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hanoella · 3 years

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Affettuoso- With Feeling (Part 3)

Pairing: Bucky x Pianist!Reader

Set after the events of TFATWS: In an effort to start over and make a home in Louisiana, Bucky meets a friend of Sam’s who ends up being his landlord. With only a driveway to separate them, he finds that he’s not the only one looking for a fresh start.

Series tags/warnings: Slow Burn, Eventual Bucky x Reader, Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Canon Level Violence

Part 3 Word Count: 3k

A/N: Can you tell I don't really have a posting schedule? lol. I also introduced links to the specific pieces I had in mind. I'm using soundcloud because I don't think everyone has access to spotify. Trying to be reader friendly! This can be read with or without the audio, as I do my best to still convey the thought in the fic. Though if you can, I highly recommend :)

Thanks again for all your support! Every heart and comment motivates me and is just so wonderful

Read Part 1; Masterlist

---

A few days had passed since the night that Bucky had overheard your troubles. It had been quiet since, and you hadn’t left the house. The curtains were opened during the day and closed at night, the only telltale signs that you existed.

Doesn’t she have to work? Bucky thought to himself. He speculated all the different possibilities as he used the riding mower around the property. Maybe you were an heiress? You seemed pretty down to earth though. Or maybe you sold a patented idea for a ton of money. All this land had to have been expensive. And to not request actual money from him?

He eyed up the width of the gate for your fence. The riding mower couldn’t fit so he would have to use a push mower for your fenced off yard. He hadn’t seen one in the garage. Maybe the old shed at the back of your yard had one? Bucky parked the mower in the garage, taking a moment to make a mental list of everything. Depending on if he found anything in the shed, he might need to buy a few basic tools and a chainsaw for that fallen tree.

He walked out of the garage and over to the shed. The leaves were changing color and it brought a whole new atmosphere to the secluded forest area. Opening the gate of the weathered white fence, he looked around to see if you were out. No signs of life. Entering the yard and closing the gate behind him, he started walking to the back. Halfway through, he stopped at the fire pit. The grey stone blocks were starting to crumble, with a few of the bricks having fallen off. It would probably be really nice if he got a little bit of cement mix and filled in the gaps. Bucky made another mental note.

The shed had no padlock so he was able to open it with no problem. Amongst the cobwebs and bags of soil, was an older green push mower that looked like it might work. He gave the gas a pull and got no response back. Looking underneath, Bucky saw what might be the problem. He’d have to take a closer look later. Putting the lawn mower back onto its wheels, he pushed it across the yard, pausing when he saw movement though the glass doors of the back patio.

Craning his neck to avoid the glare, he saw you sitting at your fancy full keyboard. The way the piano was against the opposite wall, your back was to him. You had big over-ear headphones plugged into it, so he couldn’t hear the sound but he saw the flurry of keys being pressed down. Whatever you were playing, you played passionately. Hands and arms gracefully moved despite the speed at which they were moving. Enhanced hearing coming into play, he heard the muffled clicks of the fluttering keys. Suddenly, you pressed down forcefully, holding whatever chord you had struck as your shoulders gently relaxed. A deep breath. Arm creating a graceful arc as if you had studied ballet, you pressed gently on another chord. And another. Bucky counted three more times you did this before you let your hands gently fall from the keys to your lap. Several moments passed before slid the headphones off of your ears to sit wrapped around your neck. Another deep breath. This time as the breath escaped you, you stayed slouched, head tilting up to stare at nothing on the wall.

A buzz broke Bucky from his trance.

“Call me, new mission” The text from Sam on his home screen said.

He pocketed his phone, glancing through the glass one more time. There you still sat.

Unmoving.

---

The roar of the plane’s engine was just loud enough to drown out Bucky’s thoughts without being annoying. If it weren’t for the adrenaline of the recovery mission under the cover of nightfall, he probably would’ve been lulled to sleep. Beside him sat Sam, looking on his phone for the exact coordinates of the politician they had been sent to rescue.

“Here it is. I’m assuming there’s some sort of underground base since there are no heat signatures anywhere within the radius where he was taken. It should take us about ten more minutes before we’re directly over it.”

Bucky hummed in acknowledgement.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Earth to Bucky.”

“What does your friend do?” Bucky asked suddenly, sitting up straighter and turning towards him.

“… What?”

“What does she do? I’ve never seen her leave the house. Is she okay?”

“If you’re asking why she doesn’t leave the house, it’s because her contract doesn’t start for a while. She’s technically still supposed to be in physical therapy but she hasn’t found a place yet. You know, your whole routine gets messed up when you move.”

“For her shoulder?”

Now it was Sam’s turn to look at Bucky, trying to decipher the motive behind these questions. Bucky shifted his weight in the chair, antsy under the scrutiny.

“Never mind, I-”

“Yes, for her shoulder.” Sam said, cutting him off. He stopped himself from asking why Bucky wanted to know. There was an awkward pause before Bucky explained himself.

“I just wanted to know. I’m not used to seeing people so…”

“Similar to yourself?”

“I was gonna say isolated but fair point.” Bucky admitted. Sam leaned back in his chair, looking straight forward.

“She’s been through a lot… I know you heard some of it.”

Bucky blinked in surprise.

“I realized the window was open when I could hear you drive off.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s alright, it’s good that you know.” Sam said as he held up his hand to cut Bucky off.

“She’s just trying to get a fresh start. She’s in a raw emotional space and in the meantime is a little skittish. Just like someone else I know.” Sam jabbed his elbow into Bucky’s side as he enunciated the last sentence.

“Okay, okay, I get it. I’m trying!” He shouted as he held one hand up defensively and using the other to block the second jab Sam was trying to get in. Sam chuckled and then stood up, grabbing a parachute pack and tossing it at Bucky, who caught it without even looking.

“Figured you might wanna try an actual chute this time.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and mouthed Sam’s words mockingly with a grimace as he put the backpack on. Clipping it into place, he joined Sam at the side door of the plane.

“She used to play in an orchestra you know.” Sam said wistfully. “The piano. That’s actually how we met. She had volunteered to play a small concert before the dinner. It really helped raise a lot of money for the VA.”

Bucky stayed silent, prompting him to continue.

“Then that bastard she was engaged to beat her and then shoved her down a set of concrete steps when she tried to leave him. It was like a month after we all came back. She was in the hospital for a while. Broken ribs, broken shoulder, and a nasty concussion to boot. Neighbor saw the whole thing and called the cops but the courts were so backed up and the case fell through the cracks. Wouldn’t leave her alone after he got out. So, I pulled some strings and helped her move down here on the fly.”

“… That’s terrible.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say or how to react. They stood in silence, taking a moment to pay a respect of sorts to the trials you have been through. Then Sam broke the silence.

“She just needs time to heal in more ways than one. But she’s strong. Resilient.”

Putting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, he squeezed it lightly with reassurance.

“Reminds me of someone else I know.” Sam said, finishing the conversation and pulling his goggles over his eyes, giving Bucky the opportunity to take the compliment without feeling too on the spot.

Pulling the door open, Sam shouted over the wind.

“Ready?”

Bucky nodded. Sam jumped from the plane and deployed the wings, the shield shining in the moonlight. Bucky jumped right behind him, using the glint of the silver star to guide his descent as he followed the man that gave the shield its meaning.

---

You laid with your head down on the kitchen table, letting the last golden rays of sun warm the side of your face. You were exhausted from going to physical therapy, especially since today had been the first appointment. All the measurements, all the exercises, all the stretching.

All the questions.

“So, how did you break your shoulder?” the young blonde physical therapist asked.

“Ah, I… fell down some stairs.” You said, looking down at your hands in your lap.

She didn’t look up from the papers, instead just raising an eyebrow.

“You also cracked some ribs and had a concussion?”

“… They were concrete.”

She looked up from the papers at you, analyzing. Her gaze softened and she asked no further questions on how these serious injuries had been obtained.

“Let’s look at your range of motion.”

You had practically stumbled into the house, kicking off your sneakers and plopping down at the kitchen table. Minutes passed by as you regained your breath, heartbeat steadying. The house was slightly cold since you had turned the heat down this morning. As your sweat cooled, you wrapped your arms around your legs in an attempt to keep you warm without getting up.

The sun feels so warm… You thought to yourself drowsily, feeling slightly less lonely. The sun was a cheap substitute for the warmth of a partner…

---

You jolted upright, the kitchen dark and cold. Neck and shoulder stiff from the awkward position you had dozed off in. Feeling the dryness of your mouth, you got up, stretching your neck gently while you walked to the fridge to get water. Chugging about half the bottle, you squinted at the clock. You had been asleep for about forty-five minutes. Groaning, you put the bottle down on the counter and walked into the living room to close the curtains. Grabbing one in each hand, you went to pull them together when you hesitated, noticing that Bucky’s apartment was dark for the third day in a row. The sleek motorbike that was usually parked under the slight overhang of the garage was missing as well.

He was probably on a mission, right? Not that it was any of your business. You shut the curtains and turned off the lights before lightly padded down the hall, stopping to adjust the thermostat. The heat kicked on, sending a puff of cold air your way. You shivered as you walked with a quickened pace to your room, shutting the door and heading into the master bathroom, turning the hot water on with just a tad of cold.

Waiting for the shower to warm up, you leaned over the sink and looked into the mirror. Dark circles under your eyes. Small scar on the bridge of your nose. Running your hand through the roots of your hair, you felt for the scar where the stitches had been. When was the last time you had a haircut? Or put on some makeup?

Some higher being must’ve felt pity for you since the steam from the shower fogged the glass, preventing you from tearing yourself apart any further. Stepping underneath the warm stream, you let the warmth seep into your muscles, then bones, filling every fracture and break with a temporary sense of wholeness until the emptiness of your heart and home caused it slowly to drip out until it, along with you, was gone.

---

The next morning, you weren’t motivated to do anything. You lounged around the house, sipping on coffee and browsing on your phone for furniture, clothes, even sneaking a peak at some pianos. Wanting to invest in one you’d use for the next several decades, you had put off buying one until the money from your contract with the orchestra started in a month. You were still well off, nowhere near struggling and probably wouldn’t ever be unless you decided to buy a mansion (which was a no). You just wanted to be careful.

In the afternoon, you popped a pain killer and muscle relaxer in preparation for the few hours you wanted to practice. Thirty minutes went by and the ever-present ache in your shoulder calmed enough to let you practice with relative peace. Sitting on the bench in front of the keyboard, you pondered what you might play to warm up.

Hmm, maybe a Chopin prelude? Short, emotional, familiar.

Your left hand held the soft deep chords as your right hand softly flitted around the higher notes. Breathing in and out with the music, you tried to ignore the ache that start to surround your shoulder.

Playing the last few notes, you paused before reaching over to the bottle of painkillers.

---

Shortly after finishing up, you dragged a small table outside next to the wooden bench swing that was hanging on the porch. Bundled up in a soft sweatshirt, long-sleeve shirt, wool lined leggings, fuzzy socks and slippers, you brought out your hot tea, several blankets, a pillow, and a book you had been meaning to read for months. You were determined to do something besides practice, watch TV, and scroll on your phone.

You settled onto the bench, wrapping the blanket around you, nice and toasty from the layers trapping in the heat of a thorough practice session. The extra medication had really helped keep the pain at bay. Tentatively sipping the steaming cup, you closed your eyes to further appreciate the sweet tones of peach and honey. Setting the cup in your lap with one hand, you used your other hand to flip open to the first page.

---

Bucky hadn’t expected the mission to get so complicated. Finding the base was one thing, navigating in and out of the expansive maze was another. It took a few days to successfully get the target out and back to the embassy. He hadn’t properly slept during that time due to taking shifts with Sam. Not that it was any different from how he slept at home.

The sun was letting its last few rays bless the earth when he turned onto the driveway. Taking it easy on the gravel, he eased his posture and slowed the bike. He put pressure on the brakes as he made it past the final wall of trees that hid the water that was reflecting the last bit of color left in the sky. Rolling casually into a stop, he parked and let out a deep breath, shoulders sinking.

A stray bird calling out turned his attention in the direction of your house. The porch light was on. That’s new, he thought. Squinting his eyes, he saw a bundle on the porch swing. Was that you? Quietly walking over while taking his leather gloves off, he confirmed his suspicions. There you were, lying on your side propped up by a large fuzzy pillow. Eyes closed and breathing rhythmically. Scanning the scene, he noticed the mug on the side table, empty except for the used teabag. Your book was closed, the page you were on marked by one of your fingers. You must’ve fallen asleep while reading.

“Hey…” Bucky said gently. No response besides a small nose scrunch.

He repeated himself a little louder, squatting to be at eye level while gently setting his hand on your arm and shaking you lightly. You groaned this time, eyes fluttering open, taking a moment to focus. You squinted and pushed yourself up into a sitting position, losing your place in the book and attempting to blink the heavy drowsiness from your eyes.

“Bucky?” You questioned hoarsely as you met his eyes. He was still crouching so you were looking slightly down at him. Brow furrowed, you searched the blue of his eyes before looking around to see how dark it had gotten. As you turned your head back to him, he stood back up, scratching the back of his neck just to occupy his hands.

“It’s starting to get cold. I didn’t want you to spend the rest of the night out here.” He explained, choosing to look out at the water, now dark. When he turned his head back, you had also turned your head to look at the water, exposing the side of your neck, the tendons and clavicle accentuated by the strain. Bucky swallowed and your eyes met his, oblivious.

“Ah, thank you. I must’ve fallen asleep reading. I just started going back to physical therapy so I’ve just been so wiped… Anyway,” you said, dismissing yourself mid-thought. He didn’t want to hear about all that. “…did you just come back from a mission?” You eyed the diagonal cuts of leather on his jacket, noting the missing sleeve that exposed the glint of the metal.

“Yeah. I was gone for a few days.”

“Okay. I’m glad you’re home safe.” You mindlessly said, picking up the book and other various items strewn about.

Home safe. What an unfamiliar phrase.

As the words echoed in his mind, you had opened the door and stepped in, turning your head slightly to look back at him.

“Thanks again… Good night.”

“Good night.” Bucky replied, watching as you shut the door softly behind you.

Slowly walking down the porch steps, he crossed the driveway to the garage. Turning his head just in time to see the last light turn off in your house, he stood with his hand on the knob, meditating on the effect that one short sentence had on him.

Glad you’re home safe. Was this what it was like when you had someone waiting on you at home? The tired eyes and gentle smile. Would that be what it was like when he came home in the middle of a night from a mission when he had someone to share a bed with? Gently shaking them to let them know he was home? Or would he try to sneak into bed without waking them? He tried to imagine what that sort of intimacy would be like as he entered his apartment and then his room. Unzipping his jacket and tossing it over a chair, he stripped down to his boxer briefs and climbed into bed, wondering what it would be like if it was already warm.

#bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky imagine #SoundCloud

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dalamjisung · 4 years

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let’s get physical ❃ jackson wang

word count: 8064

genre: hospital!au, fluff

pairing: physical therapist!jackson x fighter!reader

description: things are not all that great; how do you tell that to the person that’s only seen you smiling? or the one in which you are a professional MMA fighter and Jackson happens to be your escape from everything.

“One more, let’s go!” Coach shouts and holds the punching bag more firmly. “Don’t stop now, Y/N, just one more minute!”

You gather all the energy left in your body, punching and kicking to your heart’s content. You’ve been training for the past three hours, as you usually do; you’ve been at this routine for years now, since your debut as an MMA fighter. Wake up, train, go home, train some more, sleep, and do it all over again. You had nothing to complain, really– still undefeated, you were the most feared opponent in the octagon.

“And… time!” You finish with a roundhouse kick and allow your body to fall on the mat, breathing harsh and fast. “Come on, go take a shower and ice your muscles. You know better than to wait too long.”

“Yes, Coach!” You shout animatedly, excited to go home and get some sleep.

“And don’t forget that instead of training, you have physical therapy tomorrow!” He says while packing things up. “We need to get that knee back to perfection before the match in the end of the month.”

You nod and run to the dressing room, gathering your things before Coach changes his mind and makes you stay for extra stretching. It was rare for him to be so forgiving of your free time, but ever since you took a kick to the knee that sent you to the hospital, Coach has been taking it easier on you– the fact that you were going home at all was proof enough.

As always, you sleep like a rock, your body and your mind too tired to even dare and keep you awake. After a warm shower, your eyes basically close on their own and, as per usual, you don’t even climb into your bed, content with just laying on a comfy mattress on top of your blankets. It usually ends up with you cold and sneezing the next morning, but it’s nothing some warm coffee couldn’t fix. You make sure your mug is heated with hot water so that it will not interfere with your precious and much needed body heat. You have just enough time to eat some toast and throw a hoodie over your leggings, grabbing your wallet and prescription glasses on the way. Listening to music while walking, you make your way to the clinic, ready for the pain you know is about to come. The hit had been quite hard and they couldn’t do much at the time besides prescribe you a lot of physical therapy and some pain medicine; the attending physician had been a resident and not really sure of what he was doing, yet you still smiled and thanked him for his hard work, going home dejected.

“Y/N!” You hear someone shout excitingly. You look to the side to see Jackson coming out of the bathroom, smiling widely. “Back for more?”

You laugh. You met Jackson when you started getting medical attention for your knee, a few months ago; coincidently, he was also receiving physical therapy. According to him, he hurt his shoulder while fencing and that made his job a little hard– but that is the extend of what you know about this man. He is a chatterbox, that is undeniable, but it never gets personal– on either sides. He knows your name and that you hurt yourself training, but he doesn’t know what you were training or when it happened… you refer to him as your physical therapy friend.

“I just couldn’t stay away for too long,” You wink at him, ignoring the fact that you looked as if you had just woken up. “I missed you too much.”

“Careful or I might just fall in love with you,” He chuckles and you two walk to the resting area.

The physical therapy room is basically a huge room with multiple beds and equipments, and somehow, you and Jackson always end up side by side. The instructors chat with you two and although you follow instructions to the letter, Jackson seems to have a mind of his own, moving freely in the room and using the equipments he seems to like. You look at your own instructor and he just shrugs, continuing to guide you through the exercise for your knee. An hour later you are done and ready to go home, knowing that today Coach wouldn’t bother your for the rest of the day.

