#and they started putting limits on how many therapy sessions you could get from the normal clinic

[xaviersgiftedyoungster99]

Hey guys first time posting something like this so let me know what you think!!

Summary: Charles Xavier x Reader, angst, fluff, doctors appointments and romantic surprises 😙

It had been about six months since your boyfriend, Charles Xavier, caught a bullet to his back that would paralyse him from the waist down, confining him to a wheelchair for the rest of his life. To say it's been an adjustment for the both of you, would be the understatement of the century. Of course in the beginning Charles tried everything he could, outside of using his power on you, to convince you that you should leave him. The incident in Cuba had broken him both mentally, and physically. He didn't want you to stay out of pity for him, or because you felt obligated to take care of him. It's taken many months, but things were finally beginning to look up. Charles had been home from rehab for a couple of months now, and things were slowly getting back to their normal routine.

"Charles, sweetheart, it's time to get ready to go to your appointment" you said sweetly, as you walked into the bedroom the two of you now shared. Truth be told you had started sleeping in here while Charles was still in rehab, simply because you missed him and it made you feel closer to him. Once Charles was released however, he required a lot of assistance, so it was just easier if you two slept in the same room, that way you could help him if he needed something in the middle of the night.

"Alright darling, just one moment, and I'll be ready to go" Charles spoke to you in a strained voice. Growing concerned you rushed over to him, to find his legs locked in spasms, knocked off the footplates of his wheelchair, and a pair of neatly folded socks sitting on his lap. You immediately hurried over to the nightstand to retrieve Charles medication, to try and stop the spasms. "Thank you, my love," Charles panted through a pained expression, "I don't know what I'd do without you". You handed him a glass of water with a loving look, and he took his pills. "You don't ever have to worry about that Charles, because I'll always love you, no matter what. Now, let's get those socks on, and get moving, mister! We don't want to be late for your appointment, or your doctor will be lecturing the both of us." You lifted Charles feet, one at a time, putting on his socks and a pair of dress shoes, before gently lifting and placing them on the footplates. With that, the two of you shared a quick kiss, and headed to the car.

Once you arrived at the hospital, you jumped out of the car to retrieve Charles chair. Once assembled you brought it over to the passenger side, where Charles transferred into it with a practiced ease. You tried not to stare, but a lump still caught in your throat every time Charles transferred himself back into the wheelchair. Charles had always had so much energy and enthusiasm for life, always the first to jump out of the car, and now the last. When you sat on the couch together, or in the car, the wheelchair tucked out of sight, it was easy to imagine life was still just the same. It didn't bother you that Charles could no longer walk, you loved him just the same as you ever had, but it was in these moments that you could see the sadness behind his deep blue eyes, as he is reminded again of his new limitations. Charles sighed "Alright, let's go get this over with, shall we?"

The first thing the doctors have Charles do at each session is stretches, and for a while now you have been involved in this part of his therapy. Before Charles came home after the accident, you had to learn how to lift him into and out of his wheelchair from the floor, in case he ever had a fall. Charles is a complete paraplegic, meaning he has absolutely no sensation or movement below his waist. After you get Charles out of his chair and onto the mats, you begin working on some stretches, where you lift and manipulate his legs for him. This helps keep what little muscle tone Charles still has in his legs from atrophying completely, and is also good for his circulation.

You're very happy that Charles trusts you enough to let you be so involved in this part of his life. You can still see a tinge of embarrassment masking his features each time he has to change into his workout clothes, his thin legs on full display for you to see, but you've assured him it doesn't bother you. Charles is still just as sexy to you as he ever was, and if you're being honest sometimes you think even more so. Having to use his arms for everything has done wonders for his upper body strength after all.

Once you've finished administrating his stretches, it's time for Charles to lift some weights. You sit to the side and watch with admiration, as your boyfriend does his workout. You consider yourself incredibly lucky to be with Charles, both because of his kind nature and determination, and his devilishly handsome good looks. While you're lost in your thoughts, Charles doctor comes in, taking a seat next you. "Hello, y/n, may I have a talk with you in my office for a moment to review some of Charles progress recently?" You nodded your head yes, and stood up to follow the doctor to his office.

After about 20 minutes you had finished reviewing Charles latest charts, and made all of the next months appointments. With that done, you began the walk back to the physical therapy department. When you arrived outside the door to the workout room Charles was currently using, you heard a strange commotion coming from inside. Was that... Music?

You opened the door to see Charles, back in his normal attire, hair combed and face all clean shaven, and... Standing?! With a loud gasp, you look your boyfriend up and down assessing what exactly was going on and how! To your amazement Charles was standing, with the use of two crutches, and a pair of very intricate looking leg braces, that appeared to be locking his unfeeling legs in place. He gave you a shy smile.

" I'll admit I'm probably a touch out of practice, but y/n, darling, would you dance with me?" With that you lost all composure, and tears began streaming down your face. It felt like it had been ages since you and Charles had danced together, and being that you both met at a dance while he was studying at Oxford, it had become a regular staple of your early relationship. There was nothing you loved more than when Charles would take you dancing.

"Oh... Darling," Charles sighed as he struggled over to you "please don't cry, I didn't mean..."

" There is nothing I'd like more in this entire world than to dance with you, Charles Xavier. It's just that I never thought.. I.. you... I never thought I'd get that opportunity again, and to see you, not in your wheelchair.." you trailed off as you began to choke up again. " You didn't have to go to all this trouble you know. I know our life has been a lot different lately, but Charles, I wouldn't trade it for anything. I'm just so happy to have you here with me."

" I know I didn't have to, but I wanted to. You are the single most important person in the world to me y/n, without you I don't know how I would have gotten through these past six months. You have never once looked at me differently because of my legs. You're the only person who looks at me and still sees Charles Xavier, and not some poor young fellow in a wheelchair. I know it doesn't matter to you, and I adore you for that, but I want to give you this, please."

You reach out to take Charles hand, "you'll have to go slow for me.." Charles says with a slight sadness to his voice "don't worry Charles, I've got you, now and forever" and with that the two of you sway slowly to the music, enjoying the feeling of being in each other's arms, each lost in the others eyes.

"Thank you, Charles" and before you could say anything else he pulled you in for a passionate kiss, nearly losing his balance and knocking you both over in the process, but neither of you cared. All that mattered was the two of you and this moment.

[hoedamn-eron]

i'm calling my old therapist

Nathan just has a way of making you feel vulnerable.

Warnings: 18+ (no actual smut but some small descriptions of rough sex, and language). Mentions of humiliation. Swearing. Somewhat mentions of aftercare but Nathan isn't that great. Everyone here is emotionally constipated. An awful lot of dialogue. "Friends" with benefits situation. Nathan - as usual - is his own warning. Both parties need therapy, honestly. Not my best work no matter how many times I edit it, proofread but will still have mistakes. Word count: 1,882 GN!Reader, no use of Y/N.

Your arrangement with Nathan is just fine. Just. Fine.

It works well for you both.

If you talked about it to anyone, though, you were sure they would call you a degenerate. You could blame the fact that you needed to let loose, that what you really needed was to start seeing your therapist again. But Nathan was at the right place at the right time, and you gladly took up his offer of a casual fling.

‘Stress relief’ was what he called it.

You’ve come to find that he’s into some really kinky shit, which you are totally okay with. He’s all about consent and communication, despite his default attitude being irritable and sarcastic.

Your relationship with Nathan had been going on for about a year. He’s completely ruined you for other men; not only because he does absolutely filthy things to you, but because he owns you mind, body, heart, and soul. He just doesn’t know it yet.

You sink deeper into the bath, hissing as your aching muscles protest. It was a particularly rough session; you’d been pinned to the bed, Nathan jackhammering his cock into you, where you’d been overstimulated beyond your limits and he didn’t let up, no matter how many times you begged and pleaded, it always ended up with you screaming his name in ecstasy. You couldn’t stop cumming and he loved it.

Of course you had a safe word, but you seldom used it. You didn’t ever feel the need to. You knew you were safe with him, not matter what harsh and demoralising name he called you.

You’d been in the bath long enough. You step out of the tub, quickly drying yourself off, just so you can get into one of those warm, fluffy bath robes that Nathan leaves for you on hanging on the bathroom door (he won’t disclose where he got them from - you have the sneaky suspicion that he doesn’t actually know, but he likes to keep you guessing on even the mundane things).

The steam from your bath leaks into the hallway as you open the bathroom door, causing you to shiver at the temperature difference, despite the robe you were wearing. You wander out the bathroom and find Nathan on the couch, wearing sweatpants and an old vest, nursing a half empty bottle of beer, looking like he hadn’t just fucking rocked your world into next week. You note the other two empty bottles on the coffee table. He’s scrolling through his phone.

You try not to ogle at him (you did always have a weakness for his arms), but he catches you staring anyway. You can’t read the look on his face.

“Hi,” you say quietly.

“Hi,” he answers back, putting the phone down on the arm of the couch.

Aftercare has never been his strong suit. Sure, he doesn’t treat you like trash after, but he could use some work. Nathan’s idea of aftercare is a smack on the ass, and a hearty comment of ‘good job’. Sometimes he’ll get you a water, or – like this time – he’ll run you a bath and leave you to it. But this is fine too. He talks to you after like nothing had happened; like whatever was said or done was meant in any way.

“You okay?” you ask, just trying to find something to say.

Nathan nods, his eyes still on you. “Mhm. Are you?”

You nod. “Yeah. Tired.”

Nathan grins and chuckles, shaking his head as he finally looks away from you. “Yeah, that was a lot.” He takes another sip of his beer.

You hate how normal he looks, how unaffected he was after sex, when your legs were often still shaking for an hour afterwards.

“Yeah…” you breathe, taking a seat on the couch, sitting as far away from him as you could. But that was more for his benefit.

“No regrets?” he asks, offering you his half drunken beer.

You shake your head at him before answering, “No regrets.”

Nathan gives a nod, taking another gulp of his beer. After a moment he sends over a lazy grin to you. “Is it bad I want to do it again?”

You snort in amusement. “I might need a week to recuperate.”

“But you would do it again?”

“Yeah…” you say, biting your lip as you nod. “Yeah. I’d do it again.”

Nathan gives a breathy laugh, looking at you again. There’s a warmth in his eyes. “But you need a break first?”

You nod with a soft grin. “My holes can’t take much more.”

There’s a silence around you as Nathan stares. You squirm a little, about to ask him what was wrong, before he says, “I gotta say, I could get addicted to you.”

He said it so casually, as if it wasn’t going to send your thoughts spiralling or cause your heart to beat out of your chest. It was probably loud enough that he could hear it.

But you keep it light. You send a smirk over to him. “You aren’t already?”

He laughs, his head leaning on the back of the couch.

You watch his Adam’s apple bob with the movement, his neck straining as he leans his head back. You want to bite him.

“I might be,” he said with a chuckle. “It’s so tempting to do it all again.”

“Give me a few days,” you say.

“Why? You a little weakling who can’t take a good fuck? Can’t handle when I call you a good little whore? Can’t stand when I make you cum so much that you turn into a dumb little fuck toy?”

“Shut up,” you say, giving him a kick to the thigh, but it barely phases him.

“Oh, did I hit a sore spot?” Nathan mocks, his bottom lip sticking out at he looks at you with mirth. “Did you get embarrassed?” he asks mockingly. “Did you cry over it? Because you did, in fact, do both of those things - ”

“Hey, you’re into all’a that shit too,” you snap, your eyes meeting his again.

“I’m into you.”

You weren’t expecting that, but you only give yourself a second to react before you retort with, “That’s the sappiest shit you’ve ever said to me.”

Nathan just smirks at you, and you want to just grab his face and kiss it right off of him. “And you liked it.”

You study him for a moment as he turns from you, finishing his beer before that bottle joins the other empty ones on the coffee table.

You don’t know what it was. Maybe it was because he could open you up and expose the deepest parts of you that you don’t show to anyone else, or it’s because he’s so good looking, and so out of your league that you want him to want you, or it’s because – despite his attitude towards you, and everyone else he knows – you both deeply respect and trust each other. You honour each other's boundaries and decisions, and you feel secure in the relationship you've built together.

Despite the primarily physical (and it is feral) nature of your relationship (if you could honestly call it that, really), you've somewhat developed a level of emotional intimacy with Nathan (as much as you can, regarding your situation). At times, you find yourself yearning for a deeper connection with him. Maybe this is your opportunity.

“I love you,” you say.

There is a long, long pause as he stares at you. The longer he stares without reacting, the more you regret your words, your cheeks warming.

“Wow,” he says after a while, almost surprised. “I think those are the only words you’ve ever said to me that actually caught me off-guard.”

You avert your gaze, curling your arms around yourself, wanting to disappear.

But the next thing you know, he’s moving towards you on the couch, his stare unwavering on you. He reaches out, his hand landing softly on your forearm, where he squeezes gently. “Was that hard for you? To say you love me?” He asks with a small grin.

You can’t tell if he’s mocking you. You want to push him away, to tell him he’s egotistical and the world’s biggest asshole, because he knows it was hard for you. “You know I don’t express myself very well…I don’t ‘do’ emotions.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Nathan with a grin. “I can tell by the way you react around me when we’re not fuckin’.”

You merely roll your eyes.

“Or when I was saying the cruellest things to you and you just take it like the good little puppy you are,” he says with an almost sadistic grin.

You scoff and shove him away from you. “I take it back.”

“No backsies,” he says immediately, pulling you to him and wrapping his arms around you.

“No, I do backsies,” you say, and despite your words, you melt in his embrace.

 “Nope, not allowed,” he says. “Because you told me you loved me, and now you can’t take it back. That’s not how it works.”

“People take back love all the time,” you mutter, your eyes closing as you bury yourself into his chest, where you could hear his heart beating rhythmically.

“But right now, in this moment, you just told me that you love me,” said Nathan, as if talking about the weather. “And I loved hearing it. So it doesn't matter if it's ever revoked, because you just gave it to me...and now you can't go back on that. It’s out there forever.”

“Jesus,” you breathe, the embarrassment rolling of you in waves.

“Hey, hey,” he says, cupping your face in his large palms, forcing you to look at him. You hate that he can read you like a book. “That’s all that matters here,” he says with another grin. “That said, I’m going make you say it again.”

You roll your eyes. He’s always so sure of himself, the cocky bastard.

He doesn’t relent. “Say it again,” he whispered, his eyes determined but soft as he stares at you.

You take him in and that’s when it hits you. He needs to hear you say it. He isn’t teasing you, he needs the affirmation, the feeling of being wanted; ironic, since the things he did and said to you earlier would make a nun blush.

“I love you,” you whisper back.

After a few moments, he smiles. “Did you have to stop and think about it that time?”

You shake your head. “No.”

“Good,” he says softly. “So I can take it as a given now that I can tease you relentlessly about it?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head with a laugh.

“I’m going to anyway,” said Nathan, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he lets you go, and he stands from the couch, stretching as he makes his way into the kitchen, probably to grab another beer.

It doesn’t upset you that he doesn’t say it back. You didn’t expect him to. He has his own issues and you have yours. The guy in an enigma and you honestly wouldn’t have him any other way.

You give a snort of amusement. You’re so fucked. “I’m gonna call up my old therapist.”

“You have a therapist?”

[lightning-writes]

good heart (faulty machine of a man) - 9/30

fic summary: bucky meets someone at therapy

chapter summary: where's rue? (alternatively, bucky fucks)

word count: 1532

tags: post endgame, pre tfatws, hurt/comfort, slow burn, canon divergent, canon compliant, au

warnings: sexual content, slightly cruel bucky

a/n: bucky's slightly savage in this one, but out of his inability to deal with his feelings yet.

AO3 MASTERLIST X

Bucky’s train is earlier than usual, so he walks up the block to the coffee shop, where he takes the pink note from his wallet and hands it to the barista. He wonders if Rue would still want it, in light of the cooler weather, but somehow, he knows she will.

(He orders his black coffee, too, just so it’s not awkward. He doesn’t want her to get the wrong idea, that he’d only gone to the cafe just for her… though it’s true.)

On his walk back to the building, he considers what he and Raynor might talk about this week. It’s a “government week” as Raynor has started calling it. In the past couple of weeks, the only thing Bucky has kept off limits is Steve. He’s opened up in small ways about his missions, his espionage, even his nightmares. He wonders if she’s going to push, again, for him to discuss grief.

He falters in the doorway of the therapy suite when he sees the receptionist’s desk. Rue’s coffee in his hand suddenly feels like the stupidest idea he’s ever had.

Behind the desk is Greta, with her usual tight blonde ponytail and sharp features. She’s putting on lip gloss when he comes into the room. The look she gives him is both patronizing and annoyed. She shuts her compact mirror with a loud snap.

“You’re not the first person today to look at me like that,” she says. She looks down at the computer. “James Barnes?”

“Yes.” His fingers bite into the plastic of the cup.

“A lot of other clients asked for her, too,” Greta continues as she enters something into the computer. Her slender fingers clack against keys. “Didn’t know Ruby was so popular.”

(Bucky has a sneaking suspicion that Greta is fully aware of how people perceive Ruby.)

“Just used to the routine,” he mumbles.

She gives him a smile that looks more like a grimace. “You’re all set, you can have a seat.”

“Um…” Bucky’s better judgment loses to his unchecked thoughts. He asks anyway, “Is she… is she alright?”

“Yes,” Greta sighs. He can tell she’s trying to play it off like they’re sharing a lighthearted joke. He can see how it grates at her. “She’s just out of town - it was a kind of last minute thing.”

He just nods and says he’s going to the bathroom before the session. He doesn’t wait for her response, knowing there probably won’t be one; he’s out of the therapy suite in a few strides.

