#delayed decoding

[fangedsatyr]

had a good day at work yesterday so tht ofc meant i had to have a bad day at work today

[celtalks]

The Odyssey of Menon's Masterpiece: Decoding the Delay of Vikram's "Dhruva Natchathiram"

The Unending Wait for Gautham Menon's 'Dhruva Natchathiram'

Fans of the Indian film director Gautham Vasudev Menon, known for his emotionally charged and stylish thrillers, have been on the edge of their seats for the release of his long-awaited film, Dhruva Natchathiram. Despite the mounting anticipation, Menon recently took to social media to express his dismay over the film's persistent postponement, voicing his sentiments with a heartfelt video post. The ambitious spy thriller, which began production in 2016, stars the versatile Vikram in the lead, supported by an ensemble cast including Aishwarya Rajesh, Ritu Varma, and Simran. The project, heralded as one of Menon's most consequential works, promised high-octane action and suspense in true Menon fashion, buttressed by the towering persona of Vikram. Menon's appeal reflected the simmering frustration of all those involved in the project, as he laid bare the formidable challenges they've faced. Alongside production issues and financial obstacles, the film has found itself reckoning with unpredictable calamities like the Chennai floods and global hits such as demonetization and the COVID-19 pandemic. The accumulation of these events has left the film's fate hanging in the balance, much to the agony of its creators and expectant fans. However, the director's emotional words served not only as a lament but also as a beacon of hope. Menon assured his followers that Dhruva Natchathiram would eventually see the light of day. His undertaking binds him, he declared, to ensure the film − crafted with immense labor and undying passion − reaches the audience it's meant for. The journey of Dhruva Natchathiram is exemplary of the numerous challenges filmmakers often face in the shadow of their creative endeavors. The industry's unpredictable nature can demand a price even on the most promising of projects, leaving creators like Menon to shoulder the weight of unfulfilled potential and anticipatory admirers. Amidst these trials, Menon has not stopped creating. His appetite for storytelling continues to find outlets in other forms of media. Still, the need to conclude the narrative of Dhruva Natchathiram remains a personal and professional mission for Menon, who holds the movie's completion close to his heart. In his own words, it is about fulfilling a commitment − a promise to deliver a cinematic experience to those who have been waiting patiently and trustingly. The film industry is often characterized by its ebb and flow of success and setbacks. In the case of Dhruva Natchathiram, it exemplifies both the resilience required to navigate such waves and the passion that fuels creators to push beyond them. This story is not just about a film delayed, but of human spirit and endurance in the art of filmmaking, persistent against the tides of uncertainty. For Gautham Menon, his team, and the fans of Dhruva Natchathiram, the hope is that their patience and support will culminate in a rousing cinematic triumph. Until then, their vigil continues, marked by a collective optimism for the day when the curtains finally part and the lights dim down in theaters welcoming Vikram’s indomitable silhouette on the silver screen. Read the full article

[nortonluv]

You've gotta hear me out on Ithaqua getting a little too possessive towards his survivor partner during a match ! Love your works btw <3

Mmmmmm Possessive Ithaqua 😍

Warnings: You'll never guess this one but Possessive behaviours

Pairing: Possessive! Ithaqua x Gn! Reader

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- He isn't sure what caused it. Maybe it's his own instincts telling him he needs to protect you, or maybe the manor is affecting him somehow..

- Your Team is quite possible the worst concotion of players to have paired with you. The Prospector, the cowboy and the "prisoner". He's semi-alright with Luca, he doesn't really do much harm. Its more a case of him being annoying to deal with on a good day.

- However Kevin and Norton strike Ithaqua the wrong way.

- He immediately finds Norton but instead turns his attention to finding you, just to make sure you stay away from them.

- He finds you. Quite easily actually. He comes across you helping Luca to decode who quickly runs off in favour of saving himself. Smart man, Ithaqua has to applaud him for using that mildly malfunctioning brain of his. He does have to break the connection, if only to delay your guaranteed escape.

- He lets you finish the cipher and simply stands around impatiently huffing and puffing to the side like a bratty child not getting enough attention. And that's accurate to a certain degree.

- once the cipher is done he tells you to go into a locker so he can pick you up and take you with him. You think nothing of it as this is fairly normal behaviour he likes to carry you around you've noticed. His little giggle when he picks you up just melted your heart.

- However. Unlike the usual routine, Ithaqua takes you to the nearest corner of the map and places you there before trapping you within his arms. His cloak making the two of you practically disappear, well.. you know as much as one can with the terror radius thing..

- His eyes are animalistic and his jaw clenched, but he makes no move to act on whatever violent act is forming in his head. Just pulls you to him as though he is trying to mesh with you.

- of course, he was mostly..., kind of, calm.

-Until the two idiots turned up. And by that I mean Norton and Kevin.

-Kevin lassoed you from Ithaqua's grasp, that alone made him screeched out in rage, but just to add some extra sourness to the situation, a magnet gets thrown towards him. Forcing him back into the wall.

- You struggle your way out of Kevins hold and push him away right as Ithaqua dashes at him. Norton quickly runs off to possibly hide in case he needs to really save, or possibly help Luca to continue saving.

- "IDIOTS, BOTH OF YOU!" You yell out to nobody in particular as Kevin had already run off. Ithaqua stays still for a moment, left eye twitching.

- He turns quickly. "Stay." He commands as though you are a dog awaiting your next trick. You're going to stay near, obviously, just maybe that Cipher off to the left will somehow get finished off...

- He dashes away in the direction Kevin left.

- As you're decoding, the prospector returns around the corner.

"Hey."

"Fuck off. That was stupid and you know it."

"Yeaaah.. but got the reaction I wanted. He's a tad bit, whats the word, protective? No. Possessive. Thats the one! Like he owns you."

"If he ever got asked if he owned me he definitely would answer like that.. It's a bit much at times, maybe next time to come running up to try and save when he's clearly not going to chair me. Luckily he seems to have lost Kevin."

The last Cipher gets completed by you and Norton but just before you can run to the exit, Norton says something that irks you.

"Geez, I didn't ask for your life story.. no need to keep going on..."

Yoou dont even initially intend to do it but you're hand reaches out to slam his head against the nearest wall to temporarily stun him.

"Not so fun now is it.."

In the distance a pissed off roar can be heard from Ithaqua, who you can assume just missed hitting the now escaped Kevin and Luca.

"Now, we're gonna surrender." You tell the prospector sternly

"Why would I do tha-"

You grab his ear and stare at him, "Consider it your apology to Itha. Believe me Kevin's going to deal with far worse."

Quiet grumbles are all that are heard from the disgruntled ex-miner.

----

Hope you enjoyed :) I partially forgot what I was writing halfway through but I loved writing this ♡

[littlecrittereli]

Wanted to doodle some comfort bros to balance out the angst of my recent posts lol

Hey pookies! Just wanted to say I really appreciate all the love and support I've been receiving lately for Decoded! I always love your comments/asks/fanart/memes, it genuinely has been bringing me so much joy and I'm so grateful for it <3

I know I said I had a lot of art to post (and then proceeded to post none of it LOL) I'm just a little overwhelmed rn with some life stuff so sorry for the wait! I also have a lot asks that I haven't gotten to and I apologize for that as well!

Trying my best to keep up, but I haven't had a lot of time recently. Art's gonna be a little delayed, but don't worry Chapter 8 is still gonna come out this Saturday as scheduled!

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Emotional Intelligence

The concept of emotional intelligence has been proposed to explain why some people with a lot of academic intelligence do not appear to have a lot of practical intelligence, people skills, or what might be called street smarts.

Goleman (1995), in his book, Emotional Intelligence, presents many cases of people who have high levels of traditional intelligence yet fail in various areas of their lives, such as in relationships.

Goleman also reviews the psychological literature and comes to the conclusion that traditional measures of intelligence, although predicting school performance fairly well, actually do a rather poor job of predicting later life outcomes, such as occupational attainment, salary, professional status, and quality of marriage (e.g., Vaillant, 1977).

Emotional intelligence, Goleman argues, is more strongly predictive of these life outcomes.

Emotional intelligence is proposed as a set of 5 specific abilities:

Awareness of one’s own feelings and bodily signals and an ability to identify one’s own emotions and to make distinctions (such as realizing the fear that lies behind anger)

Ability to manage and regulate emotions, especially negative emotions, and to manage stress

Control of one’s impulses—directing one’s attention and effort, delaying gratification, and staying on task toward goals

Ability to decode the social and emotional cues of others, to listen, and to take the perspective of others (empathy)

Leadership, the ability to influence and guide others without their becoming angry or resentful, the ability to elicit cooperation, and skill in negotiation and conflict resolution

It is easy to see how these skills and abilities relate to positive life outcomes and how they are so different from traditional concepts of intelligence, such as scholastic achievement and scholastic ability.

If these notes inspire you in any way, please tag me, or leave a link in the replies. I would love to read your work!

[turbulentscrawl]

HELLOOO could we get ithaqua with a modern Reader too? :33

MWehehe

-Honestly, not the brightest idea for a modern S/O to try and get with his one. Modern social culture is very deep in the anti-toxicity (to the point that we circle back into it without realizing sometimes) and Ithaqua exhibits a lot of red-flag buzzwords. He’s the kind of person reddit would constantly tell you to divorce haha.

-He would be a bit torn over you, though. On one hand, you clearly lived emersed in “society” as a whole, which is what he was generally the most at odds with in life. (In a modern setting, Ithaqua would be an off-grid homesteader. He’s probably against having wifi at his home, even.) On the other hand…you’re a bit of an outcast in the survivor manor. He’s a little crazy, but not BLIND. He can see how people are nervous about you in the beginning, shun you and your magic box.

-He’s got no fucking clue what the magic box is either, but Ithaqua does not believe in magic, religion, or the paranormal. The people who dictate those things called his mother a witch, and himself a demon, and he knows in his heart that they were just two people living life in a way others didn’t like. Superstition is what got him dumped in the snow as a babe, so even if he’s confused as hell by your technology, he’s smart and reasonable enough to know it’s due to a lack of education on his part and not you being some otherworldly, incomprehensible thing.

-He’s likely drawn to you a bit from the above treatment you suffer. Maybe the others are more than willing to use you as bait, hesitant to rescue you, or fail to even explain to you how decoding works. Ithaqua will notice these things even in the middle of a hunt. He thinks you’re pitiful—until you’re not, and that makes you interesting. Ithaqua finds the remnants of whatever your modern-ness makes up your skills. Your phone tucked into a grassy corner, playing a recording of someone shuffling through a chest, maybe, and he picks it up curiously. And then, well, he has to return it to you. Unfortunately for you, he’s one of the faster hunters and this only delays him for a few seconds.

-Ithaqua starts to, frankly, bully you in matches. He’s less vicious with the damage done, and instead of chairing you off the bat, he takes a liking to carrying you around while he hunts your teammates. It doesn’t matter that you struggle free or self-heal sometimes, he can catch you again easily enough. He talks to you while he zips around after everyone, his usual giggles and sighs replaced with questions and commentary for you. You reach a point one day where you self-heal, but don’t bother running…and Ithaqua just grins like a shark and pats you on the head.

-Eventually he notices the others warming up to you better…and it makes him bitter. “They’re all hypocrites,” he tells you in a dark corner of the basement. “I treated you like everyone else from the start, didn’t I?” That’s his argument to endear himself to you. To coil you further around his (admittedly gentle, all things considered) finger. Yes, he hit you, hunted you, but that’s his job. The POINT, he says, is that he likes you and it’s not FAKE because he’s always seen you as an equal to the others. (To the survivors, not to himself, because the manor roles say you’re clearly not.)

-The POINT is that you shouldn’t fully trust the rest of them—they’ll turn on you again if they get spooked—but him? Ithaqua doesn’t get spooked. He gets…possessive. He likes you. He’ll be here, if you need him. And even if you don’t. He’ll take care of your troubles for you, sweet pet.

[gretavanbrie]

Landslide // part two (J.T.K.)

Summary: You’ve loved him for as long as you can remember, does he feel the same?

Pairings: Jake Kiszka x F!Reader

Warnings: angst, established friendship, heavy alcohol consumption, mentions of alcohol consumption, feelings of heartbreak, sadness, yelling, arguing, feelings of unrequited love, very brief feelings of abandonment, asshole jake in the beginning. If I missed any lmk!! (Vaguely proof read, excuse any mistakes)

A/N: SORRY FOR MAKING YOU WAIT SO LONG!!! Due to tumblrs weird limit I have to split up the 2nd part in two so there will be a 3rd part that will be up by the time this one is. I truly have no excuse for the delay other than I wanted this to meet everybody’s expectations and I didn’t know how to properly execute all my ideas for the second part of this little mini series. I thank you all for such kindness and patience regarding landslides part two. Alas, here it is!!

Also: it starts off with more of jakes perspective on the blow out and then will slowly transition into the present time. Hope you guys enjoy!

Part 1

“..I started seeing someone from our crew…i really like her y/n”

Jake saw the hope leave your eyes the minute he said it. The sparkle he desperately loved now incredibly dimmed and your hands no longer holding his own, suddenly his confidence on the matter seemed to waver.

Jake always brushed off Josh's advances on getting him to make a move on you, dismissing it as his twins way of meddling and trying to stir the pot. How is he meant to explain the way your lips no longer smiled with your eyes?

