moral orel | clay x reader

test drives of mental health

You woke up the next morning to an alarm you had apparently remembered to set before moving here. You got out of bed lazily, groaning tiredly.

You got ready for work, picking out an outfit, eating, and brushing your teeth. You were dressed and ready to go at 8:50am.

Ten minutes to get to work wasn't exactly the best. Yeah, you definitely noted to change your alarm to 8 instead of 8:30.

You got in your car and drove like a manic. Just kidding, you drove normally, just a bit faster.

...Which is basically maniac. Who cares, you got there in like 4 minutes anyway!

You walked out of your car, shutting and locking the driver's side door. You approached the front door to the bright, short building of the clinic.

Opening it and stepping in, you looked around. It was just like a modern doctor's office.

The person at the dark wooden desk looked up and smiled. "You must be Y/N, correct?" They asked in a cheery voice.

You nodded, grinning back. The waiting room was alright, rows of chairs and then the desk.

There was a clear door that led to the rest of the building, you guessed you'd be going past there soon. "Ah, you're ten minutes early!" They announced, standing up and walking over to you.

"Plenty of time to show you around," They smiled, their eye shining. They motioned for you to follow them to the front desk, and you did.

"This is the waiting room, but I'll be the receptionist," They said. "We have a laptop that I emailed you on, but we obviously can't have others seeing it."

"It would frighten and confuse them, you know?" They joked. Not expecting you to answer, they led you into the back.

"That room is where you'll take patients and do your thing," They informed, pointing to a nice room surrounded with blurry glass and blinds. Inside was a bookshelf, an armchair, and a normal comfy chair.

They pointed to another room, "And that's the break room, just for you and me." You hummed a positive response.

They took you back to the front and handed you a clipboard. "That has the information of all the clients that have signed up so far."

"You can write down any additional notes or improvements too on their sheets," They added. "Alright," You murmured.

"Oh, and I'm Kay Long, nice to meet you!" They said, outstretching an arm towards you for a handshake. "I'm Y/N L/N, but you already knew that," You laughed a little nervously.

"I go by she/her, by the way," She semi-cautiously told you. "Okay, I go by they/them!" You piped up.

She smiled, and work began. You waited next to her at the front desk, sitting in the same chair as her.

Eventually, that same man with the grey and brown hair showed up. Obviously anxious, he reluctantly walked over.

"Reverend Putty," He said, a little shaky. Kay nodded and motioned for you to take care of him.

You smiled and stood up. "Hello, Reverend! I'm Y/N, your new therapist."

"Please follow me," You said, leading him to the back where your area was. You sat down in the armchair and he sat down across from you in the other one.

You were familiar with the process and all, taking your separate sheets and other copies of the evaluation charts. You left the sheets in the clipboard, along with a pencil, and handed it to him.

"Go ahead and fill that out," You said, getting up to leave. He stayed silent, probably feeling very religiously shamed for coming to get therapy.

You went to the break room and made some coffee, yawning. It was still morning, but you were a little tired.

You finished the coffee, grabbed a snack, and walked back into the room. He handed you the clipboard and you sat down, taking a sip while reading it.

Heterosexual cisgender male, anxiety and depression symptoms, recently got back together with somebody named Florence? Apparently he has a daughter named Stephanie, never having known so until her mother was dying.

Weirdly, her mother and him were never in a relationship. Strange for somebody who probably preaches against sex before marriage, but not like you cared.

The rest of the pages seemed pretty depressing, but he actually seemed okay. "So, uh, Reverend, would you mind telling me why you came for therapy?" You asked, clearing your throat.

This man didn't really need it all that much, but there were still reasonings to explore. "My girlfriend, Florence, made me realize I was... narcissistic," He said, ashamed as he hung his head.

Your lips quirked into an amused smirk. "Well, I'm glad you came to terms with it," You started.

"Often, I find the best way to help others battle narcissism is to think before you speak, how do your words impact others?" You explained. He looked up, nodding along.

"Try to put yourself before others, but also be aware of yourself. It's okay to have a selfish mindset, as long as you don't hurt other people."

He seemed to understand, smiling. "Okay, I'll try?" The Reverend answered hopefully.

You grinned back, "Is that all?" He thought for a moment, and nodded.

"I don't have any problems with my daughter or anything, but I'll try to apply your words to my life," He said. You stood up and escorted him out the door happily, to the front desk.

You watched him make another appointment a month from now, to check up on how he's doing then. Kay stood up from the chair and gave you a brief high-five.

"So, I'm guessing it went well?" She asked, and your grin widened. "Yep!"

She laughed and beckoned for you to sit down. You both sat down at the front desk, contempt with your first work.

"Alright, so the next one coming in won't be for a while. We can have a break."