#Therapy did help when I couldn't sleep but after I started writing again and sleeping again I have not gone back and I don't intend to

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

The crushing | joel miller x f!reader, 5.2k

Summary: This is the story of a man who had everything in the palm of his hand and traded it all for an empty space in the hollow of his heart. Or This story follows Joel, two to three years after he cheated on his wife.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, ANGST, cheater!Joel, Joel's POV, this is NOT “The Falling” from Joel's POV, brief mention of smut (p i v) but nothing too graphic (I think), self-loathing, depression, therapy, flashbacks and memories from the past, alcohol consumption, Tommy being a supportive brother (eventually), as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Ok, so, Joel gave me a whiplash on this one, he was either staring at me through the screen giving me nothing, or he was mumbling unintelligibly in my ear while I was trying to keep up with him. It started out as a final chapter, but I really think that this part should be Joel's POV and the next and -probably- final one should be the resolving, however that may come. I guess it can be read as a standalone, but if you're interested, it's a sequel to “The Falling”. I edited it seven thousand times because I kept adding things along the way, so I hope it all makes some sense and there are not too many mistakes.. Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all! 🥰😘

P.S.: I just wanted to take a moment and let you know that I really appreciate everyone who has read, liked, commented, reblogged and asked about “The Falling”. I honestly didn't think a single soul would take the time to read that kind of story. It means more than you know and I didn’t take lightly how close to home this fic hit for some people; yet you’ve given it a chance, sharing some of your own experiences with me. I love you all, take care and I'll see you -hopefully- in the comments! 🥹🫂

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics

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...need your reassurance...

...your only focus…

...for the foreseeable future...

He did make it his sole focus. Because of course, he closed the deal, even after he left that damn table like a madman. He still found a way to get what he wanted. That's the man he was. And he wasn't sure if he hated himself for it or not. But self-loathing was a daily occurrence now, so one more reason added to the list was nothing he couldn't handle.

For two years he would wake up every day, is it called waking up if he doesn’t sleep at all?, he would work his ass off, he would go home, he would sink into despair and then he would start all over again the next day. A vicious cycle consisting of 730 days in a row. The deafening silence within the walls of the house was excruciating, the loneliness was unbearable. Even the light penetrating through the windows seemed different than when you were there with him, a dullness surrounding every corner of the now barely lived in space.

You. He hadn’t seen your face in 730 days. He hadn’t smelled your scent or touched your soft skin. He barely listened to your voice anymore, any form of unavoidable communication, you preferred to be conducted by the lawyers, or via text messages, at the most. At the 731st one, he finally knew, something had to change. He couldn’t repeat another day, like all the others that came and went. He simply couldn’t.

Tommy suggested that therapy might help Joel, a few times, but he refused every one of them. Maria was keeping her distance, her place was delicate, being his brother’s wife but also his wife’s best friend. Surprisingly, she was the one who finally got through to him.

“Are you gonna stay a recluse for the rest of your miserable life, then?” Maria wonders, switching her gaze between Joel and the dining room. Everything was untouched, as you left them when you moved out, but the place felt empty, depressing, probably mirroring Joel’s existence.

Joel sighs, closing his eyes briefly. “I’m not a recluse..”, he snarls through his teeth, rolling his eyes at her. He was more than eager to be done with the dinner his sister-in-law insisted on having in his house and be left alone, in his natural state. Alone. Infuriating woman.

“What do you call that?”, Maria persists, goddamn lawyer to the bone.

“What?!” Joel spits back pissed off, looking at his brother next, for support.

“That!” she gestures around his body and his surroundings. “The way you go on for the past two years! Either get over it or do something about it!”, she doesn’t hold back, even when Tommy proposes a gentler approach. Yeah, look where it got you, is the paid answer, so Tommy steps back, shaking his head and raising his hands up in surrender.

“You’ve got him on a leash, hm?”, Joel jokes absentmindedly, “Can you breathe alright, Tommy boy?”, earning himself a hard glare from Maria.

“Maybe the wrong Miller is on a leash..” Maria mutters, causing Tommy’s eyes to widen in horror.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”, Joel retorts doing a double back at her.

“Means that freedom is for those who can bear it.”, Maria throws her napkin on her plate and leaves the room. Joel remains silent, pondering the meaning of her words. It would be a long time before he understood what she meant.

Therapy was hard.

Therapy was hard because he had to do it for himself. He had to concentrate on himself. He thought, being the contractor that he was, that he would walk into the room, get the answers he needed and fix his marriage, just as he rearranged the bricks and the wood and the steel on the construction sites.

But this wasn’t about his marriage. His marriage and the way it crumbled down was the aftermath, he came to learn. It was the outcome of insecurities, selfishness, lack of communication, ungratefulness.

He got it all wrong. Everything. Every little thing. He had to rewire his brain and change every point of view he was holding onto. Honesty. Honesty was the key.

“Why didn’t you reach out to your wife after that night?”, his therapist insists.

“I respected her boundaries.”, Joel was quick to respond.

“And what were those?”

“She didn’t want to see me.”

“Did she say that?”

“No-, I mean-, the way she left that night, she didn’t say much in general. But she blocked my number, so.”, he shrugs in defence.

“So, how can you be so sure that she didn't want to see you? Even if you're right, it doesn't mean that she didn't expect a reaction from you, or that you weren't allowed to try, if that’s what you wanted.”

“Why would she? I upset her, she needed time to think, work things out.”, Joel explains.

The therapist swipes her fingers over her lips, contemplating her approach. “Joel, you walk into your bedroom, into what is supposed to be a safe place and you see your partner with another person in an intimate moment. How does that make you feel? Just say the first words that come to mind.”, his therapist changes the point of view.

Joel shudders just at the thought of it. You, naked, flushed, lips parted and swollen, skin sweaty, breaths short and pupils blown wide, coming for anyone other than him. It would utterly destroy him. “Furious, pissed, betrayed, heartbroken.. I think I would lose it, if I’m honest.” he admits instantly, in his haste to throw the abomination of this image from his thoughts.

“I see. But in her case, you think your wife was just upset?”

“No, of course not.” Joel slightly frowns, shaking his head.

“Do you think she felt all those feelings that you just described to me?”

“I believe so, yes.”, god this is so hard.

“You believe so?” the therapist pushes, again.

Joel’s nostrils flare from the sharp inhale, “I know so.”

“So, she wasn’t just upset.” the therapist concludes and Joel agrees without meeting her eyes, “No, she wasn’t.”

Over time, Joel came to realize that his choice of words was a subconscious attempt to diminish the seriousness of his actions.

“You said in a previous session that you gave space to your wife to work things out.”

“Yeah, it was only fair.”, Joel confirms.

“So, it was hard for you to give her that space?”

“Yes, of course, I missed her every day.”

“Was that a constant in your relationship?”, the therapist wonders.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

“How did you work things out as a couple, before? I assume you had difficult times as partners, no?”

“Nothing major to be honest, my wife was a very calm and reasonable person. If anything occurred she would talk to me about it.”

“And how did you respond to that?”

“Uh, I was there to listen, we always found a solution together as a couple.”

“Hmhm, so, what changed this time?”

“What do you mean?” He knew exactly what she meant.

“Why didn’t you talk to her? Communicate with her? Maybe help her see your side of things, like you did before, find your way out of this together, as partners.” his therapist explains. “And even before the infidelity, did you let her know that something was bothering you, that you felt differently?”

"I didn't feel differently about my wife. My feelings for her never changed.", he immediately corrects her. "My love for her was never the problem," he confesses and it's the first time since his therapy began that he's shared something so personal, so private.

“But there was a problem, something was wrong if you felt the need to be intimate with another woman. So, why did you keep that from her?”

Joel opens his mouth already knowing he does not have an answer. Or that he doesn't want to give one. He shakes his head, raising his brows in a silent admission that he can’t answer that. Or he won't. His gaze is fixed on a loose thread on the fabric of the couch, his fingers keep picking on it.

“Joel?”

“I- I don’t know what you want me to say, I don’t know.” he keeps shaking his head. He can’t answer that. He won't.

He was so angry when he left the session that day. He was so angry at you. He was angry at your honesty, your clarity, your courage to have a mind of your own and to speak it freely, knowing full well that probably no one else shared the same opinions as you did. That's what he loved most about you, but now he hated it.

“Own it, Joel. Own what you have done. At least that way it will be worth something. Otherwise it was all for nothing.”

This was one of the last things you said to him on the phone, while he was trying to persuade you to change your mind about the divorce. You were always so brave about those matters. Matters of the heart, of integrity. He remembers you always talking about things that he found admirable but utopian. Easy in theory, hard in practice.

“I need to be able to sleep at night. I need to own my decisions; not because I’m always right, far from it, but at least I know I’m being honest with myself. And that matters.” he recalls one of your late-night talks.

You usually found it easier to share your most vulnerable thoughts once you were thoroughly fucked and satiated. When Joel held you in his arms, your breaths almost shared over the same pillow, your scents and your fluids mixed together.

“We’re all imperfect beings, flawed; we all feel embarrassed when we fuck up,” you continue, “it’s hard to admit our mistakes to others, I get that. But deep down we always know what we’re doing and why we’re doing it. Admitting it only helps us to be present in our lives.”

“Be present?”, Joel seems fascinated by the way your mind weaves your thoughts together into deeply rooted beliefs.

“Yes, my love, there's no greater freedom than to live your life truthfully.” you smile at him, softly. Your sleepy eyes roam his face affectionately. Your fingertips caress his jawline, your thumb pressing lightly against the bare patch of his beard. He can feel your devotion pouring from your fingers and sinking into his skin at that moment.

“That’s one of my greatest fears, you know. Living my life in ignorance, in a lie.”, you whisper your deepest insecurity against his soft lips. His hold on you tightens as he rolls you onto your back, nestling his hips between your welcoming thighs. You are safe in these arms. His arms. You surrender to him, body and soul. You can feel his growing erection pressing between your folds, already wet from your combined releases. He tenderly brushes his lips against yours and slowly licks his way into your parted mouth, as he intertwines his fingers with yours. He enters you in one fluid, slow thrust, his warm exhale cooling your wet lips. “Then let me give you something real.”

Thinking back to those moments, Joel couldn't reconcile himself to the fact that he was the one who had brought that fear of yours to life. What broke him was that it was not a lie. Your life together had not been a lie. He loved you. In fact, he was burning up for you. He was a man of control, but not with you. Never with you. You consumed his every thought; being around you for too long made his lungs constrict in pain, begging for a deep breath. Sometimes he was worried sick that if he completely let himself love you like he needed to, he would suffocate you. He loved you. And it killed him that his actions suggested otherwise.

But at some point he had to be honest with himself. He was just protecting his ego. He was trying to get the upper hand out of a shitty, compromising situation. He wasn't being thoughtful, he was being selfish. He was biding his time. He thought the longer he left ‘it’ untouched, the less it would hurt when the inevitable time of confrontation came. He was scared out of his mind that he would lose you forever. No second chances, no redemption, no reconciliation.

No lingering scent on his pillow as your hair pools there, under his chin, as you nestle your face between his neck and shoulder, breathing him in. No laughter through the enormous house, damn, why did he build it so big; you never clarified what the disbelief in your eyes meant when he said he built this house for you, while he pulls you up on your feet for a silly cowboy dance.

No more gentle touches, no more noses brushing together as a silent goodbye in the kitchen before you rush off to work. No more turning around just before you open the door to leave, running to him like a little girl, giving him quick, hungry pecks on the lips while he laughs on your mouth, squeezes your butt cheek and slaps it playfully to say goodbye. Later, baby, he would promise you, his teeth nipping at your earlobe and he could feel your skin crawling with anticipation.

No more I love yous, either breathed, either whispered, either panted, as he makes a home for himself inside your warmth.

When did he fuck you last? He used to have you every day. You craved it every day. You craved him. Why did he stop telling you he loved you every chance he got? When was the last time you said it?

A week before that fateful night, when you touched him longingly, aching for him to touch you back and he told you he had work to do, he wasn’t a teenager anymore. Why the hell did he say that? Why did he sit there and watch the light fading from your eyes? I love you, you said with a sigh against his temple and walked out of his office defeated. Why did you say that? Did you know? Did you suspect? Why didn’t you fight him? You should have said something, anything, pushed him, punched him in the chest, woken him up. Would he have woken up? Or did he need that to come to his senses? Does he have to fall? Does this falling ever stop? Does he have to let you go? Will you come back to him? Does he deserve you?

Days blurred seamlessly into one another. Joel drifted further and further away from everyone. The house haunted him, all the progress he was making within the therapy walls was dissipating once he stepped inside the cold space of his empty house. Leaving the confines of it was his first thought in the morning, while he hurriedly dressed to go to his office far earlier than necessary and his last when he closed his eyes, as he laid his weary limbs on the couch, chasing still your now long gone scent on its fabric, knowing another sleepless night was his only companion until the first rays of sunlight hit the floor-to-ceiling windows to announce the beginning of another day.

People at work tiptoed around him, not knowing how to act. It was as if he was there, but not really. He was focused solely on the Marks project, mechanically going through board meetings, paperwork and supervising the construction site. He. Just. Wasn’t. There.

Joel, will you please sign the papers?

He simply stares at the text message for a good full minute, his thumbs hovering over the screen of his phone. This was one of the rare occasions you had initiated communication with him, always about the progress of the divorce.

No, no, I won’t, the little toddler in him screams, stamping his little feet on the ground.

The papers are not ready.

Joel texts back. He keeps it simple, frightened he might not get an answer back.

Joel, we both know they are. I don’t want any of your assets or your money; this is an easy signature, please.

An easy signature? You think he cares about the houses, or the cars, or the money?

You know I can’t accept that. The house is yours and so is a good part of the money.

The point was to share this house together, Joel, don’t you think us splitting up kind of defeats the purpose? And what on earth makes you think I would ever want to go back in there?

So, there’s nothing I can do to make this easier for you?

Easier? You think money or property can make up for what you’ve done?

Of course not, I wasn’t implying anything like that. Just wanna do something for you, anything.

Can you turn back time?

Of course, he can't. So, he doesn't know what to say to that. He just keeps staring at the screen, lost in thought. After 2 minutes another text follows.

?

You know I can’t..

Sign the papers. Please.

“Is there anything in particular you want to talk about today, or should I take the lead?”

“Actually I’ve been thinking a lot about that night.”, Joel suggests for the first time. He usually lets the therapist decide where to steer the conversation, then simply refuses to elaborate until he feels ready to talk.

“What about it?”, he shifts his gaze from the window to the direction of her voice.

“I should probably rephrase that. I’m always thinking about that night, repeating it in my head again and again and I’m troubled by something I realized.”

His therapist nods to signal that she's listening.

“Why did she just leave? The more I think about it, the more it doesn’t make sense to me. She just left. No shouting, no breaking things, no attacking either me or-”, her. “Why she didn’t stay? Why she didn’t insist that I leave? She was just- so quiet.”

The therapist smiles in recognition of Joel's near breakthrough. They were beginning to get somewhere, his empathy nudging him under the surface.

“I'm really glad you mentioned that, Joel, so I'd like to take you back to that night and try to understand what might have been going through your wife's mind at that moment," she explains.

“So, she walks into the house, finds her safe space violated by her husband, and she chooses to handle the situation calmly and quietly-” Joel tries to stop her, but she already knows what he's going to ask. “I can't tell you why she chose that path, that's for her to answer, only she knows why.” His therapist continues, “She is making one request of you and one request only, can you tell me what it is?”

“She asked me to leave the house.”

“Hmhm.” the therapist looks at him expectantly.

“I just wanted to talk to her.”, Joel elaborates, “I thought that if I refused to leave, she would accept to listen to me.”

“So you forced your needs on her, while she was in a particularly fragile state of mind.”

“I should have made my intentions clearer, you mean?”

“I mean, that maybe you shouldn’t have had any expectations in the first place. Why do you think was so important to you, to explain yourself right at that moment?”

“Because I knew it was probably the last time I would see her for a while, I just wanted to ease her pain, why is that so wrong? Should I be indifferent? Would that be better?”

“Did it ever occur to you that you might be depriving her of her right to choose?” Come on, Joel, break some eggs.

Joel now begins to make connections. He rubs his hand over his face, the realization of what has really happened crushing him. “Oh, god, I-” He's been so selfish from the start. He hasn't shown you any respect, not even at this delicate moment. He didn't give you a choice as to whether you wanted to listen to him or not. He didn't even let you choose where you wanted to stay. He just made you leave the house. Did he make you believe he wanted you to leave? That he wanted her to stay? Because he didn’t. Fuck. “-I never thought about it like that.”

Fuck.

How could he be so blind? Why was he so blind?

His therapist insisted on it. Because no matter how much progress Joel made over the course of a year, he never revealed the true reason behind his infidelity.

