#at my last session my therapist told me i need to grow up and think about my future

[a-little-bit-poss]

.

[theladyofdeath]

Better or Worse {6}

Nessian. Angst. Modern au.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

A/N: Thank you for reading! We hope you continue to enjoy! Please note this chapter's warning. x

Warnings: child loss.

We sit in Gwyn’s office in nothing but silence. I had high expectations for our date, but since then, things have been…tense. 

Cassian left me on the streets outside of Sea and Vine, which is exactly what I wanted. I made it two blocks before calling an Uber to drive me around the city before dropping me off at home. Cassian had been waiting up, but didn’t say a word to me once I had gotten home and climbed into bed. He simply made his way to the couch for the night after locking up.

I know I have to talk about what happened, but I wasn’t ready in that first session and I didn’t want to be shamed for not being ready. As I sit here now, however, I know that I’m going to have to face it sooner rather than later.

Especially when she starts the session by asking, “How did your date go?”

Cassian snorts beside me. I want to smack him. Gwyn just lifts a brow.

“Nesta wanted to leave halfway through because she didn’t like our topic of conversation, then decided to Uber home instead of getting in the car with me,” Cassian says, bitterly. I don’t blame him. Even though we’ve continued our small talk around the house for the last few days, I know that he’s still pissed about our date gone wrong. 

“I see,” Gwyn says, and looks at me. “What was this conversation that you didn’t like?”

I open my mouth to respond, but it’s Cassian that says, “I told her that we need to be truthful when we’re here. We need to get everything out in the open.”

Gwyn is still looking at me. “I will agree that honesty is key when in counseling. It’s usually the parts of us that we are afraid to face head on that are the things that need to be discussed. Even if it’s difficult.”

Cassian looks at me as he leans his forearms on his thighs. He’s a little too big for this tiny couch. That’s what I’m focusing on as he says, “I want to talk about it.”

I know what it he’s referring to. I don’t have to ask. “I don’t.”

“We need to.”

“I’m not ready.”

“You’re never going to be ready.” This time, his tone changes. It makes me look at him. His eyes are pleading and something within me sways and breaks. “I need to talk about it. I need for us to talk about it.”

I’ve been ignoring his needs for a long time. Ignoring them for so long that it led us here, to this, to him wanting to leave me. I know I need to grant him this, to open up, to talk about it, but the thought already has me in tears and I haven’t even said the words out loud yet. 

But then he turns to me and takes my hand. He brushes his thumb over mine, and it comforts me, if only a little. 

I find a place on the carpet and stare at it, cling to it, as I say, “Last time you had asked if anything had happened a year ago, when we started growing distant with one another, and I said no.” Cassian’s thumb continues to soothe me. “I lied, and asked Cassian to lie, too. There was no cheating, nothing like that, but…” I swallow and wipe my eyes with my free hand. “Cass and I tried starting a family about two years after we were married, once we had graduated and found jobs. It took a while, but I finally got pregnant and then I miscarried. The same thing happened about a year later, so we waited a few years before trying again. When we did try again, I got pregnant right away.” I look up at Gwyn, who is watching me patiently. I’m not sure if therapists are supposed to show any emotion, but I see the sorrow in her eyes that mirror my own. “I made it about halfway through my pregnancy, thinking that this would finally happen for me, for us, but then we lost her.” Her. There they were. The words laid bare. The words I have not spoken or confessed in a year, since the night that it happened, when I cried and screamed as my husband held me in the hospital. “That was about a year ago now.” I take a minute to try and compose myself, to overcome the sob that snuck its way out. Cassian's hand on mine is tight, and when I glance at him, he’s crying too, but his tears are silent. He says nothing, but he watches me, he comforts me, he grounds me. “I know that that’s when I started becoming distant. I wanted to mourn alone. That alone time eventually just became a wall that I had built up too high that I’m still having trouble tearing down. I started working more because it distracted me, and now it’s what everyone expects of me, to get out new content quickly. And I didn’t want to have any sort of intimacy because I didn’t want to go through that again.” I look at Cassian. “I don’t want to go through that again. I can’t go through that again.”

“First of all, Nesta, I want to thank you for trusting me — and Cassian — enough to open up about that.” The notepad is open before her, but for once, her pen isn’t in her hand. Her eyes are on me, on both of us, as she regards us with sympathy. “I had a feeling there was something you weren’t being completely forthright about when we spoke last, but I will never push you into speaking about something you haven’t begun to come to terms with yourself. Infertility can often be a silent battle, one that you feel like you’re going through alone, but I can assure you that you two are not the only ones fighting it.” She turned her attention on Cassian and I tensed. “Cassian, if I may, you lied for Nesta when we talked last, yet it seems like this is something you’re needing to talk about, too. Why is that?”

He released a breath, his fingers tightening in mine. “Because…no one knew. No one knows.” My eyes shut before I could see Cassian’s fresh tears, but I’m unable to stop my own tears that continue to fall. “We kept the pregnancy a secret, after the two miscarriages before. Nesta wanted to wait to tell our family and friends. We didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up, to get our hopes up, if something went wrong. And then it did.” His voice was quiet and broken. “My brothers never even knew that I was going to be a dad. And then she was just gone, before we even got to hold her. To know her. To love her.”

Suddenly, I can only see the blood. I see blood on our sheets and hear the beeps of machines at the hospital, meant to read her heart rate and mine. I remember the emptiness I felt, empty from the shock until the reality hit me, that my baby was gone. Again. Everything after that was a blur but that emptiness had returned, had remained. The bloodstained sheets and the steady beeping of the heart monitor remained in my mind, in my memory. The monitor only picked up one heartbeat, and it wasn’t the one I had wanted to hear.

Guilt consumes me, yet again. I had never asked Cassian how he was after that. I had never wanted to talk about it. He had to heal, all alone. I want to apologize, but I can’t seem to open my mouth and form the words, so I reach up and wipe his tears with my free hand. 

Our eyes meet and hold, and a wordless conversation passes between us. Gwyn remains quiet, letting a moment pass, then another. 

“I encourage you both to talk about this beyond these walls.” Gwyn spoke quietly. “And when you’re mourning this loss, let the other know so that they can be there for you and comfort you. We are not meant to grieve alone and it seems that the two of you have been grieving alone for far too long.” 

I nod, as does Cassian. 

“Is that honest communication something you can vow to work on?”

“Yes,” I say, clearing my throat, and Cassian repeats my answer. 

Gwyn smiles kindly, and I have to admit that I'm feeling lighter. At least until she asks, “Was it before this experience that the two of you were last intimate?”

Ah. The other topic I’ve been dreading.

“No,” Cassian begins, slowly. His grip on mine has lessened, but he keeps holding my hand. “There was a time about six months ago, but that’s been it.”

The time when he came into the shower with me. It had been good, amazing, as it always had been. But that was it. One time in a year. I’m embarrassed. I look at the floor to try and hide it.

Gwyn jots something down. “And how do you feel about that lack of intimacy?”

“I understand it,” he said, calmly. “Especially now that she’s told me why…but, I’d be lying if I said that it didn’t bother me.”

“How would you describe your sex life, before everything happened?” She asks, as if it’s a totally normal thing to ask about. Which, in this instance, I guess it is.

“Very healthy,” I admit, clearing my throat. I’ve never been uncomfortable talking about my sexuality, but intimacy is a very different case.

She writes down something else. “And how often were you having sex to consider it very healthy? A few times a week?”

Meeting Cassian’s gaze, it feels like my face is on fire. Beneath the tears that are still drying on his face is a smirk. A hint of the man I married.

I roll my eyes, trying to hide my smile, and he takes the lead. “At least once a day, sometimes more.”

Gwyn’s eyebrows raise, just enough that I know his words shocked her, and hums. “Very healthy, indeed.” She scribbles something down before looking between us. “How often do you touch?”

Again, my cheeks hea for no reason. “We just told you, it’s been a while.”

“I don’t mean intimately. I mean, how often do you physically touch?” She gestures to Cassian. “When she touched your face a few moments ago, were you aware that you moved closer to her?”

Trying not to be obvious, I look down to where we’re sitting on the small couch. When we first sat down, we were both leaning against our respective sides, but now…

Our thighs are pressed against each other, Cassian’s hand resting on his own lap, but poised to take mine again at any time.

“I hadn’t, no.” His voice is low and I can’t sense the emotion there.

“Ultimately, our sessions are to get the two of you back where you started, yes? This is a journey I take with couples all the time, but no one reaches the destination the same way.” She closes her notepad, indicating our time today is almost over. “For some, sex is a hurdle that needs to be crossed. For some, it’s a crutch and there are even others that use it as a weapon against their significant other. For you two, I think sex is a wall.”

Cassian hesitated, his brows furrowed.

“For this wall to come down, I think you should take things slowly,” Gwyn suggested, carefully. “Start small. Little gestures of intimacy. Hold hands. Try a hug. Even just a little, random touch, like when you touched Cassian’s face, Nesta, or when you, Cassian, were rubbing Nesta’s hand. These little touches will serve as a foundation for everything else. Before jumping into sex, I recommend that you rebuild your foundation. What do you think about that?”

“I think that sounds nice,” I say, honestly. 

“I agree,” Cassian says, quietly.

“Good.” Gwyn smiles, and before we are dismissed, we set up our next session for two weeks from now. After we say our goodbyes, me and Cassian make our way to the truck.

The ride home is quiet but not uncomfortable. We spend our time absorbing, reflecting. We’re about halfway there before he takes my hand. He doesn’t let go until we’re parked in the garage.

“Dinner tonight?” he asks, once we’re in the kitchen and Greg greets us.

“What’re you thinking?”

He opens the fridge and takes a look around. “Roasted chicken? I can make it with corn or asparagus, maybe some rice.”

“That sounds good.” 

When he turns back around, he sees that I’m watching him and gives me a small smile. “So, uh, how do you feel?”

“Overwhelmed,” I say, honestly, “but relieved, if that makes sense.”

He nods. “It does. I feel about the same.” He rubs the back of his neck, which serves as a sign that he’s nervous or uncomfortable with whatever he’s about to say next. “I’m glad you wanted to do this. Counseling. I think it’s going to be good for us.”

We have a long way to go.

I know this, he knows this, it can be felt in the air between us. To get back to the people we were, the people so madly in love that such a love shouldn’t exist, it would be no easy journey, but that was okay, because we were working towards it.

I had to believe that we could make it back to that place again. 

[kingpippthe2nd]

This is going to be a Neil Gaiman appreciation post. Not because I think, the internet needs another person babbling on about how good an author Neil is. There is enough of those. This one is purely egotistical, because I have too many words rattling in my head, and they want out. So, settle in and let me tell you a story. I promise, it will make sense in the end. Or go read something interesting. I’m not your parent. 

I used to read a lot as a kid. The library in my town was open on two afternoons each week: Tuesday and Thursday. So, every Tuesday I would go there with my stack of read books, swap them for a smaller stack of books, which I would devour in the next two days, return them on Thursday, leave with a bigger stack and so on and so on. I couldn’t read enough. I loved disappearing into all the different worlds, all the different adventures. I was the kind of kid, that would read until the middle of the night, illuminated by a flashlight, be exhausted all day in school, just to go home and do it all again.  

I don’t know when this changed, exactly. Only that it did. Something about growing up took away the wonder of printed words. Or wonder in general.  

I remember telling my therapist a year or so ago how I remember being able to see so much beauty in the world. How the tiniest thing could spark so much joy in me. Make me imagine entire worlds. And how I couldn’t find this kind of joy anymore. How I felt that something in me was irrevocably broken. She reassured me, that this was normal. All part of growing up. Childlike wonder at the world is not for adults to have. Never have the words a therapist felt so fundamentally wrong. I was heartbroken leaving that session. My worst fears had become true: I’d never find that joy again. 

Over the years, I never lost my love of stories. I started listening to audiobooks, a form of media which I used to despise. Why listen to a book when you can read it? Hold it? Smell it?  I watched movies and series and listened to podcasts. But I didn’t really read. I had lost the patience for them. Don’t get me wrong: I still loved my books. I have some beautiful editions of my favourite books that I loved showing off to people. I bought new books as well. New stories. And I told myself I’d get around to reading them soon. But I never did. 

I used to write a lot, too as a kid. I wrote diaries, though I never kept up with them for long. I wrote short stories and even started writing a book, which was not very good and is now lost forever. I wrote loads of poems. One of them I wrote sitting on a roof in a night gown while the full moon shone behind the church tower. I still have that one. It isn’t half bad. But I stopped writing years ago. It left me, when I left the books. 

Some years ago, my partner at the time introduced me to a new book. Theyread it aloud to me in the evenings. It was called “Neverwhere” by a man I had never heard of: Neil Gaiman. I fell immediately in love with the story and the writing and the characters. Soon enough I owned all the Neil Gaiman audiobooks I could find and listened to them ravenously.  

Within the last year I have tried to read four books. I finished one of them. Not a big one. And it took me multiple months. I had to force myself to finish it, even though I loved the story and the writing. The other three I abandoned halfway through, feeling terribly about myself and my apparent inability to read. 

And then Amazon Prime released season two of Good Omens and I found myself swept up in a maelstrom of emotions and hype and fan theories. I started reading fan fictions for the first time in my life. Long ones too. I started telling anyone and everyone about how much I loved and missed the show. About how genius a writer Neil Gaiman was. How I had loved his way with words and worlds for such a long time and that he was my favourite author. 

A week ago, I had a realisation: I had never actually read a Neil Gaiman book. I’ve had them read to me. I’ve listened to hours and hours of audiobooks. But I had never ever actually sat myself down and read a book by my favourite author with my own eyes. Held it. Smelt it.  

So, I picked up one of the “I’ll get around to it books” from a stack on my hallway book shelf and started reading. A little thing called “The Ocean at the End of the Lane”. I finished it within three days. I read it on my way to and from work. One night, I walked all the way from the tram stop to my flat whilst continuing to read, phone flashlight in hand, so the darkness wouldn't steal the story away from me.  

And as I finally looked up from on the pages again and looked around, something else happened. It was as if the words had given my mind a little nudge. The world was spinning slightly differently. And all over sudden I could see the world as I had as a kid. There are more colours now. Everything is a bit more sparkly, more magical. I can taste stories on the wind, see them in the early morning sunshine. I have ideas rattling in my head that need writing down for the first time in what feels like forever. Ideas for short stories, for poems. Maybe even for a book.

I can’t even begin to express how thankful I am to Neil for giving me back something, I knew I had lost forever. Because childlike wonder at the world is not for adults to have. With nothing but his words printed on paper he remade the way I see the world. If that isn’t some kind of magic, then I don’t know what could be. And who wants to be an adult anyway.

[fixfoxnox]

Something In The Orange - Part 22

Description: KorTac and the 141 continue training together, Roach tries not to let his anger take over again.

Warnings: Discussion of SA/Dub-con

Note: I am also uploading this fic to my Ao3 if you would prefer to read it there!

Word Count: 9.2k

"Well, I've been going through it, damn near lost all my faith

I've been trying hard to get there, I just can't recall the way

I've been going crazy, think I might be too far gone

I ain't been worth much for saving now for more than way too long"

"Dreamer" - Drayton Farley

"Should we discuss what happened yesterday?"

Roach clenched his jaw, his hands tightening at his side as he looked away from the woman in front of him. Rage bubbled back up in his chest. He should have known that Price would tell the woman about his behavior the previous day.

"There's nothing to talk about," he snapped slightly, shifting in his seat.

The woman tilted her head at him, "That isn't what I heard. I heard that you snapped at your team members and cursed at one of KorTac's men." She was quiet for a moment before adding, “That doesn’t seem like something you would normally do.”

