#Marriage Counseling

[happy74827]

Beyond Repair

[William Afton x Wife!Reader]

Synopsis: Despite everything he’s done, so far the only consequence he’s received is marriage counseling {GIF Creds: @bittwitchy// Tagging @moonbanana-library because I feel like you’ll enjoy this}

WC: 2595

Category: Slight Fluff, Slight Angst [TW — Afton, cursing, small mentions of 18+ content]

Don’t we love random sparks of inspiration at four in the morning? I sure do 💀

『••✎••』

You were always a clueless little thing.

You saw the world with rose-tinted glasses, and you believed in everyone. You saw the best in people, and you wanted to see the world like that.

And it wasn't a bad way to look at things; it kept you innocent and full of light. William, however, wasn't as good as you were. He had seen the world for what it was, and he knew how the world worked.

He'd lost his innocence, and he had seen bad things… done bad things. Sure, he was good with kids, but he had a secret side that he knew would completely crumble the way you saw the world, how you saw him.

So, despite everything, he made sure you'd never know. He kept the darker side of himself out of your view. And he did everything he could to be the husband you thought he was.

Soon, that husband's facade became a father's facade, and you had a beautiful daughter who had his eyes and your smile.

But he knew the truth.

He'd never been a good man. Not even close.

The moment his eyes landed on you, the day he'd met you, the years he got to spend with you, and the day he had asked you to be his wife. Every step in between, he knew that he didn't deserve any of it. He knew that he should have let you go.

But he was selfish.

He needed you. He loved you. Your innocence was refreshing. And your optimism was addicting.

William knew that he didn't deserve anything, except for maybe an early death. Yet, despite knowing all that, he was greedy. He was an ambitious man, and he took every opportunity that presented itself to him.

Even if that meant hurting the ones around him.

Because you see, the only thing in this world he wanted more than your love was the recognition he'd never gotten. And the respect.

So when he'd built his pizzeria and made his animatronics, he saw just how successful it became, and he saw just how many people knew him and just how much respect he was finally getting.

That's when he realized.

That's when the real William began to show himself. And that was his big mistake. That mentality led him to this grandma's couch, impatiently awaiting for hell to begin.

Marriage counseling.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head, trying to hold back a laugh. This was so pathetic. For years, he's crossed lines and done things that would put him on death row, and he'd never had a single issue. Yet, one small argument with you, and suddenly he's a man with a failing marriage?

What kind of joke was this?

Turns out the clueless little thing that you were had taken his little stunt a lot more seriously than he had anticipated.

"This is ridiculous," William groaned, slumping back into his seat as he stared up at the ceiling. "This is going to be a waste of time. All we need is a vacation, and it'll all work out just fine.”

You just stared at him with a look of disbelief and a small bit of disgust. Quite adorable, if he was honest.

"Really, William?" You said, rolling your eyes. "It's going to take a little more than a vacation to fix our relationship."

William turned to look at you, and he felt his heart twinge when he saw just how upset you were. His lips parted, and he felt a surge of regret wash over him.

He really hated seeing you like this.

You were the only person who ever seemed to make him feel remorse, and right now was no exception.

He opened his mouth, trying to find the words to tell you that he was sorry, but he stopped himself before he could say anything.

Because he wasn't sorry.

Not really.

“Ah, the Aftons, I presume?" A voice said, and William looked away from you, looking to the front of the room.

A man, most likely in his late 40's, was standing by the doorway. His dark hair had streaks of grey in it, and he had a few wrinkles. He was wearing a brown turtleneck and a pair of black pants.

His face was unreadable, and William couldn't tell what he was thinking. But he could tell that this was the same therapist he'd spoken with on the phone.

"I'm Doctor Miller. It's nice to finally meet you both." The therapist smiled and held his hand out.

William sighed, pushing himself off of the couch, and stood up. He shook his hand and forced a smile. "Likewise."

The Doctor nodded and glanced at you. He smiled and walked over to you, extending his hand.

You shook his hand and flashed a warm smile. The smile didn't meet your eyes, though. His smile was fake, and so was yours.

Maybe you were more similar than William had first assumed.

The doctor let go of your hand and stepped back. "Let's get started then."

William sat down, slouching his posture and staring up at the ceiling. He thought about wrapping his arm around you, pulling you closer to him, and holding you tight, but he thought better of it.

You'd probably reject his affection anyway. For being a clingy wife, you were surprisingly good at pushing him away.

Doctor Miller grabbed a notepad and a pen, walked to the chair beside the couch, and sat down.

He smiled the first genuine one out of the three of you, and opened the notepad.

"Alright, Mrs. Afton, I'd like you to start off. Tell me what happened." He said, his gaze fixed on you. Of course, he was already taking your side.

William glanced at you and raised an eyebrow. This should be good.

You hesitated before speaking. "He’s… well, different lately. He's distant. And cold. I hardly see him anymore, and when I do, he doesn't talk to me. He spends all of his time either in the basement or his office."

Doctor Miller wrote something down and nodded his head. "Is there any particular reason you believe this is happening?"

“No, but he has been acting more aggressive lately. I tried to talk to him about it, and he just snapped. It was like he wasn't even listening. Like his mind was somewhere else."

William stared at you. You sounded so sincere. So hurt. If he had a heart, he's sure it would be aching.

Doctor Miller hummed, nodding his head, and turned to William.

"What was the argument about, Mr. Afton?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

William looked at the doctor, and two options popped into his mind. Option one is to tell the doctor his true feelings. You were being ridiculous and childish. He didn't need your bullshit. He had more important things to worry about. Or, option two, lie.

He was always good at lying.

William sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He glanced at you and started to speak.

"She's right; I've been a little cold recently. I've just been stressed out. My business has been a lot lately, and I've been dealing with a few other personal issues. Stress isn't a good look on me, I'm afraid."

He lied, flashing a small sad smile at the doctor.

Doctor Miller looked at him for a moment before writing something down.

"Well, it sounds to me like there are a few issues in your relationship." He said, putting his notepad on the table and resting his arms on his lap. “One of them is a communication issue, which is not uncommon in relationships like this. I believe I can help you, but I want to ask you both a question first."

"What's the question?" You asked, and the Doctor turned to you, a soft look in his eyes.

"Are you still in love with him?"

You and William both tensed up, and the room was silent for a moment. He couldn’t help but turn to look at you, genuinely curious to hear what you were going to say.

You hesitated, your eyes locked on the ground. William felt his stomach churning and his jaw clenched.

He was actually nervous.

For the first time in a long time, William was actually nervous.

You turned to look at him, and he felt a wave of relief wash over him.

"Yes. I still love him."

Doctor Miller nodded and turned to William. "What about you? Are you still in love with your wife?"

Truth be told, you were the only person who ever came close to making William feel love. Vanessa was a close second, but he wasn't sure if it was the same kind of love. At least, not in the way he felt about you.

