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imonthinice · 3 years ago

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The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 16/?

Word Count: 4.2k

Author’s Note: Y/N - Your name

I put two days into this chapter<3 I guess the timeline may speedup a bit<3

Warnings: Jail discussion, Victim Shaming, Fighting, Mentions of Injury, Disassociation, Disconnect, Trauma, Swearing, Mentions of alcoholism and drug use, No beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

Family game night was well underway in the Wayne Manor when Y/N got a phone call from the prison that Justine Wong, her high school friend who went to jail protecting her, was incarcerated in until her trial or the man who attempted to assault Y/N dropped the charges.

She excused herself and went outside in the Autumn weather to take the call.

“Hello.”

“This is an automated call from Gotham County Prison from Inmate ‘Justine Wong’, to accept this call please press 1.”

She did as such.

“Thank you for your cooperation. All inmate calls are recorded. Your account balance is $50.69.”

“Hello?” Justine asked into the phone.

“Hey, it’s me. Why are you calling? Are you alright?” Y/N asked.

“I need you to come here and get me a lawyer.”

“You’re up my ass right now, aren’t you? I thought he was dropping the charges?”

“He isn’t. Christopher, Thomas, Kaitlin and I seriously need your help now.”

“Are you all in the same prison?”

“Yes, they transferred over the boys yesterday because of this. We can all meet in a recorded room while you get us a lawyer.”

“Fuck, dude. Uh,” she thought about game night, but decided this was more important, “Do you need me now?”

“Yes, we can all get into the room and then you can meet us, I think the jail is 10-20 minutes of a walk away from the Manor?”

“Fuck. Okay. I’ll be there.”

Click. She thought about going back inside and asking someone to drive her to the jail, but she was also just not prepared to answer anyone’s questions about it. It was cold outside, but if she ran she could get there in 10 minutes. But that’s when Bruce joined her outside, she assumed Jason sent him because he was crushing his siblings in Monopoly at the moment.

“So, I’m friends with the commissioner of the county, Jim Gordon,” Bruce said, “And I know what your friends are dealing with.”

“Well, it’s not like it’s plastered all over the news or anything,” she said to Bruce, with a slight [massive] amount of sarcasm tinged in her voice.

“Do your parents know?”

“If they did I wouldn’t be in Gotham anymore.”

“Do you need a ride to the jail?”

“Yes.”

“I can do that, no issue.”

“Thank you, Bruce.”

“Anytime,” he said before leading her to one of his cars.

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In the car, Y/N tried to keep up conversation with Bruce, it was a short drive but the time seemed to slow and he could tell she wasn’t talkative. This was, what he thought was likely, very, very stressful for her. He was used to this, the court dates, the police station, but he knew that her attackers’ court dates were coming up and she was going to need emotional support, since her parents weren’t in the city.

He didn’t know how to support her as the dad of her boyfriend, he’d probably just mention it in passing to Jason and Jason would deal with her. ‘Deal with’ probably was not the way to describe the girl that his son was dating, especially when she’s in as much emotional distress as Y/N clearly was in that moment, but Bruce was terrible with wording.

She didn’t even want him to bother with her emotions about it all, because she didn't know how she felt. She didn’t know anything about the situation and how it made her feel, she just froze in the sight of this confrontation and hid from it all behind a mask of seeming to know what she was doing.

They pulled up to the prison, and she got out of the car and waved off Bruce before walking to the front desk and saying who she was and why she was there, providing her ID if need be. They led her into the backrooms, and told her that the room was being recorded and that she couldn’t touch them before letting her in the room.

She looked at the 4 of her friends who were all being charged with assault and battery.

“Y/N?” Thomas asked.

“This... this is surreal. Didn’t think we’d ever end up like this,” she said, looking at the floor before crossing her arms.

“What do we do now?” Kaitlin asked.

“Do any of your parents have enough money to pay for a lawyer? I can call them for you,” Y/N said.

“You didn’t already call them?” Christopher asked.

“No, I didn’t. I’ve been pretending this entire thing doesn’t exist, I don’t want it to exist.”

“But we need a lawyer,” Justine snapped.

“No fucking shit, Sherlock Holmes.”

“Well you should have gotten us a lawyer!” Justine snapped again, raising her voice.

“Now is not the time to yell at her, Justine,” Thomas interrupted.

“Shut up, Thomas! You,” she turned to Y/N, “Look at me! Look what you made us do and you can’t even look us in the eyes!”

“I didn’t make you do anything, Justine.”

“You’re the one who’s a fucking alcoholic and can’t handle her drinks so she almost got raped! You’re pathetic.”

“Now is not the time to victim shame me, Justine” Y/N sighed, “What you’re saying is very hurtful and makes me not wish to help you anymore, understood? You can lash out at me to get the anger out, but this isn’t my fault and you know it,” she said, finally locking eyes with Justine.

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be.”

They continued talking about what to do for hours, with Y/N ignoring most advances Justine made to prove the point that yes, she was pissed at Justine about what she had said to Y/N.

Y/N wasn’t taking anyone’s shit anymore. Ever since she met Jason, and pissed off the press, she stopped letting people get away with everyone, she stopped telling people what they wanted to hear.

And people were noticing, especially her 4 friends in that room. She was trying to get better, to recover so she wouldn't relapse, and it was obvious.

“Y/N?” Justine said.

“Justine?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I am aware. I’ll be calling your parents when we’re done here.”

“So do you forgive me?”

“I’ll consider forgiving you.”

“You’ve changed.”

“Good,” she turned to the other 3, “Anything you 3 want before I leave?”

“Nope, that’s it,” Thomas said, “Thank you, Y/N.”

“That’s everything yeah,” Kaitlin said, “Thanks, man.”

“What they said,” Christopher joked, “Thanks.”

“Alright, I love you 3, I’ll try to arrange phone calls with you 3,” she said putting emphasis on the word 3. Oh yeah, she was pissed.

She would leave the room without even saying ‘goodbye’ to Justine. She would tell the police she was done with the meeting. They asked who would be handling getting lawyers to the 4 kids, she said she would call their parents. Commissioner Gordon walked up to her and held out his hand, “You must be Jason’s girlfriend. I’ve know that kid all his life basically, I’m Commissioner Jim Gordon,” he said.

“Y/N,” she said, shaking his hand.

“I know these last 2 weeks have been extremely stressful for you, Y/N,” he said.

“I think everyone’s caught onto that.”

“I called Bruce to come get you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

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Meeting new people filled her with a lot of life after the hell she was pulled through. From stabbing, to head injuries, to friendships crumbling, to court, Y/N was being strewn through the wringer.

She knew it would calm down eventually, she was just being put through a few bad weeks for a lifetime of happiness, and she hoped that happiness was with Jason.

She couldn’t think much longer when Bruce pulled up and she got to the car.

“How was it?” he asked.

“Do you really want to know, Bruce?”

“I do. The justice system can be draining.”

“You could say that again,” she joked, “So, where do I start? Well, I get in there and tensions are high, obviously. I’m sure prison sucks when they shouldn’t really be there, they did the job the vigilantes here do, and we all let them do it. Anyway... my friend I guess, she comes at my throat about my attack,” she paused, trying to swallow her pain, “Starts blaming me for it, uses my alcoholic past against me, you know, the stuff you shouldn’t do. I don’t care if she’s right and I shouldn’t have drank, but she fucking led me to the bar.”

She fumbled with her hands a bit, still trying to not cry, “Anyway, I told her that she can’t talk to me like that, that I won’t let her talk to me like that and she apologized. Guess what? I said ‘You should be.’ and I know that might not mean much to you, Bruce, but I would have never stood up for myself like that had I not met your son, you did something right with that boy, Bruce, I swear,” she joked, “But that was about it, I have to call everyone’s parents to get them lawyers, but that’s it.”

“I figured you had a backbone from the start, kid,” Bruce said in response.

“You kidding? I had to ask Jason if you would hate me for flipping off the press? I’ve never, ever had a backbone.”

“Well maybe, besides the lack of protection,” he joked, “Maybe Jason and you are a good couple.”

“You think so?”

“I think so.”

“Thanks, Bruce. Really. Your kids are a hoot to hang out with and you’re not half-bad yourself, old man.”

“Are you going to start calling me that, too?”

“Maybe jokingly.”

“I’m not that old, kiddo.”

“You just called me kiddo and you think I don’t deserve to say you’re old? Really? Bruce, c’mon, you’re smarter than that.”

“You don’t deserve it. You’re just going to do it.”

She laughed, “About the protection lecture, I wouldn't have done it if I wasn’t on the pill, Bruce. I appreciate the concern, but you were so wrong about us ‘not being prepared’.”

He laughed, “Maybe you should have said something.”

“You never asked me, Bruce.”

“I wouldn't make a good detective, then.”

“That’s why Commissioner Gordon is on the cases I’m involved in, and not you.”

He paused, “Isn’t your head-butting buddy’s trial starting tomorrow?”

“It is.”

“Are you going to watch it?” he asked, off-handedly, “I think Dick might, just to see what the ‘sicko’ looks like.”

“I’m definitely going to watch it,” she laughed, “Might even make it an essay for school.”

“Well that’s one way to handle it.”

“Might as well turn the sick fuck who tried to turn me into a ransom note be turned into a 100% in my classes. Call it; Classy Revenge.”

They pulled into the driveway together, while Bruce was laughing at the comment Y/N made. She laughed, too. It helped heal some of the wounds she experienced over the 2 weeks of knowing Jason, even some of the prior wounds. Bruce told her that the kids were still playing Monopoly, none of them had apparently gone bankrupt yet, it was 12:00am.

To say she was impressed with Jason and his siblings would be an understatement, she remembered playing Monopoly with her family, and they’d all always declare bankruptcy within an hour or so, and thee was never a back-to-back winner when they all played.

