#i mean i am glad it was diagnosed quickly but.

[christaline]

Completely out of my nausea meds no refills no nothing. It’s crazy how you can forget that the meds ur taking are actually working till u can’t take them anymore. I thought my Hyperemesis was fading turns out no i just spaced out taking my pills so that I experienced little to no symptoms. No that it’s gone i can already feel it coming lol. It’s gonna be really bad if i don’t get anymore soon bc at 5 months I should not be throwing up 5+ times a day :(

[lemonnsss]

Moral of the Story: Chapter 9

A/N: Sorry I took so long posting this, a family friend got diagnosed with terminal cancer and my grandpa died soooo… coping with humor right now.

Feedback is always appreciated!

MotS Masterlist

Taglist: @vicmc624 , @mostlymarvelgirl,@yvonneeeee, @beetlejuicesupremacy , @moonlightreader649 , @whattheduckisupkyle , @chrisevans-realwife , @nekoannie-chan , @mrsbarnes32557038 , @imyourbratzdoll , @weallhaveadestiny, @oldsoulmagic

Word Count: 2.3k

Steve and I walked onto the bridge. Three people stood out, with no sign of Tony.

"I see you found the runaway," the red-haired woman spoke.

"They weren't too far off. Only the other side of the plane." Steve replied, an air of laughter in his voice

"Well, it wasn't intentional," I said, perhaps a bit too defensively.

"At least I'm not the only one getting lost." A brunette man commented.

"Guess not. Oh- I'm Mr. Stark's secretary, Mx. Eirsson, Kyrie Eirsson."

"Eir? So you are a healer, no?" The tall blonde said expectantly.

"No, not really." I'm starting this off with a lie, lovely.

"Ledan Eirsson, I am Thor, son of Odin, Prince of Asgard." He extended his hand, a warm smile on his face.

"Prince...?" I worriedly glanced at Steve.

I looked back when Prince Sunshine over there started laughing, "Yes, although I would prefer if you called me Thor, just Thor."

"Pleasure to meet you, Thor."

Steve placed a hand on my shoulder, "That's Natasha," he gestured to the redhead which she promptly responded to with a curt smile, "she doesn't talk much."

And then there was one. He didn't notice until Natasha nudged him in the side.

"Oh, um. I'm Dr. Banner."

"Pleasure to meet'cha, Doc." A sound came from under the table, Steve quickly found a tablet with what seemed to be live footage from Loki's cage.

By the time I heard the first comprehendible piece of what Fury was saying my attention was grabbed by the hatch underneath Loki's cage being opened.

"Thirty-thousand feet down in a steel trap. You get how that works?" Fury closes the hatch with a press of a button on the control panel.

Fury outstretched his arm, gesturing to Loki, "Ant," then pointing to the control panel, "boot."

Loki smirked, "It's an impressive cage." he looked into the camera, "Not built, I think, for me."

"Built for something a lot stronger than you."

"Oh, I've heard."

The doctor seemed very tense, for what reason- I didn't know.

"The mindless beast, makes play he's still a man." Loki sauntered towards the camera, "How desperate are you that you call upon such lost creatures to defend you?"

“How desperate am I?” Fury set a hand on his hip, agitation growing in his voice, “You threaten my world with war. You steal a force you can’t hope to control. You talk about peace and you kill ‘cause it’s fun. You have made me very desperate. You might not be glad that you did.”

“Ooh. It burns you to come so close.” Loki began taunting Fury, “To have the Tesseract, to have power, unlimited power.” Loki smirked into the camera, “And for what? A warm light for all mankind to share, and then to be reminded what real power is.”

Fury forced a smile, “Well, let me know if ‘Real Power’ wants a magazine or something.”

Our room falls into an uncomfortable silence.

Fury walked away saying, “Well, let me know if ‘Real Power’ wants a magazine or something.”

“He really grows on you, doesn’t he?”

"Loki's gonna drag this out. So, Thor, what’s his play?”

Thor seemed distant as he responded, “He has an army called the Chitauri. They are not of Asgard or of any world known.” The Prince walked back to the table, “He means to lead them against your people. They will win him the earth. In return, I suspect for the Tesseract.”

“An army? From outer space?” Steve seemed to question what the fuck he’d been dragged into.

“He’s building another portal. That’s what he needs Erik Selvig for.”

Erik who?

“Selvig?” Why does Thor recognize this guy's name?

“He’s an astrophysicist.” The doctor explained.

“He’s a friend.” Thor asserted.

“Loki has him under some kind of spell, ”Natasha looked away, “along with one of ours.”

She really does speak. More importantly, she’s familiar with the agent Loki brainwashed.

“I wanna know why Loki let us take him.”

“I don't think we should be focusing on Loki. That guy's brain is a bag full of cats, you could smell crazy on him.” Banner was pushing it.

“Have care how you speak.” Thor said, anger rising in his voice, “Loki is beyond reason, but he is of Asgard, and he's my brother.”

So the Prince is a himbo with a temper, good to know.

“He killed eighty people in two days.” Oh.

“...He's adopted.” Ah, yes. That changes everything.

“Does he pose any threat? Just because he’s in a cage doesn’t mean he’s harmless.” I didn’t know if I’d just asked a dumbass question but it’s better to ask than have that as an unknown variable.

“No. There’s no way out from the inside, besides that, it’s built to withstand more than he can throw at it.” Natasha answered, seemingly knowing more than the rest.

“Iridium, what did they need Iridium for?”

Tony walked in, “It’s a stabilizing agent. Oh, Kyrie, been lookin’ for ‘ya.”

“Hey, Tony. Coulson?!” I got up and walked over to them, a beaming smile plastered on my face, “I had no idea you’d be here!”

Phil placed a hand on my shoulder, “I would have let you know if I had a way to contact you.”

“Guess I’m chopped liver.” Tony feigned hurt, before whispering the next bit, “Anyways, I’ll fly you there. Keep the love alive.” He spoke at full volume again, “Means the portal won't collapse on itself, like it did at SHIELD. No hard feelings, Point Break. You've got a mean swing. Also, it means the portal can open as wide, and stay open as long, as Loki wants.”

Tony walked over to what I can assume is Fury’s position on the Bridge, “Uh, raise the mid-mast, ship the topsails.” The crew looked at Tony like he’d grown a second head, “That man is playing GALAGA! Thought we wouldn't notice. But we did.” Tony covered one eye and looked around, “How does Fury do this?”

“He turns.” A female agent responded.

I looked at Phil, a light whisper escaping my lips, “Who is she?”

He leaned in, “That’s Agent Hill, sh’s Fury’s right hand.”

“Mhm… thank you.” I gave him a small smile.

Coulson grinned in response, “Never a problem.”

“Well, that sounds exhausting,” Tony said in the most annoying voice he could get away with. “Agent Barton can get his hands on pretty much easily. Only major component he still needs is a power source. A high energy density, something to kick start the cube.”

Agent Hill spoke again, “When did you become an expert in thermonuclear astrophysics?”

“Last night.” That I could attest to, “The packet, Selvig's notes, the Extraction Theory papers.” It’s always funny when Tony speaks seriously, most of the time I forget he’s a genius, “Am I the only one who did the reading?”

“No, you made me read them too.” I said with a pointed tone.

“Anyone else?” Tony said practically ignoring my comment.

“Does Loki need any particular kind of power source?”

“He's got to heat the cube to a hundred and twenty million Kelvin just to break through the Coulomb barrier.“

Ah, yes, words.

“Unless, Selvig has figured out how to stabilize the quantum tunneling effect.”

“Well, if he could do that he could achieve Heavy Ion Fusion at any reactor on the planet.”

Wow, those two were made for each other.

“Finally, someone who speaks English.”

Steve looked around, “Is that what happened?”

Tony and the doctor shook hands, “It's good to meet you, Dr. Banner. Your work on anti-electron collisions is unparalleled. And I'm a huge fan of the way you lose control and turn into an enormous green rage monster.”

Banner looked down, “Thanks.”

“Dr. Banner is only here to track the cube. I was hoping you might join him.” Fury says as he walks in.

“Let's start with that stick of his. It may be magical, but it works an awful lot like a HYDRA weapon.” Steve had an obvious bias and curiosity.

“I don't know about that, but it is powered by the cube. And I'd like to know how Loki used it to turn two of the sharpest men I know into his personal flying monkeys.”

“Monkeys? I do not understand-”

“-I do. I understood that reference.” Thor was cut off by Steve, obviously excited by the fact he understood some of our jargon.

“Shall we play, Doctor?” Tony asked.

“Let’s play some.” Banner responded.

After I waved to Phil I followed Tony and the doctor out of the bridge, hoping to not get lost again.

I had been sitting in a spare chair in the “Science Bro’s” lab for what felt like an eternity. Man, I regret not taking advanced science courses in uni.

“The gamma readings are definitely consistent with Selvig's reports on the Tesseract. But it's gonna take weeks to process.” Bruce, as I had learned, said.

“If we bypass their mainframe and direct a reroute to the Homer cluster, we can clock this around six hundred teraflops.” Tony replied.

The two of them had gotten into a groove. The sounds of the machines whirring in the background made great background noise, so I couldn’t really complain.

“All I packed was a toothbrush.”

“You know, you should come by Stark Towers sometime. Top ten floors, all R&D. You'd love it, it's candy land.”

“Thanks, but the last time I was in New York I kind of broke...Harlem.”

“Well, I promise a stress-free environment. No tension. No surprises.” Tony said as he poked Bruce with a mini-taser.

“OW!!”

Tony studied Bruce for a reaction, “Nothing?”

Steve walked in, “Hey! Are you nuts?”

Tony ignored Steve,” You really have got a lid on it, haven't you? What's your secret? Mellow jazz? Bongo drums? Huge bag of weed?”

“Is everything a joke to you?”

“Funny things are.”

“Threatening the safety of everyone on this ship isn't funny.” OH, HE DID NOT, “No offense, doctor.”

“No, it's alright. I wouldn't have come aboard if I couldn't handle pointy things.” God bless Dr. Bruce Banner.

“You're tiptoeing, big man. You need to strut.”

“As someone who used to work with far more dangerous people, and teach them too. I concur.”

“Kyrie?” Steve sounded surprised, “And you need to focus on the problem, Mr. Stark.”

“You think I'm not?” Tony pulled out a bag of blueberries from god knows where. “Why did Fury call us and why now? Why not before? What isn't he telling us? I can't do the equation unless I have all the variables.”

“You think Fury's hiding something?”

“He's a spy. Captain, he's the spy. His secrets have secrets. It's bugging him too, isn't it?”

“Can’t argue with Tony this time.”

“Uh...I just wanna finish my work here and…” Bruce fell silent.

“Doctor?”

“‘A warm light for all mankind’ Loki’s jab at Fury about the cube.”

“I heard it.”

“Well, I think that was meant for you. Even if Barton didn't post that all over the news.”

“The Stark Tower? That big ugly,” Tony shoots Steve a glare, “...building in New York?”

“It's powered by Stark Reactors, a self-sustaining energy source. That building will run itself for what, a year?” Bruce turned to Tony.

“That's just the prototype. I'm kind of the only name in clean energy right now.”

Bruce looked back at Steve while pointing to Tony, “So, why didn't SHIELD bring him in on the Tesseract project? I mean, what are they doing in the energy business in the first place?”

“I should probably look into that once my decryption programmer finishes breaking into all of SHIELD's secure files,” Tony mentions offhandedly.

Steve looked shocked, “I'm sorry, did you say...?”

I let out a breathy laugh, “Yup, it’s at least a weekly occurrence.”

“Jarvis has been running it since I hit the bridge. In a few hours we'll know every dirty secret SHIELD has ever tried to hide. Blueberry?”

“Yet you're confused about why they didn't want you around?”

“Oh, no. He’s fully aware, he just finds it funny.”

“An intelligence organization that fears intelligence? Historically, not awesome.”

“I think Loki's trying to wind us up. This is a man who means to start a war, and if don't stay focused, he'll succeed. We have orders, we should follow them.”

“Following is not really my style.” Tony ate a mouthful of blueberries.

“And you're all about style, aren't you?” Steve said, smiling.

“Of the people in this room, which one is; A. wearing a spangly outfit, and B. not of use?” Tony retorted.

“Steve, tell me none of this smells a little funky to you?” Banner tried to push Steve to think.

“Just find the cube.” Steve said before he walked out.

“Well, that went splendidly.” I laughed from my seat. The benefits of being a third party.

“That's the guy my dad never shut up about? Wondering if they shouldn't have kept him on ice.” Tony looked over at me only to be met with a glare.

“The guy's not wrong about Loki. He does have the jump on us.”

“What he’s got is an ACME dynamite kit. It's gonna blow up in his face, and I'm gonna be there when it does.”

“And I’ll read all about it.”

“Uh-uh. You’ll be suiting up like the rest of us.”

“Ah, see. I don't get a suit of armor. I'm exposed, like a nerve. It's a nightmare.”

“You know, I've got a cluster of shrapnel, trying every second to crawl its way into my heart.”

“And I knew a kid who could turn himself into a nuke.” Both of the men in the room looked at me, confusion written all over their faces.

“O-kay? Moving on. But you can control it.”

“Because I learned how.”

“It's different.”

“It doesn’t have to be. Not forever at least.” I tried to add, though they seemed to be stuck in their own world again.

“Hey, I've read all about your accident. That much gamma exposure should have killed you.”

“So you're saying that the Hulk... the other guy... saved my life? That's nice. It's a nice sentiment. Saved it for what?”

A moment passed, “I guess we’ll find out.”

“You might not like that.” Banner sounded scared, scared of himself and scared of whoever the ‘other guy’ was.

“You just might.” I trained Tony well.

[botanikos]

Holy crap bae what is the story of the iron infusion? If you're comfortable talking about it! Am so glad you're still here!!!

Sure, I'm comfortable with it! It's not my only brush with death, just my most intense one!

cw for menstruation mention!