“Joel, we’ve talked about a lot of things; you’ve tried really hard to make this all about your wife and about understanding what she was feeling and how your actions have affected her, but as I keep reminding you”, she smiles understandingly, “you’re the one in therapy, you need to heal your wounds before you even attempt to heal hers. And although it is in fact a really noble thought, this” she gestures between them, “can only work if you do it for yourself. I know it may sound selfish, but I promise you, it is not. It is the exact opposite.”

Fuck.

“Yeah?”, his voice hoarse from sleep as he answers the door after the insistent knock at it. Tommy looks at him surprised once he opens it, “You’re sleeping, already?”. No, he wasn’t. He wouldn’t call it that. But when he goes almost a week without any proper rest, passing out is the right word for what he’s doing. “Yeah, I guess I dosed off..” Joel lies. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.” Tommy responds as he squeezes himself through the door to enter the house. “Yeah, sure, come on in.”, Joel mutters under his breath. “You just saw me at work this morning, is everything all right?”

“I just came to check on you.” Tommy confesses uncomfortably.

“You could have called.”

“Would you have answered?” Tommy deadpans.

Touché.

“Tell Maria I’m fine, Tommy, no need to worry about me; go spend the night where it counts.”, Joel replies in an attempt to push him away, as he walks farther into the house, rounding the kitchen island.

“Hey, brother, I’m here, I am here for you.” Tommy’s eyes narrow in pain and concern as he stares at his sibling's back, following behind him.

Joel exhales hard through his nose, his grip tight as he grabs the edges of the counter, his head lowering between his shoulder blades.

“You shouldn’t, nobody should.” Joel sighs, rubbing the pads of his fingers across his forehead.

“Ok, that’s enough.” Tommy snaps at him. “Enough self-loathing, enough resignation. Enough. You’ve punished yourself enough.”

Joel laughs at that. “Is that right? Is it enough for you? What about her?” he asks, his head turned to the side, looking at his brother over his shoulder.

“What?” Tommy is genuinely confused.

Joel turns his back, resting his waist on the edge of the counter, now looking straight at Tommy. “I should have what? Just get on with my life? Let it all be water under the bridge? Disrespect her even more?”

“Jesus..” Tommy mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand, the other resting on his hip, his eyes shut in frustration.

“Are you doing this for her? Does she even know that?”

“It doesn’t matter, Tommy!” Joel raises his voice, exasperated. “I’m not doing this for her, I’m not doing anything for her, apparently and that’s the problem.”, his voice breaks, the lump in his throat too big to push down. “She’s not here anymore, Tommy.” he’s standing fully on his feet now, pushing himself away from the counter, leaning slightly forward, like he’s trying to make his brother understand; his eyes are glazed, Tommy had never seen him so devastated before. “She’s gone. I’ve lost her.”, his palms clenched in fists in front of his chest, resisting the urge to wrap them around his shirt and rip it to shreds, as he wants to do with his heart.

“I thought therapy was working..” Tommy whispers, his eyes dropping to the floor beneath him.

“Oh, it’s working, all right!” Joel chuckles in irony, sniffing his nose. “I’m getting a front-row seat, witnessing what a piece of shit I am-”

“Hey!” Tommy tries to cut him off.

“-what on earth was she doing with me to begin with, is beyond me.”

“HEY!” Tommy's eyes bulge out of his sockets, angry at his brother's self-deprecating words. Joel bends his waist forward, puts his elbows on the island in front of him and lets his head sink in again.

“Ok.” Tommy breathes deeply to ground himself, his hands in a position of a prayer in front of his mouth, “Ok, we could both use a drink.” he realizes, as he moves to open the cupboard to grab two tumblers and the whiskey from the shelf with the drinks. “..or five.”

The two brothers drink their first round in silence, both calming their nerves down. Tommy refills their glasses without asking; he knows this is going to be a long night.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” Tommy begins, pushing Joel’s drink back towards him. Joel wringles his brows in confusion, “What are you talking about? You’re always there for me.”

“No, I haven’t, not really.” Tommy admits, “I let Maria take over when all this happened and I’m sorry.”

“There was nothing you could do, Tommy, don’t sweat it.”

“Let me say this, please.” Tommy raises his hand, his palm facing his brother. “I was just- fuck, we all knew how much you loved her, how much you loved each other, so when it all went down, I just didn’t know how to deal with it. What to say to you, how to comfort you. I didn't know how to deal with you.”

“You blamed me.” Joel says matter-of-factly.

“No-”, Tommy weakly refuses but Joel shakes his head dismissively, interrupting him. “It’s ok, Tommy, you should.”

Tommy looks embarrassed, his cheeks slightly pinkish, not only from the whiskey. “It’s just that I- I couldn’t reconcile the image of the man you were with her, with.. you know..”, he stutters.

“..the image of a cheater. Say it.” Joel adds.

Tommy shakes his head, like he still can't believe what's happened. “Besides, while she was staying with us those first few weeks I saw how devastated she was, man- she was a shell of a woman, so I was confused, I didn’t know how-”

“Tommy. Tommy, it’s fine.” Joel feels his skin crawl visualizing you like that in his head, cutting his brother off once again; he deserves every ounce of mistrust and he knows it.

“No, it’s not.” Tommy insists. “Yes, you fucked up. Brother, you really did. You did a number on her-”, Joel’s body tenses instantly at his brother’s words, his jaw clenching as his eyes darken, moving down to his hands, his grip on the tumbler tightening, his knuckles turning white and Tommy stops abruptly, “shit, sorry, I didn’t mean-”, his face twitches with regret.

“It’s the truth. That’s exactly what I did.” Joel’s gaze seems detached as if he's somewhere else right now.

“What I meant to say, is that I should have been there for you in spite of what has happened. I can see you're suffering, it's taking its toll on you, it has been for some time now; tell me what I can do. How can I help you?” Tommy seems almost desperate, like he’s the one in need of redemption.

Your text flashes through his mind, can you turn back time?, making him smile bitterly.

“Can you turn back time?” Joel's repeating your question and as the words leave his mouth he can feel your presence next to him. That's the most he felt of you for the last three years. He's almost blissful.

“You know I can't.” Tommy sighs. Joel laughs earnestly, the irony of the moment too good not to appreciate.

“Joel, brother, please, just talk to me. Help me understand. You act like you’re the one who’s been cheated on. So, what happened? Why did you do it?” Tommy is pleading with him to give him anything.

Silence fills the room for much longer than either of them would like. Joel feels torn between telling his brother everything or keeping his mouth shut. He wants to tell him, he hasn’t told a soul, but he’s not sure he can get the words out. He’s not sure he can bear to hear the words coming out of his mouth. He’s not sure he can substantiate it, make it real. Because that’s how it feels. He talks about it and it becomes real.

But maybe this is the right thing to do. That’s what needs to be done. He needs to talk about it. He needs to tell the truth and admit the pain he’s caused. Make it real for you, too. Perhaps it is time for him to give you what is rightfully yours. Acknowledgment.

Joel’s made up his mind. He’s gonna talk to Tommy. He lifts his glass to down his drink for some liquid courage, freezing his hand in mid-air as the next words fall from his brother’s mouth. “First of all, who was it?”

“What?” Joel's eyes search Tommy’s through his glass for an explanation.

“Who did you do?”, Tommy clarifies.

Joel feels like he’s been struck by lightning. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Who did you fuck, Joel?”, Tommy begins to feel confused, are they not on the same page here?

“You don’t know?”, Joel can barely speak now, his voice low in shock.

“No one does, not even Maria; she never told anyone.”

You told nobody? Not even your best friend? Why on earth would you do that? Did you feel ashamed? Was it just too much to talk about?

But his brain takes pity on him, helping him for once to understand. He’s connecting the dots while your voice fills the corners of his mind through his memories. His head is swarming with images of you standing in that walk-in closet, remembering what you said the last time he saw you. You’re the one I married, not her. I expected better from you, Joel, not her.

You were right.

It didn’t matter who it was. That is why. He was the one making the choice. He was the one breaking his promises, breaking your trust, breaking your heart; breaking you. He was the one who should have known better. He was the one who should have been honest. Easy in theory, hard in practice.

He feels a fresh wave of pain scattering through his body. He welcomes it. Damn, he’s craving it. He’s glad you chose to withhold the identity of the woman. Not because somehow it’s making it easier for him to defend himself, on the contrary.

There’s no one else to blame. Nobody. Just him. All of the anger, the resentment, the disappointment, all of them on him. He embraces them all. Everything. He will take it all, swallow it down and let it rot inside of him.

Joel tells Tommy everything. Everything, but her name.

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Taglist: @southernbe, @orcasoul, @auteurdelabre

[scarletlizzard]

Part 2: Remembering

Sessions Series

Pairing: psychiatrist Wanda x female reader

Tags Minors DNI: therapy, paranoia, mentions of mental illness, stalker, little cigarettes and drinking at the end

Masterlist

Current Fall 2018

"How did you sleep?" Wanda asks as she sits in front of you. You shrug, putting your hands in the pocket of your hoodie.

"Not too great. I uh, I sometimes have these dreams. Nightmares really, about that night." You swallow hard and look at the breathtaking woman in front of you. Even casual, in a yellow sweater and jeans, she would always be the most beautiful woman in the room. You blush at your own thoughts.

"You said you don't remember everything about that night?" She asks, you nod. "I believe you're blocking it out, mentally. Suppressing a trauma so hard you can't get yourself to open back up about it."

"So you believe me?"

"Of course, I believe you." Her tone is wavering.

"Every time I have one of these dreams, it reveals little pieces to me," you lean forward. "Maybe I can remember who it was, or more about them."

"But they were wearing a mask?" Wanda asks, making a note. You nod.

"They spoke to me, though.. I'm not sure. Sometimes they feel so close," you sigh, shaking your head. Wanda is still writing.

"And what did your shadow say to you?"

"They told me to run."

Wanda is silent for a moment, her eyes searching yours for something. Did she really believe you? When she had a list of your mental disorders and police forms at her fingertips?

"When your shadow told you to run," She stands and looks to the fire that was burning behind her in the fireplace. Her hands held behind her back. "What did you feel in the moment? What was your first thought?"

"I-I didn't know what to feel. Panic? Fear?" Your cheeks heat up, as you think back to the haunting voice. You were almost too embarrassed to speak. "But after, after the fear sunk in it felt.. exhilarating."

Wanda smiles at the fire, her back still to you. "So in your fear you felt, excitement. For what, why?" She asks thoughtfully, and you're thankful she still had her back to you.

You had thought about this a long time, every day. Why? "My life is the same, every day. The routines, the job, the same bottle of wine. Everything. You know I used to paint?" You ask Wanda. She turns to look at you.

"Really?" She asks with a smile, sitting back down.

"I had some work in an art gallery actually, in the city. Back when I felt.. more alive," you sigh again, looking into her emerald eyes.

"What made you stop?"

"My mom got sick, I had to take care of her. Then she died and I moved here and.. things were never the same."

"Your OCD intensified, essentially trapping yourself in your daily routines."

"That's how it feels, yes," you reply with a nod. Wanda reaches her hand out to rest on your knee. Your skin ignites under her touch.

"We'll bring you back," Wandas words are sure, you find yourself resting your hand on top of hers.

***

Summer 2017

You ran throughout your house, footsteps following close behind you. Before you can close the door to your bedroom, a strong hand reaches out, hitting the wood hard and swinging it wide open. You fall to the ground, heart racing, chest moving rapidly as you crawl backwards. Your shadow steps closer, taking 4 heavy steps towards you.

Another head tilt down at you, examining you. Behind the mask, under the hood, red strands of hair peak out.

***

Current Fall 2018

You stared at the brunette in front of you, a playful glint in her eye. "What?" She asks, leaning forward.

It had been a couple of weeks since your sessions with Wanda had started. Your anxiety had taken a backseat, and the compulsive thoughts in your head were easing. The two of you had even been flirting back and forth even, lingering stares and touches.

Wanda knew it was unprofessional. You knew it wasn't right. But neither of you couldn't help it. Each time she touched you, you felt your skin ignite. Each crooked smile ran up your spine with a shiver of pleasure. You look at her hands and count 4 rings between the two of them.

"Nothing, I really shouldn't say," you chuckle to yourself and sit back against the couch. Wanda grins, twirling one of the rings on her finger.

"No point in being shy now, Y/N. We practically know each others whole lives at this point," She says casually and mirrors you, leaning back in her chair. You think about her words.

"Actually, I don't know much about you, Wanda. I mean, I know some details, but you seem to have the upper hand."

She chuckles and lifts out a hand as if offering to you, "Ask away."

"Where are you from? I notice on some of your words, there's an accent." There's a blush on your face as you think of the way she says your name, her tongue sharp.

"Ah, you caught that, huh? I was born in Sokovia. I've lived here most of my life, though, the American accent kind of snuck in," Wanda thinks fondly of her home, it makes you smile.

"Do you visit often?"

"Not as much as I'd like. Last year, I had to go home for quite a while to help out my brother, Pietro. He got himself into some trouble," Wanda sighs and shakes her head. "We're twins," she smiles.

"Twins! Wow, I'd love to see a picture of the two of you sometime." You think of Wanda being a twin, not being able to imagine he was anything like her. She nods and crosses her legs.

"I'll see if I can find one for your next session," She says with a smile. You nod and smile back politelty.

"What did you do before all this?" You ask her and point to the room around you.

"I lived in the city for a while, actually. But I found something more... worthwhile here." Wanda grins, goosebumps on your arm arise.

There's a comfortable silence, and the fire behind her crackles softly.

"Tell me more about your art," Wanda says, a glimmer in her eye and a warm smile on her face.

"I wasn't good, by any means. But I wasn't bad. I was creative, if anything," you laugh as you think back to your paintings. "There is one hung still, I think, at the gallery I told you about. It's my favorite one. My last one."

"What was it?"

You find yourself laughing hysterically as you think of the painting, leaving Wanda confused. She leans forward to rest a hand on your knee.

You start to sob at her touch.

You think of the large painting that hangs in a gallery. People passing by not realizing it would foreshadow your own current state.

"It's of a beautiful woman.." You speak between cries.

"A woman running from her own shadow."

***

Summer 2017

"What do you want from me? Just leave me alone!" You shout at the figure standing above you, watching as they shake their head.

The shadow kneels down, a gloved hand reaching up to brush their thumb across your lips. Their eyes are hidden behind the white faceless mask, yet you can feel their gaze burning into you.

A spark of adrenaline and excitement fill your own.

"Game on," your shadow says.

***

Current Winter 2018

You awoke quickly in sweat covered sheets, thunder rumbling from outside. You rub your groggy eyes and reach for the nightstand to flick on the lamp. Your hand reaches for the notebook and pen you kept for this reason, and you began writing down your dream.

They were happening more frequently now. The details are becoming clearer each time. You had never felt so close. You were closing in on your shadow.

Yet, everything felt wrong. There was something you were missing. You read and re read the journal the rest of the night.

"How are things going with Wanda?" Natasha asks over lunch. She had invited you out today, hoping to hear some good news.

"Pretty great, actually," you smile at her, not telling her that you were still chasing your shadow. "I've actually started painting again." You look outside the window of the Cafe, seeing snow begin to fall.

"Have you really?" Natasha says in disbelief, but a smile on her face. "I knew this would be good for you! Almost two months and look at the progress you've made.." She beams at you, a guilty feeling rising inside of you.

"I'm having my Christmas party early this year, I'm going to spend actual Christmas at Yelenas this year. You'll be able to come, right?"

"Of course, I wouldn't miss it," you smile, counting 4 snowflakes land on the window.

As you walk home from lunch, the snow beneath your feet crunches with every step. You wrap your arms around yourself, wishing you had worn a warmer jacket, when suddenly you're aware of another set of steps from behind you.

You freeze, standing still. You inhale deeply, then exhale, and slowly turn around... to nothing. Empty air besides the light snow that stuck to the ground below.

Your hand reaches for your phone, dialing Wandas number. "Hello?" She answers on the 4th ring.

"Wanda.. can I come see you?"

"Do you need me to meet you somewhere?"

You look around, still seeing no one.

"No, I'll come to you."

You finish the walk home and grab your notebook and a warmer jacket before driving over to Wandas. When you get there, she's standing on the porch waving to you.

"Y/N, is everything okay?" She asks worridly, putting her arm around you and leading you into the warmth of her home. Wanda gets a fire going and watches as you sit on the floor in front of it. Instead of questioning it, she sits next to you, her warm body pressed next to you.

"What if it isn't real?" You finally admit, staring into the red and orange flames.

"What if what isn't real?" Wanda asks, looking at the notebook you clutched to your chest.

"My shadow," you whisper, feeling Wandas hand on your back. "You told me you believed me.. what do you believe?"

There is a silence between the two of you while Wanda sighs. She knew you would eventually ask this question.

"I believe that the mind is an extremely powerful thing. It's capable of persuasion and delusions. It can hide the truth from you.." she trails off, tears fall from your eyes.