Maybe they were bad at managing money, maybe thee Wanes just were too stubborn to declare bankruptcy and they bent the rules of Monopoly a little bit to suit their family, she didn’t know.

They walked into the house and sat back down, Y/N at Jason’s side where she had been the 4, or-so, hours before. Everyone seemed to acknowledge her presence and wished to ask her what happened, but no one knew how to bring it up to her. They knew she wasn’t used to the life of court and trials, the needing to talk to police, it was really one the Waynes and the kids of police officers that were used to tat stuff.

She pretended to not notice them wanting to ask her and opened her phone while Jason tried to negotiate for the 4th railroad from Tim, to see her mother texted her.

How are you, sweetheart? Her mum had asked.

I’m fine, mum. Shouldn’t you be sleeping?

I should, but I can’t sleep thinking about the trial of your attacker

Same. It’s such a stressful situation.

I can’t even imagine how you’re feeling through all of this.

She couldn’t put how she felt into words. How the way that the moments she was in the alleyway made her feel. the way that man’s face was burned into her memory to be a constant reminder tat she wasn’t safe wherever she went. It was something she had never experienced before.

Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was pain.

I don’t know how I’m feeling either, Mum.

How’s your nose?

It’s healed basically. No more nosebleeds at random intervals.

You didn’t tell me about the nosebleeds.

I didn’t tell anyone about the nosebleeds, Mum.

Why not?

I don’t need people to worry about me, to feel for me, to make their times and schedules molded to fit me. Good intentions or not, I don’t need charity hand outs.

Then do we stop paying your rent?

Well, I mean you could. I wouldn’t stop you from stopping paying my rent, but the difference is that you giving me money is to keep me at the top of the school, to make myself the best I can be.

How badly would your studies be impacted if we stopped paying your bills?

Probably massively. Don’t worry, mum. It’s a two-year program and then I can get my own job and make enough money. I’ll get you a little house on a hill and you can be the Queen of the Hill.

That’s nice of you honey. We should both try to sleep if we’re trying ot catch the trial today.

Goodnight, Mum.

they were all still glued to the game, when Barbara chose she would take the risk and ask Y/N about the meeting.

“So, how was it?” she asked, innocently.

“How much time do you have?”

“We have pretty much all night, the others can go at this till the trial tomorrow,” she joked.

“I mean, challenge accepted,” Y/N laughed, “So, we pull up to the county jail, right. I wave off Bruce, no big deal, everything was going to plan, which should have honestly been my first sign that things were going to be fucked, but I digress,” she paused, “I walk in, give the lady my ID and she looks at m funny, like she knew that I had been drinking underage in that moment and was disappointed in me, as she should be.”

She fiddled with her hands, “So they lead me to the back and before they do they tell me the usual, I can’t touch any of them and my conversation with them will be recorded, then they let me in. I greet everyone like the good friend I am but tensions are high and everyone’s on edge, which is understandable, but.”

Jason perked up when she put emphasis on but, knowing the story was about to get real, really quickly.

“My friend Justine, she called me to get me there, she starts going at me about how this is my fault for being an ex-alcoholic and drinking, which, yes, i should not have been drinking. But she lead me to the bar,” she paused, “She starts blaming me for how I almost got raped and putting them all in there, whatever,” she paused again, “I basically told her that if she wanted my help she was going to have to behave and be nice to me, to which, she apologized,” she paused.

“You didn’t accept that apology, right?” Stephanie asked.

“God, no. I said I’d consider forgiving her. Everyone else was fine though. anyway, I have to call their parents and get them in contact with a lawyer soon.”

“You’re still doing that even after that whore victim-shamed you?” Jason said, he seemed in awe that Y/N would be so kind to someone who did her so wrong.

“Jay, I’m borderline legally obligated to do that,” Y/N said, “I wouldn’t do it if she hadn’t saved me.”

“I think you still shouldn’t do it,” Damien said.

“And you seem very vengeful, Damien. But that’s only sometimes me.”

“Look, thou shalt not sin or whatever, love thy neighbor or whatever, but that girl wronged you in that conversation, do you really owe it to her to call her parents?” Tim asked.

“You know, for a family who’s known for being the ‘Nice Billionaires’ you all tend to really hate my choices,” she joked.

“Don’t make dumb ones, and we wouldn’t judge,” Tim retorted.

”Okay, smartass. I hope you go bankrupt.”

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Waking up next to Jason on the day of her attacker’s trial was something to her. The comforting aura of the room seemed to be stripped away because the sun hadn’t risen, the blinds didn’t need to be closed, and Jason wasn’t cuddled up next to her.

She would find him already dressed, pacing back and forth in his room. For her 3 back-to-back days of being in Jason’s house without going home, she never saw him this actively distressed about anything. But given the situation they found themselves in, it was understandable.

Someone actively threatened her life for an attempt at a ransom on her name, because she was now tied to Bruce Wayne, and Bruce had money. Of course, for the Wayne household, the kids and Bruce were used to ransom attempts on themselves, with some of them actually being taken hostage before, but Y/N wasn’t.

She defended herself, and since it was, thankfully, caught on camera unlike the attack on her attempted-rapist, she didn’t have to appear in court, she didn’t even need to video her side of the story, she wrote it in a letter and sent it to the District Attorney's office. The District Attorney, being the prosecutor, was obligated to give her statement to the defense, so she was curious as to how her words would be spun to fit their narrative.

Jason and Y/N were both in the criminal psychology major at their college, they both knew what they were in store for, and they both had the ability to tear the defendant into pieces the minute he spoke. If, he spoke, that is.

Jason didn’t seem to notice that she was awake. He was really lost in his own thoughts, his own concerns. He stopped pacing though, and he was just staring at his laptop, possibly zoned out from the situation.

She got up as quietly as she could and went to hug him from, she could hear him let out a little chuckle, so she greeted him, “Good morning, Jay.”

“I thought you were still sleeping,” he turned to look at her.

“I was, but I woke up, that’s how that works,” she joked.

“That’s insane I would have never thought people wake up after they sleep,” he said with heavy sarcasm, “The more you know.”

“Insane, I know,” she said, “I still don’t even have clothes here,” she laughed, “I really need to go home eventually.”

“No you don’t, what?” he said with more sarcasm, “You can just wear my clothes, baby.”

“I don’t think they’ll fit, Jay, I think you forget you are literally massive.”

He laughed, “Listen, being massive is not my fault.”

“How is it not your fault?”

“Don’t ask questions.”

“I am asking questions, I am curious now.”

“Shhh,” he joked, “No need to worry.”

“Billionaire, playboy, philanthropist and he’s got rippling abs? But zero cause for concern? Where do you even find the time?”

“Well, when you’re not over it’s during my downtime.”

“Can’t believe you won’t work out in front of me,” she laughed, “That’s just rude.”

“You already have free entertainment here,” he joked.

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Somehow she found clothes that somewhat fit her so she could go downstairs and watch the start of the trial. She didn’t know if she could sit through the entire trial, she was victim. No one expected her to be able to sit through the entire thing. It was a lot different from studying trials to actually being a part of the trial.

There was more of an all-seeing-eye presence in the living room of the Wayne Manor that morning before the trial began. The sounds of reporters through the television while everyone sat and waited for it to begin, it was not something many would enjoy.

There would be an ending to this story, to this court case, whether it was a month from that moment on that couch or a year from that moment. There would be justice for that bullshit.

Part of her didn’t even want the trial. She wanted the man to take a plea deal. She didn’t want to be in the spotlight when murders were happening. But no one would let it go, a beautiful woman being hurt in an attack against her? It was the kind of stuff that the news sources wanted, craved, from every court case.

And that was the thing about it. She didn’t want to be the tabloids newest escapade into being more and more corrupt, broken, deceitful.

She looked to the television as Jason put his arm around her, bracing for any sort of reaction to the news. No one really knew how she was going to react. And then it started.

Cameras were being let into the courtroom and panning over to him. The man who had attacked her in the alleyway. She subconsciously brought her hand up to her nose and felt it. For a moment, it was like she was back in that alleyway, head-butting that man and then running to the Manor. But she wasn’t there and she knew that, trying to snap herself out o that state brought nothing, though. It took the Judge having to shush the entirety of the courtroom to get her attention back to the real world.

The Judge would introduce himself to the press, but mainly to the court, and then request opening statement. Or at least, Y/N thought that was what he was doing. She didn’t really know what was going on, something pulled her away from the court trial she was witnessing for the man who attacked her.

To the outside, the people surveying her to make sure she was okay, her eyes seemed to glaze over and she seemed to just disconnect from the situation. But they didn’t realize she had disconnected. She just looked to be in thought.

She saw colours fade in and out of her sight, people showing up in front of her, him showing up in her sights, the images dancing in her mind as if she was there in that courtroom.

The time began to slur in her mind. Hours became minutes to her. And before she knew it, court had ceased fro the day. She was snapped out of it by Jason letting her go. He offered to drive her home, she agreed.

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“Y/N?” Jason asked while they were in the car.

“Uh huh?”

“Are you alright?”

“Good question,” she answered, flatly.

“Are you?” he asked, seeming more concerned.

“Probably not.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Is that a no?”

“Mhm.”

He reached to place a hand on her thigh, attempting to comfort her, “That’s okay,” he said, “You don’t need to talk about it.”

“Mhm.”

He sighed, “I’ve decided something,” he said, “I’m going to spend the night at yours, just to make sure you’re okay.”

“Okay.”

“You still don’t have to talk about it.”

“I know.”

“Okay, here,” he smiled, “Have I told you the full story about the time that we did chair-racing in the halls of Wayne Manor?” he asked.

“No, you haven’t.”

“Well, what happened was we ended up flying down the halls at like 4 in the morning, right? Well,” he paused, “Dick used to be an acrobat, so when he almost went flying off the stairs, he actually caught himself on a handstand on the rails. Chair still went flying,” he said.