☆

To start, among my myriad of issues, I was diagnosed with PCOS (Polcystic Ovary Syndrome). This means I have a hormonal disorder and get cysts on my ovaries. Additionally, and ultimately how we found out about the worsening of the PCOS, I had extremely irregular menstrual cycles. So following a rather harsh 32-day cycle with pain in which i described as "wolverine gutting me repeatedly even though there's nothing left," and a failed trip to the hospital for aid, it was determined that due to these excessive cycles, I was severely anemic! Borderline blood transfusion, anemic. Yaaay!

Fast-forward! I was scheduled to undergo 2 rounds of Injectafer, an iron infusion to help get my levels back on track ( at the time, I wasn't capable of holding iron or producing enough of it ). The first session was fine! I sat with my phone and my mom and watched some Netflix.

Second infusion. . . They hooked me up, I got comfortable, and opened my book. I had enough time to look at my mom and said, "Hey, I'm sure it's just my anxiety, but I felt a small pain in my arm. Probably just the needle, but my chest feels cold and—" !! Everything went black, and I couldn't breathe. I could distantly hear people around me, but I couldn't move or see or breathe. My mom says I flushed red, and then all the blood left my body in an instant. They apparently even started to pull out a crash cart.

But they stopped the infusion and immediately replaced it with Benadryl and whatever steroid they used. The coming-back was ROUGH, and they forced the medicine into me quickly, so it BURNED.

Anyway, the staff there now know me by name; pretty sure it scared the shit out of them coz it doesn't happen so often and was really supposed to be an incredibly low chance of that happening.~

SO YEA, I am allergic to Injectafer! 1 of 2 known medical allergies! BUT I MAKE A STABLE AMOUNT OF IRON ON MY OWN NOW !!!!!!!!!!!! YAY ME!!!!!!

[painted-bees]

"Lacey and Raf brought out the worst in each other" you mention that they snarked about other people and each other. The sketch of them give bad vibes. Was Raf kind of a dick before he met Lacey? Or did he just act like a dick to impress her?

Hm lmao

Before meeting his Uncle, and before his diagnosis, Raf maintained a very...pessimistic opinion of people, and read a lot of negative things into people's behaviors and words. Largely informed by his experiences throughout his childhood. Typically, he kept his thoughts to himself, unless something really triggered a defensive outburst. He didn't engage in gossip out of fear that it'd be used against him. He believed that he ought to be nice/kind to people--for the sake of appearances, to avoid being talked about behind his back, to win trust, and because he would have liked someone to exercise kindness with him. But he himself could (and often would) find a personal slight against him in anything anyone did around him. And he'd keep track of it for himself. It was a score he tallied only for his own reference, and would affect how he interacted with people.

To anyone who knew him better than an acquaintance (which was to say--not many), undiagnosed Raf was a very quiet, very mercurial sort who could occassionally grow very upset, very suddenly, over seemingly nothing at all. To anyone else, he was a charming glad hander who could work and room and was very entertaining to be around, unless he Didn't Like You. In which case, he'd quietly, subtlely shoulder you out of his life, usually via passive aggressive means.

Then he moved to Vancouver, met his Uncle Bill, realized there was something really very wrong with himself, and reluctantly got his formal diagnosis. Around the same time he was diagnosed, he started dating Lacey.

Him and Lacey got on real fast, largely because Lacey seemed to get him. She had come from similar hardships regarding exploitative, controlling parents, and had bucked against them at a much earlier age. She agreed with Raf that everyone was just out to get their pound of flesh from everyone else, and knowing that--made people exhausting to deal with. The two of them bonded over their similar traumatic experiences and their shared bitter outlooks...and they began finding small validation in sharing their thoughts and observations with each other about the world around them--the thoughts and observations that were mean and cruel, that they had kept to themselves up until they found each other. Thoughts and observations that were often based on vibes and gut feelings more than anything that was actually observable. And they'd agree with eachother's negative verdicts and poor opinions, because it felt good.

But--being with someone who tells you just how poorly they think of everyone else...quickly gets you wondering if they think poorly of you, too. Or, at the very least, it makes you want to ensure that you never do anything to win their negative judgment. Avoiding anything that they deem as stupid or tacky or embarrassing, and so forth.

Anyways, therapy ends up being pretty good for Raf, and over the course of two years, he does start curbing these behaviors and monitoring his thoughts more strictly. And as he does this more and more, Lacey finds him more and more annoying to navigate. Raf begins to take on a more mediating voice when it comes to indulging critical/snarky observations and remarks, and Lacey begins to feel like he's kinda turning on her and growing weird and distant. That, as well as a handful of other things, gets them fighting a lot more...and more passionately. They've always had pretty bombastic yelling matches from time to time, but it becomes a near daily occurrence during the final year of their relationship. By the time they break up, Raf has already decided on the kind of person he wants to be, that he doesn't want his PD to be his personality and has been making steady strides towards that goal.

So to answer your question, I am not really sure! He's mentally ill and has been doing his best this whole time.

For that matter, so is she. But Lace wouldn't receive her diagnosis of BPD until finally seeking therapy to deal with the aftermath of her bitterly traumatic relationship with Raf.

[humanjadewingletaskblog]

Chapter 4: Winter

Winter laid down on the top bunk of him and Qibli’s shared bunk bed.

He just came back to this school today and was relieved.

To be back with Qibli? Of course not, he had no opinion on Qibli whatsoever.

Winter was just relieved to be away from his parents again.

Breaks from school were awful, having to live with being a disappointment to his parents and them having clear favouritism towards his siblings all day.

School was his only escape.

The only place he could be himself without anybody caring.

Well, except his twin sister Icicle.

Icicle was his parents favourite child.

She did what she was told.

Never acted up.

Was never unordinary.

Winter had always had a feeling of being unordinary from everyone else, and it didn’t help that this summer he was diagnosed with depression.

After his diagnosis his parents got worse.

They never took his mental health problems seriously.

They just saw him as a baby who needed to calm down.

Everyone at school though was much more accepting.

Especially Qibli.

Qibli was perfect, a kind boy who was the only person he’s ever met that could perfectly tell what he needed, when he needed it.

Winter felt his face growing warmer the more he thought about him.

‘NO! I can’t be into him! My parents haven’t approved of him even as a friend. They ESPECIALLY wouldn’t approve since he’s a boy. I don’t like boys, never have, never will. I have to be what my parents expect of me. I need to grow out of this phase.’ He thought.

Winter heard the rustling of keys at the door.

He quickly grabbed his sketchbook to look busy.

The door opened and Qibli walked through the door.

He had a short, low ponytail in his hair.

Winter remembered before summer break started Qibli mentioned wanting to grow out his hair.

“Winter!” Qibli said while quickly putting his stuff down. “Get down here!”

Winter reluctantly agreed and Qibli wrapped his arms around him.

“I missed you so much! How was your summer? Mine was great! Sorry I took a while to get here I was helping out my mom and sister do some things.”

“My summer was…alright. You grew your hair out.”

“I DID! I’m so glad you noticed! Does it look good?”

“UH-UM, NO, NOT AT ALL! GET A PROPER HAIRCUT WILL YOU?”

“And what would you determine a ‘proper haircut’?”

“I- uh- well…okay maybe I didn’t think that far BUT FIND ONE!”

“Glad you’re still as stubborn as last year, I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t so stubborn.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Your stubbornness makes you very fun to tease,” Qibli said, smirking.

“I AM NOT FUN TO TEASE!”

“You really are, anyways, We’re gonna meet up with my friend and her roommate tonight for dinner just so you know.”

“Do I have to go?”

“Yes.”

“Why can’t I just eat dinner on my own?”

“Winter I know you, if I wasn’t bringing you with me you wouldn’t even go to dinner because you have ‘better things to do’.”

Winter fell quiet.

“Come on, it’ll be fun for you to get to know new people!”

“I would much rather perish than do that.”

“Ha! I know, but it’s good to try new things.”

“For you, maybe.”

“Look, trust me Winter, it will be fun! I promise my friend is nice and I bet her roommate is too.”

“Ugh, fine, I’ll go.”

“Yay! I mean, I was gonna make you go anyways but I’m glad you’re actually willing too!”

“A little.”

[gurorori]

The Seed and Queendom were so powerful whwhwbwhsjjdd i'm🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 i love. Cure for me was also verrry fun i love her choreographies, she's such a skilled and fluid dancer !!!

And exist for life is so🥺🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭😭 beautifulllll i'm wjqbwnnsns <333 in love. I love. A lot . Mwah thank you for all your recommendations it is. 3:15am and i have to call it a day but !!!!!! Wah

da seed always gimme chills cuz i love da message & its nawt jus a figure of speech either, aurora fun fact is dat shes grown up in very close proximity 2 nature n clearly has so so much love n respect 4 it an i think it show wonderfully nawt only thru her music but thru her entire energy. she bcome one with it!! there a reason every1 calls her a forest nymph / elf n so much more in da comments aha

tho i think 2 call her anythin but human is a bit unfair, i think shes very human in da most beautiful of ways. unironically

queendom is suhc an anthemmmm... n it warms my heart when i see live performances of it cuz it really feel like one big hug with every1 given da lyrics n jus da vibes it creates. luv it so much, n i love da music video n_n women....

cure 4 me is very special 2 me even tho it a bit sillier soundin than most of her songs (along w the chorus blowin up on tt) readin more ab it from aurora herself tho, it turn out da inspiration came from sumthin dats a very loaded topic & after dat i cudn look at it da same & grew even closer 2.. THE SONG? idk why im talkin ab it lik a human but. word from miss aurora:

"Like always, I got inspired by a really huge, dark and horrible thing that happens in the world. The first seed of inspiration came from thinking about the countries where it’s still legal to do conversion therapy for gay people and lesbians. I just thought that’s so pointless. The first idea was me saying, ‘I don’t need a cure for me – just let me live, man!’”

“Why is it so difficult for people to just let others be themselves? Then I thought that it could mean many other things. People tend to believe quite quickly that something is wrong with them if they’re not like the people they see in front of them. It’s so sad that it doesn’t take much for us to really doubt ourselves.”

^ lil context 4 dat is, aurora is definitely queer as shes talkd ab her attraction 2 ppl in da past & shes had a girlfriend be4 too. i think she mentions dat she feels different romantically in regards 2 men n women. but also she doesn label herself really, but i think this gives more insight into this song. as well as ive noticed ppl talkin ab her includin some of her own more 'weird' mannerisms n well. the dance is weird n silly too (/affectionate!!! its gettin added 2 sky soon like i talkd abt in dms, n im boutta spam it everywhere) n i think it an incredible move too.

i think cure 4 me can also b related back 2 auroras neurodivergence, which she has talkd ab before. she mentioned bein made fun of @ school 4 bein autistic (altho i don think she was ever diagnosed w it) n also bein put on adhd medication in da past - pretty sure dats her official diagnosis. but yeah. honesly, jus from watchin the way she carries herself n moves n talks in interviews & lives, she was always so clearly different & felt closer than other artists 2 me. like nawt in a 'wow shes so weird' way like sum ppl say. idk theres an inherent sense of belongin w dat person cuz shes so much like us too. man i started cryin but anyway i luv her lots she really mean lots 2 me.

exist 4 love is very beautiful too.. i luv da reference 2 the birth of venus, i love da influence of 1920/30s music too like many mentioned.. it make me melt into a puddle sumtime. we rly do exist 4 it huh.!!!!

but yah n_n thank 4 goin on this aurora journey wit me!!! am glad it was fun & am glad 2 infect ya so @/meowyoi, ya n i can all grow a bit more insane togethr <3

[blackvail22]

9/25/23

10:25am -

i just had my first appointment with my new psychiatrist? i think thats the word. i got diagnosed with BED (binge eating disorder), and ive been saying for YEARS that i had it, and no one would help me. its been 9 years since i first went to a doctor and told them about my eating habits; they didnt help me. i had an obvious ed, and im glad im finally getting the help i need.

my relationship with food is severely complicated. im obsessed with my weight and the calories im intaking, but i cant stop... binging. and the fact i have fat on my body makes me want to throw up, nd every time i notice it, it makes me feel like my insides are being scratched over and over. my fear of purging is the only reason i dont...

a month ago, i was talking with my counselor, and she asked me if ive ever been screened for adhd. i told her no, but i can tell her yes!! my new doctor did a screening thing for adhd, and i have it. shes referring me to somewhere to get a more in-depth test to see what type of adhd and the severeity of it.

i told my mom all of this, and she seemed upset. i dont understand? shes been so rude to me lately... i mean, she always is.. but it feels like she changed? shes so bitter, and shes being like homophobic 😭😭 out of nowhere LIKE WHAT PROMPTED U TO BE LIKE THIS? i SWEAR on everything, being a chronic facebook user ruined her. she wasnt like this before facebook LMAOO shes so sad. but, all well!

im going to try my best to clean my room again. i NEED to get my shit together!! its so embarrassing how messy it is. i have to focus on doing it. i have to do it today; i have no choice!!