(He feels many things at once. Annoyed that he’d been vulnerable enough to get her a coffee, but she wasn’t there to receive it. Confused that she hadn’t said anything about traveling when they’d shared that long car ride together. Jealous that other people have these similar connections with her - though he knew it wasn’t her fault.

She’s magnetic.)

Bucky dumps the coffee in the bathroom trash and leaves.

////

“Please, please, don’t –” The man trembles in terror as the Winter Soldier approaches. “Please, don’t - I have a wife and -”

The assassin doesn’t care about wives or husbands or children or anyone. He doesn’t discriminate against men and women or any race or religion.

This man was not his target, but he could not have witnesses.

His motions are precise and automatic. He pulls a knife from one of the bodies littering the floor. The target is shaking so violently that he cannot scramble to his feet in time, to even try to run away. He launches the knife into the man’s chest, throwing his body back against the wall, cracking the drywall.

The Winter Soldier is not sentimental, but the knife is his favorite, so he hauls it from the man’s chest cavity and wipes the blood on his leg before putting it back in its holster.

Bucky wakes, and he’s pissed. He rolls himself off the ground and walks into his untouched bedroom. He puts on a t-shirt, some jeans, and his jacket. He pulls his gloves from the pocket, tucks his hair into a cap, and leaves his apartment.

(These fucking nightmares will be the end of his sanity.)

He finds himself in a bar. This bartender seems to recognize him as a regular and nothing more. Bucky downs drink after drink, hoping for a black out rather than a buzz.

“Hi.”

He looks to his right. A woman, maybe in her early forties, makes eyes at him, a barstool over. She comes to sit next to him, taking his attention as an invitation. She has straight blonde hair, not unsimilar to Greta’s, with silvery strands catching the light. Her features are soft, more demure.

She rests her cheek into her palm. Her lip curls into a dramatic pout. “You look like you’re going through it, honey.”

His eyes scan over. She’s wearing tight jeans, a deep cut tank top under a bomber jacket, faux fur lining the hood. The cold night has her hard nipples visible beneath the thin top.

(She also has a wedding band tan.)

He bites, “Not a great night.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she leans in, and he smells her thick floral perfume. Her lashes flutter at him. Voice low, she says, “Maybe buying me a drink will cheer you up.”

(Bucky has been good with women in the 1940s, a charmer and a flirt. He knew it’d been his youth and his bravado. The Winter Soldier, however, always got what he wanted without resistance. Whether it was the Serum or the singularity of his objective, the Winter Soldier was a successful philanderer.)

Bucky motions to the bartender, pointing to the woman’s drink, and indicates to bring two more. She grins, planting a hand on his thigh, leaning in close.

“How’s that feel?”

(Bucky takes a page out of the Winter Soldier’s book.)

“Better already.”

It takes him five more drinks, and her a drink and a half to find themselves in the single stall ladies’ room.

He lifts her onto the edge of the sink, careful not to let his metal hand linger for too long on her body. He braces it on the wall behind her and leans into their fervent kiss. His right hand fists her hair, gropes her breasts, grabs her ass. Her tongue is sloppy in his mouth, the taste of tequila filling his senses. His teeth graze her throat as her hands fumble with his belt. Her hands are cold as she strokes him, pants sagging down his hips. He pinches her nipple cruelly, eliciting a pained yelp. He stifles it with his mouth. She pulls away and hops down from the sink.

(When she’s on her knees, he focuses on the singularity of this moment. Need, need, need. Between the quickly burning alcohol and this, he tries to numb his mind, to override the nightmare. He feels her eyes on him, seeking his validation, but apathy and carnality flood his veins. He grabs her hair as he thrusts into her mouth. He drowns on the way her mouth feels and the helpless guttural sounds she makes.)

He comes, and she spits in the sink. He’s already buckling his pants.

(He got what he came for.)

She looks confused, and a lapse of guilt flickers in him. He goes in for another bruising kiss. He lets her take his hand to palm her through her own jeans. Her mouth is kissing down his jaw when he bites his glove off. He tries to slide his hand down the front of her jeans, but when his metal fingers graze her skin, she startles, immediately shoving him away.

(God, people are so predictable, he thinks.)

“What–” He shows her his prosthetic with a feigned frown. “Oh, you didn’t–”

“Didn’t what, tell you?” Bucky’s not sure if her shock is due to the prosthetic or that she’d figured out who he is. “Is this going to be a problem?”

“No, but–”

(Even though he’d done it on purpose, even though he had no intention of giving her anything in return in the first place, the familiar panic in her eyes cuts through his post-coital haze. He feels like being cruel.)

“C’mon,” he mutters against the corner of her limp mouth, hooking her leg against his hip. “Let’s just–”

“No! No, wait, I…” She pushes him away again. “I’m sorry, I—” Unsteady hands reach into her pocket and produce a ring. “I’m married, this was all a mistake, I’m sorry, I have to go, I–”

(Oh now you’re married - you weren’t when you were deepthroating me? The thought almost spits out of his mouth, but she wasn’t even worth his pettiness.)

“Right, okay,” he allows a little anger through. He puts his hands up in defense, taking a step back, and he knows his metal hand catches the light by the way her eyes snap to it. “Let me at least buy you a cab.”

“No, no, I’m good, thanks.”

Her fingers tremble as she tries to unlock the door. His dream flashes behind his eyes. He walks over and unlocks it. She flinches.

“Sorry,” is the last thing she says before rushing out.

(He’s too numb to feel remorse.)

[baasphemous]

Some irl updates;

Been a while since I updated here. Last chatter input I saw I was still kicking around gender and names and whatnot. Been a really wild ride since the last time I updated. Sometimes I don't know why I update here, but it feels like a place without character limits I can babble out my thoughts, and I feel like despite my activity levels some folks use this place to keep tabs on me, so!

Been using the name love/lovell and i do indeed enjoy it. Been working on trying to get funds together to go for another name change because fuck it honestly. I need to do what makes me happy. Which kind of leads me to another update. My relationship has kind of shuffled around? It is a weird situation I guess for monogamous folks, but essentially over the course of a lot of therapy sessions I realized I no longer had romantic feelings for one of my partners (jack), and that those feelings haven't been there for a while now. We plan to still be platonic life partners unless they change their mind (as I am letting them lead the charge on what changes—quite frankly I have loved them like this for a long time so not much on my side changes outside of title and their awareness). My only romantic partner now is andy.

In regards to this, all that I ask is that you don't reach out to bother jack about this because they're trying to cope with the rejection they're feeling. I also hope that you'll reserve judgement on jack, as anyone that knows them knows they're one of the sweetest people you could know (and you'd know how fucked up their crazy mother is and the number it did on them). I'm not sure it's a "break up," but I am also not sure what else to call it. I would say it's amicable, but also I know jack is still struggling with their own feelings on the matter. In addition I feel like it's time I was frank about my own thoughts to others instead of trying to cover it up? I dunno, it feels so complex at the end of the day because you can't just send out a memo informing folks of a relationship change, so I guess people who know where to look will find this and figure it out. Additionally I guess doesn't look too different from the outside, anyway? I dunno.

It sucks, and I've been coping with the grief of it as well as trying to navigate new dynamics. This whole thing sort of unraveled the way it did because I realized the amount of parenting that andy and I have done over the years for jack and how unhealthy that is for us all as a whole. How they kind of used our relationship to prevent exploring themself outside of us, but also using their trauma within our relationship as a way to keep andy and i at an arms distance, even after being with us for a decade. A manufactured safe zone, more or less. And in that way, it was a realization that andy and i needed to pull back because we were enabling jack to play out old relationship dynamics. Also to be honest, we were also being set up in unwinnable situations by jack that made outsiders and friends start safety checking them for fear that we were being abusive, when in reality it was a kind of manipulation that jack was putting on. Again, I don't think it was on purpose, I just think that the amount of unobserved/unprocessed trauma on jack's behalf (and to some degree andy and i's as well) was the cause of it all. Historically Jack's therapists haven't cared for andy and i, and it's not been until jack started seeing the therapist we see that that began to change, and that (for better or worse) jack began to touch all that trauma that's been balled up in their body for many years (probably because my therapist plays hardball and doesn't let folks just skate past their problems). The therapist already knows us so she doesn't take jack at face value when they are making judgements on us based on their feelings, which has been a blessing. There have been times where jack will take a situation and skew it with how they feel in a way that makes andy and I look terrible because they're pretty blind to the support we give and only feel the negatives, which, as you can imagine, is pretty hard to navigate socially when people have the expectation that you're being abusive to someone who seems helpless and wounded. It also makes it hard to navigate with jack because it does hurt my feelings when i give so much love and support only to have jack grip the one perceived slight in all the offerings i give with white knuckles like it is the only thing I give.

It's been a lot. But I am proud of us. It's rough right now because we are going through an adjustment period of jack trying to get a handle on themself, but this is the most effort i have seen them put toward their mental health in a very long time. I am happy to see movement. I am happy to see them finally start working through the shit that's been holding them back, and regardless of whether or not we try to return to a romantic dynamic, I am happy to see them uncover who they are beneath all the trauma that's been dictating their life. I have loved every version of them I have known and I don't plan on changing that even if we aren't romantic partners. And I know that that's a hard thing for them to understand right now, but it doesn't make it any less true. I want what's best for them at the end of the day. I want them to be happy where they are instead of living up to some status quo and basing their entire treatment off the possibility that we will somehow transcend this years in the making dynamic has not been helpful. If I didn't advocate for this I would be irresponsible as a partner to allow them to be trapped in old cycles and continue to endlessly self flagellate.

Weirdly, finally admitting this all has helped me and andy put in the distance I needed to with jack, and it feels as if it's been beneficial as a whole for us. Again it isn't meant meanly, but I have more spoons for other things because they aren't being used to manage jack on the daily. I feel more relief and less like I am playing out my own fucked up dynamics I learned growing up (contributing to the least functional amid the family unit without question or consideration for my own needs). I have found I feel closer with andy? It's strange. But I guess that's the beauty of being polyam: many loves. And those loves don't have to be just romantic ones. I just hope we all come out on the other side closer and healthier, because again I'd hate to maintain something for the sake of having it and not for everyone's benefit.

Anyway, I guess again if you got this far give me a hell yeah brother.

[yardsards]

my hobbies include watching the sheer horror on new therapists' faces when i tell them about my childhood

[sundownsquad]

Tag game! Share five random facts about your ocs that you haven’t shared yet, then send this to five others :)

Oh fun, thanks for the tag!! I'm gonna do one fact for each member of Sundown. ❤️

Kess is an excellent strategist and is always thinking ahead. Though this is a huge advantage on missions, it also means he is an absolute wizard at board games and card games. He's not even overtly competitive. He just sits pretty quietly and finishes his turns quickly, but there always comes a point when someone catches onto his plan. It usually ends with someone going "NnnnoooOOO! NO! Don't you dare! Don't even think about it! Put that card right back in your hand! I've been planning this move for SIX TURNS don't ruin this for me!" They then find out Kess has had his move in mind for, like, 16 turns.

Speedy has three "ring" tattoos on the injured fingers on his left hand (two on his fourth finger, one on his pinky). The rings each have a word in Aurebesh written on them that represents one of his brothers. The words are Loyalty (Kess), Courage (Knox), and Strength (Drums).

Knox is a bit of a spider monkey (or whatever the Star Wars equivalent is lol) and can climb just about anything. Even in full armor, if he gets a good running start he'll be up and over an obstacle in a blink. Though this skill is especially effective on infiltration missions, you can see him scaling the sides of stuff even on a normal day. The squad could be walking through a city they've never been to and suddenly they'll hear Knox's voice coming from further away saying "You guys should really check out this view!" And when the others turn around they see him on the roof of a nearby two-story building and they're all like "How the hell did you get up there??"

Drums got his scar from a high-voltage discharge that struck him while he was working to disarm a generator on a mission. Though the most apparent outcome of the injury is his scar, it also had many other underlying effects. Because of the accident, Drums sustained serious (but not complete) hearing loss in his right ear, gained a tremor in his right hand that manifests when trying to perform tasks requiring fine motor skills, and began exhibiting a marked, intermittent loss of focus he later started referring to as bouts of "brain fog". Drums and his brothers keep these symptoms strictly under wraps out of fear of the chance that Drums could get reconditioned or decommissioned if it's found out.

Nitsani spent a good deal of time prior to joining Sundown Squad working as a Jedi Investigator for Republic Intelligence and the Coruscant Police (following much in the footsteps of her Master). Though Nitsani was an excellent investigator, her strongest passion was providing therapy, counseling, and rehabilitation sessions for the victims of abuse, violent crime, and trafficking that came through the system. She was able to use her highly refined telepathic abilities to coach patients through their recovery, and was also able to do force healing on a limited basis as physical therapy.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 152

I’m not going to jinx it, I’m not going to jinx it, I’m not going to jinx it...

Okay, maybe I am. I managed to queue up the chapters I had in the barrel! Yay!! Which also means that I have a super duper exciting chapter coming up, which I can’t wait to write and can’t wait for y’all to read. I just need it to be perfect.

That said, thank you to @baelpenrose and @charlylimph-blog for your help with this particular chapter.  I love when we are all three in one of these sessions and just descending into chaos in the chat. Also, @mamayoda (who I can’t tag but I do want you to know I see your likes in my notes!) for love-bombing my notes recently.

“Is it just me or is everyone really jumpy?” Charly asked as I set my food down across from her.  It was our thrice-weekly lunch dates in one of the public mess halls, and she definitely had a point.  I had already noticed three people scowl distrustfully at the food consoles, hugging closely to the prepared food side of the room instead.

I sighed. “It has to have been Derek’s stress test.  It wasn’t supposed to impact systems we didn’t design, but…”

She snorted loudly. “Tell that to the week I spent taking cold showers again.  At least this time, the doors didn’t play any music when I walked through them.”

“Did your doors at least open consistently? I was stuck in my quarters for a whole day until we figured out that I could walk through if I had an escort.”  I laughed and shook my head before digging in to my food. “And, come to find out, we actually do manage the water systems, thanks to BioLab 2.”

Contrary to myself, Charly was entirely unperturbed at this revelation beyond sniffing her hoodie and shrugging. “My doors worked fine as far as I know, but Coffey and I tend to work the same hours, so… Maybe that was it.  Oo!” Her cheer of enthusiasm caught me off guard as she started bouncing in her seat. “OOOOO! I bet he activated the routine Xiomara had running when you and Jokul weren’t friends yet!”

“There was a routine!?” I asked, exasperated. “I behaved, thank you. It wasn’t necessary.”

“Meh. Just in case. What do you think her deal is?” She tilted her head to the side, at a table near us.

Sure enough, the woman at that table was darting glances around the room, her shoulders hunched, elbows close to her body, eyes wide.  I could practically feel her shaking from where I was. “I can’t tell if she looks suspicious or afraid,” I murmured, hoping the woman couldn’t hear me. “But the fact that I’ve met mice and chihuahuas who shook less, I’m going to go with afraid.”

As I watched the woman, weighing whether or not a stranger trying to comfort her would make it better or worse, Mona’s familiar face approached her instead.  She was speaking softly enough that I couldn’t make out words, but the woman clearly recognized her and only jumped slightly.

I was so focused on the sight of Mona comforting the woman that I nearly hit the ceiling when Parvati’s voice came from entirely too close to my right shoulder. “Rebecca.  She lost her family twice, first her parents, some cousins, and an uncle when the hack happened, and then her partner and children in the After.  It’s understandable that she’s terrified right now, after the stress test. Too many bad memories.”

My face flushed in humiliation. “Pranav and Zach sent a ship-wide alert that the stress test was happening - “

A perfectly manicured hand clapped over my mouth, one dark eyebrow arched in eloquent disbelief. “Sophia. You of all people know that mental scars do not heed logic.”

Charly’s hair flew around her face as she nodded enthusiastically. “After day three of cold showers, I flinched every time I went through a door in case that stupid song started playing again, no matter how many times I reminded myself that it was a stress test and I had decidedly not given Derek boba tea again.”

Both my hands flew up in surrender. “I stand corrected, I just feel awful to see people react like that.” Gazing around the room, I was suddenly much more aware of all the darting eyes, protective postures, seats turned so that backs were against walls.

Charly had obviously seen the same thing. “We may need to talk to Pranav about limiting the tests to one or two systems at a time.”

“I wish we could,” I admitted, stabbing a potato out of my pie slightly harder than necessary. “His department was passing the tests with flying colors when Derek was limited to one or two systems at a time.  But they failed this last test miserably, it turns out.  As soon as they would react to one thing, Derek would switch to another system, and they couldn’t be everywhere at once as well as they convinced themselves that they could.  And they can’t just be good at small scale attacks: the revolt that happened before the End brought everything down at once, from multiple access points. It was… kind of elegant, in a terrible way.  Very clean.”

Charly squinted at me and Parvati in suspicion. “Are you supposed to know that they crashed and burned in the test.”

I rocked my hand back and forth while I chewed on a mouthful of crust.  It had way too much butter in it, but at least it was actually crust this time. A week ago it had been something pretty close to paper mache. “Technically we don’t officially know that.  Officially, all we know is that Pranav has requisitioned enough additional staff to increase his team of programmers by seventy percent.”

“Asses handed to them, got it,” Charly nodded in understanding.

“We also officially know that Pranav currently owes Hannah quite the enormous favor,” Parvati confided.

“How big?” Charly ventured slowly.

“Big enough that his grandchildren may be indebted to hers,” came the laughing response.