She smiled a little bit. He knew he was doing something right.

“We ended up breaking a vase. Bruce was okay with it because it wasn’t his parents, but Alfred was pissed at us for it. Grounded us all for weeks about it.”

“As he should.”

“Look at me go, getting multiple word answers out of you, and I even got you to crack a smile,” he laughed and grabbed her hand to hold it, “I’m just so good at this boyfriend thing.”

She smiled again. The smiles wouldn’t last for long, but they did happen. He knew the trial was traumatic for her. He could tell. Just from the way she drooped after the trial ended, she could normally not shut up when it came to Jason, so this was out of character.

When they got to her house, he would walk, basically lead her, to her house. She was so far disconnected from everything, that he even just let her rest in her bed with his clothes on and her shoes still on, because she wasn’t functioning.

He would crawl into bed with her and let her rest her head on his chest.

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hyukiee · 4 years ago

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Chapter 5: Hope

warnings: cussing, overdose mention, a little angst, drug mention

I thought yesterday was Wednesday 😩 .. a little late but enjoy! :)

After what you remember from last night, anyone would assume you feel like absolute shit. You do but it’s nothing that wasn’t there before last night. Your used to the headaches and body aches. You slowly opened your eyes, the room your in is beyond bright but the bed was beyond comfortable. Taehyung was sitting in a chair in front of you obviously sleep deprived. He probably didn’t sleep at all. “Do you remember anything from last night?” He spoke quietly, he sounded exhausted. “Bits and pieces. Why? Are you okay?” you sat up interigating him. What the fuck did you do to him last night? “Have you ever tried to cluelessly help someone out of a potential overdose while her so called “friends” couldn’t give a single fuck-“ “Taehyung” “No. No you listen to me,” Taehyung raised his voice the more and more he spoke. He went from looking down playing with his fingers to looking at you with eyes that burn into you as he pointed his finger at you. “You make no sense at all. You walk around acting like you know everything but you are so clueless that the people around you wouldn’t care if you died right in front of their eyes. You deserve better. You deserve more y/n. Why do you do this? Why?” Tears started to stream down your face. You weren’t sad or hurt by what he was saying, you just can’t handle people yelling at you. It happend your whole childhood and now you deal with being the most sensitive person anyone comes by. He sighed noticing the tears you failed to wipe away fast enough and pulled you against his chest. “Don’t fucking yell at me.” It was something in the way you muttered those five words that made his heart drop. Every day he seems to feel more and more of your pain. At this point, he just wanted to get you away from here and away from these people. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, i’m not thinking straight i’m so worried for you,” he sighed again sitting down on the bed still holding you against him. “The members are almost in L.A, they’d like to meet you if your up for it.” He was lying out of his ass and even though he hardly lies, he’s not bad at it. The group didn’t ask to see you but he needed to get you away and have you around good people, for once.

“Soo, where are we going?” You and Taehyung haven’t talked much since you cried in his arms. Everything that happened last night is making the usual comfortable silence, very awkward. “This restaurant by their hotel. Be prepared for a lot of raughtiness,” he said softly smiling at you. He’s trying to forget. He’s that type of person, to ignore everything bad that happens so there’s no confrontation. It could be for your sake though, you really don’t want to talk about it. You’ve always hated meeting people’s loved ones. You feel like you have a terrible first impression and your terrified they won’t like you. Taehyung reassured you the whole car ride that they would adore you but there’s always a thought at the back of your head thinking they’ll see right through you and hate you.

“Hello again, y/n, how’s our boy been treating you?” Jungkook quickly walked to you two putting his arm around you with the biggest bunny smile. “Is he secretly a dick or something?” Everyone chuckled at that making you realize the other five had walked over too. Everyone made their introductions while slowly making the way inside the restaurant. They weirdly all made you feel happy without even doing anything. Taehyung looked happy too, the happiest you’ve ever seen him. That stung your heart a little bit, you couldn’t make him smile like that but it’s not like you could even be compared to his members. “So why’d you learn Korean y/n?” Namjoon asked sitting across from you. “Oh, I got really into the culture and stuff. I wanted to live there and teach English.” You hate thinking back to that time in life. So full of hope and dreaming about the future. It was nice to have goals but thinking about it now just hurts you. You fucked up your life, you fucked up your little dream. “Oh wow, why haven’t you moved then?” You knew he was just trying to make conversation but you just hated this one. “Ah, things just turned out differently in high school,” Taehyung glanced at you after you said that and put his hand on your thigh. He knows what you mean. Going to South Korea was your dream but then you started doing everything you do now and you simply stopped dreaming. It made him feel bad, he could see how Namjoon was hurting you by bringing it up. “Well, her Korean is probably better than ours that’s for sure,” Taehyung smiled at you. “Yah, not even,” Jin laughed hitting Taehyung on the back of his neck. “Y/n, you dance?” Hoseok asked you randomly. “I love to.” “Perfect, this song is amazing, let’s dance!” he almost yelled getting up grabbing you. Yoongi gave you an apologetic look but the rest of the guys laughed at your obviously terrified face. Meanwhile Hoseok stood there as happy as can be in his own little world.

“Can you guys be deadly honest with me?” Taehyung said bringing his attention to the boys while you danced with Hoseok and Jimin on the patio. “When am I not,” Yoongi smiled to himself playing with his fingers. “I don’t think I can leave y/n here. She is involved with things that will kill her and I know it sounds stupid but I think we can help her.... I just- I don’t know what to do,” Taehyung couldn’t bring himself to look at the guys, he felt pathetic for feeling this way after knowing you for a couple of days. “Well she said she dreamt of going to South Korea, it might sound crazy but let’s bring her back with us. She seems nice, I don’t mind it,” Jin piped in as everyone else nodded along. It really could work the more Taehyung thought of it. They could bring her back and help her get on her feet and then she can live a better life and he could still see her. “What type of life threatening things are we talking about Tae?” Namjoon didn’t mind that Taehyung had found a pretty girl that seemed to be very nice but he had to logical, that’s his job after all. Taehyung looked up at the guys, trying to bring himself to admit your dirty little secret. “Drugs.” Everyone’s expressions changed, with reason of course. They are famous, if someone were to find out they had a drug addict living with them it would be a terrible scandal and that’s just the harsh truth but Taehyung realized he wasn’t the only one that felt like he needed to help you after Jungkook put in his two cents. “That doesn’t define her though, she could get sober back home, we shouldn’t judge her, not yet.”

After you all ate and had a bunch of crazy funny conversations, no one was ready to go home so you put out the idea to go cruising around. You were sitting in the very back of their van in the middle of Taehyung and Hoseok. They were both raping your ears with how loudly they were singing along with everyone. You would never admit it but you loved the moments where you’re genuinely happy and you get to sit back and take it all in. You liked them. “So y/n, do you see yourself anywhere in 5 years?” Yoongi asked turning down the music from the front seat making Jimin laugh at the randomness. If you were honest you would say dead but you don’t want to sound suicidal or something. “Mm, I don’t know really I like to just live day by day.” “How about South Korea?” Hoseok piped in giving you a big smile. That’d be nice if you lived a life where everything went your way, but it doesn’t. Taehyung gripped your thigh and you looked at him and noticed they were all giving you the same type of look. “Listen, y/n, you said yourself it was your dream to go there so why miss this opportunity? Live day by day and take chances right?” Hoseok said making it seem so so simple. Are they really asking you to go to South Korea? For what? So Taehyung doesn’t get depressed when they go back home? You met this guy a few days ago and they want you to go back with them? You could slap Taehyung for being so naive. “Just think about it baby I think it would be a great opportunity. I just want to see you suceed.” Baby... you felt your eyes starting to swell up. “Where’d the music go, I love this song,” you whined trying to change the focus so they didn’t see the tears come out of your eyes. “Y/n please-“ “No, fuck you for puting me on the spot like that. Do I look like a person that suceeds?” you argily whispered at Taehyung as the music started playing again. Your not mad at him, your mad at yourself for being to afraid to say yes. He sighed before grabbing your hand and speaking again. “Our flight is tomorrow at 5pm, we’ll wait for you but you know I have to go back.”

“Don’t you want to say bye to the guys?” Taehyung spoke softly to you, afraid to say something wrong. You haven’t talked to him since he started packing, you just stayed laying in a fetal position completely disassociated. Everything was hitting you all at once. He’s really leaving, you’re fun is over. He’s going to leave and your going to go back to your pointless life here in L.A. “Are you not even going to say goodbye to me?” “Bye.” Your heart dropped being this way but if he hated you then you won’t lay awake at night thinking about all the things that could of been done differently. Your thoughts came to a complete stop when Taehyung slammed the door making you flinch. He’s gone. God he’s gone and you didn’t even look at his beautiful face one more time. Part of you hoped he would force you to at least hug him goodbye but he just left. You fucked another thing over like you always do. Tears escaped your eyes as you started to think about actually leaving with him. If you really wanted to, you could. Your all about impulsive decisons. Why do you have to keep yourself from happiness? How long will you do this to yourself? You heard him that one night, when he thought you were asleep. He said he might fall in love with you. You of all people, you and your throwing it away. After sitting up and whipping your tears you dialed Julian and prayed he was alive. “Julian, I need you to pack all my shit in the bathroom and enough clothes to fill one bag and meet me at the airport. Now.” You stared at the time. 4:00pm. Your gonna miss it, nothing works right for you. Your gonna show up and he won’t be there, he won’t.

