#yes i did have a counseling session this morning and this person sat down and was like 'i've been reflecting on what we've talked about'

[jukeboxhound]

Being a domestic violence survivor myself, I know it probably sounds really weird, but there's something really fulfilling about also working with people who cause harm. A lot of people who cause harm aren't able and/or willing to participate in accountability processes (maybe even most of them, honestly, from what I've experienced) but some are.

Maybe the sense of fulfillment comes from a hope that even if I can't stop violence on a grand scale, I can still be a part of why this particular person chooses to make safer choices. Maybe it's because, in every case I've worked so far, that harmful person has also been another survivor**. Maybe it's the hurt little kid in me who used to believe that being queer and neurodivergent made them a terrible person, based on what the world around them was saying, and who's hurt others in lashing out about it. Maybe it's because it reinforces the fact that my abusers' ongoing choice not to change their ways was not my fault but an intentional choice on their parts.

This work DEFINITELY isn't for everyone, regardless of whether or not they're a survivor themselves, but yeah. Emotions.

...

**Not every person who causes harm is a survivor, not every person who's been abused becomes abusive, and either way, having a past of being abused never justifies the choice to become abusive. Just in case this post breaks containment.

[detectivehannibal]

Desk Dreams

__

Hannibal Lecter x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Smut...lol have fun.

A/N: Testing my smut writing skills I see...I tried to weasel Will into this, but I’d hardly consider this a Will oneshot. I struggled so hard with this smh.

Requested by: @no-homo-hank

Prompt: also.. if i may request something sm*tty. personally i think your writing is so good. soo maybe something in his office yk yk like if the reader has a *sexy* dream about him,, and she has to tell him,, idk idk and only if you’re comfortable with it ofc! thanks :)

Word Count: 1,697

“Is it so wrong to change things up a little?”

__

You couldn’t get it out of your head. The images, the sounds, the touches, the smells. You had tried to shake it off all morning. You had brewed an extra strong cup of coffee hoping to rid your conscious of the less than appropriate dream from the night before, but to no avail. You never really had dreams, and you especially didn’t have such scandalous ones. On top of that, you definitely never had sex dreams about your therapist. 

Sure, you found him attractive in more ways than just his striking intelligence. However, the thought of anything that wasn’t purely professional had never crossed your mind. You knew what Hannibal thought about dreams. He had mentioned to you before that they are often a crucial tell-tale of a person’s mental state most of the time. That was the part you couldn’t figure out.

What did having such a racy dream mean for you?

You pondered the thought on your way to your session. You desperately wished that you didn’t have to go today, but you knew you’d be questioned about it next session if you canceled. You entered his office’s waiting room, there were no other patients at that time. You weren’t surprised, considering most people tried to push for the afternoon appointments. You took your normal seat, knowing that Dr. Lecter and Will Graham would be finished shortly. Will Graham’s appointments were always before yours, and you always noted how Will always looked as if his brain had been completely picked apart when he exited.

You often wondered what sort of things they talked about.

Sure enough, the door opened a few minutes later, Hannibal seeing Will out of his office. 

“I will see you soon, Will.” Hannibal said to Will, who had pretty much already ended the conversation. 

Will spotted you waiting and actually offered a smile. He didn’t know you outside of the waiting room, but well enough to know your name and speak to you.

“Hello, [Y/N],” He greeted, leaning in slightly; “He’s acting strangely today.” He whispered.

You gave him a confused look, but returned the greeting before he dashed off and out of the building. What did he mean by “acting strangely”? There was only one way to find out. 

“[Y/N], are you ready?” Hannibal asked, inviting you into his office.

You nodded, entering swiftly. When you passed by him, a familiar scent enriched your nose. The smell of his cologne was exquisite and suddenly sparked your memory of the dream from the night before. So that was what you smelled in the dream. You had never paid attention to it before. 

Speaking of the dream, it was suddenly all you could think about. You sat in one of his chairs, immediately striking Hannibal as out of character. He decided to hold off on mentioning it yet. 

“Good morning. How are you?” He asked, sitting in the chair in front of you.

Your leg bounced anxiously as you found yourself in a trance, raking over his features. Had his hair always been so nice? Were his eyes always so enticing? You caught his gaze, waiting for you to give an answer.

“Huh? Oh! I’m doing well.” You said, beginning to feel a heat creep over your cheeks.

His hand briefly went up to his collar to readjust his tie. You basically stopped yourself from salivating. His hands were...so perfect. 

“You’re nervous.” He announced.

You denied. You denied hard. You would not let him through to you today. You’d die of embarrassment.

“Nope. Not nervous,” You said, visibly nervous; “What makes you say that?”

His expression was calculating. He was soaking you up like a sponge to sink water, taking everything in to be squeezed out again.

“For starters, you’re sitting. You usually walk around during our sessions,” He noted; “Secondly, your entire demeanor is tense.” 

Your leg stopped bouncing and you slowly stood from your chair, you began to try and walk as you normally did, but it ended up being more of a pace. 

“Is it so wrong to change things up a little?” You asked as casually as possible.

He looked so good in that light blue shirt. 

“No, but there’s always a reason for such change.” He bantered.

You shot him a look. It was hard to get anything past him. 

“I just...” You tried to come up with an excuse, but turned up short. 

He waited patiently, his gaze never leaving yours. You sighed in defeat. 

“Dreams are normal, right?” You asked, preparing to bite the bullet.

He nodded simply.

“Certainly.” 

You chewed your lip in thought, careful with how you approached this. You fiddled with the hem of your sweater.

“I had a rather interesting dream last night,” You confessed; “It wasn’t anything I had ever experienced.”

He was listening intently, not quite following what you were getting at.

“What did you dream about?” He prompted.

You felt a sudden rise in your throat. This was painful to admit.

“Well, you were in me- uh, I mean...in it.” You said, mentally cursing at yourself for your embarrassing slip up.

A wave of realization was clear on his face as he connected the dots. You wanted nothing more than to crawl in a hole and die.

“[Y/N], I can assure you that sexual fantasy dreams are quite normal.” He said in an attempt to comfort you.

You groaned miserably, burying your face in your hands. You were humiliated. You’d have to request a different therapist. Maybe even seek out a totally different counseling practice.

“Dreams often must be explored to be understood. Tell me more about the content of this dream.” He requested calmly.

Your blood went hot. What? Why did he want to know that? You looked to him, surprised to see that he was completely serious. You rubbed your palms together nervously.

“I came in for my usual session. The energy was different. You were looking at me in a way you don’t usually,” You explained; “The conversation took a turn and...we had sex.”

His expression remained unchanged, but you weren’t close enough yet to see the fire in his eyes. He stood from his seat and took slow strides over towards you. You were sure he could hear your thumping heart.

“How was I looking at you?” He questioned, his voice thick and smooth.

That’s when you saw the riled up glaze in his eyes. A sudden wave of emotion and arousal crashed over you. This was really going to happen.

“Just like you are now.” You breathed out.

Instantly, his lips were on yours. Passionate and needy, but steady and calculated too. His hands gripped your waist, pushing you towards his desk. He shimmied you onto the cool, dark wood and allowed you to remove his suit blazer. 

Your mind was racing, but your movements were faster. You untucked his dress shirt from his pants while his fingertips worked on unbuttoning your jeans. It was a hot, heavy silence as the two of you stripped down enough to get the job done. His mouth was hot on your neck once your pants were casted aside, sucking a hickey on your most sensitive spot. 

“Dr. Lecter, I...” You trailed off, your mind too clouded with pleasure to offer any kind of sentence.

This felt so wrong, but so right at the same time. You were thankful for patient-doctor confidentiality. 

“Hannibal.” He corrected, unbuckling his belt and getting his pants down to his ankles.

Woah. First name basis. That was new. Hannibal really seemed to know his way around a woman. You found that rather shocking.

“Is this your means of dream exploration?” You joked, giving a breathy laugh.

“Something like that.” He replied.

He pulled himself from his boxers, stroking a few times before gingerly pushing himself inside of you. A synchronized moan drew from the both of you as he pushed through your walls, traveling as deep as he could go. He pushed your back down onto the desk, watching you sprawl out desperately for him.

He began with slow thrusts to allow you to adjust to his length, but hit the sweetest of spots each time he went back in. He grasped one of your legs, wrapping it around his waist so he could get a better angle. He had one hand on your throat, wrapped firmly but not uncomfortably. 

“Hannibal, please. Faster.” You begged, your tone coming out as a whine.

He hummed in response, his pace beginning to pick up. Your hands gripped the edge of the desk as the sounds of skin and rattling desk objects echoed in your ears. He admired the way your eyes glassed over in pleasure, his own forehead beginning to break out into a sweat. 

“Was this how your dream played out?” He asked, the slightest bit of strain in his voice; “On my desk...in the middle of a session.”

You nodded in response, but that wasn’t enough.

“Use your words.” He ordered, slamming back into you again.

“Yes.” You groaned out.

“Good girl.” He praised, moving his pace even faster.

This wasn’t how he’d usually pleasure a woman. He preferred something a little more timed out and slow, but you needed something spontaneous and fast. He could feel it radiating off of you. Your mind bounced back and forth from the dream to this present moment. This was too good to be true.

Your legs tightened around his waist, signaling to him that you were awfully close. He himself felt a twitch, looks like you were going to both finish on time. He continued to pound into you, your moans relentlessly sounding out into the air. Your high-pitched, surprised gasp alerted your release, his own spilling out just a few moments later. 

Your moans and sounds dwindled into heavy breathing, your chests heaving to catch up. He collapsed onto your shaky frame, your hand resting in his hair. You could barely comprehend what had just happened. You suddenly had a whole new reason to come to therapy. Hannibal lifted his head, pride written all over his face.

“I think...we’ll pick this back up next week.”

[ketamineharry]

The Family We Choose - Harry Lewis

Requested: Yes ~ Hi Nikki, hope you are well! I was just wondering if you could write an imagine where the reader doesn't want biological kids (if you are comfortable writing about it) and Harry finds out either through a discussion or a sidemen video or really however. The ending would be completely up to you and how you see fit. I just adore your writing, especially about Harry. Thank you x

Four years had passed since your miscarriage, everything seemed to have fallen into place. You had graduated with a first degree in psychology and had applied to do a masters in counselling. Harry had flourished in his YouTube career, his sub count reaching a number that he could have only had dreamed of, four years ago. Your relationship went from strength to strength. However, despite all of that, it was clear that Harry wanted to be a dad. As much as you loved Harry, you couldn’t bring yourself to try for another child any time soon. The trauma you had been healing from, was still too fresh for you to risk opening up that wound again.

No matter how hard you tried though, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him. Even with all the therapy sessions that you attended, mixed with the fact that Harry insisted that the miscarriage wasn’t your fault — you couldn’t help but blame yourself. It was your default, considering it was your body that had failed with carrying the baby to full term. Yet, with each passing day Harry tried to hint more at the fact that he wanted to try starting a family again.

It all got too much, when he had purchased a baby grow, wrapped it and placed it in a gift bag. Leaving it on the kitchen counter for you to find. Which left you no choice but to nip it in the bud. As much as you hated the thought of disappointing Harry, you couldn’t let this go on. The more that he hinted, the worse that you felt. Which just perpetuated a nasty cycle of guilt.

Baby grow in hand, you went to find Harry. Who, was more than likely in your shared bedroom streaming. The nerves and knots in your stomach multiplied tenfold as you made your way up the stairs. A prominent lump in your throat formed, just at the thought of disappointing him. You waited for Harry to end his stream, before entering the bedroom.

You sat down on the bed, opposite Harry. As you passed him the gift bag, you made direct eye-contact for the first time. A sigh escaped your lips, as you placed one hand in the other, trying to comfort yourself.

“I’m not ready to try for another baby yet, Harry.” You told him, breaking the silence that had been comforting you for a few brief moments. He simply nodded, you could see he was mulling over the information you had just provided him with.

“I understand. But, I was thinking, because I know how much you want to be a mum too… whether adoption would be an option for us? It wouldn’t have to be a baby, there’s so many children out there that need loving homes. Despite the little donny not being ours biologically, we’d still be their mum and dad.”

“I can’t promise anything… but I’m willing to go through the process. We might find the right child for us, we might not.”

—

A long six months had passed since Harry and yourself had applied to be prospective adoptive parents. You had gone through various tests, had to provide recommendations, and had to undergo a DBS check. You were just hoping that you would find the child that you wanted to adopt as your own after how rigorous the background tests and paperwork was.

It was a wet Tuesday afternoon when the phone rang. You decided to answer, as Harry was far too nervous. He sat right next to you though, trying to gage what the person on the other end of the phone was saying. He took your hand in his, rubbing circles into your thumb; an attempt at trying to calm himself down as well as trying to get you through the phone call too.

“Hi, is this Miss Y/L/N and Mr Lewis?” The feminine voice on the other side asked. You confirmed that it was you, as you nervously anticipated what she was about to say.

“I’m pleased to inform you that you’ve been accepted to adopt. We have also found a child that we would like you to come and meet tomorrow. It’s a little girl, she doesn’t have any health issues and she is three years of age.”

You agreed to go and meet your prospective child, the excitement finally hitting you. Although you weren’t going to be this child’s biological mother, you were sure you could be able to love her as if she was your biological daughter, and that’s all that mattered really.

You turned to Harry and told him, as you both jumped up and hugged each other. Being able to bask in your excitement for a few moments.

“I always wanted a little girl, and I guess we don’t need to go through the many sleepless nights.” He beamed.

—

The next day, you were woken up by Harry. As you rolled over, checking the alarm clock next to you it was nine in the morning. Harry being out of bed before you, meant that he was beyond excited. He loved his sleep more than anything.

You both got dressed and made your way to the adoption agency. A mixture of nervousness and excitement filled the car journey. Neither of you knowing what to say, but enjoying it nonetheless.

As you walked in hand in hand, the confirmation that you were doing the right thing by yourselves set in. The children’s finger paintings that hung on the walls, was something that you were missing in your house. It was going to be chaotic, but living with Harry already provided that. It wasn’t going to be out of the norm.

A social worker, the one who you had assumed had phoned you escorted you into the office. She went over some of the essentials, things you needed to know about the process, things you were and weren’t allowed to say in order to not only protect yourself, but the child too. After the brief meeting, you were told that she was going to go and get the little girl, and told you to sit there.

A few moments later, the social worker emerged again, this time with a little girl in tow. A brown teddy girl hung limply from the girls other hand, as she hid behind the social worker. Obviously a little bit timid.

Harry got up from his chair, and walked around to her, bending down on his knees before offering her a handshake. “Hi little lady, my name’s Harry. What’s yours?”

“My name’s Olivia.” She responded, her voice small. Still unsure.

You got up from your chair, following Harry’s example and bending down on your knees too.

“I’m Y/N.” You said, introducing yourself. “That teddy bear is really cute. I used to have one, just like him called Mr. Snuggles.” You continued, giving the girl a small smile.

“Did you have to rescue him from the hundred acre wood too?” Olivia asked, intrigued.

“Oh, I had to fight off the fiercest lions and snakes for him.” You responded, playfully. Which caused Olivia to giggle.

“So, Olivia… we were wondering if you’d like to come out on a picnic to the park with us?” Harry asked her. “We can make sure that teddy comes along too, we promise that we’ll fight off any lions and snakes that threaten him.”

“As long as you push me really high on the swings.”

Harry nodded, assuring her they had a deal. Olivia took your hand as you led her to the car, and strapped her into the children’s car seat that you had purchased the night before.

Harry drove you the short distance to the local park. She took Harry’s hand this time, still clinging onto her teddy bear. Which you presumed provided her with a sense of security that she craved.

As soon as she entered the playground, she made a beeline for the swings. Harry, having to hit a slow jog to be able to keep up with her. He fulfilled his promise of pushing her as high as he could, whilst not going too high for fear of scaring her. As you looked on and watched, you knew that Olivia was the little person that was going to make your family whole. She fit perfectly. She was the family that you had chosen.

[chrisevansszn]

Valleys and Mountains Pt 5🏔

Final Chapter

1.7k

18 and up only ‼

“I want a fucking divorce!!”

“I’m not giving you shit.”

“Why??? So, you can have your cake and eat it too? Who do you think you are??”

“I want my fucking marriage and wife back. Is that so hard? Yes, I’ve been talking to Cree but its because you’ve been ignoring me.”

“You narcissistic fucker you!”

He shakes his head.

“You know what! Your right! I have been fucking Jason to get back at you. You don’t deserve me!”

What the fuck are you thinking!

Chris swings in your direction but punches a hole through the wall. You are completely frozen in fear. He steps back and looks at his hand. There is blood coming from his knuckles. He grabs a kitchen towel, runs the kitchen sink to wet it and wraps it around his hand. He walks out of the kitchen and up the stairs without making a sound or eye contact with you.

You bent over finally catching your breath as tears run down your face. You didn’t move for about 15 minutes, stuck in that one spot. You finally looked back at the wall to see the damage. A perfect hole all the way through. You grabbed a paper towel and wiped your face as you headed to your room. You went straight to your closet to grab your suitcase to pack up some clothes. A night or two at a hotel is a must right now. There is no way you are staying here! You haphazardly throw clothes and shoes into your suitcase. You heard footsteps behind you and slowly turned around. Chris was standing there.

The silence in the room was excruciating.

“I’m going to a hotel.”

“I will go if you want me to.”

You swallowed.

“No, I don’t want to be here.”

You stood up to walk past Chris, he grabbed your arm as you walked past. You turned and looked at him.

“Y/N, I’m sorry for everything. I really am.”

You pulled your arm away and continued to your bathroom to get more stuff. Chris followed.

“Are you invited Jason to your hotel?”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing! Fucking men!

“YOU HAVE A LOT OF FUCKING NERVE CHRISTOPHER! MEN WILL CHEAT AND FUCK UP THEIR MARRIAGE BUT THE MOMENT A WOMEN GETS EVEN THEY CAN’T HANDLE IT!”

“I can’t handle it!  The thought makes me so fucking sick!”

You rolled your eyes, grabbed your shit, and finished packing. You headed out the door with Chris on you heels. He didn’t say or do anything. He watched as you put your shit in the car and drive away. You went to an Omni hotel and booked for a couple of nights. You texted your boss saying you needed a couple of days off for personal reasons. Your hotel room was all you were going to see for the next two days.

Chris called but you let it go to voicemail, begging for forgiveness, and do go to marriage counseling. You didn’t reply back. The next two days you laid in bed, rarely ate anything, and had room service to bring you bottle after bottle. You slept and drank the days away.

Day two came and it was time for check out. You headed back home as it rained cats and dogs outside. You pulled into the driveway. Chris’ truck was parked. You took a deep breath and walked into the house.  Chris was sitting at the dining room table, he looked God awful. You can tell he hasn’t been sleeping. You paused and stared at each other.  

“Y/N.”

You waited.

“Yes.”

“I am so sorry about everything. Can we go to marriage counseling?”

Marriage counseling isn’t such a bad idea. This can only go two ways…the marriage heals, or the marriage ends. Do you even want to be married anymore?

“Sure. Set it up.”  You walked off. You had a lot to consider, you and Chris both did dirt maybe you can really patch things up and move forward.

The day has come, your first counseling session. Chris found a young lady who was well qualified. You did the whole introduction thing. You thought maybe this would do some good but let me remind everyone of what Christopher said.

“Chris & Y/N, thank you for coming in today. This is a place where you can express exactly how you feel. Now, who wants to go first?”

“I will.”, Chris said. “I think a divorce is the best option.”

You turned your head so quickly.  You couldn’t believe what this asshole just said.

“Wait Chris isn’t there another option here. I thought you wanted to save your marriage?”, the counselor said.

You didn’t say anything.

“I’ve been thinking, about everything. Both of us stepping out on our marriage, Y/N disappearing for a couple of days, and our fight.”

“I only slept with Jason to get back at you.”, you snapped.

“Don’t ever say his name in front of me again.”

“Or what? You started this whole mess!”

“Please now I need both of you to settle down. We have to have civil conversation here.”

You got up and walked off. You needed a minute. After all this man has put you though, he thinks he can initiate the divorce?? The doctors retrieve you from the hallway, and you go back inside. Chris hadn’t moved a muscle. You and Chris go back and forth, its literally the blame game.

Thank God you both took separate cars! This first session was a nightmare. What had gotten into Chris?

You made it home before Chris. He actually didn’t walk through the door until later. You sat on the couch waiting for him. A real conversation was needed.

Chris finally walked through the door.

“Chris.”

“What is it?”

“What was that shit today? You beg me to go to counseling and then you start off by saying you want a divorce? What do you want to do?”

He rolled his eyes. The fucking audacity.

“I’ve had time to think. I am sick of begging you to make this marriage work. I’ve done nothing but BEG you.”

“So, you want a divorce? Tell me now because I am not wasting my time going to counseling with you.”

He sat up and put it hands on his hips. You hated that shit.

“Yes, I want a divorce. I want to be with Cree.” He looked at the ground as he said those words.

“EXCUSE ME? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?”

“You heard me.”

You completely lost it.

“FUCK YOU CHRIS! I FUCKING HATE YOUR GUTS!

You went and pushed him on his face!

“Y/N, don’t do that shit!”

Chris gave you a slight push to put space between you two.

“Get out now…”

“I pay the damn mortgage on this home!”

“PACK YOUR SHIT AND GET THE FUCK OUT!”

Chris gives you a look. He walks past you and heads to the bedroom. You leaned back against the nearest wall. You had to take some deep breaths. You walked over to the couch and sat. You could hear Chris slamming the dresser as he packed up. Not a tear fell down your face this time, you just wanted him gone.

About 10 minutes later Chris walks by with a suitcase, grabbed his keys, his wallet, and walked out the door. You grabbed your MacBook and sat back on the couch with a glass of wine and begin searching for divorce lawyers.

You didn’t want to tell anyone what was going on yet. You were too embarrassed. After searching, you found lawyer and decided to call in the morning. You didn’t get any sleep that night per the usual. You headed to work the next day and called the lawyer to set up a meeting to get the ball rolling.

A week went by and you and Chris haven’t communicated not once. Jason was texting, but you weren’t responding at all.  The meeting with the lawyer was productive, she got all the paperwork together for you to get Chris to sign.

A few days later, you heard the door unlocking as you ate dinner in the kitchen while working. Chris walked in. He looked at you and you looked right back at your screen.

He walked over.

“I got the documents today from your lawyer.”

You looked up.

“Let’s talk about this.”

“There is nothing to discuss, sign the papers. If you want the house, then buy me out, if not…it goes on the market.”

You stood up to take your plate to the sink. Chris follows behind.

“I’m not ready to let you go.” He steps a little closer.

“This marriage is over.”

“Please Y/N.”

Chris leans in and kisses you softly on your lips, it caught you off guard.

“Absolutely not. Don’t ever kiss me again.”

“I’m your husband.”

“Does your new girlfriend know that you are here? I wonder how she would feel knowing you are making a move on your ex-wife?”

“Don’t say that.”

“Like I said, sign the divorce papers so I can move on.”

“Whatever. My lawyer will be in contact with yours.”

Chris walked away to the bedroom to get more clothes and such. He comes back out 20 minutes later.

“You’re already packing up shit?”

“Yes. When you sign, I’m out.”

He said something under his breath and headed out the door with his stuff. A couple of days later your lawyer called and said Chris accepted the terms.

A few weeks later you and Chris sat down with your lawyers to sign the divorce papers. As you both walked out, you noticed a young girl sitting outside the room. You finished up the conversation with your lawyer and headed out. You walked by and the young girl smirked at you. It had to be Cree. You stopped.

“Did you just smirk at me?” You wanted all the smoke.

“I’m just glad this is all finalized.”

“You must be Cree the whore. Well, best of luck to you.”

You turned to Chris.

“Did you tell Cree about you kissing me a few weeks ago when you came to get more stuff?” You faced Cree. “Don’t worry sweetie. I stopped him, but just know he was ready to risk it all.”

You turned and headed down the hall, and into your new single life!

Hope you all enjoyed this series! 💛

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[aliaslua]

Right to live

Chapter 02 of my on going series: In broad daylight

Chapter summary: Michelangelo has a productive therapy session after his interview. April and Casey announce their wedding and in a jealousy crisis, Donatello has his first one-night-stand. Warning: This chapter contain light smut (mature, not explicit) if you're a minor please DON'T INTERACT. TW: Trauma mention (nothing too graphic or descriptive, but it does contain a short account of a panic attack).

Michelangelo started therapy after his first panic attack.

It was - maybe - the worst night of his life. At that point in time he didn’t even knew what a trigger was - and even if he did, he wouldn’t be able to identify or anticipate his reaction. If felt like he was dying in a literal, visceral sense. It was like having a bomb growing inside his shell, the beating counting down to a heart attack, he felt his lips cold, his head heavy and the touch of Donatello’s hand in his shoulders felt cold against his skin for the first time in his life. He could still remembers his brothers calling to him and his inhuman effort to look them in the eyes, just as he gazed into the house he grew up in and didn’t recognize the color of the new floor tiles.

The rest was a blur.

Dr. Miller was April’s last effort to persuade Leo and Raph that Mikey needed professional counseling. At this point, Mikey didn't have enough will to have a strong opinion on his treatment, he didn't have the will to do anything, really. All his days were spent sleeping by day and having terrible night anxiety, followed by an earth-shattering cry until morning, when he went back to sleep.  Despite their best effort to care for and protect the younger sibling, all of his brothers knew that he had become impossible to handle - and more important than that, his emotional and physical dependency got so intense that it was perfectly clear that there was nothing they could do: Michelangelo need help, professional help.

On the first day they entered Dr. Miller’s office, April had reassured everybody she had send the therapist recent photos of Mikey and explained all his possible triggers in detail. The clinic would open two hours early so that they could have privacy and that this first encounter would include Mikey, his brothers and Sara Miller only.

Mikey was so nervous he felt like this situation alone would end up triggering his next attack: his hands were sweaty, his chest heavy and the feeling in his stomach made him realize that maybe he would throw up all those recent pizza slices. When the door to her office opened, he felt an immediate relief upon looking at her.

Sara (as he would start calling her later) was a 67 years old black woman, wearing a knitted cardigan and a puffy ponytail. She looked at him with eyes free from any king of judgment: any kind of feeling at all, actually, it was very… neutral. After gazing at him and his brothers she had smiled lightly and then calmly said:

"Good morning. I am Dr. Miller. Are you Michelangelo?" Mikey just nodded " Welcome. Please, come in.”

So he did, on that Monday morning and all the next yet to come, for two years straight.

━━━━━━ • ✿ • ━━━━━━

“Did you see the interview?” Mikey asked just as he entered her office, not even worrying about greeting Sara.

“Yes I did.” She answered with the same peaceful deep voice, unbothered by the absence of a greet “You looked very handsome.”

“I sure did!” The mutant turtle seated at the large red sofa, his body melting in the comfortable cushions, he grabbed one of the small pillows behind him and held it tight against his chest “Ugh! It was so fun!”

Sara smiled. She always gave him a kind of smile that made Mikey feel like she was the perfect embodiment of a fairytale grandma and for the first time, Michelangelo actually considered she might actually be someone else’s grandmother.

“I am glad to hear that. Did you do the exercises he practiced?”

Mikey hummed “It helped. But what really made all difference was that Leo was there. And April. Oh, April is getting married!” He announced “She and Casey told us about the engagement just after we all saw the interview air. It was a great night.” He stopped for a minute and laid his head against the couch, focusing on the abstract painting that always caught his attention since the first day he sat there, he knew his voice let out a sadness he was trying to hide. He didn’t need to pretend there.