If this was love, then he was still in love.

"Always.” He spoke without a moment of hesitation. He gave you a warm smile, pulling that facade back up again. “…That's why I'm here."

The doctor smiled, and William swore he saw the tiniest hint of pity in his eyes. "That's good. That means there's still hope for your relationship.”

With all the money this one therapy session was costing him, he damn well hoped so.

"So, here's my idea," the doctor said, sitting up in his seat and clearing his throat. "I'd like to start off with a few activities, some couples challenges, if you will. This will help me understand where the problem areas are, and hopefully, after a few sessions, we'll be able to fix them. If not, we'll find a solution together. Sound good?"

Activities? Challenges? What was this, summer camp?

William resisted the urge to roll his eyes and nodded. "Sounds great."

You nodded, smiling, and William swore he saw a bit of excitement in your eyes. He wondered how much this meant to you. Had you really thought you were losing him?

"Perfect," the doctor said and grabbed his notepad. He flipped the page and started writing something down.

With the amount of writing this guy was doing, you'd think this was a novel. It took a lot out of him to not get up and snap the damn pen in half.

"Now, this might seem a little strange, but I want to try an activity right now. Something small and easy, so we can gauge your relationship and see how you interact with each other."

"What kind of activity?" You asked, tilting your head slightly.

"Something simple, don't worry. Just a conversation."

Conversation. That sounded boring.

William was about to complain when the doctor cut him off.

"When was the last time you two were… intimate?"

William's eyebrows furrowed, and he stared at the Doctor, whose gaze was fixed on him.

Was he asking what he thought he was asking?

William felt his face heat up and his jaw clenched.

He had to be kidding.

"I'm sorry, but what does that have to do with anything?" He asked, forcing his voice to sound calm.

The doctor turned his head to you, and you just looked down at the ground.

William was going to lose it.

"Being… connected with your spouse in that way is an important aspect of a healthy relationship. Without that sincerity, that vulnerability, you'll start to grow apart."

"We're perfectly connected," William said through gritted teeth. “What do you think you're implying here?"

He knew you like the back of his hand. He could read you like a book, and he was confident to know what you were thinking, doing, or feeling at all times.

He knew that look.

Your eyes were downcast, your hands were fidgeting, and your bottom lip was slightly jutted out.

You were embarrassed, and he knew he had to act. Play the good husband role, and save you the humiliation.

He reached his arm over and wrapped it around your shoulder, pulling you gently upwards. Your body tensed at his touch, but you relaxed when you looked up and saw his warm smile.

"See? We're completely connected." William said, his arm squeezing your shoulder. “I believe this is where our time is up. If you'll excuse us, we have some… activities apparently to get to."

William stood up, grabbing your hand and pulling you up with him. You were quiet, and he could feel your stare on the side of his head.

He couldn't tell if you were upset or grateful.

William cleared his throat and gave the doctor a cold smile. One that he purposely made so that the Doctor would know how displeased he was.

"Thank you for your time, Doctor Miller. We'll be sure to contact you soon."

The doctor nodded, a blank expression on his face. He didn’t say a word as William took you by the arm and guided you out the door.

No way in hell was he doing this again.

"William-" You started, and he cut you off.

"No more therapy, sweetheart," William said, his hand tightening around your arm.

"I-"

"No more," he said, his voice low and stern. Still, he kept that warm smile on his face. It made you fall back into silence.

"We're done. We'll figure this out on our own. No more doctors or counselors or whatever the hell he was.”

Truth be told, he was absolutely livid. All that money wasted for a bum therapist to imply that their marriage was falling apart because you weren't communicating?

What a scam. This is exactly why he preferred to do things on his own.

William led you back to the car, opening the door for you and helping you in. He walked around the car and slid into the driver's seat.

He took a moment to breathe, his head falling back against the seat and his eyes closing.

God, he hated being here.

Hated it so much.

He needed a cigarette and maybe a stiff drink.

"I'm sorry." You said, your voice quiet.

William lifted his head and turned to you. He blinked, confused, and he couldn't help but chuckle.

"What for?"

"I… I thought maybe if we went to see a therapist, they could help. They could fix this. But… I think I messed it up. I'm sorry."

Your voice cracked, and he watched as tears started to form in your eyes.

His face softened, and he turned his body towards you, leaning his back against the door. Such a crybaby you were, emotionally connected and sensitive.

Just another reason why you worked so well with him. Blinded by emotion, you were easy to trick. Easy to manipulate.

You were naive, and it was adorable.

"No, no. Don't cry." William said, his hand lifting and cupping your cheek. He brushed away the tears with his thumb, and he forced a smile. "There's nothing to fix. We're fine, I promise. I’ll make sure of it. Okay?"

"Okay," you whimpered, nuzzling into his hand. It’s quite the contrast compared to the look of disgust on your face from earlier.

He didn't want to see that again.

William leaned forward and pressed his lips against your forehead. He could smell the shampoo and soap from your morning shower, and the smell calmed him down.

He could tell the action had calmed you down, too.

William pulled back, and his lips twitched upwards. "Don't worry about a thing. I'll fix this."

After all, he always got what he wanted. And what he wanted was his wife.

And no stupid, worthless therapist was going to guide him away from that.

[doughnut-231-jr]

i did it...

[missysippiiiee]

If you bring your emotions to the table in a respectful way and your partner calls you crazy or makes you feel that way, it’s emotional abuse. This is considered gaslighting and it’s a tactic used by narcissists. If done regularly over time, it can make you feel insecure, belittled, and worthless.

[lassie-farce]

this season of 911 lone star was brought to you by your therapist

[misterlemonztenth]

10-08-24 | maukakane808. misterlemonztenth.tumblr.com/archive

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #245

Brain Curds are lightly edited daily writing - usually flash fiction and sometimes terrible on purpose.

Dr. Lindsay Buckley was a marriage counselor, and well-renowned at that. She’d saved hundreds of marriages over the course of her decades in the practice, including those of multiple presidents. She was the de-facto expert on resolving differences in other people’s marriages.

Which is why it was so strange that hers fell apart.

After twenty-five years of marriage, her husband asked for a divorce - and she didn’t even make an attempt to dissuade him. Frankly, she was as exhausted by him as he was of her. Plus, with the new freedom of being a bachelorette in her late forties, she could finally explore her long-neglected bisexuality.

One day, an attractive young couple in their thirties - the Davenports - happened to walk into her office. The man was well-built, with toned arms and a six-pack visible under his thin and tight tank top. His smile made Dr. Buckley swoon involuntarily. But his wife was gorgeous as well - curvy with strong legs that looked like they could crush a watermelon, and Buckley was tempted to find out firsthand. Both of them were exactly her type, and they were downright awful together.

The two sat at opposite ends of the couch, though Mr. Davenport leaned in his wife’s direction. Based on this body language, he believed they could fix their marriage. Strike one against him - he was a moron.