She didn't believe your shadow was real.

"You believe... that I believe it's real. Right?" You ask and turn to her. Wanda nods slowly.

All this time spent chasing and running, you were tired. How many innocent people would have to get hurt before you gave up? How many more lies would you have to tell yourself and others?

You held out the notebook to Wanda. Her fingers brush against yours as she takes it from you and opens it up.

"My dreams, of a faceless shadow. That's all it is anymore. I'm done chasing it."

The rest of November passes quickly into December. You were back to your routine, ignoring the paranoid delusions of your mind. You continued your sessions with Wanda, trying to figure out why you had imagined up this person. You took medication. You still locked all the doors and windows. You painted. You dreamed.

***

Summer 2017

When the words came out of your shadows' mouth, you lift your leg, kicking them hard in the stomach and onto their back. You're able to run past them into the hallway, but you're quickly knocked down. Your shadow climbs on top of you, pinning your hands to the floor and straddling your stomach.

The two of you breathe heavily, adrenaline coursing your veins. "Such a pretty little mouse.." The shadow whispers.

***

Winter 2018

The party has long started by the time you walk in, a bottle of rum in your hand. The house is filled with familiar and unfamiliar faces. People in ugly Christmas sweaters, some in just red or green. You look for Natasha and wish her a Happy Christmas, along with a hug.

"I brought rum," you smile, holding up the bottle.

"Yes! Ugh, you know this is my favorite thank you," she laughs and hugs you again, clearly has already had a few. You decide to catch up with her, taking a few shots and pouring a cup of rum. After a while, the cup is empty, and you find yourself sweating in the heated house, filled with warm bodies.

"I'm gonna step outside," you say to Natasha, who is all but preoccupied with the girl in her lap.

You step out front, sighing in relief as the frigid air hits your skin.

"Alright, there?" A voice sounds, you turn to see Wanda standing in the driveway, leaning against her car. "Nasty habit, I know. I usually only smoke when I drink." She holds up the cigarette, letting out a puff of smoke.

You walk over, soaking in her appearance. "I'm alright.. alcohol goes straight to my head," You chuckle and stand in front of her. The alcohol also boldening you to reach out and take the cigarette from her, putting it between your lips. Wanda watches with playful eyes, putting a hand in her pocket. You take a slow drag, blowing into the air between you and handing it back to her.

Wanda wets her lips, shaking her head as she takes it back from you. "You're something else, you know that?" She says in a husky voice. You can smell a hint of vodka and mint coming from her as she leans closer. Your hands rest on her chest, tugging on her jacket. A familiar excitement swells in your chest.

The cigarette is tossed into the wet snow, her hands moving to wrap around your lower back. "I'm probably crazy," you whisper to her, a smirk on your face. Wanda chuckles and leans closer.

"I can deal with crazy," She whispers back, taking your bottom lip in between her teeth. Your blood runs hot, and you let out a small moan at the feeling. Wanda wastes no time connecting her lips to yours, both of you in familiar territory as your tongues sloppily twist together. Her grip is stronger than you remember as she pulls you against her chest.

"Your place?" You mumble into the kiss, not wanting to fully part. Wands hums and continues to kiss you. You feel her lips pull up into another crooked smile.

"Let's go," Wanda says after she finally pulls herself away from your lips, her green eyes darker than you had ever seen them before.

Goosebumps cover your skin. Everything in your body tells you to run. The feeling of your shadow was looming over the two of you.

You look to the house, then to the gorgeous brunette in front of you. There was no doubt in your mind that you would be going home with her.

[rand0mfangurlstuff]

I'll Look After You - Part 3 Bucky x Y/N

I feel like I'm slowly getting the hang of actually making posts on tumblr. I'm still not great but bare with me. I'm still utterly obsessed with John 'Bucky' Egan and since I'm running out of fics to read I feel I need to make my own. Part 2 kinda got away from me but I think I have a bit more of a clear direction for this now. This includes jealous! Bucky. Enjoy:

When Bucky awoke the next morning, he was dissapointed Y/N was not by his side. He had hoped he would get to see her beautiful face again when he woke up. But the chair was empty and the book left on the bedside table. She must have left once I fell asleep he tought to himself. And who could blame her? That chair hardly looked comfortable. I wonder is she working again today? Maybe she will come by again soon. He looked to the book on the table. The hairpin stuck between the pages told him there was still a few more chapters left to read. His chest swelled with hope. She might come back again tonight. Bucky thought about relaxing into the small hospital bed and being comforted by her beautiful voice once more. As he imagined that gorgeous voice, he heard it from a short distance away. Almost as if he had magically made her appear. He couldnt see her, thanks to that godforsaken curtain; but it was her. He heard her melodic laugh. Who is she talking to? Whats so funny? Bucky couldn't help it. Suddenly he felt.. jealous. Why on earth would he feel jealous? Because he wanted to be the once to make her laugh. Thats why. But Bucky did his best to quell those jealous thoughts. She was probably just talking to one of the other nurses.

'I couldnt help it, I just started spewing everywhere!' It was awful.' Bucky knew that voice. That was not a nurses voice. 'Oh Major Crosby, why on earth did you become a flight navigator if you suffered from air sickness!' She said in between giggles. Crosby. Crosby was making her laugh. Well at least she was laughing at him. 'I didnt know I suffered from it till I was already in the air! You gotta help me Y/N, I need more of the stuff the doc gave me but he's not back till Monday!' 'Okay, okay, here you go.' 'Thanks Y/N I really appreciate it.' 'No problem Major.' Bucky heard footsteps, then Croz's voice again. 'Y/N?' 'Yes Major?' 'Please, call me Harry. I was just wondering if I could pay you back, for the pills?' 'Oh theres no need Harry.' 'I know, but I want to thank you properly. Are you working tonight?' 'No, thankfully for the first night in what feels like weeks I'm off for the night.' Bucky's heart sank at this news. There goes his plans of a lovely nights sleep. 'Oh great! Theres a dance on tonight in the main hall, are you going?' 'I hadn't thought about it, but I guess it would be fun!' 'Oh great, well I'll buy you a drink there, to thank you.' 'That's very kind Maj- Harry. I'll see you there.' 'Great! I'll see you there Y/N!'

Bucky's blood boiled. Croz was going to be at the dance with Y/N. Croz couldnt even dance! She would have a terrible time with him. It should be Bucky buying her drinks and sweeping her off of her feet. Not Croz. Pukes-a-lot Croz. If only his ribs would hurry up and heal. Then he could go to the dance and show her a real good time. Bucky tested himself, trying to get out of bed. It was painful, but maybe managable? Just as his first socked foot hit the ground, the curtain swung open and there she was, Y/N.

She went to Bucky's cubile to find he was already getting to his feet. 'Haha! Great minds really do think alike! I was just about to get you for physical therapy.' Bucky looked at her like he was caught with his pants round his ankles. 'Physical therapy?' he questioned. He sat at the edge of his bed, one to look 'non-chalant' and two because he was afraid his legs would gave in from under him with the pain in his side. She smiled at him 'Yeah, didnt the doctors tell you? It's about time we get you up and moving Major! Cant expect you to be in the air if you cant even be on the ground. Come on.' She stepped close to him and held out her hands, waiting for him to take them. He stared. 'Come on, lets go for a walk.' He did want to, but he felt angry. How could she be so kind and nice and smile so beautifully at him when she had just agreed to a date with Crosby. He looked at her, eyes shining and smiling a smile that could probably wrap even Hitler himself around her finger. He gave in and put his hands in hers. It was electric. He never wanted to let go of her perfect, soft hands. He didnt think it was possible, but her smile grew even bigger. Maybe she feels it too. This connection between us. She stepped back, giving him room to stand. He towered over her. She looked up at him, and all Bucky wanted to do was kiss her. All her had to do was bend his neck a bit, tilt his head to the side slightly, and his lips would be on hers. But no, she was Crosbys girl. He was the one going to kiss her. His blood started boiling again at the thought. 'Lets get this over with.' He said with a scowl. The sooner this was over, the sooner he would hopefully be able to stop thinking about her. As if I could ever think of anything but her. He thought. Her smile faltered, not expecting him to be anything other than his charming self.

They made it to the hallway, their steps slow and steady so not to hurt Bucky too much. Y/N tried to be encouraging, often praising him at how well he was doing. But Bucky barely responded. Eventually, she decided the silence was too much. 'Whats your favourite type of cake?' she asked. 'What?' he looked at her confused. 'Cake! Mines chocolate. I absolutely love chocolate cake. Whats your favourite?' 'I don't have a favourite type of cake.' he said. 'You like them all then huh? That's fair. If I'm honest I like all kinds of cake. Except carrot. Carrot and cake should not mix. Everything else is great -' 'I really don't care for or about cake!' Bucky snapped. As soon as he said the words he regretted it. Her bright smile vanished, and she physically recoil from him. She put as much distance between them as she could. Deciding she no longer needed to hold his hands. He immediatly missed the warmth of her hands in his. Longed to grab them back and never let tem go. 'I think you're okay with walking. Turn around back to your bed. I'll be behind you if you need me.' Bucky didnt know what to say, so he just turned around and slowly walked back to his bed. She was right on his heels though, being a good nurse and making sure nothing happened to him. He could sense her hand hovering over his shoulder, ready to catch him if he faltered. She never said a word though. Bucky wanted to break the awkward silence, but how? He had no idea what to say. She helped him back to bed and made a quick exit. 'Anoher nurse will be around later for evening rounds. I'm done for the day.' Without another word she walked off. Bucky cursed himself. He was a dick to her even though she was always kind to him. He would be pushing her even further into Crosby's arms now.

The day turned into evening, the evening into night. Everyone else in the infrimary was asleep, but not Bucky. He didnt know what was keeping him from slumber; the thought of nightmares or the thought of her and Crosby at the dance. Y/N and Croz at that dance is my worst nightmare. Bucky realised. What if they're dancing? He's a terrible dancer. I would be far better at dancing with her. What if they're slow dancing. What if he holds her a little too closely? What if he kisses her? Bucky tried to stop his racing mind before he had a stroke. He looked at the book again. Exactly where she left it. He didnt even want to read it. He knew the story word-for-word by now. He just wanted to hear her read it. That wasnt going to be happening tonight.

Y/N was enjoying the dance. The music was great, and everyone was in good spirits celebrating someones 25th mission. Harry was ever the gentlemen, buying her a drink and making sure she was okay. She liked Harry. He was kind, funny and charming, dispite his issues with air sickness that everyone cruely made fun of him for. She sat at a table with some of the other nurses and a few soldiers. 'Would you like another drink?' Harry asked her, noticing her empty glass. 'Oh I'm fine, thank you Harry.' 'How about a dance?' his hopeful smile was too much for her. 'I'd love to.' They made their way to the dance floor, a lively jazz song being played by the band. Harry wasnt the best dancer, but he had fun and made her have fun too, which was the most important part.

After their dance, Y/N needed to catch her breath. It was then she looked up at the clock and saw the time. 'I didnt realise it was so late! I better get going.' 'I'll walk you home.' Harry said, holding out his elbow to her. 'Oh thats very kind Harry, but theres no need. I'm going to head to the infirmary to check on some patients before I go to bed. You stay with they guys and enjoy the party.' 'Are you sure?' Y/N could sense some dissapointment in his tone, but chose to ignore it with a warm smile. 'I'm sure. Enjoy yourself.' She gave him a kiss on the cheek, and headed for the door. JUst as she was about to leave, she remembered she was meant to grab something...

At midnight he was still awake. He knew the party would be ending soon. He thought of Crosby walking Y/N home. Ever the gent. What if he tried to kiss her? would she accept his kiss? He hoped not. What if she did? He couldnt help picture Harry Crosby with his hands on Y/N, kissing. Hands moving to places he would sell his soul to touch. He was fit to scream. He couldnt hack it. Just when he was about to bang his head against the wall to rid himself of the terrifying mental images, he heard a voice. 'I'm not too late am I?' I'm hallucinating, Bucky thought. The pain meds must be very strong tonight. Y/N stood at the foot of his bed. Wearing a beautiful red dress, hair in flowing waves. Red lipstick he would love to smudge. 'What are you doing here? Weren't you at the dance?' She smiled, 'I was, but when it was almost over I thought I'd come check on you. Not that you deserve it. You were very cranky earlier.' 'I'm sorry Y/N I-' she cut him off 'There's no need to appologise. Physical therapy can be very difficult. Your body has been through a lot it's okay if it takes time to recover.' She was a literal angel. After how poorly he treated her, she still showed him so much empathy. More than he deserved. Even after her date with Croz, here she was checking in on him. 'Thank you. There's no need to check on me though. I'm fine. You should head back.' She moved closer while pulling a paper bag from behind her back. 'The dance is over now. Besides, I think theres about two chapters of Great Gatsby left. I brought some treats for us to eat while we read it.' She pulled out two small pieces of cake from the bag, white frosting on each piece with jam in the middle. 'You wouldn't tell me what kind of cake you liked, turns out it didnt matter because by the time I got to it this was all that was left anyway.' Cake? She had brought him cake? She was at the dance, with another man, and she thought about bringing him cake in the middle of the night? Bucky almost cried. 'You didn't have to do that, thank you. That's very kind.' She looked at the chair next to his bed. Her back already hurt before she even sat on it. 'Do you mind moving over a little? That chair is horrendous.'

Bucky was sure he heard her wrong. She wanted to sit in the bed with him? He stuttered out a response as he slowly moved as much as he could in the small bed. 'Sure, be my guest.' She sat beside him with her back againt the headboard. The sides of their bodies touching from their shoulders to their ankles. If Bucky's heart wasnt racing before, it was now. She handed him his piece of cake and picked up the book. 'It was when curiosity about Gatsby was at its highest that the lights in his house failed to go on one Saturday night....' She read to him, occasionally taking a break to bite into her cake. They sat like that, eating and reading, with Bucky never taking his eyes off of her beautiful face. Slowly, his tired eyes fluttered closed. He dreamed of cake, Gatsby's mansion, and her.

[fragmentating]

Honestly not much radicalized me in regards to bodily autonomy the way being a chronic selfharmer for 10+ years has. And one of those things that really are so awful to deal with is a lack of privacy.

When I go inpatient and they ask me if I have wounds, and I answer honestly, they dont just write that down. They make me undress and show each single one, otherwise I wont be "processed" and let into my room.

In the underage psych ward I was in they would sometimes search the rooms of known selfharmers while we were away at a therapy appointment, or seeing family in the visitation room, etc. They wouldn't tell you. They would lie about it if you asked about it. But all your shit had been moved around slightly, enough for observant people to notice. If they found blades, or any other sharp object regardless of it you had used it to selfharm though, you would obviously be punished.

One time I cut and went to the nurses for help, I was scared because it had never been that deep before and their response was tossing my room after I had voluntarily given them the two blades i had, while a male nurse kept saying how uncomfortable he was that he "had to" inspect my pads, saying "why would you need that many", ... they had metal detectors. They could've just swiped it across everything. But that wouldn't have been humiliating enough like seeing a nurse dig through my underwear and pads and diary.

Outside of the psych ward, my family kept up a similar approach. They did not search my room at least, knowing it was futile because there were always knifes in the house if I was desperate anyways, and a store down the street that sold razors. But locked doors were my mothers enemy. If I locked my door to masturbate, and she noticed it was locked? She would knock and yell until I opened it. If I simply wanted to relax in a bath but she decided it was suspiciously long ? The same.

When they couldn't catch me in the act but my scars kept getting more and more theyd threaten me with being hospitalized again.

When the hospital ER would send me to the closed ward for cuts that had nothing to do with suicidal ideation, but they decided I must be lying because it was deep enough, no matter how often I said I simply "messed up" because of adrenaline and blades that were sharper than expected. They had no legal ground to lock me up again but who cares, right. Its just one of those freaks who cuts themselves anyways.

And none of this kept me safe. None of this prevented me from cutting majority of the time. It made me distrust the ER. It made me distrust nurses. It made me hide my body even around my family. And when it did momentarily work I simply started harming myself in other ways. I ended up covered in bruises, with minor concussions, increasingly starving myself, depriving myself of sleep, ...

No one ever went "let's really try to figure out why you do this." Instead they went "why the fuck wont you just chew some bubble gum and roll a spikey ball on the soles of your feet you depressed fuck" or some shit like bro I am being severely traumatized by the world and this is my reaction. It's all "you are the problem".

And as an adult whos decided that I'm not interested in quitting, who "only" practices harm reduction I know that absolutely no one wants to accept that as a choice I should be allowed to make. Doesnt matter that I'm an expert at taking care of wounds and I have not had a single infection in 10+ years aside from once on wounds that got fucking stitched at the hospital. that I actively do my best to avoid lasting damage. That I try to keep the frequency low. They put me through years of surveillance and shame and threats without ever trying to see the root cause, only ever treat me as a bratty problem child who's being difficult just to fuck with them, and can not understand why that wouldn't make me want to stick to the goals they have set for me.

