#and now i pitched a fit about not wanting to get a new therapist because of having to start over
Chapter Four: Something New But Old
"𝘞𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪'𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘰 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘵. . . 𝘐 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦. . 𝘏𝘰𝘣𝘪. ."
As Yoongi was cleaning his room just an hour before his teacher will arrive, but in the bit of his stomach he couldn't stop felling this old recognizable feeling of sadness. A small ball deep down rumbling to burst, but as he daily experience this feeling he doesn't think much of it, and continues cleaning his room, as in putting objects back onto it's original place, finding laundry places you won't understand how it got there, but it would end up in the laundry-basket anyways.
After all the cleaning, he found his needed schoolbooks for today's lesson with Mrs. Wang, the one and only teacher to understand Yoongi fully without asking questions, she was almost a full time family member, if you asked Yoongi.
As Yoongi finally found peace with preparing, he sat down on his bed, and once again the sadness from before was felt immediately by Yoongi, but this time it was more powerful. Like it came closer to bursting. And oh boy was it bursting.
But as his stubbornness took over his mind's decision making, he choose not to take one of his beloved (or mostly loved by any other than Yoongi himself ) anti-depressant pills.
So instead of taking pills, he learned up against his bed's headboard, pulled his laptop on his lap, and logged in to watch arbitrary video on YouTube.
Time passed, and his lesson with Mrs. Wang was only half an hour away, but as he slipped out off his focus, he clearly felt a sad feeling bursting thru his body in no time to alert Yoongi.
And before Yoongi even noticed he was full on crying his heart out. Broken sobs slipped repeatedly out of the poor boy, mixed with sniffles, chokes and an attempt on calling for help, but the only thing leaving his throat was uncontrollable heartbroken sobs.
'What the living hell is happening with me?!' Was one of the main thoughts running thru Yoongi's head, followed closely by 'Hobiiiii help!'.
As Yoongi's sobs got more high pitched, he desperately hugged his knees to feel some kind of comfort, and maybe also to silence those too loud sobs in Yoongi's opinion, as he heard Hoseok run from somewhere in the house, perfectly on time as Yoongi tried to call Hoseok once again.
"Yoongi!" By the eyesight of Yoongi on his bed, tear after tear falling from his eyes, he couldn't stop himself from fastet running over to Yoongi, to capture him in the greatest most comforting hug Hoseok could make.
"W-what happened?" Hoseok asked after a while of small sobs leaving Yoongi's throat.
"A-another... one of t-tho-those... a-attack." Yoongi stuttered out somehow, even tho he still felt full on crying.
"Oh.. Yoongi sweetheart." Hoseok Started, "You should have yelled when it started."
"I.. kn-know..." Yoongi felt Hoseok tighten his grip around him.
"I have to tell one of our appas about this." Hoseok sadly stated, knowing Yoongi well enough to know how his reaction will be.
"Cause you haven't had one of these attacks in a while."
"I know but-"
"Yoongi we are trying to help you, but you won't get any help if you keep denying treatment and hiding your attacks when they kick in." Hoseok trying to sound convincing towards a mit more calm Yoongi,
"This is serious Yoongi." A sigh followed with the next sentence,
"....Wonder how you haven't realized that yet...."
He said as he got up, pulled his phone out and looked at Yoongi, concern plastered all over his beautiful features.
"Hey, appa... ehm.. do you remember those old crying attacks Yoongi got when he was younger?" Clearly on a phone call as he continued after a small break of silence,
"Yeah... unfortunately those are back. He just had one a few minutes ago." He scratched the back of his neck,
"I don't really know if I should cancel Yoongi's classes with Mrs. Wang." That sat Yoongi on the Edge of the bed, as he had a very special love for Mrs. Wang's lessons,
“Okay.. I see. Then I'll take that to consideration.” He breathed out slowly as he let the other person speak, a concentrated expression on his features,
"But when will you bet home?" Yet another pause, " Alright.. but you really don't have to be home earlier, just because of this situation. I know Yoongi and Yoongi knows me. It will be fine." Yoongi's heart softened completely for his brothers loving words, almost about to cry again, of course this time happy tears instead of sad ones.
"Oki.. then I'll see you later. Bye appa. I love you too." He said as he ended the call eyes immediately meeting Yoongi's curious ones.
"We are canceling your classes with Mrs. Wang."
"Ah... seriously? I've been excited for her to arrive."
"I know, but now the two of us have other plans today."
"Which is...?" The curiosity getting the best of Yoongi.
"I'm gonna call your therapist, to tell her that you'll be coming soon to a therapy session."
"I don't need to-"
"Yea you do. No arguing at that point."
"Yoongi." Hoseok sternly warned.
"Okay... sorry." He mumbles afterwards.
"Then we are also gonna eat out today."
"I c-can't do th-that.." Tears appeared in Yoongi's eyes as he already imagined the whole situation thru TWICE. But he could barely start sobbing before Hoseok once again wrapped his fit arms around the older as he left a surprising kiss on Yoongi's forehead, shocking Yoongi, as they aren't that close.
"I'll be there with you okay? You don't have to worry about anything if it's already stressing you beforehand." The younger said sending a reassuring smile towards Yoongi, "I'll be booking a table at a good restaurant, and all you have to is deciding what to eat for dinner. I can even say it to the waiter if you want." Hoseok said finished his sentence.
"That will be n-nice."
"Just remember I'm there, and you can get anything you want. 'Cause Joon Appa is gonna pay me back the money we are gonna spend, okay?"
"Now I'm gonna call your therapist and then I'll tell you when we are going to see her, okay kitten?"
"Okay." Yoongi blushed at the nickname and couldn't stop but to smile at Hoseok being even more lovey dovey.
He watched Hoseok walk out off the door, pulling his phone up once again, looking out in the big hall.
"𝘞𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪'𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘰 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘵. . . 𝘐 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦. . 𝘏𝘰𝘣𝘪. ."
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Dear J --
I know this letter is unsolicited, not a response to anything you’ve written, but if you’ll indulge me I have some thoughts I’ve been wanting to share with someone for a long time.
J, I’m not good at losing people. I’m so terrified that people will leave me that I desperately try to hold on to them, far past the point when other people move on, past when it’s no longer healthy and it’s to my own detriment. It’s why I’m so insecure in my relationships with other people. I’m afraid I’m going to do or say something that will make them not want to be my friend anymore, not love me anymore.
It’s been 17 years and I’m only now understanding the depth of damage my parents’ divorce had on me. I was 16 when it started, and you’re still very much a kid at that age, even though I didn’t understand that then. I was the oldest still in the house and felt it was my responsibility to keep everything together for my younger siblings while everything around us was falling apart. My parents were so destructive -- would have explosive arguments in front of us, would put me in the middle of their own fights. I couldn’t stand being in my mom’s house while she was going through her own anger and grief, so I chose to live with my dad, but then she did and said some deeply hurtful things to me that left scars that still remain. And then my dad, for all the support I thought he was giving me, told me over the phone the day after I moved into my freshman dorm that he had move to another state to take a new job. Just like that. He gave me no indication he was planning to leave, even though I knew it took months to find a new position for what he does. He knew he was going to leave the whole time and never told me. He just left. Checked out. ‘I don’t want to deal with this anymore.’ See ya. Bye.
My life was a story of complete instability for a long time, so many things falling apart at different points despite my best efforts to keep them together and keep moving forward. (Add to it a burgeoning mental illness I didn’t know I had.) I walked without a steady foundation underneath my feet, not even a safety net, and I now understand that the whole toxic maelstrom was a trauma in my life.
Three and a half years ago PTSD burned through my brain like a fireball. I remember the exact moment it opened up. I was walking through a neighborhood in the city where I went to college, a neighborhood through which I’ve walked a thousand times, and all of a sudden I felt this oppressive anxiety. My lungs were constricted and I couldn’t breathe. It felt like a thousand needles were poking at my lungs just underneath my skin. It stayed that way the whole night. When I finally got to bed, I collapsed face-down on the bed and started crying deep, guttural sobs. I remained that way for 20 minutes before I finally choked up enough to get myself a glass of water. But this is the thing that’s so strange to me now: I wasn’t crying about my parents.
How do I explain? The psyche is a complicated thing.
The only relationship I’ve ever had was in college with a guy named ___. He was my first boyfriend, and our relationship meant a great deal to me. He was older than me, already out of college and working. It wasn’t that great of a relationship, honestly, although I didn’t know enough to know that at the time. He was patronizing and dominant; he was very good at making me feel very small. But I was with him because he provided the feeling of security I desperately needed in my life. (He was literally the physical embodiment of security, short and stocky, a wrestler; you couldn’t knock him over with a dump truck if you tried.)
At the beginning of our relationship ___ told me he was looking to move to another city. He had interviewed for a new position, and a few weeks after we started dating he found out he got it. He would be leaving in six months. Truly naive, I didn’t see this as a problem, and I spent the next six months playing the role of supportive girlfriend and cheerleader. I sincerely believed our relationship would last, that we’d have a future together, and all we had to do was wait out my senior year until I could move there to be with him. ___ didn’t feel the same way I did and had no such intentions to stay together, but he never told me the truth about this, about how he felt, about what he didn’t want. Before, during and after our entire relationship, he was never once honest with me about his feelings.
When the day came for him to move, once again I was being left behind by a man whom I loved and depended on. I simply couldn’t lose ‘him’ again, so I held on as tightly as I could. The next eight months depleted me of every spindle of energy, emotion and spirit I had. For what I’m sure was a result of his own emotional mechanisms, he could not end our connection. We were not officially together but we were still in touch, and I desperately wanted things to work out, so I held on.
Despite all the little things he said and did that hurt me, I convinced myself that if I just held on tightly enough for the both of us, things would work out. But my self and my condition steadily deteriorated to something well beyond mere depression. I wasn’t sleeping or eating. I wasn’t going out to see friends. I was spending my days entirely in bed, my nights mindlessly watching television eating whatever food came from a bag that I didn’t have to cook. I lost enough weight that my usually tight skinny jeans were falling off my hip bones. I couldn’t get out of my apartment enough to attend classes which, by the end of the semester, I had abandoned anyway. My life had, once again, completely fallen apart.
Shortly after the new year ___ told me he had met a new girl who he was now dating and said, quote, “I don’t think we should talk anymore.” It felt like someone had shot me in the chest with a bullet. All I could respond was “You broke my heart.” Three days later I woke up with the worst case of the flu I’ve ever had, the sickest I’ve ever been. I could no longer take care of myself. A week later I was headed home on a Greyhound bus. I had withdrawn from school, left my apartment, left my friends, left a city I loved, completely broken and a shell of myself. My spirit had died.
I didn’t remember any of this for a long time. If you’d asked me the details about my experience with ___, I could have told you we dated and that it ended because he moved, but I couldn’t have told you anything else. My brain had packed everything about the experience into a box and tucked it away far in the recesses of my mind in order to survive and keep going. It was too painful to remember them. But then, eight years later, that day in the city when I had the anxiety attack, I realized it was brought on by a memory I had of ___ and I in that part of the city when we dated. The memory itself was benign, but for whatever reason it was enough to release the dam waters of pain and memory, and I drowned in them. (Terribly overwrought metaphor. My apologies.)