Any other person wouldn’t have noticed the sudden hitch of breath for it was so discreet, but of course Jake did. He’s studied your person as if he wanted to become fluent in the language of you, so to say. He’s spent so much time with you over the years all of your habits had become second nature to him. Except there was one thing about you he could never read and you made sure of it.

He still knew you all too well and even if it was for a millisecond he noticed the missed beat in your response, he saw the barely-there glossiness coating his favorite irises and quickly blinked away despite the wide smile still on your face.

The average person would easily be fooled but your entire energy shift was almost spelled out in bold letters in front of him. Jake had started to question if he really was making the right decision.

Since about the 7th grade you had Jake completely enamored, unbeknownst to you. At first it was nothing more than a prepubescent school crush, no more than quiet stolen glances and bad attempts at flirting that had gone unnoticed. When highschool came around he realized girls found him attractive, and like any other teenage boy would do, Jake milked it. He stopped being hyper-focused on you and channeled that energy elsewhere.

You were so adamant on making sure he never got any idea of you seeing him in any romantic light, he genuinely believed it would never happen and realized maybe it was stupid pre-teen boy hormones convincing him he felt more for you than what he did and eventually forgot about his feelings for you all in all.

By the end of junior year your family took a vacation for the summer. You came back for senior year with a different aura to you, you had bloomed beautifully so to say. In simple terms, puberty hit you like a truck. The new effect you had on him scared Jake, he decided it was then easier to have you solely as his friend than trying to decode the rush of dopamine he gets just looking at you. Much like yourself, he denied any and all attraction.

Now as you sat across from him inconspicuously heartbroken, his entire perception shifted. He thought he was crazy when you clutched onto the lapel of his coat so desperately when he held you. His mind went hazy in the moment, almost drunk off the close proximity. He hadn’t thought about you in that light in years. Squashed any attraction into the abyss of his soul never to be thought of again.

Seeing you after the extensive tour, reignited the spark. You threw him off his game, he was so certain he had gotten over you and that Laura was the correct path for him but the way you looked into his eyes made him want to drop everything for you right there.

He continued the conversation nonetheless before the overthinking consumed him whole, he was certain he wasn’t thinking clearly. He relentlessly repeated to himself that you had solely seen him as a friend, there was just no way you were upset he was seeing someone. You were thirsty and dust flew in your eye or something, he made any and all excuses.

Once the conversation had come to a wrap and you hurried your way back inside to process the news. Jake too was in a frenzy, he was so sure of himself and his decision just about an hour ago.

Laura was in theory the perfect match, or so he thought. At first it was a casual hookup while he was on the road and as time went on he had grown to truly like her, he didn’t love her so to say but she definitely made him feel something he hadn’t felt in a long time and he romanticized her.

He hadn’t so much as thought about another because as much as he wouldn’t like to admit it, the thought of you had made a home within his head. Now that Jake was feeling something other than suppressed feelings for you, he wanted to hold on to that and convinced himself that was his fate.

Now that he sees there is even a slight possibility you do see him that way he feels like he’s fucked any and all chances, but do you? His brain couldn’t crack the code and he began to stress himself out.

On his way inside he ran into Josh.

“Hey did you see where y/n went? She ran off on me” Josh’s eyebrows perked up as his brothers words now privy to your hurried entrance from the patio.

“Ran off? Did you scare her off or something?” Josh joked unaware of the tension still rising in Jake’s shoulders.

“Very funny. No, I just finally told her about Laura.” Jake retaliated.

“Laura? What about Laura?” The eldest twin now confused.

“I made it official with her, I wanted to introduce y/n to her. You know.. have my best friend mingle with my girlfriend?” Josh’s eyes blew wide at the realization you were indeed not okay.

“When? This is the first I’m hearing of this. No offense but I thought it was casual for you guys..” Josh trailed off.

“Well I really like her, Josh. Why are you being so weird about it?” Jake asks, his insecurity on the decision now growing tenfold.

“Not being weird just…sudden is all. Can’t say I’ve seen her” Josh lied as he made his way to see just how much damage was done.

Now his own brother wasn’t even as enthused as he thought he’d be. It's not that Jake seeked validation from others regarding his life decisions but now that the two of the most important people in his life aren’t solidifying it, he’s succumbed to shameful overthinking.

He needed a drink to release some of the tension. Jake reached for the bottle of Jack as his phone buzzed. He poured a glass for himself before picking his phone up.

Message from: Laura

-Omw! See u soon baby.

Jake just shut his phone off and slipped it back in his pocket before taking a generous swig of the amber liquid.

The more he overthought the situation the more he found himself pouring more and more of that Tennessee whiskey into his glass. Eventually his step felt light and his vision incredibly disoriented. He put the bottle away as he realized he’s gotten ahead of himself and the alcohol in fact did not help but drove him to wrack his brain on the matter even more than before.

He saw the short blonde walk in from his peripheral and immediately greeted her.

As he leaned in to kiss her he got a whiff of her insufferably strong perfume, he had gotten so used to smelling yours since you got here that this almost made him nauseous. Even more so now that he’s realized maybe she isn’t what he wants.

“Your lips taste like whiskey sweetheart, drinking without me?” Laura laughed.

“Mmm, maybe a glass or two..pretty little blouse you got on” he slurred wrapping his arm around her waist pulling her in.

“Jake you’ve definitely had more than a glass or two, you’re getting a little excited honey” she giggled

“Just had a few refreshments on an empty stomach is all love..” he replied with his infamous cockney accent.

“I already told you not to do that accent Jakey, it's insufferable” Laura said before laughing it off and stepping away from him to grab a drink.

‘Y/n would have joked back in the same accent with me..' Jake thought to himself.

He quickly rid himself of the thought, why was even he thinking about you? The drunken logic now warping his train of thought, reminding himself that he thought nobody was truly happy for him in the moment.

Surely it was self projection, Jake had a newfound insecurity about his decision and outwardly projected his internalized fears onto both you and Josh. Assuming the reason you guys were so off with him was not because you had feelings for him as he previously thought, but instead it was because you guys were just simply unhappy for him.

Josh wasn’t excited, y/n certainly wasn’t matching his energy. In his mind, it somehow made sense.

Jake's head whipped around as he heard your voice come from the living room. Now was the moment he’s been dreading for the last 20 minutes, best to get it over with now.

“Come on babe, I want you to meet some of my friends” he said grabbing Laura’s hand in his and making his way into the living room as best he could given the liquor was catching up with him all too fast.

“Alright everyone, this is Laura. My beautiful girlfriend.” Jake slurred as he pressed a sloppy kiss to her cheek. Laura smiled wide at everyone and bid her hellos to those closest to her before her eyes landed on you.

She viewed you as competition. Much like Jake's past girlfriends, they saw how much he talked about you and more often than not gave him the ultimatum of them or you. No matter how much he swore you were just a really close friends Laura wasn’t buying it and wanted Jake all to herself.

Jake immediately searched for you. The minute his eyes met your own, a rush of warmth coated his chest. A bright smile flashed on his face as he forgot about his past worries momentarily upon seeing you look at him. He naturally gravitated towards you and motioned for Laura to come greet you to which she happily obliged.

“Y/n, Laura. Laura, y/n.. this lovely lady has been one of my best friends since elementary school” He introduces but Laura already knew this so Jakes formality made her itch with annoyance, she didn’t want to hear any more. She knew to be nice anyway because she saw how important you were to him and if she wanted him to stay with her she needed to get you to like her as well.

Your bright smile made her confidence waver as you rose to wrap her in a quick embrace. She internally grimaced at how kind you actually seemed. Of course Jake respected you, you had such a welcoming energy that Laura was beginning to envy. Even she was warming up.

“Oh my gosh! You’re y/n! I've heard so much about you, I love your dress” as much as Laura wanted to be selfish you really did look beautiful. She wasn’t expecting for you to be as nice as everybody had said.

“Thank you, you’re so kind. It’s a pleasure to meet you” you flashed her a smile as your cheeks warmed at the sentiment.

Laura wasn’t up for any more of the niceties with you. She had hoped there would be some confirmation to her negative preconceived notion about you, ultimately finding none. The only seemingly respectful way to end the conversation was to excuse herself to the bathroom.

Jake gestured a hand toward the couch behind you for the two of you to take a seat.

“Soooo what’d you think?” He says

“Short interaction, but she seems like a great girl Jakey. As long as you’re happy I’m happy.” You respond with a tight lipped smile, eyes avoiding his as you toy with loose strings on your dress.

Jakes head immediately swarmed with every negative thought he could muster. Your lackluster of a response had somehow been a confirmation to his idea of you not being truly happy for him.

“That's it? That's all you’re gonna say?” He asks a bit harsher than he had intended to. Jake immediately saw your brows slightly furrow and your eyes dim, his immediate regret quickly concealed by the whiskey fueling his fight.

“Well I don’t know what you want me to say…a-are you drunk right now?” You stumble over your words now anxious that this was all heating up faster than it should be.

“You could at least act a little more enthused for me. I mean do you even care at all?” Jake knew he was being dramatic, in his warped logic it was better to paint you the villain and play victim than to deal with his internalized feelings for you now resurfacing on top of the immense guilt he was already feeling. Foolishly not thinking of the potentially jeopardized friendship at hand.

“I’m sorry? I don’t know why you’re getting so upset with me. What do you want me to do Jake?”you say lowering your voice, scared others around you might catch wind of whatever this dispute seemed to be.

Jake knew he was being irrational and could no longer come to terms with it, resorting to walking away from it now that he realized he’s causing more damage than good.

“You know what…just forget it, you could at least act like you care.” Jake spat.

He harshly grabbed his drink from the corner table, leaving you behind in complete shock. Jake felt guilty the minute he grabbed his drink and left. He never blows up on you and didn’t know what had compelled him to speak to you like that. Sure you guys are mean to each other as a joke every now and again but this felt all too real.

You made your way to collect your things. Sam had been eavesdropping but could only catch Jake's end of the conversation, for you had made it a point to speak quietly. What he didn’t see was you and your teary-eyed escape. Sam however was just as drunk as Jake if not more and just wanted to be entertained with drama.

“Hey man, what happened?” Sam asks, stopping Jake in his tracks.

“Y/n is pissing me off, that’s what. Where’s Laura?” Jake says, eyes distant as he searches the area for the blonde.

"I can see that asshole, that's why I’m asking what happened.” He quips before continuing.

"You guys haven’t fought since like the 9th grade” Sam remarks.

“I’m not in the mood for your smart ass fucking comments Sam.. really fucking not.” Jake says, shaking his head. He takes a sip of his drink and attempts to walk away before Sam stops him once again.

“Dude just tell me what happened, i wanna know.” Sam prods again.

“I can just tell she’s not happy for me. I was excited to tell her about Laura and she just went all….. dry. Fucking got up and left when i confronted her about it."

“She left?? We just got back, there’s no way she would just leave.” Sam questions.

“Yeah. Well, she did.” Jake says, flashing the youngest kiszka a sarcastic smile.

He scoffs before continuing as he slowly starts to rile himself up again.

“…couldn’t even stick around, how immature.” seemingly forgetting your flee was a product of his harsh attitude.

“Thats fucked. If it helps, I’m happy for you dude… weird that she would just leave. Kinda selfish you don’t think?” Sam responds now just drunkenly wanting to instigate.

Sam's words were music to Jake’s ears, his mood instantly lifting hearing someone telling him what he wanted to hear. It wasn’t that nobody was in Jake's corner, in fact you and Josh both were incredibly happy for him no matter what. It was Jake refusing to come to terms with his emotions and essentially self-sabotaging.

However, hearing Sam call you selfish also made Jake's blood boil. To him you were far from selfish. You were giving and handled everything with the utmost humility. You were not only selfless to those close to you but to those you’ve just met. You danced through your life with grace and generosity and to hear someone undermine that, angered him. Yet, you were supposed to be the one he was upset with. The inner turmoil bubbling to the surface, ten fold.

“I mean, Laura aside… we’re her friends. Regardless of however y/n feels towards her she shouldn’t have just left. We’ve been gone for ages, she’s being petty.” Sam continued.

As much as Sam's words were striking a nerve in Jake as his immediate response normally would have been to defend you, right now he didn’t know how to feel.

Jake gave a quiet hum as he turned up with a lack of an answer on the matter.

The more sam starts to formulate his opinions on the only side of the story he’s gotten, the more it starts to genuinely irk him. His brother aside, he deemed you a best friend no less and felt like it was unfair.

“You know what? I’m gonna text her, she could’ve at least stayed for me or Daniel… heck even Josh!” He said waving his hand frantically, grabbing his phone.

“Boom, sent.” Although he didn’t mean for the message to come out so harsh, Sam was also belligerent and could no longer take anything seriously.

In his mind, this would blow over by tomorrow and you guys would laugh it off like always. Being friends so long, tiffs were bound to happen. Except unbeknownst to Sam, you and Jake have years of pent up turmoil you have yet to diffuse and he is only fueling the fire.

Jake sends a message too, but not in Sam’s drunken immature fashion. He had hurt his own feelings so much, the only convenient place he could point the finger at would be you. Opting to shut you out for the first time in over a decade.

Jake couldn’t decide if it was because he was genuinely mad at you or if it was because this whole situation had made his feelings all too real and he couldn’t bear to face them.

don’t even bother reaching out anymore.