“Hyung, she really isn’t coming?” Jimin pouted at Taehyung in the van. He couldn’t believe you wouldn’t even look at him. He’s hurt, he wants to curl up in a ball and cry but he couldn’t help but hold on to the hope that you might show up. “Don’t lose hope yet, she might show up, you never know,” Jungkook tried to reassure the two boys but it almost sounded like he was trying to convince himself in the process. your not showing up. Taehyung felt so stupid getting involved in something he knew would hurt him. The whole car ride felt like hours with everything running through his brain but they finally got there. The place that will take him away from you forever. He never even got your number. He’ll never see you again. “Do you want to wait out here for a few and see if she comes?” Namjoon asked stopping him at the enterence of the airport. “No, she’s not coming,” Taehyung knew if he looked up he would start crying so he looked down at his shoes and tried to breathe evenly. “You should have more faith in her,” Yoongi laughed shoving Namjoon so he would look ahead and see you. Taehyung looked up and turned around as fast as he could, it almost gave him whiplash. “Taehyung... i’m falling in love with you and i’m so convinced it’s fate,” You yelled at him with the most beautiful smile making him smile so much it hurt. This felt like some cheesy K-Drama. God you were just so perfect to him. So so perfect.

#bts #fanfic #kpop fanfic #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #taehyung smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #bts fanfic

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mentalwordvomit · 4 years ago

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Sorry this is incredibly long. Just a rant I need to get out:

Sometimes I think about my seemingly perfect Christian parents. Together for 30+ years, dad a ceo, mom a biochemist who just “decided” to become a stay at home mom and homeschool her bright children. Big fish in the little pond of their small town community. Hosting events for other CEOs, being part of their church, nonprofit board of directors, volunteering on the weekend, etc. And I am just enraged.

A whole county, knows me by my dad’s name. Lmfao. And for 20 years (the last time my dad brought it up was a year ago) it’s been my duty to make him look good. To be seen and not heard AND he specifically told me to lie about the things he did to me and my siblings and mom.

I am so fucking tempted to just fucking tell the community. It’s a small town, I could leak this information to their local newspaper and it would be the story of the decade for that stupid ass town.

Bro you TURNED ME INTO A NONFUNCTIONING SEX/DRUG/ALCOHOL ADDICT. Lmfao FUCK YOU!!!!! You ruined my life before it even started.

And the WORST PART is that you actually are different now. You don’t yell at my sisters so they think I’m a liar when I tell them what you did to me. You call me and you’re nice to me now. If I bring up the shit you’ve done you cry and apologize and FUCK I just want you to get angry and hurt me so badly I can have a final reason to distance myself from you and ruin your life. But I can’t. You’re just a fucking five year old you happens to be fifty. Your mom (my grandma) was a piece of shit who took out her trauma and narcissism on you cause you were a mistake and you never got the chance to be a well rounded person. Fuck and I pity you. I genuinely feel bad for you. And still you fucking ruined my chances of being a functioning human. I came to the realization yesterday that I might never be fulling self sufficient. My boyfriend had to undress and shower me the other day cause I just stopped working. WHAT THE HELL!!!!!! THATS NOT FAIR!!!!!!

You turned my mom from the victim to another abusive force in my life.

You turned my brother from a sweet sweet kid, who would stay up with me at night and cry if his little sisters got hurt into a fucking raging narcissist who only calls me to fight with me. He thinks I’m faking abuse for attention!!!! HE’s REPRESSED HIS MEMORIES SO MUCH HE DOESNT REMEMBER YOU ABUSING HIM. And instead he fucking hates me for mAkiNG iT aLL uP.

You lied to my thirteen year old sister to make me look bad. You told her I was so bad with money that I spent $10,000 in a month. I’ve never even SEEN $10,000 let alone spent it in month. I’ve told her countless times that’s not true but she just calls me a “known liar”. Not to mention our brother has tornmented her so much she now thinks she’s a bad person because she can’t hear God talking to her. WHAT THE HELL!!!!!!!

Thankfully my sixteen year old sister has come out of this mostly unscathed. I don’t know how. She disassociates a lot, and spends a lot of time online but she appears genuinely ok and happy and she’s told me so herself. Thank god THANK GOD she’s managed to stay safe.

FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU BOTH. You did the bare minimum as parents. We always had food, and beds. You helped pay for my college (thank you for that guilt money). But come on. You guys sucked ass at parenting and you still have two kids under the age of eighteen. Do I not warn you that you could accidentally turn those two into substance abusers and constantly turning from abusive relationship to abusive relationship? ESPECIALLY IF THEY DONT KNOW ANY BETTER. They’ve seen daddy scream at mommy. They’ve seen their parents storm out and leave for hours at a time. They’ve seen mom cry because she didn’t think dinner would be hot enough for dad when he got home and he might yell at her. They’ll think that’s normal and that’s who theyll end up with. Fuck you.

And worse yet you look DOWN on me. You told me you didn’t “believe in labels” when I told you I had BPD. But as soon as I showed up at home manic you freaked out and threatened to hold me captive until you could “figure out what to do with” me. Fuck off. FUCK OFF!!!! You’re not concerned when I tell you about my demon psychosis, you think “ew” or you tell me to my face “EVERYONE GETS CONFUSED SOMETIMES ITS NOT THAT BIG OF A DEAL” fuck you!!!! I have legitimate problems deciphering reality because you gaslit me for 21 years. Fuck you.

Why did you give this to me? I don’t want it!!!!! Take it back. Please.

#bpd #actually bpd #vent #borderline personality disorder #actually borderline #bpd problems #borderline thoughts #bpd meme #tw #borderline

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gamerwoo · 5 years ago

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Sehun: Guardian (Part 10)

Characters: Sehun x female reader (featuring Exo)

Genre/warnings: gang au, twin au, angst, lil bit of fluff

Word count: 2,286

Previous | Next | Masterlist

»»————-　　————-««

You didn’t know why Junmyeon specifically asked for everybody to meet up at the garage. You didn’t think Yixing would snitch on you since he decided to help, though, so you were pretty sure you were safe.

“Maybe he wants to clear things up with you and everyone else,” Sehun suggested as the two of you left the house.

After you had left Yixing’s house yesterday, the two of you did as much preparing as you could. You knew how he worked now, you knew his weaknesses, and you’d know exactly when to strike once you’d spoken to the rest of the group that wanted to help. You figured you could talk with them after this little meeting Junmyeon wanted to have.

You and Sehun were the last ones to arrive, the motor of his bike cutting off before you swung a leg off of the bike and took your helmet off. The two of you walked over to the garage entrance, noticing that things seemed...tense. Nobody was speaking, and Junnmyeon looked pissed.

When you got closer, his eyes immediately landed on you, sending you a glare.

All you could think was, ‘Oh no.’

“What are you doing?” he demanded. “You go behind my back and gather everyone together to go after Kris? After I specifically told you not to?”

“Suho--”

“I get you loved him, _____,” he continued, cutting off whatever rebuttal you had, “but he’s not worth getting yourself and the rest of us killed over. You’re going to start a war that won’t end well for anybody.”

“Not unless I end it before it starts,” you stated, crossing your arms over your chest.

“So you’re going to murder him?”

“He murdered Saehyuk!”

The whole time, everybody let the two of you go back and forth. None of them dared speak up, and none of them dared look directly at either of you -- except Sehun. But even Yixing averted his eyes as you and Junmyeon had your little yelling match.

“Well what if he does that to you?” Junmyeon asked.

You shrugged, “Who gives a shit?”

“Alright, then what about Sehun?” he asked again with an almost smug smirk, realizing he’d made his point when your face fell with realization. “What if Sehun didn’t come back alive this time, huh? Or Chanyeol? Or Kyungsoo? Or Jongdae -- who has a daughter to take care of, by the way. How would you explain to a little girl that--”

“Shut up!” you snapped. “I get the point, asshole!”

“_____, if you really go through with this, we can’t protect you anymore,” he told you, his voice dropping lower now. He was looking into your eyes solemnly, letting you know how serious he was about this.

You stared back at him for a moment, seeming like you were weighing your options. But in your mind, there really was only one option.

“I never needed protecting anyway,” you told him. “Yixing just kind of brought me into this. I never asked for your protection, you just gave it to me.”

Junmyeon nodded slowly, his eyes looking down at the floor before they looked back up to meet yours emotionlessly, “Then I guess I’ll see you around.”

You nodded once before you turned around and began walking away. When you saw Sehun start to turn, you put a hand on his shoulder and shook your head at him.

“Stay here,” you told him quietly. “He was right, I can’t let anything bad happen to you -- I couldn’t take it.”

Sehun stayed put as you kept walking, but you only got a few steps before you heard him say, “I’m going with her, hyung.”

You whipped around, ready to scold Sehun, but he silenced your words with his own statement.

“If something bad happens to _____, I don’t know what I’ll do. She’s the most important person to me. I need to look after her.”

“Then go,” Junmyeon’s jaw clenched, but he nodded for him to follow you. He looked around the garage. “Anybody else?”

Everybody stayed still, still not lifting their gazes. You didn’t expect anybody to follow you if they were given this ultimatum. Of course they’d choose their friends over you who was the newcomer of the group. You’d never been particularly close with anybody before this anyway. Sure, some of them were fonder of you than others but their bond with you was nothing compared to theirs’ with Junmyeon.

“C’mon,” Sehun’s voice was a whisper as he put a hand on your back and led you away from the garage for the last time.

Things stayed tense after you had left, nobody saying anything. But then Jongdae suddenly stood. He approached Junmyeon who looked at him with a hint of shock. Nobody expected Jongdae to be the first to go against Suho.

“I have to do this for Miju,” he stated, his voice soft. “I’m sorry.”

It was clear that Junmyeon didn’t want to kick Jongdae out, but he had to. So he nodded his head toward the exit, silently telling him to leave.

Next was Minseok who didn’t even know about any of this until today when Junmyeon interrogated them all about it before you showed up -- which was why everyone looked so on-edge. Like Jongdae, Minseok had kids -- a little older than Miju -- who he also looked after. But he knew where you were coming from since his wife was killed, too.