For three years I spent every. single. day. with pain in my chest -- sometimes heavy and suffocating, sometimes an anxious tightness and pulling, sometimes an acute squeezing. I would have fierce, violent adrenaline attacks that would erupt into punching and hitting and screaming into pillows or blankets or anything I could find that I knew wouldn’t hurt myself. Then I would collapse in exhausted fits of sobs on the floor or the bed. I would become irritated by the tiniest things: high-pitched noises, too-bright lights, dog barks that would startle me, being unable to open a jelly jar and throwing it across the room. The worst of all of them was an inability to escape reminders of him in every single facet of my life, however benign and mundane: shopping trips to Target, watching the Super Bowl, pumping gas into my car. I put ___ into the context of whatever medium was in front of me: movie plots, books, songs, other people’s stories, anything. I saw a vacuum commercial on TV one night and immediately wondered what kind of vacuum ___ owned. I couldn’t escape it, and I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop any of these things. It was torture, and I was miserable, but no matter how much I tried, I found no relief.
In my first therapy session, when I realized that I needed to see someone about my PTSD, my therapist told me that most relationship problems have something to do with our parents. My therapist said both our individual relationships with them and their relationship with each other models for us what a relationship is supposed to look like. My reaction was “What. That has nothing to do with this.” All my PTSD symptoms were about my relationship with ___. But with the help of therapy and through a lot of fucking hard work, I now understand that the original trauma in my life was my parents’ divorce, losing my family (which was my safe space) as I had known it, and losing my dad. It was so foundational in my life that I couldn’t even see it; I was walking through the trees without realizing the entire forest was on fire. Only by reliving the secondary trauma of losing ___ did all of this come into focus. (The psyche is a complicated thing.)
Mercifully, after three years that felt like a lifetime, my symptoms waned to a slight whisper of existence, and now I am left with the task of rebuilding myself. I grieve the lost time and opportunity my traumatic experiences cost me, the things I would have been able to accomplish if I had had a secure and safe foundation upon which to build my life. I miss my family as it used to be -- whole -- which I will never have again even as I have new iterations of one. I miss my dad. His leaving left a hole in my life, one I’ve spent every day since trying to fill but will never be able to because no one can take the place of one’s dad. His departure left me believing I’m not worth keeping, that no man will be ever be there for me when things get tough, and that I’m not worth fighting for.
This letter is much longer than I intended it to be. Thank you sincerely for reading it. I don’t expect you to know what to say in response; most people don’t. Knowing that you read it means enough.
I don’t know what this means, J, but do you remember how I said I spent every day for three years feeling constant pain in my chest? When I saw your face, before I could even register a thought, I felt a full, warm sensation in my chest, in the exact spot where I always felt the pain. It happened so quickly, so instantaneously, I could not have manufactured it. It came from somewhere other than my brain.
The spirit makes imprints on the body we’re not always conscious of. So I don’t know what it means, but it was the first time in a long time I felt something other than pain in my chest. And not just not-pain, but something good, something whole and secure. People leave imprints. Maybe that’s why I decided to tell you all this stuff.
A Favor: Part Eleven
Nessian Modern AU
a/n: first chapter after acosf!! im sorry for how short this one is, but acosf wrecked me and writing this put me back together. i hope it does something similar for you ❤️
“You say you’ve been doing better lately?”
The therapist’s office is plain, a little gloomy, but big windows overlook the center of town that make Nesta feel less suffocated.
She nods, “Yeah.”
“How would you describe ‘better’?” Dr. Bond— Lana, she insists on being called— has been endlessly patient with Nesta’s non-answers so far. Nesta almost feels bad and decides to throw the woman a rope.
“I’m not alone anymore,” she says. “I used to be alone all the time, but now I have friends, sort of… and a boyfriend.” She still loves that word. It’s never tasted so exciting before.
“You were always alone before this, then? Or were there just people that you didn’t consider noteworthy?”
A scowl rises to Nesta’s mouth. Damn, she works quick. “I was raised with two sisters in a one-bedroom apartment. I never got to be alone, but then I grew up, and…” Her mind wants to skip over the time she spent in college. “For the last couple of years, I holed up in my own place. Never wanted to talk to anybody or see them. If people took an interest in me, I shut them down because I didn’t have an interest in them.”
“You missed a few years,” Lana notes.
“You’re twenty-four, and you moved out at eighteen. Where were you before getting your own place?”
Numbness seeps through Nesta at the question. She knows she can ask Lana to change the topic, but that will only bring it back later. “I had a boyfriend in college,” she says flatly. “I lived with him for a few years, but like you said, it isn’t noteworthy.”
“As a fellow lone wolf, I disagree.” Lana’s clinical polite face is unchanging. “Any person who you trust enough to let into your life is noteworthy.”
Nesta says nothing.
“I’m interested in these people you’ve chosen to trust,” her therapist continues after a beat of silence. “Why don’t we start with whoever you trust most?”
Nesta snorts. This she can talk about.
“His name is Cassian. I’ve been living with him ever since my apartment got flooded a couple of months ago, and he’s always been a good friend to me.” She sits there, thinking about what else to say. “I think I like him more than I’ve ever liked anybody.”
“This is the new boyfriend?”
“Do you compare him to the old one?”
Nesta doesn’t know what this lady’s angle is, but she answers carefully, “I used to. Back when I first moved in. I haven’t done it in a long time, though.”
The answer is simple. “There’s no need to. He’s not comparable to anybody.”
“Is that why you opened up to him after two years of self-imposed isolation?”
Nesta looks away. “It wasn’t isolation,” she defends. “It’s just… after a lifetime of being subjected to the gaze of strangers, I wanted to hide. I liked hiding.” Mostly.
“What does that mean, the gaze of strangers?”
Question after cool question, this one. Nesta struggles to find a proper answer.
“You know how,” she starts slowly, “as soon as you start school, you’re placed into this bubble with a bunch of people who don’t know you and have no reason to care about you? There’s a shift in how you view people, and how people view you. And I thought I could leave it behind once I graduated high school, but it followed me to college and to parties and into everyday interactions.”
“What is it?”
“It’s this—” Nesta waves her hands, “judgment. It’s that thing you do as soon as you meet someone, and you try to determine whether they’re worth your time or not. Whether they’re above or below you in this made-up social hierarchy in your head.”
“Explain that more,” Lana says.
“We want to hang around people we find cool. And when we meet someone new, we inspect them, look them up and down, to see if they fit our definition of cool. We take them apart. Everyone does it, even you. And with me,” she shrugs, “I’m pretty, I wear the right clothes, I do my makeup. So at first glance, people think, ‘Oh, I can see myself getting to know her better. I can see myself liking her.’ But then they take a closer look at me, and it’s like…” Her fingers flutter in the air, trying to support her thoughts. “I can see their minds changing. ‘Nevermind, I was wrong. Nevermind, there’s something off with her. She’s a little quiet, a little weird, a little bitchy.’”
Lana narrows her eyes. “And Cassian doesn’t look at you like that?”
Nesta looks away. “He doesn’t look at anyone like that.”
It’s what used to make her so uncomfortable about him. She was incapable of fathoming his honesty, his genuineness, his kindness. She thought he was even weirder than her for it— she placed him beneath her on her social hierarchy for it.
Lana frowns thoughtfully. “And now you two live together?”
Nesta nods, then shrugs. “For the next twenty-four hours, we do. He’s helping me move back into my old place.”
Because that was another conversation she and Cassian had on Thanksgiving night. It was a long time coming, but also the perfect time.
“You’re saying your apartment has been ready for weeks? Why are you just telling me now?”
Nesta pillowed her face on his chest, not as upset at revealing the news as she would have been some days ago. “Because I was scared that if I moved out, I would lose my friendship with you.”
“That never would have happened—”
“We wouldn’t see each other every day anymore. Even if we didn’t go back to being complete strangers, the closeness would be lost.”
“You must not know me, then. I would’ve texted you every fucking hour. You’d never hear the end of me.”
“I couldn’t guarantee that back then.” She looked up at him through her lashes. “I can now.” She crawled higher up his body, lowering her voice to a secretive pitch. “Want to know why?”
“Why?” he whispered.
“Because you’re mine now. And that’s what I was waiting for while I made Lorene hold that shitty empty apartment for me. I was waiting for a catalyst, a revelation.” She pressed a kiss to his sternum. “And I most definitely got it.” The pleasant ache between her legs was proof enough. “Also,” she added, “it would be weird if you lived with your girlfriend before even having a first date with her.”
Cassian huffed a laugh. “You have a point there. We have been moving backwards, haven’t we?”
Nesta nodded into his skin.
He got a little quiet. “Still,” he said after a moment. “I’ll miss you.”
“You’ll see me every day. I’ll be fifteen minutes away.”
“I’ll still miss you.”
“What does talking about guys have to do with my therapy?” Nesta squirms, getting restless with the topic.
“Lots of things,” Lana says, putting down her notepad. “It gets you comfortable with expressing your feelings to me, and it teaches me about how you view the world. Besides, therapy isn’t just a rehashing of past traumas, you know. We can talk about whatever you want here, especially if it makes you feel good.”
“Well, I want to talk about something else.” She’s not spending this much money by the hour just to talk about how much she likes Cassian— she can go to Cassian for that for free.
“Like what?” Lana asks smoothly.
She’s offering an opening, finally, to the real reason that Nesta’s here.
Nesta pulls at the sleeves of her sweatshirt, wondering where to start. “I feel like I’ve been growing up lately,” she says carefully. “I have all these new people in my life to be responsible for, and I’m— I want to do it right. But I’m worried I won’t have room for new things until I pack up some of my old shit, so that’s why I’m here, I guess. I don’t want to hold on to all of my old shit anymore.”
At Lana’s encouraging silence, she continues, “I spent my whole life stuck in a suffocating town, and as soon as I left, I got stuck in a relationship. By the time I knew what freedom felt like, I— I’d been left behind. Everyone I knew was moving onto bigger things and all I had was this shitbag of a past. So I got a new place and started law school and called it a fresh start, but now I’m here and I’m not sure if I ever got better.”
She takes a sharp breath after everything that’s spilled.
Lana purses her lips, letting the room absorb Nesta’s words. After a long moment, she says, “Just because bad things stop happening to someone, doesn’t mean they instantly get better. It’s a good thing that you’re recognizing that before stepping into new relationships, Nesta.”
Lana glances at the clock on the wall. “I’m afraid that’s all the time we have for today, but this was a productive first session.” She offers a small smile. “Same time next week?” She says it as if it isn’t already a done deal.
Nesta nods gratefully anyway, unable to say anything else. As soon as she’s out the door, a pent-up sigh escapes her. That wasn’t so bad.
Later that night, Nesta doesn’t miss Cassian’s wistful stare as he takes down the painting he got her from the fall festival. Nor does she miss how slowly he packs it away.
Once the bedroom she made her home is as sparse as the day she moved in, all her things packed away neatly in boxes, Nesta wraps her arms around Cassian and pulls him to the bed. There, she lets him hold her close, their breaths and limbs intertwining as they lie in thoughtful silence.