“It was… Weird, I guess… Like, I should be happy for them, right? Casey is a nice man, he treats her right, they already have a life together, an apartment with a huge TV and an aquarium… I can’t argue with that, right? Right?” Sara didn’t answer, Michelangelo laid his head completely on the couch, staring at the sealing “She was my first love…. Or something like it. I feel so attached to her and…” He sighed deeply and closed his eyes, trying to measure all the feelings filling his chest “...I think I… Should I feel happy for her? Because I felt… Huh, I felt betrayed.”

“Do you feel resentment?” Dr. Miller finally asked, gazing calmly at him.

“Yeah, I guess… I didn’t know what I expected... and I don’t want to marry April. Not anymore, I mean. She is like a sister to me. No! It’s more than that… She’s like… I- It just.. it was all so fast! Everything is so fast right now, and she decided to announce just as the interview ended and I felt so… I felt so overshadowed!”

“You felt it was your night.”

“It WAS my night. And I don’t mean to sound selfish, you know? I just… Wished they had waited.”

Sara looked at her patient making a conscious effort to avoid giving away her own feelings, the enormous man in front her had a gloomy expression and tired eyes.

“Mikey, is not the first time you mention feeling like this.”

“Like what?”

“ Overshadowed .” She quoted him.

“Yeah… I guess it's something I’ve been feeling for a while.”

“You mentioned once that you felt… Smushed, is the word you used.”

“Yeah. Smushed between my brothers.”

“Hmm” Sara nodded “What about that?”

“Well, you know about that… They are all special in their own way. Leo is the leader, Raph is the muscle, Donnie is the genius, I am the… Comic relief?”

“You sound like you are all characters of a cartoon.”

“We look like it!” Mikey said, humorous. Sara did her best  to contain a tiny smile that formed in her cheeks.

“Well, you are your own person, Mikey. You don’t have to fulfill an imaginary role you fantasized for yourself.”

“Yeah I feel like you’re always telling me that.” He sighed “What this has to do with April?”

“You were telling me about her engagement…”

“Yeah. It was crazy… I mean, me, Leo and Raph kept it together but Donnie just… Bolted.” A nervous laugh escaped him “She told the news and he just… Left. I guess it was too much for him. You know, April was the only person we knew for so long… It was only natural to fall for her, right? She’s so nice, kind, and after the expected first meeting shock she treated us with… Dignity is the world Master Splinter likes to use... But then we all grew out of it.”

A long silence followed before he complemented:

“I guess Donnie didn’t”

━━━━━━ • ✿ • ━━━━━━

Donatello felt his feet too tight against the leather shoe and considered for the third time on that evening that maybe this was a terrible idea.

Ignoring his own better judgement, he knocked.

Alicia Ellis awakened in him two utterly contradictory and madding feelings: disgust and lust.

Many times he had tried - and succeeded- at disguising the amount of attention he paid to her body, especially since the context they first met didn’t allowed for flirtatious endeavors and despite knowing his physical body was searching it’s hormonal peak, Donatello proud himself on being utterly respectful: an effort that he felt he was making alone. Ellis never even tried to hide her indiscreet wants, playing with their encounters just enough to not be considered harassment, but clear enough to not allow ambiguity. Was that even possible? Donnie asked himself. Did it even matter now?

He felt disgusted mostly towards himself, actually, knowing full well why he had come to her apartment after that eventful night, just as the women he thought he could win over announced her engagement to the man he honestly felt he could one day surpass - pathetic, he beat himself again, cringing at the mere fact he once imagined a possible future for them, together. What a pathetic, emotional, delusional monster you are, dreaming about the pretty girl that once held your hand… And now you surrender to your most selfish desire, luring this woman who will be stupid enough to let you in.

This is going to ruin you. Was the last thing he thought before she opened the door.

She was astonishingly beautiful, with her thick luxurious wavy hair and round plump figure, pressed against a tight outfit he didn’t have enough interest to notice in detail.

“Took you long enough.” She said in a malicious tone, grabbing him by his belt. The apartment was warm, had a delicious floral smell and it was lit in subtle yellow light that mimicked candles. It was sexy, inviting and terribly scary, just like her.

This is going to ruin me . The feeling echoed towards Donnie as he willfully closed the door behind him.

It wasn’t hard for him to understand why a woman like her would take interest in being with a man like him, the internet had allowed Donnie to have a very indiscreet access to the human world - especially since people seemed really comfortable in sharing online things they wouldn’t even tell a best friend - and he knew way before they even came out to the surface that most probably wouldn’t be difficult to find someone willing to share a bed with him. Alicia was just a part of a very niche - yet not so small as one may think - group.

The thought brought him a small relief and a strike of courage that he much needed at that moment.

“I didn’t think you would come.” She said, bringing two glasses of a clear-yellow liquid. What an inappropriate move to bring a glass of white wine to a young adult not-yet-of-age , his better judgment told him as he accepted the glass, but wasn’t he 21 yet? Yes, he was... Maybe it was just judgment.

“Me neither” He answered after a sigh, too honest for his own sake.

“What changed your mind?” She mischievously asked, crossing her legs in an angle that brushed against his knee.

Donatello considered for a minute to said the truth, my heart was broken and honestly I really want to have sex, how would she respond to that? Was there a polite way of saying it? Instead, he said: “I’ve decided to change my approach on things.”

“Oh, really?” She smiled honestly “...And how’s that gonna happen?”

I will take every opportunity that life gives me, irrespective of its consequences, “I’ll stop sabotaging my wants…” He turned his body a little bit in her direction, he had planned a second sentence to follow but it seemed like he had already said all she needed to hear.

She slid her knee between his legs to climb his lap, brushing the space between the buttons of his shirt lightly. How quickly she hopped on top of him and how quickly his body responded to the feel of her warm perfumed breath against his neck. “That’s great to hear.”

It wasn’t Donatello’s first kiss but the tension of feeling the soft lips of a woman he barely knew nothing about added to the oh-so-suggestive friction of her thighs against  his zipper made it an entirely new experience. If he granted himself a moment of reason, Donnie would most likely find her too hurried and eager - but again, what was his experience in this field? Wasn’t this how the encounter should go? What else was he expecting? Independent of what his reason may have considered, the friction of her palms against the now prominent bulge in his pants added to the delicious sounds coming from her throat made every single indecision go away.

He felt his head light and dizzy as their tongues danced against each other and the urge to feel relief made him bold. She answered the squeeze he gave her bottom with an audible moan that gave Donatello’s stomach a cold wave of shock along with the first visible stain in between his paints. She felt the thickness of his fluid against the fabric and smiled against his lips.

“Such a passionate… response.” She said in what sounded like a performative tone - well, she was a journalist.

He took her incentive and slide her tube dress above her ass, stoking it as he lowered his lips to her neck. Her skin was soft and the way it reacted to his mouth - the small flinches of her body and the building pressure between his legs could only compare to the amazing feeling of her silk soft thigh skin. She used her hands to guide his head further down, lowering the piece of garment herself, he instinctively took one of her nipples in his mouth, enjoying the contrast between the soft skin of her breasts and the beaded texture of her nipples.

When Alicia laid her body against him on the couch, he followed her moves and felt the soft pillow against his head, the discreet but unmistakable sound of his zipper being opened followed by her stocked gasp at his member followed by “Oh I’m gonna have fun tonight!”. Donatello held her waist closer to his own, trying to reach her lips again, wondering if he could say the same. The warmth between her legs and the delicious feeling that jolted through his body and she aligned him to her entry - and the irresistible pleasure of feeling his tip tease her plump lips - made him think that the most likely answer was yes .

...And what an unnecessary concern the wine proved to be: he didn’t even get to drink it.

━━━━━━ • ✿ • ━━━━━━

“...you know, Raph made a friend.” Mikey had stood on his feet and now looked through the squared window. He had a regular habit of standing up during the sessions, usually as they were reaching the middle of the appointment. Sara it wrote down anyway, before adding:

“Really?”

Mikey hummed “...It’s a complicated story - but he left to buy a bear, this old man didn’t want to sell it to him, so he got really angry, so someone threatened to call the police, so he started to freak out and then this… girl appeared!”  He was switching his body height between his legs “Clara. What a name! Heh- I don’t get to say that, huh? Well, her name was Clara and he said she looked like an anime version of a character from Fresh prince of bel air … Can you imagine?” He turned to look at her. Sara just nodded.

“Wanna hear some really crazy stuff? Raph told me that they were talking and she told him she saw my interview… and she said she was in love with me!” He offered his therapist an incredulous happy smile “ME! Can you believe it?”

Sara hummed and made another note.

“I know she was kidding, I don’t think she loves me. But saying it like this sounds like… Like I am a celebrity! Like she would like to know me… Like…”

“Like you have been seen.”

“HELL YEAH!” He exclaimed, sitting down on the couch again grabbing his trust-worthy pillow “... And that sucker didn’t even got her number…” A deep sigh followed silence. Very discreetly, Dr. Miller checked her watch.

“It doesn’t matter, really, it just made me realize… That I wished I had someone…”

More silence.

“-I know I already have someone, if that's what you’re gonna say… I know my brothers are my care net and that I have friends and confidants, and bla bla bla”.

“Well I wasn’t going to…” She said peacefully.

“ I want… A lover . Someone to be my special one. Someone to cherish and spoil and share my life with! Someone who can say they’re in love with me… For real.”

More deep silence.

“... And why don’t you?” She finally prompted. Michelangelo turned to look at her with a impatient expression:

“Are you kiddin’ me?”

“I am definitely not.”

“You can’t be that cynical!”

“I am not.”

“Sara…” He sighed uneasily “... not this again.” she heard pain in his words.

“You have the right to live, Mikey.” She gazed at him with the same kind eyes, letting her strong words get to him “...Just like anyone else.”

This time, that was an anxious silence. Michelangelo rubbed his hands together as if he was facing a cold storm “What if it happens again?”

“Then you will do what we practiced.” She waited for an answer that didn’t come “... Do you wanna remember it once again with me?”

He simply nodded.

“I am more…” She started.

“...than people perceive me.”

“I’ve the right…”

“...to occupy space.”

“No one…”

“No one can deny me my right to live.”

“That was great, Mikey.” Dr. Miller said kindly.

He squeezed the tears away from his eyes, not even realizing they were there. “...Yeah… Yeah, it was.”

━━━━━━ • ✿ • ━━━━━━

It was certainly.... Memorable , Donatello thought, staring at his brand new shoes as they made the path back to the lair. How was it again that he found himself in that situation? That sad looking, empty feeling, walk-of-shame. Oh, yeah, Alicia Ellis.

Something felt terrible wrong about that whole endeavor. He tried to think about the details, to analyze the facts: it has been clearly consensual, sober, communicative sex. So why did he feel like some part of him had been left behind in that apartment? Was it his clear shyness when they finally consumed the act or her generous overlook at his even clearer lack of experience? Had him fail his mission? Factually not! He performed… Fine - it was hard to measure, but she seemed pleased enough. He was also pleased… Physically, at least.

So why did he feel so… Empty?

He walked among the streets of New York without the concern his older brother seemed to carry. Donatello was always really good at not carrying - just as he was good at carrying too much . Oh, yes, his overthinking nature was still going to kill him, no matter how hard he tried to pretend like it didn’t matter at all.

Nothing mattered, everything mattered. What a contradictory and childish state of mind. Could he ever find balance? Would he ever be able to take risks and still be prudent? To be disappointed and not lose all faith? To love deeply and move over from it, stronger and ready to love again? Did he ever truly love her ?

He remembered her ring shining against the light, mocking his defeat. A zirconium, Casey Jones…  Can’t even buy her a real diamond . He muttered to himself and the night, kicking a small rock in the path.

The worst part, the real strike of the devil - was the fact that she looked immensely happy. Heartbreakingly happy. And there was nothing, nothing in this world that Donnie could think that could justify taking this away from her - not even the fantasy that she could be happier.

He took a deep breath and grabbed the keys in his pocket. That was no way out of it: we would have to get over her. At least now he knew that running away to unknown women’s homes was not a viable solution.

[thestarwrites]

All Right, All Might: Ch. 9

Word Count: 3,030

Rating: PG-13 (Mentions of a sexual nature)

Painting: Toshinori Yagi X FemOC

The UA Guidance Counselor, a quirk user with Pathokenesis, is shocked to find out her personal hero All Might is coming to be a teacher. The road they walk as a parallel starts to merge and there’s no telling what could happen. The attack on the USJ has sparked a lot of things from happening – including a new level of relationship for Toshinori and Keri. And now with the sports festival in two weeks, she starts counseling the 1-A students, and she gets to know class 1-A better than before.

---

CHAPTER NINE: TRYING OUR BEST

“Miss Chairo- you wanted to see me?” The calm and clear voice of Tenya Ida came though the doorway with a soft hesitation.

“Yes- come in Tenya, make yourself at home,” the guidance counselor smiled and took a deep breath, “I’m sure you of all people understand why you’re here today.”

He gave a nod, sitting on the sofa, “Yes miss. About yesterday.”

Keri smiled, “I just want to check in on you... see how you’re doing after everything, you were a real hero yesterday and I know that kind of fear that comes with not knowing what to do but having to act anyway.” She set a cup of tea in front of the boy on the coffee table, “You have that ability to act with purpose, I saw it also the other morning when you stopped everyone from stampeding out of the cafeteria.”

Ida blushed and he smiled shyly, “Thank you miss Chairo...”

“I just tell it like it is, Tenya,” she smiled, “Let’s talk about it, let’s try to unpack it from yesterday- you were a mess when I saw you. How did you feel?”

Taking a deep breath he looked down at his fists on his knees, “I... all I could think in my head was that I was abandoning them. That I was leaving them one man down while I ran. I thought, what if I’m not fast enough, what if there are villains waiting to ambush someone running for help?”

She nodded and listened to him, her forehead began to glow as she wordlessly reassured the boy, “Those are all very valid concerns, I haven’t been doing support hero work long, but I have known a lot of heroes - do you know the BMI Hero Fatgum?”

“Yeah! I’ve heard of him…”

“He always was afraid of hurting people or not being fast enough to save people - heroes are always afraid. But its the ability to dig deep and push forward that really makes a good hero. And you really do deserve your place here at UA. All of the members of your class do, you all have proved how tenacious you all are.”

Tenya took a deep breath and nodded, “I guess all heroes are afraid - do you get afraid Miss Chairo?”

“Of course I do. I was afraid yesterday when I found you running up to the school. But we had to act, hm?” He nodded and took a deep breath, “But it is completely necessary to decompress and talk about incidents after they happen. It’s important to talk about how we feel. Because if you bottle things up, or try to take things into your own hands… well, things don’t turn out well most of the time.”

He nodded and took a deep breath, “Talk about how I feel.” He nodded again, “Maybe as class rep I can help the other students keep being reminded of this valuable lesson!”

She chuckled and sighed, “Tenya I think that’s a wonderful sentiment, that’s why I wanted to become a hero therapist. Because I think it’s very important. So if you ever feel anything start to pile up on you, or you feel out of control, or afraid - you come and talk to me. And if not me, any of your classmates. Don’t forget now, okay?”

“I wont! I promise!” He grinned, “It does make me feel better knowing you were scared yesterday too…”

Keri smiled, “I’m glad, I always want you to remember, heroes are just people. You and your classmates got a very real taste of something very scary. You’re all handling it very well. I’m so proud.”

Tenya grinned wider, “Well I will do my best to never let you down, Miss Chairo!”

She chuckled, “Okay Tenya, just try your best… go on back to class now, hm?”

He nodded and bowed, always so formal, “Have a good rest of your day Miss Chairo!” He waved as he left, taking his backpack with him.

After Ida, she had some shorter visits with children who were more or less fine; Mineta, Sato, Shouji, Kaminari, Tokoyami, Hagakure, and Sero. They were very brief, mostly just a yes miss I’m fine, and back to class. She didn’t sense any trauma there.

The only one who came in who needed a little more counseling was the boy Aoyama - he was hiding the entire battle. He felt regret and fear about it. She thought back to what she said to Eijiro - some heroes don’t know how they fit. She’d have to think on how to help this blonde boy.

——

The final face before her lunchtime meeting with Izuku and Toshinori that she saw was the sweet round face of Ochako Uraraka. Keri smiled and took a deep breath, “Good morning Ochako, please come on in!”

The girl grinned, “How are you this morning miss Keri?”

“I’m doing just fine, especially since all of you kids are alright now,” She smiled, “And that Aizawa is even his normal miserable self.”

Ochaco giggled as she sat down on the couch, “I’m glad everyone is okay too… I was really worried about the teachers, but Aizawa, Thirteen and All Might all seem to be okay.”

“Yeah, you all are so resilient, how are you doing?”

“I mean, I’m a little scared but… you know, the teachers and the police are gonna protect us! That’s what they do.” She said hopefully.

Keri smiled, “Yes, they certainly will do their best - but don’t forget Ochaco, you also have to continue to work on getting stronger and having a strategy for when things don’t pan out as you hope.”

She nodded, “Of course Miss Keri,” she hummed, “Uhm - can I ask you a personal question?”

Blinking the woman smiled, “Sure, why not?”

“Mina said she saw you running through the hall and crying yesterday… are, are you okay?”

Keri blushed a little and smiled bashfully, “I was just worried is all, it was a long day, and I had to maintain normalcy for everyone, it just gets to you sometimes.”

“Is it…. Cause of All Might? Cause he was hurt?” Ochaco blushed.

She smiled a little, “Yeah… I was really worried about him. He pushes himself really hard you know? And so does Midoriya.” Her cheeks lit red at the mention of the boy, and Keri smiled, “I’m sure you were worried about Izuku as well?”

“W-well yeah… I mean… he’s my… friend, right? Of course I was…”

“Girl to girl - I think we both had the same worry.” Keri smiled warmly.

Ochaco bit her lip, “I- I mean— I just wanted him to be okay! I mean — you and All Might - well that’s different! I saw you guys in the hall this morning holding hands— Not like, not like I want to hold hands with Deku!”

“Breathe, Ochaco,” Keri smiled, sending soothing energy over her, “You are in a safe place and I do not discuss sessions. Izuku is a handsome young man, and he’s strong and courageous. A lot of the boys in your class are pretty remarkable. There’s nothing to be ashamed of thinking good things about someone you admire… and you’re right, All Might and I were holding hands, we’re just… trying it out, you know?”

“I thought you guys were already dating when I met you.” She blinked.

Keri laughed, “No… no I only met him some months before you all did, I was working here my first year last year, and at the end of the semester, All Might came into my office thinking it was where Principal Nezu was located, and he scared the hell out of me, I’ll tell you.”

Ochaco laughed a bit at that, the heat being taken off of her developing feelings, “How did you get so close?”

She smiled fondly, “Well, he is the Symbol of Peace, right? He’s supposed to be unbreakable, infallible, strong and sturdy and happy — All Might is still a man, like anyone else. He gets scared, and hurt, and upset too. I just offered him someone to talk to.”

“So you’re like, his therapist?”

“More like a friend, he listens to me too,” She smiled, “We just kind of… hit it off I guess. We became really close friends - then we got into a fight before school started. And since we made up, we’ve decided to see if we could be more than friends I guess.” She blushed.

The teen smiled, “Well I hope you guys stay more than friends.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well,” she started, “All Might deserves to have someone he can share his time with - the tabloids have never shown him with anyone. It’s kind of sad if he has to save the world, and he has no one to hold him when he’s sad. Everyone needs someone to hold them up.” Keri smiled fondly at the girl, she was certainly as sweet as Izuku was, “And you’re so nice, Miss Keri - and you always check on us - I mean, you checked on me the day of the entrance exam… you made sure I wasn’t in shock and helped me get to the bathroom when I was queasy. You’re both just… cute together I think.”

Keri smiled, “Well, thank you Ochaco… that’s very nice of you to say. And you’re right, everyone needs someone to hold them up. So don’t be afraid of holding others up if you feel you want to, okay? Let your gut tell you what to do.”

She nodded and smiled, the bell for lunch rang, “Oh! I’m so hungry - I’m going to go meet up with my friends, but thank you for taking care of us, miss Keri.”

Smiling she nodded, “Don’t stop believing in the good things in the world, Ochaco.” Waving as the girl left she sighed and pulled the privacy curtain down, sitting on the sofa with a tired sigh. This was more than she was used to, she was a little tapped out from using her quirk for so long but she could bear up alright with some tea and food.

--

She jumped when the door suddenly flung open, “Hey!” The tall muscular blonde who opened the door cheered, “I am here! With young Midoriya!”

Keri just sighed and nodded, “Hello boys, come on in,” it was unintentionally punctuated with a yawn.

Deki frowned, “Are you alright Miss Chairo?”

Smiling at the green haired boy she nodded, quickly also seeing concern on her boyfriend’s face as he deflated, locking the office door, “Yes yes, just tired. I’ve been using my quirk for hours.”

Toshinori came over to her on the sofa, and he patted his lap, “You’re not overdoing it right? Do you feel nauseous at all? Here - why don’t you lie down here while I speak with young Midoriya? I’m sure a small nap would do you good.”

She blushed, “N- no I’m fine, promise.” If Izuku wasn’t here, she would curl into Toshinori like a tired kitten, but, this was school. No matter how close Toshinori and Izuku were, they are his teachers, “You don’t have to worry so much, I’m fine, honestly. You and Izuku just, talk okay?”

He nodded, “Well- I have a free period after lunch so… offer stands, okay?”

She nodded and went about making tea for her hero and her student, “Let me get some tea going…”

Toshinori looked to Midoriya and he gave a small sigh, “Fifty minutes.”

Keri winced gently at the frankness of her boyfriend’s voice, seemingly unbothered. The two of them had already had this talk, but he had some things to bring to the attention of his protégée.

“H-huh?” Izuku looked shocked, “fifty minutes?!”

Toshinori nodded, “That’s about how long I can use my power now… I overdid it too many times.”

“I’ll say,” Patho chimed in causing a look from both men.

“That Nomu was a real tough customer…” the blonde continued, “it took a lot out of me. At this point I can barely even look like All Might for an hour and a half.”

Izuku looked down at his knees and he grunted softly, “I’m so sorry, I should have just —!”

Toshinori burst into laughter, blood erupting from his mouth as he did so, “You don’t need to apologize for anything!”

“Toshi! Cover your mouth you’re getting blood all over my office!” Keri scolded.

He cleared his throat, using the old stained ladies handkerchief Keri had lended him to hold against his lips, “MAN, we are alike, you and me, kid.”

Keri sighed and came over, setting the tea tray on the little coffee table, “Have some tea, Izuku.”

“Thanks…” he said with a little shock in his voice.

After a pause in the room, she sighed, “I will take a walk, I’ve been cooped up in this room all day, I’d like some air.” She leaned in and kissed Toshinori’s head.

He reached for her hand and kissed it, “Knock the way we talked about when you get back.”

“Yes, Mister number one,” she smirked and waved, “Don’t be too hard on young Izuku now, you already are scaring him spewing blood like a sprinkler.”

“B-bye Miss Chairo.” He stuttered and looked back to All Might.

All Might watched her fondly before turning back to Izuku, “I brought you here to talk about the sports festival…”

--

Keri stepped out of her office and stretched, heading down the hall to the balcony near her and Recovery Girl’s office. She was worried about Toshinori - though when wasn’t she?

“Hello my dear…” the smoky and familiar voice of Midnight cooed from behind her as a hand dragged onto her back, “Going for a walk?”

She jumped slightly, “Ah- Nemuri- Yes… I needed some fresh air, Ive been using my quirk all morning - how did the meeting go?”

“Oh you haven’t been filled in by your man?” She smirked.

Patho blushed, “He is busy speaking with a student right now, I haven’t gotten the chance to ask him yet.”

“Well, All Might went on a big monologue about how this Shigaraki fellow is a spoiled brat - honestly that man is smart. But we don’t know much. Honestly we’re all just worried this is turning the small-time thugs and villains into a team to try and overthrow society.”

Nodding the younger woman took a deep breath, “That’s what I was afraid of too.”

“How are the children, though?”

Looking up she nodded, “They’re doing okay. Some of them are a little shaken up, especially Tenya Ida, but most of them just kind of put their trust in us and the school to continue to protect them, bu they know they have to work hard to be stronger. Best case scenario, really.”

Nemuri took a deep breath, “And how is All Might?”

“Well… you know him, he blames himself for not being there from the start. We were talking last night I had to kind of make him snap out of it, that self-deprecating hole he gets himself into.” She sighed.

“Last night?” She smirked.

“Oh- uh,” Keri blushed, “Toshinori stayed at my place last night, to get some actual rest.”

A grin spread over Midnight’s face, “So, there’s something I’ve been DYING to know…” Looking at her with skeptical eyes, Keri waited for her two continue, “Is All Might’s manhood bigger when he’s All Might?”

Keri sputtered, inhaling a breath and coughing wildly as she held to her chest, “NEMURI!”

“What! Inquiring minds want to know, Patho.” She purred.

Wiping her lips she shook her head, face furiously red, forehead glowing, “W-we haven’t— we’ve only kind of made out! We’re taking things slow! Oh my god why are you even thinking about his — his —“

“His cock?”

Keri started glowing, visibly shaken by this line of questioning, “MIDNIGHT PLEASE.” She groaned, “Why do you do this to me!”

“Because honey, you’re just so innocent about it all,” She gasped, “WAIT - are you a a virgin….”

Patho was still glowing as waves of embarrassment flooded the hallways, “What! N- no! No I’m not okay! I’ve been with someone!”

Putting her hands on her hips, midnight huffed, “I don’t believe you. I want a name.”

“Oh my god you don’t have to believe me!” She sighed and ran a hand over her face, trying to calm down, “Taishiro Toyomitsu.”

Midnight blinked for a few moments and then she held up her arms, “Am I supposed to know who that is?”

She groaned, “The hero Fatgum?? His name is Taishiro.”

“FATGUM? Are you serious? When? How long?”

“We met when I was in college okay! We dated for three years. It just didn’t work out, we were too different and he was just really committed to being a hero, and I was too committed to being a therapist.” She sighed, “Happy now?”

“Does All Might know?”

Blushing Patho shook her head, “No, and I don’t want to talk about past stuff with him yet. He’s really self conscious and he’s too sweet to admit it but he gets jealous I think. I don’t know, I just want him to be assured in how I feel before we go into our pasts.”

The older woman’s face softened, “You really do love him, don’t you.”

“I… I mean,” She took a deep breath, “Yes, I love him - I’m crazy about him. He’s the most wonderful man in the world and I just want to take care of him.”

She smiled, “I’m glad. I used to see girls he’d have flings with… most of them were fame whores or gold diggers, you know. And Toshinori is just too nice to understand sometimes.”

“I know he is. He thinks the world is a great place full of good people. He gets taken advantage of, but he never complains.”

Midnight hugged the girls shoulders, “He deserves someone like you, Keri, truly, someone who really does care.”

“Thanks Nemuri, you’re a great friend when you’re not being a pervert.” She laughed.

Midnight smirked, “Well listen honey, when you find out the answer to my question, I want to know,” She smirked, “Gotta run! Time to teach, kisses!”

Keri slapped her forehead and groaned, “I need to go lay down.”

[the-world-of-jo]

Perseus Gambit - A Lancer TTRPG

A story I wrote for a game I play... It won't make much sense if you don't play, but I am actually proud of this piece, so. (And it's too big to put in our discord, so. >.>)

When you realize how serious things are, you aren’t prepared. As soon as Doc gives you permission, you zip into the medical wing to snag a slate, indicating you’ll be keeping it with you for a couple of days then head to your favorite reading spot in Hydroponics. It’s there the gravity of the situation hits you, and you slump back in your seat, shocked with a feeling of helplessness washing over you.

And then you realize, you’re a geneticist. This is your wheelhouse, you *know* how to repair something like this on a cellular level. And then you’re cancelling your counseling session for that afternoon, promising to circle back with her to reschedule as you head back to the labs.