Charly shook her head and clucked her tongue. “He should know better than to bet against Derek.  He breaks the systems for fun, and they asked him to really go for it. What did they expect?”

“Apparently to put up a better fight at least.” I forced a smile, but guilt weighed on my heart as I studied the room again, fully seeing the microexpressions of anxiety, fear, and anger.  It felt like the entire Ark was constantly swinging between hope and fear. The random drills weren’t really helping, either.

“They aren’t,” Parvati agreed, letting me know that I had been thinking out loud. “Everyone is sleep deprived, on high alert, and then all of a sudden all the computer systems went on the fritz for a week.”

I sighed and rubbed my forehead, pushing what was left of my pot pie away from me, appetite gone. “We need to talk to Grey and Antoine about getting counselling for everyone, seeing as how Xiomara and Pranav pretty much just triggered the entire ship. I mean, everyone knows counselling is available, but I think allocating training and resources to the therapy teams is going to take priority over Pranav’s request for the moment.”

Charly tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Do we have the space for some quiet rooms, like you set up for the Food Festival a few years back? That may be a good idea.”

Snapping into work-mode, Parvati flicked her datapad open, bangles clattering as she started making notes. “The quarters left by those who relocated closer to the Archives are still uninhabited, those can be used.  We may be able to convince some people to relocate so we can spread the rooms out more evenly, but even if we can’t, just having those rooms available will help.”

“Make a note to add in the proposal for Grey: possibility of having specific vendors permitted to serve food in BioLab 2.  Encourage mental health days and picnics.”

Parvati nodded in acknowledgement of my request, before adding her own spin. “As a contingency plan, find vendors who will pre-package picnics.  Between the current distrust of the consoles and the fact it will remind everyone of the annual Festival, the good emotions will help.”

“I like it,” I confirmed. “What else?”

“Paintball tag day in the corridors,” Charly announced, without preamble or warning. “Make it a holiday, everyone is off work, limit it to one end of the Ark.”

I shook my head. “Guns, not the best idea.”

“Ew, no. No pew-pew.” She wrinkled her nose. “I was thinking more paint-soaked splash bombs.”

Finger guns deployed, dual wielding. “I am so here for a paintball tag day in that case.  The flavored paint?”

“Not the scotch bonnet please,” Parvati begged. “I just know someone will get that in the face, I don’t care how much Else likes it.”

“Got it, no more pepper spraying people,” Charly agreed seriously. “OOO! I could test the new arrows out!  With something like buttered popcorn paint, obviously. Maybe kiwi on the other team.”

“Just limit the pull on the bows, okay? I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

“Fiiiiine…”

Parvati smiled and added to her notes. “So, we probably want someone to correlate the current date to whatever the date would be on Earth… Just in case we need to get a consultant for Holi.”

“Good point. Conor is alarmingly good at that, so I can ask him.  It would be a nice cultural event if we could do that. If not, we can totally work on celebrating Holi when it comes around.”

“Final suggestion for right now, because I have to get back to work,” I sighed happily. “This is going to be the biggest ask, and the smallest at the same time…” Both nodded at me to continue. “Care packages, for everyone. And I mean everyone on the Ark.”

“Sophia,” Parvati scolded me. “That’s almost ten thousand people and sixteen animal companions.”

“Well aware,” I forged on, “We’ll talk to Sam about the bows, I can wrap them. Commission some of those really nice chocolates, or maybe some taffy from Simon. And something salty.  I know there is someone on the Ark who makes aromatherapy candles, Tyche is bananas about them.”

Shaking her head, she added it to the list. “If you insist on that, I insist on a celebration for the drop out of FTL.  Hannah and I can use some of the plans from the Food Festival, include Charly’s paint tag - “

“And Kink Night!”

“- and Kink Night, apparently… have several events going on across the Ark, since we already discussed declaring a holiday.”

“Get Bash’s permission to use the Undine again, and I won’t object,” I surrendered before standing. “On that note, I really do have to get back to work.  Come on, Vati, we have work to do apparently.”

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[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 14: Attrition

Content Warning: Harsh Psychological Content

It had been so unexpected.

All it was was a walk in the Last Vigil, the waving to a knightly looking gentleman having lunch out of simple good will, and it returned an address to him by name that soon resulted in the revelation he was talking to a High Inquisitor. Perhaps one of the very few he wouldn't consider a monster, and as it turned out- had much in common with himself.

It would be a few months later, when Esredes found himself in a small tub of hot water with the Inquisition and slapped with a vigilantism charge that resulted in community service, that he appeared to him again with a simple request. Esredes had already been resigned to make time for working in a soup kitchen or an orphanage or something similar- it was no big deal, just something to get through- but instead the man suggested a much different way of completing community service.

The Inquisition was undergoing slow reform, after all. And even those being held within the Tribunal certainly needed help, as well...

Esredes had started counseling to help people. Even with the mix in of his own motivations, that much remained true. But some people were beyond saving, and he knew this-

And then you have the audacity to brag about 'clipping his wings off'. You keep asking what the difference between us is, yes? That is it right there. I would feel terrible about doing that to him. You don't feel any remorse for anything. But oh, you poor, sad thing, you lost your poor parents, well you should be grateful they didn't live to see just how cold your heart became without them there to contain it! You don’t have anything, no, a heart or any redeeming qualities included. You’re a street rat who deserves to writhe in filth, because no part of you deserves even a single piece of gil! You disgusting, malformed beast. Have you no limits?! No honor at all?! Why won't you just do the world a favor and put yourself out of your own misery?! You're nothing but a wretched parasite with nothing to his name but his own anger. Who is going to miss you when you finally perish, hm?! Will anyone at all?!

-very well.

How, then, would someone try to counsel someone who was lifeless, and twisted, and malformed, and had no purpose continuing to live, their heart so rotten and black and their minds so decayed and vile? And just like that, the white and blue of therapy turned to a dark blue and black, and Esredes' life descended further into illogicality.

With how much he avoided the Tribunal in general, each time he entered it for a session it felt like willingly entering the large, gaping mouth of a beast. Some of the personnel always paused and stared, or glared at him as he went to the reception desk to inform them of his appointment, but it was as if they were just a tile of stone in the background for how used he was to it. There was always an escort to and back from the room he did his work in- Esredes was fairly certain it was one of many interrogation rooms that had just been randomly selected to put aside for this when he came, with that chair on the other side with its shackles attached, much like the one he had used at the camp.

Each time, Esredes took his seat, opened the silver and golden binder, likely adjusted the silver rimmed glasses, and waited for the prisoner to be escorted in by the guard and seated, as said Temple Knight took his place standing watch. There were provisions in place, of course- he wasn't allowed to touch them, and the guard could always call it off if he wished, and that one woman who worked under Alphinoix had already threatened him if he tried to stain their reputation- but none of that was apparent to the person sitting on the other side of the table.

He quickly noted that some patterns that existed from his days in the camp were resurfacing. At the beginning of each session, one must start out calm and formal- usually. None of them trusted a thing he said at first, and many of them immediately bit back. They bit back in various ways- evading questions, jeering back and insulting him, closing up, asking repeatedly when this would be over, or one of the more creative ways, singing loudly and awfully until he had to cover his ears. The more aggressive ones always threatened violence and struggled against the shackles- never did he think he'd be grateful those things were worth their craft.

The key to it all relied on assessing the right approach and sticking to it. There were a few different basic variants- the irredeemable sort, the troubled but human, or the regular brand lowlives. The irredeemables and the lowlives usually didn't need a pretense of calmness to start, not unless they were particularly focused on getting to you- more often than not, it was best to speak a bit of their language, and open up with a smile that was off and a declaration that you were going to be their personal devil, or something like that. They always reacted in such fun and amusing ways, a vain struggle to get out of their situation.

Eventually, they would stop asking when it ended, realizing they couldn't get out of it by throwing any manner of fit. No matter how they screamed at him, or threatened violence, or struggled and often ended up injuring themselves by breaking or bleeding wrists- he simply sat there, and waited for them to get it out of their system. Earlier in his life, Esredes would have broken, lost his cool, given them the chance to smile at the power they had over him. But not anymore, not this time. He was determined to do his job to the extent expected of him. If they were more on the spectrum of normality, they were still mistrustful and wary and evasive, and to that it was best to simply keep calm and try to talk to them as a person.

But with patience, most of them broke. They gave up the struggle, they exhausted themselves, and once they did, they were more receptive to his words. That was when you really told them bluntly what they had to change, or what they had done wrong or what their problem was, and if it could be fixed, to offer solution. No matter what, the goal was to get them to reflect, and see if there was anything he could do to help them. Some of them simply needed a harshly worded but true wake up call after he had finished prying their mind open and inspecting what there was to work with, others... were hopeless, and he could tell that immediately. When faced with a hopeless one, there was only one thing you could do. And that was to press on them mentally and emotionally with the weight of what they'd done until they broke.

And that was the fascinating part. Most of them broke. He didn't think it was possible, even though it used to happen all the time in the camp with those who had more life, yet it happened consistently- a moment of clarity where the inhuman husk set in front of him realized the weight of their actions and acknowledged it as such. Did they ever meaningfully atone? Did it last more than that one forced out moment of clarity? No, absolutely never, but it didn't make the moment of clarity any less interesting. It was intriguing how much one could lie to themselves under pressure that they would meaningfully think about themselves, and then proceed to rescind back once they didn't have him to put the fear of the Twelve in them. Some people were like that- you could shove a spring back into place, but it would keep popping out no matter what you did. So there were definitely limits to when someone could still be considered human- yet even those who were nothing but organic flesh could entertain small, forced moments of recognition of the concept of morality. How interesting, indeed, what happened when one cracked under pressure. Something to consider for further application...

At least, that's what the calm and logical part of Esredes got out of it. But the blue and white had mixed together with the black, and there was much and more to get out of it, of course, just like old times but with more limitations, with just a different direct goal in mind... And indeed, who else could do it?

At the end of each session, he shut the binder, adjusted his glasses, and allowed himself to be escorted back out to the exit, and took his leave of that horrid building. The building that could very well be the spot of demise, if things decided they were sick of his continued existence.

What a good thing it was, to be a lowly civilian aid and nothing more. With no loyalty or obligation to such a horrible place beyond wanting to help an individual.

He was not an Inquisitor. He was a harrier and a counselor. And that had always been the truth of things...

[itspdameronthings]

My Boo Boo

Summary: title says it all. Benny has an injury. Was going to post this last night. Sadly, it didn't happen. Hope you all enjoy this. Really need thus kind of story today.

" Can't believe I was so fucking stupid! Should have been looking where I was going!" Benny banged his knee. At first he thought it was not that bad. Until it was bruised and started to swell. Glad that his brother was around so he could take him to the ER. Will was about to text you,but Benny didn't want him to. You were out of town. Don't want to ruin your trip to see your sister. Lucky for Benny that his sister in law was on duty that night. All because she would take good care of him in your wife's absence. She checked on his injury. It is very serious. He might have surgery. Benny pulls the pillow over his face so he could scream. Your sister in law tried to convince you to call you. This is something he needs to tell you himself rather than his brother. Will gave him his phone. Taking a breath. No holding back now. Taking a deep breath. Call you,but it went to voicemail. Few minutes later you call him. In a panic. Told you that he would need some surgery. Right before hanging up with you. Tells you that he loves you very much.

You were on your laptop. Trying to get a flight back home. Hated that the trip was cut short. Your handsome husband needs you.he was always there for you. Now it's time to be there for him. Luckily there was a flight that leaves in 3 hours! Quickly you booked the next flight. Called William about your flight. Told you that Santi would pick you up. Since he too is on the way back home from a business trip.

When you and Santi finally arrive. Benny was already out of surgery. Still asleep. Your sister in law told you that his knee had some swelling. Which they succeed in reducing the swelling. After hearing the news. You let out a sigh of relief. Thank god it was not serious. As a nurse yourself. This is a long recovery for him. His fighting days are nonexistent for the time being. Santi and the others left the room so the two of you can be alone.

Few days later. Two of you are finally home. Benny resting on the couch. His family comes over to welcome him home. Santi teased him about being in the same club as him. Benny rolls his eyes. Was nice to see everyone. Means a lot.

After the company left. Helped him to get into bed. Gave him his meds,and an ice pack for his knee. Checked his incisions. They were fine. Even kissed it.Benny giggles," aw! Thank you my love. Kissing my boo boo. Hope it doesn't leave a scar. Have way too many scars on this fine body." You snuggle close to him. How you missed laying in bed with your man. Those nights sleeping in the chair took its toll on your body. He rubs your back," glad I'm finally home with my love. Still kicking myself for not looking where I was going. If I left that night light on in the hall. The accident would have never happened." Kiss his chest," it happens baby. When you go to sleep. I'll put the nightlight on. I don't want to hurt myself." Benny nods off. Not before he tells you that he loves you.

Weeks have gone by since his injury. Benny's doctor has not cleared him to return to the ring yet. Still has physical therapy sessions three times a week. How he missed going to the gym. One thing he loves is spending time with you. When you got home from your long shift. Lights to the living room were dim.benny on the air mattress. With a blanket and pillows. How romantic. Benny pulls out all the stops. You kiss him," you sure about laying on the floor? Worried that you might hurt yourself." Benny kisses your lips," I know my limits darlin. If my knee starts to hurt. I'll let you know. Get out of those smelly scrubs. I'm hungry for your body. Know you are hungry for mine." Two of you made love. Nice and slow. Benny takes you to the shower so the two of you can get cleaned up. Both of you held each other till you returned to the living room. Keeping each other warm. Benny sings a sweet tune. Caused you to fall asleep in your man's arms. Benny kisses your cheek," sleep well my heart. " no matter what obstacles he faced the last few months. He is s

[marvelgurl]

Off-Limits: Part 9

Characters: Tom Holland X Reader Osterfield, Harrison Osterfield, Holland boys (mentioned), Dr. Riley Cotter (OC)

Word Count: 4780

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Therapy, Mild Anxiety/ Panic Attack

A/n: Sorry there was no update on this series last week, Life decided to be a bitch and get in the way. 

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As always Feedback is more than welcome. The Good and The Bad. I really helps me.

Want to be tagged in my upcoming work? Let me know Here

You don’t know how long you were standing in the middle of this giant hug but when it was over, it seemed like it was too soon. After everything that has happened the last couple months, there was this sense of peace that finally came over you. Now you were going to work hard to keep it like this. You know it’s going to be an up-hill battle, but you know that you have an amazing support system behind you.

“Hey, what are you thinking about?” Tom’s voice brought you out of your thought.

“Just how lucky I am to have all of you. I’m starting to realize that I can’t do this on my own. I have built up so many walls around myself that I need to learn to break them down to let the people that I care about most back in.” You looked down at your feet, you didn’t want to see the reactions on their faces.

“We are all here for you Y/n. No matter what, we will help you in any way that we can.” He pulled you into him and kissed the side of your head.

Not being able to trust your voice, you just smiled. You leaned into Tom resting your head on his shoulder. It was getting late, and you guys have had a long day. Harrison could see that you were tired.

“Y/n I think it’s time to go. You look like you are about to pass out right here.” He let out a small chuckle.

“Okay.” you let out a yawn. “Goodnight guys.”

“Goodnight Y/n.” The boys said in unison.

“Goodnight Darling.” Tom gave you one last hug before letting you go with Harrison.

“Goodnight Tom.” You walked to the car with Harrison. Tom didn’t go back inside until your car was out of sight.

You started falling asleep on the drive back to your flat. After Harrison parked the car, he came around to get you out. You stopped him from trying to pick you up, you got out of the car and wrapped an arm around him for support. Once you had gotten into your flat you let go of him and turned to him.

“I have a surprise for you.” You gave him a sleepy smile.

“I’m sure it can wait until morning Y/n.” he chuckled.

“No, it can’t. Follow me.”

You turned and pointed down the hall. You dramatically walked like Gollum towards the spare room. This caused Harrison to double over in a laughing fit, but that also didn’t stop him from pulling out his phone to record you. You were currently using the spare room as an office, but you wanted Harrison to feel more at home. You also didn’t want him to have to sleep on the couch anymore while he is here. Once outside the door, you were still in a crouching stance. You reached up to the doorknob before looking up to him with a scrunched-up face.

“Are you ready Harrison?” You said in your best Gollum voice.

“Absolutely not, but I am loving this.” He gestured to all of you. “For someone who was dead tired less than a minute ago, you sure have a burst of energy.”

“Well, I am just excited.” You stood up and started talking normally. “I just wanted to do a little something for you. You have done so much for me, that I want to return the favor.”

“You didn’t have to do anything for me. You’re my sister I would do anything for you.”

“Exactly! I’m your sister and I would do anything for you too.” You moved back to the door and opened it. “Come on, go in.” You gestured for him to walk in.

Harrison hesitantly walked around you into the room. You had gotten him the full set up, a queen size bed, nightstands, dresser and a television. Even after he wasn’t staying with you anymore you would have a full guest room/ office.

“Oh my…” Harrison was speechless. “When did you…? How did you…?” He was walking around the room in awe.

“Well, it wasn’t easy I can tell you that much.” You said as you slightly sat on your desk. “I had to do it over a few days. Do you remember when you had to leave to help Tom with movie stuff for a few days?”

“Yeah, you did this when I left you?”

“I didn’t do most of it.” You lifted up your hand, it was almost fully healed now. “I had a lot of help, I did more of the decorating part. So, I hope you like it.”

“Like it? I love it.” He came over and hugged you. “I may never go back to mum’s.”

“Woah let’s not get too caried away here. As much as I love you, that’s going to be a firm no.”

“Oh, come on, you don’t want to live with your favorite brother?”

