#but needing therapy because you have traumas you need to heal yourself from and needing therapy because of the shitty way you think

[lapelduide]

I'm sorry but how dumb can you be to claim Colin has no traumas? How dumb can you be to compare people's traumas?

Colin is not lacking character in any way. If anything, he has more depth! You were just not paying attention to his story! Hiding behind traumas for their wrong choices doesn't make Anthony or Simon full characters with depth.

People are constantly trying to underestimate Colin's traumas. They're acting like Anthony is the only one who lost a father. Acting like only toxic characters have traumas that make them that way and when Colin didn't let these traumas control him he's the shallow one when it's just he has the courage to get out of his comfort zone!

This man literally has never been taken seriously by his family, they don't even have the decency to just listen his travels because he love to share these with them, they don't respond to his letters when he's away, Anthony literally congratulated him for finally being a Rake! They be acting like he can't understand anything unless he fucks!

And it's just his family. Colin literally has been betrayed by the person he thought he loved and by the person he thought he has been loved back. Marina betrayed him not only by trying to use him but by doing it while not taking him seriously too. Yes, Colin proposed to Marina when he didn't even know her properly but again: he thought he loved her. He thought love was supposed to be this fast lightning that will shock him. He believed in love at first sight. And he believed love was enough. He thought Marina was the only person who took him seriously.

Until he found out she didn't.

Yes, Marina had her reasons to try and trap a man but do not even get me started of how much how she did it affected him. How insecure it made him. We literally watched his confidence fade more and more each season. He despised his actual self so much so he felt the need to put on a mask.

But of course a certain part of the audience is ignoring it. Why? Because how can he not let these traumas control him?! How can he take action before it was too late?! He must not have enough traumas!

Or maybe he has a strong enough character. Or maybe he's brave enough to be scared of doing a certain thing but he does it anyway because he's more scared of not having the outcome of it.

He loved Penelope. He didn't know if she loved him back. But he wanted her as his beloved and not just as his friend. It could cost him their friendship. It could cost him his dearest friend. It could cost him the only person who actually appreciated him.

But it also could gift him a life full of Penelope. A life with Penelope.

So he took the risk of losing everything and gathered the courage to confess.

And if you think that's shallow you need therapy for your own sake.

[dawnwriterimagines]

The Guilty Plea

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

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

Verdict Due (Part 4) Clear Skies (Part 5)

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

If you liked this would you Buy me a Coffee?

---

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

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

You couldn't recognize yourself. Not really.

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

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

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

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

"Vera?"

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

"Right..."

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

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

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

"I never meant to imply--"

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

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

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

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

"She doesn't exist anymore."

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

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

In more ways than one.

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

"Why should I care--"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was quite the headache to wakeup with afterwards.

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

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

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

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

You pass Kyle's room.

Johnny's.

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

It was Simon's.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They believed him.

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

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

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

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

"What--what..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Don't call again..."

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

"Me and your Aunt Cass..."

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

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

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

"Don't come to the house."

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

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

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

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

"Bonnie..."

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

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

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

You say nothing.

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

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

"It's been a week."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you need to. You really fucking do.

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

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

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

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

And so, throwing that knife was so fucking easy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Part 4!! OUT NOW

[genderqueerdykes]

What if using the pronouns for someone is a trigger for me? I've tried to work on it in the past with my therapist, but we made little progress on this particular issue in two years and I'm starting to run out of money for therapy. Should I just avoid people who use the pronouns?

no? do you understand how absolutely off the walls that is? that's literally NOT how you heal from trauma- this is the EXACT opposite of that. what, should trans people with she/her or he/him trauma avoid every single person they encounter who use he or she from here on out?

why are you even talking to me to begin with? i use it/its pronouns only.

alright FUCK THIS. not being overly nice for this one, this is absolutely vile and fucking personal at this stage. look i have very severe PTSD and i am sick and TIRED of people using their OWN trauma as an excuse to MISGENDER OTHER PEOPLE:

YOU ARE PERPETUATING THE CYCLE OF ABUSE WHETHER OR NOT YOU REALIZE IT.

you will NEVER have the excuse to refuse to properly gender someone because YOU have some type of trauma. that fucking sucks that you have trauma but that is NOBODY'S burden to bear but yours and NOBODY is misgendering YOU on purpose for it. you CAN and WILL get over triggers if you actually try. you have to put in a lot of effort. you have to understand that calling SOMEONE ELSE BY THEIR CORRECT PRONOUNS IS NOT YOU GETTING MISGENDERED.

YOU are NOT being misgendered by referring to someone else by their CORRECT pronouns. you HAVE to get the fuck over it and STOP making someone else's pronouns about yourself.

seriously, re-read this question and ask yourself is that even a remotely healthy sounding line of thinking? do you seriously think it's okay for men who have been abused by a lot of women to incorrectly refer to women and pathologically avoid them? do you seriously think it's okay for women who have been abused by a lot of men to misgender every man they come across and pathologically avoid men for the rest of their lives?

honestly, how hard have you even tried to work on this? be serious with yourself. you can say you worked on it, but have you? go the fuck back to therapy, you're not done yet. i don't know how to tell you GIVING UP is not the correct way to go about this. therapy can take years and DECADES you can't just INSTANTLY give the fuck up because it brings back upsetting memories. you HAVE to care about other people's feelings, you can't prioritize yourself in ever single situation on planet earth. you can't. trauma can and does make people do selfish, abusive, manipulative things. you are NOT incapable of abusing others just because you have trauma. you don't deserve to be coddled just because you have trauma.

if you can't see it/its users as people who deserve respect and deserve to be referred to correctly, you are projecting your own trauma about your own feelings on these pronouns on to complete and total fucking strangers and that is nobody's problem but yours. that needs to be worked on fucking ASAP. absolutely un-fucking-real. i'm a person and i hate it that you just do not see it/its users as people, but instead roadblocks, and that you don't care about our feelings whatsoever.

[queers-gambit]

Alpine

prompt: in an effort to help your boyfriend with his trauma, you rescue a furry feline together - a white cat named, Alpine - who rescues you both in return.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!Widow!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

word count: 6.9k+

note: been seeing a lot of Alpine recently and got inspired.

second note: no, it's not comic / canon compliant so just have fun. author did some research but there's not a LOT written / known about Alpine, so, again, just have fun!

warnings: post Endgame, pre tfaws; cursing, Lord's name in vain, small angst, mostly hurt and comfort, Nick Fury calling reader a bitch playfully, Bucky's trauma responses, small spoilers, Dr. Raynor / therapy.

other works with Widow!reader and Bucky NOT necessary to read

read here: Damage Done

"Are you angry with me?"

"No."

"Disappointed? Annoyed? Frustrated?"

"No, doll."

"Then why won't you talk to me!?"

"Nothing to say."

You wiped a hand down your face, lifting it only to pinch the bridge of your nose. Your head shook to shake away your thoughts, sniffling emotion, sighing when you dropped your hand to slap against your thigh. "I'm really trying here, Bucky, I swear to you, I am. But I can't help if you don't talk to me," you softened your voice, beginning to understand this was a losing battle.

"I never said I needed help."

"You never have to ask me for help, Bucky, I just give it because I want to! Because I love you! That's part of being in a relationship!"

"Maybe I don't want it!" Your boyfriend snapped, rounding on you with unfiltered emotion in his eyes. The horrors swam in his baby blues, vivid memories he was unable to escape haunting him, terrorizing him; creating a shell of a man who could no longer hide his avid pain. "Did you ever think about that? Ever consider that I don't want your help because I don't need it?"

"Everyone needs help sometimes, Buck."

"No, not everyone - I'm not one of your pet projects, you don't get to treat me like a broken thing that needs fixed! I certainly don't need your pity - not yours."

"I don't pity you! Fuck's sake, Bucky, I love you and want to see you heal. I know you better than anyone - "

"You don't," he sneered, cutting you off. "You don't know me, not really, not as well as Steve - "

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Steve isn't here! He's not coming back!" You snapped, instantly regretting it when Bucky's eyes coated with glassy emotion he fought vehemently to keep down. "I-I'm sorry, that was - that was really mean of me and totally out of line," you apologized, both sighing deeply. "All right, look, let's just talk this out, please."

"There's nothing to say."

Your hip cocked, arms crossing, "She called me, you know."

"Who?"

"Dr. Raynor."

"Fuck's sake," he growled. "Why would she do that?"

"Maybe because today's session was, apparently, supposed to be a couples session. She thought I was refusing, called to say I was impeding on your progress and if I want to help you, I'd have to show up to your appointments. Which is really funny because you never told me about today, so I had no idea what the hell she was talking about - but that didn't stop her from tearing me a new asshole!"

He frowned, avoiding your eyes. "I didn't need a couples session. Not today, I just - I wanted today to focus on other shit."

"And I can respect that, but you're not doing yourself any favors by hiding shit from me. To get the best results from therapy, you have to actually do the work, and not just do what Dr. Raynor says, but actually listen to her advice - "

"I don't need you on my back about this, Raynor does that enough for you both," Bucky growled. "I do the fucking work - I'm the one in that room, I'm the one applying silly little rules to my life - "

"Obviously not if you didn't even tell me Raynor requested my attendance! You should've told me, and then you should've said you weren't ready! I would've respected that, but I can't do a Goddamn thing if you don't talk to me!"

His jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth, skin twitching and distinct muscles tightening. "Like I said, there's nothing to talk about," he practically spat, shaking his head at you before grabbing his sneakers from the closet.

You didn't mean to sound harsh, but demanded, "Where are you going? We're in the middle of a conversation."

"No, we're not, 'cause I'm ending it," he scoffed, sitting on the corner of your shared mattress, exchanged his shoes. "And I'm going for a run, need to clear my head."

You shook your head before leaving the bedroom, "Absolutely unbelievable."

Bucky left your shared apartment a few minutes later, somewhere you've only lived five months - the time it's been since Tony Stark, Iron Man, snapped the other half of living beings back into existence. He lost his life in return, the ultimate sacrifice, but he managed to reverse the damage Thanos created five years prior. Five months of living in this apartment without a lick of warmth, personal touch, or real sentiment; it being dreary, dark, and mostly empty. Hell, Bucky didn't even feel comfortable in bed, so he camped in the barren living room, giving visual to the way your relationship was beginning to fray, unravel, crack.

He didn't want anything personal in your apartment - thinking it was ridiculous to settle down after all you two have endured, witnessed, and fought for. You agreed to keep things at the bare minimum, only stocking what was necessary, knowing this was part of his healing process and didn't want to drum-up further anxiety. It made everything impersonal, boring, bland, and down right depressing - but it was a small accommodation you could provide your lover.

You hated the distance. Hated how alone Bucky felt after Steve. Hated how reclusive he became, the anger he projected. Hated how no matter what you did, you weren't enough - not this time. For years, you've loved him despite his flaws, his brainwashing, his trauma responses, but whatever he was enduring now was something you weren't equipped to handle. Didn't mean you weren't willing to try, but Bucky was the one pushing you away; thinking his demons were his sole responsibility, never letting you be the pillar that helped support him. God, you hated the distance.

You left the apartment, too. Nick Fury had employed you for creative, solo, high profile missions; wanting to utilize your Widow training, especially now that Natasha Romanoff was deceased. And you wanna know what? Bucky hadn't even asked about her, never tried to offer comfort, only quietly attending the funeral service you hosted with the remaining Avengers to give her a proper sendoff - despite there being no body. Bucky knew you and Nat were as thick as thieves, family without blood, two lost souls who leaned on each other in trying times; bonded by trauma, encouraged by resounding bravery, disciplined by strength. The fact that your boyfriend never even checked in with you after Nat's passing obviously hurt your feelings but you remained silent.

Again, to avoid generating more anxiety for Bucky.

You met the one-eyed man at a local, bustling coffee shop, finding the sight of the hardened, burly man eating a scone amusing. "Got you one of these," he nudged a dessert plate to your side of the table when you sat down with your desired coffee, "know you like 'em."

"Blueberries are my favorite," you half-smirked, regarding the moist muffin and sighing sadly. "All right, sir, what's on the docket?"

He stared at you for a moment, chewing thoughtfully before leaning back in his chair. "The fuck's going on with you?" He asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You look different today."

"Mh," you nodded, joking, "got a hair cut."

"No, it's your aura. Something bothering you, kid?"

"You do realize I'm a fully grown adult, right?"

Nick shrugged, "I don't see age."

"You don't - nobody sees age, Nick, Jesus."

He took a sip of his green tea. "There's still something bothering you. Not sure if you should go on this mission if you're wound tight."

"I'm just dealing with shit at home."

"Oh, right, the cyborg. How is the hundred year old psycho?"

"You you want me to stab out your other eye? 'Cause I fucking will," you threatened with a fork clenched in your grasp, perking your brows up your forehead. "Say that shit again, see what the fuck I do, Nick, I absolutely dare you."

He chuckled, hands held in defense, "Sorry, sorry, that was uncalled for. What's wrong with Sergeant Barnes?"

You shrugged, "It's complicated."

"Bitch, aliens opening a wormhole in space and time to invade Earth is complicated - relationships aren't. Try me."

After an amused chuckle, you told him, "He's struggling right now. You know? After everything, it's been a lot for him and now that things are relatively back to normal, he's having a hard time trying to assimilate himself back into the populace. You know, learning to live in this day and age - a man out of time, outside his comfort zone, forced to adjust himself after living as a weapon of mass destruction for so long. Add in the fact that his best friend passed, marking another forceful adjustment he's unprepared for..."