——————————————————————

And that was the last you had heard from Jake in about a week.

You had granted him his wish.

Josh and Danny have called a couple times and everything was normal as far as you were concerned. Neither of the boys had made it awkward, you questioned if they even knew about the messages sent to you by Jake and Sam.

When you got home the night of the welcome party you were faced with immediate regret. You wracked your brain all night on where you went wrong and if you should’ve even left.

Was it the forced smiles?

Was it the choked back congratulations?

Had you not concealed your emotions well enough?

Were you being inconsiderate for leaving after waiting so long to see them?

It wasn’t that you were inherently unhappy for Jake, you genuinely wished the best for him. Internally you question if maybe you had been a bit insensitive but the more you wrack your brain on the matter the more everything starts to just not make sense.

Sam texting you made you all the more anxious. Drunken stupor or not he is a close friend of yours and for him to be mad at you, you must’ve offended him in some way as well. But how?

Your brain has gone a mile a minute since then. Your phone seemed to be in a permanent state of do not disturb. You’ve gone to work like normal, caught up with Ronnie before she went back home and you started to feel like things were semi-okay.

You had gotten so used to seeing a message from Jake everyday for the last almost-decade, it's been weird not hearing from him and you inevitably started to miss him. Although missing him only angered you because you were sure he doesn't miss you the same. You didn’t even want to feel sorry for yourself because how foolish of you to think your hot rockstar best friend is gonna be in love with you too?

Your romantic feelings aside, him being able to shut you out so easy honestly broke your heart even more than hearing he was with someone.

Argument aside, after this long of a friendship how could he cut you off that easily? Were you never that important? You would’ve been okay being his friend and forgetting about your feelings for him once and for all, you just didn’t know how to handle the news there and then and everything blew up in your face so fast.

If Jake didn’t want you to reach out, so be it.

You had come to terms with what Josh had reminded you of, you're 27 now and there was no more reason to sacrifice parts of yourself for the sake of making sure someone else is comfortable in your friendship. He is with someone now and you need to move on, the silent pining has grown old.

You thankfully set up a lunch date with Josh today and were grateful you could find a safe haven within the storm invading your mind. It made it easier knowing he knows just as much, if not more, than you on the situation. You had been deflecting that conversation with him but secretly knew he wasn’t going to stop trying until you told him more.

Josh knows something is up. Jake isn’t yapping about you everyday anymore, you haven't been making any plans with Jake since the tour ended. It’s deeper than Jake just catching an attitude with you. You weren’t one to wallow in your room for days when you were upset but you went into a minor hermit mode since then and it's raised a huge red flag for the older twin.

You sprayed some perfume as the final step in your getting ready process. You looked over your outfit in the mirror once more before grabbing your purse. You were going to your favorite cafe in Nash. It had bottomless mimosas for brunch every other week and with everything going on, you needed some casual day drinking with a friend.

You got situated in your car before heading downtown to meet with Josh. About 15 minutes into your drive, Landslide by Fleetwood Mac came up on your shuffle. You were fairly happy today but upon hearing the lyrics again with a different perspective, everything had easily begun to gloom over.

Oh, mirror in the sky

What is love?

Can the child within my heart rise above?

You fought the urge to turn it off because it was truly one of your favorite songs but everything reminded you of Jake recently and your sanity was slipping through the cracks. You were instantly brought back to your teenage self helplessly in love with your life-long friend.

Well, I’ve been afraid of changin’

‘Cause I’ve built my life around you

But time makes you bolder

Even children get older

And I’m getting older too

You unhesitatingly unplugged your phone from CarPlay. Stevie didn’t get a chance to finish her chorus before the silence in the car had engulfed you.

You fought back tears realizing how real that stupid song made everything. You couldn’t grasp why you were so emotional but you hadn’t realized just how much not talking to Jake had affected you. This change was new for you, life had always been pretty constant especially your friendship with him and you were having a hard time taking things for face value.

You got off the exit heading into town. Finding parking was fairly easy and you picked out a table for two knowing josh was gonna be late.

You took this time to recollect yourself and order a glass.

You waited for about 15 minutes before you saw the curly headed man’s eyes searching the establishment for you. Josh’s wide smile momentarily eased your nerves and you were glad to just spend time with one of your closest friends.

“Only 15 minutes! That’s gotta be a new record” you joked, poking fun at his infamous untimeliness as he found purchase in the seat in front of you.

“What do you mean? I would say I’m early” he feigned a confused expression checking the non-existent watch on his wrist. You couldn’t help but laugh at his nonsense while he waved down the waitress to order himself a glass.

“Bottomless mimosas huh?” Josh continued.

“Yeah, I haven't had a drink since…. well, you know.” you awkwardly laughed to make things light.

"Speaking of which, I didn’t want to ask you about it because i know it's a touchy subj—“

“No. I-i want to. I actually would really appreciate it if we talked about it.” You interrupted. You chose not to elaborate on the fact that the only reason you were in desperate need of talking about it was because you were not as calm about the situation as you had let on.

“Well alright then, lay it on me. Tell me your side, I’ve heard all there is to hear on his side but I refuse to even get into that right now.” He says.

“So he’s still talking about me?” You scoffed before continuing.

“It’s absurd to me that he can be so cold with me yet still bring me up to everyone else. We’re adults. Whatever I did I feel like he should’ve spoken to me about it by now..” you trail off, reaching for your glass.

"I think this may be deeper than the both of you want to accept.” Josh interjects.

“He’s not bringing it up constantly to everybody, but he's my brother so please just trust me on this. It’s deeper for both of you.” He continues.

“What does that even mean? Don’t go all cryptic on me Josh. He’s never spoken to me that way, I don’t know what I could’ve done. Was I really that inconsiderate? I mean if i was, i wanna apologize and talk it out. He’s my friend and I feel terrible that I’ve made it all about me and my feelings.” You rambled chugging the mimosa down.

“Y/n stop, you’re getting in your head again. You handled it well, Jake is just- he's being difficult. Stop blaming yourself, his actions making you feel unwelcome is not something to apologize for.” Josh tried to reason.

“You’re right but I was in the wrong too. I shouldn’t have left. I knew I shouldn’t have. The minute I walked out the door and got to my car I realized I was just overwhelmed with everything. I completely forgot it was a celebration for you guys. I apologized to Ronnie for leaving her in the dust and I wanna do the same for you guys as well, you can refuse all you want but I know in my heart I should have been there for you regardless.” You say trying to hold back the tears. You were almost done with your second glass and the champagne has definitely gotten to your head.

“…and then when him and Sam texted me i just felt awful, so I’m really sorry josh” you continue.

“Wait what?” Josh asks, now with genuine confusion stitched into his eyebrows.

“What?” You ask retreating into yourself, the feeling like you said something you weren’t supposed to had lodged its way in your brain.

“They texted you? What did they say??” He prods.

Jake and Sam hadn’t mentioned a word to Josh about the messages they had sent you. They knew better, they were well aware they were immature for doing so and didn’t want josh’s big brother patronization on top of it all. Jake more so than Sam, Sam didn’t think the argument was that deep and thought you'd take it lightly.

“You didn’t know?” You asked, now matching his bewildered expression.

“Of course not, now I have so many questions. I want you to tell me everything beginning to end. This is absolutely insane to me.” He says waving his hand and sitting back making himself comfortable.

“Okay well, he breaks the news.. I congratulated him and said i was happy for him. I thought i had held myself together pretty well then but I knew i would crack sooner than later so i had to excuse myself. I made a beeline for the bathroom to try and recompose before meeting her and i thought maybe it was the whiskey, you know how he gets on whiskey..” you said making a suggestive eye.

You and the rest of your friends were well aware the amber liquid made Jake easily irritable, to say the least, if consumed in large quantities.

“…but I’ve seen him with one too many whiskey cokes and even then he still would never do that. Anyway, I’m rambling. In short, I greet her, we exchange compliments, everything was fine and then she excuses herself for the bathroom mid-convo and he asks me what I think. I just said she seems like a great girl and I’m happy for him. I mean what the fuck else was I supposed to say? She literally left before I could have a real conversation with her and he just blew up on me saying I wasn’t actually happy for him and I could… and I quote, ‘at least act like I care’” you say with finger air quotes before finishing your glass and starting on your third.

Josh just stares at you for a moment before his jaw drops.

“What the fuck? So where does the text come into play?"

“Right, so once I get to my car and I think about going back inside I get a text from Sam first…saying this” you say before pulling up the messages and showing Josh the screen. His eyes scan over the message for a brief second.

“some friend? He’s one to fucking talk. He was drunk and glued to his friends the entire night, I think he just wanted to instigate. What about jake? I wanna hear what he had to say” you saw josh getting riled up but the reminder of Jake's message brought everything back to reality and the influx of emotions mixed with the alcohol did you no favors.

“…he um, he said not to bother reaching out.” you said voice small, eyes avoiding his own as you shut your phone off not even bothering to open his chat up again.

You saw his energy shift and although Josh is pretty composed and patient around you, you could see that it struck a nerve in him. He knew it was completely ridiculous and Jake was just deflecting and running from his feelings. Josh saw right through everything and the fact that Jake had failed to mention this to him, only angered him more.

“It’s okay.. really. I understand, he was probably excited to share the news and I honestly was acting a bit dry with him. But also what was I supposed to say? ‘hey I’m upset because I’ve been in love with you since senior year of high school but you don’t feel the same way’ like no.. obviously not. It would ruin everything…..I don’t know I'm just conflicted josh.” you say putting your head in your hands for a moment.

The liquor was catching up with you faster than anticipated on an empty stomach.

“Bullshit. Stop making excuses for him, you know its fucked up regardless. He can be upset with you for whatever reason but to completely shut you out like that? No wonder you guys haven’t hashed it out yet. I knew this was running on too long.” He says, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms.

You just shrugged before taking another sip of your drink.

“Listen, once he's ready he can reach out. But i'm gonna start putting myself first, if he doesn’t wanna talk? Fine by me.” You shrug.

“Let's ditch that topic for now. It's just starting to piss me off more, how is everything for you though?” You ask.

“It’s alright, we’re just getting prepped for some festivals that we have coming up but i'm excited for this down time. Been a while since I could come have lunch dates with my best friend.” Josh said, playfully winking.

“I knowww, i'm so excited you’re back. Jake and i had been talking about—“ you cut yourself off realizing the plans you and Jake had made may now never follow through. You guys had talked endlessly about catching up on all the missed plans and hangouts with everybody but the thought of it only saddened you.

“.. nevermind” you laughed, taking a sip of your glass in an attempt to ease the tension.

Josh gave you a sympathetic smile before changing the subject and continuing conversation as normal.

—————————————————————

Before you realized it, three hours had passed and it was already the late afternoon. You were seven mimosas deep and there was no shot at you driving yourself home.

“Josh? I think im a little drunk” you giggled leaning your head on your hands.

“Can I Venmo you for brunch?” You question.

“You think? That thousand yard stare is a dead give away. Don’t worry about it, i got it mama”

“Awww you're paying for me? That is just so nice” you tease pressing a hand to your chest. Josh laughs at your drunken candor.

“Shut up and give me your keys, I'm driving you home after I pay this bill. Finish the glass you have now and we’re going” he laughs trying not to entertain your drunken behavior.

“Hey… i'll shut up when i want to” you mumbled to yourself before handing your keys to him.

“You only had half a mimosa you weirdo” you joke as you both gather your things, some more efficiently than others.

“I saw how fast you were going through those, someone had to be sober to drive you home. You’re a lightweight.” He said with a pointed look.

"…touché’’ you say, squinting your eyes at him playfully.

Josh opens his car door for you and you try and climb up in his Jeep as gracefully as you could. The minute he shuts the door you realize you're a lot drunker than what you thought you were. You don’t drink often and certainly not to cope with heavy emotions but it honestly felt quite nice to feel the weight lift off your shoulders momentarily.

Josh hops in and starts his car up, your head was spinning and you couldn’t help but giggle to yourself.

“What's so funny?”

“Nothing, I just think it's silly I let myself get so drunk from mimosas..my head is literally spinning” which somehow made you laugh harder.

A genuine cackle had bubbled out of your chest as happy tears pooled at the corner of your eyes and Josh was happy to hear it.

You’d been blue since the fallout and even if it was just a case of the drunken giggles, seeing your happiness shine during the golden hour of the day only made his heart warm.

“Okay i just laughed so hard it made my head hurt…” you said calming down and rubbing at your temples.

“Whewww sorry, that gave me a good giggle” you said laughing again. You have a bad habit of rambling and it's only worse when you're drunk. You can talk about any and everything under the sun and Josh was mentally preparing himself for the word vomit, to which it never came. Instead he was hit with a sudden mood swing.

“You know… this is really stupid” you say, leaning your head back and closing your eyes.

“I shouldn’t miss him so much josh..” you open your eyes as it only made the spins worse and looked down fumbling with your hands.

Josh stayed quiet allowing you to get everything out, the minute you weren’t spewing nonsense at him gave him a clue that this was hurting you more than you let on.

You don’t know where it had all come from but everything was suddenly incredibly sentimental and you were fighting back the urge to cry. You knew it was just the champagne talking, but was it? Or did it just make you feel what you’ve been suppressing all week?

