#i was there when he started counseling and he was there when i finished therapy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lvlyghost · 7 months

Note

Hello do you take requests cause I had this idea in my mind but I suck in writing

how bout a ghost x reader where he had a bad day and takes it out on his beloved reader who he's been in a really long relationship with, by starting an argument and maybe saying some really mean and bad things that break the reader. Like the reader is only a shell of herself and completely ruined by ghosts words and just crying or sitting completely still staring off the wall or just staring at nothing just being numb.

What would be interesting is Simons reaction when he realizes the damage that he's done, maybe he would cry/break down idk when he sees the usually happy reader being so dull and almost lifeless yk

But Pleasee don't do this to our hearts and write some comfort and a happy ending please I couldn't handle too much angst❤️😭

The Weight of the World

PAIRINGS: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SUMMARY: You promised to always lean on each other but sometimes love isn't enough.

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

TW: heavy angst, literally got some mid anxiety writing this🥴 swearing, self-doubt, hurt-comfort and slight fluff towards the end. lmk if i missed any.

A/N: finished this in one sitting lol, also not proofread and poorly edited, i've been having a shitty week so expect more angst lol. meet me in therapy. Enjoy anon!🤍🌟🫶🏻💕

Masterlist✨

You hesitate right outside Simon's studio, the place where he secludes himself from everything and everyone. Ever since he came from his last mission he seemed to be on the edge constantly. The usual softness that he reserved specifically for you was... absent.

Still you wouldn't let that stop you from approaching; having dating him for a few years now let you know so much of that. You knew when he was hurting. When he was sad, angry, jealous or even happy. Little to no people could say that.

Somehow this was different. He wasn't even letting you in, constantly keeping you at arms length and that hurt. How were you supposed to get to him this time? Get him to talk to you?

To look at you again with that same glint in his eyes, the spark that you ignited in him and that won't fade away even years after.

The sound of a chair creaking startles you, the same time the timer in the kitchen goes off. You walk back, turning the oven off, and sticking out the apple pie you so happily baked for both with hopes that you'll get him loosen a bit that dark cloud that's been looming over Simon these past few days.

The door of his studio is yanked open the heavy stomp of his boots resonating across the small apartment you two share, then his bulky frame appears just to grab the keys to his black motorcycle.

"Simon!" You call him, burning your hand in the process. He stills halfway through the living room, waiting for you to say something else. Wetting a cloth hurriedly and wrapping it around the burnt skin.

"I made something for us... maybe," standing behind him you leave a reasonable space between the two. You swallow down hard. "Thought we could have it together and just, you know spend...-"

"I don't have time for that now." His voice is cold and monotone. "Don't wait for me."

"But Si-" he turns on his heels, eyes hard and unyielding. He approaches slowly, making you gulp. "What's gotten into you, Simon?" You fight back the tears, this was the man you loved so dearly, the man you knew loved you back; there was a reason for the golden engagement ring on your left hand. "I..-"

"Fucking hell would you stop that? Please just..." he notices the wetness in your eyes. "I can't do this. Not anymore."

"Whatever it is I promise we can work it out together!" your lips quivered. "Just talk to me!"

"I don't need to talk about anything girl!" He seethes, one finger pointing at you. "Think some cheap counseling with you will make things right? Bloody hell no. Neither some homemade bread, this isn't fucking working and it won't until you learn how the bloody world works."

It breaks your heart into a tiny million pieces, breathing becomes a challenge and the injury in your hand can no longer be felt. Simon's words were worse than any physical pain. Where was the man you loved? The man who used to lift you up and kiss you on the forehead? The man whose hands couldn't stop roaming your body late at night? The man who'd helped you reach out for things he probably put away in the highest shelf so you'd ask for help. That same man that had proposed to you no long ago, right before he was deployed to a special op God knows where. The fabric of his mask moves when he keeps talking but you don't listen. You can't. Just like you can't stop the tears dribbling down your cheeks and the tremble of your hands. Simon's jaw clenched, brows furrowed as he takes a step back and leaves.

You walk sluggishly to where the dessert awaits. It's when your knees buckle that you finally let out a loud cry.

Simon knows he isn't a good man. He's done quite questionable things that he could never say out loud. He knows he's fucked in so many ways. But he also knows that there's one thing that kept him from spiraling further down into an abyss of death and self-loathing.

You.

The woman he decided he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. The girl that didn't care about his past, the bad moments and his complicated persona. You who would selflessly love him without asking for something in return. What had you seen in him in first place? Even now after three years he can't wrap his head around the fact that he has someone who waits for him.

Simon knows how much he loves you, but what he doesn't know is how—or in what earth—he deserves every part of you.

You've been avoiding him ever since that horrible night. Words he can't take back. Looks that haunt him every time he closed his eyes. He hears you cry when you go to sleep or when you're taking a shower. Muffled sobs and wails that will come for him until the day he dies.

You avoid him like a plague, when he walks in. After all he's the one to blame. He wanted to ask you to tear him apart maybe that'd feel less painful.

The last remaining of sanity that was left in him came crashing down when he began to notice how you stared off in a haze, numbly looking at the window. He was losing you. Destroyed the one good thing he had. So, a few days later, despite his own demons. Despite the things that broke him all irreparably during the last mission in Moscow, he comes to find you. Sucking in a sharp breath as his eyes set on your left hand.

The engagement ring was gone, forgotten someplace unknown. Simon felt the panic wrenching his guts.

It's all on him.

He whispers your name, calls you softly. Slowly sitting in front of you, the coffee table creaks under his weight. Words get caught in his throat.

"May I take your hand?" He pleads, not getting an answer. Simon sighs, lowering his head as silent reigns yet again. "I don't deserve you." He murmurs, eyes bored into the floor. "I... I ruin everything I touch. Just never thought I'd ruin my girl."

Your eyes flutter shut, wet tears clinging to your eyelashes. Simon watches as you stand and leave without a word, he follows close behind to your shared room.

"Love..."

"Don't call me that!" the hurt in your voice... the resentment in your eyes, he's earned it.

Simon reaches out for your arm, grabbing you firmly but gently, mindful not to harm you.

"Right I deserve that." If there's one thing Simon regrets it's being the reason that your eyes no longer shine. "What I said... what happened I...-"

Shaking your head and biting down your lip.

"You never gave me the chance, I thought we said we'd always find a way."

"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry baby." in an instant he's pulling you close, although you want to push him away, scream at him, slap him for the calvary he made you go through. "I'm not good with words, and I'm no good person." You feel his body shaking with anxiety as your eyes widen in shock. "I tried... I can't forgive myself for my mistakes."

"Simon..." he hushed you, cradling your head with his big hand. "I can't sleep knowing I can't protect you from what's out there, couldn't bloody protect that kid in Moscow, or my family."

You guide him to the bed, sitting down side by side and holding onto each other.

"Said I would always be with you Simon, why the hell did you push me away?! Have I not given my everything to you? We promised to always make it work!" He grabs your face staring intently into your eyes. "What happened there?"

He blinks, deciding how much to say. There was no need for you to know the entirety of it. He wanted to shield you from the horrors of this world, and he would as long as he lived.

"A young lad whose life's was cut short because I wasn't there on time. How can I come back to you, be happy when someone else just lost their kid..."

"That wasn't on you! Simon Riley you stop that now." He inhales, cinnamon and vanilla flooding his senses. It's you all of you. "Stop carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. We do that together, yeah?" Your chest hurts from how hard it's beating. "You've done far so much. You won't lose me."

A rumble in the sky and cars passing by outside your home is all you hear. Brown eyes like honey stare back into your soul.

"You took it off..."

"I burnt my hand, it wasn't healing properly. And you know what?" He quirks a brow. "It wasn't homemade bread. It was an apple pie, you silly."

"You'll never forgive me for that one won't you?" He doesn't chuckle but the air feels lighter.

"No. Probably won't." Simon takes your burnt hand bringing it to his lips, they're soft against the marred skin.

"But we're still getting married, yeah?" He asks.

You smile fondly, humming when he kisses your forehead, tears have now dried.

"Yeah. We're still getting married."

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idesofrevolution · 15 days

Text

The Journey of Dr. Santana Fabrega

There's nothing quite like your bro slobberin' over your sweaty feet while tokin' on a hookah. Let me just tell you- everybody's happy. I'm stoked to be stoned and minty fresh, and he's happy to taste my ripe size 12's. Who isn't the happiest? The folks. Sure, I dropped out of college, sure I started focusing one hundred percent on my art, sure I have a parade of guys out of my little basement lair... but I never got why they had to be such fuckin' buzzkills.

Ever since they joined that church when I was at uni, my parents have been sucked into the Evangelical cult. Not the whole lifting your hands up to Jesus & speaking in tongues sort of church, by the way. Man, they're out there with picket signs at sex clinics, bannin' books at the high school, all that crazy fuckin' Christian Nation bullshit. They're my parents, so I love 'em and whatever. But fuck, those psychos really fucked 'em up. So now, their crusade is "curing" me of my gayness. Didn't really matter that I'm pan, they don't really know the difference. They don't really care about the difference, though. Not straight, not right.

So when they caught me the other day with Sam cleanin' my dick in the basement, it was World War 3. Man, a Nuclear Bomb would have less energy than my mom's hysterical shrieking. It's Florida, so it's nothing the neighbors haven't heard before. But, shit. I thought my eardrums were gonna pop. They stomped off upstairs, bein' all 'we are going to talk about this later, Santiago.' So, I let Sammy finish up, I pulled on some shorts and I went upstairs to face the fire while he snuck out the basement window. Fuck, I wished I were him.

The 'family meeting' went about as well as you'd expect. Threats of burning in hell for all eternity, demands that I find the Lord, etc. Apparently he doesn't like a lot of things about me: my weed, my tattoos, my sexuality, my piercings, my hair for some reason? I don't know man, I just tuned out after a while. What I did catch, though, they were sending me to substance abuse counseling. Couldn't help but laugh, and that sent dad through the fuckin' roof.

"Doctor Fabrega is going to teach you some manners, young man. Make you a Godly man, like you should be." Yada yada yada. He should have known better than to give me the doc's name. After the ass reaming, I made my way back downstairs to the computer. It took five minutes of research to find this Doctor Fabrega. Turns out he's a Christian Therapist, but that wasn't what was most interesting. Down in his specializations, buried beneath substance abuse & cognitive behavioral therapy was a word that caught my eye: licensed Hypnotherapist.

I knew exactly what kind of bullshit they were tryin' to pull on me. But when I was enrolled at U Miami, my major was Psychology. Not only that, but I still happened to have access to the university library. Oops.

I texted Sammy, knowing I was gonna be up all night doing research, and that my dick would need some appropriate attention under the desk. I was gonna show this motherfucker just how sick it really is to be like me.

---

The waiting room was bullshit. Cold white walls, bright wood floors... It looked straight out of an IKEA ad. I'd already been there for like 20 minutes past my appointment time, giving me just enough time to scroll through the last chapter on my phone. I hear the receptionist call out my name, and I head toward the office. Just as bullshit as the waiting room. It's like the guy wants to live in a psych ward- no color anywhere. At least get a blacklight or something.

"Santiago Rivera. Welcome, I'm Dr. Fabrega." The guy was hot as fuck, not gonna lie. Looked like he was straight out of Sao Paulo- even with the fancy suit you can't hide muscle like that. "Please, sit. It's so good to meet you." His voice was so weird. Speaking every word with like, perfect diction. You know those AI voices that talk that way? That's what it was like, as if he were trying so hard to hide an accent underneath.

"Just call me Santi, doc." I plopped down on the leather chair, might have put my feet up on his coffee table (don't recall), and he just looked at me like he was looking in a microscope. No idea what the deal was. He walked over to the couch and sat down with my file and started to drone on.

"Alright, Santi, it says here that your parents are pretty concerned about your behavior lately. You're 23 years old and a college dropout, you take illicit drugs, you have no job, and you're having unnatural thoughts. That's quite the list, bud." He was so fuckin smug, that sort of punchable glibness that only comes from a particular kind of self righteousness. Like Jesus himself came down and kissed them.

"So, first off. I did drop out of college, because I couldn't afford it. Second, I sure the fuck do smoke green because it's a) fun, and b) prescribed to me by my real doctor. Third, I do have a job. I do graphic design and graffiti art and I pay my own bills with it. And last off, yup: I fucked him." He sat there, somehow shocked that I told him how it was right off the bat. I'm not playing his little game, and that made him angry.

"I see. So you have no remorse for any of this? I believe your parents are very right to be concerned about where your life is headed."

"Fascinating, considering I'm moving out at the end of the month and they won't need to deal with my life. So. You married?" He was thrown off by that, just as I'd hoped. Right out of the blue. Knocks them off kilter for a second. An easy question to answer, so they usually do.

"Uh, well, no I'm not married. Is that your concern in all this?" Man, I couldn't help but laugh. He's trying to be sarcastic?

"Where did ya go to school for... whatever this is." This made him close my file, he even put it on the table and crossed his arms.

"I went to Liberty University, top of my class in their Doctor of Psychology program. You, it seems didn't make it that far, so you might not know what 'this' is." Oooh, he's big mad. I thought, let's push it. I did what most of my guys love, but would piss him off, I kicked off the Vans. Made sure I wore my skating shoes that day, the super ripe ones with the same damp socks. When they came off, those puppies let their presence be known.

"Sounds boring. Boring then, boring now. I got accepted into the Art Institute in Savannah, so I'll be headed that way soon. Be legit soon, then you wouldn't have anything to say. How's your sex life?" He thought he was so tough, not flinching at the musk, nor my question. But I knew both hit him right where I wanted. The question to make him mad, the stink to get him hot.

"Santiago, I think we should continue with our session. You can put your shoes back on and we can try some exercises to help you think a bit more clearly." I crossed my ankles, wriggling my toes a bit.

"I think they need some air. Are you gonna try and hypnotize me now? Or is that the last ditch effort when everything else fails?" He leaned back in his seat, the grimace growing stronger. "That stuff is not that hard to master. A couple days really and you got it down."

"Is that so?" He ground his teeth as he spat out his words. "It seems you know all there is to know, then." Time to hit it home.

"You know what, let's put money on it, doc. Hundred bucks says I can put you under." I got him, his eyebrow shifted just enough for me to see.

"This isn't a casino, Santiago. I don't bet money on client's health." I couldn't help but smirk. He left an opening I couldn't pass up.

"Aight, no money then. If I put you under, I get the bragging rights. If I don't, I'll play your stupid games. Win-win for you, nothing to lose but your dignity." Hook, line and sinker; he leaned in, grabbing the remote on the table next to him. He tapped a button, and the shades started to come down.

"Well then, Mr. Rivera. I wish you luck."

The room got dark. Really fuckin' dark. Fabrega hit another button on the remote, and a cool blue washed over the room. Gotta say, tight LED system. I kicked my shoes off the table, and scooted my chair forward. Showtime.

"Alright, Santana, I want you to just take deep breaths." He squirmed at my use of his first name, one last dig before I brain fucked him. He took his deep breaths one at a time, slowly getting deeper and deeper. "As I count down from one to ten, each number will bring you closer and closer to relaxation. Picture a long tunnel, at the end, a bright white light. With every number, you take a step forward to the light, do you understand?"

He nodded, it was an induction I'd made up this morning. I started from 10, telling him his first step he could feel the tingling relaxation in the tips of his fingers, slowly crawling up his hands and forearms. 9. Another step, the tingling creeps up his big muscly arms and shoulders. 8. One more step, the tingling is pushing up his neck and throat, reaching his tongue and teeth. 7. The tingling bursts into his head, a paradoxical rush of relaxation, a fog of dissonance washes over his brain as thoughts collide and crash about. 6. The tingling washes down his spine, flowing through his nerves into every part of his body. His body feels electric, a painless jolt running throughout him. I watched as he tensed up, his big muscles contracting and bunching him up. It was working.

We get to 5, starting at the crown of his head, the volts decrease, turning lugubrious and liquified like molasses sloshing about in his head. 4. The light is so close he can feel the heat, but his body is cooled as the syrupy fluid flows down over him like a waterfall, pooling in his big feet as it fills every crevice. 3. It feels as if he's trudging through mud toward the light, his legs feeling wobbly and gelatinous. 2. So close, his whole body feels like a massless blob, inching toward the final drop into the cavernous light. 1. He crawls toward the ledge, plummeting down into the endless void of bright white light. There, he will sit as I have a little bit of fun.