10:17pm

news flash: i didnt clean my room. whos surprised? im going to try and get it together before i go to bed because i have to... i have or else ill feel like im letting my boyfriend down lol

yk idk why but being friends and flirting w somsone is so much different than dating them. its insane!

i didnt mention this before but im being put on a different medication that targets bed and adhd and it also helps depression. i have to do a bunch of testing before i take it, though, because its a controlled substance

im afraid of facing my past. i know that i was a fucked up kid, but seeing HOW fucked up i am is... terrifying. like i read through a few of my old roblox messages and woah!!! i was living a double life, holy shit! obvi... i used a fake name, fake age, and some of the stories i would tell belonged to my sister. ill forever be regretful for the way i was back then... it makes me think, though... did i ever really change?

i had this girlfriend named .... lets call her juju. she lived on the other side of my country, and we met because we both ran fan accts for a youtuber on insta. i became ... obsessive? quickly. i feel sorry for her, but i was 12 and she was nearly 16, so... she easily couldve cut me off once she found out my age lmao. idk, i kept trying to find ways for her and i to meet in person because i was so excited to meet her online. she broke up with me, and i made another instagram and pretended to be someone else for a while.... aka i catfished her. i didnt show her photos of anyone else, just used the name "katrina" like i used to. i got her to talk abt her exes and then she talked abt how she recently broke up w someone and how crazy they were. i knew then that my behavior wasnt normal. i didnt understand the boundaries i was crossing.

am i all that different now? i used his snap maps to see when he's at his dad and when hes at his moms or at school. when i planned on moving down there, i looked for apartments that were nearby his primary home. i attenpted to make an acct to pretend i was someone else and see if he would lie to me abt info abt his life. i didnt finish it.... i got like the ick from myself and was thinking abt how crazy i was.

i try my best to not be ... stalker-like. i wouldnt follow someone throughout their day to see where they are, who theyre with. i wouldnt use it to harm him, and if he didnt want to see me or talk to me, i wouldnt force him to by showing up to his house or texting him off the number i give to weirdos.

im getting tired. its 10:37p now, and i keep like closing my eyes every once and awhile inbetween sections.

i think the last thing i feel i need to rant abt is how i told my dad i have binge eating disorder and for dinner when i told him i didnt care what he got me, HE GOT ME FOOD FOR A FAMILY OF 4. he looked me in the eyes and said, "two cheeseburgers, 16 chicken nuggets, 10 cheese sticks, and a milkshake incase u get hungry later" when he KNOWS i have a habit of eating a lot of food in one sitting.

i feel gross from how much i ate today, and im still wanting to eat more.

being told "u can reverse everything thats wrong w you if u just lost weight!" and then having those same people ENFORCE ur unhealthy eating habits is insane

like, do u rlly want to help me? or do u want to just berate me for the hell of it?

okie song song time

this song is so ... relateable. typical pop song but its so good 2 me

[escape-rock-bottom]

Journal #19 - Dissecting Bad Habits, Addictions, and Negative Thoughts

In my last post about my disconnecting from technology for a day challenge (insert link to that post here), I mentioned near the end that if you find disconnecting more distressing than the already distressing feeling of always being online, you should analyze why. As a dude who literally spends an average of 5 hours per day and finds it frustrating to not have the ability to get online in some fashion, I figured I should be asking myself this question.

Doing the discomfort challenge, I realized quickly that not being able to get on my computer or phone was frustrating. However, I wondered just WHY I was so bothered about not having my computer. It wasn’t like I was missing out on anything important, had anything specific to do, or lacked activities to engage in outside of my computer. Honestly, it was like an addiction in some form.

I started by asking myself a few questions:

Why does it bother me that I don’t have access to my computer?

What do I feel I am missing and why?

What feelings do I have in regards to disconnecting?

Where did the habit come from?

Is there anything that could have caused my urges/habits before it became a problem?

What does technology mean to me and what positive/negative feelings do I have surrounding it?

Is my attachment more negative or positive? Is it more harmful to me or more good?

While these questions are aimed to diagnose my specific problems, they could be of use to you as well. I’d say give it a shot and have an introspection session and really think about the whys and whats and whens of the problem.

To summarize, most of my problems that led to the bad habits/addiction come down to a few things:

A traumatic childhood that caused me to dissociate in a variety of ways, one of which being filling my time with browsing the internet

A lack of a decent social life and autonomy which led to me having too much free time at home

A neurological factor. My neurology causes me to have a strong need for stimulus, have an issue with distraction, memory, and hyper-focusing, and a high curiosity drive (I need to know everything!)

Growing up with technology. It’s been a part of my life from as far as I could remember to the point it's weird not to have and use it.

Peer pressure. Back in my earlier days, you were ridiculed for not having a phone, computer, or accounts on the big social media sites. This caused me to have a need to do just that so I can fit in (Yeah, in the past I was the “weird kid” and people loved to ignore and make fun of those guys. Kids are cruel sometimes lol)

A general interest in technology and the fact that a lot of the things I do now are in the digital world.

My feelings and thoughts in regards to technology are mostly positive, I actually think it’s a wonderful and super cool thing that I am glad I have the privilege to access, but some of the negative thoughts and feelings are:

Social media and online politics seems to bring the evil out of people. People are just too offended and aggressive over their beliefs and opinions and differing ones.

People misuse the privilege of anonymity online to hurt others far too often.

There’s too many distractions. It’s no longer fun because EVERYONE wants your attention and it gets overwhelming.

It’s a waste of time most of the time. I don’t need to know about a car crash on the highway in Texas or what someone thinks about the new building they constructed downtown. Again, too much info, and not really worth it. Frankly, I can’t care that much about everyone’s life (nor do I expect others to do the same for me). I care about giving and getting value, not grabbing attention with a pointless piece of content.

A conflicting combination of too private and not private enough. It feels like I’m infringing someone’s privacy by reading and judging and remarking on the content and thoughts I put out, but they chose to put it there for that reason. Conversely, you never know if the guy you’ve been messaging on Discord really is a 23 year old man named Kevin Evinson or if it's some 14 year old kid making up a fake internet persona.

It’s annoying how much we rely on it. We lose connection by getting too much opportunity to connection (This is a conflicting thought with my “It’s so cool how much we can do on the internet, I think it’s awesome I can talk to someone on the other side of the country)

It’s interesting to see what things come up if you just give yourself time to think far deeper with no judgment for what comes up. Most of our problems are really just too complex to solve with a simple question (”Why am I like this?” For example) because we humans are more layered than we give ourselves credit for. Even just simply stating my problem with technology as a problem isn’t enough to solve it. We need to understand why it’s a problem and formulate a unique approach to solve each factor into the why.

What I want you to take away from this rambling about my inner workings (and I can’t stress this enough) is this: Give yourself time to think about yourself with no judgment and thorough analysis. Introspection is one of the true powers to self-improvement. You have to know who and why you are before you know the real hows and whys of what you want.

It’s superficial to just want to stop a bad habit because you and other people think it sucks. The real depth comes with where the habit came from and your feelings regarding it, and your true reasons for your frustration with it. Don’t be superficial with your goals if you want to change your life, or you will only make superficial changes. I realize that’s where I went wrong and got stuck in a loop.

On a final note, this practice can be modified to nearly every problem. While it’s good for general bad habits and emotions and negative thoughts, don’t do this for trauma, serious mental illness, or other people. It’s best to dive into this with a therapist who can help you regulate your emotions and symptoms (they will inevitably come up as you poke the trauma bear), and it’s just plain rude to assume and dissect someone’s life for them unless they ask for it lol.

[football-and-fanfics]

Exhausted part 2 - Andy Robertson & Trent Alexander-Arnold

Part 1

Who: Trent Alexander-Arnold, Andy Robertson Request: would love a second part to the recent trent and robbo one think its really good!!😁😁 Requested by: anonymous Warnings: mentions of exhaustion, passing out/fainting, some descriptions of PTSD-like symptoms.

A/N: this is a direct continuation of this imagine. As you can probably already determine from the warnings above, this is quite an angsty piece 😬

Andy knows Liverpool's medical team took Trent to the hospital to be checked over, just to be sure. Something he can only wholeheartedly agree to. The news that Trent was given a clean bill of health from the doctors, reaches the team rather quickly, though. Everyone is relieved to hear that Trent passing out on the pitch is now officially diagnosed as 'exhaustion', and that there's not something more concerning wrong with the young Scouser. Lots of rest and sleep, and he should be just fine.

---

When Andy's phone rings about four hours after the match, he feels a wave of relief to see Trent's caller ID. "Hey, Trentski," Andy answers the call. "Hey." Trent's voice sounds uncharacteristically lifeless. "Are you okay?" Andy immediately asks. "Yeah," Trent answers slowly, "very, very tired, but I'm okay. They sent me home. At the hospital I got an IV with some electrolytes and fluids, that's made me feel a bit better, but mainly I feel like I can sleep until next month." "They sent you home?" Andy frowns at his phone. "Alone?" A soft hum is the only confirmation Trent gives.

After what has happened just hours before, Andy doesn't like the idea of Trent being alone at all. "I'm coming over." He makes the decision in a split-second. The fact that Trent does not protest to it in any way, is all the proof Andy needs to know this is the right thing to do.

----

An hour later Andy finds himself ringing the doorbell of Trent's house. He's picked up some takeaway food on his way over, and if Trent's not hungry, Andy sure is.

Trent opens the door wearing sweatpants and a plain black T-shirt, and looks more tired than Andy's ever seen him. It's not only physical exhaustion, but the fact that he passed out because of it must have a mental impact on him, too. "Thanks for coming over." Trent means it. "Anytime." Andy tones it down. "I brought food." Trent smiles a tired, but genuine smile. "Perfect, I'm starving."

Trent quickly fixes some plates and cutlery, before he and Andy each sag down on either end of the large L-shaped couch with food-laden plates in their laps.

They laugh and joke together as they watch some no-brainer dating show whilst eating. Andy is glad to see Trent somewhat functioning again, but the exhaustion is still clearly visible. The fact that Trent never spoke up about the level of fatigue he was dealing with bothers Andy, but he's not sure this is the opportune moment to bring it up.

But where Andy hesitates, Trent does not. "I'm sorry I startled you today," he starts, scraping the last bit of food off of his plate. "Startled?" Andy chuckles wryly, "you gave me the worst fright of my life! I really thought I was going to lose you right in front of my eyes, mate."

An involuntary shiver runs through Trent at that comment. For the first time he realizes what an impact this must have had on Andy as well. "I never meant for this to happen." "I know you didn't," Andy soothes, "and I'm not mad. I am worried you let it get this far without ever speaking up, but that's a conversation we'll have some other time." Trent nods thoughtfully. He's not feeling up to discussing that topic yet, and he's glad Andy sees it.

"I'm sorry, but I'm off to bed," Trent announces shortly after. He indeed looks dead on his feet, so Andy is not surprised. "Sleep well, mate," Andy answers, "get all the rest you need." "You know your way around the house, and you can take anything from the fridge you want. The guest bedroom is up the stairs to your left." Trent doesn't even ask, he just assumes Andy will be staying for the night as well. And right he is, because it never once crosses Andy's mind to leave Trent alone tonight. Not after what happened today.

----

Andy doesn't sleep a wink that night. The image of Trent going down in front of him constantly replays in his mind. It keeps him up, and whenever he manages to catch some kind of sleep, those horrifying memories give him nightmares.

Around 3 a.m. Andy's had enough. He needs sip of water or a small bite to eat, just anything to take his mind off these nightmarish flashbacks.

He opens the door of his bedroom and strides out into the hallway. Trent's bedroom is right across from the guest bedroom Andy is staying in, and the first thing Andy notices is that Trent has left the door to his room wide open. Andy's heard Trent stumble around a while back, presumably to use the bathroom, and he must have forgotten Andy is staying in the house as well.

Without actively trying, Andy has a clear view of Trent lying spread-eagled on his front in bed, sleeping soundly. The sight sends another involuntary flashback through Andy's mind. Another image of Trent falling to the ground and Andy unable to help him burns behind his eyes. The panic he felt out on the pitch momentarily settles back into his chest, but Andy is able to make the worst of it flow away again.

It's not a conscious decision when Andy silently walks through the open door of Trent's bedroom. His feet simply take him there. He halts at the foot of the bed and looks down at his sleeping friend. The image in itself is nothing new. Andy and Trent have shared many a hotel room during training camps, so Andy's seen Trent asleep often before. But today it hits differently.

And apparently this is what Andy needs to fully let out all the stress and anxiety of today. His hands tremble with sudden emotion, and there's no holding back the tears anymore. Trent is alright, Andy knows that, but the very short moment in which he believed Trent to be going through some life-threatening condition right in front of him, did things to Andy. Things he now, in the middle of the night, has no other choice but to face.

a hiccupped sob escapes Andy, which reverberates like a gunshot through the quiet house. He clasps a hand over his mouth. Trent stirs under the covers before half-opening his eyes. He isn't really awake, but his slumbering gaze still finds Andy. A small smile tugs at the corner of Trent's mouth. "I'm alright, Robbo." The words aren't more than a breath leaving his lips, but Andy hears them. He recollects himself. "I know. Get some more sleep, mate." Trent closes his eyes again and is back asleep in mere seconds.

Trent likely won't remember a thing of this tomorrow, and maybe that's for the best. But for Andy this sleepy reassurance is just what he needs: Trent is going to be perfectly fine.

Tags: @evie-pr, @auawdo, @meteora-fc, @de-geas, @stonesyyyy, @drizzyreese, @hbstre, @liverpoolfanfiction, @sternennebel2001 TAA / Robbo tags: @footballffbarbiex, @lightsupdoyouknowwhoyouare, @sanchoj7, @robbothegoat PL tags: @ella33 LFC tags: @candlelitutopia, @percervall

Add me to the tags list | Request an imagine | Request a photo promptTAA masterlist | Robbo masterlist | General masterlist

[waitmyturtles]

Turtles Catches Up with the Essential BLs: Utsukushii Kare Edition

Utsukushii Kare. As I wrote last night in the heat of finishing this series, I’m in hot pursuit of consuming essential BLs, and UK was at the top of my list. I didn’t expect the series to be so short, so I just housed it, and I am SO glad I got this one in. (CAVEAT, as usual in this series of my catching up with past dramas -- I know most of y’all have watched this, I just need to process! This is a long post.)

Why was I turned on to this? I kept reading here and on Twitter that this was a hard series to watch. So, of course, because I’m a glutton for all things that are emotionally difficult, I felt like I had to dive in.

I truly thought it was a remarkable piece of art, right in line as to why I love consuming Japanese media in particular. I think there are two central points as to why I loved this show.

1) Many times, in B/GLs and cishet dramas/doramas, a twist of a script will often have characters NOT reveal their entire scope of feelings, or emotions, or intentions.

At least -- from the VIEWER’S perspective -- that’s how we might see it, that a character is not being fully revelational in a moment where we, as viewers, think that they could say more.

I found myself feeling this way in the last episode of UK, when Hira and Kiyoi are in the classroom, and Kiyoi is asking Hira -- why didn’t you ever ask me about my own feelings?

Hira really doesn’t have a reply. I think we feel like we know why he didn’t have a reply -- I would ascribe it to his social awkwardness, which I’ll dive much more into later in this post.

So a viewer, like myself, might think or say: dude, Hira, ASK KIYOI HOW HE FEELS ABOUT YOU, LIKE RIGHT NOW. NOW’S YOUR MOMENT. SEAL THE DEAL, MY MAN.