Mrs. Davenport threw up her hands. “Every time I come home from work, I see him sitting on the couch watching some trashy reality show.”

“Where do you work?” Dr. Buckley asked.

“I’m a gym trainer. But -”

“And what is the show in question?”

“Does that matter?”

The husband put his hand up. “It’s Limerence Peninsula.”

Buckley nodded. “I see.” She took note - not because it mattered for therapy, but because she was also a fan of the show.

“Anyway,” the wife continued. “He sits at home all day, doesn’t even do the dishes or vacuum the floors, and he thinks just because he’s a trophy husband, he doesn’t have to help run the household.”

“That’s not so bad. My ex-husband was like that. I make plenty of money to hire help.”

“What’s that got to do with us?”

“Hm?” Buckley pushed up her glasses. “Oh, nothing at all, honey, go on.”

“Well, I come home tired and sweaty, and I still have housework to do! When I ask him to do it, he always does it wrong, no matter how many times I show him the right way.”

“Tired and sweaty, you say? And how does he react to your odor?”

“What?!?”

“It’s very important, psychologically. Remember, I’m an expert.”

The husband raised his hand again. “I usually don’t touch her until she showers. Is that bad?”

Dr. Buckley was sure now that this man was a total himbo. “It’s a red flag, honey. Mrs. Davenport, wouldn’t you like him to appreciate you how you are? And offer, say, a foot rub after a long day?”

“Now that you mention it…” She replied. “Yes, I would like that! And it pains me deeply that he has never offered.”

Dr. Buckley nodded. “And, hypothetically, if another woman - or, a man, I suppose - but if another woman offered to rub your feet and shoulders, what would you say?”

Mrs. Davenport pondered. “I’d consider it.”

“Mm-hmm, mm-hmm…” Buckley wrote in her notebook. She still wasn’t sure which way Mrs. Davenport swung - but next it was time to get his side of the story.

Please comment, reblog, like, and follow if you enjoyed - I'd love to know what you think! To be continued tomorrow.

[nowandajenn]

Blue Christmas Twelve

Pairing: Chris Evans/OC Kelly

Summary: After almost three years of marriage, everyone would tell you that Chris and his wife Kelly are the most stable, solid couple they know. But behind closed doors, things are tense as they keep trying for a baby, to no avail. When a secret threatens to shake their solid marriage to it’s core, will they be able to pick up the pieces?

I do not consent to have my content, whether it be this story or anything else of my creation, posted by a third party on any other platform other than right here without my permission. This blog is 18+ and is not intended for minors. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Heed the warnings. This is a work of FICTION. I do not claim to know Chris Evans, his family, friends, or anyone on his team personally.

Warnings for this chapter: light drug use, language, mentions of adultery.

February 16

Some surprises aren’t all bad. Like getting a day in the middle of February that’s almost 60 degrees. Even at almost 10pm, it’s still in the upper 40s, so I’m taking advantage and sitting on our front porch in the swing desperately trying to battle my nausea, which sprang up out of nowhere like a wrecking ball, determined to take me down. 

I hear the door open and quickly stub out the joint and hide the rest of it on the bottom shelf of the little table next to me. Fuck, a lot of good that’s going to do since it reeks of pot out here, dumbass I think to myself. 

“Kelly?” 

I sigh in relief as I realize that it’s just Lisa. She closes the front door and walks over to where I’m sitting in her pajamas and slippers. 

“Take a load off.” I say softly. I pull the blanket back so she can sit down and offer it back to her once she’s settled. 

“Were you smoking weed out here?” she asks. 

“What? No. Absolutely not.” I tell her, trying not to grin. 

“Please. I raised four kids. I know what weed smells like. You’re busted.”

“Trying to combat the nausea. I don’t even get the relief of throwing up. I’m just stuck in that shitty state of feeling constantly nauseous where I’m like ‘God, either let me just throw up so I can feel better’. It’s awful.”

“I don’t miss that. The first four months I was pregnant with Chris, my head was in the toilet bowl.” 

We sit for a few minutes, just enjoying the slight breeze and sway gently in the swing. It’s one of the few moments of absolute peace I feel like I’ve had in months. Plus, there’s something about Lisa that is just so damn comforting and warm that it’s impossible not to feel good in her presence. 

“Have you told anyone else?” she asks softly, looking over at me. 

I shake my head. “I just…..I don’t want anyone to know until I figure out….”

“This isn’t how it was supposed to happen. All that time we tried and we tried and nothing was happening…..I prayed so hard for it. It just seems like having it happen now….it’s like the universe is laughing at me.” I turn my body a bit to face her. “On one hand, I AM happy. I want to be excited and tell people and get my hopes up. I want Chris to be happy and know that he’s finally gonna get his wish and be a dad. But on the other….I’m terrified. Even if everything goes right and we have a healthy baby….what if Chris and I can’t make this work? Am I going to be a divorced mom shuttling my kid back and forth every weekend and splitting holidays?”

“Kel, I wish I could see the future so I could have all the answers for you and tell you that everything was going to work out. But I know this; even if, God forbid, you and Chris can’t work this out, I know for a fact that you both would do everything in your power to make sure that this baby would be so incredibly loved and protected. You will always be a part of each other’s lives. You two are so deeply intertwined with each other. I think you’re trying too hard to focus on the future and you’re imagining all these scenarios that may not even happen. And I know it’s hard not to do that. You’re a planner; it’s what you do. Don’t make this decision based on what might happen or what you’re scared of having happen. Make this decision based on what YOU feel is best for you. I know how scared you are of all the unknown, but you’re not alone in this. I’m here for you, honey.”

Lisa opens her arms and I snuggle into her, letting the tears flow down my cheeks and into the woven fabric of the blanket. It’s a perfect mom hug. 

A week later, Chris and I are in his Audi, navigating the morning rush as we make our way to our first marriage counseling appointment. My stomach has been in upheaval all morning long, and I can’t even totally blame it on morning sickness. I feel like this is the thing that’s going to make or break us, and the thought makes me break out into a cold sweat. I reach over and grab my cup of tea out of the cupholder and take a sip, making a face. I really wanted coffee, but I didn’t think that was going to help my stomach any. 

Chris looks over at me and rubs my leg. “You okay?”

“I feel like I’m gonna puke.” 

I almost want to laugh at the look of alarm he gives me. “Hold on, I’ll pull over.”

“No, I- I’m just nervous and anxious and…..it’s not doing my stomach any favors.” 

Thirty minutes later, Chris pulls into a parking spot outside the nondescript brick building that our therapist’s office is housed in. He puts the car in park and exhales. It’s God Doesn’t Love You cold outside, and neither one of us are looking forward to getting out of the car. 

“Should we wait? 

It takes my brain a second to catch up with what he’s saying. 