You manage to avoid her for about a month before Dr. Marchand shows up in front of you. Coincidently, you’re coming out of Noah’s quarters and it’s first thing in the morning, so you have a feeling you’ve been ratted out. You give Sparky a healthy dose of side eye, but you can’t help but spare a bit for Noah as well.

They both look way too innocent for your liking.

*_*_*

You have no fucking idea how to fix this. Not a single one.

Every sim you run comes back not only with bad results, but with *fatal* results. There are over 150,000 genes in a single human, and only 5% of them on average are coded. The Kennedy’s seem to have an additional 3%, all of those enhancing their strength, speed, sight, hearing, smell…

They were also disease resistant, so whatever was affecting Elias was almost absolutely genetic. But Doc had that much figured out.

The jarring ***”BONG”*** of another failed sim is followed in rapid succession by three more, and you sigh and close your eyes for a moment. Then, you get back to work, filing away the results and setting up new sims.

There was still time. Not a lot, but you intended to make the most of it. You ‘steal’ a few other unused computers and begin running sims on those, corralling a few sub alts to move them into what’s been coined as “Lee’s Area”. Someone even made a little paper sign and it made you chuckle.

You sat back and logged into a ninth research station, beginning to look up any new research methods or new genetic information that might have come available since you left Union Space.

It doesn’t surprise you that what you and Doc have been doing is light years beyond anything you find in published works.

*_*_*

The clock in your head is making ‘tick-tock’ noises at random times, and you know it’s an auditory hallucination, but god fucking damnit it needs to quit. You make sure to keep this away from both Drs. Marchand and Lakani, and for the most part, you succeed.

But now, signs of degradation are showing up in Noah. ***Your*** Noah.

You begin snagging more computers as they sit idle. One sub-alt has been stationed near your area for a couple of weeks now since you always seem to request him. Yes, him. You’ve named him Bruce, after Bruce Banner. It’s a nerd joke and it makes you smile, but nobody else seems to understand.

That’s okay though.

Doc tried banning you from the labs until you got some decent rest and food. And you tried, you really did, but.

In less than two hours, you were moving through the ducts, army crawling at times. You pulled a screwdriver out of your back pocket and undid the screws holding a grate in place, and moving it aside you dropped gracefully into the middle of your area.

Right in front of Doc.

Nodding at him in greeting, you pulled a sandwich and a bottle of Galaxy Dew from your backpack and set it at your research desk, then sat your butt down and resumed working. You left your slate on it’s home screen purposefully since your background was a picture of Noah holding Sparky (that you’d taken with permission).

Doc didn’t miss the gesture and instead of ordering you back out, he had Raum lift the restrictions on you and gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

You hear the doors whoosh open and in trots Sparky, a bag of granola and a bag of trailmix held in his mouth. He puts his paws on your knee and looks hopeful that his offering will be accepted. You can’t help but smile and pet him gently. “Thanks for the snacks buddy. I forgot to get dessert.”

Sparky looks quite happy as you add the baggies next to your sandwich.

You do actually eat everything.

*_*_*

Eventually though, one night, while you’re alone in the labs, the last ***”BONG”*** still fresh in your mind, you look up at the ceiling and ask Raum for help. You just need a direction, to know *where* to look. This random shooting in the dark bull shit is getting everyone nowhere and fast.

In your experience, ‘mad scientist’ types have a signature, a way they do things or a way they code things. You’ve been able to figure out which high profile geneticist has written a certain piece in journals, not by their wording but by their projects, and you can’t think of anyone more infamous than Cyrus Jacobi.

Or, as the medical world knew him - Josef Mengele.

If anyone from HA had even mentioned him, and that person had anything to do with their cloning programs, it’d at least, at the ***very least*** point you in a direction, because mad scientist types had a signature, and they liked paying homage to their heroes.

And then one day, Tane asks you “If you could have anything…”

And you tell him. You give him a laundry list of things that could assist you, and you realize if this information ever got into your hands, you’d be very very close to being arrested and tossed in the brig for *life*.

You think *Three squares a day, an actual bed to sleep on...If I handled Milaniko for ten years, I can handle that for life.*

And you wait.

***”BONG, BONG, BONG”***

The sound begins to haunt your dreams.

*_*_*

Noah is the only one who can coax you out, and he does so every day to have dinner with you and make sure you get some rest after.

The guilt gnaws at you when you slip out of bed well before your alarm goes off, and head toward the labs. But time is running out, and that fucking clock is getting louder and louder. It doesn’t matter that people are staring at you, and the fact that your clothes are pretty damn loose doesn’t matter either.

Your nutritional profile has been met each and every day thanks to protein shakes and bars, and Sparky is...suspicious. He’s not advanced enough to know you’re effectively working the system, but he knows *something* is not right. In his view, you should not be losing weight.

Well. You are. But it can be remedied once you figure this shit out.

Doc has been forcing you to take breaks, just for an hour. When your schedules align (and they do at least once a day and you know Doc is doing that on purpose and you love him for it), you spend the time with Noah in his office, grabbing a snack or dozing in one of the extra chairs.

The times you don’t line up with Noah, you head to the mech bay and straight to Beauty, always bringing an offering of donuts or some type of potato dish. Opal is kind enough to not turn you away, Beauty’s hand lowering to lift you up to the cockpit. You’re always sure to thank Beauty, then you sit next to Opal, your offering balancing on both your knee and hers.

She doesn’t question you, doesn’t make you talk, doesn’t comment when you know you’re muttering out loud. Sometimes she leans against you, her shoulder offering quiet support and those are the hardest times, when you have to clench your jaw shut to keep from openly sobbing and admitting how scared you are. How you’re not sure if you can figure this puzzle out, and as a result of your own incompetence you stand to lose not only a dear friend, but the love of your life.

You have a feeling she knows what thoughts run through your head, and you’re grateful that she doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t even comment on the tears that track down your cheeks only to fall from your chin.

You are so, so grateful for that, and you somehow draw strength from sitting with her.

It’s enough that you can head back into the lab yet again.

*_*_*

The next time the Dvorak drops out of near light, you’ve all but moved into the labs. You don’t notice the whoosh of the doors opening at first, but that’s because you’re all but actually absorbing the data on one of the doctors involved with HA cloning, who did indeed cite Jacobi as an amazing scientist.

When the sub-alt rolls up, you mistake it for Bruce, but then Raum’s voice is piped into your brain via your shunt.

A gift. From Tane.

You look at the isolated slate, then take it from the alt, thanking Raum profusely. You stare at it for a moment, the device seeming so small in your hands.

You rip the privacy screen from your own slate (and you may have actually broken the screen - Marcus will be pissed if he has to replace another one) and slap it onto the new one and begin devouring the information. There’s so much here, too much, enough that you have to ask Raum to help you sift through it all.

But...but...when he flags pages he thinks you need, your heart races.

Schematics. Not of the Kennedys, but of prior models.

Maintenance records, upkeep recommendations. Nutritional requirements, formulae for a metabolic stabilizer…

And then you see it. Written by the doctor who quoted Jacobi.

***Genetic coding information***.

You rip through the document and as you read, you begin to babble.

“Jesus fuck, it’s in the junk. They actually put it in the junk DNA, where nobody would fucking think. We need to change everything, absolutely everything, did he work on the...Ken...He did, he fucking did, he worked on the Kennedys, okay, so if that’s the case I’m betting he put them in the same places but there’s probably different locks, different fail safes but if we find one we can tweak it to fit other locks and we need to rethink everything christ we don’t have enough *time* and -”

Hands on your shoulder make you look up, and instinctively you pull the slate against your chest, protecting it. Raum has gone quiet in your mind.

“My boy,” Doc says. “You’re speaking in tongues.”

“We need to change where we look,” you blurt out. “They put the locks in the junk DNA. We need to change course, we need more computers, we need -”

“What? Brawley…” Doc’s eyes stray to the slate and you pull it closer to your chest. He knows there’s something on there that you shouldn’t have and he’s silent for a moment.

“Are you sure?” he asks, shaking you just a bit for emphasis.

“Yes.” Your voice doesn’t waiver.

He nods, then turns from you and begins barking out orders to other assistants and all the screens go black. It takes but a moment for them to reboot, blank screens ready for new directives.

You log into each one individually and set up sims, directing the machines to paw through almost 125,000 pieces of DNA.

You still need more machines.

*_*_*

A few days later you zip into the lab only to find your area almost empty. Your heart lurches from your chest into your throat, but Doc is there, turning you to the right and giving you a nudge forward.

There’s a new section in the lab. Huge, with bright lights, tons of computer banks, frosted windows and a door with a keypad and retina scanner for entry. And the name plaque reads “Brawley Stonehurst”

You pause only enough to look back at Doc and offer him a grin, but then you’re rushing forward, Sparky right behind you, the door opening with a quiet whoosh. There’re more computers than you’ve ever dared ‘steal’ on the main floor, but you quickly commandeer each and every one, setting them up for various sims.

The grating ***”BONG”*** is still the sound you’re constantly hearing.

*_*_*

It’s been a bad day. There’s talk of ventilation for Elias, and he really needs to come off of active duty, but he’s fighting tooth and nail to remain.

Noah hasn’t been able to really lead his classes, nor has he been able to spar with Masek at the level they’re both used to. Sparky has taken it upon himself to spend most of his time with Noah. When he asks you if this is acceptable, you say it is and rearrange his priorities to put Noah first and yourself second.

Doc finds out and he’s in your office questioning the decision, pointing out that Noah and Elias aren’t the only ones deteriorating, and you’re about to call him out on the pot calling the kettle black, but…

But…

***”BING”***

You both stop, staring at each other, and it takes you almost a solid minute to realize one of the sims has finished.

And the text, it’s not *green*, it’s not a *success*, but it’s...not a critical fail. The text is yellow, telling you that you’re on the right track but you need to tweak things and you can do that, the data is promising and you look at Doc and you can feel yourself grinning and -

***”chime”***

Again, you both stop and you know your eyes are huge, you know this because his are as well. It doesn’t take nearly as long for you to begin looking around frantically -

***”chime”.......”chime”......”chime”***

One by one, five different screens light up with green text.

*_*_*

Dr. Anath Lakani is fucking amazing. There’s a reason you’ve been starry eyed since he said he’d take you on as a resident. Your mind is quick, and you know this, but his…

Christ on a cracker, watching that man work is breathtaking for a science nerd like you.

He takes your findings and spins the results into formulae and then spins those into an actual therapy faster than anything you’ve ever seen. And you watch, because this is porn for you, this creating something to save a life from numbers and codes and this and that. In theory, you can do this as well, but not this quickly.

Doc’s skills come from years of experience, and you are nothing short of a captive audience.

Arrangements are made to have Elias come in the very next morning and he’s agreeable. His words were something along the lines of “What have I got to lose?”, and that just…

Your breath leaves you as if you were punched in the gut, and *gods*...

“Please let this work,” you whisper to yourself as you head home.

To Noah. Who is resting in his quarters and only quirks a brow as he looks up from his slate when you come in, then lean back against the door, just looking at him.

He’s pale, too pale, with shadows under his eyes. And you’re not sure if it’s fact or if it’s your mind playing tricks on you, but his cheekbones seem even more pronounced today than they did yesterday.

“It’s early,” he murmurs, and it is, not even gone 20:00 yet. “Have you eaten?”

“No,” you say, your voice coming out in a whisper. “I wanted...shower,” you finish lamely.

Legally, you can’t tell him. This is Elias’ business, not Noah’s.

But there’s that soft smile, the one that’s just for you. “Go on then,” he says. “I’ll have a sub alt bring something from the mess.”

“You gonna eat too?”

“I’ll have something.”

He knows you’ll pester him. Even though he really doesn’t have much of an appetite.

While in the shower, you think about the sims running for Noah’s treatment. You’re jumping the gun, but Elias’ is almost completely mapped out, with only one part of the therapy being in question. In theory, even if that fails, the results will tell you and Doc where to go next, but that clock is still ticking, loud as ever.

You must have been in there a lot longer than you thought, because the next thing you know Sparky’s sitting outside the shower stall looking up at you. Once he sees he has your attention, he sends a query, checking on you.

*Just lost in thought,* you reply.

*Supper is here! KenKen has lounge coverings waiting for you. They are nice and warm!* And with that, Sparky dashes out of the bathroom.

After drying off, going out to get dressed (and you don’t miss the appraising look Noah gives you, but you ignore it because no, you don’t look your best and you realize this but that’s not what he’s concerned about) and eating, you curl up with him, your head on his shoulder.

It’s quiet in a way that ships are, which is to say it’s not *really* quiet, but there’s no voices, no computers, no bonks or bings or chimes or anything. Just the sound of Noah breathing, and if you hold your breath, his heart beat.

“Elias is starting a new therapy in the morning,” you whisper and you feel Noah go still against you. “The projected success rate of the first two rounds is 98%, but the third is hovering around 80%. Even if the third is a failure, we’ll know by the results which way to go. Doc is prepping the bases tonight and tomorrow, but it’s still going to be close, I think. Depends if it fails if it causes any domino effects.”

He’s staring at you now, so you continue.

“I’m running your sims in my office, and two have finished. They weren’t successful, but they weren’t failures. I’m going off the assumption that since you and Elias are from the same...batch,” (that term burns in your throat) “that you’ll need similar therapies.”

“How,” Noah starts, his voice raspy. He clears his throat, then resumes. “How did you…?’ He can’t finish the question, and you don’t know if it’s because he doesn’t know what to ask or if it’s because he can’t ask, but you look up at him.

“Please don’t ask me that,” you whisper. He’s head of security, and even if this would save his life, he would be duty bound.

His eyes leave you and move to your backpack, the forbidden slate hidden inside. He’d seen it, before, noticed it wasn’t yours or one from medical and asked about it. You’d pretended not to hear him, raising your head and blinking, bleary eyed (that wasn’t a lie, at least).

*Raum,* you send out over the comms and his reply is almost instant.

*Taken care of.*

You know the next time you pick the slate up, it’ll be blank. But that’s okay. You also know the information is someplace safe, and all you have to do is ask Raum in order to access it.

When Noah’s eyes return to you, you’re already asleep, curled protectively around him.

*_*_*

When Elias’s third round fails, it is almost catastrophic and both you and Doc are scrambling to keep him stable until the last formulae can be finished. The two of you work well together, both talking over each other and accessing various machines via your neural connections. Nobody will be able to convince you that was the only reason Elias was stabilized as quickly as he had been - while neither of you is super humanly fast, you’re faster than the average person and with both of you working, it’s...harrowing, but it could have been worse.

Much, much worse.

But, the now fourth round is administered and it works, it works so beautifully. Further degradation is essentially halted, or at the very least slowed to a crawl and not only that, but Elias’ body can begin repairs. His stem cells are fine, and with that vital system working as intended, modern medicine only needs to give his respiratory and cardiac systems a boost to get healing started.

Noah’s therapies go so much smoother, and you feel a little guilty for that. Elias doesn’t give a fuck, and the day he’s taken off his oxygen feed his smile stretches from ear to ear.

Noah wears one similar to it, and you finally know what people mean when they say their hearts are so full that they’re bursting.

Physical therapy is something Elias is eager to start, and you’ve got your hands in that as well because you cannot and will not leave either of these men alone it seems. But in this case, it’s not a bad thing because while you’re in the gym with Elias, you’re working on your own fitness regimen as well.

His upper body strength comes back slowly, but his lower body is a bit slower still, if only because he’d been in a wheelchair for an extended period of time. Hydro therapy was a thing for a while, but eventually, Elias began trying to stand.

You’re hella impressed at his determination, and his positive attitude makes you smile. You’re there with him when he stands on his own for the first time, the sub alt holding his chair steady in case he needs to sit back down quickly. You’re aware Cap is in the room as well, but your attention is solely on Elias. It’s a bit of a struggle, and his face is flushed and his breathing slightly labored (his oxygen saturation is at 98%, so you’re not in the least bit worried), but eventually, he’s standing. He takes a breath, finds his balance, and lets go of the supports.

His legs don’t buckle. He looks down as if he’s having trouble believing it, then he looks up at you and grins that infectious grin and you can’t help but smile back.

Then you notice Cap, who’s watching, and you’re not sure, but his eyes look suspiciously bright. He looks to you and nods with a smile, and you look back to Elias and move to help him sit back down, then step away as father and son have a moment, Cap moving closer and speaking softly to Elias.

*_*_*

You’re sitting with the entire group, including Noah (because you asked him to come have dinner and he said yes because he loves you and he also loves Masek’s cooking because who does NOT love Masek’s cooking???) when the alert chimes at the door. It takes a minute for it to open, but when it does, Elias is standing there, grinning, and he walks in under his own power.

That night, the only sound haunting your dreams is laughter and you’ve never slept better in your life.

[atxlxs]

Beyond The Veil: Chapter 12

Eras was in the middle of waking up that morning with her smoothie, Muska had left 30 minutes ago to head to UA, and she was zoning out the window next to the dining table.

The pungent scent of week old blood wasn’t the best of scents, yet Eras refused to obtain blood any other way except through blood banks. Most Vampires had donors or they just asked politely for consent (When the veil was made there were rules put in place to prevent vampires from extorting humans or keeping them as glorified blood bags for their whims, a lot of rules-)

A soft chime from her phone brought her attention back to the dining room table where her phone laid face up, the words ‘Message From Unknown’ were bold and sat at the top of her notifications. With a confused tilt to the head, despite no one being around to see it, Eras opened the notification.

Unknown

123-xxx-xxx: This is Aizawa Shouta, your ward's homeroom teacher. I believe I promised to keep you updated so I recommend watching the video file I’ve sent below.

123-xxx-xxx: *Video File ‘punishment.vid’ Attachment*

Tapping on the file, Eras watched with mild skepticism as it downloaded, hoping that this isn’t some weird scam text message even if logic dictates it isn’t. Once it finished, Eras felt her lips twitch as she saw a bundle of cloth being hung from the ceiling, suspiciously familiar blond hair sticking out of the bottom.

The video did not disappoint.

The camera shook slightly, as if whoever was holding it was holding back giggles as the familiar rugged man rolled in one of those ancient box T.V’s that schools used to keep for educational videos in elementary school. The cloth bundle swaying fruitlessly in the wind as whoever, most definitely All Might, was in it struggled. After stopping the table roller with the T.V in front of the bundle, Aizawa walked over to the cloth and with a few quick movements, uncovered All Might's eyes and spun him to be stuck facing the T.V. Pulling out a cassette tape of all things, those were impossibly older than the T.V itself was, Aizawa loaded the T.V after turning on the power.

Eras choked on her smoothie when a Nedzu mascot appeared on the screen with cartoonish glee to its expression as it gestured animatedly at the title on the screen.

‘Teaching For Dummies! Vol:1 of 126: Safety 101’

Aizawa then pulled out a second roller cart that was filled with cassette tapes, most likely the other 125 volumes of the Teaching For Dummies series, as his grin bordered on maniacal.

“You’ll be hanged for your crimes as you watch Nedzu’s Hell Course videos on teaching. You will then be assigned a 5 thousand word essay on how you could improve based on what you learn. Good Luck”

Aizawa then turned towards the exit and power walked out of the room as muffled screeches came from the restrained All Might, the person holding the phone started guffawing and ended the video abruptly. The now black screen reflected Eras’s face as it was stuck in a sadistic grin.

Eras cackled.

*Eras changed Unknown’s name to AizawaShouta*

Eras: Appreciated, shall I send you a gif of him struggling like a worm on dry concrete?

AizawaShouta: yes

Eras: *wormwiggle.gif*

Eras: will you be getting an after shot of the torture?

AizawaShouta: Oh definitely, I assume you’ll want that as well?

Eras: it’ll be a good reaction image to use

AizawaShouta: …

AizawaShouta: i’m going to torment the teachers group chat with it

Eras: as you should

Chuckling to herself in the dining room, Eras sipped on her smoothie as she sent messages back and forth with Aizawa. The tension easing in her shoulders as time passed. She was still tired, exhausted really, but the air seemed a little lighter each time she breathed.

AizawaShouta: I do still wish to apologize myself though, I don’t exactly know how the blond buffoon had managed to get battle trials accepted but normally I have them learn safety and test out costumes on the first day.

Eras: unnecessary but accepted. Really Aizawa-san it was just as you said, the quote “blond buffoon” unquote is at fault for this so no harm no foul.

Eras: Though if you did happen to do something yourself that warrants my visit you’d be lucky to still walk the next day.

AizawaShouta: ….

AizawaShouta: mildly terrified

Eras: only mildly? I’ve lost my touch

AizawaShouta: No, no I would be more affected if it weren’t for my policy to not harm students or allow them to get hurt by being overly cautious about what they do.

Eras: Ah, I feel a bit better than.

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

Shouta laid on his side, wrapped up in his obnoxiously colored sleeping bag, with his phone resting between his hands in front of his face.

After Eras had left the meeting yesterday, Shouta had been stuck there for another 3 hours as Nedzu let them know that Bakugo would be pulled in for his own meeting with the principal this morning to discuss his previous schooling as well as his punishment. If he said anything concerning, which was definite at this point, then Nedzu would launch an investigation into Aldera. Currently the walking bomb was going to be in ISS as well as attending a counselling session. (Since mandatory therapy wasn’t an option without further evidence to prove their theories about his mental health) If Hound Dog says it’s necessary, then anger management will be added.

That had drained him in more ways than one. Though the universe did decide to give him a break in the form of free reign of All Might’s punishment. Which was carefully planned. When the meeting had ended, and the parents had left the premises, Aizawa had wrapped All Might in his capture scarf and dragged him back to the faculty lounge. The remaining teachers watched on in amusement as he hooked the weapon around a support beam on the ceiling and left the blond hanging from the ceiling.

Before he could leave to grab the… videos, Shouta tossed his phone to Hizashi.

“Record this.” He simply stated and walked towards the storage closet in the lounge.

He could tell Hizashi knew what he was grabbing because as the cockatoo caught the phone, his eyes widened before he slapped a hand over his mouth to stop the laugh he wanted to spill and immediately flipped on his phone; swiping for the camera.

Once he had finished setting up the torture, he left. He would not stay around to hear Nedzu’s hell videos. The cheery animated mascot talked condescendingly the whole time and seemed to read your mind as it tore down your thought process to the simplest of structures before ripping into your teaching style.

Each of the staff have had to sit through all 126 volumes at least once and each and every single one swore to never need to again. It was cursed in all the wrong ways.

It was around 7 in the morning when Shouta had remembered a particular part of the meeting from yesterday, turning on his side he whipped out his phone and pulled up the newest contact he had added in his phone for this exact reason. Sending a quick explanation of who he was, he sent the video Hizashi had taken for him to her.

He was not at all expecting to actually enjoy the conversation that followed.

He could admit with little fanfare that he was not the most conventional person to talk to. He was gruff, sarcastic, logical to a fault, and used dry humor that bordered on morbid some days. This is why he was genuinely surprised to see Eras not only take his humor in stride, but to respond in the same way.

Now at 8 o’clock in the morning, 25 minutes away from the start of homeroom, Shouta was actually going to miss talking to someone. Hizashi could never know.

With a sigh, he sent a quick goodbye and snorted when he received a picture of a cat with a face of disgust in response, he got off the couch and headed to his classroom. God it was the USJ field trip today too, grumbling he slid open the faculty door and left.

Completely missing the looks of horrified bewilderment on his colleagues' faces.

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

Tags:

@baguettehead

[waywardfangirl]

Write This Down

General Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply

Baz Pitch/Simon Snow | 3,305 words | Complete

Summary: Inspired by Write This Down by George Strait - Baz and Simon love each other, and they know it. But, Baz came close to losing Simon once, and he doesn't intend to let that ever happen again.

***A big thank you to @foolofabookwyrm​ for editing this for me literally the second I finished writing it! I love you!!!***

Baz

The first time I told Simon I loved him, tears were pouring down both of our faces and we were absolutely miserable. It was one of the worst days of my life, and I hated the fact that every nice thing Simon and I have, every special moment and milestone in our disaster of a relationship, is marred in some way by tragedy. We kissed for the first time in the middle of a burning forest when I was so deep in the throes of self-hatred I couldn’t find my way out without Simon to save me. Instead of the honeymoon phase that every other couple gets, Simon and I received death and destruction and trauma, and then hearings and interrogations before the Coven. When we tried to go on vacation, to take a break and do something to pull Simon out of the pit of depression he had spiraled into, we almost died multiple times. When I finally propose to him I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that dark creatures can’t find us, the weather can’t ruin us, and even our well-meaning but nosy friends can’t disturb us.

But I’m getting too far ahead of myself. I can’t start planning for a proposal just yet, because I’m still not sure that I won’t lose him one day. He told me he loved me with tears streaming down his cheeks, and then he tried to break up with me.

I had started crying around that time too; I wanted to be in control, I wanted to shut off my emotions so Simon wouldn’t be hurt by my own anguish, but instead traitorous tears came streaming down my face and I started babbling out every thought I’d ever had – please don’t leave me and I’m not happy without you and no no no don’t go, Simon, please don’t and eventually I love you, I love you too, I love you so much, there’s nothing for me if you aren’t here, I love you. So, no, it was not one of our better moments.

Once I finally convinced him that breaking up with me would, in fact, not help me at all, we agreed to put serious effort into working on our relationship. This has also meant that both Simon and I found ourselves going to (separate) therapists, and coming together once a month for couple’s counseling too. Put together, we’re utilizing three-quarters of the magical word’s mental health resources. (It’s helping.)

(Read the rest on AO3, or under the cut)

I don’t know exactly what Simon discusses with his own therapist (although I could probably make a few guesses), but my therapist has been encouraging me to work on my own anxieties as of late among other things. I haven’t been able to shake my fear that Simon might decide to leave again, and that crying amidst declarations of love won’t fix things this time. So, since I can’t control the actions of others, I can only control what I think and do myself (yes, thank you Amy, the once-weekly sessions are working and I now hear your voice in my head when I evaluate my own thoughts), I’ve decided on a course of action that will help both Simon and myself.

I start by stealing his phone. He only uses the notes app to write down things he wants to bring up in therapy, so I ignore all the existing memos and start a new one, just three words – I love you.

(The numpty never bothered setting a passcode, I should modify his phone more often. He needs a new lock screen.)

 Three days later, Simon emerges from his bedroom after his appointment, face blotchy and tear tracks drying on his cheeks. Every muscle in my body pulls to gather him up in my arms and give him shelter in the form of an embrace, but I know in moments like this I have to let him make the first move. Luckily, he walks straight over to where I’m putting the dishes away and immediately buries his face in my neck. His arms cinch around my waist, and I waste no time in pulling him closer to me, carding one hand through his curls.

“Alright, love?”

He nods, pressing in closer, then mumbles into my skin, “I love you.”

Ah. He found the note, then. Good.

“I love you too.”

*****

The next week, I walk into Simon and Penny’s apartment after classes, only to find Simon asleep on the couch. Netflix is playing some action movie on the tv, and Simon’s face is twitching slightly, still reacting to the sound even while fast asleep. I know he was up late last night preparing for a big presentation, so I let him rest. As I pull my laptop out of my bag to study at the kitchen table, I grab a sticky note as well, and attach it to the center of the television screen.

I love you

An hour later, I hear the tv shut off. Simon wanders into the kitchen, sitting down at the table and scooching his chair over until it’s pressed up next to mine. He kisses me on the cheek, and then on the mouth when I turn my head.

“Hi love, how was your day?”

“Good. Better now.”

*****

Finals are upon us, and of course the worst academic weeks of the year are also the time when Simon and I decide to try spending the night together again. (Just sleeping, but sharing each other’s space for that long, being there together when we wake up the next morning.) I feel like all of this should be so much easier, like other couples just make it look so effortless – we love each other, why can’t we show it? Why is it so hard to turn those emotions into actions and words? I don’t ever want to be beside anyone else, how can I prove that to him?