“Y/N!” Your instructor calls. “Your knee is really improving! I’m happy with the results today.”

“Ah, that’s so good to hear,” You sigh, relived. “I have a match in the end of the month and I hope to be all healed up by then.”

“I’m sure we can make it happen!” He high fives you. “Don’t forget to get us tickets for your big comeback!”

“I won’t!” You smile and make your way outside. It is still cold but now there is a light drizzle that makes you shiver a bit, the noise almost lulling you to sleep.

“What match?” Jackson asks, and you notice he’s been outside, waiting by the door.

“Nothing too important,” You lie, chuckling a bit. “Have you been waiting for me, Jacks?”

“Oh, yeah,” He smiles wide, but it still doesn’t hide the blush that covers his cheeks. “I was thinking you might want to join me for some coffee? I don’t have work for another couple of hours, so…”

“Careful,” You joke, throwing his previous words back at him. “ Or I might just think you’ve fallen for me, already.”

He just rolls his eyes and starts walking.

————————

“What you want?” Jackson asks looking at the pastries a little bit too seriously. He frowns and examines each one.

“Just a latte,” You say, not really hungry for anything yet.

“You have to eat something,” He chastises and you just stare at him as he confidently walks up to the counter, skipping the long line forming and screams the order. “One latte, one Americano, and two chocolate scones, please!”

“How many times do I have to tell you to get in line, Jackson?” The barista yells back, but getting his things ready nonetheless.

“What is the point of you dating one of my best friends if not for me to have the privilege to skip the line?” He dramatically says, laughing at her face. “And you know I don’t have much time, so let’s go!”

“I’m going to tell on you!” She laughs. “Jaebeom won’t be happy about you treating his girlfriend like this!”

“He loved me first,” Jackson winks and grabs his stuff. “But it on Jaebeom’s tab, please and thank you!

You manage to get a table and you just observe the show that Jackson puts on for the other people; he seems to enjoy the attention more than you’ll ever be comfortable with, no matter how many people watch you fight, it always made you uncomfortable. Once he makes his way back, eyes follow him– men laughing at his antics, girl commenting on his good looks… and you had to admit, Jackson is really handsome, although you think he is particularly attractive when he’s being silly and making you laugh. You aren’t blind– nor stupid. You know Jackson’s flirty jokes aren’t just jokes. You feel the tension as much as he does, but you know better than to cross that line– the line in which you know what he does and he knows what you do and he’s always on edge about you getting hurt and you’re always on edge about him breaking up with you once you chose your career over him– even though you really, really want to. You might be mirroring your past relationships on him, but it’s what you’ve always known. People don’t take MMA seriously enough; it’s either not a real job, or too dangerous of a job. There is no in between.

“Here you go,” He smiles, sitting in front of you.

“Thank you,” You say, taking a sip of what you just decided to be the best coffee of your life. “This is amazing!”

“I know,” He chuckles. “I’m always here when I’m not at work– my best friend’s grandmother owns the place and his girlfriend manages it. Those two will give Jaebeom gray hair sooner than we expected, but he deserves it.”

“They’re a handful?” You try to guess, giggling at the face he makes.

“Ms. Im completely ignores our medical advice and believes herself to be invincible… she is 82,” He deadpans and you completely miss the our medical advice part. “And his girlfriend, although always being there for him and honestly being one of the kindest people I know, always puts him in his place. It’s quite hilarious to watch; one day he gave her some attitude because of a bad thing that happened at work and she didn’t talk to him for five days. He was on his knees by the end of the week.”

“Oh damn,” You say, eyes wide. The girl behind the counter looks so sweet… it’s incredible what you find out about people once you actually get to know them. “I would’ve never guessed it, just by looking at her.”

“Oh, she’s crazy,” Jackson says with the utmost calm in his voice and you almost choke on your drink. “But we love her, so it’s okay.”

“What have I gotten myself into?” You mutter to yourself, looking at the man in front of you.

Jackson always looks so composed, everything he wears fitting him just right, everything he does looking just right, everything he touches being just right– and then he starts talking. And that’s the Jackson you know and adore; the one that says stupid things without a care in the world, the one that doesn’t look so damn perfect all the time. You think that you only see him that way because you barely know him, but got to know a version of him in which he’s comfortable and easy going.

“So,” He says, leaning a bit on the table. “Tell me more about how you messed up that pretty knee of yours.”

“Pretty knee?” You laugh, head thrown back and all. “Let me guess, you’re into knees?”

“That’s a talk for another time,” His eyes are intense and heavy on you, and you gulp, suddenly feeling hotter and hotter by the second.

“I– uh, I m-messed up at work,” You stutter out, blushing under his knowing smirk. “And here I am.”

“What do you work with?” He asks, sounding genuinely interested. “You never talk about it.”

“Neither do you,” You say defensively, managing to deflect the question towards him. “What do you work with, you mysterious man?”

“I’m actually a–“

“Jackson!” The barista shouts, extending her arm over the counter while holding her phone. “It’s Jaebeom; he’s saying it’s urgent!”

Without a word, Jackson sprints to the phone, attentively listening to the person on the other side, and after a few nods and ‘of course,’ he is walking back to you with a look you’ve never seen before on his face.

“I am really sorry, Y/N,” He smiles sadly, shoulders tense and forehead frowning. “I have to go, it’s urgent, but… can I see you again? Outside of the clinic?”

You are at a loss of words. To say you did not expect him to do this now would be an understatement– you didn’t expect him to do this ever. And you want to tell him that; you want to tell him no and explain that you don’t have the time nor the emotional stability to do that now, but you find yourself nodding, and then you find yourself typing your number on his phone, and then you find yourself alone, because in the end you always seem to find yourself alone.

————————

Coach is screaming behind you, hyping you up for another three minutes. A round lasts for five minutes, with one-minute breaks in between, but Coach always said you should be conditioned to fight for six minutes with thirty-second breaks in between. Better to be over prepared than to be under attack, he always said, and you always laughed with fond memories of the first time you heard him say that, when you still thought you could argue that his logic was flawed and that since you are a professional fighter, your job is basically being under attack.

“Let’s go, Y/N!” He shouts and you huff, a headache creeping in on you, and you know it will make you suffer later in the night. “Come on, Y/N, stronger! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

“Argh!” You shout, falling down at the sound of the buzzer. “Goddammit!”

You hear Coach sigh. “What’s happening, kid?”

“Nothing…” You mutter, not wanting to admit it. You refused to.

“You seem to forget you can’t lie to me,” Coach laughs humorlessly. “I raised you since middle school; now let’s try again: what’s happening?”

And he’s right. Coach, also known as Hwang Jisung, had been your Physical Education teacher back in middle school, where he saw potential where everyone saw trouble. Because home had always been hectic, school was the place your aggression was misplaced, since it was a place in which aggression wasn’t a part of. Your mother left before you were old enough to even remember her face, and you father took alcohol as crutch, relying on it to get by, and even though you think he’s raised you well and the best way he could, Coach took the paternal role in your life after he saw you punching a kid in the face for speaking ill about your dad. Nowadays, your dad is doing better, having been sober for a couple of years, but Coach never left. And you are extremely thankful for it and him.

In the end, you tell all. You tell him about Jackson and about the growing tension in between you two, and about how you’re scared– scared that you’ll end up like you did after your last breakup, crying and angry for weeks. You are scared to be fooled again; and scared to fool him. But most of all, you are scared to put effort into something that will never have a future.

“I can’t do it again, Coach,” You mumble, stretching your hands above your head. “I can’t waste my time and energy like that ever again– not when I’m this close to the belt.”

“Sure,” Coach shrugs. “I hear you, kid, and I am happy to hear that dedication of yours… but also remember that you have a life outside the ring. You seem to forget that a lot, and it scares me, because if something happens and you have to stop fighting, I want you to have something to go back to.”

You nod, letting his words sink. Did you have something to go back to, besides an empty apartment with a bed neatly made?

No. You don’t think you did.

————————

Pick you up at 7.

That’s the last you hear from Jackson, a week after he left you at the coffee shop. In between practicing and shamelessly flirting at the physical therapy clinic, you two haven’t actually found a good time to go out, always missing each other by minutes. But tonight is the night, and there you are, in your living room, nervously pacing from one side to the other. The dress feels weird in your body; it’s been a while since you got dressed to look good, instead of just getting dress to practice. It felt good and odd at the same time– almost like a break from routine.

I’m here.

You take a deep breath and go to the elevator, impatiently waiting for it to get to your floor, and then back to the lobby, where you can see him and oh god he looks perfect– he looks literally flawless, what the actual fuck. Jackson is leaning on his car, white tshirt contrasting with his blue jeans, and he looks so good that you might just go back home and give up on all of this. But you can’t, because he sees you and then he’s not perfect anymore, because his eyes look like they are about to jump out of his face, like in a cartoon, and his incredulous laugh is a little too loud, and suddenly he is doubling over the car.

“You look too beautiful,” He breathes out, eyes sparkling a bit. “I can’t handle it.”

“Ya, you scared the shit out of me!” You shout, laughing. “I thought something was wrong!”

“If anything,” He says opening the car door for you. “Everything is just right.”

You blush and the date starts. It’s almost like following a script; you laugh at something he says, you flirt, you flirt some more, joke around, and everything is good. Jackson spills some wine on his shirt and instead of being embarrassed, he laughs it off and asks if you’re less nervous now.

“I fucked up already,” He explains, looking at you seriously, although you catch the mischievous glint in his eyes. “That means you have a Fuck Up Pass that can be used at any time.”

“That’s barely a fuck up,” You snort, pointing at the tiny stain. “But I’m not stupid– I’m taking that pass.”

“Planning on fucking up?” He laughs, finishing his cup. “You took the pass a bit too eagerly…”

“I just know myself,” Eyes down on your hands, the same hands that are too close to his, you admit. “I always end up fucking something up.”

“Oh,” He says dramatically, eyes moving to where yours look. He moves his hands on tops of yours and you cannot help but notice that no one ever held your hands like that before… this gently. “I can’t wait for it.”

Dinner goes by smoothly after that; Jackson keeps making jokes, and even decides to take a romantic stroll in the night market, under the excuse that he was still hungry. He buys both of you spicy tteokbokki and some chocolate filled bungeoppang, humming happily as you two walk hand in hand. You learn a lot about him, then; he has an older brother and a nice, whom he loves dearly, and before committing to medical school, because now you know he’s a doctor, he was on the path to be an olympic fencer. Jackson loves singing and dancing and he even demonstrates it, belting out to some random lyrics.

“What about you?” He asks, pulling you closer by the shoulder. The night market’s noise stay behind you as you walk in the direction of your apartment. “You know about my family, my job, my friends. I still know pretty much nothing about you.”

And this is the moment you hate the most in any date you’ve been. The moment you have to chose– do you want to tell him about your job, the one that includes punching people out of conscience? Or do you want to tell him about your chaotic childhood and the man you consider to be your father? Or, better yet, you could tell him about your failed past relationships that traumatized you for what you believe will be the rest of your life, making you insecure and afraid of yourself…

“There’s not much to say,” You shrug instead. “I’m not nearly as interesting as you.”

He laughs, but you know he’s not convinced. You two stop in front of your building and you ask him if he wants to come up for tea, and when he says yes, and walks in your apartment, and kisses you passionately, you know that sooner or later the things you hide will come out. But then he pushes you to your room and you think later might be a better time, anyways.

————————

The rain is not what wakes you up; but Jackson is. His arms, hidden under the covers you never use, are heavy around you and the weight, unfamiliar and too warm, make you wiggle in discomfort. Slightly throwing his arm to the other side, you hold a giggle as he groans, rolling to his side and allowing you to hug him instead; your leg finding a place to slot itself in-between his and your arm hugging his naked waist. You rest your forehead on his back and exhale in relief, finally comfortable… and then a phone ring. You are not sure if it’s yours or his, but he is the one that picks up, so you assume it’s not for you.

“What?” He groggily asks, hoarse voice doing things to your awakening body. “What?!”

Jackson shots up, and you almost roll out of the bed with the suddenness of it all.

“No, no no no, I’ll be there in fifteen!” He shouts, jumping around as he pulled his underwear up, looking for his pants next. “For fuck’s sake Jinyoung, cover for me just this time! I’ll be there soon, bye!”

“Is everything okay?” You ask, letting your head hit the pillow. Without his bodily warmth, the covers that miraculously cover your naked body offer you just the right amount of heat to lull you back to sleep.

“Yeah,” He hurriedly says. “I’m really sorry this is happening, oh my god, I completely overslept and it’s already 11 in the morning and work–“

“It’s what?!”

It takes only a few seconds for you to join him in the search for clothes, naked bodies brushing each other as you pass by him to reach your underwear. He gives you your t-shirt and you give him his jacket, and like that, you both get ready in record time, running out the door and to opposite directions, a wave as the only parting goodbye. You can only imagine what you looked like, running for your life to the gym, hoping that Coach won’t kill you for being three hours late. You know you are fucked as soon as you walk in and see him throwing punches in the bag.

“Coach–“

“One week until your comeback match,” He growls. “And you are slacking off?”

You expected this.

“I told you to get a life outside the ring, Y/N,” Coach says walking to you. “Not to replace it.”

“Sorry, Coach,” You mumble, frowning. “It won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” He grumbles. “Go stretch. You’re training an extra three hours for the time you made me wait.”

Well, this you didn’t expect.

“Did you eat?” He asks, already putting his jacket on. “You look like you just rolled out of bed…”

“I didn’t, Coach, sorry…” You look at him sheepishly, embarrassed with yourself. You were trained better than that.

“I’ll go grab something,” He says. “I want you fully stretched by the time I come back.”

To say that training was ruthless is an understatement. By the end of the six hours of stretching, and cardio, and weights, you could barely move. You were physically and mentally exhausted, and you just wanted to sit down and cry a little bit. You felt embarrassed and disappointed in yourself– losing track of the time because Jackson spent the night, what a ridiculous excuse; you were better then to let a crush take over you like that. You were also extremely confused and upset, knowing that he opened up to you, he managed to do it even though it probably wasn’t easy, and you can barely talk abut your family. You can’t talk about your friends because you don’t have many to begin with, and you refused to talk about your job, knowing what follows after. Aggressive. Heartless. Impulsive. Although you know better, it is almost impossible to ignore those words that hit you harder than any opponent you’ve faced in the octagon.

You think that after last night, you’d die if Jackson looked at your hands the way most people do; they are not weapons, you want to scream at people. They won’t hurt you! You still remember the way your ex-boyfriend flinched when you reached out to touch him during a fight. It’s not my fault, he told you; you hurt everyone you touch. You didn’t want to hurt Jackson; ever. Last night had been incredible– he reminded you of everything you seemed to have forgotten, everything that had been taken away from you. He treated you like a woman– he cared for you not because he thought you needed it, but because he wanted to… you could see it in his eyes as he held your hand when you were walking down the stairs, or the way he would hold the door for you. He didn’t regard you as incapable, but as independent. He didn’t see you as weak, but as precious. You could still feel the warm touch of his hands on yours, and you can’t help but want more. You want to feel like that forever.

But you can’t. Reality grounds you again when Coach starts going over your schedule for the next day; physical therapy, rest, train. You nod, promising to never be late again, and you begrudgingly move to get your things, body aching and tired. You finally have the chance to look at your phone, after six hours, and you see the five missed calls and numerous texts from Jackson; you call him immediately.

“Hello?” You say. “Jackson? Is everything okay?”

“Y/N! Hey,” He sounds relived, almost. “I’m so sorry if I freaked you out, but I forgot my wallet in your apartment and I just got out of an appointment… I was wondering if I could go pick it up?”

“Ah,” You hope you don’t sounds as disappointed as you feel, expecting him to say something more meaningful than that. Dream on, Y/N, you mock yourself internally. “I can take it to you, no problem. Text me your work address?”

“Oh, thank you so much,” He sighs, and you hear someone calling his name in the background. “See you soon!”

Dejected, you walk back to your place and you know exactly where his wallet in– sitting on the bedside table, where he left after he grabbed the condom.

“Come on, Y/N,” You say to yourself. “Stop acting like a fool. It was one night… just one night.”

You take a taxi to the address he sent you because you are too tired to walk. It takes only a few minutes and you are surprised to see the hospital, big and mighty in front of you. You knew he works as a doctor, but you were expecting something more like a private clinic. You walk in, knowing the place already, and you go to the reception desk.

“Excuse me,” You say with a tight smile. “I’m looking for Dr. Jackson Wang?”

“Do you have an appointment?” She smiles wide, and you shake your head. “I think he is booked for the night, ma’am, but I’m sure we can find a–“

“Oh, no need,” You shake your head. “I’m just here to give his wallet back…”

“Ah, I see,” She smiles. “You can leave it with me and I’ll make sure he gets it.”

“If it’s no problem I’d like to give it to him myself,” You ask, blushing a little.

“I can call him for you, if you’d like, but this is not the first time someone drops his things with us,” She smiles understandingly, chuckling a little. “Dr. Wang is a very forgetful person.”

“I see,” Your shoulder tense up. So this is not unusual for him, I guess. “I’ll wait over there.”

You sit down in the main entrance, and you look around; families waiting for their sons, or daughter, or fathers, or mothers; boyfriends, girlfriends, spouses. You wonder what it’s like having a family member waiting for you, ready to embrace you after a consultation or a surgery… only Coach waited for you; but then again, Coach is family.

“Ah, thank god you’re here,” You hear someone saying next to you, and you turn to see the girl that works in the bakery Jackson took you. She is smiling, arms open to a man with blue scrubs. He drowns in her, closing his eyes and relaxing his shoulders, seeming to find comfort in her. “It’s been a hard day.”

“I’m sure it has, love,” She says back, and you can’t help but feel guilty to eavesdrop such an intimate moment… you also couldn’t help but feel jealous; who would embrace you like that after a match? “But it’s alright, cause tomorrow is your day off and I made you some chocolate scones. Taehyung-ie is really excited for you to sleep over to–“

“Y/N!”