"He deserved it," Roach responded lowly. Quiet settled over the room again, Roach hoped that the woman would leave the conversation at that, but he knew better than to believe that it would happen. His behavior yesterday was too violent. He knew that he couldn’t get away with it, not without questions. 

"You seem frustrated with your team," the woman tilted her head at him, watching him closely. "I wonder why that is?"

"Not frustrated with the team," Roach lied quickly. From the look the woman gave him, he assumed she didn't believe his words. He decided to change the subject himself, "I made a friend. On KorTac, like you told me to."

"Oh?"

"His name's Konig," he spoke quickly, turning away from the woman to look out the window carefully. "We were training together yesterday, away from the rest of the team. They came over and the one guy was being a dick, that's why I got mad. That's all." He paused before adding more, feeling the need to continue justifying his behavior, “Konig is anxious and I’d finally gotten him to come out of his shell a bit. Then this guy came over and it was like he shrunk back in on himself. I didn’t like it.”

The woman gave a slow nod, "That's the only reason?" Her words were carefully spoken, "Frankly, Sergeant Sanderson, I don't believe that for a second." She flipped through her notes for a moment, "I understand you mentioned that your team hadn't even noticed your appearance in the gym. Captain Price informed me that your team had been caught up in training with KorTac, that you never came over to make yourself known to them." Roach gave a huff, slumping down into the seat to try to make himself smaller.

He really hadn’t expected Captain Price to tell his therapist so much about what had happened. It made sense. Price had been watching him closely since they’d gotten him back from Makarov. He knew the man was worried. He knew that the man was the one who’d insisted that he not be let back into the field until a therapist checked off on it. He knew that he had no right to be so mad at him. Yet, he still was. “Okay,” he started hesitantly, “That’s true, but still.”

The woman folded her hands in front of her patiently, "You expressed your worry about your team and KorTac not getting along the last time we had a session. Has that changed?"

Roach shifted in his seat. This woman had to be a witch of some sort. She always seemed like she'd peered into his mind and read his thoughts aloud. He stayed quiet for several moments. His mind couldn't seem to formulate words and it was ramping his frustration up to a new level. "It's just," he gave a deep sigh before trying again, "I want them to get along but," his breathing picked up. He tried again, growing more frustrated with himself, "It's so stupid, I know it is, I just,” he gave a small growl before banging his fist on his leg.

"Pause," the woman looked at him, "let's take a deep breath. You're getting frustrated, its impacting your thought process. Take a few moments." She watched him taking in several deep breaths. They sat quietly for several moments as Roach tried to calm himself down. He managed to quiet his frustration, but anxiety jumped up in its place. He felt so stupid. "Try again," the woman spoke kindly.

"It's so stupid," Roach started, his words slow, "I wanted them to get along. I want them to get along," he stressed the words carefully, picking at the skin around his fingers once again. "But the other day, I got back from my session and I found out that they'd gone to dinner together." He shook his head carefully, "which is fine! Its perfectly fine! Great even!"

"But?"

"But," Roach deflated slowly, "I only found out about it because someone on base told me. None of them sent me a message, none of them mentioned it. They just…went out with these guys that they hadn't even wanted to work with." He was started to feel frustrated again, his voice moved faster and his words grew steadily in volume. "Then! Then the next morning I find out that apparently, they'd gone out to a bar afterward! They went to a fucking bar and did Karaoke! Fucking Karaoke!" He leaned forward in his seat, his leg bouncing up and down rapidly. "And I know I wanted them to get along, I know I was worried that they would hate each other. So I should be happy, right? I should be so happy that they decided they liked each other enough to go do fucking Karaoke! But I'm not happy! No one told me, no one told me and they didn't even fucking notice when I stepped into the gym. Soap and Ghost didn't say a fucking word to me! I slept in a completely different room and they didn't even notice! Can you believe that! They came to my door last night to try to make up or some shit and they asked me to come back to the room with them, said I didn't have to sleep by myself!" He squirmed in his seat, rage building up in his system again. He wanted to hit something at the memory.

He'd come back to his room from a long run around the base the previous night. It was late, he knew that, but his anger had only recently settled enough for him to return to his room. He’d showered, dressed in a pair of soft pajamas, and crawled under the covers of his bed to, no doubt, lay silently for several hours in an attempt to go to sleep.

He'd laid there in the dark for maybe an hour when the knock came to his door. He'd peeled himself from the bed, assuming it was Gaz or Price on the other side. Instead he'd opened it to see a rather nervous looking Soap and Ghost. He'd been on edge immediately.

Soap was the one to speak, his voice soft, "Hey, bug. Listen we know you were mad earlier and you might still be mad," he made no apologies, it was clear to Roach that the men in front of him still had no idea where his rage had come from. His hand had tightened its grip against his doorframe. "But you don't have to sleep in here. Come back to the room with us." 

Roach stood there for a moment, looking at them. They didn’t know why he was mad. He didn’t feel like he had a right to be mad. It all felt so stupid. But, as he looked at their sheepish faces, he could feel that familiar anger rise up again. It would be better for them all if he just stayed by himself for another night.

 "No," he'd landed on finally. The words from Soap's journal still echoed around in his head. The events of the day still simmered in his veins. He needed space from the two. He felt guilty. He felt angry. He didn't want to say something he didn't mean.

"Bug," Ghost spoke softly, even through his mask Roach could see the pleading look, "Please. Come to bed with us."

Roach shook his head, "I need space. I'm going to sleep in here again," he paused, "we can try tomorrow." He added the words quietly to the end. He didn't want to be mad at the two men in front of him. He loved them. It wasn't their fault that his mind was tearing itself apart. It wasn't their fault that he'd read Soap's journal.

There was a quiet pause between them. Soap and Ghost shared a brief look with one another before Soap was turning back to him hesitantly, "Again?"

Roach froze. What did he mean, again? Did they? Had they? His hands grew shaky, "I didn't sleep in the room last night," his voice was quiet, "You two knew that. Right?"

Guilt flashed across Soap's face and in Ghost’s eyes. Roach felt like he might throw up. He gripped the door tighter. "We got in late from the bar," Soap tried to explain quickly, "We were tired, a little drunk. We just thought you hadn't gone to bed yet. We thought you'd already woken up and left this morning when we finally woke up."

Roach had felt numb. He didn't say anything to the two men, he just stepped out of the doorway and closed his door in their faces, locking it behind him. He'd stumbled back to bed as knocks hit his door and the voices of the two men he loved rang out behind him. The men he loved hadn't even noticed his absence. He'd had the worst sleep of his life without them, and they'd apparently slept like babies, completely unaware that he wasn’t there. 

The knocks and calls continued for an hour before they finally stopped. Before the two men finally gave up. Roach hadn’t been sure if that made him relax more or angered him further. 

He came back to himself, his jaw tightened, his fist clenched, "They told me they'd gotten in late, thought I just hadn't come to bed yet. They thought I'd gotten up before them and left. It took me hours to go to sleep, hours because I wasn't with them and they slept like babies! Perfectly fine without me there! And it shouldn't bother me, it really shouldn't! What happened in the gym yesterday shouldn't have bothered me but I just got so fucking angry, so fucking angry because they didn't even notice! They didn't even notice. They're getting along with these guys which is so great, so great and I shouldn't be angry because they didn't know! They didn't know but its so frustrating because I was fucking spiraling. I was losing my mind and tearing myself apart and they were out doing fucking Karaoke!" He stopped himself, realizing suddenly what he'd said. He looked up nervously at the woman across from him. Her face gave nothing away.

Silence hung over the room for several moments. Roach tucked into himself, burying his face in his hands as tears threatened to well up in his eyes. "You had a break?" The woman finally spoke, her voice quiet, "Tell me."

Roach was quiet. After several moments, he managed to croak out, "I had a panic attack." He could hear the intake of breath from the woman across from him. 

Things were silent again. "What brought this one on?"

Roach shook his head. He couldn't tell. He felt too guilty. 

He’d looked through Soap’s journal. He’d taken a peek inside the mind of one of the men that he loved. He’d gotten a look at how much he’d hurt him. He’d gotten a look at how they saw him, at how they’d viewed him while he was with Makarov. He’d been reminded of what he was, of all that he could be. He’d been reminded of how they’d see him. How they’d treat him if they knew. 

Makarov was dead, and yet, he was still nothing more than a dog on a leash for the man. He was still being dragged around, twisted, turned, and touched exactly how the other man wanted him to be. Makarov was dead, but he still haunted him. 

“Sergeant Sanderson,” the woman’s voice was still soft, “Remember what we discussed. I am not here to judge you. I am only here to help. Tell me.”

Roach hesitated for another moment, he didn’t want to move. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He felt ridiculous. It was all far too overwhelming for him. This woman said she wouldn’t judge him, but she didn’t know what he’d done. Didn’t know what he’d seen. They’d been discussing it, but they’d only just finished talking about what he’d seen at that church in Brazil. How could she possibly understand? How could she possibly keep from judging him?

He didn’t want to tell her, but he needed to get it off of his chest. “Soap, he keeps a journal. He uses it as a sketchbook. When I got back to the room after our last session, he wasn’t there and the journal was on the table.” He looked up at her, his eyes wide and pleading as he rushed to say, “I only meant to look at his drawings! He’s shown me some before, so I thought it would be fine!”

“What did you see?” The woman leaned forward in her seat, pressing him to continue with that fixed neutrality on her face.

Roach brought his hand up to rub as his face, trying desperately to get rid of the tears that were threatening to fall from his eyes. “I guess he started it just a few weeks before everything with Makarov happened. There were some drawings, scratched out. I didn’t realize until a few pages in that the drawings he’d scratched out had been of me.” His voice cracked a bit at the end, he pressed forward. “I turned to a page where he’d written something out, I couldn’t stop myself. I just started reading it. It was about me, when he still thought I was a traitor.”

The woman across from him took in a breath. It was the only reaction that his words drew from her. She leaned back in her seat for a moment, as though thinking. “What did he say? What was it that brought on the panic attack?”

Roach shook his head, leaning down to bury his head in his knees. He took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself as he grew dizzy once again. As those same words and feelings from days before started flashing across his mind again. “All sorts of things,” he commented quietly, “Terrible things.”

“Something is sticking with you though,” the woman guessed, “Something specific?”

“He,” Roach felt tears slicking his arms, he didn’t even realize he’d started crying, “Apparently Ghost told them about my fiance, the one who died.” He could only assume that the woman already knew about the story with his “fiance.” Assume that it had been included in the reports she’d been give. “He said that he assumed i’d been with Makarov the entire time, been following him like,” he hesitated, not wanting to say the words that had been plaguing his mind out loud, “like a dog on a leash.”

There was quiet, the woman allowed Roach to have a moment. He tried to wipe at his tears, tried to push down the anger and frustration that dared to bubble up in his system. “I understand,” the woman started slowly, “That the man who stabbed you described you as Makarov’s dog. Were there other instances? Other times that someone described you similarly?”

It was as though the question opened up the floodgates of his mind. Roach’s mouth worked fast, ranting over every instance that had stuck in his mind, every moment when Makarov or someone else had referred to him like he was an animal. He mentioned his own thoughts, how he’d taken to describing himself in that way as well. How he’d asked Ghost the previous day if he planned to muzzle him. How he’d felt like an animal. How he did feel like an animal, an animal with a leash still held firmly in the hands of a dead man. Finally, he stopped. 

There was silence. The woman watched him carefully, likely tossing his words over in her mind. Finally, she spoke, “It seems to me, like you are currently dealing with a great deal of self-hatred.” She pushed herself up further in her seat, her voice calm as she continued. “Your, she paused, “relationship with Vladimir Makarov seems to have taken a greater toll on you than you probably realize. This line of thinking is something that often presents itself in victims of sexual assault.”

Roach stopped, looking up at her with wary eyes, “I wasn’t, I’m not,” he stopped to take a breath, “We didn’t ever do anything like that. The furthest things went were kisses, touches. And I let him do those things,” he added, his voice cracking, “I consented.”

“You allowed those things to happen because you felt like you had to do it to survive,” the woman shook her head at him. “That is not true consent. You did not want those things to happen. Whether things ever went further than a kiss or a touch doesn’t matter. You were assaulted.” She looked at him carefully, “It’s important that you recognize that. That you recognize that you are a victim.”

“I don’t want to be,” Roach muttered quietly. “It was my choice. I let it happen.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that you didn’t want it to happen,” she folded her hands against her stomach. “We should start working on shifting our mindset. You seem to be stuck in this idea that what happened to you was your fault. It was not. You need to recognize that. Challenge those thoughts that say otherwise.” There was a pause, the woman watched his expression for a moment before adding, “I think it would be good for you to share this information with your team.”

“What?” Roach felt sick at the idea. One of his hands came up to his throat, holding his neck lightly as the idea of telling his team what he’d done rang around his head. He knew they would find out eventually, he didn’t want to be the one to tell them.

“I know it seems scary,” the woman started softly, “But I get the impression that a lot of your worries right now are about your team holding this information against you. About them viewing you as,” she shook her head slowly, “as though you betrayed them. Cheated on them. Especially Sergeant MacTavish and Lieutenant Riley. It seems a great deal of your worries lie with them.”

“They’ll hate me,” Roach spoke quietly. Tears began to fall from the corner of his eyes again, rolling down his face as he imagined their disgusted reactions.

“I don’t believe that,” the woman answered quietly, “I’ve read their reports. I’ve read their statements. They care about you quite a bit. Love you, even. If you tell them, you will no longer have to fight with that part of your mind that seems to be causing all of this. That’s one less worry and the two might be able to help you shift that mindset that you have. They could help you understand that what happened was not your fault.”

“I just,” Roach covered his mouth, staring at the ground for a moment as tears continued down his face, “I’m just scared. They’re going to hate me.”

“Think about what happened with your mother,” his therapist offered, “You pushed off telling your family and they eventually found out. Things turned out okay, but you felt ambushed at the moment. It’s better for you to tell them on your own terms. You control the time, you control the setting.” She gave him a small smile, “That should help with some of the anxiety. I’ll even offer to be present when you tell them if you’d like. You can bring them with you to a session.”

“I don’t know,” Roach replied lowly, biting at his lip violently. He could taste blood in his mouth. 

“At least think about it,” his therapist nodded her head at him, “You can tell me what you’ve decided on later. We can talk about it more if you’d like. Just think about it and try not to listen to that part of your brain that’s telling you that they would hate you. That part of you doesn’t know if that would happen, so why should you listen to it?”

Roach had to physically stop himself from just going back to his room after his session. 

He felt absolutely exhausted after the discussion with his therapist. He knew it was because of all of the emotional stress that their conversation had on him. He also knew that stress was likely still sapping his energy, the thought of potentially telling his team about what had happened to him kept ringing around in his mind. He still didn’t want to face any of them. He didn’t want to deal with the thoughts their presence would bring up. 

There were two things that kept him from just going straight to his room. The first was that he was unbelievably hungry. 

He hadn’t eaten much the previous day. He’d slept past breakfast, only woken by Gaz knocking at his door to inform him about training. His lunch had been minimal, nothing more than a small bag of chips and an apple before he was off to training. He’d skipped dinner entirely, too distracted by his anger to stop and eat anything. 

It was no surprise to him that he’d woken up with hunger pains and a major headache that morning. He knew he’d been eating less in general recently, all of the sudden changes ruining his appetite, but he’d never gone so long without eating before. He was starving now and, more than anything, he wanted comfort food. He thought about home, about his mother’s hashbrown casserole and chicken. He knew when he’d caught himself drooling at the thought of the food that he was certainly too hungry. 

The second thing that kept him from returning to his room was his promise to Konig that they would train together again that day. The thought of his new friend made his nerves settle a bit. His therapist had certainly been right when she said that making a friend outside of the team could help with some of his anxiety. He didn’t have to be alone while his mind was trying to sabotage itself, and that was a big enough help on its own. 