“I can’t believe I’ll never see this room again,” Nesta says quietly.
Cassian’s eyes widen in alarm. “What do you mean, never again?”
“I’ll be staying in your room whenever I visit, remember?” Her underwear already occupies a drawer in his closet.
Cassian visibly relaxes when he remembers, then smiles. “Right. Of course.”
She lets herself sink deeper into his embrace. “I just realized you’ve never seen my apartment before.” He was waiting at the front door of Lorene’s place while Nesta collected her things all those weeks ago, but she cringes at the thought of him visiting now. The clear wealth gap between her and Cassian doesn’t usually show, but it’ll be undeniable with the cramped room she calls an apartment. “Maybe it’s best if I move back in without your help. There might not even be space there for your huge body.”
“Sounds more appealing by the minute.” He’s not joking. He tilts up Nesta’s chin so she’s forced to meet his eyes. “I can’t wait to start partaking in your life the way you took over mine. Spending nights at your place, meeting your friends, riding in your car instead of mine.”
“I’m gonna miss you like hell, but it’ll be for the best.”
He’s right: this is what’s best for their budding relationship right now. Moving out, creating even a little bit of distance— all of it is so they can finally learn each other as lovers instead of roommates. So when they do come back together, which Nesta firmly believes they will, it’ll be stronger than ever before.
Some of their shared sadness flits away at the truth of it. She only places her hand on his cheek, content to appreciate this view— this beautiful, hazel-shaded view— without further chitchat or goodbyes.
Cassian is not as fond of the silence. “I need to tell you something,” he says seriously after a few minutes.
After only a handful of days dating Cassian, Nesta knows what he’s going to say. “Don’t,” she warns, unamused.
He grins conspiratorially and leans in even closer, until their mouths are almost brushing. “You’re my everything, Nesta.”
“Oh my god, stop it.” She squirms out of his hold and gets up, tossing the blankets off herself.
“No, come back!” He makes a grab for her sleeve. “We have to use the bed one last time—”
But she’s already running off.
Cassian carefully arranges the canvas painting on the wall, taking a step back to determine if it’s hanging straight. The ruby and amber leaves of the landscape stand out against the dull teal walls of Nesta’s basement apartment, but he’s just getting started.
The rest of Nesta’s things are half-unpacked from their cardboard boxes, but instead of going for the important shit first, he finds the box he specifically marked FAVES in bold letters the night before.
While Nesta wrangles to get her clothes back into her old closet in the background, Cassian crouches and rips open the small box. There, lying atop his girlfriend’s favorite trinkets and personal items, is the framed photo he snuck in without her noticing.
It’s of the two of them at the fall festival, taken mere hours before their first kiss. Nesta is pressed up close to Cassian (her excuse being that it was cold), and a genuine light fills her eyes, one that Cassian never thought he’d be able to capture on camera. Cassian himself isn’t looking at the camera, but down at Nesta with wind-flushed cheeks and a distant smile. Making sure she’s having a good time, that she truly wants to be there with him in that moment.
He never realized how close they looked in that picture until he had it printed and framed, not long after Nesta announced she was moving out. He can’t believe he didn’t see it sooner.
Standing up, he places the photo on Nesta’s wooden dresser. Nesta still has her head in the closet, moving things around, but Cassian makes no announcement of his gift to her. She’ll notice it sooner or later.
He clears his throat. “Wanna take a break and order Chinese?”
Nesta pops her head out of the closet, her ponytail ruffled and eyes narrowed at him. “Have you even been helping this whole time?”
“Standing here and looking pretty is harder than it seems, but I don’t expect any credit from you,” he jokes. “Just let me buy you lunch.”
Nesta grumbles something he chooses not to hear, but straightens up and rubs her spine with a wince. “I need a fucking chiropractor,” she mutters.
Guilt shoots through Cassian at that small wince, and he resolves to finish organizing Nesta’s closet for her before the day is over. Nesta goes on, “So? Still determined to split your time between here and the cabin?” She gestures to the apartment with an arm.
It’s really just a glorified single room, with a rusty kitchenette in the corner, a hallway near the stairs that holds the bathroom, and Nesta’s bed pushed against one wall. It’s nothing special, but Cassian loves it. Mostly because he can already envision each new nook and cranny to take Nesta against, and how he wants to wake up in that too-small bed on days that he’s too lazy to drive home.
“It’s perfect,” he says simply. Thank you for sharing your home with me, is what he really means. Speaking of homes—
Cassian digs around in his pocket, finding and pulling out a newly-minted silver key. “I almost forgot to give you this.”
Nesta frowns, coming forward to take the key from him. He uses the closeness as an excuse to wrap his arms around her waist while she inspects the object.
She glances up at him, eyes softer than they were a moment ago, lips slightly parted. “You’re giving me a key to the cabin?”
He shrugs casually. “You should’ve gotten one a long time ago.” She used either Cassian’s key or the spare while she lived there.
Her mouth is still open, and she closes it once, twice, before finally saying, “I don’t have a key to my place for you.”
“But I can get one,” she adds quickly. “If you want it, that is.”
Of course he wants it, but he keeps his face carefully neutral. “Only if you want me to have one. We’re still new, and this is your personal space.” He emphasizes your.
Nesta purses her lips, then says, “I’ll think about it.”
Cassian’s shoulders slump in relief— relief that Nesta is being honest with him instead of doing something she isn’t yet ready for. He’ll take her honesty over an apartment key any day.
Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he smiles brightly and shoves her toward the bed. “If we’re getting dumplings again then you can’t steal mine.”
a/n: fair warning that ive never been to therapy, but in stories therapists are usually a mode for character exploration and development, which is what nesta's therapy will be for.
also im so glad i got to meet gwyn in acosf and im so excited to introduce her into this fic too!! if you have ideas for her origin story feel free to share because nothing is planned yet
taglist: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @swankii-art-teacher
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If you are taking requests, can you please write a Drarry Fic about this .
Thank you so much!!
-Friend: (Trying on a new knitted sweater) “This fits nicely, it hugs me closely.”
Person A: “I wish Person B would hug me closely.”
Friend: (Puts their hand on Person A’s shoulder) “Hey are you okay?”
Bonus: Person B: (Sitting at home) “I don’t know why but I have the sudden urge to hug Person A… *pauses then gets up putting the book/newspaper/magazine/etc away* “I’m gonna go hug Person A.”-
(TW for mentions of depressive behavior, implied PTSD, etc)
Okay, this prompt was hard to write for. I wanted to keep the idea but I didn’t feel like this dialogue would have been authentic in my own writing. So, I wanted to capture the essence. Sorry if it’s bad. I just had to write again before I exploded.
It was hard day for Harry. His arms were laden with shopping bags from Luna and Ginny’s attempt to cheer him up. They had purchased a variety of garments for him, buying them under the guise that his pathetic wardrobe was making him look bad. He knew that was false, because Draco had purchased a majority of his clothes. Draco had impeccable taste.
But he had gone along with it anyway, knowing they were just trying to cheer him up. The past four days had been brutal and he’d barely slept at all due to headaches and nightmares. And Draco’s trip in Spain had been extended for another week. Harry wouldn’t admit it to anyone, especially not his fiance, but he found it almost impossible to sleep when Draco was gone for too long. The loneliness would set in suddenly, leaving him almost breathless.
His friends often saw the signs of his depression setting in and would attempt to reverse it as soon as possible. That meant lunch dates, shopping trips, movie nights, hikes, whatever they could to lift his spirits. It worked while he was with them, but as soon as he had to face their flat alone once more, he felt deflated.
Ginny had brought up the fact that maybe Harry relied too heavily on Draco for his happiness that afternoon at the mall. “I’m just saying, Harry. Every time he goes on an extended trip, you seem to spiral.”
“I know,” Harry admitted, pulling on another sweater that Luna handed to him. “I’ve been talking to my therapist about it. And I’ve gotten better at it. I just have some... attachment issues.”
“He is doing much better,” Luna pointed out, popping her head around the corner from the rack she was going through. “When Draco first started leaving for trips, Harry almost immediately shut down. Ron would have to have him come sleep over as soon as it happened. Now Harry does well for weeks at a time. It makes sense.”
“It’s like some twisted immunity that I’m developing.”
Ginny raised her hands in defeat. “I’m just saying that there might be a time when he has to stay away even longer.”
“I doubt it,” countered her girlfriend. “With them getting married, living together, and Draco’s work steadying out, it’ll probably even itself out. If you left for weeks at a time, I’d probably not do so well either.”
Harry had smiled and laughed, but still felt his heart sink. It was nice to know that people understood where he was coming from, even though they didn’t fully accept his reasons. But, they were supportive and loving when they could be. He appreciated it.
Now, after hugging and kisses his friends goodbye, he was standing in front of his front door, trying to come to terms with staying in it alone for another night. Draco had already been gone for nearly a month. Their place was feeling less like a home and more like a prison. With a deep breath, he pushed open the door and toed off his shoes.
He quickly dropped the shopping bags into his room and then turned to the kitchen. “Another day, another meal of left over pasta,” he murmured, shuffling into the room.
However, as soon as he rounded the corner he stopped dead in his tracks. The tall, blonde, and lean frame of his fiance was before him, with his back turned to him. He seemed to be peeling an apple. In their kitchen. In the same country.
Draco turned around, caught off guard at the sudden presence behind him. His face, however, lit up with a smile at the sight of Harry. “Hello darling!”
And Harry couldn’t help it.
His eyes welled up with tears that immediately coursed down his face. His knees started to give out, and he pitched forward. But Draco was there. Draco gathered him up against his chest and lowered the two of them to the floor.
Harry could feel himself shuddering against Draco’s chest and wanted to hit himself. Why was he being so emotional, crying like someone died, when Draco was finally home? “Sorry,” he croaked.
“Crying like someone died.”
Draco chuckled. “It’s alright, my love. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I just missed you a lot.”
“I missed you too.”
They sat quietly together, Draco rocking them back and forth and rubbing a hand gently across Harry’s back. It had quite the calming affect on Harry and he felt himself start to quiet.
“I thought you were supposed to be in Spain for another week?” Harry asked as he finally pulled back to look up at Draco.
Draco nodded, “Yeah I was. But I was feeling pretty homesick, and just yesterday, I was filled with this overwhelming desire to hug you. So I told my work that I’d fly back to Spain again in a bit, but that I needed to be home with my family for a while.”
Harry wiped at his nose that was dripping as he cried. The other man wiped the tears from underneath his eyes and gave him a small smile.
“I’m-” Harry tried to steady his breathing, and gave Draco a watery smile. “I’m really glad you’re home, Draco.”
“Me too,” Draco said, pulling Harry back into his arms, pressing his face against the skin of Harry’s neck. “I just really needed a hug.”
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Christmas shopping with PTSD
Yup, you heard me.
Let’s just get things straight, crisp and clear before I even begin.
Straight from NAMI, the National Alliance on Mental Illness.
“Traumatic events—such as AN ACCIDENT, assault, military combat or natural disaster—can have lasting effects on a person’s mental health. While many people will have short term responses to life-threatening events, some will develop longer term symptoms that can lead to a diagnosis of Posttraumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). PTSD symptoms often co-exist with other conditions such as substance use disorders, depression and anxiety.”
