everybody that know ya ass know you mean as shit. You only nice to your patients, Mama, Hassan, and Toni. And I really don't think you that nice to Toni, I just ain't seen it yet.”

“Aht. I am nice to her. She's not nice to me.”

“Damn,” he called out, “That mean she meaner than you. Yall was meant to be friends.”

Moriah sat up and launched herself at him, he grabbed Angel's box moving it to the nightstand then wrapped his arms around her. He laughed as she landed playful jabs to his torso.

“Since I'm mean, I might as well beat you up then, Fatu.”

“Now you know the only one of us that gets beat up around here is you,” He joked, tickling her sides making her giggle uncontrollably. “Now say sorry.”

“Zay! Zay, stop!” She yelled in between giggles.

He continued his playful assault on her sides through his own laughter. “Say sorry and I stop.”

“Okay! Okay! I'm sorry!” She yelled.

He hummed not stopping. “That ain't enough. Am I your daddy, Fat?”

“Zilla, I gotta pee!” She giggled. 

He laughed still tickling her.  “Then you better answer me. Am I your daddy?”

She fell over giggling. “Yes! You're my Daddy! Stoooop!”

Laughing, he let her go. He watched her jump off the bed and run into the bathroom closing the door behind her. She yelled from behind the door. 

“You get on my nerves, Fatu!” 

He grabbed his ringing phone and put it to his ear. “Love you too, Fat! What's up, Jon?”

“The hell is yall doing? Yelling in my ear.” He asked, talking just as loud. 

Zilla laughed putting the call on speaker. “Nothin, man. What's up?”

“Checkin to make sure yall still coming this weekend. Trin made me call cause she said if her favorite cousin not here I'm gon be in trouble.”

“Ayyye, I'm the favorite. Tell her we gon be there.”

Jon laughed. “She wasn't talkin about you, man. She was talkin about Moriah.”

He sucked his teeth. “Just for that tell her, I'm comin but Fat stayin home.”

Moriah came out of the bathroom and went back to the bed, leaning against Zilla. “I'm not staying home. If I don't go, you don't go.”

“I can go places without you, big head.”

“You can but you can't go visit them without me.”

He looked down at her. “Why I can't?”

She stared back at him. “Jon gon let you live with him?”

Jon laughed, interrupting them. “Damn, she sound just like Trin. Always tryna put us out over a lil jokey joke.”

“Cause yall not funny.” Moriah fired back playfully. “We'll be there, Jon. And I want the same room, Trin told me it was mine.”

“Lil girl, how you just gon claim stuff in my house?” 

“Huh? You said you want me to tell Trin you being mean to me?”

“Maaaan,” he drug out playfully, “Aight fine but you gon tell Sefa why he can't have that room.”

Moriah squealed, “My second favorite Fatu man is gonna be there? Why you didn't tell me before?”

Zilla frowned. “I better be the first favorite.”

She scrunched her face. “Ew, no. Arthur's my first favorite then Sefa.”

“And what number am I?” Jon asked. 

“Uuuuh let's see …. There's Arthur, Sefa, Zilla, Jacob, Ejay, you and then Naio.” 

“Now wait a damn minute,” Jon called out, “I'm number six! Why am I so low on the list? What I do?”

“And why am I number three?”

“Jon, you're never on my side just like Naio so that's what yall get,” she explained quickly, “And you're number three because Arthur spoils me and Sefa always took my side and the both of them always check on me.”

Both men sucked their teeth. 

“Aye, Zay, we gon jump Sefa this weekend. Traitor.”

Zilla laughed. “Hell yeah.”

“But aight then. Text me what snacks and stuff yall want for the weekend so I can add it to the list. Call if yall need anything.”

“Bye number six!” Moriah joked. 

Job sucked his teeth. “Just for that, no snacks for you.”

“Bye, man.” Zilla chuckled, ending their call. “Fat?”

“What, big head?”

“I'm really number 3?”

She nodded, smiling. “Yup but you're my number one Fatu in the non platonic way.”

“I'm the only non platonic Fatu you got.”

She huffed playfully. “Boy, just take the number one spot and hush.”

After her shift, Moriah changed out of her work clothes and into her regular clothes then went to the ED to wait on Toni. She watched the older woman check in a second patient in the last ten minutes. Bronco, Zilla and Moriah had finally convinced Toni to come to a show and see him wrestle. 

“Nurse Bryant, it's fifteen minutes past your shift.” Moriah called out looking at her watch. 

Toni finished up with the patient then turned to her friend. “I couldn't just stop what I was doing, Rye. I'm coming, give me a second.”

“We're gonna be late if you don't come on. We still have to stop by your house to drop off your car and for you to change, go to mine to drop my car off and uber to the show. Bring your butt on.”

The handheld monitor went off again interrupting them. Before Toni could check it, Moriah snatched it and passed it to the nurses relieving her, who had been trying to get it. They had a short conversation then Moriah pulled her friend from behind the nurses station and towards the doors.

“Wait, wait, my purse.” Toni called out trying to go back. 

“It's in my bag, let's go. Cause if I miss my man because of you, me and you are gonna need a ref.”

When the friends got to their cars, Thomas was sitting on the hood of Moriah's car. Toni rolled her eyes and Moriah stayed to dig through her purse. 

“Why are you sitting on her car? Get off.”

Thomas smiled. “Was just waiting on her. No harm done, Toni.”

“Yet you're still sitting on it,” she clocked with a tilt of her head. 

He waved her off putting his focus on Moriah. “Can we talk, Moriah? It won't take but a second.”

“You have until I find what I'm looking for to say whatever it is you wanna say to me and I believe I told you to call me Nurse DeBreaux.”

“I just wanted to tell you that I'll love you and wanna be with you regardless of us being able to have children. We can try and if it doesn't work, we can always adopt. I really want to give us another try, I've matured. I'm not the same person I used to be.”

“Found it,” she announced triumphantly and pulled her pink taser Jacob had given her years ago from her purse. She moved closer to him, putting it near his crutch. “If you ever sit on my car again, call me anything but what I've told you to call me or bring my medical information up again, I won't be the only one who may not have kids. Am I clear?” She pressed the side making it spark for emphasis. 

Toni stood back laughing to herself.

He jumped a little. “Whoa, I'm just tryna make amends. It's bad enough you might not have kids, don't want you to be alone on top of it.”

“Why do you assume I'll be alone, Thomas?”

“Look at all the kids in that family. If you can't give him kids, he's not gonna stay when he finds out.”

Moriah chuckled. “Get the hell off my car, Thomas. You got five seconds.” 

He jumped off the hood, taking a few steps back. “Just think about it, Mo.”

“You are so lucky I got somewhere to be. Stay away from me and I mean that shit.” After he jogged off, Moriah turned her taser off and threw it back in her purse. She passed Toni her own purse. “I'll follow you to your house. We gotta hurry.”

Forty five minutes later, the friends made it to NXT Arena at Full Sail University. They walked around the backstage area looking for their other halves.

“Haven't you been here before?” Toni asked, looking around. 

“Yeah twice but both times he was with me. Let's just ask somebody.” Moriah looked around then spotted what looked like a friendly face. She approached the woman, tapping her shoulder. “Sorry to bother you but we're kinda lost.”

She smiled looking at the two of them. “Well I hope I can help. I'm literally like two almost three weeks in. What are yall looking for?”

“Catering. We're supposed to meet someone there.”

“Now that I can find. Follow me,” she laughed, starting to head in that direction with them. “I'm Gia, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you. I'm Moriah and this is Toni.” Toni gave a polite smile and wave when Gia looked over at her. “What do you do here, Gia?”

“Journalist but in basic terms, I do backstage interviews.”

“Sounds cool. And you don't have to get all sweaty and thrown around so that's good.” Moriah joked, ignoring Toni’s mimicking. 

“That's the best part,” Gia agreed, stopping in front of catering, “Do you see who you're looking for?”

Moriah and Toni looked around for a few seconds. Toni nudged her friend's arm and pointed. 

“I see them over there.”

“Where?” Moriah asked, frowning. 

Toni pointed, “Right there. Left corner. I know you see Bronco's tall ass and Zilla.”

Gia's ears perked up at the mention. “I see them. Come on, I'll walk yall.”

“Uuh, we got it but thank you, Gia.” Toni frowned.

Gia laughed it off. “No worries plus I hadn't had a chance to speak to them today. They're always on the move.”

Gia walked in front of them, leaving the two friend's to exchange looks before following her. Moriah mumbled under her breath a bit. 

“Oh my gosh, Zilla! Look who I found wandering around,” she announced putting a hand on his arm.

Moriah didn't miss the grimace on his face as he looked in Gia's direction. He moved her hand then noticed Moriah and Toni. Bronco rolled his eyes accepting Toni's hug. He whispered to her that Gia got on his nerves. Zilla smiled widely at Moriah going to hug her. 

“What's up, Fat? What's up, Toni?”

“You didn't tell me your sister and her friend was coming, Zilla. I could've met them at the gate for you since you and Bronco had them wandering around.”

Toni laughed under her breath looking up at Bronco, who rolled his eyes again. 

“Sister? Do me and him look alike to you?” Moriah asked, confused. 

Gia laughed, clasping her hands in front of her body. “I'm sorry, I was assuming. Cousin then?”

Zilla pulled Moriah into his side, placing a kiss to her temple. “She not my cousin. This my lady, mane. And we got them. We good, Gia.”

“Oooh this is your girlfriend? He really loves you, girl. Every time I talk to him, he mentions you.”

“I wonder why,” Toni mumbled. 

Moriah smiled looking between them. “Good to know, Gia.”

Gia patted his chest a few times then let her hand linger there. “He's a tough cookie to crack but I think I'm wearing him down. We're gonna be friends. And don't worry, I'll keep an eye on him for you. These girls around here can be a bit much.”

Before Zilla could, Moriah pushed her hand off of him.

“Yeah I can see that about the girls,” Moriah sassed tilting her head. “Just a little thing to keep in mind about him … he doesn't like to be touched by people he don't know like that and I don't either.”

“Noted, girl. I'll make sure they keep their hands off of my friend.” Gia smiled at Zilla and Bronco then moved to hug Moriah and Toni. “Enjoy the show. Ooh come find me afterwards, we can go get drinks.”

Moriah turned to stare at her boyfriend, who held his hands up. 

“Fat, I ain't do shit. She can't take a hint.” 

Bronco nodded. “He ain't lying. He literally gives her no indication that it's okay for her to even talk to him and she still do it.”

Moriah folded her arms. “She better learn how to take a hint or she gon have a problem that she don't want. Talking about some damn sister or cousin. She knew I wasn't either one of those.”

“She did,” Toni agreed, “She was trying to be messy.”

“And had the nerve to put her hands all on him like I'm not standing here. She lucky I ain't break her damn hand.”

Toni clapped her hands. “Girl, seriously. She was trying you. Being all bold like, I can imagine what she does when you're not here.”

Moriah groaned inwardly. “And she better hope I don't ever find out cause I will beat her ass and then ima beat his ass.”

“And then ima beat Bronco's ass,” Toni added.

“Wait, I moved her hand just like I do any other time and tell her to stop. Why I'm gettin my ass beat?” Zilla asked. 

“Ion even like that girl and I tell her to leave him alone. I shouldn't be gettin my ass beat.” Bronco stressed. 

“Just so yall know we not nothing to play with,” Toni explained with finality. 

Moriah nodded. “That part.”

“Listen, me and Bronco not worried about that girl. We dodge her ass and whenever she do catch us, we keep it short. Right, B?”

Bronco nodded. “Right.”

“It better stay that way too. I don't mind beating her ass, Isayah.”

Zilla nodded her face then her lips, holding her body against his. “I know you don't. Don't worry about her, she ain't important.”

“Mmhm.”

“Oh! Rye almost tased Thomas’s nuts off.” Toni announced with a chuckle. 

Zilla looked at Toni then his girlfriend. “Not that it matter but why?”

“He was sitting his ass on my damn car and was tryna talk to me about being together,” she explained, “Then I told him if he ever sat on my car or brought what he brought up again, I wouldn't be the only one with fertility issues.”

“Good job, sis.” Bronco praised excitedly. “But next time do it. Teach his ass.”

Toni hit his arm, chastising him.

“You know when he work next?”

“Why?” She asked, staring at him. 

“Do you know, Fat?”

She nodded slowly. “Yeah, Thursday same time as me.”

“Aight, yall go head to your seats. We'll send somebody to get yall before the show over.” He pulled her closer, kissing her slowly. “I love you, fat head.”

She laughed softly. “Love you more, Fatu. See you later, Bronco.”

Bronco hugged and kissed Toni then smiled at Moriah. “Aight, sis. Yall cheer loud for me and my boy.”

The men watched their girlfriends leave catering before turning to one another. Bronco's smile widened with a mischievous glint in his eye. 

“What time I need to be ready Thursday?”

Fortunately for Nadine, Kamille was able to detour Leata for a couple of days. Knowing her sister's work schedule, she invited Nadine to her house Wednesday afternoon for a snack and to talk. Kamille left the detail about Leata coming out to ensure her sister came. 

Leata and Kamille had been sitting in her living room since Arthur dropped her off thirty minutes prior. The two waited on Nadine's arrival. 

“Which one of your babies was that, that dropped you off?”

“Arthur, my oldest. And he was not happy that I wouldn't let him stay.” She chuckled. 

Kamille laughed. “Yeah, he didn't look happy. Rye told me that he's the only brother that knows so I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that he's on the list of people that aren't happy with my sister.”

“He's definitely on that list. I don't blame him … just thinking about it makes me so angry. She was 15 years old, a baby.”

“I've been giving her shit about the way she's been with Moriah for years and she tells me the same thing every time. That she can do what she wants with her child.”

Leata rolled her eyes. “Same crap she's said to me.”

The door opening and closing momentarily ended their conversation. Nadine called out for her sister then followed her voice to the living room. Her smile slowly dropped into a frown as she went to sit on the love seat. 

“You didn't tell me there would be a third wheel, little sister.”

Kamille smiled. “Seems like you were the last one here so you're the third wheel, big sister. How are you?”

“I'm well. How are you? Hello, Leata.”

“Same, Nadine.” Kamille answered, nudging Leata.

“Hi, Nadine.” She greeted stiffly.

Nadine hummed at her. “How is your son treating my baby?”