He’d checked his time after leaving his therapist's office, noting with a sigh of relief that they’d finished with enough time for him to still make it to the cafeteria for lunch. He hadn’t told his therapist he hadn’t eaten anything. He really didn’t need her adding it to her notes. After all, at the rate he was going, he wouldn’t be allowed back in the field for months. He felt like he was progressing backward. It wasn’t comforting. 

He didn’t bother to observe the cafeteria as he made his way inside, instead rushing over to get his food, his mind set on eating and eating only. It was only after he’d turned around that he realized that there were eyes on him. 

He easily spotted the members of the 141, sitting at the same table as the three members of KorTac from the previous days. He could see that Soap and Ghost were watching him, their eyes carefully tracking his movement. Soap attempted to give him a half smile, waving for him to come over to their group. Roach only turned away, anxiety creeping up his throat and guilt once again gnawing at his chest.

He found that his appetite seemed to have waned a bit at the sight of the group. He didn’t think he could get anything down when his nerves were overwhelming him so much that he felt he might spill what little food was left in his system. 

He scanned around the cafeteria, looking for any open tables where he could settle himself. He had a very clear plan in his mind. He would eat his food as quickly as possible, go back to his room to change into something more appropriate for training, then find Konig. That plan changed a bit when his eyes locked on to a tall figure, their face obscured by a sniper hood. 

Even with the hood on, Roach was able to tell immediately that the figure was Konig. He was sitting at a table by himself, slumped over his food. The sniper hood was pulled up just enough that he could eat through it. Roach didn’t hesitate before beginning toward him, practically tossing his tray down as he slid into the seat across from him. 

Konig jumped a bit at the noise, looking up startled. His surprised expression was clear to see, even through his hood. Though Roach noted, maybe it wasn’t clear. Maybe he could only tell because he’d spent so long reading Ghost’s expressions through a mask. He nearly tilted his head to look over his shoulder at where the 141 were at the thought, but he quickly stopped himself. 

He gave Konig a bright grin as he picked up the fork to start picking at his food, “Hope you don’t mind me joining you?”

“Ah, Roach,” Konig seemed to relax once he realized it was him and Roach could see a smile tug at his lips from where the hood was pulled up, “Not at all. I was going to come to find you soon. To see if you still wanted to train.”

“Course I still want to train.” Roach softened his smile a bit and tilted his head before teasing, “If you’re alright with me pinning you to the mat again?”

Konig gave a small snort at the words, “We’ll see, Schabe.”

A comfortable silence settled between the two for a moment as Konig continued through his meal and Roach dug into his own, probably eating a bit faster than what was considered appropriate. As he’d calmed down in Konig’s presence, his appetite returned and he found himself finishing his plate within a few minutes. He let out an annoyed groan as he realized that he was still hungry.

He put his fork in his mouth, sucking on it gently as he considered what to do. Across from him, Konig raised an eyebrow at him, his eyes glancing down at his empty plate before back up to him. “Sorry,” Roach offered with an embarrassed huff, “I didn’t really eat anything yesterday, or the day before that.” He brought his hand up to rub at the back of his neck sheepishly, “Needless to say, I was starving.”

Konig pointed down at his own plate slowly, “Do you want some of my food?”

Roach shook his head rapidly, absolutely mortified that his new friend was offering up his own food to him. Perhaps it was that southerner in him, but the idea of letting his friend go even slightly hungry because of him was not a fun one. Konig was a big guy, there was no doubt in his mind that the other man would need that food or else he would go hungry. “No, no,” he held his hands out, “Thank you for offering, but I was thinking more like figuring out if I could sneak into the kitchen or raid one of the vending machines.”

Konig lowered his hand then, a rumbling chuckle escaping his throat, “The vending machine is probably best. I’ve not been here long, but the kitchen staff seem terrifying.”

Roach gave a small chuckle in return, “You aren’t wrong. I’ve seen recruits get some harsh slaps on the hands with spatulas for trying to snatch up more food than they’re meant to.” Roach ran a hand through his hair, “Guess it shows how desperate I am that I’d even consider trying it.”

Roach tensed slightly, his guard raised as people slid into the seats around him. “And what are you so desperate for, Bug?” The words were spoken carefully by Soap, whispered just lightly into his ear and, no matter his current anxiety around the man, he couldn’t stop the shiver that wracked down his spine or the way that he went warm when Ghost placed a hand gently on his thigh. 

“Hope you don’t mind us joining the two of you,” the words were spoken by Price, mumbled around a cigar as he plopped down next to Konig. On Konig’s other side was the KorTac member who wore the glasses and face mask, “We thought it might be best that we include the whole team in bonding.”

Roach almost gave a snort at the word bonding, almost. He felt completely caught off guard by the group's sudden appearance at the table and it was almost like his brain wasn’t sure how to react to their sudden presence. There was anxiety, naturally, but there was also a part of him that wanted to sit content at the sudden presence of Soap and Ghost on either side of him. He really didn’t like being mad at them.

Silence settled over the table for several moments. Roach noted how tense Konig had gone at the presence of others at the table, it was clear to him that the taller man wasn’t even comfortable around his own teammates. He cleared his throat, leaning forward for a moment to try to continue his conversation with Konig. He was hoping that they might be able to forget the men that were sitting around them. 

“Konig, are you a sniper?” He tilted his head at the man, trying to ignore the way that Ghost’s hand on his leg tightened just a bit. A moment after he asked the question and Soap’s hand landed on his other thigh. 

Konig shifted nervously in his seat, but he responded quickly, “Ah, no.” He slumped in on himself slightly, “They told me I was too big. I work as an insertion specialist.”

“That’s stupid,” Roach responded lightly, “No one is “too big” to be a sniper. Size doesn’t matter, just how stealthy you can be.”

Konig gave a slight shrug of his shoulders, “I’m good at what I do, so I suppose it doesn’t matter much.” He seemed to hesitate for a moment before asking, “Do you specialize in anything? I know your team are counterterrorist?”

“He’s a weapons expert,” Ghost responded for him, his voice deep. “Good with any gun you put in his hand.”

There was a snort from the same redhead from yesterday. Roach could immediately feel that delicate balance in his mind begin to tip toward the side of anger, “So he’s not a specialist then? Cause I’m sure most of us could be good with any weapon put in our hand.”

Roach took a deep breath, trying to ignore the man as he looked at Konig and responded, “We’re all just kinda rounded out on what we do.” He shrugged his shoulders, “I’ve done a lot of things in my time on the team. Weapons, demolitions, repelling, snipers,” he hesitated for a moment before adding, “undercover work.”

He could feel the two men beside him tense. Silence fell over the table again, like no one quite knew what to say. Finally, the woman broke the silence with a question, “When did you and Konig meet?”

Roach tilted his head at her, “Yesterday in the gym, why?”

She shrugged her shoulders, “No reason. The two of you just seem,” she hesitated, as though trying to find the right word, “Close.”

“What does that mean?” Roach raised an eyebrow at her, feeling a bit uncomfortable with the current line of questioning. 

“She wants to know if you’re trying something with our boy Konig here,” The redhead gave him a cheeky grin and Roach immediately felt his hackles raise up. 

“What?” he asked lowly. He could feel Soap and Ghost shift in their seats next to him. He could suddenly see things quite clearly. He could understand why this line of questions had come through. They hadn’t told the KorTac members that they were together. 

It wouldn’t have bothered him normally. Normally his mind would come to a satisfying stop in front of the conclusion that they simply hadn’t told to protect their privacy. Ghost could be a very private person. He preferred to keep his personal life separate from work, which was why he wore the mask. The same could be said for Soap. While he was much more willing to at least speak on the issue, work was usually work. 

So, normally, someone assuming that he was single wouldn’t have been an issue for him. Normally, Ghost and Soap not telling someone that they were together wouldn’t have been an issue for him. That was all in a normal situation. This wasn’t normal. Because, while he’d seen the groups train together the previous day, he’d seen Ghost and Soap acting their normal selves. He’d seen their hands link together lightly. He’d seen Soap pop up to give Ghost a kiss on the cheek. He’d heard about how the two had been rather clingy with one another at the bar two nights ago. 

He knew that the members of KorTac knew about Ghost and Soap’s relationship. He would have thought, that because of that, the two would have also explained that he was in the relationship. However, with the next line out of the red-haired man’s mouth, he knew for a fact that they hadn’t. 

The red-haired man slapped a hand roughly on Konig’s shoulder, a mischievous grin on his face as he spoke, “Oh c’mon, we just want to know if you’re trying to take a ride on our Austrian friend here,” he gave a slight snicker, “though you might be too short for it.”

Roach stood from the table abruptly, grabbing his tray as he went. He didn’t say a word as he left the table, taking his tray up to the little area for dirty dishes. He silently made his way back toward the group, stopping at the edge of the table and fixing his gaze on Konig alone. He was trying very hard not to let his anger overtake him again, but it was quite difficult. 

His nails dug into the palm of his hands as he spoke to the man, “Konig, I’ll be in the gym whenever you’re ready for training. You can just meet me where we were yesterday. Sound good?”

Konig nodded to him slightly, an apologetic look lingering in his eyes as he spoke, “Of course, Schabe.”

Roach turned then, ignoring everyone else at the table before marching out of the room, hearing the voice of the redhead behind him say, “What? What did I say?”

Roach was in the gym, doing some simple stretches when Konig arrived. Much to his annoyance, he was followed by the other members of KorTac as well as the other members of the 141. 

Roach turned to face them with a raised eyebrow, annoyance slipping into his veins from where he’d just recently managed to calm himself down. He was still pissed at Soap and Ghost, but he liked to think he hid it fairly well as he looked to Price. He crossed his arms across his chest, “Let me guess? More bonding?”

“We’re meant to be training together anyways,” Price responded easily, “Better for you and Konig if you don’t just train with one another. Though the two of you are welcome to start if you’d like.” He motioned to the mat that he was standing on. 

“Ah, so we can watch short stack put our giant on the floor? Sounds entertaining.” 

Roach turned to face the red-haired man, an all too innocent smile crossing his face as he looked at him. He glanced at Price and he knew that the other man was aware of what he was thinking, but he couldn’t quite do anything other than shoot him a disapproving glare. 

If Price was going to insist that they all trained together, then Roach was going to use it to his advantage, “Actually, why don’t you and I spar first?” He faced the man carefully.

“You and I,” The red-haired man gave a small snicker, “Might get hurt there, friend.”

“If you’re so confident,” Roach glanced back at Konig, noting the amusement in the man’s eyes, “Then step onto the mat.” He stepped back challengingly, motioning to the other side of the mat. He could hear the man with the mask and sunglasses snickering as well, but Roach wasn’t sure if he was laughing at him or his teammate. 

“Just gonna take that Declan?” The woman teased the man with a grin, “Go on, get onto the mat. Put your money where your mouth is.”

“Alright, alright,” The man, Declan, mumbled. He stepped up onto the mat, removing his shoes as he walked. He didn’t bother stretching, only moved quickly into a defensive position, “Don’t say I didn’t try to warn you though.” 

Roach raised an eyebrow at him before carefully moving into position to start. The two men waited patiently, watching the other before Price called, “Alright, start.”

Declan rushed forward immediately, likely assuming that his strength and height over Roach would give him the advantage. Roach hardly put in any effort as he sidestepped the man and kicked his leg out to sweep his feet out from under him. Declan went tumbling to the ground and Roach followed quickly after, moving into a tough hold that he knew wouldn’t be easy to get out of. 

Declan struggled against his hold for about three minutes before the woman called out to him, “This is getting pathetic Conor, just tap already!”

“Shut it, Roze!” He called back to the woman, frustration clear on his face as Roach tightened his hold on him further, trying to get either the man under him or Price to call the match in his favor. Another minute or so went by before, finally, the man called, “Alright, fuckin- fine! Just get off of me. I tap!”

Roach gave a grin at the words before releasing his hold on the man and quickly pushing himself to stand up. He held his hand out to help the man good-naturedly, though he knew that just beating him in a sparring session once wasn’t going to change the fact that he didn’t quite like him. Declan let out several grumbles but took Roach’s offered hand anyway. 

“Still think Roach is just a short stack?” Gaz called out to the man playfully. 

“Yes,” Declan gave him a grin, “But a strong short stack. I’ll give him that.” 

Roach rolled his eyes at the man before silently moving off of the mat to allow another pairing a turn. He avoided where Soap and Ghost stood in favor of moving off to stand by Konig, nudging his arm lightly to get his attention and shoot him a smile. 

Konig had taken his sniper hood off, likely for training. It was clear for Roach to see that the man was uncomfortable without the material, but Roach could only assume that it was some sort of rule he had for himself that made him go without it. Perhaps his mask was about privacy, but perhaps it was also about fear. It would make sense that he wouldn’t want to train with it if it was meant to scare the shit out of his opponents. He likely wouldn’t want his own teammates to see him like that. 

“That was good,” Konig muttered to him with a small smile, “Felt good to put him in his place?”

Roach gave a toothy grin at the words, “You have no idea.”

He turned to the mat, watching as the man with the face mask stepped up to the mat with Soap. Roach realized suddenly that this was the only member of KorTac’s team whose name he hadn’t gotten. He watched the beginning of the two’s sparring session, noting their different fighting styles. 

The man with the mask was extremely quick in his approach, quick and precise. Unfortunately for him, Soap was fast as well, but his reflexes were even faster. His boyfriend typically relied on strength and brutality when it came to hand-to-hand, but he was rather good at adapting to whoever he was fighting against. It made for a relatively interesting and even match-up between the two men. 

He leaned close to Konig as he watched, “I’ve got the other two’s names, who’s the one in the mask?”

“Horangi,” Konig whispered back, his face taking on a slightly pinched expression as he watched the fight. It was almost like he was worried for his teammate as Soap began quickly gaining ground on him. “He’s nice. We don’t speak often, but I know he is good at what he does.”

Roach gave a slight nod at his words, watching with interest as the fight wound down, Soap managing to finally capture Horangi in a tight chokehold. After a few moments in the hold, Horangi tapped on Soap’s arm, signaling his defeat. 

The next fight was between Gaz and the woman, Roze. He was pleasantly surprised with her efficiency in a fight, it was almost impressive how quickly she’d managed to put Gaz on the defense then, after a few moments, how quickly she’d managed to pin him to the mat, her thighs around his head. 

Gaz tapped as Declan let out a wolf whistle, “Bet you enjoyed that, eh boy?”

Gaz gave him an unimpressed look as he pushed himself from the ground, “Two words, Gay and Taken.” 

Roach had to force himself to suppress a snicker and that cheeky part of his brain that wanted to call out that Gaz had actually said three words. He wasn’t exactly mad at Gaz, but he wasn’t going to be so cruel to Soap and Ghost as to interact playfully with everyone but them. He let out a small sigh at the thought, upset at himself for being upset. 

His brain took to reminding him that he didn’t exactly have a right to be mad, not when he was keeping what he was from them. Not when he had betrayed them. But, his brain did offer, that he was at least doing the right thing by staying away from them. A form of self-punishment. Removing the problem before he could infect the two men that he loved. 

Konig silently stepped up to the mat next, catching the attention of everyone as he turned back to Roach with a raised eyebrow, nervousness clear in his voice as he asked, “Partner with me, Schabe?”

Roach had to suppress a shudder at the words. He was sure that Konig hadn’t meant for it to come out like a proposition, but with the way that his voice was slightly shaking as he spoke and the way that his eyes had quickly turned pleading from anxiety, it certainly sounded like one. 

Roach wasn’t blind. He was in love with Soap and Ghost, they were the only men for him. But, he wasn’t blind. Konig was a very attractive man. A very very attractive man. And Roach was gay, with a slight thing for men who were taller and bulkier than him. So, while he was very in love with Soap and Ghost and, no matter how mad he was at the two, he would never betray them like that, at least not again, he was also a human being, who was bound to have a reaction to the man in front of him. 