[Let me be clear. I’m not trying to self diagnose here. Because I haven’t been diagnosed with PTSD by my psychiatrist, primary care doctor or therapist (yet). And I feel like that may be because I haven’t met with my psychiatrist since... October?
“I think you’re doing well!” she said, because I was finally on a combination of medications with no day-to-day side affects that were interrupting my daily living. “Let’s meet again in... two months!”
At the time this sounded fine to me. But two months have gone by, and I have gone completely off my rocker.
We were supposed to meet on Wednesday morning at 10:00am, but after the trauma I experienced Tuesday night, and the mere three to four hours of sleep I got... that totally wasn’t happening. So now we’re meeting on Friday afternoon, and I’ll have to give her the low down on my life right now and see what she says.]
Yesterday my mom came in my room and “asked” if I wanted to go to Marshal’s to do some Christmas shopping with her. I put “asked” in quotes, or air quotes, because I didn’t really have a choice. She knows I’m down in the dumps right now, and she thought she was doing me a service by getting me up and out of my bed, my room, and maybe my depressing thoughts.
But the thing about depression, at least for me, is that the thoughts don’t just go away because I’m out Christmas shopping. Or in this situation, the thoughts and blurry flashbacks of the traumatic event I had experienced just FOUR days before, are still stuck to my brain like a wad of gum on the bottom of a shoe. Which I think is “normal” considering what I have gone through. But I don’t think my mom fully understands that.
Especially since, on the way to Marshal’s, we literally passed the exact location where my traumatic event occurred.
The thoughts of the night weigh on me like a bowling ball on my chest, or a backpack with two bowling balls in it, that I am carrying around and can only put down when I’m asleep at night.
Meaning... when we’re in line, outside Marshal’s, waiting to get inside (nothing says 2020/COVID more than that), all I can think about is the traumatic event that I experienced. And how I’m jealous of my mom and all of the people that can just live right there, in the present moment. Right now... it feels like I’ll never be able to do that again.
Walking around inside of Marshal’s, I felt like a shy, pre-pubescent child, following her mom around, deathly afraid of what would happen or how her mom would feel if she lost her in the store. I was afraid to look people in the eyes, fearful of... “What if the police officer or someone from four nights ago is here and sees me?”
This also had an impact on what I was going to wear to the store, too. I was afraid to wear my FILA sneakers because I had worn them four nights before when I was arrested and put in the hospital. “What if someone sees my sneakers and my height and my blonde hair and remembers that it was me and says something in front of my mom?”
A “normal” 23 year old should be able to go Christmas shopping with her mom, live in the present moment, and feel uplifting feelings of joy and happiness for the Christmas season and spending quality time with her mom... but that’s not where I am right now at all.
I feel like I am trapped in my own head and I am the only one who understands how I feel and that I am feeling these heavy things.
I am carrying weight around with me, every minute of every day. And it makes it harder to live.
My mom says my parents have been “nothing but kind to me,” but I also feel like if I misstep and do one thing to even slightly upset them or displease them, I’ll be in even more trouble and set back even further than I already am. So I feel like I’m living every day in pursuit of doing everything I can possibly do to please them... and repressing my own thoughts, feelings and emotions along the way.
I feel like this blog, and kind of my talks with my best friend, boyfriend and therapist are my only safe spaces. And I feel stuck because I feel like I visit the place of pursuit in pleasing my mom and family way more than I visit my safe spaces, where I can release my own inner thoughts and emotions.
I’m pushed and pushing myself to get out of my bed and out of my room so that I’m not alone and stuck in these dark, heavy thoughts. But when I leave my room, my ultimate safe space, I’m forced to play a character who has to put on a happy face, be helpful, not misstep.
Someone who has to act like she’s not suffering internally when doing the tiniest of seasonal tasks like Christmas shopping or watching Rudolph.
My palms are sweaty. My throat is tight.
And I’m already nervous about leaving my room and seeing my mom, because she snapped on me last night when I told her (instead of asking her) that my boyfriend was going to come over for a few hours at 8:30/9:00pm. Because we’re not allowed to hang out in my room anymore. We have to hang out in the family room. And that means “kicking my mom out” of the family room where she was watching her 1000th awful Lifetime Christmas movie (and it’s only December 6th).
She snapped. I got upset. Went silent and emotionless. And that got me in ever more trouble. Told, “You better watch yourself.”
Thinking about that makes my throat even tighter, and my body even colder.
Even though I did a meditation on “happiness,” and my gratitude journal, and personal development reading about the ego or the “big snooze,” it doesn’t make these thoughts and feelings magically go away.
But there were some quotes in my reading that I wanted to take note of, and I guess I’ll end with today.
One, “When taking great leaps forward, life often turns to shit before it turns to Shinola.”
And two, “Growth ain’t for weenies, but it’s nowhere near as painful as living the life you’re living right now if you’re not really going for it. If you want to take control of your life and turn it into something spectacularly you, stop and nothing. Have faith. Trust that your new life is already here and is far better than the old. Hang tight if the Big Snooze pitches a fit. Whatever happens, stay the course, because there’s nothing cooler than watching your entire reality shift into one that is the perfect expression of you.”
I just don’t know what the “perfect expression” of me is. It’s confusing when you’re multi-passionate and multi-talented. And I’m not tooting my own horn. I get lost because I could make a Youtube channel and sing and play piano. Or I could be a photographer. Or a writer. Or something in marketing or communications, which is what my mom wants. Or something in health and fitness, like a personal trainer or a yoga instructor.
I told Matt that if we have a future together and if he opens up his own gym, I would get my yoga certification and teach yoga classes there. And maybe do photography or blogging or something else on the side.
All I know is when I read the words “the perfect expression of you,” asking Matt for his NASM book back and starting to study personal training again is the first thing I thought of. I’m not sure if that’s my answer.
I’m not sure who I am. But here’s to another day of improving myself and figuring it out.
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rockin around the christmas tree
pike jj x reader
you and jj decorate your first apartment together
this is in the future when you and jj are in nashville :)
(warnings: cursing, implied drinking, very very little editing)
At the words, “I’ve never really decorated a tree before,” you knew immediately that you were going to go all out for JJ. You knew his childhood wasn’t great and that he didn’t really experience it in college either with living in the dorm and then the frat house, but you didn’t consider that meant he’d never really done the tree and lights shebang.
Over the month of November you started gathering up random decorations, here and there, that you thought could fit in your apartment without being a nuisance. One afternoon you convinced your mom to drive over from your hometown with some of your favorite ornaments and decorations from childhood.
She loved JJ and was plenty happy to part with them for his sake. You made sure all the bags and boxes were put away in the second bedroom and made a promise with yourself to not tell him until after Thanksgiving.
Then you got slammed with paper after paper and quiz after quiz which led you to truly forget about everything until you went in there to make sure things were all clean for guests and tripped over a box full of lights.
“Ow, fuck!” you yelped, looking down to see what you’d hit, stomach dropping when you saw it all and heard JJ coming to see what was wrong. Before he could quite get to the door, you waved him away, “All good, just stubbed my toe.”
He backed away, hesitantly, toward the kitchen where he’d been cutting the turkey for dinner. Cody and Tyler were coming into town, and you were doubly excited that they were staying the night so that you could rope them into putting up the once forgotten decorations.
Just as you finished pushing everything out of the way and clearing off the bed, there was a knock at the door. JJ called from the kitchen, “Can you grab that, sweetheart, I’m almost done with the turkey?”
“Got it,” you yelled back, practically skipping to throw the door open for your friends you hadn’t seen outside of FaceTime in months. As soon as you threw the door open, Cody, who was closest, was pulling you into a tight hug, face pressed firmly into your hair. He sighed, “Damn, smell the same, kinda nice.”
You snorted, squeezing back, “That was soft.”
“Forgive me,” he answered sarcastically, “I just missed you is all.”
“Move,” Tyler interrupted before you could respond, elbowing Cody out of the way to hug you. You hugged back just as tight before grabbing both of them by the arms to pull them inside.
“JJ is finishing up the food, so I’ll give you guys a tour real quick and you can drop your stuff in the guest bedroom.”
“Sweet,” Cody nodded, “though I’m not sure how I feel about JJ being in control of the food.”
“Let him have it, I need to tell you guys something.”
They followed you around the whole place and ended in the second bedroom where you shut the door, Tyler smirked, “Getting us alone to pitch a foursome?”
You blinked, not prepared at all, “I-” after a few seconds gathered your thoughts, “no, I just wanted to know if you guys needed to be anywhere early tomorrow or if you could help us decorate for Christmas. JJ never has before, so I thought it could be a fun family activity.”
Before you even finished, Cody, who loved Christmas and decorating for it was nodding eagerly, “Oh fuck yeah. I’m so down. Is that why this room is so messy? Christmas decorations.”
You snorted, “Please, I haven’t forgotten how messy y’all are, I spent so much time in that disaster of a dorm room.”
Tyler waved you off, “We’re much better now.”
“I’m sure,” you answered sarcastically.
“I am, my girlfriend whipped me into shape,” Cody told you, “our apartment looks so dope.”
“Yeah, because your girlfriend has her shit together and a Pinterest board.”
Tyler snorted, “True, you have no eye for interior design.”
Cody rolled his eyes as JJ yelled for everyone to come eat. The four of you sat around the small table you and JJ found on sale with plates heaped full of food. Before anyone could take a bite, you cleared your throat, “Okay, everyone share their lists.”
A tradition the four of you started in college was to share at least three things each person was thankful for before eating whatever you’d managed to put together for dinner, usually takeout because no one was thankful for cafeteria food and the shitty dorm kitchen.
“I’ll go first,” Tyler started, “I’m thankful for the Sixers finally playing well, my girlfriend for getting me a new job, and for you guys having a nice enough apartment to play host.”
“Wait wait wait,” JJ held his hand up, “your girlfriend got you a job?”
Tyler shrugged, “I figure if I play my cards right and don’t fuck anything up, when she finishes law school and has a nice job, I can become a trophy husband. I’ll be supportive as fuck and the best arm candy on the planet.”
You snorted and said, “Okay, poor Emma first of all. It’s my turn though. I’m thankful for my therapist, she’s really done a lot of heavy lifting this fall, I’m thankful for JJ not burning the building down while cooking, and I’m thankful for you guys driving to see us because my separation anxiety was getting pretty bad and my poor therapist needs a break.”
Cody gave you a thumbs up, “Live to serve. My turn, I’m thankful for Liverpool sucking ass this season, I’m thankful that my girlfriend is good at everything I’m bad at because I’m pretty sure I’d have died by this point, and I’m thankful that you guys live somewhere interesting enough that I want to come visit.”
“Okay, me last,” JJ started, “I’m thankful for you guys being here even though it was kind of an inconvenient trip, I’m thankful for my boss for giving me a holiday bonus, and I’m thankful to finally get to spend a holiday in my own space. A safe space.”
Cody and Tyler, both great with emotion, held out fists for him to bump and then started eating.