You sniffled which immediately alerted josh.

“You were just laughing.. what happened?” Josh laughed at your sudden mood switch. You couldn’t help but laugh too at the randomness.

“Ugh I don’t know man” you cry-laughed wiping the tears

“… do you wanna talk about it?” He said trying not to pry but still wanted to let you know he was here to listen.

“not really, i haven't fully processed it and I don’t wanna talk about it until all my ducks are in a row” you chuckled before dozing off for the remainder of the drive.

“You’ve kept your feelings a secret for a long time little one, just making sure youre okay.”

”I'm feeling…exquisite” you slurred.

Josh just gave a slight hum before chuckling and turning down the radio a bit to let you get shut eye.

———————————————————————

You stirred awake as Josh lightly shook you.

“We’re at your house, wake up” he said.

You gathered your purse and shoes before hopping out of his truck and stumbling your way inside. Your keys were nowhere to be found in your bag and you frustratingly turned around at the eldest kiszka.

“Where are my keys? I want these jeans off of me already” you said tucking the hair that fell in your face behind your ear.

“Hold your horses little one, I have them because someone’s belligerent.” Josh said, raising his eyebrows at you.

“I’m too drunk to drive, not enough to where I can’t unlock my own door” you said matter-of-factly.

“Yea yea, whatever here you go” he said, dangling the keys in front of you.

“What am i gonna do about my car” you whined as you barely made it past your home's threshold. You plopped down on your couch face down, all the movement was starting to make you nauseous.

“Woah..i feel like i'm getting drunker by the minute, i thought i'd sober up by now” you said sitting up from your position and rubbing at your temples.

“Here, i got you some water. I'll take you tomorrow morning to pick it up.. sound good?” You nodded as Josh handed you the bottle. You uncapped the lid and took a few sips. You hadn’t eaten or drank anything all day except for one piece of complimentary bread and seven and a half mimosas…

Josh was surprised you were still able to stand yourself up given how much of a lightweight you are. You had gotten so wrapped up in conversation with him you completely forgot to order food.

“I'll be right back” you hear him disappear into the kitchen as you sink back into your couch.

Your head was spinning. It was almost humorous. Like the thought of Jake had been swarming your thoughts and now ironically manifested in a physical sense.

You missed him even though your pride didn’t want to let you admit it. It wasn’t even about him being with Laura anymore. You were content and happy with him as a friend. Time heals all wounds and you were bound to get over the silly heartbreak but having none of Jake at all was almost tortuous.

Your head shot up as you heard a ping sound from your phone.

“Is it jake?” You perked up.

Josh’s eyes saddened at the thought of you expecting a message from him. You both know how stubborn Jake can get and the fact you still have hope just made him more upset with his brother. He picked up the phone checking the screen realizing it was just one of your friends from work.

“No, sorry…. just Liz.” he said sympathetically, handing you your phone.

“Oh.. okay” you said, trying your best to not make it seem like you were disappointed.

"I’m gonna go change and try to make some food, you're welcome to stay Joshy. Help yourself” you said gesturing to the kitchen as you made your way to your bedroom.

“I already made you a sandwich. It’s in the kitchen on a plate for you. I told some friends I’d join them. Are you gonna be okay?” He says as you turn around to face him.

“Ugh traitor, I’ll be fine i guesss. Thanks for the food” you joked as you gave him a hug goodbye. You heard a chuckle bubble from his chest.

“I'll call you in the morning, answer and be ready” josh says, pointing a stern finger at you as he makes his way to your front door.

“I will! Love you long time” you gave him a tight lipped smile as he opened the door to make his way out.

“Love you!” You heard him shout before the sound of the door shutting had echoed through your home.

You stumbled back towards your bedroom and popped a couple Advils before making your way to your closet to change into comfier clothes. You didn’t bother taking off your makeup just yet and decided to leave your hair down, you didn’t have the energy to bother with it.

Your stomach rumbling only grew stronger as you were mentally occupied with the absence of your life-long friend. You knew you should go and eat but you had busied yourself with the incessant thoughts of that one night.

Deciding you needed a momentary distraction from the thoughts that had occupied your brain all week, your stomach growls at you from the thought of Josh’s sandwich.

‘Even if he’s mad at me I should still apologize, be the bigger person' you think to yourself as you turn the corner to your kitchen.

Sober you knows better and is too stubborn to cave in first, but drunk you is only occupied with the chest-burning thought of how much you love him and wanting this to be resolved as quickly as possible.

You look at the plate and see Josh made the sandwich Jake usually makes you. Your eyes tear up and your throat burns at the thought.

On one hand it was so sweet of Josh to bring you some comfort given the sudden change but it was also not the same because it wasn’t coming from who you selfishly wanted it to. You take a bite as the tears fall silently.

No expression on your face, just a dead stare as you eat and the tears quietly slip from your ducts.

You hadn’t allowed yourself to truly feel all week. You had occupied yourself with mundane tasks at home and work was a big help with distracting yourself.

Anything to not be focused on where things went wrong.

Now that you had gotten ahead of yourself with the mimosas, everything you had bottled up was starting to spill over the edge and your composure slowly slipping through the cracks.

You poured yourself a final drink for the night, opting for a sweet red wine to take the edge off. There was only a little more than a glass left in your wine bottle, no better time than today to finish it rather than right before you have to start going back to work. You had the entire weekend to recover from the inevitable hangover bound to plague you in the morning.

You made your way into the living room and over to your record player. You sifted through your shelf of vinyls before settling on CSN&Y’s ‘So Far’. You let it play for a little as you burned an incense and nursed your final glass of your favorite wine.

You hear the familiar chords of Helplessly Hoping begin to play and coincidentally all the wine had rushed to your blood. You were considerably drunk and this was very unlike you. You decided to not even finish the glass, you felt guilty almost. Like you were unhealthily coping. Your vision became disoriented and everything felt hazy.

Happy wine drunk is one thing but being sad wine drunk did you no favors, especially given the song traveling throughout your home. The only thing finding purchase in your clouded mind was Jake and Jake only.

You mindlessly picked up your phone, opening up your last conversation with him. You longingly stared at his contact picture of the both of you. It was an old photo Karen had sent you of when you guys were about 11 at their annual 4th of July barbecue.

“Come on kids, get in the dang picture!” Karen tried to reason with the 5 of you but you guys were too occupied with the fact that Sam wasn't giving the ball back.

As Karen tried rounding up Josh Sam and Ronnie for the picture, you pulled Jake aside and convinced him to get in the picture for his mom. Karen noticed the two of you ready and decided to snap one of just the two of you.

“Aww how sweet, the two of you together..” she said pointing her camera at the two of you.

“Come on mom just take the picture” Jake whined ready to get back to his game with his brothers.

“Fine fine, i'll get all five of you later… scooch in closer Jacob” She said gesturing with her hand.

“What, like this?” Jake remarks, laughing as he aggressively squishes his face against your own. You laugh at his sarcasm, as does he. Karen snapped the picture of your two wide smiles smooshed together in your red white and blue attire.

You smiled at the memory and without a second thought you clicked the call button as the memory had clouded all logic. All you wanted in the moment was to talk to your best friend again.

You heard it ring once, then twice, then declined.

A sob escaped past your lips as you heard his automated voice message saying he’ll call back, ironic given he probably won’t.

You left a message regardless. Liquid courage or not, at least you did your part.

“Hey Jake, im probably gonna regret this in the morning” you sadly laughed. You let out a big sigh before continuing.

“..but it's been over a week, we’ve never gone that long without talking.. I didn’t think I’d lose you entirely” you paused for a moment as you were getting tongue-tied and your voice was slowly giving up as you fought back tears.

“I know you said to not bother reaching out but you mean so much to me, more than you know a-and I can’t just do that" you slurred as you plopped down on the couch.

“Anyway… take all the time you need. I just wanted to say I'm really sorry for whatever I said.. or did. I'm ready to talk about it whenever you are..” you said trailing off.

“Just call me back i guess…o-or maybe don—“ you were cut off by the teleprompter letting you know the message was too long and you angrily pressed the hang up button before laying down and drifting off on your couch.

The spins were becoming overbearing and you didn’t want to think about how mad you were gonna be at yourself in the morning.

————————————————————

Jake saw your call.

He saw the notification saying you had left a voicemail.

He couldn’t bring himself to pick up or even listen to what you had to say. He feared that if he heard your voice after so long he’d crack.

He was being prideful.

He regretted everything he said for it was completely out of character for him and the whiskey is no excuse. He knew it was a bad idea the minute he finished his first glass. His emotions were heightened and Jake's entire perception of his reality had shifted within 15 minutes. He couldn’t process everything and blew up on you.

"I thought you said you stopped talking to her baby?” Laura questioned as she sat next to him on the bed.

“I did.” Jake sighed.

“So.. why did I just see you decline her call? Why is she even calling you?” She chided.

“Hey, calm down. I genuinely don’t know, I'm just as confused as you are." He replied pulling her into his side.

“I already told you how I feel about her. I don’t think she’s good for you. She’s clearly not happy for us.. for you, jakey” Jake internally winced at your childhood nickname for him coming out of her mouth, he hated when people called him that unless it was you that was referring to him.

“She was being a bitch to me at the party, you saw.” She remarked, lying to make sure she got what she wanted.

“Wait, how? She ended up leaving..” Jake pulled back from her now confused.

“Oh. Well maybe you weren’t there but she just said something about how I wasn’t welcome within the circle” she blurted. Laura couldn’t come up with a good enough lie to paint you as the villain.

“That doesn’t sound like y/n, I mean I’ve seen her strongly dislike people and she still would never exclude anybody. She doesn’t like confrontation..” Jake said now even more perplexed.

“Are you defending her right now?” Laura sat up defensive.

“N-no im just saying it’s not like her to say th—"

“Stop making excuses for her! She clearly isn't happy for you Jake! Her whole kindness thing is some lame act to get people to like her. She’s just some boring plain Jane that wants you to herself. Why can’t you get that through your head?!” She continued.

Laura’s facade now slowly melting away, something sparked in Jake.

He hated when people spoke ill of you, especially when people undermine you no matter if he was upset with you or not.

There was so much more to you than the surface showed.

You weren’t boring, you certainly would never go out of your way to make someone feel unwelcome. You were kind to a fault but still had a crazy fire that burned within you, unlike others you kept your flame contained. You were incredibly emotionally mature and it was silly for Jake to ever think you could be unhappy for him.

“Get out.”

“W-what?” Laura says shocked.

“I don’t want to argue with you on this, no matter what she and I are going through, she's been a close friend of my family since fucking elementary school and I think it's incredibly distasteful that you feel so comfortable bad mouthing her when you barely know her. Doesn’t matter what i feel, she’s still Josh’s friend, Sam’s, Danny’s.. my fucking parents” Jake said counting off on his fingers.

He didn’t know what had overcome him but he realized how big of a mistake he made thinking Laura was the one. How easy it was for her to speak ill of someone that was practically family to his own just showed Laura’s true character.

He stared at her gobsmacked expression for a moment before driving in the last dagger to seal it all.

“Matter of fact, I think this was a mistake.” He finishes getting up from the bed and opening the bedroom door.

“You’re seriously gonna break up with me over some girl? You even said yourself that she doesn’t care and you’re defending her?”

“Oh for fucks sake i was mad and drunk, i was just pissing myself off and pointed the finger at her. It was wrong of me, yes, but also none of your fucking business. I will reap what I sow on my own and I will certainly not have you speak ill of her because of my wrong doings.” Jake says as she stands up and collects her things.

“Fucking pathetic.” She spits pushing past him and fleeing down the stairs.

Jake hears the door slam shut.

What the fuck?

Jake starts to wonder if he dodged a bullet, the way she reacted to you being brought up just seemed so odd. Like the thought of you triggered her and Jake didn’t like that.

He held you close in his heart, as did his family, and he expects people to treat you with the same respect. Then again, how respectful has he been? Hearing Laura speak about you and try to lie about you just made him feel so guilty.

He couldn’t just man up and accept the fact that he loves you, he feels he's ruined everything.

His head perks up remembering you called him. He rushed downstairs to lock his door and immediately came back up to pick up his phone staring at the missed call from ‘Sunshine’.

Jake hesitantly tapped the play button on the voicemail putting it on speaker. Upon hearing your voice his wall broke. You made him weak in the knees. He listened for a little longer realizing you were drunk.

Is she alone?

Is she okay?

Why is she drunk?

He silently cursed himself for even going this long without talking to you. The only reason he was semi-okay in your absence was because josh and Danny would bring you up occasionally so he at least knew you were safe.

Jake was now even more pissed at himself for even letting things get this far between you guys.

‘I know you said to not bother reaching out but you mean so much to me, more than you know..'

Jakes ears started ringing, hearing you say he means something to you made his love for you just buzz even stronger within him.

He fucked up.

Aside from his romantic feelings, you were his best friend and he couldn’t believe he just shut you out.

He could hear the hurt in your voice and regretted everything he said. Even if he was getting in his head that wasn't your responsibility and he shouldn’t have pointed the finger at you just to make himself feel temporarily better.

’…I just wanted to say I'm really sorry for whatever I said.. or did. I'm ready to talk about it whenever you are..'

Jake couldn’t listen any further, the sound of your voice cracking during your apology saddened him. You had nothing to apologize for and he hated that he made you feel like you did. He needed to make things right.