“You would know if she were still talking to you,” Leata chuckled, “He's treating her the way he's always treated her, like a queen.”

“Queen of what? The hood?”

Kamille jumped in to stop them. “Nadine, cut it out. Don't get sassy because you know she's right.”

“Kami, why am I here? I've been working all day and I am too tired for this.”

Girl,” Kamille scoffed, “You worked two hours today, you not tired. Anyway Leata wanted to talk to you and I am here to facilitate. Don't be your usual asshole self either.”

Nadine rested her elbow on the arm rest, moving her attention from her little sister to Leata. “What would you like to talk about, Leata? What can I do for you?”

Leata counted backwards from ten in her head before responding. “I'm just gonna jump right in, I don't have the patience to beat around the bush. You made Moriah get her tubes tied?”

“Yup.” She answered popping the ‘p’. “Anything else?”

“Anything…. Anything else? Are you kidding me? You don't see anything wrong with making a 15 year old girl get her tubes tied? She was a baby, Nadine.”

She smiled at her former friend. “No, I don't see anything wrong with making hard decisions for my child. She was a baby that didn't need to be having babies so I made sure she wouldn't.”

“Birth control was an option, Nadine.”

“Wasn't gonna do what I needed to be done.”

“What if she never able to have kids again? Does that even make you feel a little bad?”

She shook her head, a slight smile on her face. “Knowing that she'll never have a child with that child of yours brings me joy and a sense of accomplishment. And if I'm as lucky as I think I am, he'll break up with her.”

“Nadine, what is your got damn problem with me and my kids? You went from being one of my best friends to my enemy.” Leata yelled while sitting up on the sofa. 

“You and your kids are just like that husband of yours.” Nadine yelled standing from the love seat. “I didn't realize it until after his ass killed over.”

Leata stood as well, pointing her finger in Nadine's direction. “You better be careful with the next words that come out of your mouth.”

“Hmm well let me take a second to think about what I wanna say about you, your husband and your kids.” Nadine paused dramatically. “Your husband always had his ass in my family's business, in my husband's ear about this and about that. Thought it was just him but you and your damn kids are the same way. You took your husband's spot in my husband's ear and your kids are in my daughter's ears.”

“Hassan and Moriah know how to make their own choices! We did not make them do anything they didn't wanna do, Nadine!”

Nadine rolled her eyes. “Oh sure. They just happened to make these stupid decisions after talking to one of you Fatus.”

“Oh please, Nadine. I'm glad you think so highly of us that we have that much control but sorry to tell you it's complete bullshit.”

“I'm not my daughter or my husband, I'm not falling for that.” She chuckled. “As bad I felt when your husband died, I was glad cause I thought I was finally getting control back of my family. But then the manipulation and interference didn't stop.”

Kamille stood at that. “Nadine, you're going too far. Stop that.”

“Oh I'm just getting started,” she spat, laughing. “I don't think I'll have to wait that long to get control back and have my baby come home to me. That child of yours is following in his father's footsteps literally so it won't be too long before he joins him. Now that's a funeral I would pay good money to sit front row at.”

Leata's right arm reared back then forward with as much force as she could muster connecting with Nadine's left cheek. There was so much force behind her slap, Nadine lost her balance and hit the floor. She held her cheek, opening and closing her mouth trying to check her jaw. Kamille stepped in front of Leata. Pushing her back gently trying to calm her. 

“That was the last time you will ever talk about my kids or my husband! If you ever talk about them again like that it'll be your funeral we're sitting front row for!”

Slowly, Nadine pushed herself up onto the love seat. She heard Leata but the pain in her face and jaw kept her from responding. There was a slight ringing in her ear as well that wouldn't go away.

“Breathe, friend. Breathe. I got her, you go call Arthur.”

Leata glared at her old friend as she left the living room, mumbling to herself. Kamille stared at her big sister wondering how the sister she used to look up to turned into this person. They were fifteen years apart but at 38, Kamille felt like she had much more sense than the 53 year old sitting in front of her today. 

“Why would you say that to her? You can't really feel that way, Nadine.”

Nadine winced a bit when she opened her mouth. “You know I don't say things that I don't mean.”

“I don't know that but I do know if you say things to hurt people to get the upper hand. You wished death on her kid. That's not right.”

She chuckled. “What's not right is her family breaking up mine.”

“Their family didn't do a damn thing but love you, Hassan and Moriah. Although it's clear that they wasted their love on you. You and you alone broke up your family.”

“If I didn't know any better I'd swear you were drinking the Kool-Aid too.” Nadine smirked as best she could. “So tell me which Fatu are you sleeping with? Hmm let me guess … Jacob. He was always fond of you.”

Kamille frowned at her big sister. “Me and Jacob are friends, basically family like the rest of them and you know that. You just say anything to avoid accepting fault. Mama didn't raise us like that.”

“How would you know? I was damn near grown when you were born. You don't know shit about how I was raised.”

Kamille sucked her teeth, “I know enough to know that she raised us both the same way. You need to stop this before you get to a point where it can't be fixed.”

“I don't need to do anything but call the police.”

“For what, Nadine?”

“I'm pressing charges. She assaulted me and you witnessed it.”

Kamille shook her head. 

“You are absolutely not. If you call them, I'm calling Mama and telling her what you did to Moriah and what you just said to Leata. And I know no matter how old and bitter you are, you do not wanna deal with a pissed off Trenice Parker. Do you?”

Nadine stared at her sister for a few moments then huffed loudly. “Go get me a ice pack, don't just stand there.”

Knowing how her son felt, Leata waited until they got back to her house to tell her how the meet up had gone. He then spent thirty minutes going off about Nadine and debating on going back to Kamille's to finish what his mother had started. 

“You know you gotta tell Zay and Rye, right.”

She shook her head. “No, they've already got a lot going on. I'll tell them just not right now.”

“Mama, they need to know now. Especially Rye. This not nothing to keep to ourselves.” Arthur stressed kneeling in front of her while she sat on the sofa. “She better hope I don't see her in public.”

“That right there is why I don't wanna say anything. Your brother is gonna react that same way.”

“And he should, Mama. Her bitter ass wished him dead. You don't say stuff like that.”

She closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths. “Okay fine but this is gonna hurt Moriah.”

“Whether you tell her now or later, it's gonna hurt her, Mama.”

Begrudgingly, she facetimed Zilla. A part of her hoped he didn't answer so she had more time. Her hopes were dashed when she saw his smiling face and heard Moriah's voice in the background. 

“Aye! Stop hitiin’ me, Mama on the phone and ima tell!” He laughed. “Mama, tell this girl to keep her hand to herself.”

Arthur moved to sit beside Leata, putting his face in the frame. 

“What did you do to her, son?”

“I … ow, your lil hands hurt, mane. She offered me cake and now she mad cause I ate it.”

“Nah uhn! I offered him a piece yesterday and he ate another piece today!” Moriah yelled.

“He sorry,” Arthur suggested, “Right, Zay?”

Zilla frowned a bit, pulling Moriah into a loose headlock. “Uhuh, right. My bad, Fat. What yall got going on?”

Arthur put his attention on Leata, silently urging here to go on. 

“I wanted to tell you two that I went to Kamille's to talk to Nadine. And it didn't go well.”

Zilla moved him and Moriah to their sofa to sit down. Moriah got comfortable against his chest. 

“What happened?” Zilla asked, looking between his mom and brother. 

Leata looked at Arthur then back at the screen. “It didn't last long, I'll say that. We got into a spat, she said some ugly things and it escalated.”

“What did she say?” Moriah asked softly. 

“I asked her about what she made you do and she said she was proud of it and felt accomplished.”

It was heartbreaking to see the residual joy leave Moriah's eyes. Zilla pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Leata waited for her to respond, when Moriah didn't she continued. 

“She also said some things about your father and your brothers but mostly you. Things escalated,” she sighed, “I'm not proud of it but it ended in me slapping her.”

Zilla's brows raised. 

“What she say? Had to be bad for you to do that.”

Arthur realized she wasn't going to be able to say it so he stepped in. “She wished death on you, Zay then Mama slapped her.”

Moriah sat up immediately, pushing herself off the sofa but Zilla held onto her waist with one hand. 

“Fat, sit down. Come ‘ere, man.”

She shook her head, roughly pulling herself from his grasp. “No, I can't. I can't.”

Leata spoke up. “Let her go, Zilla.”

He huffed watching her walk off to their bedroom. “The hell I do to her for her to say that?”

“I'm telling you that you did nothing to deserve having someone say that about you, Isayah. You could tell that woman to have a good day and she would swear you cursed her. You hear me?”

He nodded starting at the closed bedroom door. “I hear you, Mama.”

“Isayah,” Arthur called out, getting his brother's attention, “Mama told yall that so yall would know what that lady got going on not to cause a setback between the two of you.”

He nodded again. 

“Go do what you need to do.”

Zilla disconnected the call as he got up from the sofa. He went to listen at the bedroom door for a moment before going in. Moriah laid with her face in her pillow, crying softly. Going to her side of the bed, Zilla kneeled there and rubbed her back. 

“You meltin again, Fat?”

She shook her head, not lifting it from the pillow, followed by a muffled ‘no’. He smiled a little, nudging her over so he could see her face. 

“It look like you meltin’, baby.”

“Just a little,” she said softly. 

“You don't gotta melt over that. Zilla ain't goin nowhere, Zilla gon stay right here with you to get on your nerves.”

She nodded, sniffling softly. “Promise?”

“Zilla promise. What can I do to make my lady stop meltin?”

“A kiss maybe.”

He chuckled, leaning up to kiss her. “Better?”

“Mmmm … maybe one more.”

He kissed her again. “Now?”

She shrugged. “I kinda feel better. A snuggle would probably make it all the way better.”

“Whenever you ask me to snuggle, you end up tryna do more than snuggle, Fat.” He pointed out getting up from the floor and climbing into the bed behind her. She moved her body back, closer to him. “See? You already startin’.”

She laughed softly. “Just getting comfy. Plus ever since Zilla threw his condoms away, he hasn't wanted to snuggle with me anyway.”

He laughed in her ear. “We both been tired as shit, Fat. My bad.”

“You never cared about me bein tired before.”

“That's cause I wasn't tired.” He kissed her neck a few times. “I promise to snuggle with you next time. Aight?”

“Pinky promise?” Moriah proposed as she lifted her pinky up.

He linked his pinky with hers. 

Since they were leaving for Tampa as soon as Moriah's shift ended, Zilla dropped her off at work Thursday morning. She had long forgotten about Zilla's inquiry into Thomas’s work schedule so she didn't question him taking her to work or warn him to not do anything bad. Moriah liking to be thirty minutes early to her shift worked out in his and Bronco's favor seeing as the friends made it to the parking deck minutes before he did. Unbeknownst to him, he parked his Audi between Bronco's truck and Zilla's challenger. When he stepped out of his car, Zilla was standing at the back of his car startling him. 

“What's wrong? Why you so jumpy, mane?” Zilla laughed. 

Bronco crept up behind him, slamming the driver side door for him. “He act like he seen a ghost or sum.”

Thomas jumped again looking between both men. 

“There are cameras in here.”

Zilla looked up at the cameras, smiling even wider. “You mean them right there? I wouldn't count on them workin.”

“Naaah they definitely outta order, my guy. Kinda like yo ass,” Bronco added with a chuckle. 

“What do you want? I need to get to work.”

Zilla moved closer to him grabbing his collar to shove him against Bronco's truck.

“Wait, why he not hemmed up against his own car?” Bronco asked, frowning. 

Zilla ignored his friend, maintaining eye contact with Thomas. “Moriah told me yo ass still botherin’ her and if it's one thing I can't stand is somebody that don't understand no especially when my lady say it. She asked you one too many times to leave her alone so now I gotta step in.”

Thomas struggled to get out of his grasp but his strength was nothing compared to Zilla's. “It's not that serious. We were just having a conversation.”

“A conversation that she told you she ain't want which mean she said no to your ass.” He spat, pressing his forearm into Thomas’s throat. “This the one and only warnin you get from me. The next time you see me or my boy it won't be to talk.”

Bronco stepped forward and leaned down so they were sure level. “And if you don't keep this lil meeting between us, you'll see us sooner than that. Comprende?”

“Sis! I been missing you!” 

As soon as Moriah and Zilla stepped inside the house, Trinity ran to them engulfing Moriah in a tight, bear hug rocking them from side to side. Jon and Zilla watched them with frowns on their faces. 

Jon hit his cousin's arm. “Uce! I missed you!” The two of them hugged mocking their women. 

Trinity sucked her teeth. “This why you number six. Get on my nerves.”

“They just jealous cause nobody ever misses them.” Moriah rolled her eyes playfully. “Everybody else here or we early?”

“Yall late as hell.” Jon fussed loudly. “Should've took off like uce told you to. Lucky I ain't give ya room away.”

Moriah laid her head on Trinity’s shoulder. “My favorite cousin wouldn't let you do that.”

“And won't. Everybody in the backyard, come on.”

Trinity pulled Moriah along with her while Jon and Zilla followed behind. They talked softly and briefly with each other until they got to the patio. Moriah scanned the backyard, squealing when she spotted Jacob and another cousin on the grill. She ran to jump on his back. 

“Jacob! I missed you!”

Laughing, Jacob sat the spatula he was using down and backed away from the grill. “Damn, girl, I missed you too. You almost took us both out.”

She got down, laughing and fixing her shorts. “I haven't seen you in so long. I missed my buddy. I don't have nobody to get on Zay's nerves with.”

“Shit, we got all weekend to make up for lost time, sis.”

“Yall asses is not about to get on my nerves all weekend unless her big head ass wanna get left here with you,” Zilla declared approaching them. He slapped hands with both of his cousins. “Fat, you remember Josh. Right?”

She nodded, moving to hug him. He barely returned the hug but she didn't notice. “Hey Josh. Of course I remember. He's the twin that's not annoying, the good twin.”

Josh nodded his head at her, mumbling out a greeting then turned back to the grill. Jacob noticed how their cousin acted but realized Moriah and Zilla didn't. 

“Aye, sis, there go Sefa. Better get to em before mean ass do.”

Zilla frowned playfully. “I'm mean ass? You know her ass meaner than me.”

Moriah stuck her tongue then ran over to Sefa, jumping on him the way she'd jumped on Jacob. Zilla let his cousins know he'd be back after he spoke to Sefa. Turning back to the grill, Jacob nudged his cousin. 