"Alright, Santana. Can you hear me in there?" Fabrega nods, expressionless. Fuck, that was maybe a 80/20 chance I was gonna fuck this shit up so bad. But I guess God really is on my side here. "Whenever I ask a question, you will answer truthfully. Whatever I say you will incorporate into your life. Now, Santana, what do you do when you're not at work?" His lips moved slowly and replied in monotone.

"I go to the gym, I go to the golf course, I hire my date, and I go home." Ooooh shit. He's giving my friends on the corners a decent living, good for him. Hardly a Godly thing to do. Either way, it was a perfect place to start.

"You love going to the gym, don't you, Santana?" He nodded. "You love gettin' all sweaty don't you?" His head began to shake, his expression furrowing a bit in disgust. "No, Santana. You love getting all sweaty. The feeling of those cool droplets on your hot muscles during a hard workout? Doesn't it feel good?" He pauses, before reluctantly nodding. Ahh I love gettin my fingers in his brain, never ceases to please. "You love that funk that comes off your sweat, Santana. You love sniffin your pits, your big feet, your balls... That musk means you're workin' hard. Keeping in shape. Staying virile. Isn't that right?" He nodded, squirming in the chair. I watched his body try to reject the instructions, try to rebel, but just one repetition had his back to stillness.

"You don't even like golf, do you?" He nodded, I didn't even need to manipulate him. "You much prefer hitting the beach, don't you? Seein' all the guys and gals starin' at your glorious bod... You love it, don't you?" He nodded, the side of his lip curling ever so slightly. "You love bringing out the speedo, letting the goods hang low, letting the buns bulge... you know they all wanna see it anyway..." He nodded again, it was like taking candy from a baby. The guy had the mental fortitude of a frog.

"You like fucking, too. You can have any girl or guy on the street with a single wink." He nodded, and I couldn't help but watch as his groin started to bulge. "Yeah, boy. You love taking that horse cock and plowing it into some ass... plowing it into some pussy... fucking their pretty little mouths..." Drool started to drip from the corner of his lip, and a little wet spot quickly appeared on his pants. "You're a freak, aren't you, Santana? You like fuckin' in the car, in the sauna, at the gym, under the desk... gushing gallons into them while you shove your sneaker on their face." He was moaning, slowly grinding against the open air. Can't lie, I was gropin' myself a bit just watching him.

"Now, Santana. I'm going to bring you back to your office, but when I do, you are going to be super laid back and chill with Santi during your sessions. If he says the word 'sniff' you will return to this space, return to an open mind, just as we have done here today. Do you understand?" He nodded one final time before I began his emergence. Counting back from one to ten, I watched as he slowly came back to the real world, and with one snap, he blinked his eyes and wiped his brow.

"Well, doc. I got the bragging rights." Fabrega pinched the bridge of his nose, as if he had a headache. Time to see if it had all paid off.

"Uhh... yeah... Santi. You got me there..." Perfect. He pulled his hand away from his nose, clicking the shades back up to their little hole. It didn't take long until he saw the wet patch on his bulbous package. He chuckled under his breath. "You'll have to excuse the mess, Santi... I have hyperspermia, so sometimes it all just flows out." Hot- and totally unprofessional. Just how I like 'em. I leaned back in my chair, smirkin' the whole way.

"Damn, doc. Firehose down there. Gonna have to show me sometime." He smirked and waved me off.

"I don't fraternize with clients, Santi. Oh, look at the time. I'm late for my 5:30. Alright, I'll see you next week." He stood up, extending his hand, his whole demeanor entirely changed. I slipped my Vans back on, spitting on my hand before gripping his. He shuddered a bit, sure. But we were gonna get real close, real quick.

---

The next few days flew by. My folks were so excited to see that I was looking forward to seeing Dr. Fabrega, and I loved knowing what they didn't. I was excited to see if Dr. Fabrega was gonna be Santana. So when I finally got back in for my appointment, I didn't need to wait long at all. Only five minutes and the door swung open, the receptionist completely flustered. The anticipation was killing me. She sat down behind her computer with tunnel vision and I walked into the office.

At first, I thought it was empty. He wasn't sitting at his desk, on the couch... but as I heard huffing from the balcony, I knew where to find him. I walked up to the sliding glass door, and turned outside to see one hell of a sight.

It was Santana. Nothing on but his whitie-tighties and his damp socks doing pushups on the bench. Fuck, those muscles were glistening in the light, his underwear with damp patches on his ass and bulge. His clothes sat in a pile near his head: jeans, a Miami Heat jersey, some sick dunks I wanted to steal... far from the stuffy suit he had on just the week before. He finally noticed me, and smiled.

"Santi! Hey! Just finishing up my lunch workout. Thought I'd get a session in today on the balcony. Damn, the fresh air is good for exercise!" I smirked. It was night and day. So far, gone was the bible thumping hypocrite, and here was what was underneath. If anything I was doing him a service.

"Shit, Santana! You're looking prime today. You gonna funk out our session today, or?" I punched him in the shoulder, and he giggled like a kid.

"It's eau naturale, my friend. Natural water. That's what it smells like." He slipped on his jeans and his big fuckin' sneakers, tossing the jersey over his head while we walked in. He trailed some deliciously ripe musk, and I couldn't help but savor a bit of it. We plopped down on our seats, and just started shootin' shit. I bitched about the parents, he bitched about his receptionist, I told him about Sammy suckin' my dick clean, and he told me about the threesome with a gym bro and his girlfriend. He was coming along beautifully. Though, I thought to myself, how's about a round two?

"Dude, by the way, those kicks are fuckin' tight." I pointed to the dunks, which he smugly kicked up onto the coffee table, showing them off.

"Thanks, man. They're the lifting shoes. My work boots, heh." I reached out, grabbing ahold of his foot, and yanked it off. He chuckled like a fuckin' idiot while I looked at 'em. Size 13, nice and big- and the smell wafting out of there... Fuck, man.

"Damn, dude you never wash your socks? These stink!" I playfully tossed the shoe at him, and just as he started to brush off the comment, I said my magic word. "Sniff it." Like a flipped lightswitch, his expression turned numb, slowly bringing the shoe to his nose and inhaling his own musk. I clapped my hands, rubbing them together: let's do a little more programming.

"Santana, You're a pretty chill guy, you know that?" He nodded. "You smoke, don't you? You know, the good shit?" Deep in his mind, he had to know it was me talking at this point, so I was talking to him like a bro. Establishes trust, ya know? He shook his head no. "Ahh, come on man. You love kickin' back and toking on that reefer after a long workout." Santana chuckled a bit, before nodding, still nose deep in his sneaker. "Yeah, you love smokin' out your bros, your babes... when you're not shootin' tequila!" He full out laughed on that one, nodding along. The sneaker slowly dropped from his hand, and he laid back in his chair.

"How old are you, Santana?"

"28." Shit, he was only a few years older than me. I mean, he looked young. But hell, you wouldn't have known it from the way he acted.

"Where are you from?" "Rio de Janeiro." Interesting. I clocked the accent. I was pretty proud of myself.

"Why do you try so hard to hide it? The way you talk, the way you dress, the way you act... You act like you're from Ohio." Another chuckle, I should have had a Netflix special. "You're gonna embrace that Brazilian pride, bro. Don't hide it for some mayo drinking buzzkills!" He furrowed his brow, nodding intently. This one was for his own fuckin' good. Be proud of that shit! "You should get some ink to really embrace it. Nothin' sexier than a tatted up stud, am I right?" He nodded again, his bulge once more springing to life. I smirked, simply wanting to know a little something somethin'.

"Do you think Santi is hot?" He sat there for a second, before slowly smiling and nodding. I didn't even need to program that one. Aww, big old himbo. "You're not afraid to let him know, are ya? I mean if you tell his crazy fuckin' parents that he's cured... He wouldn't be your patient anymore... Right?" His bulge twitched again, and he smirked devilishly as he nodded. "You like it when he's all up in your brain, don't you? You like it when he gets his dick deep in there and mind fucks you into a chill, laid back stud. Don't ya?" The dampness grew and his breath got heavy. He nodded, drooling down the sides of his cheeks. "Yeah, you wanna let him in completely, don't ya? Make you like him?" Moans grew, and his thrusting in the air quickened pace. "You wanna be best bros with him, don't ya? Bros with benefits... hangin' out, smokin' weed, hittin' the clubs, swappin' spit... swappin' cum... swappin' subs..." He started fuckin' howl. He was beggin' to splurge. "When I tell you, you will cum. And when you do, everything we talked about will be your truth. Now... Cum."

His eyes opened, still moaning loudly. He gripped onto his jeans, pulling down the waistband and underwear, that big old uncut donkey dick flopping out before shooting his load all over himself. Volley after volley. He wasn't kidding about the hyperspermia: maybe four double shots of his spunk sprayed like a geyser into the air. The 8th Natural Wonder of the World. He laid back and chuckled, throwing his arms behind his head.

"Fuck, brother!" The thickest accent flowed of those lips, deliciously thick. "After today, that'll be down your throat, cara." He pointed at me, hopping to his feet and shoving his python back into his pants. "So, I'll write your discharge papers, it'll get the pais off your back. Act the part until you're out, and just go live." Fuck yeah, we high fived, and I ruffled that sweaty mullet of his. "Hey, come over tonight. I got some friends comin' over... if you and Sammy wanna join." He winked and slapped my back. Damn, I did good.

"I'll be there, man! You save me a round so I can show you how to clean this dick." I groped my bulge, smirking as his bit his lip and winked. I've created a monster.

---

"Ei, sexy! Come get a toke before it's gone!" Such a demanding little bitch, I love him. I slipped his filled condom off my cock, the kinky fucker insisted, and I happily complied. If I'm being real, this psycho has taught me things! I flushed it down the toilet, and swung the bathroom door open to see him lounging on his bed, toking away at the blunt I packed.

"Hey you fuckin' hog, don't you smoke it all!" He chuckled dumbly, reaching over to hand me the blunt, taking the opportunity to snatch my wrist and pull me forward into a kiss. Fuck those lips were so good, pressed against mine or around my cock. "Isn't Carrie coming over soon? You gonna be able to get off so quick?" I pushed away, taking my puff.

"Ahh, plenty to go around, eh?" He groped that musky bulge that I had a feeling Sammy would be huffing later. "Ey, bring me my pants. We can go get a shot before she gets here." Heh, the last month or so crashing with him has been fuckin' sick. The folks think I'm rooming with some guy from the church, when really I'm gooning with my therapist every night in his bed. Savannah is letting me take online courses, I'll have my B.A. in a couple of years, and I'm already getting some gallery hits. Santana is gonna be my armcandy for the opening, and I told him to forget his deodorant. Fuck he’s perfect. But a thought had crept in my head the other day. One last program, one final idea planted in his head... Though, at this point, there was no need to put him under. I'd just ask him.

"Hey, so I gotta go to Georgia to finish up some paperwork at the school. It got me thinking... I'm followin' my dream. What about you?" I tossed him his pants and passed the blunt, taking a deep whiff of those ripe dunks before throwing them his way too.

"I could go back to the practice, though I think the bible thumpers would lose their minds, heh."

"Well... What we did for eachother... What if you did it for others?" I slowly got down to my knees, a smirk crawling across my face. "What if you could help those poor... misguided young men change their lives?" I crawled toward him, spreading his legs wide as I tossed his legs over my shoulders. "Wouldn't that be so... so... fun?" I slowly pulled down his musky briefs, releasing his monstrous cock again, the musky hooded beast slapping me on my cheek. "Then, we could have so... many... new.. friends..." I pulled down his slimy hood and wrapped my lips around his tip. I should have known better. His hand grabbed the back of my head, slamming it down onto his spear, my nose buried in his bush as he thrust back and forth into my mouth.

"Unff... Yeah, brother... Oh yeah... That sounds like a good... unhhhhh... good idea." Grunting, slapping, moaning, slurping... it all rang out in his room, until he gushed another thick load down my throat. "You wanna join me?" And in that moment, I smiled. It was the best idea he'd had yet.

#original #hypnosis #mind control #himbo #bisexual #transformation #male hypnosis #male transformation #stoner #cannabis #musk #footplay #switch #male reprogramming

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discount-shades · 1 year

Text

Contract Spouse Chapter 8

Chapter 8: The Fallout

A/N: I have finished the final chapter and I think there will be an epilogue.

Pairing: Jake Seresin/Reader (nicknamed Pip)

Warning: Angst,

Length: 2100 ish

Summary: Pip’s relationship with Jake changes again.

Previous Masterlist Next

You cradle Jake for hours before you are eventually able to shift him up on the bed so he is beside you. Somehow you go from holding him to being wrapped in his arms, his nose buried in your hair as his breaths even out. That night is the first time Jake has ever fallen asleep before you.

The next day Jake is wrung out and you walk the fine line between treating him the same and being gentle with his shattered emotions. In the waiting room you squeeze his good hand between yours. Tracing your fingers over the veins and tendons you can feel in the back of his hand. “I think you should go to individual counseling.” You clutch his hand tighter but he doesn't try to pull away.

“You should bring it up in couples,” his voice is sardonic, “it’ll give us something to talk about.”

“Will you go?” You search his face when he turns to meet your eyes. “Will you try?”

“If you want me to go, I’ll try for you.”

“Then I’ll bring it up today.” You do your best not to think about how he made a point to say he would only try for you.

When you walk into the counselors office he can immediately tell something is off between your worried glances at Jake and his haggard look. “Do you want to share what happened?” The counselor asks directly.

You glance at Jake and when he subtly nods his head you continue, “I want Jake to see a counselor. He is a Navy pilot and has nightmares and he is not processing his trauma and guilt and I think a professional would be able to help him in ways I can't.”

Jake tilts his head back to rest against the back of the couch you are both sitting on. His eyes are swollen and bloodshot. “Is this a new idea, or have you been thinking about it for a while?” he asks wearily.

You pull his hand to your lips and kiss the back of it. “I have felt this way since you first started flying in combat. “I feel like this is the first time you would listen to me if I brought it up.” Jake huffs out a laugh.

“You’re not wrong,” he says with his eyes closed.

“Why do you think she wants you to see a counselor, Jake?” The counselor asks and Jake doesn’t respond at first and his eyes stay closed.

“Because she is a better person than I am.” You can’t stop the scoff that crosses your lips at that.

“Because I hate to see you suffering, Jake. I want you to be able to live with yourself.”

“See doc, she’s a better person than I am.” He finally raises his head to look at you. “She is being completely honest, she wants me to get better for me, not a selfish bone in her body.” You don’t say anything as you gaze into his green eyes. You know the truth.

You want Jake to be better so you can live with yourself for ending the marriage. When you had decided to leave Jake the day of the accident you had thought you could force your love down to soften the blow that was coming for your heart. It didn’t work.

It was going to hurt either way and the only consolation you had was to make sure Jake was as stable as you could get him before you tore your own heart out. You knew your leaving would rock his support system.

“So the question is,” the counselor says surveying Jake, “whether you go to individual therapy or not.”

Jake looks at you and you can not read the soft look that crosses his face. “Yeah, I’m willing to give it a try.” You smile at him relieved.

“I think that is a good decision Jake. You can go through the military channels or I can give you the names of some colleagues that work with veterans.” The counselor says, “But let's deal with that later.” He shifts in his seat. “I told you to each come up with reasons you are in love with each other.”

He motions for you to go first and you take a deep breath, pulling out your list, and shift to face Jake. You had opted to tell the truth with your list, it wouldn’t matter anyway. “I love you Jake because you are a good man, you are kind, you respect me, you encourage me, You are always on my team, looking out for me.”

You look up at Jake and the way his gaze is fixed on you. His eyes are tender and you wish the look was real. “You make me happy,” you finish somewhat lamely. It’s probably the reason you love Jake the most. Being around him, good times and bad, just makes you happy.

When the counselor motions for Jake to take his turn he doesn't pull out any paper. He just gazes at you with that soft look in his eyes before speaking. “I’m in love with you, Pip, because you are beautiful, you are smart, funny, you are the kindest person I have ever met. You make me want to be better, you always have my back, you make me feel loved, and I love every moment I spend with you.”

You smile softly at Jake’s words. They are the ones you have always hoped to hear, you just wish they were real. His eyes are searching yours and you feel like he is hoping you will do something, say something. When you don’t respond, an expression you can’t read crosses his face and he lifts your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to it.