“Haz you are my only brother.”

“Then by default your favorite.” He had a big grin on his face.

“I am so not awake enough for this anymore.” You gave him a pat on the shoulder before heading towards the door. “Goodnight Haz.”

“Thank you for this Y/n. Goodnight.” You walked to your room for some much-needed sleep.

The next morning, you were up earlier than Harrison, so you decided to make breakfast for the both of you. You grabbed two plates and mugs, setting them on the island for when you were ready for them. You made a quick breakfast of bacon, eggs and hash browns before starting on making the tea. When you were almost done Harrison came out of his room, his hair was all over the place. You couldn’t help but smile.

“Wow… You look amazing.” You were trying to hold in your laughter.

“Well thank you.” He attempted to fix his hair but only made it worse. “That bed is amazing. It’s better than the one I have at home.”

“Well, I’m glad you like it.”

You put food onto the plates for the two of you. Then you handed him his cup of tea. You both sat down to eat. Harrison could tell there was something on your mind, just by the look on your face he knew.

“What do you have planned for today?”

“Umm… I was able to find a therapist. I figured that it’s time that I try to deal with things like an adult.” You were just pushing your food around at this point. You ate a fair amount but all of a sudden you weren’t hungry. “I umm... was wondering if you could maybe…”

“Go with you?” You didn’t look at him, just nodded. “Yes, I will go with you.”

“Really?” You finally looked over to him, with a shocked look in your face.

“Don’t act so surprised.” He gently pushed your arm. “I would do anything for you. You know that, right?

 You had decided that you should take the doctor’s advice and go to see a therapist. In all honesty you didn’t think it was going to help. You were going to give it a chance though. You had found one close enough to your flat that you could walk to, his name is Dr. Riley Cotter. Today was your first meeting with him, and you were nervous. You had initially asked Harrison to come with you instead of Tom because there are things in your past that you just needed to keep quiet, and right now you were kind of wishing you hadn’t asked Harrison to come.

You and Harrison were standing outside of his office. Your appointment was in a few minutes, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go inside.

“Are you okay?” Harrison noticed you shaking.

“I… I don’t know if I can do this.” You started rubbing your hands together, in an attempt to try and steady them.

“How about we sit here until you’re supposed to go in, then if you don’t think you can, we will go back home. Okay?”

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

The both of you sat down on a bench outside, Harrison wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close to him. You sat there for a few minutes before you heard the door to the building open. You looked up to see a man standing in the doorway. He looked over to you and Harrison with a smile.

“I’m guessing putting a bench in was a smart idea.”

“Yeah, sorry I just needed a few minutes to calm my nerves.” You said as you stood up, pulling on the sleeves of your jumper.

“That is completely fine. Take your time. I’m here when you’re ready.” He gave you a reassuring smile.

“I think I’m ready.” You looked to Harrison who stood up.

“Y/n.” You looked back up to the man. “For the first couple of sessions, I don’t allow my clients to bring other people in. I just want you to be able to talk freely. I want you to feel like you can say certain things and you can’t do that with someone else here.”

“Oh… Okay.”

Harrison gave you a look as to ask if you were okay. You just nodded your head and walked to the door where Dr. Cotter was standing. Once inside, the building had an open concept. It was wide open; it didn’t feel like what you thought a therapist’s office would feel or look like. It looked as if you were just walking into someone’s home. You were looking around for a while, just scoping out the place.

“Y/n?”

You looked over to where Dr. Cotter is standing. There were a few different places to sit. Over to the left side there was a large couch with a few matching chairs around a coffee table. Off to the right by a large window was a table with a couple of chairs.

“This doesn’t feel like a therapists office.” You gestured to your surroundings.

“I know. I wanted to make my office different. I get a lot of clients in here that absolutely hated the whole stereotypical, leather couch and single chair with a wall of books behind it. I do still have that, but I want my clients to feel like this is a safe place for them to come in and be themselves. I want them to be able to talk freely, and the environment plays a role in that. That’s why I have different areas. So, any place in particular you want to sit?” He stood there explaining with his hands behind his back but gestured with one hand when asking you were to sit.

“I guess the couch is fine.” No matter where you sat down, you were still going to be nervous.

“Okay, just let me grab a few things and we will get started. Would you like some tea or water?”

“Tea please.”

He walked over to a small kitchenette, putting a kettle on to boil. He grabbed out three cups, one of which was a to go cup. You were confused for a minute. He made the tea in the disposable cup first and walked outside, you guessed he gave it to Harrison. That made you smile; he was out there for a little while. Once he came back inside, he went into another room, coming back he had a couple of things in his hands. He came over to you and handed you a notebook, he set down his notepad and pen before going to get the tea.

“Thank you.” He handed you your tea and sat down in one of the chairs.

“You’re welcome.” He gave you a smile, then picked up his notepad. “So, let’s get started, shall we? I’m not going to pressure you into telling me anything. Like I said earlier this is supposed to be a safe space for you. When you are ready you can tell me as much or as little as you want. I will be writing down notes, one of the few things that will never change when it comes to therapy.”

“Okay. I… I don’t know where to start.” Once again you started shaking, you wrapped your arms around yourself to try and calm down.

“Let me just say this. You can quickly lose yourself because you’re silent about things. Everyone thinks that their world is crumbling around them, but when you talk to someone about what you’re going through that’s when you realize that you are not alone in this.”

“Well, if that’s the case. I lost myself a long time ago.” You took in a deep breath, before letting it all out. It was time to start getting things off of your chest. “I guess that happened when I thought that jumping into a relationship was the best thing I could do. Boy, was I wrong.” You let out a small chuckle.

“Why do you say that?” His brows furrowed together, in a curious fashion and not a critical way.

“Well, back then I was trying to run from my own feelings. I have been in love with a guy that I have known forever. I didn’t want to face my feelings for him. I ended up trying to get over him by dating the wrong guy. All though I didn’t know that at the time. He was so sweet to me in the beginning, I was an idiot to think that it was real. It was one of those too good to be true situations. I knew it was, but I stayed with him. After about a year, it was like a switch flipped in his brain. I didn’t know what I did but shit hit the fan.”

You needed to take a breath before you could keep talking about this. When you told Harrison and Tom “everything” it wasn’t exactly everything. You didn’t really want to face this right now. You just wanted to get up and leave. You may have also looked towards the windows and door for an escape. Dr. Cotter could see it too.

“Y/n, you don’t have to keep going. I can see the gears turning in your head. I can see that this is making you uncomfortable to the point that you are about to bolt out the door.” He leaned closer to you to look you directly in the eyes. “Therapy isn’t a sprint that you have to get done in one day. It is going to take you a long time to deal with any issue. Even the ones you think are small, they can bring up so many emotions for you. Let me ask you this. Have you tried explaining any of this to anyone that you are close too?”

“I did, but I didn’t tell them everything. Faking a smile is so much easier than explaining why I’m sad and broken.” You looked down at your hands before moving onto something else. “Nobody knows how depressed I truly am. Or how alone I really feel. It’s so hard being your own best friend when you secretly hate yourself more and more as the time passes.” Tears had formed in your eyes; you were trying to hold them back.

“Why do you think you are broken?”

“I don’t know how to explain the reason I feel this way, I just do. I know I have so many issues and problems that I have to deal with. My brain is so messed up from the shit I have gone through. I can tell you right now that I don’t think that you can help me, I feel like I’m too far gone.” You got up and started pacing. You raked your fingers through your hair. “I just hate feeling like this, I hate that I have put myself in a position where I can say or do one wrong thing and I’m on my own. I know that the people in my life say they will be there for me no matter what, but I have a hard time believing them.”

“No one is too far gone. We just have to help you to learn see that.” He just looked up at you for a second, just searching your eyes. “Not everyone in your life is going to leave you Y/n. You have to know that.”

“How am I supposed to believe that? If I were them, I would have left me a long time ago, and not turned back. The thing is I just need one person, to never give up on me. Just one.” You stopped to look at him, holding up one finger. “With the way I was going and still kind of am going, it’s only a matter of time before they see it too.”

“I can tell you that your brother Harrison.” He pointed towards the door. “He’s not going to leave you; he’s not going to give up on you. I know I only talked to him for a short amount of time, but he cares about you so much.”

You sat back down, putting your head into your hand. You were still trying to fight back the tears but so far you were fighting a losing battle.

“Here.” You looked up to see him holding a tissue out for you. “I think that you have done enough for today. Honestly, I didn’t think that you were going to tell me anything. Well not for a few sessions anyway.”

“I just need to start letting things out. I can’t keep them bottled up anymore.”

He picked up the notebook that he had handed to you earlier. “Here’s a good place to start then.”

“What is this for?” You took the notebook from him.

“That is for you. I would like you to write at least one thing a day. It could be a page, a paragraph, a sentence, a word, you could even draw a picture if you want. I just want you to do something. Most people don’t like expressing their feeling to others in the fear of getting hurt. You don’t have to show it to me if you don’t want to, but I would like you to at least try.”

“I will, and I’m sorry I was all over the place. It all kind of came out so fast.”

“Don’t apologize, I was able to keep up with you. I can tell that there is a lot of things that you need to get out, you just don’t know how. That’s why I am here to help you, and that’s another reason I give people these notebooks.”

You just smiled at him. Then the both of you just walked to the door. When you walked out Harrison was on the phone, but as soon as he saw you, he hung up.

“Hey, is everything okay?” He saw the redness in your eyes, and instantly pulled you into a hug.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

He pulled back slightly, looking at you. You brought your hand up to wipe the few tears that had fallen out when Harrison hugged you. He took one hand off of you and waved to the Doctor, you did the same. As you walked back home, the both of you held onto the other. You needed this sense of comfort right now.

You walked in silence; you didn’t want to talk after that. You could tell Harrison had something on his mind though. Just by the way he kept looking at you. Once you finally got inside your flat you asked him about it.

“Harrison?” You leaned with your hands braced on the back of the couch.

“Yeah.” He looked over too you.

“What’s wrong?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Haz, I have known you your entire life, I know all your little quirks. So, what’s going on?” You crossed your arms and just looked at him.

“While you were in with your therapist, I got a call from Tom.” He was avoiding eye contact, so it wasn’t a simple phone call.

“And?”

“He has to go to New York for a week or so to do reshoots, and he was wondering if I could go. He also doesn’t want to leave you alone. I don’t want to leave you here either.”

“Haz I will be fine without you for a week or even two. I think its time for me to start taking charge of my life again. I am doing better. Go with him to New York, I will be fine.” You gave him a smile, a fake smile but a smile none the less.

“Are you sure? I can tell him you’re not ready.” You quickly cut him off.

“Harrison, if you don’t go, I will personally kick your ass all the way to New York myself.” You pulled out your phone and dialed Tom’s number.

“What are you doing?” You held up a finger to Harrison and mouthed “I’m on the phone” before turning away.

“Hello Darling.”

“Hello Thomas.”

“Oh no, what did I do?” You could hear a hint of fear in his voice.

“You haven’t done anything, but what you are going to do is make sure Harrison gets on the plane to New York with you.”

There was a moment of silence between the two of you, while you waited for his response.

“Are you sure love? I can ask Harry or Sam to come with me.”

“I’m fine, plus this week will be my first week back to work. So, I won’t even be here ninety percent of the time. I don’t need a babysitter; I have gotten better. if you feel so inclined to have someone here with me, you could always bring me Tessa.” You had a real smile on your face now. You absolutely Love her.

“Alright. I will let Tessa watch over you.” You let out a squeal and did a small happy dance. “You have to promise me that you will let me know if something happens, or if you need me or Harrison to come back.”

“I promise but like I said I will be fine. I talk about Tessa all the time, everyone at the studio wants to meet her. Which means she won’t be stuck here; she will be with me all day. Plus having Tessa with me will make my week a lot brighter.”

“I know, you love her. I think she loves you more than she loves me though…” He paused for a few seconds. “Maybe its not a good idea for her to spend a week with you…”

“Thomas Stanley Holland! Don’t you dare!”

“I have no idea what you’re implying.”

“Don’t you dare dangle Tessa cuddles in front of me just to take them away.”

“I would never do that to you.”

“Umhm. When do you guys leave?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Oh wow, that’s so soon. Maybe you guys should just come over and stay the night here and I can take you to the airport tomorrow.”

“That sounds like a good idea. I will be over there later. I still need to pack for myself and for Tessa.”

“Okay, I will see you later.”

“See you later Darling.”

You hang up the call. You look to Harrison with a smile on your face.

“Go pack for your trip Haz.”

“Yeah yeah.” He just waved you off as he walked to his room to pack.

A few hours later, Harrison is on the couch watching tv, while you are in the kitchen making dinner. You were making a quick caprese chicken in pasta, I was one of the many meals you learned while you were in the states. One of your friends was obsessed with food and cooking, so you asked him to show you some good recipes, which he gladly did. You had pulled out three plates just in case Tom hasn’t eaten by the time he gets there. You were just about done when you heard the knock on the door.

“Harrison, will you get the door please?”

“On it.” He got up quickly and went to the door.

The next thing you hear was the little nail taps on your hardwood floors. You knew it was Tessa. Which means any second you would hear Tom next.

“Hello Love.” He said as he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Well hello to you too.” You were trying to focus on finishing dinner, but Tom wouldn’t let go. “Tooom, I need you to let go. I’m trying to get this done.”

“No.” You could hear the pout in his voice. “I’m not going to be able to do this for a week, I have to do it as much as I can.”

You turned around in his arms. “I promise if you let go, I will let you be as clingy as you want. I’m almost done.”

“Ugh… Fine.” He let go of you.

You turned back a round to finish. You moved the pan off the stove and started plating the food. Tom came in to help you take the plates to the table. You grabbed two beers and a bottled water, taking them to the table. You gave the boys the beers and kept the water. You were really trying to not drink as much. So far you have been successful.

After dinner you guys decided to watch a movie. You were slightly sitting/laying in the corner with your legs up on the couch, but as promised Tom was laying down with you. His head was on your chest, his arms wrapped around you. You were playing with his hair, making him slowly start to fall asleep. Harrison was sitting on the love seat with Tessa cuddled up next to him. You couldn’t help but smile, everything was perfect.

Once the movie was over Harrison got up to go to bed. You both said goodnight, Tessa came over to you, putting her face on the couch and looked up at you. You knew it was time for her to have a potty break, but when you tried to get up Tom’s grip tightened.

“Tom, I need to get up.”

“No. Too comfortable.” He mumbled.

“Tessa needs to go out, then we can go to bed.”

“Okay.” He laid there for a few more seconds before getting up. He looks so tired.

“Tom, go lay down. I can take her out really quick.”

“Are you sure? I can come.” His eyes were still closed, while he was talking to you.

“I’m sure. Go to bed, I will be there soon.” You gave him a quick peck on the cheek before taking Tessa out.

When you came back in, you made sure Tessa had plenty of food and water out. Then the two of you made your way to your room, leaving the door open enough for her to come and go. You looked over to see that Tom had already passed out.

You looked to your desk to see the notebook for Dr. Cotter. You walked over and finally sat down to write in it, but you didn’t know what to write. You just sat there for a while staring at the blank page. When your pen finally moved, it was like as if someone else was controlling it.

I don’t know what to write in here. I know I should write my feelings but the feelings I am having right now, I know they are temporary.

I am happy that I have my brother, my boyfriend and my Tessa here. Tomorrow will be here soon to ruin it. Harrison and Tom will leave for New York. I will still have Tess, but I just feel like something is going to happen. I don’t know what it is, but I just have this pit in my stomach.

That’s just my life at this point though. The feeling of something is going to happen, just not knowing when. It’s one of the worst feelings in the world, but I don’t know how to stop it. That scares me so much.

You got up closing the notebook and turning to your bed. Tessa had already made herself at home on it, walking over you gave her a few head scratches. You got in and moved close to Tom, you gave him a kiss on the forehead. His arms instantly tried to find your waist, pulling you as close as he possibly could, eventually you were laying on his chest. You don’t know how long it took you to fall asleep, but the sound of Tom’s heartbeat was lulling you to sleep.

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Mental Health Strategies

I have dealt with various mental health BS (anxiety, depression, ADHD), and while I haven't gotten it all figured out, I have been dealing with it for well over a decade now. I figured I would make a list of coping mechanisms that have helped me and are worth trying out if you haven't already. None of these things are “magic” (just try this and your brain will be all fixed!),  and obviously not applicable in all situations. I mostly learned these via therapy or from other people struggling with mental illness. This also may or may not be to help me have a list of things written down for when I forget. 

Putting this below a keep reading thing because this got long FAST: 

For depression funks:

-Find a small task you can complete. Wash a dish, throw clothes in the hamper, take out the trash, etc. Something small.

-Take a shower. And try changing clothes. Even if it's in to some pajamas. If you aren't up to showering, try washing your face and maybe wiping down with a wipe. But a change of clothes will still feel better.

-Eat something. Doesn't have to be "healthy." Some food, no matter what it is, is better than no food.

-Can you get outside? Doesn't have to be to excercise. Just sitting on the front steps for a few minutes in the sun.

-Doing something to take care of yourself. Can you brush your teeth? Have a glass of water? Brush your hair? Just pick one thing and so it.

-Plan something. See if you can get a friend to meet you to hang out (or zoom) or maybe for dinner. For yourself, maybe find a movie to go see (post pandemic). Preferably find something that has a set time.

For panics:

- Square breathing. Breathe in for 5, hold for 5, breath out for 5, hold for 5. Repeat.

-There are a ton of meditations on youtube. Search "5 minute meditation" and you'll find a ton of videos.