Therapists genuinely lose their mind when I tell them I don't want ~sobriety~ I just want to reduce harm and get on with my life. Their teachings do not allow for this to be but a short term compromise. I do not care.

[watercolor-hearts]

George said it's mental health day today, and since I'm bad at remembering the dates of important days, I, sadly, don't have anything new in mental health related topics I can show you but I still wanted to make a post about it because mental health is important and I have a story/universe about mental health issues and it's very important to me. ❤

In Sickness and In Health is about Seb and his depression, it's his healing journey with Kimi. This is not the usual multi-chapter story, it's more like a universe I sometimes write stories to. Happy and sad moments of their jouney.

Part 1 • Tumblr link • Ao3 link

Sebastian didn't plan it to be like this. He didn't plan his retirement to be about always being at home, not wanting to get out of bed and not having any motivation. He wanted to take up hobbies and work on environment-related things but then... Things changed. He didn't want to get out of bed. When he did get out of bed, he didn't want to go out. He just wanted to go back to bed. He felt tired. He couldn't sleep because it wasn't physical tiredness. It was mental. He just wanted to lay there and... exist.

[Trigger warnings at the beginning of each post/in the notes. Please read them before reading the story because there are some heavy topics.]

Part 2 • Tumblr link • Ao3 link

When it was sure Seb was asleep, Kimi covered him with a blanket that was on the top of the couch. When everything was done and the blanket was covering Seb everywhere from his neck to his toes, giving him the much-needed comfort, was the time when Kimi decided to nap for a bit too. He knew his back would be dead if he slept there but, to be honest, the only thing he cared about was his lover on top of him, sleeping peacefully; a calm moment after all the storms of the last few weeks, even months. Therapy sessions, arguments, struggles with the food he was supposed to eat, and long nights filled with crying; it wasn’t easy. It’s never easy but now there’s always light at the end of the tunnel. The winter slowly turned into spring, the birds started to chirp and the sun started showing its rays again. People say the sun helps when you’re sad or feel down. Maybe a walk outside in the sunshine could help, Kimi thought before drifting off as well. Maybe the sunshine will help his Sunshine to find himself again.

A little extra moment • Tumblr link • Ao3 link

“You know you can always listen to my heart, right?” Kimi broke the silence, making Seb open his eyes. “Or just feel it. You can. Any time. If it helps.” “Really?” Seb asked, lifting his head to look at Kimi. “I mean... I have it. All the time. So yeah,” Kimi smiled, making Seb smile as well, “You can always ask for a hug or a cuddle, or if that's too much you can just put your hand on my chest or feel my pulse on my wrist or wherever you want to, really. If I can help you simply by existing, why wouldn't I do it? I want you to be okay. I want you to be happy.”

And an illustration I made of two scenes of this universe: Tumblr link • Ao3 link

If you've read the stories and liked them, don't be afraid to comment or send an ask with your favorite parts of it. You can even ask about the stories/universe or send ideas for future stories. I'm always open to readers' suggestions because I want to write the moments from this journey the readers most interested in. 😊

[I already have an ask with a few ideas in my inbox and I hope I can write them as soon as possible. Sorry Nyx for making you wait so much. ❤ — Thank you for the ideas again.]

And please don't forget to take care of yourselves and don't be afraid to ask for help when things become too much. It doesn't worth not telling it to anyone and suffering silently. Asking for help is never a weakness. ❤

[alizardbro]

I trust medical science, I believe in treating disease and that vaccines work, but I do not trust doctors. When I was 15 I started experiencing chronic pain in my left foot, shortly after I had a plantar wart removed from that foot. I went to my pediatrician and he said that it was normal to have a little pain after surgery, and he dismissed me when I told him it was more than "a little pain".

Months went by and the pain only kept getting worse, and now it had spread to my right foot. I went back to my pediatrician and told him that it felt like my feet were on fire and that I was having pins and needles almost all the time. He told me that it was plantar fasciitis, and that if I do some stretching it will get better.

More months went by and now I was 16, the pain had spread up both my legs and was only getting worse. Again I went to my pediatrician and begged him to help me, but he told me that I was just overweight, and that if I lost 20 lbs I'd feel a lot better.

Another 6 months went by, the pain had spread to my hips and lower back. It was a burning agonizing pain that was constant, I could barely walk most days and never without a cane. I asked my parents to go to the doctor again, but they pointed out that the doctor said that I just needed to lose weight. I told them that the pain was unbearable, that I needed more than weight loss, but they said that I had a tendency to be over dramatic about illness.

More time passed and now I was 17. The pain was so bad that I couldn't sleep through the night anymore, even with my psych meds I was on to help me sleep. I as passing out and throwing up from the pain now, and it had spread to just below my chest. It was horrifying to feel the pain slowly crawl up my body. I finally convinced my parents to take me to the doctor again, and the doctor told me that he would have me tested for a few autoimmune disorders. I went in for bloodwork, and a week later it all came back normal. My parents and pediatrician were very confused when I got upset at this news, because this meant that I was healthy and that their suspicions of me being dramatic were confirmed.

3 months went by before I told my parents that I couldn't take it anymore, and demanded to see my doctor again. My pediatrician was about to write me off again as just fat, but I told him that I needed a referral or else I would take action. Magically I had a referral to a rheumatologist.

I went and saw the pediatric rheumatologist a few weeks later. He looked me over and did some mobility tests, and diagnosed me with AMPS or Amplified Musculoskeletal Pain Syndrome. I was told to do physical therapy and that if I stick to a routine of physical therapy and desensitization therapy, I should recover completely or almost completely. My dad was very pleased to hear this, a cure for my condition was all my parents wanted, my pain had been inconveniencing and embarrassing them for long enough. 

I went to physical therapy multiple times a week, I did the desensitization therapy multiple times daily, no matter how agonizing it was. Eventually I was "done" with physical therapy, my balance had improved a lot, but my pain hadn't. My pain had only continued to get worse. I told my parents this, but it was clearly only because I wasn't working hard enough. "Are you doing your home physical therapy?" "Are you doing your stretching in the morning?" "You just need to push through it" 

After I turned 18 I started doing research on my condition, and apart from the pain, none of my symptoms matched AMPS. I told my parents this and pediatrician this, ut again they were very dismissive. After doing a lot of research I've come to the conclusion that I have CRPS or Complex Regional Pain Syndrome. I will never get better, I will never not be in pain, and I knew that, I always knew that.

A lot of pediatric doctors put their head in the sand when I young person (especially a female presenting young person) tells them they're in pain. They tell the parents what they want to hear and don't actually try to help you. As soon as I'm able to, I'm going to find someone who will help me. Hopefully once I get an official diagnosis things will finally get better.

[b-lessings]

Beh.. Bismillahirrahmanirrahim..

I do not know where to start the storytelling session from, but here is the brief version, 8 years ago I got accepted in a master's degree, I was happy, proud, excited, you name it.. but I was in a different phase of my life where my priorities weren't straight, and I sorta did things for the wrong reasons, but that's not the point. After studying and passing the first 2 years it was time to work on my research and write the MA dissertation thesis.. which took me about 2 years of wasted time, and I missed all the deadlines and ended up quitting and leaving the program without graduating. It was one of the hardest times it in my life. I only have one description for it: Painful. When I was trying to work on my research I was utterly and completely lost. I struggled with crippling anxiety, I wasn't sleeping or living properly, I was way under rock bottom. I remember the nights where I tried to force myself to study or write something, my arms would hurt and freeze on me, I couldn't even move my fingers on the keyboard, and I would end up crying myself to sleep. I watched my days slip away, my classmates making progress and me falling behind.. I still remember the pages of " pros and cons " on my diary that I filled with reasons trying to ease my pain and convince myself that I didn't need to graduate and that a degree doesn't make you happy. Anyways, let me save you guys the ugly details, long story short, I gave up. It was too painful. I let the rope go. How did I live on with that feeling and with the circumstances? Obviously not healthily. Little did I know back then that it was all a part of Allah's plan and Allah's test for me. Alhamdulillah. That was mid 2018.

A year later, I picked up school again. I enrolled in the master's program all over again, I had already gotten a full time job and still, with Allah's blessings, managed to study and work, pass my exams, improve my grades, and a year and a half later I found myself face to face with the research and the dissertation again, aka, my nightmare. Obviously, my very unstable brain decided to bring back all the psychological damage from last time and live in it. The episode of severe anxiety had begun, I went on antidepressants, I took a leave from work on to focus on research but all I did was procrastinate and cry about it. I know I tend to whine a lot on tumblr but a few of you have been close enough to me to witness the struggle and to see my pain, I am beyond grateful to any one and everyone who ever helped me even with a simple word of encouragement, may Allah swt bless your hearts and grant you pure happiness. Anyways, it was painful as well, except that this time, I did things the right way, with a closer relationship to Allah swt than my 2018 self, and seeking therapy, I was making progress, and obviously when you see yourself making progress it gives you a sensation of reward, you get high on the dopamine and you find the energy to keep going, and to reach the finish line, Alhamdulillah!

And it happened, with Allah's blessings and mercy it happened, with Allah's kindness and generosity it happened, and today, I am a holder of a Master's degree in applied linguistics after a journey of eight whole years!

Now of course shaytan can't see you or let you put your effort in something and work hard on it without trying to shake your self-esteem and distracting you with negative thoughts, like what are you doing? Your friends graduated 4 or 5 years ago. Have you seen how old you are? You couldn't do it last time there is no point in doing it now! It is pointless and your work is very mediocre. You are only wasting your time, blah blah blah.. But the key to break this vicious circle of self-doubt and negative self-talk is to realize the following:

To each their path, to each they journey, according to their own right timing. There is no rule in life that holds us to reach a certain milestone at an exact age or timing. To each their own experiences, and each person blooms differently, which is beautiful. There are 7.7 billion people in the world, do you think they all have the same goal or the same definition of success? do you think they all graduated by the age of 22 or 25? How many people do you even think got to go to college? It is not a fixed template that we have to all adjust our lives to. Absolutely not. Do not compare your journey to anyone else's!!! Walk your own path, with your own steps, write your own story!

And remember, it is okay to try again. It is okay to start over. It is never too late. You are gonna make it, the way you are supposed to make it and not the way other people made it. Success looks different from one person to the other. What works well for you does not necessarily work out for others. And if you fail? That's okay! Trial and error is a part of the learning process. Making mistakes is what makes us human, and perseverance is what makes us superhuman.

Writing this with all the love in the world. May Allah swt bless your journey and grant you the strength and patience to keep going. May Allah swt grant you success in this duniyah and the akhirah.

- A.Z. 🍃

[mypunkpansexualtwin]

This is a big one, going under a cut for several paragraphs of introspection and some brief mention of my last suicide attempt.

Hell of a thing, realizing this time last year was about the start of my Nuclear RSD Spiral that ultimately led to me trying to go play chicken with a freight train back in February with half a bottle of rum and a handful of sleep meds in my stomach to make sure I didn't flinch. Obviously I didn't, but I did get far enough that I had to drag my drunk ass off the train tracks and go stumbling back home to have the rest of my meltdown in peace and un-queue the suicide note I'd had prepped since last November. Fun stuff, crazy to think about.

Especially considering how I'm doing now that I've had the necessary wake up call from that whole situation and have finally started internalizing "hey, letting people see you hurting and hoping they'll decide you've suffered enough to deserve help is not the same as communicating your needs. Talk to people before it gets to your usual Talk About It After You Tried To Off Yourself About It. If it gets to this point again, next time won't be an attempt." (Fun stuff, lots to thank my grandparents for.)

And now I've got the right medication combo to help me keep an even keel. Wellbutrin/Vyvanse? Bad. Lamotrigine/Vyvanse? I might actually be a human being for the first time in my life. I've been getting a shower every night and brushing my teeth twice a day without fail since I started. And trust me when I say that's fuckin astronomical progress for me. Even when I found out it wasn't the case, part of me was still certain it was fake that people could just get up and do things without mentally screaming at themselves for anywhere between 2 hours to 4 months first. Shit, I can do it now and it still feels fake.

Anyways. The ability to Task was an expected improvement, as was the ability to regulate my momentum on said task better than without meds (ie, at fucking all). Although I figured it'd be a ways off to get this much improvement. I can put things down without freaking out (mostly) and I can pick them back up again after an interruption.

Another unexpected bonus too, I hadn't even thought to anticipate any change in another big factor at all. Like, not only did I not realize it was on the table, I hadn't realized that this particular table even existed. I figured this other issue couldn't improve with anything but another two years of therapy.

I've got a lot more control over regulating my emotions and the kind of obsessive, destructive thought spirals (usually RSD or my usual Leech And Burden thoughts or my brain cooking up scenarios to get upset about because they felt too real, or a fun combination of the three) that'd lead to me writing off entire days or weeks until I burnt myself out. Used to be these were so intense it'd just kind of gut me and I couldn't do anything but ride it out. Intense enough that I've had a couple mental health professionals tell me "yeah, no, it's not enough for formal diagnosis, but there's definitely strong evidence for OCD where the autism and ADHD overlap," one of whom went "right, that makes sense with what you've described about the last month, and speaking of the last month, i think we should consider going back to once a week since every three weeks hasn't been helping you." It used to be that the only way I could get these under control would be by heading them off before they got started or getting borderline blackout drunk in the middle of the spiral and distracting myself until I couldn't stay awake to think anymore. Both required sufficient distraction because every attempt at actually trying to take it apart and process just perpetuated it. Healthy, right?

But now, not only do the little things that used to sap my energy for the whole day now just breeze by like nothing (again, hygiene stuff), I can stop the spiral. They're not nearly as loud and sharp as they used to be and I can just... put them down. I've got the energy to do more and the control to just pick something else up until I'm ready. The bad ones still take a few tries, but that's huge after 25 years of "welp this is just the week we're having." And even bigger than that, it's already easier to pick it apart to find what needs fixing instead of just metaphorically cutting myself up while making a bigger mess.

It's also easier to not need my anger as a wall to keep between me and the people who have hurt me. For the first time since my granddad died, I can look at him and my grandmother as people through a sympathetic lense and still be able to say that the bridge there is burned and I won't be going back. I used to need to think of them as awful, irredeemable people just to keep from crawling back for their approval.

Don't get me wrong, I'm still pissed about everything that's hurt me deeply enough for my therapist to go poking at in the wake of a PTSD screener saying "yeah we're not even close to done, try again next year." But it's not the only thing that's there, and maybe someday I might even be able to scrape out my own closure instead of starving myself waiting for apologies that'll never come. Cleaning out the bullshit associated with the hurt didn't kick off the meltdown it would have even a month ago. The little scar from an arm-clawing meltdown last November is just a bitter little emotional bruise that I can push right back to the back of my mind until the dirt-spot mark finally fades out completely.

It's easier to not hate over it now. I've got more energy now and can finally use it for better things. Why waste it turning people into demons when I know damn well even if I wasn't the only one who fucked up and hurt people, I still did exactly that. And yeah, there's stuff I'm gonna stay bitter over, on both sides of things, and probably still mildly bitch about when the irritation of it decides to pop back in for a visit. That feels like a fair tradeoff for something that did still very much almost kill me, but it's not gonna stop me anymore. And it's not even a matter of "the best revenge is letting go and living well" because in the half dozen cases that stick the hardest, that wouldn't even be revenge. Fucked up as things ended, it's not like I was hated. Hell, maybe I'm lying to myself when I go this far, but I'd like to think that most of those people would be happy to see me doing better, even if they'd promptly turn right the fuck around and pretend they didn't see me at all.

Or maybe things did fester to a point where there's just as much animosity as I had for them and they'd rather see me lose a game of chicken a few more times before they can let go. God knows I was bitter enough for a good while to think pretty goddamn frequently that I hoped they were in just as much pain as I was. So yeah, that's also fair. Maybe they don't care either way, and as much as that idea stings the most, it's still entirely fair.

Regardless, I've got better things to do. I've got some self love and self respect to cultivate after realizing I was never given any kind of foundation besides "If You're Not Giving Everything, You're Not Worth Anything." Joked about it for years, but only in the last month did it actually Click. Admittedly I'm still falling into some of the same thinking, although instead of "I don't deserve the love people give me unless I'm Being Useful, I'm a manipulative liar if I get it without earning it," it's more like "I can finally Do Things, so I can finally deserve my own love." It's a brittle crutch, but that just means I know not to give it too much weight while I get my feet under me and start building the foundation I actually deserve. Because people deserve love and I'm a people too, goddammit.

Anyways, this was a big long rant partly for myself and partly for the six of you who've paid attention and might wanna know how I've been doing. I'm still standing, let's see where it takes me. For now, I'm gonna go be gay with my girlfriend of 6 months as of last week.