Interrupting the moment, you see Jackson running to you with a huge smile on his face, and you have to reprimand yourself, remembering the nurse’s words; it’s not the first time someone drops his things here, you think, smiling back. Don’t be a fool.

“Thank you so much for bringing it to me,” And Jackson, as always, does the unexpected, pulling you into a tight hug. You freeze for a few seconds, before allowing yourself to mold your body to his, feeling, for the first time, comfortably small. “Do you want to come up? I have some time before my next appointment and I just picked up some food… you didn’t eat yet, did you?”

“No, not yet but–“

“Good!” And he pulls you by the hand, surprising everyone around. You see the nurse that talked to you before and even she looks shocked; you can’t help but smile to yourself.

I’m going to allow myself to be a fool, you think, following him to his office. Just for tonight, I’m going to let myself enjoy this.

You are lying to yourself and you know it, but you don’t care. Not when Jackson sits you down on the couch in his office room, and pushes the food towards you, nagging you in the most caring of ways to eat and relax a bit.

“You look extremely tense,” He scoffs. “Do I make you that nervous?”

“N-not at all,” You smile, tightly. “I just wasn’t expecting this…”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you have plans?” He frowns softly, and a wave of guilt washes over you. He looks like a puppy!

“No!” You basically shout. “No plans. This is great, thanks Jacks.”

“So,” He starts, looking at you intently. “You still haven’t told me about yourself…”

“What about me?” And you are tense again, but this time it’s different. You recognize this kind of tension easily– it’s the same as you feel whenever you step into the ring. This is not a fight, you have to remind yourself, trying to escape the defensive mindset. Get it together, Y/N! “I told you I’m not that interesting–“

“Anything about you,” He sighs, and you know he’s frustrated with you. “Literally anything; your dreams, hopes, fears. Work, family, friends. Whatever you want to tell me, but tell me something.”

“Jackson…”

“I don’t want to push you,” He mumbles, letting his head fall on his hands, and he looks so tired. His eyes look oddly dead and sunken, and you just want to embrace him, care for him, but you don’t. You don’t dare to touch him when he’s already that fragile, afraid to break him, too. “But I’ve been trying to crack you for months, and I thought that when you agreed to go out with me it meant something– that you liked me too, hopefully. But you don’t open up. We had sex and I don’t even know where you ran to the next morning, Y/N…”

“It’s not easy, Jackson,” You say a little harsher than you intended.

“It’s not easy for me, either,” He defends himself, leaning back in the couch. “It’s so fucking hard but I did it for you!”

“Why?” You asks, frowning. “If it’s so hard, why would you do it?”

“Because I like you,” He says, softly looking at you. “I’ve liked you for so long now, and I’m so confused… sometimes I think you like me too, and sometimes I think you’re just seeing where this goes.”

“What?”

“You don’t talk to me,” Jackson sounds so defeated, and it’s all your fault. “What am I supposed to think?”

“That I like you too!” You shout, getting up and putting your jacket. “I’d never string you along, Jackson. I’m not that kind of person!”

“I don’t know what kind of person you are!” He cries out and out of everything you’ve heard, this is the one that hurts the most. “You never showed me! You never allowed me to see you!”

And you know he is right. You know he tried his best to be patient with you, to find out more about you, to respect your privacy, but in the end, he is right. You never showed yourself to him. He saw you naked, but you never laid yourself bare, and you are not sure you ever could.

“I’m sorry,” You choke out, taking a few steps back. “I’m really sorry Jackson, I- I got to go.”

“Y/N, no,” He reaches out for you, but you are out of there before he can even register it.

The ride back home feels much shorter than before and you are thankful; you couldn’t burst out crying in the back of a taxi… you wouldn’t. Once you are home, however, you cry from the front door to your room, allowing yourself to feel like you behaved before– a pice of shit. Screaming at him and then running away were the stupidest decisions you’ve ever made; you don’t think you’ll be able to forget the look in his eyes as you opened the door. Sad, defeated, exhausted.

Maybe this is for the better, you try to console yourself. Maybe I’m saving him the energy… dealing with me can’t be easy. He’s already busy with his patients, so yeah, maybe I’m helping him, after all.

You repeat that like a mantra, and for what feels like the first time ever since you moved into your apartment, you pull the messy covers back, and climb onto your bed, hoping that the weight the blankets offer would replace the comfort of having his body next to you.

It doesn’t and you barely sleep.

————————

The week flies by and you don’t see Jackson at the clinic. Your chest contracts when thinking of him skipping on his health because of how uncomfortable you made him, and you even text him– saying he can’t miss physical therapy because of you and that you’ll change your appointment date if he prefers, but he never answers and you give up. With the increase in training, you also barely have time to think about it, but when you do, it hits you like a freight train; knocking the air out of your lungs and the sleep out of your body.

“Focus!” Coach shouts, and you try; you really try to focus your eyes on the bag but it moves to fast and you miss it. “Goddammit Y/N… what happened? You were on top of your game yesterday!”

“I couldn’t sleep,” You mumble, frowning and giving yourself a few taps on the head, hoping that it would wake you up. “I’m so tired…”

“Okay, we’re ending it here,” He sighs. “The match is tomorrow… are you sure you’re ready for it?”

“Yes,” You answer mechanically. “Yes, Coach.”

“Okay,” He nods, frowning. “Come on, I’ll give you a rise home after dinner.”

He orders your favorite and you two eat in silence, enjoying each other’s company as much as you could, feeling the tension slowly leave your body and make way for nervousness. You haven’t faced an opponent in a while– you are sure how this will go.

“What happened to the boy?” Coach ask as he drinks his water. “You don’t talk about him anymore… I was excited to meet my future son-in-law!”

“Ha ha,” You say emotionless. “It didn’t work out.”

“How so?”

“Since when are you so invested in my love life, Coach?” You ask, squinting at him.

“Since you got one,” He shrugs. “You looked really happy, that’s all.”

“I was,” You whisper. “But it would never work out. He started asking too many questions that I didn’t have answers for.”

“Like what?” Coach nags. “You’re one of the smartest people I know; you have an answer for everything!”

“He asked about dad,” You say, too quick to even process what is about to come out of your mouth. “He asked about my life– my family, my job, myself. I can’t answer those, Coach, you know I can’t.”

Coach just nods, looking at his hands. “Do you trust him?”

“With my life,” You joke, thinking of him in his scrubs. “He’s a doctor…”

“Huh, so his schedule would fit well with yours,” Coach smiles slightly.

“Coach, don’t say that,” You beg. “It hurts. Having hope hurts.”

“You trust him with your life, but not with yourself,” Coach sighs. “What am I going to do with you, kid? You can’t shut everyone out like that. One day, I’ll be gone, and who will take care of you, huh? Who will watch after my little girl?”

You have tears in your eyes.

“Y/N, he makes you happy,” Coach grabs your hands, warming the up in between his. “Listen to this old man, will you? You don’t meet a lot of those– people that make you happy. He wants to know more about you because he cares… or else he wouldn’t even have asked. You’ve took punch after punch, in this life, I know that better than anyone, but maybe he can help you heal.”

“I don’t think I’m capable of healing, Coach,” You say in between sobs. “But I really want to. Oh god, I want to.”

“You’ll get there,” He brings you closer and hugs you. “I know you will. Now let’s go home; you need to sleep for tomorrow.”

The night is quick and so is the day, and soon it’s time; you are backstage getting ready and warming up. It’s time for your comeback. Coach is next to you, counting as you jump rope, voice calm and smooth and you smile at him. This man has given you everything; you aren’t failing him now.

“Let’s go!” Someone calls from outside the door and almost as if something inside of you switches, you are moving, and moving, and moving until you are at the octagon.

Your opponent is on the other side, jumping up and down and she tries to look threatening, teeth showing through the mouthguard and fists tight, but you can’t help but smile and wink at her. You’ve always been like that, light and carefree inside the ring. Not reckless, though; never reckless. Maybe I should be a little reckless sometime, you think, chuckling to yourself as the judge calls both of you to the center to touch gloves.

“Let’s have a good and clean fight,” He says.

“You’re going down,” She says, and you try to find her name somewhere in your mind.

“You’re welcome to try, Hyejin-ah,” You smile widely, going back to your place.

You hear the bell and it starts. The first five minutes are quick and you rejoice as your feet are quick and precise– kicking, jumping, moving. Your fists protect your face, keeping your guard up, and your eyes, attentive and trained, gather enough information on her so that you can finally start playing. The second round is when things get tough, for both of you. Hyejin is stronger, but you are quicker; moving as fast as possible, you punch when possible, and it’s only when she lands a jab to your face that you lose yourself for a little bit… and she pounces. Punch after punch, you can feel the glove sliding over your sweaty skin, and you feel it tear, you feel it bleed, and you feel alive. You know what to do; the punch comes and it takes only a few seconds for you to duck and hit her in the temple with your heel. In the business, you are known for your roundhouses and when the judge raises your arm above your head, you can’t help but think how good it is to be home. And how much you’d like to share this with someone. Hell, scratch that; how much you’d like to share this with Jackson.

You get back to the dressing room while still on an adrenaline high. But then it fades. And you trip. And things go a little black for a while; and you can hear Coach shouting your name, and you can feel his hand shaking you, but you can’t really get up. You’re tired and spent and you just want some sleep. You tell him that– or at least you think you did. You sleep for a while and when you wake up again you are in a car, and you know because there are bumps and Coach is there, holding your hand, and he looks like he’s praying. You smile and you think that going back to sleep for a little while more won’t hurt. You wake up once more, just for a few seconds, because of the voices next to you.

“… her condition is stable for now… waiting on tests…”

“… will she be okay?!”

“Yes.”

Then it’s fine to sleep some more, you think.

“I swear to god, kid,” You wake up with Coach’s whispers. “When you wake up, I will kill you.”

“Seriously?!” You let out an airy laugh, putting some effort into opening your eyes. “Are you really threatening me in a hospital?”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” Coach gets up, trying to look stern, but you see the softness in his eyes too easily to actually be afraid. “Are you insane? The doctors all said you were malnourished and lacking sleep! You had a fever when we got here… how the fuck did you get in the ring like that?!”

“I felt fine in the ring,” You say, confused. “But Coach…”

“What?” He grumbles, looking at you with tired eyes.

“Did I win?”

“You don’t remember?” He is genuinely surprised. “You knocked her out, kid. I’m so proud of you!”

You smile in relief. You won. You’re back.

“The neurosurgeon said nothing is wrong with your head,” Coach informs. “You took quite a fall, I’m surprised nothing happened. The Physical Therapist is coming soon to look at your knee… I’m still a bit worried about that.”

“Ah,” You smile at him tightly. “All my money from tonight will go to this hospital, I see…”

“Shut u–“

“Excuse me,” You hear a voice from the door. “My name is Dr. Wang and I’ll be your doctor today. What seems to be the problem?”

When he looks up, you feel like vomiting. His smile disappears and his eyes bulge, wide enough for them to look like they will pop out at any second. You know what you look like– swollen lip, cut eyebrow, and bruised cheeks. You felt it all.

“Y/N?” He shouts and you are surprised, flinching a little. His steps are quick and he’s soon inspecting you, hands all over your face and pressing down on your ribs. “Are you okay? What the hell happened?”

“I–“ You stop yourself before you can come up with an excuse, eyes finding Coach’s; he smiles and points to the door, walking outside. “I think we need to talk.”

Jackson just nods, hands shaking as he slowly traces your injuries.

“Jacks, I’m fine,” You sigh, closing your eyes to the feeling. “I’m used to it…”

“Used to it?!” He shouts again and you can’t help but laugh as his behavior.

“I’m a professional MMA fighter, Jackson,” You say, looking deep into his eyes, waiting for any sign of fear or disgust to show. But it never does. “This is literally my job.”

“You had a fight tonight?” He asks, moving to the other side where the chart is. “What happened? Did you get knocked out? Did they check for concussions? My friend woks for Neurosurgery, I can call him!”

“Yah, calm down,” You ask, pulling him to you by his hand. “I’m just malnourished. And exhausted. Haven’t really been eating and sleeping lately…”

At that he stops.

“Me neither,” At that, Jackson finally looks straight into your eyes, and you see it; the pain, the anxiety, the hesitation. “I don’t know what happened, Y/N, and–“

“I’m sorry,” You say before he can. “I’m sorry about everything. I like you. I like you very much, but I have some issues and I didn’t know what to do. I want to use my Fuck Up Pass... can I?”

He chuckles, nodding. “What do you mean?”

It seems that once you finally open up, you don’t stop. Until three in the morning you talked; about your past, starting from the young age of when your mother left, to now, and he listens– attentively, holding your hand and smiling as sign of support. He falls asleep before you do, resting his forehead on the bed next to you, and you are still awake once his phone rings nonstop, demanding his presence somewhere else.

“Jackson,” He grunts once you shake him. “You have to go.”

“Why?” His head shots up, eyes barely open.

“I think someone is calling you back to work,” You chuckle. “You can come back later.”

“It’s seven in the goddamned morning,” He groans, getting up and stretching his arms above his head. You have to admit, he looks really good in the morning. “I hate this.”

“That’s a lie,” You call him out, smiling. “You love your job.”

“I do,” And goofy Jackson is back. “I’ll come back once my shift is over and I’ll take you home, yeah?”

You nod and he kisses you goodbye, laughing once the heart machine beeps faster.

————————

“All night I'll riot with you, I know you got my back and you know I got you,” You close your eyes in embarrassment as you hear his voice getting closer. “So come on, come on, come on, let’s get physical!”

“Please,” You beg, grunting when the instructor pushes your knee a bit too hard. “Stop singing that stupid song.”

“Dua Lipa is a queen and you shall never disrespect her again!” He cries out, making you chuckle fondly. Jackson is next to your bed now, sitting on a stool. “How’s the knee, Doc?”

“Pretty good,” Your instructor smiles, nodding appreciatively. “She’d be all healed by now if she hadn’t walked in that ring without stretching.”

“Excuse me,” You nag. “That was months ago!”

“And look where you are now,” Jackson sighs. “Babe, seriously, you need to be more careful. I’m not always there to take care of you.”

“What the fu– You’re not even my doctor!” You protest, frowning at him. “We’ve been dating for three months now and you never–“

“I’m not your doctor because you won’t let me,” He deadpans. “Something about private and work life… tsk.”

The instructor watches you two with a small smile, slowly waking away to the front desk where his colleagues are.

“I won the bet,” He says, raising his hand. “Pay up.”

“Not fair,” One of them grumbles while giving him the money.

“I said those two would get together, and look at them now.”

You stop bickering to look at the workers in the front desk, staring and laughing at you.

“You’ll destroy my reputation like this,” You complain, but Jackson laughs.

“What reputation?”

“Shut up,” You chuckle and pulls him in for a kiss.

“Admit it,” He pecks your lips. “You’ve gotten softer ever since we started da– ouch! Oh my god, guys, have you seen this? My girlfriend, my girlfriend who is a fighter, just punched me! I’m going to die!”

“Oh my god, Jackson,” You grumble, getting up and dragging him out of the clinic. “You’re so dramatic…”

“Said the girl who made a whole fuss about dating me,” He jokes, winking at you when you look at him with your mouth hanging open. He always made jokes about it, although he’s been extremely patient and loving.

“I’ll kill you one day,” You sigh, grabbing his hand. “But for now, let’s go home.”

He wiggles his brows and you just know what he’s going to do.

“Let’s get physical!”

You smile.

“We’ll see.”

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

okay so this is way longer than I though it would be LOL but at least I figured out the ‘read more’ function!!! Other thank that, I kind of love how this turned out! The General Hospital series has been giving me a lot of joy to write and I hope you all like it too! As always, leave a comment and let me know what you think <3 Love you all!❤️

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atxlxs · 3 years

Text

Beyond The Veil: Chapter 11

The infirmary was nice, quiet, and completely boring so Muska was more than glad to be home. Eras had all but dragged her to the car and fretted over her the entire evening. Even making all her favorite foods and giving her space to settle. Eras had always been attentive to small changes in her mood and knew when she just needed to be alone. That didn’t stop her from making sure she had everything she needed before she left Muska to her own devices.

Eras was in the observatory now, probably destressing from the emotional day she had and really, she couldn’t blame her. When Eras had stepped through the infirmary door, Muska could tell she was on edge. She wasn’t entirely sure that Eras had noticed either, however Muska noticed that she had flinched when she saw the bandages on her arms paired with the word ‘burns’. That's when Muska remembered. She had only seen the scars on Eras’s back once and it was only a quick flash. They were Burn scars.

Fuck, no wonder she was so nervous and on edge. That’s why she relaxed when Recovery Girl promised they wouldn’t scar.

She knew what being burned felt like.

...

....

.....

Absolutely not, she was not dealing with this right now. This emotional revelation will be pushed aside for when she wasn’t absolutely decked by Recovery Girls quirk. Maybe she could even sleep tonight.

Surprisingly, she did actually sleep.

By morning, Eras was back to normal, which is still just as concerning as it usually is. Muska was almost positive that there were some heavy negative consequences to that kind of approach to emotional processing. She may not be a therapist, but her dad had been one so she knew, at least, the basics. Plus, who lives for centuries without gaining some kind of mental instability? At some point she was going to convince her to attend therapy, she just has to find a qualified therapist to handle a young adult vampire with years of memories and possible trauma to get through.

For now though? She was going to focus on her coffee, lovingly made with the higher end brand of coffee Eras had express shipped to their house because she’s desperate like that. Eras also chose not to give Tibbles treats for the next week as punishment which caused Muska to carry around headphones to ignore the loud and meowed complaints voiced during the entire discussion.

The calm and quiet atmosphere that had settled in that morning was shattered by the sound of a blender going off and Tibbles flinging himself from the table to the air and back. A grumbled [Bitch] followed right afterwards which caused Muska to cackle at her familiar.

“Smoothie time huh? It has been awhile since you last ate.” Muska mumbled, even over the sound of a loud ass blender she knew Eras could hear her. Her hearing was freakishly good.