"Hm," Nick nodded, "heard he's got a full pardon."

"He does."

"Which has a contingency he's gotta go to therapy, right? Part of rejoining society?"

You nodded, "Right, again."

"So he's in therapy and still struggling?"

"It's not like there's an on-off switch, Nick, therapy takes time and dedication. I just don't think he feels at peace, calm, in control - like he deserves any of this; the pardon especially. Think the stress, fear, and confusion is eating at him."

"Well, he's got you."

"I'm not his mother."

"No, you're his girlfriend, and it's a girlfriend's responsibility to support him, ain't it? Help him through this?"

"I can only do so much, Nick," you scoffed, "I'm just one person and he's a stubborn jackass - he just pushes me away. I'm sure I don't help the situation by accepting your contracts."

Fury considered your words for a long moment, then asked, "You said he's lonely?"

"Wouldn't you? Given his situation? He won't say, but I know losing Steve caused a part of him die."

Nick shrugged, "So get him a dog."

You never wouldn't guessed those words could ever pass Nick Fury's lips, head cocking, eyes narrowing, arms crossed over your chest. "I'm sorry, do what now?"

"It's obvious, ain't it? Dude needs company when you're gone, a sense of purpose, to feel like there was something - or someone - depending on him. Might help whatever limbo he's lingering in."

"A dog?"

"A dog. He can take it for walks or whatever."

You considered his recommendation, asking again, "A dog?"

"Do we need to get your hearing checked again? You lose the last functionality of your ears? Yes, a dog."

"I don't know..."

"It's just a suggestion, might promote his peace, help him process grief and guilt. Telling you, a dog would do him good. Now," he took another sip of tea, "onto business."

"You give me whiplash," you chuckled. "What's this job?"

"Simple and easy," he pulled up a tablet from the chair beside him, tapping it three times and handing it to you.

"None of your jobs are simple or easy, Nicky-Nick."

"I told you, don't call me that. Look, I just need you in London to investigate a string of potential terrorist activity. Just some recon, you won't be gone more than a few days - if you behave and stay on task."

You scanned the document, "When do I ever do that?" He chuckled briefly, you wondering, "Flagsmashers? Jesus, what a name. C'mon, you can't be serious. These guys are just radicals - you know, trying to vouch for those displaced after the Blip. It's actually kinda endearing, I mean, they're trying to give a microphone to those without a voice."

"They're escalating - too quickly," Fury informed. "They haven't raised any international flags yet, but something ain't right about them. I just need you as eyes and ears, maybe report if you think they're worth the worry."

Little did you know, in only about a month, you would join forces with Bucky and Sam Wilson - The Falcon - to dismantle the organization.

"When do I leave?"

"Tuesday would be ideal. But I can push it to Friday if you wanna go get that dog."

Your laughter was endearing, handing the tablet back over.

Bucky liked holding hands, though, he often wouldn't ever voice it. It made him feel tethered, anchored to reality; instilling a sense of pride to have such a gorgeous lady - such as yourself - at his side. However, the part he liked most, was being reminded he wasn't alone; even when on crowded, overpopulated streets, he didn't have to be afraid because with his hand in yours, he looked just like everyone else. You protected him even without intending to or without even knowing what you were doing.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," he sighed, people on the street sidestepping and avoiding running into you two. "I was upset, stressed out, you know how I get after seeing Raynor."

"It's okay, baby," you assured, ever the patient, loyal, and supportive girlfriend he needed. "I'm not holding it against you, but just promise me, when you're ready, you'll tell me."

He nodded, "I will - I mean, I promise." You hummed and pet his bicep with your other hand, giving his arm a hug. "Now are you gonna tell me where we're going?"

"I told you, it's a surprise."

He was ready to reply when a small commotion echoed from the alley you were passing, Bucky coming to a jarring halt that yanked on your arm, swinging you around. You were ready to ask what was happening when you clocked one of Bucky's "friends", an older man named Yori Nakajima, arguing with one of his neighbors.

"Hey, hey, Yori," Bucky intervened, you watching from the mouth of the alley, "woah, hey, what's going on?"

You couldn't hear whatever Yori was saying, but Bucky turned to the other man and growled something at him that made the neighbor scurry off. He glared at you, lip curled in a sneer, disappearing amongst patrons of the crowded sidewalk. You frowned and approached Yori and Bucky, your boyfriend still trying to calm his friend - well, 'friend' was a very generous term. See, Yori was the father of a young man that died by the hand of the Winter Soldier, being a name on Bucky's list he needed to make amends with.

However, when you took your place beside Bucky, Yori was waving you both off and shuffling down the alley, towards one of his apartment building's doors. "What was that all about?" You asked softly, taking note of the disgruntled expression your boyfriend usually wore these days.

"Just," he sighed, shaking his head, "Yori's upset with some of his neighbors - thinks they're encroaching on being disrespectful."

"When doesn't he?" Bucky sighed, you wondering softly, "You think you're ever gonna feel ready to tell him?"

"I'm working on it," he sighed sadly. "All right, c'mon - "

You both paused with furrowed brows when there came a series of shrill meows from under a couple of soggy, cardboard boxes beside a dumpster. "Did you hear that?" You asked.

"Uh-huh."

Another elongated meow was heard, Bucky curiously approach the discarded trash coated in sewage sludge. He slowly squatted, you approaching his shoulder when another meow cried out. Now, normally, you'd never investigate animal noises out of fear they were feral and carrying disease, but something just felt sad about what you heard - apparently, to Bucky, too. Gingerly, he reached out and lifted a piece of dripping cardboard, seeing a bundle moving under the next piece. He moved that one, too.

"Oh, my God!" You cooed when a tiny kitten was revealed. White fur was stained with dirt, sludge, and other nasty juices; nose pink, eyes a piercing, clear blue with brownish tear stains rimming them. The kitten mewed in greeting, pacing a tight circle before trying to back up in the brick wall; hunching its back and hissing slightly when you lowered yourself into a squat beside Bucky. "Baby, it's all alone, should we help?" You pouted.

"I don't think it wants our help, doll," he sighed. "It looks scared of us. Bet the mother's around somewhere, be a shame to move it if she's coming back."

"It looks too skinny, maybe it's alone?"

"Or maybe it's not," Buck countered. "C'mon, sugar, we can't take it."

After a bit of back and forth, you finally relented and had to walk away. You frowned for at least two blocks, but upon your halt at a crosswalk, you were greeted by another shrieking meow. Whipping around, you and Buck both looked down to discover the wee little kitten had followed you and was practically yelling for your attention. You grinned.

"Well, now we really have to help it," you told Bucky.

"How?"

"We take it to a shelter," you answered, shrugging, "good thing I know where one is."

"What's it doing?" Bucky asked nervously, the kitten dancing around your legs; brushing up against you both, meowing the whole time.

"I think she wants you to pick her up," you smirked.

He sighed and stooped to scoop the little creature in hand, regarding it carefully; weighing it, checking paws and other vulnerable spots. Bucky muttered, "All right, yeah, fine, let's take him to a shelter. Little beast needs some food it feels like, definitely a flea bath and some fresh water."

"You big softie."

"Lead the way to the shelter, princess, c'mon," he ignored your jab, tucking the kitten into his chest protectively. "He feels fragile," Bucky worried, "maybe you should carry him, I might crush him."

"You've got the little babe, Buck," you assured, "you're not gonna hurt him - I mean, if it's even a him."

"By the attitude, could be a girl," he joked, making your heart lighten. He'd been in such a funk that you missed his teasing, soft words; the little jokes he cracked, his smile - God, you missed seeing his smile. During your time on the run after DC, while seeking refuge in Bucharest for a couple years, you grew accustomed to seeing his radiant smile; remembering how easily he offered it when just the two of you. For a moment, you considered how your relationship was no longer just you and Bucky - but his trauma, too.

Arriving at the shelter, it was like an assault on the senses. Dogs were heard barking from the kennels, the pungent smell of urine and wood chips smacking you in the face, and a sort of humidity lingering in the air - a sharp contrast to the crisp outside.

"Hi," you greeted the receptionist, offering a kind smile.

"Hi, there. How can I help you two?" The man with long hair asked.

"Well, uh, two things," you explained, "one: we'd like to tour your kennels, we're interested in adopting a dog - "

"We are?" Bucky gaped.

" - and two: we found this little fella in an alley," you pointed to the kitten curled protectively against Bucky's warmth. "We wanted to make sure he was okay, maybe leave him here for adoption?"

"Oh," Man Bun blinked, regarding both Bucky and the kitten, "wow, uh, yeah, that's really nice of you guys, rescuing the little guy. You know, since everyone came back few months ago, there's be an influx of strays. A lot of people gave up their animals when their loved ones came back."

"Well, that's super fucked up," your eyes rolled.

"Tell me about it," he sighed. "Look, I'd love to help you guys out, so, tell you what. I can let you back in the kennels - no problem! Help match you to your new companion, but, uh... I don't think I can help you with the cat. You see, we, uh, we've had to start euthanizing the overflow animals or the ones who don't get adopted in a timeframe. We're at our max capacity, so... If you wanna leave him here, uh, I can't promise he'll have a place."

"You'd put him down?" Bucky growled.

"It's not what we want to do," Man Bun swiftly explained, "but it's just necessary - we don't have the room or resources to take him."

"Do you know of any no-kill shelters? Maybe one that has room?" You asked, feeling Bucky's disgust rolling off him in waves.

"Not in the area," Man Bun frowned. "Honestly? I think the closest no-kill shelter's in Maryland. Maybe Virginia?"

"Jesus," you frowned, looking at Bucky.

"Look, my best advice?" Man Bun offered, "Take the little tike home, clean him up, and call around to other shelters to see if they have space. But if you intend to adopt a dog, maybe bringing back a kitten isn't the best timing. If you give him up to us, he'll probably be sent directly to overflow..."

"We'll take him home," Bucky instantly decided, shocking you.

"We will?" You asked softly, lips curling in a small smile.

"Why not?" He sighed.

"I would've thought you'd be more of a dog person..."

"I'm not an animal person, but we're not leaving this little guy here just for him to be euthanized. We can handle him for a few days, you know, until we find a shelter with room."

"I think that's a great idea," you grinned.

"But was this your plan? For us to adopt a dog?"

"Well, yeah..."

"Why?"

You shrugged, "Just thought a dog would be nice company when I'm outta town for work. You know, could go on walks or runs together, you'd have someone looking out for you, maybe a dog would help with your stress levels?"

He eyed you for a moment, sighing, "I appreciate that, doll. Maybe another time, though? At least let us find somewhere or someone to take this guy."

The kitten gave a prolonged squeak - seemingly agreeing. "All right, noisy, we hear you," you chuckled, giving the kitten's head a scratch. You asked Man Bun, "Do you guys have the means to check him over, you know, before we go home? Make sure he's not injured or something?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "let me go get one of the technicians."

After the tech's exam, you were given the paperwork from that day's visit, the name, number, and address of a recommended vet, and before you knew it, found yourselves at the local pet store. You would've been ashamed by the absurd amount of money you spent, but Bucky rationalized the need because you weren't sure how long your new companion would stay with you. So, you ransacked the store, buying a sizable litter box, 50 pounds of actual litter, a bag of kibble, case of wet food, several different treats, a balm for the baby's feet, too many toys and stimulation activities, a carrying case in the event of transporting the kitten, and a tiny collar - if you decided to keep the little noise machine.

The sight of Bucky with the little fuzz ball warmed your heart. He still seemed hesitant and stiff, as if afraid to hurt the kitten, but he wasn't so tense anymore. However, he handed the pet over for you to hold while he carried the supplies back home; biceps bulging to support the weight. In that moment, walking familiar streets with his arms full of cat supplies, he questioned how he got here - to feel all domestic and out-of-place. He was Bucky Barnes - a Sargent in the Army, prolific hitman, something of an Avenger now. He didn't adopt cats and buy toys!

However, watching you talk to the kitten softly, he smiled - something small at first that grew like a germinating seed to split his face. You seemed so... Bright, excited, rejuvenated, even. He knew the past five months since the Blip had been rough on you, what with losing Natasha, fighting Thanos and his army of aliens, then ricocheting into 'normal life' only to deal with his emotional baggage. Watching you walk down the street with a fuzzy white ball of energy, pointing out different things, cooing and narrating the city to the kitten as if he could understand was refreshing after seemingly seeing nothing but a frown on your lips recently.

To Bucky, as long as you were happy, he was happy - and it seemed you were very content with your new little buddy. So, he was happy with your new little buddy and figured a dose of domestic life wasn't the end of the world. In fact, he actually felt... Intrigued by the newest addition to your little family.

When you returned home, it was to an empty apartment. Bucky dropped the supplies in the living room, hands to his hips, looking around, "Well, uh... At least there's room to run around, right?"

You nodded, "And no risk of ruined furniture."

"Yeah," he sighed, watching you set the kitten down. "All right, pip squeak. C'mon, lemme give you the tour - pay attention. So, in here," he moved around the wall, kitten following and listening intently, labeling, "this is the kitchen, this is where you'll get your meals - and no, you're not allowed on the counters." He pointed a warning finger, "Don't let me catch you up there or there's gonna be hell to pay. I don't wanna find your hair in my morning bagel."

"Buck, you don't eat breakfast."

"Fine, then I don't wanna hear my girl found hair in her bagel."

The kitten mewed loudly, trotting to keep up as Bucky walked around the barren apartment - giving a literal tour. You unpacked the supplies, setting up a raised food bowl beside a full water bowl. You left the treats in an empty cupboard, the litter box ready to use in the bathroom, and tossed some toys around the open, empty living room floor. You meandered, stashing other supplies, hearing the scampering thuds of excited little feet.