[forgettenshiloh]

me

How did I lose myself so deeply. Even when you were standing there. It was over before then I was already lost but now I find myself going through life doing great things and I go to look for you and I cannot even find or try if I really wanted because of the walls I put up to keep you out, what i thought was forcing myself to find me I now created my own prison and own heart break. How di I change the past? How do I unlearn the fear of trusting anyone? How do I forget the bond so deep that I'm realizing only you and I possessed because I got you and you got me... But I had to run. For some dumb reason it was time to go and figure it out or destroy myself but you didn't deserve to watch. Look at me now, forced to face the disaster I created and do what with it? I'm at a total loss so I'm going to write this to remember the parts I miss so deeply but I'll never get to relive, although I wish I could. This is you me and Shiloh and fyi not the cat you got me, a peace that i could only find with you. And for the record you'd be so fucking happy probably to know that I have all of this to say to you and only you and you're a winner because now I want to chase you like you did me and sometimes I am finding myself getting a rise thinking you're still chasing me because I even miss that. WTF have I done. Running has gotten me into some fucking shit I swear. Before the end though I found myself drifting away and I didn't really have a destination but I felt cornered. I felt trapped by all this baggage that I never knew how to tell you and I realized I never wanted to tell you because well, it was awful. My pain was awful and I didn't want to tell anyone. But motherfucker I have climbed MOUNTAINS! and then I look to find the motherfucker that used to be there and I pushed him away so it's just me and these motherfuckers that are so fucking angry at themselves they are only capable of finding a fucking flaw. Thank god for a strong ass will right. I got sober. I got through hell, being homeless and jobless and raped and then homeless again. I started from nothing. oh, that was after the concussion over some shit i didn't even do so then i actually did it so i claimed my position on the shit list for that. I was really winner there for a while, not. It was bad, i was actually trapped, nothing made sense after that and since i had already fucked myself over it was free game for the sick fuckers around me, thank god my older brother finally caught wind of it and i went home to my dad. i couldn't even heal there either. all i could do was cry and there was like this lingering hopeless feeling just continuously flowing there. Then finally the lights went out and i was homeless for another month but i finally got a good job and an apartment of my own and now that the dust has settled this thing is eating me up inside. Breathing air gives new meaning to eat your fucking heart out. I need something, but I'm at a loss. I'm gonna pursue it though, since I'm a headstrong ass bitch. old habits die hard right? And you you know better than anyone that whether it's good or bad if i can't let it go i'm going for it. so there's you a crown you motherfucker because i'm looking for you. I want to know that you didn't break, that you are doing better, i need to see that the person that is so amazing is infact still amazing. That's what's gonna help me sleep at night. because the world needs someone like you. maybe that's creepy oops. guess i'm a fucking creep. fuck it, that's not the worst thing i am i'm sure of it. I wish i wasn''t such an idiot though, i feel like i'm going to really start the feel to the full effect that we should have done this all together and i totally fuckerd it all up because i'm a broken piece of shit. sorry, my parents didn't love me or whatever the fuck actually happened but actual love scared the shit out of me and i had to run. i am sorry about that. maybe one day i'll finally get therapy for that. maybe not cause honestly the selection out here isn't impressive and therapy is a lot of work.

[iguessjustcallmesunflower]

Virgin Mary, Mother of Snakes (Part Two)

Yeah, we're revisiting her again. Only because I've since quit that job, and my last night there I was on the hall with her. (Don't worry, I have MANY more I need to get my butt in gear and write on.)

Mother Mary didn't get better in the end. I'd love to say she did, in fact, I wish she did. But she just... didn't. The medications didn't work, therapy didn't work. Something in her just... snapped one day, and she was unable to come back from it. She might not have been so bad, and after I started getting more sleep, she and LouLou became my favorite residents on that hall.

My last night working there, before I turned in my keys, she was sound asleep for more than half my shift. Around two in the morning, though, she stepped into the hallway, wearing only the clothes she was born in, and told me she needed a gun. I tried to not panic. If she was suicidal, it would not end well for her. We'd have to sedate her and call an ambulance. She responded, "There's a rattlesnake in my cooch. I saw it. I need a gun."

"Mamas, what color was the snake? I'll let the nurse know to come back and check you out."

"Purple, with an orange belly and red eyes. It was a big sonofagun. I need a shotgun for it."

She didn't get her gun, for obvious reasons, but she was certainly on one that night. She drug her doll up and down the hallway with a shoelace around it's neck, saying it had hung itself and she needed to bury it. Her dolls were immediately confiscated, and she fought the sedation all night. I could hear her fighting both it and her roommate. Her roommate, Drama Queen, was threatening to hurt herself if she didn't get a shot too. But she'll have her own post.

She kept me company, even sitting with me in the hallway some nights while I studied for my boards, singing me hymns and praying with me. I'm not religious, but who am I to tell her no? I was not about to be the one to break her heart.

I will never forget when she told me she had a demon in her. I tried my best to reassure her she didn't, but when she said she did because it lived with the snakes, I couldn't help it. I laughed. I laughed and snorted because of the absurdity of it. I also hadn't slept in almost three days. I was a tad bit loopy.

She was never aggressive or destructive, though, despite her illness. She was always sweet, although delusional. She is one of the ones I miss dearly, believe it or not. When I was sleep deprived, she was my sleep paralysis demon. When I wasn't, she was my little buddy on the hall. I'll never stop saying it, she deserved a far better aide than me most days. Toward the end though, her true colors showed, and she was a terrified adult who didn't understand what had happened to her, or why she was the way that she was.

She is one of the many I know who went through an extreme, unspeakable trauma, and never fully recovered from it.

[randomprojectsbeforeidie]

Studying as much as I can (Daily Log 1/21 AGAIN)

Holy shit my pals. I had the worst morning you could have. My meds have been giving me insomnia, but this was the worst night until today. I don't think I managed 3h of sleep this night.

Got up at 6h, had to cancel presential work 'cause I had no condition to drive. Since I couldn't sleep, my grumpy self decided to research some more study tips. Here's what I got from the Instagram I cited yesterday:

1. Use an agenda for organization (done)

2. Organize your study space. This one was more aesthetic than anything, but I was in a bad mood and tried to do it to try and lift my humors. Here's my chaotic desk after some organizing:

Not pretty or "aesthetic", but it's clean, and that's what matters.

3. Plan you week (done)

4. Have some pauses in your work (I already use Pomodoro)

5. Write in a journal when you're feeling bad. Yeah, my journal heard some good swearing today, you can bet.

6. Don't study in bed. It will interfere with both your studies and your sleep (I used to be guilty of this during college, but it's been a while since I stopped. Thank God, the insomnia doesn't need any additional help)

7. Study everyday, except for Sundays

8. Decompress before studying. This is useful for when I finish work. Maybe wash my face, eat something, and THEN studying.

9. Do all the practice questions (working on it)

9. Sleep 8 hours a night (guilty. I will elaborate on this later)

10. Hydrate. This was cool. Made the calculations, and I should drink 2.800ml of water a day. That means 5 of my watter bottles. That means... roughly one third of a bottle every hour from 6h to 20h. Easy peasy, I did this today.

11. Therapy (had therapy today. Mental health is important, I gotta make sure I have time for the homework my therapist gives me)

12. Exercise. Ok. How about walking 3 times a week? 30 minute walks? Let's start there. Let's start tomorrow and hope my wonky knee doesn't protest.

13. Give yourself rewards for studying (mine are social media breaks in Pomodoro)

14. Take your vitamins. Working on it. Gotta buy more.

15. Follow Nexo Jornal. It is good for the written part of the test. I just signed their newsletter, and will try to listen to their Podcast, Durma com essa.

So. I decided I needed a sleep routine. I fucking NEED to sleep, I'm going crazy.

1. Take a warm shower, listen to calm music

2. Drop your electronics 1h before sleeping

3. Keep your room dark

4. Don't you dare look at that damn clock after you go to bed

5. Only drink coffe in the morning

6. Exercise (ugh. Again. I get it. Gotta move)

7. Have a wake up time (6h)

8. If I can't sleep, I should go to another room and read until I'm sleepy

9. Only use the bed for sleep and sex

10. This one is mine, but maybe try to sleep with some plushies? I used to do this until recently, don't know why I stopped.

And you know what? Even with this awful morning, I managed to study 4 HOURS today! On top of work! On top of Halloween tasks! I got it!

And it was great. There's a pattern I'm getting: I find it hard to start studying, but once I start, I don't wanna stop. So let's fucking GOOOO!

Sleep: 3 hours

Therapy: check

Exercise: rest day

Vitamins: check

Water: 5 full bottles baby

And now I gotta go do my sleep routine. Happy Halloween!

[bylightofdawn]

Today was... a day. A very long, agonizing day. Started with driving to another town to visit my GP. Talked to him about wanting to try and figure out if I DO have ADD or not and also about a new sleep med since my sleep schedule is fucked.

Because that vertebra in my neck was out and I couldn't pull my head back so it was forcing my head forward in a weird posture this caused all the supporting muscles to start spasming so the pain just escalated from there. But because I was driving I couldn't take any kind of muscle relaxer. So by the time I got to my chiropractor and they put me on the table face down, it shoved my head back into a regular alignment which then caused all those muscles to go into a nuclear meltdown. I don't think the chick who was checking me in quite understood how much pain I was in but by the time she'd gotten to the massager I was fucking CRYING from her pushing my shoulders down with her body weight and it just fucking sucked big donkey balls.

My chiropractor came in and suggested I do combo therapy cause there was no way she was going to adjust me when my muscles were that tight and spasmodic. That's an extra 25 bucks which...sucks but at point I was trying to not bawl like a child in the office and it did definitely help a lot. I have a TENS unit but that ultrasound machine is like a new level. I've seen them online for a couple hundred bucks and if I didn't live alone and had someone who could help me reach my back I might seriously consider buying one but for now I'll make due with my TENS unit.

Thankfully, my chiropractor was able to adjust my neck but fuck me I am still so sore and in so much pain, it's not even funny. I am SO GLAD I requested the entire day off because of my doctor's appointment, I don't think I could have worked even after getting adjusted. Tomorrow is my regular day off and I really need to just suck it up and make up the hours but NGL? I'm still super sore and in a lot of pain so I don't know if that's going to happen. I think I'm going to work half a day and see how I feel then. I could always make up the other 4 hours on Sunday.

I'd prolly fucked up my sleep schedule even further because I came home around 4 and slept for four hours. But I was just so wiped out from the pain and the lack of sleep last night.

I caught this week's episode of Mandalorian however and I need to watch the Bad Batch because people are freaking out over Crosshair on twitter so I think I'm going to do that. I'd like to write a little more but that might be too optimistic on my part.

I deal with chronic pain all the time but holy fuckballs I don't think I've screwed up my neck that badly in years. I couldn't think clearly, couldn't <I>talk</I> because my mind kept blanking on words and I know I was a fucking zombie all day long. Bruh, that fucked me all up.

And I think it kinda concerned my doctor because he wants to see me again in 2 weeks. :/ We did switch my muscle relaxer to zanaflex which I have been on in the past so I guess we'll see how that goes. I haven't picked it up from the pharmacy yet and will try and do that tomorrow.

One good thing that happened was I found out the Game Stop in seguin has the Tobirama funko pop I was wanting and I bought that. Annnnd I might have bought the bad batch set cause it was on clearance as well. I thought about getting the Hashirama but meeeh. I don't like him nearly as much as Tobirama. My three Naruto blorbo were Tobirama, Shisui and Iruka. I might actually perish if Shisui got some love from the US market. There's some REALLY gorgeous and outrageously expensive status out of Japan which I'm not spending my money on. Though NGL I am honestly shocked and disappointed Iruka hasn't gotten his own funko pop yet. Like WTF, I know he's just the most mid ninja ever who is completely overshadowed by everyone else with their stupidly overpowered abilities but STILL. SMH

Okay, time to watch TBB and pass the fuck out time now.

[mrsseverussnape]

Hey hii!! U know, I love ur writings so muchhh 💕💕 and if you're not too busy with all the events you have, can I request you a Severus x reader (post-war and Severus is alive bcs HE DESERVE TO BE ALIVE 🥺) where Severus have nightmares or have horrible flashbacks after a long day then when the reader finds out (usually, Severus never let us know abt his struggles☹) and take care of him? And uh I was listening to the radio and a song called as "I'll Stand By You" by The Pretenders played and I think the music has the vibe for this story..but if it's too much, don't worry abt it 😊. Thanks a bunch & stay healthy 💕

A/n: Hi love, thank you so much! You are so kind and so sweet💕💕😽😽🥺🥺 Sorry this took some time but finally i managed to write it! I hope you’ll like it!

A Nightmare To Remember

Theme: angst to fluff

Pairing: Severus Snape x you

“Nagini, kill!”

These were the last words Severus heard before he hit the cold floor after the Dark Lord slashed his throat. Before he could realize what really happened, he saw the huge snake jumping onto him with her mouth wide open. Her sharp teeth sank into his already slashed throat and bit him with all of her power. Severus’ blood and the poison of Nagini mixed together, he could feel the poison was spreading into his body and the darkness started to take over his sight, with that he fell into his very own dark and painful death.

Severus’s eyes snapped open, and he couldn't see anything but the darkness of the night which made him breath even more rapidly, made him think he couldn't wake up. He tried to light up the candle on his bedstand, but his shaky hands weren’t a great help and he dropped the silver candle holder on the stone floor with a loud thud. It made you jump up from your light sleep and with a swift move you grabbed your wand and casted Lumos in seconds. To your surprise you just saw your husband sitting on the floor and holding a candle holder in his hand, not an intruder or something else. He murmured a “sorry” while you were walking to his side, when you got closer you noticed he was covered in sweat and tears were running down on his cheeks.

“Sev…” you sat down beside him, put the candle holder aside and wrapped your arms around him as you did you felt that he was also shaking uncontrollably. But you didn't ask any questions, not yet at least; you just held him protectively, let him pour his suppressed tears. You two sat like that until he collected himself a bit and he immediately started to apologize once again for waking you up, for being a burden on you after a long workday and that he doesn't deserve you. You hushed him saying that the things he just said is not true at all and that you promised to be there for each other’s good and bad days when you got married. Then you convinced him to take a warm bath which you would be preparing in a minute. You filled the bathtub with aroma therapy oils and warm water then you called him to the bathroom. You put a classical music vinyl on your record player while he was making himself comfortable in the bathtub. You helped him to wash himself as he relaxed into your comforting touch. You accio-ed new pajamas for him and left the room so he could dress up. Severus thanked you silently before you closed the door behind yourself. He was still shaken from the nightmare; his hand went to his throat and he traced over the scar; the injury was healed but the memories of it was still as fresh as the day it happened. He had nightmares about it quite often, but he has managed to hide them from you or he always had a white lie to tell whenever you woke up because of him. But tonight, it was more graphic than ever, it felt so real to the point that he couldn’t think anything else. A shiver ran through his body when he remembered it once again, he took a deep breath and shook his head. When Severus walked back into your bedroom, you welcomed him with a heartwarming smile and pat on the bed to invite him to sit beside you. “I brewed some herbal tea; it will ease you.” you finished your sentence with a kiss on his cheek.

“You are too good to a man like me.” He said when he took the teacup from your hand. You rolled your eyes at him, you hated when he said such things. “Don't talk nonsense and drink up your tea my love.”

You watched him while he was drinking the tea and petting your very sleepy but cuddly cat; her soft purrs brought a tiny smile to Severus’s face but still you could tell that he wasn't fully fine. “Sev, do you wanna talk about the nightmare?” you asked as you took his hand in yours. At first, he was hesitant to talk, he played with your hand while thinking if he should talk or not. He exhaled a deep breath then talked so silently, just like a whisper as he looked away from you. “I- I dreamed about the day…” his hand went to his throat; he couldn't dare to say it more detailed than that. Your heart broke for him and your eyes filled with tears as you pulled him closer to you. You stroked his hair when he rested his head on your chest. You have wanted to forget about that day so badly but still after a year you remembered it very clearly, and you know Severus did too. You have thought you lost him forever when you found him in the shack covered in blood and as pale as snow. But fortunately, it wasn't the end, he was saved and turned back to normal after a long medical journey. “Sometimes I have nightmares about it too.” you talked finally. “Maybe we shouldn't hide them but instead share with each other and try to find comfort like that.” you kissed his head as he wrapped his arms around you; Severus felt safe in your embrace. “Maybe.” he mumbled sleepily.

“You know I'm always here for you whenever you need me. You don't have to go through anything all by yourself. We are partners in crime!”

Severus softly chuckled at your last sentence. “I wouldn't be here if it is not for you.” he looked up at you with his night like eyes. “Thank you for everything, I really mean it. You are my savior, my life, my everything.” he kissed your lips. “I have never loved anyone the way I love you.” his voice turned into a whisper as sleep took over him once again.