But this is what I think I loved first about this show. Hira CANNOT relate to Kiyoi here. Not only is he not able to, but he’s never given an indication that he ever WANTED to. And I’m not convinced that he related to Kiyoi throughout the rest of the episode. Certainly, Hira was on cloud nine, particularly during the bike scene at the end, but I do not think I got an indication that Hira related to Kiyoi’s need for affirmation at all, even at the moment of their intercourse. 

And frankly, I think this was brilliant, as I’ll move into my next point.

2) I wrote a ton about empathy/compassion bias during my watch of Extraordinary Attorney Woo this past summer, and I think the same principles of this concept apply here to watching UK, and answers my question of why people found this show hard to watch.

The main crux of this show relies on bullying from Kiyoi and his gang to Hira. Despite the bullying that we, as viewers, see and judge, Hira is and remains attracted to Kiyoi and idolizes him. 

What I’ve read regarding why people found this show difficult to watch is that it seems like the bullying continues from Kiyoi to Hira throughout their entire relationship into their post-high school adulthood. Hira even indicates that Kiyoi is upending Hira’s life when Kiyoi re-appears while Hira is beginning to date Koyama. 

But here’s the thing, and it’s relatable to something I wrote about EAW. While Hira is the center of bullying, this show clearly demonstrates that Hira has AGENCY. 

He very much has agency. He has made the choice and decision not just to love Kiyoi, but to idolize him as a deity, which Kiyoi clarifies at the end of the series as problematic to how Kiyoi sees himself vis à vis his own insecurity. Which means also, that not only does Hira have AGENCY, but Hira is also as much as a narcissist as Kiyoi is throughout the series. As I mentioned before: not only does Hira not relate to Kiyoi, he doesn’t even try. 

Now, I actually don’t mean to use the word “narcissist” in as negative a light as it’s usually used in everyday language. Narcissistic tendencies are often identified as co-morbid to some psychological diagnoses in the American Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (DSM) (which has problematic issues itself, but we’ll leave that for another time). (And really quickly, I have training in the social services, which allows me to talk about this with a touch of familiarity.)

Anyway: it’s made clear in the first episode of the series that Hira has either social anxiety, a social condition, or a social disorder. And he hasn’t had many, if any, friends or siblings throughout his life, so his ability to relate to others wasn’t sharpened or developed over his lifetime. Therefore: Hira has this innate narcissistic tendency to NOT relate to others, particularly when he is emanating intense feelings towards Kiyoi, without EVER knowing that it might behoove him to check in on how Kiyoi feels about that emanation. 

I wonder if previous fans of this show, who were made uncomfortable by the bullying, didn’t see that Hira has massive agency here to make his own decisions about who he likes, and how he likes them. Because, as so happens with characters that are presented as out of the “normal” boundaries of social interactions -- we may have sympathy, empathy, or compassion for them.

While empathy, compassion, and/or sympathy are all wonderful emotions, the bias that we may view others vis à vis those emotions MUST be checked, in real life or while watching art. Because -- these emotions can create unspoken power differentials between a person that has power and one that doesn’t. For us in the social services, this most often comes out between a therapist and a client. An empathy bias may lead a therapist to, say, not believe that their client has agency to make a particular decision, for example.

So even while we feel badly that Hira gets bullied, I see that Hira has STILL made his decision to love Kiyoi, WITH agency. AND, because Hira has narcissistic tendencies, he ALSO hasn’t worked on relating to Kiyoi, which helps to create this whole maelstrom of back-and-forth feelings that Kiyoi tiptoes towards and rejects.

And, as I said earlier, Kiyoi is a narcissist, too, an obvious one. But he ALSO doesn’t know how to relate to others, as he lived a solitary life in front of the television while his mother moved on in her re-marriage in his childhood.

So you have these two guys, BOTH WITH AGENCY, both narcissists, both unable to relate to others, falling in love with each other, and expressing that love by either being a somewhat creepy stalker or a bully. 

In other words -- it’s a GREAT high school dorama, ha! 

And this is all why, again, I happen to love Japanese doramas. I don’t know why, but Japan just HITS on these AWKWARD (to us Western viewers) emotional displays and wranglings, WITHOUT a ton of explanation. We’re left to unwind this all out. It’s beautifully reminiscent of my childhood as an Asian gal, where so much emotion was left unspoken, although I’m glad I came out of that without so much trauma as to not be able to process these gorgeous pieces of art.

I totally loved this show. It was weird and complicated. I’d highly recommend it to anyone who feels wiggly about the bullying, reminding them that compassion can sometimes have powerful consequences in leading one to ignore the fact that those who we feel sympathy for have their own power and agency to lead their own lives.

[fruitcoops]

Hi Eve! Could you maybe write something like Sirius having a majorly stressful week and he's been on edge all day and he finally decides to go talk to Heather if only to just let it all out. By the time he comes home he's exhausted but Remus is all ready for him, and he's greeted with the sight of Remus in a nice little heap of blankets and pillows piled up on their sofa with a Disney movie ready to play and all his favourite snacks lined up on the coffee table. And Sirius of course just about dissolves into a puddle of affection and gratitude because Loops 🥰🥰🥰

It's honestly concerning how much fluff I write. Oh, well! This is such a cute idea and I'll never pass up an opportunity to write soft Coops <3 SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

“So, you’ve started baking?” Heather looked up as Sirius nodded, fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. It still smelled a little like Remus from the last time he stole it, but not nearly enough to drown him in comfort. “That’s awesome. If you don’t mind, can I ask why you chose that as a hobby?”

“It’s—” Stupid. He bit the words back at the last second; Heather never liked self-deprecation, and they had been working on positive self-talk for…as long as Sirius could remember, really. “Uh, I helped Re’s mom make a pie over the holidays and I just have good memories associated with it, I guess.”

Heather jotted something down, her soft smile never faltering. She was wearing a sweater the same color as her name—it was distilled comfort, and Sirius felt some of the tension release from his back. “You said you do it when you’re stressed, right?”

“Sometimes.”

“Does the rhythm help, or is it something else?”

He stared at his hands, rubbing his thumb over the callus from his favorite spatula that was beginning to form. “I think…” he trailed off and bit his lower lip. Honesty always wins. Why do you like it so much? “The rhythm helps quiet my head down, yeah. And it smells like home. And—and if I do it right, I can’t screw it up.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“If I follow the recipe, it works. Every time. I can read the instructions as many times as I need to, and I can focus on that until everything up here—” He gestured vaguely toward his head. “—shuts up for a bit.”

Heather nodded; the room was quiet for a moment while she wrote before she settled into her chair and let out a slow breath. “I’m really happy you started doing this, Sirius.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep. We’ve talked about finding healthy amounts of control and tethers in your daily life, and from what you’ve said, this makes you happy in addition to helping you calm down. What do you do with everything you make?”

He shrugged. “Give it away, mostly. It’s healthier than store-bought stuff, and the guys like it. Re and I can’t eat it all ourselves.”

“How often do you stress bake?”

“Oh, probably three or four times a week.”

Shit, shit, shit. Heather’s eyebrows crept upward. “Oh?”

“…yes.” Can’t take it back now.

“Okay.” She made a quick mark on her clipboard—for the hundredth time, Sirius wished he could snatch it and run. “Interesting. Why are you so stressed?”

“It’s not like that all the time,” he said quickly. “Just over the past couple weeks.”

“What’s been going on?”

“Everything?” he said. It sounded more like a question. Heather made another note. “It’s—well, Jules got the flu two months ago and Re wasn’t sleeping because he was worried, so I got nervous and started staying up later so I’d be tired, but then I got bored and worried about both of them so I texted Hope about her pie recipe—"

“Sirius,” Heather interrupted gently. He closed his mouth and tucked his hands into his sleeves, palms itching. “Deep breaths, then tell me what’s been going on these past couple weeks specifically that was stressing you out.”

He obliged, counting ten before speaking again as his brain stopped feeling like someone poured pop rocks into it. “Right. So, this whole habit thing started two months ago, and we’re getting closer to you-know-what—”

“The playoffs?”

He made a quiet noise of distress and tapped the wood of the chair. “Oui, that. There’s a lot of pressure from last year, and when my friends are stressed, I get stressed, and baking is easy and fun so I just…didn’t stop. A lot of things are happening right now, and this feels like the only one I can control.”

“There you go,” she said with a proud smile. “Thank you.”

“What did I do?”

“You’re being more open and honest with yourself. It’s good to see.” She crossed one leg over the other and leaned slightly forward. “You’re a really, really good captain, Sirius. You are so in-tune with the other people in your life, but you’ve got to remember to step back and do things for yourself sometimes. Right now, baking is your stress relief because you can’t control your friends’ lives or emotional states. Try to find more things like that.”

He stared at her for a moment. “Are you diagnosing me with ‘needs a hobby’?”

“In a sense, yes. You have done an incredible job over the past few months of letting your world revolve around things other than hockey. Branching out to baking was an excellent choice. Now it’s time to find other things that give you similar comfort, okay?”

“Alright.”

“Fantastic. Let’s brainstorm.”

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

Sirius dropped his bag next to the shoe rack and immediately leaned back against the door, closing his eyes with a sigh. Therapy was always exhausting, but usually in a good way. Already, he could feel the weight of the last three weeks lifting off his shoulders. “I’m home!” he called.

Remus materialized from the living room and padded over in his fuzzy socks, planting a kiss on each of Sirius’ cheeks. “You look tired. Good or bad?”

“Good,” he assured him. “We worked on finding a hobby.”

“Oh?”

“Apparently, baking every other day isn’t a great long-term coping mechanism.”

Remus kissed him lightly on the lips. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear that.”

Sirius pulled back with a frown. “I thought you liked my baking.”

“I do. I also worry about how much space we have in our kitchen, and how much you sleep.” He gave Sirius a squeeze around the waist and patted his hip. “Now c’mere, I have a surprise.”

“What kind of surprise?” Sirius asked warily as he allowed himself to be pulled toward the living room. “Do we have company?”

“Does Hattie count?”

The dog in question barked when they entered the room, though she was buried beneath a mountain of blankets and only her nose and tail stuck out. In the hour and a half Sirius had been gone, the living room had transformed into a massive fort—the couch cushions were propped up around a nest of pillows and blankets, and low amber light fell over everything from the side table lamp. It radiated coziness and warmth; he felt the last bits of his exhaustion settle into contentment. “Wow.”

Remus beamed at him. “Do you like it?”

“I love it.” He cupped his face in his hands and nudged their noses together. “And I love you. So much. I’m going to go rinse off and change, but can we cuddle afterward?”

“What do you think this is for?” Remus teased. “You took my sweatshirt.”

“It’s too big for you anyway.”

“How long until I find it in my laundry pile because it doesn’t smell like me anymore?”

Sirius pretended to think for a moment, though he couldn’t keep his smile down as happiness bubbled through every vein. “Tomorrow.”

“Go take your shower,” Remus laughed, then kissed him once again. “I’ll see if I have anything else that’ll fit you.”

[smallsies]

do u have specific headcannons for deaf/HoH race because i. would love to hear :D

ABSOLUTELY I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED

his hearing loss is different depending on the fic i’m writing!

in (general) modern aus, he has congenital hearing loss (meaning he was born w it)

both of his parents are hearing, he was born with CMV (cytomegalovirus) 

his hearing loss progressed rapidly when he was young, ultimately leaving him with severe hearing loss

after he was first diagnosed with hearing loss, his parents decided they would all learn sign language

he can lip read somewhat, but only catches about 10% of conversation that way

when he’s young he also has an in-the-canal hearing aid, later switching to a behind-the-ear aid as his hearing loss had worsened

when he was a teenager he would regularly take out his hearing aids, sign to his parents that he couldn’t hear them, and continue ignoring them

when he’s in college, he and al are matched randomly as roommates and the first time he does it, after they’ve been living together for a few months, al is just. so taken aback

he teaches al, buttons, and finch asl, the other newsies pick up some signs but they obviously aren’t quite as fluent

specifically in my redfinch au, his hearing loss is the same but the situation is a lott different

races parents died when he was young and he was raised in foster care

fic spoilers lol but finch adopts him and becomes like his older brother, when he has enough money he buys race his first hearing aids :,)

in the apocalypse au, he has noise-induced hearing loss; his left eardrum ruptures after continued exposure to gunfire

he ends up with 70% hearing loss in his left ear and permanent tinnitus

race avoids guns as much as he reasonably can after that, and at the first chance they get insists the newsies do what they can to protect their ears from gunfire

as it's an apocalypse haha medical care isn't high on the list of possibilities so it becomes more of a "deal with it" situation unfortunately

the newsies get used to approaching him/talking to him from the right pretty quickly, and try their best to be patient as he often needs them to repeat things several times

canon era is kind of an amalgamation--it's congenital, but being a street urchin doesn't exactly make him first in line for care so he just has to adapt

[moon-light-jukebox]

“If you want me to, I will.” [Hotch x Reader]

masterlist

Summary: Reader has worked for Aaron Hotchner for the past 6 months as the babysitter to his son, Jack.

Pairing: Hotch x (Female) Reader

Word Count: 7.4k – she thicc

Category: Smut/Fluff…and some angst because of who I am as a person.

Content Warning:

A/n: We all know that Hotch’s favorite album is the Beatles "White Album." And I have odd choices for songs that I use as lullabies. This idea came into my head and never left. This video of Billie Eillish singing part of the song is the closest to the structure of how I imagined it. Okay, okay, look, I know Roy wasn’t diagnosed until season 10. But I am taking creative liberties because I needed Jack to be younger.

Meaning this would be set around season 7. Hotch would be about 41, Jack is around 7; so, I made Reader around 26, giving them a 15-year age gap. Please don’t check my math. 😌

y/n = your name. y/l/n = your last name. italicized texts are Reader’s thoughts.

-- If you want me to, I will. --

I was disoriented when I woke up. This isn’t my bed, I thought groggily. Wait…this isn’t even my house.

“Y/n,” a deep voice rumbled beside me.

I jackknifed up into a sitting position, eyes wide and my face flushed with embarrassment. “Mr. Hotchner!” I quickly brought my hand up to my cheek to make sure I hadn’t drooled in my sleep. Because that would really be the cherry on top of my embarrassment. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to fall asleep. This is so embarrassing.”