– – –

Soon after Jake agreed to see a counselor, Davis had called you on your cell. You had put him on speaker and you had gone to sit with Jake on the couch to hear the news. Davis informed you that there was not enough evidence for you and Jake to be charged with a contract marriage.

When the call ended you looked at Jake. His head was tilted back over the back of the couch and he blindly reached for you, his eyes closed. “We did it Pip.” His voice is husky and full of emotion. You snuggle into his arms, wrapping yours around his middle. The two of you had sat hugging, not saying anything, just basking in the relief and each other's warmth neither wanting to be the first to let go before you awkwardly returned to the office and Jake went back to whatever he did during his days home recovering.

Even now the relief of that phone call could be felt. You can still remember the way Jake's arms had wrapped so tightly around you that you could scarcely breathe. It had been one of your first hints in the change in Jake.

You liked to categorize your time living with Jake to keep your battling emotions straight. First came the pre-sleeping in the same bed era. When you had been sure of your love for Jake and constantly fighting your feelings for him. That was when you still had a fantasy that he could love you.

After you started sharing a bed it was a time of rejection. A time of heartbreak, and with it came the catharsis of deciding to cut your losses and let your love go.

Next came the accident and you were helping take care of Jake, because above all he was still your friend and you wanted what was best for him. You were still firm in your decision to eventually leave. Seeing him break down and finally agree to go to therapy had been the beginning of the final shift and it had left you just as confused and unmoored as when he was rejecting you.

Eventually Jake had been ordered back to duty as his concussion symptoms began to wane. You were on edge with him always being home and it was nice to have your space back. It gave you time to figure out how you were feeling about his change in behavior.

Jake had started sleeping with you again. His nightmares were all over the place and he admitted one night that being beside you helped him fall back to sleep. It wasn’t hard to convince you. On most nights his nightmares wouldn't even wake you so other than to protect your heart, you had no real reason to refuse, so you relented.

That is how you found yourself where you are now, awake before the alarm and Jake’s arm slung over your middle, his hand having slipped under the tank top you wore to bed at some point during the night. This time when the alarm rings it is you who turns it off.

“Morning, Beautiful.” Jake mumbles at you and you can't stop the smile that plays across your lips. Jake had been greeting you this way for weeks now and it is doing a number on your heart. Jake lets his hand slide over your skin as you roll onto your stomach propping your head on your arms to look at him. He shifts closer, slowly running his hand from the nape of your neck to your lower back and back up. Each time he smooths his hand down your spine you hope he will allow his hand to slip lower. Your belly clenching in anticipation as each time he pauses at the lowest point before inching his fingers back up to caress the baby hairs on the back of your neck.

His green eyes never leave your face and you don’t know if he doesn’t recognize the yearning look in your eye or if he ignores it. Eventually he kisses your shoulder and slides his lips across your back to place another kiss closer to your neck, his lips trailing fire as they move across your skin. At your sharp inhale he gets up and heads to the shower and you muffle a groan in your pillow.

The morning continues on the same note with Jake casually brushing his fingers against yours as he hands you your coffee and kissing the top of your head as he heads out the door, making your heart skip.

You head into the office to start your day and function on auto pilot. When you and Jake had originally decided that you would move to California the plan was to beat the contract marriage charge and then for you to stay six months or so before filing for divorce.

You had been comfortable in that decision, despite your girlish hope that Jake would eventually love you. You had never thought it would really happen. And once you had decided to move on you had been at peace with the decision. Now you weren't so sure.

‘I’m in love with you Pip… You make me feel loved.’ Jake's words keep playing over and over in your head. Did he mean what he said? Was it an act for the counselor? Couples counseling was surprisingly difficult with a fake marriage.

Every session was a combination of honesty and deception. You couldn’t even tell the difference between your own lies and the truth, let alone Jake’s; you didn’t even know who you were lying to anymore. You were always left with a jumble of emotions.

Jake had been attending weekly therapy appointments for three months now and you were noticing a change in him. You were initially surprised at how seriously he was taking it. He had a bedtime routine and had been journaling his nightmares and thoughts in general.

You hadn't noticed how much he had changed from the Jake you had known before your marriage until he began to loosen. The lack of tension in his brows and jaw was the easiest to notice as was the way his smiles were easier and brighter. He talked about his nightmares with you in the morning but they were becoming less frequent too.

It wasn’t always good. There were sometimes days, or even weeks, where the tension would return. When he would have nightmares. When that hollow look, the look that you hadn’t noticed how bad it was until it was gone, would be back.

The biggest change was how he acted with you. Jake had always been one to hug, but those hugs had always been to comfort others. He was different now. He hugged you for his own comfort now, he would touch you in the mornings, never crossing the line you secretly wanted him to cross. The kisses to your hairline and the cuddles on the couch were as far as he would go. Neither of you had mentioned the divorce and you couldn’t help the tiny part of you that was hoping that maybe something had changed.

#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin/reader #jake seresin x reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun x reader #topgun maverick #hangman/reader #hangman #top gun hangman #hangman top gun

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vampykween · 5 months

Note

Crazy idea for toxic husband simon? Lets send them to couples counselling >:]

hehe i love this idea! sorry this took so long i pondered over how to write it, but i like how it turned out! these two deserve a brief reprieve from all the angst so enjoy this little glimmer of hope <3

“i still don’t think we need to do this, love”

“so, you’ve said. can you please just go get the kids ready to leave, im not finished getting ready.” you mentally count down from ten while leaning over the bathroom sink attempting to finish up your makeup. you know by the time you hit ten, simon will have volleyed back some comment you’re in no mood to hear.

“’s therapy, not a fashion show. dont even get why you’re getting dolled up anyway.” he’s unbelievably predictable.

you roll your eyes and stare pointedly in his direction. “you know if you’re trying to convince me you still love me, you should try just saying ‘wow babe you look beautiful, of course i’ll get the kids ready’.” simon squints his eyes at you as if he’s actually considering what you’re saying, huffs, and stalks off in the direction of your daughters’ room.

maybe your husband(?) was right, this does feel stupid. you two are sitting in a far too stuffy room with plain decorations, on a too-plush couch that makes you sink further with every movement. you don't even realize the therapist is asking you something until simon places a hand on your bouncing knee, stilling it to catch your attention. your heart shouldn’t stutter at the small display of affection, but simon hadn’t touched you in so long the touch melted the icy feelings you had towards him.

the session goes far better than you had expected. you didn’t think simon would open up much, but he was a lot more willing to admit his faults than you figured he’d be. you couldn’t help but stare at him incredulously, where was this man when you two were at home? when you were begging and pleading for help with literally any and everything? a part of you starts to feel bad when simon’s revealing his feelings of depression and worthlessness, not that you’re giving him a pass for the years of transgression, but once upon a time he was your soulmate and your heartbreaks knowing he was in so much pain.

maybe you didn’t see it because you were blinded by rage, or because you were so exhausted day in and day out, you didn’t have time to think of anything other than being a mom. you both come to the realization, with the therapist’s help of course, that you were both so eager to rush into life that you never stopped to consider what that would actually look like. you wanted a baby so badly that even when things started to snowball into madness you two convinced yourselves that this was just the way it was and that it had to be worth it somehow.

as you’re both walking back to the car, you leave feeling a whole lot lighter than when you went in. sure no major hurdles were cleared. you weren’t sure when you’d be able to kiss and love on your husband again without being confronted with everything he wasn’t doing, but you two are going to take it slow and learn to listen to each other. give and take. push and pull. as you slide into the passenger seat, simon tugs gently at one of your hands and interlocks his fingers with yours.

“i know i can’t take back the past, but i’m serious about changing. i want to be better for you, for us, and for our girls.”

you’re not sure what you had expected him to say, but his words have your breath caught in your throat. you distinctly remember a time when he promised he would be good to you, and he failed. you wanted to badly to believe him now, hearing the sincerity in his voice. warring between what the angry part of you wants to say and what the hopeful part of you wants to say, you land on a simple response of “okay”

“okay?”

“yes, okay. i’m not ready to forgive you yet and i don’t know when i ever will be. but i am saying that i will try.” his eyes lock with yours and you can see the emotion brewing in them, he doesn’t offer any words back. he simply squeezes your hand three times in quick succession. i love you. maybe just maybe things will work out this time.

#mic answers #mic writes #toxichusband!simon #toxichusband!ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x f!reader

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basilsleaf · 1 year

Text

i have way too many ongoing projects so i will never write this but i need baz and simon's future told through encounters with simon's construction buddies, it goes like this:

most of the guys are older than simon it's like he's got a crew of dads

they're all straight dudes so they assume baz is simon's roommate who he's like best friends with until simon forgets his lunch or something and baz brings it to work for him and they smooch hello and goodbye

there's an awkward "so are you gay" moment but simon's like "i have a boyfriend and he's great is that a problem" and then it's over, the dad crew is supportive by nature and they adapt quickly

now at lunch or when they have drinks after work the guys ask about baz same as they ask about each other's wives and girlfriends and kids and simon feels very included

the guys have dinner and drinks every now and then where spouses come along and next time they invite simon to bring baz and baz is like not sure he's going to fit in and he's kind of right but the guys don't really care because simon is obviously smitten with him so what does it matter that baz is all posh

fast forward, baz finishes school and they're both nepotism babies so they decide to move to a new place with like a balcony and a guest room and simon tells the guys and they're all hype for him and they come over to help move furniture even though baz and simon can afford movers

fast forward, after lots and lots of trauma counseling simon is ready to start thinking about what he wants out of life and he's thinking maybe he wants to start a bakery or a cafe or something so he can be closer to his second and third truest loves: butter and carbs

when he's finally ready to open the cafe he announces to the guys that he's leaving and he's nervous that they'll be upset but they like completely lose it, they're so happy for him

they take him out for drinks on them, they promise to come in every tuesday for their morning coffee and donuts, they drop him off to baz at 2am on a thursday completely passed out, it's wonderful

fast forward, simon opens his business and sure enough, the guys are there every tuesday morning

fast forward, one tuesday the guys ask how things are going with baz and simon blushes super hard and pulls out the ring box he's been carrying around in his pocket since he bought it and the guys frighten the other customers with their excitement

two tuesdays later the guys come back after the cafe closes to take simon out for celebratory drinks because he finally asked and baz obviously said yes and the guys once again deliver simon home to baz absolutely wasted (with their congratulations)

at their wedding it's all insanely rich grimms and various distant pitches and lady ruth's family and also simon's old construction buddies tearing it up on the dance floor

fast forward, and life is just good and they have magic friends but also normal friends

baz is actually able to bond with them all over football, he even joins their recreational league for a few seasons and they are undefeated champions

one of the guys' kids feels safe enough to come out to their dad because simon and baz came over for dinner

simon teaches them all how to use tiktok and what a vibe is and encourages a few of them to go to therapy

they coach simon through marital arguments and buying a house and how to tell baz he wants kids

and maybe being a little normal isn't so bad when he's got a whole team on his side

#its making me emotional folks #just simon learning to be normal and magic at the same time #simon snow series #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #simon #baz #sb #meta #fic #mine

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hairstevington · 1 year

Text

Stranger Therapy - part 5 (epilogue)

Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

Summary: Eddie and Steve start officially dating after some very weird beginnings (read the rest here or on Ao3)

Word count: 1.7K (keeping it short and sweet this time)

Warnings: Steve's dad is a dick, very cute fluffy shit, domestic af, mentions of sex ig, you guys get the style by now lol

A/N: Well, you guys. This has been so fun. Thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed this fic, I've been so blown away by the response!! Please stick around if you like my writing. All my WIP's are coming to a close so I'll be focusing on requests soon <3

The boys were interrupted when Steve’s phone started buzzing in his pocket.

“Ignore it,” Eddie muttered into Steve’s lips.

“I - I can’t,” Steve sighed, fumbling around his pocket to grab his phone. “Could be Robin or something.” Eddie groaned dramatically and pulled away, only to see a weird expression on Steve’s face.

“Who is it?” Eddie asked.

“It’s, uh - It’s Dr. Bauman,” Steve replied. He answered the call and put it on speaker phone. “Hello?”

“Hello, boys,” Murray announced, somehow knowing they were still together. “Do me a favor and look to your right. No, your other right. Yup, now you see those windows? Third from the left, my friends.”

Eddie and Steve squinted as they made sense of Murray’s instructions. It wasn’t until they noticed familiar curtains and an even more familiar man through the glass.

“Oh, shit,” Steve said. Murray waved through the window with a bright, taunting smile.

“Yeah, oh shit,” he repeated. “I think our work together is done.”

Eddie and Steve looked at each other apologetically. Sure, Eddie had initiated the kiss, but Steve certainly hadn’t done anything to stop it.

They really were idiots, weren’t they?

“Doc, are you breaking up with us?” Eddie asked. He tried to keep his usual teasing up, but his voice was far more resigned than usual.

“Listen,” Murray said over the phone. “You’re good people, and I’m glad you finally figured it all out. Mazel Tov. Enjoy your budding relationship, and I’d encourage you to continue going to counseling if you still wish to work on things. Individual counseling.”

“Right,” Steve said, clicking his tongue. “You don’t happen to have any recommendations, do you?” Eddie looked at Steve, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Really?” he whispered. Steve looked back and shrugged.

“I can email you a list,” Murray responded. “And boys?”

“Yeah?” they responded.

“If, years down the line, you both want to actually do couple’s counseling…” Steve and Eddie smiled, relieved they didn’t burn a bridge entirely. “Please, don’t contact me.”

Their smiles fell as the call disconnected. When they looked back at the window, the curtains were drawn closed.

“So,” Steve said with a sigh.

“So,” Eddie echoed. “I guess since we lost Dr. Bauman…”

“We may as well do this for real,” Steve finished. He leaned in to kiss Eddie again, but stopped when he remembered where they were. He glanced back at Murray’s window to see the curtains were still closed, but pulled away from Eddie anyway. Eddie smirked, understanding completely what was going through Steve’s head because - obviously.

“Your place or mine?” he asked.

They ended up going to Eddie’s apartment, and one can imagine what happened after that.

They spent the rest of the day together, updating Robin on their shenanigans through quite possibly the most chaotic phone call of all time. She was in tears laughing by the end of it, and Eddie thought it was cute how Steve was joining in this time. The man was so cute when he laughed like that. There was something to be said about someone feeling completely free enough to lose their shit in front of someone else.

By the time Steve left, he realized they’d kind of forgotten to do something important.

Steve: We never actually planned our first official date!!

Eddie: Was that not it?

Steve: Dude no??? Where’s your sense of romance?

Eddie: Idk it left my brain around the time you took my pants off

Steve: aldksfjoaisd

Eddie: ;)

Eddie: ok so our first date. I’m thinking fake proposal flash mob

Steve: hahahaha very funny

Eddie: fake wedding cake tasting?

Steve: Come onnn

Eddie: or we could just fake elope in vegas

Steve: At least let me fake propose to you first

Eddie: flash mob it is! Better pick a good song or I won’t fake say yes

They went mini-golfing.

And then, they were dating. It was a lot easier than most other experiences Steve and Eddie had in the past. They’d already moved past the awkward initial phases of getting to know each other in surprising ways. Like, Eddie knew all about Steve’s teenage bisexuality crisis, but learned on their first date that Steve and Robin spent a summer learning basic phrases in Russian. When Eddie asked why, Steve shrugged and said, “you never know when you need something until you do.”

It was a vaguely ominous comment, but then again - Eddie had spent a few summers doing equally weird things, so he didn’t care too much. People thought he was this crazy satanist in high school for a reason, after all.

They were all over each other from the start, but things got even more intense when Eddie met Steve’s father.

He’d shown up at 6pm one night with heavy knocking on the door. Eddie and Steve were cooking dinner together when they heard it. Steve told Eddie to hold the fort while he tended to whatever visitor he was getting. He figured it was some angry delivery driver or Robin had locked herself out again or maybe even Dustin stopping by to tell Steve about some new video game he was excited for.

Instead, it was Mr. Harrington in the flesh. And he looked incredibly unhappy - although, that was kind of just how he looked in general.

“Dad?” Steve asked, confused. “What are you doing here?”

Steve’s dad held up a bill and shoved it in his son’s hands. Steve read it over and saw it -

Four charges to Dr. Bauman for Psychotherapy, billed to the Harrington’s insurance.

Oh, shit.