When your head popped out of the kitchen, you grinned at what you saw. Bucky was sat on the floor, flicking a feathered stick over the hardwood floors for the kitten to race around and try to catch. The longer you watched, the more defenseless Bucky seemed, and dare you say it, he looked calm - maybe even happy. His eyes were locked on the animal's antics as if he didn't want to miss a single movement he made; small smile making him look younger and brighter.

You made a mental note to thank Nick Fury for his suggestion. Sure, he actually said to get a dog, but this kitten seemed to have the same effect.

"Hey, baby?" You called, hanging up your phone after calling the recommended vet. "So, uh... Listen, you know how I have to go outta town on Friday?"

"Yeah?" He glanced up, letting the kitten wrestle his booted foot.

"So, I managed to get a vet appointment but it's for Friday. Is that okay? Or do you want me to reschedule for when I'm back so we can go together?"

"Oh, uh, no, that's all right, sugar, keep the Friday slot. I can take him, it's not a big deal."

"You sure? I hate having to saddle you with this responsibility."

"I'm sure," he nodded, "I can take him, it's okay."

For the rest of the week, you had a front row viewing of an incredible bond being formed. The kitten liked you, you two had many moments together, but it was obvious the little guy adored Bucky. He was stuck to your boyfriend like Velcro, following him everywhere, shrieking for attention when Bucky was preoccupied, liked being held when he cooked, even tried to get in the shower with Bucky. They played together, Bucky's laugh warming the entire apartment; positively obsessed with one another, the little guy even sleeping between you and Bucky.

It was as if you both forgot to look for the kitten a permanent home, the lack of furniture providing wide space for play and entertainment. Bucky even got one of those cat trees, couple individual scratching posts, and a laser pointer that drove your furry friend up the wall. There was some unspoken rule about naming animals - where if you named them, they were yours officially. So, one evening over dinner, you proposed a few names, Bucky giving his opinion; but then you began to consider "theme" names. Because your little buddy was white, you mused over names like Noelle or Snow, but finally settled on Alpine after narrowly beating out Aspen.

The day you flew to London, you warned both Bucky and kitten to behave themselves. Later that night, while you were sat in a tinted SUV for surveillance, your phone rang with Bucky's contact. "Hey, baby, how's it going?" You answered, refocusing through your advanced camera lens to snap necessary photos.

"Good, yeah. Uh, how's London?"

"Pretty dreary, it's been raining all day. Hey, how was the vet appointment?"

'Oh, yeah, no, it was, uh, yeah, it was good. Gave Alpine a buncha shots, microchipped her, started her on antibiotics - "

"Did you say, 'her'?"

"Yeah, that was the other thing - turns out, Alpine's a girl."

You chuckled, "Well, I'll be damned. How're you feelin', Buck?"

"I'm... Okay."

"I'm sorry I'm not there," you sighed. "Nightmares again?"

"Yeah."

"Sleeping in the living room?"

"You know it."

"TV on?"

"Reminds me I'm not where I dreamt I am."

"Well, I'll be home in a few days."

"What's this mission?"

"Just a little recon, I'm only to observe. Nicky told me to keep an eye on some suspicious activity."

"Don't tell me you're sitting in a white van?"

"No, sir, it's a Rolls Royce this time," you chuckled.

True to your word, you were home by Tuesday night. The transatlantic flight was long and tedious; a storm creating steady turbulence, making it absolutely impossible to get any shut eye. When you landed, you made a beeline to the Starbucks and got the largest coffee possible with an added 2 shots of espresso before exiting the bustling airport. Outside, waiting at the curb, Nick Fury himself stood before a sleek and shiny car that probably cost more than a 4-year education at an American university.

He smirked, "Welcome back, kid."

"Nice of you to pick me up, Nicky-Nick."

"Don't call me that."

"Don't call me 'kid'."

"Get in the Goddamn car, I'm not having this argument again."

After storing your luggage, Nick drove you back home while listening to your mission report. You didn't think the Flagsmashers were extreme enough to warrant intervention, but all Nick heard was that now was the time to strike before there came the need, before a chance for escalation could occur. You left the tablet full of notes, observations, photos, and data with the one-eyed man, and before you fully departed the car, paused to lean in the open window.

"Hey, uh, I've been meaning to thank you."

"What for?" Nick asked, face hardened in a permanent look of disagreement. You never took it personally - Nick Fury having professional Resting Bitch Face (RBF).

"Your advice about getting Bucky a dog."

"No shit," he chuckled, "you actually got him a dog?"

"Uh, well, no..."

"What'd you get?" Nick asked in suspicion, watching your lips roll between your teeth to restrain your smile. "Ah, hell no! You didn't! A cat? A fucking cat?"

"I know you don't like them - "

"Bitch! One scratched out my eye!"

"But our cat didn't."

"Doesn't matter - fuck all them felines."

You laughed and slapped the metal door, "Well, thank you anyway for the idea of a companion animal. Bucky's a lot calmer it seems."

Nick Fury sighed, waving you off like a pesky insect. "I'll call you when I got another job. Have fun with the little demon."

"You talkin' about Bucky or Alpine?"

"The cat - wait, Alpine? The fuck kinda name is that?"

"You know, Alpine... Like the Alps?"

His head shook, "I know what fuckin' alpine is."

"Why don't you head off - looks like you're gonna give yourself a stroke. Didn't realize getting a kitten would stress you out this bad."

"Get out my Goddamn window and I can leave."

You grinned and dropped a wink, again, patting the car and stepping back onto the sidewalk. Nick peeled off, leaving you alone to shoulder your duffel bag and head inside your apartment building. When you got to your desired location, the door opened without the usual creak, Bucky obviously WD-40'ing the hinges. "Hello?" You called softly, hanging your keys on the little peg in the foyer, toeing out of your shoes, glancing around the empty apartment.

Ready to call out again, you actually almost choked on air when you inhaled but stopped abruptly. You pouted your bottom lip at the sight of Bucky sound asleep in his nest on the floor, TV's lighting flashing and creating shadows, giving clear sight of Alpine curled in a tight ball on Buck's chest. His flesh hand was raised to rest on his chest, keeping Alpine cuddled to his warmth.

Quickly, you pulled your phone from your back pocket, snapping an adorable picture of your boyfriend before silently tiptoeing away to dispose of your duffel and purse. You sent the photo to Bucky's phone, positive you were keeping the kitten. After a long, hot shower that washed the travel from your body, you changed into loungewear, pulled your hair back, then reentered the living room where you knelt at Bucky's side. In-sync, your presence made both Alpine and Bucky flinch awake - your boyfriend jerking away from your warmth as the kitten hopped off his chest.

You winced, "Oh, shit, I'm so sorry, baby, I didn't mean to wake you."

His head shook, "No, it's all right, doll, I wasn't sleeping."

"You were, don't deny it," you grinned, settling on the mound of blankets.

Bucky chuckled gently, "I tried to stay up for you. C'mere," his arm opened in invitation, smirking gently. You settled down and turned into his side, his arm now coiled around your form, constricting to pull you closer so his lips could plant on your forehead. "How was London? Your mission?"

"Easy peasy," you sighed, "nothing too strenuous or stressful. The most 'complicated' part of the whole thing was using a different car each day to avoid suspicion."

"Hmm... Who was the target?"

"Some radical group," you sighed, head resting on his pectoral. "How was it? Just you and Alpine?"

"It was pretty good, nothing to complain about. She's nice company."

As if understanding she was the topic of conversation, Alpine mewed several times in a row as she walked up the seam of your body pressed to Bucky's. She turned in two circles before settling down between you; your grin authentic as a manicured fingernail extended to scratch her head.

"Actually, sweetheart, I've been thinking..."

"Hmm? About what?" You mumbled, eyes drooping with each passing second.

"About how we should keep her - Alpine, we should keep Alpine."

"You're just figuring that out now?" You teased, sluggishly lifting your head to smirk at him. "I knew she was ours the moment you picked her up. It'll be nice having her around, don't you think? I know she's not a dog you can take on walks but with Alpine, you don't have to be alone."

He nodded, "I like that idea. She's a good cat."

"Check your phone in the morning."

"Why?"

"Mmmh, I sent you a picture, you'll see - but it's just confirmation that Alpines part of us now, part of our crew."

"Our family," Bucky agreed softly. He watched you resettle on his chest, spending the following couple hours in the glow of the TV, watching you and Alpine. Bucky's heart warmed to a degree he's never known, making the comparison of himself to Jim Carrey's, the Grinch - a movie you made him watch. Eventually, exhaustion outweighed his domestic thoughts; falling asleep with you safe in his arms and Alpine curled up between you.

"Well, this certainly is a surprise... I was beginning to think James made you up."

"Oh, please, nobody could make me up - I'm too complex, nobody's got that kinda imagination," you smirked, legs crossed, seated beside Bucky on a sofa; both facing his therapist.

"I'm glad you could finally join us - I've been asking James to bring you for a while now," Dr. Raynor's eyes darted between you and Bucky, making you feel as if she was seeing right into your soul. However, her tone was accusatory, as if scolding Bucky.

So, you swiftly defended, "Well, I'm happy to be here. Bucky's one of my top priorities, I'd do anything for him - including attending any of these silly mandated sessions. Which are bullshit, by the way, because he's not the Winter Soldier anymore so why is Bucky being crucified? Why is this being pinned on him when he technically didn't do anything? The Winter Soldier did."

"Well, healing often takes time and dedication, and must be done in a series of steps. That's how you see real progress. These sessions are a condition of his pardon - "

"I can't believe your government would even enforce these silly little rules considering Bucky's assistance. He fought against Thanos, he fought on our side, and by all means, helped restore what was lost. I just find it pretty dehumanizing to force him to jump through hoops. I mean, for Christ's sake, half the universe was snapped away, you'd think after that, there wouldn't be need for pardons or contingencies - or for holding onto grudges."

"This is simply how we keep order in a post-Blip society. Everything changed in those five years, it's necessary to keep balance amongst all worldly citizens."

You scoffed lightly, "Ever consider these sessions might be doing more harm than good?"

Raynor frowned, "Despite the Winter Soldier being decommissioned, James still has trauma to process and skeletons to clear out of the closet. Yes, the Winter Soldier is gone, but the man remains - and James needs to focus on healing that part of himself. Whatever he did as the Winter Soldier wasn't Bucky's doing, but he still remembers all he did, which creates a heavy toll on the mind. That's part of the reason these sessions are mandated - because the assassin might be gone, but the residual effects still linger."

You hummed, "Well, let's get into it, Doc."

"You know... I've heard a lot about you. James paints you in a very bright light, says your bark and bite are equally as vicious."

"Hm," you nodded, brows perked, "yet I don't know shit about you."

"Perfectly natural. Typically, most people don't gossip about their therapists. It's nice that you could join us for this session."

"Nice to be invited."

She clicked her pen and settled her pad securely on her lap, just staring at you and Bucky for a long moment. You were ready to snap at her when she opened her mouth, "So, I hear you adopted a cat?"

"We did," you confirmed.

"Alpine," Bucky supplied, body rigid with tension and nerves.

"Right... Alpine," Raynor nodded, leaning her elbow to an arm of her padded chair. "How did this cat come into your possession?"

"We rescued her from a dumpster," Bucky answered stiffly.

"Really?" Raynor perked both brows.

"She was under some pieces of cardboard, screamin' her li'l head off," You chuckled. "Though, I think it's safe to say she chose us, adopted us as caregivers."

"How's that?"

"She wouldn't let us pick her up and we were afraid to take her in case her mama was lingering around. Turns out, she followed us. We were at a crosswalk when she caught up, demanding we pick her up and take her home."

"Is that so?"

"I'd like to think so," you nodded. "We were already on our way to the shelter, so, we took her with us, got her checked out."

"Why were you heading to the shelter to begin with?"

"Oh, uh, to adopt a dog. I had a colleague recommend an emotional support animal - or a companionship animal - to help Bucky feel less alone."

Raynor made a note of something. "You work often?" She asked.

"Often enough that I feel guilty for leaving. Figured getting a dog would instill a sense of dependence, you know, help Bucky feel like there was someone depending on him. Help usher in comfort and stability, help keep him calm, focused, distracted. But Alpine does the same thing - no dog necessary, apparently."

Raynor nodded, her wrinkles dimpling as she frowned and wrote down another note. When her eyes lifted, so did her lips; a smirk on display as she praised, "I actually think that's a wonderful idea. You know, there's been a lot of research about soldiers with PTSD benefitting from an emotional support animal. You're right, they promote peace, stability, distraction - gives patrons a tangible purpose, taking care of another life not their own."

"For sure, again, anything to help," you agreed, holding Bucky's gloved hand he kept covered by leather - only worn in public.

"Although, I wonder, why get a pet? I ask because James speaks highly of you, credits you for keeping him stable and on-track. Do you feel as if she's not enough, James? Is that why you kept Alpine?"

"No," he answered instantly, "she's my best girl and will always be enough. Watch your mouth, Doc."

"But sometimes extra help is nice," you tacked on, tightening your hand in Bucky's. "But for what it's worth, Dr. Raynor, Bucky keeps me sane. I keep him balanced. We keep each other safe. Alpine's just an added bonus, a quiet menace to help quell the business of our brains."

Raynor smirked, "I must say, you surprise me, Miss."