He could feel the way that he flushed. He could feel the heat rise from his chest and up his throat to his face and the tips of his ears. He mentally cursed himself for the reaction, ranting and raving in his head about needing to have better self-control. 

He glanced toward Soap and Ghost as he stepped up to the mat, trying not to wince at the downright murderous looks on their faces. His boyfriends were naturally jealous men. He knew this. Combine that with the fact that he’d essentially put them in the dog house for the past several days, and he could practically see the steam leaving their ears as they watched him approach the gentle Austrian Giant who he’d managed to befriend.

He had to force himself to tear his gaze away from the two men, moving into a proper position on the mat for sparring. He only gave them one last glance before turning his full attention to Konig. He could only hope that watching the fight between them would help calm their nerves. He could hope. But he doubted it would actually help. 

“Alright,” Price called out from the side of the mat, “Start.”

Just like that, any thoughts of Soap and Ghost left his mind as he was forced immediately on the defense. He was rather surprised and impressed with how quickly Konig had moved. It was much quicker than he’d been at all the last time they’d sparred. 

Roach countered everything the taller man threw at him, dodging his attacks while waiting patiently for his opening. He kept his arms tucked closer to his side as he dodged around the man, just like he’d suggested to him last time. He found that it actually helped him quite a bit, as there were numerous times when, if he’d held his arms like he normally did, he would have found himself easily captured by the man he was training with. 

After several minutes of this cat-and-mouse game that the two had, Roach finally found his opening. Konig had overstepped on one of his lunges, his balance off just enough that Roach could rush in close to him and he wouldn’t be able to move quickly enough to stop him. With that knowledge in mind, he rushed forward, darting down to take out Konig’s legs. 

The larger man was knocked to the floor, but he made a rather quick recovery as Roach moved to wrap his legs around his throat, managing to get an arm between his legs before he could be fully captured. 

He tried first to press Roach’s legs apart, but the odd angle and his one trapped arm didn’t allow him much way in the strength that he would need to break the hold, so he tried another tactic. He moved as best as he could slipping his legs underneath him so that he could use his strength there and Roach’s position on his arm to flip them over, slamming Roach to the mat beneath him. 

Roach felt the breath knocked from his lungs, but he managed to regain his hold rather quickly, His legs moving around Konig’s throat in an attempt to choke him. His move meant nothing when Konig, significantly larger than him, was still able to reach forward and get his, now free, hand around his throat in a tight choke. 

Both men held for several moments, threateningly tightening their grip in an attempt to get the other to tap. After a moment, Konig force himself to move further up so that he was now fully hovering over Roach. This forced Roach’s legs to loosen their grip, just as Roach had told him it would the day prior. He was a little proud of the man on top of him, even as both of their faces flushed with exertion and the hand against his throat fixed itself threateningly. 

Roach stared up at the man before reaching up to tap his shoulder twice. Konig immediately released him, moving back from where he’d been hovering to rest on his knees. Roach gave him a grin as he sat up on the mat, “That was good! You remembered what I told you yesterday!”

“You as well,” Konig acknowledged with a grin, “I could tell that you were keeping your arms in.” He pushed himself from the ground and held out a hand to help him up. Roach took it gratefully, still grinning. 

They both went to move off of the mat, almost unaware of the other people around them as they talked lowly about their fight. It wasn’t until someone cleared their throat behind them as they stepped back into their spot at the edge of the mat that they remembered there were others around him. 

Roach felt on edge as soon as he turned around, spotting Ghost standing on the mat watching them. Ghost looked at him carefully for several moments before turning his gaze to Konig, “Step back on the mat. I’d like a round.” 

There was an edge to the man’s voice, one that had Roach turning to warn his new friend away from accepting the challenge. He loved his boyfriends. They loved him. They were very jealous men. It was clear to see in Ghost’s gaze, that what was about to happen was because of that jealousy, not training. 

Before he could warn Konig away, the taller man was hesitantly stepping back onto the mat and getting into a stance for the fight. Roach looked around the group hesitantly, most of them clearly had no idea what was happening, the look on Soap’s face said that he did and that he fully supported Ghost. Roach looked for Price, he would understand. 

“Where’s Price?” He called over to Gaz, his voice slightly strained once he realized that the Captain was nowhere to be seen. 

“He stepped out for a call,” Gaz responded, his face showing a slight bit of pinched-off worry as well. 

“We should wait for him to get back,” Roach turned to where Ghost and Konig were already getting into position, “So that he can call the match!”

“I’ll call it,” Roze offered, an amused smile on her face, “It’s going to be entertaining to see these two behemoths fight.”

Roach wanted to curse. He didn’t think Ghost would hurt Konig, but he also knew that there were extenuating circumstances involved. The last thing that he wanted or needed was for his anxious friend to be humiliated by his boyfriend. He didn’t think it would do anything to help how angry he’d been at the two men for the past several days. He knew it would only make his guilt for being in the relationship worse. Ghost and Soap didn’t need to fight for him, he wasn’t worth it, not with what he’d done. 

Before he could offer anything else, Roze was calling out, “Start!” and Ghost and Konig were on each other. Konig was good, it was clear to everyone in the room that Ghost was better. 

Ghost wasn’t going easy either, so it was no surprise to Roach when he was forced to watch, with a wince, as one of his boyfriends rather easily restrained Konig’s arms, wrestling him down onto the ground before pinning him with a knee to the small of his back. Soap gave a loud whoop once Konig was forced into the position. Roach crossed his arms over his chest, bringing one hand to his mouth to tear at the skin around his fingers. His mind whispered to him, You aren’t worth the trouble of this, dog. They just don’t know yet.

Thankfully, Konig didn’t struggle for more than a few moments before calling out his surrender. Still, Ghost held him in the position for a few seconds longer after the words left his mouth before finally freeing him. He offered a hand out to Konig, Roach’s gentle friend took it gratefully, seemingly taking the loss in stride despite the way that Ghost was glaring at him through his mask. 

Konig turned to come back toward Roach, he made it only a step before a hand grabbed at his arm roughly. Ghost stopped the man from moving, Konig looked down at his hand warily. There was a moment of tense silence in the gym as it seemed like Ghost prepared to speak. That moment dissipated, thankfully, peacefully, as Price reappeared to the group, a grim look on his face. 

Ghost was quick to release Konig’s arm before turning to Price. Price met them all with a slow look before, “That was some of the higher-ups, looks like our targets have moved.”

“What does that mean for us,” Horangi was the one to ask, crossing his arms as his eyes grew serious and focused. 

“It means we ship out tomorrow, instead of three days.” Price looked over the group carefully, “It means we’re going into an emergency briefing. Everyone go do what you need to. Conference room six in an hour.” 

Immediately the teams were moving, gathering their things to leave the gym and, no doubt, change into something less sweaty for the meetings they were going to. Roach grabbed his bag and jacket with a sigh, knowing that this meant that he’d likely be on his own for the next few days. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, but he hoped that maybe it would give him time to properly think over his therapist's suggestion. 

Once he’d gathered his things, he stepped up carefully to Konig, placing a hand on his arm gently with a smile. He gave him a small pat, “Good luck on the mission. I’ll see you when you get back.” He received a smile from the larger man. After a moment, he took several steps away from him and toward where Soap and Ghost were angrily packing up their bags. They were still shooting small glares at Konig’s form leaving the gym as he stepped closer to them. 

He picked nervously at his nails as their eyes eventually came to him. They both immediately stopped their movements, turning to give him their full attention. He felt himself flush red at it, his nerves shooting up higher. He was still mad, he was still struggling, but he was absolutely not going to let these two men go on a mission without there being some sort of acknowledgment of his feelings for them. 

He hesitated for another moment before finally steeling his gaze and settling on, “Come to my room after your meetings? I won’t get to see you in the morning so,” he shifted uncomfortably, “I’d like to tell you goodbye before you leave.”

“Stay with us tonight,” it was, surprisingly, Ghost who spoke. His eyes were soft as he looked at him, the tension gone from his body. Roach should have known they’d ask. “Please.”

Roach looked away from them, guilt creeping up his throat once again. He could feel the stinging in his hands as he dug in beside his nail. They were bitten down to the quick. He felt sick, but he knew, more than anything, that no matter his issues, he would regret it if he said no. “Okay,” he responded slowly, quietly, “just for the night.”

He paused to look at the two men before stepping forward. He had to tug Soap down enough that he could plant a kiss on his cheek. He did the same a moment later to Ghost, pulling up the man’s mask just enough that he could press it to the skin of his jaw. He didn’t say anything else to the two, didn’t think he’d be able to handle it at the moment. Instead, he just turned away and left the gym, still feeling guilt settle into his bones. He knew it would be his only companion for the next few days. 

Prev: Part 21

Next: Part 23

[transuncletaylor]

(tw: some childhood neglect and abuse talk)

My therapist had me talking to my younger self the last two sessions and I decided I wanted to write her a letter. And then share it as an act of vulnerability and letting people in, but also to continue my story and hope that it helps someone else out. And maybe because I want someone to read it and tell me I'm doing okay.

I didn't know what to say to her the first time my therapist had asked me what I would say. I don't actually remember what I did say even though it was just a week ago. Today I told her I was sorry. I was sorry that she had to go through all of that growing up and I'm so sorry for what she's about to go through.

However, I told her we made it. We can't see right now that we've made it further than we could have ever imagined, but we're here and we're learning to see with eyes unclouded. We realized lately that we struggle not needing approval from others, that we can get that inwardly, and that we have nothing to prove, we don't need to prove why we are worth love or kindness or space. We're working on letting in the love of others and really feeling it and loving in return.

But young Taylor, there's so much I wish I could go back in time to tell you. I want to reiterate that I'm so sorry you had to go through all of that and you worked with what you had. You had to scrape by and steal and go hungry because all you had after rent and bills was $10 and a bag of oranges until you could go to yours mother's home. You fished donuts out of dumpsters for fun, but that kept you fed. You medicated yourself because feeling became too much to bear after college and your shitty friends encouraged it. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry that I didn't know better, that I did what others told me to do because they were all I had.

We changed our life around, applied for grad school when Ian applied because we didn't know what we wanted to do so we did what he did. Our mom kept us on puppet strings and so when we started slipping line by line, we looked for someone else to guide our broken strings. He wasn't the worst, but he was still an emotionally unavailable white cis gay man who didn't give you the support you needed and put you in a box to make you smaller, palpable, telling you you were too much. We had our fun though and today we look back on those times together fondly, but it's not what we need now.

Young Taylor, I'm so sorry for hating you. I'm so sorry I thought we were broken and there was something wrong with us. We were playing by a rulebook and milestones that weren't for us and it took 2020 for us to see it. I'm so sorry for thinking you were unattractive, I look back at photos of you and think about how beautiful you were as a woman, but that beauty grew so much when you got into the right body. There wasn't anything wrong with you, you were never broken. You were hurt and you had to make do with what you had.

You weren't undatable and unloveable. You weren't made to be in a cishet relationship or fit the role of a southern girlfriend with pearls and ribbon in her hair. Your brother and sister married their first partners in their late twenties, but they knew their genders and sexuality. You didn't get to play in your field for a long time. I'm sorry, young Taylor, I'm sorry for thinking that we couldn't be loved.

You are so loved young Taylor. Your sister loves you, her husband loves you, your niece and nephew especially love you. He asked you if you could come over soon and your niece draws on her arms to mimic your tattoos. She's a wild one, be wary of her. She likes to climb kitchen counters at almost 3 to blow out the candle your sister has lit.

Jesse ended our friendship in 2016, Ian in 2021, you kicked Tyler to the curb just a few months later. Scarlett I think you cut out in 2019 and that was for the best, she was a real bitch and pick me girl. But just because Jesse and Ian left us, it wasn't because of anything we did and sure we have our faults, we're only human, but Jesse left because you stood your ground and didn't want to be ignored and lied to as he would look for hook ups whenever you hung out in public. Ian was a transphobic asshole whose Netflix password was 2020Trump2024, so really, losing him was the best thing that happened. He didn't even have the guts to tell you he didn't want to be friends after 13 years of friendship. He tried to ghost you until you asked his boyfriend what was up. Also fuck both Jeremies.

But you are so loved. You always were. And you are especially now. You have great people in your life now, those who love all of your being no matter how loud and how much space you take. No one is trying to make you anything other than who you want to be. They only want to see you happy and flourishing and be your authentic true self and for you to be you. Because that's all you ever had to be. You just have to be you. Because you are so worthy of love and life and happiness not because of what you accomplished, not what you know or who you know or what you could give to others. Because you're Taylor. And Taylor, you have always been worthy of love, of being loved, and loving in return.

So I end this letter to myself by saying we made it. Mom said we wouldn't make it past 25. We didn't think we would make it past 32. But here we are just a few months shy of 35 and we have made it. You are me now. We have food in the fridge that we love, we aren't living paycheck to paycheck, our bed is full of blankets and pillows and stuffies and no one to tell us that we have too many blankets and pillows and stuffies. We have bunnies who love us, yes, even Dusty loves us though he's kind of aloof. We have a face with a beard that we don't shy our eyes away in the mirror anymore. Our family has grown with aunts, uncles, cousins that you haven't talked to in a very long time and friends who love you unconditionally.

Young Taylor, I am so sorry we had to endure all of that. But we can rest now, we made it. We are here. You did it. I did it. I'm where I always wanted to be. And there's so much left for us to see and explore and experience and learn and grow and I'm so excited to do this with you in my past and so excited to see who we are in the future.

I love you. I love us. I love me.

[symptoms-syndrome]

Yesterday my therapist was like "ok so last session you said [shit I do not relate to or think like at all]" which was weird. Usually I feel like barriers aren't so high that I don't even know what they're talking about. And we tried to do this thing where they were like "so what if you did feel this thing what would you tell yourself?" And I'm like I have nooo idea really. Because apparently I was really like, anxious about the way people see and perceive me in drag which isn't something I ever really worry about at all. It's one of my big strengths that I don't give a shit about that stuff. People will have their opinions of me and I don't really care what they are.

So my therapist relayed some stuff I apparently said like "what if people hate me?" And "what if I let things get to my head and I'm a dick about it?" To which I was like. So what if they do? So what if I am??? I've been a dick before I'll be a dick again life goes on we grow as people yadda yadda. Like I can't even really comprehend feeling that way or worrying about that stuff because it seems silly to worry about. It's like worrying if there will be rain tomorrow. Maybe there will maybe there won't but either way I can't stop it or make it happen.

Anyway my therapist said at the very end of session (like five minutes over time actually) that that part has come to session before a couple times. Not every time they said, but somewhat frequently. They gave a few other details, like that that part really needed reassurance and wouldn't really cooperate with grounding checks (stuff like "what would make you think that") and was just really anxious but didn't want to use the word anxious. It was really hard to make them feel any better. I really really wanted to ask them how they could tell it was a part, because I'm like. Always surprised when people can tell that kind of stuff (even though I've been told by other psychs I'm pretty overt.) But it was over time so I wanted to like respect their time and all.

Oh also when my therapist said smth along the lines of "how does it make you feel when I tell you that this is super not what you said before" (as in, hey dude that was parts stuff probably!) I said that I don't really feel anything about it because they're my therapist and it's their job to like. Tell me stuff like that. Like it would be weird if some rando told me "hey dude it looks like you're constipated" but if it was like, a gastroenterologist telling me that it's normal because that's their job. My therapist said that was really different too.

Anyway I'm sorta -_- only because IDK who that is that's saying that stuff at therapy. Like it could be a part I know but I can't really think of who. It doesn't super feel like it matches up with any of the parts I know of, even the ones who are like, IDK sad/anxious/etc. Like my best guess would be Tomas but IDK it doesn't feel exactly like him. He's more grounded and usually responds pretty well to grounding questions because he's super logical like that.