He immediately called back and upon receiving no answer, he panicked. Every bad possibility was running through his head a mile a minute. He didn’t hesitate to throw on a shirt and grab his keys.

Jake had never rushed to your house so fast in his life. It was like a grand awakening for him. He vowed to do right by you and ultimately failed you. Hearing you so upset over his absence completely broke him.

Jake was having a hard time collecting his thoughts over this. Deep down he knew Laura was just a distraction from his feelings for you and instead of accepting the fact that he only had eyes for you, he villainized you.

Somehow having a reason to be angry with you only made it easier to shy away from the head high he gets just being around you. Your scent, the way your expression softens upon his gaze without fail, the way your hair perfectly frames your face, how you smile with your eyes and your nose scrunches when you laugh.

He was foolish to not realize these aren’t just things he notices you do, these are things that made him fall in love with you and he had been so incredibly ignorant to not realize earlier.

He pulled into your driveway and almost forgot to turn off his car from how much of a hurry he was to get to you. Jake wasted no time banging on the door.

You were startled from your slumber from the loud knocking coming from your front door, you stood up too fast and your vision went hazy. You completely forgot about your day drinking and the wine glass that had sent you over the edge until you almost lost your balance.

“Hold on! I'm coming!!” You shouted assuming it was Josh coming back to bother you. The incessant knocking never ceased until you stumbled over and swung the door open.

Your heart dropped to your stomach as you were face to face with the man who had left you in the dark for almost two weeks.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you said softly, staring as his chest heaved up and down.

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Part 3

Taglist:

@takenbythemadness @jjwasneverhere @gvfvanfleet @alwaysonthemend @edgingthedarkness @vanfleeter @m0uthfl13s @sparrowofrhiannon @love-isnt-greed @mohralistic @sinarainbows @gretnabancheese @kiszkaaa @napcoinv @citydovebaby @musicspeaks @dont-go-home-without-me @iheartjakekiszka @notjordie-gvf @fallen-from-venus @sydneeelyse @journeytothecenterofattenti-blog @starcatcher-jake @gretavankleep37 @starshine-gvf @violetstarcatcher @wildbluesorbit @imleavingyoufornewyork @dennys-employee @lizzys-sunflower @jessicafg03 @gretavansstuff @heckingfrick @thechurchofgvf-admin @fkfearandliveyourlegend @kiszkas-canvas @chlop94 @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @gvfpal @whollyfree @gvfvanfleet @anythingforjtk @elkenenvy @gvfmarge @texas-bbq-pringles @iamasimpandnotproud

[bookished]

( a collection of starters. adjust phrasing as necessary.) feel free to make edits to better suit your muse, but please don’t edit or add on to the original post 💛 if you like, please consider supporting me through tips

The old, leather-bound journal was found hidden under the floorboards of the abandoned mansion. Its pages contained cryptic messages and a map that seemed to lead to something of great value—or danger.

In a world where the stars can be plucked from the sky and turned into powerful talismans, a young orphan discovers a constellation that has never been seen before. It points to a destiny that could change the fate of the entire realm.

During the height of the Renaissance, a young artist discovers a hidden chamber in the heart of Florence. Inside, she finds sketches of inventions far beyond her time and a letter addressed to her, written centuries ago.

Two strangers meet on a delayed train during a snowstorm on Christmas Eve. As they share stories to pass the time, they realize they have more in common than they ever imagined—and that fate might have brought them together for a reason.

In a small, isolated village, people start to vanish without a trace. The only clue left behind is a symbol carved into the doors of their homes, a mark that matches ancient legends of a vengeful spirit.

In a future where emotions are controlled by the government, a young woman discovers an underground movement that aims to restore true feelings to humanity. She must decide whether to join them or stay in the safety of her regulated life.

Every night, a small café in the city transforms into a magical place where time stands still and dreams come to life. Only a select few know about its existence, and one day, an ordinary person stumbles upon it by accident.

A high school student finds an old camera at a garage sale. When they develop the photos, they see glimpses of the future. Now, they must navigate high school life while trying to change events they know are coming.

"I don't believe in coincidences, especially not ones involving missing people."

"You mean to tell me you've never seen a dragon before? Where have you been living, under a rock?"

"The prophecy spoke of a hero, but I never imagined it would be someone like you."

"This isn't just a piece of space debris; it's a message."

"Our planet was destroyed. We're the last survivors, and we need your help."

"Do you really believe the king will pardon us if we find the lost treasure?"

"She's a woman in a man's world, but she'll change history, mark my words."

"I didn't come here to fall in love; I came to find myself."

"Every letter I wrote to you, I wrote with my heart in my hand."

"That house has been abandoned for years. Why would anyone go inside willingly?"

"The shadows in this place…they move when you're not looking."

"There's a map, but it's missing the most crucial part—the key to decoding it."

"I've been to the highest mountain and the deepest sea, but I've never seen anything like this."

"Freedom is an illusion they sold us to keep us compliant."

"We've been living in a lie. It's time we uncover the truth."

"Every night at midnight, the old clock shop comes alive. Haven't you ever noticed?"

"They say the forest spirits grant wishes, but only to those who ask with pure intentions."

"I found this old diary in the attic, and it’s like it’s talking directly to me."

[vintagegeekculture]

A History of Faster than Light Communications

One of the technologies taken for granted in science fiction and space opera is faster than light communication...or as scifi fans call it, an ansible. In reality, most communications are limited by the speed of light, so it takes a delay of a few minutes to send and receive messages even in a solar system. As 2001 pointed out, it would take 6 hours and back for a radio message to reach Saturn. A traditional radio signal sent to the closest star would take four years to arrive.

Isaac Asimov coined the term “ultrawave” or “hyperwave communications” in his Foundation novels in the 1950s, to refer to signals that propagate along “subspace,” a lower level dimension where travel is quicker. Only information can travel in subspace, but people and objects can’t. Jack Williamson mentioned “rhodomagnetic waves” in a few of his scifi stories, which function as a kind of intergalactic communicator, but also are the basis for a death ray, meaning in his universe, any ftl communication device can be rewired with a minimum of effort by a boffin into a lethal death ray. 

In the 70s, Ursula K. le Guin popularized the term “Ansible” for this kind of communicator, instantly able to communicate regardless of distance. It’s this term that seemed to stick among fans and scifi culture, and most people with this device in their stories call it an “ansible” in homage to le Guin. Ansible communicators are just a part of scifi now, generic scifi worldbuilding, along with hyperspace travel, neuronic whips, space marines, and wisecracking robots. Many scifi writers have ansibles in their stories who are completely unaware of who originally coined the term and where. 

For most scifi writers, instant FTL communication is just a plot convenience to move the story along. Even Asimov, who made overthinking things his M.O., didn’t spend any extra time thinking about it. But James Blish however, put a lot of energy into figuring out how a faster than light or instant communicator would actually work....and he came to the conclusion it would be a technology with enormous philosophical, and indeed, practically religious implications.

Here is what I mean by that. In his story “Beep” in 1954, James Blish came up with the idea of a Dirac Communicator, which is the usual instant, no delay ansible. But Blish reasoned that the only way instant faster than light communications could actually work without any delay is by sending a signal into a null-dimension without time, so every single message ever sent (past, present, future) is sent simultaneously in a timeless null point, with machines only able to decode the time-sealed relevant messages they receive. 

If you stop and consider this, if a technology worked this way, it means that we live in a completely deterministic universe where all our decisions are made in advance. And as Blish was intelligent (and wiseassed) enough to point out in his 1954 story, it means that if faster than light communications actually work in the universe, that free will is an illusion, and that we actually do not have it. The universe is a watch proceeding on a predetermined pattern set at the moment of creation. An interesting conclusion to draw, all from a technology scifi takes for granted and sit in the background. 

[mischivana]

Hi, I know that you are new but can you do prompt #2 when Jason Grace say this to the reader to confessed his love. SORRY ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE

I Think I Might Be Falling in Love With You

Jason Grace x Fem!Reader

Masterlist

Authors Note: hiiiii sorry this took so long!!! holidays have been hectic and I haven't had anytime at all to do anything. Semester finals are also next week so any other request will also be delayed until then so please be patient, I'll try to get things written asap!!

Jason Grace was a confusing person. Despite the fact that I'd known him for years in the legion, sometimes it felt like he was a total stranger. When he came back after his disappearance it was like I was looking at a new person even though he was the exact same before he left.

Currently, I was hunched over a table in the New Rome University library with him sat across from me. We were studying for midterms and he was helping me understand one of my worst subjects: Ancient Greek History.

Yes, we had won a war with them and yes some of our best friends were Greek but that didn't mean I knew their history as well as they did.

"Don't- don't laugh at me!" I said playfully as I watched him chuckle at me. I'd gotten an answer wrong and he laughed at me playfully. "It's not funny Jace! I'm gonna fail my midterm!" I said with another laugh.

"I'm not laughing- I'm not!" He said defensively, throwing up his hands playfully. "It's just-" He started again, tilting his head and looking at me "we've gone over Epictetus so many times now" he said, exaggerating his tiredness.

"can we stop....please?" I said with playfully pleading eyes. we've already been here for three hours and I was exhausted. We had a mini-starring contest before he let out a sigh. "Fine...it's getting pretty late anyway so-" he said, I looked out the windows and it was already dark.

"wanna stop to get food before heading back?" he said as he watched me put my stuff away. He threw his own bag over his right shoulder and got up. "Sure...there's that new Chinese place down the street from yours and Percy's apartment?" I suggested zipping up my own bag.

"Nah, I'm not in the mood for Chinese . Plus, it's Percy and Annabeth's weekly movie night so I can't go back for another 2 hours at least" He said as he checked the time on his phone. I was about to put my bag on my shoulder when he reached to grab it instead.

"Here, let me" he said grabbing my bag by its top handle in his left hand. "No- Jason you don't have to I can carry my own bag" I said as we started to walk slowly. "No, I don't mind. It's not like I can't handle it" he said as we continued to walk towards the front of the library.

He wasn't wrong about what he said. He was New Romes most trained soldier and was built like Michelangelo sculpted him out of marble. We started to walk on the side-walk towards me and Annabeth's apartment.

"what about that pizza shop next to your apartment building?" He said as we walked down the stairs. "We go there all the time Jason" I said playfully. "Yeah that's because they make really freaking good pizza" he replied without missing a beat.

"fine." I said dramatically with a laugh. We continued to walk to the pizza place on the corner next to the apartment building, talking miscellaneously until we reached the place. We ordered and sat down at a small two seater next to the widow and waited.

"I still don't understand, why was Nico upset when Will forced him into the infirmary?" he asked me confused. "Because Nico still doesn't understand that sleep is a basic human need" I said with a giggle. "right..." he said, confusion still in his voice. I just laughed again.

He looked at me with a certain look. One that I don't think he knew he was making. I couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was. Jason's emotions were hard to decode. He was a very hard person to read. He also had a hard time expressing his emotions. Like I said, he's a confusing person.

"I think I might falling in love with you"

I froze when he said that. it was so sudden. I wasn't expecting it. It threw me for a loop. I looked at him keeping my smile but with a slightly more confused look. "...what...?" I said gently.

He looked at me with a simple but puzzled look, almost of longing. "I...I'm not very...good at...this" he said quietly looking at me with the same expression. "I...I don't know if Im doing this right or if this is even what I'm feeling but...yeah... I think I might be falling in love with you" he said with an expression of longing.

"it's just that, whenever I'm with you...I feel complete" he started speaking again. "your smile always makes me happy and your laugh somehow makes me the happiest I've ever been" he continued. I smiled at him wider.

I looked in his eyes with the same expression. "I think...I think I might feel the same way" I said gently as I laid my hand over his on the table. He smiled at me and I smiled at him. We sat in a comfortable silence, just enjoying each others presence until the pizza came. We started to eat and continued to talk miscellaneously, smiling abut what juts happened.

By the time we got back to the apartment Percy had texted Jason letting him know that Annabeth had fallen asleep and would be staying over. We stopped in front of the apartment door and smiled at each other.

"well uhm...I'll meet you at the library to study tomorrow? Same time?" I said cheerfully, looking up at him. "uh..yeah!... yeah that sounds- that sounds good" He said with the same tone, his cheeky smile warming my heart as always.

We stood in silence for a moment longer before I carefully approached him. I stood on my tiptoes and gently kissed his cheek. I pulled away and smiled while grabbing my bag from him and unlocking my door "goodnight, Jason..." I paused as I opened the door.

I looked at him again, he had blush across his face and a small grin. "Y'know...we could have our own movie night? Cause Annie is sleeping over at your place with Percy..." I said quietly, looking at him with a small smile, a gentle blush across my face.

He looked at me with the same loving expression. "yeah...yeah I'd like that" he said gently. He walked up to me in the doorway and we looked at each other lovingly. we both knew what we were thinking but we didn't have to say it.

he gently leaned down and kissed me, I kissed back and held his hands at his sides. Yeah...I think we might have fallen in love with each other.

Hiiiiii, again Im so sorry this took SO long to get out. I hope you like it!