“Why am I paying for you to see a shrink?” he asked, using the condescending tone of voice Steve had hated ever since he was a kid. As if going to therapy was this crazy thing. As if his dad didn’t need it even more than he did.

“I - uhhhh…” Steve’s mind was blank. He’d found out through years of trial and error that there wasn’t really a way to win an argument with his dad. “I can pay for it, if you want. And I’m not going anymore, so you won’t get any more charges.”

“Yeah, you’re paying for it,” Mr. Harrington demanded as he pushed his way past Steve and into the apartment. God, he’s such a royal asshole.

“You know, I was planning on paying for it anyway, even though you’re a millionaire and I live paycheck to paycheck, but sure. Be a dick about it.”

Steve blushed immediately. Oh shit, I just called my father a dick. To his face. I’m so screwed.

“What did you just call me?” Steve could see the steam coming out of his dad’s ears. He hadn’t been this mad since -

“Hello, you must be the infamous Mr. Harrington,” Eddie said as he joined them in the living room. He stuck his hand out, then thought better of it and wiped it on his pants first. “Sorry, my hands are a bit wet. Was chopping up some peppers so I just washed them.”

This was a very bold move on Eddie’s part, and yet he was completely fearless about it.

“Who are you?” Steve’s dad asked, the red in his face paling just a bit as he settled on confusion.

“I’m Steve’s boyfriend. Eddie. Nice to meet you, sir.” Eddie kept his hand held out until Mr. Harrington shook it out of sheer awkwardness. It was clear Eddie was not one to back down.

Oh, also - they hadn’t officially labeled themselves as boyfriends yet. They totally were, obviously, they just hadn’t had the confirmation yet.

Well, no time like the present?

“Boyfriend?” Steve’s dad questioned, his anger returning. “Oh, well I - I didn’t know you had one of those.” Eddie snickered at the choice of words. One of those. Jesus Christ, this guy sucks.

Mr. Harrington was a lot of things, but at least he wasn’t homophobic. Well, not outwardly. The bisexuality thing was a lot for him to get used to, but it was 2023 - being against gay people just made him look like a dick, and Mr. Harrington had a reputation to keep.

“Yep,” Steve confirmed. “Eddie is my boyfriend.” He turned to Eddie and shared a look, communicating that yeah - they’d both just decided to be official in front of Steve’s dad.

Pretty on brand for them, considering the way their relationship began in the first place.

Mr. Harrington left after Steve promised to pay him back for the counseling sessions.

“Damn,” Steve muttered once he left.

“Yeah,” Eddie replied, rubbing the small of Steve’s back. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, still staring at the door. He shook his head. His dad and all that other bullshit was in the past, and this - what he had with Eddie, was what he needed to focus on.

“Well, Steve,” Eddie said with a sigh. “I think we gotta get you on your own insurance.”

Things continued to go well, and three months later, they had another big conversation.

“What do you want to do for your birthday?” Steve asked.

“I dunno,” Eddie replied with a shrug. “I don’t usually do much for my birthday.”

“Yeah, well Robin loves birthdays, and she keeps telling me I need to plan something. What if we did laser tag or something?”

Eddie’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head as he turned to Steve with excitement.

“Watch out, you’re gonna make me fall in love with you,” Eddie said.

“Wait, you don’t love me yet?” Steve teased, tousling Eddie’s hair playfully.

“You wish,” Eddie joked back. “Steve, are you trying to tell me you’re in love with me?”

“Absolutely not,” Steve replied. “Not even a little bit.” They smirked at each other.

“But I’ve shown you my heart and soul in therapy,” Eddie continued, flashing his puppy-dog eyes.

“We both did that,” Steve countered.

“But I wrote you a song??” Eddie argued. It was true - Eddie had done that. It was extremely sexual, mostly, but in an endearing and sweet way.

“Oh my god,” Steve said, as if he had just realized something. “You totally do love me, don’t you?”

Eddie’s grin fell from his face as his skin went pale.

“So, anyway, laser tag sounds perfect,” he replied, effectively ending the conversation.

“I’m onto you, Munson,” Steve noted, putting an arm around Eddie’s waist as they walked into the coffee shop that had now become their usual.

Because yeah - they were in love, and they both knew it - but neither of them would reveal that fact until they came across another perfectly weird moment.

They were due for one any day now.

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

Join my taglist!

Taglist: @escapingthereality @imfinereallyy @raisedbylibrarians @samthemissfit @chaoticvictorianspirit @elizbaehth @despoenaandpyromania @cr0w-culture @bagofgreentea @f1ct1onwh0re @novelnovella @thing-a-ling @bisexualdisastersworld @practicallybegging @soldiers00 @beckkthewreck @fandomz-brainrot @shrimply-a-menace @justanothergirlwithobsessions @freshflowers-and-dryingherbs @satan-is-obsessed @best-selling-show @micheledawn1975 @smolalien13 @sundead @rosered93 @nikboi @thehunterofsleep @havlindzk

@paintballkid711 @abraca-fxckyou @allbimyself26 @jellybabiesforall @allbymyselfexceptformycactus @justaloadofgarbage-blog @alliemunsonsstuff @undreamingscatworld @thefruityfours @hobbitnarwhal @calivanus @wreckmyplans-thatsmyman @antheia @goodolefashionedloverboi @lillemilly @missmagillicuddy @steviesbicrisis @gamerdano @menamesniall @eyeslikewildflowers111 @callmesirkay @stringischeese @eds-trashmouth

#stranger therapy #steddie #st fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steddie fic #eddie and steve #eddie munson x steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington #writing

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jdeanmorgan · 9 months

Text

wip wednesday

yes i'm back after a 3 week writing break. big thank you to everybody who keeps tagging me, it always makes me smile to be included! This time I've been tagged by @honestlydarkprincess @rewritetheending @wolfnprey

here is a snippet from my beloved prison fic

“I have to do what?” Sandra doesn’t seem phased at all by his outburst. She levels him with a look that has him shrinking down into his seat. He doesn’t know how she manages to do that. He crosses his arms. She clears her throat pointedly, a message for him to shut up until she’s done speaking. “As I was saying, Evan.” Sandra sighs, pushing her glasses further up her nose. “If you want to get out on early parole, you have to finish anger management and trauma counseling. You can do that from in here along with your physical therapy.” “I don’t even get the cast off for another month.” Buck whines, then wisely shuts up when he gets another look aimed his way. Sandra rolls her eyes. “Dr. Wells will be your therapist. She’s new to the job, but I’ve heard good things so far. She specializes in trauma counseling, and she is willing to help you out with anger management. Your physical therapist will be coming from the hospital to meet you here on Mondays and Wednesdays to start with, he’s optimistic.” Buck raises an eyebrow. She gestures that he can speak. He leans forward, resting his arms on the table. “How am I supposed to do physical therapy when I can’t even walk?” “It’s not just walking.” Sandra says. “It’s your mobility as a whole. You have nerve damage from the shiv. You got lucky that he didn’t paralyze you. Dr. Torres has gone over your file, and he’s willing to come here, to a prison, just to help you out. Be grateful, okay?” “Fine.” “Bright side, Evan.” Sandra gives him a genuine smile. “If you do this, and you do it well, the parole board will hear us out about an early release.” “Yeah.” Buck can’t help but snort. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

I shall be tagging: @alkaysani @useramor @tawaifeddiediaz @folk-fae @princessfbi @gayhoediaz @wh0re-behavi0r @alyxmastershipper @transbuck

#prisoner buddy fic #tag thingy

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fatestayyuri · 9 months

Text

Finished Ward Act 2.

thoughts under cut.

I live in hell, lament.

I don't mean to be a hater more than like, what's comedic in the liveblogs to sell the bit. but also whenever i give this fucking serial an inch it throws sand in my eyes and spits on my face. when i go "oh this interaction with children is sweet, i'm glad that Vicky is at least to get some measure of comfort vicariously" they hit me with the "actually one of them might be powered so we have to funnel them into the paramiltary death squad fasttrack" and "Victoria is now going to be a freelance strikebreaker, but this time with Less Oversight". she also wants to fuck her therapist so like, sure. fuck it. i guess we're at that point now.

it's so fucked up very clearly seeing the artifice surrounding the actual genuine compelling core of the story of someone with terminal copbrain due to her trauma and upbringing learning to heal get fucking, impaled fourteen hundred times over by Wildbow moments. There's nascent themes here! of healing! of loss! of taking uneasy, shaky steps forward and trying to mesh the inherent hypocrisy of knowing your abuser deserves a second chance but feeling like that you'd rather kill both of you than be the one to give it to them. I Get It. i really do. but also please stop framing the strikebreaking like it's a good thing.

Sorry i just need to go on here to say that it's supremely funny to me that throwing cars in front of people during a panicked evacuation because they disrespected her Special Baby Girl authority is AFTER all of the conflict counselling is so fucking good. Like??? this is after, huh. it's okay since civies aren't people i suppose, just cargo and luggage

I'm not actually sure if wildbow knows what a strike is. "they're not striking, the two construction groups have just banded together to withhold labor", you say? I don't know maybe it's an intentional oversight on the character's part but at least mention that, goddamn. was he really that proud of the insult Glory Hole to use it twice, too? every time he tries to be witty i genuinely sink into my seat and start boiling alive in second-hand shame. that flirting scene was fucking terrible and the "wow so witty" he gave himself was fucking terrible.

^Wild thing to put slip in there, by the way. "yeah they acted like a union, y'know, making sure the kids were educated, sane, not being SLUTS, not being abused, etc etc"

These writeups aren't edited or like cohesive or coherent at all almost entirely because if wildbow doesn't feel the need to why should i. fuck off, it's ward.

oh right! the therapy group! the therapy group pisses me off so much dude I hate that i love them all i hate that their dynamics are good i hate that they have good chemistry and play off each other and that they feel believable and I hate that i'm gonna read more of this just to see them. Fuck me

uhhh lemme just go down the list... I haven't been given enough information on Chris but I'm liking what i'm seeing tbh, he's cagey and kind of idealistic but also he's like. 13. that's just how they are it's very convincing

Kenzie is good! i like her! she[realises i'm gonna write "is very convincing and compelling for all of these] uhhhhh mirrors a lot of the hangups i had as a kid but also I do in fact completely understand why everyone else wanted me Not In Danger back then

Ashley is too good and hot for Victoria "Cop" Dallon. that is all.

Byron and Tristan are a really interesting character concept to me actually; I have cogent thoughts whirling around in my brain but the only joke i have is that what if they starred in a variant of All or Nothing wouldn't that be fucked up

Rain O' Fire Frazier. She's so trans-coded it's unreal. I love her and how fucked up she is and how she's literally just in this to not get Murderized by her metaphorical family. Girl Same. It is really funny that she gets introduced with a functional kanji pun,

shows up with all her shit fucked up and cracked,

and then leaves with the closest thing of explicit lesbianism that Wildbow has written other than Victoria Dallon's weird thing with the milf therapist.

but from what i hear of Wildbow i'm pretty sure he'll add in a passage about her wanting to settle down with a nice Decidedly Male guy and get pregnant or whatever.

the main thing about Sveta is that she goes "well i *see* myself as disabled" while being like. a quadruple amputee. girl if you are not disabled who is

god. i love these characters. it's such a shame that they're gonna become cops. i hate it here. i hate that i'm gonna read like 1.8 million more words of this. fuck me. fuuuuuuuuuuck.

all in all 7/10 so far

#ward lb

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thatseventiesbitch · 7 months

Note

would love to hear more about ur verse covering the gap between t70s and t90s 😁

Thanks for the ask!

Well, it's a massive story. The longest one I've ever outlined (and I wasn't finished) - it was like 60 chapters. It attempts to bridge the two series, so it started on New Years Eve 1979 and went right up to the 4th of July 1995. Each of the characters had their own major plotline - quite complex, to explain how they got from the '70s to the '90s. I truly don't think I'll ever finish and post it, so here are some details (be forewarned, this is long 😅):

Eric and Donna of course, were the center. The story was about how they handled their unexpected pregnancy with Leia, and then raising Leia, along with navigating turbulence as their friend-group imploded, stress in their careers, and eventually fissures in their marriage. A lot of angst, which is something I haven't been writing much of these days but I rather miss it. A few big spoilers about their plotline:

Eric finally grows up when Leia is born. We see him struggling to find his purpose at the end of T70S, and when his daughter is born he finally finds it.

They end up going to college in Milwaukee, not Madison, because it's much closer to Red & Kitty (who help them immeasurably when Leia is little). Donna gets to attend Marquette - the private school she loved but was going to give up so she could go to UW-Madison with Eric.

They want to have a second child when Leia is around 5 or 6, but unfortunately Donna loses the pregnancy/has a miscarriage. When it happens a second time, she goes into her self-destructive spiral and runs away to her mom's in California (deja vu). Eric goes and brings her back home, once again.

Donna's a journalist when she graduates from college, and after several years of work she gets her dream job opportunity: writing for Rolling Stone. The job requires a lot of travel, though, and Eric is concerned by that (Leia's around 10) and nags her about it. The plotline culminates in Donna missing Leia's birthday. Things become even more tense between Eric and Donna, and then on an international work trip, she's drunk and pissed and she cheats (like, somewhere in between kissing and sex). They work through it in marriage counseling. (This storyline was partly inspired by the marriage and family therapy course I had to take in grad school, and partly by Jim and Pam on The Office 🤣)

Donna changes careers after the whole ordeal, and ends up as a writer/author. She publishes her first novel to modest success, but her second becomes a Bestseller. It's about her mom. Midge died of cancer and the book is Donna processing her relationship with her mom/her mom's death.

Obviously from T90S, they end up happy (and together). By 1995 they've worked through their stuff, and they're happier than ever. Well. As happy as you can be when you're raising a teenager (marriage and family therapy course taught me that statistically, families are at their most volatile stage when their children are teenagers 🤓)

Jackie and Kelso

I originally had Jackie with Hyde when I drafted this story, but I changed it after That '90s Show came out and I became intrigued by the idea of Jackie and Kelso for the first time. What makes them keep going back to each other time and time again? How do they work? How does parenthood change their dynamic? I wanted to explore it in a story. A few big spoilers about their plotline:

When Jackie realizes she's pregnant (and it's Kelso's), the first person she turns to is Hyde. He doesn't know why she's telling him that she's pregnant ("I don't know why you're tellin' me. I ain't the daddy,") but Jackie confesses she didn't know who else to go to. She confesses that she doesn't want to be with Michael, she wants to be with him - but Hyde gets upset and tells her it's too fucking late for that. Upset, Jackie leaves. Hyde goes after her, but it's a few moments later after he's collected himself. She's gone.

Jackie flees to her father in Boston (he's just been released from prison and has promptly remarried and is quite literally starting a new family). He's still rich somehow, and he's vowed to take care of Jackie and his grandchild. He's relieved when he learns the baby daddy is Michael and not Steven, because he 'will be easier to manipulate'.

Jackie's dad threatens and then bribes Kelso to ensure loyalty to her. He gets him a job, implied he's paying him off, etc. Jackie quickly sees through this/realizes it, but admits she could really use the help with newborn baby Jay.

Kelso just straight up ditched Brooke and Betsy for Jackie and Jay, once Jackie's dad started manipulating him. There's bad blood between Brooke and Jackie/Kelso - even though Betsy lives with them part-time (in the summers, etc).

They get divorced because Kelso reveals her dad's bribes to marry her - and because Jackie feels she can't trust him, and he's cheating (he is). Their kids (they now have another baby) are tired of seeing them fight. Etc.

Kelso has a playboy era for a few years, but it loses its appeal rather quickly and he comes crawling back to Jackie. He misses his family. She makes him work for it for a year, but when he's 'proven his love', she takes him back and they remarry.

The second divorce has to do with them being competing local news anchors, ala Anchorman.

Years in the future, beyond 1995 (this was going to be an epilogue, maybe?) Jackie and Hyde run into each other again. Jackie's kids are grown/almost grown, and she's finally left Michael behind for good and been happily single (parenting) for many years. Jackie and Hyde's chemistry is still there - until Hyde reveals he has a 7 year old. Jackie's crushed, but forces herself to ask about his wife. He grins and says no wife, just a co-parent, he's not with Jamie's mom. It ends on a flirty note and we're led to believe they get together like that, later in life. (*Found a way to make it Zenny!*) (Maybe sort of inspired by Daisy Jones and the Six)

Hyde

He turns away Jackie when she comes to him with her pregnancy - lashes out at her from a place of deep hurt and regret. Unfortunately for him, he drives her away one final time and she's married to Kelso within the year.