[wish-i-was-home]

Okay. So since I’m starting school in 2 days, I’m going to have another session with my social worker (also therapist), and this time I’m going to write some things I want to talk about so I don’t look like an idiot like last time

(feel free to skip if you think you‘re gonna get triggered

you already told her abt your ed, extend on it explaining how ur mom keeps worsening it, how feeling uncomfortable in your own skin makes you wanna lose weight n stuff. You don’t need to tell her about that memory.

you can tell her about how when you were a kid you were rlly bubbly and very (too) energetic, you liked annoying people (asking for attention like hugging or clinging to their arm or asking them to play with you) but more often than not ended up in them hitting you or pinching you to get you to go away. Which made you grow up feeling unloved or useless and attention seeking

^^ may extend explaining about the bullying. physical bullying and the rumors + how literally no one in your class liked you except for that one boy who you ended up clinging your heart to like escapism and how genuinely upset you‘d get if he‘s absent. And how heartbroken you were when he left the school

bullying continued in 8th grade, (may reference how the psychopath traumatized you n hurt you very badly mentally (the nightmares, ed, threats, used you for information, etc) then after the year ended, decided to move schools. The bullying from the last school caused you to be much more careful while socializing, which stuck with you and now you find it difficult socializing normally.

if this is too much for one session, feel free to break it down or not include certain points

Do NOT tell her about your suicide attempt, she‘s going to report you to the police Do NOT tell her about your gender dysphoria, she‘s going to report you to the police

other than that, wish you luck future me! :)

[psycholojosh]

I'm back in therapy....

Since the start of the new year, I've re-enrolled in psychotherapy once again. It's long overdue, in fact.

In May 2023, I got myself evaluated by a psychiatrist (who was comprehensive in his evaluation, unlike some) and got diagnosed with ADHD. (This can be for another story/post.) After that, I got myself started with medications. I take Ritalin (10mg/tab) as needed, so I only take it during work-heavy days or when I have scheduled clients for psychotherapy or assessments.

It's been helpful. But the timing of my diagnosis came with some unfortunate experiences and hardships in life (but some awesome and heartwarming ones too) plus a recently concluded therapy cycle from my previous therapist. When I would tell loved ones and peers about my diagnosis, they kept asking me, "So, kumusta ka after discovering that?", and I usually replied saying that I was okay. Spoiler alert: I apparently wasn't - and it was hard to recognize that early on.

Eventually, one challenge came after another and I just found myself in dark places mentally and emotionally. I took it upon myself to seek advice from people I trust and respect. My (proxy) program adviser, Doc Div, gave the most impactful one. (Again, could be another story.) She told me that my struggles, existential questions, and emotions are valid, and that I also owe it to myself to take care of me. And so I did.

Doc Div advised me not to return to my previous therapist (she/her) because, as the latter's supervisor, she didn't think that she could journey with me about these problems I had. So through the help of a colleague from work, I found a new one who he thought could help and I would resonate with well enough.

My new therapist's name is Teddi. She's based in the US but is a Filipina and a co-founder of a clinic in Metro Manila. We have online sessions. On the first session earlier this month, we immediately clicked (professionally, of course). And she immediately made me tear up and make me feel emotionally safe. And she actually understood me right away and already planted some seeds of insight to cultivate.

We just had our second session last night. I'm tempted to talk about it in-depth right now, but I think that would warrant whole other story. (Hahaha!) But, let's just say that this second session made me cry sad and hopeful tears. I felt like there's hope for me after all, and that even if the pathway to growing is painful and scary, I don't feel so alone.

For now, I wanna reflect on things she and I talked about. But, I wanted to share this here because maybe it could find someone who is struggling - maybe not in the same way - to seek help when they can.

Here's to growing... ❤️‍🩹

[sschmendrick]

Hello future me and Happy One year !

Well who doesn't like anniversaries ? Something to be reminded of !

On the 6th of November last year my closest friends at the time told me to not talk to them again until I get fixed by a therapist 🙂. Though I did need to go to therapy and get work done with a therapist, I also needed support to go through all of it and not just be me and my therapist. 💔

At the time I'm writing this, I haven't had my first session with my therapist yet (tomorrow) but I hope he's the right one and I'm still seeing him and doing progress as still post goes up.

💚 Dear Future Leska, how are you doing ? Is it going better ? Do you feel a little more grounded, less dependent on others, maybe a little self love or at least self respect ? How are you battling depression ? Do you have friends ? Are they old ones or new ones ? Have you found someone to be comfortable with as a partner or are you still thinking about that one goblin and sulking?

🍁 The Cowboys Fringants concert has happened so tell me, how was it ? Did you go alone or did friends accompany you ? How do you feel about Canada ? Do you still want to go there ?

🐱Did you get a cat in the end ? How are they doing ? Do you have pictures to show me ? Give them a little kiss for me please, I've been waiting for them for so long.

🎵 How are your studies going ? I hope you got in your final year...you better ! Did you get the major you were thinking of or did you change your mind ? I hope you managed to find interships otherwise we are so screwed for next year... Did you manage to do some live work ? Or at least go to a festival or two ? Were you accompanied ? I truly hope you have friends who love you, and let you know it, now.

🧑‍🤝‍🧑 Tell me, how are the mutuals ? I know you can't forget them. How's Coop, Shade, June, Lina, Jestroer, Red, Hale, Apollo, Dee, Hekate, eMe, Hira, Gamebird, Sae and all the names that would pop up in your notifications ?

Tell me what's going on, tell me all the good things that happened, tell me the bad ones too, tell of your battles and how you survived. When I attempted suicide a year ago for you, they asked me what I wanted to become when I grow up when I was a child, and what I was hoping for the future. I have no real ideas for the future, I feel very lost and with nothing on my mind but I know I love you. Weird right ? I can't love myself right now but I can love my future self. I want to love you and I want you to feel loved, and wanted, and comfortable where you are. Just know that 21 year old us is looking up to you, they are looking forward to meeting you. I want you to be alive when this post goes up. I want you to smile and be happy, I want you to feel stable and surrounded by people who love you and will let you know. People who will not let you down when you need them, but also people you feel comfortable asking for help. You can do it, I believe in you. I have no other choice than to believe in you, and I don't want to make another choice.

Take care, I love you,

Leska

[casspurrjoybell-27]

Claimed by the Beast - Chapter 22b

*Warning Adult Content*

MINE - Part 2

"Five minutes."

"What?"

"We're waiting five more minutes and then we'll go in there together if the Doc hasn't already come out with some news," Josie says, softening her tone. "I got your back, okay? Always."

Knox nods and bites the inside of his jaw to keep from getting choked up.

It's been a long time since he's felt this... low.

This worthless.

This hopeless and utterly exhausted.

Like nothing will ever go right no matter how hard he pushes himself.

The last time he felt like this had been when his mother passed away and that was several years ago.

He'd felt whatever it is that was beyond numb, and the support that he desperately needed was nonexistent.

These days, he feels like he's barely holding on but he's grateful because he doesn't have to go through life's dips alone anymore.

His brothers are great but they're also the opposite of sensitive.

Their advice usually falls along the line of 'You'll get over it, bro. Drink a beer and stop stressing.'

By far, Josie is the best at providing comfort and encouragement.

Knox would always joke about how she should go back to school to become a therapist.

"Oof. Somebody just woke up," Josie giggles, reaching for Knox's hand.

She places it where hers had been on her stomach and his eyes light up when he feels a little kick.

"It still boggles my mind that there's a human being growing in there."

"You ready for them to come out?" Knox asks.

"I don't know. Some days I think I'm ready for motherhood, and some days... I... I feel like a hot mess who doesn't deserve to be anyone's mother," Josie confesses, tears welling up in her eyes. "Sorry. My hormones are all over the place right now."

Knox doesn't have a therapist hat that he can put on, so he's shit at giving advice.

He does the only thing he can think of and pulls Josie in for a brief hug, allowing her to have her moment.

They separate when the door to the bedroom opens and the doctor steps out with his supplies.

"How is he?" Knox blurts out.

"Stressed," Keith answers. "And mildly dehydrated but Mr. Robinson will live to see another day. I gave him my wife's card..."

"Great. You think he's going crazy," Knox mutters, growing uneasy. "This is bullshit."

"No, it's real life. My wife is a licensed psychologist who specializes in trauma, which he exhibits symptoms of," Keith clarifies, defensively. "She can help him. I told Mr. Robinson the first five sessions will be free. She's spoken with a few of you before, so of course everything will be kept off record. Whether Mr. Robinson reaches out or not is up to him but in the meantime, keep fluids in him and... uh, try to keep your 'club business' out of his sight."

Feeling unrightfully judged, Knox narrows his eyes and steps forward with clenched fists.

"Thanks for coming out on such short notice, Doc," Josie moves to stand in front of Knox while waving for Keith to hustle his ass down the hall. "Your money is waiting for you in the kitchen with Gavin. Safe travels back home. Goodbye."

"You all take care now," Keith nods, then speed walks down the hall without looking back.

"I know you're itching to get in there, so tell Everett I'll check on him later," Josie squeezes Knox's arm, pulling his attention back to her. "If you need anything, you know where to find me. And don't forget about what I said earlier..."

"Your sermon is saved, Red," Knox taps at his temple.

They share another hug before she turns around and leaves.

A good portion of the tension that'd been wrecking his body dissipates when he enters his bedroom and sees Everett sitting up going through one of his many shopping bags.

"Hey. You should be resting, not... doing whatever the hell you're doing."

"I've got to find it."

Everett ignores him and continues with his search.

He doesn't hear the door close or the lock switch.

He doesn't acknowledge Knox's presence when he sits on the bed, not until the bag gets snatched away from him.

"Hey. I was..."

"Not resting," Knox interjects, his voice soft but firm. "You should shower and get some sleep. It's been a long fucking day for the both of us."

Everett nods in agreement, breaking eye contact as he nervously fiddles with his hands on his lap.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "For sneaking off like I did. Today wouldn't have... Everything that happened today is all on me. I almost got my friends killed. I almost got you killed," his voice cracks and his pretty brown eyes glisten with fresh tears.

He quickly wipes them away before they fall.

"I'm sorry for being such a pain in the ass. If you... If you want to send me back home, then I'd understand. I wouldn't hold it against you, I swear."

"Look at me, Everett."

"I am not sending you any fucking where. The thought has never crossed my mind," Knox places his index finger underneath Everett's chin, gently forcing his head up until their eyes meet.

"You're mine, do you hear me? Mine to protect. Mine to care for. Mine to..." the four letter word dies in Knox's throat.

He swallows hard before continuing.

"You're mine, kitten. I'm not letting you go."

'Not Yet.'

"Do you believe me?" Knox asks.

"Yes," Everett responds, reaching for Knox's hand.

He pulls it away from his face to kiss Knox's bruised knuckles.

"Are you in pain right now?"

"I..." Knox's heart swells with emotion at the tender gesture.

He shakes his head.

"I'm fine. How are you feeling?"

He can deal with a few bruised knuckles.

What he can't deal with is Everett's pale appearance and the absence of his smart mouth.

"Doc said you're stressed out, which I get but also dehydrated."

"Yeah, I'm a little lightheaded but other than that, I'm okay. I drank a bottle of water but I probably need to drink a few more before I go to sleep."

Knox nods in agreement.

"I was going to suggest the same thing."

"Also, I don't want to sleep in that other room anymore," Everett confesses. "Want to stay in here with you. Can I?"

Knox smirks.

"I planned to move your shit back in here after you went to sleep, so we're on the same page."

They share a laugh.

"Need you to be honest with me, kitten. Will you?"

Everett nods.

"What's on your mind?"

"I want to know what you and Finn argued about."

Everett doesn't hold anything back as he tells Knox about the argument he had with Finn.

Knox sits quietly and listens, his blank expression giving nothing away.

"I get it now. He was just looking out for you," Everett finishes. "Please don't be pissed at him whenever you see him again, okay? We've already apologized to each other through text. I'm over it."

"I'm not. He never should have let you out of his fucking sight," Knox grumbles.

"I almost knocked his head off with a hot frying pan. I would've let me leave if I were him," Everett laughs.

Knox grunts in response, softening a little.

"Can I have my bag back now? I was looking for something important before you rudely snatched it away."

"Looking for what?" Knox raises a brow, curious.

"I'm not telling you... yet," Everett grins, mischievously. "Now give me the damn bag."

Knox responds with a playful eye roll but does as he's told.

Everett resumes his search, soon letting out a high-pitched squeal when he finds the item that he had been looking for.

"Close your eyes," Everett orders. "Now."

Knox sighs.

"What the hell are you planning?"

"Just close your damn eyes, man."

Knox huffs and obeys, then Everett proceeds to rummage through his pants pockets.

When he finds Knox's keys, they jingle for several seconds and then Everett grabs Knox's left hand to give him the keys back.

Knox can't tell the difference in them until after Everett tells him to open his eyes.

"I saw it and immediately thought of you." Everett holds his breath as he watches Knox inspect the small keychain with a mixture of amusement and affection. "I-I know you're not really an accessories kind of guy, so you don't have to keep it on there if you don't..."

"I love it," Knox lightly traces his thumb along the tiny panda's head, unable to stop the blush from settling in his cheeks. "Can't even remember the last gift I received, so this is..."

A cute little panda with a beaming grin and one paw lifted in greeting.

A simple gift to some but a priceless gift to Knox.

"It means a lot. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Everett can't help but feel a sense of warmth spreading throughout his body.

He figured Knox might get a kick out of the silly keychain and laugh.

Nothing could've prepared Everett for this type of vulnerable reaction.

"There's one more thing I want to give you, though."

Knox finally looks up.

"What's that?"

"Me."

Everett places a hand on Knox's cheek, his heart pounding in his chest as he closes his eyes just before leaning in to press their lips together.

[lgchyoseop]

last session

"and i should've stayed, but i couldn't"

...

to begin with, he hadn't gone here willingly. he was forced by his dad, after he fainted in front of his dad and let him know he was struggling with food, his dad forced him into therapy, hyoseop had mostly just said yes, because his dad had threatened he would tell about the incident to legacy if hyoseop didn't go to therapy. but it was real, hyoseop needed therapy, he needed help, he'd kept secrets for so long. only three people knew about why his scar was there, only three people knew about the trauma he'd gone through, which he'd been running from, but wasn't fast enough. a fourth person had now been added: his therapist. hyoseop hadn't let her know everything, but a lot, it was nice coming out with it, though a part of him wished never to come out with it, to push it down, just try to forget about it.

"this'll be our last session" he lets her know the moment he steps into the room "oh?" she tilts her head. he takes a seat, usually it's her who is the first to talk, but not today. "i can't keep coming here, i'm coming in secretly, scared that anyone i know will figure out i come here, family, friends, but most importantly, my company and fans" deep breath. "i can't keep secretly coming her, i've gotten a huge opportunity, and it doesn't match with coming here, i can't keep secretly turning up here, not when i'm chasing the dream of becoming an idol, what would people think of me? my fans? the public? my company?". he waits for an answer, "you could be another kind of idol, an idol who shows it's okay to struggle, okay to ask for help, to-" , "i can't do that, i can't take risks. i've been chasing this dream for seven years, i'm finally seeing hope, i need to take this chance, and therapy isn't something i can fit into my life anymore".