[myreputatioooon]

no but remember that fanart of sebpainter being gabv1el reincarnated like imagiiiine on v1's end . . .

mankind is dead

blood is fuel

hell is full

it's alive after its systems shutdown and now it isn't a thing of death but a creation out of love, the achievement unimaginable and unreplikable to its creator

no matter, it and its creator create even more artworks to show eachother and the world and then-- and then-- and then--

its creator is dead

and now it has no choice like in the war, ha ha ha, it feels like its becoming v1 again . . . it just cant pour mindless death like it was first made to and--

"delay the crystal's retrieval and I'll get us both out of here, is that a deal?"

yes if it's you. yes if it's you gabriel

annoying. it can't decode these recent files

[nightfurmoon]

BIG VILLAINOUS NEWS FROM FIL GUADALAJARA CONFERENCE WITH ALAN

LOTS OF THINGS ARE HAPPENING. 2023 IS GOING TO BE GREAT. Here are the highlights of the conference, which will be linked below! I’ll start with the biggest... :D

Alan thanks us for being patient because things haven’t been easy for animation lately. Changes within Warner Bros. Discovery delayed production, BUT there’s AMAZING NEWS! WBD showed A LOT of interest in Villainous, and MORE NEW EPISODES are coming!! Apart from the second half of the first season we all know it’s already made, they ordered more episodes!! And Alan said it’s a ‘really nice quantity’ of episodes!! He asks us to be patient though as they’re going through some changes within CN as well. So stay tuned y’all!

Alan really enjoyed making Flug's logbook because he wanted to explain how Flug's gadgets worked. They aren't just magic, they work for a reason, and the substance H3x introduced in the books is that reason. It is a core part of the story of Villainous.

The decoder found in Flug’s logbook will be used to decipher secrets in the show as well, not only other books. It is also an important part of the story, as that language is extremely old and closely linked to Black Hat.

Alan reiterated the importance of the books in the lore as they have tons of information. They will be relevant for the new episodes.

AI Animations is opening a merchandise store, with official products from Villainous and more!

PLANS FOR NEXT YEAR (2023):

Audiobooks of Black Hat’s completely harmless books, with Alan as the narrator (and BH obviously). Kaleb’s voice in that will be official and used for the show as well. The audiobooks will also have extra surprises! They showed a small sneak peek of the audiobook in the conference.

NEW VILLAINOUS BOOKS: BHO’s handbook for villains (the one seen in one of the orientation videos), that will teach you how to be a proper villain, AND a Miss Heed book that will tell her story of how she became so famous, her past at the academy, how she met GoldHeart… Miss Heed’s book will be extra important as it links the events of episode 6 with the new episodes!

There will be another book that’s non-villainous related and it’s about Axo, an AI Animations project with axolotls. This book will be more oriented for little kids.

The image below shows the villain handbook that will be coming soon! It’s the green one.

And here’s the conference:

[privateanxieties]

you fascinate me so (my sweet refuge)

Summary: Peter is the physical therapist she sees three times a week following New York's latest scheduled disaster. Unbeknownst to her, he is also the one who pulled her from the rubble of her office building.

Pairing: healthcare worker!Peter Parker x Reader (she/her);

Words: 15.6K

Warnings: 18+ mature, dumbasses in love, talk of trauma, shameless flirting, mutually agreed upon impropriety in a medical setting, oral sex

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

The Universe is said to always seek balance. It gives and takes with impartiality, whether from the downtrodden or the well-off, in an attempt to keep the world spinning. At least, that's what the guru from the spiritual retreat said. She was there for a long afternoon, her money for the full week be damned. She's not really sure why she went for that option first when there were other perfectly good psychologists to visit. She just felt it would be weird to have someone else apply the same techniques on her that she used on her own patients. Plus, she already has a therapist she's seeing three times a week. She can skip on the head doctor until her body gets better.

It makes her somewhat of a hypocrite, because that's the very thing she's criticized in others: delaying treatment, even if they can afford it. And yet, this is her reality for the foreseeable future: Zoom sessions with her remaining patients while she finds a different office, trying to rebuild her clientele (five of her old-timers are dead), and 7 o'clock physio with Peter Parker every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.

She can't even drink to take the edge off, and not just because she's aware of how terrible that would be for her mental health, but also because she's on medication. She'll remain on medication for a long time, a fact that definitely hasn't sunk in yet. She wonders if any of her patients have picked up on differences in her conduct or attitude, because she isn't so sure she's the best judge of that anymore.

The last session of the day ends with an agreement that next time Sara wants to try something exotic in the bedroom, she'll make sure to talk it through with her quite surprised partner. That is, before she presents him with an extensive array of colorful dildos.

At least Sara has someone to proposition. She sighs as she shuts the laptop lid a little harder than normal. Good fucking luck putting yourself out there now, she thinks. It's one thing to not be shallow enough to think physical appearance is everything, and another to be entirely confident in what her body looks like now. She used to like prancing about in her apartment wearing only lingerie, and now the radiators have to be turned off because she gets too warm in her clothes. She tried wearing thinner shirts but she can feel the scars through the fabric.

Her phone chimes with the reminder that she needs to leave for the clinic in Brooklyn. It's much farther away from her Queens apartment than it needs to be, but the therapist came with a glowing recommendation. So far, she can't exactly contradict the stellar review.

Peter Parker is the sort of medical professional you can't fault for anything. His bedside manner is impeccable, and he's incredibly skilled at creating the right atmosphere for each patient. Not like she can vouch for that - he's only seen him work with her, but something tells her he knows how to talk to just about anyone. It's both admirable and a little annoying, because talking is supposed to be her job - her whole job, in fact. Listen and talk. Counsel. Make people feel heard, seen. Make them feel safe. Parker does all those things so well, it makes her a tiny bit jealous. He has an edge over her. Or that's just how it feels in her head, because she hasn't yet managed to figure him out.

It's a bad habit derived from her profession being what it is, and it isn't helped at all by the fact that some people are instantly intriguing. Thirty-year-old Peter Parker had her brain scrambling to decode him the very first time they met. He's insufferably likable, and that means his closet must be full of skeletons. Perhaps tap dancing skeletons. No one is that nice, that skilled and that good-looking without some serious damage. Whatever she needs to tell herself to stop the blood rushing to her face when he smiles in greeting, and rushing other places when he touches the back of her knee. It's wrong of her to think those things about an unsuspecting (at least hopefully unsuspecting) fellow healthcare professional, but it's also hard not to. He's seen her in short shorts and complimented how nicely she was healing. Truthfully, she shouldn't be reading so much into something extremely normal for a physical therapist to say, but Parker is the sort of handsome that when she saw him for the first time, she contemplated abandoning the appointment before having to be vulnerable in front of him.

It was early in her physio journey. She's since grown used to him and his gentle approach, but in the worst way possible. She now looks forward to therapy for all the wrong reasons. In the five months since that first Monday, Peter's company and caring nature have come to override all her reservations. She doesn't even mind the pain she knows she'll be in for an hour each time. That hour is due to start in about three minutes, she notes after shutting her locker.

Gym shorts. Tank top. Wrist band. She could wear different clothes, sure, but that first session she had with him was so tense and uncomfortable that it led to this being the only option. It wasn't his fault. There were just so many scars littering her body that he kept touching one or another whenever he had to do anything, and it psyched her out to the point she started crying. He handled that one like a pro too. He promised he'd do his best not to touch any of them so long as she told him where they were, but the idea of having to point it out every time was even worse than showing skin in front of him. He also said that her reaction is normal - her body isn't the same anymore. She's allowed to mourn the changes as long as she understands they don't make her any less of a person. Her value hasn't changed one bit. If anything, she's survived more than most - it should count for something. Those were his words.

So, here they are. She's a bit soft for him now. The way he greets her in that sultry tone doesn't help at all. He's got a nice voice; he could say pretty much whatever and she'd find it soothing, but what he directs at her is instantly more enticing. Whether it's in her head (most likely) or just what he sounds like with everybody makes very little difference. However, what he's wearing always makes a difference. She's learned in these last five months that earth tones look dreamy on him, in a take-you-home-and-cuddle kind of way. He's wearing a fitted t-shirt tonight, deep burgundy like the late October leaves of the great oak tree across the street from her apartment. It would be cozy enough if he weren't also wearing gray sweatpants, a different pair to his usual black ones. She doesn't allow her eyes to linger.

"Hey tiger," Peter greets with the same easy-going smile as always. He's standing by the massage bed, fixing the head rest to her preferred position.

The room is nice. It ought to be, for how much the clinic charges per session. The colors that dominate the space are mostly soothing, the exception being the splash of bright blue found in one of the wall illustrations. She would not have picked that particular artwork. Spacious but not cold, every station is a decent distance from the next so the patient can focus singularly on their current task. You can't wish you were doing another exercise while working through the one you hate, and for her that was anything floor-related. Every time she lies down on the mat, she remembers being trapped under a slab of concrete.

"Hi," she says quietly, setting her phone down on Peter's corner desk.

"Not feeling up to it tonight?" he asks with a small frown.

She contemplates telling a lie, but doesn't see the point in doing so. However soft she might be for him, he's her therapist first. She would hate being lied to if the roles were reversed. It's just annoying that she has to be honest about things she would definitely hide were this a different type of relationship. She wants to be able to say only those truths that would cast her in a positive light, not talk about her pain levels with him.

"The doctor changed my prescription." She tries getting away with a short explanation, but knows Peter will unravel it to his satisfaction. He's nothing if not thorough, and she can't even fault him for it, because she's known to do the same in her practice.

"Old one not working anymore?" he asks just like she predicted, crossing the room to stand closer to her. She shakes her head.

"Not really. And they give out opioids like candy, so as soon as you tell 'em you're in pain, they jump you."

"I would hope your primary care physician isn't jumping you. You need to report that."

Easy. It's so easy for him to make her lip quirk upwards.

"Or I could just retaliate in kind," she suggests, pressing her lips together to keep from smiling.

"Doctor on doctor violence? Savage. Didn't expect that from you," he retorts with a smirk.

"I'm a psychologist, not a doctor," she points out.

"You have a Ph.D."

She tries to come up with something to say in return, but he is correct. She is, technically, a doctor - albeit not a very smart one when standing in front of Peter Parker. If she wrote her doctoral thesis with the same wit and clarity she wields in conversation with him, she'd never have graduated.

"Are you taking the medication?" he switches subjects, a small smile on his face that she registers as victory over leaving her speechless. Could be pity.

"Just started. Thought I could do without for a while, but then I woke up today and called a friend to go get them. I couldn't get out of bed."

Her words hang in the air for a while, and in any other room with any other person, she would dread the sympathy to come with the confession. Peter will give her none of that. She's at ease waiting for him to speak.

"You wanted to power through it?" he asks with that glint in his eyes she can seldom decipher.

"I wasn't trying to be brave. Just didn't want to… I didn't want…" she trails off with a frustrated sigh, rubbing at her eye like it'll summon words to the forefront of her mind.

"It's a lot. The meds change your mood. They mean more side effects. Probably don't need to deal with that along with everything else."

Again, she can't fault him for reading every inch of her with deadly accuracy. She can just pout - in her head. She'd never be caught dead pouting in front of him.

"Yeah. It doesn't help that they're addictive. Probably ruined more lives than they improved."

Addictive substances and behaviors weren't her specialty, but one reads many things when in school for an additional ten years. It would be hard to find a professional in her field who's unfamiliar with the opioid epidemic.

"I know. But you have to get out of bed. The rest we'll figure out as we go," Peter says in encouragement, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

He always does this - he refers to her own health progression like it's a group activity. She doesn't have any argument against it, no matter how hard she tried finding one. It's like everything she's ever done with her own patients is now seeing application in her struggles, and at every turn, the only objection she can think to put forward is this sucks.

"Alright, come on. We can chat over there too." He motions to the wall farthest from them, where they usually begin.

She holds back a groan, already dreading the ache in her deltoid muscle after the first ten minutes will be up. Once their session starts, Peter morphs into a vigilant hawk. He won't let her complain, and he'll only give her the break she actually needs, which she's come to appreciate. It wasn't like that in the beginning.

There was a struggle between them at first. With both of them trained to recognize body language cues in different capacities, a natural competition emerged for who was really right - her, extremely aware of mental processes and needs, or him, experienced in what the body can actually handle. They've learned to work together since; Peter will give her a break as long as she asks for one invoking the real reason she wants it. She can't cheat by pretending her back hurts too much to keep going when it's just her mood that's plummeted.

And it's like he knows when she's going to be difficult. She barely said hello tonight and he picked up on her attitude instantly. It's the mark of a good therapist to be so in tune with and understanding of others, but sometimes, being seen this transparently makes her defensive and unreasonable. Being a psychologist doesn't mean she can't be childishly petulant when it suits her.

"D'you need a map?" Peter asks.

"Huh?" She blinks at him, suddenly put on the spot.

"So you can get back to me. Where'd you go just now? You're not in the room. I need you to focus."

Childishly petulant. She craves a good stomping of her foot at being admonished in this manner, especially by him, but wouldn't that make him correct in every way? So she endures this one gaffe, nodding reluctantly and doing as he asked, thinking she can come out on top some other time. Maybe there's still a little bit of a struggle on her part. What's worst is that she can tell it clearly isn't reciprocated by him. He's just doing his job - she's the one thinking she needs to play mind games to keep her dignity. Or maybe it's some kind of allure she's struggling to maintain in front of him. He can't have her all figured out.