Mr. Hotchner had been crouched down, putting himself level with his living room couch; the same couch he came home and found me sleeping on. In all the months I’d worked for the Hotchner/Brooks family, I’d never seen Mr. Hotchner smile anytime he wasn’t talking to his son, Jack. He always looked incredibly serious and sometimes incredibly sad; but the normal scowl was missing from his face as he looked at me, I noticed, watching him rise to a standing position.

“It’s fine, y/n. It’s after 1 o’clock in the morning.” He shifted, turning to go open the gun safe he kept in the part of the living room where his desk sat. Mr. Hotchner, or Hotch, as he kept telling me to call him, was the Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit with the FBI. Which was just a very fancy way of saying he was a profiler that was in charge of all the other profilers. Some people just look like the jobs they have; Mr. Hotchner was one of those people. “Thank you for staying late, I didn’t think things were going to run this long. I didn’t even know you were here until I called Jessica a few hours ago.”

“Oh, right,” I mumbled as I began to gather my things from the coffee table and put them into my bag. “She called me a little after 4; something happened with her dad, I think.” I zipped my bag shut, standing up quickly. “I didn’t mind helping out, Mr. Hotchner.”

He made a sound that was almost a chuckle. “You don’t have to call me Mr. Hotchner, y/n. I know I’m a lot older than you, but that makes me feel ancient.”

“You’re not that much older than me,” I protested.

He looked incredulous. “Y/n, you’re still in college.”

Well, that stings a bit. “I’m in graduate school,” I said, my voice dampening a little bit. “I’m almost 27.”

Mr. Hotchner blinked at me. “Really? I thought you were younger than that…”

“My age didn’t come up in the numerous background checks you did on me?” I scoffed, immediately wincing as the words flew out of my mouth. “Oh my god, I just keep making this worse.” I slung my bag over my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hotchner. For falling asleep on your couch…and for every moment after that. I’ll just go now.”

"Y/n," he called. "hang on, it's really late, and…I still need to pay you."

Jesus. “It is late, Mr. Hotchner, that’s why I need to head home.” I forced an awkward laugh. “I have class at 9 am.”

He pushed his hands into his pockets, regarding me in a way that made me squirm. I wasn’t used to a person paying attention to me the way Mr. Hotchner did. It didn’t make me uneasy; I just felt like I couldn’t hide anything from him…which made me uneasy. “What classes are you taking this semester?”

I don’t know why it stung so much that he knew virtually nothing about me. I’d worked for him for 6 months; he wasn’t obligated to know anything about me other than how I took care of his son. “I’m actually done with my course work this semester,” I mumbled. “I’m a TA…in a class that starts at 9 am.” It doesn’t matter, you’re just tired. “You-you can just pay me for tonight the next time I’m over. It’s not like you’re gonna stiff me.” I walked over to the door and threw a very quick “goodnight, Mr. Hotchner” over my shoulder before I scurried out.

I missed the quiet “Aaron. You can call me Aaron.”

--

The entire drive home, my thoughts were on Aaron Hotchner. None of this was what I expected when I took this job. I had been in graduate school for 2 years now. I had already gotten my master’s degree and had been accepted into the Ph.D. program. There are many branches of psychology, but I had always been fascinated with cognitive psychology; it seemed only natural that that is what I would pursue in graduate school. Once it became time to focus my interest in preparation for my dissertation, I decided to study the cognitive decay in Alzheimer's patients. We knew that they lost memories, but I wanted to explore how their basic cognitive functions were affected in certain settings.

As part of my program, I was a TA in an intro psych class, and I conducted my research at the hospital connected to the university. That’s where I first met Jessica Brooks. Despite getting a stipend for my teaching assistant work, I had been taking odd jobs to help make ends meet; D.C. wasn't cheap. When I mentioned that I had experience with kids, Jessica had immediately told me that she was needing help caring for her nephew in the wake of her father, Roy's diagnosis. She wanted to keep him at home, which was both admirable and time-consuming.

I wasn’t prepared for the gigantic background check that I was subjected to. I very quickly learned that my potential employer had some power at the FBI. Jessica had raved to him about me, so he agreed to meet with me. When Jessica told me he worked for the FBI, I was expecting a bureaucrat, kind of short, receding hairline, soft from sitting behind a desk all day.

Aaron Hotchner was none of those things. He was a total cliché; he was tall, dark, and handsome. His eyes were such a deep brown they were almost black, his hair was black, and he towered over me. His hand was firm when he shook mine. I initially thought he didn’t like me because of the scowl he wore on his face; now I knew that was just his default expression. I’m pretty sure he invented Resting Bitch Face. I think it was my meeting with Jack that sealed the deal. We had clicked right away. The 7-year-old was impressed by my knowledge of both DC and Marvel comics. I could still remember our first meeting so clearly; when in a move that I now know is so much like his father, he had asked me an interview question of his own.

“What is Spiderman’s middle name?” the boy had asked with a suspicious squint of his eyes.

This kid is poser checking me, I had thought with amusement. “That would depend on which Spiderman you’re referring to. Assuming it’s Peter Parker, his middle name is Benjamin.”

We were best friends after that.

I loved Jack; I really did. And I was paid well enough that he was the only child I babysat for, the rest of my time spent working on my research and plotting my dissertation. It was clear that Aaron Hotchner loved his son, and he felt guilty for not being around more. He was fierce and intimidating any other time, but once he was with his son, his entire face would transform. His smiles came easier, his eyes twinkled, and he didn’t seem so scary anymore.

None of that is why he made me nervous, though. What made me so nervous is the fear that one day I was going to spend enough time with him for him to see the feelings I had so stupidly developed for him.  

--

The very next night, I was hiding in the kitchen floor in Aaron Hotchner’s apartment.

“Ready or not, here I come!” the little voice called out before his feet started stomping loudly across the floor.

From my position behind the kitchen counter, I tried very hard to remain silent, despite my amusement. Jack Hotchner was many wonderful, wonderful things. Sneaky was not one of them. Which is why I wasn’t surprised when I heard his little feet hurry towards me, and I didn’t lose my balance when he turned the corner and launched himself at me. “Oomph!” was the only reasonable sound to make when a tiny human slammed into you.

Jack was delighted. “I FOUND YOU!”

My response was cut off by the sound of the front door opening. Jack was off me in a flash, barreling towards the living room. “Daddy!”

Mr. Hotchner made a similar “oomph” noise when Jack jumped on him, confirming my theory. I rose to my feet quickly, smoothing down my clothes.

“We were playing hide and seek, Daddy!” Jack informed his father. “I found y/n every time! She never found me once!” His chest puffed out with pride, making my face break into a smile.

“You’re just an excellent hider, Jack-attack.”

Mr. Hotchner’s eyes settled on my face then, for just a moment I saw something so sad in those eyes that the breath seized in my lungs.

He cleared his throat, seeming to shake off whatever he was thinking before smiling at his son. “I’m glad you had a good time with, y/n, buddy.”

Jack nodded vigorously. “I helped make dinner!”

“You did?” He questioned in fake astonishment. “When did you make dinner?”

“Tonight!”

Mr. Hotchner looked at me quizzically. “Oh, um, I wasn’t actually supposed to watch Jack tonight…but Jessica called and asked if I could. It was really last minute, and she’d already bought some stuff to make dinner…” I trailed off. “I hope that’s okay. Jesus Christ, y/n. You’re a 26-year-old woman, get it together.

His attention moved from me to his son. "Jack, go get changed into your pj's. It's almost bedtime." When Jack's mouth opened to protest this great injustice, his father went on. "You can tell y/n bye when you're done."

So much for a speedy escape, I thought. Instead, I just smiled at him. "Yep, I'll be right here, little man." Satisfied with this, Jack jumped out of his father's arms and ran towards his room.

“Why did Jessica need you to come over? Did something happen with Roy?” He looked genuinely worried, walking into the kitchen to stand near me.

I reached out and put a hand on his arm without thinking. "Oh, oh god no, nothing like that." Realizing I was touching him, I snatched my hand back like he'd burned me. "Sorry. She…she-um had a date."

His eyebrows rose so high they almost hit his hairline. “A date?” he asked, disbelief dripping from his words.

I chuckled. “That’s what she told me.”

He walked back into the living room then, leaning back against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest as he focused his dark gaze on me. “What about you?”

“…What about me what?”

“Does Jessica ever have to cover for you when you have dates?”

If Aaron Hotchner hadn’t made me so nervous, I might have picked up on how he phrased that question. As it happens, all I could do was fidget under his gaze. “Oh,” I chuckled nervously. “Ah, no. She doesn’t have to do that. I don’t really date.”

That had one of his eyebrows rising, his arms crossing across his chest. "Why?"

Because I want you to crack my back like a glowstick. “Um…you know, it’s hard to find the time.”

Thankfully Jack chose that moment to come barreling out of his room, charging full force at me. “You’re still here!” he exclaimed.

I smiled down at him when his arms wrapped around my hips. I put one hand on the back of his head, the other on his back, giving him a squeeze. “Of course I am! I couldn’t leave without telling you goodbye.”

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” he mumbled.

My throat worked as a sudden wave of emotion hit me. "Oh, Jack," my voice was thicker than usual when I spoke. "I don't like leaving you either, but you'll see me before you know it. I promise."

Once we had finally pried Jack off me, Mr. Hotchner went to take him to bed. He turned to me when he scooped Jack up in his arms. “Thank you for today.”

“It’s no problem, Mr. Hotchner.”

“You know you don’t have to call me that,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine. “Most people call me Hotch. Or you could call me Aaron.”

I didn't know what to say to that; all I could do was give him an awkward smile. I was gone before he came back into the living room. I didn't want to leave, I never did, but I couldn't risk being alone with…Aaron.

--

The following Thursday night, my phone started ringing just after 11:30. Glancing at it, I saw it was Jessica. “Hey,” I said in greeting.

“Hey, y/n,” she said, sounding frazzled. “I have a huge favor to ask. Dad’s home health nurse had to leave early tonight.” “Is something wrong with Melinda?” I hope not. She’s the sweetest.

“No, I don’t think so. But she needs to go home and there’s no one to sit with Jack. But Aaron isn’t home yet…”

“I’ll be there in 20.”

Which is why I was now in Aaron Hotchner’s apartment after midnight in a pair of shorts that were so short I only ever wore them at home and a t-shirt that I had had for forever. Jessica had sounded so upset when she called, I hadn't even thought to change. She had promised to be back as quick as she could; she said that Mr. Hotchner was flying back from a case, and she didn’t expect him until 5 a.m. at the earliest.

When I first arrived, I had tried to watch TV, my mind too wired to sleep, even though I had class at 9 am in the morning. Sighing, I glanced over at the clock to see it was just after 1:45 in the morning.

“Fuuuuuuck,” I whined out loud. I have to go to sleep; even if it’s just a little nap. I remembered Jessica had left some chamomile tea here for the nights she stayed over to watch Jack. Finding the kettle and the tea itself was no problem; the problem presented itself when I had to get a mug to put the tea in.

I had never considered myself a particularly short person; sure, I had to stretch to get things from time to time, but everybody did that. Looking up into the upper cabinets in the Hotchner house had me reconsidering that. The mugs were on the very top shelf and try as I might, I just couldn’t seem to reach them; my fingers kept grazing over the ceramic.

“Goddamnit,” I mumbled in a huff. What is the point to put mugs way the fuck up there? Some of us are a perfectly normal height…but noooo I have to work for giants. I braced my hands on the countertop as I heaved myself up on to said countertop. Once my knees were in place, I got the offending cup without further problems.

I blame how focused I was on my task for my not hearing the front door open, or the footsteps that followed. Which is why I had a mild heart attack when I heard a voice that sounded highly amused say from behind me, “What are you doing?”

Several things happened all at once, and very quickly. I let out the most embarrassing squeak in all of history, I lost my balance on the counter and the cup fell from my hand. The cup crashed to the floor and shattered. My fate might have been the same but two large hands caught me, gripping my hips from behind. I looked down to see his long fingers wrapping around my waist, gripping me tightly; my difficulty breathing then had nothing to do with how scared I was.  

“I’m sorry,” Aaron said softly, still not releasing me. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, I get it,” I said lightly, attempting to act like I wasn’t going into cardiac arrest because he was touching me. “You’re a very stealthy FBI agent. It was bound to happen.”

He chuckled before his hands pushed my hips so I was twisting around, my legs shifting until I was sitting on the countertop, staring into the same dark eyes I thought about far too often. They weren’t as harsh as they usually were; tonight, they were soft and warm, and they made my pulse race a bit faster.

I moved to get off the counter when the hands that were still on my hips stopped me. “Hang on, let me clean this up first. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Fantastic, I thought, hiding my face in my hands. It seems I was incapable of not making a fool out of myself in front of this man.

He worked quickly while I debated changing my name and fleeing the country; in the next moment, he was standing in front of me again. "What's wrong?"

“Oh, nothing,” I said, not moving my hands. “Just dying of embarrassment.”

Aaron actually laughed at that, moving closer to stand between my thighs, his hands coming to rest on the countertop on either side of my hips. “Why are you embarrassed?”

I dropped my hands then. “Because this is becoming a pattern! First, I fell asleep on your couch, then I almost fell off your counter and cracked my head like an egg.” I bit my lip, shifting under his gaze. “I’m sorry and thank you for catching me.”

“I didn’t mind,” he said softly.

He still had that soft look on his face, but he was smiling too like he was enjoying my embarrassment. He probably is. I had never been this close to him before. I didn’t know his eyes weren’t just one flat color of brown, but that lighter shades of brown whirled throughout. I had never felt the heat of his body before, but now I was so close I could smell him. Why does he have to smell good? I whined internally. If he just stunk, I could get over this.

This was exactly why I tried very hard to stay as far away from him as possible because I lost the ability to think clearly whenever I was with him. I couldn't stop my eyes from moving down to his lips. I was eye level with him from my position on the counter; all I had to do to brush my lips across his was lean forward, so that’s exactly what I did. His body stiffened slightly at the first touch of my lips to his. I pulled back, ready to apologize when his hand wrapped around the back of my head and pulled me back to him. There was nothing soft about this kiss. His free hand gripped my thigh, my hands held on to his shirt, trying to pull him closer. My tongue brushed against his mouth before he sucked on the tip of it, causing me to shudder. He took a step forward as his tongue twirled around mine. I could feel him when he settled against me; he was hard, and I found myself shifting my hips to rub against him.