“What's up with you?”

“Nun man, I'm cool.”

Jacob started to flip the burgers. “I would believe that if you don't just give that girl the cold shoulder.”

Josh shrugged, focusing on the chicken. “Ion like her. I ain't think he'd stay with her this long.”

“You don't like her? Moriah? Moriah that's been around since they was kids?” Jacob asked with his face screwed up. “Why you ain't like her?”

Josh looked over at Moriah with his family, his lips turning up at the sight of them being happy and friendly with her. “She ain't right for uce. He deserve better.”

“Better than Moriah? She the best thing that ever happened to his mean ass.”

“That's what yall think.”

Jacob scratched his head looking over at his family then back at Josh. “Ion know man. You gon have to explain that one to me later on. But word of advice, chill on the attitude with her, that boy ain't right in the head when it come to her. He protect her heavy.”

Josh waved him off. “We'll see.”

[spidrstar]

A LITTLE BIT MORE

★ pairing: aged up!miles1610 x latina!reader

★ warnings: all characters in this story are 18!!! suggestive i think?

★ summary: Miles has been your math tutor for the past few months and you can’t lie, he’s been sort of your lil bestfriend too because you tell him all about your boy problems and everything. It got to a certain point where you were about to let something personal slip.. specifically how you didn’t know how to kiss. Miles may be a lil nerd n a tutor n all but he still gets play, so you asked him to show you how to kiss and it slowly turned into more than that.. a make out session.

★ w/c: 2k

★ a/n: ok so ik i put up a poll for y’all to choose but.. i rly wanted to write abt 1610 miles esp for this one shot 😣 sry yall i got yall w the next one shot tho trust🙏

“Miles, please don’t make me do this problem on my own.. you know how I am with fractions.”

You groaned at just the sight of the problem and leaned back on your arms.

For context, you were currently in Miles’ room with three different text books sprawled out open on the floor. He’s been your math tutor for the past four months because you failed your last two math classes and couldn’t afford to fail one more because that would cause you to fail the grade. Today, you were both going over things that were going to be in your test at the end of the marking period.

You’ve been studying non-stop all week and grew tired of it (even though all you mostly did was get off topic and have endless conversations with Miles.)

“Y/n, c‘mon you can’t do this every time i’m tutoring you. Just try.” Miles smiled at your reaction to the math problems in the book.

“Can we please just take a small break?”

“..Y/n our last break was 5 minutes ago.”

“Exactly my point!! It’s been too long.”

He chuckled at you and had no choice but to give in. It’s not like he didn’t enjoy the silly conversations you both had. You both saw each other as.. you wouldn’t say therapists but more of a.. comfort friend? Just someone you could talk to freely basically. At this point you were practically each others best friend, you just hadn’t noticed it yet.

Miles always enjoyed your company, no matter what you both were doing as long as it was together. You rarely ever hung out together if it wasn’t involved with tutoring, but that wasn’t a bad thing. You would almost get tutored everyday because math just really wasn’t something you were good at..

“Soo.. what’s with you and that guy what was his name.. Ethan?”

“It’s Evan, and we fell out. I found him talking to two of my friends at the same time and I wasn't gonna stay around to see that unfold. I told them of course, just didn’t wanna be there to witness the outcome.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, Miles knew your situation with guys very very well. He knew almost all of the guys you messed around with, well.. weren’t the best. If he was honest, they sucked ass. They all seemed to go after you for one thing, your body. Miles always hated the idea of you talking to another guy, not in a weird or possessive way of course, he was just over protective of you. He always remembers the nights you would text him asking him if he was free just to cry in his arms.

Sometimes you would come in all moody to your study sessions too and for you that was off, because when you opened your mouth it never seemed to shut.

He palmed his face and sighed in disappointment of yet another shitty guy you messed with.

“I told you he seemed off. He was wayy too friendly for a guy that ‘only wanted to be with you’ I never trusted him and i’m proud to say i didn’t.” Miles quoted with his fingers.

You smiled and looked down at the floor deep in thought, “Yeah well, he was ugly anyways. Personality wise too, he never really made me laugh. When I did laugh around him I would laugh at him, not with him. Y’know?”

“Yeah, I would notice. Your laughs never seemed genuine around him.” He shrugged.

You smirked and cocked an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And what’s ‘genuine’ to you?”

Miles leaned in and placed his palms on his knees looking up at the ceiling thinking of what to say.

“Like.. it’s hard to explain. Around me, your laughs just have a higher pitch and you lose your breath much quicker and you make random sounds while laughing which is what gets me to laugh. Then, around him your laughs were like so motone and you didn’t really hold onto your stomach as if it hurt from laughing so much, you get me?”

You stared at him in disbelief from how much he went into detail, you never thought of how much he really paid attention to you. Your face was a little bright red, you were flustered because you just felt so.. special? The feeling was unknown.

“Wow.. that’s—that’s a lot. I get what you mean though, his jokes were never as funny as yours were. You don’t even have to try to make me laugh.” You smiled.

He smiled back and made a proud expression, you knew what was coming next. Miles always made this face when he was about to brag about something.

“Thank you, I get that a lot from girls. I always make sure to keep them entertained and never treat them like shit. I don’t understand how you manage to find guys like that, I would never do what they do. Pretty sure my ma would kill me.” He chuckled at the last sentence.

You rolled your eyes at the bragging, you knew Miles had game and had many many girls falling for him. I mean, who wouldn't fall for him? Look at him, he has a great personality, he's caring, a momma's boy which, by the way, is totally adorable and he’s just so sweet and genuine. His smile was contagious and he was attractive too of course..

You snapped back to reality, your mind wandering off somewhere else.

“Bet you got lots of bitches huh.” You choke out a laugh trying to ignore the thoughts lingering at the back of your head.

“Nah, it may seem that way but I honestly got my eye set on one girl. I’m not bout that ‘playa’ shit y’know? Gotta keep it real and let ‘em know that cause leading people on ain’t what i’m about.”

You looked at him intensely, really wondering who this girl was. Although you felt the urge to beg him to tell you because you knew how stubborn he was, you didn’t. You were scared you weren’t gonna like his answer so you brushed the feeling aside.

You wouldn’t admit it to anyone but yourself (barely) you had feelings for Miles, you weren’t aware of it until about a month ago when you went on countless dates. On every single one, Miles was in your head and you couldn’t seem to focus on the person in front of you.

“That’s surprising, if you’re not a player like you say you aren’t how do you treat your girls?” You quickly switched the topic and switched the rolls.

“Well, ion be messin’ around with other girls or on that friendly shit y’know? Every chance I get ima flaunt my girl like she’s the lottery.” He smiled proudly.

You scoffed in jealousy. “Wow, I wish there were more guys like you shit ONE like you at least.”

Miles blushed a bit at the way you said you wanted someone like him. He quickly recovered and perked a brow, scoffing with a proud expression.

“Yeah well, I'm one of one. Can’t find anyone like me.”

“I just can’t believe it, I haven’t even been with one guy who’s good enough to show me how to-“

You quickly saved yourself from the embarrassment and threw your hands over your mouth. Miles took notice of this and he raised a brow at you and moved slightly closer.

“Show you how to what?” He asked, smirking only slightly.

Heat rose to your cheeks, you covered your face and grumbled from already feeling embarrassed even though you hadn’t even told him yet. You hid yourself in your knees not wanting to face him.

“C’mon I promise I won't laugh!” He begged.

“Yes you will! I know you!”

“I swear on my pet hamster's life I won't.” He spoke seriously.

You looked up a bit, sighing and agreeing to say what was on your mind, you had always been ashamed of it because you never really kissed just anyone. You wanted it to be special, of course you’ve kissed a few but your old self thought they were special when they weren’t.

“F-Fine. I—I..don’t know how to kiss.” You whispered the last part lowly, too embarrassed to say it outloud.

“A lil louder than that Y/n, it’s just you and me here c’mon.” He sweetly smiled at you placing a hand on your back.

“I don’t know how to kiss.” You said bluntly, looking straight to avoid his striking gaze.

All that could be heard were stifled chuckles and you turned to stare at the culprit, Miles was cupping his mouth with both hands trying not to burst out laughing straight in your face. You smacked the back of his head and scolded him for swearing.

“Miles! You swore on your hamster's life!”

Laughter erupted from him and could be heard loudly throughout the room. Soon he calmed down and collected enough breath to speak.

“He died like a week ago, it's fine.”

“What?! And you didn’t tell me?? Tu si eres malo.”

“Whatever, back on topic. You don’t know how to kiss? How? You’re like, genuinely one of the prettiest girls I know.”

You blushed at both the comment and from embarrassment. You were 18 almost 19 and didn’t even know how to properly have a make out session, not that it was your fault. All the guys you messed with genuinely sucked, and your lips were far too precious for you to just place them on anyone.

“Hey! No es culpa mía, i bet you’re not even good at kissing either.” I huffed angrily.

“Actually, I'm quite known for being a great kisser para tu información.” He admitted proudly.

Then, an idea spiked up in your head. He was your best friend.. you think? Might as well take this perfect opportunity to ask him for a favor, a huge one. This had you nervous though, because it could go two ways. He would say yes and show you and you both would continue to live your lives as if nothing happened, as normal friends right? Or.. you would be embarrassed for the rest of it if he said no. How would you recover from that? Whatever.. might as well do it now and pray nothing bad happened.

“Miles?” You finally spoke, with a serious tone hiding behind your words.

“Yes?”

“Could you.. um—do me a favor?” You spoke shyly, a wave of nervousness was coming at you and strong.

“Depends. What is it?” He spoke more lowly now with curiosity, he subconsciously moved closer to you to hear you clearly. In case you’d decided to whisper again since that was a habit.

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for what was to become. This determined whether or not you would ever talk to him or see him the same, you seriously thought you wouldn’t be able to recover from this.

“Could you..maybe.. teach me?” You looked down at the floor again, biting the inner corner of the inside of your cheek. You were slightly sweating from how nervous you were.

A few seconds of silence passed before you looked up nervously. Many thoughts racing in your mind right now;

‘What if he was making fun of me in his head right now?’

‘What if he didn’t want to be friends with me anymore?’

‘What if he thought I was weird?’

‘What if he hates me now?’

Your thoughts were quickly put to a pause when he spoke up, you thought you were dreaming when you heard the words escape his mouth.

“Sure, I’ll teach you. But are you sure like, completely sure you wanna do this? I’m kinda rough with it, and i don’t know if you’d like it.” He spoke softly when looking at you.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, shutting your eyes and nodding. You smiled sweetly at him, your heart speeding up with a hint of excitement. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about kissing Miles at least once.

“Yes, I'm sure.” You stared at his eyes then his lips wide eyed, your eyes glistening with anticipation. Your lips were slightly parted as you oh so wanted to lean in and just kiss his pretty lips already, but you waited for him to instruct you on what to do.

He moved closer to you and sat in front of you staring at you with slightly hooded eyes. He smirked as he spoke and that’s all you seemed to notice.

“Alright, first you needa part your lips slightly which i see you’re already doing. Then, you just tilt your head to whichever side you prefer and lean in. Close your eyes obviously, then just follow my lead. Simple, you got it?”

You nodded once again, and blushed lightly as he leaned in closer. His hand made his way up and he gently placed it on the side of your neck and tilted his own head shutting his eyes to kiss you.

“Alright, here we go..” He whispered.

With that, he kissed you gently. His soft lips locked with yours, surprisingly you seemed to follow along quickly and placed one of your hands on his toned chest. Your breaths seemed to quicken with every second that passed and he started to lean in more, this time you were slightly pushed back. You held onto the front of his shirt pulling him down with you. Your forearms supporting your upper weight as you laid back on the floor.

Miles now completely on top of you deepened the kiss, his tongue softly grazed against your bottom lip asking for permission to enter which you complied to. He placed his hand back on your neck, his fingers resting on the bottom part of your lower head pushing you against him more. You let a low moan slip past you and you opened your eyes wide, with shock but quickly closed them back up once you heard the sounds he made.

The ‘agressiveness’ he mentioned now showing as low growls escaped his lips when getting a few seconds to breathe between kisses. His tongue fighting with yours for dominance which he quickly claimed.

He broke the kiss, a string of saliva showcasing how intense the kiss was. He smirked against your lips and you both breathed heavily against each other, chests heaving up and down rapidly. He caressed the sides of your waist slipping one hand under the hem of your shirt and leaned in to seductively whisper in your ear.

“I think I'm gonna have to teach you a little bit more than just kissing, ma.” He smirked.

★ translations: tu si eres malo - you’re so mean || no es culpa mía - it’s not my fault || para tu información - for your information ||

TAGS:

[the-orange-tabby-cat]

The Renegade

joel miller x fem!reader

Summary of the fic: This is why I’m writing to you, Tess. Do you see how much trouble am I? How unstable and not anywhere good for him? I can’t fall in love with him and he can’t get closer, I’m a weak bitch: I’m gonna fall for him if you don’t help me. I walked too many meters of bad decisions before, I can’t cross another ocean. You are my only hope, The renegade - Your parents ask you to try seeing a therapist, Tess, and you agree under one condition: she can't let you fall in love with Joel Miller. A fic in the format of letters, from you to Tess. 🐾

read on AO3 | masterlist | next chapter

Warnings/tags: Explict +18, no outbreak AU, slow burn, fluff, smut, kinda loser reader? lol, implied age gap, coming of age, no use of y/n

Word count of the prologue + chapter 1: 6,4k

Tabby note: This will be a quick fic, I promise! I needed to take it off my head, it was clogging everything else at this point lol I really wanted an anti-hero protagonist instead of the usual good girls I write. She is messy and adorable at the same time, I'm really proud of how the story is taking shape! Hope you like it!

PROLOGUE

Austin, July 2024

Dear Tess,

You said I could write you in any format as long I’m true to what I’m putting out. That’s some therapist bullshit, but since it’s you reading this mess, I will let it slide. I thought a lot about what to write down for you, not the usual overthinking, more of a “where do I begin?”. Remember, you were the one who told me to write this if I can’t say out loud what it is inside my head while we are in session. This shit is hard, okay?

Let me start by being the smartpants I used to be: the human brain processes a thought faster than one meter per second. If I put together all the meters my brain ran while getting bad ideas, I could now cross the Atlantic Ocean.