After the first few nights, it starts to feel normal. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the feeling of Snow’s arms wrapped around me, his muscles relaxing as we both fall asleep, but I don’t want to get used to it. I want it to be novel every single time, I always want to feel this in love with him.

Tonight, though, I can’t let myself lie down until I finish this last essay. I’ll edit it tomorrow, but I can’t stop writing until I’m done or I know I’ll lose momentum. Simon went to bed at least half an hour ago, and that’s all the incentive I need to keep my fingers flying across the keyboard; the sooner I’m done, the sooner I’ll be back beside him.

I close my laptop at half past midnight, and attempt to straighten the academic mess on the kitchen table before breakfast ruins a textbook tomorrow morning. Snow has left his books in a perilous heap, on the verge of teetering onto the floor, so I straighten the stack, then pick up the top book.

It’s a textbook, An Introduction to Social Services, because my brave and caring boyfriend wants to continue saving the world in any way he can. The first half of the book is filled with bookmarks and flags, highlighted passages and scribbled notes in the margins. He’s been attacking his studies with a vigor he’s never shown for academia before, and I’m so proud of him. I pick up a pen and add a note of my own under the practice review he’s flagged with tomorrow’s date (when did he get to be so organized? He’s wonderfully full of surprises even now) – You’re absolutely brilliant, love.

I leaf through the book to the next practice exam, this one flagged for three days from now. You’re the most caring man I’ve ever met, you were born for this work. The review in the middle of the book gets a simple (true) I’m so proud of you, and then I start leafing through the pages I assume Simon will be using next semester. I don’t let myself question the future, I don’t let uncertainty and anxiety creep in, I just write notes on random pages, to be discovered in the middle of lectures or homework or studying.

My darling

You’re the only sunshine I need

Have I told you lately how handsome you are?

I adore you

You’re my perfect other half, I’m so happy we match

Finally, I leave an index card mixed in with the ones he’s been using for review.

Q: How much do I love you?

A: More than I can possibly say.

*****

Simon Snow can still go off. He’s less physically destructive now, nothing in the flat gets burnt to a crisp and he doesn’t leave craters behind, but sometimes his emotions get stopped up until they come out in a flood of yelling and crying, and he erupts.

We’ve both been trying to be better about handling our outbursts, and trying not to take bad days out on the other, but sometimes it still happens. I don’t know exactly what happened today, but from what I can make out it seems like small things just piled up until I rolled my eyes when Simon suggested watching Star Wars, and that became the straw that broke the camel’s back. Old habits die hard, and we both still give as good as we get when fighting, so fifteen minutes later Penelope came home to find a screaming match in the living room and neither of us even aware of what we were saying or fighting over anymore.

She made us sit down and go through all the skills we’ve learned (use “I” statements, list your emotions, say what you admire about the other person – fine, thank you Amy, your voice is still in my head) until finally we had calmed down enough to be there for each other again.

I held Simon as he cried into my shirt, and we crawled into bed together still holding hands. We kissed before falling asleep and the last thing I remembered was Simon’s breath ghosting over me.

Now though, I’m awake, pulled from sleep and my boyfriend’s arms because I needed a glass of water, and I suddenly can’t stop reliving our argument. We’re fine, I know we are, we’re going to be okay. All couples fight, what matters is that we sat down and talked about it afterwards. We’re both sorry and we both love each other.

I can’t help the voice in the back of my head though, the voice that insists that Simon still thinks I don’t love him and that he might leave me again. I ignore it, then tell it how wrong it is, before finally giving in to my anxiety and tearing a blank piece of paper from the notepad on the fridge. I leave the note on his bedside table, so he’ll see it first thing in the morning, when he inevitably wakes up before I do.

Simon, my dearest, I love you so much. I promise, I love you, no matter what.

*****

“Baz! Did you get it?”

Simon Snow is bouncing on the soles of his feet like a toddler crossed with a golden retriever, and if anyone else were acting like this I would make a point of ignoring them, but because it’s Simon I just kiss him quickly and pull the book out from behind my back.

“Yes, love, I got it. Hot off the press, specially for you.”

Simon’s never been much of a reader, but after discovering ‘the best book in the world’, as he puts it, he’s been devouring this series. The newest one was released today, and I promised him I would pick it up from the bookstore on my way home. (I’ve read them too, and they are quite good, although Simon is definitely more enchanted with them than I am.)

“Can we start reading it right now?” He’s got it clutched to his chest like a child, and—no, that’s dangerous territory to enter, I can’t let myself start thinking of Simon with a baby or else I won’t leave this flat until I’ve proposed to him, and he deserves a nicer proposal than whatever happens to fall out of my mouth right now. Besides, I don’t even have the ring with me, it’s still hidden in my sock drawer back in Hampshire.

“Are you suggesting skipping dinner?” I hold up the bags of takeaway I’ve brought. He looks anguished.

“Can’t we do both?”

He’s a disaster. I love him.

“Alright you bottomless pit, you can eat your dinner and I’ll read to you, will that work?”

He kisses me again in response, a proper snog that’s only interrupted when Bunce wanders through to the kitchen, remarking loudly to Shepard, “They have their own room and everything, but they still insist on doing this sort of thing out here in the open.”

Simon good naturedly flips her off, and I pull away to smirk.

“He’s far too attractive for me to confine my affection to only one room in the house, Bunce. It’s not fair to expect me to restrain myself when my boyfriend is so criminally handsome.” I take Simon’s hand and tug him into the living room to settle against me as I start to read.

When all the food has been devoured and my voice is starting to lull Snow to sleep, I grab a scrap of paper, scribble I love you on it, and then insert it in the book to mark our place.

*****

Simon has been baking up a storm. He’s determined to figure out Cook Pritchard’s recipe for sour cherry scones, because she won’t give up the secret and he hates having to wait for Pitch family gatherings to eat them. He’s going through butter like a fiend, and all of our neighbors adore us because he keeps giving batches away.

When he leaves the kitchen to go retrieve something from his bedroom I slip a note into the fridge, to be discovered the next time he picks up the butter.

I love you

 Three days later, I find the note affixed to the freezer door.

*****

“It’s so empty!”

Simon’s voice bounces off of the walls, and it almost echoes. The house really is empty, at once both exciting and intimidating – this is ours, this is where we get to keep building our life together, this is where we’ll make more memories, this is where we’ll start our family.

“The rest of our furniture will be here tomorrow, love, the movers said they could have it in before nine.”

I hear running footfalls, and then Simon comes sliding down the hall in his socks, crashing into me and almost knocking me over.

“Maybe we should keep it like this, and we can use the first floor for sock races!” He’s laughing, and so happy, and I adore him.

“Mmm, perhaps not,” I say, pushing his curls back from his face. “As enchanting as that idea may be, I expect you’d be sad if Penny and Shepard stopped visiting us because they had no place to sit. And I’m sure you would miss having a dining room table, too.” I kiss him on his nose, because it always makes him laugh, and then I lean back, grab his hands, and spin him around in circles in our empty living room.

Once we’re both too dizzy to stay standing, we collapse on the floor together, struggling to swallow our giggles. Eventually, I pull Simon back up to standing, and nudge him to start unpacking what we can. Dishes go in the cupboards, and sheets go in the linen closet. One of the boxes I open has a hammer and nails, and Simon finds the box that we put our pictures in. Some have to be set aside until the furniture is arranged, but we hang a few in the kitchen and the entry hall. Right before we blow up the inflatable mattress and go to sleep for the first time in our new house, I lead Simon back into the living room and pull out one last photo to hang.

The picture itself is quite large, a candid shot taken during our engagement party. Simon was laughing at something I’d just said, and he’s as bright and radiant as ever. I’m gazing adoringly at him, looking every bit the lovesick fool I am. Penny and Shep are in the background, along with Fiona and the rest of my immediate family, and everyone looks so happy to be celebrating the two of us. It’s one of my favorites, enlarged to sit in a frame over the mantle, where everyone who enters our home will be sure to see it.

It’s a bit of a struggle to get it to hang straight, but eventually we manage it.

“That looks lovely. I didn’t even know you’d had that one framed, I like it.”

I kiss his neck, and wrap my arms around his waist, hooking my chin over his shoulder and holding my wand out in front of him.

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

We watch together as three words start to curve around our bodies in the portrait, shiny gold cursive tethering us to each other and stating simply, I love you.

Simon leans back into me, turning his face up for a kiss. “I love you too,” he whispers when we pull apart, “Show-off.” Then he’s walking backwards down the hall, leading me towards the stairs, and going to break his neck if he tries to go up the stairs without first turning around. I’ll tell him tomorrow that the spell I cast will only show those words if they’re true and if I still mean them. (They’re going to be there forever.)

*****

We go ring shopping together. We want our wedding rings to match, and to also complement the engagement rings we gave each other, so we block off an entire Saturday to find the perfect bands. (It turns out that the perfect rings are hiding in a jewelry store just a few blocks from Simon and Penny’s first apartment, which I think has a lovely symmetry to it.)

The rings themselves are simple, gold bands that compliment both of our complexions with a delicate scattering of engraved stars barely visible on the surface. We know immediately that these are our rings, we hardly need to glance at each other to confirm it.

As we’re being sized and filling out all the necessary information, I hand over a folded slip of paper.

“I would like this to be engraved on the inside of his ring, please.”

Simon’s mouth falls open for a moment, then he reaches into his jeans pocket to pull out his own slip of paper.

“I’d like this engraved inside of his too, please,” he says, and I can’t help but loop my arm around his waist.

“I suppose great minds think alike, don’t they Snow?”

He wrinkles his nose.

“You’re going to have to start calling me Pitch before too much longer, you know.”

I wasn’t prepared for this argument, and I’m far too in love with him to have a satisfactory response ready.

“No I won’t. Pitch will be your last name, and Snow will become your middle name. You call me by my middle name already, so we’ll match,” I add, as a happy afterthought.

The jeweler chuckles.

“You really do. You want the same engraving and everything.”

I feel like he maybe should have understood that those messages were meant to be a surprise, given Snow’s obvious shock, and the folded pieces of paper, but I’m a little too happy to care. Our wedding rings are going to match, inscription and all.

I love you

[iamjustanotheroneshotwriter]

I miss him too – (Tony Stark x Daughter! Reader)

[My Discord]

Warning: Endgame Spoilers, Blood, character death, PTSD

Word count: 2.2 K

[Don´t repost on other websites without asking!]

[Commissions OPEN [via DM]]

Summary: It´s two years past Thanos Snap. You were fighting alongside you dad Tony Stark and your boyfriend Peter Parker. Until today you weren´t able to cope with what you´ve lived through.

You stood next to Peter Parker, your boyfriend, or well, right now Spider-man and everything around you felt like it was slowed down. The next second you heard your dad groaning. You turned in an instant. Thanos stabbed him. He just removed the blade and your dad dropped to the ground, unmoving.

“Dad!,” you screamed and started crying.

This can´t be happening. You wanted to go run up to him, see if he´s alright, but you couldn´t. Peter was holding you back. Thanos walked around, looking at all of us, before putting the time stone into his gauntlet. Peter pulled you closer to him and hugged you. Everything was lost, you had lost. Thanos disappeared. Now there was nothing left but to hope that the Avengers left on earth could fix the situation. If there were any left.

The sky turned red. You didn´t really realize what was happening, but you ran towards your dad, who was still not moving. Peter followed you. As soon as you reached your dad, you dropped to your knees and took his hand in yours.

“Dad, are you alright?,” you asked, already knowing the answer.

You dad coughed: “I´m so sorry, I couldn´t stop him.”

“No, Dad, we are going to be fine, we´ll safe you, you won´t die! You can´t leave me! You can´t leave mum! You can´t leave Peter,” you screamed.

But your dad wasn´t reacting any more. You couldn´t feel him breathing. Peter pulled you away from him. You felt him shaking. He was crying as well. He pulled you close to him and never wanted to let you go again. And you were devastated. Your dad just died, you were on a distant planet with a lot of people you don´t know and Thanos was still out there. You just didn´t know what was going to happen next. Suddenly you felt Peter grip loosen. You turn around. He looked pale.

“Pete, shit, are you alright?,” you asked.

“I don´t feel so good, my love,” he said, before dropping to the ground.

You tried to catch him and got pulled to the ground by his weight.

“Peter, Peter, look at me, it´s gonna be alright, everything will,” you scream at him.

“I´m sorry, I love you,” he said.

And suddenly, he faded. You looked at your hands, that were just holding Peter. You had little pieces between your finger, almost like ashes. Peter was gone. You looked around. Everyone around you started fading. It was just you and your dad, who wasn´t even alive. The sky turned even darker. You had lost. And you were going to die. A slow death. Suddenly, a figure walked towards you. It was so dark, you couldn´t see who it was at first. But then, suddenly, you recognized him.

“You failed! Everyone died. Because of you! And now, it´s your turn,” Thanos said.

You started screaming and crying. Suddenly, you someone pushing you down. You keep screaming, trying to get the person off.

“Y/N! Y/N! Wake up, you´re dreaming, wake up!,” you hear your dads voice.

You were still not really awake and kept on panicking.

“Honey, it´s alright, nothing happened, we´re here!,” you heard your dad again.

Finally, you woke up. You sat up in your bed, shaking. Your dad pulled you into a hug and you started crying. He petted your back. You could here your little sister crying outside of your room and your mum singing to her what relaxed you a little bit.

“I´m – I´m so sorry, I didn´t mean to wake you up,” you said, still strongly shaking.

“Honey, this isn´t your fault. You should never have seen the stuff you´ve seen. I suffered PTSD. I think, I still do, just not as much as I used to,” your dad answered.

“PTSD?,” you asked a bit confused.

Your dad began explaining: “Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It means having nightmares, flashbacks, Anxiety and Depressions triggered by something you´ve witnessed. Maybe we need to find you a counsellor! I promise you, it´ll help!”

“It´s just nightmares. I don´t have Anxiety Attacks or Depressions or any flashbacks, it´s not PTSD, dad, I´m just fine.”

You were still shaking. Your dad looked concerned.

“You don´t have to have all of the symptoms. Though, your nightmares often trigger Anxiety Attacks. But that´s not the point. Do you want to talk about the nightmare.”

“It´s just. I see us, on Titan, that day. Thanos, stabbing you. You always die after in my dreams. And then just Peter, trying to comfort me and suddenly fading away. I just- I can´t- I can´t believe he is really gone. I love him so much, I just want him here with me, want him to tell me, everything is alright, it´s just, nothing seems to be about right currently.”

“I´m here! I´m alive. And about everything else, honey, I promise you, it won´t happen again!” “It´s not about the fact, that it won´t happen again, but about the fact that it happened in the first place. It won´t happen again, doesn´t bring Peter back now, does it?,” you snapped.

You started crying again: “I´m sorry, I didn´t mean to. It´s just this situation. I´m so stressed, I have hardly slept since it happened. Every time, I close my eyes, I see it.”

“Honey, I know. But you have to try to sleep again, I´m really sorry. But I promise, I´ll call Rogers tomorrow, he´s been holding some counselling sessions, maybe he knows how to help you.”

You nodded, hugging your dad again.

Your dad started giggling a bit, but tried to stop again immediately: “Or we see if Wanda could just erase the memories!”

Even though you know, that he tried to joke to cheer you up, you start crying even more: “I don´t want to forget him. I just want him back.”

“I know, I´m sorry, honey, I shouldn´t have! I´m just tired. Maybe, we should both try to sleep for now.”

You nodded: “I´m just scared. Could you maybe just stay here with me until I fell asleep. I´d feel safer!”

“Everything so you can sleep, honey!”

When you wake up again, the sun is already up. You hear your mum and dad talking from downstairs. Everyone was awake already, but you were just glad you were able to sleep for the rest of the night without another nightmare.

You walked downstairs for breakfast. When you walk into the kitchen, you see Steve sitting there as well.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Steve greets, since he´s the first one seeing you.

“Darling, are you alright,” your mum asked, hugging you immediately.

“Same as always. Didn´t sleep well, but you know that.”

Your mum nodded: “Yeah, I know. So Steve, that´s the issue. I don´t know, if Tony has told you, but since they came back from Titan, has nightmares, every night. She dreams about Peters death and she always dreams Tony dies too.”

“I think it´s PTSD. Like I used to have,” your dad explained.

“It´s not. It´s just nightmares and apparently occasionally anxiety attacks. And I´m sure everyone would have that, if they watched their dad getting stabbed and their boyfriend died in their arms,” you added.

“No, no worries, no PTSD,” he looked your dad, trying to tell him that it is PTSD by just looking at him.

“I know this is really hard, all of us are dealing with losses and we know how you feel, but of course, we want to help you, to stop your nightmares,” Steve added, trying to approach you.

You stayed silent. You weren´t really sure what Steve wanted to do and if you wanted whatever he wanted to do, but on the other hand, it could just get better.

“Let´s go for a walk, Y/N, if that´s alright with you,” Steve said.

You nodded and followed Steve outside the house. The two of you started walking towards the lake and then around it. At first, you just walked quietly next to each other.

“How would you feel about joining the Post Snap Group I´m leading, Y/N? It´s just a group of people who suffered losses because of Thanos snap and they help each other dealing with it. The most important thing is to talk to others, have social interactions, go for walks, maybe start some sports and do something, maybe help people. You´ll feel better, I promise,” Steve said after a while breaking the silence.

You nodded: “I want to do something. I´m just scared of forgetting him. Or maybe dishonouring him. Or just cheating. You know, it really feel like I´m cheating on him, thinking about moving on. We promised each other to e together forever and our forever didn´t even last two years.”

You looked at the promising ring he gave you before showing it to Steve.

“I know how you feel, Y/N, I really do. Back in the 50s, there was this woman I really liked. The love of my life, I might even say. But then I was asleep seventy years. When I finally found her, she was in hospital, dying. There isn´t a day I don´t miss her, but I managed to move on.”

“Isn´t it a slightly different situation? She probably died of age, Peter died being 15 years old!”

“I know. I just wanted to show you, it´s possible to move on,” Steve said quietly.

You just nodded: “I´m sorry. I´m just stress.”

Steve and you walked almost around the entire lake without saying another word. You just slightly enjoyed being with someone apart from your family.

“Steve?,” you started asking him when you got close to the cabin again.

“Yes?”

“I want to see May. She´s Peter aunt. I want to see if she´s still alive. I just couldn´t deal with Peter being dead, I couldn´t talk to her. And I don´t think dad did either. I just want to see, if she´s alive and how she´s doing. Could you take me down to Queens? I can´t ask dad.”

“I guess I can do that. If it helps you cope. Did you want to go right away?”

You nodded. The two of you walked into the house and the kitchen again. Your mum and dad were still sitting in the kitchen, together with your little sister.

“Everythings alright, Tony, no worries. I´d like take her out to New York though if that´s alright with you! I think some social contacts with others from my group might help her,” Steve lied.

Your mum nodded: “Of course that´s fine, Steve! Everything to help her.”

“This is it,” you say and take a deep breath.

“Do you want me to come with you?,” Steve asked.

You nodded: “Yes please. I really don´t want to be alone.”

You enter the building, followed by Steve and walked up the stairs. You were already able to hear voices. Maybe, May had some visitors. You rang the bell and just a few seconds later, someone opened the door. But it wasn´t May.

“Pardon me, I was looking for May Parker, is she around?,” you asked.

The person who opened the door looked at you: “No, I´m sorry. She used to live her, but she disappeared amongst the others two years ago.”

You smiled and nodded slightly: “Thank you.”

The person closed the door and Steve and you quietly walked back to the car. Steve opens the door for you and you sat down. Then Steve walks around to the other side and gets in the car as well.

“Thank you for doing this for me Steve,” you said.

He nodded: “No worries. I´d do everything to help you! We´re like family, after all, right?”

“Right. You know, Steve, I´m kind of glad that May died. It sounds really mean, but there it´s just one person less suffering from his death. And maybe, wherever they are now, they get to see each other again.”

“That´s a beautiful way of seeing the situation.”

You were just about to go to sleep when suddenly your dad knocks. He walks into your room sitting down next to you one the bed.

“Steve told me about your little trip earlier,” he said.

You bit your lip: “I´m sorry dad we weren´t honest. I just though, you might wanted to tag along and I wasn´t sure how you would have taken the situation.”

“I know, honey, it´s alright, no worries. I just think it´s a beautiful thing you did there. If I´m being honest, I couldn´t have done that. The risk of looking May in the eyes after loosing her nephew, I couldn´t have. I´m so proud of you!”

He hugged you and you pulled him closer towards you.

“You know how I told you, I had PTSD, right? Well, I lied a little. I actually still have it. It´s just not as bad as it´s used to be. Everything that happened, I dream of it every single night as well,” your dad suddenly said.

The moment you looked him in the eyes, you could see tears.

“I just miss him,” the look of him almost crying made you cry.

He joined in: “I miss him too.”

[forever-rogue]

The Edge of Thirty - Part 2

Summary: Everyone seems to be getting married, having babies, or “growing up.” Except Y/N. Suddenly at almost thirty, reality seems to be crashing down on her – and hard. Nothing seemed as daunting as turning thirty…until she met Gwilym Lee anyway.  

A/N: Fam, fam, fam, thanks for all your support on part 1! Y’all literally make me feel so warm and fuzzy on the inside. I hope you enjoy part 2! Taglist is open! xx

Pairing: Gwilym Lee x Reader

Word Count: 6k (get a drink and snack!)

Warnings: Language

MASTERLIST

“You look like shit,” Ben almost laughed as Y/N entered the teacher’s lounge, looking like she wanted to be anywhere but there. She put her hand on her hip and cocked her head to the side, flipping him the bird. Another teacher passing through saw their exchange and scoffed at the two of them; she was older and clearly a no nonsense type. She didn’t appreciate young educators and believed that the old regime was best left in place.

“Well you sound like a shitty friend, Benny boy,” she sighed as she took a furtive glance at the coffee pot. The coffee was communal, and the janitors swore it was cleaned every evening, but it somehow still managed to look dirty and undesirable. But she wanted a caffeine boost and knew she wouldn’t have time to head to any cafe to get a fresh cup, “what are the chances of death if I drink some of this?”

“I’d wager they’re pretty high,” he raised his eyebrow as he took a sip from the Starbucks cup in his hand. Unlike her, he had left himself enough time to stop by and get himself some java, “but I don’t know if I could take on a class of twenty seven-year-olds by myself with the aid of a good coffee.”

“Well, I suppose it’s a risk I’m willing to take then, isn’t it?” she grabbed her own mug out of the cupboard and poured some of the dark liquid into it. Grabbing some of the sad powdered creamer the school provided, she dumped a heap in the cup, watching it float on top like a miserable lump, “not all of us have the luxury of setting our own hours and only dealing with a small number of students per day, Dr. Jones. You should have texted me to let me know you were doing to grab a coffee!”

“Sorry, love,” he smirked at her, making sure to take a long sip before casting a wary eye at her pathetic looking copy, “didn’t realize you’d only have five minutes to spare. Rough morning?”

“Quite, yes,” she answered, trying to incorporate the cream into her coffee with vigorous stirring. It made no difference, refusing to mix much, leaving her with a slightly sweetened and gloppy mess. Sighing, she dumped the whole thing into the sink and gave up on the situation. Ben watched her with a slight smirk, vowing that he’d go and get her a cup, “Deacon wasn’t having anything this morning, and I could barely get him to go on a walk this morning. I was out of underwear, and my fridge was empty. On top of that,  I had forgotten to set my alarm. A great way to start a new week, no?”

“Ooof,” was all he said as he tried to keep himself from laughing. She nodded at him, groaning as the bell ranging, signaling that she was officially late to first period. Her little ones were probably already seated and eagerly waiting for her. There were a lot of things she wasn’t but there were a lot of things she was  - and a teacher that her students adored was one of them, “better get going. I’ll catch up later. You want your usual coffee?”

“Would you, Ben? You’d be a huge lifesaver,” she called over her shoulder as she rushed out of the lounge and down the hall to her small classroom. He looked at his watch and shook his head, both in silent amusement and concern. He had a few hours before his first counseling session, so he figured he’d go now and get her the coffee before settling in for the day.

“Good morning my little love bugs,” she called out in an excited voice as she entered her classroom. Her students looked at her with smiles on their little faces, excited to see their favorite teacher, “now, we all know Mondays are hard, especially after a long weekend, right? How about we go hard and talk about what we did? And then, if you’re all really good, we can watch a movie this afternoon! I’ve got my personal favorites - the Lion King and the Aristocats!”

“Miss Y/L/N, will you tell us about your weekend?” Jenny, one her favorite students asked. She knew she wasn’t supposed to have favorites, she had been the kindest and sweetest little thing from the start. Y/N’s eyes widened for a moment, and but she quickly swallowed the lump in her throat, “can you tell us about Deacon?!”

“You guys really want t meet Deacon, huh?” she asked, happy for the diversion she provided. Her weekend was really appropriate for a bunch of children, unless it was the extremely censored version. Her kids all gave her words of encouragement - they loved hearing about her tiny dog with the big personality, “let me tell you lot this, Deacon, or Deacy if you prefer, really wants to meet you all too. I’ll make you a deal - if you’re all good this week, and Deacon behaves for me, I’ll bring him in on Friday. And if we can get your parent’s permission,  we can talk him for a walk to the park.”

“You’re the best, Miss Y/L/N!” Jenny clapped her little hands excitedly as the rest of them cheered. She always believed that learning wasn’t just done in the classroom with books and texts, but through real world experiences. That and she loved her kids and Deacon. She figured the two would go together well.

“And you, my little snuggle bugs, are the best as well,” she took a seat atop her desk so she was facing them, and reached behind her, grabbing the book she had been reading to them. It was Harry Potter, she couldn’t resist sharing one of childhood favorites with them. Perhaps they were too young for it, but she their little faces light up whenever she started reading to them, “now. Who remembers where we left off? What’s happened to Harry?”

“Good afternoon, Dr. Jones, Miss Y/L/N,” the head teacher gave them a curt nod as he passed them in the hall, where they were walking to Ben’s office. They both murmured a quiet hello, keeping their heads down and close together to not attract any more attention.

While Mr. Crickle had no problem with Ben, who he regarded as ‘brilliant’ and a ‘breath of fresh air’ he had never been a huge fan of Y/N. He would never admit it, but there was something about him that strongly suggested it, something about the air and tone he adopted around her.

“Oh, Miss Y/L/N?” he turned on his heel just before the duo could escape into Ben’s office. They exchanged a nervous glance, and Y/N turned around, plastering on a big fake smile.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Crickle?” she kept her tone even and low, not wanting to give away the fact that her heart was thumping wildly against her ribs. Ben cast a nervous glance between the two of them, hoping Y/N would keep her mouth shut and not pick any argument.  

“I just wanted to let you know that there might be some visitors in the your classroom this week or next-”

“Visitors? What does that even mean?”

“Inspectors of sorts. They make sure you’re keeping control of your class and performing your duties as a teacher. It happens with every teacher at some point. It’s just a little bit of quality control, to make sure you’re providing the best for the students,” he eyed her curiously, as her eyes narrowed in suspicion. He took a step closer towards her and cleared his throat, lowering his ever so slightly, “word from some of the other teachers has it that they say you yesterday morning, intoxicated in public. Those are not the types of value we support here.”

“I was not drunk in public!” she almost shouted, immediately infuriated by his words. 

“I’m not accusing you of anything, Miss Y/L/N. I’m just letting you know what has been shared with me,” for claiming he wasn’t accusing her of anything, his tone was very accusatory. She wanted to make a smart remark and chide him, but she bit her tongue and swallowed her words, “and I’m telling you ahead of time of your visit. Tread lightly, Y/N, for your own sake.”