"I'm no stranger to mental health. But as I said before, I just want to help." You looked up at Bucky, finsihing softly, "He deserves peace in this lifetime - and if a little ball of fur can help, sign me up..."

requesting rules and masterlist

Marvel masterlist

[mmhcs]

Not Tonight

Warnings: Slightly suggestive opening, implications and mentions of trauma and traumatic events, implications of flashbacks, descriptions that may be uncomfortable, reader needs a hug (and therapy)

Finally.

You sigh, hooking your arms around Miguel’s neck.

Finally, it’s happening.

After a week of barely seeing each other, you and Miguel finally have a night to yourselves.

Originally, you had planned to spend your Friday evening alone on the couch, catching up on the new season of that TV show you religiously kept up with.

Miguel didn’t watch it (he only loosely followed along during those times that you two had watched it together) but you still couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness at the fact that tonight you would follow the show's plot from beginning to end without distraction, less-than-stellar remarks, or need for explanation every two seconds.

Well, at least I get to watch, you had told yourself as you settled onto the couch.

It wasn’t a perfect evening, but it would be a fun one. You only hoped that Miguel, probably still in his office, wasn’t overworking himself. Hopefully Lyla was there to bring some playfulness into the otherwise sterile environment that he would submerge himself well into next morning.

If only he was here.

You relaxed into the couch, bringing your blanket up as the theme song to your show began playing. Within a few seconds were immersed, but clearly not fully so as you jumped when you heard your front door open and the sound of keys jangling.

“Miguel?” you called, both excited and in disbelief.

Nobody else had a key to your apartment but you still had to see him to believe that it was true.

“¡Cariño!” Miguel replied, coming into view.

Before you had the chance, he, in two wide strides, walked over to the couch and scooped you into a hug.

“What are you—”

“I took the night off; I missed you.”

“Took the night off” was a generous term. Miguel had no boss; he was his own superior. His “staying late at the office” was because Miguel felt it necessary, that if he didn’t then something would happen and the “Arachno-Humanoid Poly Multiverse” (as he called it) would collapse.

Since the two of you started dating, Miguel had gotten better at taking breaks. But you knew that you alone couldn’t bring him to ultimate healing—just like he couldn’t do the same for you.

But the two of you tried. Tried to work through you issues, not only for the other but for your respective selves. Which is why hearing Miguel say that he took the night off because he missed you made your stomach flutter with butterflies and an ache start to pool in its center.

Needless to say, you and Miguel didn’t make it past the ending of the theme song.

And that’s how you two ended up here: on your shared bed, you in Miguel’s lap and his mouth dragging itself against your neck. The warmth of his breath tickled your neck, eliciting a sharp moan from you. Your hands flew from his neck to his hair, pulling at it as if it were a life raft, your only way to keep yourself from falling back onto the bed.

Not yet.

“Yes, Miguel,” Your breath hitches as he begins to suck on your neck, concentrating on the spot between your neck and shoulder. “I like that,”

He gives a moan of response, his mouth still on your neck.

Almost unconsciously, your head tilts itself to the side in order to give him more room to work.

“Like that,” you cry out once more. “Likethatlikethatlikethatlike—”

I don’t like that.

You look down, feeling newfound warmth at your side—Miguel’s hand kneading just above your hip.

Focus. Breathe. you tell yourself.

But it’s too late; you can feel the ache in center fading and being replaced with fear and disgust.

In an attempt to preserve your arousal, you gently place a hand at the back of Miguel’s head—as if to tell him to keep going—but it’s no use. What was just been considered hot, tantalizing kisses is now just slobber, each one further cementing that cold and hollow feeling into you.

Just one night. That was all you wanted. Just one night where you could enjoy yourself and Miguel’s company.

“Baby?”

You jump, startled. Slowly, you blink once, returning your attention to the moment. When you look down, you see that Miguel’s gaze is already on you, wide eyes and furrowed brows.

You frown. How long had you been staring at the wall?

“Hey, quierda,” Miguel begins gently. He readjusts himself to his full height, also slightly shifting you so that you now reside on his thigh instead of his lap. He removes his hands from where they had previously been and uses one to cup your cheek and lift your head to meet his gaze. “Are you okay?”

“Miguel, I...” you start but you don’t know how to finish.

What do you say? What can you say? How do you begin to explain how you feel? That yes, you want him but you just couldn’t get your mind to settle down. That parts of you are still stuck in a time way before this and couldn’t seem to move on?

“I’m sorry,” you say, gently removing his hands from your face. “I just don’t feel—” you pause, taking a deep breath. Your emotions are all over the place; the last thing you need right now is tears. “—Not tonight, Miguel. Not tonight.”

“That’s okay,” Miguel wastes no time answering. “Are you hurt?”

His eyes immediately start looking you over for cuts and scratches that would need to be tended to.

In the past, you’ve discussed some of your trauma with Miguel. He didn’t know the full story—he didn’t need to—but ever since that first time you informed him, he swore that he would do whatever he could to alleviate some of your pain.

He couldn’t take it away—he knew that for a fact—but he could be there for you. Which is why he’s running through his mind now, thinking of the best way to help.

“How about a shower, yeah?” he finally suggests. “You take a shower and I’ll make dinner.”

You sigh and bite down on your lip, trying to steel yourself.

Though you and Miguel had stopped, you still feel anxious. Your heart is banging against your chest and you feel a knot growing within your throat, making your voice hoarse and strained. But those pale in comparison to what you feel mentally.

Despite being with Miguel, you don’t feel safe. You feel the overwhelming urge to hide under the covers and sob and scrub yourself raw. Your senses are on-edge, gifting you a numbing headache that pummels against your temples despite there being no danger present.

You can’t focus. You want to sleep. Forget. Wake up tomorrow when this is all over.

“A shower sounds nice,” you finally say. “But I don’t think I’m that hungry right now.”

“That’s fine,” Miguel reassures you. “You shower. I’ll be in the living room when you’re finished,”

“Alright,” You give him a small nod, willing yourself to stand and head to the bathroom.

As you go through the motions, you can’t help but steal glance at your body every couple of minutes.

You don’t know how to feel. You don’t know what you’re feeling. A part of you feels scared. Scared because you’re trying so hard not to let your mind go to where your body has seemingly returned. Another part of you feels frustrated. You want Miguel—or at least you wanted him—but you...You didn’t feel fully present. It’s like no matter how hard you tried to be present in the moment, you just couldn’t. You can’t move everything out of your mind. Not by yourself, not with Miguel—hell, sometimes not even while you sleep.

You sigh, running the loofah along your arm again.

Great, another thing to mention in therapy.

You have to be patient with yourself. That was a fact that you learned a long time ago. But sometimes—sometimes it’s so frustrating that it brings tears to your eyes. You feel like a lost cause. Some days you even wonder if you’ll ever be able to feel “normal” again. To be able to relax and let go. To have both your mind and body be on the same page.

The uncertainty of it all brings tears to your eyes and they fall in fat goblets, mixing with the show water as they trickle down the drain.

An hour later, you pad into the living room wearing a pair of loose sweatpants, a light shirt, and the ends of your hair slightly damp.

“Hey,” Miguel turns from the sink to the kitchen counter, turning off the faucet. You look around the kitchen with furrowed brows, hoping that he really didn’t cook anything because you don’t think that you have much of an appetite at all now.

“I made some agua de fresa”, Miguel explains, pointing to the living room. “I know you said you don’t have much appetite but just in case you feel dehydrated, it’s there.”

You look, seeing two glasses of agua de fresa and the TV paused on the first few minutes of your show from earlier. On the couch is your favorite blanket and slightly more pillows than there were earlier.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, your throat raw with emotion.

Miguel simply nods, his eyes still scanning your face. “If there’s anything you need—or anything you want—please, just tell me.”

Minutes later, you and Miguel find yourselves on the couch, blanket draped over your laps and a glass of agua de fresa in your hand. The blanket acts as a tether between the two of you—close enough for the two of you to feel each other’s warmth but not close enough that you were on top of each other, a sensation that you couldn’t handle right now.

“...Ay Dios mío, why would he do that?” Miguel frowns, angrily pointing to the TV. “I swear, I don’t know how can watch this show so calmly; some people are really stupid,”

For the first time tonight, you giggle and you feel some of the tension from earlier dissipate. You smile down at your stomach, as if it would return the gesture.

Patience, you remind yourself.

It most definitely hasn’t been a perfect night but it’s starting to get better. And, for the first time in a long time, you feel yourself relaxing a bit, getting consumed by the moment.

As you look around you, you can only sigh in relief.

In due time. Maybe not soon, but you’re on your way. In due time.

A/N: Hi! Thank you so much for reading. Admittedly, this fic was a little personal and I just wanted to clarify that I know this isn’t everybody's experience or way or handling things but it is mine so that’s what I went off of.

To everyone in a similar situation: It will be okay. Maybe not now but one day it will. Please keep going and take care of yourselves.

[adviceformefromme]

💖 WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR??  - 66 DAYS UNTIL 2025 - GLOW UP SERIES [WEEK 9] - 💖

We are officially 66 days till 2025. It’s creeping in fast, and the new-year, new-you work begins TODAY. You read correct. You don’t wait till 2025 to start showing up as your most ELEVATED, radiant-glowing-self, as someone with goals, purpose, dreams and visions. Someone who is actually putting in the work, no. You start that shit from today, and if you’ve been following the glow-up series it actually started last month. 

So what do you need to do/ know in order to elevate pre-2025. 

If you haven’t already you need to be clear on your TOP LEVEL GOAL. This is that one dream that would make you so happy, the main focus in your life. If it't not clear, or you have too many focus areas, you can brainstorm all your goals and then circle the top three that would mean the most. 

Next you want to break those goals down and figure out which one is going to change your life. For example, if your goals consisted of new car, earn x-amount, meet the love of your life, launch business, go back to college. If meeting the love of your life was the one thing on the list you wanted above everything else this becomes your focus. You need to break down what is blocking you from achieving this goal, what you need to do daily to bring this vision to life, and get really clear on how you want to feel. 

NOTHING COMES ABOVE YOUR PRIMARY GOAL. That means this is where your energy goes. You’re not clutching on to your goal desperate, you are in the mode of preparation and alignment to RECEIVE what it is you desire. 

Let’s break this down further... Your three focus points of your primary goal you need to be clear of TODAY (make sure your journal is with you taking notes right now). 

1] What has/ continues to block you (for example, you’re single keep attracting unavailable men - the root is lack of self worth/ unhealed traumas). You want to get into the nitty gritty of why you are not where you want to be. Get to the root. 

2] Get clear on exactly how you would feel if your top level goal was your reality. You can start with another brainstorm. And from this, you want to create affirmations, using I feel, I am, I decide, I am choosing and you want to record yourself on your phone on a rampage. You need to listen to this daily, getting your energy into the feelings of your desire. 

3] Daily actions. This is your tangible action plan. You’re in your masculine energy making moves in order to move forward. Example, you’re booked in for therapy sessions to finally heal your childhood trauma, you’ve committed to reading two books on the subject before the end of the year, and this week you are going to the book store to pick the first book and start reading 15 pages per day before bed, you are making an effort each day, looking and feeling your best EXPECTING to cross paths with love of your life,  you’re committing to one podcast episode per day on unpacking and understanding your relationship blocks as you go on your daily 10k hot girl walk…

Do you get the jist of what you need to be doing? You need an ACTION PLAN. You would never get in an uber without a destination, so why are you living your life without a clear plan? The GPS is your route, there may be twist and turns along the way, maybe some detours, but ultimately you KNOW where you are going and you have a plan. This is what this work is about. 

Today is the perfect time to take action. No more sleeping on your dreams. No more waiting for tomorrow. Make your plan, follow the steps above, and watch and see how wholesome you feel each day because you are actually investing in you. You’re not chasing anyone, your not following the crowd, you are putting you first and foremost. Remember the work you do today, creates the life you are wishing and waiting for come 2025. 

[omnium-gatherums]

Hmm do u think there’s any like signs of a good did therapist? things that stick out so u know they’re good and credible. any ways to tell u think

I thought I remembered making a post about this ages ago, but I can't find it, so.

(CDD = complex dissociative disorders, which includes DID, some people with OSDD, Partial DID, and some people diagnosed with unspecified dissociative disorders who may just be people with one of the other three diagnoses instead)

🟢 Good:

Understands that DID is most often subtle and difficult to notice; that most people with DID do not present with obvious, drastic personality changes

Treats each alter equally, doesn't treat any one alter as "The" "actual/real/true/main" "person"; doesn't try to force one alter/"The Host" to be the only alter to present in therapy/etc.

Understands that functional multiplicity is a completely real and valid way to heal and recover with DID; that you do not need to fuse all alters into "one" in order to recover and heal along with having DID

Adapts/adjusts to the unique language that you use for yourself/your system/alters/etc.

Doesn't make treating you as a system (if that's how you want to be treated) contingent on having a CDD diagnosis. By this I mean that regardless of if you have a CDD or not, regardless of any kind of syscourse, is this the way you exist? Is this how you live your life - how you and other parts/alters/headmates/etc. in your system live your lives? A good therapist should treat y'all the ways you want to be treated and not deny you the rights to exist the ways you do on the basis of whether or not you have a CDD

Do you feel safe around them? Comfortable? Of course having a new therapist at first is difficult and it will take time to build trust and being comfortable around your therapist, but there is difference between the beginning stages of getting to know someone and not really trusting them yet versus feeling actively uncomfortable around them/unsafe. If you actively feel unsafe/uncomfortable with your therapist, this might be a sign that they might not be a good one.

Would you feel sad if you no longer had them as a therapist?