“Okay,” you clapped your hands, startling JJ awake the next morning, “it’s noon, we’ve slept off most of the hangover, and now we have shit to do.”
“What?” he asked, voice cracking, as he rubbed his eyes.
“It’s Christmas season, we have to decorate.”
JJ groaned, “Shopping? While I feel like this? No.”
“No need to shop, I have it all. Now get up, get dressed, and let’s do this.”
Tyler was already up when you walked out of the bedroom, and he waved, “I ordered breakfast but couldn’t find your coffee pot. Cody is sorting through the decorations, did you have a tree?”
“Yeah, I have one in the closet, we always did a real tree at home, but I figured we should start small and see how it goes.”
“Good plan. I think Cody has a Christmas playlist ready. He’s so excited, could barely sleep.”
He followed you to the kitchen and leaned against the door frame while you made coffee. You chuckled, “Yeah, I know how much he loves Christmas. I’m honestly kind of surprised we never did a group decorating thing like this before.”
“Well,” Tyler crossed his arms, “we did the small trees in the dorm, but JJ didn’t want to buy one for himself so it didn’t really count. And then decorating the frat house was just not worth the effort.”
You passed him a mug and he took a sip while you answered, “JJ never really seemed super interested either. I mean I was going to keep it chill this year too but he brought it up.”
“Cody said you had a whole bunch of homemade stuff.”
“Yeah, my mom brought it to me. I was thinking of making JJ do some of the ornaments to make it even but I’m not sure he’d go for that.”
Tyler snorted, “Man’s a simp, he’d do it for you.”
“Who’s a simp?” Cody asked, walking into the kitchen to take the second mug.
“All three of you,” you told him, grabbing the creamer out of the fridge for him.
He took a sip and shrugged, “Yeah, true. But who are we discussing in particular now?”
“JJ. Whether he’d made homemade ornaments,” Tyler responded.
“He definitely would,” Cody nodded, “I would too. Is that on today’s agenda?”
“It is not. But I mean, if you guys want to make us some in the future and mail them, I’ll gladly hang them on the tree.”
“What’s the deal?” JJ asked, finally joining the rest of you.
“Nothing, drink some coffee and we’ll decorate.”
After the food arrived and everyone ate, Cody did in fact have a Christmas playlist queued, and he hooked it up to the speaker to blast in the living room. Tyler strung lights around, and JJ told you, “We should just keep these up after Christmas.”
By the time the two of you had struggled to get the tree put together and in a good spot, you added, “Maybe we don’t take the tree down either. We can just decorate it for every holiday.”
Tyler laughed, “Don’t be those guys.”
“We will,” JJ vowed, “we will absolutely be those guys. I just broke a sweat.”
“I will come back for New Years and start a riot if the tree is still up. You laugh like I’m joking, but I will,” Tyler told the two of you.
Cody was barely paying attention, reaching up to put an ornament on the tree when you stopped him, “JJ has to put the first one up.”
JJ gave you a weird look, “What? Why?”
“Bro,” Tyler told you, “lowkey this is a foursome.”
“No, it’s so not.”
“But, it kinda is. We’re taking JJ’s Christmas tree decorating virginity.”
“That’s so-” JJ paused, “okay the logic works a little but I don’t like it.”
“I hate you all,” you groaned, handing JJ an ornament and gently shoving him toward the tree.
“You don’t,” Cody singsonged from his spot across the room.
When everything was done, Cody turned all the lights off in the room and JJ plugged the tree in. Tyler flipped all the lights he’d put out on and the four of you stood in the doorway to take it all in.
JJ sighed, “Kinda love it. It’s going to be such a pain to take down, but it feels good.”
“A good family decorating day,” Cody added, “next year we’ll make ornaments.”
You laughed, “Sure.”
Wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, JJ hummed, “Gonna miss our Christmas this year.”
Tyler looked a little teary eyed, “Yeah, we can FaceTime though.”
“Are you crying?” Cody asked incredulously.
“It’s the hangover,” Tyler denied, wiping his eyes.
Cody rolled his eyes, “Sure it is. I’m gonna miss you guys too.”
“Group hug,” you said, holding your arms out. For the first time in a while and the last time for an even longer while, you hugged your boys close. You sniffled, pulling back, “Bring your girlfriends next time. They’re always welcome too.”
They nodded and left after one more hug. JJ and you sat on the couch, soaking in the sudden silence. You leaned into his side and he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “Movie, sweetheart?”
“Please,” you answered, “Home Alone.”
day four of @obxmermaid‘s holiday challenge: decorating the tree
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[WayV-log] Princess ver. is loading
A/N: The boys didn’t expect Nari to come due to her situation, but they were in for a surprise.
“Hey, do you know if Nari-jie will be participating in the Princess event today?” Ten asked Hendery seriously as they ate their lunch. Breaking out of his princess persona, Hendery shook his head.
“I don’t think so,” Hendery answered. “She had a doctor appointment to go to, didn’t she?”
“Oh yeah,” the Thai recalled. “She had two appointments.” One was to have a check-up on her wound, the other to visit a therapist.
“Ah, that’s a shame…” Hendery sighed, stabbing a chicken with his fork. “She wanted to attend this event for WinWin.”
“We’ll be okay,” the other man assured, standing up when he heard his name get called. “As long as we have fun, Nari-jie will be happy. The last thing she wants to see is us being unhappy.”
* * *
“Wow…” Hendery whistled as the stylist prepared his wig. “I don’t get how Nari-jie can stand all this treatment whenever we prepare for a performance.”
“Yeah,” WinWin agreed from beside him, sitting still so the make-up artist can fiddle with his eyelashes. “Getting ready takes longer for her than we do. Make-up, hair - because she has more hair than us…”
“Guys,” YangYang grunted, appearing in between them to look at the mirror. He was trying to adjust his mermaid skirt to his comfort. “How can women wear this? You can barely move in them.” YangYang glanced to the camera that was filming them. “I have respect for Nari-jie and all the females out there who wear this.”
* * *
Xiaojun stared at himself in the mirror in their practice room, studying his form. He turned around to face the camera. “A princess of sturdy build.”
The scene changed to Xiaojun, YangYang, and Lucas eating the chicken Hendery and Ten were eating earlier. “Wow…” Lucas commented as he went to lie down on the couch in the room. “It’s kinda uncomfortable to lie down wearing this and shoes.”
“That’s why Nari-jie always takes her shoes off before she gets comfortable,” Xiaojun pointed out. “But then...everyone does that…”
“Am I the only one that thinks of Nari-jie today as we dress up like princesses?” Xiaojun wondered out loud.
“No,” the others chorused. “We think of her too.”
* * *
“Wow, I look so pretty,” Lucas blurted out after staring at himself in the mirror, everyone laughing at his comment.
“I look too strong,” Xiaojun added.
“Nari-jie looks strong as well when she wears stuff like that, remember,” Hendery reminded the boy as YangYang told Lucas he was still handsome.
“You’re right,” Xiaojun nodded, remembering when Nari wore similar clothing outlining her fit body since she would go to the gym to work-out. “I’m more Nari-jie than Princess Jasmine, lol.”
Soon they started to practice dancing a bit in their costumes, YangYang looking like a fish out of the water as he stiffly moved in his costume while trying to control his hair. “Honestly,” YangYang huffed as he went to fix his hair again. “I don’t understand how Nari-jie can dance with her hair out like this…”
As they danced to ‘A Whole New World’, Hendery twirled around; Hendery, WinWin, Lucas, and YangYang freaking out over how Hendery’s dress flowed smoothly as he danced. “Wow!” they all yelled, watching eagerly as Hendery did the move again.
“Wow, Nari-jie gets to experience this whenever she wears a dress?” Lucas almost screeched. “That’s so cool!”
“We should have her wear more dresses,” YangYang added.
“She’ll like this for sure,” Hendery nodded. “Oh man, I miss Nari-jie. We keep talking about her as if she’s in a different country or something.”
“When really, she’s just at a different schedule,” YangYang snorted. Though underneath their words, they were mainly worried for her, wondering if she was doing okay in the doctor appointments. Ever since her accident, there are usually a member or two around her, making sure she wasn’t alone. Not having her in their sight worried them a bit.
“She’s with the other members of NCT, so she’s okay,” WinWin told them, giving a small smile of comfort. They all immediately cheered up, trying to not let their thoughts get to them and ruin their day.
* * *
As they finished their rendition of ‘Into the Unknown’, a new song began, confusing them. “What’s this song?” they wondered. Before they knew it, ‘I’ll Make A Man Out of You’ began to play.
The door to the practice room was pushed open, revealing someone they didn’t expect. “Let’s get down to business! To defeat...the huns~!” Nari, dressed as Shang, sang out loud into the practice room in a low voice.
“YOOOOOOO!” All the boys screamed, some of them running around like headless chickens, in awe at the sight before them.
“NARI IS HERE!” YangYang screeched, Hendery jumping in his spot as they watched Nari step further into the room still singing, bringing out a samurai sword to twirl around professionally. “SINCE WHEN CAN SHE DO THAT?!”
“YO NARI, LET’S GET IT!” Ten whooped, trying to grab his phone without tearing his gaze away from Nari’s performance.
“YEAHHHH!” WinWin cheered with a giggle, clapping happily that their member was able to attend a special event for him.
After getting over their shock, they, too, began to sing along with her, all eight of them having the time of their life now that they were all together. When the song finished, they all huddled into a group hug, cheering loudly.
“YOU’RE HERE!” Kun exclaimed after they pulled away from the group hug, all of the men staring at her in awe. “I thought you had appointments?”
“I purposely booked earlier appointments so I can get ready in my costume somewhere else instead,” Nari explained, looking to the mirror to admire her costume with the others.
“Wow, you actually look like a guy!” WinWIn exclaimed. “I almost didn’t recognise you!”
“And don’t you all look beautiful,” Nari winked at them. She faced Hendery. “Nice hair,”
“Why, thank you!” Hendery replied in a high-pitched tone.
“Nari-jie!” YangYang waddled up to her side, much to her amusement/ “How can you wear such tight clothing and dance with your hair out? I’ve been fixing my costume almost every five seconds!”
“Yeah!” Xiaojun stepped up as well. “I’m always adjusting the...the bra! How can you dance - or move around in this?”
“A lot of practice and patience, my boys,” Nari giggled.
“I can’t believe you dance with something so short…” Ten spoke up this time, tugging at his dress every once in a while to bring it lower. “It feels like I’m exposing my underwear or something whenever I twirl around…” Ten glanced to the camera and the stylists nearby. “Let’s make Nari’s clothes a bit longer, okay?”
“Now you all know my sufferings as well as many other female idols,” Nari patted their shoulders. “You guys move around so freely!” Nari twirled around, playing with her sword. “You guys don’t have to wear skirts or dresses, can wear pants, have no boobs to fuss over -”
“WAIT, WHERE’S YOUR BOOBS?” Hendery cut her off, staring at her chest area with wide eyes. Soon enough all of them were looking.
“Wait, where are they?” YangYang frowned. Kun whacked the back of his head, his face turning a light pink.