The blender stopped and a few moments passed before the scratch of a pulled out chair was followed by the thump of a physical body collapsing in said chair. Looking up from her coffee, Muska cringed a bit at what she saw.

“Yea, I just… I’ve been a bit tired recently.” Eras looked deader than usual. The pale white skin was bordering on translucent a bit and the deep eyebags normally kept at bay were back full force.

Sighing, Muska sent Eras a rather pointed look. She knew her friend refused to fully sleep so instead she relied on the energy boost coffee and blood gives her to keep going. Along with maintaining a vegetative state close to meditation to make up for not sleeping. Eras rarely ever truly slept and whenever she did she was always off the next day. Energized, but also wary. On edge. Probably nightmares but Eras sleeps in the observatory to prevent Muska from hearing anything so she couldn’t confirm.

Eras ignored her stare in favor of sipping on the smoothie in front of her.

Sighing, Muska dropped the conversation. Eras would just clam up if she pressed further.

After getting ready and heading out, taking the train this time, Muska ran into Midoriya and Uraraka on the way to school. They greeted her with sunshine smiles and dragged her into the conversation. When they got to UA and were still conversing, she had almost missed the loud and angry demands made near the gate of UA.

Reporters.

Muska hates crowds with a passion and they brought one to her school.

Safe to say she absolutely hates them now.

Muska sighed and racked her brain for anything that could help in a situation like this. Energy could be manipulated to push them aside but that’d be a public quirk use law infraction. Witch stuff then. The type to be hidden in plain view. Manipulative…..

Muska grabbed her two new friends' arms and led them through the reporters with ease. The crowd moving and melding around them but not actually recognizing. She was using the energy produced by the human body to limit the signals sent to the brain and pushed the thoughts of “not here” and “just another reporter” to prevent them from being recognized.

She heard the soft mumbled “This is so cool…” behind her from Midoriya and she almost lost her control a bit in her surprise. That would’ve been a nightmare.

They managed to get through unscathed and passed by Aizawa-sensei, keeping the reporters back and helping other students through. Present Mic, or Yamada-sensei as he wanted to be called, was there with him whispering about something.

When they reached the classroom, a sigh escaped Muska as she finally relaxed. There weren’t too many other classmates present, probably due to the reporters outside, and those that were there were relatively quiet. Besides Iida, though it looks like he was refraining from speaking just yet, he did give a nod in their direction though so that was possibly Muska’s fault.

She just really hates when people have a strict view on how you're supposed to operate and act, hates being controlled like that.

Muska Bee-lined for her seat and sat down with a thud as she hooked her book bag on the side of the desk. Relaxing into her seat. Midoriya sat in his seat in front of her and Uraraka deposited her bag on her desk before making her way over to continue talking.

“By the way,” Uraraka started, turning to face Muska who was slowly collapsing in on herself for a nap, “I never got to ask but how were you yesterday? I managed to see Mido here before he left the school yesterday so I was able to ask him but you disappeared.”

Muska sat confused for a second before her brain caught up to the attention.

“Ah, my guardian came to the school for the meeting about what happened and she took me home.” She explained.

“Your guardian?” Uraraka and Midoriya echoed before they both shut their mouths with a click, Uraraka jumped in before Mido to stammer out “Ah! sorry that's rude to inquire about!”

Muska just waved her hand in a dismissive gesture.

“It’s fine. My guardian is a friend and a friend of my family. When My parents passed away a long time ago, she took me in.” Which was the truth. Eras had found Muska when she had just joined the veil and had promised to take her in after her parents passed away. It’s just that her parents died of old age and not an ‘accident’.

The two nodded before Uraraka brightened again.

“What are they like?!” She asked, hands waving around as if getting rid of extra energy.

“Her name is Eras, so Viridis Eras. She's nice and a bitch.”

Uraraka sputtered and Midoriya muffled a snort. Iida snapped his head around with wide eyes but didn’t actually snap out an etiquette speech. Instead, he grumbled a bit and headed over. Before she could even glare, Iida bowed.

What?

“I wished to apologize for my actions regarding you the past couple of times! I spoke with my brother and he agreed that your advice was applicable to the way the world truly works and so I shall better myself and that starts with an apology!”

Muska was speechless. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Uraraka and Midoriya smiling knowing smiles towards Iida so they had probably had a word with him outside of school. That didn’t help her though. Iida was very earnest in a way she had never actually seen in a person before holy hell. What kind of childhood do you live to be this engaged all the time?

“Ah, sure, apology accepted?”

The rest of that morning was spent with Muska listening to her two friends and Iida talk about what could be happening today. Though Robocop did manage to complain about her calling Eras a bitch before class started, it wasn’t as heavy as his usual lectures.

Muska just wants normality please and thank you, but based on this morning so far she doubts she’ll receive a normal day. That thought plagued her throughout the class representative vote and her first few educational classes. (Was she getting different paperwork? She was definitely getting different paperwork...) The bell rang and her classmates all started congregating to head to the cafeteria while Muska just sighed and got up from her seat. Today was definitely not going to be normal and though she wanted to be wrong, it was not to be.

She just didn’t expect an alarm to prove her right.

The minute the alarm started blaring in the middle of Lunch, Muska did as any student that's been through American public education does. She kept eating. The rest of her classmates that had sat at her table, Mido Uraraka and Iida (for some reason), had already jumped up and started running towards the glorified mob at the doors. She just finished off her absolute heaven of a meal, Eras should meet this Lunch Rush dude (Midoriya had fanboyed loud enough for her to learn his name) their collective chef skills would crush Gordan Ramsey’s taste buds and have Guy Fieri screaming flavor town.

Vaguely, she heard Iida shouting about something and a cheery ‘PLUS ULTRA’ shout but she paid little attention. Instead, she headed back to class.

She would later come to regret not paying closer attention that afternoon.

If she did? She would have noticed the oil like energy tainting the harmony of the school.

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Tags:

@baguettehead

#bnha #bnhaoc #bnhafanfiction #mha #mhaoc #mha fanfic recs #au

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neerasrealm · 4 years

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Liu Comes Home

A story about Liu finally getting to talk to his brother again after years of not seeing each other. Mostly fluff with some comfort and a couple swears :)

Word Count: 2213

If you told Liu Woods five years ago he'd be sitting at a table mostly full of inhuman creatures next to his precious younger brother who was burned and scarred beyond recognition, he wouldn't believe you, and would be horrified at the idea of something so horrible happening to his only brother.

But here he was, hands around a mug of coffee, next to Jeff, who had somehow been burnt completely white years ago and had massive gashes in his cheeks, along with black hair. Though that part didn't unsettle Liu, his brother had always said he wanted black hair instead of brown. Their parents would never let him even touch a bottle of dye though.

Not that it mattered now- they were dead. Killed four years ago. By Jeff.

"So, Liu," Liu's thoughts were interrupted by the faceless white creature sitting just across from him. The creature was known as Slender, though he'd noticed a few of the people here, including Jeff, called him dad. "Tell us about yourself."

"Oh- well..." Liu looked at his younger brother, who was looking at him eagerly, probably curious and excited to hear about what he'd been doing the past four years. He looked away from Jeff and along the rather large dining table. There were a lot of people here- all of them odd. There was a clown looking man sitting next to Slender, who spoke in the thickest cockney accent Liu had ever heard, and next to him was a grey-skinned...creature, who wore a mask. He definitely wasn't human, that was for sure. There were normal looking ones too though. A small girl in a pink dress, who Jeff and the clown man seemed rather affectionate towards and a blonde boy who looked very pale, but relatively normal- if you ignored his pointy ears. The only name he knew was Toby. A boy who looked like he could only be seventeen. He knew Toby's name because he'd been driving the car Jeff used to kidnap him.

"Well uh- I'm nineteen- twenty in a couple months. Uh-" it'd been a long time since he'd had to open up to someone who wasn't a therapist or job interviewer. He sighed. "Well, you all know I'm Jeff's older brother. I- well after...everything...I was moved to the next city over by a social worker. Got put in foster care and taken in by a really nice family," Liu glanced at Jeff, who was smiling up at him. Probably glad to hear he had been doing okay. "They looked after me until I finished highschool, sent me to therapy and stuff. Then I went to college for a couple semesters...dropped out..." Liu scratched at his neck. "I couldn't really handle it, said I'd go back after a year or two off but- my foster parents insisted I got a job." He leaned back in his chair.

"You got a second set of parents and they were assholes too?" Jeff spoke up.

"Yikes." Toby murmured from the end of the table.

"Eh- you don't need college anyways." The grey-skinned creature commented as he rested his trainers against the edge of the table. Slender shot him a glare that went unnoticed.

"T-They weren't that bad!" Liu said quickly. "They were really nice, paid for my therapy, encouraged me to be open...I liked them." He smiled reassuringly at Jeff, who relaxed a bit. Liu relaxed too. He knew Jeff could be hot headed when it came to Liu. They were protective of each other- which unfortunately ended in Liu ending up in juvie and Jeff committing a string of murders. Hopefully Jeff wouldn't murder Liu's foster parents. Hopefully. "Anyway, I got a job as a cashier, and promised my parents I'd get an apartment by June this year but....it's July now and uh-" Liu glanced away. "I've kinda been sleeping in shelters and hostels for the past month."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Slender said. Liu sighed and glanced aside with a sad smile.

"It's okay- being kicked out is actually the reason I'm here," he said, brightening up a bit. "I got moved far away from our old house, for my mental health and stuff, but now that I don't have my foster parents keeping me away, I was able to come to the area." He smiled. "I knew Jeff was probably still around, I looked at the news and the stuff and guessed he was behind some of the murders going on- or at least were going on," Liu glanced at Jeff. "Did you stop?" He asked awkwardly. He never thought he'd have to ask his baby brother if he had stopped committing murders but here he was.

"Ehh- yeah," Jeff scratched at his neck and shrugged. "Slender kinda- wouldn't let me. Plus I- feel kinda bad about it now-" Oh, Jeff felt remorse. That was good. "Wait you were looking for me?" Jeff suddenly said. He looked up at Liu in surprise.

"I mean- why wouldn't I be?" Jeff looked stunned. "You're my brother. I needed to make sure you were okay. I was worried about you, I mean-" Liu glanced aside. "I was so scared that you were out there somewhere hurt or- or dead-" he added, his voice soft. Jeff stared up at him sadly. Liu looked at him, then glanced at the rest of the table. He cleared his throat. "Uh- anyway, it worked out!"

He heard Toby laugh at the end of the table. "You're lucky! Me and Jeff were getting snacks for a movie- if the Kroger's weren't closed for construction you would've missed us!" The brown haired boy grinned at him. Toby was- odd- he looked normal enough, but had a huge gash in his left cheek where you could see his teeth in his mouth. He also had a tendency to twitch, Liu had noticed, but he seemed nice. He'd watched him and Jeff talk on the car ride to the mansion Slender and everyone else lived in. They joked a lot, both as reckless and stupid as each other. He made Jeff laugh a lot, which was nice. Really nice.

Slender sipped from his mug of coffee- somehow- Liu wasn't sure how exactly he did that. "Well we're glad to finally meet you Liu," for an eight foot tall creature of nightmares, Slender was very nice. Soft-spoken and kind- almost fatherly. Slender placed down his coffee before saying "I suppose you'd like to get settled into your room around now? It sounds like you could use some rest."

"M-My room?"

"Yeah! This place is huge, you could stay!" Jeff piped up. He grinned eagerly at Liu. "You don't have anywhere else to go, right? S-So you could stay here-!" Jeff looked so eager and full of hope- Liu's expression softened and he smiled.

"...I don't see why not." He replied. Jeff beamed.

"I'll show you up," Slender said as he stood up. He looked at Liu. "Do you want to take a shower?"

"Uh- yeah that'd be great."

"EJ, get your feet off the table and turn the hot water on for Liu." Slender looked at the grey creature, who groaned in protest.

"You had it comin'." Liu heard Toby murmur as he left the kitchen, with Jeff behind him. Slender grabbed Liu's overstuffed backpack, lifting it up.

"Careful- it's heavy-" Liu said. Slender didn't seem to have trouble with it. Liu grabbed his guitar case. He turned to reach for his other instrument, his saxophone, only to realise Jeff already had it.

"You still play?" The boy asked. Liu smiled and nodded.

"Course I do, what else am I supposed to do with myself?" He replied as they followed Slender up the stairs. "I actually went to college for music too, it was the only major I could think of-" he laughed a bit. "Music history was mandatory, and boring as hell."

"Eugh- history??" Jeff's disgust made Liu smile. They stopped at the top of the stairs and Jeff pointed to the right. "My room's at the end of the hall." He told him. Liu glanced down the hall and nodded before following after Slender again.

As Liu passed one of the doors, painted pink with a castle shaped sign on the front, creaked open. He looked over his shoulder and stopped. Staring out at him was a blonde girl with pitch black eyes. Liu smiled nervously. He stopped and turned to her. He raised a hand in greeting. "uhh- hey!" He greeted. Jeff looked over at the girl.

"Oh! Hey Dina. This is Liu, my brother." Jeff smiled at the girl, who glared at him and swiftly shut the door. Jeff glanced at Liu. "She doesn't like me much- but she'll probably like you!"

Liu nodded and started walking again. "Why doesn't she like you...?" He asked.

"Oh- uh- says I'm a sinner and stuff- I can't really blame her I mean...I've killed a lot of people, not to mention theft, breaking and entering, some arson-"

"Arson?!" Liu stared at Jeff in horror. After being burnt horribly four years ago you'd think he'd stay away from fire like- forever.

"I was trying to burn the bodies and it- it got outta control..." Jeff looked away embarrassedly. Liu nodded slowly and looked over at Slender, standing patiently outside a room. Liu and Jeff walked over to him and he opened the door, walking inside. Liu stepped in and looked around. The room had simple grey walls and black curtains.

"I hope you don't mind the state of things- this room is pre-owned, but everything should be in order." Slender said as he set down Liu's backpack. Liu tilted his head, and Jeff nodded towards the wall by the door. There were scratch marks in the wall, and a few red stains that may have been blood.

"Michael used to live in here- he uh- moved to the basement because he kept waking people up and felt bad," Jeff explained. "You're lucky though! You're next to Helen, and he's really quiet, so you'll sleep pretty good."

Liu looked at Jeff and nodded slowly. So he still hadn't met everyone, clearly. Vacantly he wondered how many people were in this house. Not that he minded- he liked people.

"Do you need help unpacking?" Slender asked. Liu set down his guitar case against the wall and shook his head.

"No, I can handle it. I don't have a lot of stuff." He gave Slender a small smile. Slender nodded and left the room. Liu turned around and looked at Jeff, still watching him. "...This seems like a nice place." He said.

"Yeah- yeah it is, Slender is real nice and everyone is fun...I- see pretty much everyone here as a sibling..." Jeff smiled sheepishly, looking at the ground.

"You're happy?"

"Yeah." Jeff looked up at Liu for a moment. He opened his mouth, like he wanted to say something, then closed it. Liu tilted his head. "...I missed you." His voice was soft and meek, and made Liu remember the bright eyed baby brother he'd grown up with. Jeff had to be almost seventeen now, right? He'd missed seeing his brother grow up-

"I missed you too, Jeff." Liu stepped forward and rested his hand on Jeff's shoulder. "But I'm glad you're safe- ...I think the part that messed me up most was the idea of you getting hurt- or- or killed."

"I'm sorry." Jeff stared at the ground. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I-I-"

Liu stared at him in surprise. Jeff was shaking, as was his voice. "Hey- hey bro calm down it's okay-"

Jeff grit his teeth. "No it's not." He replied, anger leaking into his voice. His hands curled into fists. "I-I- I tried to kill you-"

"Jeff-"

"I killed our fucking parents! And you're standing here like I didn't ruin your whole life!" Jeff glared up at him, tears leaking out of his eyes. He had no eyelids, so they just flowed quickly and freely.

Liu suddenly pulled Jeff into a tight hug, pressing his brother's face into his chest. "Hey, it's alright," he knew what this was. Jeff had always been prone to bursts of anger. His mood could switch in a matter of seconds sometimes. "I'm not mad at you. Mom and dad- they...weren't great, and you were just protecting yourself." That was the detail that haunted Liu the most. His parents- their parents, who had raised Jeff for thirteen whole years pulled a gun on him. They were ready to kill him at the first sign of something being wrong. "I miss them sometimes- but I'd rather you were safe, and happy."

He heard Jeff sniffle. His arms were tight around Liu, hugging him like he'd vanish into thin air at any moment. Liu patted him, running his hand through Jeff's hair.

"I'm sorry..." Jeff murmured after a while.

"You're okay- I'm not mad about what you di-"

"Not that, for blowing up on you. Being emotional and shit."

"Oh." Liu looked down at his brother, who pulled away and rubbed the tears off his face. There was silence for a few moments before Liu spoke up again. "You wanna help me unpack? I got a lotta stuff."

#creepypasta #fanfiction #creepypasta fanfiction #creepypasta fanfic #jeff the killer #liu woods #slenderman #slender mansion #eyeless jack #judge angels #ticci toby

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daughterofanarcissistwoman · 4 years

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Being the children of a narcissistic parent, when did you realise something was wrong with them, and came to the conclusion that you must leave their environment?

Answer from:

https://www.quora.com/Being-the-children-of-a-narcissistic-parent-when-did-you-realise-something-was-wrong-with-them-and-came-to-the-conclusion-that-you-must-leave-their-environment/answer/Christina-Looney-5?ch=10&share=e14c4345&srid=C7yPi

~ It was seeing the relationships my friends had with their own mothers that I knew my relationship with my mother was abnormal. Everyday when my sister and I got off the school bus, we were anxious as to what kind of mood we were coming home to. Sometimes the mere sight of us seemed to annoy her. We were constantly on eggshells. When we were finished doing our daily chores (including yard work), which was a lot for our ages when you had a parent at home all day without kids in the house, we would hide in our rooms or be outside until it got dark.