The shrill ringing of his phone broke us apart suddenly. He was panting, his cheeks were slightly flushed. I thought I heard him let out a “fuck” under his breath as he reached into his pocket and grabbed his phone.

“Hey Jessica,” he answered.

Now that our moment was broken, I felt very self-conscious. What the fuck did I just do?! He is my boss. He is Jack’s dad. Aaron took a step back and I slid off the counter. This turned out to be a very bad idea on my part; my body brushed down the front of his, causing me to bite my lip to silence the moan that threatened to escape.

“Yeah, I landed a little while ago,” he said as I left the kitchen.

WhatthefuckWhatthefuck. I heard him end the call with Jessica before he quickly walked into the living room. A look of relief washed over his face when he saw me. “I thought you’d try to slip away.”

“I thought about it,” I told him honestly.

“Listen, y/n, about that in the kitchen,” he began.

I held up my hands. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Hotchner. I don’t know why I did that; I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” I was giving him an out because I couldn’t handle hearing the rejection I knew was coming. “I just…I guess we got caught up in the moment? And you’re really tired, I’m sure. I’m so sorry.” I was rambling now. “If you don’t want me to watch Jack anymore-“

“Y/n, no,” he interrupted. “No, this…you’re right, it was just a heat of the moment thing. It happens. I’m sorry I lost myself for a moment.” He cleared his throat, his face still set in softness. “Jack loves you. He doesn’t need to suffer for any more of my mistakes.”

Mistakes. The word hollowed me out and left me cold. I just nodded. “Right,” I said in what I hoped was an even tone. “Just a mistake. I should get going. It’s really late.”

Which is how I found myself driving home at almost 3 in the morning with tears running down my cheeks. A mistake.

--

Things went back to normal after that night. I continued to avoid Aaron Hotchner at all costs and he…did whatever he did. I tried to hide the hurt whenever I did happen to see him, but it was so hard when I could still feel the tingle from his lips on mine.

A few days after the “mistake,” I was babysitting Jack again. He’d went to bed at his normal 8:30 and all was quiet. I decided to do some TA work while I waited for Mr. Hotchner to come home. I was halfway through grading an essay when I heard the first noise come from Jack’s room. Lifting my fingers from the keys of my computer, I waited to see if I heard another sound. I didn’t have to wait long; not even a minute passed before I heard a strained cry. Jumping up, I hurried down the hall to Jack’s bedroom.

Cracking the door open I called, “Jack-attack? Are you okay, little man?” I didn’t see him right away; he had hidden under his covers and curled up into a little ball. “Hey, Jack. It’s just y/n.” I sat down on the edge of his bed. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

I saw the lump under the blankets start to move hesitantly before I saw his brown hair peak out of the blanket near his pillow. His eyes were wide and with the light shining in from the hall, I could see tears gleam in them. “Oh, buddy,” I cooed. “Did you have a bad dream?”

The boy nodded. “Yeah…there was a bad man…and my daddy didn’t come save me.”

I felt my breath seize in my chest. Jessica had told me a brief version of what happened to Jack's mother a few years ago. "Jack, you know your dad would always do whatever he had to do to come to save you." I shifted my position on the bed until I was sitting beside him. "He'd never let anything bad happen to you." Jack started inching closer to me. I held out my arms and smiled when he lunged for me; I wrapped him in a tight hug, rubbing circles on his back.

“My dad just isn’t home a lot anymore. He has a lot of work to do,” he mumbled into my shirt.  

“Your dad would be home if he could, Jack.” I couldn’t quite keep the sadness out of my voice. It wasn’t fair to either Jack or his dad that he had to be away so much.

“I know,” the little boy whispered. “I just miss him sometimes.”

“Do you want to call him?” I offered. “I don’t think he’d mind.”

Jack just shook his head. “No, it’s okay.” He turned his face up to look at me. “Will you stay with me?”

I moved so he lay beside me with my left arm still squeezed around him. “Of course, bud.” I scooted down the bed so I was reclining instead of sitting straight up, pulling the cover-up over him again. "Do you want me to read you another story?"  

He just shuffled under his covers, looking at me with the bashful innocence of childhood. “Can you sing to me until I fall asleep?”

I wasn’t the biggest fan of singing in front of people, but how could I turn this little face down? I just nodded. “Do you have any requests?”

“Nope,” he answered with a little grin on his face.

Unfortunately, at that moment every single lullaby I had ever know left my head. I couldn’t think of a single traditional lullaby. So, I decided to improvise. I started singing slower songs I knew, some of them might not have been appropriate for a 7-year-old’s lullaby, but I don’t think Jack cared that much.

He was almost out, drifting on the edge between deep sleep and awake. My arm was still around his shoulder, he was still snuggled to my side. I decided one more song would be enough, which meant I pulled out my second Beatles song of the night.

“Who knows how long I’ve loved you?

You know I love you still.

Will I wait a lonely lifetime?

If you want me to, I will.

For if I ever saw-“

I glanced up, immediately sensing there was someone else in the room. To my horror, Jack’s father was standing in the doorway, staring at me with an unreadable expression on his face. I swallowed nervously, then I turned to press a kiss against Jack’s soft forehead before I gently detangled myself from him. I straightened my clothes that to my further embarrassment had shifted around because I was laying with a wiggly child, then, attempting to keep my face impassive, I walked to the door, moving around his father as I exited.

Mr. Hotchner walked into the room and checked on his son, while I moved into the living room to gather my things. I wonder if he just left the money by the door, I mused. If he did, I could just make a dash for the door. I mean, if he didn’t, he could always just pay me next time. Sadly, my plans were escape were foiled yet again by the man in question entering the room.

"Sorry," I muttered. "I know he was up past his bedtime. I put him down at 8, but he had a nightmare." I was babbling, not meeting his eyes, my gaze very intently focused on my bag. "He asked me to stay with him until he fell asleep…" I finally looked up, shrugged, and said, "He's very hard to say no to."

“You don’t have to apologize for being nice to my son, y/n,” he said softly. “That’s one of my favorite songs on the White Album, you know.”

I hadn’t known that. “Mr. Hotch-“

He took a step towards me before I finished speaking. “Y/n, please, I can barely handle this as it is. Please call me Aaron.”

I just blinked up at him. “So, ‘Hotch’ is off the table now?”

That had a soft smile curving his lips upward. "That was a limited-time deal. You should have been quicker." I saw his hand rise up slowly, so slowly that I would have had time to move away…but I just couldn’t. He brushed my hair back from my face, his eyes were two pools of black in the dim light, they were swirling with something that made my stomach flutter.

“Aaron,” I breathed, having no idea what I was going to say.

He let out a soft sigh, turning his eyes upwards. When he brought them back down to mine, his hand slid from its place near my ear to cradle the back of my head. His eyes searched mine for a moment before his shoulders dropped slightly. “Fuck it,” he muttered before he leaned down and sealed his lips over mine.

I might have thought this kiss would be questioning or unsure, but there was nothing unsure about it. Aaron kissed me like he was starving for me. His teeth caught my bottom lip and tugged as he pulled away. “It wasn’t a mistake,” he breathed before bringing his lips more firmly against mine.

My hands began to move over his body; one of my hands grabbed his tie and used it to pull him closer to me, the other reached up to brush against the short, soft hair on the back of his neck. “It wasn’t?” I questioned when we broke away for air.

Aaron’s lips moved across my cheek, leaving soft kisses until he reached my ear. “No, sweet girl, it wasn’t.” His mouth moved down to my neck; his kisses turning into bites that were sure to become brushes. I didn’t care, I needed him. My hands moved to his shirt, quickly trying to undo all the buttons.

His hands moved down to the waist of my jeans, deftly flicking the button open before sliding the zipper down. “Is this what you want?” he asked as his hand touched my lower stomach, his fingers brushing over the elastic band of my panties.

“Yes,” I said, still working to free him from his shirt. “I want this so much.”

The fingers of his free hand rose up to tap my chin, forcing my eyes up until I met his gaze. "I want to hear you say my name again." His other hand lifted from my stomach to slide over the flair of my hip until he was gripping my ass. "Whenever I laid in bed that night after I had you pressed against me in my kitchen when I stroked my cock, I thought about you moaning my name.” The hand that was on my chin pulled away, skimming down my body until he was grabbing the other side of my ass. “So, say it. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you, Aaron.” So, so much.

His hands moved to the backs of my thighs, then he lifted me up his body, startling me. Jesus Christ, how strong is this guy? I threw my arms around his neck as he started walking us down towards his bedroom. A giggle escaped my lips. “I could have walked, you know.”

We had already entered his room; he tossed me gently on the bed before he turned to close and lock the door. He walked to stand at the side of his bed, his eyes devouring me. “I couldn’t give you a chance to sneak away again, sweet girl.” Aaron pulled off his tie before he finished unbuttoning his shirt, shedding it on the floor.

Fuck. Fuck, he’s hot. I pulled my own shirt over my head, and his body was on top of me before it even left my hands. Aaron's mouth moved down to my collarbones, his hand slipped behind my back to unhook my bra. Once the straps were down my arms, Aaron lifted himself up on his arms to toss it away, his eyes running over my body. "You're so beautiful," he said softly like it wasn't the sweetest compliment I'd ever been paid. He leaned over again, his lips skimming down to my chest before he wrapped his lips around one of my nipples.

“Fuck, Aaron,” I moaned.

He gave my nipple a flick with his tongue before he lifted his head. “Ssh, sweet girl. You have to be quiet. Can you do that?” He kissed his way over to my other breast. “I can’t do this if you won’t be quiet.”

“I can be quiet,” I whispered right before I bit my lip to smother my moan at the feeling of his mouth on me. “Maybe.”

His breath puffed against my skin when he laughed at me. My hands threaded through his hair when he brought his face back up to mine. My mouth opened eagerly for him, my tongue slicking over his while I tried to grind my body against him. Aaron was smiling when he broke the kiss, shifting up onto his knees. “Well, I appreciate you trying to be quiet at any rate,” he teased.

My response died in my throat when his fingers yanked my jeans off my legs, bringing my panties with them. I was totally bare in front of him. His eyes raked down my body in a way that would make me self-conscious with anyone else. How could I ever be self-conscious with a man who looked at me like I was the most beautiful thing in the world?

But when he started to kiss further down my body, I grabbed his arm, attempting to pull him back up to kiss me. “Aaron,” I whispered.

He pressed a soft kiss to my collarbone. “What’s wrong, beautiful?”

“You don’t…you don’t have to do…that,” I mumbled, feeling my face heat up.

Aaron braced himself on his arms and stared down at me. Enlightenment dawned on his face a second later. He leaned down to kiss me softly. “Do you not want me to?”

I bit my lip, feeling more flustered. “It’s just…I’ve never…and I know that guys don’t really like-.“ My words were cut off when he placed another kiss to my lips, still incredibly soft, but with more force than before.

"If it makes you uncomfortable, I won't," he said quietly. "But I can assure you, I can't think of anything more I'd rather do than lick your pussy until you cum all over my face." He skimmed his lips over my cheek to my ear. "And once you've come down, I want to slide my cock inside you and feel how soft and wet you are." His kisses moved down to my neck, his mouth sucking on my pulse point. "Then I want to fuck you until you're whimpering against my lips to make you cum again.”

I felt my core throb at his words. No one had ever said anything like that to me before. He lifted his gaze when he got back to my breast, flicking my nipple with his tongue. “Is that what you want too, sweet girl?”

I have never wanted anything more, I thought; but I was so far gone that all I could do was nod.

He gave me a soft smile, moving down the bed further to settle between my thighs, pulling them further apart. I felt a kiss pressed to one thigh, then the other. His hot breath washed over the part of me that was already so wet for him. “You’re beautiful here too,” he murmured before he pressed a kiss to my clit. I lifted my hips at the sensation, causing him to chuckle and move his hands to wrap around my thighs, his arms anchoring me in place. A second later I understood why he braced my hips. The second he flattened his tongue and licked the length of my pussy, my hips started moving involuntarily and my fingers tangled in his hair.

I felt a puff of air against me when he laughed again, and it made me smile. I didn’t expect Aaron Hotchner to be fun…or dirty in bed. All thought immediately left my head when he parted me with his tongue, dipping into my entrance before spearing his tongue into me. I felt the vibration when he moaned against me. "You taste so fucking good, y/n," he said, his voice still hushed. Giving my entrance one last lick, he moved up to my clit.

He spent time moving his tongue around me, learning what made me squirm. When he started fluttering his tongue quickly over my clit my hands started tugging on his hair and my thighs tried to snap together.

“Aaron,” I whined, attempting to rock my hips against his mouth.

I think he understood what I needed better than I did. His left hand released my thigh and moved down to my heat, just below his mouth. I felt his fingers brush over me before he pushed on inside me, causing my back to arch off the bed. “Aaron, Aaron, fuck.” He added a second finger, pumping them in a rhythm that complimented the movements of his mouth.

I wasn't prepared for when his lips closed around my clit, sucking lightly, while his fingers started to curl inside of me. “Oh my God," I moaned out, louder than I should have. "Aaron, I'm going to cum." I started pulling on his hair so hard it must have hurt, but he just moaned against me, never slowing his pace. "Aaron, fuck, please. I think…I-I-“

My words broke off as the band inside of me snapped, my pussy clamping down on his fingers and my back arching off of the bed, my mouth hanging open in a silent scream.

Aaron slowed his motions, slowly bringing me through the orgasm and back down to Earth. With one final kiss to my thigh, he rose and moved up my body until his face was hovering over mine. His lips were shiny with my arousal, they also looked a little swollen, but more importantly, they were smirking at me.

I’ll give him that one. Reaching up I cradled his jaw in my hands, bringing his mouth down to mine. I tasted myself on his lips and tongue when he licked into my mouth. Despite the powerful orgasm he had just given me, I was still desperate for him. I broke away from his mouth. “Aaron, I need you.”