“I’m wearing bandages,” Nari lifted her shirt a bit to reveal said bandages. “It’s holding them and everything. But seriously, you guys are having an easier life.”
“Wow!” Hendery cackled, wrapping an arm around Nari as he moved them in front of the camera. “Who knew today would be all about us understanding each other’s bodies with the pros and cons?”
“But seriously,” Xiaojun spoke up seriously, “Your doctor appointments went okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay,” Nari smiled at the gently, comforting them. “Now!” Nari clapped her hands once, bringing out her sword again. “Don’t know about you guys, but I’m ready to dance and be Disney characters!”
“Yeah!” Everyone cheered.
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Okay, so how about— “You give me a reason to be better, to do better.” and “Please don’t say that about yourself. Please don’t believe that. You’re so much more than that. You’re so…” for part 2 of your Nessian angst fic?! (Pretty please?) ❤️
Melted Dreams - part 2
Word Count: 1968
A/N: Thanks for giving me prompts @thewayshedreamed! I loved it. I got inspired and wrote this all in one sitting. My beta reader (her insta is @ heart_of_ink18 so feel free to go give her some love) liked this, so I hope you guys enjoy! ((And yes dw I’ll probably write a part 3))
The city always looked most beautiful at dusk. The sun disappeared from sight and the lights that illuminated the city at night came on. The sky shifted from light blue — that eponymous sky blue — to carolina blue, to cobalt, sapphire, navy, and then finally that midnight blue that almost looked black.
Nesta Archeron smiled as she took in the view.
She had come a long way in the past three years. She had become a two-time New York Times bestselling author, a part-time screenwriter, the owner of an apartment overlooking her favorite city, and financially comfortable.
People said money couldn’t buy you happiness. Maybe that was true, but it could get you therapy, and that was basically the same thing.
Nesta pulled out a sheet of paper and her favorite black gel pen.
She began writing — not her current book, but a letter.
I know it’s been three years since we’ve last seen each other.
She brought the back of the pen to her mouth. Was that a good way to start the letter? Wasn’t it awkward? Maybe it would remind him of their breakup rather than their relationship.
She pulled out another sheet of paper.
The other day, I heard Wings by Velaris playing on the radio and I thought of you.
Fuck, maybe that would sound too much like a clingy ex? Nesta took a deep breath. Her therapist had told her that she didn’t even have to send the letter if she didn’t want to. The important part was just to write it all. So she would write it.
I’ve thought of you a lot over the past three years. When I went to the bookstore, I bought books that I thought you’d like. When I got news, I got excited to share it with you. When I ate ice cream, I thought of how we’d both eat from the same cone. Then I’d remember you were gone.
These three years have been important to me. So much has changed. I’ve achieved my dream of becoming a famous author. I’ve grown closer to my sisters and finally talked about all the issues from our childhood. I moved into a new apartment — the new one on Fae Lane. I finally learned how to do my makeup. I stopped wearing jeans. I changed my regular coffee shop from Starbucks to Elide’s Drinks & Dreams. The piercings on my ears closed up, so I got them pierced again.
One thing that hasn’t is how much I care about you. I haven’t stopped thinking about you or loving you. I know one thing for sure — you are the man that I love. There is no one else out there for me. I will never love someone as much as I love you.
I’ve replayed all our moments together. All the laughter, the cuddles, the dancing in the livingroom at midnight.
I’ve also replayed our breakup.
For the past year and a half, I’ve been seeing a therapist. She’s helped me realize a lot about myself. As beautiful as our relationship was, there were also problems. I relied on you emotionally for everything, when it wasn’t your job to solve my problems. You would drop everything for me, but I was focused on work. You were always there for me, but you also rarely shared your own issues — you tried to fit into the box of the perfect boyfriend that I wanted instead of just being yourself. You’d come over and cook even when you were tired and just wanted to sleep. You would stay up late with me even when you had important meetings early the next morning.
I think we both idealized each other, when in reality, neither of us were perfect.
You would look at me as if I was some kind of goddess and you always believed I was destined for greatness. Of course I appreciate how you helped my confidence, especially since it was so lacking back then, but you seemed to think you were just a distraction holding me back from my destiny. You often implied that you were nothing — just an orphan who only got so far in life because of his connections. As if you were just a burden and a leech. Please don’t say that about yourself. Please don’t believe that. You’re so much more than that. You’re so…
A tear fell from Nesta’s eye before she could wipe it away and landed on the paper.
You have been my inspiration in all my work. You represent everything good in this world. You have been through hell and come out stronger and kinder. You’re loyal and fierce and compassionate and funny and brilliant and giving. I wish you saw that you are not an extra or a leech. You’re the glue that holds your friend group together. You’re the person everyone turns to because you’re the one they trust the most.
That doesn’t mean you have to be perfect all the time. You’re allowed to be mad sometimes. You’re allowed to cry and sob and say no to things. You don’t need to worry that people will throw you away if you say no. You’re not letting them down. You’re the best person I know and if you knew how much those around you love you, you’d know that you can just be you.
I know that I was a big part of the problem. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not talking to you for three weeks. I’m sorry for not noticing that I took perfection from you for granted. I’m sorry for letting you treat yourself like dirt. I’m sorry for not telling you that you deserve to be someone’s priority. You are my priority. You should have been back then, but I was too naive to realize what I was doing. I’m sorry.
Maybe you’re wondering why I never reached out these past few years. If I cared so much, why didn’t I try? The answer is that I believed that I didn’t deserve you. You're kind and strong, while I’m cold and antisocial. My emotions are a rollercoaster and I always hurt people with my words without even meaning to. A part of me always said that I didn’t deserve someone like you and that you deserve better.
My therapist has been helping me recognize my self-worth. She’s helped me see that even people like me deserve love and healthy relationships, even if we have a hard time accepting it. I think that’s part of the reason why I pushed you away — because I felt that we couldn’t last.
I’m still not completely certain that I’m worth it. I still think you deserve someone better than me. But maybe that’s ok. You give me a reason to be better, to do better. To keep working towards becoming the person I want to be, so that I feel worthy of your love.
I love you Cassian.
I want to be with you.
I don’t know what you think of me. You may hate me. You may not even read this. You might even be married and have five kids.
But I wanted you to know that I’m here and that I’ll always be here, loving you. I’m sorry for what I did to you. Thank you for loving all the broken parts of me back then.
I want you to be happy, Cassian. I would be ecstatic if that means you’ll go out with me, but if you’d prefer not to I would understand. Be you and be happy, Cass.
“I read your letter, Nesta, and it was beautiful,” her therapist Vassa said quietly. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”
Nesta just nodded. “It’s so much easier to write it all. When I’m talking, I always forget what I want to say and I end up saying the wrong thing and then…” she sighed.
“You have gotten better at avoiding misunderstandings, don’t you think?” Vassa countered.
“I guess. I do think I’ve become less defensive, but it’s still hard sometimes,” Nesta replied.
Vassa’s attention shifted back to the letter. “I think you should send it.”
“What? But what if he hates it or shreds it or comes to try to talk about how horrible I was or something?” Her pitch got higher as her panic began setting in.
“Nesta,” Vassa said soothingly, “It’s up to you. I’m not going to make you send it. But I think you’ll always wonder what if you sent this. You always talk about Cassian and sending this… even if it goes wrong, it’ll give you some closure.”
“I’m not going to get over him.”
“I know. I won’t ever suggest that your love for him will fade, but if for some reason he doesn’t come to you after getting this, you start living your life for you and letting go of your guilt about your relationship. And if he goes to meet you, well,” Vassa smiled, “wouldn’t that be wonderful?”
“Without risk there is no reward,” Nesta muttered to herself.
She took a deep breath. “I could send it but… I don’t know his address. Feyre and I made a pact never to talk about Cassian and I don’t think I could ask her. I don’t know how else I would-”
“I’ll get his address for you, if you’d like,” Vassa suggested.
Nesta blinked, surprised. “I mean, if you could, I’d greatly appreciated it, but I don’t see how you could.”
Vassa tapped her phone as Nesta rambled, “Unless you hire someone to stalk him and then record his address, but that could get you in trouble and I don’t want you to end up in jail because of me or owing some creepy stalker some money. What if they kidnap you and imprison you or something?”
“Got it!” Vassa declared and promptly texted Nesta the address.
Nesta peered through the window of her car, trying to act discreet.
She had just dropped off the letter in the mailbox in front of his house and was now hiding in her car, hoping to catch a glimpse of him as he got her letter.
She felt slightly stalker-y but it wasn’t like she had done this before or was going to ever do it again. She just wanted one last look at him or a first look at her future boyfriend.
The front door opened. Nesta held her breath.
Out walked a gorgeous blonde woman, dressed in a casual but sexy red gown. The woman grabbed the newspaper and then opened the mailbox, grabbing all the mail.
Nesta’s stomach dropped but she seemed to freeze, unable to stop watching.
“Cass, there’s a letter for you!” the woman said, smiling. Her long blonde hair sparkled as the sunlight hit it.
“Oh, really? Gimme!” a man replied, with laughter in his voice. Cassian. It was Cassian’s voice.
The woman giggled and handed someone inside the house the letter.
Nesta couldn’t bear it anymore. She finally drove off. She had been wrong to send that letter. Cassian was already happy. Giving him that letter would only make them laugh at her, or worse, destroy the amazing relationship Cassian had with that supermodel-like woman.
As she drove, her numbness faded. Self-loathing and debilitating sadness were quick to take its place.
Tears blurred her vision. The roads all seemed to blend together into one. The cars besides her looked like part of the scenery. She drove with her body on auto-pilot. Her brain hardly took note of anything around her, even the car that was speeding towards the oncoming intersection. So when that car skipped the red light and slammed into her, Nesta couldn’t help but think that perhaps you really can die of heartbreak.
Tag list: (please let me know if there’s any issues with the tagging)
((If anyone wants to be added, plz tell me if u want to be on my permanent tag list or if u want to be added for a specific category — a ship, a book, AUs, etc))
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Human Guardians AU
Here is a little idea i came up with not too long ago. Since i don’t really feel to rp at the moment and still feel a little under the weather, i decided to put this up here. It’s a human AU where Gan, Bessa, Pennywise, Maturin and the Guardians life as humans in the mortal world, dealing with day to day struggle in their normal lifes.
Gan and Bessa are living in a fancy looking apartement in Bangor, Maine. Gan is a successful writer(just like his self insert Stephen King) while Bessa is a very successful owner of a flowershop with multiple branches all over the US. Pennywise and Maturin life with them, they are children with Maturin being eight years of age while Pennywise is around the age of four. The former Turtle Guardian goes to a private school in close proximity of their home, same goes for Penny who is enlisted in the kindergarden which is located in the same building on the first floor.
They all agreed to forget their former lifes and as deities and gods respectively, starting anew as humans which also goes for the Guardians which now i will talk about. It`s going to be a bit longer so please bare with me:
The former Bear Guardian decided to take a route in politics and is part of several activists groups, he also found a liking to the democratic party and is an avid fighter for LGBT rights and same sex marriage. This was partly because Shardik was gay himself so he wanted to get a lobby for all those who share the same sentiment as him. He doesn’t remember much of his former life aside of the knowledge that he once had a good friend called Maturin which whom he had a crush on. The specifics of this however are merely a fog for Shardik.