“I’d rather just go in there and get this started. If we wait, I’m just going to get more and more anxious and build it up to be this big monster of a thing and freak the fuck out. I just….I wanna get to work.”

“I know…I just don’t want you to stress out more than you already are. I know this is going to be decidedly not awesome in any way.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m nervous.” he says in a shaky voice. 

“I know. But I honestly think…..as much as it’s going to fucking suck at first….I think it will be good in the long run. I think it will help. I’m just not really excited to rehash everything.”

Chris rubs his hand over his beard, mentally flogging himself for being such a fucking idiot. He reaches over and grabs my right hand and squeezes it. “I love you. I love you so damn much. Thank you for doing this with me. I don’t…..I don’t deserve you.”

I take a deep breath. “I love you too.”

I decide that I’m a little bit in love with our counselor about ten minutes into us sitting down with her. She’s younger than I thought she would be, and not at all what you would picture a marriage counselor to be like. Shelley Gray is a force of nature with smoky lavender hair, a blunt tell it like it is attitude, and an insanely cool office filled with interesting art and kick knacks. When we had set up the appointment, her office had emailed over a worksheet of sorts for Chris and I to fill out with basics about us, why we decided to start marriage counseling, and what we hope to achieve in the future. So, she pretty much has the broad strokes when we come in for our first session. She greets us both with a firm handshake and a friendly smile and invites us to take a seat on the insanely comfortable, squishy couch in her office. 

“I’m in love with your office.” I blurt out, not able to help myself. “I’ve been in a lot of offices, and this is the most comfortable, cool, relaxed atmosphere I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank you. My line of work can be really….harsh, for lack of a better term. It’s often really emotional and intimidating for the people that come to see me, so I wanted to kind of create a space that was relaxing and inviting. Why come into a space that’s cold and impersonal and then have to talk about hard things?” 

She sits in the overstuffed blue armchair across from us and settles in, grabbing her notepad and folder off the table between us. “Let me start off by saying this. Everything you say in the space of this room is completely and strictly confidential and falls under doctor/patient confidentiality unless one of you tells me something that makes me think you might have intentions of hurting yourself or someone else. Secondly, as I said before, couples counseling can be harsh. Most people that come in here are talking about things that are uncomfortable and ugly and not great. What I ask is that you both allow yourselves to be completely honest and open when you’re here. Couples often times try and censor themselves in the company of their spouse or partner because they don’t want to upset or offend, and they feel like they don’t want to make things worse. Which is all completely understandable. But censoring yourself and not being honest isn’t going to help anything. You’re just shoving metaphorical crap into the closet and not dealing with it. My job is to help you guys the best I can to deal with all the bad stuff and work through it without killing each other.” 

Chris and I both blow out a harsh breath at the same time, and it makes Dr. Gray smile. We start the session by dipping a toe in and the both of us giving her a little bit of insight into us as individuals and our relationship. 

“Okay, so now that I have a bit of background on you guys, let’s jump into why you decided to come see me. I know you guys filled out your pre appointment worksheet, but those aren’t going to give me the full picture of what’s going on.” She looks between both of us and notices that we’ve both stiffened up and look uncomfortable and I look like I’m about to cry. 

“Okay, let’s start a little smaller.” she says, turning towards me. “Kelly, you look like you got a bit banged up. What happened?” 

I look down at my left arm that’s still in the hinged brace and the walking boot on my foot. “I was in a  pretty bad car accident right after the first of the year. I’m still kind of….getting back to normal. Whatever that means.” I shrug. 

“How did it happen?” 

“I was coming back from the airport. It was really early in the morning, and I was really tired and just wanted to get home. In hindsight, I should have just called an Uber or something, but who the hell knows if that would have made a difference. The guy that hit me was coming off of working 3rd shift and fell asleep at the wheel. I survived, but he didn’t. And that…..I’m still trying to figure out how to process that.” 

Chris turns to me. “I saw the car.” 

My eyes go round. “What? When?”

“When you were still in the hospital. I went for a drive with Dodger to calm down and try and decompress, and I ended up at the junkyard they towed it to. Seeing how hurt you were….and then seeing what the car looked like…..I don’t know how the hell you survived that.” I see his eyes get glassy with tears, and he looks up quickly to try and keep them from falling. 

“I went to Chicago. That’s….that’s why I was coming back from the airport. That’s why I was on the road at that ungodly hour.” I say quickly. It’s the first time I’ve openly admitted that. We both know that’s where I went, but neither of us said anything about it out loud. 

“What was in Chicago?” Dr. Gray asks. 

I close my eyes and try my best to steel myself for this. This is it. It’s like a wound. It’s ugly and bloody and painful and you think that it’s going to start healing after a while, but then you find out there’s an infection festering in there. So then you have to cut it open and get all the rot out so you can finally, maybe get back to some semblance of normal. 

“The woman that I slept  with.” Chris says, almost choking on the words. Yeah, no matter how many times I hear that, it still feels like a sledgehammer right to the gut. Somehow, when it’s in my brain, I can compartmentalize a little bit. But when it’s said out loud? All bets are off. I grab the pink shag throw pillow next to me and squeeze the life out of it. My eyes start burning and I can feel my chest start to tighten up.

“Kelly? Are you okay?”

I squeeze my eyes shut against the burn and shake my head. I know if I try and open my mouth, something embarrassing is going to come out. Vomit or a loud wail. “You’re okay. Take all the time you need.” 

Fucking hell. How did we get here? How? How? How? 

“I can’t remember the last time I was okay.” I sob out, desperately trying to get the words out between tears and snot and hiccups. I’ve spent so much time trying to just HANDLE all of the shit that’s been piled on one right after another and deal with it and not break down, and it’s just all of the sudden TOO FUCKING MUCH. 

“I’m so fucking mad. I’m mad about everything. I’m mad that my husband cheated on me. I’m mad that he didn’t tell me right away even though I KNEW something was wrong.” I swing my gaze to Chris. “I KNOW YOU. I know your tells. I knew something was wrong, and I asked you about it over and over and you said everything was fine, when I knew that was a load of shit. I’m mad that I’m in pain every single day and I don’t know if it’s going to get better. I’m mad that I’m pregnant and I can’t go more than two hours without feeling like I’m going to puke up my stomach lining.” 

At this point, I’m red in the face and breathing heavily, and Chris is looking at me like I’m about to shed my skin and turn into a man eating dragon at any second. Dr. Gray pushes a box of tissues towards me and I grab a handful to wipe off the tears and snot. Suddenly, my stomach lets out a tremendously loud growl, and that just adds to my embarrassment. “Fucks sake.” I mumble. I skipped breakfast because I was too nauseous. 

The good doctor gets up and walks over to her desk, pulling open a drawer. I’m expecting that she’s going to fire us because one half of us is obviously insane and snotting all over her throw pillow, and I bury my face in my hands. 