Do you remember when you were a kid and your parents told you to avoid certain people? That strange feeling you get when you see a trainwreck of a person, the one that didn’t exactly do something bad, they just are stuck somewhere out of this reality and you think to yourself “I would never get in that position”? 

I did get in that position. I’m stuck in that somewhere. For years now.

Wish I could tell you that something horrible happened to me when I was younger, that my mother crushed all my dreams and my dad left one day to buy a pack of cigarettes. What about a strict family or an over-the-top religious one where I’m one of ten kids? Not even close to the truth, I’m an only daughter.

Middle middle class: enough money to live more than comfortably, far from the luscious lifestyle of the riches. I grew up knowing money didn’t come from the trees, I touched some grass, okay? The only thing expected by my kinda-aristocrat parents was that I would achieve academic success prior to a life full of achievements.

Chess competitions, spelling bee trophies (if I make a mistake a few pages down, it’s been a while since it), debate club captain, swimming team… You name it and I did. At seventeen I was voted as “most likely to be successful” and second place for homecoming queen because slutty Katie gave the basketball team a sloppy blowjob after practice. I had a first kiss and gave one bad handjob under the bleachers by that age.

Then university came and nobody, no fucking body, got wowed when I got an Ivy League on my first try. My head was too shoved up my ass to notice life around me. I wasn’t a pretty girl anymore because girls in my class were prettier than me, wasn’t the smartest since I wasn’t a teacher’s pet by just existing. 

My classmates didn’t care for me because I had no clue about social etiquette: what alcohol is acceptable to bring to a frat party? How do you pick up guys and let them suck on your tongue? Do you stay inside your dorm room when your roommate is fucking or do you wait outside?

I could do it with being the awkward girl, but not with being less than perfect. By the second semester, I was crying every day in the shower and realized I had no friends, just people who had the same interests as me back home. I tried so hard to become the number one in my class that life became hell the second my teacher gave me a lower score on a significant test.

I left her class and instead of crying, calling my parents to vent, or any other shit, I walked by the first frat house I saw and decided to lose my v card there with any guy that looked remotely cute. 

Don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t be a slut if I hadn’t had a penis inside me yet, but I knew that something was boiling up for years. My hand sneaking under my panties after a tiring day, humping on my pillow whenever I got frustrated, even the shoulder massager I got for after swimming practice humming on my clit did it. All I needed was a chance to forget for a moment the hell that was my life.

And I did. A sand blond guy with a shark smile that would fuck anything that moved in his direction, clearly a rich bitch whose parents got his spot in the university. I walked in his direction and took my panties off, put them in his hand, and the next thing I saw he was deep inside of me while I hopped him vigorously.

I cummed so hard that I think saw Jesus, whatever he might be. Not that the guy made me cum, I had an itch for so long that any scratch would do it. Any. After coming down my high it was clear in my mind: I would do anything that I didn’t do before.

Drink until pass out, rob beer from the liquor store, fuck my roommate's hot dad, cheat on a test. Nothing was out of limits. Well, I still had to finish university and never use drugs because that was a hard no for me.

You see, Tess, I’m so good at keeping my promises to other people and ignoring my own needs that I did finish university. Graduated with an honor badge and everything, my parents' wet dream. Except they no longer knew me and had no clue that I spent four years whoring myself and doing everything to ignore who I used to be.

And this is why on my first day in a big company, a trainee job earned right after college, I vomited inside the bathroom stall during onboarding. A panic attack a week later when my leader delegated some tasks. You give me a few months and my mind went blank the second I started a presentation to the c level board. I ran so fast outside that I fell on the sidewalk, got up, called for a cab, and never came back.

It’s been years since it.

My parents came to you because they still have some hope. I don’t, I think they are being dumb. Yes, I have an Ivy League degree, a bunch of useless skills (except for Mandarin, I can read so fast the menu at a Chinese restaurant) but nothing to do with when I WON’T come back to who I used to be. Do you think I sound miserable now? I’m miserable but I’m free in my kitchenette downtown, with my band t-shirts and two jobs. Living the dream.

Of course I’m fucking lying to you. I hate my life because the bitch running it is so dumb (that’s me, by the way).

It used to be kinda cool. The day I ran from the office was the same day I went straight to the arcade and played Mortal Kombat II so much that I broke the machine’s record. I went there for a full week before the manager, an emo guy looking like a teenager, decided to hire me.

It wasn’t enough to pay for my fancy downtown apartment, the one that got furniture that didn’t come from IKEA, so I had to move to the shithole I’m now. A mini studio in a building so old that if the city trembles, I’m sure that I will be turning into dust.

Years in this life, day after day, and I wasn’t mad about it. I was free, after all. It took about two years for my parents to find out that I wasn’t the prodigious child anymore and they took better than I expected. My mom cried, cursed my name, and asked if someone hurt me but I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I was the one who caused it.

Anyway, you already know this stuff. They told you their side of the story when letting you know that I would be your new patient. What exactly have they told you? About how I never introduced them to a guy and my dad had a very straightforward conversation with me about why lesbians were cool and he would accept me if I was one? Maybe they told you about how I got so drunk one Christmas that end up peeing on the petunias in the neighbor’s yard and my mom thought it was a good idea to tell them I was heavily sedated from a fear of flying? Nobody said it was easy to be an only child.

What you don’t know is that I have a love life, you are welcome. For years I’ve been sleeping around with a married man. I know, I know, shocking! Scandalous! His name is Peter and he is dumb as a door. But the dick is good and he sometimes treats me like a real person. I met him at a bar, gave him a blowjob in the back alley (Katie would be proud) and we see each other every week since.

Remember when I said my family isn’t religious? Thank god because that’s not everything. I have a boyfriend, a real one. It was a scorching day, the AC wasn’t working and I had to put the neckline out a bit before becoming a puddle. That’s when I see him, playing with his friends, having fun, being so fucking broad and handsome… I had to taste it.

Flirted a bit and boom, got him at the back door pumping deep inside of me while I was sitting on a desk. He was amazing, he was making me gooey to the point of screaming in pleasure. Too good to be true, when he was about to come I saw the little golden cross pending from his neck.

The next day he came back, told me how sorry he was, and asked me for an opportunity to show me how good he could be. I thought he wanted a second round, but nope, he wanted me to meet Jesus. I’m a people pleaser, Tess. It has been four months since I’m Mormon Isaac’s girlfriend. Every Sunday I attend the sermon, his family knows me and I haven’t slept with him since that first day. It marks also the four months I’m trying to break up with him.

You must think that I ain’t a good person and you are right, I’m not. Not the worst, but for sure not a fucking saint. I don’t come back in my decisions, anyone else with less brain would, but not me. I’m too stubborn to deal with the hell I made of my own life. Or used to, because now I’m head over heels for this guy, Tess.

Joel Miller. The stupid hunk who is older, wiser, and hot. Who I can’t stop thinking about since we met. Damn his pretty brown eyes and how they look into my soul. I’m a mess and I need some help dealing with it before he gets into my trap and I destroy him.

This is why I’m writing to you, Tess. Do you see how much trouble am I? How unstable and not anywhere good for him? I can’t fall in love with him and he can’t get closer, I’m a weak bitch: I’m gonna fall for him if you don’t help me. I walked too many meters of bad decisions before, I can’t cross another ocean.

You are my only hope,

The renegade

P.S. I won’t pay you shit, hope my parents paid you enough for this.

CHAPTER ONE

Austin, July 2024

Dear Tess,

Yes, I'm doing well, thank you for your concern, guess the rambling in my last letter got you worried about me. It’s a skill, I’m very good at making people worry. I'm marvelous, splendid, and well, fucked. By our last session, you asked me more details of how I ended up meeting Joel and I said to you “a lady never tells” and you didn't laugh, tough crowd. Let me paint you a picture then.

There are many regulars at the arcade. The asians dudes that go there after Kumon (been there, done that, I feel so sorry for them), the lone wolves of 40+ that still want to feel young since they can't get any pussy and, my favorites, the after-school reruns.

These little fuckers go there every week to burn some steam from their sugary-inflicted bodies, stay until 4 pm and go straight to their houses, to their mom and dad. I'm not bitter, I just hate teenagers.

I'm aware that it sounds like I'm on the wrong career path since they keep my economy going, but fuck it, teenagers give me the creeps. Except for the queers, they are quite nice. I have a baby lesbian (it’s pretty obvious) that I call 3 pm because she comes by this time twice a week, Ellie.

She is probably fifteen or so and everything I wasn't at her age. Firecracker, bossy with a dirty mouth – did I ever tell you that the first time I said “fuck” in front of my parents was after my meltdown? You can guess it. One of the only teenagers I got close to if I'm honest. She came by one afternoon, saw Mortal Kombat II, and hasn't left since.

“Who's The Renegade?” She asked me one time, checking out the scoreboard with disgust. Remember I beat the machine record? She was right after me.

“No clue, try harder.” I teased her thinking she wouldn't care and move on with her life, like people do.

But not Ellie, she tried really hard to break the fucking record. Week after week, I watched her trying her best from my glass display while wearing the ugly bowling striped shirt that is my uniform.

I saw him way before he saw me. Doing my regular afternoon routine, cleaning the games with some rubbing alcohol to avoid the sticky hands infecting everywhere, minding my business under the neon light. All good, until I saw broad shoulders (I have a type, okay? Sue me) playing the fucking Mortal Kombat II with Ellie by his side.

Broad, so fucking broad. Dark curls with some gray here and there adorning his ears. I must have made some noise because for a second he looked back and that nose? Yeah, that was the end of me.

“You were close, old man,” Ellie teased as the fight on screen got to an end. He glared at her before looking at his score. “Nah, you're full of shit. Not even close to me or The Renegade.”

“Yeah, if I was spending that much time here I would be second place too,” he groaned before gaining full height. That voice gave me chills as I pretended I haven't heard shit, trying to not sneak a look and failing every time.

And that was it, Tess. Not exactly your meet cute, sorry. He came back maybe three or four times, always polite, nothing else. I thought it would be a silent crush, a small one until I got bored. I’m constantly bored.

My second job is a little less orthodox, if you can call my first one that. A girl has to do what she has to to get that bag. On Christmas, I’m the Santa helper with a mini skirt and sweet smiles (you can imagine how many times I picked up desperate dads like that), by Easter, I’m your lucky bunny hopping around in white hot pants, when Thanksgiving is around the corner I’m the sluttiest turkey you ever saw. 

The mall manager pays me double because I let him once see my boobs and the poor guy is so lonely that he is more than sure that we will sleep together at some point.

“A vest with “can I help you?” tagline? Where is the skanky clothes?” I asked him one Saturday morning, thinking he made a mistake giving me the day costume.

“We’re getting more boomers and older visitors, we need someone to stay in a good floor spot and answer their questions,” he told me in a boring tone, the sadness in his eyes always a classic.

“Okay, if they ask me questions, what do I do? I don’t know shit about this mall except that you can buy powder by the public telephones and shouldn’t use the ladies bathroom on the second floor, that’s where Nora from Chipotle goes and that woman’s ass is rancid.” He furrowed his brows and dragged his hand on his face, taking his time to process what I had just said.

“Just be nice and bring them to someone who will be helpful, maybe a security guard, I don’t know. And don’t use cocaine while on the job, I can’t deal with another junkie here,” he said reinforcing the vest on my hands and urging me to get out of the room.

Now would be a good time to remind you that I don’t use drugs, never did. I might be many things in this life, but not a stoner. Not because I’m prudish or think drugs are bad for you, even if they are. I’m way too afraid about getting hooked once I realize that the play-pretend reality that they induce in your brain is better than this one. I’m self-destructive, but not stupid.

So there I was, in my lime neon vest, above a small platform with a big dark blue “information” written. Thinking about anything you can imagine, my shift lasts six hours and I can’t sit down, just a fifteen-minute bathroom break. One of my worst nightmares is to be alone with the dumb bitch inside my head, that’s why I hate silence.

When was the last time you went to a mall? They used to be a big deal in my younger days, but now they are dead. It’s so fucking slow, just little packs of people here and there. Not even music playing to alleviate the tension between me and my stupid brain.

“Miss?” A small voice called, I looked to the sides and saw nobody,  so they insisted. “Miss?”

I looked down on the platform and to my surprise, a toddler with big brown eyes and curly hair was calling me. Hesitating for a second, I climbed down my platform and crouched to get my eyes the same height as his, I read once that kids get more comfortable like that.

“Hm, yeah?” I asked unsure of how one talks with kids, shouldn’t he be there with an adult?

“I can’t find my uncle,” the poor kid was on the verge of tears, making me panic.

“Okay, let’s find him,” I said with very little confidence, unsure how to approach it.

Before I could think about what I would do, his hand found a place in mine, holding me like an anchor. I decided to go to the nearest security guard and hope for the best, one thing was to be a failure by myself and another was to fail a little kid.

We walked for about five minutes, the fucking mall had a small amount of guards. No fucking clue why nobody comes down there. The kid got a little tired of walking and held up his little arms, asking to be picked up.

I accepted it, letting him rest his head on my shoulder. Thinking about it now, as I write this to you, I can’t remember the last time somebody hugged me. We might need to talk about it in session.

“You tell me if you see him, okay? What does your uncle look like?” I asked still walking down the corridor, searching for the damn guard.

“Big, fluffy hair,” I laughed at how wholeheartedly the kid tried to answer it.

“Blue eyes? Dark hair?” He shook his head for the first one but nodded at the second.

Changing corridor, I saw from afar a big guy and a smaller figure talking with a guard and figured out it was the kid’s uncle. The man seemed agitated, speaking with his hands in the air. As I pressed my steps, the figures got more familiar. Made a signal for the kid, showing them when we were close enough and his face lightened up.

“Uncle Joel!” He shouted happily, as I put him down so he could run to the tall man.

That’s how I found out his name. Simple, discrete, direct. Jo-el. Suits him.

He immediately hugged the boy, kissing the top of his head. Ellie was at the side getting color back on her face, unshed tears in her eyes when she noticed me.

“I know you,” she started and I panicked a little. I don’t know why, I wasn’t doing anything weird, but something about breaking their bubble made me uncomfortable.

Joel looked up from his nephew’s face and furrowed his brows, not in a “who the fuck are you?” kinda way, more of a “wait, I do know you too”.

“Hm, yeah, I work at the arcade down the block,” I said in a monotone, looking into Ellie’s eyes, ignoring Joel’s.