He pressed another kiss to my lips before he lifted up and stood at the side of the bed, undoing the buckle of his belt. My eyes were fixed on his movements, watching as he unbuttoned his slacks and slid them down his legs. His cock was a thick pipe outlined in his underwear. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband before he spoke again. "I'll give you everything you need, greedy girl." Aaron pushed his underwear down, his cock springing free before he climbed back on the bed.

He was so much thicker than I expected he would be. I moved my hand down to wrap my fingers around him, pumping his length. He let out a groan and lowered his forehead to mine. “Baby,” he muttered. “I…fuck. I have to get a condom.”

“Aaron,” I whined. “I want to feel you inside me. I’m on birth control. Please?” The thought of anything separating me from this man was abhorrent to me in that moment.

I saw his willpower crumble. “Are you sure?”

So sure. “Please,” I begged lifting my head to kiss him. “I want you to fuck me.”

With a groan that I will remember for the rest of my life, he shifted his hips forwarded, allowing my hands to guide him to my entrance. Aaron kissed me then, slowly and deeply has he started to push inside me. My hand flew away from his cock, both my arms wrapping around his body to pull him closer to me. I felt my nails digging into his back.

Aaron broke our kiss with another soft moan that sounded like my name. “I knew you’d feel like this,” he whispered, pressing deeper inside me. “I knew your pussy would be this fucking tight, this fucking hot, and so fucking soft." He started moving in and out of my pussy, going in a little further each time. “You still have to be quiet, sweet girl.”

“I’m trying,” I moaned, my pussy already starting to flutter around him when he finally pushed all the way inside of me. “Aaron, fucking Christ.” I felt him everywhere, and I somehow still craved more.

He grabbed my thigh, pulling if further up his side, allowing himself to sink deeper inside of me. “I know, sweet girl. I know.” He started a slow pace, pulling almost all the way out of me before slamming back inside me.

My head was thrashing against the pillows, my teeth digging into my bottom lip. “Aaron, I need you to fuck me harder. Please.”

He groaned at my words, placing a sloppy kiss to my mouth before pulling back. He pulled one of my legs up until it was over his shoulder, the other still wrapped around his waist, and then he started to move faster inside of me.

I braced one hand against the headboard as he pounded into me. “Oh my god, Aaron,” my voice was a low whimper as I looked down to see his cock sliding in and out of me. “You feel so fucking good.”

“Baby, I want you to reach down and rub your clit for me while I fuck your tight little pussy.” His pace started to speed up as he spoke. “Can you do that for me?” He groaned when I complied, the stimulation to my clit causing my pussy to flutter around him. “Good girl.”

My fingers began to work frantically. “Don’t stop, Aaron. Don’t stop,” I begged. “I’m so close.”

“I know, sweet girl, I can feel you. Your pussy feels so good squeezing around my cock. You’re going to make me cum.” His thrusts were starting to get choppier, one of his hands braced on the top of the headboard while the other held my leg on his shoulder. “Do you want me to cum inside your pretty pussy, sweet girl?” He groaned loudly when my walls clenched around him. “It feels like you like the idea of that, don’t you baby?”

My fingers continued their pace, my head thrashing, my body trembling. “Yes. Fuck, Aaron. Please cum inside of me. Please.”

Aaron felt it first and acted quickly; his hand moved from my leg to cover my mouth. “That’s it, cum for me, baby.”

I thought my orgasm earlier tonight was powerful. It was nothing compared to how I felt when I came around his cock, only to feel him find his own release a moment after.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, y/n,” he breathed, giving a last few jerks inside of my body, pushing against the fluttering aftershocks of my orgasm. He rolled off me, careful not to drop all of his weight on top of me. To my relief, he quickly gathered me in his arm, pulling me against his body, pressing a soft kiss to my sweaty forehead.

My ear was pressed against his chest, allowing me to hear his heartbeat slowdown from its frantic pace and his breathing even out. I turned my head and pressed a kiss to his chest while his hand continued to stroke my back.

“That…that was amazing,” I said, looking up at him. “If I knew you had that in you, I wouldn’t have run out of the room every time I was alone with you.”

He laughed softly, his eyes sparkling. “Well, at least you’ll know for next time.”

My thoughts sobered at his words. Next time

“Hey,” he said, his hand cupping the side of my face. “No, don’t go away. I just got you.” He kissed my forehead again, then the tip of my nose, then both of my eyelids, before he tilted my face up further so he could press a kiss to my lips. “We’ll figure this out. We have to. I care too much about you to let you go.”

“I care about you too,” I replied, snuggling against his chest, my eyes suddenly feeling heavy.

I was almost asleep when I heard his voice rumble again. “Will you sing Beatles songs to me when I can’t sleep too?” His voice was sleepy and teasing.

I smiled into the darkness, not bothering to open my eyes. “If you want me to, I will.”

--

Permanent Taglist: @rachelxwayne​ @pinkdiamond1016​ @sickeninglyshoujo @justagirllookingforherplace​ @nanocoool​

[mickey-millagher]

Mickey stepped out onto the Gallagher front porch, his current search for his husband had been so far been fruitless but the ladder leaned up against the porch roof was starting to shed some light on his whereabouts.

Making his way down the front steps and looking up, Mickey was greeted by the shock of red hair belonging to the one and only Ian Gallagher.

“Ian the fuck are you doing up there?”

Ian looked down, seemingly unsurprised by Mickey’s presence, which really in itself wasn’t shocking, the two of them had hardly spent any time apart since they got married.

“Liam and Franny’s frisbee got stuck up here, said I’d get it back for them.”

Mickey rolled his eyes at his do-gooder husband. “Ain’t you meant to have someone holding those things?”

“Worried about my safety Mick?” Ian grinned down at him.

Mickey was about to reply that no, he absolutely was not, and fuck you for thinking so, when a gunshot rang out from around the corner. Ian with his soft centre that no years of hardship seemed to ever quite have stamped out of him, jumped at the noise, the motion causing him to lose his footing and go falling to the ground, ladder right after him.

“Fuck, Ian.” Mickey yelled, rushing to the younger mans side, pushing the ladder off of him where it had landed on his face, a cut to start swelling up in its wake.

“Hey, hey you okay?”

No response.

“Fuck.”

Mickey, quickly checked for breathing, letting out a sign of relief when he felt his husbands steady breath still coming through. Pulling Ian’s head onto his lap he then got out his phone to call for an ambulance.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“I need an ambulance, my husband hit his head and he’s not waking up.”

“Okay sir, can you tell me your location?”

“Err shit um.” He quickly looked up at the house number. “2119 South Wallace.”

“Okay an ambulance is coming. I need you to answer a few questions for me. Is your husband still breathing?”

“Yeah, he’s breathing fine.”

“Good, that’s a really good sign. And his pulse?”

“Fuck, I don’t know, he’s the one who knows all the medical shit.”

“Take his wrist and place your thumb on the outside corner.” The voice guided him through.

Mickey placed the phone on the grass to follow the woman’s instructions. Clumsily attempting to pinpoint Ian’s pulse, a nurse of sheer panic flew through him when he couldn’t immediately find it, his breath coming out in quick, jagged pants when he did locate Ian’s, thankfully, steady pulse.

“Yeah, his pulse is good.” Mickey breathed down the phone.

“Okay, these are all good signs. The ambulance should be with you soon but your husband should be okay in the mean time.”

“Should be?” But the phone line was already dead.

“Shit, c’mon Gallagher, get up you stubborn son of a bitch.”

Maybe he heard him or maybe it was coincidence but at that moment Ian let out a groan.

“Ian?”

“Mickey?” Ian blinked, confused, back up at him. Unsteadily pulling himself up from the shorter mans lap.

“Woah, easy, you took a fucking nose dive off the roof.”

Ian stared back at him, drawing in on himself slightly.

“What?” The younger man asked.

“You don’t remember?”

Ian shook his head, immediately wincing and bringing a hand up to his head.

“What are you still doing here?” Ian asked after a second.

The question took Mickey aback.

“Where the fuck else would I be?”

Ian shrugged, crawling back to lean against the chainlink fence.

“Most people don’t stick around after a breakup.”

It was Mickeys turn to stare, not understanding a word that was coming out of his husbands mouth.

“What the fuck are you talking about? That fall knock a few screws loose? We just got married, that was the end of our breakups.” Mickey said, wiggling his ring finger in front of Ian to prove his point.

Ian stared at the ring wrapped around Mickeys finger before lifting up his own left hand to examine his finger ring. He touched the ring with such a mixture of emotions, Mickey couldn’t even pinpoint them all. Confusion, disbelief, shock, fear, and awe, being among them.

Ian’s eyes flickered back up to Mickey’s, mouth open no doubt to ask another strange and confusing question when the sirens sound came blearing down the street.

“We got a call that a man had suffered a head wound at this address?” The first paramedic out of the ambulance asked.

Mickey pointed them over towards Ian.

“My husband. He just woke up and he’s been acting fucking weird since.”

The paramedics came over to where Ian was hunched by the fence.

“Hello, sir. We heard you had an accident.”

Ian shrugged, not paying much attention to the people in front of him, his focus still on the ring on his finger.

“Sir, could you tell us your name?”

“Ian Gallagher.” He replied softly, having yet to look up at the paramedics.

“Hi, Ian. Would you mind if I looked at your head?” The male paramedic asked.

Again Ian shrugged, moving slightly away from the fence to allow better access.

While the male paramedic examined Ian, the female one crouched within his eyesight.

“Hey Ian, could you answer just a couple of questions for me?”

“Okay.”

“Great.” The woman replied, way too brightly for someone who was meant to be making sure Ian was okay, at least in Mickey’s opinion. “What do you remember prior to the impact?”

Ian’s eyes flickered up to meet Mickey’s before looking back at the paramedic.

“Umm, I’d just gotten back from a trip with my mom.”

Mickey stilled, Ian’s answers earlier had been strange but not thinking he’d been hanging out with his dead mother strange.

“Do you remember what lead to you hitting your head?” The paramedic asked, this time using a light to shine into Ian’s eyes while she waited for his answer.

“No.” Ian replied, wincing slightly as the other paramedic continued his check of Ian’s skull.

“Okay that’s perfectly normal. Can you tell me what year it is?”

“2014.” Ian’s answer came with no hesitation but the simple date brought Mickey’s world grounding to a halt.

2014, that was the year Ian had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder. The year Mickey had been sentenced to fifteen years behind bars. And the year Ian had torn his heart to shreds in this very front yard.

No wonder Ian had been confused by his presence, why he thought they were broken up, why he didn’t know they were married.

The paramedic however seemed to just take this answer in her stride. “Do you know where we are?”

“This is my house.”

“Do you know who the president is?”

“Obama?” Ian asked, getting confused by the random questions.

“okay, and finally, can you tell me the days of the week backwards?”

“Umm, Sunday, Saturday, Friday— fuck it’s um.” Ian’s eyes flickered back to Mickey in a panic.

“Hey, it’s okay, there’s no wrong answers here, we just need to access how best to help you.” This came from the male paramedic, who had apparently finished his head assessment.

“It’s um— Thursdays, Wednesday, Tuesday, Monday.”

“That’s great Ian.”

“So I’m okay?”

“Ian, have you heard of the condition amnesia?”

“Yeah?” Ian replied, a slight questioning lilt to his voice, not yet understanding what Mickey was just starting to piece together.

“During my questions you said you believe it’s 2014 and that Obama is President. Do you still believe that?”

“Yes?” Ian replied, nerves now clouding his voice.

“Ian, the year is 2020.” The paramedic informed him gently.

Ian looked between the two health workers before looking up to Mickey, as if to ask for confirmation.

Mickey nodded and Ian let out a shuddering breath, closing his eyes while leaning back against the fence while he took it all in.

“We’d like for you to come down to the hospital so we can run some routine tests to make sure you’re okay. Amnesia is common after head wounds and usually goes away on its own but it’s important we check nothing else is going on.”

Ian nodded, getting up slowly from his position to follow them to the ambulance.

Mickey made to go after him.

“You don’t have to come, you don’t owe me anything.” Ian said when he heard the footsteps following him.

Mickey was glad Ian was facing away from him so he couldn’t see how much those words broke his heart.

“Fuck off Gallagher, I know I don’t owe you shit, still gonna make sure you’re okay.”

“I don’t need a nurse.” Ian complained, now turning to face the older man.

“Think the doc said the opposite.”

Ian huffed at his answer but made no more moves to stop Mickey from following him into the ambulance.

~page break-

The L ride back to the house had been spent in silence, the walk from the L didn’t seem to be faring any better. The doctors at the hospital had cleared Ian of any major damage, just a slight concussion and told them to come back in a week if his memory still hadn’t improved. Stupid doctors go to all their fancy medical schools but still couldn’t help Ian when he was hurt.

“You don’t have to come back to the house you know.” It was the first thing Ian had said since they left the hospital.

“Considering I live there I kinda fucking do.”

“Right.” Ian started fiddling with his wedding ring, going back to looking between Mickey and the ring like he still couldn’t quite believe it.

They fell back into silence for a couple more minutes.

“Why did you want to marry me?” The voice came out small, the words so vividly reminiscent of Ian’s fears before their wedding. Words and worries that they’d moved past, but only Mickey remembered that now.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Mickey laughed, there was no joy in it but once he started he found it incredibly hard to stop.

Ian stood there in alarm, watching Mickey have his, breakdown? Was this a breakdown? It felt like a breakdown. All there years of life constantly pulling them apart was meant to be over and now Ian couldn’t even remember it. He should’ve known not to get too settled.

“Have you gone fucking crazy too?”

That just made him laugh more. Mickey shook his head at his husband, taking a couple of minutes to calm himself down.

“You’re not fucking crazy.”

“Yes I am. There’s too much wrong with me, why would you choose to tie yourself down to me? I have nothing to offer you.”

“We got married cause we fucking love each other.” Mickey replied, Ian’s words from the diner proposal ringing in his ears.

“What so we really did go down to the courthouse in some tuxes like a couple of old queens?” Ian asked with a small joyless laugh.

“Polish Doll actually.”

“Aren’t they homophobes?”

“Worked around it.” Mickey replied, lips twitching upwards just at the memory of that day. “C’mon man, let’s not do this here.”