“Here.” I look up and see her handing me a snack size package of chewy Chips Ahoy cookies. I look up at her with teary eyes. “I don’t always remember to take breaks for actual meals so I keep snacks in the office so I can just graze all day. And for moments like this.” I take the cookies gratefully and rip open the package, immediately shoving one in my mouth. 

I take a deep breath as I chew, trying to calm myself down. Great, session one and I’m already a basket case. This is going swimmingly. I sigh heavily and look up at the good doctor, who I’m already planning on putting in the will for just the cookies alone. “I swear I’m not crazy.” I say softly, rolling my eyes at myself because isn’t that what all crazy people always say anyway?

She chuckles out loud. “No, I don’t think you are. I think you’ve had a hell of a lot of crazy stuff happen to you in a really short amount of time. And if anyone could deal with all of that piled on them and not have a breakdown every now and then because of it, I’d really be concerned.” 

I turn to Chris. “I left for Chicago after we had that god awful conversation at the house. You know….for some reason, I had it in my head that if I could go and I could just see her and put a face to this mystery woman who kind of came in and bulldozed everything, it would help me start taking the first steps towards….I don’t know….working on dealing with it and….coming to terms with it? I don’t know, I feel like I’m not saying it right. So, I went back through my texts where you mentioned where you were staying in Chicago and I flew there and I checked in, and I almost chickened out of the whole thing. I mean, I flew all the way to fucking Chicago to confront the woman that my husband slept with. Is that a sane, rational thing to do? But I got dressed up, had dinner, and then went to the bar for a drink. And there she was. Jo. And she had no idea who I was until I showed her the picture on my phone of you and I. And I’ve never seen someone turn so white they were almost transparent. I would have laughed, but I was so sick to my stomach…..I said what I had to say, then I went back to my room and I threw up for two hours.” 

“Did seeing her and confronting her help, do you think?” Dr. Gray asks. 

“I don’t know. I mean, it didn’t change anything, really. I could just put a face to her. And in hindsight, if I had known what was going to happen to me on the way home, I would have just stayed here and been happy wondering forever I think.” 

She closes her notebook and looks at both of us appraisingly. “Well, we certainly have a lot of work ahead of us in the coming sessions, but you guys are both tough, and I think we’re all up for the challenge. I’m going to give you guys a workbook that you’re going to work on together. Some of it is for you each separately, and some of it is for you to answer together. Pick a time every week where you can sit down, uninterrupted and work on it. It can be a fun bonding exercise. Every week when you come see me, I’m going to give you a homework assignment to complete before you come see me again. If it doesn’t work out for whatever reason, don’t worry. There’s no pass or fail. All that matters is that you try. The first assignment is that I want you guys to have a date night. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy. It can just be cooking dinner together at home and wearing something nice. Whatever you decide to do. You don’t have to talk about any of the hard stuff, just have a nice time, together for a few hours. Try and put all of the baggage out of your minds for that period of time and just focus on being together, and how you feel when you’re with each other. Deal?”

Chris and I nod. “We can do that.” 

When we leave, I make Chris stop at McDonalds because the cookies only sated my hunger for about half an hour before my stomach was protesting again. When we pull up to the house, I’m still shoving fries in my mouth when I notice a rental car parked outside. 

“We weren’t expecting anyone to come by right? I don’t recognize the car.” I mumble through my food. 

��Not that I know of. Nobody texted me.” Chris says. 

We get out of the car and head inside and I almost drop the bag of food when I hear a voice I haven’t heard in person for about eight months talking and laughing with Lisa. 

“Holy shit. You’re here! How? When?” I squeal as my best friend Katie comes over and squeezes me as hard as she dares without hurting me. “I know you told me over and over not to fly all the way out here and just wait until I was due to come home anyway, but I couldn’t just sit on the other side of the world while you were here, going through all this stuff. FaceTiming just wasn’t cutting it.” 

“She showed up about 45 minutes ago. I didn’t even know she was coming.” Lisa told us. 

“You hid the knives right? All the sharp objects? Rat poison? Anything she could use to murder me?” Chris asks his mom, who rolls her eyes. 

“You and I are going to have a conversation later that you’re not going to enjoy. So I’m going to let you sit here and squirm while you imagine how THAT’S going to go, while I take my best friend and catch up with her.” Katie says, pointing at Chris. He’ll never openly admit it, but he’s lowkey terrified of her and I find it hilarious. 

She and I head upstairs to the guest bedroom to get her settled and Chris turns to Lisa. “Did she say how long she’s here for?” he asks. Lisa shrugs. “Undetermined. But I would do my best to stay on her good side, because even I can’t save you from her.”

"You're fucking kidding." Katie splutters as she wipes off the remnants of the mouthful of wine she just spit all over herself.

I shake my head. "Authentic no shit situation. According to my OB, about nine weeks at this point. Which, on top of everything else, is kind of blowing my mind."

"Yeah, I fucking bet. I can't believe you didn't tell me before now!" She rolls her eyes as she takes another guzzle of wine. "I can't believe you let him fuck you with his slut boy penis, especially after he told you that he fucked someone else and you were essentially living with your brother."

I make a face. "Listen, it was.....I don't want to say it was a mistake, but it was. But it wasn't. I was here looking for a dress, and he came home, and then things happened....and yeah. I'm still trying to decide if I should burn the dining room table."

"The table? Nice. That being said, I'll be taking all my meals at the breakfast bar."

I grab a pillow and toss it on her lap and lay down with my legs stretched out. "I'm trying to imagine having a baby right now. If you had told me three months ago that I was pregnant, I would have peed my pants from excitement. But right now I'm scared shitless."

"It's a lot. And I know you. You're going through every single scenario in your head and the worst case scenarios are the ones that are lit up in your head like a neon sign." I hate that she knows me so well.

"I want to be a mom. I want this baby. I just don't want them to grow up and end up being shuffled around between houses every other week and splitting holidays. And I know....there's a good possibility that might not happen. But it might. Nobody knows. And then you throw in the fact that I'm terrified about something happening to the baby...."

"Let me tell you something. As much as I fucking hate Chris right now and want to give him a one two combo to the throat and dick, I know this about him. IF, and that's a big IF, something did happen and you guys end up not together, I know for a fact that you guys would be the most normal coparents in history. Neither one of you would ever make that kid spend a single holiday without the other one, because you will love them so much that you'd be willing to put everything else aside. I know this."

I sigh and close my eyes.

Three days later, while Chris is on a business call, I manage to find that box that's been shoved on the top shelf of my side of the closet for the past two years. There's a thin film of dust on the top of the wrapping paper, which I wipe off gently. I bite my lip and close my eyes, imagining in perfect detail the contents of the box, even though I haven't seen them since the day I wrapped the box.

Chris is in the kitchen on his cell phone, pacing back and forth through the kitchen, living room, and dining room. I get tired just watching him. I put the box on the kitchen table and take a seat, waiting for him to finish up his call.