“Are you safe? All good?” Joel asked in a soft tone, much softer than I imagined a man like him could do, to the kid.

“Yes,” the toddler replied searching for my hand again. My eyes got to the size of the moon, unaware of how to react.

“Thank you for helping him, we were about to lose our heads searching for him everywhere.” Joel gave me puppy eyes in his dearest manners and every inch of my body heated as he got up, gaining his tall size. 

A grown, big man being soft on the edges? The hottest thing I’ve seen and I fucked once Mormon Isaac.

I was ready to get back to my platform when Ellie shared stares with Joel, a language I hadn’t properly been introduced to in my formal education, but I think I can decipher:

Ellie looking straight, then bringing her eyebrows up - say something, Joel

Joel furrowing his heavy eyebrows and pouting a little, before looking towards the exit - no, let’s go home

Ellie rolling eyes and siding it in my direction real quick - she is right here, do something

Joel setting his jaw and looking directly at Ellie - I said no, let’s go home

Ellie narrowing her eyes and then nodding to the toddler - how did we got him back?

Joel glancing at his nephew, Ellie, and me before pouting a little bigger - okay, fine, you’re so annoying

Mind you I’m not a linguist in any way, I might have translated something wrong since I’m not fluent and the whole scene lasted no more than two seconds. I was highly confused when he put his hand on the toddler’s shoulder (mind you, who was still holding my hand) and cleared his throat.

“Are you hungry? It would be a pleasure having you with us,” he proposed in his most southern polite voice. I laughed a little, stupid bitch.

“That’s not… Necessary. Really. It’s okay!” I replied quickly, awkwardly trying to walk back. The kid’s hand grip got stronger.

“C’mon, stay. It’s the minimum I can do,” Joel insisted with another puppy eye.

“I used to g-get lost too, in the mall, you know? It’s okay! It’s just a full circle moment, but thank you!” I lied.

I was a prodigious child, way too smart for my age, and for sure not roaming around in a suburban mall. My parents weren’t strict, but they had a very clear vision of what was cool and what was trashy. Read in my room, go to museums and cinema exhibitions of foreign movies that I was able to watch without the subtitles? Hot and cool. Go to the mall, watch blockbuster movies, and eat a burger at the food court? Suburban and trashy. I got lost once at a library, though.

“He won’t stop giving you the puppy eye until you accept, c’mon,” Ellie replied gaining a double glare from me and Joel, who – in all truth – was still giving me puppy eyes.

“Some pizza wouldn’t hurt,” I said with an awkward lopsided smile. 

The duo stared at each other again, now that I had more familiarity with the language I think I can get better translations:

Ellie shotting up her eyebrows and inclining her head towards the front of her body - told ya, old man

Joel sighing before eyeing the food court direction - lead the way, brat

“Let’s go, Luke,” Ellie grabbed the kid’s hand from mine and started to walk.

“One sec,” I said before taking off my vest and placing it in the security guard’s hand, who looked at me puzzled. I would find a way out of trouble with the manager later on. “Okay, all good!”

“So… The arcade and the mall, you must be good with teenagers,” Joel started nodding in Ellie’s direction. He said in such a genuine matter that it took me back, not a single harsh reply in my brain.

“Not really, it’s more of a coincidence. I try to avoid them a little, though. They could shatter me with one comment.” I laughed a little, trying to break the awkwardness between us. He smirked a bit.

“I get it, Ellie likes to remind me that I’m no longer hip. Do people still use this word?” He asked chewing his cheek and I chuckled.

“I’m not sure. Maybe no? We are very much 20th-century material,” he smiled. 

Do I like to think it was because I hinted that I was old enough to drink, so old enough to fuck him? Yes. But I regretted it the moment that thought appeared in my head.

Don’t get me wrong Tess, even if I’m a slut I wasn’t trying to fuck Joel Miller when we got alone. It’s more of an old habit, a second skin. When I got the conclusion men were little needy bitches, I got laid often.

You pretend to be stupid and praise them on their big brain. Maybe they prefer it when you are a hopeless girl who needs a strong man to solve something that your small body can’t. Or, the classic, they just want a shy girl who has no idea of how pretty she is and is more than grateful that he is there to show her.

Men are simple creatures. The more you make yourself smaller and dumber, the more they want you. Nobody wants an opinionated woman who knows her worth, that isn’t sexy. It’s a sin being a woman who is not sexy all the time.

Something inside of me knew Joel wasn’t trying to pick me up. He was just an older guy with a life set and a family of his own, he wanted to be nice to the girl who helped his nephew.

“Your nephew is a sweet kid, very affectionate,” I said in a genuine tone, trying to clear a bit of my head.

“A good kid too, smart for his age. He will be three in a couple of days,” Joel's face lightened up talking about the toddler. I wondered if someone’s face ever got so bright thinking of me.

“Growing up fast?” I asked trying to keep up, I don’t much about raising kids except that parents feel like everything is way too fast.

“Yes, but there is a long way until he becomes a petulant teenager like Ellie,” he joked with tenderness.

“She is cool, just the right amount of sassy in her bones. Her friends too, they are well-behaved down the arcade,” I said thinking about the times I saw her with other weird teenagers there.

“Really? Good to know her friends treat her well, she needs that,” he replied quickly. I lost him for a second and couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

“Why?” Could I sugarcoat my curiosity a bit? Of course, but my initial awkwardness was opening space for a comfortable conversation and I’m bad at calculating risk.

“We just moved, right before the school year. I’m from Austin, but Ellie no, she is from Boston. We lived there for a few years before moving back. Is tough to be the new kid, you know.”

The soft around the edges came back. I started to wonder how I never noticed Ellie’s accent, but it made sense.

“And why did you come back? Work?” I asked, again, without thinking further. Joel scratched his scruff while pondering how much detail he would give me.

“Boston got too heavy. Bad memories, you know? She needed a fresh start and I was missing the Texas sun.” My eyes searched for a ring on his hand for the first time, but there was nothing to see. Maybe a bad divorce? A widow?

“In that case, welcome home, cowboy,” I said mimicking holding a tip of a cowboy hat to him, who smiled a bit.

When we arrived at the food court, we went straight to the only pizza option available, the fucking Pizza Hut. The mall is shitty, if you haven’t noticed it yet Tess.

Ellie ordered everyone’s pizza as if she were introducing us to a new, exotic cuisine. Joel got amused, looking at her adoringly while petting his nephew's curls. I allowed myself to imagine what if my weekends were filled with this domestic view, if I would be happy to live such a mundane life and got surprised when the response was positive.

“Will you finally tell me who The Renegade is?” Ellie joked with a hint of truth. Joel rolled his eyes in good fun.

“A lady never tells,” I winked at her and Joel grinned with a little laugh. You see Tess, when you make a joke this is how people react, not scribbling something down their therapist's notepad. Rude as fuck.

The pizza could be better, but the company was more than good. I found myself laughing at Ellie’s puns, making comments about the arcade regulars. Joel tried to make me laugh a few times too, like an old friend. I felt good, felt normal instead of the constant weight on my shoulders.

At some point during our little chit-chat, I furrowed my eyebrows.

“How did Luke get lost? You haven’t told me that.” I questioned both of them, Ellie’s cheeks got pink. Joel made a motion for her to speak.

“Joel went inside a store and asked me to wait a little with Luke, to keep an eye on him for a second while he got something. I know,” she looked into his eyes with a guilty stare, “that I must hold Luke’s hand whenever we’re in a public place. I didn’t, started to look into a window shop thinking he was by my side.”

“It’s okay, you were holding tight to his hand on our way here,” Joel assured her.

If that man couldn’t get any hotter, he didn’t hold the weight of her mistakes against her. I swear that I don’t have daddy issues, I might have a Peter Pan syndrome or shit like that, but my dad was quite nice for a stuck-up guy. I’m not comparing dads, I’m comparing how to deal with delicate hearts: in that couple of hours I got to know a little more of them, I saw how Joel didn’t hold Ellie back, tried to shape her into something he wanted. Even inside of my own body I can’t do that with myself, be this level of kind.

I think Joel got me when it crossed my mind that I could fuck up and, maybe, he would still like me. I wouldn’t be a bitch, a bad girl to him. I would be just a person who made a mistake and he would still be there. What if my main kink is to be loved?

He paid for the meal, of course, a southern gentleman. I said goodbye, hinting I would be there when Ellie decided to show up at the arcade and she replied with a “hell yeah”. They left and I sighed, so light as if I had a spa day, but nope, just a good time with nice people. I might be lonely.

In a snap of fingers, I met the mall manager who questioned me why I wasn’t at the platform. The weight of the world came back on my shoulders, I reasoned that I was tired and wanted to go home as fast as possible.

“A kid got lost and I went to help him find his family. I think the slutty outfit might be a better idea next time, this shit is too complex,” I said shrugging before flashing him again with my boobs for a few seconds.

What? I had a nice meal with a good family, but I’m still not a saint.

Anyway, life followed its course. Saw Ellie sometimes at the arcade, Joel would greet me by name whenever he was there to pick her up, all good and normal. I told you, this is not your meet-cute story.

If you are wondering, yes, I saw Mormon Isaac the next day after the missing kid incident. Holy Sunday, couldn’t skip.

I don’t have exactly a wardrobe that screams “SLUT!”, but the vibe isn’t exactly good southern mormon girl. Jesus just wasn’t my thing growing up. My parents were a little paranoid about the christians, we avoided them at all cost. I had to thrift some stuff to attend Sunday preaching with Mormon Isaac.

It was so boring, every single Sunday. Thank God the pastor would scream from time to time on his speech, the only thing waking me up. Mormon Isaac, strangely as it seems, wouldn’t try to grab me a little here and there while we were inside the church.

“Are you okay?” I asked him once when he audibly swallowed when I touched the inside of his thigh when the pastor was speaking, or whatever.

“Yes. Please, not here, sweetheart,” he urged me and I rolled my eyes.

Every. Fucking. Sunday. For. Four. Months. He would only give me a peck after church, always in front of his family, if his parents weren’t making lunch he would drive me home and that’s it.

Sometimes we would do other stuff too. He would take me to the cinema to see a movie, always under PG-13 though. I would try to jack him off and he wouldn’t allow me, I once tried to give him a blowjob and he said he was waiting for the right time. We fucked rough in the staff room and now I was a pervert, make it make some sense.

You can imagine my surprise when, in the middle of an afternoon, Mormon Isaac appeared from nowhere at the arcade.

“Guess whose four-month anniversary is today?” He asked me while holding a box. I have no idea how to pray, but I know that I prayed for every single entity in the sky for a surprise break up as a git.

“Wow, lucky me,” I said with a fake smile. If my job was boring that afternoon, it was about to become worse.

From the corner, I saw Ellie picking up her backpack from the floor as I opened the box. A deep voice greeted my name and I got cold.

Mormon Isaac was looking at me like he was the best boyfriend in the whole world. Joel appeared to be curious, getting close to the glass display I call my office.

“I didn’t know you were religious,” he said looking at the bible in my hands. A fucking bible. Damn you, Mormon Isaac.

“She attends the Sunday preach every week,” Mormon Isaac promptly corrected with his most polite smile. I wanted to die.

“Thank you very much, I will cherish it.” I smiled back, looking into Joel’s eyes with a silent rescue request when Mormon Isaac glanced at his phone.

“See you tomorrow-,” he started and I cut it before he could finish that thought.

“For the bible study, yes. It will be a pleasure,” I said faking another smile, Joel looked so confused and amused by the whole situation. Mormon Isaac grinned so hard that I thought he was about to cum in his pants.

“That’s fantastic! I will let my mom know!” He said before grabbing his phone and walking out, leaving me and Joel behind.

I sighed and dropped my head into my arms, right at the bible. Joel's laugh, I sound I grew to adore, echoed and I glanced up from my arms.

“What the hell was that?” He asked in good fun, looking at how distressed I was.

“You do me a favor: never, I said never, open the door for a Jeovah’s witness. I accepted one preach from this mormon customer and now he plays rehab with me,” I said avoiding the fact that the said mormon was my boyfriend on the following day we would meet for a date.

“I will. Do you need an excuse for bible study?” He asked looking somewhere behind me like he was forming a plan inside his head, both hands on my glass display while Ellie waited.

“Does it involve religion or any kind of cult?” I half-joked. Half because if hot Joel said he wanted me to go to any kind of religious ceremony I would have another panic attack and leave.

Joel looked to Ellie, who looked back at him and both nodded. This time I can’t translate, sorry, I’m still in the process of getting the language's grammatical structure.

“Tomorrow is Luke’s birthday. Surprise party. You don’t want to break the poor’s kid heart, c’mon,” Ellie said faking seriousness. Joel nodded back.

“There will be food?” Ellie confirmed. “Booze?”

“Do you like beer?” Joel asked, also in fake seriousness. Except that his death stare made me fucking wet.

“Pass me your phone so I can give you my number, text me the address,” I turned my palm up to grab the said phone, he smirked and Ellie laughed.

And this, Tess, is how I met Joel, got my little heart full of him just to let him slip into my life. What can I say? I never wanted to save a horse more than the moment he lassoed me.

I think you have more than enough material for our next session already. I will give you that yes, I speak more about what is inside my head like this. I think it might be because it feels strangely similar to submitting a paper, you know how much I love being the teacher’s pet.

Don’t forget: I can’t fall in love with this guy,

The Renegade

P.S. In case it isn’t obvious, I don’t have daddy issues. I DON’T. I know what it looks like, but I don’t have it. Don’t even try.

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[thetriumphantpanda]

Ghost of You | J. Miller (Chapter Four)

Series Summary / Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. And no-one ever explains the guilt you feel when it isn’t anymore. When it’s just a dull ache and you can finally breathe again, when you can start letting people get close to you again. People like Joel Miller. 

Pairing / Joel Miller x Widow F!Reader

Word Count / 4K

Warnings / Descriptions of grief and depression, a therapy session, some Ellie/Reader fluff but nothing else - let me know if I've missed anything!

Authors Note / You know when I said this would be slow burn? I really meant it. I really hope you guys aren't getting bored but I promise things are going to heat up from Chapter 5 onwards 👀 Thank you once again for all your love on this series - I say it every time but it's really close to my heart and to know you guys are enjoying it really does mean the world! If you like this then please considering reblogging, leaving comments or popping into my ask box with some love! I love y'all!

Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

You never thought you’d be the kind of person who needed a therapist. Even when your parents had passed in quick succession before the outbreak you’d managed to carry on with the distraction of normal life, processing your grief quickly, distracting yourself with finishing school and applying for college. Even now, when you thought back to them, it was with fond memories. Nowhere near the level of grief you had now after losing Mark. 

Maybe it was the change in the world or the fact that Mark had been a part of your life longer than your parents had? You didn’t really know. Maria had suggested that trying to unpack your feelings with a therapist would be beneficial for you, someone neutral who could help you back to the person you’d been before he’d died. It had been six months since you first sat in this chair, the same feeling of anxiety you had then was apparent now, as Belinda poured you a glass of water and situated a box of tissues on the table, you took one, knowing you’d need it like you always did. 

“So, how are you?” She asks, settling down in the chair opposite you with her notepad resting on her crossed knee. 

“I’m okay.” You say simply. 

This is a rehearsed response. You always say it. Because if you needed a therapist, were you ever okay? 

Belinda nods like she always did, “I wanted to start today by revisiting what we spoke about last time,” Her voice is high and sweet and she’s at least twenty years older than you, “Remember we spoke about doing something to push yourself out of your comfort zone?” She asks, and you nod, “Did you do anything since our last session to work on that?” 

You take a deep breath; how much should you tell her? 

“I have, yeah.” 

“That’s good,” She praises, a genuine smile on her mouth, “Can you tell me about it?” 

“I went to The Tipsy Bison last week.” Is all you offer her. 

“With Tommy and Maria?” 

You nod, “And his brother and the little girl he’s got.” 

She quirks her eyebrow a little, if you hadn’t been paying close attention to her face you would have missed it, “And would you say Tommy’s brother is a friend?” 

You shrug, “I don’t know, I guess so, he came around a few weeks ago and fixed my porch step and he’s helping to build the table and chairs that Mark was going to do before he got sick.” 

“Do you talk to him about Mark?” 

“We’ve spoken a little about him, he actually lost his own daughter on outbreak day, so I guess I feel like he understands what I’m going through.” 

She nods, “Let’s go back a bit and talk about going to the bar,” She writes something down on her notepad, you never really know what it is she’s writing, “Was it as bad as you had expected?” 

You look down at your hands, scrunched tissue in one hand as your nails pick at the skin of your cuticles, “I was nervous about going, and I think I stood outside the door waiting to go in for too long, my mind was thinking of what would happen, like I would open the door and everyone would stop and go silent and just look at me, but no-one really noticed, but when we sat down to have a drink, someone said something and it kinda ruined everything.” 

“What did they say?” She pushes. 

You sigh, “That I’d made a miraculous recovery all of a sudden.” 

“And how did that make you feel?” Ah. The classic therapy question. 

You take a moment to formulate your answer in your mind, “I was angry,” You reply, “But not at the person who said it, I was angry at myself because it was true.” 

“But is it true?” Belinda pushes, “From my perspective, of course we’ve made steps since you first began coming to see me, but I don’t think either of us think you’re fully recovered, do we?” 

You shake your head to agree with her, “I guess what I’m trying to say is that sure, what was said wasn’t really true, but it’s the things they didn’t say which made me think they are,” Belinda is looking at you to continue explaining, “In the back of my mind I thought, well of course I’m recovered if I’m sat in a bar with a smile on my face, and if I can do this then why can’t I go back to work? Why can’t I start contributing to the community again? That’s what I think they’re saying in their heads about me.” 

“But you don’t know that do you?” She asks, “This is something I’ve noticed about you, that you project your own feelings onto other people, even though you have no idea what else they’re really thinking.” 

You nod because she’s not wrong, of course she’s not, “How do I stop?” You almost beg her. 

She shrugs a little, “You’ve got to stop caring about what other people think,” She says it like it’s the simplest thing to do, “Of course not the people who really matter to you, Maria, Tommy, his brother, their opinions matter, but those people who you see in passing, what they think doesn’t matter because they don’t really know you.” 

She looks briefly to her watch, “We don’t have much time left, but I’m proud of you, and if you think you’re ready to go back to work then challenge yourself, maybe ask Maria for a couple of hours a week, just to ease yourself back in, and we can talk about it a bit more next week?” You nod in agreement, “And it’s good to hear you’re making new friends too, I think Tommy’s brother might be someone to keep around if it makes you comfortable, friend’s with shared experiences can be helpful in recovery.” 

You nod in understanding and spend a few minutes agreeing on what day and time you’ll meet next week before she’s ushering you out of her office in time for her next patient. As you stand in front of her office, a thought spring to your mind. This is the first time you’ve left having not cried. The tissue is still dry in your hand, a small victory that you can hand yourself on your journey to healing. 

*

Just ten minutes later you are stood outside Maria’s house, knocking on the door. You can hear shuffling behind the door before she pulls it open, a look of shock written on her face that it’s you. 

“Is everything okay?” She asks. 

“As fine as it normally is,” You respond, “I was just coming back from Belinda’s and I wanted to ask you something.” 

“You want to come inside?” She asks, “I’ve just made coffee.” 

You gladly accept and before long you’re both sat on the couch, sipping coffee, “I think I’d like to go back to work.” You say simply before you get the opportunity to chicken out. 

She almost chokes on the coffee she’d just taken a drink of, “Are you sure?” 

“Definitely not full time,” You’re quick to add, “I just want to start with a few hours and see if I’m okay.” 

“Where’s this come from?”  You let out a sigh, “I’m fed up Maria,” You speak honestly, “Fed up of people thinking I’m useless, fed up of spending every day in the same four walls,” And then you add, “And I’m fed up of thinking that Mark would hate what I’ve become over him.” 

She pauses for a moment, “Let me speak to Kate and see if we can sort something out from next week,” She smiles, “I’m sure she’ll be grateful to have you back, she always complains that Charlotte still doesn’t understand the library system,” She puts on a poor imitation of Kate’s accent, “Jane Austen next to Philippa Gregory.” 

You both laugh and you think it’s truly the first time you’ve properly laughed in what feels like forever. You spend a little more time with her, finishing your coffee before leaving her to it and as you walk down the street towards your own home, you can’t deny that you feel a little lighter than normal. 

*

It’s Monday afternoon, one of two afternoon’s you’ve agreed to step back into the library to help. Kate had suggested it because it was the afternoon that the teacher’s brought the kids down to choose a book to take home. It would be busy enough to distract you and meant you wouldn’t spend your time sat thinking. 

You’d already helped two classes this afternoon, the last class we’re due in a few minutes, so Kate and you were enjoying a moment to sit and recuperate over a cup of tea. Well. Tea was stretching it – it was Kate’s usual concoction of boiled water and water flavourings she could get her hands on. Today it was lemon slices and honey, but it was warm and soothing so you wouldn’t complain. 

“I’m really happy to see you.” She speaks honestly, grasping at your arm to give it a squeeze, “I know this can’t have been easy, but I’ve hope we’ve not scared you off.” 

You offer a small smile, “I’ve actually enjoyed it, I guess my therapist was right when she said finding distractions would be helpful.” 

Kate is about to speak again when the library door swings open and the older children start filing in, their teacher doing his best to corral them into the middle of the room. It’s just as you remember, he tells them they’ve got fifteen minutes to browse and choose and book and once they have, they need to come to the front desk to check it out. 

You notice Ellie is part of the group, she’s hanging back, shuffling from foot-to-foot, but once her teacher lets them go, she’s just as excited as everyone else, picking up books and reading the covers. She’s one of the first to bring her choice over to the desk. You smile as you take it from her. 

“Artemis Fowl?” You grin, “Great choice, it’s really good.” You write her name in the checking-out book and then the title of the book, before writing the date three weeks from now that she needs to bring it back on the inside cover of the book.

“I didn’t know you worked here.” She comments, taking the book back from you. 

“I’m only here for two afternoons, trying to ease myself back into things, but yeah, before everything happened with Mark, this was my full-time job.” 

“I bet you’ve read everything here, right?” 

“Not quite,” You smirk, “But pretty much, if you ever want to know what else is good to read, you know where to come.” 

She smiles and says thank you and just before she turns to leave, “Say, you don’t think you could ask Joel to pop by sometime and finish up the table for me, could you?” 

She smirks, “Only if I can come so you can teach me how to make pie?” 

You hold out your hand and she takes it to shake, “You’ve got yourself a deal.” 

*

 It isn’t until Sunday that Joel and Ellie turn up at your front door. Summer really is in full swing now and it’s warm. You’ve been padding about in the garden trying to clear up, tank top now slightly sticking to your back from the thin sheen of sweat you’ve worked up and you think it’s possible the skin on your legs will be burnt when you finish up for the day. 

Joel heads straight for the back porch with his toolbox in hand, Ellie lingers at the kitchen table. 

“Do you want coffee?” You ask, tilting your head around the open back door. 

He shakes his head, “Water would be nice though.” 

You head back to the kitchen and pour three glasses of water from the jug in your fridge, adding lemon slices to give it a little flavour. Joel thanks you when you had him the glass and you smile at him before heading back to the kitchen to focus on Ellie. 

“Alright, you ready?” You ask and she nods with enthusiasm, “I tried to get apples at the market, but they were all out, so I’m afraid it’s cherries today.” 

You bring out a bowl of cherries from the fridge and put them out the counter, “The first thing we need to do is wash them and take the stones out, it’s a bit fiddly but it’s fun, I promise.” 

You rummage around in your cutlery drawer for the pair of chopsticks you know are hidden somewhere. You can almost imagine the family living in this house before the world went to shit, sitting at their table, eating Chinese food with them. God, what you wouldn’t give for fried rice right now. You had one of the sticks to Ellie once she’s washed her hands and rinsed the fruit. 

“So, you take a cherry and pull the stem off,” You do it to show her, “And then you eat the first one to make sure the fruit is okay,” You smile as you pop the cherry into your mouth, watching as she does the same, “You think they’re good?” 

She’s smiling at you, “They’re fucking great!” 

You spit the stone into your palm and put your hand near her face for her to do the same before you discard the stones in the trash bin next to you, “Okay, now we know they’re good, what you need to do is take the smaller end of the chopstick, and can you see where you pulled the stem out from?” You point to the spot on her fruit, “You just push the end through it and hopefully….” You draw out as you push your stick into the cherry between your fingers, the stone pops out through the bottom, “That will happen!” 

You watch as Ellie copies your movements, the stone popping out through the bottom of the cherry, “Does it matter that the fruit broke?” She asks, placing her destoned cherry in the bowl with your own. 

“Not at all, we’ve got to break them to eat them, right?” 

Joel is working studiously just outside the kitchen window and when you reach the last cherry in the bowl, you take it in hand, opening the window, “Hey Joel?” You call, he looks up from his work and you dangle the cherry out into the open space, he smiles as he takes it, popping it into his mouth before mirroring what you’d done, spitting the pip into his hand and slinging it over the side of your fence. 

It strikes you in this moment that being with Joel and Ellie is effortless. Although they both know what happened and a little about how you’ve delt with it, they don’t seem to judge you, neither of them look at you with sorry written in their eyes, they don’t press you to talk about things you don’t want to and they both seem genuinely interested in what you have to say, or in Ellie’s case, teach them. 

You take Ellie through the rest of the steps of preparing the fruit, drizzling them in a little honey in place of sugar, teaching her how to make the pastry, which involves more flour ending up on both of you that it does in the recipe. You let her pour the fruit into the pastry and decide which kind of top she wants on it. She’s a girl after your own heart and opts for lattice. 

Once it’s in the oven baking, Ellie sits on your couch with her book whilst you tidy up. You refill her glass of water before heading out to do the same to Joel’s. He’s almost finished with the table, just a few more planks of wood to hammer into the top and he’ll be done. 

“Thanks,” He says simply when you fill his glass, he takes it and drinks deeply, brushing his forehead for sweat, you stand with him for a while, “Ellie says she saw you at the library earlier this week, is that where you work?” He’s making polite conversation and you smile. 

“I worked there before everything happened,” You explain, “I was speaking to my therapist a few weeks ago who said she thought it would be a positive step for me, so I’m just doing two afternoons a week to ease me back in,” You refill his glass when he’s finished with it, “Baby steps and all that.” 

“S’good,” He nods, “You seem a bit happier today.” 

“I think it’s more to do with her,” You speak honestly, motioning your head inside to where Ellie is, “She’s a great kid Joel.” 

“She is,” He agrees, “I’m glad she’s finally gettin’ the chance to be a kid for a while.”

He’s finishing up with the last few bits of wood for the table, “You wanna stay for a slice of pie?” You ask, “It shouldn’t be long coming out of the oven.” 

“If it’s anythin’ like the last one then I don’t think I can say no,” He smirks, “Let me finish up here and I’ll come in.” 

“Oh no, stay out here, we need to make sure your handiwork is sturdy enough.” You give him a little wink just to play with him, before wondering whether that was too much. He doesn’t suggest it was, just beams his lovely smile at you. 

You turn on your heel and head back into the kitchen. You kneel in front of the oven, and you can see through the door that the fruit is bubbling through the lattice top and the pastry itself is looking lovely and golden. 

“Hey, Ellie, you wanna take your pie out of the oven?” You ask, she’s folding the corner of the page she’s reading and is by your side in record time. 

You hand her the oven gloves, another souvenir from whoever lived here before, it’s white, or would have been before they’d been used to death and had a pretty floral pattern on it. Not what you’d have chosen if you’d been filling your new home, but you always tried to remind yourself that beggars couldn’t be choosers in this world. 

“Careful when you open the door, it’ll be really hot.” Ellie shoots you a playful look that tells you she isn’t that dumb. 

She pulls open the door and steps back to let the steam flow out before she’s wrapping the oven gloves around the pie and putting on the stove top to cool, “As the expert,” You speak, “I have to say that looks and smells fantastic.” 

You peer out of the window; Joel is just shutting his toolbox and you watch him takes his hands a brush the tabletop of any dust and debris left over from him building it. He then takes the chairs he’d made and sets them around the table. You turn your head when he starts moving to come inside. 

“Kiddo, that looks great,” He praises Ellie, looking over her shoulder at her creation, “Let me wash my hands and we can dig in.” 