Ian sighed but seemed slightly more accepting of Mickey coming home with him now, or at least he wasn’t outwardly fighting it as they continued the short trudge back to the South Wallace house.

“I’m tired, think I’m gonna go to bed early.”

“You sure that’s okay? They said you had a concussion.”

“A mild concussion. And it’s fine, as long as I can walk straight and keep a conversation I can sleep.”

Mickey’s heart leapt up in his chest at those words, was he starting to remember?

“You remember all that medical shit?”

“What medical shit? Carl’s always getting concussions so I remember that stuff.”

Mickey tried to hide his disappointment but probably not well enough as Ian gave him a weird look before shaking his head and climbing up the stairs.

Mickey sighed as he watched the retreating form of his husband, tears prickling in the corners of his eyes that he refused to let fall as he headed to get a beer from the fridge. The first of likely many this evening.

Mickey was halfway through his second one when the front door opened, Carl, Debbie and Franny coming into the house, with the two siblings arguing about some dumb shit or other. The noise soon bringing Liam down from his room.

Not for the first time Mickey was grateful for how self obsessed the majority of the Gallaghers were. Liam had acknowledged him before being dragged into whatever drama his siblings had going on, while Franny was too invested in her cartoons to notice much. Meaning Mickey got away with mostly staying out of it while he finished his beer before deciding it was time to check on his husband.

Slowly pulling the accordion door open, Mickey swore his beat stopped when he saw that the room was empty, remembering teenaged Ian’s tendency to run when things got hard. Pulling back quickly, Mickey scanned the first floor of the house before landing on the slightly ajar door to the old boys room.

Rushing down the hall, Mickey only felt like he could breathe again once the rickety old door was open and he could see Ian curled up on his old bed, having forgotten he ever moved rooms.

Mickey went back to their bedroom, digging around under the bed to find the wedding album he’d created with Franny not that long ago. His young niece insisting she’d be a big help. The overall look ended up being slightly childish but it would still hopefully have the desired effect today, to get Ian to realised what he hadn’t been able to six years ago. That he loved him and wasn’t going anywhere.

Back in the boys room, Mickey carefully placed the album down on the side table. Leaning over he ran his fingers through Ian’s hair, the younger man nuzzling into his hand even in his sleep, looking so peaceful all the while.

Mickey couldn’t bring himself to wake him up, if he didn’t have his memories back, all being awake would bring him was pain and misery. At least in his sleep he he could be happy.

Mickey grabbed a pillow from the abandoned third bed and lay down on the floor to wait, he didn’t want to be too far away from Ian, not right now but the days events had been too exhausting. He just needed to close his eyes for a few seconds

~page break-

When Ian woke up the room was lit only by the moonlight streaming in through the window. He could hear snores coming from the other occupants of the room, Carl up in the bunk bed and— Mickey sleeping on the floor? Ian remembered the events of the day, the doctors who told him he’d forgotten six years of his life, and Mickey who had stayed by his side throughout all of it, not caring about the breakup. Although, he supposed, to Mickey that must seem like ancient history by now.

Leaning over to properly look at his now husband, Ian’s eye caught something resting beside the bed that hadn’t been there before.

Picking it up he couldn’t help the small gasp that left him once he realised what was in his hands. The photo on the front was of Mickey and himself, dressed up in fancy tuxes, flipping the camera off with their other arms wrapped around each other.

Ian brushed his finger against the photo Mickey softly before slowly turning the page. The album was filled with photos upon photos of them, dancing, laughing, kissing. The ones that must have been taken while they exchanged their vows made him pause the most. The serious looks on their faces, followed by the utter joy in their grins from the pictures of them walking down the aisle together.

They fucking loved each other. After everything, they really fucking loved each other.

Ian pulled the album to his chest, tears leaking from the corner of his eyes. He wanted to keep looking but his head was hurting now more than ever and it helped to close his eyes.Still it wasn’t long before he fell asleep, soothed by the images of his wedding to the love of his life.

~page break~

Waking up groggy hours later, Ian sat up with a groan, looking around his old room and the down at the album still in his arms confused.

“Hey you’re awake, how are you feeling?” Mickey asked, sitting up from his place on the ground.

Looking at Mickey, Ian suddenly remembered everything that had happened yesterday. It was strange to remember a time that he didn’t remember so much of his life.

Ian quickly moved off the bed to wrap his arms around his husband, not being able to go without holding Mickey any longer, they’d lost enough time and yesterday only proved that.

“I’m so sorry Mick.”

Mickey tensed in his arms.

“What you sorry about?”

“Yesterday, fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t know how I’d manage if all you remembered was from one of our breakups.” Ian breathed into his neck.

“You remember?” Mickey asked, not quite ready to let his guard down after the hell that had been the day before.

“I remember everything Mick.”

Ian couldn’t be sure but thought he heard a slight sob before Mickey’s arms tightened around him, bringing him as close to his body as possible.

“Don’t fucking do that again Gallagher.”

“I promise Mick.” Ian replied, kissing Mickey’s neck where his head was buried. “I’m not going anywhere.”

[weasleyswizardpleases]

Playing Nurse (4/4)

Summary: Fred Weasley keeps showing up in Hogwarts’ infirmary,  where you apprentice when you’re not in class, but he quickly becomes more than just a patient to you.

Warnings/notes: Blood, dental injury, bruising, broken bones. Language, kissing, some nudity, coming out. Not super graphic but it takes place in the school infirmary so people’s injuries and illnesses are described. Trans masc!Fred x fem!reader. Last chapter! Thanks for loving this one as much as I do you guys :)

Tags: @lucymfer @accioweaslcy @manuosorioh 

4. We Must Stop Meeting Like This

A week goes by before you see Fred again. You’ve pretty much given up on him liking you after your somewhat unexpected last encounter. But, like clockwork, he’s in the infirmary again over the weekend. 

When you arrive for your shift, the infirmary is already bustling. Pomfrey is doing intake on a group of students while a stern but somewhat worried looking McGonagall stands by. You take in the scene: Ron Weasley is there with a busted lip, Malfoy’s a few feet away, holding his head and looking dazed, Crabbe and Goyle by his side in disheveled states. You’re unsurprised to see an incredibly peeved Katie Bell, her stockings ripped, glaring at the Slytherins. She’s limping heavily.

“What happened here? How can I help?”

“There was… a fight,” McGonagall says tiredly. 

“Go ahead and examine Ron, should be a quick episkey, and then move on to Mr. Crabbe, I think it’ll be much the same but I haven’t had a proper look yet,” instructs Madam Pomfrey.

You take Ron to an exam table and give him a quick once over while asking him what happened. He explains that Fred and George weren’t having it and things escalated quickly.

“Turned into an all out brawl before anyone could get a word in edgewise. Percy was watching and ran to snitch, well, thank god he did, because they’re in really bad shape,” he says.

“Who? The Slytherins?” you say, using an episkey charm on his lip and a few stray scratches across his arms, probably from being thrown to the ground in the scuffle.

“Fred, especially, and Malfoy, and…” Ron continues, but you’re no longer listening. You look around and notice that the twins are unaccounted for. You’re finishing up on Ron when George and Filch come in carrying a stretcher with Fred on it. He seems barely conscious. You walk alongside them, asking all the questions you know to ask. This one is yours- Pomfrey is busy with Malfoy, who you suspect has a concussion, and will probably need to look after Katie’s ankle next.

George tells you that Malfoy hit Fred with a stunning spell, but after he fell, they kept kicking at him. You elect not to revive Fred fully yet, first casting a pain relief spell. You examine his clothed torso, feeling along his ribs, and notice that one of the bones feels out of place. You frown and continue lightly feeling along the area, and notice that he seems to be wearing a tight, thick undershirt.

“He’s got a broken rib. We’ll have to remove any garments that might constrict the area to set the bone properly. Could I ask you two to step out for a moment?” you ask, gesturing to the curtain out of the cubicle. Filch departs, but before George leaves he pauses.

“Don’t tell anyone, ok? It would break his heart,” he says seriously before stepping out.

You have little time to wonder what he means. You cut open Fred’s tee shirt and, as you suspected upon palpating his torso, find an undergarment laid tight across his chest. Like a sports bra, maybe, but why- in a flash, you understand the secret Fred was talking about the other day, and what George was saying to keep to yourself just now. It’s a binder. Of course. 

You waste no time reflecting and slice his binder cleanly down the middle to remove pressure from the area. You set about doing a complex set of spells- first checking for internal bleeding, then setting the broken bone back in place, then casting a bandaging spell so he’s not tempted to move about before it’s fully set.

“Rennervate!” you say, flicking your wand in Fred’s direction. He comes to, looking around in confusion, his eyes finally landing on you.

“How do you feel?” you ask him.

“Utter shit,” he says. “What happened, exactly?”

“Stunning spell from Malfoy or one of his goons, George said. You wound up with a broken rib from getting kicked while you were out, but the scan didn’t show anything else too terrible. Just a few bruises.”

“Those cheating bastards. I’d love to spit in their faces right now,” he says, moaning as he tries to sit up.

“Just lay down,” you say, resting your hand gently on his shoulder. “It should be pretty much healed by tomorrow morning, but it’s going to be painful until then. If you want, I can ask Pomfrey to give you something to help you sleep while I’m out fetching you a new shirt,” you offer. You pulled the blanket up to cover his chest when you finished working on his ribs, but he’s still shirtless underneath. You watch as he realizes you must have seen his chest while you were patching him up. He grimaces uncomfortably.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“I’d like that shirt, please,” he says, pursing his lips. You dash off to one of the cabinets to fetch an extra set of clothes and an extra blanket, since you know he’ll be staying the night.

“Here,” you say, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” You excuse yourself to let him change, and touch bases with Madam Pomfrey. McGonagall has taken Ron, Crabbe, and Goyle, who are all fully healed, back to her office. Katie Bell is sitting on an exam table, still looking quite angry with her swollen leg propped up high. George is lurking worriedly near the door. You make your way over to him.

“Hey,” you say quietly. “Fred is going to be perfectly fine by tomorrow. Madam Pomfrey will have a look at him to make sure there’s nothing I missed, since it was a serious injury, but his rib is all patched up.” He sighs in relief.

“And don’t worry, I won’t say anything,” you add discreetly, smiling knowingly at him. He relaxes fully and nods in return. “Good luck with McGonagall. She did not look happy.”

“Thanks, Y/N. Take good care of him,” he says, nodding towards his brother’s bed before leaving to accept his punishment.

You return to Fred’s bedside to find him looking quite sheepish.

“Feeling okay?” you ask softly. 

“Sure. Bit embarrassed. I wasn’t hoping you’d find out like this, you know.”

“Your big secret is that you’re trans? Freddie, who in the world would care about that?”

“I dunno, some people.”

“Uh, yeah, bigots,” you say, laughing. “I certainly don’t care. I’m just glad you’re ok.”

“Thanks to you. Wanna sit?” he asks sweetly. You can’t say no, so you agree to wait with him at least until Pomfrey comes in to look him over.

“So, did you ever talk to that girl?” you ask, trying to make small talk after all the excitement. He looks at you like you’re a nutcase. 

“Y/N, are you thick?” he laughs hard, causing him to wince and hold his torso. He gasps in pain, but grins through it. “Honestly, who did you think I was interested in?” he asks, biting back laughter. You look at him, your cheeks hot. What is he getting at?

“How should I know? I hardly see you, outside of keeping you alive in here,” you say defensively.

“Wow, I thought for sure you knew. I was so embarrassed when you didn’t say anything, I’ve been avoiding you for weeks!” 

“What? Why?” you ask, but it quickly dawns on you what you may’ve been missing. “Wait… what?!” you say, your hand flying to your mouth.

“Yep, you got it.”

“You like me?”

“Yes, you idiot!”

“Come here,” you say. You lean down and plant a chaste kiss on his cheek, but he pulls you in gently for a real kiss, a long one. You feel so much tension you didn’t even know you were holding in leave your body, and stand back up, laughing big, just as Madam Pomfrey parts the curtain.

“Well, everyone seems in good spirits in here,” she says. You both nod awkwardly.

“Y/N has been taking such good care of me I hardly knew I was hurt,” Fred says cheerfully. Pomfrey gives him a quick once over, agrees with your diagnoses and treatment, and leaves you two alone once again. 

“You know, we have got to stop meeting like this,” Fred says, looking up at you. “Not that you don’t look lovely in your apron.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“How about a date?”

“I certainly wouldn’t object to a nice evening with a ruggedly handsome young man,” you say, giggling gleefully. He flashes a big smile, showing off his chipped tooth.

“Well, it’s a deal. You get me up and going again and I treat you to dinner,” he says.

“Deal! I've got to go, though,” you say, planting a sneaky kiss on him before you leave, “I am at work, after all.” You practically float out the door, proud of your work in more ways than one. Fred Weasley. Yours at last. 

[ashalsdream]

It's 2 am the day after Christmas and I guess I'm just having a bit of a reflection moment?

I'm nearly done with university and while that's terrifying it's also kinda exciting. I have a friend group who mean so much to me that I'm no longer constantly behind my screen seeking validation from people who don't even know my real name.

We've been filming a project or working on filming one, I think we plan to put it into festivals and that's? That's insane

I reconnected with someone who I thought I'd lost forever and while at first I was terrified I'm so glad I did it, years of feeling guilty and living with this hanging thread of losing them had hurt but now we talk again and we've talked through almost everything and we've grown as people and I'm so glad to have them in my life again.

I found someone I truly love, someone who knew I was in love with them and wasn't stable enough at the time so I was getting help and she waited for me. She waited till I was ready and I love her. She very quickly became my entire world & I don't know what I'd do without her

I love my apartment, I love my flatmates, living away from home is weird and exciting and living in a new city is amazing. For once in my life I'm happy

I'm happy and I'm not afraid of waking up tomorrow. Therapy helped a lot, getting diagnosed for illnesses i didn't know I had but now it makes so much more sense, I wasn't "broken" I was just different. I just work differently and having words for that now is.. So helpful

I just content and while Christmas is one of my least favourite holidays. I'm alive and so are you. I'm glad you're alive. I hope you had a lovely day