~ If I gave her hugs and kisses, I was always quickly dismissed. If I accomplished anything good, she’d blow me off to my face but brag about it to everyone on the phone. Any trivial thing we did wrong, we were berated for.. This was not “discipline” as we were made to believe, this was hatred. You could see the hatred in her face and hear it in her voice while she was yelling at us...

~ I was told as a child that her own mother tried to get her to have an abortion while pregnant with me. I never understood the point of her telling me this. To thank her for giving me life? To owe her for all her struggles to have me?

~ The things she would say to us were horrible, her words broke down any self-esteem we had.

~ One day I’d be the “good daughter” and my sister would be the scapegoat and in the blink of an eye, our roles would reverse.

~ If she made me cry, I was told I was over sensitive and needed to “toughen up”.

~ In public, everything looked fine but in private it was tense and uncomfortable all the time waiting for the next thing that would set her off.

~ Any time we’d have an opportunity to succeed, we were held back in some way. If we succeeded despite her, we were belittled for it or told we were conceited or acting like we were too good for something.

~ My sister and I had no right to privacy. Any journal, diary or letter we ever had was read. Anything we confided to her about was blabbed about to her friends or family members and used against us later on and thrown in our faces. Even as adults, we were both assigned journaling from our therapists as part of our therapy and self expression, my mother went through our adult things, betrayed any trust and read our therapy journals. The only things that concerned her about them, not surprisingly, were the entries about our relationships with her. She played the victim with that one hard-core! Our deepest thoughts and feelings were completely discarded and invalidated.

~ My sister moved out at 17 and I moved out as soon as I turned 18 and graduated high school a semester early. We couldn’t get out fast enough. We weren’t prepared at all for adulthood and we weren’t prepared for success at all, no aspirations or means for college or trade schools. We had to start from scratch, entirely on our own.

~ Neither of my parents believed that I had what it took to handle (military basic training) but after growing up under their roof, it wasn’t anything I hadn’t already been through except no one hit me in basic training.

~ While the physical abuse has stopped, the verbal and emotional abuse has not. She tries to pit my sister and I against each other constantly. When I finally stood up for myself and told her I didn’t appreciate being bad mouthed by her and that her toxic games needed to stop, I was called ungrateful and disrespectful and told to stay away from her.

~ I still cannot for the life of me figure out what it is I’m supposed to be grateful to her for. I’m grateful for existing but if I didn’t, I wouldn’t have any awareness of that. Am I supposed to be grateful that she’s drained me financially on more than one occasion, has never paid me back once and expects more? That she lies to me and about me? That I have done (up until now) everything she’s ever demanded or expected of me and it’s never good enough? That I know I will never have the relationship and love I have always begged, needed and hoped for from her? You’d think she’d have a clear view of what not to do when her relationship with her own mother is strikingly similar.

~ I have gone no contact, finally because I need to take care of myself (mentally and emotionally) and my own family. My husband has been on the outside looking in on this and he sees the manipulation before I do. He put his foot down last year and told me it was about time I focus on myself. Once I did that and didn’t drop everything to rescue my mother from a new drama or crisis, the majority of which is brought on by herself, the guilt trips became extreme. She was texting my daughter behind my back from my fathers phone, she must really think I’m stupid. She drug me through the mud to anyone who’d listen, including my sister. She flat out lied to my sister about things I have said or done. I sent my sister screenshots of messages between my mother and I to show her both sides that my mother conveniently lied about or excluded to make herself look like the victim when she’s really the instigator. Why would any mother drive wedges between her own daughters and their father? To control the information and remain the center of attention?

~ I have never found a reason to beat (my daughter) or hit her and I cannot even fathom doing so.

~ It took (my sister and I) 39 and 41 years to understand that we have a right to our feelings and the right to protect ourselves, even if it’s from our own mother.

~ I apologize that this is so long but getting it all out, no holds barred is cathartic. I would’ve done this anonymously but why should I? To deny myself the right to own my feelings and memories? To protect the possibility of her not finding out I wrote this after she’s already gone through my most private thoughts and feelings and used them against me? I can’t care about that anymore. What I do care about is overcoming this for myself and also offering the chance for someone to see this and identify the similarities. I care about someone reading this and hopefully understanding that it’s not their fault and never was. I care about the teenager/adult reading this and hoping they decide to put the razor blade down because they’re worthy of love, even if it’s just them loving themselves. There’s a someone reading this who believes it will never end. Remember “what you allow is what will continue”. You might be the “bad son” or “bad daughter” for walking away but in their eyes haven’t you always been the bad guy? I won’t ever say family isn’t important, it is, but only up until the point when it’s damaging you beyond repair and hurting you all the time.

~ No contact for me is just a protective measure to not subject myself to the bullshit anymore. It’s not a way to “punish” or abandon my parent. There’s a sad past, a difficult life that brought this out in her but she also has to take responsibility for her actions and if she never does (which is most likely), I won’t be caught in the middle and blamed for why she’s so unhappy anymore. Parenting is both a responsibility and a sacrifice, but parents shouldn’t resent their kids because of that. I’m not angry for the material things I wasn’t given as a child/teenager, I’m angry for the encouragement and tangible opportunities that were intentionally taken away from me out of spite. There are many which I did not list because this is long enough. I’ve done everything a “good” daughter could possibly do. I’ve stayed by her side when she was sick, I’m the one that made the weekend drive to her house when she’s only been to my home maybe five times, I’ve given more money than I can count at the expense of my own family, I’ve loved her regardless of her cruelty and betrayal, I’ve sided with her in every family disagreement (there are countless and I’m left wondering what the real truth is) without question even if she was flat out wrong. I don’t, nor have I ever, deserved the way she has treated me. Besides, I’m too damn old to be so naive, passive and gullible. Also, I can’t bear to listen to her convenient, religious hyperbole when she has never practiced what she preaches. Her on again off again religion suddenly appears when she’s wrong and called out on it.

#daughter of a narcissist mother #narcissistic abuse #covert narcissist #emotional abuse #verbal abuse #psychological abuse #toxic mother #dysfunctional mother #abusive mother #scapegoat child #healing from trauma #trauma bonding #child abuse #childhood trauma #developmental trauma #domestic abuse

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #302

“heaven ain’t close in a place like this”

What color are your eyes? Grayish blue. What's your favorite type of milk? If we're talking the basics, ig 1% is fine. What would you change about your appearance if you could? Oh, hunny, you got time for an essay? What would you change about your bedroom if you could? I need to fucking finish decorating it... It's not finished by no fault but my own laziness. Are you rich or poor? We're definitely pretty poor. Are you double jointed? I don't think so. What's the most physically painful thing you've ever experienced? I once had a large infected cyst that had to be drained by applying pressure to it, and I swear to Christ I don't know how I didn't faint. They gave me morphine and multiple numbing shots, but none of that did SHIT. I'm not even embarrassed by the fact I was shrieking and sobbing and swearing because I'm pretty fucking sure any sane person would've cried out many times. I'm convinced they either didn't numb me enough for someone of my size back then, or I should've just gone under for it. I have no words for how painful it really was. Do you like shots? Uh, given that nobody LIKES getting a shot with a needle, I'm going to assume you mean like, taking shots of alcohol, in which case I've never tried, but I can almost absolutely guarantee you I'd hate them. I hate the taste of alcohol (hence why I only drink sweet and weak stuff), sooooo, I've got my doubts I'd enjoy something so potent. Are you afraid of spiders? Yes and no? Small ones don't tend to get to me, and I LOVE tarantulas. Big spiders are absolutely fascinating and I love *watching* them, but if I was surprised by a sudden spider, I'm going to probably cry out and jump/scramble away. But on a real note, respect your spiders, whether they scare you or not. They are so important to the ecosystem. See one in the house, take it outside if you can. Have you ever had an allergic reaction to something? To some earrings, yes. I have to wear ones that don't have silver in them. Do you like to read? Yeah, but not nearly as much as I did as a kid. I'm even slacking on WoF lately... Do you know what your purpose in life is? *SLAMS FISTS ON TABLE* BITCH I WISH I KNEW What's something you would like to improve at? Not being a socially anxious catastrophe. Do you believe you have great potential? Everybody does. You just have to use it. What is the most beautiful scenery you have ever beheld? Probably the mountains when driving to Tennessee. Or New York? I really can't recall either so clearly as to have a favorite. Are you flexible? Noooot anymore. Back in my WiiFit days, I was a gotdamn snake. List a song lyric that you like. Oh Jesus, don't make me think. Uhhhhh there's so many. Flipping through artists in my head with lyrics I tend to love, there's Otep with: "hey, hey, NRA, how many kids did you kill today?". Simple, but spine-chilling to me. Huh, time to listen to it actually, lol. That song murders me with the goosebumps. Do you meditate? No; I can't. You can't tell me to "free my mind," man. It's way too hectic at all times up there. What's one place you've been to that you want to visit again? I'd love to go back to Chicago one night when I actually learn how to do nighttime urban photography. What's one place you want to go that you've never visited before? I always answer "South Africa" to questions like this, so for variety's sake, I'll say the Bahamas. But a conspiratory bitch is afraid of the Bermuda Triangle, so... lmao. What's your favorite type of tree? I like big, impressive weeping willows. How many times have you seriously injured yourself? Only two occasions I can think of immediately. Maybe there's more, but idk. Did you attend Sunday School as a child? Yeah, even though I hated it. What is the longest your hair has ever been? Maybe a little passed the small of my back? What about the shortest? (not including being a toddler or baby): How it is now and has been for a couple years: shaved short on the left side, and it transitions to a length near my chin as you go to the right. Have you ever smoked a cigarette? No. Are/were you in the school band, and if so, what instrument did you play? I did, and I played the flute. I'd choose the saxophone if I could go back. Who does the grocery shopping in your household? Well, it's just Mom and me, so her. If you were to donate to charity today, what would you donate to? One that focuses on ovarian cancer for Mom. What is your favorite card game and when was the last time you played it? Even though I was never great at it or knew every single rule, "Magic: The Gathering" is honestly really fun, and I loved looking at the card art. I haven't played it since I was with Jason, so at least five-six years. Would you consider yourself to be good at spelling and grammar? Yeah, but I've somehow gotten worse with time???? I question the spelling and tenses of words I write a lot. What is your favourite seasonal candy? (only available at certain times): Probably like, chocolate rabbits. NOT hollow. Way to break my heart. Or gingerbread cookies. What was the last chocolate bar you ate? I think a Hershey's? It was a while ago. Who was the last person you talked to on Skype/video chat? I was in a Zoom session with multiple people for my partial hospitalization program. Have you ever dreamt about sleeping with someone other than your partner? If so, did that make you feel embarrassed? I've never had a dream like this while in a relationship. The last time you had butterflies in your stomach, what was the reason? I have no idea. Has anyone told you that they miss you recently? No. Has anyone ever asked you out or told you that they liked you, and you rejected them? Can you explain why you didn’t like, or didn’t feel attracted to that person? There was this one guy in the 4th grade who asked me if I would go out with him so much it almost became like a joke. I just... didn't like him like that. Then there's Juan; I'd just been warned that he had a bad rep by a very reliable adult, and the idea of dating him was kinda... intimidating anyway. Plus he was a smoker, which was and still is a no-no for me. What part in a movie would you love to play? The clinically insane villain or something because I feel with my history, I could channel that very well IF I actually wanted to act in the first place. What piece of furniture have you replaced the most? The couch. What’s the best part of your favorite movie? When Simba walks up Pride Rock in the rain and roars and all the lionesses join in. Chilling. What do you think is the most over-rated candy ever? Candy corn is repulsive. What was the highlight of your day? My mom was raving to one of my therapists in the PHP about my art and how badly she wants me to just get everything out there. I was smiling really big but looking down with how shy but also flattered it made me. Do you know anyone who is anorexic? I don't think so. Who has hurt you the most this year? Ha, myself. What's the last insult someone said to you? Hm. How much did your car cost? N/A What is the last picture you received on your phone of? Uhhh Mom mighta sent me a meme or Sara showed me a drawing someone made of Suriza, I think. Have you ever let someone go because you thought they deserved better? No, though I've felt that way before. Is there anybody you're really disappointed in right now? I'm still not over the fact Dad was a druggie before me and my sisters, apparently. It's almost like... hurtful in some weird way? Idk exactly why, it's just something I know I feel. What do you hear right now? I have Motionless In White's cover of "Somebody Told Me" playing in another tab. Do you do anything to help the environment? I do what I can as someone who isn't financially independent and reliant on another person for transportation. I won't litter for anything (and this includes shit like letting balloons go in the air, fucking stop), I'm trying to use my metal straw always in place of plastic, and to use less plastic bags, I try to spread out the times I clean Roman's litterbox to a few days; not to the point it's disgusting or uncomfortable for him, of course, though. Three days without is pretty much max. When's the last time you did something you knew was wrong? Ha, a little while ago... I was trying to avoid eating the two last biscuits Mom made for dinner 'cuz I really gotta lay off the carbs, but Mom "joked" that "it's your birthday, you get to do whatever you want," so I kinda just said fuck it lmao. Do you think that you have a pretty smile? No, because my eyes squint badly, and I also hate my teeth. When's the last time you cried over a guy? A few days ago a little bit, actually. I was reminiscing too much and recalling some of the warmest memories. Are you scared to lose the person you fell the hardest for? I already did. Oh well. Is there someone you wouldn't mind kissing right now? Yep. Do you have any friends that actually model? No. Do you care about the last person you kissed? A fucking lot. Do they care about you? Yes. Is there someone you wish you were with right now? Yes, just because of past birthday memories. I keep hoping a "happy birthday Britt" pops up in my FB messenger, and I hate myself for it. Have you ever imagined how it would feel kissing a certain someone? I legitimately just huffed in humor, guess, lmao. What are the bad things you've heard people say about you? That I'm a martyr, going nowhere, lazy, not trying hard enough, y'know, all that good stuff. Do you flirt a lot? Definitely not. What phrase or saying do you use the most? Probably "oof" lol. What mood are you in right now? I'm doing pretty all right. Kinda dreading Miss Tobey coming over, mean as it is, but I just... don't wanna deal with her and her judgments on my birthday. But I'm looking forward to seeing my sisters, and therapy went very well. Have you ever kissed someone that was high? No. Do you have a good relationship with your mother? Yep. How many exes do you have? I only consider two exes "serious," as I've only been in two deep and long-term relationships, but if we're counting everyone who's had the label of "boyfriend" or "girlfriend," there's six. Do you want to be single or with someone? Ugh, I don't know. It's probably better I don't 'til I figure my shit out, but I really do miss the companionship a lot. Why did you kiss the last person you kissed? Because I love her and I was leaving her at the airport. Does your mom think you’re a virgin? She doesn't know for the same reason I don't, really. I think she leans towards I am, but idk. Is there someone that wants you to give them a second chance? I don't know. What size bra do you wear? Uhhh I genuinely don't buy bras enough to know this exactly. C-something. Does the person you last kissed still like you? I don't know if she still like-likes me. Are your parents still together? Noooo. Was your first time good or bad? I dated an Italian, if u kno what I mean. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Which friend-turned-enemy do you miss the most? Colleen, sometimes. Have you ever used an epi pen, and it worked? I have not. What is on your top priority list for today? Make this fuckin' day for me. I'm trying to not let the depression sink in and make me feel worthless on today of all days. So I'm trying to stay in a positive headspace. Do you own any sand art in a jar? Omg, those are so cool! But no. Does the sun come in your window in the morning or at night? Not really; there's houses in the way. What was the last piece of art you created? A drawing of a meerkat with its mouth open angrily, done with colored pencils, against a black background. It's on my second dA. What time of day do you take medications? I have prescription meds for when I wake up and at bedtime. What's your newest hobby you've started? A new hobby? Huh... What are some things you wanted to do that your parents didn't let you do? They wouldn't let us stay home alone until a certain age, we had a timer on the TV at bedtime to shut off after a while, we weren't exposed to certain music or shows, no cursing... stuff like that. What YouTube channels do you recommend? This is a BAD question to ask me, 'cuz I could just about recommend channels for just about any niche. I watch soooooo many. What is your favorite day of the week? Tuesday, because it's reset day in WoW, haha. Meaning, I get to do my stupid mount farming raids again for the week. Blackhand, gimme your FUCKING clefthoof already. Ballet or cheerleading? Ballet is beautiful. What are your favorite sports to watch? Only dancing, really. Were you ever in the marching band? No. Which holiday has the best decorations, in your opinion? My contrasting aesthetics make this hard, haha. I love Christmas with all the beautiful light displays people can make, but let's not sleep on Halloween, y'all. I loooove Halloween decor, like c'mon, that's where I get shit for my room year-round, lmao. What do you want to be known for? It'd actually be kinda cool if I built up some sort of rep in the vulture culture community with my photography of roadkill. For how few shots I actually have on there and minimal interaction, my Instagram for it is doing quite well, if you consider those factors. They've gotten some pretty decent attention on dA, too. I would love for people to know why I do it though, of course: awareness and respect for the animal's life. How often do you wear make-up? Almost never nowadays. Think of the person you are jealous of...what are you jealous of them for? She's actually making a career out of her photography. Do you have art that you made in high school? Oh, plenty. Do you have trauma in your past? *clears throat* take a fuckin seat Favorite type of frosting? Chocolate. Have you ever tried cake decorating? No. One of my sisters is actually one, though! She's great at it. What clubs are you a part of? None. What was your favorite book that you had to read for school? The Outsiders. 6th grade, to be exact. Do you like to read classics, or do you usually read new arrivals? I don't prefer one over the other, honestly. Were you a big partier in college? No, I never partied. Is your college one you would recommend? My most recent one, fuck yes. They're amazing and care so deeply for their students. Would you go camping in the woods alone? Yikes, no. Would you name your kids after anyone? If I had a son and I had my way with the name, he would be named after the Most Selfless Man in the World, Damien from WKM. :'''''( Do you have any supernatural gifts? No. Are there any good churches in your town? You're asking someone who has a bad relationship with religion. Do you want an indoor or outdoor wedding? It really depends on the season and venue my spouse and I pick. Do you think you would be a good salesperson? HEEEEEEEEEEEELL NAW fam. I ain't pressuring people to buy shit.