-After the initial panic is over try calling a friend. If you can't for some reason (sometimes it's 3 am or your friend isn't available), try finding some cat videos on youtube. I highly recommend Cole and Marmalade. Something light that will get your brain on something else.

For Executive Dysfunction:

-Remove steps to putting things away. For awhile in school, I would have a mess of papers that weren't organized or put away because I was trying to use a binder. As silly as it sounds, having to neatly align paper holes or got find a place to punch those holes, would prevent me from putting things away. So I switched to folders. Suddenly I stopped losing things and my papers were organized.

-Bullet journaling. Or rather, I just have a little notebook where I put all my to do lists, grocery lists, project planning, brainstorming, etc. I don't properly Bullet Journal (TM) but I keep all my lists in one spot and it helps.

-To do lists in general. Writing out steps to get something done. Cross things out when you finish them. You get a better sense of accomplishment.

-When executive dysfunction is preventing you from getting out of bed, break it down. Step one, sit up. Step 2, swing legs over side. Step 3 stand up.

-Same with any task. If it seems too overwhelming or you just can't bring yourself to do it, it might be because you are looking at all the steps and feeling it's too much. So just think about the first one.

-Alarms and reminders. I put everything on a calendar in my phone. Google Calendar allows you to set a reminder for events days, weeks, hours, and minutes ahead. You can also set alarms for things like "I know I need to leave at 3 for the appointment, so I am going to set an alarm for 2:45 to start getting ready." Do not rely on yourself to look at the clock. YOU WILL NOT LOOK AT THE CLOCK IN TIME.

-Set the dang alarm clock across the room. That way, you gotta get out of bed to turn it off. Once out of bed, go take any meds, or if you don’t have meds, go do a small morning task. Usually doing this small task is enough to get me awake enough to not get back into bed. If I do, well, at least I have taken my meds. 

Sensory Issues:

- Fitted sweat pants and hiking pants. I can’t stand tight clothing, but I want to look presentable. Sweatpants that taper can still look decent. Travel pants or hiking pants (you can find these at places like REI), basically look like slacks but are made out of stretchy material. They also usually are made out of quick dry material which is nice. 

-Fidget and sensory toys. I really like hedgehog rings which have these little spikes on them I can run my thumb over. Also the tangle. I have a tangle that has a rubber coating that has little bumps on it. What you end up liking might differ, but those are two of my favorite. Also, if anyone gives you shit about these, you can explain “it’s sorta like a stress ball, but instead you [whatever you do with this fidget toy].” 

-Ear plugs. I wear these a lot because I have particular issues with sounds, especially certain ones. I prefer either silicone gummy ones or I like these that are “slim” because they don’t make my ears hurt. You can also get musician ear plugs that are made for musicians to protect their hearing, but still be able to hear tones and what is going on, for when sound is simply too load (also good for concerts). 

For General ADHD things: 

-Work somewhere different. This is a bit limited due to the pandemic currently, but just working at the kitchen table instead of your bedroom can help. In college, I used to go to the library to work. Just the idea that I was going to someplace specific to do a specific task, helped me actually get started. 

-Promise yourself that you will work for 10 minutes. Set an alarm if needed. Usually just starting will make the task seem less intimidating. If 10 minutes is too much, do 5. 

-Cardio. Get your self moving. This is good for a lot of things, but I highly recommend it for before you have to sit down to work on a task, like school work. I personally run, but if that’s not your thing dance, a class, walking, biking, etc. Just whatever you like. 

-Time dependent things are good to get yourself going. Again, this is limited by the pandemic, but for normal times, can you meet a friend for breakfast? Can you schedule your appointment so you have to get to it before you start work? When I was in college, I used to go to morning gym classes before my first class of the day. This got me up and if I was 5 minutes late, it was better to do that for a gym class than a physics class. Bonus because it was exercise and I could focus better on the class. 

-In classes, try to find a notes buddy or study group. That way, if you zoned out a moment, you can ask them for the notes from that section and vice versa. Also, meeting up with them is a great way to have a set time to study. 

For General Anxiety/ Depression: 

-This is going to sound cheesy as fuck, but: Make a list for what you are good at. Things you like about yourself. Things you have accomplished. They don’t have to be super deep, but can be. Do you like your nose? Can you paint your nails well? Are you good at understanding your cat? Are you good at writing? Drawing? Did you overcome a bad test and still manage to pass a class?  If you have a friend or significant other that you are comfortable with, ask them to help maybe. Keep this list for when you feel like shit. 

-Yoga. I’m sorry to put this on here because it seems like the most neurotypical advice, but. I honestly love this shit. If you haven’t given it a shot, there’s a reason why people like it. You don’t have to belong to a gym to try it. I highly recommend Yoga with Adrienne. She has some great beginner videos. 

-Take breaks from social media and news as needed. Seriously. You are a single person and can’t fix everything. Do what you can (share the information, make a donation, join in mutual aid efforts, etc.) but doom scrolling and obsessing won’t help anyone. If you won’t do it for yourself, consider that burning yourself out will make you unable to help later on. 

-Create things. They don’t have to be amazing. Crocheting, knitting, drawing, writing, etc. Having something that you can look at and be like “I made that” is really satisfying. Youtube has some great tutorials for pretty much anything. For drawing, I really like Proko. He has some great videos on drawing faces. But again: IT DOESN’T NEED TO BE GOOD. 

General Resources/ Advice:

-If you are currently in college, most campuses will have groups for counseling and even limited one on one sessions. Usually, these counseling groups are free and the one on one sessions can help you find a counselor nearby. 

-How to ADHD. Seriously I love this youtube channel. She goes over how ADHD affects the brain and has seriously helped me understand it better. 

-The Trevor Project. For LGBTQ teens and youth. They have a hotline and many other resources.  

-If what is stopping you from getting therapy is the idea that you are being dramatic/ are not that bad/ others have it worse: Go get therapy. What are we going to do, find the one person who has it the worst off than anyone and only they are allowed to feel bad and get help? Screw that. Get some help. 

-Remember that there are good things in your future. Where ever you are in life, you have something positive in your future, even if you don’t know it yet. One day, there will be a moment when you look back on the dark times and be so glad you didn’t give up. 

-Obligatory: https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/  (1-800-273-8255). This is national suicide prevention lifeline, for the US. They can help. 

-https://www.crisistextline.org/ For when you don’t like phone calls, try texting instead. Has US, Canada, UK, and Ireland numbers. 

[hslllot]

Part I. Draft Day

fic masterlist | rated: m, mature | word count: 4.6k content/warning: hockey harry, nosey family members, a very brief mention of anxiety, overzealous hockey stans. 

DRAFT REPORT: The 411 on Harry Styles by John Michaelson for Sportsnet

There’s this kid named Harry Styles. He plays hockey. Ever heard of him? 

At this point there’s not much else to be said about the british Fighting Hawks’ centre, a lock to be the No.1 pick in the 2015 NHL Draft. 

Dubbed a generational talent, Styles’ abilities are at a level typically only seen in video games. We all know the Edmonton Oilers will select him with the first overall pick on June 26. In years to come, hockey fans from around the globe (but especially Oilers fans) will be on the edge of their seats, watching to see if the phenom can develop into a future Hockey Hall of Fame talent the way Wayne Gretzky and Mario Lemieux did. 

Here’s what you need to know about Harry Styles: 

Age on June 26: 19 Birthplace: Redditch, Worcestershire, England Current team: University of North Dakota Fighting Hawks  Position: Centre Shoots: Left Height: 6-foot Weight: 190 lbs NHL Central Scouting Rank (North American): 1st

Harry Styles is a franchise-changing player in every sense of the word. He looked like a pro player even before he flew across the pond at a young age to play in the Canadian Hockey League. This has been a long time coming but the future is finally here.

He is talented beyond his years and always has been… Styles has played against older competition his entire career. Growing up in the small village of Holmes Chapel in Cheshire, England, the options for minor hockey teams were limited. Styles struggled to find a team in his age group that matched his talent level and was forced to play with older kids - and even then his talent was unmatched. Like the two other players from the UK currently playing in the NHL, Styles eventually had to leave home and play junior hockey in Canada, where he still had to play up a year against Canadian kids that grew up in a country that eats, sleeps, and breathes the game. 

He should have been drafted 1st overall last year… Styles shocked the hockey world in 2013 when, instead of declaring for the 2014 NHL Draft, he announced he would be attending the University of North Dakota and lead the Fighting Hawks to an NCAA Championship. Styles, ever the media-trained athlete, dodged questions about why he chose to go to university for a year before joining the NHL, simply stating “University was always a part of the plan, no matter what happened with hockey.” The hockey community let out a collective sigh of relief when his agent, Jeffrey Azoff (whose father was, coincidentally, Wayne Gretzky’s agent), announced shortly after his championship win that after one year at UND, Styles would be declaring for the 2015 Draft. 

His trophy case is full... Harry Styles has won pretty much every individual hockey award he could possibly win in his career so far. During his CHL career with the Vancouver Giants he won Rookie of the Year, multiple MVP awards, the award for most goals, assists, and overall points, and scholastic player of the year. During his short-lived NCAA career with UND, he won Rookie of the Year, the Hobey Baker Award as the top men’s hockey player, and was named to the Academic All-American team. Unfortunately, Great Britain’s ice hockey team will not be qualifying for the Olympics or the World Championships any time soon, so unless Styles applies for Canadian citizenship, international trophies and medals will be difficult to come by. Regardless, I have a feeling that there will be many Stanley Cups in his future. 

He really hates underperforming… The kid puts a lot of pressure on himself. As we have seen with many successful athletes, an insatiable inner drive to compete can lead to greatness. Styles has that drive to be great and can be his own worst critic. “When I was growing up, my mum was worried about me because I was a bit of a perfectionist.” Styles told The Hockey News back in December. “When I had a bad game, I would get so upset about it. It’s just how I am and how I think every athlete should be. Good is never enough. It’s important to always keep learning and growing to better yourself.”

He is excited to play for the Oilers… Not that he would have anything bad to say about any of the 30 NHL teams, but the Oilers do hold a special place in Styles’ heart. “It’s a great hockey town with fans that are super passionate about the game.” He told The Hockey News. “They’ve been on a bit of a slide the last couple years but the team has a great history. Not many people watch the NHL where I’m from, but my dad was always interested in it and that’s how I got into the game. He was an Oilers fan during their dynasty years with Gretzky and Messier… So if they do end up drafting me first overall, I’ll feel honored to be a part of the team, and it’ll be a nice tribute to my dad.” 

Be sure to catch our live 2015 NHL Draft coverage on June 26 starting at 5pm EST/2pm PT only on Sportsnet.

“With the first overall pick in the 2015 NHL Entry Draft the Edmonton Oilers are proud to select, from Holmes Chapel in England, Harry Styles.”

The room erupted in loud cheers and applause as the Edmonton Oilers drafted the National Hockey League’s newest and most sought after commodity. 

Y/N’s closest friends and extended family roamed around her parents’ living room, congratulating one another with hugs and handshakes like one of their own family members was just drafted. That wasn’t the case though, they were all just deeply invested in the hockey team and the boy from England that was meant to turn things around after so many years of losing. They were so invested, in fact, that the family organized a gathering similar to something you might see on a holiday, like Thanksgiving or Christmas.

While it was not a normal holiday, for Y/N’s family it was just as significant. It was Draft Day. And every hockey fan in North America wanted Harry Styles to play for their team.

“That’s quite the suit, isn’t it?” Her uncle Will pointed to the television where the young man is dressed in an ornate red floral suit and black dress shirt. The suit was flashier than what most hockey players would wear, but it’s clear that Harry Styles is not like most hockey players. The camera panned to him as he stood up from his seat and hugged the two brunette women sitting next to him. He stuck out like a sore thumb among a sea of other young hockey players all dressed in variations of black and grey as they patiently waited to be drafted from the stands of the BB&T Centre in Florida. It was clear to Y/N that, much like his hockey skills, Harry Styles’ fashion sense was superior compared to his peers.

There was an air of excitement in the room as the draft party, all clad in blue and orange jerseys, watched the generational talent walk down the stairs of the arena and make his way to the stage. They collectively held their breath, the room becoming silent, when he arrived at the stage where both the owner and general manager of the team were waiting to greet him. Harry shook their hands before they handed him his own blue and orange jersey. As he slipped the jersey over his head and posed for a photograph with the executives, the silence in the room broke and excited conversations and speculations for the upcoming season continued. Y/N couldn’t help but feel a stir in her belly and a sense of anticipation for what the upcoming hockey season would bring. 

Her thoughts lingered on the man on the screen, wondering what it might be like to meet him, when her brother pulled her out of her reverie. “Can you believe you’ll be working with the Harry Styles?” 

No - she couldn’t quite believe it. 

In fact, everything happening in her life right now seemed a bit too good to be true.

Set to start her third year of university in September and having to complete mandatory practicum hours in order to graduate the following year, she somehow managed to secure a placement with her favourite hockey team. The Oilers were only taking three students from the university program and everyone in the program wanted one of those spots. 

The application process was incredibly stressful for Y/N. One telephone interview, one in-person interview, and a practical session where she had to demonstrate her athletic therapy skills to the team’s head trainer. She did well with the phone interview, given that they weren’t able to see her. She was able to look down at the talking points she wrote in her notebook and pause to take a couple deep breaths without making it obvious that she was reeling on the inside. Her anxiety got the best of her during the in-person interview though, freezing up when they asked simple questions like “why do you want to work for the team?” and “what experience do you have working with sport teams?”

She left the interview feeling embarrassed, but instead of taking the time to wallow and feel sorry for herself, she went home and spent hours upon hours taping her brothers’ ankles in preparation for the practical session the following day. There was no way she was going to let the opportunity fall through the cracks. Her dream of working for the Oilers was the whole reason she decided to go to school for athletic therapy in the first place. She was never any good at playing hockey but she knew in her heart that, someday, she would work for the team she loved so much. At the end of it all, she reckons her taping skills saved her, so she took her brother out to his favourite restaurant to thank him for letting her use his ankles for practice.

Fast forward a few months and she’s now stood in her parents living room thinking about how in three months she could be taping Harry Styles’ ankles.  

At the time of her application, no one knew the Oilers would be picking first in the draft. The aura around the team was a bit negative at the time (because of all the losing) and there were rumours circulating the city that some of the star players were rude to the support staff and liked to party a little too hard at The Ranch (which contributed to said losing). 

When she first decided to apply for the position her father warned her, “there’s a saying that you should never meet your heroes. What if they’re all a bunch of assholes and you end up hating the team you’ve loved your whole life?” 

Y/N ignored her father’s warning but silently hoped that others would feel that way, narrowing down the applicant pool. However, the rumours circulating the team had no effect on the amount of students applying for the job. The fans were loyal in Edmonton (a city not known by many around the world unless you follow hockey or are compelled to visit North America’s largest shopping mall) and although the team was losing, every kid studying athletic therapy wanted a shot with their favourite team. Y/N knew of at least fifteen students that she beat out for the position. 

Now, it’s late June and there is a general hype surrounding the team, as if Harry was about to come in and shine a light on the Decade of Darkness (a term Oilers fans use to characterize the recent years in which their favourite team hadn’t made the playoffs). That’s a lot of pressure to put on one person, but Y/N supposed that he’s been dealing with this kind of pressure since he was sixteen, maybe even younger. 

Everyone at her family’s draft party was, yet again, watching the television intently while Harry gave his first interview as an official member of the Edmonton Oilers hockey team. While Y/N normally loved watching these types of interviews, she was a bit zoned out- mesmerized by the look of him. The suit, the wavy chestnut hair, the dimple in his left cheek, the accent. The accent. She had never really been that attracted to hockey players, which many people found hard to believe given that she’s such a fan of the sport. All of the guys from her high school who played minor hockey were rotten and thought they were better than everyone else. She did have favourite players in the NHL, players that she loved and admired, but they were her favourites because she loves how they play the game, not because she wants to fuck them. 

There was something different about Harry Styles though. Not necessarily that she wanted to fuck him (especially since she recently signed an employment contract that would forbid it), but she was certainly feeling intrigued by him. He doesn’t look like the boys she went to high school with. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s British, or that he opted for a suit that set him apart from the rest of them, or maybe it was the duality of the way he held himself with unshakeable confidence in his floral suit, his gaze set intensely on the person interviewing him, posture strong and dominant, while simultaneously speaking so softly, his words laced with kindness and gratitude.

“When do you start working with the team, Y/N?” Her uncle Will asked from across the room, prompting everyone to look in her direction waiting for her response. 

The news that Y/N would be working for the Oilers this season shook the family. As soon as her dad shared the news with his brother, she started receiving messages expressing congratulations from her many aunts, uncles, and cousins, shortly followed by messages asking if she would be getting free tickets to games. 

“Um, mid-September, for training camp.” 

“You get to meet Harry Styles?” her 9 year old cousin, Billy, asked. 

“I do. I will be one of the team’s trainers.” The young boy held a look of wonder on his face, as if realizing for the first time that that his oldest cousin was actually kind of cool. 

“Do you think he’s single?” Her aunt Maria asked with a smirk on her face, turning to the television to look at Harry Styles. Aunt Maria doesn’t care much for hockey but she never failed to mention which players she believed to be handsome. She was also the nosey type of aunt that liked to inquire about Y/N’s dating life. “Maybe you two will hit it off.”

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes at her aunt, waving off her comment. But before she could retort, her father chimed in. “Ha! Yea, right! That’s not going to happen. She’s not allowed to date anyone on the team, it’s the rules. Plus, Y/N knows better than to get involved with any of these guys.” 