He eventually moves to NY, with W.B. It's related to running Grooves, he's gotten a promotion and is making quite a bit of money. Work is his life now - he never thought he'd be one of those people.

He still comes back to Point Place, though rarely. For Eric, Donna, and Leia. For Red and Kitty. He always says hi to Fez. Etc. But he avoids Jackie and Kelso.

He doesn't date or have a serious girlfriend for a long time after Jackie - like 7+ years. When he visits, Eric always tries to tell Hyde that he can have what he has too, he can settle down and find someone. Hyde just brushes him off.

Fez

Fez is completely blindsided by Jackie's revelation that she's pregnant (with Kelso's baby) when they're in Jamaica. He comes home and is devastated. Jackie was his dream girl. But Hyde assures him that his destiny is never tied to anyone who leaves. He inspires Fez to do something for himself, and he decides to go to beauty school so he can be a hairdresser.

It's hard for him to be around Jackie and Kelso. He stops having ill-will towards them after a few years, and he eventually just defaults to avoiding them. The splinter between Fez and Kelso/Jackie - along with Hyde bailing to New York - means the gang essentially dissolved. It's really hard for Fez (and some of the others). He still talks to Eric, though, and sees him and Donna every time they're in town visiting Red and Kitty.

He dates quite a bit over the next several years, even trying dating some men, but he never feels that soul connection he had with Jackie. He quietly resigns himself to settling. Until he meets Sherri.

That was a lot. And yet, only a snippet. 🤣

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reallydumbdannyphantomaus · 1 year

Text

Switch

Spectra sucks. Dunno what else to tell you. (ao3) (masterpost)

Part 3: Chapter 1

“So,” Danny said as they approached Casper High, “today's the first day with the shrink?”

Kwan groaned, then clutched at his side as his rib ached. He’d been cleared to return to school, but was supposed to limit his activity. No gym, or stairs, and Danny was carrying his backpack for now. It was more annoying than regular school. “Don't remind me,” he said. “Let's talk about your creepy half-ghost uncle again instead.”

“Low blow, dude. Also, definitely not my uncle.”

“That's right, he's your future stepdad!”

Danny shoved lightly at him, careful to avoid his bad side. “How did you manage to go even lower?”

“It's a talent,” he said. “Besides, there is at least some good news from the whole Vlad-thing.”

“Oh yeah? What?”

“You probably aren't going to destabilize and dissolve any time soon!”

“Well, gee, thanks for reminding me of that possibility.”

“Always happy to help.”

They lapsed into silence as they crested the hill. Kwan's appointment was scheduled for immediately after school; his detentions with Lancer had been postponed on account of both the other teacher's continued hospital stay and Tyson dying. Thus, Principal Ishiyama had said he could use that time instead for his therapy.

Ugh. Therapy.

“So how long are you gonna see her for?”

“Who?”

“The shrink.”

“Right,” Kwan said. “I convinced my mom to let me have just a thirty minute appointment to start.”

“Cool,” Danny said. “I'll be waiting? At the big oak?”

Something warm bloomed in Kwan's chest. Dash would never have waited for him, even if he'd asked. Danny always waited, after detention and now with this stupid counseling. Maybe it was because they were both each other's only friends, but still. It was... nice. “Yeah,” he said, voice breaking in a way that he could only hope Danny hadn't noticed. “I'll find you after.”

Walking into first period gym with a doctor’s note, Kwan still couldn’t help but smile.

-----

“You're in a good mood,” Valerie said at their lab table, measuring out the baking soda.

Kwan startled, twinging his still-healing rib, then looked around to see who she was talking to.

“I'm talking to you, dumbass.”

“Since when?”

“I can always stop.”

Kwan raised an eyebrow. “Then why start at all?”

“Well, with... recent events—I don't know.” Valerie stared at her hands and dropped her voice. “Paulina lost it on Dash. For crying at Tyson's thing.”

“Yeah,” Kwan said with a wince. “I kinda figured.”

“Yeah, me too. But then, I started thinking... what the fuck kind of relationship do we have where that was expected?” Valerie sniffed. “She wouldn't even let me talk, y'know? I had a lot to say.”

“Val...” Kwan reached for her hand.

She jerked it back. “I'm not saying you're right or anything. Just—you knew him. And her. And you're not dating her. So.”

“So I was your best option to complain to?”

“I guess. I'm not gonna abandon her. Them.” The like you did was blessedly unspoken. “But, I don't know. Maybe—maybe I don't really blame you anymore.”

“Okay,” Kwan said. “But you can't talk to me if you want to stay her friend. You know that, right?”

“Obviously.” Valerie rolled her eyes. “But we're lab partners. We have to talk sometimes. For class.”

Kwan hid a grin. “Of course.”

“Of course.”

Valerie finished measuring out the materials and passed them to Kwan. “So,” she said, “what’s got you in a good mood?”

“Nothing!” Kwan squeaked. He could feel the heat rising to his face.

“Oh?” Valerie leaned toward him, a teasing smile dancing around her lips. “Did you finally boink Fenton?”

“Boink?”

“So you did.”

“No!” Kwan waved his hands around desperately. “We’re just friends.”

Valerie gave him a calculating stare. “Hm,” she said. “Too bad.”

“You want us to—”

“Me? I don’t care. You, however, clearly do.”

Somehow, his face got even hotter. “I don’t!”

“Kwan,” Valerie said, “you are somehow even more obvious about this than you were about your crush on Dash, and I watched you give him a massage once just because he mentioned his shoulders were a little stiff.”

“What—I didn’t—”

“Kwan. Kwan, look at me.” Valerie leaned down and made sure that she was looking Kwan in the eyes. “Did you… not know you had a crush on Dash?”

“I—” Kwan stopped himself and thought back to the way his eyes had always sought out Dash first and foremost whenever he entered a room. The way he reached for Dash’s hands and his arms whenever he could get away with it. The beating of his heart when Dash smiled.

“Fuck,” he said. “I liked Dash?”

Valerie bent over with laughter. “Congratulations!” she said, gasping for breath. “You’re officially the last to know. Well, aside from Dash.”

Kwan buried his head in his hands. “Oh my god. I had a crush on Dash.”

He felt an awkward patting on his back. “Yeah. You sure did.”

“And… you think I have one on Danny?”

“Dude. You should see your face when you look at him. Or think about him. It’s disgusting.” She fished out her phone and turned on the front facing camera, shoving it in his face. “You’re literally making it right now, look.”

The Kwan on the camera mostly looked confused at having a camera shoved in his face.

“Okay, so you look constipated now,” Valerie said. “Whatever. Just trust me. You looked soft as hell like two seconds ago.”

Kwan thought about it. He thought about long nights, staying up and trying to finish homework except they kept getting distracted by trying to one-up each other’s jokes. He thought about how Danny watched football with him even though he didn’t understand it, how he tried to play Doomed even though he sucked because it made Danny happy. He thought about Danny, saving his life from the ectopus, from the Lunch Lady, from the shapeshifting gorilla ghost.

He thought about Danny smiling. He thought about Danny laughing. He thought about the warmth in his chest whenever he saw Danny.

Well. Shit.

“There it is again!” Valerie pulled back out her phone just as Kwan buried his face back in his hands. “Dammit, are you conspiring against me getting a picture of your smitten face?”

“Valerie,” Kwan said through his hands, “I’ve got a crush on Danny.”

“Once again,” Valerie said, “congrats on being the last to know.”

“As glad as I am to see you two talking again,” Ms. Okorafor said, startling Kwan and Valerie, who had both missed her approach, “I do need you to do the lab today.”

“Right,” Kwan said.

“Yeah, sure,” Valerie said.

Like a spell had been broken, they went back to doing their lab in silence. Still, Kwan caught Valerie’s eye from across the table and she smiled, just a little.

It felt like progress.

-----

Kwan hadn’t expected to wait to see Dr. Spectra, but the student before him had still been inside when he arrived in her office. So he was stuck in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs right outside, with an odd little man with gray hair and green eyes staring him down.

Kwan shifted in his seat, then groaned as his rib ached again. Right. Keep his torso steady.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the door opened and out stepped… Dash.

Dash spotted Kwan, then turned his nose up. Dash wasn’t having doubts like Valerie, then.

Still, with Dash pointedly ignoring him, Kwan had the opportunity to study his face. He’d had most of the day to come to terms with his old crush on Dash, but now he wanted to see if those feelings were still there or not. He didn’t think they were, but he hadn’t known about them to begin with, so his judgment was clearly not the best.

But instead of renewed feelings, he found tear tracks on Dash’s cheek.

Right. Of course. Dash was here to talk about Tyson. That made sense, because the two were still friends. Unlike Kwan and Tyson, who hadn’t spoken in over a month.

Kwan bit back a sigh of frustration. Why had Mom insisted he be here, instead of letting someone else who actually needed it take this time slot? He didn’t really understand why she was so insistent that something had to be wrong.

Whatever. He was here, and he’d promised, so he’d do it. He just didn’t have to be happy about it, was all.

He stood up as Dash walked out, waved on by the odd secretary. He knocked on the door twice and a voice called out, “Come in, please!”

The room itself looked like any other office. He’d half-expected to see one of those long couches designed for lying down like he’d seen in movies, but this was a public school. They would never be able to afford that. Instead, there were two more of those uncomfortable plastic chairs right in front of Dr. Spectra’s desk, which was scrupulously clean. The walls were covered in generic motivational posters. The one right behind Dr. Spectra’s head had a picture of a young oak tree with BELEAF IN YOURSELF written on the bottom.

And, of course, Dr. Spectra herself sat at the desk in a high-backed office chair. Her hair was bright red and her eyes the same shade of green as her assistant. Maybe they were related somehow?

“Hi there,” Dr. Spectra said, gesturing for Kwan to sit down. “You’re Kwan, right?”

Kwan dropped in the chair in front of her desk, barely restraining from rolling his eyes. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s my name.”

“Lovely to meet you, honey.” Dr. Spectra looked at him from over her glasses. “Now, why are you here today?”

“Because my mom thinks I have problems.”

“Do you?”

Kwan shrugged. “Doesn’t everyone? Mine aren’t any worse than anyone else’s though, so I don’t get the point of this.”

Dr. Spectra hummed. “Well, therapy doesn’t have to be just about feeling better. It can be about being better, too.”

“What do you—”

“I mean, I’ve heard from your classmates who’ve come to see me that you recently lost all your friends? Had a fight with them?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Including the poor student that passed recently?”

Kwan flinched. “I guess you could say that.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Dr. Spectra cooed. “I don’t mean anything by it. Just mentioning it because I thought you might have some… regrets.”

Regrets? Sure, he had plenty. Mostly about being a dick since the start of middle school. But he didn’t regret dumping his old friends. They deserved it, and he needed to be better.

“My friends sucked,” he said after a long moment. “I wanted to be better. They were the ones who chose not to change. That’s on them, not me.”

“Of course, of course,” Dr. Spectra said. “You’re on a journey of self-discovery! Very commendable.” Her smile stretched across her teeth.

Kwan bit his lip to keep from sighing. So far, this grief counselor wasn’t impressing him much.

“I just thought that maybe,” she said, “you felt like you could have done something to stop this tragedy from happening.”

Kwan stiffened. “Why—what makes you say that?”

“Oh, it’s very common. Survivor’s guilt. I thought you might feel like since you stopped being friends with poor Tyson, you weren’t there with him the day he died. Maybe you could’ve saved him if you were.”

“Why would I think that?!” Kwan’s fingers dug into his arms. If possible, Dr. Spectra’s smile stretched even wider.

“Oh dear, of course it isn’t true. I just thought it would be a reasonable response to a horrible situation. That’s all.”

Could Kwan have done more? He was at the mall that day, after all. He had advance warning. He’d gone along with his mom, and let her take Danny away, instead of letting Danny help. He hadn’t just not saved Tyson, he’d helped prevent the only person who could have saved Tyson. Mom hadn’t seen for herself how useless the Fentons were, but Kwan had. Kwan knew that Danny was their best chance, and Kwan had packed him away in the car anyway.

Acid burbled from his stomach into his throat. He lurched forward and vomited into the trash can at the side of Dr. Spectra’s desk. His rib burned.

A hand rubbed at his back. “That’s it, dear,” Dr. Spectra said. “You’re okay.”

Kwan coughed and spat out the remnants of bile. The taste was almost bad enough to make him barf again, so he poured some water in his mouth and swished it around before spitting it into the trash along with his vomit.

“Oh,” Dr. Spectra said. “I wish you hadn't—I mean, I feel bad for the janitor who has to clean that up.” She laughed and waved her hand as though waving that idea off. “Of course, not your fault, dearie.”

Mom was so stressed now, because he'd brought this whole thing upon them. Him, not Danny. He'd dared Danny to go into the portal and all of this had happened. Danny kept getting hurt. Mom was about to collapse under the pressure of keeping them both safe. Even now, he was making Danny wait on him while he worked on his own problems.

How selfish could he be?

No, no, he'd done nice things for Danny, too. Comforted him. Helped keep his secret. Destroyed his only other friendships.

Fuck.

“Am I—am I ruining people's lives?”

“Of course not, sweetie. What on earth makes you think that?”

“I just—I was a jerk before, and I'm trying to be better, but maybe I'm not as good as I think I am. Maybe I'm only being better because it gets me what I want.”

He did have a crush on Danny, after all. Being nice to Danny was a way to get him to like Kwan more. This whole time, he'd probably been trying to get Danny's attention. He was taking up his time because he craved it, just like he'd craved whatever Dash had been willing to give him. If he really wanted what was best for Danny, he'd try to fix his actual friendships, with Manson and Foley, not hoard him all to himself.

Dr. Spectra hummed. “Well, I suppose that's possible, but it's nothing we can't fix!”

“Really?” If this was all his fault... well, of course it was. How stupid of him to think that just dumping his friends was enough to make up for anything. Instead, here he was focusing on his own happiness and making everything worse.

“Of course. I'm here to help.”

“You said, at the beginning...”

“Yes?”

“You said this didn't have to be about feeling better.” Maybe he didn't deserve to feel better. Not yet. He thought he'd gotten better, but here he was making everything worse for everyone around him. “You said it could be about being better.”

“Of course!” Dr. Spectra's smile stretched impossibly wider. “Is that something you'd like? A self-improvement focus?”

“I—yeah. Yeah, I'd like that.” He couldn't be a problem for his mom or for Danny anymore. He needed to start being a solution. If Dr. Spectra could help...

“Excellent!” She tied off the garbage bag, but Kwan could still smell the sour stench of his vomit. “Let's get started, then, shall we?”

#dp switch #danny phantom #kwantent #spectra time baby #bug posts #she's just so fucking mean wtf #my fic #my writing

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coriel-muroz · 3 months

Text

Household 19 - Michael finds out about Michelle and gets more info than he bargained for

Michael had been waiting for confirmation that Michelle was his daughter. He would then tell his wife and she would move in with them...unless Cara left him. The phone call finally came.

"...Yes, we can confirm that you are Michelle Hunt's biological father. And, as requested, we can confirm she is also related to your cousin..."

Yes Michelle was his daughter. He had believed it from the moment Genevive suggested the possibility. But wait...

"My cousin?"

"...Yes your cousin, Liz Hunt, who tested with you as a control at your request..."

"Liz is my twin sister, not my cousin."

"...Ummm...your genetics testing says cousin, not sister or even half-sister. Our files did indicate a half-sister though..."

"Who is my half-sister?"

"...Her name is Kelly Foxman. We'll send over the contact info she provided should any relatives wish to connect with her..."

Michael was flabbergasted. He was Liz's cousin and Kelly's brother? That could only mean that his birth parents were his aunt, Rosemary Hunt, and Fred Foxman. Not Greg and Arianna Miller.

But why had his parents, his aunt and uncle he should say, hidden the fact from him? His brothers Jeremy and Geoff had both known their parentage.

It was all too much, and Micheal had to first focus on Michelle.

He tucked his children into bed while Cara made a late supper.

"Good night, Leondre." He supposed the surprise of an unknown sister would be easier at 6 years old than in your 40s.

As Cara finalized dinner, Michael gave Genevive a quick call. He confirmed that Michelle was his and that he would tell Cara he had every intention that they bring her home.