Is willing to admit when they're wrong/willing to admit when they've made mistakes

🔴 Bad:

Won't diagnose DID because they "didn't see you switch" (seeing somebody switch is not a requirement for a DID diagnosis)

Won't diagnose DID because "trauma wasn't bad/wasn't that bad/wasn't bad enough"

Won't diagnose DID because they expect extremely drastic personality changes

Doesn't "believe" in "repressed memories"/that you can have amnesia for trauma and later remember that trauma

Dismisses memories that you claim you had amnesia before; even if there is true reason to believe that your suspicions aren't correct, a good therapist would not immediately be dismissive and minimize your concerns. There are ways to navigate trying to tell someone if you truly feel their memories aren't adding up, and dismissing them and minimizing their concerns/suspicions is not one of them

Treats "the host" (if you have one) as "the actual/real/true/main person"

Tries to force final fusion; thinks that final fusion is the only way to heal/that it's the "real/true" way to heal

Tries to force certain language onto you/your system/etc. (such as forcing you to call your alters parts when you don't personally feel comfortable with that)

Are you afraid of them? Do you feel unsafe around them?

Do you dread going to therapy - not because therapy itself can be draining due to talking about heavy things, but because of seeing them/speaking to them/because you dread seeing your therapist/etc.?

If you had access to a different therapist, would you change therapists in a heartbeat? In this hypothetical, they won't cost any more or less money and nothing else will be a problem and nothing is preventing you from seeing the new therapist.

Tries to push medication

The most important rule is to trust yourself.

If a therapist doesn't feel like a good fit for you, if you have your doubts, if something feels off, DO NOT HESITATE to seek out a different therapist. You don't have to find a reason to "justify" finding a new therapist - you can seek out a different therapist for ANY reason. Any reason is a valid reason. Yes, any reason, even if it truly is a "stupid" and "unreasonable" reason.

For us personally, we know that our therapist is good because:

We feel safe and comfortable around her. Enough to have opened up about things we otherwise tell NO-ONE

We feel seen. We feel like she truly "sees" "us"

We feel safe and comfortable to open up to her and talk to her about when she's said something that upset us, and we do talk about it! We talk it out in a healthy and safe and productive way and we come to an understanding and we feel better when we do

We actively look forward to therapy and seeing her and talking about things with her

We truly have improved, our denial as truly gotten so much better and overall we really have been improving ever so slowly

Sometimes you're in a position where sometimes you have no choice but to "settle" for a therapist even if they aren't perfect. That's okay too. However, sometimes having no therapist is better than having a therapist that actively makes your mental health worse. Never, ever, ever settle for a therapist who makes your mental health worse. It's better to have no therapist than to have a therapist who is actively making your life/mental health/etc. worse.

There are definitely way more red flags and green flags, but this is what I've got for now.

[rntoshi]

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ 🔊 bachira meguru (n): the obsessive type.

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏/ • yandere tendencies, all characters are adults.

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏​ ͏ ͏similar: a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

it's canon that there's something a bit sinister about bachira— something a little off. it makes me believe he isn’t the conventional lover you’d want him to be.

bachira is an obsessive type, meaning if he enjoyed something he would indulge in it in an excessive, unhealthy amount. it's unfiltered. and as cute as he is, there is a brewing darkness inside of him that he's been open about since he was a child. so much so that he's seemingly made friends with it, referring to this imaginary friend as a "monster," and often talking to and about it as if they were longtime friends.

you to bachira was no exception. he was attracted to you because you were self-assured, not in a cocky way? but in a way that you have a level head on your shoulders. you're seemingly at peace with yourself and where you are in life— and bachira is intrigued by that because he hasn't.. felt that. bachira has never known the happiness that is being surrounded by those who love and accept him like you did when you were a child. much like how he was drawn to isagi, it's similar with you. but instead, bachira doesn't want to coexist and awaken something in you: he wants to possess you because he views you as some sort of angel— you're a virtue who makes him feel tranquility he's never had when he was young. it feels euphoric for him when he's with you for the simple fact he feels protected, heard and accepted even despite his.. eccentric personality. all the things he gotten tormented for; you love. you actively heal his innermost trauma which is why he'd go to extremes rather than letting you go.

you balance him out. he’s very childish, whimsical and chaotic whereas you are nurturing, doting and stable. you’re his anchor in many ways but it’s most evident emotionally. he has moments of weakness where he needs your constant reassurance that you love him, having to promise him a thousand times that you won’t leave him for someone else— his biggest fear is being alone but when he met you it shifted into: he’s afraid of you leaving him all alone.

the relationship definitely an odd pairing according to the public eye. one would assume that you’d be a better fit for someone like rensuke, seishiro or maybe even rin because from the outside it seems as though there’s a dynamic that puts you in a more dominant role. the way bachira so easily clings onto you and finds himself falling asleep in the crook of your neck, solely being lulled into peace from the sound of your voice. he’s incredibly touch starved and often gets restless and agitated when he’s away from you for too long. your touch, your smell, the warmth you produce— it’s like his lifeline.

he is submissive to you in certain aspects, even a bit codependent to a trained eye from the outside looking in, but this wasn't the entire truth.

see, bachira is an brilliant actor and while he does put on a world class performance of being the whimsical, cutesy boy toy— he’s an excellent manipulator. bachira has gotten to a point where does it so we that he doesn’t realize he’s doing it anymore, its altered his sense on reality.

the best way to describe it would be to say there’s a hidden dimension of the relationship that you’re totally unaware of, but he is. bachira is the puppet master and you're his most prized doll. because you’re so nurturing, kind, and naive, you play right into his game every time. you would never suspect your darling, dear bachira to ever do such a thing. in your eyes your sweet boyfriend could never do anything wrong, let alone manipulating you. into what? not leaving him? you know he has some issues to be worked out in therapy, but you've already reassured him countless times that you only have eyes for him and not a soul could change that.

“you know if you ever, ever, ever~ ♡ left me for someone else..” he's breathless in your ear as his hips rut into you from behind but there's so clearly a smile in his voice. if only you could see the unhinged look on his face, but his bicep is wrapped around your neck in a light chokehold. the only thing you can focus on his the headboard in front of you. “i’d kill them— i’d kill them and i'd record it so I could send it to you as a gift. isn’t that romantic?” but little do you know, he actually dead serious. he’d go lengths to assure you’ll never leave his clutches.

“chira— d-on’t say t-things like that.. ah..” you whine, dainty fingers gripping the soft bedsheets underneath you. you're too under the influence of an orgasm to really process his words, for now you think of it as chira being chira. “you feel so.. good..”

“you’re mine— ‘nd you’ll be my bitch forever, yah~ ♡? my pretty princess.. my angel?” he says as he picks up his pace, now chasing his own high as you near your own. the sounds of skin on skin from his pelvis hitting the meat of your ass and the high-pitched moans coming from both you and him were explicit and pornographic.

“always.. always!” the tightening around the base of his cock from your high and your cries are what essentially push him over the edge, making him unload deep inside your hole. the simple implication or rather.. agreement that you'll be his forever was enough for him.

nevermind the aggressive love bites that have sense drawn blood, bachira will just give you that pretty puppy-eyed look and apologize for getting out of hand. he never "means" to, honest. he totally doesn't get the sweet satisfaction of marking what he considers his property.

© rntoshi 2023. do not modify or repost.

[minniesmutt]

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐭 𝟑

☾ ━━━ PAIRING: SEUNGMIN X READER ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: MENTION OF NIGHTMARES, THERAPY MENTIONS, TRAUMA MENTIONS, FOOD MENTIONS, MENTION OF LOVE-BOMBING, MENTION KIDNAPPING, TEASING, ABORTION MENTION, PROTECTED SEX, ORAL (F. REC), FINGERING, SCAR MENTIONS, DIRTY TALK, EXHIBITIONISM (?) ☾ ━━━ WC: 4.1K ☾ ━━━ PART ONE PART TWO ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

     Y/n hated the nightmares. She hated that her mind kept replaying what happened with her psycho ex or making it worse. Making up scenarios of what would've happened if she hadn’t sent the text message. 

     She’d awake after another nightmare. Chest filled with anxiety as she tried remembering where she was. Home. Home with Chan and Changbin down the hall. Her rooms before hers. If anything were to happen, they would hear it first. 

     She laid back and took some deep breaths. Recollecting herself and her thoughts. She turned in bed, holding her blankets close to her. Attempting to try and sleep again but nothing. Staring into the dark seemed to make it worse. 

     Y/n grabbed her phone from the bedside table and dialed the only person who could understand what she was going through. 

     “Hey,” Seungmin’s voice came through the speaker 

     “Hey,” Y/n replied 

     “Have another nightmare?”

     Since they both had talked about the situation, they’d been helping each other. Late-night calls when neither of them could sleep were common. Just two friends that were trying to heal together. No matter how weird that word sounds when it comes to Seungmin. 

     “Yeah. Why are you awake?”

     “Can’t sleep either.”

     Y/n hummed, “How was your appointment today?”

     “Alright. My ribs are pretty much healed now which is great. The doctor still wants me to wait a few weeks before I do anything strenuous or return to work.”

     “Have you talked to your old job?”

     “Yeah. Unfortunately, they’re fully staffed but there’s another office hiring that’s actually a little closer so I need to just reinterview there. They let the manager know my situation but it’s basically mine.”

     “That’s good. I’m happy for you.”

     “Thanks. I’m just getting a little stir-crazy at Minho’s now.”

     “Mm. I feel the same. One of the guys is always here so I’m not alone which is nice but they’re starting to suffocate me.”

     “You’re like their little sister. They’re just worried. But I can get where it gets annoying. Do you work tomorrow?”

     “No. Off for the next two days. Just have therapy in the morning.”

     “What time?”

     “Ten.”

     “Do you wanna go get brunch after? I can pick you up and take you too.” 

     “I’d like that,” Y/n smiled, even though he couldn’t see her.

     “You’re smiling, aren’t you.”

     “No, I’m not.”

     “You forget we were dating for three years.”

     “I didn’t forget.”

     “So you know I know when you’re smiling or what to do when you’re sad and need cheering up.”

     “You’re too observant sometimes.” 

     “Sometimes not enough.”

     “Stop it.”

     “What?”

     “Blaming yourself.”

     “Sorry. I was thinking about it earlier again.”

     “I don’t blame you, Min. You know that, right?”

     “Yeah. Just kind of blame myself a bit still…”

     “I know how you feel…”

     “Can I be honest with you?”

     “Of course.”

     “When he first had me locked up, I kept hoping you would reach out to me. Get worried about me not responding. Then the security footage started. And it broke my heart but I still hoped that you would still choose me…”

     “Min…”

     “Sorry. I didn’t mean to unload that…”

     “You know, when I met him, I was trying to forget about our break up. I wasn’t looking for a new relationship but he was so convincing and I know now he was just love-bombing me the whole time. I was heartbroken after our breakup because I only ever saw you as who I would spend the rest of my life with.”

     “What would you say if I asked for another chance?”

     “It’s always yes, Min.”

     “I’ll keep that in mind”

     The two talked until they somehow both ended up falling asleep. She woke up a few hours later with the call still running. Both got a bit of peace for once in their dreams. 

     Seungmin told her he’d pick her up for her appointment and left the call to get ready. Y/n let her roommates know Seungmin was picking her up and the two were going to brunch after. Chan and Changbin both smiled and said nothing Letting her get ready for her day.

     Seungmin was at the door not long after she finished getting ready. She let the two know she was leaving. Seungmin was standing out the door and smiled at her. She swore she saw him rethinking leaning in to kiss her like he used to greet her.

     “Ready?” He asked her.

     “Yeah.”

     The two walked back to the car and Seungmin opened the door for her before he walked to the other side and got in the car. She gave him directions to her therapist’s office while they discussed their plans for after. Walking up together once they got in. 

     “I’ll wait for you in the waiting room, okay?” Seungmin said once she was called into the office

     “Okay,” Y/n nodded. 

     Y/n walked back into the office, sat down, and started her session. Telling her therapist about the nightmares. Talking through them and mentioning Seungmin. 

     “Seungmin is your ex, correct?”

     “Yeah. He got kidnapped by Jeongin.”

     “So both of you have gone through the same trauma in a sense?”

     “Yeah. We’ve both talked to each other about what we went through separately.”

     “Sometimes it does help to talk with someone who has gone through something similar.”

     The session only lasted another fifteen minutes before Y/n walked out of the office. Seungmin was sitting in the waiting room waiting for her, just like he said. 

     “Ready?” He asked as she walked over to him.

     “Yeah,” Y/n smiled 

     Seungmin stood and led her back to the car. Getting her in the car before him then driving off to a small restaurant. It wasn’t too busy at the moment and they quickly got seated. 

     Y/n really did miss Seungmin. In the quiet moments when she wasn’t being suffocated by Jeongin, she’d think about him. She was grateful Jeongin kept him alive. Even if it was painful for Seungmin. 

     “What are you looking at?” Seungmin asked 

     “Sorry,” Y/n said and looked down at her menu. 

     “What is it?” Seungmin asked again. 

     “It’s nothing. Just…”

     “Just what?”

     “I’m glad he kept you alive,” Y/n said, looking up at him again 

     “I hate you sometimes,” Seungmin groaned 

     “Sorry….”

     “No. Not for that,” Seungmin quickly said. Reaching over the table to her and grabbing the menu from her hands, “I… I hate that you still get me flustered. And I know I’m bad at expressing my emotions and I don’t want to overwhelm you by saying what I actually want to say.”

    “Didn’t you ask me for a second chance last night?” Y/n smiled, knowing what he was trying to say.