“I’d avenge her if I had the chance,” was all he said as he walked passed Junmyeon and followed after Jongdae.

Then Chanyeol and Baekhyun. Then Kyungsoo. And finally, Jongin got up at the last minute as the group began walking away, saying a quiet “sorry, hyung” and giving him an apologetic look as he jogged to catch up.

That left Yixing and Junmyeon alone in the garage, watching your retreating forms. Part of Junmyeon felt betrayed and angry, but another part of him wasn’t surprised at all.

“So,” Yixing began, walking over to stand beside Junmyeon, “what do you want to do now?”

It had been years since your parents kicked you out, and you were basically numb when it came to thinking about your family. You’d disassociate from all feeling and emotion when you thought of them, opting to just say ‘fuck ‘em’ instead of feeling sorry for yourself. You didn’t want to hurt over people who didn’t want you around. You didn’t want to feel anything toward them.

There were some times, though very rare, where you couldn’t help but get teary-eyed when you thought about them. You were alone. You had nobody. No family to lean on when you were hurt or lost. No father to tell you he’d always protect his little girl from anything bad. No mother to hug you and promise you never ending love. No siblings to fight for you when you couldn’t fight for yourself. It was sad, really -- and sometimes, that really sunk in to the point where you couldn’t help but cry about it.

That’s how Saehyuk found you. It was after you had fallen for him, but you were still afraid he would leave you. He was sleeping beside you when you’d restlessly gotten up in the middle of the night after a dream about your family, and you had wandered into the living room so you wouldn’t wake him You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander along the walls as you sat on the couch, looking at the few pictures the twins kept of their family before they left. They seemed to love the twins so much -- at least before they left. Why didn’t your family ever love you like that?

“_____...?” Saehyuk’s voice was groggy and raspy as he heard you soft sniffles when he went to go look for you after he’d woken up feeling the bed empty beside him. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s stupid,” you mumbled, quickly wiping the moisture from under your eyes and your cheeks.

“It’s not stupid, love,” he promised as he sat down beside you, putting one arm on the back of the couch behind you so you knew he was willing to physically comfort you, but he would keep his hands to himself for now because he wasn’t sure if that would help.”What’s got you so upset?”

You let out a loud sigh that almost passed as a groan as you flopped over sideways into your boyfriend’s chest. He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you and looking down at you, waiting for you to speak.

“I just wish my family cared about me, but they don’t and they haven’t for a long time so I don’t know why I’m so fucking sad about it,” you said, rushing the words out because you didn’t want to admit that you missed your family.

Saehyuk understood, though. He didn’t have his family, either. He decided to stick by Sehun, who his family disowned, so he was disowned by association. He wished his family would’ve stuck by Sehun and him, but they didn’t. It didn’t mean he couldn’t want what he wished he could have. He assumed that’s probably what you were actually upset about -- you didn’t have a family that cared.

“It’s okay to be upset about them even if they treated you poorly, baby,” he told you, one of his hands moving up and down your arm in a soothing manner. “You just want a family that would stick by you and care for you and love you. That’s normal.”

“I shouldn’t want it! I never needed that,” you huffed. You being vulnerable in front of somebody -- even if it was just Saehyuk -- was making you grumpy.

“Everybody needs that, no matter how tough they are -- and you’re probably the toughest person I know.”

You sat up to look back at him, “’Probably’?”

Saehyuk chuckled, gently guiding you to lay your head back on his chest again, “My point is, you have a family like that. They may not be the family you were born into, but they’re your real family.”

“Isn’t my family that raised me my real family?”

“No -- your real family loves you and cares about you no matter what. They look out for you, and they’ll never leave you,” Saehyuk explained. “And I know of plenty of people who are apart of your real family.”

“Really?”

“Of course. There’s Yixing, Junmyeon, Jongin, Chanyeol -- all the guys. And you’ll always have me and Sehun.”

You tilted your head back to look up at him, seeing that he was already looking fondly down at you. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the center of your forehead.

“I love you, _____. I’ll always be by your side.”

“I love you, too.”

You didn’t care if Junmyeon kicked you out. You didn’t care if you wouldn’t have anybody’s help. You and Sehun would do this, and if you died trying, then at least you’d die together, right?

“Are you okay?” Sehun asked after you’d slammed the door closed and stalked into the living room.

“You should’ve stayed!” you whined, turning to face him. “You’d be safer with them -- you belong with them!”

“No, I belong wherever you are,” he stated, placing his hands on your shoulders and looking deeply into your eyes. “I’m not going to let you be alone, okay? So get over this so we can figure out what to do next. It’ll be harder figuring it out, so we need all the time we can--”

A loud bang on the door had Sehun stopping mid-sentence. He turned his head to look back toward the hallway, straightening up.

More banging.

“Yah, we know you’re in there!” Baekhyun’s loud voice called. “Open the door!”

You and Sehun exchanged confused glances before he walked back to the door with you trailing behind him. He opened the door, his eyebrows raising when he saw six men standing before him. Even your eyes went wide, your jaw dropping.

Had they all left for you -- no, for Saehyuk?

“So, what’s the plan?” Baekhyun asked casually as he pushed passed Sehun and into the house, the rest following after him.

“Wh-what...?” was all he asked.

“Your little plan to avenge Saehyukie,” Minseok clarified, looking at you with a warm smile. “What is it? We have to be prepared.”

You looked at the men that filed into the hallway, blinking as you tried to wrap your head around this, “You-- ...All of you left Junmyeon?”

They nodded.

“I felt bad leaving but Saehyuk meant a lot to all of us, too,” Jongin admitted.

“And we understand why you want to get back at Kris,” Minseok added.

“It’s unfair that Kris gets away with it without consequences,” Chanyeol continued, his lopsided grin still on his face even in this kind of situation, “so it’s only right that we do something about it.”

“So, where do we start?” Kyungsoo wondered, looking between you and Sehun.

Both you and Sehun were at a loss for words. You didn’t expect anybody to leave with you, let alone be so dead set on putting their lives in danger just because you and Sehun wanted to get justice for Saehyuk.

Instead of replying, Sehun bowed deeply to his friends, so you did the same.

“We can’t thank you enough for this,” Sehun said once he’d straightened up, looking each man in the eyes. “Seriously, this means a lot to both of us.”

You nodded in agreement, unsure of how to express your gratitude. Therefore, you’d let Sehun do it for you -- they understood how you were, anyway.

“Enough being sappy,” Baekhyun laughed. “Let’s get started.”

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barnesnmrnoble · 5 years ago

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Lilacs

(Picture is mine.)

Main Masterlist - Clint Barton Masterlist

The soft purple of the lilacs contrasted nicely against the dark colors of his casket. He always did love the smell of lilacs, they reminded him of her.

Word Count: 4655

Warnings: angst, fluff, character death, description of injuries

A/n: I’m throwing y’all into the deep end and starting this with some angst, so have fun! Anyways, I hope you all enjoy! If you do, leave a like and a reblog or comment! I’d love to hear what you think and honestly I need the validation.

Read on AO3!

The soft purple of the lilacs contrasted nicely against the dark colors of his casket. He always did love the smell of lilacs, reminded him of her, of the perfume she always wore.

The sounds of her heels clicking against the floor were muted by the carpet on the aisle way, but it did little to mute her heart wrenching sobs.

She missed him.

She dropped to her knees once she stood before the wooden casket and gently wiped her tears away. She missed feeling the callouses on the pads of his fingers as the swiped at her tears. She missed the sweet words he whispered to ease what burdens she was carrying. “It’s alright, sugar. I’m here, okay?”

She missed the raspiness of his voice in the mornings when he rolled to tell her good morning and assaulted her nose with his terrible morning breath. She missed how the bad things and the silly things and even the scary things made her smile because it was him that did it.

She missed him.

She was angry at the world. At the fact that she couldn’t hold his face between her hands anymore, that she couldn’t touch him and feel his skin, his heartbeat, the steady rise and fall of his chest as they fell asleep together, a tangled mess of limbs beneath the sheets of their bed. She was angry at the fact that she couldn’t see him anymore, couldn’t open the casket to say goodbye to his face because they’d never found his body.

She was angry at the world.

She remembered the day her world caved in, crushed her until she couldn’t breath, then left her alone. She remembers it like it was yesterday, even if it had been a year ago.

She heard the nearly silent swish from behind her and let the fletching glide past her ear, resisting the urge to shiver at its touch. An unmatched show of trust that he would never miss, and that no matter where she was she would know he had her back. Once the arrow had lodged itself in the chest of a measly enemy soldier, she turned her head to her left and gave a mischievous wink for him. She heard his deep chuckle through the comms and behind it was the sound of his arrowheads rotating and switching. She loved that sound.

She didn’t love the sounds of him struggling, a rustling through the comms as he tried to fight against the restraints of agents taking him away. She didn’t love the muffled shouts to reach his team, or the clanging of his quiver being thrown to floor. Her feet took off at a dead sprint, following the path they’d taken with him. She slammed through doors, emptying her clip into any agent that came into her vision. But tunnel vision affected everyone, including highly trained avengers, and she missed a few in her peripherals, a mistake that would cost her everything.

She felt her skin tear underneath the sharp blade of a knife, it stung but it was just across her shoulder so she soldiered on. But the bullet that lodged itself into her thigh stopped her for good. She watched in horror as she was stuck in place, watching him be taken away, following his scared eyes as they rounded a corner and she lost him.

She screamed his name, screamed for the team, and screamed in pain. She screamed until her throat was worn and she could barely make the sounds of sobs. When heavy feet clattered up behind her, she screamed for them to find him, told them where they’d taken him. They left in a flurry, shouting orders that didn’t reach her ears.