"You recall that my friend, Genevive, had her kids taken into foster care in Desert Valley? They have only just agreed to send the children to Huntsville, under the condition they only be adopted by a biological parent who has been happily married at least 3 years," Michael started awkwardly.

"Poor kids. Foster care isn't easy. And neither Genevive nor her ex are remarried? That's a cruel agreement. At least they are closer."

"Actually, it turns out that Michelle, the daughter, her bio Dad is actually happily married. That medical testing I mentioned a while back? It turns out I am her father." Michael finished his statement and then said nothing as his wife pursed her lips considering what he said.

Cara stood up. She was exhausted from all the long hours at work balanced with being a good wife and mother. She had always feared that Michael would have an affair. "You're sleeping with Genevive," she said flatly.

"What? No! I did have an affair with her, when she was married. It ended a long time ago. I swear I am not sleeping with Genevive. I haven't since long before I met you." This was all true. That he has had affairs with many women who weren't Genevive was beside the point.

Fatima started crying in her nursery. Cara sighed. She didn't know if she could believe Michael.

"You want Michelle to come live with us, don't you?" Michael nodded, his eyes full of hope. "We are getting counseling, Michael. Couple's counseling and family counseling. And I need to go to bed."

Michael went to resettle Fatima. He snuggled her. He thought of his other daughter in foster care, since she was younger than Fatima, and he resolved to do whatever he had to to keep his family intact. He could use some therapy after his discoveries about his own identity.

Cara was fast asleep when he crawled into bed beside her, but she shifted to snuggle closer to him. So long as she never found out about his more recent affairs, Michael was convinced it would all work out.

Huntsville Revived #531

#huntsville revived #the sims 2 #household 19 #michael miller #cara gray #fatima miller #leondre Miller #sims2 #sims 2 #thesims2 #ts2

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angels-and-demons · 11 months

Text

Incorrect quote!

Tw for mention of mental health and panic attacks

Nico: Toby, what are you doing here, and-! Who is this? What even is this place?!

Toby: Nico, if you could just-!

Mira: Tobias, it's okay. You're in a safe place here. And Nico? Stop pressuring him. He can't answer if you keep doing that.

[Nico closes his mouth and falls quiet. Mira nods]

Mira: thank you. Now, Toby?

[Toby takes a deep breath]

Toby: Nico, Doctor Baudelaire is my therapist. She helps me with my mental health.

Mira: Toby has been seeing me twice a month for the past few years. Sometimes more than that, but that's the baseline.

Nico: ...go on.

Toby: my normal appointment isn't for another week, but...

[Toby takes a deep breath. Nico puts a hand on his back to comfort him]

Toby: ...the other day, when I was on a job, I... had a panic attack. And... a pretty bad one, at that.

[He tries to laugh]

Toby: so... I had to see her for an emergency visit. Just to, you know, touch base and get myself sorted.

Mira: He's really quite good when it comes to our visits and his emotional regulation.

[Toby nods. Nico looks at him, concerned]

Nico: Toby... I'm so sorry. But why didn't you tell me? I could've helped you-!

[Toby groans. He rubs his face with his hand in frustration. He has a few jerk-like tics and makes a popping sound with his mouth]

Mira: Toby, remember: we use our words.

Toby: right, doc. Anyway...

[He turns to Nico]

Toby: Nico... babe, I didn't tell you because whenever I had one previously, you'd just... treat me with kid gloves.

Nico: what? No, I didn-!

[Mira holds a hand up]

Mira: Nico, this is Toby's time to talk. You’ll have your turn. Let him do so.

[Nico nods]

Nico: right, sorry. Go on, Tobes.

Toby: ...thank you. As I was saying... when I told you about them before, you'd just... act like I was fragile - as if I'd break if you even touched me wrong. And so... I just didn't.

[Toby sighs. He knows what he's done is kinda fucked up]

Toby: whenever I'd have one - and you weren't around? - I'd phone Mira and have a session. I'd just... bottle it up and not let you know.

[Nico's eyes well up. Toby looks shocked]

Toby: Oh, babe... no, I'm so sorry...

Nico: honey... I've been worried about you for months. I was terrified that you'd... started... again. Or if, you know, you were coming off of your meds for some reason. Or - whatever. I don't know. And it's been driving me crazy.

Toby: it has?

Nico: every night, Tobes.

Mira: Toby, now you talk.

[Toby takes a deep breath]

Toby: I understand that you have been... concerned about me. And I apologise for not telling you sooner...

[Mira nods. Toby goes on]

Toby: ...but, I cannot deal with you patronising me - or, or making me feel like I'll break if you say the wrong thing.

Nico: Okay. I'm sorry for... Well, for making you feel like that. I... I don't see you as this, this... breakable thing. I just... I love you, Toby. And I want to keep you safe.

Toby: I love you too, babe. But, I've had panic attacks before, and I'll very likely have them again.

[Toby takes another deep breath]

Toby: I don't need you to protect me from them. I just need you to help me feel present when I do have them. I need to feel heard, not just seen.

Mira: this is good. Really good. I feel like we've really started a dialogue here. Now, Mister Di Angelo, if you will: I, for one, would adore finishing my session with Toby.

[Nico looks at Toby. Toby grins nervously]

Toby: I won't be too long.

Nico: alright.

Mira: Oh, and if you just have a word with Cookie - up at the desk, I can try and squeeze the two of you in for a couple's session next week.

Nico: couples session? Like, counselling? Isn't that for, like, failing marriages?

Mira: Oh, heavens, no. Look, couples therapy and couples counselling can help you both keep on top of your mental healths. It provides you with a safe space to discuss your feelings, and a third party to allow for any outside opinions. Even my husband and I have our own counsellor. It just... helps make sure you're both on the same page, alright?

Toby: alright, Doctor B!

[Nico nods]

Nico: Yeah, alright.

[Toby pecks Nico on the cheek]

Nico: see you in... half an hour?

Toby: maybe even less.

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specialagentlokitty · 1 year

Text

Mr Evershed x Student!reader - what makes us who we are

Part three:

First Mr Evershed dealt with the teacher in the school, he arranged a meeting for that very safe afternoon once school finished.

“Come on Martin, some of us want to go home.” Mrs Carp sighed.

“No, I’ve had it up to here with you lot. We’re going to talk about what happened today regarding one of the students.”

All the teachers shared a look and he began to talk.

Berating them for judging their own students, for judging them on who they are or what they look like.

All the teachers just sat in silence, a few of them looking away with guilty looks on their faces.

“A teacher assaulted a student today. They left before the end of the day, but police have been informed and there will be an investigation again that teacher and this school.”

The teachers gasped.

“Are they okay?” Mrs Paracha asked.

“No because of the actions of you lot and that substitute teacher the student has sworn to never return to school. You’ve failed them, failed to support them, help them.”

He grabbed his jacket and looked at them all.

“I will be having a meeting with the trust about this incident.”

With that he left, having to speak to the police next he helped them with your contact details and address, and the following morning he had a meeting with the trust.

It was a long meeting, a lot of back and forth with them, but they finally agreed to roll out more training for the teachers.

Mr Evershed was given permission to do whatever it took to get you to return to the school, even if it meant him going to find out outside of school, and offering you online classes if that’s what you wanted.

So when his meeting ended he immediately went to his office to try and call you, but he got sent straight to voicemail.

He sighed, deciding to leave a voicemail and give you a day or two to see if you would get in contact.

You woke up to the new voicemail, so you decided to check what it was and stuck your phone on speaker as you sat up.

“Hi (Y/N) it’s Mr Evershed, please call us back as soon as you get this so we know you’re okay. Thank you.”

Scoffing a little, you hung up and shook your head, making your way down the stairs as you grabbed a drink and sat on the back doorstep.

Looking out at the dark clouds rolling in, you sighed to yourself and started pulling all the garden furniture into the small gap between your house and the fence and went back inside.

You turned all the lights on, closed the windows and curtains and settled to watch some TV instead.

The following day you received another phone call and an email which you ignored, and on the third day, with the weather being nice you decided to do some cleaning.

You opened all the windows, music flowing out from them as you walked around in some sorts and a short sleeved T-shirt.

There was a knock on your door and you sat up, heading to the window, you peaked through the blinds to see two officers standing there with Mr Evershed.

They knocked again.

Sighing, you grabbed a hoodie and pulled it on, and put your mask on before you opened the door.

“Can we have a chat?” An officer smiled.

“Names and badge numbers.”

They complied and you nodded, looking them up and down before stepping aside to let them in and took them through the living room and you sat down, covering your legs with a blanket.

“Your headteacher spoke to us about the incident, we’ve taken statements and we will be pressing charges as you’re a minor, but we’d like a statement from you if that’s okay?”

You shrugged a little, telling them briefly what had happened and they made note of it all.

“We can offer you resources to help, counselling, therapy?” One of them offered.

“Don’t bother, not interested.”

“Well, if you change your mind just give a call.”

One left his card on the table and Mr Evershed showed them out before coming back in and you narrowed your gaze at him.

“I’d like to talk too if that’s okay?”

“Well you’ve already invited yourself in so whatever I guess.”

Getting up, you headed to the back garden and sat on one of the steps leading to the grass, and he followed you, sitting next to you.

Stretching your legs, you placed your hands behind you and leant back a little.

“Why’d you file a report?”

“You were assaulted, it had ti be taken further.”

“Don’t really matter since I’m not going back.”

He sighed.

“I’ve spoken to all the teachers, and the trust. That’s not going to happen anymore (Y/N) I promise.”

You shook your head.

“You can’t promise that.”

“I can, because I mean it. It’s never going to happen again (Y/N) alright? I’ll make sure it’ll never happen again.”

You loved your hands, laying down as you stared up at the bright blue sky.

Mr Evershed said, turning so he could look down at you.

“Don’t throw everything away (Y/N), you’ve got your whole future ahead of you!”

“Do I? Do I really? I can’t work in any customer facing jobs because of my scars.”

“Scars?” He asked confused.

Yes, he’d seen the one on your face, but he thought that was the only one.

You sat up, and took your mask off, placing it on the grass, you took your hoodie off, tossing it with the mask and you held out one of your arms to him.

He noticed another two scars, just as wide and jagged as the one going across your face.

You then lowered your arm and pointed to both of your legs, and was a few scars on your legs as well, and he frowned a little.

“Not the only ones, got more.”

He looked at you, sad eyes connecting with yours for a second.

“(Y/N) what on earth happened?” He asked softly.

“Accident.”

You ran a hand up and down your arm, fingers brushing again the scars as you stared at the grass.

“(Y/N)?”

You held a blank expression on your face, you just stared. It’s like you were sat there but at the same time you weren’t.

You blinked and flicked your eyes to him before looking at your hoodie and mask.

“It was years ago, just before I went to secondary school. We were coming back from a holiday, my mum and I were playing a game and my dad was driving. It was late, like real late, pitch black, and stormy too.”

He nodded his head. Carefully listening as you spoke.

“My dad said there was something wrong with the car and pulled over on to the grass so he could take a look, and my mum got out to help him. It was a hill we were parked on top, and apparently that road was known for its drunk drivers and speeders.”

Mr Evershed felt his heart drop as he realised where this story was going.

“One minute everything was fine, the next thing I knew I was waking up in hospital after months of being in a coma. I couldn’t walk, I couldn’t talk. We’d been hit by some drunk teens, my mum and dad were killed on impact. I’d been trapped in the car when it hit the bottom of that hill, most of the injuries were blunt force trauma and glass.”

He watched as you gestured your legs, and a few small scars along your forearms.

He nodded his head and gestured to your upper arm and face.

“What happened there?”

“What stopped the car.”

You looked at him.

“Barbed wire.”

“Oh god…” he whispered.

You shrugged a little, resting your arms on your knees.

“Just life innit.”

He shook his head and wiped a few tears that had fallen.

He had never felt so heartbroken before, so upset over something that had happened.

You were the victim of a tragic accident, and people looked at you as if you were some criminal mastermind.

“People look at me and they see some deformed freak. They looked disgusted and scared when they see me, why do you think I don’t look at people?”

He reached out and carefully placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Look at me.”

You turned your head but you didn’t meet his gaze.

“Please?”

You finally met his eyes, and he smiled softly, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“You’re not deformed, you’re not a freak or a monster. You’re you. And that’s a great thing, that’s an amazing thing! You’re a great person, scars are what make us who we are you know.”

“What does mine make me…?” You mumbled.

He smiled a little more and took his hand away, clapping them together.

“A survivor.”

You looked at him, and you smiled a little.

It was a crooked smile because of the scar on your face, but it was still a smile. A real smile.

Mr Evershed didn’t look at you like everyone else did, he looked at you with compassion and kindness, looking past the obvious marks on your skin to see who you really were.

He could see you for the person that you were.

“Everything like this is what makes us who we are, and I’m so sorry for what happened. But I know somewhere deep down inside that stubborn exterior there is a wonderful young person who has so much potential.”

“You think?”

He nodded his head.

“I know it. Please come back, finish your education and show the world you’re more than your scars and you’re more than the bad things that have happened.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He asked.

“Okay.” You nodded.

He beamed brightly and told you to come in the following morning.

So, as much as you didn’t want to, you did, and you stood in reception waiting for him, a small smile on your face as you saw him wave you over.

Padding over, he led you over to the desk in reception and started to put papers on the desk.

“You just need to fill these in, just some stuff you missed and a form to say I can attend the court case with you next month if you want.”

“I’d like that. Thank you sir.”

He handed you a pen so you could sign it there and then, and he got you to waited so he could walk you to your first lesson of the day.

You started coming into school every day, putting all your effort into your work.

It was an improvement that took a while for anyone else to see, you were getting better grades, your attendance had gone up and you started to attend school events as well.

Today you walked in, and you stopped when you saw Mr Evershed and you gave him a small wave and he blinked in surprise.

“You’re not wearing your mask.” He said.

“I’m more than my scars. I don’t think I should hide them anymore.”

He smiled and nodded his head in understanding.

“You are, I’m proud of you.”

You smiled and carried on walking to school, and no one looked twice at you, a few students stared but they offered you a smile as you walked to your first class.

Mr Evershed was right.

You’re more than your scars. More than the things that had happened, and you just needed a little help to navigate around the world and figure out what your path was in life.

But you had so much ahead of you

#Ackley bridge #Ackley bridge x reader #Ackley bridge x you #Ackley bridge imagine #mr evershed x you #mr evershed #mr evershed imagine #mr evershed x reader

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silvfyre-writings · 2 years

Text

Aizawa Cares Pt. 22 (MHA Fanfic)

Hello, it's me, once again, slowly crumbling underneath the workload I placed on myself. But that's okay because I've gotten ahead a little on this fic (thank god) and hopefully I'll finish my other fic soon so I can focus on smashing out the remaining chapters I have planned!

So enjoy the chapter!

Also I want to bring your attention to the following: I am not a mental health expert. I am not a therapist, therefore there may be inaccuracies in how things are handled within the fic. Thank you.

Aizawa’s students seemed to attract all the trouble the universe had to offer, going through traumatic event after traumatic event. Not only that, but many of his students had come to him with unchecked trauma because of neglectful parents, or said student being too scared or prideful to accept their own shortcomings or ask for help when they clearly needed it. Lucky for them, Aizawa had no plans to let their trauma’s run wild, and that was why, more than three-quarters into the school year, most of his class was in therapy for one reason or another. Some of his kids had therapy with him, while others had sessions with Hound Dog; some even met up with Nemuri, but that was mostly his female students. One student that surprised him was Kaminari, the boy choosing to go to Hizashi, but Aizawa figured that was because the two were similar in a way. He would never judge his student’s choice of counsellor; just glad that they were getting the help they needed.

It was coming up towards the end of the school term, meaning his students—and his colleagues—would get two weeks off to rest and prepare for the next term. It also meant that it was time for Aizawa to check in on his students’ progress in their counselling sessions, which would determine whether or not they had to continue them once school resumed. Since the last check-in, more of his students—and some of the Class B kids—had ended up having sessions with Hound Dog. Aizawa felt a little guilty for giving the man so much work, but Hound Dog never complained. The counsellor enjoyed helping others, and was always ready to help a student—or teacher—no matter what time it was. It was what Aizawa liked about the dog-quirked teacher the most. He had a theory that it was Hound Dog’s quirk that gave him those feelings; after all, dogs were a mans best friend, or so they said. Aizawa was more of a cat person—not that that meant he’d start to confide in Shishido. That man was a menace to the very earth he walked upon.\

Thud!