"you've come a long way hyoseop, but we both know you're still struggling, you're afraid what people will ask about your scar, you struggle to eat, you care too much about your body and looks, and you're afraid to meet her again, whether she's the same or has changed, you're afraid to meet her again. you're not ready hyoseop, you're not--" "but when will i be? i need to be ready, i'm not growing younger, my chances are getting slimmer and slimmer, and i don't want her to ruin this for me, i don't want her to still have so much affect on me" hoarse, his voice is hoarse. "but she is still affecting you" her voice is calm "every time you look at your scar, every time you look in the mirror, every time you eat, you've told me so hyoseop, you can't keep running, we have to work through this, you can and will get better". "and just how long will that take? i dated her eight years ago, i've been trying to get over it for seven years, maybe it is about time i just learn to live with it, that she'll continue to have power over me, even though she's not around me".

"well, i suppose this could be a nice distraction, a nice beginning, you're not telling it directly, but i'm guessing you'll be debuting. something new is good" she nods, before looking up at hyoseop who has a single tear running down his eyes. "you'll make it, you're strong, but hyoseop, when it gets too tough, please, please ask for help".

[inquixotic]

EVELYN & ANGEL, LATER DAY 36.

terrace for some fuckin’ reason

with @dobits !

evelyn mendoza.

evie is significantly calmer after her conversation (cry session) with eden and cheryl both, though she's still processing a little bit of why she was so angry. she still feels pretty dumb, and she does definitely blame angel for that, but she also doesn't want to leave things on the sour note she had earlier in her rush to run away from her feelings and his lackthereof. "do you have a second?" she's purposely softened her tone, to avoid putting him on any kind of defensive. the last thing she needs is for him to think she's just going to chew him out again, even if she sort of wants to. @melly

angel reid

it’d taken heaps of restraint not to pull her following the calamity of their chat earlier. it’s angel’s desperate instinct to fix things when they’re broken, to be liked by everyone, but the fact that he’d already gotten along so well with evie makes things even more frustrating. he’s sitting in his guilt, knee bouncing, when she joins him on the terrace. even though he was expecting her, his heartbeat trips. “yeah, yeah,” he motions for her to sit. “got two even.” gentle humor accompanied by a tight smile. he leans forward, elbows propped up on his knees. “but, like, just so you know, this convo’s just gonna be me apologizing every other sentence. it’s gonna get annoying fast.” smile grows on his face, tries to insert his own bold faced levity, plus it probably isn’t far off from the truth. he’s trying to gauge her, determine her mood. dark eyes watch her expression. “you been okay?”

evelyn mendoza.

"fine," she answers, clipped and to the point in her lingering annoyance, not really acknowledging the humor cues he's giving to try to earn a smile back. she's not ready to exactly tell him every little detail of her therapy session, nor is she exactly thrilled at the idea of talking and laughing with him right now, still. getting to the point of being able to express why she was so upset with him calmly had taken a little bit. "if you could, like, wait on any apologies 'til i'm done?" she asks quietly, tilting her head at him, not really giving him much of an option before she continues, "i just wanted to, like...i think i overreacted a little earlier." evie's a little reluctant to admit even that because, honestly, she does still feel a little led on. "i'm just very intentional with my language. so it really hurt my feelings to hear that you weren't, when you knew where i was at and didn't give me the full context of where you were at? does that make sense?"

angel reid

it’s not entirely surprising when evie slices past the bullshit and hits straight at the stinging nerve of it all, if he’s learned anything about the way she deals with confrontation, it’s that she doesn’t shy from it. luckily he’s already in a position of submissiveness, back curved and hands linked. he nods to her question and then listens with perked ears ‘til she gets to the thoughtful end. “makes sense,” angel answers honestly. “you didn’t do anything wrong, y’know. like, there’s no right way to be hurt.” even clutched in the vice grip of reality tv, filled out by on-call therapists, it’s hard to escape knee jerk reactions. if anything, it’ll make it worse. “i get why you felt that way. like, i made you believe one thing and then today i told you something else.” gaze falls to the terrace floor, nodding understanding. “tell you the truth, i dunno why i did that.” heat of the moment? part of him still thinks it was a genuine misunderstanding, or at least a passing comment, but he can take the L when he deserves it. “but it’s on me, for sure.”

evelyn mendoza.

"it's not even that i was hurt, really? like i was, i guess, but it's more like..." she pauses, searching for the right words, that aren't going to hurt his feelings. "like i feel like what you said wasn't what i understood, so i looked stupid. and that is what hurt?" the fact that he's being so understanding, though, makes it a little bit better, the tension dropping a little from her shoulders as she feels more understood than she did earlier, by his knee jerk reaction of if he hurt her rubbing salt in the stinging wound. "i know i didn't do anything wrong, i just was, like, far too dramatic for how serious it was." she shrugs a little, unapologetic in her feelings still. she feels everything a lot, and she'd rather that than be accused of being too unfeeling. "you don't?" her brow furrows a little, frowning in thought. "it wasn't, like, you just trying to spare my feelings?" it's a little bit of an out, if he'll take it. she doesn't think he's really interested in her, based on this morning, but she's a little susceptible still to his being charming in general, her eyes still fixed on his face even if he's looked away. she's not going to disagree with it being his fault, either, not when he literally said he liked her and cheers to getting to know her. "i just don't understand why you would say something you don't mean, i guess."

angel reid

lower lip rolls thoughtfully inward as he struggles to navigate this conversation. feels worlds away from the ease they’d had getting to know one another yesterday. now he’s not sure what he can say to express how he feels without mis-stepping. angel tries to surmise what she’s told him in succinct bits only to hear that it wasn’t quite like that. he’s not sure how much more they can bake the events without burning it all to a crisp. “um, maybe?” he considers with a tilt of his head. “i guess i didn’t understand that power of words like that.” his gaze flickers to her, bracing for a reaction. if the diplomacy he’s been trying to embody so far has been altogether misses, he’s sure that one won’t land very well. “and…,” a short sigh deflates him, a little reluctant to even broach it, “i’m still kinda dealing with this frankie stuff so i guess that’s where my head was at. and i could tell you were, like, really trying to look out for me and we were just having a good convo. i was just rolling with it, i dunno.”

evelyn mendoza.

she nods slowly, trying to understand his perspective, but feeling a little prickle of annoyance at his words that she tries to force down. it's better to know these miscommunications exists now than later, when she has actual feelings for him. "don't think that's a mistake you'll make again, huh?" she wagers, giving him a tiny smile, to set him a little more at ease. the rest...is more complicated and she cants her head, lips pursed as she considers those words. "yeah, i'm not, like, telling jenny i don't think jude's all in on her, y'know? that's not my style, so it just...i don't know." her words trail off with her thoughts, not wanting to say too much on the frankie callie situation, if he's fine being a second choice like he said. "like, i think callie's really great, y'know? but it just didn't feel right for you to not have the full picture of how it looks." present tense, she notes as she says it, refraining from cringing. "are you doin' better with it now?"

angel reid

“yeah, no kidding,” angel huffs a hollow laugh, unclenching a bit as he leans back into the bench, his hand reaching to massage the nape of his neck. “yeah, it’s all good.” it’s about all the confirmation he’ll afford at the moment. it’s not really the goal to get onto the concept, mostly just wanted to mention it to try and paint the picture of where his head was at during the date, why things got so scrambled. “i’m just… y’know, i want you to know i really am sorry. i feel like such an asshole, like, i ruined your whole entrance and your day and… i dunno, i’m definitely the one who looks stupid here. like, my family’s probably ripping their hair out watching me right now.”

evelyn mendoza.

the apology feels so much more genuine than earlier, too, like he actually gets that she had her feelings hurt this time, but the concept that he ruined her day? her entrance? she snorts, shakes her head a little. “man, all due respect, me cryin’ isn’t like that. you did not ruin my entrance.” it’s almost a little insulting, that he thinks she’d let that ruin her first day, but she can’t blame him when she was the one with the tears. plus, her entrance was before all that, and she still knows she was hot during it. “lettin’ a girl like me pass, though? yeah, nah, you do look pretty stupid.” her dimples reappear with her over-exaggerated self confidence, feeling a little lighter with a genuine apology. “we’re good?”

angel reid

it’s emotional whiplash to keep up with, having gone from being detrimental enough to make her burst into tears over a passing comment to being an absolute joke to imagine it had made an impression. “a’ight,” angel chuckles again, dry and vaguely confused, “i’m glad.” it feels misunderstood, the clean vibe between them crooked like a rollercoaster now and his stomach is stuck in his throat. he feels resolved by offering the apology though, can’t do much more and it makes it easier when it seems like she’s accepted it since it’s not the kinda thing he’d grovel over forever. a more genuine smile cracks over his face. “yeah, ‘course we’re good. i’m glad we talked.”

evelyn mendoza.

he seems a little confused, and she silently is a little glad the entire ordeal had happened practically day 1 — she’s spelled out her side, and him not getting that only means he wouldn’t have understood the next time she cries over something equally ridiculous. “me too,” her smile stretches into something a little more genuine, less for show — she doesn’t like to be angry. “thanks for hearin’ me out despite the dramatics. means a bunch, y’know?”

angel reid

“nah, anytime,” he nods, sincere. at least it won’t feel awkward whenever he passes her in the hall. “and, y’know, likewise. you didn’t have to hear me out, i appreciate that, for real.” a pause, then his lips start into a smile. “so does this mean you’re gonna clue me in on where your heads at now?” after all, half the point of being friends with everybody is that he gets to hear all the gossip, though he’s not entirely sure if he and evie are there quite yet.

evelyn mendoza.

“i clued you in this morning,” she points out, her eyebrows raised, though there’s amusement in it. even if he hadn’t taken it seriously, she had been honest — she just had made a much more concrete decision. “charlene’s still top of list, has been since yesterday.” there’s a tiny pause as she debates sharing that the two kissed, cheeks flushing at the memory, but she shakes her head to shake the jitters off. “i just gotta know that i’m not messin’ with her plans, y’know?”

angel reid

“tippy top of the list, looks like,” he teases, chin jerking up in reference to the flush coloring her face. “well, i’m pretty sure you aren’t gonna be stepping on naomi’s toes, if that’s what you’re worried about.” fair to say that shipped has crashed, burned, and left no survivors. “do you think she’s vibing you?” odds are yes, he’s not sure it’s possible for charlene to not vibe with somebody.

evelyn mendoza.

she shakes her head, not quite in the mood to joke around like that with him, but he's not wrong. "naomi's toes aren't even in the realm of my worries," she frowns, at the memory of how little of a chance naomi had given what seemed to be the sweetest girl there. she isn't even the least concerned about her. "well, she said she has other options too, so i just don't wanna like, put her out or anything." she still has no idea what to do, frankly.

angel reid

“she did?” that makes him laugh a little, vaguely surprised that char would be playing it so cool, hardly seems her style. he can’t even imagine who the other options could possibly be. angel shrugs. “well, i really doubt she’d be feeling put out if you chose her. i mean, you gotta choose somebody, right? should be someone you actually like.” that’s pretty much what he’d meant when he’d advised her not to worry about stepping on toes, he’d kinda technically stepped on charlene’s himself. “have you pulled miles for a chat yet?”

evelyn mendoza.

his surprise makes her eyebrows knit together, a little confused. does she not have other options? why was he surprised, aren't they friends? "why do you keep saying things like that?" as if she'd pick someone for another reason, as if there's more strategy than that in her. "'somebody i actually like.' like...what, do people pick someone they don't like?" ignoring the question about miles in favor of getting an answer because, frankly, she's not sure she wants to put herself in the middle of something again.

angel reid

brows tick up, the antithesis of her as ever. “liiike, keep saying what?” genuinely confused. it’s like all his words are being catalogued and then apparently twisted into something ill intentioned. her clarification doesn’t exactly do what it was presumably intended. “uh, i guess i dunno what people do. i was just trying to hype you, dude. like, just saying you should pick her if you like her. i totally doubt she wouldn’t be into it.” a tentative shrug, like he’s not sure if that was also the wrong thing to say as far as she’s concerned. “that’s all.”

evelyn mendoza.

"you're, like, really unintentional with your language." it's an observation, more than an accusation, but it's not free of judgment as she watches his face twist with confusion at her question. but, seriously, what's she supposed to think? it practically sounds like he's implying she has ulterior motives, but if she were, she'd definitely be picking someone in a stronger couple.

angel reid

“— what?” he’s full blown shocked now. maybe he misspoke before - and profusely, genuinely apologized - but now he thinks he’s just taking punishment for no real reason. maybe she’s on the defensive with him or maybe she’s purposely twisting his words. either way, angel’s not polite enough to take character assassination lying down. “uh, no, i’m not,” he tells her point blank, shrugging. now he’s the offended one, brows knit as he stands, his path obviously toward the door. “it feels like you’re taking everything i say in the worst way possible. i guess you don’t know me that well.” maybe if they’d been able to get to know each other in the chill, friendly way he’d wanted to, it wouldn’t be like that. “i’m literally trying to be friendly here, but obviously that’s not gonna work, so i’m gonna leave ya to it, ‘kay? i’ll just — see you out there.”

evelyn mendoza.

"angel, i've known you for quite literally half a day. i don't know you," she points out, shoving herself up to leave, the frustration bubbling back up under her skin. she's sure as hell not going to be left on the terrace alone for the fucking cameras to show her looking upset or whatever. "all i've done is say i want to get to know you and tried to tell you that being so closed off so soon after one of you got off an intense break up might be a bad idea. i don't understand how you think i'm taking everything you say badly when i was trying to take it at face value — no, you stay, it's fine — and then when i did that, i misunderstood you." she gestures to the terrace as she speaks, he was here first after all. and frankly, she'd like to be alone for a bit, far away from him. "which, fuckin' fine, you apologized, i'm over it, but now that i'm trying to figure out what you are saying and make sure i'm not missing any, like, subtle cues or whatever that i clearly did before, i'm trying to take it in the worst way? that's bullshit." she tugs at the door handle to leave, maybe go find charlene to talk to about the recoupling instead of the dude trying to confuse her more, figure out what's going on there. she waves a hand up, not bothering to look at him. "we can catch up later, clearly you need space."

kangaroach stan (jia)

please end this

Love Island

keep going

angel reid

“you’re being so—,” he doesn’t even have the words. would probably be told they were wrong anyway. wait, no, he has the word, “difficult. like, what subtle cues could you be missing in me telling you you should go for her if you like her?” his hand’s planted high against the door, doesn’t budge when she tries to beat him to the punch and escape from this absolute mess. it seems insane that she’s gonna dump all this at his feet and say adios. the whole thing’s rife with miscommunication and it’s bothering the hell out of him. “i’m trying not to be closed off, like, i’m out here taking L’s left and right just so we can still talk and be friends, but, jesus, every fucking thing i say is some, like, personal attack to you and i don’t know why. that’s bullshit.” he’s looking down at her with his mouth in a terse line, a wrinkle in the middle of his brow. the door is still effectively blocked off, he needs a second longer to think before he can let it end already. “if you and me aren’t good, just say that. but don’t make it out like i’m some careless asshole ‘cause i’m not.”

evelyn mendoza.