You busy yourself with grabbing some plates and forks, handing them to Ellie to take outside, whilst you take the oven gloves and take the pie outside, setting it down on the table. You stand back and look at what Joel’s made. In the old world, this would have cost you a pretty penny and you can’t help but realise how talented he is. There’s nothing to suggest that you hadn’t been down to the best furniture store and paid thousands of dollars for it. 

“I brought a knife.” Comes Joel’s voice from behind you, he’s brandishing your biggest kitchen knife and you think that in any other circumstance you’d be threatened by him, but there’s something about the goofy grin on his face that you know means that he would never hurt you. 

He gives the knife to Ellie and sits down in one of the chairs, you follow suit, taking time to warn her to be careful if she needs to touch the pie tin because it’s likely to still be hot. You catch Joel smiling at you and you know it’s because he’s her dad – whether by blood or not, you can tell that he cares deeply for her and he’s thankful, in some small way that you are too. 

Ellie cuts into the pie and struggles to get it out of the tin, the pastry below breaks and the fruit spills onto the plate that she only just manages to catch the slice on. 

“I’ll take that one,” You smile, holding out your hand for the plate, “Got to break it to eat it, right?” You echo your words from inside the kitchen earlier on. 

Once everyone has a slice on their plate and has left it to cool for long enough, you’re all digging in and you have to admit it’s just as good as the one you made yourself. 

“Maybe I should sign you up for kitchen duty,” Joel jokes as he spears another bite with his fork, “You can start earning your keep, kiddo.” 

Ellie looks disgusted at the very notion of being put to work and you all laugh together. It’s in this moment that you think to Mark. Would this have been your life if you’d been blessed with children? When you’d arrived in Jackson it had been a serious conversation. You were safe. People had been having children for months. They had a real midwife for God’s sake. The lack of children hadn’t been through lack of trying either. You remember lazy Sunday mornings wrapped up in bed together, hands raking over naked bodies, moans and praises spilled from mouths. You’d just never been blessed. You’d never talked about who might have been the problem, it didn’t matter anyway, if it couldn’t be with Mark then it wasn’t meant to be. 

And perhaps now you’re thankful. If Mark had still died, there would have been someone else to care for during your grief. A constant reminder, in the flesh, of who he was, who he’d been. You hated to think of not being able to look at your own child because they reminded you too much of your dead husband. No. Better to be alone in your grief than add that kind of complication. 

Once the slices were finished on everyone’s plate and you’d packaged two extra slices for Joel and Ellie to take home, you’re standing on your porch. Ellie is already making her way down the street, but Joel is hanging back. 

“I really don’t know how to say thank you,” You admit, “You’ve been a real lifeline since you came here so just… thank you.” 

He smiles at you, secretly wishing he could reach his hands out to touch you. He can’t remember the last time he genuinely wanted to touch someone like he wanted to touch you. He didn’t even think he had that with Tess. Sure, she’d been a comfort and he cared for her, but it had never been love. Just a means to an end, a way to ease each other’s pain for a moment. Then he caught himself. This wasn’t love either. Sure, you’d spent time together and all he really wanted to in any moment he saw you was kiss away the furrow of your brow, but he couldn’t love you. Not yet. 

“I just like helpin’ out,” He offers, quickly looking down the street to find Ellie talking to someone from school, “I like knowing it makes things easier for you, that’s all the thanks I need.” 

“Well, consider Ellie and you guests of honor when I can finally host that dinner on your handiwork.” 

He winks at you, and you think you can feel a slight flush across your cheeks, but you think if it is appearing across your skin, you can pass it off as the hear, “Consider it done, sweet pea, I’ll see you around.” 

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[ametrictonofaudacity]

yo you do platonic yanderes???? aroace yandere creator real??? love this love this sm can you do yandere platonic joker??? for like an artist reader??? maybe reader is rly nihilistic or rly funny or maybe they encountered once and he got fixated and wants to be buddies???

Absolutely!! Also thank you so much for the ask.

Trigger warning for: murder, violence, references to torture, manipulation, all around general bad times. This is, after all, the Joker, so this post will be more intense than the majority of mine will tend to be, I think. Also the use of the pet name Baby, but it’s strictly platonic.

It starts, as all terrible things do, at your college campus.

You were being held hostage. Which, while you were familiar enough with hostage taking in general, no one in Gotham wasn’t, you yourself had never been taken hostage before. You were also running on limited sleep, two redbulls, and the last dregs of your will to live.

So when the Joker points his gun at you and threatens to kill you in his strange, maniacal way, you throw your head back and groan, exhausted and frustrated and pissed. You tell him you wish he would, if it got you out of your finals. Something in his eyes light up, the acid green reflecting the light in an eerie way, and suddenly the gun is not aimed at your face but your leg, and he squeezes the trigger.

The last thing you remember seeing as you clutch your leg is the same hungry expression Joker always watched Batman with.

When you get out of the hospital, you have to attend therapy. You don’t have either the money or the patience, and leave after three sessions. The therapist was nice enough, but too focused on your lack of self-preservation and less focused on you being shot by the Joker. You do keep some habits, though.

You draw. You draw and draw as much as you can while you heal, and somehow, the Joker leaks into all of your works. A pair of scuffed up dress shoes on a menacing figure, a set of gleaming green eyes. Joker was haunting you, haunting your work, and you were fucking sick of it.

You don’t publish any of those pieces. You throw them in the trash, frustrated and angry, and crash on your couch, curling up to get some sleep. You ignore the rustling in your trash, positive it’s some raccoon or rat or some other vermin of Gotham’s street.

The Joker shows up again. He holds everyone in your job hostage, holds you hostage, and you are treat to the actively terrifying experience of having the Joker’s attention on you, solely on you. He’s not talking about Batman, or his plans, but is instead asking you questions with gleaming eyes and a gun nudging at your head. You answer all his questions as calmly as you can, even cracking a few dry jokes, and it does nothing to make the gleam leave his eyes but it keeps him from looking at the other hostages and you have to settle for that.

Batman saves you. And when Joker is carted away in cuffs, laughing, he calls your name, not the Bats.

He breaks out again. You know this because a dark shadow appears on your window, nearly every night, keeping watch. Sometime the shadows are smaller, sometimes they’re huge, and sometimes they watch with pitying eyes and a scarred face. You never speak to them, they never speak to you. You don’t mind your silent watchers.

Eventually, they leave, and you wake up in the middle of the night to rustling in your kitchen.

“What in the hell…?” You trail off, staring at the Clown Prince of Crime, who’s leaning against the counter with his jacket sling over his shoulder and a remarkably casual stance.

“You have absolutely nothing in your fridge, come onnnn.” He complains, before kicking your fridge shut. You wince. Your furniture could not withstand that sort of battering.

“Hey, don’t kick my fridge, I’ll lose my security deposit. You want me to make you something, after you broke into my apartment?” Your question is sarcastic, but it makes Joker grin, broad and victorious.

“Well, if you wouldn’t mind…” He teases, and you feel a shudder roll through your body. You don’t know if he sees it.

“Yeah sure, hold on. Hope you don’t mind ramen, I’ve got some instant packs I wanted to try.” Ramen was one of the few things you actually spent money on, getting the nice frozen packs with frozen broth and noodles.

“Baby, if you’ve ever eaten from the cafeteria in Arkham, you can eat anything.” Joker laughs, and the high pitched sound grates against your ears. You want to cover them. You don’t. You don’t know if he was arm, but judging by the way his shirt is pulled over his waist band, he was.

“Try eating from Gotham Community College’s cafeteria. It’s terrible.” You remark, putting both bowls in the microwave. Technically you weren’t supposed to, but there was so much wrong with this situation you figured you microwave could do you a favor and not explode this one time. Although with how the universe had been treating you, there was no guarantee.

“Eugh. College. Waste of time, if you ask me. Wasting time to learn to waste time, learning nothing at all! Experience is the best teacher in my opinion! Like those paintings!”

“Paintings?” You question, hissing when you almost burn your hand on the bowl. Joker snickers.

“Your paintings, baby! The ones you tossed, although I don’t know why ya did, I was so flattered being your muse.” He is suddenly RIGHT behind you, and you jerk, spilling hot broth on your hands and yelping. The scar on your leg aches with him so close.

You set down both bowls, hear him snicker.

“Are you telling me you’ve been going through my trash in case I tossed out a painting?” You blurt, turning towards him. He’s watching you, with those eerie eyes, and you know they’re going to fill your drawing pad and sketchbook tonight, insane and wide and terrifying.

“Well not me, not always! I was in Arkham for a bit, ya know, after the last time we got to see each other.” He drawls, finally leaning back, examining his nails. “I saw what you were doing there, ya know.”

“What?”

“Oh come onn. Batsy does the same thing. He doesn’t like my attention on anyone else, so he keeps me occupied. He’s obsessed with me.”

Your brain nearly stalls, because holy shit. You had known Joker was crazy with a capitol C, but you had not expected him to accuse Batman, of all people, of being obsessed with him. That was a level of so far gone it made your stomach turn.

“So do you have anymore paintings? I like the ones I got, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes the trash ruins them.” Joker asks, hopping up on your counter and grabbing his bowl. He doesn’t seem at all bothered by the heat.

“Uh, yeah, let me go get it.” You mutter, stunned. You still hadn’t recovered from the comment about Batman, the comment about you.

You manage to find it. You pass it over to Joker, hoping nothing in it gets you killed. He begins flipping through it eagerly, oohing and ahhing like a small child.

The rustle of pages stops, and you look up. Joker is looking at the pages with an absolutely hungry expression, eyes wide with a splitting grin on his face.

Your stomach turns. You slide your drawer open, silently, and grasp the handle of a knife, tucking it against the back of your thigh.

“Whatcha looking at?” You ask, trying not to sound too careful, instead passingly curious. You aren’t sure you succeed.

His eyes snap to you, and with a grin, he flips the sketchbook over, showing you.

It’s a sketch of you, and so many, many sketches of Joker’s eyes, all acid green and wide and maniacal. You don’t remember making it. But it makes your stomach churn and your heart race.

“Huh. Forgot I drew that.” You remark, brushing your hair back, keeping the knife hidden.

“Baby, come onn! We don’t have to dance around this anymore, ya know?” He complains, shoving the sketchbook into your hands. “No more of this pining from afar, we can finally hang out and do something fun.”

His vioce drops at fun, into something menacing, and you don’t stop, or think. You just act.

The knife goes slicing toward his face, ready to carve a new scar into it. He dips back, shrieking laughter escaping, and there’s a knife in his hand now, a gleaming silver blade that could bleed you dry, unlike the vegetable knife in your hand. He lunged forward, cackling.

“Oh come on! I know you’re not ready yet, but we’ll have so much fun! Come on, we’ll be buddies, it’ll be great!”

You’re dodging back from streaks of silver, which slash through the air, and then he dips low.

Buried his knife in the same place he shot you, in the thick scar tissue of your thigh.

You scream, the sound shrill and pained, and he shoves you to the ground, gloved hands covering your mouth.

“Shh!!! You can’t get Batsy running yet!!” He laughs, and you thrash against him, hot blood running down your thigh, fingers scrambling against his deceptively thin figure. “At least not until you’re like me.”

He presses a clothe against your mouth, and the world begins to flicker.

The last thing you see before passing out is acid green eyes.

[raindrop-on-a-spiderweb]

A Message To My Readers

I don't tend to use this tumblr as a personal blog, but I feel obliged to be honest to my readers this time.

On August 11, I shot myself in the head with a .22 caliber revolver.

The bullet entered through my right cheek, fracturing my orbital and mandibular, and exited through the side of my nostril, embedding shrapnel inside my face. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt very much. All I felt was a burning pressure tunneling through my face, and warm blood fountaining onto the collar of my dress. The rest of that night I do not remember–save that in the ambulance, blood clots the size of caterpillars were dropping out of my nose.

I spent the next few days in the hospital, the side of my face swelling up so much I couldn't see out of my right eye. I was in the hospital under observation for three days. Nurse aids--new hires I was supposing– kept looking at me with that faint gaze of horror and slight fascination, at the bloody mess on my face swelling up into a bloodier mess, like rubbernecking at a car accident. Otherwise my stay was uneventful–I watched the Discovery Channel and reread The Master and Margarita several times while we waited for the swelling to go down and for my flesh to knit itself together enough so I could be discharged.. My left nostril leaked so much blood it covered the pillow. Scabs formed to close the bullet wounds on both sides of my face.

I was then transferred to a psychiatric ward. The experiences I had there and the people I met I will remember for a lifetime. It was a fascinating cross-section of humanity. There was an 18-year-old redneck father-of-two (!) who, during a group therapy session where we were asked to find coping methods to deal with depression, yelled out "GO TO A SHOOTIN' RANGE!". The head nurse on the ward constantly quoted One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest. There was a woman who believed she was "powerful reincarnation of an ancient druidess". Another man had been a highly successful local restauranteur before meth addiction and mental illness took away his life. A slight, blonde former nurse who after a failed relationship, stabbed herself in the liver and trachea.

The library was meager, but I read John Muir's First Summer in the Sierra and lost myself in snowy mountain peaks and the spray of waterfalls. I made myself popular by giving out palm readings in the day room and was correct approximately 80% of the time. I described one man's temperament as "fiery", which he correctly understood to mean he was an asshole. The ancient druidess asked for a reading but spent most of the time telling me about her myriad other reincarnations (respectively, killed in the Holocaust, killed in the Victorian era, killed in the medieval era). An old former nurse–not the blonde lady– came for a reading and it was so accurate she got teary-eyed; we soon became fast friends. She was elderly but sharp as a tack and had worked her whole life in the profession; through the 70s and 80s. She had never married, although she wished she'd had children. She had been a sci-fi writer as well and had a wealth of advice for me, one being that you should never become a nurse. Nursing had ruined her body and left her wheelchair bound.

My roommate was a quiet woman who barely said two words to me the first day and spent most of her time staring at the wall and sleeping. The therapists could not crack her in the least. By the second day we fell into a card game with each other, and little by little she lit up and started smiling. When she laughed it was infectious. She, I and the elderly nurse spent long hours in the day room, playing cards and watching television and laughing with each other. The night before we were discharged, we were up late, and she confessed her terrible circumstances, her life in foster care, her husband who had molested her children, her trafficking, and her upcoming court hearing so she could claw back custody of her children. A flash of contemplation passed her face, and she said to us, "I have talked more with you than I ever have with any of my therapists." I still have her and the nurse's numbers.