He walked away without another word, leaving Y/N standing there, mouth agape as she tried to process what had just transpired. Ben reached for her arm and pulled her along with him, ushering into his office and locking the door behind them.

“What the hell was that?!” she asked as she flopped into one of the chairs opposite his desk. He pushed the coffee he had procured closer to her as he sat down, letting out a long sigh. Y/N was livid - how dare someone just accuse of things they had no clue about?

“It was really odd,” he agreed, watching her closely to gauge her reaction, “but he does make a point.”

“Which is what, exactly?” she scoffed at her, crossing her arms over her chest. Wasn’t her best friend supposed to be on her side?

“You can’t go around all willy nilly in public. People watch, observe, and notice things all the time, even if you’re aware. Would you really want to risk your career?”

“I wasn’t drunk, Ben! Just...a little hungover. I wasn’t even making a scene,” she insisted, trying her best to defend herself, “I’ll bet it was that awful-”

“Y/N, drop it,” he insisted, running a hand over his face in exasperation. Sometimes it was hard to get through to her, especially once she had one view on something. She glowered at him, but remained silent, deciding not press the issue, “just keep your head down and stay to yourself. You’re a great teacher, Y/N, your kids adore you, and you’ve got nothing to worry about. You just need to watch that mouth sometimes.”

“I know, Ben, I know. Sometimes it’s just frustrating,” she sighed, tapping the coffee cup against her lip thoughtfully a few times, “everyone’s suddenly got an issue with me. But it’s fine, I suppose. I know who I am, even if others don’t.  And please, Dr. Jones, don’t give a lecture right now. I’m trying, okay?”

“Alright, fine. So, are you ready for this evening?” Ben asked as Y/N gratefully sipped on the hot coffee, made just to her liking from him. He was sat in this chair, legs crossed on the desk as the sunlight steamed in behind him. If he hadn’t been her lifelong best friend, she probably would have been attracted to Ben. He was smart, kind, obviously gorgeous, and caring. What more could a woman ask for? She needed someone like Ben, she decided, someone like him, but not him.

She took a long sip from her sweet, creamy coffee, racking her brain, trying to figure out what this evening was. Ben regarding her curiously, already deducing that she had completely forgotten their plans. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction, she set down her cup and nodded, “yup. Totally...looking forward to it. Can you text me the details so I can have them for later?”

“You’ve completely forgotten haven’t you?” he grabbed his phone and resent her the details which had been long lost in their group chat. She shrugged her shoulders lightly, giving him a shy smile, “oh Y/N, what am I going to do with you? We’ve had this planned for weeks.”

“Totally forgotten is a strong way of putting it,” she responded but Ben wasn’t having it, rolling his eyes at her as he leaned looked up at the ceiling, “but don’t worry, I won’t make a fool out of myself and be drunk in public like I apparently was yesterday. Which I wasn’t I swear, just hungover, which is a big difference. I’ll limit myself to one drink, yeah?”

“Probably a good idea,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was about to open his mouth to say something else, but the school bell rang again, signaling the end of lunch, “better get going, love. Don’t want to be late and make a bad impression. Remember - they’re all watching you!”

“Oh haha, Ben, very funny,” Y/N stood up, grabbing her coffee and throwing her head back with a long groan. She wasn’t ready to go back and spend the rest of the afternoon teaching. Her mood had gone from good to foul, and she didn’t know if she’d be able to pull herself out of the funk. But she’d do it, for the sake of her job and the rest of her students, “I better get going though. As much as I hate Crickle, I care about my kids, and they do deserve the best.”

“Have fun, lovey,” Ben commented as he started pulling out some files from his desk, ready for his afternoon counseling sessions. Without looking up and skimming over his notes, he raised an eyebrow, “see you tonight. Don’t forget and come dressed appropriately.”

“You’re a wanker,” she commented before walking out the door and sticking her tongue out at him. He didn’t look up from his reports, but instead flipped her the bird. She huffed and slammed the door, starting the trek back to her classroom.

Tugging down the dress she had decided to wear for the evening’s dinner, Y/N wondered if she should run home and change first. It was probably just borderline long enough, but she didn’t want to push it and have someone make a comment. Tonight wasn’t about her after all, it was all to celebrate Lucy and Rami’s upcoming nuptials and Becca and Joe’s exciting announcement.

Y/N knew she should be happy and excited, but right now she wished she was anywhere else in the world. Namely, she wished she was at home with Deacon, snuggled up in blankets and watching a movie on Netflix, preferably with a carton of ice cream. A list of excuses popped into her mind, but before she could act on any of them, an around was thrown around her shoulders, followed by the boom of Joe’s familiar voice, “Y/N! I’m so glad you were here! We were all just getting settled in.”

“Hi Joey,” she forced a smile on her face as she embraced him. He was a sweetheart and a genuinely kind person, so before long, her smile became less tense, “a big congratulations to you and Becca. I’m so happy for the two of you. I can’t wait to meet the little bean!”

“Well, it’ll be some time before that but we’re really excited already,” he grinned at her, leading her to the table that they had reserved for their little group. She took a scan around the restaurant and noted that they were separated off from the bar. Very close, but it’d be hard to sneak off to grab a drink if necessary.

She scanned the bar and noticed that it seemed to be a usual crowd of suspects - old men looking for younger women, middle aged women looking for younger men, and a few students milling about. There was only one individual who looked out of place; a tall, lanky man sitting on the end, a book in front of him and what appeared to be a glass of whisky in his hand. 

Almost as though he felt Y/N’s gaze linger on him, his head popped up from the book and he glanced over at her, his brilliant blue eyes peeking over the top of his smart glasses meeting hers. Her cheeks immediately turned a bright crimson, matching the color of her dress. Luckily, she was spared from any more awkwardness by Lucy almost knocking over with a big hug.

“Hi Luce,” Y/N laughed lightly as she threw her arms around the willowy, lithe blonde, “I see you missed me. I’ve missed you too, it’s been what, a total of two weeks?”

“Two weeks is too long not to see your best friend,” she chided her jokingly, pulling out a chair on the of table and ushering her into it. Y/N slid into the seat, looking around at her friends, all of whom were sitting across from each other. Ben and Tess, smiling at each like giddy school children, Joe and Becca, who were leaning forward and speaking in low tones to each other, and Rami and Lucy, excitedly going on about their wedding plans. All of that left Y/N by herself at the end, normally a place of reverence, where the head of the party would sit, but today it felt empty and hollow. Like she was an afterthought, all by herself among the happy couples.

She felt more alone than she had in a long time, looking at all of her friends, so happy and in love, while she sat there by herself, trying to take a smile on her face as she interjected a few words here and there. Y/N wanted to be salty and annoyed, but she knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault - they didn’t intentionally keep her out of the conversations they were having. It was just how things happened when everyone was in a relationship.

Instead Y/N ate her meal in relative silence, making a comment here and there, smiling at all the little anecdotes everyone was telling. Joe was going about how they tried for their baby, oversharing as usual, which caused Becca to turn into a red faced mess, while everyone else got a good laugh in. Lucy and Rami continued to fill everyone in on last minute changes to their wedding plans, including having to hire a new caterer for various reasons, and reminding everyone of their duties.

Not able to take it for much longer, Y/N dabbed at her mouth, throwing her napkin on the table. She excused herself, saying she was just going to the bathroom, but no one paid her much mind; Lucy gave her a smile and a nod and Ben just gave her a wave of acknowledgment.  

Backing away from the table slowly, no one even gave her a second glance as she flitted across the restaurant and straight for the bar.  She hadn’t ordered a drink with dinner and she had promised Ben that she would only have one. So…getting a drink at the bar counted as the one, right? At least that’s how she decided to explain herself if any of them caught her. They were so engrossed in their own conversations, they probably wouldn’t even have noticed if she’d run through the place stark naked.

Spying an open spot near the end, that same end the handsome man from earlier had been sitting at, she quickly slipped onto the stool. Letting out a slow sigh, she flagged down the bartender.

“What can I get for ya, darling?” she asked, giving Y/N the once over, along with a small smile. It was like everyone could sense that something was wrong with her.

“Jack and Coke is fine,” she answered, and the woman nodded, quickly going to work on the simple drink. Y/N pulled out her phone, scrolling through her Instagram feed as she waited for the sweet dark liquor she was desperately craving.

“Here you are then, sweets,” she said as she slid the drink towards Y/N, handing her a napkin. Y/N reached for a few notes to pay for the drink, but the woman shook her head, refusing to take the money, “it looks like you need it, lovey. I saw you over there, and it didn’t look like much fun. Hopefully this makes your night a little better.”

“Ahh, a sweet, sweet charity drink,” Y/N let out a genuine chuckle for the first that evening as she picked up the drink and saluted the bartender. She gave her a wink before turning to the other patrons at the bar, “thank you!”

Y/N took a sip from the glass, savoring the sweet flavor of her favorite poison. Parts of her her were mildly concerned that someone would see her having a drink on a weeknight at the bar, but the larger part of her didn’t care. One drink wasn’t enough to cause any harm, and if someone wanted to fight her on it, she’d gladly do so.

Turning her attention back to her phone, she continued scrolling through the day’s feed, intrigued by what all of her friends were up to. Everything seemed to be weddings, babies, and engagements these days. Sometimes it was enough to cause her to go mad, but she took it with a grain of salt, knowing she should be happy for them, and not sad and bitter. They’d be happy for her after all, should the time ever come. 

“You look like you’ve had a long day,” although the voice was warm and velvety, it still startled her, and she almost dropped her drink surprise. She heard a chuckle as the seat next to her creaked, and she could feel a body next to her,. She had a sinking feeling that she knew exactly who it was, “sorry, love, I’d thought you’d heard me coming.”

Locking her phone, she set it and the drink down, slowly turning to the man next to her. Her heart almost stopped when she took him in up close -  he was even more handsome and breathtaking up closed than from a distance. A well chiseled face with the just the right amount of stubble, and eyes that were ocean blue sat behind a stylish pair of glasses, and the perfect hair. She easily spotted his long legs, marking him as all, and noted that he had impeccable taste in clothing. He could have easily told her that he was Prince Charming and she would have believed him.

“I-I...ugh, I…” she continued to gawk at him, rendered speechless by his beauty, feeling naked and vulnerable under his striking gaze. Racking her brain for words, or any sort of semblance to words, she seemed to be frozen, “didn’t hear...you..”

“What’s the matter? Cat for your tongue?” there was a smirk on his face, one that showed that he clearly knew of the effect he was having on her. She was a little surprised by his brazen boldness, but there was something about it that left her yearning for more.

“Handsome. You’re very handsome,” she finally blurted out, immediately realizing her mistake and hiding her face in her hands. There went any chances she had with him. He let out a warm chuckle, taking a sip of his own drink as her face turned bright red. After a few moments, she groaned, sneaking a side glance at him, “and now I’m mortified, simply mortified.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Simply Mortified. This isn’t going as bad as you think,” he gave her a wink as she slowly uncovered her face. A compliment and bad joke all in one, “besides, you’re very beautiful yourself.”

“I am?” she asked, a surprised look on her face. She felt like a mere peasant compared to his seemingly ethereal beauty.

“Indeed you are,” he confirmed, leaning in a little closer to her so his knee brushed against her, sending a shiver down her spine, “I’m Gwilym. Gwilym Lee. But please, call me Gwil.”

“A Welshman, eh? Very interesting,” she angled her body so she was leaning into him slightly, feeling slightly more bold,  “it’s nice to meet you. I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Y/N,” he smiled at her, tapping the rim of his glass against hers, the two of them taking a drink in unison. Setting down his glass, he watched her curiously for a few moments. There was something undeniable about her that left him wanting more, “you’re here with your friends, and yet you’re here at the bar with me. What an odd turn of events.”

“It’s…complicated,” she gnawed on her bottom lip, casting a nervous glance back over at their table. None of them seemed to have noticed that she was gone, engrossed in their own little worlds.

“Try me,” he pressed her and she turned back to him with a half smile on her face. He was forward that was for sure, but it wasn’t odd or uncomfortable, like it would have been with almost any other man.

“How much time have you got?”

“You’ve got me for as long as you want,” he rested his arm on the table, his head perched on his hand as he watched her, “I think I can handle it.”

“When you’re scared off and ready to run for the hills, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she poked at his chest before turning her gaze back to her friends, “those are all my best friends. Well, Ben, Becca, Lucy and I have been beat friends since we were children. Ben is the blonde and the one across from him is Tess, his longtime girlfriend. The middle are Becca and Joe, they’ve been married for almost two years and have just announced that they’re expecting their first baby. The ones on the end are Lucy and Rami, they’re getting married in a month.”

“And then there’s you,” it wasn’t a question but rather a statement. She turned to him, raising her eyebrows along with a shrug, letting him know he was correct. He leaned close as he looked her over, “no partner? I presume no baby on the way by the fact that you’re drinking and I see no ring on your finger, so I suppose no wedding bells are in your near future.”

“I’ve got it,” she smirked at him as he cocked his head at her, “you must be a clairvoyant…some kind of sexy psychic! You nailed it all.”

“You’ve gone and figured me out already,” he threw his back with laughter. She really liked the sound, she decided. It warm and musical and she hoped she’d be hearing a lot more of it, “touche, mademoiselle. I’ve got you read like a book and you’ve exposed me. But tell me, what’s the problem? You seem close to your friends.”

“They’ve all got this thing in their heads that since we’re all going to be turning thirty within the next year, we all need to suddenly change,” she sighed, drumming her fingers along the bar top, “they’ve all got things going on and then there’s me. I haven’t changed enough I suppose. It’s only thirty, not death.”

“Trust me, you can survive thirty,” he gave her a big smile before reaching over and tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear, “I’ve done it. Not that hard.”

“How old are you then?” she asked, wishing he’d keep playing with her hair. His simple touch had been electric, “don’t tell me you’re some sort of young looking old man! I’m not into grandpas, just so we’re very clear!”

“Thirty-five,” he answered before finishing the rest of his glass. Her eyes widened, but she tried not to give away her surprise. It was older than she thought, but not old, all things considered in the gran scheme of things, “does that scare you?”

“Not at all, old man,” she joked, nudged his knee with hers, “it’s middle aged at best.”

“You’re a naughty brat, aren’t you?” he laughed, but there was a hint of lust in his voice. He was careful with each word he chose, each one selected with purpose. She bit her lip, squeezing her legs together a little tighter to stop the familiar tingle that she felt starting.

She mentally smacked herself - this was exactly the type of situation she needed to be avoiding. She too finished her drink before looking back at him, “you might have to find that out. But tell me, what does this middle aged man do?”

“I’m a Professor-”

“Oh fancy,” she smirked at him, “I’m a teacher too, but I don't go around calling myself professor! Perhaps I should..it’s got a whole mysterious, sexy thing to it, doesn’t it?

“As in I teach English Literature at Chelsea College,” he finished and she stopped her teasing. He wasn’t joking when he said professor, “but yes, I’m a teacher for all intents and purposes.”

“How very smart,” she leaned a little closer to him, “the glasses really give off the sexy professor vibe. I’m sure all your little students might just fall at your feet, fighting for your attention. Oh Mr. Lee I need your help, can I see you after class?”

“I’ve had my fair share of offers,” he admitted, reaching over and pulling her stool closer to him. She didn’t fight him at all, “but I haven’t entertained them. I don’t date my students. Most of them are too young anyways. I keep business and pleasure separate.”

“I’m sure your girlfriend must appreciate that,” she tested the waters a little bit, suddenly hyper aware of how close his body was to hers. Her body was screaming at her to just reach out and touch him, but she fought her impulses.

“You really think I’d be here right now, chatting you up if I had a girlfriend?” he raised a curious eyebrow at her. 

“A lot of men would,” she shrugged. She’d known plenty of them. 

“I’m not like that, Y/N. That’s one thing you should know,” he was whispering now, close so only she could hear him, “I’m not usually like this at all.”

“Like what? Chatting up random girls in bars?” she joked but he nodded, giving her a shy smile. She was compelled to believe him; for his brashness, he had an air of innocence and sweetness about him, “then what are we doing here?”

“Honestly, I’m not quite sure,” he admitted, thoughtfully running a hand over his beard. He wasn’t lying to her; he almost never even approached women when he was out. That had been left behind in his twenties, and even back then it had been a rare occurrence.

But there was something about Y/N, her honesty, lack of concern of the opinions of others, an almost vulnerable quality that attracted him to her. She was like a siren, and he was a poor fisherman, lost to her call already.

“What do you want to be doing then?” she asked, her voice low as she watched his pupils expand slowly as she caught him sneaking a glimpse at her ample cleavage. She knew where this was going, she could see it clearly. She had been there plenty of times before. Part of her was excited, but part of her screamed to stop.

“Do you want to...” he started, but didn’t seem to be able to finish. He didn’t have to. She nodded and bit her lip, contemplating her actions. 

“Let me tell them I’m leaving,” she said, sliding off of the warm bar stool slowly. He nodded, watching her walk back over to her table of friends, wondering if he was making the right decision. He wasn’t looking for a one night stand, sincerely hoping that’s not what this turned into.

“Y/N! You’ve been gone for a while,” Lucy said as she spied Y/N walking back over. Y/N had done her best to put on a pained face, clutching her stomach to make it look like it was upset, “what’s the matter, darling?”

“I’m really not feeling well. I’m not sure if it’s something I ate or what,” she lied, furrowing her brow, “I hate to do this, but I think I’m going to go home and rest. It’s a lot of pain right now.”

“Are you sure?” Rami asked, “I can give you a ride home-”

“No, no, please don’t put yourself out for me,” she stammered, trying to maintain her facade, “it’s not a long walk. I’m sorry guys, but I’ll see you all later. Have a great rest of the night!”

Her friends murmured a round of goodbyes as she gave them a wave before leaving. She spotted Gwil at the bar, and jerked her head towards the door, signaling for him to follow her out once she was already there so no one would see them leaving together.

Once she got out into the cold evening air, she let out a shaky sigh of relief. There was a mixture of emotions coursing through her veins, but mostly she was excited. Excited to go home with a man she had just met, a man that she probably should have just avoided in the first place. But something about Gwil was different.

“Hey,” he smiled when got outside, and saw her waiting for him. A tiny part of them thought she might have just run for the hills and left him there, but she hadn’t. At his full height, he was tall, and lanky, even more than she had originally thought, “your friends okay with you leaving?”

“I don’t think they really noticed much. They’re too absorbed in their own little worlds,” she shrugged, pulling on her jacket, “but it’s no bother. I just don’t fit into their world as much anymore.”

“Whose world do you belong in?” he asked as they started walking down the street in the direction of his flat.

“Mine,” she said as he put an arm around her, a warm, soft feeling. Deciding to be coy, she continued, “and tonight - yours.”

As soon as they walked into Gwil’s flat, a cozy and minimalist space, which she immediately decided she liked, he had her pinned against the door. His knee was between her legs, her already short dress riding up a little bit, his hands gently touching her face, running a thumb along her cheekbone. Her hands had found their way to waist, watching him closely observe her.

“You’re very beautiful, Y/N,” he said softly before he achingly slowly closed the distance between them, crashing his soft lips onto hers. He tasted slightly of whisky, but it was a pleasant taste as they moved in perfect unison, like their mouths were made for each other. He pulled back from her lips, ghosting a hand along her jawline, “ like a classical work of art. So, so beautiful.”

“And you’re just a handsome drunk fool,” she bit back a moan as he started to pepper kisses along her jawline, making his way down her neck, nipping at the delicate skin.

“I’m a fool to be sure,” he murmured, looking back up at her, pressing a kiss to her lips, “handsome is debatable. But I am not drunk, nowhere near, and I know you’re not either.”

“I don’t want this to be anymore drunken mistake,” she responded, taking his face in her hands, and kissing him with a fervent passion, enjoying the light tickling and scratching sensation from his beard. She wondered just how good that would feel between her legs, how could he would make her feel.

“It won’t be,” he promised, putting his hands on her hips, and moving to pick her up. She did so, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist as he started off in the direction of his bedroom as he kissed every exposed inch of her skin. She reveled in his expert touch, how he seemed to know exactly what to do.

“Gwil,” she moaned as his hands slid onto her bum, giving it a good squeeze, “jesus christ.”

“Tell me what you want, pretty girl,” he asked, as he laid her down on his amply sized bed. He started to unbutton his shirt as she hungrily watched him. She just gawked at the sight in front of her, marveling at how perfect he seemed to be. He noticed her staring and chuckled lightly, “you’ve got to use your words and tell me what you want.”

“You,” she breathed out as he started to discard his pants, leaving him in only his boxers, where his erection was already clearly evident. He already looked well endowed. 

The next words out of her mouth surprised even her. Normally she’d tell a man boy to just go on and fuck her, hoping it wouldn’t be too awkward or weird.. But Gwil wasn’t just a boy, or any man, he was a different creature entirely. She started to slide her dress over her bodily before whispering, “make love to me please.”

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[raywritesthings]

Old Associations

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Oliver Queen, Laurel Lance, Leslie Thompkins, Felicity Smoak, John Diggle, Thea Queen, Lyla Michaels Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Notes: Post-Episode 4x16 “Broken Hearts, No “Eleven-Fifty-Nine”, Leslie Thompkins borrowed from Batman: the Animated Series/DC Comics and is not based on the Gotham version. *Can also be read on my AO3*

John didn’t know what to do.

Before his eyes, Oliver and Felicity’s relationship was deteriorating more and more. First Felicity broke off the engagement. Then, he’d thought maybe they could salvage things with the fake wedding to lure in Cupid, but Felicity had been upset to be working with Oliver the entire time. And just an hour ago, he’d come back to the base since he’d forgotten his phone to find Oliver settled there for the night, engagement ring in his hands.

“Felicity’s quit the team,” Oliver had told him. “And I don’t think we’ll see her for a while.”

John had struggled to say anything. It seemed unthinkable that Felicity wouldn’t be part of the team anymore. Even while she and Oliver had been away, she’d been helping them with things without Oliver’s knowledge.

“Look, things might change, man,” he’d said. “You know, Lyla and I never thought we could work past our issues all those years ago—”

“But I know I can’t, John. I’ve tried, but I will always be what the island made me. Felicity said so herself.” His friend had retreated back to the small room he was using to sleep in at the bunker without another word.

Now that he was home, John found himself turning to his wife for advice. “Oliver has to be able to change, I know he does. He just needs a little more help, maybe. Then Felicity would see.”

“They could try counseling,” she suggested without a hint of sarcasm.

John paused and looked at her. “Not sure someone with a secret identity should be talking to a therapist.”

Lyla shook her head. “ARGUS has a division for mental health. It’s completely confidential, even for a vigilante like Oliver.”

“And they do couple’s counseling?” He asked doubtfully.

“There’s counseling sessions for field partners. Sometimes it’s not so different. Look, your team does enough for us that I’d be happy to get Oliver and Felicity in for a session. If they want to.”

John thought about it some more. It was better than doing nothing, wasn’t it?

“Alright, I’ll see what they think. Thanks, Sweetie.” He leaned over to kiss her cheek. “How come we didn’t do one of those when we got back stateside?”

She smirked. “By the time I learned about them, you were already back in Afghanistan, Johnny.”

“Right.”

They turned in early that night. John had a feeling it would be a long day of convincing his friends tomorrow.

---

“No, no, no, no and no.” Said Felicity as she marched away from the sitting room and into her kitchen of her now one-person loft. She needed coffee. It was about the only thing she knew how to make for herself. Why did Oliver have to be the one who was good at cooking?

John followed her, of course. “Come on, Felicity. One session, just to try it.”

“I’m done with trying, John. I’m tired of it.”

“You and Oliver are meant to be together.”

“Oliver’s thought he was meant to be with a lot of different women. And we all saw how that turned out.”

He sighed and hung his head. “Look, I just don’t want to see you give up now. This is the man you wanted to sneak out of Nanda Parbat last year.”

“Which you thought was a terrible idea!”

“That doesn’t change that I know how much you love him.”

She set the coffee pot down with a little more force than necessary. “Look, assuming Oliver even agrees to therapy—”

“He will.”

“—that doesn’t change the fact that he lied to me.”

“It can’t change the past, Felicity, but it can improve things for the future. It’ll help you—”

“Whoa.” Felicity held up a hand. “Let’s be clear, I am not the one who needs help in this relationship. Which is not still a relationship.” Stupid mouth getting ahead of her brain.

John was doing his best to hide his grin. “Alright, so it’ll help Oliver to be what you need him to be.”

Much as she wanted to, that was an idea hard to shake. She’d spent so long wanting to be with Oliver, given up other relationships in favor of him, put so many hours into his cause. It’d be nice if the last four years hadn’t all been a waste. She liked it when they were together — really liked the sex — so if the rest of it could get fixed, why not?

Felicity sighed. “One session. That’s all I’m committing to.”

“Great. I’ll let Oliver know and Lyla can talk to you about scheduling.”

He left the loft soon after, and Felicity poured herself a large travel mug for the office.

She really hoped she didn’t end up regretting this.

---

It was the last thing he wanted to do. But he was forced to agree the minute John said the words, “Felicity’s gonna do it.”

What other choice did he have? If this was what he had to do to repair what he’d broken, he would take it, as uncomfortable as it might make him. Trying wasn’t enough, as Felicity had said. He had to just do it.

He could feel himself growing tense as the date of the appointment approached. Thea and Laurel could both tell something was wrong, but he was grateful that they were allowing him to keep his silence. He felt better in their company and John’s than when he was left alone in the base. 

Some nights, as he lay on a spare table with his pillow from the loft under his head, he imagined what it would be like back at Laurel and Thea’s apartment. Bright and warm with mugs of tea and ice cream for the approaching warmer months. He pictured himself there sometimes, sharing the couch with Thea or watching Laurel try to cook in the kitchen archway. He wasn’t sure if it helped the loneliness or made it all the worse.

Logically, he knew plenty of people went to therapy. It wasn’t a bad thing. But he had always shied away from the idea for himself. As many times as people in his life and in the public had questioned his sanity...

But there was something wrong with him, wasn’t there? If he wanted to be with Felicity, he had to fix that part of himself first.

He went through his usual training routine the morning before the appointment, pushing himself to his limits in an effort to work through his nerves.

Laurel coming down alerted him to the time, so he dropped off the salmon ladder and grabbed a towel. “Room’s free.”

“You heading out?”

“Yeah,” he said a beat too late. Of course, she noticed.

“Everything okay, Ollie?”

“It’s fine,” he said, then paused. That was his problem, right? He was going to have to be sharing private information with Felicity and a stranger in just over an hour. Maybe he should test it now. “I just...John got Felicity and I an appointment for couple’s counseling.”

He watched her eyes widen and could see the initial shocked response get swallowed back. “Is it- I mean, can you talk about, well, anything?”

“It’s someone with ARGUS, so yes. That’s the idea.”

“Okay.” She set her bag aside and took a step closer. “You said John signed you guys up. Are you okay with that? Did he ask you?”

“He told me after Felicity agreed. Does it matter?”

Her lips quirked, something like confusion in her eyes. “Of course it matters.”

“I have to do this, Laurel. If I want to save my relationship, this is something I just have to get through.” He frowned. He was making it sound like he didn’t want this, which he didn’t exactly, but that wasn’t just up to him. He was making this decision with Felicity, right? “I know it’ll help me, I just…”

“I get it. Really,” she added when he simply raised both eyebrows. “When my dad tried to get me to go to an AA meeting the first time, I balked. I wasn’t ready. Sharing pieces of yourself to strangers can be terrifying, you know? Especially when you don’t want to admit anything’s wrong. It wasn’t until I accepted that AA was something I needed that it worked for me.”

Oliver nodded, then allowed himself a smirk. “I guess I’m just so used to you speaking your mind, I forgot you might have experience with this. There’s not much you don’t share anymore.”