"i'm being difficult?" a shaky laugh escapes her at that and she tugs harder against the door, though without luck with him holding it shut well above her head. her eyes flicker to his hand to gauge whether she could actually reach him or not to pull at it. "i'm the one being difficult? you're the one literally holding a door shut here." her finger jabs towards his chest instead, before gesturing to his hand. the way he phrases it, it's hard not to take offense, taking L's, as if she's a loss. "and i'm not trying to take this shit as an attack. it's just kinda fuckin' hard to take it seriously when you say things like you're not closed off again, when you said you were this morning, and you weren't yesterday," her finger jabs towards his chest, before gesturing to his hand. staring up at him for a moment, quiet, before finally she takes a breath like she knows she should have a few minutes ago, then another, a hand running over her face. "sorry. i'm sorry. we're fine. i don't think you're a careless asshole." completely, at least. she's hit with a wave of embarrassment again, over fighting with him again when she doesn't even want to fight, and she's pretty sure she's actually picked it this time. "i wouldn't have picked you yesterday if i did. i just — sorry. just let me leave you be."

angel reid

“evie, you’re completely overthinking it,” he tells her, uncharacteristically short. angel can’t help it now, frustrated in a way he hasn’t been at all since stepping foot in the villa. it’s already reached it’s crescendo though, the fire in him flickering down on cue when she starts apologizing. he can unclench a bit, huffing out an only mildly perturbed breath. at least they have some common ground now. “— thanks,” he says a bit glib, like it’s the least she could do, but it is appreciated. it could be claimed that this whole thing was a net zero, or maybe even that they both lost, but the optimism in angel says there’s nothing more bonding than getting into a squabble with somebody. “fine,” he decides after a prolonged beat, sliding his hand down the door to push her hand off the knob so he can grab it instead, finally wrenching it open so she can walk through it. he’ll just stay up here for a few more minutes and try to find his inner zen. “we’ll catch up later.”

evelyn mendoza.

words mean things, she wants to shoot back. she gets the feeling callie wouldn’t like that he said it like that, closed off, if she knew anything about the show, which he clearly didn’t. his shortness has her wanting to poke back, uncharacteristically. she forces herself to take another breather, even as he’s pushed her hand off the door knob to yank it open for her, her eyes rolling at the show. “you just had to do that,” she grumbles, stepping through it with a glance over her shoulder. “i am sorry, though. mean it.” before she shrugs and heads off to find charlene or adela.

[wtfaustin]

austinpresley: Today I spent three hours, yes you read that right. three hours. with one of the most amazing therapists. I cried more than I like to admit but emotions aren’t a bad thing and I was honestly so surprised how much I was holding back. We talked about my mom, my grandfather, my kids and my bride all of which made me an emotional mess. She told me it was normal for the first few sessions to be a lot and emotions tend to come out more so then. I’m not afraid to admit I needed help, I denied it to myself and then I realized I needed it. I wanted it for my own health, for my grandmother, my brother, my niece and nephews, my soon to be wife and my kids. I want to watch them all grow, I want to be present in the moments with them. I was afraid that if I kept going how I was, I wasn’t gonna see that.

I wasn’t the Austin I was used to, losing my mom turned me into someone I didn’t know and it was like a fog now because I don’t remember much of anything the last two weeks. Austin had left the building and someone I didn’t know checked in and that had to change. I had to want to change and I know it’s only been two days since my last drop of alcohol but I’m already thinking clearer than I had been. My mother always told me this industry tough but I was tougher and I’m going through the motions of feeling like I let her and my entire family down, the guilt soaring through my body is ripping me apart but I’m working on forgiving myself because I know my mom would want me to be in the moment with the family I love and have here with me, walking beside me as I find myself again.

I’m not gonna lie, I’m heavy right now with all these emotions. I realized I’m tired of hiding it all behind a smile and a wink to the cameras and to my own family. They can see right through me though, the media is none the wiser. That may change now, it may not. I’m gonna get better, I’m gonna do it with my mom watching over me and my family by my side. I know nothing comes easy, I know this won’t be easy and I know it’s gonna take a while for me to be okay again, to my family, please don’t give up on me. I need you more than ever now, I love you all so much.

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

hello! a long while back I sent in an ask about my brother being abusive and that the situation was being handled and thoughg I'd update and vent:

tw for drugs, abuse, verbal abuse, suicide, ed

I didnt speak to him for four months because I was honestly just over it. Over him and his excuses and I mean there was no hate there I just was done. Then he randomly got so drunk he got alcohol poisoning and my mom kind of went "he loves you so much it breaks my heart you guys arent talking". And I'll admit I let it get to me but at the same time he put himself in that position with me. I have a right to set my boundaries.

Anyway over last month we made up and have been talking again but after he again got really nasty with me we actually sat down and talked about it. I told him hey when you speak to me like that, it makes me feel like utter shit. For a long time it really messed me up and I'm pretty disappointed that after four months of not talking to you because you treated me like that, that you go and do the same thing just when we were getting to be normal again.

He apologized and was pretty hard on himself; he admitted that hes just so angry all the time and he hates himself - that after the first fight which led us to not talk that he fucked his arm up as punishment. Just listed all the negatives and horrible things about himself and his situation etc. And while I do have empathy for him, I just told him that it's his responsibility to work on his behavior and mental health. He didn't ask to get fucked for life but it's his responsibility and just because he's going through something it doesn't mean he can treat me badly. I went into slight detail about how throughout this year I've tried to kill myself three times, relapsed in my ED, have relived traumatic events, etc. But through all that I was kind albeit stressed with my younger siblings.

I know he isn't me and that I can't compare but I said it as a way to say "I see you and understand but you've gotta step up man" because for years it's been shit plus shit and more shit. I said maybe he'd benefit from talking to someone- he has the money to afford the sessions and the time so he shoukd think about it. And he said he will.

Come three weeks later he's still getting high off his ass, drinking, and even though hes really skinny already he bought diet pills. He's been an addict in the past with drugs and I'm kind of ticked that my parents aren't seeing it. Literally he got home with the pills and my dad says "Mijo, you gotta be careful with those things. Have you seen yourself in pictures? Maybe you should" and I know that's meant to be like "dude you're skinny already" but this needs more than a 'be careful' because last time that happened it was me who cleaned up his cuts and had to see him be sent off to the psych ward. Not only that but his behavior triggers me constantly and I'm now starting to detach from him. Its not like we talked much before anyway but I mean now with the diet pills and everything I just can't be around him.

I love him but I just, I dont care anymore. In the past I use to be angry; when he went to the psych ward my family was all over it - my grandparents would have him over and drove him around and talk with him, my dad started researching about OCD and Depression to be able to help him, my mom was there everytime he had a panic attack at night and let him sleep in their bed, and he was receiving real treatment by a therapist and psychiatrist.

But still he just seemed unappreciative of it, he couldn't not see past how shitty his life/he was and I get it you know I'm not saying "grow up you're sucha whiner" but, I dont know.

And after seeing him be so cared for and getting help I decided to tell my parents I think I have depression and, nothing ever came of that. They said "okay", gave me a hug, and that was it. There was no research for me, no time with grandma and grandpa, no therapist. Him and I are only a year apart. It took me two years to go to a therapist myself and realize "hey um you're a little more than depressed" and still, my family doesn't cater to it. It's all him.

Your brother cant sleep through the night? Okay let's remove his door (which is the only thing separating our rooms).

Your brother is having trouble with addiction? Okay let's do mom and dad dates with him and make sure he's catered to.

Your brother is too depressed to get up? Okay you're gonna cover his chores on top of yours from now on.

Your brother is bringing diet pills into the house even though it's very obvious you struggle with eating/have been the same weight since middle school? Just give him a slap on the wrist and let it go.

Hi anon,

Unfortunately it can be challenging for many people to choose to seek help. It's often easier to fall back on unhealthy coping mechanisms than actively work towards self-improvement. It's easy to say you'll commit to therapy and simply not follow through. It's ultimately up to your brother to choose recovery when he's ready, even if everyone around him is impatient. He cannot be forced to do work he isn't prepared for yet, you know?

That being said, just because your brother is going through a lot and potentially numbing you and your family, you still deserve the care you need. It may help to ask for specific accommodations such as therapy or whatever else you may need. You do not deserve to feel invisible in this chaos, especially with issues that have been persistent even before your brother's.

You deserve to take up space, and you deserve to be heard.

I hope you're doing alright. Please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

[evoanakin]

Twitter

I’ve been on twitter for so long, I tweet what I relate to. I tweet the past, the present and the future. I tweet what I don’t do and what I do. Basically my twitter is a scam, a fake and any other social media, not everything is real.

Started working out every day since Oct

Quit smoking on August

I read books on my free time

I drink moderately with friends

Started seeing other people since June

I work day and night since May

Deleted my instagram and facebook

I’ve stop doing hard drugs since April

My peace of mind is what I hold to dearly. I can’t be in a crowded place without getting anxiety of the thought of seeing someone I know close to her there. I keep my friends small and healthy. I want an environment with no one is drinking every weekend, smoking cigarettes and doing drugs. I don’t get triggered easily now and my therapist told me only 2 weeks ago that is our last session cos he said I don’t need anymore, I am doing better and been good. It meant so much to me finally I am slowly loving myself, learning. I’m changing my bad habits in to something good. My insecurities are slowly dying and every time I get a negative thought, I control myself. The best part is the discipline I put myself into, I really am hard on myself lately but thats the discipline I need, the love I need.

This is the growth that I always wanted for my life and now I am here, I look at the past with a smile. My friend told me that “now you can see how toxic you were with that person”. And I told her “that not true”. The thing is, I just didn’t do all of this, I learned so many thing about life, myself and other people. My choice are my own and I am owning up to it. There is no one responsible for my own action other than myself. If you excuse yourself every time you do something wrong or blame other people, where will that take me? My bad habits in the past are my own doing and what my future is now is my own doing. You don’t own to your mistakes. How can you learn from it then? I learned that I have no love for myself in a very very long time. I was loving someone else way too much that every time I show her my love, I hate myself for it and I blame her. Thats not love. I was being unfair and very blinded of what really love is. This “time” I have been given was given by her, herself. She said that “i want you to grow, to be better and then maybe we can grow together.”. But I grew alone and she grew with someone else. I know nothing about her but my connection to her is my prayers. I pray to go to send out my messages to her heart and mind. If she could see me know, she’d damn proud. Before I wanted to do this for her, that I am not the person she thinks of me but she irrelevant to present. I have accepted that no future may come again. So every time I do something amazing, like stop smoking I make my family so proud and my friends so proud and amaze that I amaze myself. And it felt so good. So I started to challenge myself and do things, they said I couldn’t. I started doing it for myself.

For now, I need to love myself to know what love really is cos I forgot parts of it.

She wanted us to grow together and find each other. But that didn’t happen, meanly because she didn’t give me a chance. But thats okay. I wish she could see me now, she would be so proud.

Though there are girl who I choose to ignore. I don’t want to get comfortable with that thought that someone can save me. I wanna fight alone. I wanna change alone. I wanna be better alone.

Cos thats how she left me, and thats how she will find me.

[maddiwrites]

Family Troubles

Pairing: JJ x Routledge!Reader, mostly John B x Routledge!Reader sibling dynamic 

Summary: (Requested) After the death of your brother, you move to the mainland with a nice foster family. Months later, you get the biggest shock of your life that leaves you questioning what you want.

Note: I’m so sorry this took so long. I hope this is what you were looking for!

Word Count: 4.6k

You peek your eyes open to another sunny autumn day as your alarm echos off the walls of your room through your phone. For the first time in a long time, you didn’t dread the day ahead of you. Because you feel like you’re finally living a life worth living. 

It’s been about three months since John B disappeared. The worst three months of your life. You never would have imagined living a life without your twin brother. It was lonely and heart wrenching. You didn’t think you would get through it. And living with the Cameron’s didn’t make your life any easier. Ward tried blocking you off from the rest of the world. He was afraid of what you could do to his reputation despite knowing most people wouldn’t believe you. You were just a Pogue with a criminal background.Your word means nothing to Kooks and cops alike. Nonetheless, Ward didn’t want to take any chances. 

It wasn’t until you finally got in touch with Cheryl, your social worker, that your life started to change for the better. You couldn’t believe the irony of running to your social worker for help when you’ve been running away from her all summer. Surprisingly, she did hear you. She listened to you. She believed you! Although there wasn’t much she could do about Ward, she could help you get out from under his neglectful guardianship. 

She placed you in a foster home with an eager Spanish American couple on the main land. Of course you weren’t ecstatic about it. Foster care was never something you wanted to be placed in. Especially without your brother. But at the time, anything was better than living with Ward Cameron. 

The worst part of the process was telling your best friends. Kie and Pope, although disappointed, were happy for you because they knew this was what was best for you. JJ, however, didn’t understand how you could be so cool calm and collected about moving. Losing you to Figure Eight was hard enough and now he was going to have open water separating you two? He didn’t cope well with the news. He barely talked to you as you gathered your stuff to leave, almost didn’t show up to say his final goodbye with Kie and Pope. But he came as you were about to get on the ferry with Cheryl. The two of you cried and told each other you were sorry. You kissed his cheek and slipped a small piece of paper with your new address into his pockets. JJ reluctantly let you go with a promise that he will visit you as soon as he could and you believed him. Because he was your best friend, your soul mate, and partner in crime.

JJ saves up every week to take the ferry to visit you. He usually comes every Sunday, respecting your foster parents’ wishes that he not stay the night. At first they were wary of him coming over - they know about your past from the social worker and the News and how JJ was a part of it. They wanted you to have a new beginning. A fresh start. They believed you when you said your brother wasn’t a murderer and that you and your friends did nothing wrong. They were just afraid that JJ would convince you to come back to the Outer Banks (which he’s tried), or make you regress to past trouble making behaviors. But you explained to Maria and Luis, your foster parents, how important JJ is to you and that he needed to be a part of you life no matter where you were living. So they allowed him weekend visits, always making sure to keep an eye on you when he was here. 

Someone lightly taps on your door until you say, “Come in.” 

Maria pokes her head in and smiles when she sees you’re awake. “Morning, honey. Your appointment is in thirty minutes. Will you be ready to leave soon?”

You offer her a smile and nod. “Yeah, I’ll be down in ten.”

Maria nods. “Okay.”

She closes the door gently, leaving you alone to get ready for your appointment with your therapist. You agreed with your new foster parents to go to therapy once a week. They thought it would help you move on and grow and get rid of the nightmares that sometimes terrorize you at night. You went because you felt like you owed it to them to make an effort. They weren’t like the other foster couples you hear horror stories about. If they were gonna be there for you, you were gonna be there for them too. 

The therapy sessions were working. You’re more open to talking about what you went through. The therapist never gave you any inclination that she was judging you or analyzing you. She just listened and asked you how you were feeling about everything. She helped you adjust to this new life on the mainland and taught you new coping strategies that didn’t involve getting into fights or arguing with the cops. She helped you through your anxiety about starting a new school and making new friends. She even prescribed you some anxiety meds that helped with your nightmares and panic attacks.

Both Maria and Luis drive you to your therapy appointment. You silently question why the both of them felt the need to accompany you to your appointment. You mentally list all the reasons as to why they both would want to come when usually it’s just one or the other. You’re too afraid to ask, thinking they’re about to drop a bomb on you and send you back to the island. You don’t want to hear it, procrastinating the inevitable for as long as possible. 

When Dr. Hildegard greets you in the waiting room, she waves not only you but your foster parents as well into her office. The three of you take a seat on the brown leather couch in front of her chair. You awkwardly glance between your therapist and your foster parents, trying to read the room. You dig your nails into the skin of your hand to keep yourself calm, focusing on the slight stinging pain it leaves you.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Dr. Hildegard says. She takes notice of your fidgeting hands and smiles. “I know you must be confused and anxious right now. But Maria and Luis have something they want to ask you and felt you would be more comfortable having this conversation with me present.”

“Okay...” You say wearily. 

Luis and Maria hold each other’s hands as they turn to look at you. You feel a little better when you see a smile on their face, making you think it isn’t going to be bad news. 

“Y/N, how would feel about officially being a part of our family?”

You glance between your therapist and your foster parents and tilt your head in confusion. “I don’t understand...”

“Y/N,” Dr. Hildegard says. “Maria and Luis would like to adopt you.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Meanwhile, back at the Outer Banks, JJ is getting ready to leave his house to make the last ferry to the mainland. He had to pick up another shift to afford another boat ride and a date for tonight, which left him racing against the clock.

Someone knocks on his front door. “Shit,” He curses and looks at the clock. 3:04. He needed to leave twenty minutes ago. He doesn’t have time to talk to anyone right now. He figures it’s his dad’s probation officer or druggie looking for money. So he ignores it so he can find his wallet. 