She hissed in pain when strong fingers pressed down onto the hole in her leg, soaking up the blood with a cloth she didn’t know the origin of. They grabbed her arm, settling it around their waist and holding her weight so she could walk.

She could hear the furious shouting of her teammates as the slammed against whatever barrier was between them and saving him. But his voice broke out above everything else. “Sweetheart, I love you.”

Bang.

One shot, one life taken. Her sobs turned into painful wails, cries that it couldn’t be happening, cries of his name because it wasn’t real. It was just a dream, right?

She doesn’t think she’s stopped crying since that day. She cries when she sees the arrows Steve had collected from the hallway where they’d thrown them. One sits in a shadow box frame on the mantle above her fireplace, his favorite place to sit with her in his arms, where’d he relish in the fact that even in his crazy life he had a girl that made him less crazy. It was his favorite arrow in the frame, one he never wanted to use but always had on him. The arrow tip a bright and shining silver, and the fletching a muted purple, like the lilacs.

But still, she had a job to do. So everyday, no matter the pain she rolled from her bed and got to work. She made herself breakfast, letting her hands move in the routine they always did, each movement was a chore, but her body did it anyways. She skipped past the coffee pot, hadn’t been able to touch the drink since he’d died. She tried once, hoping that it would be a moment in her day in memory of him and his absolute love and need for his coffee but she just ended up sick knowing it only reminded her of him and what had happened that day. She never tried again.

She mindlessly walked to the training area, wrapped her hands and punched against the bag until she had nothing left in her and all but collapsed to the ground in a fit of tears. She’d let her tears flow freely until there was nothing left and her legs fell asleep, pins and needles raging all the way up to her knees. Then she’d cut away the wrapping on her hands, sweat drenched and withering away with the moisture. She’d walk back to her room, and let the scalding hot water of her shower wash away what it could of her pain. It wasn’t much.

The rest of the day would be spent doing her paperwork, and filing reports that needed to be done. Busywork until the next mission, until she disassociated from the pain and focused it on those who deserved it, those who made the world such a shitty place, those that made her world bleak. Today wasn’t much different from everyday. The Irish lilt of Friday’s voice sounded through her room, mission briefing in 10 minutes, suit up.

She swings low at the man attacking her, swipes his feet out from underneath him and jams her knife behind his kneecap. It hurts like a bitch she knows, and the man’s howl of pain confirms she did it well. She’d realized a few missions ago that killing them didn’t relieve the ache in her chest or fill the whole in her heart but making them suffer like they had made her do, letting them curl into themselves from the pain of her strikes washed away her pain more than any shower ever did.

Another wave of them are heading towards her, it’s probably more than she can handle by herself but she doesn’t care, she still wants them to feel the pain. She’s taking care of one of them, almost has him to the ground and misses the one coming at her from behind. She delivers a final slam of her fist to the jaw of the soldier in front and he drops like a sack of potatoes but she doesn’t miss the sounds of the one behind her dropping to the floor as well, groaning and writhing in pain. The glint of a metal arm slides into view and he smiles, tells her he has her back and to give ‘em hell.

She gives a half hearted smile and surges forward. She grasps the handle of a knife holstered at her back, and in one fluid motion sends it flying down the hallway to root itself in the soft spot between armour plates of an incoming. She runs past door after door of housing cells, most of them empty but a few house victims, all of them curled away from the noise and the terror outside their thick metal doors. She knows she should go back to them, help them escape but she has to finish clearing the way , ridding the halls of the soldiers that keep them here.

When the wave starts to clear, and her selection of weapons has started to thin out, her feet skid to a halt at the end of the hallway and her eyes widen at what she sees. She turns back to see the hall clear and Bucky making her way towards her but she waves him off tells him to get the civilians out because down the next hallway is the blinking timer of the soldier’s back up plan.

She has no idea how to disarm a bomb, doesn’t even pretend to try and knows Bucky isn’t exactly proficient at it either. It’s best to just clear out before the timer finishes it's daunting countdown. She yells into her earpiece for everyone to get out, they comply. She struggles with the locks, the complex tech needs fingerprints and pass codes and she isn’t a hacker. Bucky isn’t faring any better, hacking new age tech still isn’t something he is good at, they only have a minute and a half left and it takes them a minute at least to find their way out of the building’s maze.

And so they make the hardest decision they’ve ever faced.

Their teammates are yelling at them, screaming for them to get out before it’s too late but they keep saying there are civilians, if they could just get past these locks. But they can’t, they know they can’t and that timer is beeping ridiculously fast now, and they run. She can feel her stomach churning with the thought of leaving innocent lives behind to waste away in the heat of fire and pain but there isn’t anything she can do.

They swing open the last door when the timer finishes. They feel fire lick at their heels, and can barely stay on their feet with the rumbling beneath them. It eventually wins, leaving them on the ground and pieces of debris falling around them. They protect their heads and vital organs, let out a grunt when a decently sized piece of concrete covers the both of them. But it’s lifted quickly after, familiar hands reaching out to help them up from the ground, and she stands up, only to bend over and dry heave. Her stomach is still churning from leaving them behind, and they assure her that they can go back and scan for civilians. She just hopes they survived.

Tony has his suit scanning over the debris for weak spots, also scanning for heartbeats or any sign of life beneath the smoldering rubble. Her and Bucky are stuck on the jet getting checked over, they are both fine, other than being perturbed they can’t go out and help. It was their mess anyways. From what she can hear, Tony says he has only found one or two heat signatures, both lifeless beneath the rubble. It makes her heart clench, she knows if she just had more time she could’ve saved them, but she chose to run away. She was a coward and-- Bucky’s hand lands on her knee, bobbing up and down from her anxiety. He tells her there was nothing more they could do, and she can’t get to beat up about it. She doesn’t believe him.

“Steve! I’ve got a heartbeat!”

Her head shoots up fast enough to pop spots in her neck and give her spots in her vision. Maybe she wasn’t all fine. She watches Steve gracefully leap over piles of debris, narrowly avoiding the rebar that sticks out. They work in tandem to remove the concrete piled on top of the body. It takes a minute or two, there had been so much on top of the body, she was surprised they were still alive. She works herself up into a frenzy, her breath is erratic and her heart is pounding. Bucky is beside her trying to calm her down before she can make herself pass out, but it doesn’t work and her head lulls to the side, her eyes closed.He sets her down onto the bench they were sitting on, placing a parachute pack beneath her head before rushing out of the door.

At least she is calmer now.

Bucky’s feet mold to the odd shapes of broken concrete as he runs across it, Steve is calling for him, needing another set of arms to help pull the last piece of debris off the body. He nearly trips several times but manages to keep himself upright, and lands softly on the ground beside the team. His chest tightens when he can just make out what looks to be a leg stretching out from beneath, it’s almost so tight he can’t breathe. It takes the entire team to finally get the piece moved and the smaller pieces cleared away, but when they finally do, they freeze.

“Oh god.”

Steve is the first one to release his breath, but his shoulders are slumped, and heavy like he is carrying the ton of bricks that he was just hit with on his back. The disbelief in the air is palpable, so much so Bucky is sure its wrapping around everyone and squeezing the life out of them. It’s hard to move but they do it anyways, they need to do it.

Tony’s shaken voice cracks over the comms and calls for Bruce, he isn’t sure the best course of action now. His brain is short circuiting, its something he has only done a few times in his life, but he thinks this might be the worst. His heart is at his feet and his stomach is inching up his throat, and his feet are glued to the ground. It helps everyone once Bruce makes it out to them, he is barking orders and giving tasks. It helps break them from their haze, pulls their mind away from what is going on and gives them tangible tasks to do and to make them feel helpful. Steve and Nat run back to the jet to grab the backboard and other medical supplies, Bucky, Sam, and Thor are working on clearing out more concrete giving Bruce more space to work. And Tony drops down to his knees assisting Bruce in checking for unseen injuries, it takes him a few more prompts from Bruce before his fully back to himself, piecing together new ideas and finding the most efficient ways to get this done.

They all feel the guilt as Tony and Bruce carefully rolled the body over and confirmed what they already knew. His clothes are tattered and worn, it’s hard to tell what was from the building collapse and what was from whatever had happened to him before. Beyond that, his skin is marred, dry and cracked in some places, black and blue and purple bruises in others. He has a dark shiner underneath one of his eyes and a gash across an eyebrow, it’s mostly consistent with the situation and for him it’s relatively unscathed, he’s had much worse.

But when Tony reaches his legs, he nearly loses his lunch-- not that he ate anything more than a quick snack on his way back to the lab, but the metaphor stands. It surprises him a bit, that it made him react so strongly, he has seen much worse. Maybe it’s because seeing a four inch piece of rebar sticking out of your friend’s and teammates leg is a bit different than seeing it in the leg of an enemy.

Steve and Nat come thudding back over, the long backboard is thrust at Bruce and he calls for Steve to hand him the c collar as well. Nat is tossing Tony the bandages for his leg, he can hear Bruce saying they won’t be able to remove the metal bar until they get back to the compound so he needs to wrap it, keep it steady so no further damage is caused. He does, he can’t say it was the best bandage job he’d ever done, but it’ll function as it needs to.

They almost have him ready, Bruce just needs to bandage one more cut he hadn’t seen earlier and then they can take him to the jet but he’d run out of bandaging supplies and sends Nat back for more. She turns on quick feet but is nearly tackled by another body. She’d woken up, barely able to sit long enough for her vision to clear before she raced out of the jet, needing to feel helpful after what she’d done. Bucky extends his arm out and picks her up by the waist and spinning her around gracefully until her face is pressed into his chest and she can’t see what’s happening.

He is afraid of how far down the hole she’ll fall if she knew the love of her life had been in the building when it exploded. He doesn’t want to test the theory either.