Her father was right. It is the rules. Y/N thought back to when she went into the Oilers headquarters back in April to sign her employment contract. She asked a lot of questions, making sure she understood everything about the document she was signing. 

“Personal relationships? Even friendships are forbidden?” she asked the head trainer, TJ, for clarification. 

“It depends. You can be friendly, sure, but I would avoid spending time with the players outside of training and game times. Could be seen as unprofessional.”  

Y/N understood why such rules were in place, and she had no issue with it at the time. A woman securing a position on a professional sports team was rare, let alone a woman securing a position with a professional men’s team. She knew when she chose this career path that it would always be an uphill battle and that she’d have to work harder and be more strategic than the men in her field. She wanted- no, needed to excel and prove that she could be a talented athletic therapist and a valuable member of the team, so she had no intention whatsoever of messing that up with any type of personal relationships. She also understood the power dynamic between the professional athletes and the support staff, the different ways in which power can be abused, and how personal relationships could complicate things. It all made sense to her. Plus, she was happy enough with just becoming friends with the other trainers and she probably wouldn’t have a lot of free time, anyways, balancing her practicum and her school work.

Today, however, she couldn’t help the very slight pull on her heartstrings at the thought of not getting to know Harry Styles on a more personal level. 

As if he’d even be interested in the first place.

In a hotel restaurant in Sunrise, Florida, a few hours after the draft, Harry Styles sat with his mother Anne, sister Gemma, and agent Jeff, celebrating his newly drafted status over a bottle of champagne. He knew he should be feeling elated, like it was the best day of his life, but all he felt was exhausted. The conversation at the table happened around him while he sat in his own head, unable to think about anything but what it might feel like to be tucked into his bed in his childhood bedroom in Holmes Chapel. 

The weeks leading up to the draft were an absolute circus filled with interviews and talking to the media nearly every day (he hates talking to the media), shooting promo for all of his endorsements (he’s thankful for the money they give him but he knows he is an excruciatingly terrible actor), and flying around North America to visit all of the potential cities where he might be drafted (it was a pointless tour because everyone knew where he was going to end up). 

He had only tonight to celebrate with his family before it was all set to start again. Him and Jeff will fly off to Edmonton tomorrow morning for a week to speak to the media there, meet the teammate he’ll be living with, and do a surprise skating session with some kids at a summer camp. Meanwhile, his mum and sister will fly back to England.

“Any idea where you’ll live then?” Anne asked her son, pulling him out of his thoughts and back into the conversation. 

“Hm?” He hadn’t a clue what his mum just asked him but he’d hate to admit that rather than listening to anything the three of them had been talking about for the last hour he’d been thinking about how he’d rather be sleeping “Sorry, I think the champagne’s got to me a bit.” 

“The team’s got him living with one of his older teammates and his family.” Jeff stepped in, knowing Harry wasn’t fully paying attention. “They do this with the young guys to get them used to living on their own. Teach ‘em how to cook, do laundry, and keep ‘em in line. He won’t be partying every night and bringing girls back to his place if he lives with the guy’s wife and kids.” 

“Oh please,” Gemma chimed in. “Not like any of that would be an issue for Harry. He’s been away from home for years. And he’s hardly got time for partying and dating.” 

Harry shot Jeff a look warning him to keep his mouth shut. When Harry found out about the living arrangements the team had planned for him, he was less than pleased. After all, he’d just spent the last year living in a dorm room at the University of North Dakota where he had complete freedom. Gemma was right, he didn’t have much time for partying and dating. But he liked having his own space, and he really liked being able to invite someone over after a game, either to celebrate a win or relieve some stress after a loss. 

“You never know, some of these young guys get their first big pay cheque and a taste of the big leagues and it can go off the rails pretty fast.”

“I like to think I raised my baby to know better than to get caught up in a pay cheque.” Anne placed a comforting hand on her son’s shoulder and he quickly reciprocated, reaching up to place his hand over hers.  

Not liking where this conversation was going, Harry finally cut in. “You did. And Jeffrey, you know I’m not that kinda guy. Either way, none of this matters if I don’t make it past training camp. For all we know I could be going back to the juniors for the season.”

“Doesn’t matter who you are or what kinda guy you are, H, it’s just what the team does. It’s tradition. And c’mon, I know you like to keep your expectations in check, but the team’s made it pretty clear that you’re gonna be in the starting lineup come October.” 

Jeff was right. The team had all but promised that he would make it past training camp. The question wasn’t if he’d make it past training camp, but in what shape he’d be in and how long it would take for the team to start winning games.  

“The coach said I’m small and need to bulk up, especially since I’ll be playing against older, more experienced men.” Harry could feel the weight of his mum’s gaze as she gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’m not quite where I need to be yet, but I’ll get there.”

Harry and his family were stood in the hotel lobby with Jeff, convening on plans for the morning when he felt a small tug on the hem of his red floral suit jacket. He spun himself around, ready to confront the individual bold enough to touch him without his consent, to find a young girl, no older than five years old staring up at him. 

Harry looked at her, a bit taken aback and undoubtedly with a bit of confusion written on his face, and then spotted, a few feet behind her, two individuals who were most likely her parents. Suddenly, he realized that he may have actually had a few too many glasses of champagne and immediately tried to compose himself, standing straighter and trying to will away the exhaustion in his eyes and the haziness in his mind. 

“Oh - um, hello there.” He cleared his throat before using the soft voice he reserves for adorable, small children like the one stood before him. 

“Are you Harry Styles?” She asked with wide eyes and a small, timid voice.

“I am, sweetheart. What can I do for you?” 

A bright smile etched itself onto her face. But instead of answering him, she looked back at the adults standing behind her, motioning for them to help as she was too shy to proceed on her own. The man, who Harry presumed was her father, moved to stand beside her. 

“This is Millie. She wanted to say hi to you because she’s a big fan of yours.” 

Harry lowered himself in front of the young girl so that he was crouched down and eye-level with her. “Hi Millie, it’s a real pleasure to meet you.” He reached out to shake the young girl’s small hand. “Have you got anything that I could sign? Or I suppose we could take a photo if you’d like?” 

The young girl removed her hand from Harry’s, nodding her head eagerly. She began to unzip her jacket, revealing a bright orange Edmonton Oilers jersey underneath. 

“Oh? Look at that! You’re an Oilers fan. In Florida?” Harry lifted himself from his crouched position and directed his question toward at the girl’s father.

“Yes, well, we actually travelled here from Edmonton, to watch the draft in person.” Harry raised his eyebrows in shock. He knew that the flight from Edmonton to Florida is long, and likely expensive. The tickets to attend the draft live probably weren’t cheap either. “It’s not every day your favourite team picks first overall! Let alone gets to pick a player like you. We were so excited so we decided to make a family trip out of it. Turn around, Millie, show him the back!” Millie’s father handed Harry a sharpie as Millie turned her back to Harry. 

It was at that moment that Harry started to understand the weight of the moment. The name ‘STYLES’ was embroidered on the back of Millie’s Oilers jersey, above the number ‘15’ indicating his draft year. He was speechless. This was, after all, the first time he was seeing his name in the classic Oilers’ orange and blue colours adorned on a fan’s back. 

The feeling was different from earlier at the draft when they presented him with his own jersey. This one belonged to someone else. Someone bought his jersey before he’d even ever played a single minute for the team. They flew across the continent, from Edmonton to Florida, just to watch him get drafted. It was a lot for his hazy, champagne-diluted mind to take in.

Realizing he’d just been standing there staring at the jersey, he cleared his throat once again in hopes that he could hide the unknown thoughts and emotions he was trying to reconcile. “Wow, um, I didn’t realize you could get these already.”

Millie’s father laughed, “Man, they’ve been selling these in Edmonton since they announced we’d be picking first in the draft.” Again, the feeling was overwhelming for Harry. 

We’d be picking first in the draft.

To this family, and probably others in Edmonton, the Oilers were “we”. They win together, they lose together. If the Oilers pick first in the draft, they all pick first. It was their team. And now he, Harry, was a part of that “we”.

Harry reached down to sign the jersey on Millie’s back, quickly scribbling his autograph on the left side. As he straightened himself, he felt Anne move to stand beside him, apparently having sensed her son’s unease and unconscious need for his mother to join him in this moment.

“Hi, I’m Harry’s mum, Anne. Would you like me to take a picture of the four of you?” Millie’s father eagerly handed his phone to Anne and waved his wife over to be in the photo. Several photos of Harry and the family were taken, followed by a few of just Harry and Millie. 

“Would you mind if I took one of Harry and Millie on my phone as well?” Anne asked as she snapped the last photo. “This is the first time Harry’s met a fan wearing his name on an Oilers jersey. We’d like to remember it.” 

The family was more than happy to oblige so Anne took a few more photos on her phone, including one where Millie’s back was to the camera and the ‘STYLES’ name in full view. 

It was so like his mum to understand how special the moment was and to come in and save him. He couldn’t quite articulate what he was feeling in that moment, as understanding emotions and sentimentality were not his greatest strengths, and he most definitely never would have asked to take a photo to keep for himself had she not done it. 

The obvious feelings were joy and gratitude. Every day he was thankful to play the game he loved, to be successful, and to have fans that loved and supported him. It didn’t always make sense that complete strangers paid him so much attention just for playing a game, but he accepted it and always tried to show those strangers kindness in return. However, there was another feeling lingering, one that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Looking at his mum, he knew that she knew what it was. She always knew. And certainly she would make him talk about it later.

As they separated from the family and walked toward the hotel elevators, where Gemma and Jeff were waiting, Anne grabbed onto her son’s arm, holding him close as they walked side by side. 

“Do you see that they love you already, my darling?” She asked. Harry raised an eyebrow at his mum, unsure of what she was going on about. “I know you. I know that you care what people think and that you are scared to disappoint them. You just need to step out on the ice and be yourself. Just be Harry. They already love you and this is only just the beginning.”

WOW! OK. I know it’s a bit of a slow start, but I wanted this chapter to be more of an introduction to harry and the mc and to the fan culture that harry is about to experience!! I’ve already started on the next part so that should be up before Christmas! If you’ve made it this far, all I can say is that I love you and appreciate you. If you liked it, please let me know. I debated not posting this so many times (and I might even regret it later) so feedback will certainly ease my troubled mind!! I ALWAYS LOVE YOU, BUT ESPECIALLY TODAY!! xx Shan. 

Harry’s Draft Day Look

talk to me about generational | fic masterlist

[amberwild420]

one step back, two steps forward (pt.4)

masterlist

Not all heroes wear capes

Kaylan stood tall on the roof of the building. The spotted heroin was having trouble keeping herself safe.

 For the love of God please work!

 Closing her eye she took a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, her yellow green eyes glowed and she swung her rope lasso and threw it towards ladybug. The loop secured at ladybug’s waist that made the said hero startle. With a strong tug Kaylan pulled the hero upward before she started falling down right in her arms. (here)

**************************************************************************************

Her mind was exploding with worst case scenarios like a bullet train. The feeling of rope and the strong pull made her believe that she was going to be out of commotion just like that. But the moment she landed in someone’s arms, she was startled to see her savior.

 For as long as Marinette can remember, she never got fascinated by some glowing eyes. And she never voiced that. Not once in the future.

*******************************************************************************************

The beeping from the earrings startled them both. Ladybug looked around.

Thank you for your help but I need to recharge.

 Ladybug kept looking for any place to hide. With a wave Kaylan made a blue colored cube. The shocked face didn’t go unnoticed by her but she ignored it.

 It’s my magic. I made sure no one can’t either see or hear you.

Huh?

 The spotted heroin who looked baffled at the sudden reveal couldn’t process what was actually happening. Rolling her eyes Kaylan pushed the other girl to the cube.

 Tsk! get inside.

 Once she was safe inside, Kaylan turned to observe the situation. From what she gathered from Marinette’s general information and her own research she just needed to find the thing that has the magical butterfly in it.

While the whole situation looked abstruse, she knew as a magic user herself, it was possible to defy logic rather easily and the living proof was rather in front of her.

 Since I saw many victim with the mind control ability the minions are nothing but an obstacle. Considering that they can turn the other like themselves it would be best if they could be separated from the main boss.

 Miss?

With the speed of lightening, the knife was at speaker’s neck. Ladybug looked frightened for a moment but it was gone. With a sigh she put the knife away.

 I believe that you are Ladybug.

 And you are new in Paris.

 And how do you know that?

Considering I know almost everyone in the city and I don’t think that there would be someone with such abilities here. It kind of give away.

 Kaylan looked away from the heroin and looked at the crowd that gathered at the base of the building trying to climb up.

 Your partner is incompetent.

 *sigh* I know.

 I have a few plans that can help you but it involved me in a dangerous situation.

 A surprise gasp left her lips as ladybug looked at the other girl astonished.

  I can’t put the life of a civilian in danger.

 Well too late for now.

 Huh?

Looking at what she was pointing at, ladybug felt a little nauseous. There wasn’t a single civilian in sight that was not affected by the akuma.

 Give me a few sample plans and I will tell you your role.

 The words forced themselves out of her mouth but she didn’t seem to care. There was a hint of frustration and helplessness hidden by the sheer determination in her eyes. A smirk made its way towards her face making the spotted heroin regret her words by a long shot.

Sure!

*******************************************************************************************

This is so nauseating. Do they eat brain? Do you think they die if we crush their heads?

 A high pitched excited voice pierce through the crowd and every minion looked at the general direction. The shadow of two people behind a wall could be seen.

 Would you shut up? Your glass shattering voice is making me deaf.

 Excuse me?!

Geez you’re scaring the akuma with that voice. I think they are bleeding from their ears. Screechy voice!

 My voice is not screechy! Everyone knows it. Just because they are weak and pathetic and can’t bear a little loud voice doesn’t mean I’m the one to blame. God forbade, that akuma just couldn’t get any other ability from Hawkmoth……….like seriously! Zombies! So third class! And there are so many akumas that had minions. Like no originality! Don’t they have copyrights!

 A tick mark appeared on the akuma’s head.

Get them whoever they are swarm them and break them apart. How dare they say that I’m weak? I’m the strongest akuma yet. Get them! Get them! Get them!

 In no time the minions ran towards the two people leaving the main akuma all alone.

 I can’t believe her plan actually worked.

The spotted heroin called from behind before dodging the beam and knocking the weapon from plague doctor’s hand and tying her from her other yoyo. The main yoyo broke the akuma item and captured and purify the butterfly.

 Bye bye little butterfly.

 After a miraculous ladybug, the spotted heroin comforted the victim. Kaylan jogged towards the pair and extended a card towards the victim.

 My mother is a psychiatrist. You can schedule a time with her and go for a therapy. I’m sure it will do well if you don’t have to bottle up all emotions.

 The nurse gave a strained smile and left promising that she will schedule the session so something like this never happens.

 Milady!

The sing song voice of the leather clad hero made the other one flinch. Chat noir came smiling like a Cheshire cat.

 Chat noir! One again you came late and got hit instead of listening to my plan. You need to take this seriously!

 But I always take you seriously.

 Ladybug felt like giving a hard slap to his face. He didn’t listen to a single word she said and just spoke of his fantasy. It was nice listen to these when he was a good hero. It helps when the stress got into her but now it is just plain irritating.

 Chat noir you need to be a serious hero!

I am a good hero! I always save you like a knight in shiny leather.

 Th-that’s not what I mean!

 The one sided argument was enough to bring a headache. With a big sigh she pushed chat noir away from ladybug making him tumble down on the ground. It was lucky that there weren’t people around yet but the time was limited.

 Ladybug you should leave. You need rest anyway.

 Ladybug sighed in relief and left quickly. Kaylan turned to the cat themed hero with a fierce glare making the said hero flinch. Grabbing him by the collar, she pulled him up to her level.

I’ll say it just once, you better stop making her do all the work you dumb, lazy cat or so god help me I’ll be the one you will have to worry about.

  You can’t say anything to me. You’re just a new girl who came here yesterday. Ladybug and I are destined to be together.

 Chat noir yelled while struggling to get away from her. For a girl she was strong, far stronger than he is and he was the one with the miraculous, he should have more strength than a normal girl.

 If you think that you can get out, well you thought wrong.

She shook him violently before shoving him to the wall, rather violently.

  I hate people who think they are heroes and deserve the best. You are one of those heroes. Acting all high and mighty and calling himself a hero while you do nothing to live up to that claim and ladybug had to do all the work.

  You……… how dare you………….

 The anger didn’t last a second when Kaylan slammed a knife right next to his cheek. Now it was sticking right there on the wall.

How dare I? How. Dare. You? You think that the world revolves around you and they owe you a favor. Or worse. Ladybug owe you something. I might be new to all this but I can assure you a single piece of magical artifact can’t decide your destiny. So ladybug don’t owe you her love. GET. THAT. THROUGH. YOUR. THICK. SKULL.

 Chat noir didn’t move a bit. He had been scolded before but as Adrien not as chat noir. And this girl, she not only dare to scold him but she is also disrupting the peace of his class. She even sits next to Marinette.

 Marinette.

 This girl is dangerous, he need to warn Marinette or Marinette will be trouble.

During his inner turmoil, he didn’t notice her taking out her knife or leaving. When he did came to his senses she was turning a corner. He wanted to follow her but his miraculous started beeping.

 “Guess I’ll have to warn Marinette tomorrow.”

***************************************************************************************

Stepping down to the stairs after classes was dismissed, Kaylan found herself being hugged by her mother. She was asking question at a rapid speed. Some relevant and some irrelevant. Well not like it mattered. Her mother was safe anyway.

  In a distance she saw Marinette looking at her. When their eyes met, she send her an apologetic smile before waving her and leaving towards the bakery.