"Hey, are you okay? You look kind of green." he says, walking in and slipping his phone in his pocket.

"Yeah, I'm just....stomach is kinda...." I trail off. "Come sit down."

He sits in the chair next to me and I tap my fingers on the side of the box.

"Uh....So I've had this hidden in the closet for two years. I've been doing a lot of thinking....and.....well, open it." I tell him.

"Is it a head?" He asks with a smirk.

"Damn it, you got me. Be careful. After two years, that thing is going to be RIPE."

He rips off the wrapping paper, lifts the lid, and looks up at me. "Kelly...." he breathes. I wipe a tear away with my knuckle as he digs in the box. There's a tiny newborn baby onesie that has ducks all over it, a white one that says "Hello Daddy", a soft stuffed rattle that bears a vague resemblance to Dodger, and a white envelope. He rips open the envelope, and lets out a soft sob when he reads the front of the card.

"I wish that you could have found out like this instead of almost passing out in my doctor's office, but I thought this could be how I told you that I decided that as scared as I am, and how crazy this whole thing is, I want to have this baby with you. And I want us to rock this marriage counseling thing and become the Chris and Kelly that we've always been meant to be."

He stands up from his chair and helps me up, then wraps me in a huge hug. I can feel his tears dripping onto my shoulder, and it makes me cry too. "Thank you." Chris whispers. "You keep giving me these amazing gifts that I can never come close to deserving, and I love you. I love you so much."

"I love you too. Daddy."

@what-is-your-plan-today @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @spectre-posts @jtargaryen18 @caffiend-queen @theladybiers @supersquirrel1996 @alexakeyloveloki @before-we-get-started @smediumsmeatbae @syms-things-5

[crashdevlin]

Losses and Gains 3- From the Rooftops

Author’s Note: This is the third chapter of Losses and Gains, the second part of To Have it All. This is Something More...from Jensen's side!

Summary: Jensen spirals. No one can stop him. no one can steal his focus.

Pairing:  Jensen x Reader, background Reader x Tom Hiddleston

Word count: 3210

Story Warnings: open marriage, mentions of depression and heartbreak, bad things, alcohol as a crutch, anger, fighting

~~~

I’m not sure how I missed the fact that I was starting to spiral, but I was convinced that I was dealing with my depression in a completely reasonable and healthy way. I was lying to myself, but I just couldn’t see that. Dee could. Jared could. Doc Jamison could…oh, and he was vocal about it, judgmental.

“Don’t you think you’re being a little selfish with how you’re acting?” he asked.

I shrugged, looking at the door, wishing I was out in the hall with Danneel. “No. I’m mourning. How’s that selfish?”

“You don’t have a reason to be mourning.”

My eyes went wide at his words, and I turned to look at him. “I don’t?”

“She’s not family. She’s not really a friend. She was a coworker, but she’s not even that anymore, is she? She ran off as soon as she was able. Do you think, perhaps, she knew how toxic this situation was?” I held back a growl and looked away, my jaw tight. “Why are you still in denial of it, Jensen?”

“I’m not in denial, you ass,” I snapped. “I’m in love…and I’m allowed to be, okay?”

“No, you aren’t,” he said, and it felt like I was frustrating him. “You were never supposed to fall in love with her in the first place. You have a loving wife who allowed you to have a sexual relationship with another woman, something that most women would never allow, and you have convinced yourself that you have fallen in love with her. Well, you’ve lost Y/n, Jensen. She broke off your arrangement because it was horrible for everyone involved. You need to move on before you lose Danneel, too.”

“I’m not gonna lose Danneel,” I argued. “That’s fuckin’ stupid.”

If I’d listened to him, if I’d been able to get out of my head, maybe I would have been able to fix it, but…I couldn’t do it. I went home after that doctor’s appointment, and I poured myself a glass of Glenmorangie, and I sat myself down in my office, and I pulled out my phone, and I started scrolling. I started on Instagram, swiping through every picture she’d posted. A pit formed in my stomach when I saw her posting pictures of her and her Marvel costars. The way he looked at her. The way he touched her shoulder. The way she smiled in every shot with him. I wasn’t even seeing the others anymore. Tom fuckin’ Hiddleston was the only one in the pictures with her.

Dee was in the doorway watching me for a good long time before I picked up the bottle and poured another glass. “What?” I snapped, tired. I was so tired.

She let out a sad little gasp and stepped into the office. “Birdie was asking if we could go for a picnic tomorrow. Not a hike, just a picnic in the park. What do you think of that?”

“I don’t know. I’m leavin’ tomorrow night and-”

“And that’s why we would have to do it tomorrow. We could do it for lunch.” I rolled my eyes and took a drink of scotch. “Please, Jensen.”

I was consumed by anger and depression, but I knew I couldn’t say ‘no’. So I nodded. “Tomorrow. I’ll make sandwiches.” Dee kissed my cheek and left with a ‘thank you’. I kept drinking, stalking Y/n’s social media until I found my way to her Facebook and ancient pictures of her and Nate. God, what did she see in him? Scrawny, scraggly, no-dick piece of shit. At least Tom wasn’t this ugly…and he was supposed to be a good guy.

I fell asleep on the recliner in my office, but I got up and had a drink before I went to the kitchen and started to make sandwiches. We went to the park, had lunch, and I tried to focus on the kids because I could barely look at Danneel. Every time I looked at her, my mind told me that she was the reason I felt so much loss.

I slept in the guest room that night. Last chance to sleep with Dee before I left for Vancouver, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I got drunk, passed out in the guest room, and then I left for the airport in the morning with barely a ‘goodbye’. I had a Jack and Coke on the plane…and then another, and another. I stopped drinking two hours before touchdown, but I was lit by then. I was still drunk by the time I climbed into the SUV.

The condo was big…cold…dark…and it felt empty. I noticed that Y/n’s thick coat was gone as soon as I opened the door. I didn’t have to keep searching to know that she’d already been by to grab her things, but I did. I walked through and made note of every single piece of her that she took from me. Every piece of Y/n that Dee took from me. There wasn’t a lot of Y/n’s stuff there, but it was enough that I could see empty spots. I could see her absence. Every room I walked through got me lower and lower. I noticed she left her toothbrush in her rush to get out…and a little 3 oz bottle of her favorite perfume on the sink. It was half empty, but when I picked it up and held it to my nose, I got lost in all these memories of her.

I laid out on the bed and cried like a fucking baby. I cried myself to sleep.

I could barely pull myself out of bed to get to the studio the following day. I had a beer for breakfast before I even got dressed. Clif shook his head at me, but he didn’t say a word. Jared was another story.

“You look like shit, dude.”

“Thanks,” I responded, trying to sound sarcastic.

“Not sure the makeup team can cover those dark circles.”

“They do it for Misha all the time.”

“Come on, man, you gotta buck up.” He reached over and lightly punched my arm, and I looked up at him.

“Buck up? That’s your advice here?”

“My advice is to get the fuck over it,” he said, dropping his voice so others on the lot couldn’t hear him. “And get over it now because she’s coming up behind you, and if you make this hard for her, I’m gonna make the makeup team have to cover some bruises.”

I went stiff as Jared stepped around me, a big smile on his face. “Y/n! What are you doing here? They bring you back already?” I could see him go for a hug out of the corner of my eye, and I wanted so bad to be able to hug her, too, but all I could do was train my facial expression and slowly turn around.

“I’m just here to drop off Jensen’s key before I head back to the states.”

“You could have left it in the apartment, you know?” Jared teased. “Always making shit more complicated than necessary.”

She looked down as she pulled out of the hug, some of that old shyness sparking in her eyes. “I didn’t think about that,” she said, digging into her pocket. I was hoping that she didn’t leave it behind because she wanted to see me again, but the way she refused to meet my eyes told me it was wishful dreaming. She offered the key to me, and I looked away as I took it from her…and then I walked away. I didn’t say anything to her. I didn’t beg her to see the pain in my eyes. I just walked away.