     “I was sleep deprived,” Seungmin glared at her

     “Whatever you say.”

     Y/n smiled at him and kissed his knuckles before dropping his hands. The waiter came over a few minutes later and took their order. Leaving them alone after. 

     “You make it hard to kiss you right now,” Seungmin said as soon as the waiter was gone 

     “I haven’t done anything!” Y/n defended herself, her face getting warmer

     Seungmin just smiled and reached across the table for her hands again. Raising them to his lips and kissing each of her knuckles. Taking a little longer on her left ring finger before setting her hands back on the table. Y/n looked at him as he smiled.

     He teased her a little more throughout their brunch. Making her flustered just for her to fluster him back. Even their walk back to the car and the drive back to hers was a game for them. Up until he walked her up to the door.

     “Thank you for today, by the way,” Y/n said as she turned to him

     “Anytime,” Seungmin smiled

     Y/n didn’t make any move to leave. Neither did Seungmin. 

     “Can I kiss you?” 

     “I’ll be a little mad if you don’t.”

     Seungmin leaned in and pecked her lips. Quick but enough for them. 

     “I’m glad we’re alive,” Seungmin said 

     “Me too.”

     “You know you two can have this conversation in Y/n’s room.” Changbin’s voice came from the video doorbell 

     Y/n unlocked the front door and opened it, “Seo Changbin!”

     “I’m just saying!” He called from the living room

     Y/n stormed in and grabbed a throw pillow. Attacking her friend with it as Seungmin followed her in, shutting the door behind him as he watched. Eventually, Changbin got the pillow away from her and got her off him. 

     “Finally beat Changbin,” Seungmin laughed 

     “You two are on thin ice,” Changbin warned 

     The two laughed before going up to Y/n’s room. “Looks different,” Seungmin said 

     “I got rid of all my old stuff. Decided to just start fresh. Couldn’t stomach the thought of looking at everything again after what happened,” Y/n replied as she hung up her bag

     “I don’t blame you,” Seungmin said, taking a seat in her desk chair. “Should we talk about us?”

     “I think we should just forget the last two years,” Y/n joked 

     “Seems like a good idea,” Seungmin replied as she sat on her bed. He scooted the chair over to her. “How about we take it slow? Slowly get back to where we were while we’re still healing a bit?”

     “I like that idea.”

     “Okay.” Seungmin leaned in and kissed her lips again.

     Normalcy. That’s what Seungmin was to her. Her little bit of normalcy in the middle of the chaos around her. Even though they agreed to go slow, a little over a month later they were back to where they were before. Sitting on the couch at Minho’s having a movie night while he was out with Jisung. Seungmin had his arm wrapped around her as she fed him popcorn. A rom-com Netflix recommended playing on the TV. 

     “Getting tired?” Seungmin asked, noticing her movements slowing down a bit

     “No,” Y/n lied. She’d had a presentation over Zoom before coming over and she spent the night before making sure it was perfect.

     “Liar,” Seungmin chuckled as he took the popcorn bowl from her and turned off the TV. “Come on.”

     Seungmin helped her up off the couch and got her to his room. Y/n followed behind him groggily. He pulled back the covers for her and helped her into the bed.

     “Sleep with me?” Y/n asked as he went to pull them up over her body

     “You sure?”

     Y/n nodded, “Let me lock up the house real quick and text Minho.” Seungmin kissed the top of her head and walked out of the room. 

     He came back a few moments later with both their phones— she assumed he was texting Minho on his about the house being locked up when he came in for the night. He set both their phones on the nightstand, and then Seungmin climbed into bed with her. Covering them both with the blankets and loosely laying his arm over her waist.

     Y/n turned in his arms and put her face in his chest. “I knew you were tired.” he laughed

     “Mm.” Y/n huffed as he kissed her head again.

     “I love you.”

     “I love you too.” Y/n drifted off into sleep and it was probably the best sleep she’d gotten in a while. For once, no nightmares haunted her. She felt safe again.

     She woke up the next morning still in Seungmin’s arms. He was still fast asleep so she got to take the chance to admire her boyfriend up close for once. She remembered when he was released from the hospital he had the worst dark circles and multiple bruises on his face. They’d all healed and the dark circles were slowly going away.

     “Why are you staring?” Seungmin’s voice said

     Y/n smiled as he opened his eyes to her, “Because I can.”

     “Mhm,” Seungmin groaned as he leaned in and kissed her lips, “Stop it.”

     “No,” Y/n said

     “Brat,” Seungmin smiled before leaning back to lips. Kissing her again as his hand lay on the middle of her back. Y/n moaned into his mouth before both of their phones started ringing. Seungmin pulled away and sat up, grabbing her phone and answering the call, seeing it was from her lawyer, and looked at his, seeing the same.

     “Good morning Ms. L/n.” Y/n heard from the other end     “Good morning,” Y/n replied

     “I’m sorry if I woke you, but would you mind hopping on a conference call with Mr. Kim and his lawyer?” 

     “No, I’m actually with Mr. Kim right now.”

     “Oh, perfect! How about we end this call and you listen in on his phone?”

     “That works perfectly.”

     Y/n hung up the call and Seungmin placed his phone on speaker.

     “We’ll keep this short so you two can finally put this behind us and move on with your lives.”  Seungmin’s lawyer said

     “Mr. Yang has taken the plea deal.”     “He did?!” Y/n said

     “Yes. In pleading guilty to two counts of kidnapping, one of aggravated assault, and sexual assault, he is serving life in prison without the possibility of parole. He will not be getting out of prison.”

     “Thank you. That means a lot to us.” Seungmin said as he hugged his girlfriend from the side.

     “Of course. And the judge has granted you both restraining orders against him so he is legally not allowed to contact either of you.”

     Y/n thanked the team of lawyers over and over again before Seungmin ended the call and turned to her. Kissing her again as she cupped his cheeks. “He’s out of our lives.” Y/n cried

     “He’s locked up now,” Seungmin smiled and whipped her tears.

     Y/n giggled as he kissed her nose before he got out of bed. Y/n watched him walk over to his closet and grab something, sitting back next to her.

     “To a new beginning, I guess,” Seungmin said, handing her a black velvet box.

     Y/n looked at him as she hesitantly took it. Seungmin smiled as she opened it and caught sight of the engagement ring. “Min.”

     “I say we forget those two years now and just pick up where we left off now,” Seungmin smiled wide as he took the ring out of its box.

     “Yes,” Y/n smiled 

     Seungmin grabbed her hand and slipped the ring onto her finger. Y/n squealed and tackled him in a hug onto his back. The sound prompted a knock on the door from Minho and Jisung.

     “You guys okay?” Minho asked as he opened the door.

     “Couldn’t be better.” Seungmin smiled 

     “He took the plea deal. He’s behind bars for the rest of his life,” Y/n explained

     “Thank god. I don’t know what I would do if you guys had to sit in a courtroom with him.” Jisung sighed in relief

     “Yeah. I don’t want to see a courtroom until wedding day.” Seungmin said

     “Wedding?!” Jisung yelled

     “Look!” Y/n smiled, showing the two the engagement ring.

     “Have fun celebrating,” Minho said as he shut the door.

     Y/n smiled at her fiancé and pressed her lips to his again. Pecking kisses all over his face as he laughed at her. “Hey,” Seungmin chuckled before her lips were on his again

     “I love you,” Y/n mumbled against his lips

     “I love you too,” Seungmin mumbled back and wrapped his arms around her.

     Seungmin rolled her onto her back so he was on top of her, pulling back to look at his fiancée, “You okay?” He asked

     “Why wouldn’t I be?”

     “We haven’t done anything since we both got out and I know you had the abortion. I know it all took an emotional toll on you.”

     “And having you by my side helped me heal,” Y/n reassured him. “I know you’re not him either. I trust you, Min.”

     “Let me check if I even have condoms.” Seungmin got off her and checked his bedside drawers.

     Y/n got up and sat on the edge of the bed just as he found a box and set it on the nightstand. “Feeling lucky?” Y/n teased

     “When have you ever known me not to prepare for something?”

     “Do you want me to answer that?” Y/n teased as he laid her back, his turn to smother her with kisses. 

     “Those two years don’t exist, remember?” he reminded her 

     Seungmin pressed his lips to hers. Grabbing her hands and lacing their fingers together. Laying them against the mattress and pressing his body to hers. Y/n smiled as her lips moved in sync with his. 

     Seungmin moved one hand to hold her side as she hooked her legs around his hips. Pulling his hips closer to her, feeling his half-hard dick against her. 

     “Tell me to stop if you get uncomfortable,” Seungmin breathed as his lips moved down to her neck

     “You’re too good for me,” Y/n giggled

     “I’m perfect for you.” 

     Y/n blushed as he moved his hands up her shirt. Warm skin holding her sides and not going up anymore, not sure if he should as he lightly kissed her neck. Y/n grabbed the back of his shirt as his lips ghosted a certain spot on her neck.

     “There’s my favorite spot,” Seungmin mumbled as he rolled his hips against her.

     “Min,” Y/n moaned

     “I’m right here. Never going anywhere again.” He told her

     “Need you, Min, please,” Y/n moaned

     “Tell me what you want pretty.”

     “Mouth.”

     “Where do you want my mouth, love?”

     “Eat me out, please.”

     Seungmin pulled away from her and stood up. He pulled down her pajama pants, checking over her reaction as he did before he kneeled between her legs. The fabric on the floor next to him. Y/n sat up a bit on her elbows, looking down at him as he put her legs over his shoulders. He placed a kiss over her clothed clit as he looked up at her. Y/n smiled at him as his fingers curled over the waistband of the fabric and pulled it away. Adding it to the starting pile on the ground of clothes. Y/n grabbed a pillow from the bed and placed it behind her back for support as his lips wrapped around her clit.

     Y/n laced her fingers through his hair as he lightly sucked on the bud. A moan left her lips as he wrapped his arms around her thighs. Holding them tightly around his head as he switched between sucking on the clit and licking with his tongue. Eyes locked onto her, watching her reactions. 

     Watching her head roll back from the pleasure as she gripped his hair. Y/n moaned as he pressed a kiss to her clit, tongue moving through her folds. Head knocked forward to watch him as his tongue dipped into her. 

     “Min,” Y/n moaned as he moved his hand down. Lips wrapped around her clit again as a finger slid into her. 

     Y/n laid back against the mattress as she tightened her grip on his head. Seungmin smiled as he worked on her clit. Finger slowly moving in and out of her. “More. Please min!” Y/n begged 

     “My baby needs another finger in her?” Seungmin teased 

     “Yes. Please,” Y/n moaned 

     Seungmin gently slipped a second finger into her. Fingers stretched her out as he sucked a little harder on her clit. Hips jolted against him as he pushed his face closer. Moaning into her— he missed being here.

     Her moans were unfortunately muffled to him with her thigh pressing against his ears. But he would gladly live with that to be where he is now. His fingers spreading her open as she gripped his hair. Barley hearing her warning that she was close or his name falling from her lips like a mantra.

     He felt her high coat his fingers as Y/n arched off the bed. Seungmin switched his fingers for his tongue. Cleaning her up with his tongue as he wrapped his arms around her legs. Smothering himself into her while she rode out her high. Only pulling away when he felt her push him away from the sensitivity.

     “Alright still?” He asked, kissing the inside of her thighs before standing up.

     “Yeah,” Y/n breathed as he pecked her lips then cheeks

     “We don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to.”

     “Do you want to keep going?” Y/n asked, snaking her hands under his shirt

     “I do but just want to make sure you’re okay.” 

     “Seungmin, if you’re dick isn’t in me soon I’m going to combust.”

     Seungmin laughed at her and pulled his shirt off over his head. Both of them stripping away the last bit of their clothing. Y/n noticed the healed scars littering his skin as he turned and grabbed a condom. She caught his attention when she ran her hands over the scars.

     “You look sexy with the scars,” Y/n said as she looked up at him

     “I wasn’t sexy before?” Seungmin asked as he tore open the foil and rolled the rubber onto his length

     “You were. The scars just add a little more to it,” Y/n smiled as he leaned down.

     “Glad you think so,” Seungmin smiled, lining his tip up with her entrance. Slowly, he pushed inside her. Y/n wrapped her legs around his hips. Seungmin grabbed her hands and kissed her engagement rings. Slowly sinking into her as he kissed down her arm to distract her. Ending up over her again and pressing his lips to hers. Y/n wrapped her arms around him, smiling into the kiss as he pulled his hips back. Gently rocking into her.

     “Fuck, I missed this,” Seungmin groaned

     “Good thing we’ve got forever now,” Y/n moaned, lacing her fingers through his dark hair.

     “Not letting go of you ever again.”

     Gradually, Seungmin picked up his pace. Mostly when she would beg him to go faster. Her walls slightly pulsing around him from her previous orgasm. His lips trailed down from her lips to her chest. Kissing the top of her breasts as his hips gently knocked into hers.

     Her limbs tightened around him as his tip hit a specific spot inside her. A gasp leaving her and Seungmin knew. She felt his smiled against her skin as he brought a hand between their bodies. Thumb rolling along her clit as a loud moan escaped her. He angled his hips to hit that spot again and again. Y/n tried covering her moans, suddenly remember there were two other people in the house.

     “Let them hear baby. Not like they don’t already know,” Seungmin teased, “Let our friends know only I get to fuck you like this for the rest of our lives.”

     “‘M close,” Y/n moaned

     “Just needed a little dirty talk to get you there? Huh?” Seungmin asked

     “Please Minnie.”