“You’d be surprised. I have to keep some secrets, don’t I?” She ducked her head as she asked it, and Oliver thought he saw her throat bob once as she swallowed. In the next instant, her hand landed on his arm and she gave it a comforting squeeze.

“Talk as little or as much as you feel comfortable. This is to help you and Felicity, but that’s only going to happen if you feel it really is helping.”

He blew out a breath. “Okay. I’ll try that.” Then he winced. It wasn’t about trying anymore, trying wasn’t good enough—

Laurel’s hand shifted to his shoulder, her smile warm and encouraging. “I really hope this works out for you.”

“Thank you.”

She grabbed her things to change into her workout clothes, and Oliver managed to get himself moving to the elevator. He felt calmer now, grounded. He was in control of this situation as much as he allowed himself to be. It wasn’t an interrogation. He wouldn’t be forced to answer anything he didn’t want to. This was just a way for him and Felicity to better communicate.

They met outside the ARGUS facility by accident more than design. Felicity gave him a short nod, expression tight, and he opened the door for her. Inside, he allowed her to take the lead in introducing themselves and the time of their appointment.

They were shown into the office of Dr. Leslie Thompkins, an older woman with her gray hair tied back in a bun at the base of her neck. Oliver wondered what had led her to a life with ARGUS for so long.

“Felicity and Oliver, I was told. Is that right? Come in, over on the couch there. I’ve brought a chair over for myself.” She waited until they had each sat down, Felicity squeezing herself into the far corner from him, before taking her own seat. “You both can call me Leslie, if you like. Otherwise Dr. Thompkins will do. Now then, I want to hear in your words first what issues you’ve been having as a couple. Try to be honest and respectful.”

She didn’t indicate which of them should go first, but Felicity took the initiative. “Well, Leslie, I personally thought everything was fine up until a month ago when I discovered Oliver had a son with another woman he had not told me about.”

“I see.” There was nothing in her tone or expression to give away how she felt about that information. He supposed that made her good at her job.

Oliver’s gaze fixed on the carpet as Felicity continued. “It’s not the son that bothers me, I should say. It’s the lying. For as long as I have known him, Oliver has been a compulsive liar. He’s always withholding things or making plans on his own — a few months ago he invited my mother to dinner without asking me first. I mean, she’s my mother, right? I should have a say in at least that if he’s not going to give me a say in anything to do with his son.”

“Oliver, what about you?”

“Me?”

“Yes, I want to hear from both of you.”

He managed to look back up at Dr. Thompson. “I don’t have any problems with Felicity. I love being with her. I hope we can still be together.”

“But she clearly has some problems with you.”

He nodded. “I understand that’s how she feels about me right now.” Oliver chanced a glance out of the corner of his eye to see Felicity watching him with a frown.

“And that’s how you feel as well?”

“I...It’s a fair assessment. I do keep things to myself. I know that it’s been a problem with my loved ones in the past, that I’ve hurt them when I didn’t mean to. I’ve been trying—”

“That’s the thing, Leslie, he’s always saying he’ll try. Then he goes and lies again, and he promises he won’t the next time, but then — are you getting the cycle?”

“Yes, I understand. The thing about abuse and about trauma is that oftentimes it can trap its victims in a cycle,” Dr. Thompkins said. She afforded Oliver an apologetic smile. “I was made aware of some of your background with ARGUS under Director Waller.”

He nodded again. It was something he should have assumed.

“Director Waller created an environment within the agency of fear and mistrust. These can be hard impulses to unlearn, particularly when faced with similar stressors or stimuli.”

“Okay, but Oliver stopped working with ARGUS years ago,” Felicity pointed out. “Are you telling me he’s just never going to unlearn them?”

“I was doing better in Ivy Town,” Oliver mumbled. “Last summer, when we left Star.”

“You removed yourself from the stressors. That can be one way to deal with trauma,” Dr. Thompkins explained. “The next step would be to begin practicing coping mechanisms that encourage you to be more open with a friend or partner.”

“And when can he start those?” Felicity asked.

Dr. Thompkins sat back a little, considering. “I’d like to try a short exercise right now, Oliver. A word association test. Do you know what I mean?”

“Words that relate to other words?” He guessed.

“It’s when a person’s given a word and they have to say the first word that comes to mind after hearing the other word. It’s used mostly to study memory storage,” Felicity answered for him.

“That’s correct, yes. I’m hopeful that it will help for Oliver to practice opening up and saying what he’s thinking while for myself and Felicity, it should help us to identify possible stressors or subjects that are difficult for Oliver to address. Are you comfortable trying it, Oliver?”

Oliver hesitated. Laurel had said he should only do something if he felt comfortable, and right now he just wanted Felicity to keep talking all she wanted to the counselor while he listened.

But Felicity was watching him expectantly, which was better than the frustration, anger and sadness he’d been faced with over the last month, so he gave Dr. Thompkins a nod.

“Alright, we’ll start off simple. The first word you think of when I say something. Dog.”

They’d had a dog when he and Thea were younger. It had belonged to their grandmother before she died, and he’d fought with Thea because she had wanted to rename it. He couldn’t remember what the name had been in the first place and wasn’t sure if the dog had died before or after he got on the boat.

“Uhh...nice.”

“Cat.”

Was Felicity a cat or dog person? He’d never heard her give a preference. Maybe she didn’t want animals at all. Better to play it safe.

“Small. Sometimes, I guess.”

“Food.”

“...Necessary?”

“A little quicker, Oliver, if you can,” Dr. Thompkins said, perfectly calm and even. “The idea of the exercise is not to think too much about your responses. Just let your mind naturally make associations.”

He bit back a grumble. This was decidedly out of his comfort zone, but if Laurel could talk to a whole bunch of strangers every week or so, he could do this. He had to be strong enough to change.

“Sky.”

“Blue.”

“Island.”

She really wasn’t pulling the punches, was she? “Cold.”

“Water.”

“Cold.”

“Snow.”

“Skiing.” He hadn’t actually been in so long, it almost surprised him his mind went straight back to Alpine. Planning a lodge with Tommy, Laurel’s room key in his hand. It was an easy memory, a comfortable one.

“Car.”

He hadn’t owned his own car in a while. “Bike.”

“Bar.”

“Exam.”

There was a blink from Dr. Thompkins. She hadn’t expected that answer, and neither had he, as he’d realized the split second after it came out of his mouth she’d meant the place.

She barely skipped a beat, however, continuing with, “School.”

“Difficult.” 

At the other end of the couch, Felicity gave a snort.

“Job.”

“Unemployed.”

“Vacation.”

“Coast.” The old beach house he could still see in his mind's eye when he tried hard enough. 

She was good at mixing it up between serious and innocuous. It was making it impossible to even try to think on his feet. All he could do was just give one answer after another.

“City.”

“Star.” All those nights he’d trained with Thea and Alex to make sure he didn’t habitually add the “—ing” on the end during a speech had it drilled into his head. It was thoughtless, like how he felt now.

“Friends.”

“Team.”

“Family.”

A smile. “Thea.”

“Home.”

“Laurel.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Felicity’s interruption was so sudden he jumped. He’d almost forgotten he wasn’t alone in this room with Dr. Thompkins, who looked paused in the middle of beginning a new word.

“What?” He asked, still stuck on one word responses apparently.

Felicity was watching him with narrowed eyes. “You said ‘Laurel’.”

He frowned. “When?”

“In response to ‘home’,” Dr. Thompkins told him.

“I did?” But as soon as she’d said it, he knew that was right. He could hear it in his voice now, could feel it hanging in the air.

“Yes.” Felicity’s frown had not gone away and instead seemed to be deepening. “What about Laurel is ‘home’, Oliver?”

“I- it—” He didn’t know how to answer. It wasn’t like he’d meant to say her name, it had just...come out.

“I mean, you could have said anything, you know? Maybe our loft, maybe Ivy Town. Maybe, I don’t know, me? Can you at least try to say something?” Felicity demanded.

He looked from her to Dr. Thompkins, who remained impassive but watching closely. “It was on the island,” he finally said, voice low.

Oliver could remember it clearly now, Laurel’s photo in his hand as he’d spoken to Taiana. “Her name is Laurel Lance. And she was my home before all this.” It had been a long time since he’d allowed himself to consciously recall that memory, those feelings that went along with it.

“You see how he does this?” Felicity was saying to Dr. Thompkins. “Everything is the island, everything always goes back there. And back to Laurel. I guess your crazy ex Helena was actually right about something!”

“Felicity,” Oliver began, but she stood up.

“You know, I told John this was a waste of time. I said we were done, and now I am glad we are. I am not a consolation prize!”

“Felicity, wait!” The door slammed, and Oliver made to follow.

“Oliver.” Dr. Thompkins’ voice made him stop. He looked back at her. “In my professional opinion, it would be best to let her go.”

The fingers of his left hand clenched and unclenched. “You were supposed to help us.”

“And this did. It’s clear to me that there were some serious trust issues and power imbalances in this relationship.” She clasped her hands together on her lap and leaned forward. “You’ve been suppressing how you really feel for some time now, haven’t you? And I’m not talking about this Laurel,” she added before he could even start to protest.

Oliver frowned. “Then what do you mean?”

“I mean that you lack any say in this relationship you’re so desperate to save. You’ve given up your voice in an attempt to please someone else, and that leads to a very empty happiness.” Dr. Thompkins stood as well, though the top of her head barely reached his chin. She didn’t remotely look intimidated. “You can’t depend solely on another person for that.”

He stood there, lost for any kind of response. Oliver wanted to tell her that she was wrong, that he did have a say in what happened between him and Felicity, but...when was the last time he decided anything between the two of them? When he asked her to marry him? He’d wanted to, but it was Donna finding the ring and showing her daughter that had prompted him to do it when he had. When he’d invited Donna over for that dinner? Felicity was apparently still holding a grudge over it.

He’d sometimes wondered how someone as smart and talented as she was could be with him, but did he really not have a voice?

Dr. Thompkins had reached into a pocket and held out a card for him to take. “Think some things over, and when you’re ready to talk, my door is open.”

Oliver hung his head. He hadn’t been ready, and like Laurel had said it hadn’t helped him and Felicity at all. He took the card to be polite and left the ARGUS facility, only to sit on his bike in the lot.

Like Laurel had said. He’d been trying to be a better friend to her ever since Sara had been brought back from the dead. Had he somehow gone so far in the other direction that Felicity now thought he was in love with Laurel?

It wasn’t that he didn’t still care for her. He always would. Was that still a kind of love?

Helena’s words did come back to him from years ago. “That kind of love doesn’t die.” 

A light drizzle was beginning to fall, spattering against the leather of his jacket and wetting his hair. Oliver shook his head and shoved his helmet on, the bike roaring to life. He needed to think, and he had no idea where to start.

---

Thea stretched her arms over her head as she settled onto the couch. It had been pretty calm on the streets the last few nights with Darhk locked away and his ghosts gone to ground.

It had been a good thing tonight especially since they were down two team members instead of just the one who had left the previous week. Thea had asked if anyone had heard from Oliver that day as they’d been suiting up.

“He’s got some personal business,” Laurel had said.

At the same time, John had revealed, “He and Felicity are at couple’s counseling.”

Thea’s eyes had gone wide. “Oliver went to therapy?” The very thought had seemed totally unbelievable. Even now she was having trouble wrapping her head around it.

If it was something he wanted to try, of course she supported him. Oliver just had trouble sharing his feelings at the best of times, so to imagine him opening up in front of a stranger was hard.

Still, if it made him happier, then she was all for it. Thea knew he’d been feeling lost and unsure, ever since having to send William away and losing his relationship all at once. If Felicity had agreed to counseling, maybe things were still salvageable? She’d felt uncomfortable with some of the things Felicity had said to her brother while they’d been working to take down Cupid, but Thea had said things she regretted in the past, too. If they worked through things and came out of it healthier, she could forgive and forget.

They had a bit of time to relax tonight. Rain had begun shortly before dark, and they’d stayed out until it became clear it was turning into a storm and pushing everyone else indoors anyway. Thea had returned to the apartment with Laurel, who had ushered her into the shower so she could warm up. Honestly, her friend was such a big sister.

Laurel had known about the therapy, judging by her reaction to Thea’s question before their patrol. Yet she’d been much more circumspect in her answer than John. Thea wondered if Oliver had asked her to keep things quiet, if he was ashamed. She’d have to make sure he knew there was no reason to be the next time she saw him.

She looked up at the sound of a knock at the door. “Hey, did you call in an order?” Thea called back further into the apartment.

“What?” Laurel’s voice sounded a bit echoey. Right, she was taking her turn in the shower.

Thea got up and went to the door, peering through the peephole. To her surprise, it was Ollie on the other side, dripping wet and miserable.

She quickly opened the door. “Ollie? What happened?”

“Sorry,” he said, voice a bit gruff. His face was wet, and she didn’t know if it was from rain or crying. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Thea pulled him inside, stripping him of the leather jacket that was clinging to him like a second skin. She guided him to the couch, their knees bumping as she curled up next to him. “What happened?”

He didn’t speak.

“John, um, told me about the counseling session,” Thea admitted quietly. “You know you can tell me anything, right? I’m not going to judge you.”

“I know,” he said, his smile a twist of the mouth. He gave an unhappy sigh. “I’m trying not to judge myself right now.”

“Hey. There’s nothing to judge. Loads of people go to therapy. If it helps you, that’s all that matters.”

“I know. I know, Laurel—” for some reason he gave something of a laugh, and it sounded helpless. “She said the same thing.”

“Okay,” said Thea. “So what’s bothering you? Did...did something happen at the session?”

“You could say that. Um, it didn’t work. Not how- how I wanted it to...I don’t know.” He put his head in his hands for a long moment before looking back up at her again. “Just, can you answer me honestly?” When she nodded, he asked. “Do I not...speak up for myself, when it comes to Felicity?”

Thea was so stunned she sat there for what felt a solid minute in silence. “Ollie, what—”

“Please, just tell me.” Her big brother was practically begging her, so she did her best to set aside her own surprise and questions.

“Well, you, um...you guys just sort of— it’s not like you don’t speak, just, you know, Felicity’s kind of a talker. And you, generally you just agree with her. But did the therapist — did she not think that was a good thing?”

“No. She said I was suppressing things, making myself dependent on just Felicity for my happiness.” He looked to her, clearly waiting for something. Some kind of answer.

“Well…” The more she thought about this therapist’s argument, the more it kind of made sense. Hadn’t she had doubts about where her place was in Oliver’s life after he’d left last spring with Felicity? When he hadn’t kept in touch while they were vacationing in Bali? Hadn’t she nearly told Laurel to go to Ivy Town without her, convinced there was little she could do to get her brother to come home?

It wasn’t like they didn’t still spend time together now that he’d come back, but there was a difference to him when he was just with her or her and Laurel and then when it was them and Felicity, a difference she’d been having trouble identifying. It was like no one else really existed in the room when Felicity was there, like everything else came secondary to making sure she was happy.

“How did Felicity take hearing all of that?” It wasn’t like the therapist had come out and said Felicity had done anything wrong, but Thea couldn’t imagine Felicity had expected to hear anything other than Oliver’s failures in the relationship.

He shook his head. “She wasn’t even there for that part. She left.”

“How come?”

“Because of something I said. I- I mentioned Laurel.”

Thea blinked, feeling caught off guard yet again. “What about Laurel?” And why would Felicity have been upset enough to storm out over it?

His head fell back against the couch and his eyes were shut as he replied, “I called her home.”

“Um.”

“It was this word-thing she was having me do. Making free associations between ideas or something. And I guess I should’ve said Star, but I’d already said Star, and in my head she’s just — she’s always been here.” He cracked an eye open to look at her. “You know?”

Thea nodded. She placed a hand on his arm. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Laurel had always been there. Hadn’t Thea argued the same thing to him when Adam had wanted Oliver to distance himself from her? If Thea thought about it, she would probably call Laurel home, too. She’d moved in with the woman, for crying out loud.

But Laurel was like her sister. She was decidedly not Ollie’s sister. And Thea could maybe see why Felicity might be upset that her ex-fiancé considered another woman home.

The thing was...what did it mean that Ollie still considered Laurel home?

A door opened down the hall and soft footsteps padded in their direction. “Thea, what were you asking me — Ollie.”

Thea looked over to see Laurel standing there in pajamas, a towel wrapped around her head. She took it down, and her hair fell loosely around her shoulders.

“What happened?”

Thea watched her brother swallow once and struggle to speak. She reached down and squeezed his hand.

“The counseling didn’t go so great,” she told Laurel.

“I’m so sorry, Oliver.” Laurel took a few more steps closer. “Have you eaten anything?”

He shook his head.

“Think he just went out for a drive in the rain,” said Thea.

“Well, then we should get you some food. Maybe tea so you don’t catch a cold.”

Laurel started to back up towards the kitchen, but Oliver stood. “No, that’s okay. I should let you both get to sleep.”

“We’re not really tired,” Thea remarked. “We’re used to later nights than this.”

“It’s no trouble. Thea and I haven’t eaten yet, either,” Laurel added. “I’ll just have to see what we have to make.”

“Maybe I should,” Oliver said quickly, the same time that Thea made to stand up. Laurel looked back at them both, her arms crossed. Thea met her brother’s eye and thought she saw a smile not quite form. She bit back her own grin.

“If you insist. But Ollie,” Laurel said as he joined her by the kitchen archway. “We’re always going to be there for you whether you want to talk about it or not.” Then she pulled Thea’s brother into a hug.

Thea watched the split second where he tensed, no doubt unsure of himself and where the boundaries stood. A second later he had melted into it, his cheek resting on top of her head and one hand cradling the back of it. From the little Thea could see of Laurel’s face, her friend was smiling softly. She felt a great wave of homesickness hit her in that moment as she watched, something calling back through the years to her and making her eyes sting.

They were both slow to step back, hands trailing down arms rather than immediately letting go. Oliver looked down at his shoes while Laurel looked away, her eyes catching Thea’s. Thea watched her take in a little breath and seem to shake something off.

“So Ollie,” Laurel said, her tone taking on a teasing tone that if she thought about it, Thea rarely heard her use with anyone else. “What are you making for us?”

Her brother looked far calmer and centered than when he had arrived. He even managed his best attempt at a smile. “Let’s have a look.” He brushed a hand over her arm as he passed her on his way into the kitchen.

They offered him a place on the couch that night, but he declined. He was given leftovers instead, which they managed to make him take since “Geez, Ollie, it’s your food, anyway.”

Thea followed him out into the hall after giving Laurel the signal that she’d be a minute. “Hey.”

Oliver stopped and looked back. “Yeah?”

“I just wanted to make sure you’re doing better. You know…”

He nodded. But she could tell by the relaxed set of his shoulders and the lack of frown lines that he really was doing better than when he had shown up.

“We didn’t really finish talking, but, um...if I were you, I would think about seeing this therapist some more. Get some help, you know, figuring your thoughts out. If she’s available, anyway.”

“She gave me her card.”

Thea nodded. “Good.” Then she walked forward and hugged him as well. “Laurel’s right, though, we’re here for you, too.”

“Thank you. I’m not sure if she knew...” Whatever Oliver was thinking, he decided to keep to himself, holding her a little tighter instead for a few moments.

They both let go, and her brother continued down the hall to the elevator. Thea waited until the door slid shut before heading back inside. Laurel was still in the kitchen finishing washing up their dishes.

“I think he’ll be okay,” Thea told her. “We just gotta give it time.”

“Did he say if he and Felicity are going to try anything else?”

Thea shook her head. “Pretty safe bet they aren’t trying anything anymore.”

Laurel winced. “Well, it was worth the try.”

“Yeah, I think so.” The more that she thought about it, she was glad her brother had gotten a fresh perspective from this therapist. It had certainly opened her eyes to what had been going on the past several months. Should she have said something, done something? She’d thought her misgivings were just her being selfish, not some kind of red flag.

Things would eventually settle, and when they did who knew what was in store next for Ollie? Was there something still to his and Laurel’s relationship? As Thea climbed into bed, she wondered if it might turn out their mother had been right all along.

---

Laurel wasn’t quite sure what to make of the change in Oliver over the next few days. Aside from when he’d first shown up that night after the counseling session, he seemed calmer somehow. More assured than he had been.

She was certain he still had to be feeling some hurt over the breakup. It was a different kind of pain than his usual cuts and bruises, the kind that took longer to heal. The kind that, in some cases, left permanent scars.

But for the most part he had gotten right back into the swing of things, leading the team effectively, training with them. He’d even started to make it a habit to eat his lunches with Thea, a fact that Laurel knew was making her young friend very happy.

About the only one in their group who didn’t seem to like what had resulted from the counseling session was John, which had a certain irony to it since it had been his suggestion. Laurel knew he’d been hoping it would prove a quick fix to Oliver and Felicity’s relationship problems, but life rarely had quick fixes.

Though, lately it felt less like Oliver was working on his relationship with Felicity, and more on his relationship with her. Crazy as that sounded.

It was little things at first, things that over time she started to notice. He was making more time for all of them, of course, but he seemed especially to always be available for training when she was. And he was better at expressing how she might improve or what she was already good at.

They were working together to clean the training area one afternoon, and she could see him shifting from foot to foot, weighing something in his mind. Just as she opened her mouth to ask, he said, “You know, I never thanked you. For how you — everything with William. How you handled it.”

Laurel felt both her eyebrows raise. William wasn’t necessarily a taboo topic, but Oliver rarely brought up his son since having to send him away, and especially not to her.

“I know it couldn’t have been easy, and you had every right to — well, to not want to be involved.”

“Oliver, there was a child in danger. Of course I was going to get involved, whether William was yours or someone else’s. Whatever happened in the past, he had nothing to do with.”

“Right.” He nodded. She thought that might be the end of it, until he set aside the disinfectant bottle and any pretense of getting work done. “I just, I feel like I don’t say enough that I’m lucky to have you in my life. After everything. I want you to know I appreciate that.”

“Ollie…” Laurel couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “It’s really fine. I’m glad William’s safe, and I understand that you couldn’t say anything about him to us for a long time. Don’t feel like you have to check up on me.”

“No, but I want to. I, uh, I went back to see Leslie.”

“Leslie? The therapist,” she realized a second later.

“Yeah. She thinks I have issues communicating with people. Especially people I care about.”

Laurel couldn’t quite stop herself wryly remarking, “Really?”

Thankfully, he just shook his head with a smirk. “Yes. And I think, with you and me, we’ve known each other for so long and understand things about each other, we leave a lot unsaid.”

“Okay,” she agreed.

“I want to work on not doing that. So this is me, telling you that you are important to me, and that I will always try to listen to what you have to say or how you’re feeling.” He paused. “If that’s what you want.”

As surprised as she was by this turn, Laurel already knew her answer. “Of course. Ollie, we’re always going to be in each other’s lives, and if we can help each other at all, then I want that, too.” Even if there were some things she would never say or feelings she would never reveal, the knowledge that Oliver wanted to try more at their friendship warmed her from head to toe.

Impulsively, she reached out to cup his cheek. “I know you’ve been trying to do things a better way ever since you came back to Star, and I think this is really helping you find that way. And I’m so happy I get to be part of that.” She felt the curve of his smile under her palm as well as saw it. “Now come on, Thea and John are going to want to use the mats to warmup before we head out.”

They finished cleaning up in companionable silence.

Truthfully, she hadn’t expected him to return to therapy after his initial experience. Part of her was intensely curious about how it was going now, in the absence of the couple’s framework. But Oliver had always respected her privacy about what she discussed at her AA meetings, so she wasn’t about to disrespect his. If he wanted to tell her more about it, he could. If he didn’t, that was fine, too.

She’d extended an offer via text for Felicity if she wanted to talk. Laurel knew her friend had to be feeling a bit isolated since leaving the team. She wondered if Felicity had made any work friends aside from Curtis; her relationship to the board members seemed tense at best. At the least, Laurel knew Donna was still sticking around since she was dating her father.

But Felicity never replied, which was out of the ordinary for her tech-savvy friend. Maybe she felt they’d all chosen Oliver’s side, even if Laurel was doing her best to stay neutral on the matter. It wasn’t as though she believed Oliver was totally blameless for the things that had gone wrong, but in most breakups there were mistakes made by both parties. She could understand that right now, however, Felicity likely felt wronged. Guessing was all she could do for the moment.

Until one night when she and John were out for another round of surveillance. In the absence of the Ghosts, organized crime was reaching out tentative feelers back into the city, and they wanted to learn their patterns before hitting them. She was happy to find John had packed a couple light snacks in the glove compartment this time.

But even snacking couldn’t distract her from the way her friend kept glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, guarded and tense in a way he hadn’t been for a long while.

Laurel sighed. “John, can you just say whatever it is you’re thinking about?”

“Not sure you wanna know.”

“If it’s bothering you, then yes, I do want to know.”

She wasn’t sure what decided it for him. But eventually, John shifted around in his seat to better face her. Laurel copied him.

“Alright, I’m gonna tell you this so you can get out ahead of it, but I got Felicity to talk to me about the counseling session.”

She nodded.

John hesitated another minute. She thought he might be trying to figure out how to put whatever he wanted to say. “She says Oliver’s still in love with you.”

Laurel felt her mouth drop open.

“I know,” said John as her mind continued to draw a blank.

“Did he say that? I mean, what—” She couldn’t even start to contemplate the idea of Oliver making that kind of brazen declaration.

“Not in so many words. If you ask me, she’s blowing things out of proportion because she’s upset. She wants reasons not to get back with him.”

“So he’s not. In love with me,” Laurel added.

John shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows what’s going through his head anymore? I don’t even know why he went back to that ARGUS therapist after she screwed everything up.”

“He seems to find it helpful.”

“Yeah, well, we’re the ones who are gonna have to help him out. Look, I think we can fix all this if you just go talk to Felicity.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. Tell her you and Oliver are friends and nothing more. You’re not in love with him, so it’s all in the past. She’s got nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing,” Laurel repeated, her voice faint to her ears.

“Right. So how soon can you do that?”

But Laurel couldn’t answer. An old memory had risen up in her mind; her and Oliver in a hospital hallway, her younger self begging him to help her fix her failing relationship, only to be stunned by his refusal.

“Because it wouldn’t be true. And I have enough lies in my life already.”

She was in that moment now, again, only she was in his place with his words setting deep into her bones.

A light of understanding came into John’s eyes. “Oh, Laurel.”

She looked away, wishing the mob guys they were staking out would make their move already. They didn’t.

“You really still—”

“It doesn’t matter. What I still feel doesn’t matter. It’s about what Oliver and Felicity feel.” She looked back over her shoulder at him. “And I’m saying this as objectively as I can, but John, if Felicity is looking for reasons not to get back together with Oliver, then we all just have to accept that. Forcing things won’t do it any good.”

He watched her closely as he said, “So you want them to stay broken up.”

“I’m not saying they can’t find each other again, just right now is not the right time. I want them to be happy, whether that’s together or apart.”

“And what about you, Laurel?” John asked. “When do you get to be happy?”

“I...that’s not what this is about. I’m fine with my life how it is.”

John shook his head and stared out the window. “This is a mess. So you won’t go talk to Felicity?”

“It wouldn’t do any good. It shouldn’t be me, it should be Oliver.”

John sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.” Something in his frown told Laurel he didn’t think it would happen.

But why not? Until the counseling session, Oliver had been near inconsolable about his relationship ending. He’d been willing to do anything to save it. Why not this?

They didn’t pick up much useful information on their stakeout and returned to the base. Laurel let John deliver the information and did her best to hurry Thea along to head home. She wasn’t sure what to think about where she and Oliver stood at the moment.

He’d said he wanted to prioritize their friendship. That didn’t have to mean anything, but what if it did? Should she say something? Risk it all, risk ruining everything?