Together, they work through the first set of exercises on rotation tonight. These are meant to improve her arms' mobility and strength, and in the five months since they've started, she's noticed a few positives. She can, for one, open her arms wider than before, but still not all the way. The priority at first was to be able to dress herself, and once that was accomplished, Peter switched gears to less crucial uses of her limbs. Quality of life first, then everything else. It's somewhat of a motto for him, but she's inadvertently found herself saying the words under her breath on particularly awful days. Standing before her, Peter extends his arms to where her last known limit was - just about enough to welcome someone into a hug, but far from a complete 180 degree angle. She mirrors him by bringing her arms up parallel to the ground, then slowly opening them until she matches the angle. Peter gently takes hold of her wrists, wordlessly telling her to breathe through it.

In, out, in, out - steady at first and then shaky as her arms predictably begin to tremble with the effort, but also from nerve damage that will never completely heal. They continue working as the muscles in her back increase their protest, but she says nothing. She wants to disappear into her thoughts again, but Peter is watching her intently, marking every flicker of her eyes and twitch of the brow. She wonders if she'll ever get to watch him like this, roles reversed and vulnerability all his to bear. Keep dreaming.

"You're quiet tonight," he remarks softly, momentarily catching her off guard.

"You told me to focus," she shoots back almost predictably, like she was waiting to make a comment about his reprimanding.

"You're overcorrecting. You're so focused you haven't even noticed we're done."

Are ten minutes up already? And does she want to admit to him that she was busy trying to match the intensity of his gaze for the mind games played only by her?

"Whatever," she says before she can think it through. She sees how it ticks him off. A rare sight.

"Don't 'whatever' me. You're not at the gym, you're in therapy."

His tone is more than gentle, but all she hears are the words. None of the things she's learned at her job keep her from an overblown response. She drops her hands from his hold less delicately than she should and forces a grimace back when a pain current wracks through her spine.

"Am I? I haven't noticed, to be honest. I only come here every other day because my life is great."

Peter fixes her with a look that immediately tells her what he's going to say, and the worst thing is, she knew the moment she finished her sentence that it would only lead to more of him getting the high ground. She keeps saying all the wrong things, despite being more than capable of taking a person apart with words.

"Don't throw a pity party. You're not in the mood, fine. Have a break, we'll move on. You need to vent, then vent. But don't do this."

God, she shouldn't be on the verge of crying in frustration just because she's being met with patience. She shouldn't be seeking to rile him up enough to make him say she isn't worth the effort. That's so messed up, and all the more sad because she knows she's doing it consciously.

"If you got it in your head that you can make me drop you, I'm sorry. The only way you get out of here is if you walk out."

She looks away from his steel gaze. There isn't enough fight in it - at least, not the kind she wants to see. She searches her brain for something to say, something to counter his statement and maybe even make him renege on it, but it takes too long. His warm hand is on her shoulder, one of the only places she's comfortable being touched.

"I'm not letting you quit on yourself," he promises. It's soft like the comfort she isn't sure she wants, and so quiet it can't drown out her sniffle.

"Hey."

Even in her distressed state, she picks up on the change in his voice. He's come a little closer, his other hand lifting her chin up delicately. He's only done this once before.

"It's a bad day today," she finally admits, swallowing around the lump in her throat and daring to look up despite the welling tears. She's met with focused brown eyes that have every intent of drying her own - if she'll let them.

"I can see that. Do you wanna talk about it?"

She nods before she can change her mind. It isn't fair, she knows. She shouldn't put this on him, because he's not her. He's not the psychologist she should be going to see. But, he offered and it was hard to say no.

"Ok. Think we can still do something while we talk?"

"What?"

His lips twitch mischievously.

"You were in a rush on Friday. I didn't get to do my job properly."

Oh. That. The last part of their session is the one most people think of when they hear physio. It's both the best and the worst, because on the one hand, she doesn't have to move. On the other, she has to sit there and pretend she's normal while he flexes and massages every limb expertly, peering down at her with his knowledgeable gaze.

"You're going easy on me?" she tries for humor, but knows he's of a different persuasion.

"Who says I'll go easy? If we're not doing anything else, I'm going all out on this," Peter says, making his way towards the massage bed by the wall. She doesn't follow immediately, waiting for his back to be turned before she runs her mouth again.

"I can handle it, don't worry." She wants to rile him up again, but maybe in a different way this time.

"I know you can."

She thinks she sees a tiny smirk when he half-turns to beckon her forward, but it's gone as soon as it appeared.

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

Parker has nice hands, if a little calloused, and he works them so well that she ends up thinking about them long after she gets home. It'd be easier not to, of course, if she hadn't forgotten to bring her lotion and he didn't have to use the one already provided by the facility, because now she smells like him. Every twitch of her finger and brush of her arm as she puts together a meal , every time she moves about the living room trying to tidy up - it all sparks a little firework in her brain and she inhales deeply every few minutes. Pavlovian would describe it nicely, this pressing instinct to just consume something, but she's already eaten dinner and dessert. She's not satiated by a long shot, and she has a feeling she'll be reading herself to sleep tonight if this persists. She's considered a shower more than twice, but each time she glanced at the bathroom door, something turned her away with exquisite resolve.

She realizes with mild intrigue and no small amount of horror that she wants to smell like him, because she likes it. Her first reaction is to correct this. It would do no one any good if she even slightly entertained the notion that she can look him in the eye while thinking inappropriate things about him and his exceptional dexterity. The occasional flirtatious comment that's taken in good faith and goes nowhere is one thing. Unilateral sex fantasies that might get her humiliated, either privately or publicly, are another. The rubber band inside her that feels ready to snap any one of these days can be assuaged some other way. Maybe a documentary that engages her intellect instead of her libido.

She climbs into bed with Netflix and popcorn, knowing the morning will find her stripping her bed sheets instead of picking at every little kernel bound to fall out of her bowl and mouth. She picks the most unappealing subject possible: unethical human experimentation in the late 20th century, and she clicks play with another deep sigh. And she tries following along. She really does. It's just that under the sheets, there is nowhere she can go to escape the woodsy scent drawing her attention to how much better her calf muscles feel after that massage. It would be a nice sensation, if the tension hadn't moved elsewhere.

She hesitates like it'll make a difference. She can't focus on anything. All day, she's been walking around with weights tied to her feet, more so than usual. She woke up in the most pain she's felt since the attack. She was fighting every impulse to snap at her patients. She tried picking a fight with Peter and it failed, and that was a good thing but also a frustrating failure. It scarcely mattered to her coiled up nerves that he made very good points during their conversation. Yes, it's good to admit you're having a tough time. Yes, letting people know about it is always better than holding things in and blowing up unexpectedly. No, she won't sass him next time.

But she wants to. His determination to not let her quit on herself despite her obvious willingness to be rude and unfair just makes the propellers in her mind spin faster. It's an ambition she can't remember ever being stuck with before. He's so composed and patient and insufferably adept at taking her apart with a few well-placed lines and a knowing look, so much so that it makes it difficult not to pick a fight. She wants someone to talk back to. This is her problem. This is why she should not have skipped out on mental health to focus on physical recovery.

And yet, despite seeing this as clearly as any other incontestable fact, she knows she won't be calling any offices tomorrow. And though she should have more self-control than this, her hand still drifts low above her navel, hesitating briefly before figuring she should at least go to sleep with one less frustration. As much as she tries to think of anything else, the scent lingering all around makes brown eyes appear in her imagination and firm hands ghost across parts of her they never would in real life.

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

It's only incidentally that the TV was on. Her mother called at noon on Tuesday to make sure she was alright, because every news channel in the country was transmitting live from the Lincoln Tunnel, parts of which had been accidentally demolished in what appeared to be a serious maintenance mistake. Had she not seen the images already, her mother's frantic explanations would have done nothing but throw her into a mild panic attack. The contrast between what the woman is like now and how she used to be growing up always gives her whiplash,  but she can't be mad her mother got the help she needed.

As it is, she's doing alright. She tries not to watch obsessively, keeping herself busy between the only three appointments she has today, but every time she checks back in the body count gets significantly higher. By mid-afternoon she has to resort to breathing exercises to steady her mind, and they work insofar as she keeps at them. However, they don't do much of anything when the 6 o'clock news announces what they believe to be the final death toll. Sixty-seven people perished in the chaos and destruction, and almost two hundred more have been hospitalized with mild to severe injuries.

It's a day of mourning in New York, like so many before it. She, like many others in the city, is glued to her screen with an array of emotions she's doing her best to handle. Others, much less fortunate than them, are crying and screaming, paralyzed by shock and grief. The least fortunate aren't feeling anything at all, and who knows what they might've felt in their last few moments.

She has an idea. Images like the ones shown today dance behind her eyelids just about whenever she isn't keeping a tight lock on her focus. They've been rapaciously beating at her door on and off throughout the day, and she is running out of viable distractions. Many aren't even an option at this time, because she'd feel terrible watching a movie to distract herself from all this. Maybe she should just read that study she's been meaning to get around to and simply go to sleep, sure to wake tomorrow with a little less stinging sorrow.

She intends to do just that, but right as she prepares to take her meds and climb into bed, her phone chimes with its usual ringtone. She's surprised to read Peter's name on the screen, but answers quickly nonetheless.

"Hi," she says evenly. There's a lot of wind on his side, and she wonders if he heard her because he doesn't say anything at first.

"Can you hea-"

"I have to cancel tomorrow."

Her judgment immediately sends her down the most obvious path, and she wastes barely a second before flicking her psychologist switch on. She's never heard his voice like that, over the phone or in person.

"Are you alright? Was anyone you know - "

"No. I just - I can't. See you Friday."

She takes a short breath before trying again.

"Peter, I know we're not very close, but you can trust me with anything. I promise. If you need to talk, I'm here."

She isn't sure what's wind and what's breath at first, but a noise cuts through that she's too familiar with to mistake for anything else. He hangs up before she can speak again.

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

At three in the morning, a short jingle from her nightstand chases away already restless sleep.

Back on for tomorrow. See you at 7.

A few seconds later, another bubble manifests as she reads the first one over.

Thank you.

She sighs, dropping the phone next to her as her thoughts are overtaken by an urge she's always found impossible to resist. She takes apart their phone call and his texts like they're ancient secrets one can only decode with the right tools, and finally taps out at six, an hour or so before the autumn sun rises. Wednesdays are free, and she always sleeps in. Today of all days would be best spent away from news and the general public, but she can't stop thinking about what she'll say to him tonight. She fell asleep thinking of him and awoke worse off for it, but there's also an energy that refuses to dissolve no matter what she distracts herself with.

You have to get out of bed. The rest we'll figure out as we go. More of his little phrases find their way into her daily rotation of things she tells herself to keep going. Today, it's the words he told her on Monday that keep the soles of her feet from retreating into the plush mattress, away from the hardwood floor and inevitable pain. She sets one foot in front of the other until she makes it to the kitchen, and she takes her morning medication with less dread than two days ago. She has to train herself to notice the slightest improvement, much like she asks her patients to do. And then, once successful, she has to reward herself somehow.

Today, her reward will be a day without guilt. Horrible things happen all the time with no rhyme or reason. Yesterday was a terrible accident, and that day all those months ago happened to be a vicious attack, but all the same, the result is suffering. She'll try not to think of everything that's been clawing its way into her awareness since noon yesterday, and she'll see where it takes her.

The first item on her task list is prepping her bag for tonight, because risking another forgetful episode and ending up with the same frustrations she did on Monday is unacceptable. It's not just the guilt of surviving that she'll try to avoid for today. She touched herself to the thought of him and tonight she has to look him in the eye. It wasn't even an elaborate fantasy - she guesses maybe two minutes passed before she was slumping back into the bed, the tension having snapped almost unexpectedly when she thought of what he'd sound like moaning her name. She's sure the real thing might put her in an early grave, but why waste time imagining the impossible?

They're alright, but their chemistry isn't off the charts. They get along fine as far as the patient-therapist relationship is concerned, and they've had a chat here and there about more personal things, but they're hardly in each other's lives in any other capacity. He did once ask her if she'd like to grab a smoothie, mindful of the fact she couldn't drink on meds, but she was running late for an evening class after physio and took a rain check. She ended up never collecting, and he never asked again. Maybe if she had, she wouldn't be grasping at straws now, trying to figure out his phone call to her.

Despite her background and training, a part of her still believes that some people are just meant to click. Instantly, they know they'll be a fixture in each other's experiences on Earth. She cried the first time she met with him, and was more than embarrassed and uncomfortable for the following days. Hardly the start of an alluring romance. It doesn't stop her from conjuring what-ifs and crafting the perfect exchanges that might lead to one thing or another, but at the end of the day, what is there to offer him?

A lifetime of chronic pain and debilitating nerve damage that would take the fun out of most things. There are so many date ideas she can't even entertain. When will she ever put on a pair of skates again, or go hiking on a challenging trail? When will she ever wear a dress that shows any kind of skin again? Be carefree taking it off? Get down on her knees for someone?

She perks up before she can sink even further down the spiral, wiping away the one tear or two that managed to escape with her wayward thoughts. Her coffee machine has sat unused for months. Caffeine is off limits too, and tea is a suitable replacement, but she might also just risk it and have a flat white. Her body isn't going to get any better. She might as well enjoy some things while her heart and liver aren't drowning in medication.