She shoves against him trying to pull away, she needs to feel helpful, she needs to know she wasn’t a complete failure. But each time she shoves against the broad expanse of his chest he holds her tighter, he is so afraid of what she’ll feel. She continues her relentless shoving for a few moments longer before realizing Bucky isn’t going to let her go anytime soon. He relaxes his grip a little once she finally relents, but he should’ve known better than to ever let his guard down, he’s sure he’ll never learn. Her knee meets his groin in a quick movement he had no time to even react to and he falls unceremoniously to the ground. He’d get her back for that one day in the sparring ring.

When she sees what his embrace had been hiding her from, she wishes she’d never left. She’s positive that even after all the fighting and how hard her heart had been pounding before, its stopped all together now. She’s gone completely numb, lets the constricting of her chest take over and her legs give out beneath her. Bucky catches her before she falls and hurts herself, she doesn’t need any physical pain to amount on top of the devastating emotional pain she feels now. He’s got his arm back around her waist, pulling her back to his chest. She latches onto his arm, digging her nails into his skin but he doesn’t dare try and break her grip, no matter if it’s starting to break the skin. He knows, he knows that feeling and needing to have someone ground you to the present. And so he lets her dig her nails into his skin, and he holds her weight, keeps her close to his body to provide a comfort he knew she needed.

“Clint!” She wails out his name, and Bucky remembers the last time he heard her cry like this. It had been the day they lost Clint, the day she listened to him die, at least supposedly. He hated how broken she sounded then and now, he could only imagine what she was feeling and the agony of seeing the love of your life alive and in front of you when you thought for so long they were gone but not knowing how long it would stay that way. She buries her head back into his chest when they finally pick him up and get him to the jet.

She’d spend the entirety of the flight home sitting next to the bench in the middle where he was lying, combing her hands through his hair until it was no longer matted from his blood and soot. Nobody dared trying to part her away from his side, Bruce and Tony worked around her as best they could, and Bucky came over periodically to lay a hand on her shoulder and reassure her things would be okay. She’d always lean into his touch for a moment before returning her attention to Clint, brushing through his hair or taking the wet cloth Bucky had given her at one point to wipe away some of the blood on his face. He knew it wasn’t much, but it’d make her feel less useless.

When they landed, she grabbed onto his hand, burying the pain she felt at its limp, almost lifeless state, and walked with them step for step down to medical. She didn’t part from him when they did the checks, nor when they pulled the nasty piece of rebar from his thigh, or when they stitched him up. She wasn’t going to leave him, never again. She had already lost so much time with him, she wasn’t about to waste another moment. Steve and Bucky both came down a few times, handing her plates of food, and a couple times handing her fresh clothes and supplies to take a shower.

She berates herself when he wakes up and she isn’t there, she is the damn shower after Bucky ordered her to take a break and let the hot water help work out the kinks in her neck. She comes out of the bathroom absentmindedly toweling off her hair to get the last of the drops before they drop onto her shirt, and she hears his chuckle. It’s raspy, from deep in his chest, and it’s a sound she hasn’t heard in a year. It makes her heart skip a few beats and her breath catch, because she can finally tell herself he is alive, that its real and it isn’t a dream.

He is signing with Bucky, both smiling and laughing. He looks so happy, she wishes she could capture this moment and relieve it over and over again. She missed his thousand watt smile, his touch and-- she misses his touch and she realizes how silly it is that she hasn’t made a move to feel his touch. He doesn’t hear her as she approaches, she didn’t expect him to, he doesn’t have his hearing aids in. Everything in him softens when her thumb glides across his jaw, and he sees her for the first time in a year, a long long year. He doesn’t waste any time pulling her down to him and crashing her lips against his. It electric, perfect harmony are so long hearing only the discordant cacophony. She can’t help the smile that spreads across her lips, parting from him to rest her forehead against his. He can feel the cool mixture of both their tears on his cheeks and he can’t believe it’s real, and so he reassures himself, planting chaste kisses on every available inch of her face. Her lips, her forehead, her closed eyelids, the tears that trail down her cheeks, her nose, every part of her until they are both laughing watery laughs.

She questions it for a moment, lets her brain fall into a loop of overthinking and its bad she knows but she can’t help it, nor can she help the words that slip past her lips before she can tell herself the answer. “You’re alive? You’re real? Not just some cruel dream?” He decides words or signs are going to convey what he needs them to convey and so he relies on his actions. He grabs a hold of one of her hands, bringing it to her chest where she can feel his heart beating away, despite the beeping of the monitor next to him. He spends the moment watching her, memorizing her eyes and her smile, like it’s the first time all over again.

And then, he is trying sit up and she is trying to get him to stay down and rest but his is relentless, signing at her that he is fine and he just needs to sit up for a moment. She knows how stubborn he can get and knows she won’t win this fight so she backs away. He motions at Bucky --who she hadn’t even realized was still in the room, and he reaches into his back pocket and fishes for something, eventually pulling out a pair of Clint’s hearing aids and hands them to him. They have a silent conversation between them and then Bucky’s hand is the small of her back and he leads her away from the bed a bit.

Behind her, Clint is trying to get out of the bed and struggling and she is worried about him but Bucky is doing everything he can to keep her attention on him. He finally gets her attention and works fast because if Clint wasn’t bed ridden, oh he’d be dead. She gasps loudly when Bucky pulls a small black box from his other back pocket and bends down to one knee, revealing a beautiful ring. She gapes at him, and turns to Clint, who looks outright furious at Bucky.

She barely registers what’s happening before something shiny and metal is flying past her face. And she watches in horror as the bedpan from the cabinet is slamming into the side of Bucky’s head. He falls to the ground, laughing his heart out, rubbing his head and she still has no idea what’s going on. But he stands eventually, and levels a glare at Clint who only smirks. He is proud of what he did.

But then as quickly as it happened, the two of them act like nothing happened. Bucky grabs Clint’s arm and supports his weight as he tries to stand. She freaks out a little, her heart jumping around when he winces and stumbles, it’s still to early for him to be putting weight on that leg but damn it, he is going to do it. She is so paranoid about him hurting himself, and in her mind she lets herself slide so far to think she is going to lose him again and she should wrap him in bubble wrap and keep him away from the dangers of the world--

And then she comes back to reality, and time stops for a minute.

He managed to get down to one knee, he’s smiling like the cat that got the canary. He’s chuckling waiting ever so patiently for her to come back to him and his grin widens when she does. He reaches behind him and Bucky gives him the ring box and she only thinks it a bit weird that he is still here, but she doesn't care. She listens to every word that comes from his mouth, and it’s immediately tattooed on her heart.

“There is a lot in this life I could’ve regretted, and I did for a while. But I don’t think I understood what a regret was until I thought I lost the chance to ask you to become my forever. I’ve never regretted anything more than that and I don’t want to waste another minute of you not being my fiance, my wife. So, will you do me that honor? Will you become my wife, my forever?”

Her eyes were glossy, happy tears begging to be let past the barrier. She smiled brightly at him and couldn’t begin to fathom the emotions raging inside her, but the one she could pinpoint above the rest was the feeling of relief, that the world had righted itself again and she was going to spend her forever with him.

“Yes.”

#clint barton #clint barton x reader #clint barton x you #clint x reader #clint x you #angst #fluff #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #Lilacs

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hide-the-cutlery · 5 years ago

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It’s one of those stupid nights where I keep checking my phone, just hoping to see something from someone.

I’m lonely. The kind of lonely that digs at your insides.

I had a really vivid dream about my ex last night. I was in a car with I think (?) his actual girlfriend/fiancée/wife, and his mom was there, talking to us. She was talking about him finishing his high school diploma (he graduated irl, with me, actually, but I didn’t know him at the time...) and then start college. And, as it always is in these dreams, he’s not with me, and I’m trying to get him to talk or listen to me, because I’m desperately telling him he’s with the wrong girl... that it’s me, not her (whoever she might be).

In this dream, I spoke to her. I asked if they’d ever broken up, and she said yes. I asked why, and she said because of some other woman, and I asked “Nicole?” And she said yes! I laughed. A big, ugly, fake, “I knew it!”, sucks for you, laugh. I don’t remember what really happened after that. I did have sleep paralysis in either that dream or another one later in the afternoon. I slept a lot today. Sleep paralysis is terrifying. I kept trying to move and thinking I did move, only to realize I was actually still frozen. I even tried to yell for someone to come wake me, but I think only a nonsense muffle came out, if anything. The strange part was I trying to get my vibrator (which hasn’t seen any action in like 2+ years) and a toy I don’t even have anymore. Finally, I woke up. I tend to have sleep paralysis when I take naps. And sexual dreams. Fun fact: I have orgasms in my sleep. And believe me, they’re very real. I guess I at least get some tension out that way, because I don’t even try anymore. To touch on an entry I think I started yesterday, the last time I actually enjoyed sex (besides when I was with a woman) was my ex, who shares a name with one of my celebrity crushes. He’s most known for playing a certain “villain” in a very popular space saga, but he is a phenomenal actor in everything I’ve seen from him. (It’s Adam Driver ��)

Anyways, (my) Adam was special, but I was too deep in my disease to see it. Well, I did see it, I just didn’t know what to do with it. He was on pills, and I was drinking heavily. We both were. I used to be floored with how fast he’d go through bottles of Percocet and Soma, along with alcohol, when now I go through my meds just as fast. He loved nature and was a very emotional person. I’ve never seen a guy cry so much, but it was okay. I liked how vulnerable and open he could be. When I was sad, he’d play his guitar and sing to me. I miss that — a lot. He wanted to go off and live in a commune, and I wanted to be a doctor with a nice house with a “white picket fence”, all that. We both couldn’t see the merit in each other’s visions. I’d take off with him to a commune right now if I could. I think of messaging him all the time, but I’m too shy. I check every so often to see if he’s still on my Facebook. (He is.) Funny I worry about interacting with someone I once shared such an intimate bond with.