~~~

Things didn’t get better. I was lost. It wasn’t long before I was drinking ‘til I blacked out every night and having the hair of the dog the next morning to get myself going. I’d go to call her after I finished shooting for the night, and as soon as I remembered I couldn’t call her, that she shacked up with Loki, I put down the phone and picked up a bottle instead.

I wasn’t dealing. I was stewing about Dee, only talking to her over text and ignoring her when she called. So, of course, she called Jared. Of course, he made the bad choice to come up to me when I was looking at an InTouch magazine with Y/n on the cover. Y/n and Tom, on the roof of some restaurant in Atlanta. She looked so flustered, just from holding his hand. Fuck. She used to look at me like that.

“Why the fuck aren’t you answering your phone?” Jared stomped up to me, snatching the magazine out of my hand.

“What are you talkin’ about? I answer my phone all the time.”

“Oh, so you just send your wife to voicemail?” I rolled my eyes and reached for the magazine. I wanted to read the paps’ completely correct theories about Tom and Y/n. He moved out of the way, and I stood up, trying to get it. He moved it out of my reach. “Why aren’t you answering Danneel’s calls?”

“Because I don’t wanna talk to her!”

“She’s your wife!”

“She’s the bane of my existence, right now!” I bit back. Jared’s eyes seemed to flash black. He was a bundle of anger and rage so fucking quick.

He looked down at the magazine in his hand and practically growled as he tossed it across the soundstage. He wrapped his hand in the flannel I was wearing and swung my body around like I was a fucking ragdoll until he had me pressed against the closest wall. "I'm getting really fucking sick of this shit, Ackles. Do you have any idea how Y/n would feel about the way you're acting right now?"

"Get the fuck off of-"

"She would be fucking pissed at you," he snapped, pressing me harder into the wall. Dude's big. I couldn’t have done much against him even if I weren’t still drunk. "She never wanted to be a problem in your marriage. You promised her that she wasn’t going to get in between you and Dee. She's not even here, and she's causing you to act like a fucking fool."

"I'm not a-"

"You are throwing away everything, you fucking dumbass, on a woman who isn't even with you anymore!"

"Whose fault is that?! Who chased her out of my life, huh?"

"She gave you permission, and she's allowed to take it back. She-"

"That's not fair! That's not fair to anyone-"

"That's life! Your wife, who you usually love and adore, decided she wasn't comfortable anymore, and you fucking ignored her until she took it into her own fucking hands. Consent given doesn't mean consent forever.” I grabbed at his wrist, but he just shook his head and released me. “Call your wife, set up an appointment with your counselor, and leave the bottle alone, you understand me? Fucking dumbass.”

I watched him walk away, ignoring the stagehands and PAs staring at us in shock. They'd keep quiet about it, but God damn. Was Jared trying to start fucking rumors across the studio? I looked at the magazine, then pulled my phone out.

"You gotta stop calling Jared on me. If I don't wanna talk, I don't have to."

"Jay. Come on. You can't just ignore me about-"

"I fuckin' can. Because just like you were allowed to say whatever the fuck you wanted to say to Y/n, I'm allowed to decide not to talk to you until I'm done being pissed off about what you did. And this isn't helping anything, you know? Badgering me is going to have the opposite effect of the one you're going for."

"I'm not badgering you," she snapped. "I'm just getting tired of chasing you!"

"Then stop!" I snapped as I walked toward my trailer. "Dee, I'm not going to be able to let this go if you keep pissing me off every other day."

"I'm so sorry that me trying to save our marriage pisses you off so fucking much! When you decide you want to talk to me again, just let me know."

Then she hung up on me. Part of me was angry at her audacity, but mostly I was happy that I wouldn't have to worry about dodging her calls for a while. I was being a dick, but I couldn’t see past how I was feeling. Something in my brain wouldn't let me see how I was fucking everything up. I wanted to feel how I felt, and nothing was going to get in the way of that, not Dee and not Jared and definitely not Dr. Douchebag.

~~~

Things with Jared were tense for the next couple of weeks, especially after he came to me to show a post some fan made, accusing me of cheating on Dee with Y/n. The fan obviously didn't know what went down, but they got really fucking close with their guesses. As soon as I read it, I knew Y/n must be freaking out, but I couldn't bring myself to do the same. Part of me wanted the whole thing out in the open, so I could get some support from somewhere, even if it was from the fans who would agree with me no matter what I did.

Jared was watching me, expectantly, as I read through the post. I'm sure he thought I'd freak out too, but I just shrugged. "Who gives a fuck?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"It's a bunch of allegations from a fan who said, themselves, that they hope they're crazy."

"This is right on the edge of you being caught. Don't you care about the rules anymore?"

"I'm not gonna get caught because I'm not doing anything. Tell Y/n it doesn't fucking matter," I said, completely dismissing him as I walked away from him to go sulk in my trailer for a few minutes. "This is the stupidest shit. Still gotta be worried about getting caught when I don't even have her anymore."

I started pacing. What other option did I have to get the angry energy out? I wasn't supposed to drink because that's selfish. I wasn’t supposed to sulk because that's selfish. I wasn’t supposed to feel because that's fucking selfish! So I paced, and I got angrier...and then I took a drink. Not a strong one or a big one...just enough of a beer to get me level so I could shoot my next scenes.

"I got her to calm down," Jared said when I got back to the Bunker set. "But she's fucking worried about you."

"I appreciate the concern, but I'm fine."

"That why you smell like beer? Cause you're fine?"

I clicked my tongue against my teeth and turned away. "How about you and Y/n mind your own damn business, and I'll mind mine?"

"You are my business, Ackles, and if you're acting like an idiot because of Y/n, then it's her business too."

I shook my head. "Actually, it's not. I'm fine. Whether I've gotta have a bit of something to help me through the day or not, it doesn’t matter because I'm making it through. I'm doing my job, so why don't you focus on yours?" I asked, pointedly, as Phil Sgriccia settled into his chair.

Jared just shook his head at me.