 Guess I’ll be asking her tomorrow.

   Life was great. Even with hilariously dangerous situation.

previous

next

(Fiction fact: 

Kaylan has magic. 

she can make solid structure. 

she didn’t said any type of incantation like Zatanna or Constantine. it makes her a different type of mage or maybe a superior one. 

Kaylan do not use magic much, instead she uses her knife, especially for threatening. ladybug was an exception.

the two shadows were illusion that she made and manipulated the emotions of the akuma to separate the minions and the main akuma.

 Ladybug is the only one that can be seen in the head to head fight. 

lucky charm of this akuma was yoyo)

[cyhyr]

Whumpmas in July: Warmth

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: E

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka

WC: ~3940

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Notes: frottage, therapy, safewords, cockwarming, oral sex, past abuse, love confessions

A/N: So, y'all know about my wonderful problem with terrible interpretations of prompts... Oops? Anyway, we'll return to our regularly scheduled whump-fest in the next fic. I think.

Follows "Look At Me"

For @whumpmasinjuly prompt list

Read on The Archive

~

They’re on a mission together when the idea comes to him. And he knows Kakashi isn’t going to approve, nor will he be interested in trying it; but a man can dream and it’s just the two of them on the road for five days and Iruka can admit that there’s probably something messed up with his head that he wants this but he can’t help it.

He remembers often, giving Kakashi that blowjob, and how it made him feel. He enjoyed having Kakashi in his mouth for the time he managed it, before he went and fucked it up by giving Kakashi his hair. They lay near each other at night in the forest and huddle together and oftentimes Iruka feels the outline of Kakashi’s dick against his ass and it’s… it’s a lot.

In a good way.

Fuck, but he wants Kakashi.

He just… doesn’t know how to go about having him without also triggering himself. It wasn’t until he started seeing a therapist, his first session two weeks ago, that he realized how much Mizuki ruined sex for him. He already knew he was damaged goods, but he hadn’t realized how much.

But this idea he’s got…

Maybe.

~

They’re two days from Konoha, huddled together in a shallow cave while a storm rages just outside. They could have kept going—a little rain and wind never hurt anyone—but Kakashi seemed to jump on the chance to settle down for the night early, and led them here. Iruka set up intricate traps and barrier seals around the mouth of the cave, assuring both himself and Kakashi that only the truly desperate will get into their hiding spot, let alone know they’re here. They dry out hair and clothes (Kakashi’s control with katon is brilliant, like the rest of him) and are simply enjoying sitting next to each other in front of a small fire.

Their vests and pouches remain within easy reach—they are still on a mission.

Iruka leans against Kakashi’s shoulder, contently dozing in and out. Kakashi has an Icha Icha book open in his palm, but hasn’t turned the page in over fifteen minutes. Their silence is odd in that it’s comfortable, but only if Iruka doesn’t think about how long they’ve each been quiet.

Kakashi breaks. “Iruka?”

“Hmm?”

“You… you would tell me… if I was doing something wrong. Right?”

Iruka’s eyes snap open and his happy doze fades fast. He lifts his head and shifts to face Kakashi. “Yes, of course, but what is this about? What’s—?” He stops and glances away, “Have I done something wrong?”

Kakashi hums. “You’ve just been a little distant for most of this mission. Since we passed through that hamlet on our first evening. I just—I don’t—”

“Kakashi, no,” Iruka reaches out for his hands, but at the last inch stops. He knows what this is about now; of course Kakashi picked up on his odd mood, his being-lost-in-thought. “Can I hold your hands?”

Kakashi nods, his blush barely noticeable in the firelight.

“Kakashi,” Iruka starts again with his partner’s hands in his own, “I’m sorry for seeming distant. I had an idea and it’s been plaguing me, but I wanted to wait until we got home to talk about it. I also—um—kind of want to discuss it with my therapist first.”

Kakashi brings their hands up to his masked lips and kisses Iruka’s fingers. “You will tell me, though?”

Iruka nods. “I want to, very much so. But I also need to. To talk it out with Rikona-sensei.”

Kakashi accepts the answer and tugs Iruka closer, which he does willingly. Iruka takes initiative and leans into the space behind Kakashi’s ear and mutters, “Can I...?”

Hands pull him to straddle Kakashi’s lap while a groaned “Yes” rumbles against his chest. Iruka slips Kakashi’s mask down just enough to get to that sensitive spot and nips at it. Kakashi, at the same time, gently gropes and kneads his ass.

“I. Want. Uhh, there—Iruka, more. Still can’t believe you’re able to hide this ass in—ohh, fuck—standard uniform pants. Oh gods. Iruka.”

Iruka smiles against Kakashi’s neck as he reveals bare skin. He won’t pull down the mask entirely—that’s a limit Kakashi set and, gods, Kakashi’s so good at remembering his triggers that Iruka can do him the favor of remembering one limit. Kakashi is hard, and Iruka grinds down on his erection to get him to swear and squirm some more.

So long as Iruka stays on top, stays in control, these kinds of encounters don’t bother him. Mizuki never treated him like this, not exactly. The differences are enough.

He rolls his hips against Kakashi, a little faster, holding onto Kakashi’s shoulders for balance. “Kakashi,” he moans breathily, “wanna see you come.”

Kakashi pants. One hand leaves his ass and pulls down his mask, and then they’re kissing, mouths devouring each other and teeth clicking together. Iruka feels his own stirrings of arousal, finally, and groans deeper in his chest.

“Close,” Kakashi warns, breaking the kiss after a few minutes.

“Good. Why’s your hand not back on my ass?”

“I don’t. I mean.”

Iruka smirks and takes Kakashi’s hand, bringing it up to his face. Iruka normally likes Kakashi’s gloves. The texture, the smell, the implication of power… but tonight, he’s glad the gloves are off, over with their vests and pouches.

He slips Kakashi’s first finger into his mouth and hums.

“Oh, shit.”

He continues to hold Kakashi’s finger against his tongue until he’s finished and slumped forward, and then lets it slide free with a pop.

“Gods, Iruka,” Kakashi murmurs, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him as close as possible. “That was. Wow.”

Iruka giggles and replaces Kakashi’s mask, and then cards his fingers through silver hair. “Very articulate.”

Kakashi hums. He’s still glowing, and won’t want to be coherent for a few minutes.

“Can I return the favor?” he mutters against Iruka’s neck. Even during the afterglow, Kakashi thinks of him; it’s sweet.

Iruka says, “No thanks. I started to get there, but just wasn’t… y’know.”

Kakashi sighs. “Still wanna kill him.”

“I know. I appreciate the sentiment.”

He whines. “It’s not fair that I get all the orgasms in this relationship.”

Iruka laughs outright. “Even though I’m okay with giving them to you? And also not asking for reciprocation?”

Kakashi nuzzles him. “Wanna see you come, too,” he murmurs.

Someday.

~

“It’s good that you feel ready to take steps to move forward. But what steps are you prepared to take to prevent an episode?”

“Well, I thought a lot about it on the way home. Mizuki would always come to my place, so I thought first maybe a change in scenery will help—I’m gonna ask if we can do this at Kakashi’s place.”

“That’s a start. But many of your triggers are auditory.”

“And Kakashi’s never said anything to tip me into an episode since our, uh, second disaster. I trust him.”

“Trust is important. What else?”

“I’m also going to heavily condition my hair, and brush it out. So in case Kakashi snags it accidentally it won’t pull. I’m… I’m also going to request that he wash up beforehand. He and Mizuki smell… too similar, right now. I don’t want to risk it.”

“What about position?”

“That’s something I will need to discuss with Kakashi. I can’t—I can’t be on my knees for this, that’s just asking for an episode.”

“I agree. May I also suggest the two of you discuss hand signals for safe-words? You won’t be able to talk, after all.”

“Yes. I hadn’t thought of that. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you have put so much thought into this.”

“I just need to prove to us I can move past this.”

“Hmm. Well, we’ve gone over time by ten minutes, but I think it’s worth it. I truly hope this works out for you, Iruka-sensei.”

~

Iruka is scrubbing the cabinet faces in his kitchen, waiting for Kakashi to get back from another mission. They’d gotten back, and the next day his partner had been sent out again—he had been angry at first, at the Counsel for requiring so much from Kakashi, and at himself for not understanding immediately that Kakashi requested the mission to give Iruka a little bit more time and space to work out that “odd” thought.

He’s worked it out. He talked it out with Rikona-sensei. He’s as prepared as he can be.

That’s why he’s cleaning.

Iruka can admit that he’s terrified this will go wrong. Against all of his thoughtful preparation, he could still dissociate. The more he goes under, the more likely it becomes that he just won’t resurface. Or he could resurface, but with new triggers—new ones relating to Kakashi instead of Mizuki.

Worst of all, Kakashi could just outright deny him and not even try. Iruka’s not sure how that situation would go, but it probably won’t be good.

At least. At least Kakashi’s due back today. He shouldn’t have to—

“Hello dear,” comes a voice from his kitchen window.

Iruka doesn’t hide the smile Kakashi’s voice drags out of him. He looks up from his spot on the floor and watches as his partner slinks through the window and over the sink and counter to join him on the floor.

“Sandals,” Iruka says. Kakashi takes his off and leaves to go put them in the genkan, and is back at his side quickly.

“You’re cleaning,” Kakashi comments. “Rough day with the ankle-biters?”

Iruka laughs. “No, nothing like that. I quite like this class, actually.”

“Then…?”

Iruka sets aside his sponge and sighs, standing up. “Right. Let me put this away, and then. Then we can talk.”

He leaves the room, taking as long as he dares knowing Kakashi is standing, arms crossed, in his kitchen. He dumps dirty water down the shower drain, sets the sponge in the bathroom sink to dry, and puts the bucket away in the bottom of the linen closet.

One more bracing breath, and then he leaves the bathroom.

“Okay.” He comes back into the kitchen; Kakashi hasn’t moved. “Would you like to sit?”

Kakashi holds a hand up. “First, please?” Iruka nods and gestures for him to speak. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“No.” Iruka’s proud of how even his tone is. “You may want to consider it, after this, but I don’t… it’s not what I want.”

Kakashi takes the chair beside Iruka’s usual one, and pulls down his mask. “I highly doubt whatever you have to say is going to change my feelings for you.”

Iruka sits. Smiles. “That’s sweet, but hold your judgement until you’ve heard me out.”

Kakashi leans forward and reaches out for his hands. Iruka gives them to him, letting Kakashi entwine their fingers together on the tabletop.

“I have something I want to try,” Iruka starts. “And I’ve given it a lot of thought, how to go about it without worrying about triggering an episode.”

Kakashi sits up a little straighter. “What do you want?”

Iruka’s face heats up, and he looks away for a moment to collect himself. “I… okay, so. I—before I fucked up that last time, when I was blowing you—”

“We agreed that it was both of our faults,” Kakashi glowers. “If you want to take any of the blame, I get an equal amount for being the instigating party.”

“Right. Sorry—”

“Iruka.”

Iruka closes his eyes and bites his lip. Deep breath. “Thank you, Kakashi, for reminding me.”

Kakashi brings his hand up to kiss his fingers. “You’re welcome. I’d like to hear more, but not if you’re going to be self-deprecating.”

“I. Yes. Okay. I can… I’ll try.”

Kakashi replaces their hands on the table and waits.

“So, the blowjob. When I was. Before I dissociated.” Iruka flushes hard. “I really enjoyed that.”

“As did I. But you also said that your performing oral sex is off limits, because of your trauma. Has that changed?” Kakashi is trying not to look excited, but Iruka can see the spark in his eye.

“Not exactly. I’d like to try something, um. Blowjob-adjacent?”

Kakashi waits.

“I’d like you to consider. Letting me… um.” Oh just thinking about it is getting his heart racing; his breathing speeds up.

“Iruka, are you with me?”

“Yes,” he answers immediately. “I’m not—slipping. It’s. Fuck,” he takes one hand back from Kakashi and presses his palm to his forehead. He decides to spit it all out as fast as he can. “I want your cock in my mouth again, but I want to just. Hold it. Does that make—”

Kakashi’s chair screeches as he pushes back from the table. He comes around the corner of the table and kneels in front of Iruka, looking up at him reverently. “You would do that for me?” he whispers.

Iruka puts his free hand against Kakashi’s cheek. “You’re the one who’d be doing me a favor,” he smirks. “I want this, Kakashi.”

“Now?”

Iruka shakes his head. “I mean, yes, but not-not here. And I have some preparation steps for both of us, to help prevent the chance of an episode.”

“Anything.”

~

Two hours later, it’s late and dark, and Iruka stands outside of Kakashi’s apartment door. The jōnin barracks are sparse, as most shinobi who attain this rank either are part of a clan, make enough to purchase their own quarters, or find better housing with spouses or roommates. As it is, Kakashi is the only one living on his floor, and has been able to secure the apartments above and below him to stay empty as well.

Iruka knocks. He doesn’t have to wait long for Kakashi to open the door.

“Hello dear.”

Iruka smiles and leans in to accept Kakashi’s kiss to his forehead. He’s led inside, and once the door shuts, he reaches up and starts untying his hair.

Hands gently take his elbows and Kakashi crowds him from behind. “Leave it up for now?”

Iruka tightens the tie again, then turns around in the circle of Kakashi’s arms. “Have you thought about it?” he asks.

Kakashi hums. “Can I kiss you? I won’t get to for a while.”

Iruka leans in and tugs gently at his mask with one finger. “Gotta take this off first,” he says.

“Go ahead.”

Oh. Iruka cups Kakashi’s jaw with both hands and slowly eases the fabric down over his nose and mouth. His face bared to the room, Iruka traces his lips with a fingertip. “Can I—?”

“Please, Iruka.”

Lips meet and moans rumble in both of their throats. Iruka keeps his hands on Kakashi’s face, revelling in the bare skin he was allowed to—Oh his chest aches in such a wonderful way.

Kakashi runs one hand up his spine while the other stays around his waist. Iruka smirks into the kiss as Kakashi traces his hand back down, past his waist, his hips, and finally settling on the curve of his ass.

“Someday,” Iruka murmurs into his mouth, and groans at Kakashi’s harsh kneading.

“Best ass in Konoha,” Kakashi whispers. “In the world.”

Iruka laughs outright, tipping his head back. The laugh turns into another moan as Kakashi kisses his neck and jaw. He lets Kakashi lead as they start walking over to the bed.

Then they fall gently, slowly, onto the mattress. Iruka keeps his eyes open; there’s a different visual stimulus here, Kakashi’s studio being so different from his own bedroom. He’s urged to lay beside Kakashi, still in his comforting embrace.

They kiss forever, until Iruka feels comfortable exploring Kakashi’s body with his own hands, until he closes his eyes and rests his head back against the pillow and lets Kakashi kiss him all over, tapping and tugging at various pieces of clothing to ask if he can remove them.

They’re both down to their underwear when Iruka starts to feel the faint prickling of panic at the edge of his awareness. He pulls Kakashi back up to him and kisses him deeply, slipping his tongue into Kakashi’s mouth and feeling the scar across his eye.

“How are you feeling, dear?” Kakashi asks.

“Hmm. Almost wanna just keep making out with you all night,” Iruka says.

“We can do that,” Kakashi offers. “If you want to wait on—”

“Oh no. I’m getting that monster back on my tongue tonight.” Iruka kisses along Kakashi’s jaw, hunting for his weak spot. He probably can’t reach it from this position. Judging from the rumbling moan in his chest, Kakashi doesn’t mind his trying. Or his words.

“Shit, alright. Sit up a moment.”

Iruka collects himself up onto his knees and waits while Kakashi repositions himself to sit against the headboard, his legs apart. He crooks a finger in Iruka’s direction and yes he’s helpless but to settle between Kakashi’s legs and lean in to kiss him again. Iruka drags his mouth across Kakashi’s chest, licks at his stomach, and finally lays himself down and breathes in Kakashi—bitter, dark; he wonders briefly if Kakashi had followed his request to wash up before this, so the faint scent that reminded him once of Mizuki would be covered by soap smell.

Kakashi’s musk doesn’t flash a threat of Mizuki now.

He lays his head on Kakashi’s thigh and waits. Kakashi pets Iruka’s hair with one hand—very gently—and fondles himself with the other. Watching Kakashi go from semi-hard to fully erect in front of him is maddening; he feels his own dick respond, and the heat in his core starts to build. He licks his lips and shifts closer just a bit.

Kakashi stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “Wait, just. Just a little bit more.”

Iruka whines.

Kakashi stops. “Iruka?”

“I’m fine. I’m great. Please, please keep touching yourself,” he whimpers. “Gods, keep touching yourself.”

“Fuck.”

Kakashi pulls his cock out, finally, and strokes himself. Iruka’s lips part involuntarily, beginning to pant. He shifts his hips against the sheets, but keeps his arms still around Kakashi’s hips and his head steady on his thigh. His mouth dries out quickly with his panting.

“Please, Kakashi, please. I-I want you so bad please—”

“What do you do if I check in with you and you’re okay?”

Iruka taps his hip once.

“And if you ever need to stop?”

He taps twice. “Or I can just pull away.”

“Right. And if you find yourself slipping?”

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-

Kakashi chuckles. “Alright, alright.” He holds his cock at the base and guides Iruka forward with his other hand at the back of his head. He doesn’t push, doesn’t hold him, doesn’t grab him; and Iruka goes for it happily, sliding his lips around the head and moaning along with Kakashi at the first touch of tongue to cock.

He sucks on the head for a moment, breathing deeply and focusing himself. When he feels ready, he slides down, bit by bit, hearing Kakashi’s harsh panting echoing in the room.