     “Missed teasing you. Always riled up to quickly when I did. Obviously you still do too.” Seungmin nipped at her skin as her legs shook around him as her walls got tighter around him, “Gonna cum for me baby?”

     “Yes!” Y/n cried just before her orgasm came crashing down.

     Seungmin kept his pace as she rode out her high. Waiting for her limps to loosen arond him and her body go limp against the bed just a bit before he came in the condom. Slowing his thrusts till he was full inside her and let the rubber fill while he came down.

     Both of them taking a minute to catch their breaths again. Seungmin wrapped his arms around her waist and laid his head in her neck for a moment. “I love you. So much.” Seungmin mumbled

     “I love you too,” Y/n kissed the side of his head as she held him close.

     “Bath?” Seungmin asked

     “Yes please,” Y/n agreed

     Seungmin stood straight and pulled out of her. He took of the rubber and made she it didn’t break before tying it off and tossing it. He gave her a t-shirt as he threw on a pair of boxers before bringing her to the bathroom. He ran them a bath and let her do her little thing while he grabbed more clothes for them. Y/n took care of the bath till he came back in and took over. Pulling her in with him once it was ready. Seungmin wrapped his arms around her as the  warm water surrounded them.

     “I know I just proposed but, what do you think about moving in together?” Seungmin asked

     “I think that’s a great idea,” Y/n smiled and kissed his arms

     “Start looking after a nap?” He asked

     “You read my mind.”

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[nozomi-kaizoku]

FASHION JIRAIS DNI /SRS

The thing that really annoys me about the reyinblack situation is how they're the ones telling us to "get help" even though a lot of us are already doing that and are just using tumblr as a way to find a support group n shit.

Rey has this stupid belief that you should cope the way other people cope, and if you don't you're "glamorizing it and influencing others", and it genuinely baffles me how completely ignorant they are surrounding both the topics of jirai kei and mental health as a whole.

since when has anyone in the jirai community ever encouraged anyone to self harm? The only self harm shit I've seen coming from the jirai community are literally people just talking about their own struggles with self harm.

Tbh, the only thing I don't like about my self harm is that whenever I relapse I have to hide it until it heals so that my family doesn't get pissy at me over it (especially my dad, cause he deadass once told me "self harm is stupid", and honestly, wtf), but that's just me. People got their own reasons why they romanticize their own self harm.

And I am putting the emphasis on the "their own" part, because this douchebag really missed that part and I don't think they'd bother to care anyways.

Also, "just get a diary" THIS IS MY DIARY, JACKWAD. My therapist knows that this blog exists, i literally showed it to her to look at. And I start intensive outpatient therapy next week, so idk what you're on about when you say I should "get help."

Speaking of "getting help", I do agree that if someone needs professional help, they should try to get it as soon as possible. Walk in crisis centers exist (at least in Colorado where I'm from)

But regardless of whatever it's for, when someone does get help, it doesn't mean that all of your problems will go away.

it means that you are learning the skills needed to cope with them so that you don't end up doing some genuinely harmful behaviors like drugs or risky sex.

Sometimes getting help means de-escalating from a crisis so that you don't try to kill yourself or others.

Or it could be to help manage some behavioral issues or trauma that you had to deal with.

People get this stupid misconception that the minute you go to the psych ward for a few days or start talking to a therapist, that all of a sudden you're gonna be this mentally stable and happy person who has no issues whatsoever. I've been dealing with the mental health industry for 5 years and yet I still haven't gotten better, if anything I feel fucking worse tbh.

And to add on to that, not everyone has that same kind of access to help. Sometimes parents don't believe their kids are struggling and refuse to get them help, sometimes financial barriers can make it difficult to afford it, lots of things.

Japan (the place where Jirai Kei originated) has a major issue when it comes down to the stigma surrounding mental health and mental illness, and getting help is completely discouraged there. That's where the Jirai Kei community comes in to help destigmatize mental health (while looking cute as shit).

but the part that's gotta piss me off the most regarding this situation is how rey is so upset that different ways to cope exist to the point they're literally reporting blogs and getting them t worded ALL BECUASE NOBODY AGREES WITH WHAT THEY GOTTA SAY.

Sheesh, and people tell ME I can't take criticism...

Anyway, just wanna say that if you see reyinblack anywhere, please report and block them. DO NOT ENGAGE WITH THEM.

Thank you.

[firesnap]

i have a genuine question. i promise i am not at all trying to defend him. ive dropped him entirely, literally deleted everything i had of him and unliked his songs.

ive just been wondering like considering that he has been in therapy, and also considering how if he does take a year off and then comes back, why cant it be redeemable? like cant people change? cant we give them second chances? he is 27. is he just doomed to be an abuser forever?

its just scary and im asking as like a younger person who is in my very early 20s. i know ive made mistakes. i know ive not been a good partner or friend sometimes. (and yes i was also abusive to a past partner...im not proud of it and ive learned from it. i have never ever touched anyone in that way after that. it took awhile but my current relationship isnt toxic and i would never hurt anyone or hit them again yknow?) and it scares me that people keep insinuating that he is irredeemable. like cant abusers change and become better? dont they get second chances? if shelby has grown and healed in 10 months wouldn't it be fair to say the same for wilbur?

im just genuinely asking because based on everything i believe you are older than me and im looking for guidance and just...idk im scared. growing up on the internet has made me so scared of making mistakes and doing anything wrong because when it happens to others i look up to, its always treated as something they'll never be able to change or improve. makes me feel like imma just be a horrible person forever because i made mistakes in the past.

This is a really complicated question that multiple answers can validly fit.

I don't think, personally, that anyone is irredeemable. I think everyone is on a journey of forgiveness and some of us may need more grace than others.

This is tw// abuse even more than the current topic, but my mom was incredibly abusive. We lived in a very rural area and she had a lot of undiagnosed problems and trauma of her own that created a pressure pot of issues. After I was born, she suffered through full on post-partum psychosis that nearly ended about as well as that sentence implies it could have. She was incredibly violent, controlling, and cruel for years. My sister went no-contact with her the second she turned 18. A significant event occurred that eventually spurned her into seeking real treatment that lasted for years. It's still ongoing.

My sister is also still no contact and I support her decision 100%. Those are her wounds and what she needed to do to get peace should be respected. I decided I wanted a relationship with the person who came out of all that work and, even then, it's been hard. I don't know if she's redeemed herself, and my god do we still have bumps in the road, but I support her for trying.

With Wilbur, how he responds to this is going to really impact a lot of things. I mean, I know no matter how he responds I won't be going on whatever journey of redemption and healing he has to go through. I'm tired and I feel hurt enough. I would think, if he wanted to show he was sincere, admitting what happened would be a great sense of closure for a lot of people who put time and energy and faith into this guy for years.

Not every person that causes harm is inherently evil, but there has to be some kind of knowledge that you're aware of the harm you've caused. No one is stuck as anything forever, life is constantly moving, and most people aren't saying his life is just over. You can work on yourself. You can change. And I'm saying that specifically to you, anonymous.

(Saying this, actually, there ARE people who would argue once you've done x you're beyond redemption based entirely on their life experiences as a victim, personal histories and many other factors. Kinda like my sister, that's their choice. And you have to accept that sometimes you fuck up so badly that you will permanently lose some people from your life. But your life isn't over.)

But I do think, regardless of what he says or does about this, his time of controlling a large platform is at an end. He can still do a lot of things in his life after he works on himself -- editing, song producing, directing, writing or whatever -- but being in charge of a large impressionable audience that could enable more destructive behaviors is just not it.

[fatum679]

HOTD s2x03

The scene with Helaena and Jaehaera is my favorite. Helaena loves her daughter so much and smiles at her. I'm happy.

Thanks to the writers that Helaena didn’t go crazy, which means there will be more of her in subsequent episodes and seasons, I’m so glad about that. Helaene is so thoughtful and wise - she is a true queen.

Helaena was able to forgive Alicent for forcing her to participate in a public funeral, for what she was doing during the murder of her grandson, and also, I am sure, Helaena forgives Alicent for forcing her to repeat her fate, for forced Helaena to marry an unloved man who ignores her and considers her an idiot.

I am very happy that Helaena and Alicent relationship has improved. Alicent really needed forgiveness.

Thanks to Rhaenys for saying that Luke cut out Aemond's eye and that was the beginning of the end. Some people can "laugh" all they want about Alicent writing letters to Rhaenyra, but Rhaenyra didn't write a single letter to Alicent or HER BROTHER after what happened to his eye. She just wanted to torture (sharply questioned) the one-eyed CHILD.

Poor Dyana, I feel so sorry for her, if it weren’t for Aegon, she would have worked in the castle, which is many times safer. She personifies all women of that time. With a 99.999% probability, if you end up in this world, then her fate awaits you. You will just try to survive.

I really didn't want to watch the scene with Aemond in the brothel, because I knew what was waiting for me. I feel so sorry for Aemond, he suffers from Stockholm Syndrome towards Sylvia (Madame). Aegon brought him to a brothel at the age of 13, when he was still a child, Aemond survived violence and the fact that he, as a teenager at the age of 16-18, comes to Madame, I think this is either Stockholm syndrome, or a desire to cope with his childhood trauma , he is trying to accept what happened to him. This is really a twisted "therapy" and I'm not entirely sure that Aemond and Sylvia had sex, I'm more inclined to think that he was just laying there because he's so emotionally repressed. I believe that he also came to her and only her, because he has complexes about his appearance and he is sure that he scares other ladies, and Sylvia has already seen his scar.

In this episode, Aegon himself confirmed to us that he stopped coming to the brothel, which means Madame didn’t lie, which means Errick didn’t lie and Aegon was really present at children’s fights.

Aegon remains the "ugly" brother. He continues to humiliate Aemond. Aegon has caused his brother trauma that he cannot overcome. He humiliates Aemond all his life and, since he has a crown on his head, he will not stop humiliating, bullying and treat him like property. This is so unbearable and unfair.

Aemond, I support you. Break an egg and make yourself some scrambled eggs.

Aemond the fierce - I like it.

I'm glad Aemond and Madame's story is over. Aemond returned to reality.

I'm looking forward to Helaemond in episodes 6-8. Aemond and Helaena must heal each other.

Jace kissed only his brother Joffrey, but did not say goodbye to Aegon 3 and Viserys 2. He doesn't really care about them.

Gwayne is such a fool. My respect for Criston is gradually returning, it’s a pity that only in such a contrast. Now I understand that Aegon is like Gwayne.

Daemon suffering from the murder of Jaehaerys - I don't believe it. He wants to kill his brother’s children because their grandfather is Otto and so that he and Rhaenyra have no rivals. You won't fool me.

Rhaenyra says that Viserys loved Alicent - no, that's not true. He only loved you and Daemon; he didn't care about other children.

Rhaenyra swore by the memory of her mother that she was still a virgin - a lie.

Alicent swears on the memory of her mother, because she really believes in the words of Viserys, she understood him that way and she is not deceiving. Alicent could end the war now, sorry, but I had to say it. She could scream and Rhaenyra would be caught, or come to a common decision with her. Choose what you like best.

Alicent talks about Aemond as a monster, clearly your golden boy is no longer "golden" and you just abandon him without trying to understand. What kind of mother are you? You forgot that your "friend" wanted to torture your 10 year old son.

I don’t know how to react to their scene; I should have tried to establish relationships earlier, when the children were little. If Rhaenyra had told Alicent about her relationship with Criston, it would have brought them closer together and Alicent would have understood and supported her. One lodge destroyed everything. It's not Alicent's fault that Viserys chose her as his wife. Alicent came to Viserys because she had no choice and her upbringing did not allow her to refuse her parents.

[pebsterino]

Im a fan of Da since 2019, I've cherished all 3 games, my favorite one is DA2. I will not be persuaded by anyone that DA4 is a good DA game.

They have damned everything I loved about Dragon Age for... this???

This is no longer the dark fantasy I fell in love with; it's a game that feels more like a Disney movie, complete with writing intended for children. The way they treat YOU as a player suggests that you aren't capable of solving the easiest riddle in this world. The direction of the writing is baffling. The constant explanations for everything make my blood boil because I'm not a child, and I can think for myself. They claim this is an RPG, yet it lacks any meaningful RPG elements. You have no choice whatsoever; your character is scripted the way the developers wanted them to be. (By the way, I had no idea that no matter which option you choose, your character will always try to be funny in an unfunny way.)

As for the gameplay, I've never cared for the gameplay in any Dragon Age games, so I won’t dwell on it, but I’ll share my opinion nonetheless. I think it’s still an improvement from Inquisition, but that’s not hard to achieve. The game was designed to be played online, which is another insane thing to consider. Is a Dragon Age game supposed to be online??? It’s so ridiculous, and I have no idea how BioWare thought it would work when nobody showed any interest in the multiplayer mode in Inquisition.

The lack of choice and the absence of consequences for your actions are glaring issues. Not a single companion cares if you try to be "rude" to them because you simply can’t be. The fact that you cannot make any of your companions leave your party is ridiculous. You are forced to harden one of your companions (which happens in almost every title), and the only consequences of them being hardened are that they will refuse to heal you and their approval rating is slightly lowered. You can literally romance both of them as if nothing happened.