~~~

A couple of days later, a week at the most, I got done shooting and grabbed my phone. I hovered my thumb over Y/n’s contact for a minute, thinking about calling her, checking on her, professing my love again and hoping she'd care, or even just to tell her I forgave her and hoped she would extend the same courtesy...but I didn’t. I parked my ass on one of the stools at the breakfast bar in my trailer and Googled her name. Not in a stalker way, just to check up on her and her career.

A dozen tabloid articles popped up. "Tom Hiddleston Declares Love For Marvel Costar" and "What We Know About Tom and Y/n" and "Tom Shocks Fans With Facebook Post". I clicked on whatever the Daily Mail wrote and was taken to Tom’s Facebook page. I gasped a little at the picture of Y/n. It was obviously taken without her knowledge and definitely shared without her permission. She was in just an oversized black t-shirt, not hers. She was standing in a hotel room, looking out the floor-to-ceiling window, wearing just his fucking shirt...and he posted that for the world to see.

Under the picture was a block of text.

6 months ago saw a rewrite to the Marvel Cinematic Shorts Anthology script, which brought a new minor character. Kevin Feige knew who he wanted in the role before the script was even done being altered; a relatively unknown actress with a single acting credit to her name- y/f/n y/l/n. I was immediately drawn to the woman and asked her for drinks before we’d finished in Hair and Makeup the morning I met her. I’d fallen in love before the week was out. Y/n is a private woman, not used to being so in the public eye, so I acceded to her request for discretion, portraying myself as her friend whenever someone might be looking. I tried to convince her several times that we should go public over the past 2 months and she dismissed each attempt. This morning I discovered the reason. She’s expecting I will leave. She doesn’t want anyone profiting on her heartbreak or to give them a reason to judge or, worse, pity her. But I’m not planning to leave. I have no desire to be another on her short list of past relationships. I’ve resisted the urge to shout the truth of my heart from the rooftops, but no longer. I’m in love with this sweet Southern woman and leaving her is not an option for my heart.

I read it twice, my heart pounding in my ears. As pissed as I was when she walked away, it was nothing compared to the rage I felt reading that post. He told the world. He shouted his love from social media rooftops. He praised her in public in a way I could never have done. They were real. They were going to last. As I imagined the marriage proposal that was sure to come and be announced in a similar public fashion in the next few months, I couldn’t hold the anger back anymore. My phone hit the fridge door, denting the stainless steel and breaking into a hundred pieces of glass, plastic, and electrical components. Since it was closest, the Kuerig was next to fly, hitting the TV and creating a spiderweb of cracks across the screen. I grabbed the stool next, bashing it into the floor over and over until I lost the steam of my anger, and I dropped to the floor to pant and let out a few angry tears...which turned into me sobbing on the floor among my broken belongings.

[progresstopeacecounseling]

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[bodyalive]

John Gottman’s Four Horsemen of Marital Failure Watch out for these 4 bad behaviors that lead to divorce, says marriage expert— While 39% of marriages are destined for divorce in America, it doesn’t have to be that way. Not if you watch out for these four signs, according to John Gottman, Ph.D., cofounder of the Gottman Institute, a center that shares a research-based approach to relationships. Gottman, who founded the institute alongside his wife, Julie Gottman, is known as the relationship therapist who can predict whether a couple will divorce with over 90% accuracy. In his research, Gottman noticed four negative communication patterns that can predict divorce, which he calls the Four Horsemen: Criticism Contempt Defensiveness Stonewalling But not all is lost, he’s also shared ways to combat the horsemen and improve your relationship. Here are the warning signs: The problem: Criticism The first horseman, and perhaps the most common, is criticism. Whereas a complaint is about a specific issue, criticism is an attack on your partner’s character. Finding yourself critical of your partner isn’t the end of the world, but if it becomes pervasive, it could lead to other trouble within the relationship. “It makes the victim feel assaulted, rejected, and hurt, and often causes the perpetrator and victim to fall into an escalating pattern where the first horseman reappears with greater and greater frequency and intensity, which eventually leads to contempt,” Ellie Lisitsa, a doctoral student in clinical psychology at Seattle Pacific University and former staff writer for the Gottman Institute, writes in a blog post on the topic. The antidote: Complain without blame Instead of launching into attack mode, experts suggest using a “gentle startup,” or the Gottman Method approach, “that makes a straightforward comment about a concern and expresses a need in a positive fashion.” This requires using “I” statements to share a need and avoiding “you” statements, which insinuate blame. The problem: Contempt The most destructive of the Four Horsemen, according to Gottman, is contempt. In his book Why Marriages Succeed or Fail, Gottman writes: “When contempt begins to overwhelm your relationship you tend to forget entirely your partner’s positive qualities, at least while you’re feeling upset. You can’t remember a single positive quality or act. This immediate decay of admiration is an important reason why contempt ought to be banned from marital interactions.” The antidote: Build fondness and admiration Gottman claims that one of the best ways to build fondness and admiration within the relationship is by looking to the past and recalling what made you fall in love with your partner in the first place. The problem: Defensiveness Criticism can often lead to defensiveness, which is another way of blaming your partner. Instead of admitting responsibility, a person decides to play the victim and tries to make the issue their partner’s fault. Defensiveness most often occurs when a person is feeling attacked or criticized by their partner. This can also include gaslighting, denial, and manipulation. The antidote: Take responsibility The antidote to defensiveness is to accept responsibility for your role in the situation, even if only for part of the conflict,” writes Lisitsa. “In healthy relationships, partners don’t get defensive when discussing an area of conflict.” Taking responsibility requires showing an interest in your partner’s feelings and acknowledging the role you played in the conflict. This enables you and your partner to talk through the issue and work as a team to resolve the problem. The problem: Stonewalling Stonewalling, which typically happens in response to contempt, is when a person withdraws from a conversation, shuts down, or stops responding to their partner altogether. This can look like “tuning out, turning away, acting busy, or engaging in obsessive or distracting behaviors,” writes Lisitsa. The antidote: Take a break Instead of shutting down mid-conversation, experts recommend deciding on a neutral signal, such as a word, phrase, or hand motion, to signify that you need a time-out. “So if you are stonewalling and feeling flooded, say that you need a break using whatever signal, word, or phrase you and your partner have decided upon. Let each other know when you’re feeling overwhelmed,” suggests Lisitsa. “Then you need to walk away and do something soothing on your own. This break should last at least 20 minutes since it will take that much time for your bodies to physiologically calm down.”

[Thanks to Sharon Moon]

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