#survey #surveys #questions #questionnaire #lyrics: ''somebody told me'' by motionless in white

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transbionic-shieldmaiden · 4 years

Text

a really long post about my stupid HRT adventure

cw medical stuff, tumors.

context: there was a post about getting on HRT that I read but I decided this was too personal to go in a reblog. donut rebagel, but feel free to reply.

ohhhh man, so like obviously i’m glad other people have had a better time than I when it comes to getting on hrt but i really gotta rant about the issues i had, because I had a hell of a time getting it DESPITE NOT ACTUALLY RUNNING INTO GATEKEEPING. so, story time:

this got long, so have a read more.

So I have executive dysfunction, which I cannot recommend. For me at least it comes in a package deal with a bunch of plasticbrains things I’m very much a fan of (stims! hyperfocus! being trans!), but I’d still very much like to not deal with it. And I also have social anxiety. Which overall is not a great combination of issues for dealing with the medical system.

Case in point: figuring out I’m trans was the catalyst for getting me to actually seek therapy (at MIT medical, which -- sidenote -- is free for students and I can’t recommend them highly enough), but what this actually meant was I took basically an entire semester to make the phone call to get an appointment, which was scheduled for a month after the call*. So far so great.

Anyway, as my therapy continued I kept coming in and complaining about dysphoria and being like “man i wish i could start hrt! but i won’t, because that involves talking to strangers :(” and eventually my therapist was like “so like. regular medical, which can prescribe hrt, is literally one floor below us. i can walk you down and schedule an appointment right now.”

and i was like “uhhhh wait i didn’t actually want my problem solved that means i have to talk to strangers!!!” but like obviously this was the social anxiety talking because i did actually want hrt. so my therapist walked me down to medical and i scheduled an appointment with the one Trans Doctor (tee-em) at MIT medical (like seriously this woman is as far as I can tell the PCP for like half of MIT’s trans population, we stan).

so the way this worked out is I needed three appointments: one intake appointment which was largely informational, one appointment with a physical checkup and a blood draw, and finally an appointment once the blood draw results came in. So I went in to the firs appointment, scheduled the second once it was done, and then MIT medical stole my blood.

And when that appointment was done I...didn’t schedule the third.

Cue several months passing due to executive dysfunction and social anxiety.

So I finally get myself together enough to schedule the last appointment, and I go in...and it turns out I have abnormally low testosterone. And I was all ready to be like “Oh no...isn’t that a shame...how terrible...” but the problem is, low testosterone in conjunction with my other blood metrics...was possibly a sign of a brain tumor.

That sounds worse than it actually is -- the brain tumor in question would’ve been benign, so it wouldn’t have been cancer. It does occasionally lead to blindness however, and low testosterone from said tumor would obviously not be very visible once I was taking spironolactone. So we needed to make sure I didn’t have a tumor before we could proceed with HRT. I was sent to take another blood test, optimized for the time of day when testosterone levels peak, and was therefore in the strange situation of being a trans woman hoping for high testosterone levels on a blood test.

Alas, it seems I was truly too trans for my own good, for it turns out the second test was even lower than the first.

This meant I had to go in for another blood test, and I had to get an MRI. And of course remember that every appointment I make here means 3-5 weeks depending on scheduling, all while I’m engaging in the standard MIT pastime of drowning in psets. Which is not fun when you’re depressed from dysphoria, let me tell you.

The MRI rolls around and it’s in this area of the Boston metro area Where The T Dares Not Go. There’s a bus stop near the clinic, but I have only been on an MBTA bus once and I really didn’t want to miss my appointment. So I hop in a lyft and soon it’s time for me to go in the Big Science Tube.

So here’s the thing about the Big Science Tube. It’s loud, it’s cramped, and in my case at least you get pumped with Contrast Juice which like goes in your brain or something? idk i’m not an MRI tech. I actually found it to be a not entirely unpleasant experience, because it sort of feels like you’re in a cryosleep chamber or something and I’m a huge nerd. But it’s also...massively disorienting. You can’t move, your vision is limited to the inside surface of a white cylinder, the whole thing is making Noise and vibrating, there’s the Contrast Juice sloshing in your brain...Oh, and at least in my case they let me listen to satellite radio while i was vibing in the science tube. Thing is, I don’t generally like radio music, since I tend to like individual songs more than genres, so I picked the jazz station. I figured this would ensure fairly enjoyable music the whole time, instead of a weird roller-coaster of songs I like, songs I hate, and songs I haven’t heard (the vast majority).

While I stand by this analysis in general, I do not recommend jazz as the soundtrack to the big science tube.

All this is to say that by the time I got out, I was extremely out of it and loopy. Oh, I also forgot to mention: I did not sleep well the night before. My sleep schedule is a mess at the best of times, and I was very nervous. So I am...completely off the shits by this point, not to mention extremely hungry and thirsty. They tell you to drink a lot to flush the Contrast Juice from your system, so that works out OK. In theory.

I get out, stand by the bus station for a bit, and conclude the bus isn’t coming. I walk across the street to a McDonalds, figuring I could really use some food and liquid. Which was correct.

...Except the bus came and went while I was in there, and looking at the schedule on my phone revealed I’d have to wait another half an hour for another.

This is where I make a terrible mistake. I look at my map, see that Harvard...isn’t too far from where I am, and Harvard has a T station! Perfect! So I, completely loopy from the MRI, still dehydrated because I haven’t gotten nearly enough liquids from McDonalds, decide to WALK TO HARVARD. It was a 30 minute walk, through unfamiliar territory, and I cannot stress this enough: I. Was. Off. The. Shits.

So I walk to Harvard using my phone’s GPS and whatever brain cells were not full of Contrast Juice, somehow managing to navigate through this random neighborhood and over the bridge without getting too lost or getting hit by a car. As I reach Harvard, I realize that this is a bad place for me to be in my current mental state: it’s bustling, full of standard college craziness; i think there was a guy in a chocolate bar costume which I could not process at the time. Oh, and I’ve never been to the Harvard T station so in my condition I struggle to find it. And when I do get there...well, here’s the thing about the Harvard T station: It’s huge. There’s several floors of underground bus terminals and an absolute warren of tunnels. Perfectly navigable, if you’re sober or know the area.

I am of course none of these things.

Still, somehow I find my way to the train, but that wasn’t even the end of my problems! Because, you see, my dorm is twenty minutes from the nearest T stop! So even once I get back to MIT I still have lots of walking to do. I don’t remember how I got back at that point; I think it involved a lot of drinking fountains.

Anyway, I guess this was supposed to be about me getting HRT? So it takes a while for the MRI results to get back, but it turns out I don’t have a tumor. However, in the meantime my parents have been pushing for me to freeze some sperm cells, so that I can have kids someday. Here’s the thing: I do not want kids. I do not expect to ever want kids. And if that changes, I’d be quite happy to adopt kids. But my parents are offering to pay for it, and the risk-averse part of my brain is like “oh...maybe i should do it...just in case???”

It takes me a month to actually call a fertility clinic. In the meantime, I am struggling in my classes; dysphoria is not conducive to educational success. It was not a good time to be me, let’s just put it that way. Finally, I make the call, and uhhhh it turns out sperm freezing is really expensive? And you have to go in for an intake appointment...then do some tests...and then...

So at this point I say, fuck it! And I get on HRT the next week. In total it took me like...a year to get on HRT, depending on how you count it? And all this without anyone actually gatekeeping me on being an Invalid Trans or whatever. But it’s all good, because now I’m far happier and more together than I ever thought I can be. The moral of this story is: HRT good, executive dysfunction bad, and don’t wander through Harvard while completely off the shits from MRI aftereffects.

*this is the one issue with MIT medical; their services are great but also in high demand. the system is a bit better once you actually get into it though.

#genderfeels #trainsbionic-shieldmaiden #plasticbrains #personal #donut rebagel #medical cw #tumors cw #the word of the shieldmaiden

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jolexfanfics · 5 years

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jo is feeling better, therapy is helping and she tries to convince alex to go to therapy too

“Dr. Karev, it’s so nice to put a face to the name I’ve heard so much about.” The therapist greeted Alex as he and Jo sat on the big couch across from her as Jo had done so many times before by herself. Jo was in the final weeks of her outpatient treatment after successfully completing her inpatient treatment and the last step was to include Alex in her weekly therapy sessions. This was the part Jo was actually excited about. However, her husband was reluctant. Alex saw how therapy had helped Jo overcome her struggles and cope with her depression better than he could’ve imagined, but that didn’t mean that he needed it or that they needed it together as a couple. I don’t have a problem. Alex had said with annoyance the first time she brought it up. And we don’t have any problems. We’re happy now. Jo had reminded him for the millionth time that even though they were in a better place now, they didn’t need to be on the verge of a divorce to see a therapist. After a lot of talking and convincing, Alex finally caved and agreed to go “just this time.”

“First I want to start with the question we start with every session: how are you feeling today?” Jo could feel Alex’s nerves and she gave his hand a gentle squeeze to reassure him. She looked over at him to see if he would answer, but when he didn’t she decided to go first.

“I feel good.” Jo replied honestly. “I don’t feel great, but I feel better everyday.” She and the doctor both turned their attention to Alex, waiting for him to go.

“I don’t know.” He replied with a shrug. He felt like a little boy back in school, when he’d get sent to the principals office for acting out and they’d tried to talk him about his feelings and why he misbehaved so much.

“That’s okay.” The doctor replied patiently. “Hopefully we’ll be able to change that answer by the end of our time together.”

Jo kept her fingers laced in Alex’s, willing her energy to spread from her fingertips to his. She knew this wasn’t easy for Alex, but after everything they’d been through she’d hoped he would at least give it a fair shot.

“So Jo, tell me why you decided to bring Alex with you today.”

“Alex and I….” she rubbed her thumb nervously against the back of his hand, “We’ve been through a lot. Together and separately. And our one year anniversary is coming up and….I think this is the best thing for us.”

“And Alex, why did you agree to join Jo today?”

Jo looked over at Alex but he was looking down at their hands. He sat still for a moment. “My mom was sad a lot over my dad when I was growing up. I don’t wanna see Jo sad like that ever. I don’t wanna see our kids see her sad like how my siblings and I saw our mom.”

Jo was shocked. Out of all of the answers she expected to come from him, that was the last one. She knew Alex had always struggled with understanding mental illness in the people he loved, but the fact that he maybe blamed himself broke her heart. She blinked rapidly as she tried to fight the tears that threatened to escape which the doctor noticed instantly.

“Jo, why does that make you emotional?”

Alex looked up at Jo for the first time and frowned when he noticed her trying not to cry. “It makes me mad. At myself. That he thinks this is his fault.” She paused to take a deep breath. “I’m not sad because of him. He’s the only person that keeps me alive most days. And I’ve been a burden on his happiness.”

“And do you feel that way, Alex? Like Jo has been a burden on your happiness?”

“Never.” Alex wanted to punch a hole through a wall. Jo could never be a burden on his happiness. She was his happiness. He thought back to the minute they met, how he had teased her, how she had confided in him. How they were able to be goofy and annoying together but also talk about medicine and work on patients together. He could still remember their first kiss like it was yesterday, and how since that moment all he’d wanted to do was make her happy and instead now felt like he failed.

“Alex, what bothers you about Jo?” The therapist asked, jotting down notes as she casually jumped to the next question.

He looked at the doctor in confusion. Jo was already upset, there was no way he was about to piss her off even more. He stared her down, hoping if he gave her a mean enough glare she would move on to the next question—a better question—but she didn’t budge.

“What bothers me about Jo is uh…” Alex spun the invisible game show wheel in his head, “She sometimes forgets to replace the paper towel roll in the kitchen and the dishes don’t dry themselves.”

“Okay…” the therapist continued scribbling on her notepad. “And what else?”

Alex shrugged nonchalantly. “That’s it.”

“It doesn’t bother you when Jo lays in bed all day and refuses to make conversation with you?” She had struck a nerve and Jo could feel it without even looking at him.

“What about sex? Does it bother you when Jo has little to no sex drive?”

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” Alex instantly barked back in defense. Jo held onto his arm in an attempt to calm him down and keep him pinned to the couch even though the therapist wasn’t phased by Alex’s sudden anger.

“So that bothers you. Do you tell Jo that it bothers you?” Alex huffed and flopped back against the couch. He didn’t want to do this anymore. He didn’t understand how this was helping him or Jo. When he made it clear he was no longer participating, the therapist moved on and directed the same question to her.

“And Jo? What bothers you about Alex?” Had this been a few months ago, Jo would’ve shut down herself. She would’ve gotten mad at Alex for behaving like an enraged teenager and sworn off the conversation entirely. But she knew if they were ever going to move forward, this was the first step towards doing so.

“This.” She turned to face Alex, but was still talking at the therapist. “The way we communicate when we’re upset bothers me. When Alex and I are great, we are absolutely, completely great. But when we’re bad…” she trailed off for a moment, not wanting to finish that thought, “our communication goes to hell. And that bothers me. We can’t get through nine months of pregnancy and eighteen plus years of a child if we don’t learn how to communicate.”

Alex snapped back into attention at the mention of their potential future children. After everything that had happened in the past few months, he wasn’t even sure Jo had wanted children anymore, and he had been so worried about her, he had completely put the idea of children on the back burner. Hearing her bring up kids anywhere in the near future after everything she’d been through softened him a bit, and he knew that what Jo was saying was right, even if it bruised his ego a little bit.

“Jo and I both get angry.” Alex chimed in quietly. “We get angry and we’re quick to react and then quick to shut down.”

The therapist nodded, looking between the two of them, “and would you say that’s your weakest point as a couple?”

“Yes.” They both replied in unison.

“And it doesn’t bother me that we don’t have sex all the time.” Alex added, directing that part specifically over at his wife. “It bothers me that she doesn’t even wanna look at me sometimes. Or that I can’t even ask her what’s wrong without her telling me to get lost or leave her alone.”

Jo frowned at how hurt Alex sounded. This whole time she had been so focused on herself she had essentially abandoned her husband and her marriage and she never thought once how that must have made him feel as a person. Her depression was her battle, but she hadn’t realized she wasn’t the only one fighting it. She reached for his hand again and when he took it without hesitation, she knew that they were actually getting somewhere.

“Alex, name three things you love about Jo.”

This was an easy question Alex had no problem answering. “Three things I love about Jo are her smile, her ambition, and the way she makes me laugh.”

“You two laugh a lot together?” The therapist smiled as she watched both Jo and Alex lighten up a bit.

“Always.” Alex smiled over at Jo and she met his gaze. “Jo makes me laugh more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“And Jo, three things you love about Alex.”

“I love the way Alex cares about kids. I always think if he cares this much about kids that aren’t his own, I can only imagine the love he’ll have for our kids.” She smiled back at him and this time it was his turn to give her a reassuring squeeze. “I love that Alex is protective. Even though it has gotten him into trouble, I have never worried once that Alex wouldn’t be there to protect me.”

“And I love that Alex is my best friend. He was my best friend before he was my boyfriend, he was my best friend when he was my boyfriend, and now he’s my best friend and my husband. He’s who I think about when I’m lying next to him at night before I go to sleep and who I wake up thinking about the next morning. Even through all of this he has been my best friend. And I’m gonna be his as long as he’ll let me.”

Jo smiled at Alex and bit back a grin when she noticed him getting choked up. He quickly shook it off and playfully nudged her in the side, attempting to get her to leave him alone.

“And lastly, we’ll end this with the same question we started with: how are you feeling?”

“I feel proud.” Jo said confidently. “I know this is a big step for Alex and I’m proud of him. He didn’t have to come today and he did anyway.” She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his temple.

“I feel…relieved.” Alex said truthfully. “I’m relieved my wife is okay. I’m relieved that I get to see her laugh and smile again and I’m relieved to know that even if things do get bad again, we’ll know how to make them better.”

Both Jo and the therapist seemed pleasantly surprised at his answer. “Well that’s great to hear Alex. I hope we’ll see you in here again soon.”

They both had a long road ahead of them but they now knew that the two of them would get through it together. And maybe one day along the line, Alex would even give therapy a shot by himself.