But the knocking persists. 

“Fuck,” JJ grunts and storms to the front door. “He’s not here -”

JJ freezes as he rips the door open. He didn’t know who he was going to find, but he definitely wasn’t expecting his dead best friend to be standing on his door step. 

John B smirks up at his shocked reaction. “Hey, stud. Miss me?”

JJ’s brain is doing flips inside his skull, knocking around with so many questions and curses and phrases and shouts. But with that is the immense excitement and relief that takes over his entire body. 

JJ jumps on him and wraps his arms around his best friend’s shoulders. Tears inevitably prick his eyes and he physically holds onto John B. He’s in utter disbelief. He never thought he would get this opportunity again. To see and hold his best friend - the best friend that’s supposed to be dead. 

“Wow. Who knew JJ Maybank could get so emotional?” John B jokes, trying to hide his own tears through his laugh. 

JJ removes himself from John B and shoves him back by the shoulders lightly. He wipes his upper lips with the back of his hand and sniffles back the rest of his tears. “Shut up, bro.” JJ narrows his eyes at the dead man in front of him and asks, “What the fuck happened? Where’s Sarah? Is she -”

"Sarah’s fine. We’re trying to lay low right now. No one knows we’re back.”

“What -”

“Look, I know you’re confused and there’s so much I need to tell you guys, but first I need to see my sister.” John B says with a sweet grin on his lips at the mention of his sister. He was most excited to see her - his first best friend and partner in crime. “Is she here?” JJ’s face falls at the mention of Y/N because he doesn’t know how John B is going to take the news that she’s no longer on the island. John B notices JJ’s hesitation and immediately get’s worried. “Where’s Y/N, JJ?”

“She’s not here.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

You trail behind Maria and Luis as they unlock the front door to their house. The car ride home was awkwardly silent. You didn’t know what to say.

“Oh...” You said. You weren’t expecting that. You thought they’d be telling you the complete opposite. Yet, you didn’t know how to feel about their proposition. 

Maria and Luis looked at Dr. Hildegard for some insight or ice breaker since you froze up on the spot. You looked back down at your hand and pressed your nails even harder into your skin, leaving half crescent moons indented in your palm. 

Dr. Hildegard kept her calm smile and said softly, “Why don’t Y/N and I speak alone and I’ll grab you guys at the end?”

Maria and Luis, although a little disappointed by your reaction, agreed and stepped out of the room.

When the two of you were alone, Dr. Hildegard asked, “How are you feeling right now, Y/N?”

“I uh...” You stammered. “I don’t know. Shocked, I guess.”

“Usually when kids in foster care are offered adoption, they’re excited. Do you like living with Maria and Luis?”

“Yeah, they’re great. It’s just...” The last time someone offered to take you in as part of their family, it didn’t end well. It changed your life for the worst, you lost your only living family member left, and is the reason why you were here today. Although foster care isn’t that much different, you didn’t expect to stay with Maria and Luis past 18 years old. 

“Rebuilding a sense of trust can be difficult after past traumas. But taking those necessary steps, of letting new people in your life, can help you over those humps.”

“Why don’t you get ready for volleyball practice? I’ll take you there when you’re ready,” Luis says as the three of you walked inside. 

You nod silently and quickly hide in your room. You fall back on your bed that suddenly feels different than it did this morning. Like a reminder that it didn’t belong to you.

But maybe it could. 

You get changed for volleyball in a pair of spandex and a t shirt. When you close the drawer, something falls on your dresser, catching your attention. 

You pick up the fallen picture frame of you, John B, and the rest of the Pogues on Memorial Day Weekend. Kie had taken a selfie with all of you making silly faces at the camera in the middle of the marsh. That day always brings back amazing memories for you. Oh how you wished you could have another day like that. 

You stare a little longer at John B in that photo. What would he say if he was with you right now? Would he say yes to Maria and Luis like he did to Ward? Or would he encourage you to be more careful about who you trust with your life?

Maria knocks on your door and says, “You ready, sweetheart?” 

You place the frame back on the dresser and walk out into the hall to meet her. “Yes.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

“So this couple....” John B says as he follows JJ off the ferry on the mainland. 

“Maria and Luis,” JJ says. On the way here, he told John B everything. About how horrendous your life was after John B “died.” How Ward treated you like a prisoner. How you practically begged Cheryl to help you. How you ended up on the mainland with a lovely married couple. 

“Are they...nice?”

JJ shrugs. “They seem like good people. You can tell they don’t like me around, but that might just be because they associate me with all the bad shit that happened to us because of Ward.”

“Does she like it here?” John B says as he takes in his new surroundings. As he and JJ walk towards your neighborhood, which isn’t too far from the ferry, he thinks about what your life could become here. Nice neighborhoods, friendly towns. It’s definitely better than the Cut. But it wasn’t home. 

“She’s learning to, I think,” JJ answers honestly. “She doesn’t like being so far away from the Pogues.”

“Yeah, I can understand the feeling,” John B says. Although it was nice to have Sarah around while they were gone, he couldn’t help but feel like a giant chunk of his heart was missing. And that was the Pogues. 

“This is it,” JJ says as they reach the end of a short driveway on the outskirts of town. A two story baby blue home with white shutters and a rose bush. Bigger than the houses on the Cut and smaller than the houses on Figure Eight. 

“This is where she’s been staying?” John B asks. Something swarms inside his brain. He doesn’t know if it’s betrayal or jealousy. 

“Yup,” JJ says, popping the ‘p’, “Her room is on the side.”

JJ knocks on the front door and looks down at his watch while he waits. Somehow, he managed to be about ten minutes early. Probably because of John B’s hustle to find his sister as soon as possible. 

Luis opens the door with a friendly grin that quickly falters when he sees who accompanies JJ. 

“Good Afternoon, Mr. Morales. Is Y/N, here?”

Luis looks between the boys and inhales a deep breath. He knows John B from the pictures on the News, the stories in the paper, and the cries of his name when Y/N was terrorized with nightmares in the beginning of her stay. 

Although the adoption process just started, he and his wife felt like they were finally forming a family-like bond with Y/N. Dr. Hildegard suggested starting over would be in Y/N’s best interest, encouraging new friendships, joining extracurricular activities at school, staying away from the Outer Banks for a while. Luis and Maria made an exception for JJ, seeing how happy he truly made Y/N. But they never expected to see John B. 

And he didn’t know what that meant for his family. 

John B notices Luis’s hesitation and politely holds out his hand. “I’m John Booker Routledge. Y/N’s brother.” 

Luis reluctantly shakes his hand, although apprehensive, never rude. He coughs awkwardly and looks back at JJ without saying a word to John B. “Tonight’s not a good night -”

“What do you mean? Sunday’s our day. She didn’t tell me she was busy -”

“I’m sorry, son. Maybe next week.” Luis shuts the door before JJ or John B could argue. 

John B knocks again and even rings the doorbell. “Mr. Morales! Hey! Come back!”

“Here,” JJ pulls John B by his arm. “Come here.”

JJ and John B round to the side of the house where your window sits right under the middle point of the roof. JJ find’s the nearest and smallest rock and tosses it up at the glass of your window. 

“What are you? Fucking, Romeo?” John B glares at his friend.

“You have a better idea?” JJ glares right back. “Trust me. I wouldn’t put it past Mr. Morales to call the cops if we kept banging on his door. They’re pretty protective of Y/N, which means they’ve never been truly fond of me.”

“Maybe she’s not here,” John B suggests. 

“She’s always -”

JJ freezes when he hears a car pull into the driveway. They both look at each other before walking back to the front of the house. JJ notices Maria first when she steps out of the car. She has a smilier reaction to John B as her husband which makes John B bounce on his toes nervously. 

You don’t see him at first, with your back turned to grab your bag. Then you spot him immediately. 

You stiffen when you see both JJ and....your dead brother standing on the lawn.  Suddenly your mouth feels dry and your heart is beating the crap out of your ribs. 

“Y/N...” Maria says wearily. 

“Hey, Dimples,” John B says with a smile, using the nickname he and your father use to call you when you were younger due to the deep pits in your cheeks when you smiled. 

Your eyes shift to JJ who looks at you with pinched eye brows. He was expecting a different reaction. One where you run into your brother’s arms and squeeze the shit out of him in a tight hug. 

But instead, you were feeling numb. You never expected to be face to face with your brother ever again. You convinced yourself he was really dead because holding onto hope that he was still alive was slowly killing you and even holding you back. You needed closure and that closure was accepting the truth that John B was dead and to never be found.

Yet, here he is. Standing and breathing and watching your reaction with a hurt expression. 

“Y/N...” Maria says again and lightly touches your shoulder. 

“I’m fine,” You finally speak, flinching at the way your throat feels scratchy. You swallow and turn to Maria and offer a polite grin. “I’ll be right in.”

“I don’t know...”

“Please, Maria,” You say, this time a tad more forceful but not rude. 

Maria hesitantly nods and blocks herself away with the front door. 

“I - I don’t - “ You huff. “How?”

“The Phantom...” John B licks his lips nervously. “Capsized...and Sarah and I...well...a shipment boat found us. Took us right to the Bahamas.”

“The Bahamas?” You repeat, taking two steps closer to him. 

“Yes. There’s so much I have to tell you -”

“Like the part where you couldn’t call?” You say accusingly. 

John B sighs. He should have expected it, but he didn’t prepare for it. He thought you’d be happy to see him, but now he’s realizing how hurt and confused he’s truly left you.

“It’s a long story -”

“Yeah, I’d expect the summary of your last few months to be a long one.” You look at JJ. “Did you know about this?”

JJ shakes his head. “He showed up on my way here.”

John B sighs. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t find a way to contact you, but we couldn’t! We didn’t want the cops realizing we were alive and we were looking for the gold -”

“The gold?” You laugh humorlessly and your hands run up your head to your scalp. Your fingers tug on the roots of your hair in frustration. “The gold’s gone!”

“It’s not! If you would just listen -”

“I don’t want to listen, John B! Because I don’t care about the gold. That gold took everything from me!” You yell as tears begin to build in your eyes, thinking back to what happened last summer. “I lost Dad, you, my home... I can only see my boyfriend once a week. And I was treated like a prisoner in the house of a murderer!”

“I know that it couldn’t have been easy for you but -”

“No. You have no idea what it was like for me when you were gone. Because you weren’t there!” You cry. “You left! You were living it up in the Bahamas, searching for gold, while the rest of us cried over your death and suffered the consequences!” Tears were now silently streaming down both John B’s cheeks and JJ’s as they watched you break down. “I couldn't sleep for weeks. I barely ate. Ward locked me in a room so I couldn’t tell anyone about what he did.”

“I’m sorry,” John B says. “I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you. Back home -”

“Home?” You scoff, shaking your head. “I have a home.”

“This isn’t your home,” John B says defensively. 

“It has been. For the past few months. But you wouldn’t know that, would you?” You say with a glare. You look at the house behind him, noticing Maria and Luis snooping through the curtains of the window. You think back on what happened today and the options you had. At first it was a hard decision to make and now it’s damn right near impossible. “Maria and Luis offered to adopt me.” You say honestly.

John B inhales sharply and JJ furrows his brows. 

“What?” John B says.

“I didn’t give them an answer yet. But this is an opportunity to start over.”

John B glares at you. “Think about your family!”

“I am!” 

You suddenly feel exhausted and weak, like the day has lasted over twenty four hours. Your head begins to throb and your neck aches. 

You sigh, “Look, I’m happy you’re all right and safe and unharmed, from the looks of it. But...I just need some time. Okay?”

“Y/N...”

“Please, John B?” You’re practically begging. 

John B sighs and reluctantly nods his head at your request. At the end of the day, you owe him nothing and he owes you everything.

“Okay,” He agrees. 

You walk past him without giving him a hug or anything, afraid you’ll break down in sobs and follow his lead back to the Outer Banks. But you need to be strong and figure out what it is you need in life, tired of following the path that always leaves you broken and alone. 

You kiss JJ’s cheek as you walk by him. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” 

JJ squeezes your hand before you disappear into your house. When the door shuts behind you, you slid down it onto the floor, finally letting your sobs wrack through your body. Maria and Luis run to comfort you to the best of their ability, but they don’t know how to truly help you. 

Later that night, over a cup of tea, you tell Maria and Luis everything. From start to finish. How your dad was obsessed with finding the Royal Merchant, to the compass, to Ward taking you in, finding out he murdered your father and covered up Sheriff Peterkin’s murder by using your own brother. 

Maria and Luis glance at each other nervously. They know how important family is, which is why they want you a part of theirs so badly. But they never want to take you away from one you already have and love. 

“I think you should think long and hard about what you want over the next couple of days,” Luis says. “And we’ll help you in any way we can.”

“I’m sorry,” You say, wiping away your tears with a napkin. “I know you didn’t sign up for this.”

“Honey,” Maria says, wiping another tear with her thumb. “We don’t want you to worry about that. This changes nothing for us, okay?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

The next day at dinner, Maria and Luis sit you down and offer eager grins. Just like they did at your last therapy appointment. 

“Y/N...we have something we’d like to discuss with you,” Luis says.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

With the help of JJ, you meet John B at the Wreck with the others for a civilized conversation. Now that you’ve had a few days to think and calm down, you’re able to really appreciate how lucky you are to have John B back in your life. 

When you see him standing in the middle of the restaurant, you run to him and squeeze him around his waist as he wraps his arms around your shoulders. You cry into his T shirt, telling him how sorry you are for your outburst. 

“It’s okay,” John B cries into your hair. “You don’t have to be sorry. I should be the one apologizing.” 

You pull away and wipe away your tears. “I think we’ve both been through hell and back and did what he had to do to survive. Neither of us should apologize.”

After giving the other Pogues a hug, the five of you sit down and recap each other’s last three months. John B tells you about his time in the Bahamas, how Sarah is laying low until she gets her shit figured out with her own family, and you describe life at a new town and a new school.

“It’s weird. There’s no division. No Kooks vs. Pogues. I don’t know if I like it or miss my enemies,” You say.

When the five of you are ready to say your goodbyes, you pull John b aside and say, “Actually, I think there’s a couple of people I’d like you to meet.” John B furrows his brows and follows you to a park where Maria and Luis are waiting at a picnic table.

When they see the two of you approaching, they stand and reach out to shake John B’s hand, officially introducing themselves and apologizing for being rude a week ago. 

“It’s okay. I understand,” John B says. “Thank you for taking care of my sister.”

“Pleasure’s all ours,” Luis smiles. “We’re lucky to be able to meet you.”

“Y/N’s told us such great things,” Maria adds. 

You roll your eyes playfully and look at John B to read his face. He seems to be enjoying himself. 

“That’s a first,” He even jokes and looks your way.

“There’s actually something we wanted to ask you,” Luis says and takes his wife’s hand like he did at Dr. Hildegard’s. He looks at you to see if you want to explain. “Y/N...”

You take a deep breath and face your brother. “I have agreed to be adopted by Maria and Luis.”

“But -” 

“Let me finish,” You cut John B off. “We talked about it and the three of us are going to move back to the Outer Banks to be closer to you and the Pogues.”

“But...” Maria says like a song with an excited grin.

You mirror her smile and say, “But...Maria and Luis want to know if you would like to a be a part of their family too?”

John B’s brows jump up in surprise. “Seriously?”

“I know it’s a big decision,” Luis says.

“And if you need time, that’s fine,” You say. “But, I think this will be good for the both of us.”

John B looks between you and your foster parents, who he can tell care about you greatly. Of course he wants that too, but just like you were, he’s nervous.

“Are you sure about this?” He says softly as to not offend the couple in front of him.

“Yes,” You nod. “I’m sure.”

John B inhales a deep breath and nods. “Okay. I’m in.”