The therapy I was given and the connections I made were overall wonderful and affecting experiences. I left the ward looking forward to meeting the world headon, but when I got out, things grew worse. My mother withheld my medications and electronics and blamed me for everything; wanted me to go to a halfway house (thankfully my father let me stay with him permanently). I was on the verge of filing a police report before she gave them back. And then I realized I was being kicked out of the house. To walk into your room and realize it is not your own anymore, to see your belongings packed up and ready to be stored away or sent back with you, is a jarring experience; to have your eyes go to a familiar place and have it be so alien.

Then she said those words that made my heart drop to my stomach: That I was writing awful, dark things for an audience and that she was completely ashamed of me, and that she thought that it contributed to my decision to end my life. (and also that I was "posting sarcastic comments online for ego strokes"--wtf?) She had gone through everything private of mine, everything I strived to keep separate from my real life identity for this very reason, and told God knows how many people. All for nothing now.

Few things can compare to the horror of having a loved one finding out the deepest, rawest, most honest parts of yourself and reacting with disgust. To have them point a finger at your most delicate personal works and say, "This is responsible for your attempted suicide," when writing had brought me nothing but delight, happiness and friends at some of the darkest times of my life. Part of the reason I love writing was the lack of restraint and escapism, and the idea of being someone else. How could I possibly return to writing knowing that someone was constantly judging me and looking over my shoulder? How could I write honestly, without constantly second-guessing myself?

Anyway, my mother wanted nothing to do with me and threw me out with my father once I got my belongings. The last thing I said to her was "Next time, I won't miss." C'est la vie and that's the end. I'm officially disowned now and cutting off contact. No clue where I stand will-wise, but I don't care anymore.

We got in the car and went home. As my mood sank, I was tempted to do the unthinkable and I gave some serious thought to deleting my account and works. The thought of my mother (and potentially other family members too) reading these stories of mine in all their graphicness was a crippling prospect. It also occurred to me that she had started packing my room up when I was still in the hospital, and that finally made me cry. I wondered whether she was the same person who loved me and hugged me and protected me as a child, or she was the same person all along and I just never noticed.

When we got home to my dad's farm I was shaky and unfocused and my mind was in a dark fugue. But it was a bright and sunny August day. As soon as I got out of the car my cats poured out of the fields and out of the barn to surround me, meowing and excited after a week of not seeing me, Spot and Zorro and Aldous and Erik and Gidget. We're glad you're back. We're glad you're here. Beings that didn't judge me, that I didn't have to explain anything to or justify myself to, that just were happy that I existed.

As I felt the sunlight on my shoulders I started to cry again, but they were tears of relief. How could I have tried to kill myself when a moment so beautiful existed? Things will look up. They always do.

I love writing and I will never, and can never, stop.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

The Truth About Love ~ 23

THE TRUTH ABOUT LOVE MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 1,923ish

Summary: You have one question on your mind: where are you hospital bills?

Notes: There's only one more chapter after this one!

As you continued to heal, a nagging thought kept finding its way to the forefront of your thoughts. Where was the hospital bill? You decided that maybe it took a few months to receive. By the time you had the cast-off and had started physical therapy, the question was nagging you more.

“Okay, that’s it for today,” your physical therapist said at the end of your first session. “Just remember to do the exercises at home and I’ll see you in a few days.”

“Thanks,” you said, heading over to the reception desk. “Hi, I need to schedule my next appointment as well as pay today’s fees.”

“What’s your name?” The receptionist asked.

“Y/N L/N.”

The receptionist hummed as they typed away. “Let’s see here. They want you back in three days. Does 1 pm work in three days?”

“It works great.”

“And it says here that all of your bills have been covered.”

“Uh, what?”

“Yes, someone has already paid your needed bills.”

Your heart stopped for a moment. Though you had been getting used to Steve’s money, he had promised not to spend large amounts on you without talking to you first. On the way home, your frustration only built towards Steve. How could he have done this? Again. You called the hospital on your way, only to find out your bills had been paid. When you got to the apartment, you stood outside the door for a long while. You knew you shouldn’t go in very hotheaded, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Hey!” Steve greeted from the kitchen. “I’m making dinner. I thought you would want something to eat after physical therapy.”

“Thanks,” you muttered.

Steve immediately stopped what he was doing, sensing that something was wrong. “What’s going on?”

“I thought we were done having this fight…”

“What fight?”

“The spending money on me fight. The paying my bills when I am perfectly capable of doing it fight.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—“

“My hospital bills. My physical therapy bills. All paid for. I don’t understand why you couldn’t have just talked to me about this before you went ahead and made decisions for me.”

“Y/N, I don’t have the faintest idea of what you’re talking about.”

You scoffed. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying. I did not pay your bills.”

“How am I supposed to believe you when you’ve continually thrown money at my problems without speaking to me first?”

“You’re tired, you’re hungry. Why don’t we table this conversation—“

“No! Steve, just tell me the truth!”

“I am telling you the truth!”

“I don’t believe you!” Tension grew as silence fell between the two of you. “I need to go.”

“Go?”

“I need a moment to myself… maybe the night.”

“Y/N,” he reached for your arm, but you pulled away. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’ll call you later.” You left. Slipping out the door and across the hall to your old place. 

~~~

After telling Natasha about what had happened, she let you stay in the old apartment while she went to work. You had fallen asleep on the couch before Bucky arrived. He sighed upon seeing you, Steve having already told him about what happened. You woke up as he came around, sitting on the other end of the couch.

“Hey, Bucky,” you greeted through a yawn.

“Hey,” he replied.

“Did Steve tell you?”

“He did.”

You played with the blanket on you for a silent moment. “Do you think he did it?”

“I think that if he says he didn’t do it, he didn’t do it.”

You sighed. “Then who did it?”

“Have you asked Sarah? Or Tony?”

“Tony,” you scoffed. “He just barely apologized. He wouldn’t have done that.”

“Tony is an interesting man. He is more apt to apologize through action before ever saying it in words. It wouldn’t hurt to give him a call.”

“I don’t have his number.”

“I’ll text it to you.” Bucky quickly did as he said. “Trust Steve. He’s been trying to make everything work.”

“I know… I feel bad for freaking out on him.”

“He’ll forgive you. Hell, you’ve forgiven him one too many times.” He leaned toward you and patted your leg. “Call Tony.” He stood up and headed into his room. 

You sighed, staring at Tony’s number on your phone. You knew that it was getting late but you took a deep breath and called him.

“Hello?” Tony answered. “Who is this?”

“Hi Tony,” you replied. “It’s Y/N.”

“Y/N? It’s something wrong? Is Steve okay?”

“He’s… he’s fine. I just needed to ask you a question.”

“Me?”

“Did you pay my medical bills?”

Silence from Tony’s end. You couldn’t get yourself to say anything until you heard from Tony.

“Why don’t you come by Stark Industries tomorrow?” Tony suggested. “I’ll send a car for you.”

“Tony—“

“It will be better if we have this conversation in person.”

“Alright. Tomorrow then.”

“I’ll text you when the car is on its way.”

Then he hung up, leaving you without any real answer.

~~~

Steve never returned to the apartment, even after you snuck back in for the night. You hoped that he was at his studio, not getting into too much trouble. Tony texted when the car was twenty minutes away. You were down there, ready, when it arrived. As you were driven to the Stark Industries Tower, you were reminded of what happened there months ago. The Gala. Tony’s comments. Peggy and Steve dancing. You leaving, only to be involved in a hit-and-run. You tried to push away the memories as you pulled into the garage. Pepper was there, waiting for you.

“Y/N,” she greeted with a smile, pulling you in for a hug.

“Hey, Pepper,” you replied, hugging back.

“Tony’s asked me to take you up to his office. He would’ve been down here himself but he’s finishing up a phone call.”

You nodded, following her into an elevator. “It’s no big deal.”

“He’s been nervous about you coming all morning.”

“He has?”

“Tony is a worrier. He has a lot of anxiety behind the cockiness. He cares what you think of him. He cares about his relationship with Steve and how you affect that.”

“You seem good for him.”

“I try. It took a while to break that shell of his though.”

“I bet.”

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Pepper stepped out and you followed. She led you over to two large, frosted glass doors. She knocked before opening one of the doors.

“I have Y/N here,” she told Tony, who was sitting at a large desk in front of a wall of windows.

“Send her in,” Tony said, standing up. He walked over and kissed Pepper’s cheek. “Thanks, Pep.”

“Let me know if you two need anything.”

You stepped in and Pepper shut the door behind her. Tony motioned over to a small sitting area in the corner.

“Why don’t we have a seat?” He suggested.

“Okay,” you responded quietly.

The two of you sat in chairs opposite of one another. The air was thick with questions and caution. 

“I’m just going to ask you again,” you said. “Tony, did you pay my medical bills?”

“Yes,” he responded.

“Why?”

He sighed, leaning back into his chair. “At the hospital, I finally saw how much you mean to Steve. He was so scared that you wouldn’t make it, it started to scare me. I knew that I had continually questioned you and your intentions and that a simple apology wouldn’t do it. So I did what I could at the time.”

“I can’t believe I got mad at Steve, again,” you shook your head. “It’s been a continued fight between us, his use of money. I hate how he tries to solve my problems by pushing money at it. I accused him of doing it again.”

“I should have said something.”

“It’s not your fault. I should have believed him when he told me it wasn’t him.”

Tony chuckled. “Steve is Mr. Honesty. He would never lie to you.”

“I know that… Tony, I want to thank you for paying my bills.”

“It’s the least I could do.”

“But I can’t accept it. I will be paying you back.”

“What? No.”

“Tony, I’m serious. It would be over a few months, but I will pay you back for everything.”

“I will not take your money, Y/N. Take this as a gift—an apology for everything that I’ve put you through.”

You shook your head. “I need to pay you back.”

“I will not accept it.”

“There has to be something I can do.”

Tony takes a moment to think. “What are you going to college for?”

“I’ve changed it a few times. But, honestly, I think I’m going to go into hospitality. Why?”

“I’m looking for an event planner. Hospitality and event planning go hand-in-hand. How about I make you an offer? An unpaid internship at Stark Industries as an event planner, but once the amount of your medical bills are paid up it will be a paid internship.”

“Tony. That’s—“

“It’s the only way I will let you pay me back. It would give you real-life experience at one of the top companies in the world. You could quit your other jobs and solely focus on this. What do you say?”

You took a moment to think it over. “I accept.”

~~~

Tony promised to send over a contract within a day or two with a decided start day. You thanked Tony for the offer before heading back down to the car he had for you. You told the driver to take you to Steve’s studio instead of your apartment. When you arrived in the studio, you could see that Steve had been keeping busy. There were painted canvases spread throughout the place. Catching sight of Steve, you noticed that he had paint splattered on his clothes and skin. His hair was a mess with paint in his strands due to raking his hands through his hair. 

“Steve?” You called, pulling him out of his trance.

He looked over at you, doing a double take before standing from his stool. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“That’s fine… Steve,” you stepped closer to him, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for accusing you and not believing you. I should have trusted that it wasn’t you.”

“It’s fine… I could see why you thought it was me.”

“It was Tony.”

“What?”

“He didn’t know what to do. He was trying to fix the mess he made. But I talked to him.” You walked closer and slowly put your arms around him.

“You did?” He put his arms around you.

“He wouldn’t let me pay him back.”

Steve laughed. “That’s not surprising.”

“But he did offer me an internship… Unpaid at first until the bills are paid off and then it will be paid.”

“Oh? Are you going to take it?”

“I am.”

“I think that it will be good for you.”

“Me too… I love you, Steve. I’m sorry.”

“I know, sweetheart.” He kissed your forehead. “I love you, too.” His lips captured yours. At first, the kiss was simple and sweet but quickly turned heated and passionate.”

“Steve,” you rasped. “I want you.”

“Are you… are you sure?”

You nodded. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.” You kissed him again.

“Do you want to go home?”

“Only if you want to.”

“There’s a blow-up mattress in the closet.”

You laughed. “That sounds great.”

next chapter >

[dorkydiaz]

PERSONAL SUPERHERO or chris goes to therapy while buck's in a coma; eddie's therapy [416 words] i am just thinking about him a lot and this happened.

Chris is quiet today. He’s sitting on the couch, Dr. Lim is sitting on the floor in front of the table with all the toys. 

Eddie had brought him in, looking tired, in sweats. He was always somewhat put together. And it was Wednesday. Buck usually brought Chris on Wednesday. 

He hadn’t even asked when Eddie had squeezed his eyes shut and said, “Buck had an accident at work, he’s in a coma.” Before he slipped back out to the waiting room. 

Dr. Lim always hated seeing when families were hurting so plainly and clear as day. 

“Did you go see your friend in the hospital?” he asks once a few silent minutes passed. 

“He’s not my friend.” 

It’s as fiery as he has ever heard or seen Chris.

They've talked about Buck before, how could they not. But Christopher has never been able to name him other than his Buck. Never said father. Never said friend. Just his Buck.

“Who is he then?” 

Chris bites his lip and twists his hands in his lap. 

“He’s my superhero.”

He says it so quiet 

Dr. Lim smiles remembering when he first met Chris and he talked about how Buck saved him. How buck was the one on the other end of the Zoom sessions that week and a few following weeks after Eddie had been shot. Even started to talk to him in person when he began bringing Chris to sessions when they overlapped with Eddie’s. How Chris talked about him helping with homework and how he was Chris’ first call on any occasion when his dad wasn't an option. 

“It must be really nice having your own personal superhero huh?” Chris nods, “How did it feel to see him in the hospital?” 

“Dad said it would be like he was sleeping–but it was scary. I was brave though.” 

They’d talked about being brave before. A lot in the past year. “Everyone was so sad, and crying. It reminded me of the funeral. I didn't like that. ‘Cause he's not dead, he's sleeping.That’s what dad told me.” 

The frustration starts to seep through, “And I thought he would wake up for me. He always wakes up for me!” a sob breaks loose and Dr. Lim moves closer, sitting in front of Chris on the floor. 

“That does sound really scary. It’s okay to be scared.  Can we take some big breaths? I’ll do them with you.” 

So they sit there and breathe until their time is up. He accompanies Chris back out to the waiting room where Eddie still looks on edge and like he hasn’t slept. 

“Are you talking to your therapist too?” 

Eddie nods tightly. 

Dr. Lim nods back and watches the two of them leave quietly.