“Little more, that’s it. Fuck, beautiful—c’mon, c’mon, just—oh, gods.”

Kakashi’s cock hits the back of his throat. Iruka pulls back, just a second, breathes, and on his exhale sinks down the rest of the way.

“Shit-shit-shit, fuck, Iruka, so g—ah, shit, your mouth yes.”

He lays his head back on Kakashi’s thigh and lets his partner run his mouth above him. He’s got cock comfortably settled down his throat and yeah, they’ll have to change the sheets because Iruka’s already drooling around his mouthful something terrible—something wonderful—and by the time he’s ready to come back there’ll likely be a small puddle.

It doesn’t seem that Kakashi will mind.

He finally collects himself to quiet down, still hard in his throat though. It’s nice. Kakashi pets his hair again, and this time also pulls the tie free from his hair. He’s careful, so damn careful, and then Iruka’s hair is loose around his face and he doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care because he’s got better things to focus on.

He’s in Kakashi’s bed, with Kakashi’s scent all around him, and Kakashi’s bittersweet cock on his tongue, and Kakashi’s words echoing around him, and he’s hard.

Oh, he’s hard.

If he shifts he’ll choke. He can’t take any relief for how turned on he is. That’s… that’s okay. He’s not doing this to get off. He’s doing it to prove he can.

And he is.

And he does.

Kakashi checks in with him every ten minutes. He stays present the whole time. It’s so. It’s perfect. The third time, Kakashi tells him it’s been half an hour, and Iruka hums and glances up at him questioningly.

“I’d. I’d really like to come, Iruka. But I also want to wait until you’re ready.”

He sighs through his nose and carefully pulls off of Kakashi’s cock. He sucks on the head for a minute, listening to Kakashi swear and pant some more as he swallows and lets his throat relax. When he pulls off the rest of the way, he noses at the hard, reddened length and says, voice wrecked, “Come, then. If you’d like.”

Kakashi wastes no time in grabbing his spit-slick dick and beginning to pump furiously. Iruka sits up on his knees to watch, pressing the heel of his own hand against his erection and breathing heavily to keep himself under control.

“You too, please,” Kakashi whimpers. “Can I see you? Can I—oh, can I blow you? I’ll be just as-as-fuck, Iruka, please, I want you too; wanna see you, too.”

“I know,” Iruka says. His shoulders are heaving with the force of keeping his breath steady. “But this was for you.”

“But—”

“Oh, my Kakashi,” Iruka murmurs. “Just. Let go. Let me see you. Let me know I d-did good.”

“Fuck, Iruka.”

“Come, love.”

He does. Oh, he comes, hard and loud and wet, streaking up his chest and dripping over his hand and gods does Iruka have the urge to kiss him through his afterglow. He inches forward on his knees and reaches past Kakashi’s shoulder to the washcloth they’d prepared before, sitting on the windowsill. Iruka gently wipes it across Kakashi’s chest and groin, and then takes his hand and swipes it with the cloth, too. He tosses the washcloth across the room to the sink, and leans forward to press his forehead against Kakashi’s.

“Can I—?”

“Please kiss me,” Kakashi whimpers at the same time.

He does. Kakashi’s arms embrace him loosely and he holds Kakashi’s face in one hand and braces his other palm against his chest. His heart is racing, pounding.

“You called me—”

“I do.” Iruka murmurs, pulling away so he can look into Kakashi's eye. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, tied with Naruto.”

“For different—”

“You know what I mean.” Iruka chuckles. “Yes, for different reasons.”

“Does this mean I can get you off now?”

Iruka shakes his head. “I just wanna enjoy your glow with you. You’re so precious like this.”

“I like it,” Kakashi mutters. “Being yours.”

“I like having you,” Iruka cards his fingers through Kakashi’s hair. “I… I love you.”

Kakashi says, “I love you, too.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I’ve loved you for months, Iruka. I’m just. Scared.”

“Don’t be. You’ve got me.”

They breathe through the glow. They’ll have to change the sheet, and Iruka hasn't yet confirmed with Kakashi if it’s okay if he stays the night. But he’s happy, and he’s proven to himself that he’s on the mend, and Mizuki’s hold on him has loosened just that little bit more.

[angelicjadamv]

The story so far

One month after graduating high school in 2015 I was finally able to move away from my family. I was 18 and moved to California for college. Fortunately one of the scholarships I earned was accompanied by a summer program that started in the middle of the summer before fall semester. Shortly after settling in a safe, stable environment for the first time in my life I started to get better. A lot better at first. Then life happened, as it does, and 18 years of repressed trauma and abuse broke me. My nervous breakdown ruined my fall semester, I couldn't go to classes or take exams or function as a student anymore. Until this point, being an exceptional student was all I had and basically how I survived. My safe and stable environment now was dependant on maintaining a certain GPA, among other requirements I could no longer meet. I failed one of my main courses because I had a 0 on 2 exams, including the final. When I went home I was put on antipsychotics. Returning to campus for the 2016 spring semester, I attempted to seek more therapy. I wasn't successful in finding a good therapist (for me, therapy is a personal thing. Just because someone isn't a good therapist for me doesn't necessarily mean they are a bad therapist). I did continue to see my 2 psychiatrists (emergency and regular) often as they attempted to adjust my medication to find something that work. My agoraphobia worsened, I stopped sleeping, I could barely eat, I was manic one moment and dissociative the next, SH and suicidal ideation worsened. I was a burden to my friends and loved ones. I made it through this because I had a beautiful support system that I will forever be grateful for, but I ended up taking a leave of absence academically for my second semester, earning no credits and putting my scholarships at further jeopardy. I was allowed to stay on campus because it was clear I was dangerously unstable with no safe environment to return to and because I had incredible advocates looking out for me. I had realized that I wasn't going to get better in time to salvage my academic career and my life, and was mostly clueless as to how I would survive. I had had an internship in my field since I started college, but I earned basically no money. STEM internships aren't really made to be livable for undergrads, so I had mostly been working for experience in a field I would no longer be able to progress in. Bummer. My physical health had taken a huge dive for all of 2016. I basically always knew I was chronically ill, but I had been abused and gaslit my entire life to believe and act like I was fine, I was just a weak baby, I didn't know what real pain or suffering was, seizures were to be ignored, no I didn't have migraines or pinched nerves (um hello SCOLIOSIS), etc etc. And 2016 was the year my body finally started to break, so I knew "regular" jobs weren't going to be a viable option for me, at least not for long.

And thus I became a survival SW. I stayed in college for a final semester, because I didn't want to miss my friends, I loved my campus and didn't know where else to live, I still needed a lot of campus resources. I also kept my internship as long as I could, because I knew I would miss it for the rest of my life. I didn't really go to classes, again, because as much as a desperately wanted to and as much as my advisors moved heaven and earth to try to make it work for me, I couldn't handle it. I was finally able to find 2 great therapists who I started seeing regularly who actually knew how to diagnose and treat me, one at school and one outside. This is also when I met Daddy (Jace) online. After talking for what is probably a stupidly short time, we fell in love and started dating. This is honestly my first real relationship and time actually catching genuine feelings for someone, something that I hadn't thought I was capable of. Despite being happier than I had ever been in so many ways, my mental and physical health was still steadily declining. My migraines and pain were getting worse, I hadn't been able to eat normally in months and relied entirely on medication to eat or sleep at all. Many people recommended mmj at this point in my life, but I was afraid of how it would interact with my other meds. I only smoked occasionally at parties at this point (because no way was I spending my super duper limited money on weed). I wonder if medicating with something that actually worked well for me, like weed, would have allowed me to finish college. Oh well I guess. Because of my inability to attend classes, I had to take another leave for the fall semester 2016. I worked at a strip club briefly, but my health couldn't handle it for long.

I didn't want to go home for the first winter break in 2015, but campus closed and I had nowhere else to go. It was turbulent. When summer 2016 came, I still didn't go home despite having no place to stay. Until a month or so later, it was revealed to me a relative had terminal cancer. I had to go home again. It was worse than turbulent. When winter 2016 came, my relative was in much worse condition. They only had a few months left, and this was probably my last chance to say goodbye. This visit was by far the most traumatic, and more because of my parents than watching a loved one die. At least Jace was able to come meet me for the first time in person. He also got to meet my relative before they passed 🖤

Freshly fucked up by family, I retuned to California at the beginning of 2017. I was mostly taking a break from SW because of my health and was working vanilla jobs as I could (so not much). I had a pretty decent job that I was really good at and had been promoted, but then my relative passed. I started losing consciousness again ( I had many seizures and fainting spells in my childhood and during high school) and had to quit my job. the funeral was in spring 2017, I flew to Jersey to be with Daddy for a few days and then he drove me several states over for the memorial. That was the last time I saw my family. I wanted to transition to online/content creating, but I had no tech knowledge or equipment (even my phone was a potato). In high school I wasn't allowed to have a smartphone, most social media other than what was heavily monitored (and still had 0 experience with platforms sw is popular on besides Tumblr I guess), I didn't really know much about cameras. Way too sheltered and broken to feel like I could start anything. I was now seeing my outside, or I guess regular and only, therapist twice a week and doing treatments that while working for me were insanely (literally) hard. I had been able to get an apartment with roommates at a super discount in return for taking care of their crazy dog, which was a win win for me (he was a good boi just crazy from a bad past and had the worst separation anxiety). The agreement was that I would live with them until the lease was up in September, and then we would reevaluate the situation. Then they both got promoted at their mega corporation jobs. And after their wedding found a really gorgeous apartment in a much fancier part of the city, and paid to break our lease early in June leaving me homeless. I had been fired from my last 2 jobs (probably for being disabled because California is at will employment but who knows I might have been fired from the nanny job because the husband wanted to fuck me). I had no money or anywhere to go. All of my friends were almost as broke as me, so while I had offers to couchsurf at a few of their places they had other roommates who would have been pissed and in a few months they would be going back to school anyways. Daddy and I had been trying to save up to move in together for months, but he was going to move to California. We didn't have any money for that, so instead he asked me to move in with him in New Jersey. Leaving meant I lost my health insurance and my therapist. It was supposed to be much more temporary and we were supposed to move back to California much sooner than we were able to. I try not to be mad at those roommates because being angry doesn't change anything, but it really sucked.

Moving in with Daddy meant we could start our blog! And I was super happy at first, the happiest I could ever remember. But the years had been too hard and my health started to get worse than ever before. Without treatment and so traumatized, my brain and body were constantly at war. I would wake with splitting migraines, throwing up, my chronic pain became completely unmanageable. I started to need weed all the time because it was the only thing that stopped my cyclical vomiting episodes and kept me out of the hospital. My antipsychotics and other meds had been high-key fucking me up (probably shouldn't have been on them in the first place, thank you doctor who also ignored my seizures even when I had one in front of you) and were almost impossible to come off of because the withdrawals. (Seriously, kicking xanax was easier for me than my antipsychotics.) I'm not anti medication or anything, I just know the ones I was on were not good for me anymore. I'd actually like to be on something again, I just need a doctor who actually understands PTSD and DID.

My health continued to be shit for most of 2018, with several ER visits for severe dehydration from vomiting for days on end. We started to make videos and do snapchat and online sessions to be able to make ends meet. Despite being in the worst situation and thus everything being a trizillion times harder, we really loved (and still love 😇) doing SW and creating content. Our fans and clients have been there in some of our darkest moments, just being lovely or pulling through for us when we needed it most. During 2018 and 2019 I became actively suicidal for the first time since I was 13. I struggled with self harm again. I have gotten worse than I ever thought possible. But I wouldn't have made it at all if it wasn't for SW, this community and our supporters.

At the beginning of 2020 we were finally able to move back to California. Obviously, the pandemic severely disrupted many of our plans, especially regarding my recovery. Despite things being delayed or shifted, we are in a much better place currently. I have what I need to get better and I can build a support system again. I will get better.

Talking about things is hard for me. Being open and honest is hard for me. For 18 years I was trained and abused to not be sad or show negative feelings, or talk about upsetting things, and it has been killing me slowly my entire life. I genuinely don't want pity or to make others feel bad, but I do want to give you the chance to get to know me. I don't always talk about things so much. But I'm trying to get better at it.

[professional-benaddict]

Hey! I have a prompt but I'm not one hundred percent sure whether you will be okay writing it. Basically little!Peter in a psych ward and he is forming a bond with his doctor, Dr stark, and possibly Peter like trying to run away from therapy? Now I've written it out its legit the plot of iagbtb but anyway if you are okay writing it I would love to read it!! (There's a high possibility I'm being sent to a psych ward soon and I've never been so imma bit scared)-🐢 xxxxxxx

Hiyaa dear🌸 as similar as this is to IAGBTB, I still looved writing this😍 I hope you like it too babey and I hope your admission goes well and is helpful if you do have to go💚💚

Psychiatrist Tony, +18 Little Peter, psychiatric hospitals and admissions, brief mention of self harming thoughts, mentall illness, generalised anxiety, depression, group therapy, therapy, or just Peter talking through some feelings with Tony

“All right, everyone, thank you so much for this session. Many of you shared a lot today, and that means progress and recovery. We’ll gather again tomorrow.”

Although half of the patients have already scrambled off from the circle formed by the simple chairs, Tony still follows through with his short ending speech, like he does every other day. The other half are still listening though and some even give Tony a smile and start putting the chairs back in place. Peter is one of them, and he tries his hardest to gather as many chairs as possible. But, getting a third chair on top proves to be his limit, and the little boy huffs as he puts the chair back on the floor.

“I’ll take that.” Tony smiles, coming up behind Peter to take the chair, and lifts it onto the pile with ease. Then, he lifts all three stacked up chairs and carries them to their right resting place. “Thank you for the help. That was very kind.” Tony says to Peter, making the boy giggle softly.

“We go now?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

It’s been three weeks now since Peter was admitted, but this is not his first admission to the psychatric hospital. It’s his third, so he is quite familiar with the building and its’ wings, both the locked and unlocked ones. Still, Peter likes to hold onto Doctor Stark’s hand as they walk through the halls, not because he needs the guidence, but rather for his emotional needs. During all three of his admissions, Tony has been his psychiatrist, so you could say he knows Tony pretty well too. Or perhaps, it’s more accurate to say Tony knows Peter very well.

It is a bad brain chemistry mix of generalised anxiety and clinical depression that has brought Peter here, as well as the self harming thoughts. The latter is the biggest contributor to his admission, not because they are necessarily severe within themselves, but it has more to do with Peter’s CG’s lack of the right skills to keep Peter safe and healthy. Peter’s living situation with Beck is something Tony has struggled with for a long time, and it doesn’t show signs of getting resolved soon. But, at least Beck pays the hospital bills, and Peter is safe and looked after here. Very, very looked after.

“So, how are you today, Peter? You were quite chatty during the group session.” Tony starts once they reach a private exam room. Just like he owns the place, Peter settles into the chair next to the desk in the room.

“Hm! I’m okay.” Peter starts. “The bad thoughts aren’t that bad today.”

“No? And what about your feelings? If you were to colour in today in your mood calender, what would you colour it with?”

“Hmm, green, I think.” Peter replies after some consideration, then pauses. “But, with one corner with red.”

“One corner with red? Where you a bit angry today?” Tony repeats and rephrases. Peter nods, so the psychiatrists continues. “When did you get angry?”

“This mornin’.” Peter starts, and Tony has to repeat once again, but as a question, to get the boy to elaborate. “It was during breakfast and- someone said Lucy’s goin’ ‘ome tomorrow cause her Mommy’s wants her back.”

“And who did you get angry at?”

“Dunno...”

“Take your time thinking, Peter. There’s no rush.”

“Said I dunno!”

“It’s okay, Peter.” Tony says calmly, and pauses a bit to give Peter some room. “Let’s just pretend that you do know who you’re angry with, who would you say it was then?”

“... Daddy, I think.” Peter mumbles finally. Tony hums thoughtfully at that, to show Peter that he heard him, but also inviting him to say more. After a few moments, when he has connected the dots, the boy adds. “Was angry cause Daddy doesn’t wan’ me back. Like Lucy’s Mommy wants her back ‘ome.”

“Hmm, I see. That’s a lot to be angry about. Are you perhaps a bit disappointed too? Someone in your situation might be disappointed over something like that too.” Tony explores.

“Maybe... Is that bad?” The boy asks.

“It’s a bad feeling inside you, that I bet. But, it’s not a bad feeling to have. You see? It’s okay to be angry and to be disappointed.”

“Hmm, it doesn’t feel nice.”

“Yeah, it isn’t.” Tony agrees. “You wanna know what I think?” The psychiatrist asks, then continues when Peter nods his head yes. “I think, being disappointed and angry is okay. But, I want to remind you that your stay here is going to be six weeks, at least. We agreed on that with your Daddy. You remember? When we sat in the room with the funny looking plants on the wall?”

“They did look funny.” Peter snickers quietly.

“They did. And in that room, we agreed that you’ll be staying here for six weeks, maybe more, but we’ll see when we reach the six week mark. So, you see, your Daddy can’t take you home yet. It’s not because he doesn’t want you, but because he brought you here to get better. And we’ll get you better, and then you can go home with your Daddy.”

“I wanna get better.”

“I know you do, and Pepper, Stephen, Bucky and Steve and everyone else want you to get better too.”

“You too?”

“Yeah, of course. Me as well. That’s a lot of people helping you, huh? And with all of us working together during the next three weeks, I’m sure you’ll be going home with your Daddy soon.”

“Okay.” There’s a hint of a smile on Peter’s lips.

“Good. Now that we found out why you’d colour one corner red, let’s talk about why you’d colour the rest green. What made most of today an okay day?”