He has a pet turtle called A´tuin. Shardik has short brown hair, a shaggy beard and prefers spaceous clothes.
Owsla decided, after losing his memories as Guardian, to move into the mortal world, following Gan and Bessa’s example. He became a freelance reporter and teamed up with his former Guardian mate Chuchundra. Both life in a shared flat in Toronto, Canada. Owsla is an avid fan of polo and plays it in his free time. He and Chuchundra also share a vlog in which they document their daily lifes and struggles as reporters.
Owsla is big, slim and has blond, slicked back hair and a little goatee and rather prominent front teeth. He also is lactose intolerant
Chuchundra or short Chuchu(this is only used by Owsla)is like his former Beam Buddy Owsla a freelance reporter and always on the search for a good story to write about. He loves being out in nature and enjoys camping quite a lot. Chuchundra has a slight lisp and his voice tends to get up higher in pitch when excited. He is witty, fast thinking and always on the edge, exercising daily. Another hobby of Chuchundra is cooking, mostly with cheese, but in favor of Owsla, he also adds greens to his diet.
Chuchundra is quite small and has round slightly protruding ears which earned him a lot of mean nicknames from colleagues. He always wears a bowtie.
Navius works as lawyer in his own law firm and is quite secluded in his lifestyle. He operates a vlog on Youtube and gives advice on juristic problems for free(for people who can’t afford a lawyer normally). He is kind, hard working and always on the edge when it comes to laws being broken. His love for order and cleanness is a huge part of his personality which also goes for his home. Immaculate and specless is the best way to describe his apartement in Brooklyn, New York. Hobbies includes hunting and bungee jumping.
He appears as middle aged, rather tall individual with slightly gray hair and a small potbelly. Navius always wear glasses. He also spots a goatee. His clothes are always tight fitting and spotless. Navius is a huge fan of Gan’s novels and has all of them.
Garm works as police officer in a small rurual town. He has a deep rooted hate against criminals and politicians, especially for those who are constantly rising their own benefits while others have to suffer. Garm is part of a humanistic organisation that helps local unfortunates with food and water. He is tall, muscular built and is really fast. His hobbies include swimming, hunting and writing(latter is just a hobby though)
He lifes alone in a small house, only accompanied by a stray dog that decided to stay with him. Occasionally he visits bars and clubs in the next bigger city or enjoys a round of gambling in the local casino, he is rather unlucky however and not really has a hand for these kind of things.
Garm has dark brown shaggy hair and an olive colored skin tone. His clothings of choice are baggy.
Garuda works as airforce pilot and has quite the reputation of being firm, without mercy for his enemies. The reality however is different, he cares about others a lot and protects everyone that is in need. In his rare free time, Garuda enjoys a good cup of tea and books, he likes to read a lot when able to. His intellect is sharp and witty. He has his very own gym area in his house which he also uses a lot to keep fit.
Garuda is very proud and easy to rile up when his authority is challenged. He has a deep, rich voice that has a slightly southern drawl. He has a trained build, wide shoulders and is quite tall, around 6ft3. His hair is short, black and has silver streaks in it. He has a scar on his left eye.
Formerly known as the Fish Guardian, Jasconius now lifes in Atlanta, Georgia,as therapist for troubled adolecents and has her very own practice which runs very successfully. She has a really pleasant personality and is very emotional when it comes to children and animals. Jasconius has high empathy which she uses in her practice. Her reputation of being able to help even the most severe cases made her a small celebrity in her profession. She is often in talkshows and gives advice to parents.
Jasconius always has an open ear for everyone and is an avid fighter for human rights, she engages herself on a voluntary basis in youth facilities and local schools. She has adopted two children and lifes with them in a little house with a beautiful garden. Her hobbies include painting and singing, she also is a member of a gospel choir.
Jasconius is medium built and has gentle green colored eyes. She has long, dark blonde hair which she wears in a bun most of the time.
Rocinante is a successful athlete and works in a fitness studio as personal trainer. He is free spirited, optimistic and loves silly jokes and riddles. The former Horse Guardian also loves to travel and has been to many places around the world. His hobby is photography. He has a large collection of old antique vases and loves to collect rare items such as stamps or coins.
Being a huge casanova, Rocinante loves to flirt with every woman that comes around and had quite a few flings already.
He runs a highly successful social media account and uses fundraisers to support local causes. Rocinante owns a small estate on the outer limits of Atlanta. He once published a book which had a short lifed success however and qiuckly vanished from bestseller lists worldwide.
Rocinante is thoroughly toned and has long legs. He is quite tall as well, sporting a whooping 6ft5. He has mahagony colored hair and sports a man bun.
Camazotz is a freelance artist. He has a large collection of old paintings and is a fan of Leonardo Da Vinci. Making his hobby to his profession, Camazotz has his own atelier in Houston. He also loves photography, using his pictures as inspiration. Like most artists, Camazotz has a free spirited personality and needs freedom over everything. In the first couple months of his life in the mortal world, Camazotz suffered from mild depression and had to get used to this new world first. After a while however it vanished and he found an inspiring way to remodeling his new life on Keystone Earth.
He lifes in a small apartement in close proximity of his atelier. Camazotz is lean, medium build and wears thick glasses. He has dark black, spiky hair.
Babar is the only Guardian that has still contact to Gan and Bessa, all the others kind of developed their own lifes and decided to start fresh. He remembers his old life sometimes in his dreams but as soon he wakes up, all is forgotten. Babar is working as architect in Portland. He likes to eat and to drink, his hobbies include playing chess and gardening. Babar is member of a book club and has a library in his house.
Babar sometimes visits Gan in his home, always glad to see both the former God and his wife as well his former Guardian Buddy Maturin. His character is best described as loyal and kind with a tendency towards occult theories. He visits church regulary.
He has a sturdy body, a thick neck and a belly, he appears in his late 50s with balding grayish hair.
Pride and boastful like his animal counterpart, Aslan is often seen in talkshows and newspapers. He has a real estate company under his thumb which has one of the highest rankings in the business. Aslan has a mansion with a pool and has often prominent visitors like stars or politicians on his estate. He likes to keep beneficial relationships for him and his company which could be used down the line if needed.
While a business man through and through, Aslan is not greedy as he spends a lot of his money for funds that help the less privileged. He is currently in a relationship with a fellow real estate colleague, they share bed and table. Aslan is proud of his fortune and fame and is not above in showing everyone who is interested, how to achieve what he did.
Aslan is 5ft10,broad built, he has long, unkempt hair and a full beard. He appears in his late 40s.
Out of all the Guardians, Maturin did a completely turn over and stayed with Bessa and Gan as their child, effectively losing his adult self, appearing as kid around the age of eight.
It was a decision that wasn’t easy for the former Guardian, but for the sake of rekindling his relationship with his estranged brother, Maturin agreed that his personality and memories got wiped clean just as former had endured after the crumbling defeat against the Losers to start fresh. He now lifes with Gan and Bessa and Pennywise in a large apartement in Bangor, Maine. Maturin visits a private school and has good grades, he likes science and collects bugs and critters. Ever since their mutual memory wiping, Pennywise and Maturin seem to have developed a healthy relationship. They like each other and spend time playing with each other. While being a good student, Maturin has quite the mischievous streak and likes to play pranks on others.
He appears as child of approximately eight years of age, has dark brown, touseled hair and green eyes.
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For pride month, can you do irondad with Peter slowly realising he is Trans mtf and being completely supported by Tony ( i always see ftm but never the contrary and that's what i am so i would love to see it woth Peter)
If I did something wrong, PLEASE call me out on it. My goal for these fics is to give you a fanfic that represents you as best I can. If it isn’t good enough, don’t be afraid to tell me so. You won’t hurt my feelings.
I’m using this and this as reference for the “she’s-slowly-figuring-it-out” stage.
Warnings: literally like 3 sentences of smut, self-discovery, mentions of transphobia, brief mentions of suicidal ideology neither of which are graphic.
“Peter?” Tony asks softly. “I want to start by saying you aren’t in trouble.”
The kid swallows thickly. “I hate when you start conversations like that, dad.”
Tony laughs softly. “Sorry, kiddo. I just... I um... I wanted to apologize, because I shouldn’t have gone in your room-“
“You went in my room?!”
“-but I knew you stole my sweater last month and I really wanted to wear it, so I went into your closet to look for it-“
“You didn’t even ask?” It comes out squeaky and high pitched.
“-and I should have just asked you but you were at school, and I didn’t want to distract you-“
“Dad I can’t believe you invaded-“
“I found the dress, Peter,” Tony finally gets out.
Peter’s jaw clicks shut. Tears well up behind his eyes, and his lower lip wobbles. He shouldn’t have ever bought that stupid dress! “Dad-“
“Are you gay, son?” Tony asks, and Peter winces.
“I... I like boys, yeah. I-“
“It’s okay!” Tony says. “It’s perfectly okay. I support you 100%. I’m sorry I outed you, I just—I just wanted you to know I support you and I love you, Peter.”
Peter tears up and hugs Tony. “I love you too, dad.”
He doesn’t know what it is, but something just feels... off.
Peter blushes. “Dad, I don’t think-“
“No, Peter, it’s okay! It’s okay. If you like it, then there’s nothing wrong with it.” He smiles as he hands Peter the James Charles pallet.
Peter touches it lovingly. He’s been watching James Charles since the very beginning.
He watches other YouTubers too; Manny MUA, Jeffery Star; he even watches a girl named NikkieTutorials.
“Dad... I can’t—thank you so much!” He hugs Tony, starting to cry. He knew his dad was going to support him, but the amount of love and support Tony gives him...
But something is still bugging him.
Peter blushes as Harry grabs his dick. “Harry-“
“God, you’re so pretty. Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” He kisses Peter’s chest. “You like when I touch your clit?”
Peter closes his eyes, fighting off the tears. Why does this feel so right?
Peter felt a lot of things, when NikkieTutorials came out as transgender.
The first was disgust. How dare someone try and blackmail her! Who would do that?! People are sick!
But then there was...there was this...other feeling. He doesn’t know what it is. He doesn’t know if it’s good or bad....
What does it mean to be transgender?
What does mtf mean?
“Dad?” Peter whispers.
Tony looks up immediately, turning his Starkpad off. “What’s up, kid?”
Peter stares, a deer caught in headlights.
Tony looks worried. “Peter?”
Peter whimpers. “Never mind.”
How do I know if I’m transgender?
What does dysphoria feel like?
How do I know if I have dysphoria?
What can I do about my dysphoria?
Hrt side effects
Bottom surgery outcomes
Tucking technique mtf transgender
She looks at herself in the mirror. The tucking works, she thinks. She can’t even see it.
She puts on the dress, the make up.
She doesn’t look pretty. She looks like a boy playing dress up.
Harry comes up behind her, kissing her shoulder. “Oh baby, did you do this for me?”
How do I tell my boyfriend I’m transgender?
How do I know if my boyfriend will support me being mtf transgender?
Most popular female names 2001 US
How to cope with being broken up with?