She was still worrying over it as she left work the next day, heading down to the base out of habit to start her training. She took two steps out of the elevator and stopped when Oliver looked up at her.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey. Did Thea not come back down here with you?”

He shook his head. “She’s with Alex. They’re grabbing an early dinner and she’ll join us before patrol.”

“Okay.” And John was probably watching baby Sara until Lyla got home for the night, so that left the two of them here in the base alone. For who knew how long.

Laurel turned and made for the changing area. She got into her workout clothes and found Oliver waiting on the mats when she came out. There was something electric to the air, something she hadn’t allowed herself to acknowledge for a long time. Her chest felt tight.

He tossed her a set of sticks and they began. She was distracted, making simple mistakes she hadn’t made in over a year, and he soon had one stick under her chin and the other at her back, caging her in.

When she met his eyes, there was something sad there. “Felicity told you, didn’t she?”

The breath rushed out of her. Laurel lowered her sticks and he did the same. Neither backed away.

“It was John, actually. How...how did you know?”

“Because I know you,” he said.

She wet her bottom lip with her tongue, weighing in her mind whether to ask. “Were you going to tell me yourself?”

He drew in and let out a breath. “John said I was in love with you?” Laurel nodded, a little confused he’d phrased it in a question. “The truth is I’m not sure exactly what my feelings are.”

She took a step back, eyes landing on her shoes. “Oh.” It was better, then, that she had asked rather than say anything more telling.

“When Felicity and I first went to see Leslie, she had me do a word association test. Have you heard of those?”

Laurel nodded. “Yeah. It’s where they give you a word and you say the first thing that comes to mind.”

“Right. So I did it, and it was not easy at first,” he admitted. Laurel pressed her lips together to keep from smiling as she could clearly imagine. “But I kept trying, and eventually I guess we got into a rhythm. She picked a lot of different words, some easier than others. The last word she picked was ‘home’...and I said you, Laurel.”

“Me?” It was all she could say. Laurel wasn’t sure she could say any more without giving away how much that meant — so much more than some three little words.

Oliver nodded. “You’ve always been that to me.”

Laurel tried to keep calm. Even if Oliver felt that way, he’d made a distinction between that and being in love. She needed to know more, and he seemed to want to tell her. “So that was when Felicity left?”

“Yes. Not before mentioning Helena for the fiftieth time,” he told her, a heavy dose of chagrin in his voice.

“Helena?”

“Yeah, well she — I never told you this, did I?” He shook his head. “The reason we broke up was because she could tell I wasn’t over you.”

“And that’s what Felicity thinks now?”

“It’s what she said. The thing is, I know I’ve done this before. Something happens, and I come to you and...and then I leave after,” he said rather than finish his thought. “And I don’t want to do that again, so I’m getting help. To figure out how I feel and to figure out what always makes me so afraid of that feeling.”

Laurel’s eyes felt wet, so she steeled herself. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known Oliver was getting help. But to know that he wanted to try and change even more than he had done on his own, it was hard trying to hold back her own happiness for him.

“That being said, whatever my feelings are, whatever I learn about myself, you don’t have to worry that that means anything’s expected of you. I know that’s something in the past, that we can’t go back.”

It was like someone had upended an ice bucket over her head. “What?”

Lines appeared in his brow as he looked at her. “You said, we couldn’t—”

“Oh, Ollie.” Laurel pressed a hand to her forehead, wondering how they’d somehow come to this. After all these years. “When I said that, I was...well, I probably needed help, too. I was pushing people away because I didn’t want to wait for them to leave.” She glanced back up, teetering on the edge of whether to take this next step. “Can I show you something?”

He nodded, and she led him off the mats and over to the cases holding their suits. Laurel opened hers and unfastened one of the pockets on her belt. She turned around, the old photo in hand, and watched his eyes widen in shock and recognition.

He reached for it slowly, like in a dream. “You kept this?”

She nodded. “As a reminder, for when I might have doubt.”

He looked up at her, clearly understanding what she meant. He’d written the words after all: Never doubt my love for you.

His lips pressed together for a long moment. Laurel waited, her breath held. This was her best-kept secret, and now he knew it all.

“I’ve wasted so much time,” he said at last, his voice cracking.

“We both have.” Laurel reaches out and covered one of his hands with her own. “But there’s still time. Time to get better, to figure out what’s really going to make us happy.”

He met her eyes, the light she knew was in him shining through. A smile slowly grew. “I think you’re right.”

Oliver leaned in, his lips brushing her cheek as his hand touched her arm. It was a gesture so familiar to her. She let out a shaky breath.

“There’s something I’d like to try doing with you,” he told her.

Laurel opened her eyes and looked at him. They’d both grown and changed so much over the years, but she still knew this man better than she knew herself sometimes. He was nervous, a little hopeful, and so, so happy.

“I’m listening.”

---

Leslie flipped to a fresh page in her notes in preparation for a new session. The notebooks she kept on her sessions with patients were for her eyes only and kept under lock and key whenever she wasn’t in her office. Not even the director of ARGUS was allowed to look at them, which had always been a matter of fierce contention between her and Amanda Waller.

It hadn’t always been her goal to counsel the members of this oftentimes controversial organization. She’d started out as a private practitioner, then moved to running a soup kitchen in the Glades. Almost ten years ago now, the kitchen had been forced to close as their rent had kept rising far beyond their means — by design, she’d later learned. Malcolm Merlyn, their true landlord behind a smokescreen of shell companies, had wanted the space empty for his grand Undertaking. It was such a shame, what a monster he became after the loss of Rebecca; Leslie had partnered often with her health clinic in the old days. If she could have seen what her husband had done in her honor…

But Leslie had been at loose ends after the kitchen closed, and that was usually when Amanda Waller tended to show up. She’d been brought on board to patch up the head cases, as it was put to her. Instead, she’d found herself the sole confidant to many lost and lonely people. It was hard sometimes, hearing the hopelessness in their voices and how they believed they were beyond saving.

She’d not been expecting that to come from Oliver Queen, former mayor candidate and famous son of the newly-christened Star City. Even knowing the little she did about his ARGUS ties. But that was who had walked through her door a few weeks ago for a partner counseling session with his ex-fiancée.

Right away, she’d been able to read the tension coming off both of them, and the opening remarks from Felicity Smoak had been antagonistic rather than open towards reconciliation. She had not been there by choice, and that had meant Leslie’s job was going to be all the harder.

From there had followed the clear trust issues, the miscommunication and the lack of personal autonomy Oliver seemed to have. Leslie doubted it was anything Felicity had done in particular to cause that dynamic. Relationships involving one of more trauma survivors required a level of mindfulness many people didn’t realize to avoid negative feedback loops for both parties. But an unwillingness to accept that first premise made addressing the other issues impossible. It was why she had recommended letting things end between the pair.

She had left a message for Felicity if she wished to speak in a one-on-one setting, the same offer she’d made Oliver the day of the session. Though Felicity had yet to respond, Oliver had taken a day to decide before getting back to her. They had scheduled a session for later in the week and continued from their.

It was remarkable the difference that could be made in a person over a short time just by giving them an outlet to express themselves freely. Leslie held no illusions that Oliver was ‘better’ now and had cautioned him not to assume the same — there was no quick fix to recovery. Everyone went at their own pace and their own path. But likewise, trauma symptoms did not preclude a person from happiness.

She’d encouraged him to make time for the people in his life he felt happiest with and to pursue hobbies or other areas of interest. Last session, he’d shown her some sketches for new arrow designs, something he admitted he’d been allowing Felicity to do in his stead over the last year.

“I knew she was good with technology and knowing the terms for everything. When we came back, she already had the first shipment designed and on its way.” He shrugged. “Maybe mine won’t be as good, but it’s- it helps knowing exactly what I’m relying on in the field. And it reminds me a little of working on the old boats and engines with my father.”

It was always interesting hearing about the Green Arrow’s exploits the next morning on the news now that she was on a first name basis with the vigilante, but Leslie considered that just another part of the job.

Today’s session would likely prove to be an interesting one. Oliver had asked to bring another person with him for partner counseling.

“I asked her if she was okay with that a couple weeks ago, but I think now is a good time,” he’d said. “We’re not — I mean, there’s nothing official about us or anything. But she’s important to me and I think we could benefit from your advice.”

“Partner counseling isn’t limited to romantic partners. If this is something both of you have agreed to, you’re more than welcome to bring another person. This is your time, Oliver. Whatever helps you is what we’re here for.”

Leslie looked up at the sound of footsteps and soft voices approaching her door, drawing her out of her reflections.

“In here?” A woman’s voice asked.

“Uh, yeah.” Oliver that time. He pulled the door open the whole way, holding it for a woman with blonde hair dressed smartly in business professional attire. Which made perfect sense considering she was their city’s ADA.

Laurel Lance smiled in thanks over her shoulder at Oliver before fully entering the room and holding her hand out to Leslie when she stood. “Dr. Thompkins, it’s great to meet you.”

“You as well. Please, feel free to call me Leslie.”

She motioned them over to the couch that hadn’t been used since that first counseling session — she and Oliver usually sat in the chairs on either side of her desk.

The pair sat close, not enough to be touching but clearly feeling comfortable sharing personal space. Oliver looked mostly calm but had a bit of a nervous twitch in one of his hands. Laurel reached out and took it in her own. They shared a look and a smile.

“Just give me one moment to get all my papers together,” Leslie called over, hiding a smile of her own as she did so.

Yes, this she could work with.

[akira-seijuro]

The moment of Fall - Part 1

I am trying to listen to serendipity right now by bts. And it’s still trying to stream on my music player. By the way, do you know what serendipity means? Let me Google it for you.

Well, it means ‘accident, happy accident, chance, happy chance,’ a fucking fluke?! I swear, those are the actual Google results. Why does it sound similar to me at all? Because something happened to me recently. I fell again. I didn’t want to use the word 'love,’ because it is too soon to be so much. But the word 'like’ seems to be pretty small. I blushed the entire day, spent my work in the poetry of my head, not being able to think how to troubleshoot a device because of my heart, yes not my brain this time, my heart. I’ll tell you why later. So, yes my heart could not let my brain tell the steps to my colleague who wanted me to help him troubleshoot. He was staring at me in blank, because he thought I was way too dull all this week. Well, my dear colleague, in my defense, I met the guy only twice and one of them was when it was my mission to unleash all the anger at him and the other was when I was so pissed at his best friend who was my first love and also at his other best friend, who was/is my best friend as well who ditched me that day.

The first time we met was when we were crossing paths at the gates, we stared at each other properly, probably the only time in those 4 years of college. A 3-4 second stare and no shit happened then. I always was intrigued by him and I wanted to talk to him, one, because he was close to 2 people whom I love the most and two because everyone told me he was a difficult person to talk to. It just seemed challenging and I’m really good at such things. The next time was when we sat down for the same interview. The thing is, he didn’t register in my head properly back then, because I was too focused on winning against him in the group discussion. They made 2 groups of the group discussions, both separate and unlinked. Destiny put us in the same group. I was sitting on the right side of the table (extreme bottom side) and he on the left side of the table (non-extreme top side). So it’s easier to say, diagonally towards the corners, but shit didn’t strike before. I was like motherfucking shit, this guy had to be in this group, I’m gonna get him because I was too pissed that he was close to Loki and I’m not. This is an exaggeration. I didn’t want to hurt him. I just didn’t want him to and most of his wing-mates sort of hurt me in one or the other way. So it was just my defense mechanism to get ready for the battle.

If you’re wondering Loki? Yeah, let’s call my first love Loki, my best friend/brother Oikawa (I’m a big fan of Haikyuu and Kuroko-no basuke : Japanese manga/anime - I used to be like Akashi from kuroko nobasuke - then turned to Kageyama - then turned to Iwaizumi from haikyuu, hence Oikawa, the best friend). Let’s call the man in the focus Chris. You’ll understand why in the coming words. I never once thought I’ll write about Chris and the encounter with him but you know life, it just simply sucks. Now I can’t find him on Facebook, probably he deactivated. So I went through Loki’s profile, the irony, but couldn’t find a single thing related to Chris on his wall. First I’m only going through to know his birthday because it has always been a compulsion for me to know the birthdays of people who impress me, I don’t even know why. A few days back, his FB profile picture was Red John smiley. I love Patrick Jane, Simon Baker was amazing playing that role. Are you fucking kidding me?! This guy is actually like 40% Patrick Jane. 40% because Patrick is so cool and positive on the outside and you know, smart too. Well, anyway I asked one of my close friends to check for his dob on LinkedIn because he will get to know if I went through. Let’s see. I don’t think there will be any luck though. So, anyway, I really-really-really- really-really-really like this guy, like Carly-Ray-Jepsen’s song 'I really like you.’ As I am writing all this, it’s becoming easier and it’s sort of like going away I guess or it’s becoming stronger. I can’t differentiate anymore.

My bro, the Oikawa kept telling me that he is the perfect dude for me, I was like dude fuck off. I don’t like any of your wing-mates. Falling for one, turned everything upside down, the next one is not going to be from your wing. And a few days back before it all started, he told me he met a guy who said something that mindfucked him. He didn’t want to tell me because he thought it will mindfuck me as well. I said try me. Then Oikawa said 'The guy I met told me that he will never have kids. The world is so fucked up.’ After 2 days of my clever bro’s contemplation, he asked the guy why? The guy said that world is so fucked up, the government, people and all - something on that lines, he didn’t tell me the exact conversation, so why would you bring kids into a world like this. Guess the first thought in my head, 'He is my fucking Thor.’ Okay, brief flashback - my bro promised me he will find someone for me and I told him even thor had to prove himself to lift the Mjolnir - the hammer. So basically I became the Mjolnir and my the one would be thor. Anyway, I refrained from telling him the first thought in my head and told him, dude, it makes sense obviously. What’s the big deal? Why would you bring people into a world like this? He was woah, this girl isn’t as mindfucked as me. Well, Oikawa, I’m a dark person who understands it better than anyone amongst your circle, Chris is exceptional though. I had a buddha phase in my life where I saw suffering, death, and loss of so many. Then I could not control it anymore and I told him, dude, you met my fucking Thor. Please don’t tell me he is the gay dude from the office because I’m straight. He asked me if I really wanted to know who. I said 'yes, of course.’ He said 'the thor is Chris.’

Fucked. Psyched. Fucked. I fell off as if there is nothing to hold on to. The moment of fall. Yep, that’s when I have decided what I was going to call this writing. Another heartbreak because this guy doesn’t like or can’t to talk or meet people. I don’t know for sure. That doesn’t even make any fucking sense. All those counseling sessions, medications have convinced me that it’s the fucking pheromones that made me fall for Loki, but I didn’t even ever say hi to this guy. Everything had a logical reason behind it until now. After almost exactly 4 years, since 2015, this is the first time it didn’t make any sense at all. I fell for a guy whom I barely saw, like a fictional personality. But he is fucking Real. All the bloody lump of flesh is real. But as my bro said 'that fucking guy is a chuth and the beautiful possibility might be ruined because of him.’ I am being fair now, he is not at all like Kise Ryota from kuroko nobaske, who is so outgoing and swag. Loki is little like Kise. This guy is totally different from Kise if at all he is -infinity% like kise. Strange but known coincidence, he plays basket-ball. I don’t like to use the words 'good, God and happy’ anymore. So I’m gonna say 'sound, nature to assign all the unexplanatory blame, blithe/gleeful.’ I felt so bad that nature is such a bitch it had to take away thor from me and it doesn’t even give me back a captain America. Because of the way we both were born, we can never meet. Ever. The next morning I called Oikawa, chanting fucking asshole while waking up and told him how disturbed I was, I am for Chris. It felt like another heartbreak, the moment I came to know it was him like someone cut my heart into a perfect 2 using scissors instead of a single stab to stop it. I used to have 1% belief when my bro used to tell me he was perfect and 99% bitch please face. Now it became 100% with another zero towards the right at the end. But goddamn, this is not happening. It’s s reality fiction. I called my girlfriend and I asked her if I can come over. She invited me to stay over for the night and I got mindfucked. She was like why dude? Did you forget me or something? Why are you so shocked. It felt so new having someone be so nice to you without even asking after a long time. She asked me to go meet Oikawa in the middle of the night. Even though she was sleeping, she woke up at 11.45 to let me out. 2.20 to let me in and 7.45 to let me out again. Such an awesome friend. I met Oikawa and we talked random stuff like he says. Then I came back and slept beside her on the floor even though she gave me a comfy bed to sleep in. I needed someone, I wouldn’t have minded if it were a hungry tiger sleeping instead of her. But having her made me feel so gleeful that a cold floor felt more comfortable than a fluffy mattress.

I didn’t fall because he is Chris but because I came to know about the existence of a probable person who can understand the darkness with which I’m living in, the darkness that I am. I know all this is might as well just be an image in my head.

Either way, I woke up heartbroken and reasoned with myself on the way back to my place that I’m simply just too broken. So stop searching to trying to fix yourself Akira, you are only breaking yourself further in that process. I am a broken human. My own brain fucks me up, feels bad and tries to make up for it and realizes it has gone way too far and gives up on itself. I am that broken. I’ll probably never have kids too because I’m too broken to have them, not because the world is fucked up Chris. I would like to tell you something. The world is fucked up, but with one person to love and to care and to understand like how you’d want her to, the world is not just livable, its everything but unworthy. The words sad, grief, depression, anxiety would still be applicable, so will the words happy, enjoyable and amazing. I know I just said the word happy. You might lose that person whom you have found, she might die later, but I’m sure she will give you all that you need to be hopeful forever. Let me love you, you will know. Serendipity ends now. Thank you, Jimin Park, for that beautiful song.

But you won’t let me in Chris. So it’s all still broken for both of us. Because we both are broken by our own unloved lives, but I think if it’s our love together, it’ll be happily livable and hopeful. But I know the way we were born doesn’t allow it. All I’m saying is we can still change it, we can bear anything if we can choose. Even if it's your worst fear, it's bearable if you choose. The choice is yours.

If you guys are wondering whether my friend found him on LinkedIn, yes she did. But that fucking asshole didn’t mention his dob in bio.

[mlpdestinyverse]

“Here Comes A Thought“ 

After Rhea sets up a counseling session for Skychaser, the counselor he meets isn’t quite what he had imagined. In the best way, that is.

EDIT: So unfortunately the gif version of this illustration has REALLY crappy quality here on Tumblr. So if you want to see the gif version, check out the dA upload!

Feat. Skychaser , Dream Flow

Story and Description Under The Cut

‘Shit shit, DAMN IT-’ A string of curses ran through Skychaser’s mind as he raced down the halls of the Cutie Mark Sanctuary, dodging the few ponies that were traversing the corridors themselves. He recalled the conversation he had with Rhea the day before - of her finding somepony who apparently could help him. A counselor, one who had offered to hold a session with him. According to Rhea, this counselor (Dreamer...mari...SOME fancy name, belonging to a classy, older mare he imagined) had some sort of ‘special ability’ that would help him understand and sort his emotions better. Skychaser didn’t quite get it, but if Rhea was confident about this counselor, he was willing to give it a try. Too bad his dumb ass managed to sleep in. He was supposed to meet his counselor at 10 AM in room 2H. It was now approaching 10:20. Oh what a first impression he was already making. He prayed that this mare wasn’t of the cranky, stern sort, otherwise this was going to be way more stressful than he was already imagining it to be. Sharply turning down one more hall, he could see his destination just a few doors away. He made a beeline for it. But to his alarm, the door to room 2H opened just as he was running for the doorknob, and a shape stepped out. His attempts to skid to a stop failed. With a yelp he crashed into this smaller pony, eliciting a loud squeak from them as they both toppled over to the ground. Sky quickly regained his bearings, and his head snapped over to look at the young light blue and white mare he had knocked over. She pushed herself up, rubbing her shoulder with a wince. “SHIT, sorry!” Skychaser exclaimed, scrambling to his hooves. He carefully grabbed her foreleg and helped her back up, his brows drawn back. “You okay?? I’m so sorry...” When the unicorn lifted her head to meet his eyes, Sky found himself rather caught off guard. Half blue...half orange eyes...? ‘Whoa that’s cool…’ After giving him a short curious stare, the young mare's eyes soon crinkled in amusement. She surprisingly beamed a cheerful smile up at him. “It’s okay! I’m fine, really!” Orange-hued magic pushed back her long wavy blue mane before she tilted her head at him, that bright smile still on her muzzle. “Are you okay?” “Yeah, I’m good.” Skychaser offered a small smile back, but then he jumped, immediately remembering why he was running in the first place. “I-I have to go! Sorry again!” The pegasus quickly stepped through the open door, mentally preparing his apologies to whatever displeased face he was about to greet. Except...as Sky glanced around, there was nopony else in the room but him. The room was definitely prepped; the blinds were drawn back to allow sunlight to filter in through the tall windows, two soft-looking red arm chairs were sitting across from one another, and a small round coffee table was beside the furthest chair with a pencil, notepad, and a shopping bag with unknown contents sitting on it. But where was the counselor? Skychaser heard the door behind him shut with a soft click, a chuckle following it. “Good morning~ Skychaser, right?” Turning around, the stallion was greeted by the friendly, youthful face he had quite literally just ran into. “Oh uh...yes?” The blue mare’s eyes lit up, and she rose a hoof to her chest. “I’m Dreamaria Flow! You can call me Dream Flow! I’m your counselor for the day?” Skychaser took a moment to process that. ‘...no way.’ “...aren’t you...younger than me?” ‘She can’t be any older than twenty.’ “Oh, I’m forty two.” Skychaser’s eyes blew open and he let out a shocked wheeze. Perhaps the mare hadn’t expected the reaction, because after a surprised blink,  Dream Flow fell into a fit of giggles as she frantically waved her hooves about in front of her. Her voice was laced with laughter as she spoke. “WAITwaitwait, NO, don’t freak out! I’m just kidding, I-I swear!” “Oh.” Sky let out a loud breath of relief, smoothing back his hair. “Well good, ‘cause I was ready to lose it.” Dream giggled again before walking up to him, holding out her hoof. “It’s really nice to meet you, Skychaser. I’ve heard about you from Rhea!” Sky wasn’t sure what to make of that - he knew Rhea would never speak badly of him, but he had no idea just what the mare would’ve shared. Regardless he shook Dream’s hoof. “Nice to meet you too! I’ve kind of heard about you, but apparently not enough.” He chuckled. Pulling away, he shot her a curious look. “So you’re a counselor…? AH, not that I doubt you! I’m just...surprised?” “Yeah! My magic’s a little...different, so I kinda have this unique way of counseling and offering therapy. Consider today a trial day, to see if it works for you! If not, then no worries!” Sky nodded. “So...what makes your magic different?” Dream Flow smiled mysteriously. She motioned for him to sit in one of the arm chairs, and he followed. She, meanwhile, approached the opposite chair, settling into it while picking up her notepad and pen with her magic. “Well, what did Miss Rhea tell you about me?” The stallion shifted about in his chair, struggling to get comfortable thanks to his nerves. After all, this was his first time attending something so personal. He settled on leaning against the arm of the chair. “She uh, said you had some ability that could help ‘sort” my feelings? I wasn’t really sure what she meant though.” Sky left it at that, hoping the mare would answer his unspoken question. Dream hummed softly, thoughtfully tapping her pen against her notepad. “Alright, let’s start with this first...how are you feeling right now?” She stared at him patiently, and Skychaser suddenly felt self-conscious. Were they getting right into it? She hadn't even answered his question. He tried sitting up a bit straighter, hoping to cover up just how weird and awkward he felt in this setting. Instead he smiled.  “I’m alright. I uh, feel pretty bad for being late…” he winced, remembering that little tidbit. “Sorry by the way...I slept through my alarm.” “Oh, it’s alright! It happens.” He watched as Dream Flow scribbled something into her notepad. Skychaser anxiously watched, wondering what it was she was noting down. Did he say something weird? “Anything else?” “I...think that’s it.” Sky sat there tensely, noticing how Dream’s eyes were focused on the notepad, her pencil hovering. “I see…” Dream finally looked up at him, her brows pulling back as she offered a meek smile. “Then I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but...it’s okay to be honest with me. I can sense that you’re pretty uncomfortable right now, and anxious. Especially when I was writing...I’m guessing you were worried that I was writing something bad?” Skychaser gawked. “Wait, how-? …’sense’??” “Mhm! It’s a part of the magic I mentioned!” Dream’s pen floated up, and she lightly tapped at her glowing horn. “I can sense and interpret emotions!  BUT I can only interpret them when my magic is activated like this.” She playfully spun her pen in the air, the utensil twirling within the orange glow of her magic aura. “Otherwise, I just kinda passively sense shifts of positive and negative emotional vibes. It’s a little complicated and weird, but that’s the jist of it.” Suddenly Skychaser understood Rhea’s words. So Dream could literally feel what he was feeling. “Wait. If you knew how I felt, then…?” “-why did I ask?” The mare appeared a bit sheepish. “I needed to see how honest you would be, without knowing how my magic worked. If I’d told you beforehand, I had a feeling you would’ve been a lot more nervous and self-conscious. And I wanted you to be as relaxed as possible when you responded.” “Oh...whoops.” “OH, no, it’s okay! I think it’s natural to give a positive response to that question, especially with a stranger.” Dream’s expression softened. “But with that out of the way...I hope you understand that honesty is really important! I need you to be as honest as possible with both me and yourself when it comes to how you’re feeling. It'll help with getting to the bottom of your emotions.” “Okay...” Skychaser nodded slowly. She was right. Now that he knew she could sense what he was feeling, he was a heck more self-aware than he was a moment ago. Yet he was also kind of fascinated. “Now, before we start….” Skychaser watched curiously as the unicorn’s magic opened up the plastic bag he had noticed earlier on the coffee table. “Your comfort is important to me. So!” Skychaser was puzzled as he watched Dream dramatically whip out five thin rectangular boxes of….incense? He pulled his head back as they quickly flew towards him to hover in front of his face. “Five scents! Hibiscus Dew, Evergreen Mountain, La La Lavender, Amber Bloodfall, and Wild Berry! Which one would you like? They’re all very soothing. No incense is okay, too!” ...should he question...no, maybe not. A part of Sky had always wanted to try out incense anyway. Skychaser leaned in to curiously whiff each box individually. One in particular stood out. “I think Evergreen Mountain has won me over~” As if practicing a routine, Dream readily prepared an incense stick, placing it on an incense burner on the coffee table and...igniting the end with her magic? Within seconds a smoky scent of pines and cedar wafted through the air. Dream breathed it in deeply, and Skychaser found himself doing the same. He was already feeling a bit more at ease. He knew, however, that things were only beginning. This was evident as Dream pulled her notepad and pen back up, calmly meeting his gaze. “Soooo hah…. whaaaat am I getting myself into?” Sky gently joked, giving a short nervous laugh. Might as well not mask it. Dream’s expression was soft, and made it much easier for him to keep eye contact. “You see, Rhea told me you have buried scars that have resurfaced…that you struggle to talk about,” Skychaser winced. Well...at least that much was out of the way. Dream Flow continued, her voice gentle. “I imagine you’ve been experiencing not only emotions in response to them resurfacing, but feelings directly related to those scars. And that can be a lot to take in at once...what do you think?” “Yeah…” Sky’s gaze lowered to the floor. He vaguely remembered the heavy cloud hanging over him for most of the month. It was still present, but thanks to his conversation with Rhea the previous week, he was at least now aware enough to metaphorically latch on to his ripped umbrella. “I’ve been stressed, and...tired. And short-tempered and-” Sky heaved a sigh, rubbing his forehead. Yeah...this really wasn’t pleasant to admit Dream Flow nodded. “Those sound like your emotional responses. A result of whatever made your scars return. How about...what you felt the moment your scars resurfaced?” It was like an instinctive response; Skychaser stiffened. That day at the Wonderbolts Academy momentarily flickered through his mind. Their faces quickly followed. He was sure he could hear his pulse quicken within his own ears. But before his scrambled, stressed mind could try to reformulate itself, Dream’s voice met his ears again, clear and soothing. “It’s okay. Don't worry. I’m not expecting you to tell me what your scars are, or even what triggered them. That sort of thing takes baby steps.” Skychaser’s orange eyes hesitantly rose back up, and he was almost overwhelmed by the amount of compassion that was coming through the mare’s warm, multi-colored gaze. “I’m here because I was also told that there were heavier feelings inside you that you couldn’t put into words. And I know how frustrating that can be. Figuring out exactly what you’re experiencing does wonders in understanding how to process and approach these emotions.” Her expression saddened. “Otherwise, if they’re left alone, they’ll only build up until they manifest in...unhealthy, even harmful ways.” Guilt found its way back into Skychaser’s stomach. And Sky could tell Dream Flow picked up on it, judging by the sympathy that made its way across her face. “I’m guessing it already has…?” “.....I lashed out at at the ponies I cared about.” Sky murmured, his ears flattening against his head. The confrontations now drifted through his mind, deepening the pit in him. “I see...if you can, I’d like you to think about those incidences. Can you describe how you felt before you ‘lashed out’…?” Sky’s eyes closed tightly. Thinking about his arguments brought back the stress and regret tied to those memories. It took some effort to piece together just what he wanted to say “I was just so…frustrated, that they kept trying to get me to tell them what was wrong. I don’t know why- I mean, I couldn’t explain feelings even I didn’t understand. And I just...I know I should tell them, but even now a good part of me doesn’t want to. I…"

He trailed off, not knowing what else to say. “You’re afraid.” Sky’s eyes snapped back open. Dream Flow's gaze was trained on him, but it was almost as if it wasn’t him she was looking at. He tried thinking about that. Afraid…? Yeah...now that he thought about it, that sounded right. He faintly remembered feeling scared the closer Rhea got to decoding what was going on. Dream Flow was able to pick that out...? “Can you think of any reasons why you’d be afraid of telling them…?” The pegasus’s mouth opened, then closed. Why he would be afraid…there was something familiar about this. “I just...don’t want to put my baggage on them.” ...very familiar. “Why’s that...?” “Because...they don’t deserve to deal with it.” ...too familiar.