I got into it with my family again. I tried to have a conversation with them regarding how difficult it will be to get a job with all that’s going on. It was supposed to be just a neutral thing, but it blew up, like always. They don’t understand how my poor mental health is impairing my general functioning. I don’t understand why my mental health is impairing me so much. I don’t know what’s going on with me, but I’m getting tired of it. I need more help than I’m getting. I tried to get more help than I’m getting, and it didn’t work out. It was no fault of my own.. last year I was supposed to spend a few weeks in an inpatient facility, and I got accepted, but my insurance wouldn’t cover it because I hadn’t been hospitalized recently enough. I could get myself hospitalized, easily, but I feel like that’s a bad idea and I should avoid that. But I wouldn’t have to tell a single lie to get baker acted.

Q: Do you think about hurting yourself or other people?

-I did last week.

Q: Do you think about suicide?

-Constantly.

Q: Do you want to kill yourself?

-I don’t know. I’m just so tired. Things aren’t working out in this life, and since I got sober, I can’t think of a single thing that makes this miserable existence worth it (besides my cats, and their lives aren’t good because I can’t give them something better). Maybe what comes after this is better. I like to think our spirits are working their way through the Universe. Sometimes I’m ready to just say “okay, this one (existence) sucks — NEXT.”

Who knows — maybe something good would come of it. I met Adam in a hospital, in the psych ward, after we’d both been baker acted. They gave me Remeron to sleep, and it made my legs give out. I crawled out of my room to get a nurse, and he was sitting in a red, comfy chair outside my doorway. He helped me get off the floor and got me a nurse. He waited with me while me and the nurses waited to hear back from the on-call doctor. We were both really drugged, and he talked to me about books. I think he was telling me he was really into Lewis Carroll. I’d read Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland at least, so I didn’t look that stupid. He would get the vegetarian meals (I can’t recall if I did, too), and we’d make fun of them. I remember when I got discharged and my dad came to get me, we were leaving, and I saw him on my way out. He had elected to stay a few days extra, but we hugged and swapped numbers. About a month later, I sent him a text, and within a few weeks, we hung out a few times, and had one crazy night together that I don’t think either of us expected, but we definitely wanted it. Then we got separated for a while, but stayed in contact — phone calls and letters. I loved his letters. He’d adorn them with lyrics and doodles, just like I do. I kept them all. What a sweet guy. God, I’m so tempted right now. Just to say “hi there, I wonder how you’re doing (a lot? Frequently? From time to time? Occasionally?), and I hope it’s well.” Why can’t I just say that? Ugh, I’m such a pussy.

Anyway, my parents and I fought again. My dad did acknowledge that I have health problems, but I know he thinks I’m making too much of them or is in complete denial. My mother just doesn’t get it. She twists my words and tries to make me sound nasty, condescending, lazy, etc... I asked my dad how old I was when they realized I wasn’t “right”, and he kinda dodged the question, saying he never really thought I wasn’t “right”. I’ve been talking to a friend a lot lately, one of the only people who understands me. She seems to think I might be a survivor of childhood (sexual?) abuse, because she is herself, and says comparing my behavior and demeanor to hers and other abuse survivors, I just scream TRAUMA. I brushed it off at first, but I’m realizing some things, like my lack of memories as a child and the fear I felt as a child that I still carry with me today. I guess there’s more, like the way I respond to people, my anxiety, “The Third” part of me, how I disassociate at times, my rampant addictions... the list goes on. Maybe she’s on to something, or maybe she’s planting falsities in my already crooked mind. I do know she’s brought me to a very unique state two or three times now, where it’s like I’m having terrifying epiphanies. Why can’t my therapists work that hard at cracking me?

I don’t think I’ve written about “The Third” yet — not by name at least. The Third is the part of me that separates itself from the rest of me (I imagine it to hover over my right shoulder) that talks to me in stressful situations. It’s typically always criticism of my behavior or accusing me of lying. “Shut up! You know that’s not true! They don’t care! You sound stupid! Why the fuck did you say that?! You’re an idiot! Tell the truth! Tell the fucking truth!” At first he didn’t have a name, but I guess he and I came up with “The Third” together, because people are typically two things: mind and body. This is a third extension of me. Maybe everyone has a part of them hovering over them, smashing their nose in the dirt, or maybe not. I tried to tell my psychiatrist about him, but he was pretty dismissive. He did, however, change up all my meds again. He put me on something he said he’s seen work well for people who are having mixed episodes of bipolar disorder. I’ve never been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, although my last therapist (who told me I had BPD) said she “wasn’t sure” I didn’t have it. I don’t think I have it. I’ve had some manic spells, for sure, and I guess I do have depression, even though I don’t like to admit it. For some reason, I’m not okay with the thought of just having depression. I feel like my symptoms are too much for just having MDD. I’ve been on practically every SSRI on the market, and I just don’t respond to them. He’s dropped the phrase “treatment-resistant depression”, but I think it’s more likely that I’m being misdiagnosed. My big problems are my bizarre thinking, anxiety, and panic attacks, not depression. The things that make me sad are situational. I know situational depression can turn into clinical depression quickly, but I still don’t consider it what I most importantly need help with.

In other news, we acquired Tom Brady, and Biden won FL. For shame.

#Personal #Mental Health #Exes #Dreams #Memories #Hospital #Trauma

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endofthis-ones-story · 4 years ago

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Heartbroken.

My Meema is gone.

She took her last, labored breath this morning after the hospice nurse recommended we give her more comfort meds and take off the oxygen since we were simply prolonging her life. Pumping oxygen into her made her brain continue to send signals about breathing...keep going. But she was in so much pain and was so tired. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to try and talk. And it pissed her off--that’s my grandma, pissed off she can’t do it herself.

My grandparents were the only family members who took me at my word about my abuse at the hands of my mother, my Meema’s daughter. My mother is a narcissist who emotionally abused me and used me as a tool for her own mental health at the expense of mine. I only told my Bapa the whole truth last Wednesday, when he asked me if I could forget my problems with my mother. After I told him, he said “Forget what I just said. You stay strong and you are welcome with us always.” He continued to make meaningful eye contact whenever I left and he would say “See you later” and like... staring at me, to say “I WILL. SEE. YOU. You can SEE ME. Whenever you WANT.” As I left on Friday, I warned him that there were no Double-Whammies allowed--he cannot die of Heartbreak Syndrome on me. He promised he wouldn’t.

Yesterday, my Meema had a bad night and a rough morning, so my mom called us all to the apartment again, and we hovered for most of the day. I had gotten a hotel room in the city close by so that I wouldn’t be 45 minutes away on the other side of the Twin Cities, and I’m really glad I did. I was there in 5 minutes, and we all buzzed around. My Meema apparently whispered to my mom “Talk to Christina!” --meaning, fix what you did. Because on Wednesday, she was lucid enough for Bapa to convey to her what I said. My mom came back into the kitchen and said “ She just told me to ‘talk to Christina’ so, Hi, there talked to you!” and my little sister rolled her eyes and whispered to her “No, mom I think she means...” and my mom shushed her. Because in my mom’s mind, I’m the one who has a problem with them--I’ve “invented” a problem and I don’t think that they love me? Which is...so far away from the point.

Anyways, I checked in this morning and my dad said “nothing happening” then 3 minutes later, “Mom just called, it’s happening- go!” so I rushed over. I was 2 minutes too late. I was in the parking lot when my mom called me on my Meema’s phone and said: “She just passed.” I got inside and hugged my uncle and his wife, who has been amazing and waited for the mortuary to arrive. We all stood around as the two very kind men gently moved her off her hospice bed onto the gurney. My brain--which has completely derailed at this point, I’m sorry if this isn’t coherent reader--whispered, “Whell, watching all those true crime documentaries sure came in handy. You can look at your Meema’s dead body being moved in a shroud and not throw up.”

I disassociated after that for a while. The hospice nurse even reached out and touched my shoulder and asked if I was okay. I’d just stare into space...it was over. Her fight was over...I wouldn’t get to talk to her anymore. I wouldn’t get to hear “oh SHIT!” and her coughing laughs anymore. I wouldn’t hear “Christina MAE!” from her when she was exasperated with me, or I was being a sass. My Meema always knew when the fight was done. She’d win it on her terms and she’d be willing to wait it out. She was more stubborn than a mule- the mule would lose the bet.

At 3 pm I finally left. I wasn’t doing anything but listen to my brother Nick’s “glory stories” and how he was so amazing. My mother told me she really respected how I was here even though it was hard for me to be around them. And the truth is, it wasn’t hard to be around them. In fact, it was stupidly easy, because I just dismissed anything she said as a fake facade. My siblings lean on each other for support, and I’m glad they have that-- I don’t need to try and horn in on it. So I left and called my circle and asked them if they could help me---and they are amazing and generous and wholesome and are going to help me detox from the fake.

My Meema hated conflict. Any conflict--she grew up around a drunk, she accidentally married a drunk (and left him when he refused to change) and didn’t accept fighting as an acceptable way to end disputes. Talk it out, be a grown-up. Which is why I didn’t tell her the truth in the first place--I didn’t want to stress her out, because I knew she’d believe me. But I told her a little bit- I told her when my mom tried to blackmail me with her access to my accounts. She said “close those immediately- any way you have to. Or empty them. Open one at a credit union where she can’t see it. That’s wrong.” And that’s how I started to get away from the financial abuse that my mother had over me. My Meema.

Every time I stand up for myself, she will be with me, saying “well just kick him in the shins and be done!” Every time I roll my eyes and walk away from someone yelling at me, she will be there going “Fuck off loser!” My Meema was a fighter, and she instilled that in me.

Thank you Meema. I love you lots ‘o lots.

#personal #part of christina's story #the text #personal heartbreak #family death #tw: death #tw: narcisistic abuse

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