Aizawa flinched back, having been so lost in his thoughts that he’d managed to run into a door. He quickly glanced around, glad that there was no one around to see what happened. That’ll teach me to not be distracted. Aizawa thought, although he partially blamed the shut door in front of him. Hound Dog usually left his office door open so that anyone could come in; only shutting it if he wasn’t inside. Just in case, he raised a hand and knocked, listening as footsteps came up to the door.

It wasn’t Hound Dog that opened it though.

Ah. Vlad King stood in front of him, an amused look on his face, and Aizawa knew immediately that his fellow teacher had put two and two together about what had happened. “What would your students say, Eraser, knowing you just ran into a door?”

“Shut up.” Aizawa huffed. “Is Hound Dog here?”

Vlad stepped to the side, opening the door more to let Aizawa step into the room. “He is, he’s just in a session with one of my kids. Can I ask why?”

Aizawa looked around the room, appreciating how warm and cosy Hound Dog had made it; the room was split into two parts, a waiting room, and then the actual room where the guidance counsellor would talk with those that needed him. “I can wait. I’m just checking in on how my own students are doing.”

“Ah, that time of year already, is it?” Vlad asked, giving him a knowing look. There was no fooling the other man about how much he cared about his student’s wellbeing, not when Vlad was just as guilty of doing the same. “Don’t most of your students come to you for counselling, though?”

Aizawa shook his head, making his way over to the couch and collapsing into it. “Only Bakugo actually. The rest of them talk to Hound Dog.”

Vlad nodded, coming over and sitting beside him. They didn’t share anymore words, not needing to. Besides, the office was best enjoyed when there was quiet; it just seemed wrong to talk in such a peaceful room.

After several minutes had passed, the door opened, Hound Dog stepping through with Monoma following behind him. The boy looked downcast, eyes puffy and rimmed with red; something had clearly upset the boy recently, but whether it was the session he’d just had or whatever had brought him to Hound Dog’s office in the first place, Aizawa didn’t know. He just watched as Vlad stood, Monoma going straight to his teacher and burying his face into his chest. Aizawa suddenly felt like he was intruding.

Thank goodness for Hound Dog understanding the situation. “Eraser, if you want to head through, I’ll be with you in just a moment. I just need to talk to Vlad for a sec.”

“There’s no rush.” Aizawa said, quickly escaping to the other room and closing the door behind him. He sat in one of the many chairs in the office and just fiddled with his capture scarf, waiting for Hound Dog to walk through the door. The office was set up much like the other room, but was filled with plenty of comfort items that those visiting might use; mostly plush toys and cushions, but there were also plenty of toys that one would fidget with.

Aizawa had one of those toys in hand when Hound Dog finally walked back through the door. He stared at the dog-quirked man, who just stared back at him with a non-judgemental look. “They are there for everyone, Eraser, even the teachers.” Hound Dog said, coming to sit in the chair next to him. “You’re here to check on your kids, yes?”

“That’s right.” Aizawa put the toy back to where he’d grabbed it from. “Some of the kids seeing you want to go home for the break, but I want to make sure they’re in the right mental space for it first.”

“I see.” Hound Dog moved around to his desk, reaching into a draw and pulling out a small stack of folders; the files of his students currently in counselling. Honestly, Aizawa was glad that the stack was relatively small, even though he had expected it to be a little bigger. “Well, I think most of them would be alright to go home. But let’s take a look.”

Aizawa reached across the desk and grabbed the file that was on top of the pile, Yaoyorozu’s name on the front of it. It was the thinnest of the files, a testament to how quickly the girl had fought to overcome her trauma. “Yaoyorozu should be fine, shouldn’t she?”

Hound Dog nodded. “She’s a strong girl. I only had a few sessions with her, but she responded really well. She’s fine to go home, but I’d like to check in with her when she comes back. Same with Uraraka. She’s doing very well so I’m confident that she’ll be okay to go home.”

“You’re sure?” Aizawa frowned, recalling to an incident a few weeks ago where Uraraka had fallen back into bad habits with how much food she ate. Strangely enough, it had been Bakugo that had tracked him down and told him it was happening, although he shouldn’t have been surprised; the boy probably didn’t want a repeat of the time Uraraka had screamed at him over using too much food. Since then, he’d gently forced Uraraka into more sessions with Hound Dog, and he wasn’t quite sure the girl was ready to go home yet.

“I’m sure. Our last session together showed great progress, and I think being able to see her parents will help in her recovery even more.” Hound Dog explained. The man was flipping through a different file now. “I am unwilling to send Kirishima home, however.”

Aizawa put Yaoyorozu’s file back on the desk. “I assume he’s still not ready to come back to school then?”

“I’m afraid not. I worry that my counselling may not be enough for the boy.” Hound Dog sighed. “We’ve made progress, but it’s been slow progress. What happened during his work study shattered him, and it’s up to us to pick up the pieces. But we can’t rush it, we can only go at Kirishima’s pace.”

“I understand.” Aizawa said. He recalled Kirishima was one of the students that had requested to go home. He only hoped that the boy would understand why they couldn’t send him home. But maybe, just maybe, they’d be able to arrange for his family to come and visit him on campus. “I’ll talk to him about it.

“Okay. That just leaves… Jiro and Todoroki. Jiro can go home; I have no issue with that. We had our final session just yesterday.”

Aizawa nodded, relieved that one of his kids no longer required Hound Dog’s services. He’d been worried when Jiro had come to him asking about Hound Dog, but the girl had reassured him that she was doing alright, she just wanted to talk to someone about what had happened at the radio station. So he’d escorted his student up to Hound Dog’s office and the counsellor had happily agreed to work through the incident with Jiro. The result had been a much more at ease Jiro; a relief for Aizawa to see.

“Eraser?” Hound Dog’s voice interrupted his thoughts. He blinked, giving his colleague an apologetic look.

“Sorry, what?”

“I asked how Todoroki was doing?”

Aizawa frowned. “He’s doing counselling with you, isn’t he?”

“No, we haven’t had a session in weeks. He told me he decided to do counselling with you.”

“I’ve only had sessions with Bakugo, and the occasional one with Kaminari.” Aizawa said, a frown on his face. Todoroki wasn’t the type of student to lie about what he was doing; Aizawa didn’t even think the boy was capable of doing so in the first place. He was far too blunt about whatever was going through his mind. Aizawa sighed. “Leave Todoroki with me. There might be something going on.”

“Alright. Do let me know if he wants to continue working with me, I’m happy to restart whenever he’s ready.” Hound Dog said. “Will you let him go home?”

“He’s the one student that hasn’t requested to go home.” Aizawa answered. “Same with Bakugo, but I’m going to talk to him about that when I go check on everyone.”

“Well, that looks like everyone. From the way you made it sound in your email, I thought this was going to take all day.”

Aizawa rolled his eyes, standing from the chair. “That’s because I thought more of my students were in long-term counselling. But clearly, I was wrong.”

“That’s a good thing, Eraser. It means your students are learning to cope with what happens to them. Many of them still come by, even if we don’t have regular sessions anymore.” Hound Dog smiled at him, somehow soothing despite how terrifying it looked. “Is that all you need me for?”

Aizawa went to nod when a particular third-year crossed his mind. “Actually, just one more person. Amajiki Tamaki.”

“The third year? He’s not one of your students.”

“I know. But I helped him through an anxiety attack a couple of months ago, so I just wanted to know how he’s doing.” Aizawa explained.

Hound Dog looked thoughtful, and after a minute, began to speak. “Amajiki’s alright. I’ve been seeing him since he was a first-year so I’m well acquainted with his mental state. He tends to bounce up and down, but he always comes to me before it gets worse.”

“Thank you. I won’t keep you from your work any longer.” Aizawa gave a polite bow to the counsellor, who simply waved at him, before leaving the room, making sure to shut the office door behind him. As he entered the hallway though, he made sure that that door remained open.

Now began the fun part; tracking down his students to check in on them.

Aizawa found he’d rather eat his scarf than do that.

Aizawa decided to start with Todoroki, since there were only a few places that the boy could actually be; although he did send emails out to the other student’s he wanted to talk to let them know to keep a lookout for him. Once the emails were sent, he put his phone away and began to hunt Todoroki down. He was going to get to the bottom of why the boy had stopped going to his counselling sessions and then lied about it.

It didn’t take him long to find Todoroki, for the boy was in the common room of the dorms, quietly studying with Midoriya and Iida at the coffee table, while Tokoyami and Ojiro watching some sort of show together. It was hard to tell with the television muted, but there wasn’t much else that his students watched other than documentaries, and whatever this was, it wasn’t a documentary.

“Todoroki.” He called out, watching as the entire common room descended into silence, several heads swivelling to stare at the boy in question. Todoroki met his eyes with his usual blank expression, although Aizawa could see through the blankness straight to the uneasiness the boy was hiding. “Come with me, please.”

He waited for the boy to climb to his feet before making his way out of the dorms where they’d be able to get some privacy. Normally, he’d meet with the students in their own rooms, but he recalled that Todoroki’s room was styled traditionally, meaning the kid didn’t have a chair and bed they could hold a conversation from. It was for this reason, that he led Todoroki towards one of the benches outside the dorms. He gestured for Todoroki to sit, watching as the kid did so. It appeared that Todoroki had realized this was going to be a serious conversation, for the boy sat ramrod straight, fists clenched and just looking rather stiff in general.

Aizawa crouched in front of his student so that Todoroki was above him. “You aren’t in trouble, Todoroki.”

“If I’m not in trouble, then why did you want to speak with me?” Todoroki retorted, looking very uncomfortable with the situation.

“Because I’ve just spoken with Hound Dog, and he tells me you’ve stopped seeing him.” Aizawa said, doing his best to maintain a calm expression, even though he wanted nothing more than to frown. It wouldn’t have been a frown for Todoroki to worry about, but the boy already struggled with emotions, he didn’t want to make it worse by making Todoroki think he was mad; especially since the moment the words had left his mouth, Todoroki had paled. “Not only that, but Hound Dog told me that you’d told him you were going to do sessions with me. And that isn’t something we’ve discussed.”

Todoroki dropped his gaze, moving his hands to sit between his knees. Todoroki shrugged.

“That’s not an answer kid.” Aizawa sighed. “I sent you to Hound Dog because it was something you needed. So why did you stop?”

“I don’t know.” Todoroki’s voice was so quiet, Aizawa had to strain to hear it. “I just didn’t need them anymore.”

“That’s for Hound Dog and myself to decide, not you.” Aizawa said. “If you thought the sessions weren’t helping, then you should’ve come to me about it and we could’ve worked through it. It’s not good to just stop suddenly without warning.”

Todoroki huffed, the first display of actual emotion that wasn’t discomfort. “I’m fine. I don’t see what the problem is.”

“The problem is, Todoroki, that you are not fine—”

“I am.”

“Don’t interrupt me.” Aizawa allowed a small frown to adorn his face. Todoroki flinched away from him, and the guilt rose within him. “Todoroki. Someone told me about what you said at the sports festival. About your home life.”

The reaction was instant. Flames flickered to life on Todoroki’s left side, and frost coated his right just as quick, as panic flitted across Todoroki’s face. Aizawa, just as quick, activated his quirk to prevent an accident, and reached out to rest his hands against Todoroki’s knees, gently coaxing the boy to release the white-knuckling grip he had on them. “Breathe kid, I’ve suspected your home life wasn’t great since I first met you. Just because someone told me it was true doesn’t mean I see you any differently.”

Todoroki took a shaky breath, eyes wide and slightly glazed over. It was a worrying look to witness on his student, that further confirmed Todoroki needed the counselling sessions that he’d stopped going to. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not. What happened to you and your family was wrong, Todoroki, and anyone who ever ignored what was happening behind closed doors is just as bad as the villains you apprehend.” Aizawa soothed.

Todoroki was silent, pondering over Aizawa’s words carefully. After several minutes of prolonged silence, Todoroki spoke. “You’re the first person to actually care.”

Aizawa’s heart clenched. He truly wished that time travel existed in that moment so he could go back in time and beat the absolute shit out of Endeavour for putting his family through what he’d heard. But he knew it wouldn’t do any good. He’d watched as Todoroki supported his father in the High End battle, and watched him come to accept the fire side of himself. The Todoroki family was starting to heal in its own way, and even though he wanted nothing more than to keep Todoroki away from his father, it was ultimately Todoroki’s decision in the end. So if Todoroki wanted to try and have a better relationship with his father, he would quietly support his student in his endeavour. “You should’ve had more than one person care about your situation, Todoroki, and I’m sorry no one took the time to help you and your siblings when you needed it most.”

Todoroki hummed, but didn’t say anything more.

That was okay, Aizawa had more to say. “And that is why I got you to start meeting with Hound Dog, so that you could try and get yourself the help you needed.”

“Hound Dog-sensei doesn’t understand.” Todoroki tried to argue.

“Then meet with me instead. You wouldn’t be the first of your classmates to do so.” Aizawa countered.

“Can I think on it?”

I’d rather get an answer now. Aizawa thought, but he kept the words to himself. They would just make Todoroki less inclined to seek him out. “Alright. But it’s either Hound Dog or myself, Todoroki. Okay?”

Todoroki sighed, sounding rather unhappy with his options. “Okay, Sensei.”

“Good, kid. You can go back to your classmates now.” Aizawa stood, shoving his hands into his pockets and tilting his head towards the dorm, watching as Todoroki stared at him, slowly climbing to his feet before rushing back into the dorm, the door closing quietly behind him.

One student down, a few more to go.

The next student he was going to track down was Kirishima. Ideally, he had wanted to talk to Kirishima first, but since he’d managed to find Todoroki first, it had made sense to do the dual-quirked boy first. But now he could track Kirishima down. Which shouldn’t be too hard since the boy was still out of school because of the traumatic incident he’d been through only a month ago. An incident that had pretty much left Kirishima a broken shell of his former self.

Aizawa had an idea of where Kirishima might be; since the boy was out of school for the time being, Kirishima hadn’t really been up to leaving the dorms, spending most of his time in his room with at least one of his friends with him. Aizawa was really proud of how Kirishima’s friends had stepped up to become a crutch for their friend; working together to make sure that Kirishima hadn’t been alone in the early days of the incident. And while Aizawa wished they didn’t miss school, but he wasn’t going to stop them when they were doing the very things they’d been taught to do.

So, Aizawa trekked up the stairs to the fourth floor, walking the familiar path to the redhead’s room, and gently knocking on the door. He could hear what sounded like Bakugo in the room—which honestly, wasn’t hard to do considering just how loud the boy was—and he could also hear some other voices that immediately silenced once he’d knocked. The door squeaked open just a crack, a red eye peering at him through it. Aizawa wasn’t surprised; Bakugo could deny all he wanted that he wasn’t friends with his classmates, but it was actions like these that proved just how much he cared for them.

“What do you want?” Bakugo snapped, opening the door a little wider.

“I’m here to talk to Kirishima. And you as well, but Kirishima first.”

“Ugh, fuck, it’s check in already?” Bakugo sighed, not giving Aizawa the chance to respond before shouting over his shoulder. “Oi, you dumb fucks, we gotta leave for a bit.”

“Watch it, you sound like you actually like us.” Kaminari joked, squeezing past the angry blonde and skedaddling off down the hallway, waving at Aizawa over his shoulder.

“Shut up!” Bakugo screeched, throwing the door open entirely in his anger.

Jiro merely rolled her eyes as she left the room, although she paused to talk to Aizawa. “What’s check in time, Sensei?”

Just as soon as Aizawa had the words ready to go, Bakugo beat him to it. “It’s when Sensei fucking checks in with all the therapy kids. It’s annoying as hell.”

“Bakugo is correct.” Aizawa sighed. “School holidays are coming up and many of you wish to go home. Hound Dog and I work through it all to see if that’s a possibility for everyone.”

“Oh.” Jiro frowned. “Will you need to speak with me then?”

“No, you’ll be fine, Jiro. It’s more for the students who’ve been in counselling for some time now.” Aizawa reassured the girl, who gave him a nod and continued on down the hall, Sero following a moment later. “Ashido, out.”

The pink girl puffed her cheeks out at him. “Sorry, Kiri!” The girl apologized to her redheaded friend, patting him on the shoulder before leaving the room. Aizawa turned his eyes onto Bakugo, staring at the boy until Bakugo huffed and stormed back to his room, the door slamming behind him. Now it was just him and Kirishima.