#here ya go!#there were so many good ones though i might just have to write another #let me know what you guys think as always :)#jolex #jo karev #alex karev #jolex fanfiction #grey's anatomy

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saintvintage · 3 years

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idk y im posting this here but

i’ve had the night from hell. i had said my partner walked out on me yesterday morning. like, he literally walked out the front door with a trash bag containing some of his stuff. he’s a bad alcoholic with so much trauma it’d break your heart. i was angry. i’ve been trying to get him to stop drinking, it’s killing him. he’s got mental illness like you couldn’t believe. i just want him to get better. he drank all night and i caught him that morning, tried to de-escalate by locking myself in the bedroom. told him point blank “i won’t talk to you now. don’t drink anymore. sober up. i’ll talk to you when i wake up” it was about 6-7 am. i don’t sleep well. he had been up all night drinking. he wouldn’t leave me alone. knocked and knocked on the door. i refused to open it. he did this for so long, eventually asked me to let him in to get some clothes. with toothbrush in his mouth, he said he was gonna go to his therapist. it was sunday. i told him. i was angry. i threatened him to get out. he wouldn’t. he kept acting exasperated that i was upset and wanting him to leave me alone, like he hadn’t done anything. i couldn’t take it. i know i shouldn’t have, but i didn’t know what else to do. i grabbed his arm and pulled him hard to the door, then shoved him with all my might through. he had had enough then. called a good friend of ours to pick him up. friend was going to church, wouldn’t be there til the afternoon i figured. ugly fight in the kitchen. i went out back to cool off. eventually, after he told me he was gonna move out, i went and helped him get his things. i was fuming. i took our pictures down out of the bedroom, told him to take everything. i would be bagging it up anyway. he refused. after he had gone back downstairs with his stuff, i locked myself back in the bedroom. i thought he was going to wait to be picked up. i heard him go out the door, but i thought i heard a voice so i figured he left. no, he did leave, but he just took off walking down the road, down the busy roadway outside our neighborhood. i told my family this and they went out to look for him. wouldn’t tell me where he was. eventually i got him on the phone, telling him my family’s out looking for him, crying and telling him they were worried about him and they love him and he was so drunk he kept interrupting me telling me he was fine, like it was stupid for us all to worry. i heard our friend was with him, so i knew he was going over there now, that he was in a car and off the road on foot.

i was a mess, understandably. i tried to go out and not think about it. i got through the day alright, but that night was when the real horror started. our other friend, who is 1 friend’s gf, calls me to check on me. apparently she had been over there with them for a while and she told me all the terrible things were going on. he had been drinking hard liquor all day. friend 1 said later that he had probably drank $300 worth of liquor. i eventually got a call from him, and he told me he was going to kill himself. i texted her (friend 2) to tell her to tell her bf (friend 1) to go check on him because he was by himself outside. F1 did, and he hung up on me when it happened. in between the time i hung up and the time i took a call with F2 trying to get more info on what happened that day and generally see what was going on, my partner had gone into the kitchen and tried to slit his wrists. F1 and his brother drew guns on him to make him stopp. idk but it worked. they called the police who called the EMT. he refused to go to the ER (naturally) so it was up to me to go get him. which, the state my partner was in, it would’ve been a disaster. he had been talking shit about me all day, talking like that whenever he was drinking over there, had made the plans to move out already the last time we were there. he had been hitting on any female around (mostly F2 & F1′s bro’s gf) just.... it was a mess. i got my mother, a nurse, and my teenage brother who is a big kid, to go with me. it was horrifying when i got there. he was so drunk it was shocking. i had never seen him like this before. he was trying to get naked (which i also found out from last time we all hung out, i HAD done) the cops weren’t very helpful (shocker) they had been called twice and were gonna leave again if F1′s bro hadn’t said he’d just call back and have them sent out. they were supposed to escort us to the hospital but just drove off.

partner’s being belligerent, combative, but randomly would get calm. it took a long time, but F1 was able to coax him into the car. child lock on doors and windows. good thing. he tried to get out several times on the ride to the ER. it was going fine until about a couple minutes away he wigged out. it was a literal fight to keep him still. he tried punching the windows out, kicking them, eventually bashing his head into it (there’s blood on my from something and i hope it wasn’t that). he started clawing my brother, tried to knee him, pulled his hair, and i couldn’t help myself but hit him back, try to stop him, it was terrible. when he pulled up, it was three of us trying to subdue him. my mom ran in and asked for “hands” per instruction of F1 who’s in med, a skinny little nurse comes out with a wheelchair. it took me having to scream out help someone help get someone out here to have three men come out there and detain him. i think one of those men might’ve just been a patient or someone in the lobby. as soon as he was out of our grip, he calmed down. i went in with him and checked him in, and talked with everyone a long while about what happened. i’m trying to forgive the flirting and shit-talking because he was drinking. they said he broke his phone, his toothbrush, broke some of their stuff, was trying to fight F1 and his brother, hit on F1′s bro’s gf, did smth to F2 that was inappropriate. it was a nightmare. i called the hospital this morning, and all they could say was he was okay, he was asleep.

we didn’t leave that hospital until about 4 AM. i feel like i’m in a soap opera. i feel drained. it was awful, seeing him so drunk he couldn’t even talk straight. he glared at me. he mocked me. the hatred he had for me then was terrifying. i’m no saint. our relationship is far from perfect. but i didn’t think he had that much hatred for me in his heart. i think i’m a hypocrite for saying that, because i’ve said nasty things to him that i shouldn’t have. i feel partially responsible. i feel like i’ve failed him somehow. everyone kept telling me to stop apologizing and i wasn’t to blame, but that doesn’t feel true to me. i hate what happened. i hate that i couldn’t help him myself. i hate that i’ve been so mean to him in the past. i know, in essence, this anger and hatred isn’t for me, it’s for the abuse he suffered, but it’s still a painful thing to experience. i’m not mad at him, i’m so pitifully drained and tired and sorrowful i don’t even know who i am.

now i’m just waiting for him to wake up and call me. i hope he does. part of me is afraid he won’t even want to talk or have me visit. he’s going to have to go in-patient somewhere. i’ve been trying for about 4 years to get a handle on this, to stop the drinking, get him to therapy, research ways to help him. i should’ve been kinder. i shouldn’t have let my anger explode out of me like that. i’m ashamed to learn of what i did last time we were over there on his bday. what a disaster set of friends we are. i’ve got to learn how to make the both of us healthy. i’ve got to figure out how to get us as independent, healthy-minded people. i’ve got to help him get to where he can fortify himself and heal. i’ve talked myself blue in the face about how his past still haunts him and how he lives in this agony everyday and how he HAS TO process his troubles before he can move on. there’s been such little effort on his part. he blamed me for trying to stop him from drinking, at least that’s what they said he was saying about me. i nagged him. i just am gonna need a distraction and support and i don’t even know what i’m going to say when he calls. i won’t tell him what happened yet. i know for a fact he won’t remember it, and he’ll wake up in the hospital not even knowing how he got there. this is just so sick to me. but i have to help him. if i don’t, no one else will be able to. i’m just so grateful for our friends and my family helping out. if it wasn’t for them, i have no idea what would’ve happened. it wouldn’t been horrible, though.

#long vent post #i just needed to get this off my chest #process what's happened #i feel numb and confused

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super-rainbows · 7 years

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(This is long, so I hope the readmore works (since I’m on the app), and either way, I’m sorry)

I’m extremely bitter that none of the mental health professionals I see seem to be doing anything actually helpful at all whatsoever.

I’ve heard of other people whose therapists will have clear goals they’re trying to achieve and/or some kind of specific plan, give them actual suggestions and coping skills and worksheets, give them “homework” to do, etc. None of mine have ever done anything like that. I’m going to focus specifically on the people I go to now as opposed to the therapist I went to for 7 years who never helped or did anything remotely practical even when I specifically asked, because that’s a whole other level of bitterness (since I wasted 1/3 of my entire life going there and am even worse now than when I started going, and if they’d just actually helped in the first place then maybe I’d have been better long before now).

I would do bullet points but I’m on the app so I can’t, so just pretend they’re there. :P I’m listing every even remotely actual practical thing the current professionals have done, including both good and bad things.

Psychiatrist 1: Focused pretty much entirely on me being trans and ignored everything else. When I specifically gave him a list of symptoms/problems I’d been having and wanted help with, he said “but obviously you don’t have these problems right now” even though I’d literally just said that I did. Sent a letter saying that clinic wouldn’t help me because I “just” have a drug problem. Changed his mind when I got referred the second time, as soon as I mentioned having been sexually assaulted. Said he’d refer me to trauma counselling but didn’t (that place *only* accepts self referrals, but he didn’t tell me that).

Psychiatrist 2: Prescribed me a week’s worth of xanax once. Gave me the contact information for the trauma counselling place (also made them change their minds somehow after they’d decided they didn’t want to help me). Prescribes repeat prescriptions of the medication I got prescribed by a different psychiatrist when I was 17 (it’s a mood stabilizer and all it really does is make me less likely to act on suicidal urges). Referred me to a psychologist in the same clinic. Told me to “look into low-cost counselling services”. Told me to go to an addiction service. Tells me that I should stop taking codeine. Wrote a letter to my college to get them to let me not do the year abroad thing I’m meant to do next year.

Psychologist: Told me that I can only do DBT if I’m not addicted to anything and so I need to get off codeine. Told me to go to an addiction service.

Addiction service: Told me to take less codeine. Told me to only take codeine every second day (then didn’t listen when I said I found that too drastic/difficult and didn’t have the emotional energy to handle going into withdrawals every second day while also trying to cope without being high and generally function in college. I’m sure it sounded like I was just making excuses, but I would’ve been willing to try something less extreme, like the gradual reduction that I’m doing right now). Said that he didn’t believe in mental illness (and made that clear by the fact that he kept asking me “why” I used to be depressed and suicidal, and not taking “I had depression” as an answer, since he kept being like “but *why* were you depressed? There had to be *some* reason”). Tried to blame my mental illness symptoms on me being trans.

Trauma counselor 1: Told me that since I’m autistic they probably couldn’t help me. Said that if I found it hard to talk about the sexual assault then I shouldn’t be there. Changed her mind somehow and put me on the waiting list.

Trauma counselor 2: Tells me to get off codeine. Won’t say anything if I don’t say anything (which is extremely unhelpful since I find it hard to initiate conversations, and I told him this, but he either doesn’t care or doesn’t get that I literally can’t say anything if I don’t have anything to say or don’t know what he wants). Said that finding it hard to speak out loud without being prompted isn’t an autistic thing (though even if it isn’t, it’s still a problem that I personally have anyway, so that’s not a reason to just ignore that).

“Low cost counselling” person: Tells me to reduce codeine (like, “keep taking this much for now, then next month go down to this much”, etc). Slightly more willing to say something or ask me something if I don’t know what to say (as in, he actually listened when I told him I find it hard to say things out unprompted, which means less silences). Sort of treats my “imaginary friends” (I don’t think that phrasing accurately describes them but I don’t know what does) like actual people, or at least asks me about them etc, but also said that he believes they’re just part of me as opposed to different people.

Basically the point I’m trying to make is that every single one of them doesn’t really do anything helpful. Like, they either just refer me to other people, tell me to stop taking codeine, are actively unhelpful in some way, or just don’t really do anything. Like, I go in there, we talk for an hour, and then I leave. I don’t come out with any new knowledge or perspectives or anything, it’s literally just a conversation. Nothing is becoming different, and nothing is happening, and there’s no specific focus or aim or direction or anything. That applies to all of them, but I’m mostly talking about “trauma counselor 2” and “low cost person” because they’re the ones I currently see who are supposed to be actually helping me (I also see “psychologist” and “psychiatrist 2”, but like I said, all they really do is tell me to get off codeine, and give me repeat prescriptions and refer me other places, respectively). You’d think the trauma counselor would at least have a specific focus since it’s literally *trauma* counselling, aimed solely at people who’ve been through some kind of trauma, but he just completely refuses to even try to be specific or have a direction at all. Like, when I ask what I should talk about he won’t tell me at all and is just vague. How is having an unfocused conversation every week with nothing specific or practical at all ever, supposed to somehow make me able to handle emotions without getting high, or make me not be negatively affected by the sexual assault thing anymore?

If *just* talking to a person, with no aim or focus or direction or practical suggestions or anything resembling *actual help* could somehow fix the problems I have, I’d be completely fine by now, because like I said, I spent *SEVEN YEARS* doing exactly that! And it made no difference at all, except now I have more/worse problems because nothing was ever actually done to *ACTUALLY* fix or address anything!

I’d always thought that maybe the people I see were so unhelpful because I was seeing them through the public system for free as opposed to directly paying them, but now I am seeing someone who I directly pay, and he’s just as unhelpful except it’s even worse because not only am I wasting time by going to therapy that isn’t even trying to actually accomplish anything, but I’m wasting money, too.

I’ve only seen the trauma counselling person twice, so technically I don’t have much of an opinion on him yet, since he *could* suddenly become helpful after the 4th session or something, in theory. It’s just that so far he keeps being vague and confusing and refusing to be helpful at all.

Also, there was one person who I found helpful once even though it was also just talking. But that was someone who I was seeing through my college’s counselling service, which limits you to 8 appointments per academic year. I don’t know how or why exactly that was “helpful” when nothing else ever is or was. I think I just liked that he told me I wasn’t completely worthless and inferior to everyone etc, and that what piq did was wrong and bad and that I didn’t deserve it, and that I wasn’t being ridiculous or overreacting.

I think other therapists might’ve said things like that once or twice, but I guess it wasn’t the focus? I don’t know, and I don’t particularly want to just be like to either therapist, “please compliment me and tell me that all the things I wish were true are true”, because I’d probably just sound really vain and egotistical to *ask them* to tell me that I’m not worthless and defective etc.

And either way, I did directly ask the therapist I saw from age 13-19ish if he could help me to not hate myself and not feel so anxious and guilty whenever I ate anything, and he just told me to eat less and try to lose weight. So following that pattern, presumably if I directly asked, “could you make me feel like I’m not worthless?” they might just say “why don’t you just stop *being* so worthless?”

And the low cost person has repeatedly said and implied that I *am* overreacting to all the incidents of sexual assault (even if I am, I still find it upsetting when other people tell me that), so I wouldn’t really trust him enough to directly ask him to reassure me that I’m not worthless for example, since he might just say that actually the way I feel is right and I objectively *am* worthless.

#personal #long post #complaining about mental health professionals #feel free to read #and it's okay to reblog if you want but i don't see why you would #unless it was to reply or something #which is also fine unless you want to yell at me in which case i'd prefer you didn't #actuallybpd #i know i don't mention bpd in the post i don't think but still #i just felt like tagging it and it may also contribute to either why talking doesn't help me #or why i often resent all my therapists #like every session will rewrite my entire opinion of them #and then i'll go back to thinking they're unhelpful later if that's not already what i thought #but they must be unhelpful if i still have bpd and a drug problem etc #or at least the one i saw from age 13-19 definitely had to have been completely unhelpful #otherwise that much therapy would'vemade me the most mentally healthy person ever #actuallyaddicted

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dimensionhoppingrose · 7 years

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In My Veins (11/?)

Title: In My Veins Rating: K+ Pairing: Ten/Rose, human AU Summary: –Telepathic bond soulmate AU– Everyone kept saying kids couldn’t develop telepathic bonds, that it was completely impossible. John Smith and Rose Tyler defied the impossible.

Notes: Well I finally managed to hash out a soulmate AU enough to be happy with writing it. All the blame for this entire story goes to @lastbluetardis, who not only encouraged it, but also allowed me to yell at her about it until I was happy enough to start writing it. Blame her entirely.

Read it on A03

Catch up on Tumblr

Warning For: Eating disorder, body image issues

John: 18; Rose: 16

Stop thinking.

John rolled over, burying his face in his pillow. I’m trying.

You’re not doing a very good job.

She was right. He was doing his best, but he was also freaking out. He was getting ready to go to university. Who wouldn’t be anxious about that?

I’m sorry, he said quietly. I can go, if you want.

No! Rose said quickly. I… I don’t want you to go. Please.

She hadn’t tried to block John out since they had reconciled, and John was grateful for that. It had been so lonely without her. He didn’t want to go through that again.

It was clear John wasn’t sleeping, so instead he turned on his bedside lamp and grabbed his sketchbook, drawing mindlessly. It was the fastest way to calm himself when he was thinking too much.

He felt Rose in the back of his head, relaxing a bit as he began drawing. Her presence was a warm, comforting glow, and he was so happy to have it back.

Are you mad at me? Rose asked quietly after a moment. John hesitated, pencil pausing. He couldn’t lie. Rose would know. One of the downsides of having her in his head. And it was hard to deny that things had been… awkward between them since Rose had begun talking to him again. It was unavoidable.

I’m… I’m not mad. That was the truth. I… don’t really know how to explain how I feel, honestly. There were a lot of feelings. He couldn’t put them all into words.

I know I was horrible to you, Rose said. You didn’t deserve that.

I am sorry I broke our promise, John replied. But I didn’t have a choice, Rose. You were killing yourself.

I know. Which didn’t stop the slight flare of annoyance that ran through Rose. I know. I just… I hate being here so much.

I know you do. But you need to be.

Rose was quiet for a moment. We’re not talking about me, she said finally, quietly. I asked about you.

John sighed. I’m just… it hurt, Rose. A lot. When you weren’t talking to me. And I don’t just mean physically. Although the headaches had been brutal.

I know being angry isn’t an excuse, Rose said, and John felt a wave of sadness. You didn’t deserve that. And I am sorry. I honestly am.

I know you are. She couldn’t lie, after all.

And even if she could, John would have believed her anyways.

* * * * * * * *

“I see you’ve been doing much better with eating,” Rose’s therapist said, and Rose ducked her head, staring at the floor.

“Yeah,” she mumbled. It was still hard — her brain was still trying to count the calories in every single thing she ate, and ignoring it was hard. But she was trying. And she was eating.

And that was something.

“Why the sudden change?” It wasn’t exactly a secret that Rose had been… resistant to any and all treatment in the hospital. She’d ate because the alternative was ending up with an IV in her arm (and needles terrified her), but it had been the bare minimum and even then it had been unwilling.

Having John back was… helping, though. It was far from a cure, but John… made her feel better. And made her want to be better.

“I don’t know.” She didn’t want to talk about John. She had more or less avoided it up to this point — it wasn’t a door she wanted to open — and if she could get out of this place without ever mentioning John’s name, then great. John had told her about his experience at the doctor’s, and that wasn’t something she wanted to deal with until she absolutely had to.

And she knew she would have to eventually.

I’m back, Rose said quietly as she left the therapist’s office. John tried really hard not to pay attention during therapy, recognizing that it was Rose’s time. He didn’t know how to fully block her out the way Rose had done to him, and honestly Rose was glad about that. She never wanted to go through that kind of separation again.

It had been too much.

You alright? John asked at once. Rose believed he really did his best not to listen. But it was hard.

Yeah… I’ll live. I just want to get out of here.

I know you do.

Rose went back to her room, sighing as she collapsed into bed. Her parents’ were definitely getting their money’s worth this place. But it was still a hospital, and Rose was still trapped here.

And she wanted to go home.

Rose? John asked quietly. Why did you stop eating?

He had never asked. Rose had honestly assumed he knew. But then again, knowing and understanding were two very different things.

I… I was scared, she mumbled, curling up tight in bed. I mean, I’m not really that pretty, and if I’m fat too, then…

What are you talking about? John asked in disbelief. You’re beautiful!

A small, sad smile pulled at Rose’s lips. No I’m not. But thanks.

Of course you are, John insisted.

You’ve only seen the stupid pictures in magazines. Rose spent hours being made to look pretty for those.

That’s not true. You sent me pictures, remember? I love them. You’re my backgound on my phone.

… Rose didn’t know what to say to that. She had completely forgotten about the stupid selfies she and John had sent each other. Really?

Of course.