“I love you too Severus, sweet dreams.” you whispered and put a kiss on his cheek. Couple of minutes later you fell asleep as well. This time around no one woke up and the two of you had a relaxing sleep in your lover’s embrace until the morning sun shined through the window.

Taglist:

@snapefiction @lizlil @elizabeth-baelish @misselsbells06 @mais-e @lunnybunny12 @anfre109 @entirelymesmerising @wolvesofwinter13 @inflation-of-mind @echoofawind @pamelalur15 @myamortentia @snapesmoonlight @i-will-steal-your-intestines

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[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Sorry for your lost - Part I “I will grieve”.

Serie Masterlist here || Part II|| Read on AO3 

Summary: When your wife Natasha passes away in a car accident, a part of you dies with her. It takes a few months of mourning for your psychiatrist thinks the best alternative is for you to join a grief group. And there you meet Wanda Maximoff, and learn to live again.

Warnings: (+16) mentions of death, panic attacks and anxiety, grief, self sabotage, mentions of abusive family background, mutual attraction, explicit consent, therapeutic conversations about death, self-deprecation, healthy methods of coping with grief, possible triggers about anxiety, hurtful behaviors, domestic wanda.

Chapter warnings: Heavy angst, death.

Author’s notes:  Hello readers! I'm finally back to posting something, but I disappeared for a good reason, I was writing three new series. And here is the first of them. I really enjoyed this work and it's something I've been trying to write since I watched WandaVision, and only now I've managed to put it into words. I am not finished yet, but there is only one chapter left, so your reading will not be affected. Pay attention to the warnings, and good reading!

Tag list (let me know if you wanna be tagged) 

@mionemymind​ / @abimess​ / @stephanieromanoff​ / @yourtaletotell​ / @tomy5girls​ / @justagaypanicking​ / @thegayw1tch​

//-//

Chapter One - I’ll grieve.

You wished you could go back to sleep as soon as you opened your eyes. The sound of your alarm buzzed loudly throughout the room, and after putting it on snooze mode at least four times, you finally got annoyed enough to grab it and throw it across the room. But the sound continued.

Letting out a grumble of dissatisfaction, you pushed the comforter off you, and sat up in your bed. Your room was a mess, but you just skipped through the clothes on the floor to reach the phone, turning off the alarm through the new crack you made in the screen.

"Honey, are you up?" you heard your mother's distant voice calling you through the door, probably from the living room or the kitchen. "Don't forget your therapy today."

You sighed impatiently, running your hands through your hair. The damn group therapy. 

Grumbling lightly, you forced yourself to take a shower, not wanting "poor hygiene" to end up on your progress report card. 

A while later, when you were finished, you went into the kitchen. Your mother was using her laptop on the counter, and just waved at you.

"Are you going to take me?" You asked her with your hands in your pockets. Your mother took her eyes off the screen to evaluate the sweatshirt you were wearing, and you rolled your eyes at her disapproving expression. 

"You know, you could try driv-"

"Mom" You cut her off in earnest, your heart racing momentarily. You don't drive. An she knows. Your mother sighs, putting her hands up in a sign of surrender.

"It was just a suggestion dear." She retorts as she stands up, reaching for her car key on the key rack exiting the kitchen. "But I'm busy with the store, you'll need to take the subway next time."

"Thanks for the support." You grumble as you step out in front and your mother lets out a wry chuckle.

You frown and let out a dissatisfied exclamation as you step outside feeling the sun's rays on your face.

"You're not a vampire, cut the drama." Mocks your mother by pushing you lightly to get you out of the way. 

You grumble  as you walk to the car. And when you are sitting on the seat, your mother is starting the vehicle and she asks:

"Are you sure you're not going to eat anything?"

Looking out the window, you just mumble that you're not hungry, and she shakes her head in disapproval before you back the car up. You don't speak any more on the way.

//-//

Your mother dropped you off in the parking lot of a gymnasium where the therapy group would be meeting. You sighed as you got out, and thanked her for the ride and the money she gave you to eat, even though you probably weren't going to use.

Resisting the urge to run away, you forced your feet to walk toward the place.

There were a few people at the door, but you didn't smile at any of them, entering the place with your head down and your hands in your pockets. 

And then a woman greeted you, and put a little sticker with your name on your shirt when you gave her your papers. 

Then she signaled the way you should go, and you ended up on the gymnasium court, where there was a wheel of chairs, and a table with food and drink, and several people scattered around, who you thought were part of your therapy group. 

Sighing impatiently you made your way to the bleachers of the venue, hoping to be alone until the session started and you could leave.

Fortunately it wasn't long before the leader signaled for everyone to sit in the circle, and you sighed as you stood up. You ended up with one of the chairs on the far left opposite the therapist, which could be bad since he would see you clearly.

"Thank you very much for coming." Said the therapist smiling gently as his gaze roved over everyone in the circle. You kept your gaze on your shoes. He made a noise with his throat. "Who would like to start today?"

The silence lasted for a few seconds, but then someone was speaking. You forced yourself to come back to reality and pay attention.

"[...] and this is my fourth week around here." Said a woman in a leather jacket. You noticed the army lanyard around her neck. She was talking about an accident when you got distracted again. Lightly poking your eye with your finger, you tried to focus again, letting out a low sigh. And then the therapist was talking again.

"We have new faces today." He said and you felt your heart speed up. You absolutely did not want to talk in front of strangers. "Why don't you share with us, miss?"

You raised your gaze to meet that of the therapist, smiling gently at you. The rest of the group looked at you as well. Taking a deep breath, you began to wiggle your fingers on your leg.

"I don't... I've never been in a group." You say clumsily. "What should I say?"

"Whatever you wish to say." He answers with a smile. You swallow the urge to tell him you didn't want to talk at all. Realizing your lack of response, he is quick to add. "Why don't you tell us why you are here?."

You let out a dry laugh. 

"I really didn't have much choice." You retort wryly. The therapist looks slightly surprised, but makes no mention of interrupting you. You let out a sigh before clarifying. "My psychiatrist, she...she didn't approve of my social ratings. She wanted me to talk to other people. People who... went through the same things I did." You count staring at the floor. When you look up again, the group still waits for you to continue, and you sigh, running your hands through your hair. "I haven't... I... I haven't talked to other people outside of my family in six months. Not since..."

You move your head, sniffling slightly as you straighten your posture. The therapist clears his throat.

"You just need to share whatever you are ready to tell us." He says gently, you nod slightly feeling extremely vulnerable. "But remember that this is a safe space. There is nothing to fear here."

And then he is talking about methods of easing the guilt, and dealing with the pain and you were distracted again. You would like to go back to bed. It must have taken a while, but the session is finally over.

The group dispersed around the room, and you went toward the therapist's desk to have him sign your schedule. He smiled as you approached.

"Miss Y/N/L, I was happy to hear that you would be joining us today." He said greeting you with a handshake. You nodded, taking the paper from your pocket. He chuckled, but accepted it. "You know, I'd like you to try to have a partner in the group, it's recommended for cases like yours."

"What do you mean cases like me?" You ask snidely, but he doesn't care.

"Doctor Harkness gave me your chart." He explained as he signed the paper you gave him while you frowned. "Extreme Social Anxiety in the first few months of treatment. Tendency to complete isolation, introverted..."

"Yeah I know my problems, buddy." You interrupt him with irritation. "You don't have to list them for me."

The therapist gives a lopsided chuckle, and holds out the signed paper to you. But he adds with a serious look:

"I'm here to help you, Y/N." He says. "Don't forget that."

You don't respond and take the paper, turning toward the exit. 

//-//

Your week passes slowly and tortuously. Which is surprising because you barely get out of bed. And then it is group therapy day again, and you are making a new crack at your cell phone screen.

Your mother greets you with a pat on the back as you enter the kitchen, and she is walking past you toward her own room.

You know you have to take the subway today, and you are trying not to think about it too much. As you are walking out the door, your eyes pass quickly over your car key, and you think you have a flash of memory, but you shake your head quickly, pushing the thought away. And then you walk forward.

And you are late for the session, because you can't take the bus to the station, since your feet simply didn't obey you. But that's okay, you don't really care.

You weren't the only one who was late. When you went to enter the door, a red-haired woman bumped into you, also running to get in. She smiled slightly as she apologized, and you just made room for her to enter first.

"Sorry Stephen." She said to the therapist as soon as you two entered the gymnasium, "I had an emergency with the kids."

The man just shook his head with a smile, and waved for you both to sit down.

"And why were you late today, miss Y/L/N?" He asked you. You shrugged your shoulders.

"I didn't wanna come." You retorted and the group giggled, and the sudden sound startled you slightly, but you just sat with your arms crossed. 

"Do you want to try again?" He retorted with light humor in his voice. And you bit the inside of your cheeks. And then you looked down at the floor.

"I couldn't get on the bus." You confessed next. Stephen looked at you tenderly, though, and you didn't like the feeling of your chest heaving slightly.

"And why do you think that happened?"

You shrugged, uncomfortable. 

"I don't know. I... There were too many people." You said embarrassed. And then you started twiddling your fingers, feeling all eyes on you. "I just... I knew I'd have to say hello to the driver, and the conductor. And then I would pass strangers in the hallway, and one of them would sit next to me. And I just... I couldn't."

Stephen nodded slightly in agreement.

"It's okay, Y/N. " He stated. "No one is judging you here."

You let out a dry laugh, and Stephen blinks in surprise, which spurs you to explode.

"Everyone is judging me, Doc." You say through gritted teeth, swinging your leg. "It's as if I can hear the gears in people's brains forming opinions about me." You state with a sigh. "Like my mother for example. She...she...acts like I'm past the time of mourning." You explain with tears in your eyes. "Like there's a limit, and I'm extending her goodwill. Because it's been six months, and she doesn't want me to be sad anymore. But guess what? I don't know how to move on!" You state angrily. "I can't! If I don't miss her, what's left for me? If I don't... God, I can't do this."

And you stand up, wiping your tears away, and walk out of the gymnasium, heading for the restrooms. You feel your heart racing, and it's hard to breathe. 

As you rest your hands on the sink, your brain starts to wander back to the day of the accident again. You choke, because it feels like you're sinking again. You see the water rising through the metal of the car. Your hands on the steering wheel, and then on the seat belt. You shake your head, pushing the images away, and rush to turn on the faucet in front of you and pour the water on your face.

You take a deep breath, trying to stop the tears. And then there is someone entering.

"Are you okay?" Stephen asks and you nod lightly, ignoring the trembling in your hands as you stare at him through the reflection of the mirror. "I gave a break to the group, wouldn't you like to walk with me?"

"I'm not good company right now." You grumble but he smiles, nodding slightly as if to repeat the invitation. You take a deep breath before turning around.

You walk silently and slowly to the outside of the gymnasium, and then he is speaking again.

"You were very brave today."  He comments, and you let out a dry laugh. "Why don't you believe me?"

"I panicked today." You say. " It doesn't sound very brave to me."

Stephen smiles guiding you through the gymnasium entrance toward the parking lot.

"You talked about a trauma to a group of people." He says. "That takes a lot of courage, even if you don't believe it."

"I don't believe in anything." You grumble, but Stephen doesn't mind your hostility. He stays with his friendly posture.

"I would like you to accept my request from before." He said after a moment. "About a group partner."

You let out a sigh.

"I don't even know what that means." You retort with slight impatience as you reach the edge of the parking lot. You notice the garden a few feet ahead of you.

"It's like a therapy buddy." He explains with a smile. "We encourage socializing here. That's why Agatha recommended this group to you."

"Oh, of course you do. Agatha is a bitch." You wryly wipe your hands across your face. Stephen laughs lightly. "How does that work anyway? Do I have to hold someone's hand? Exchange friendship bracelets?"

"No, it's much better." He says with a chuckle. "You talk to that person. You exchange experiences with them. You learn to trust somebody else again."

"My god, it looks like a fucking Disney movie." You retort with irritation and Stephen lets out a laugh. And then you let out a sigh, shrugging your shoulders. "Okay, I'll do it. I have nothing to lose, and it seems that neither you nor Agatha will leave me alone if I don't agree."

"We want you to feel better. Don't take this as a punishment." He says, guiding you back to the gym. You nod slightly, thinking that it really does feel like punishment anyway.

//-//

You see Agatha the same week. Your appointments have been switched to monthly meetings instead of weeks as they were at the beginning of treatment, and while you appreciate the familiarity of seeing her, you can't help but feel irritated with her.

"Someone's grumpy." She comments as soon as you sit down on the couch in the room, to which you roll your eyes.

"You are always so very tender, Agatha." You mock as you cross your legs, hoping the time will pass soon.

Agatha laughs lightly, finishing tidying up a few things on her desk. And then she gets up and sits down in the armchair a few feet in front of the sofa where you are, carrying a small notebook in her hands.

"So, why don't you tell me how your your first two sessions in group therapy went?"

You let out a dry laugh.

"Like Stephen didn't tell you everything." You sneer and Agatha just smiles, waiting for you to speak. You let out an impatient sigh, before stating wryly. "It was amazing, doc. It only took two sessions for me to have a panic attack, so thank you for that."

"Why do you think that happened?"

You squeezed your eyes.

"I have no idea." You retorted. "I'm not the doctor here." Agatha laughs lightly, and then opens her notebook and starts writing something. You sigh impatiently. “Really, you're going to start that again?”

"If you don't talk, I write." She states simply, and you roll your eyes, shifting on the couch uncomfortably.

"Agatha, I just... I couldn't get on a bus, okay?" you tell her, and she closes her notebook to look at you attentively. You take a deep breath. "There were a lot of people. I don't mind walking anyway. It helps me think."

"You don't mind walking eight blocks?" She asks with a slight irony. "That's pretty athletic of you."

"It's weird that you know my address off the top of your head." You play lightly, and she just laughs, straightening her posture. 

"Why don't you just tell me what you want to tell me?"

"Why don't you ask me what you want to ask?"

Agatha blinks slightly in surprise, and then she shakes her head slightly, opening her notebook again. You sigh.

"Okay, sorry." You say, and she looks at you for a moment before closing the object again. I... I thought I was drowning again.”

"Are your nightmares back?" She asks seriously, and you deny it with your head.

"I feel too anxious to sleep." You tell. "And then I black out from exhaustion in the night or in the morning. I don't dream anymore."

"Have you been taking your medication?"

You sigh.

"Of course I have."  You say. "I don't... I'm having trouble keeping my mind still. Like the first few months, you know. Everything seems so noisy now."

Agatha nods slightly, becoming thoughtful for a few moments. 

"I know it may sound strange to hear that, but that means you're getting better." She declares and you frown in surprise, then let out a dry laugh.

"How is my peak anxiety a good thing?"

She opens the book again, but before you can ask what you said wrong, she is reading.

"The first day you were here, you said you felt like you were empty." She narrated and you swallowed dryly. "During your first two months, you continued to describe that you felt like an empty shell. And that you no longer had any dreams, thoughts, or opinions. Without your wife, you said you were no longer here."

You felt your eyes fill with water at the mention of her. But you swallowed your emotions. Agatha turned a page, and read for a few seconds, and then looked at you.

"With your history of anxiety, your mind was remarkably quiet after the passing of your wife." She says. "But now that you're on medication, and therapeutic treatment, plus you're socializing even superficially with the world again, you're starting to feel things again. That's progress."

You look away from her, nodding slightly, trying to believe her words, and trying not to be so terrified at the thought of learning to live again. Without Nat.

You choke slightly, holding back a sob, and then Agatha hands you a box of tissues, but you refuse with a nod, wiping away the tears that have slightly escaped.

"What do you want to talk about now?" She asks after a moment. You take a deep breath, still trying to calm yourself.

"Last week I took a cold bath." You count. "It was snowing."

Agatha blinks in surprise at the information and then lets out a giggle.

"You want me to write it in the book don't you?"

You laugh, wiping away the last of the insistent tears. You just hope Agatha could help you.

//-//

You hate coffee. But you barely slept last night, and now you need to stay awake during the group meeting, so instead of walking to the chair in the corner like you used to, you detour your way to the food and beverage table as soon as you arrive at the gym.

There are a few members around, but you don't look at them, just sidestepping as you extend your arm to the coffee bottle. You pour some, and as you touch the cup, you notice. It's cold.

"Hey sorry about that." Said a girl you thought was named Val or something, as soon as she saw you touching the cup. "We mixed up the shifts yesterday and nobody made new coffee."

You rolled your eyes, picking up the cup and throwing it in the trash. Then you forced a wry smile on the girl and walked outside. 

It was cold, but you are boiling with rage. It was just a damn cup of coffee, you thought as you closed your eyes and tried to reduce your anger. Just coffee. 

You stumbled with fright when Stephen called out to you.

"We'll get started in a minute." He said looking at you curiously. You just nodded, following him after a few seconds.

You bit the inside of your cheek when you noticed the same coffee girl as before, now sitting where you usually sat. The universe was testing you today. 

You just sighed, twiddling your fingers inside your pocket, and walked over to one of the free chairs.