Kirishima, who was staring at him like he was a court judge about to hand down a life sentence. And honestly, Aizawa couldn’t see how this conversation could go well at all. Kirishima’s eyes drifted down to stare at his bed. “I’m not going home, am I?”

“I’m afraid not.” Aizawa crossed the room and perched himself on the bed beside his student. “Hound Dog and I discussed it and we don’t believe sending you home is the best option right now. He was concerned with how you were progressing in your counselling sessions.”

Tears welled up in Kirishima’s eyes. “I’m trying! I want to get better, Sensei, but it’s hard!”

“I know, kid. No one said recovery was easy, and any progress is good progress.” Aizawa soothed. “And just because we can’t safely let you go home, doesn’t mean you can’t see your parents. If you’d like, I can reach out to them and arrange for them to come to UA and visit you here at the dorms.”

Kirishima perked up a little at his words, a little bit of hope adorning his face. “Really? You’d do that?”

“Of course. And you won’t be alone at the dorms either. Some of your classmates are staying on campus for the school break.”

Kirishima nodded, and a silence descended upon the room. Aizawa was surprised at how well Kirishima had taken his request being denied, but that was just what Kirishima was like. It had just been so long since he’d seen that side of his student, he’s forgotten what it was like. It was proof that Kirishima truly was recovering from his ordeal, even if it didn’t look like it at first.

Aizawa couldn’t help but ask. “Has Hound Dog spoken to you about speaking to someone else other than him?”

“Yeah…” Kirishima dropped his head again. “He asked me last time we spoke if I’d like to speak with an actual therapist.”

“And?”

“I told him I’d think about it. I’m supposed to give him an answer at my next session.” Kirishima shrugged. “I don’t know how to feel about it.”

“Why’s that?” Aizawa asked.

“I… dunno. I guess I’m just scared? Talking to Hound Dog about what happened is one thing, but a stranger I don’t know? What if they don’t think I can be a hero?”

“That’s not up to them to decide, Kirishima. They can certainly advise against it if it’ll be beneficial to your health, but they can’t make you not be a hero. That’s still your decision.”

Kirishima let out a breath, looking relieved. Aizawa had a feeling that his student had been feeling like he couldn’t become a hero for some time, and he mentally kicked himself for not noticing it until now. “Thanks, Aizawa-sensei. I’ll think on it, but I might accept Hound Dog’s offer.”

Aizawa sent Kirishima a small smile. “Whatever you decide Kirishima, know that I’m proud of you. And if you need anything, just let me know, okay?”

“Okay.”

Aizawa had stayed with Kirishima for a little longer after their conversation, just making sure that the boy wasn’t too upset about not going home. Kirishima had reassured him that while he hated not being able to go, he also understood why. Which was why, once he’d checked in with everyone, he was going to call Kirishima’s parents and arrange for them to come out, safety protocols be damned.

Thankfully, the next student he had to talk to was only next door to Kirishima, so once Aizawa had left Kirishima’s room, he walked the few steps to Bakugo’s room and knocked, listening as feet stomped up to the door, said door thrown open wildly. Aizawa didn’t even get a chance to speak before Bakugo growled at him. “I’m not going home, and we don’t need to fucking discuss it.”

“You can’t avoid this, Bakugo.” Aizawa sighed. This was what happened last time he’d come to check in with the explosive boy, and it had taken far too long to get Bakugo to even talk to him about how he was feeling. He only hoped this time was a little easier. “You’ve done these enough to know it’s more than determining if you can go home.”

“I’m fine. Less angry or whatever shit you want me to say. I apologized to fucking Deku as well, so you can get off my back about that.” Bakugo wasn’t shouting, but he certainly wasn’t whispering either; a feat Aizawa had never actually witnessed before.

“Bakugo. Can we please talk inside?” Aizawa insisted. “Cooperate and this talk will only be five minutes instead of the hour we took last time.”

“Ugh! Fucking fine!” Bakugo stepped aside, letting Aizawa into his room before slamming the door shut. “What do you need to know that you don’t already?”

Aizawa stayed where he was just by the entrance, not moving to sit like he had in Kirishima’s room. He had a feeling if he tried to do so, Bakugo would try to blast him—not that he’d let that happen of course. But it was best to avoid causing problems where they didn’t have to exist in the first place. “Well for starters, do your parents know you aren’t coming home this break?”

“Yes.”

“And how did they react to that?”

“The Hag got mad, what else did you expect her to do?” Bakugo huffed. “I told her I wouldn’t come home until she got her shit sorted out ‘cause I was tired of being screamed at. She got real quiet then and hung up on me.”

Well, that was progress. Anytime Aizawa had tried to talk to Bakugo about his homelife—especially after he’d had to collect his student from his home that one time—the boy only redirected to something else. And if Aizawa tried to press the issue, Bakugo would just get mad and refuse to cooperate for the rest of the session. This was the first time he was willingly talking about it.

“That’s good. I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself.” Aizawa said. “Do I need to expect a phone call from your mother then at some point?”

“Maybe, I dunno. You’ll probably get one from Auntie Inko first.”

Aizawa nodded. He always forgot how close Bakugo and Midoriya used to be; only being reminded whenever Bakugo mentioned his relationship to the latter’s mother. “Alright, I’ll keep a lookout. You said you apologized to Midoriya? When was this?”

“After our last session, idiot, when else? Deku fucking cried a lot and said he forgave me, the stupid idiot.” Bakugo refused to meet his eyes, but Aizawa had been a teacher for far too long to not notice the wet sheen of unshed tears on Bakugo’s own eyes. He had a feeling that there was more to the apology than Bakugo was telling him, but he wasn’t going to press. That could wait until their next actual session.

“Good. You’ve made a lot of progress over the year, Bakugo, and I’m very proud of you for it.” Aizawa was proud of Bakugo; the boy had come to him an angry young man with a lot of hidden problems, but he’d responded well to Aizawa trying to work through them with him—even if they ended up hitting a brick wall more often than not.

“Great, thanks. Are we done now?” The usual faint blush that came whenever Bakugo received praise that he didn’t know what to do with, appeared on the boy’s cheeks and he kicked at the flooring of his room.

Aizawa couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Yes, we’re done now. Enjoy the rest of your day, Bakugo.”

“Yeah, yeah, get the fuck out of my room already, old man!”

The final student that Aizawa had to talk to was Uraraka, so that he could let the girl know that she’d be able to go home, but also to check on how she was doing. The only problem was finding Uraraka. He hadn’t seen her in the dorm with the rest of her usual friend group, which probably meant that she wasn’t in the dorm. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen the other girls minus Jiro, so he wagered that Uraraka must be with them. Aizawa walked back down to the ground floor, glancing around the room once more to see if his missing student was there; which she was not. He turned his attention towards the small group he’d interrupted earlier. “Have any of you seen Uraraka?”

Midoriya looked up at him with wide eyes, a thoughtful expression on the boy’s face. “I think she mentioned something about going to Gamma, Sensei.”

Gamma? Whatever for? Aizawa frowned. “Is she with anyone else?”

“I believe that Yaoyorozu and Hagakure went with her, Sensei!” Iida exclaimed, looking very much like steam was about to come out his ears from thinking too hard. Aizawa was surprised that it hadn’t yet happened.

“Thank you, Iida, Midoriya.” Aizawa quickly let his students be, making the trek over towards Gym Gamma. He had no idea what his students were even doing at the gym, especially since they hadn’t asked him for permission to be there; something he’d insisted on since the incident a few weeks ago. But as the building appeared in his line of sight, he found he needn’t have worried in the first place, because the girls were simply outside the building, doing what looked like yoga. Or some weird form of it at least. For his own sanity, Aizawa decided to just think of them stretching.

“Uraraka.” He called upon approach. Aizawa spotted Jiro with them; the girl must’ve told Uraraka what he was doing, for Uraraka just called back to him.

“Just a second, Aizawa-sensei!”

Aizawa waited while the girls finished up their stretches, leaning against a tree and studying the ground. He looked up as he heard footsteps approach, Uraraka coming to a stop with a smile on her face. “Is this about my sessions with Hound Dog?”

“Partly.” Aizawa said. “You made a request to go home for a week during the break, and to do that, Hound Dog and I had to discuss whether or not it would be beneficial or harmful for you to do so.”

“Oh.” Uraraka’s expression dropped. “I can’t go home then?”

Aizawa raised an eyebrow, but not before throwing a quick glance at Jiro. He’d have to have a word with his students about saying things to specific people before he’d even had a chance to talk to the person about it. “Actually, Hound Dog thinks you going home would be helpful in your recovery, so yes, Uraraka, you will be allowed to return home for the break.”

“Really?” Uraraka’s smile was like the sun had been placed right in front of him; it was that bright. “Oh my god, thank you, Sensei! Even after my breakdown I can still go?”

“Yes. Hound Dog will probably want to talk to you about it before you do go home, but he gave you the all clear.” Aizawa said. “I do want to express, however, that if being at home is hurting you more than helping, then please come back to the dorm.”

“I understand, Sensei.” Uraraka nodded, hesitating for a moment before throwing her arms around his waist. Aizawa blinked at the unexpected hug, but allowed his student to continue until she finally pulled away, running back towards her classmates without a word, shouting excitedly about what she was going to do at home. Aizawa couldn’t help but smile at the sight. It sucked that some of his best students were in counselling so early in their lives, but he was also proud of them for taking the measures necessary to help themselves from falling into a pit of darkness. Too many heroes at been lost to such an ailment, and he would do everything he could to prevent any of his kids from following suit. It may not work for them all in the end, but for now, it was working, and that was the main thing.

#mha fanfic #bnha fanfic #aizawa shouta #dadzawa #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #therapy #hurt/comfort #mha #bnha #fanfic #writing

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finding-hope-strength-courage · 2 years

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🌺 Hope Strength Courage Blog 🌺 - 19/07/2022 (Updated 28/03/2024)

💻 About Me and This Blog

👉🏻 I feel happier keeping my name anonymous. 👤

👉🏻 I am 32 years old. 🎂

👉🏻 I am married to my Husband. We’ve been married for 5 years and together for 15 years. 💍

👉🏻 I am a Mum to our 4 year old Daughter. 🤱🏻

💡 I started this blog at Christmas in 2020 due to how I was feeling in relation to my Mental Health and The Pandemic.

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💔 Bereavement, Grief and Loss

🩷 A bit of background about me is that my Mum died in 1998 when I was 6 years old due to both Physical and Mental Illness. She ultimately died from Anorexia as her body couldn’t manage any longer.

💙 I lived with my Granny mostly as a Baby and Young Child as my Mum was in and out of hospital and my Dad worked. She brought me up and was in nearly every way my Mum. Sadly she died in 2002, when I was 11 after a very short battle with Breast Cancer.

❤️ By this time I was living at home with My Dad and Step-Mum. My Mum and Dad had separated when I was around 5 years old and he remarried in 2002 when I was 10. My Dad sadly died in 2011, when I was 19, very suddenly and unexpectedly, after suffering a Heart Attack.

This is a bit of background on my past with Grief and why I feel Bereavement, particularly in Childhood is something that should never be overlooked and young people need to be supported appropriately during these times. The loss of my parents at young ages has had a significant impact on me growing up.

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🧠 Mental Health and Illness

💭 I would say when I was about 12 or 13 I began struggling with emotions and my Mental Health, although I didn’t understand what it all meant at that time. I began feeling very negatively about myself.

By the time I was 14/15 (2006/2007) things became a lot of more challenging for me Mentally and Emotionally.

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🌼 Anxiety

🧠 I believe I experienced Anxiety a long time before I was actually diagnosed or had treatment for it. It has been a challenge since my teenage years and it is something I continue to work on daily.

I experience both Generalised Anxiety Disorder and Social Anxiety Disorder.

I also experience Health related Anxiety.

My Anxiety also manifests in OCD and this has been tough for me at times. My OCD is generally around Checking Compulsions - Appliances, Door Locks, Rereading my writing and Driving, amongst others.

After I became a New Mum at the end of 2019 and then during The Pandemic in 2020 and 2021, I developed Obsessions and Compulsions around - Germs, Illness and Cleanliness. I have since worked hard to manage these fears and compulsions better.

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💊 I was on medication for almost 5 years from the beginning of 2014 until the Autumn of 2018 for my Anxiety and OCD. (Propranolol and Citalopram). I came off my medication after speaking with a Doctor when it was right for me.

In July 2021 I went back on Propranolol and in December 2021 started taking Citalopram again. I took these for Anxiety and also some Depression I was experiencing at the time. Towards the start of 2023, after speaking with a doctor, I began reducing my medication and I am no longer taking any.

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🗣 I have also had counselling / therapy a number of times since the age of 16 which has been helpful at various points in my life and given me extra tools and support.

In September 2021 I began therapy again with a Private Psychologist and this helped me more than I could ever have hoped. I feel incredibly lucky to be in the position to have been able to access this treatment for my Mental Health. I finished my sessions with my Psychologist in July 2022.

In October 2023 I began Therapy again with a counsellor online and feel it is helping me and I’m making progress with myself again.

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🧡 **Trigger Warning. Topic of Self Harm.

I have a difficult and complicated history with Self-Harm. From the ages of about 11/12 up until I was 23 this was something I dealt with a lot and was my coping mechanism in many ways.

I was in recovery for this for 6 years from 2015-2021.

Unfortunately in 2021 (aged 29) I relapsed with my Self Harm and it was difficult working to gain control again. I am however, now making good progress with recovery again. I have not Self Harmed now for 2 Months 3 Weeks. I had a couple of relapses in June 2023 and 1 in March 2023.

Before that the last time was in August 2022. My progress has been possible with the support of my Psychologist, in 2021 and 2022. I learnt new tools and coping strategies to help me manage my emotions in healthier ways.

This part of my journey is something that is very difficult for me to talk about, mainly because of how misunderstood it still is and the judgements people make. I also do carry some shame and guilt about myself still - but I'm working on this. I have many scars which I continue to work hard to accept and feel less shame about.

I feel that it’s important to raise awareness around topics like this to help the stigmas that still surround these issues. I am also aware that discussion of topics like these can be triggering for many people so would always want to be careful in how I approached it.

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My Self Harm Recovery ❤️‍🩹 (I won’t write what the methods I’ve used are as I don’t want to trigger anyone but wanted to write my recovery down here for myself.

Method 1 - (Struggled with this the most as a teenager and young adult for around 8 years; 2007-2015)

Current Recovery - 8 Years 10 Months

Last Time - 05/05/2015

Started - Aged 14/15 (2006/2007)

Method 2 - (Struggled a lot with this between 2021-2022)

Current Recovery - 1 Year 7 Months

Last Time - 12/08/2022

Started - Aged 29 (September 2021)

Method 3 - (Less frequent)

Current Recovery - 9 Months

Last Time - 22/06/2023

Started - Aged 29 (July 2021)

Method 4 - (Experienced this mostly as a pre-teen; 11/12)

Current Recovery - 1 Year

Last Time - 09/03/2023

Started - Aged 11/12 (2003/2004)

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🧬 Personality

🧩 I believe I am a Highly Sensitive Person, an Introvert and from research I believe my personality type is INFJ.

I have experienced a lot of Low Self Esteem, feelings of Guilt and I Apologise a lot even when I don’t need to. I am a People Pleaser but this is an area I'm working hard to make progress with.

I have also experienced Depression at times due to things previously mentioned here. I continue to work on myself every day and look after my mind the best I can.

I also struggle with Attachments with people at times in life. I often become too attached and then I’m left feeling anxious and worried about being abandoned / fear of people leaving. I believe my Attachment Style is: Fearful Avoidant and I’m currently working to learn more about this.

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✏️ This Blog is like a Journal for me. Writing is how I feel I can express myself the best and I’ve written Diaries on and off for as long as I can remember but sometimes it can feel a bit lonely. Here I post my own thoughts and feelings about things as well as sharing others’ posts and information on topics I resonate with and want to raise more awareness about.

I find Quotes and Lyrics very powerful too and attach my own meanings to them. I love Photography, Psychology, Childhood Development and History.

✍🏻 I have written Poetry since I was a young teenager and still find it helps me to express myself.

My Instagram: finding_hope_strength_courage

My Threads: finding_hope_strength_courage

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🌼 I hope that if you find yourself reading this blog that something on here might help you in someway if you are going through things in your life.

🦋 This Is Me:

2008 - Aged 16

2012 - Aged 20

2022 - Aged 30

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