Tears filled Rose’s eyes, and she wiped them quickly. If it had been anyone else, she would have assumed they were lying just to make her feel better.

But it was John, and he couldn’t lie to her. She could feel the absolute sincerity in his words, could hear the slight awe in his voice as he insisted on how beautiful she was.

He couldn’t lie to her. She would know if he tried.

You really think so? She asked all the same. After all, he had pretty girls practically falling over him all the time. It seemed impossible to think that he really believed she was pretty.

Of course I do.

He wasn’t lying.

* * * * * * * *

It was another two months — making it seven months total — before Rose was finally released from the hospital. She still had to go back once a week for therapy, and she had to have regular doctor’s appointments to monitor her health, but for the most part she could return to her regular life.

She couldn’t wait.

John had been busy most of the morning, which disappointed Rose, but she understood, of course. He had a life.

Jackie and Pete finished up all the paperwork, Rose packed her belongings, and they headed out. Rose was bouncing, thrilled to finally be able to leave. She couldn’t wait to go home, or even to see her brother again. How could she be so happy to see Tony? That didn’t seem possible.

Hey, look to your left.

Rose paused as she walked out of the hospital with her parents, the request understandably baffling. But after a moment she complied.

And her heart jumped.

There was John. Standing in front of a bench, his hands in his pockets, watching her anxiously. Rose’s mouth fell open, and for a moment she stared at John, completely stunned.

What’re you…

Just wanted to see you.

That snapped Rose out of her stupor, and she bolted toward John, throwing her arms around him. John caught her and practically lived her off the ground in his exuberance, laughing.

He gave really good hugs.

* * * * * * * *

Rose was rightfully suspicious when Jackie and Pete offered John a ride home. Not that her parents were horrible or anything, but there was something off about the offer.

As it turned out, Rose’s suspicions were one-hundred percent correct.

“Is your aunt home?” Pete asked John as they pulled up in front of John’s house. It was cute. Rose would’ve loved living in a place like this.

“Yeah…” John said slowly, realizing he probably should’ve just taken the bus.

“Could we meet her?”

Oh boy. John sighed inwardly, and he could feel Rose’s distrust in the back of his head. She didn’t like this, either. “Sure,” John said all the same, climbing out of the car. Rose frowned as she followed suit, reaching to take John’s hand. He smiled a bit, intertwining their fingers.

“Aunt Sarah?” He called nervously as he led Rose and her parents inside.

“Upstairs,” Sarah Jane called back.

“Um, could you come here? Please?”

“That doesn’t sound good.” There was a pause, then Sarah Jane came downstairs, pausing when she saw their company. “Um…”

“Pete Tyler.” Pete introduced himself with a smile, stepping forward to shake Sarah Jane’s hand. “This is my wife, Jackie, and our daughter, Rose. I’m sorry for just dropping in like this, but we were in the neighborhood.”

Sarah Jane gave John a look, eyes flitting to his and Rose’s intertwined fingers. “Sarah Jane Smith, and not a problem at all. A meeting is probably overdue anyways, considering how long our kids have known each other.”

Rose and John both blushed, ducking their heads. “Why don’t you two go upstairs so we can talk?” Sarah Jane suggested. “We’ll talk in the kitchen.”

“Sounds good,” John said quickly, pulling Rose to the stairs. He wanted to be away from her parents for a while. They were intimidating.

“This is my room,” John said with a flourish as he led Rose into his bedroom. It was a mess, as usual. He hadn’t really been expecting company. Rose flopped down on the bed, looking around.

“It’s nice,” she said honestly, and John snorted.

“Well it’s not quite a mansion…”

“I’d rather live here,” Rose said. The mansion was huge — way too big for only four of them. There was nothing personal or home-y about it. This, on the other hand, was a proper home.

John hurried to his desk, pulling out the binder he’d kept for Rose’s birthday drawings. “Now seems like a good time to give you these,” he said, a bit shyly, as he went to sit beside Rose, handing her the binder. Rose’s eyes lit up.

“Is this for me?”

“Is your name Rose?” John teased. She giggled as she opened it, and her eyes widened.

“Oh John…”

“That one isn’t that good,” John said quickly, turning the page. “They get better.”

“They’re all amazing,” Rose insisted. “How’d you know what I looked like before you saw a picture of me?” The early ones were amazingly accurate.

“I’m not sure,” John admitted. “I just sort of… knew. Like I knew you had blonde hair, and I knew your eyes were brown. Stuff like that.”

“That’s weird,” Rose said thoughtfully. “I wonder if it has something to do with the bond.”

“I don’t know. That’s what I thought too.”

Rose went through the entire binder twice, drinking in the details of every drawing. It was amazing. John was so talented.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” John asked after a moment, looking out his door and toward the stairs.

“Who knows.” Rose shook her head. She had no idea how her parents felt about the bond. They could have been talking about anything.

“Want to find out?”

Rose looked at John, and after a moment they both grinned before creeping toward the stairs.

“…Just don’t think it’s a good idea—”

“With all due respect, Mr. Tyler,” Sarah Jane interrupted Pete evenly. “I don’t think it really matters what you think. You can’t make this bond go away.”

“I’m just not sure it’s healthy,” Pete insisted. “Rose is extremely fragile—”

“She’s a human being, she’s not made of glass, and this bond has existed for years. It’s not like it’s something new.”

“So you approve of this?” Jackie demanded.

“I don’t think my thoughts on the situation particularly matter,” Sarah Jane pointed out. “Am I happy they hid it for years? Of course not. But that’s in the past, and getting huffy about it now isn’t going to do any good. You can’t just throw money at it and make it go away. They have a telepathic bond, and you can’t break that.”

“I’m not saying I want to break the bond,” Pete replied with a hint of impatience. “But I don’t think it should necessarily determine their entire future. People can have soulmate bonds and not end up with the people they’re bonded with. I did.”

Rose blinked, biting her lip to keep herself from making a surprised noise. She hadn’t known that.

“I think that’s up to them, not you,” Sarah Jane pointed out.

“Do they know that, though? They deserve to have options. Rose has never even gone on a date. Has John?”

“Does that matter?”

“Yes, it does. If they’ve already decided they want to be together without exploring their options—”

“Then that’s their choice, not yours.”

“As long as they know it’s a choice and not an obligation.”

Rose and John exchanged looks, frowning. They had never really talking about their relationship, or what they wanted for the future. It had never come up.

But they had a feeling they wouldn’t be able to avoid it for much longer.

“They’re not children anymore,” Sarah Jane said. “They’re perfectly aware they have free will, and that’s a discussion they need to have their own. I’m not going to force them to do anything. Are you?”

“I’m not going to force Rose to do anything,” Pete said. “I just want her to be happy, and it’s clear that she hasn’t been for a long time.”

“That is not John’s fault.”

“You know,” Rose said loudly, and John jumped. “If you were going to try and figure out our future for us, you could’ve let us know. Or should we just go away until you’re done planning everything out?”

“Rose—” John started to say, but Rose pushed herself up before he could stop her, hurrying downstairs and out the front door. John sighed as he stood and went downstairs, peeking into the kitchen.

“Should’ve known you’d be listening,” Sarah Jane said dryly.

“You were talking about us,” John pointed out. “I think we deserve to know what you’re saying.”

He didn’t look at Rose’s parents as he turned to go find Rose. What they’d said had bothered him. He loved Rose, he knew he did. He would have fallen in love with her no matter how they’d met.

They just had more time together this way.

Rose hadn’t gone far, at least. She was sitting on the sidewalk outside the house, staring blankly at the ground. “They’re always doing that,” she mumbled as John sat with her. “They’re always trying to plan out my life for me and acting like I don’t know what’s best for myself.”

John wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and she curled into him, letting out a long breath. “Sometimes I wish we were just regular people,” she mumbled. “If we weren’t rich they wouldn’t act this way.”

“They’re just worried,” John said despite himself. He hated playing Devil’s advocate considering how unhappy he was with the conversation they’d heard. But he didn’t want Rose to hate her parents either.

“I don’t need them to worry, I need them to support me.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Rose’s parents came out, clearly intending to search for her themselves. They paused when they saw her sitting right outside the house.

“Rose?” Jackie called. “We’re leaving.”

Rose curled tighter into John before sighing and pushing herself up. “Fine,” she mumbled. Talk later?

Absolutely.

She made her way silently to the car. John stayed outside and watched the car pull away.

* * * * * * * *

“We’re just worried about you, Rose—”

“Why? Because I have someone who cares about me?” Rose asked fiercely. “And I’m not fragile.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Pete insisted.

“Yes, you did.”

“Rose,” Jackie cut in quietly. “Do you love John?”

The question brought Rose up short. Did she love John? He made her feel good, she missed him when she wasn’t around, and she loved having this bond with him and being able to talk to him whenever she wanted. The months she hadn’t been talking to him had killed her, and she never wanted to go through that again.

But she also knew there was no right way to answer that question. Either she said yes, and her parents insisted she didn’t know what she was talking about. Or she said no, and her parents used it against her.

She wasn’t going to win.

“John’s important to me,” is what she finally settled for.

“And we’re not saying there’s anything wrong with that,” Pete replied. “But don’t you think you need more people in your life besides him?”

“Like who? No one wants to be friends with me because I’m your daughter. Or they do want to be friends with me because I’m your daughter.” She didn’t mean to sound so scathing — or maybe she did. This had been building up for a long time. “John wants me. What’s wrong with that?”

“We’re not saying it’s wrong. We just don’t want you to feel like you have to settle—”

Rose stood up abruptly, storming out of the room. She had known it was going to come to that sooner or later. John was beneath Rose. That was the problem at the end of the day. Her parents could act like it was concern for her all they wanted, but the only thing they were worried about was their status and how it would look to the public if she dated a commoner.

I don’t think that’s entirely it, John spoke up quietly. I do think they’re worried about you.

Maybe, Rose huffed as she threw herself into bed, curling up tight. It was nice, at least, to be back in her own bed. I don’t need them to worry about me.

You’re hard not to worry about sometimes, John said. Rose sighed, burying her face in her pillow.

Yeah. I guess.

#ficandchips #dwau #dwfic #dw fic #in my veins

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actuallynotsatisfied · 6 years

Text

Hello world! (Day 1)

I’m new here. Recently I feel like I’m not really in control of my life anymore and everything I do seems to go wrong. So I figured starting a blog could actually help me a lot, you know, like in the movies, haha.

I’ll start by introducing myself: I’m 18 years old and currently live in Germany. I’m 170cm tall and weigh about 64kg. I have brown hair, green eyes and kind of a big nose. At least that’s what my Mom once told me as I was casually chatting with her. :D Oh, and I’m gay! That’ll be important if you’ll follow my blog in the future. I’ll keep my name and stuff anonymous as of now, since I feel like it’s better for me. But who knows, maybe one day that’ll change?

This is the first time I use Tumblr in a proper way. I’ve had many accounts on here before, though. They were primarily to watch funny things or porn so an actual “unproper” way, haha. But I think that I finally found a good use for this site now.

I’ve had depression before and was in therapy. I never cut myself or tried to commit suicide, but I was thinking about it. Anyway, therapy was kinda successful and I felt a lot better. However it seems that that was only temporary, as I feel like shit at the moment. I thought about calling my old therapist again to make an appointment, and I know I should to that, but it just feels wrong because she used to tell me I was making great steps towards recovery. So calling her again would kind of fell like a disappointment (Not that I’m not used to disappointing people by now).

Since I wrote so much already and I don’t want to bore anyone with my rather boring life, I’ll try to talk about my problems in short now. :)

It all started on the 21st of October. I was working at an amusement park and there was this Halloween event where the park was open until 10pm. And during my work shift I “met” someone. Twice actually. First time was in the middle of the day. I was standing there at the grill, making burgers and I looked into the line at the checkout-thingy (you know, where you pay for the stuff you just ordered) and there was this cute guy, staring at me. And he just wouldn’t look away. Once he left I told my friend about it who was working with me in that burger store. She said, that I probably just imagined that. And I figured that she must’ve been right. However, later in there evening, just before the park was supposed to close, that guy (and his family) came back to the store I was working in and ordered a meal. I again saw him staring at me and this time, after they got their food, they sat down at a table next to our store. At first I didn’t recognize him, but his staring along with me remembering his sister lead to me to the idea, that that could’ve been the exact same guy from a couple hours ago. I was talking to my friend and she said that this was my chance. I didn’t know what to do. And so I did the most cliché thing I could think of: Writing my phone number on a piece of paper and handing it to him alongside a cup of coke. Well except I didn’t do it but gave the paper and the coke to my friend instead so she could walk up to him as I was just to scared and terrified. Looking back that was a mistake but it didn’t really matter because he sent me a message on the next day. I was so happy but still scared and excited. This was the first time I’ve ever done something like that. I didn’t even know anything about his sexuality.

(You have to know, I never really had a relationship. I never kissed someone, I’ve never had sex. There was this one time I had a long-distance “relationship” with a guy from England but that didn’t really work out and I don’t really want to call that a relationship. I never really searched for love in “real life” as I was just not confident enough about myself. That kind of changed during my therapy. I’m still not as confident about me and my body as I’d like to be, but I’m definitely ready for a “normal” relationship.)

Anyways, we were chatting for a bit, we added eachother on snapchat and then I asked him out on a date. That date went okay, considering it was my first one (and his first one too if I’m not mistaken). We didn’t talk as much as we should have. He was shy and insecure so he wasn’t really able to hold up the conversation. But I tried everything for the date not to be a disaster and I did an okay job considering I’m actually just as shy. On the date, we took a walk in the park and then went to get pizza. At the end I asked him if he liked it and if he’d like to meet me again sometime and he said yes. His bus arrived, he looked me in the eyes and asked “Do you hug after these kind of things?” and before I could even answer, he hugged me. At this moment, I really felt appreciated again for a long time. One week passed and I asked him if he would like to go to the movies with me and he agreed. But before that date, we actually met each other in the hospital. He’s working there and I was visiting my mother who’ve had foot problems. Anyway, I was standing in front of the cafeteria, talking to an old friend when suddenly he interrupted me from the side and asked if I wanted to join him on his break. Of course I said yes. And that “second date” went a bit better than the first one. We still didn’t talk as much as I would’ve liked to but I realized that I really like his humor. It’s actually quite similar to mine (even though it seems like he has not noticed this yet. unfortunately.). Anyway, our official second date was drawing near but the evening before he texted me that he’d like to postpone it as he wanted to get a haircut first and he just feels like there was not enough time between work, going to the barber and meeting me at the cinema. I was a bit angry and sad. I asked him to tell me when he has time to meet me, because he just wanted to “postpone” it, but he never did. One week later I texted him, asking if everything was alright between us and if he was still interested in me. He replied that this was his first time writing with a boy “like this” and that it’s all new to him. I was relieved and wrote him an endless long text, saying how I was feeling neglected. I also opened up to him about not having any relationship experience because I figured that that might lead to him opening up as well. His reply was actually disappointing. He didn’t talk about everything I was writing about and simply responded, that he’d like to take very slow steps as he’d be “sad too, if this didn’t work out”. This was the point I realized: I don’t get him. I wasn’t going to fast, he confirmed that. He didn’t even knew himself what he meant by “very slow steps” and in the coming days I learned, that “slow steps” would actually mean “no steps”. I recommended not asking him out anymore and that he should ask me the next time because that way I would knew he’s ready. That turned out to be a big mistake. He never asked me out until now. I decided to talk to him again about everything. This is the beginning of the conversation:

Me: “Hey. I wanted to know what’s happening between us” Him: “I don’t know“ Me: “That’s not good. I think you should actually figure out by now what exactly you want” Him: “I know but this just feels so ‘wrong’ but also not if you know what I mean”

This was a shock to me. I’ll be honest, I WANTED to hear something else. Something like “I want to meet you again” or so. However he just told me that he can’t explain what he’s meaning as he doesn’t know himself. I told him that of course I was picturing a relationship at the end of everything because at the end, that’s what “dating” is for (even though we didn’t and don’t really do that anymore). This was the first time I cried over him. This made me realize: I care. About him. I can’t say I love him, but I definitely have a crush on him. And that sucks.

So now I’m here. Today. We don’t really write over WhatsApp anymore because according to him, he never really uses it. So we basically only talk about snapchat. And that’s weird because using Snapchat, you can’t really have a serious, interesting talk. Also: He always replies super late. On WhatsApp as well as on Snapchat. I get that he does that on WhatsApp if he barely uses it but I don’t get why he doesn’t answer on Snapchat. I know he’s using it. I see it on the Snapchat map. It feels like he’s avoiding me and that hurts. The thing is: I don’t get him. While sometimes I have this feeling he doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore because he never replies, other times he “talks” to me more, making me feel like he cares at least a bit.

And yesterday something weird happened on Snapchat. I always send him Selfies or something like that but everything I used to get from him were pics of walls or floors with a bit of text. But yesterday? He was sending selfies too. It felt like he was opening up to me, like he feels a bit more comfortable. But I don’t know because well, I don’t get him. Right now for example. I know I shouldn’t be stalking - Wow. I actually just wanted to write that he has not responded to my snap in hours and in this very moment I got a snap. - I just replied. Let’s see how long it takes for him to reply.

Anyway, last time we talked using WhatsApp, I asked him a couple questions and gave him time until the end of this week to think about them and then answer me - he just replied - tomorrow is friday and I’ll use WhatsApp to ask him if he already thought about them or needs more time. Because honestly? I need answers sooner or later.

I’m meeting up with my friends tomorrow evening to make and eat burgers. It’s the first time actually that I’m doing anything with them since they became my friends after I switched to this school (college) 1.5 years ago.

Wow. This text got out of control. Didn’t mean for it to get THAT long. Well at least you’re informed now. I’m going to prepare some stuff for school now and then go to sleep. I’ll probably write another entry tomorrow. But I’m not promising anything :P Have a nice day. :)

#world #sad #life #control #day #love #gay #story #boy #relationship #depression #Snapchat #WhatApp #hello #introduction #me #evening #sleep #new #tumblr #romantic #phone #talk #therapy #blog

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