After Stephen gave the briefing, he asked if everyone was all right, and the group lied in unison. You were almost asleep when he called your name.

"I would like to choose your partner today." He says and you feel your heart racing as you straighten your posture. "But I want to know if you have any preferences."

You blink in confusion, and roll your eyes.

"I don't know anyone here, but I'm sure they will all hate me equally, doc." You tried to joke, but Stephen only looked at you with concern.

"No one does or will hate you." He says and you swallow dryly, looking away as you mumble that it was just a joke. Stephen pauses momentarily before continuing. "You know that everyone here has their own experiences of loss and they are unique in their own way, even if they have similarities." He begins and you just wish he would speak soon who your partner is at once. "Usually we don't put new members together, but with the release of one of our members, the number ended up getting odd." He explains. "Anyway, I'm sure you and Mrs. Maximoff will get along very well together."

You frowned slightly at the whole explanation. Then you looked around the group, and realized that this Maximoff woman was the late redhead from the previous session who looked at you curiously. You looked away from her to Stephen.

"Thank you, doc." You said with a slight irony and Stephen just nodded smiling.

"Partners are grieving companions ladies." He says. "We will assess your progress at each session, and then switch partners once the necessary improvement has been achieved."

You grumbled in understanding, and looked away to your lap. When Stephen began to ask about the stories, your mind wandered to the departure time.

And when the session was over you wished you could go to sleep. But Stephen made a slight movement of his head in Maximoff's direction, and you understood that you should talk to her.

Ignoring the urge to show Stephen the middle finger, you just sighed as you got up from your chair and lazily walked over to the woman at the exit. She was talking to a man, and you were even more anxious to address not one, but two strangers.

"Hi." You greeted awkwardly, and both of them turned to you with mild curiosity. 

"Hey, you're Y/N, right?" Said the man with a smile as he held out his hand to you. "I'm Bucky. James Barnes actually, but everyone calls me Bucky." He said and you shook his hand, smiling awkwardly. Then he quickly pointed at the woman.  "And this is Wanda Maximoff, your grief partner."

"Hi." Wanda said shyly as she offered her hand to greet you. You accepted as clumsily as she did.

"Sorry, I don't know how this works." You say. "Should we exchange numbers or something? Or is that just a therapy thing?"

Bucky gives a little chuckle.

"Oh believe me, they'll know if you're not making it work." He counters. "My first partner was Sam Wilson and we wanted to jump on each other's necks whenever we saw each other. And then Stephen asked us to move in together." He says and you blink in surprise. "We're married now, but that's not the point. I guess I'm getting off topic..."

"Bucky." Wanda interrupts with a smile, and he smiles half-heartedly as well. You frown, annoyed by Bucky's story. You didn't want to marry anyone. "I guess we'll make it work, I hope you don't mind having the company of two tiny restless creatures on our walks."

You look at her with confusion and then you understand, smiling shyly.

"No, it's okay." You say. "I like children."

"Really?" She asks in surprise.

You nod slightly. "Unlike adults, they tell the truth."

Wanda seemed to be thoughtful, but then Bucky lets out an exclamation.

"As group guide, I have to pass the to-do list to you ladies." He says pulling a small notebook from the back pocket of his pants. He pulls out a sheet of paper and hands it to Wanda. "Partners need to develop these habits of socializing and coping with grief together. And yes, there is a test."

You sigh impatiently, tucking a loose string behind your ear. 

"That sounds fun." You mock lightly making them smile. 

"Anyway, good luck to you two." He says tenderly. "And Wanda, call me if you need help with Tommy. I know a good therapist."

You frown slightly, not understanding what he is referring to, but you prefer to stay out of matters that are none of your business. And then Bucky kisses Wanda on the cheek in farewell and waves to you smiling before leaving. You switch foot weights when you are alone with Wanda. Talking to other people is not exactly your strong suit these past few months.

"So..." You start clumsily when she turns to you. 

"So." She repeats equally embarrassed. You then clear your throat and rush to pull your cell phone out of your pocket and hand it to her.

"Give me your number." You say. "That way we can arrange...whatever this is." 

Wanda smiles weakly as she accepts the device, and you ignore the curious look when she notices the cracks in the screen. A moment later she hands the cell phone back to you.

"I gotta go." She says. "I need to pick up my kids from school."

You nod slightly and force a smile to say goodbye, and Wanda copies your movement before leaving.

You stare at your cell phone next, noticing the slight anxiety in your stomach as you read the contact "Wanda Maximoff" on the screen.

//-//

By the weekend, you are miserable. Just like the first few months.

You spilled some tea under your bed, and when you went to clean it up, you ended up taking the objects that were lying there. And then you found a crumpled piece of paper.

It was your farewell speech. The words you wrote down to speak on the day of the funeral. The paper you pulled out of your pocket when you got home from the ceremony and probably fell under the bed when you collapsed on the floor from crying so hard.

Suddenly your chest tightened and you couldn't breathe. But you didn't want your mother to worry, so you concentrated on remembering the exercises your therapist had taught you.

And when the room started to get too small, you left.

But because it was cold and rainy, you had just taken a hot shower and had decided to brew tea before you finished putting on a sweater, you had bent down to pick up your socks, and the liquid fell on the floor. 

You went outside without your shoes, and your mother let out a worried exclamation when she saw you standing outside, staring at nothing.

"Honey?" She asked walking out the door after seeing you through the kitchen window. "Honey, what is it?"

You didn't answer. Your face was wet. Your mother's hands wrapped around your shoulders, and she gently pushed you inside, worried that you would end up getting hypothermia.

"I'm fine." You gasped as she led you inside, but she just shook her head. "I'm fine."

"No, honey." She retorted making you frown. "You're not."

"Mom."

"Sit down." 

And then there were blankets around you, and socks on your feet. And your mother was in the kitchen, on the phone, but everything seemed stuffy. You began to be absent again. Thousands of memories flashing through your eyes.

An image of yourself on that living room floor, laughing while your girlfriend had her arms wrapped around you. Your mother was pouring a glass of wine for each of you, and you were happy to tell her about your engagement.

Then an image of you running across the room, trying to dodge the tickles your father tickled you while you laughed.

Then a puppy in your hands on the floor. You looked at it fondly, laughing at how cute it looked. 

Looking down, you saw a hand on your thigh. It was your wife's, the ring on her finger. She smiled at you. You were happy because that was the day you told your mother about the house purchase.

You gasped slightly when you felt someone's hand on your shoulder suddenly.

"I need you to tell me three things you can see." It was Agatha. God, you should have been out of reaction long enough for her to get here. Wiping away your tears, you took a deep breath, trying to reason straight.

"I... I..." You started, but your brain didn't seem to obey you. You took another deep breath. You could see the carpet, so you told her so.

"Two more." Agatha asked tenderly, her hand caressing your back from top to bottom. 

"The... table." You replied crying. "I can see the table."

"That's right, honey." She said. "Just one more now. Tell me what else?"

"My feet." You add breathlessly. "I can see my feet."

"Now breathe with me, okay?" She asks. "Like I taught you."

The exercises help you to calm down again. You apologize for scaring your mother, and for making Agatha drive to your house, but neither of them is upset with you. You feel exhausted, but the doctor wants to talk to you after she accepts the cup of coffee your mother offers her.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" She asks as you sit on the covered porch, fluffy pillows around you.

You lower your gaze to the floor, sniffling lightly.

"I found my grief speech." You count. "Under my bed. The next minute I was outside."

Agatha sighs.

"You ready to talk about the accident."

You raise your eyes quickly, frowning, because it wasn't a question.

"W-what?"

She takes a deep breath, crossing her legs.

"It's suffocating you." She clarifies. "You need to talk or these attacks will happen again."

"I-I don't..."

"It won't be today." She interrupts with a tender smile. "Tonight you need to sleep. But we won't prolong this any longer. You need to talk about it, even if it’s only to scream."

Clenching your jaw, you hold back your tears as Agatha takes one last look at you before getting up. She murmurs that she will see you on Monday, but you don't look at her.

//-//

You don't sleep well on Sunday. And it's definitely because you can't stop thinking about your appointment.

And it goes well for the first twenty minutes. Agatha doesn't pressure you, and agrees to hear about your week, without mentioning the incident on Thursday.

There is a pause after you have told her about the dog barking noise in the early morning and then you know it is time to speak up.

"I was driving." You say softly suddenly, ignoring the feeling that your throat wants to close up. Agatha has her hands folded in her lap as she listens to you. "She...she was sleeping in the passenger seat." You swallow dryly, trying to count and not get caught up in the memory again, your heart racing. Talking is almost like going back there. "I looked at her for a moment and I got distracted... and then... we just..."

You only realize that you are crying because tears fall on your hand. You blink, sniffling. Taking a deep breath, you continue.

"We fell into the water, and Nat...she just...I couldn't get her belt off." You gasp breathlessly. "The water just...kept coming up around us. And she looked at me, and... she just shook her head like she knew what was going to happen." You tell between sobs. Agatha's eyes water, but she doesn't interrupt. "I just...she pushed me. She pushed my hands away and she told me she would follow me. And god... my dumb brain believed her!" You confess angrily. "She told me she was right behind me! And I swam out and when I came up she wasn't with me."

You shut up, not being able to tell anymore through the sobs. You can't even see the office clearly because of the tears.

It takes a moment for you to speak again, your head down.

"When I swam back, the car was completely covered with water everywhere" You recount. "I...I was going to dive again.... I wanted to get her out of there. But the people who saw the accident jumped in after us. And they pulled me out of the water. And I kept thinking that if I hadn't been distracted, she...she would be...."

"No." Agatha interrupts by offering you a tissue. "Natasha had a stomach injury, don't you remember?" She counters and you gasp, the words echoing in your brain. "That's why you couldn't remove the belt."

And then you were remembering clearly now.

Soft music echoed in the car as you hummed the tune and drove to your friends' house. Your wife mumbled softly beside you, making you smile as you watched the sleeping figure. The red hair in front of her face.

"Hey sleepyhead." You called softly, looking away from the track for a moment. "We're almost there."

Nat muttered in agreement. You bit your lip, thinking she looked beautiful. And then you heard a noise, and a white light in the window. You barely had time to frown when the impact threw your car off the road.

Your body tensed immediately as you sat up, looking around with desperation. The car was sinking fast and you turned to Nat.

A wound on her forehead was bleeding, and she was clearly disoriented as you touched her hands. You hurried to unbuckle her belt, but it was jammed tightly in her waist, and you gasped in shock at the wound.

"N-no." You grumbled, trying to move the metal, but Nat gasped in pain, pushing your hands away. You could barely breathe in desperation. Your feet were freezing, because the water was already at your ankles. "Babe, move please. We have to get out."

Nat advanced toward you, taking off your belt. You tried to touch her, but she pushed your hands away again, intending to guide you out.

" Sweetheart, go! Open the door! " she commanded and you shook your head, the water on your knees. Nat forced a smile, the tears in her eyes made your stomach turn. "Don't worry love. I'm right behind you."

As you opened the door, the water moved all the way into the car, and you held your breath Nat repeated the words "I'm right behind you" one more time. And then you swam out.

When you reached the surface, you were alone.

Sobbing, you couldn't say anything else to Agatha, and she proceeded to stroke your back, trying to soothe you with words of affirmation.

"I need you to remember some things honey." She says tenderly. "You couldn't have helped Natasha. She got stuck. You have to stop blaming yourself for what happened." Agatha whispers to you, and you sob. "Remember the investigation, okay? The police said that the driver of the truck was drunk and hit your car after he fell asleep. It wasn't your fault." Agatha says trying to remind you. You gasp, countless memories flooding your head at once. "Say that for me, will you?" She asks and you gasp. "Tell me it wasn't your fault."

You sob, burying your face in your hands. It takes a moment, but you repeat the words.

"It wasn't my fault." You whisper breathlessly. "It...it wasn't my fault."

When you leave therapy that day, you feel different.

You think that it is the healing process that is beginning to work. You still have a long way to go, but you have the feeling that a weight has been lifted off your back, because you have started to believe your own words. You could not have saved Natasha.

There is still a deep sadness in you, but you still buy your favorite drink on the way home, and try to stay in the living room for a few hours before going to your room when you are inside.

[multi-fandomfuckboy]

Hi! I was wondering if you’d write one where Bucky helps the reader through a panic attack?

No Matter What

Bucky x Reader

A/N: I just want to start off by saying that this request hit close to home. About 2 years ago I was suffering from severe panic attacks, I was depressed and my life was at an all time low. But, with the support and love of my friends and family I finally gained the courage to get the help that I needed. I drew a lot from my own personal experiences for this story. I hope it was what you were looking for!

Genre: Hurt/comfort

Warnings: Guns, anxiety, panic attacks, alludes to suicide

About 4 months ago you went to work just like you would any other day. Your boyfriend, Bucky, drove you to the government building you worked in, the two of you confirmed plans to meet up for lunch and he kissed you goodbye before you walked in. You said ‘good morning’ to the security guard at the front desk as you swiped your badge and headed to your floor. You worked for the government but it was mainly clerical work, which meant lots of filing and paperwork.

You had just gotten to work on filing a finance report when suddenly there was a commotion. Heavily armed men rushed into the room. They were dressed in black tactical gear and all of them wore identical black masks. Everything erupted into chaos. They were shouting, waving guns around and your coworkers were screaming as they rushed to hide or get out of their way. They rounded the office grabbing people and forcing them into the conference room.

You don't remember much about the specifics, but you do remember that those minutes you spent crouched on the conference room floor, felt like an eternity. They left two men with your group of frightened office workers while the rest of them returned to the office. You couldn’t see anything from your spot on the floor, but you could hear them tearing through the filing cabinets. Like they were looking for something.

You tried to keep your eyes focused on the faded grey color of the carpet, but for some reason, you looked up. Unfortunately, you looked right into the eyes of one of the guards. Their eyes filled with rage as they turned, taking a step closer to you. He started screaming something, but you couldn't hear what he was saying over the sound of the blood rushing in your ears. All you could focus on was the barrel of the gun pointed right between your eyes.

Then, as quickly as they had come, they were gone. The police arrived soon after. But, even as your coworkers left the conference room, you remained. Frozen. You don't recall what happened after that because the next thing you remember is Bucky hugging you. His arms felt strong and warm around you,it was as if you woke up. You threw your arms around him and cried, letting the fear wash over you as he held you tightly. It was finally over.

But it wasn’t, not really. Since that day, you hadn’t been the same. You weren’t sleeping, you couldn’t bring yourself to eat, and every small sound had you jumping out of your skin. When your body did succumb to exhaustion, and you were forced to sleep, it was almost worse than being awake. The nightmares were always there, waiting behind your eyelids.

You felt the fear like it was happening all over again. The sound of the men in the office, searching. Catching the man’s eyes. The anger that flared in them as he directed his attention to you. Then he would turn his gun on you. And all you could see was the cold black steal of the muzzle, staring you down.

You would wake in a cold sweat, your heart pounding in your chest so hard you thought it might break your ribs.

Bucky had been the first to suggest that you talk to a professional. You had refused. You had rationalized in your mind that it wasn’t that bad. That there were people that were going through worse. That therapy was for people who had more serious problems. You hadn’t even been hurt. That this was something you could handle on your own.

You thought this, until one night everything boiled over. You and Bucky had been invited to a dinner party with a couple of friends and coworkers. Bucky had been hesitant at first but you had convinced him, saying it had been too long since you guys had hung out with friends. Everything had been going well until someone said it.

“Hey! I saw what happened on the news! Weren’t you guys on the floor where those guys broke in?” The blood in your veins turned to ice. You tried to continue smiling as your coworkers spoke about the incident, your other friends listening intently. Your pulse quickened and you tried to remain calm, focusing on the drink in your hand. But, the static buzz in the back of your mind steadily began to grow. It seemed to radiate down your spine numbing your limbs.

Bucky realized how uncomfortable you had become and quickly excused the two of you from the party. You were silent on the drive home. You felt numb, covered in the static that consumed your mind. When you arrived home you got out of the car and walked into the house, feeling like you were on autopilot.

“I’m going to shower.” you hear yourself tell Bucky before you make your way to the bathroom.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked, gently taking your hand. You turned to meet his gaze, his eyes were filled with concern. You felt his hand around yours, but for some reason, it didn't feel like it was you he was touching. It felt like you were watching someone else.

“Yea, I’m fine.” you said, brushing off his hand before turning and walking into the bathroom. You closed and locked the door behind you, turning on the shower. You hesitated in front of the sink waiting for the water to heat up. When you lifted your head you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Seeing your reflection, you understood why Bucky looked so concerned. Who you saw in the mirror wasn’t you anymore. It was a ghost.

Your skin looked pale and your hair was disheveled and dull. But, the worst were your eyes. Rimmed with dark circles, they were hollow. Like someone had reached inside and carved your soul out.