Summer’s face abruptly made its way into his mind. Realization dawned on Sky as the connection clicked. He wrapped his forelegs around himself, his jaw tightening and gaze downcast. A melancholy drifted over him. ‘...I kept it all from her so she could be happy. So she wouldn’t...hate me, for burdening her. ….I don’t want to burden them either.’ His forelegs tightened their hold on him. ‘I don’t want to lose anyone else…’ Skychaser didn’t realize just how deeply he had fallen into his own thoughts until his ears picked up on the sounds of Dream Flow shifting in her chair, prominent within the silence of the room. How long had it been silent? Dream’s scritching pencil fell away from her notepad, and she gazed at him sympathetically. “Skychaser...it sounds like they want to ‘deal with it’. They care about you. That’s why they want to share the weight; to make it easier for you to carry. There’s no shame in leaning on others. It can even potentially be your greatest strength on your road to recovery.” Skychaser kept quiet, attempting to absorb in those words. It was both funny and sad how something seemingly so obvious could be so hard for him to swallow. ‘She fucked me up that badly, huh.’ Despite how heavy-hearted he felt, Skychaser managed a tired smile at the mare’s words. “You’re not wrong,” his smile fell away as he thought about it more. “...I guess I feel like I shouldn’t even be feeling all of this, or reacting the way I have. I mean it’s been literal years-” The movement of Dream Flow leaning forward in her chair caught his eye, coaxing him to give her his full attention. “You can’t help how you feel, Skychaser. Your feelings and struggles are valid. Healing isn’t a race…! You accidentally let your emotions take over. And you feel guilty. But it’s okay.” Her eyes and smile shone, radiant and proud. “You’re a pony. You’re flexible, and you’ll always have the power and control over yourself to aim for better. In fact, you’re already choosing it by being here with me today! That alone is something to be proud of. So embrace your power to grow.” Skychaser felt his mouth part a bit, genuinely taken aback. And...honestly, genuinely touched. ‘Flexible…’ Moving her head, Dream Flow placed her notepad and pen neatly back onto her table. “I’m happy to feel you calm down a little, but I can also feel your emotional state still dipping towards the negative. So, we’re going to do something different now.” Skychaser perked up, curious and prepared as he watched Dream envelop her whole chair with her magic’s aura. Her eyes were focused in on him, a pleasant smile planted on her muzzle. SCREEEEEE

Dream’s chair began casually sliding forward, scraping loudly to an almost comical degree against the wooden floor as she happily moved towards him. There was something about the contrast that made Skychaser choke on a laugh. Once she stopped right in front of his chair, the mare raised an amused eyebrow. “Not sure what’s got you all giggly, but hey, whatever works~” Skychaser let out a snort. “Well if that was the ‘something’ you were talking about…” “Nope! I have one last thing up my non-existent sleeve.” Dream Flow held out her hooves. “Now grab on and I’ll explain?” Curiosity returning, Skychaser followed suit, pressing his hooves into hers.

“Here’s where the therapy part of the session happens. I call it ‘emotion transmission’! In short, I’m going to use my emotions to help quell your emotions.” A look of wonder fell across the stallion’s features, and Dream nodded. “To describe it so you WON’T freak out; it’ll be like...a wave. Ponies have described it like that, at least. It’s aaactually something that’s much easier to experience than to put into words...are you willing to give it a try? If you don’t like it, we can stop any time, I promise.” Sky gave a lopsided smile. Dream Flow sure did like making sure he was comfortable. He appreciated it more than he thought. “At this point, I preeetty much trust that you know what you’re doing.” It surprised Sky how grateful Dream looked in that moment. “I’m glad…” She motioned her head towards their hooves. “Hopefully this isn’t too weird, eheh... it’s just so you’ll feel a bit more grounded, since this is your first time experiencing this. Are you ready?” At his confirming hum, the blue unicorn slid her eyes closed. “I want you to close your eyes...and breathe deeply, in and out.” Hearing her breaths, Sky moved to copy her, unconsciously timing his own breathing with hers. Dream Flow’s voice was almost lulling as she softly spoke. “Focus on the sound of my voice...and the scent of nature in the room. Look within yourself...and acknowledge that weight of negativity lingering in your chest.” “Okay…” Skychaser breathed. Okay so...it was there. Heavy to the point of making his very muscles feel tired. Though that's what happened when he allowed his thoughts to dwell on her. “Now...here comes a wave.” Skychaser wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. All at once, it was like something was passing through him. A wave, cooling and surprisingly powerful as it flowed through his being, through his very core even. It swept across the knot of negativity, and it struck him how the flowing coolness...this calm, was pushing through the dark cloud. It forced the negativity down, helping alleviate the initial weight that had been floating aimlessly within him. The first wave had admittedly made him jump, his grip on Dream Flow’s hooves tightening. But as the second one passed through him, he welcomed it gratefully. Each calming wave soothed his once heavy chest, like cooling water on heated skin, and soon he was feeling much lighter and relaxed, as if this calm were his own. It stopped just as quickly as it started. “How do you feel?” Skychaser’s eyelids fluttered open, meeting Dream Flow’s hopeful gaze. “Wow...” Sky mumbled, not hiding his astonishment. He patted his chest, furrowing his eyebrows in wonder. “I feel...way better.” His head snapped back up. “What was that??” Dream appeared rather relieved. “Emotion Transmission. I pulsed out my own sense of calm and clarity to you. It won’t last forever of course, since all emotions come and go. But it’s my therapeutic way of calming ponies when they get too stressed and overwhelmed.” “That’s...amazing?"

Dream's eyebrows shot up. “Aw...geez, you’re gonna make me blush...!”  she joked. She pushed back her chair, leaving room for both her and Skychaser to stand. “But really, it’s the least I can do to help.”

‘Rhea wasn’t kidding…’ was all Sky could think, watching Dream Flow push her chair back to its original position before bagging the burned incense and the holder. Not only had she guided him into figuring out the source of his hesitations, but she could help alleviate the negativity too? ‘She’s...something.’ Hope flickered within him. “Alright, it’s 11:32! Our session ends here, Skychaser.” Skychaser whipped his head towards the clock. An hour had passed already? Huh... “So...has Rhea paid you already?” Skychaser turned back to Dream Flow, smiling in appreciation. “I kind of forgot my wallet in my room, but I could go get it if-” He paused, noticing the look of confusion on the mare’s face. “Oh- no no! I volunteered for this session!” Dreamaria laughed, waving a hoof. “Did Rhea forget to tell you?” “Volunteered?” Sky repeated, bewildered. One-on-one lessons were a thing in the Sanctuary, to help teach a talent, sure, but...one-on-one volunteered counseling? “Yeah! I appreciate everything that the Sanctuary stands for and I’ve been wanting to be a small part of it,” she flashed a grin his way. “And when I heard about you from Miss Rhea, and ALL the wonderful things you give back to this place, I just had to help you personally.” Though embarrassed and flattered, that certainly brought a smile to Skychaser face. This...had to be the sweetest, most upbeat counselor he had ever seen. Not that he personally MET many, but...it made him happy, knowing somepony like this was helping out in such an important field. Skychaser sighed in playful resignation. “Well then...where do I sign up for another session?” Dream Flow gasped softly, delight lighting up her colorful eyes. “Oh...I’d be happy to hold another one with you. Next time we can dive a bit deeper into some of the emotions I was able to pick up on today! How’s Friday of next week? Same time, same room~?" “Heh, sounds good to me, Miss Flow~” Skychaser noticed Dream’s cheeks redden, and she let out a stifled laugh. “Oh gosh...i-it’s weird hearing ponies be so formal. Please just call me Dream Flow!” Skychaser chuckled back. “Dream Flow it is. Well...thank you for your time today.” “Mhm! See you next week?” “See you next week.” he agreed, giving one last friendly wave before trotting out of the room. He didn't think it was possible, but he actually felt more hopeful than he did when he first entered.

Sky had a good feeling about this. -------------------------

“Dream Flow?” Dream broke out of her concentration, tearing her eyes away from her notepad. It hadn’t even been thirty minutes since Skychaser had left. Resting in her arm chair, she had stayed behind in hopes of using the room as a thinking space. Miss Rhea was now closing the door behind her, approaching the mare with a kind smile.

Unlike the last time Dream had spoken to the older earth pony, who had concern and nervousness hidden beneath her determined outerior, Dream could feel more positivity taking that negativity’s place. “I had a feeling you would drop by, Miss Rhea! The session went pretty well.” “So I heard! I passed by Skychaser not too long ago. He seemed a bit more positive than usual.” The older mare’s gaze became gentle. “I just want to thank you again for doing this...he’s been struggling so much lately. I have hope that this will do him some good.’ Dream Flow took a moment to appreciate that despite her curiosity, Rhea was refraining from asking questions, understanding the confidentiality the unicorn aimed to uphold. “Of course! I’m really happy to help out.” Dream glanced down at the notepad she had floating before her. She went quiet as her thoughts acted up again. In her silence, a flash of confusion and hesitation met her senses. “Is everything okay…?” “...what’s his family life like?” Dream lifted her head again, curiously meeting Rhea’s blue gaze. “Do you know?” Prickling uncertainty. A wave of sorrow. Dream felt it before Rhea sighed, suddenly appearing worn. “I didn’t know for the longest time...but recently, he finally managed to share a little with me. He said his parents kicked him out before he came here…but that was all that he could explain.” Worry. Heavy heartache. Dream’s expression softened as Rhea appeared genuinely hurt by this revelation.  “I can’t even imagine what could have escalated to that…” Dream exhaled deeply. "...me neither." The unicorn climbed out of her seat, offering an encouraging smile as she stood face to face with the other mare. “Well, thank you for everything you’ve shared, Miss Rhea. It’s really helped me get a better grasp of Skychaser’s situation.” “Ah, of course dear!”

“Now I think it’s about time I went home," Dream's magic grabbed at her saddlebag and settled it onto her back. She moved to leave, but right before she reached the doorway, Dream Flow turned and shone one last warm smile at the mare. “Just so you know, it was really nice meeting Skychaser in person. He’s really nice. You must be a proud mom, huh?” She happily watched as Rhea blushed. At the large mare's core, a mix of joy and pride were bubbling up. She giggled sheepishly. “I really am...thank you again, Dream. You have a good day now.” “You too...!” With that, Dream Flow trekked down the hall, thankful that the way to the exit wasn’t too complicated despite the facility’s ridiculous size. But now that she was alone again, Dream let her smile drop. She slowed her stride and looked back down at her floating notepad, studying the notes carefully as she had been moments before. She willed herself to remember the emotions that had flitted through the stallion during the time he was lost within himself, and made herself memorize them by heart for their next session. Though, reading the list she had left for herself, a sense of concern settled within her. ‘Self-loathing...loneliness...regret...helplessness…’ It was a mix bag of emotions, and they all struck Dream deeply. She couldn’t blame the stallion for struggling. And what she had sensed was probably just a fragment of what was really there, what he had been internalizing for years. Dream recalled Rhea’s words. Skychaser had been disowned…her memory flickered, distant yet clear enough. Teal fur and bright orange hair, blazing in the sunlight. A pride darkened with something she once couldn’t describe. ‘...it’s okay. Focus on right now.’ Dream reassured herself, exhaling deeply again as she closed her notepad. ‘...this time, I can actually help him.’

Meet Dream Flow, your local friendly and optimistic dorkish counselor! It might not be clear now, but Dream Flow is one of two main protagonist of what I refer to as the “present-day story”. Everything I’ve been showing so far are events in the past, leading up to present-day. From here, Skychaser and Dream Flow’s sessions continued to go well as the two explored different aspects of Sky’s emotional state, only ever scraping the surface of his actual trauma. Over those weeks and months, Sky grew to really trust Dream. Their comfort around one another gradually led to friendly jokes, playful jabs, afternoon coffee and sweets, until suddenly, the two found themselves with a sibling-like friendship neither of them realized they needed. “ButMia,counselorsshouldn’thavefriendshipswiththeirpatient-” Shh Shhhh in a universe where said counselor has literal magical emotion abilities and thorough control and understanding of said emotions, let them have this.

[missymwac]

Call of Jury Duty

“Am I in the right place?”

That was the question I asked a very stressed out security person as I reported for jury duty early this morning. Yes, the dreaded “Day of Duty” had arrived and I was not looking forward to it. I was trying my best to remain upbeat and positive about the whole thing, citing my “civic duty” and all, even trying to harness my inner Stanley Hudson from The Office:

But truthfully, I wasn’t feeling it. As I made my way downtown, I was unsure of everything, especially where to park. Turns out, they have many signs for jurors to follow-and they all lead to a parking garage. I don’t like parking garages. I have nothing against them-they serve a purpose. It’s just, well, I suck at parking. The only thing worse than a parking garage to me is parallel parking. If someone said, “Listen, woman, you either parallel park this Jeep Wrangler or live in exile, wandering the woods in a pair of leggings with little cameras printed on them and eating kale for every meal,” then I would have no other choice than to wave goodbye to the regular world and shove my bloated farty stomach into a pair of customized leggings made in China.

Now, this is my first jury summons, so I had no idea what to expect. I knew that I had to be there at 8:30. I knew that unless I had planned ahead and received special permission (which I hadn’t) I was not allowed to bring in my phone. I knew that the attorneys for the plaintiff and the defendant would ask us questions, but that was about it. What I didn’t know was, where, exactly, I was to report. See, in our town there are three courthouses and they are all clustered together on a corner. And yes, I did have a map, but following directions on a map falls right under “Parking Garage” on the List of Things I Don’t Do Well.

I was running a bit behind schedule (see parking garage above) so when I was informed that no, I was not in the right place, I started to frazzle. The summons said 8:30. What if I was late and got into trouble?I had left in plenty of time, and yet, here I was running down the sidewalk. It was like the dream I have that I am back in high school and can’t remember my locker combination and I’m standing there trying every combination I know and my books are falling on the ground and OMG, I FORGOT TO DO MY HOMEWORK.

I ran across the street and up the steps to the OTHER courthouse, waited in line, walked through a metal detector, and then waited some more while security had to “take a look at my keys,” which I thought odd, as other than my plastic Jesus flashlight, there is nothing powerful on that lanyard. I suspect they wanted to get a good look at flashlight Jesus but didn’t want to ask.

Security complete, I made my way back to the jury room and checked in with a very very nice woman who asked my name.

“Do you need to see my summons?” “No.” “Do you need my photo ID?” “No, sweetheart, you’re fine.”

Had I known that they weren’t going to verify my identity, I could have put an ad on Craigslist: “Jury Duty Proxy. Must be female or identify as female. Must be willing to be bored out of your mind for 4 hours. Script will be provided. $15 an hour.”

Soda, coffee, and water was available while we waited, but thanks to my walnut-sized bladder, I passed on all three. I noticed the clock on the wall as I went to take my seat—8:30am exactly. Booyah. Take THAT, parking garage! And then I continued to glance up at the clock: 8:45. 9:00. 9:20. 9:45… I felt brain cells start to die off with each tick of the second hand.

Finally, a bailiff and judge’s assistant came to get us. I’m not sure if “judge’s assistant” is the correct term, but it’s what I remember he was. And if you happen be an assistant to a judge, I mean no disrespect; I don’t know legal terms. But whatever your name is, really, waiting almost an hour and a half? We need to do something about that.

They issued us all Juror numbers and made us stand in several rows. My number was 33, which pleased me, as my favorite number is 3. Yes, it’s a stupid thing to be happy about, but when you wait 1.5 thirsty hours in a large room with nothing but a 2014 Real Simple magazine to keep you company, you find joy where you can.

Numbers in hand, our band of possible jurors tromped out to the elevators and up to the 7th floor, where we were put into yet another order to make entering the courtroom easier. I commented to the woman next to me that in the time it took to arrange us, we could have already been in there. She agreed AND had a British accent, so she also made me happy. I was grasping at Happiness Straws, people!

Into the courtroom we go where the attorneys and their clients were waiting. We all sat down and counsel made introductions. I tried to figure out who, exactly, were the defendant and plaintiff, cause there seemed to be an awful lot of people on one side of the room. Turns out, the plaintiff had an attorney, another attorney, another woman who isn’t an attorney but serves some purpose, the plaintiff and the plaintiff’s brother. The plaintiff’s side really needed a bigger table.

The judge enters and we all rise. It’s the first time I’ve been in a courtroom and the first time I’ve ever risen for a judge. I mean, I’ve watched Judge Judy, but I don’t rise for her. Sorry, Judy. The judge was nothing but kind, thanking us all for giving of our time to be there and be a part of this very important judicial process. He asked if anyone had a reason that they felt made them unable to serve on a jury and oh, did the hands go up. He addressed each possible juror, row by row.

Now, I’ll be honest-I was going to raise my hand. I went in there knowing that I was going to raise my hand. I have pre-paid sessions on my books and being selected for a trial is going to be a pain and possibly cost me money, as I will have to reschedule those appointments and hope that everyone is okay with the rescheduling and if not, I will have to refund hundreds of dollars. I had my speech all prepared as to why I could not serve on a 2-3 day trial and then…I heard the reasons others were giving:

“My dad has Alzheimer’s and we are in the process of moving him into a long term care facility. It’s just me and my brother taking care of him and we take turns, because we both have to work.”

“I am budgeted down the dollar and can’t afford the $7.50 an hour stipend the court issues. I need my work hours or I won’t be able to pay my rent.”

“I take care of my dad and my grandmother. Both are in a wheelchair and my dad just had a pacemaker installed, so he can’t do any sort of heavy lifting. As for my grandma, I cook for her and help bathe her and take both she and my dad to their doctor appointments.”

Yeah, THESE are true hardships. And having heard them, I kept my mouth shut.

The process continued with counsel asking open questions to all of us. If we had something we felt relevant to the question, then we were to raise our hand. And many did…including me.

See, the case going to trial was a civil case involving a very elderly lady (plaintiff) and a young woman in her 20’s (defendant) I don’t know the details, but it involved a car accident in 2015 wherein the plaintiff was claiming negligence on the part of the defendant. The plaintiff claimed the results of the auto accident left her with lingering back and neck issues.

The attorney for the plaintiff went first. He was an older man who was very hard of hearing, which resulted in him speaking quietly. So quietly, in fact, that the woman sitting in front of me raised her hand and suggested he use the microphone.

The questions included things like:

“Has anyone been injured in a car accident?” “Do any of you have family members working in the medical field.” “Do any of you have any knowledge or relationship with either counsel, the defendant or the plaintiff?” “Do any of you have issues with believing the assessment of a physician?” “Do any of you believe an individual should not be reasonably compensated for injuries.”

And there it was. The question that caused my hand to shoot up.

I stood, introduced myself as we were instructed to do, and said that I have a question. I really wanted to say, “Let me answer your question with a question,” as I’ve always wanted to use that line in a serious conversation, but felt that a courtroom setting might be pushing it.

Me: “I obviously don’t know the details of this case, but this is all over an auto accident, correct?”

Attorney: “Yes.”

Me: “And this case is a LAWSUIT over the auto accident, correct?”

Attorney: “Yes.”

Me: “Okay, then I think I do have issue with the term “reasonably compensated.”

Attorney: “What do you mean by that?”

Me: “Well, my daughter was recently in accident, just a little over a year go. She was sitting at a red light and a truck ran the red. It hit a car in the intersection which pushed another car into my daughter’s vehicle, pushing it up onto the sidewalk, totaling the car. 12 inches more and she would have been carried away in an ambulance. She was injured, both her back and her neck, but never once did she consider suing the guy who ran the red. She was thankful she was alive. The driver of the truck was simply in a hurry and made a bad call. No one died. Life was going to go on. But again, a lawsuit never entered her mind. Or ours.”

Attorney: “Okay, then, but let me ask you-don’t you think that if an individual is injured in an automobile accident that they are entitled to reasonable compensation for those injuries.”

Me: “Define “reasonable compensation.”

Attorney: <silence>

Me: Because what’s reasonable to some people certainly isn’t reasonable to others. And furthermore, isn’t that the reason we HAVE auto insurance? I mean, by law, we have to carry it. And doesn’t most auto insurance pay out medical when these things happen? And let’s face it, life stuff DOES happen. To all of us.

Attorney: “So you don’t think reasonable compensation due to negligence is required.”

Me: “I never said that. I said that I don’t know the details of the case, so I could be wrong, but if insurance covered the medical needs following the accident, then a lawsuit seems rather a waste of the court’s time. A lawsuit, at least to me, is a pretty big deal. I mean, let’s face it, we’re a litigious happy society, are we not? And there are big issues that demand that course of action. Giant, life shattering events. But this? Again, I don’t know the details, but from what you’ve shared with us thus far, I just don’t see it.”

I sat down and glanced at the counsel tables. The plaintiff was shooting daggers at me with her eyes and the attorney for the defense was looking down at his notes, but I swear I saw a hint of a smile.

But then, it started to snowball. Another hand shot up.

“Yeah, I can’t remember her name over there, but I agree with her. I served as foreman on a case where someone had already been compensated but sued anyway. I just think we sue over everything now.”

Another hand.

And another hand, all echoing that sentiment.

Jiminy Christmas. Would this help or hinder my chances of getting picked? I had no idea.

In the end, I didn’t get picked for the trial, and that’s okay. I was actually kind of invested in it at that point and would have liked to have been picked, but I was glad to at least have spoken my thoughts to the room as instructed and if they gave someone a different perspective, then good.

After the jury announcement was made, I said a little sadly under my breath, “Oh, I didn’t get picked.” The guy in front of me turned around and said, “Hah! Did you think you would after that? It was great, by the way. You practically made the case for the defense right there.”

I have nothing further. Juror #33 rests, your honor.

xoxo

[cordytriestowrite]

Monday Mornings

Bucky x Reader

Summary: All you wanted to do was help the people of New York get through what had happened to them. But how were you supposed to help the man who just sat on your couch?

Part 1

You were watching tv when you got the email. Another session scheduled for 6 am Monday. You wish you could say you didn't stay up late on a Sunday hoping he would come see you again. You also wish you could say you didn't spend all week hoping every email you received was from him, but here you were on Sunday night smiling like a fool over a calendar alert. The corner of your phone alerted you of the late hour and despite the elation you felt at seeing James -no, Bucky again tomorrow you knew you would be as miserable tomorrow as you were last Monday. You couldn't fall asleep in another session like you did Mrs. Jackson's.

-

You arrived 10 minutes before 6, this time with coffee in your grasp. You sipped impatiently as you sat in your chair. You were thinking a more casual greeting might work out in your favor but the tension in your eyebrows was bound to give you away.

You were watching the doorway when the clock struck 6 and simultaneously he appeared in your doorway. You nodded and gestured to the couch before you.

"Good morning Ja-Bucky. Please have a seat." You said carefully. Your hand was shaking ever so slightly. It was making your chest feel like a tin can rattling your heart and lungs. Must be the coffee.

He sat down, yet again clothed in a hoodie and shorts. His jaw was tense and you could see the strain reached his shoulders, despite all of his upper body shielded behind cotton.

It was his eyes that unsettled you and truly caused the rattle you felt in your bones. He looked troubled, almost...guilty? You hastily wrote a note on his demeanor. It was unnecessary, but the only way you ever felt you had a hold on things was to write them down.

"How are you doing today Bucky?" You asked. It was a routine question. Something commonly asked by therapists, but you found yourself asking not out of duty to your position and more so out of genuine concern.

"Not good." He muttered. He wasn't making eye contact you noted.

"Would you like to tell me why you do not feel good?" This was easy, this was counseling. You still felt hollow in your chest and your hands still shook slightly, but you could overcome this feeling by doing the fundamentals of your job.

He shook his head. His hair was loose in his face but didn't obscure it. He could use it as a shield to hide from your gaze and personal questions but he didnt. You took this unconscious body language as an opening.

"I am not here to judge, Bucky. I am here to listen and to provide feedback and support. Nothing you say will leave this room or be spoken about to anyone but you and I."

The room was stifling in a way that had nothing to do with ventilation. You could feel the waves of emotion coming off the man before you and you knew if you weren't smart about this you would drown in those violent waves. You held fast in your survey of his face but when his eyes finally locked to yours you felt yourself sink into the depths of his pain.

"You would not judge a murderer? Because that's what I am. No matter what Steve says..." the visual contact broke when he put his head down slightly. You felt yourself come up for air with a gasping breath and took a real breath when you finally realized you had forgone them for too long.

"You did not come here to be judged," you finally found yourself saying, "you may think that is all you will ever receive from people is judgment. But I think you came here because you know that can change. And you want it to change."

You had not felt this way in a long time, not since your first client after graduate school. The feeling that you were in over your head. This man would be high risk, oh yes, but the reward would be so much greater if you could succeed. This is why you became a therapist!

Your personal unearthing came to a halt when Bucky cleared his throat and rose from the couch. You checked the clock above him, something you hadn't done since he walked in, and were surprised to find it was precisely 7 am. Before you could join Bucky in standing he was out the door.

"Damn" you muttered. But with the troubled man gone from your office you could feel your chest settle back into place and your arms gain a steadiness they had been missing for the last hour. You thew away your now cold coffee and kicked off your shoes before throwing yourself gracelessly onto the couch Bucky just occupied. It would be another 2 hours before your next session and you were exhausted. And if you inhaled deeply into the pillow once cradled against the man's side who had to know?

He may be troubled but he smelled nice...and you really needed to get out more.

-

Thank you @wintersparker yet again for inspiring me!