I'm tired of my companions constantly reminding me that they have issues and need to work through their trauma with my character. As someone who goes to therapy every week, I find this portrayal insulting and ridiculous. Therapy is neither fun nor pleasant. It isn’t something you resolve by completing two quests and reassuring a character that “it’s fine, we have each other, and I care about you; your feelings are valid.” It’s the most absurd echo chamber I’ve ever been in. The fact that none of my companions can stop making everything about themselves and get their shit together while a blight is swallowing the world is beyond me. Therapy takes months, even years, and it’s a deeply personal journey that friends cannot, and shouldn't, interfere with. The whole idea that my protagonist can choose what’s best for the companions is equally absurd. My companions should be making choices based on how I treated them throughout the game; it shouldn't be up to me to decide that. And the best part is that, in the end, it doesn't matter, because no choice in this game has any real weight. Honestly, it’s narcissistic of anyone to expect others to fix their mental health issues. This was a reality check for me when I was younger; it hurts, but it is what it is.

The writing of the characters is something I never thought possible, but here we are. Most characters are written as if they're afraid to offend anyone. My wise friend once said, "If you live your life trying to avoid offending everyone, you might as well not live at all," and that’s true. It’s probably another reason why I can’t take anything seriously in this game—because nothing is serious. Nobody talks like this ever. So much of this is self-indulgent writing, which is fine and valid if you do it for yourself, not for the masses who will play this game.

This is easily illustrated by the Commander of the Grey Wardens, who tries so hard to be the bad guy. He won’t listen to logic or reason; he’s just a children’s movie villain who is evil for the sake of being evil. Honestly, the dialogue speaks for itself.

[camkaza]

OK, I have been reading some sharing of feelings about Tim "always leaving". Could someone please explain to me apart from the break up, when did he always leave?

The break up was dumb, I understand this, I am anxious to find out how they will justify it when they get back together. Even though he is struggling mentally and I understand that you sometimes need to fix yourself before being with someone even if you love them.

However I do not see the Tim was a bad boyfriend to her throughout their relationship. He was Tim...

1. He gave her the time and space she needed to break up with Chris.

2. He did not flinch when she asked him to wait until they were intimate.

3. He went to get placed in a desk position - actual Tim I am always in the action Bradford.

4. He was shocked and upset Lucy had not told him about the 5 player trade, but when she explained her viewpoint, he realised she was right, of it is ego with such a macho guy, but he evolves and lets it go.

5. If he is so bad of a boyfriend he could have left that make a dream foundation kid to Lucy, instead he made it a team effort and personally I think that he just wanted to run a test for both of them as potential parents...

6. In fact each time Lucy jokes or not jokes about "our grandkids" or "our kids", Tim does not skip a beat and goes in immediately with "nice" or "our kids would never do that" or "you would keep loosing our kids"... For the ladies here who have had boyfriends who's souls have left their bodies at the mention of "our kids", you guys know that that Tim is a dream.

7. Being a softie only for Lucy, he knows he is.

Now the two biggens are 1. When he went home in 6x01 - was it wrong to leave, I do not know, sometimes when you leave you either want to de-escalate a situation, or you are hurt. The whole point is his trauma that he has that he does not even realise. (+ I know Kujo was thankful for that night off, that poor soul had not been fed since they started dating 😂)

2. The whole lead up to break up and actual break up. I do not even want to list or go into detail, we have suffered enough. Now here is where there is no defence. He did bad even with the whole I want to protect her thing, like Tim, we know, we love you for it but let it go, protect each other and heal each other.

A big issue I have though is people saying "he constantly leaves", "oh, he never really loved her", etc.

Lucy has grown up with therapy her whole life, she has coping mechanisms, recognition of patterns and the whole bag of tricks of psychology. And even then, she has difficult moments like any mortal human being.

Tim has had ABSOLUTELY NOTHING in terms of recognising his trauma or how to deal with it. This is something he starts learning that is why he is so surprised by it in 6x10.

This is a long analysis but then again the field is not number of words restricting me, so... 😂

I just hope that there is a good and I hate to say it but slower and therefore meaningful path to them being back together.

I think it will help if Lucy shares that she dated Nolan with Tim. Not only will it show that hey, we are all human and have not followed the book 1000 % but also I really want the comedic aftermath of that 😂

I would really hate to see a 3rd party love interest for either of them.... Let's face it they will do it even if it is "Lucy or Tim get jealous and at the end of the episode it turns out they never had any interest in the person".

I like Eric's idea of his mom coming in, maybe she helps him (aside from therapy) realise that he should be with the person he loves. Because let's face it he will need to go to therapy even after they get back together.

Ps: we all know that the break up was fabricated by the writers for plot and also to see us squirm.

I am still in the " Nathan how dare you post a pick with Melissa and Eric with an engagement ring in the background" phase.... I swear.... And the fact that Eric and Melissa participate in this "making us go crazy"....

Anyways those are my thoughts and if someone has any real, valid answers on the whole Tim was a bad boyfriend... Let me know, but please no hate.

[system-of-a-feather]

is there anything you wish youd known about DID-specific therapy before you started? sorry if thats weird or vague, i just finally have a therapist that treats DID and im both nervous and relieved about it, so i guess im just wondering if you have advice as someone who has made so much progress with your own DID

God yeah there is a lot honestly. Like there are a lot of general rules of thumb that I've seen get mentioned here that I can say are usually really good things I found to be mostly true in my experience like

Persecutors are frequently demonized and they can be INCREDIBLY hard to work with, but they are incredibly important, often are parts that are capable of having the most growth and tend to add the most to the system once you figure out a good way to communicate and work with them; that said, don't push anything you aren't capable of handling, if they are being too much, safety first; just remember that they're probably some of the best allies you can have should you make things work with them; there is little stronger bonds - both between parts and as a whole - formed when you can befriend and trust someone / the part of you that you've always hated / avoided. Loving persecutors is self love and self love is important for healing

While keeping track of your parts can be helpful, try not to obsess and fixate on trying to find all the parts and figure out when and where everyone came from. It can become overwhelming (especially if you have a lot of parts), you might find parts and things you aren't ready to deal with if you try to look too hard, and it can take away from the important processing, bonding, communication, and present issues you might be facing as a whole

Its okay to relapse on maladaptive behaviors, especially if it keeps you safe and/or from relapsing or starting potentially more risky / dangerous / harmful maladaptive behaviors. Two steps forward, one step back, it's still progress so try not to be hard on yourself. Struggling and fumbling is part of recovery, you aren't bad, or wrong, or uniquely "broken" or anything for struggling through recovery. Recovery is just fucking hard and engaging with it at all is a really amazing and powerful thing.

Integration =/= Fusion. Integration is just improving and increasing the communication, connectivity, and fluidity of information and coordination of parts. Integration is inherent in any form of DID treatment.

On top of that, I think some of the ones I don't see talked about as much would be...

Splitting, while often assumed to be a negative thing and a result of trauma (true and sometimes!), can be very healing when you look at it from a larger lens. This isn't to say that you should want to split or seek to make new alters as a coping mechanism, because I'd probably say in most situations that is probably not healthy. This is more so saying that if your brain wants to / needs to / does split, its okay to just let it happen. Trying to actively prevent splits can cause a lot of emotional / trauma overwhelm and risk crisis states and honestly, sometimes its easier to deal with two (or more) contained and stable parts than it is to deal with one complex and unstable part. Likewise, sometimes it is easier to be two (or more) contained stable parts than it is to exist as one complex and unstable part. Splitting sometimes - and often is - a mechanism to maintain stability and keep life for all parts within a relative "window of tolerance" that you can function in. Splitting isn't a moral failure or a recovery failure or anything special. Splitting is just part of the journey of recovery and a lot of people split after they start recovery cause it can be a pretty hard thing to go through. You aren't alone if this happens and it is just part of the process and journey.

Similar to that and something that we've been talking on this blog a lot and trying to spread...

Fusion does not have to be a final thing. Fusion does not have to be a huge and notable event. Fusion can last anywhere from a few minutes, to a few hours, to a few months, to forever depending on what works for you. If a fusion isn't working for you or isn't sticking, your brain will likely re-split and if it doesn't, you can always actively try to undo it and we've done it multiple times pretty successfully. Fusion ALSO isn't anything special, it's something that just happens. Fusion and splitting are two sides of the same coin and really aren't anything as permanent or anything that carries any inherent value to it beyond what it means to you as an individual / whole.

And probably one of the things that I was the most astonished by

You don't actually have to process all your trauma to be at a place with your DID where you are considered to be "in remission" or to even reach functional multiplicity / final fusion. A lot of the meat of DID-focused therapy and recovery and improvement to life is not as much in the trauma processing as much as it is in the stabilization period; that is just to say, the main meat of growth, recovery, and improvement is found by working with your parts to establish an internal support system, internal trust with one another, and deeply getting to know each of the parts. Of course, trauma processing will happen along the way, but you can get EXTREMELY far with recovery simplly by focusing on the stability of the system, how you each support and communicate and coordinate with one another, and dealing with the trauma topics that come up in the immediate present. A good way to think about it is that the stabilization period is essentially creating a strong foundation and a strong base so that you feel secure and confident navigating basic day to day life with a lot of internal love and support and the trust that you and your parts can support eachother through a SHIT ton of stuff. If you can develop an internal relationship with your parts and your system that is very strong and built on trust and care, then dealing with trauma and adversities become WAY easier. Thus it can be a lot easier to postpone any heavy trauma processing that is not actively relevant and actively necessary to help improve internal relationships until AFTER you have a stronger and more secure realtionship with your parts. Thus I would suggest focusing on the present issues, the things parts are feeling and experiencing in the moment, and addressing those rather than trying to uncover every secret and trauma that you may or may not remember. If the trauma is something you are ready to deal with and it's relevant, your brain will bring it up when the time is right. Trust your brain thats protected you thus far and kept you alive thus far to let you know things when you are ready to know it, but also don't be afraid to ask parts for help if it does share more than you are ready. That's just to say - Don't Dig for information you don't want to know, but if something comes up that you don't feel equipt to deal with, its completely okay to seek internal or external help to try leave it behind. Again, especially early on, the focus should be on stabilization rather than trauma processing.

And just a little small one about online spaces and what not, but try not to worry too much abotu whether your experiences with the disorder align with others, or if you look "fake" or what not. A lot of recovery will look like things people who don't know better would think is "impossible with DID" and online spaces tend to be a place where a false image of what things "should" look like is kind of developed. Whatever you experience is what you experience and is inherently a real and true experience. Don't try to force yourself to fit into the expectation and boxes of others as it will often slow down your progress.

[yourwitchmama]

Why Don’t They Like Me? Pick a card

**disclaimer**

This reading is harsh without any sugar coating. Please scroll for your own mental health if you need to nurture yourself right now. If you are genuinely curious or want to change, proceed.

How do I pick a pile?

Intuitively pick a number between 1 and six, and scroll to the number you chose.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Pile 1: Two of Wands Reversed, King of Wands Reversed, Four of Wands Reversed

There is a clash in visions and leadership. You’re seen as indecisive and lack the direction that the person in question respects. They may feel your energy is too controlling or overpowering, making them uncomfortable in your presence. They might see you as someone who disrupts the harmony they create. I believe that this person isn’t jealous of you, but they are threatened and competing with you.

Pile 2: Queen of Cups Reversed, Ten of Cups, Three of Swords Reversed

There’s a sense of emotional instability here. They feel that you're overly sensitive or manipulative, using emotions as a weapon. Despite any outward appearance of happiness or connection, there's lingering pain or betrayal they associate with you. They might be trying to move on, but old wounds are hard to heal. This person holds grudges about your stubbornness, but their vision of you is skewed by their pain.

Pile 3: Four of Cups, Three of Cups Reversed, Ace of Wands Reversed

They see you as disinterested or detached, perhaps even bored with what they offer. There might have been a fallout or betrayal in a social circle, leading to distrust. They could feel that your energy is stagnant, lacking the enthusiasm or spark they crave, making it hard for them to connect with you.

They feel like you’re a narcissist or a sociopath because of your lack of empathy. They keep this to themselves mostly. (If you think you have those disorders, therapy is helpful for navigating your self esteem and place in this world/unmanageable boredom)

Pile 4: Ace of Pentacles, The Fool, Nine of Swords

Your approach to life might seem reckless or overly optimistic to them, making them anxious and annoyed. They could be projecting their own fears and insecurities onto you, seeing you as someone who triggers their deepest worries. Despite your potential and opportunities, they might view your actions as naive or thoughtless, causing them discomfort and disrespect towards you. The problem isn’t you at all, the problem is that there are two personalities clashing. This person is scared and jealous of your optimism. It is not likely that you will be close.

Pile 5: Eight of Pentacles, Three of Pentacles Reversed, The Empress Reversed

They might not respect your work ethic or feel that you don’t contribute enough to the collective effort. There’s a sense that you’re not meeting their standards, either in teamwork or creativity. The Empress reversed suggests they see you as lacking nurturing or empathy, perhaps even as someone who drains rather than supports. They think you over share and trauma dump at inappropriate times in inappropriate places. It’s okay to share, but make sure it isn’t at work or it the person seems uncomfortable. (They’re shuffling, looking away, getting quiet, crossing their arms, looking behind their shoulder, shaking a knee ((not all at the same time))

Don’t overly apologize just brush it off. Making a big deal out of it will make them feel worse about you. For this person/place/people, play it cool and shut your mouth because they aren’t worth your lore honey~

Pile 6: Four of Cups, Six of Cups, The Magician

There could be a sense of you being stuck in the past or too focused on nostalgia, making them feel you’re not living in the present. They might see you as manipulative or deceitful, using your skills or charm in ways that make them uncomfortable. Their dislike could stem from a belief that you’re not genuine or that you're using your power in a way they don’t agree with. They feel like you might be borderline, and you need therapy. They don’t want to let go of you, but they are considering it or have recently done it due to their own well being.