Then, like someone flipped a switch, all of the emotions crashed into you. You were angry, and tired, and confused, and scared all at the same time. Your body began trembling despite the warm steam filling the room. It felt like there was an invisible force gripping your lungs, preventing you from catching your breath. Your heart was beating quickly, pounding against your ribs so hard it hurt. Tears filled your eyes and silently fell down your cheeks as you slipped to the floor.

Your mouth was open but no sound came out. Your body felt like it was ripping itself apart. You closed your eyes, but all you could see was the man with the gun and the fear gripped your mind.

“This hurts so much! Why does it hurt so badly?! I just want it to stop! Please just make it stop!” the voice in your head was shouting. You curled in on yourself, feeling like you were being crushed into the cold tile floor. It was all too much.

Quietly, a dark voice slithered into the back of your mind.

“You know how to make it stop.” it whispered. You could see the medicine cabinet from where you lay on the floor. “You know what to take.” It was hardly a thought, then there was a loud knock on the door.

“(Y/N), are you okay? Open the door.” you heard Bucky’s voice call from the other side of the door. It seemed so far away but so close at the same time. You knew that you should get up. That you should open the door and let him in. but you were frozen. After a moment with no response, Bucky kicked in the door. It flew back, slamming into the wall.

He rushed in and saw you on the floor. He rushed to your side, kneeling next to you.

“(Y/N)...” he said your name softly as he took in the sight of you. His face was set with grim understanding as he recognized what was happening. He, himself, had his fair share of panic attacks. Keeping his voice level and calm he spoke to you.

“Okay (Y/N), I’m going to touch you now. I’m just going to hold you.” He told you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his lap. You gripped his arm so tightly that if it weren't for the vibranium arm you would have left a bruise. You hid your face in his neck.

“Hey, hey honey, it’s okay. You're safe.” he whispered into your hair. “You're safe. I’ve got you. I’m right here.” you heard his words and were thankful he was holding you. It somehow made you feel like you were back in your body. “Let’s take some deep breaths” he instructed, taking a deep breath himself along with you. You felt his chest rise and fall under you, unconsciously following along.

He continued to coach you through your deep breathing, the whole time gently holding you to his chest. The buzzing in your mind was replaced by the sound of his voice. The numbness in your limbs ebbed as you focused on the warms of his arms around you. Slowly your shaking stopped and your breathing came more naturally.

You didn't know how long you stayed like that. Sitting in Bucky’s lap on the floor as he gently whispered calming reassurances to you. But when you did finally move, it felt like you had been hit by a bus. Your whole body ached as you slowly lifted your head from Bucky’s shoulder. His arms remained securely around you, but he looked down at you, his eyes holding more love and understanding than you could comprehend.

You were suddenly reminded of the small dark voice that had spoken to you in the midst of your panic. It scared you, thinking about it now. How desperate you had been. But now, seeing how much love Bucky had for you and how gently he held you, you never wanted to come close to that feeling again.

“Bucky…” your voice cracked, sounding scratchy and hoarse. “I-I think I’m going to get help. Like professional help.” you said, watching his eyes. A small smile pulled at his lips at your words. You felt his arms pull you closer.

“Okay doll, I’m here for you no matter what. '' he said firmly. Leaning forward, he placed a kiss on your brow. If you hadn't been so exhausted, you might have started crying again.

After a few more minutes of sitting on the floor, Bucky slowly stood up carrying you in his arms to your room. He pulled back the blankets and laid you under them, taking a moment to strip off his shirt and jeans before joining you. He held you closely as you drifted off, and for the first time in a long time, you did not dream.

This was only the beginning and it would take a lot of work to get things moving in the right direction. Even if things would never exactly be the same as they once were, you were willing to try. But, if there was one thing you knew would never change, it was Bucky’s love for you.

[lazarettta]

The Babysitter

Characters ( Ally Mayfair-Richards x Reader )

Rating (T) Word Count ( 2.9k) Warnings ( None, bad flirting, writing while intoxicated)

“For dinner! I'd love to come home with you for dinner.”

“Well what else would you be coming for?”

“Dessert.”

It was another late night studying on the living room floor of the Mayfair-Richards household. It wasn't uncommon for you to spend a majority of your nights here during the week and sometimes the weekend if you were needed and you usually weren't. Not that you would've minded anyway, your weekends weren't busy—mostly spent either dead asleep or trying to get out of plans you didn't want to be a part of anyway to get more sleep.

But it wasn't everyday that you were able to work for a Senator either, so even if you were busy, you weren't going to tell Ally Mayfair-Richards that. Not that she was a mean boss or anything, she was the Senator for crying out loud. And...okay yes, maybe you idolized the woman a little though it may be because you're studying law but honestly who wouldn't idolize this woman? She went through so much shit getting to this point in her life and career.

And she was hot. She was really hot but you kept it in your pants, but your eyeballs? Different story. You were just grateful that she chose you to watch her son when she was away, especially after you knocked over your entire cup of tea in her living room on the very carpet you were sitting on, and you were just a hot mess.

You thought you blew the whole thing, but the moment she produced the NDA to you a few days later when she called you back for a 'second interview' which included Ozzy this time, you'd been ecstatic and nearly knocked over another fucking cup but Ally was faster than you that time.

The giant TV was playing in front of you across the room but it was just the news channel but the volume was pretty low because Oz was asleep upstairs and you weren't really watching it anyway, you had your airpods in listening to Beyoncé and trying to create a decent scenario for one of the ten theories your professor assigned. It was due the next day so you thought picking the easiest one would work in your favor but it was turning out to be your worst nightmare—and you'd regretted choosing sleep over this, kind of.

You'd been so engrossed in your work, and music, you didn't hear the front door open and shut somewhere behind you or hear Ally quietly talking on the phone, her high heels click clacking on her polished wood floors as she came into the living room. Ally paused slightly at the sight of you and her coffee table, your books and yellow pads scattered everywhere, your head bopping slightly to whatever you were listening to as you scribbled away.

Ally smiled softly, and continued on her way upstairs to check on Ozzy knowing that she was going to find him safe, clean and fast asleep with a full belly. You'd been his nanny for four months now and you were such a blessing for Ally, she'd been reluctant to hire and trust another person with her baby boy but her career was too demanding and Ozzy was only ten. He could stay home alone for a few hours maybe, but not days or even a week or two.

After everything, Ally did have cameras around her home on the outside and she had one directly over the stairs because it overlooked the foyer and parts of the living room from an angle. She didn't want too many camera's inside of her home in case they were hacked but she wanted something at least.

Ozzy's room was dark except for his nightlight by the door and Ally quietly made her way inside, carefully sitting on the edge of the bed and pushing his curls from his face. She was ever thankful that he finally stopped having those horrible nightmares, it meant that she wasn't wasting her money on therapy sessions.

When Ally came back downstairs, you were predictably in the exact same spot you were in and Ally finally did away with her coat, placing it over the spine of the sofa and she stepped out of her heels before coming around and plopping herself down, careful not to knock over your stack of books.

The sudden movement startled you out of your skin and you quickly pulled out your airpods and looked at your boss, “Hey! Sorry, how long have you been home?”

Ally smiled down at you tiredly, practically sinking into the sofa and you could feel her exhaustion rolling off of her in waves, and you couldn't help but sympathize because damn, and you thought you were tired.

“I just got in, I'm sorry I didn't call earlier, things got busier than I expected and then everything went into chaos.”

You smirked when she threw her hands up half heartedly with a roll of her eyes, “Would a glass of wine help?”

“No, but it would definitely be a start if you join me for a glass?” she raised an eyebrow, and as much as you wanted to say yes you've already procrastinated enough and you really didn't need alcohol in your system around her lest you say something you absolutely shouldn't.

“I would but I have to finish this and it's getting late. Do you mind waiting up until my Uber gets here?”

“It's really late, you should just stay the night, (Y/n).” Ally sat up then, waving away your comment, though now she was closer and hovering over you a bit, “I'll take you home tomorrow after breakfast, that sound fair?”

It wouldn't be the first overnight stay but it would definitely be the first time that she'd be home too and you just couldn't say no to that even though you probably should have insisted more that you go home, but you accepted her offer without further debate. You'd gone back to your assignment, minus the airpods this time, and Ally got up to go to the kitchen and you could hear her fixing herself a glass of wine.

Ally set a bottle of water next to you on a coaster before settling back in her spot and finding something to watch on TV, and of course you noticed that she was a hell of a lot closer than she was before.

Your pen had paused on the yellow paper and your eyes glanced over the same sentence three times before your mind processed that you could practically feel the heat from her legs next to your arm through her slacks, and if you leaned just an inch you'd be touching her. You fought the urge to look back over your shoulder, but instead you looked up from beneath your lashes and saw that she was browsing the movie channels at a snail's pace.

Behind you, Ally was sipping her wine in one hand and flipping channels with the remote in the other but her eyes were nowhere on the TV screen. But she noticed the moment your pen stopped moving and your shoulders tensed more than usual, she'd been watching you closely and curiously.

“You okay, honey?”

You turned around to answer her with what you hoped was a calm smile and wished that you hadn't, really. Ally was going to kill you sitting the way she was sitting, her energy screaming big dick and the top three buttons of her shirt were undone and her hair was a little messy. Either she was going to give you a heart attack or your libido would.

“Sweetheart?”

You blinked, coming back to reality so fast you would’ve gotten whiplash, “Uh, yeah...maybe I guess I’m just tired too.” Yeah right.

You chuckled nervously, embarrassed really, and licked your lips again and Ally tracked the movement with rapt attention not that you would've caught it because you were busy being mortified being caught staring like a creep.

“Are you sure? You look flushed, drink some water,” you smiled at Ally, ever the mom.

“I’m not—” not what? Thirsty? Yeah you were but not for some water.

“You’re not what?” Ally pressed, still holding you hostage with her eyes alone.

“Not thirsty for water.”

Ally raised an eyebrow, the corner of her lips twitching and you hate that you noticed, “Oh? Then what would you like to drink if it’s not wine or water?”

Good question. One you didn’t have a good answer to. Not trusting yourself to formulate words into an appropriate sentence, you just nodded and turned back around and grabbed the water she brought you. You were determined to ignore until you were finished with your work—for the sake of your sanity and dignity.

Fuck.

Still watching you, Ally laughed quietly into her wine glass and finally settled on a movie, keeping the volume low as she got comfortable. Deciding to let you off the hook for not answering her question. (This time.)

~~

A few days later...

It was another late night for you but you weren't working for Ally tonight, so you went to the gym instead after studying. You were still wearing your tights and sports bra when you left, only throwing on a jacket because the night air and sweat weren't a great mix.

You didn't have anything at home to eat that wasn't expired or so frozen it came from the ice age...it all went in the trash so all you had left in your fridge was a case of water and cheese sticks. It wasn't surprising though, you spent a majority of your free time at Ally's home and you just ate lunch and dinner there usually. So you went straight to the grocery store after your workout with your trainer.

“Hey (Y/n)!” you looked up and internally groaned, rolled your eyes and threw a whole bitch fit.

You offered Sean a tight near sarcastic smile, “Sean. What is up.”

“Nothin',” he said, leaning against the counter he was standing behind with a cheesy smile, his eyes leering—and it made your skin crawl, “Just working...you?”

“Uh,” you were already over this conversation, “Same, anyway—”

“You still work for that crazy killer lesbian?”

You stopped, pivoting back around slowly to see if he was joking or not, of course it was hard to tell because he was looking at your ass, but the minute he turned around his eyes laser beamed to your chest. Specifically your pebbled nipples and the bars pierced in them. You moved the labels of your jacket to cover them fucking pig.

“Uh, my eyes are up here and two, that 'crazy killer lesbian' is your Senator.”

He shrugged, “I didn't vote for her.”

“I'm...okay, it was nice talking to you but I have things to do.”

“Well, wait,” he moved in front of you, stopping your escape, “That's not what I wanted to talk to you about actually, uh, but listen...do you maybe wanna go to dinner with me this weekend? My treat?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, completely unimpressed with his audacity, “You literally just called my boss a crazy killer lesbian and now you're expecting me to go to dinner with you?” as if, you wanted to add but held yourself in check—barely.

“I'm sorry about that,” Sean only shrugged but he was bashful about it but it only served to irritate you further because it was obvious that he didn't quite mean it and you were mentally slapping yourself for just not ordering that damn pizza.

“Whatever, goodnight Sean.”

you tried to move around him but he shifted, keeping you in place and you knew you could've just turned around, you should've but he would've just followed you, “Well wait, you never answered my question. About dinner?”

“No.”

“Well, wait a minute...why not? The lesbian thing? It was just a joke. You can take one, can’t you?”

“And I'm not laughing, get the fuck outta my way Sean—”

“You—”

“I believe she told you to fuck off.”

Sean's eyes snapped up over your head slightly, and you would've laughed at his stupid face had you not been pivoting around yourself, your eyes meeting a very familiar chin and you looked up, but Ally's eyes weren't on you but instead glaring daggers into Sean. He'd be ten feet under if she got her way with that look. You wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of it. (Maybe another version of it...)

“S-senator?”

“Oh, I'm not the crazy killer lesbian anymore? How disappointing.” when Sean could only stare at her like a fish out of the water, Ally stepped forward—a lot closer to you and you didn't have the strength to move or even look away, “I believe you were told to leave. Oh and if I even hear that you looked at or said anything to (Y/n) incorrectly, you're going to have a lot worse than a harassment complaint from a Senator to deal with.”

You didn't see him leave but you heard the squeaks of his sneaker and in seconds flat you and Ally were alone in the cereal aisle and you had absolutely no idea how to even breathe at the moment, much less process that she just saved you from...whatever that even was.

When Ally was satisfied that Sean was gone, she finally looked down at you—there was still a fire in them that you couldn't place but her brown eyes were softer than they were a few seconds ago, and you felt your shoulders relaxing slightly.

“Are you alright, (Y/n)?”

You cleared your throat, taking a small step back—but you still felt exposed under her unblinking stare though not in the same way you felt with Sean, it was the complete opposite, “Yeah thanks to you, so um thanks...a lot. Your timing is impeccable, but what are you doing here so late? Where's Oz? Is he okay?”

Ally smiled at you, shaking her head disturbing her always perfect hairstyle, “Oz is fine, or at least he will be, he must've ate something today at school and it's not sitting well with his stomach,” Ally rolled her eyes but not at the fact that her son had food poisoning but that he had food poisoning from the school lunch. She could only imagine that other children—reforming school lunches was already on her agenda but now she was seriously considering moving ahead of schedule.

“Oh no, how bad?”

“Not too bad...he'll be okay, I'm just here for medicine to stock up on,” Ally reassured you, her eyes flickering over your shoulder for a second, “What are you doing out so late?” and wearing that? She mentally added, but held her tongue because she knew that it wasn't her place to comment on your attire—not that she was complaining about it, but Ally just didn't like the way Sean was leering at you either. She was a hair away from showing him how she earned her title.

Suddenly aware of how much skin you were showing, and that your jacket fell open again but unlike with Sean you didn't feel the need to really cover yourself (even though you knew that you should've). You appreciated her eyes more than his...and probably anyone else's.

“Oh, I went to the gym and since I don't have any food at home...”

Ally chuckled, “Is this your way of asking for a raise?”

“No! No, no you pay me plenty...I'm just too busy to cook is all and then I'm just too tired to eat sometimes. College life.”

“I was teasing, welcome to adulthood. It doesn't stop,” you laughed along with her but you both knew there was truth behind those words.

“I shouldn't keep you, I know you have things to do.”

“You know, I doubt you're going to get a decent nutrient meal here tonight, especially shopping while you’re hungry...” Ally hummed, seemingly thinking hard about something before opening her mouth to carefully speak those words, “You're more than welcome to come home with me for a late dinner if you have nowhere else to be. I'd be more than happy to feed you.”

Heh. Feed me what? You blinked, mildly surprised with how fast your mind went straight to the gutter and you felt your face heating up faster than a house fire, and you had no doubt in your mind that your boss knew exactly what she was doing to you.

But she didn't, Ally didn't have one clue to what was happening in your mind because her own mind was a pile of scrambled eggs while forcing her eyes to stay above your neck. You were both very much still in public.

And the last thing Ally wanted to do was make either you a cliché, especially with her being a public figure in a male dominant career field, both in politics and her restaurant.

“Unless you had your sights set on cereal?” Ally coughed lightly, suddenly nervous and you realized that you'd been standing there staring at her like a moron this whole time.

“No, I'd love to come home with you,” you said cheerfully, meaning every damn word for different reasons, and you smiled at her, before your eyes widened when realizing how forward you sounded, and suggestive as hell, “For dinner! I'd love to come home with you for dinner.”

“Well what else would you be coming for?”

“Dessert.”

Direct result after two blunts...sorry if it's kinda lame tho lmao I went in thinking I was writing smut and gave up somewhere