Break up playlists
Trans suicide hotline
Is it free to call 877-565-8860?
“Hey um... dad?”
Tony looks up. He always gives his kid all his attention. “What’s up Pete?”
She winces a bit. She hasn’t picked her name yet, why is she so upset hearing her birth name? “I um... do you still have my old therapist’s phone number?”
“Oh, Peter... are you having the nightmares again?” Tony asks.
She lies. “Yeah... I didn’t wet the bed, though, I swear. I haven’t done that since... yeah.”
Tony pulls out his phone. “I’ll set you up an appointment.”
How to come out as trans to my dad
Are trans women welcome in women’s homeless shelters?
Are there trans women homeless shelters?
What do I do if I’m a trans woman and homeless?
Should I tell my dad I’m trans?
How do I know if my dad will kick me out for being Trans?
How to come out as trans
“Dad?” She fidgets with her hair.
“Hmmmm?” Tony looks up from his work.
“I um... I...” she bites her lip.
Tony frowns. “Peter?”
I’m a coward. “What would you and mom have named me? If I was a girl?”
“Morgan,” Tony answers immediately. “After Pep’s Uncle.”
“Uncle? Why didn’t you name me Morgan?” She asks.
Tony shrugs. “We looked at your face and you just weren’t a Morgan. Why the sudden curiosity?”
“I was just... wondering.” She leaves as quickly as she can.
Jessica May Stark.
Jess smiles down at her name. She likes it. It’s pretty, it fits her, it’s perfect.
“Hi,” she says to her mirror, softly. “Hi. My name is Jessica. Hey, my name is Jessica Stark. Hi! I’m Jessica, you can call me Jess.”
She runs a hand through her hair. It’s getting so much longer, now. Her dad says she needs a haircut, but Jess doesn’t want one. She wants to grow it out long and pretty.
“Hi,” she whispers to her reflection. “I’m Jessica May Stark.
“Dad?” Jessica asks softly.
Tony looks up from his Starkpad. “What’s up kid?” He asks.
Jessica takes a deep breath. Be brave. Be brave. “I have something very important to tell you.”
Tony nods. “Okay, go ahead. I’m listening.”
Jess bites her lower lip, hesitating. Be brave! “I’m transgender,” she spits out. “I’m a girl. M-my name is J-Jessica May Stark, I’m a g-girl.”
Tony stares at his daughter for a long time. Enough time that Jessica starts to tear up as she mentally thinks of where the hell she’s going to stay when Tony kicks her out.
But then Tony nods to himself, leaning back. “Okay. I’m going to have to look some stuff up, I’ve never...I’ll have to look some stuff up. Jessica,” he smiles, eyes glazing over a bit. “Your mother would have loved that name, kid. It’s pretty.”
Jess stares. “Dad.”
“Jessica,” he answers.
“Dad! What the hell is this?!”
“This is Dr. Drew. She specializes in working with transgender teens. She’s going to diagnose you with dysphoria and then we’ll get you set up on HRT.”
Jessica tears up. “Dad-“ how does her voice break on a one syllable word?
“I’m Tony Stark, kid. How long did you think it was going to take me to learn all this stuff? I taught myself astrophysics in one night.”
Jessica looks at herself in the mirror. She likes the way she looks.
She’s in a pretty dress. It highlights her ass, hides her blocky shoulders. The way it cuts down her chest makes her look like she just has small boobs. Her mom had small boobs.
The heels make her legs look skinnier. She hates her stupid blocky feet, but the heels hide them.
She’s wearing a scarf that hides her Adam’s apple. She never had a very pronounced one anyway.
She rugs on her short curls. Runs a finger feather light over her makeup. Does another once over.
She doesn’t look exactly how she wants to look, but she’s happy with it anyway. She looks pretty.
She sighs and has Happy drive her to the restaurant. She’s nervous. Dating someone she met on the Internet isn’t exactly the smartest thing she could have done, but... she didn’t want to date someone who knew her. She wanted to have a date, just one night, where she could pretend she’s happy and she’s just having a normal date.
Not as Stark’s kid. Not as a trans woman. Not as a rich snotty bitch.
Just Jessica, a girl from New York going on a date with a boy she’s never met before.
She smiles when she sees her date already waiting for her at the table. He stands in a rush, almost knocking the water over.
He blushes and holds out his hand. “Jessica?” He asks.
Jess nods, taking it. She blushes as the man kisses his hand. “H-hi!” She squeaks. “You must be Harley.”
The boy smiles, pulling out her chair for her. “Hi. Yes, I am. S-sorry, I’m just—just nervous. I’m not from around here...” he hurried back to his side of the table.
Jessica smiles, looking at him fondly over her menu. “Well, Harley. I guess I’ll have to tell you what’s good to eat here, won’t I?”
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Mmmmh, give me an A/B/O!AU where Ash is an omega.
But... not like the usual A/B/O!AU kind of things. It’s different, yet the same kinda.
I think I’m going to name this Omega’s Touch!AU
Ash is an omega, the first Omega to become Champion of any Region. He gets a lot of backlash for the more popular Regions, but both Alola and Orange Isles flourish under his steady care.
Orange Isles is more prominent because Ash had the Championship since he was around eleven. But the schools are much better than what they were beforehand, both the over all farms and sea life surrounding the Isles are much butter than any other Region - even given the natural cold weather, and people are just more overall happy.
There’s barely any crimes going on anymore. Because Ash set up a free counciling/therapist area around each town, it’s small yes, but it gets the job done and does it correctly. The adoption centers are usually empty because of how often Ash always states that it’s better to help a child in need. There’s almost absolutely no corruption in the gym leader chain, the Elite Four, and the Police forces across the Isles. That was a back hand compliment to the police force, Ash has no problem with the Officer Jenny’s they just need to get their underlings under control a little better.
Even the Legendary birds come over from their secluded islands just to publicly talk to Ash. It broke the internet when Drake posted a video of Ash helping clean Articuno while the ice birb coo’s about how Ash is doing wonderfully than all the other Orange Isles Champions, while side eyeing Drake all the while.
Almost everyone in the League is an Alpha, there’s around fifty Beta’s fucking top. Because they need some sort of a buffer between all the Alphas. And here comes Aah at the age of 11, already showing that he’s Omega when kids usually show around 13 when the hormones truly take over.
And the League talks, everyone talks about it once Drakes last Pokémon hit the ground unconscious. Ash has been the Hot Topic for the past few months as everything gets settled.
One thing people found out about Ash is that what ever stereotypical thought they had about him just flys right on past.
Ash needs to stay on the Orange Isles to do paperwork? Ash can totally do that while traveling!
Ash needs to talk to officials or chairman’s that demand his time? There’s video calls for that, and yes, Ash won’t stop until they all learn how to correctly use the new found technology and will leave them to flounder for themselves.
Ash needs to join a meeting? He can do that over video call, again, and walk with his friends at the same time. He’s just going to be a bit winded.
What about Ash’s heats that will start up soon? Heats don’t start up until around 17 and Ash is already taking suppressors for those since he was 15 because Evil Men are absolute Shit and Ash is going to shank Arceus the next time they see each other. ￼￼￼
Overall, Ash naturally is not the same Omega the world stereotypically paints. And it ruffles all the older Alphas feathers the wrong way.
As Ash grows closer to the younger, yet still older, League members. They start noticing how Ash... just doesn’t want a family.
Like... he wants a kid. Two to be precise, a boy and a girl. But he’s just, not wanting to settle down and give birth to them. He doesn’t take on an Alpha or a Beta and it clear that all romantic courting goes clear over Ash’s head. It doesn’t help that the older Ash gets, the more absolute pretty and amazing he becomes.
Ash ends up being voted the most gorgeous and handsome League Member. His Champion calendar is the most bought. Any Pokémon he catches is soon becoming very popular with other people.
It also doesn’t help that Ash is one of the sweetest human beings anyone has seen. It’s a breath of fresh air, no matter how bitter and cold it gets, because Ash is just so honest with people. He never tries to sugar coats his words with reporters and interviewers. And it becomes extremely gross and horrifying when Ash explains that, yes, he has died during the End of the World events. And that, yes, he feels the pain just like a normal human would. The kids in the hospital love him when he stops by and visits, no matter what Region or City he’s in. The Omega brings a scent of pure love, hope, safety, and warmth. Like everything bad will turn out good. It also shows that what ever Hospital Ash goes to, most of the kids turn out okay and that was more then what the staff originally thought.
Ash has fitted perfectly with Alola, his smiles and overall warmth doubled under the sun and once again. He showed all the League Members that second genders don’t define how you can run a Region. Alola doesn’t even have Chairmen’s and Ash was very adamant that the Orange Isles Chairmen’s stay in the Orange Isles, Alola will have no Chairmen’s because of how he helped Professor Kukui structures the League here.
And the League hates him for that. Because where ever he goes, growth, love, and warmth follow. People do better, people become better when Ash is near. It’s evident that the Gym leaders that travel with him rise in Gym ranks because of how strong they’ve become. They look at their own Region, then to Orange Isles and Alola and see￼ how much the two Regions flourished under Ash’s extensive care.
Even Team Skull backs down and now helps around Alola. Because Ash reaches out first, he apologized first, and explained everything. Explained the way he reacted during the initial League run and apologized to all the grunts he yelled at and stopped them. Ash, along with three very happy older Kahunas, help each individual Team Skull member to see where their strength and weaknesses lie. Now their up and helping the community, their bad past still comes back up every now and then but they have connections and people standing behind them, cheering them on to do better. And Ash is the one leading the crowd.
Plumeria, an Alpha, becomes Professor Burnets main lab assistant. Helping with her knowledge about toxic types and is over all just... happier.
Guzma, also an Alpha, becomes the next Ula’ula Kahuna after Nanu steps down from a very bad incident were he almost broke his back from how slow he moved. ￼Tapu Bulu was overjoyed when he watched Ash and Guzma battle it out, more fair this time after Guzma figures out what the fuck Emergency Exit means, and Guzma taking down three of Ash’s Pokémon - Rowlett, Lycanroc, and Incinaroar - but the rest of his team fell to Ash’s Pikachu and Melmetal. Guzma couldn’t explain how warm he felt when Tapu Bulu agreed to take him has the Gods next Kahuna. He had launched himself across the battle pitch and met Ash half way in a bone crushing hug.
And not only that, Ash helped restore the relationship between Guzma and Professor Kukui. He did the impossible and came out the other end smiling his blazing smile with his head helped high and love and warmth boiling in his Whiskey brown eyes.
Where ever Ash goes, growth follows. And the league hates it. Hates it because for all these centuries, they believed only Alphas - and maybe Beta’s - can control the League. Now here’s an Omega, the youngest Champion to date as well. who looked at the League and did exactly what every other Champion did, but better.
An Omega who ignored all the taunts, sneers, and growls. Who picked up the slack of one half-Region, and helped creat a brand new league. Who saved each Region across the world over, and over, and over again. Who looked back at all the Alphas and Betas and all the people who look down on him, and told them all to do better. Be better. And maybe their Region and leadership will flourish too.
Because an Omega’s Touch is all the world needs sometime to heal and grow.
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