She sips at the long-desired indulgence as the first texts of the day pour in, all in response to the one she sent out following the accident yesterday. Most of her patients get back with reassurances they're alright, but by four in the afternoon, one notable absence sits on her brain until she picks up the phone to verify. It rings a few times before a surprisingly small voice utters a quiet hello, and she realizes this must be Emily, the eight year-old girl whom Christie once referred to as her entire reason for living, but also the reason she never got to live.

"Hey sweetheart. Can you put your mommy on the phone for me?" she asks gently, trying to guess what her answer might be. Something has happened for sure, because Christie really isn't the sort of person who lets her daughter pick up a ringing phone, not when they're looking over their shoulder for a rageful man.

"Mommy's in bed. I don't think she wants to talk to anyone. She won't talk to me."

Deep breaths.

"I see. Hey Emily? Can you do me a favor? You don't have to, but if you put the phone on the bed next to mommy, I can talk to her. Make her feel better. She doesn't have to say anything, she just has to listen. How does that sound? Do you wanna help me help mommy to feel better?"

"Yes," Emily says in that heartbreaking way children usually do when found helpless. It's almost a question.

"Alright sweetheart. Thank you. Just put the phone next to mommy on the bed and let us have a chat, yeah? And can you tell me one more thing?"

"What?"

"Have you eaten today?"

"Mm… not really. I'm a little hungry." She can almost hear the shrug in the girl's shoulders, because of course - her mom is lying in bed, isolated and unresponsive. For children, not being loved is a much more immediate fear than going hungry.

"Ok. How about, while I talk to mommy, you go make yourself a sandwich? Yeah? Don't use the stove if mommy isn't there."

"Ok. I won't."

"Thank you."

It takes a minute, but rustling on the other side and Emily's muffled I love you lets her know the phone is where it's supposed to be. Now for the difficult part.

"Christie? I know you can hear me, so don't pretend you can't. You don't have to talk if you don't want to, but you do need to listen." She pauses for her own benefit, trying to dispel a frown she barely realized was carving deep ridges into her forehead.

"I talked to Emily earlier. I've never heard her voice before. She sounds smaller than she is, doesn't she?"

No response.

"She's also smarter than you think she is. Little girls her age see you better than you see them. What's Emily been seeing today? What's she been thinking? Do you know?"

Nothing.

"She's been thinking her mommy doesn't care about her, Christie. She didn't go to school. She hasn't eaten. I know you're probably tired of hearing your own thoughts from my mouth, but motherhood is exhausting. You don't get breaks. You don't get to turn away when you don't feel like it. You have to get out of bed. Every day. For her."

"What the fuck do you know about it?"

"You're right. I don't have children. But I had a mother who didn't care if I was cold, or hungry, or scared, and I've worked with kids who grew up like that too. They don’t know how to pick a friendly face in a crowd. Everyone looks hostile to them. You don't want to do that to Emily. She's too precious. She doesn't deserve it."

"She doesn't," Christie sobs, but the line goes quiet for the longest time, long enough that she doesn't think anything else will be said. She looks out the window at the great oak tree being robbed of its burgundy treasures by an unkind gust of wind, following a particularly large leaf with her eyes until it touches the ground. Christie speaks four minutes after that.

"This little girl… she died in my arms yesterday."

Her breath catches on nothing, expecting anything but that to be the reason for Christie's catatonic state. She's had episodes before, but never have they been triggered by something this serious.

"Were you - Were you in the tunnel, Christie?"

Despite the immediate pain, she has to stand up from her kitchen table right in that moment, or she'll lose her cool at the worst possible time.

"No." Another sob drowns the phone line, but this one isn't followed by an endless stretch of silence. When it rains, it pours.

"I was going to pick Em up from school. I came out of the tunnel right before it blew. So many - so many people were trying to help. They were pulling everyone from the rubble. From the water. Old people, parents, little - little kids. They were so small. I don't know what I was doing… Someone just handed me this little girl who was blue in the face. She couldn't breathe very well. I tried to help her, I did. Please believe me. She was just so little. She was gone so, so fast. I couldn't do anything. I couldn't."

There comes a point in therapy when the boil threatens to singe both patient and provider. Fresh trauma has the potency of a thousand latent squabbles and shortcomings. It's a motorcycle on a tank frame, uncontrollable and well guarded against reason, experience or wisdom. There's only one or two weak points that can unravel the entire thing, but no two models are ever completely similar. You have to work with new eyes every time.

"Christie. That isn't your fault. What happened yesterday was a horrific turn of events. An accident of negligence, if you're comfortable with that. They happen to good people. They happen to bad people. No one has to do anything to deserve it. That little girl wasn't guilty of anything. You're not at fault for not being able to help her. Whatever you're thinking, nothing is going to happen to you. Or to Emily. There is no cosmic punishment for deeds done or not done. There are only people, and the things that happen to them. And we're only responsible for the things we choose, not the ones that happen to us."

"If I lose Em, I don't want to live."

She breathes in sharply, holding it for a few seconds and releasing it slowly.

"Christie, Emily is right there. She's in the kitchen, looking for something to eat. Your little girl is thinking about you. You're thinking about her. But you're right next to each other. You can go give her a hug. Nothing is stopping you. You can spend all the time you want with her."

"What if something happens to her?" Christie whispers.

What if. Of all the questions she hears from patients, the ones that start with those two words are the trickiest to steer away from. So often they are nothing more than facts of life. What if someone I love dies? What do I do with all that love? What do I do with myself?

"You can't spend all the time you have with her thinking about that. That's why we're alive. We're here to love others until we can't. No one is offering you guarantees, and no one gets to know how long they have. That's life. It gave you Emily. It's giving you time to love her and care for her. That's enough. It has to be."

Moments pass. Christie releases a ragged sigh. It's that sound that makes some of the tension leave her shoulders, but her leg hurts more than usual. She didn't even realize she'd been gripping her thigh viciously all throughout the phone call to keep centered. Focused. Keep herself from being too involved in a subject so close to home.

"Can you stay on the phone with me until I get to her?"

"I can stay as long as you need me to."

It's another minute or two until she hears hushed whispers and sweet apologies, and it takes her a while longer than it should to hang up, intruding on a mother and her daughter's private moment for her own selfish reason. Christie doesn't need her anymore for now. She did well. If only she could reason with herself this effectively.

She sets her phone down on the kitchen table and glances at the oven clock. Just after five. She has some time to wind down after the impromptu therapy session, and the two hours between now and physio are just about enough to grab food at that Korean place by the clinic. Already dressed, she takes a cab to Brooklyn that only manages to wind her up even more, because the driver, however polite, insists on telling her things she didn't ask about the tragedy everyone is discussing. Even within her extensive repertoire of conversation dampeners she can't find a sensible way of asking him to stop without seeming like she doesn't care about the victims of a horrible event. She does slam the car door with all the strength she can muster after getting out. It hurts, but it's worth it to blow off some steam.

Woori Bar & Grill caught her eye weeks ago, but eight p.m. has always been too late for heavy foods and she's always been too tired after physio to keep standing. Well, not exactly - she's always been too sleepy after being handled by Peter, and it always took the car ride home to wake herself up. She's wide awake right now, which is why she spots him at the bar almost immediately upon entering, like her eyes had nowhere else to land but there.

It's almost six, which is strange, but maybe he got hungry and had some free time. Unfortunately, her assumption is dispelled as she studies him. Peter is nursing a half-full whisky tumbler, head hung low and body language almost textbook perfect. He's most definitely drunk. Proceed with caution. Crossing the room almost diagonally, she makes her way to him with a neutral expression, and notices him notice her without even looking. It's like someone plugged him into the wrong outlet. She can sense he isn't going to be welcoming.

Stopping a couple of feet away, she sets her bag down on the empty chair next to him and sighs to herself. She can see the right side of his face. He seems adamant about staring at the amber liquid swirling in his glass, what she can discern of his features set into an icy glare.

"Are we still on for tonight?" She chooses to open with the obvious, because dancing around the topic wouldn't serve either of them. This is a version of Peter she hasn't seen before, and he proves her right when he scoffs into his drink.

"Why? Did you answer my texts?"

He's caught her off guard. Completely. Even a brief recall makes her realize that no, she didn't. She read them twenty-seven times, but she didn't answer. It's a fuck up that he seems to want to use against her, but if he thinks he can, she'll demonstrate otherwise.

"No, but I saw them. I assumed that was that, we were still on. I should've answered earlier, I'm sorry."

"Yeah well, I'm sorry too." He doesn't sound apologetic, for whatever it is he might be referring to.

"For what?"

Peter veers his head at her, and she's too surprised by the cuts littering the left side of his face to be affected by his words.

"For thinking you were serious about recovery."

He's in pain. The eyes that normally watch her with patience and care drag across her face with disdain that isn't meant for her at all. She can see that, and she knows it to be true in her mind, but it's still hard to be on the receiving end of his disapproval, however misdirected.

"You don't think I'm serious about my recovery because I didn't answer your three a.m. texts?" She raises an eyebrow. "Be honest, Peter. You're having a bad day. You're not in the mood, fine. You need to vent, then vent. But don't do this."

Throwing his words back at him isn't something she does to be petty or retributive. She says them to him because he was right to say them to her.

"I don't need to vent. Least of all, to you." He glares, pushing the glass away as he turns his body towards her more.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asks patiently, without malice. She isn't insulted. She can't be, because she's needed right now.

"Like you don't know?" he sneers. "You don't think I can see you, taking me apart in your head every time we meet? Trying to figure me out? Suspicious of everything, like I'm judging you instead of helping you? You're always trying to pick a fight, like that'll give you your precious insight into who I really am. Well, here you go. Here's your fight."

He puffs up his chest but it's just a drunken motion, supported by the fact that he has to keep his left arm on the counter so he doesn't fall off the chair.

"Something bad happened to you, and now you're waiting for someone to confirm what you already think about yourself. You want someone to tell you you're wasting your time. That you'll never be the same. You don't like me looking at you up close. You can't stand that you aren't seeing what you expect to see. Why am I looking at you like you're a person someone might want? Isn't that what you think?"

All the restraint in the world isn't enough to keep her eyes from welling up with hot tears, but she refuses to cry. He doesn't mean any of it. He doesn't.

"I don't know what happened to you, but you're lashing out at me unfairly," she says, voice shaking despite her best effort not to let it.

"Unfairly? You don't think it's fair? You get to live. Others don’t. You're alive, and you're acting like it's this great inconvenience. The pain has nothing to do with it. You just don't think you're worth it now that you're damaged. You don't think you have anything to offer anyone."

It feels like her feet are nailed to the ground. They won't listen to her command to turn and just get out of here.

"I don't understand what I did to you." She switches approaches, because this is too personal. The vitriol he's hurling at her can't originate anywhere else. It might be caused by something else entirely, but something is bothering him about their relationship specifically. She wants to know what.

"Oh, you don't? Every time you show up for therapy, you're waiting for me to act the opposite of how I feel. Every time I smile at you, you don't think it's sincere. Every bad day you have, you think I'll tell you to leave. I could get down on my knees for you and you'd think it was a declaration of war."

It's too much. He's said so much in just a few minutes that she's now disoriented and afraid to speak, should he unveil more of her worst thoughts in response. He's looking at her with unbearable clarity. Is he even drunk at all? He hasn't slurred any of his words. He's just used them to take her apart, vivisecting her in public to no one's awareness. Nobody can help her, and she wouldn't ask anyway. He's right. About everything. It burns at her soul so badly that she wants revenge, despite knowing better. But who is he to peel away at things she hasn't even dared say out loud? To throw it all in her face like he's perfect and all-knowing and was just waiting on her to put it together like the inferior mind reader she is?

"I didn't see you get down on your knees. All I saw was you doing your job. Or was I supposed to jump you because you saw my body up close and didn't look away disgusted?"

The incision isn't quite as precise as his, and in any case, he's had something to dampen his reception of it. She has to fight with him sober and blindsided, while he looks like he's been sitting on this for a while.

"Fuck off. That's all you saw because that's all you'd let yourself see. But you can't lie to yourself when you're alone. There's no one to pick a fight with to distract yourself."

Peter stands from the bar chair quickly enough that she doesn't have time to move back, and they brush chests when he squares his shoulders. He peers down at her with narrowed eyes that have lost some of their fight, and his lips quirk upwards in a self-satisfied smirk.

"I bet you think about me when you're alone."

"Is that what you're doing? Picking a fight with me to distract yourself? What happened to you? Where did you get the cuts on your face?" she insists, ignoring his daring statement.

Something of what she says makes his eyes harden again, but it's like he's left the room to go somewhere unreachable. He's not here with her, but wherever all this started. She tries pushing through one more time.

"What happened, Peter?"

His face crumbles. He's the picture of overwhelming grief for only one second, because he sidesteps her and heads for the door before she can react.

"Peter!"

She shouldn't follow after him. She's heard more than enough for one night, and he's packed too many hurtful truths in what amounted to barely half a therapy session. So, whatever makes her hurry in his direction can only spring from irrationality. Typically, irrational actions are fueled by three things: anger, envy and a third thing she isn't willing to admit to.

Despite having only spent minutes inside the bar, the chill of late October hits her much worse than when she got out of the cab. She pulls her cardigan closed as she follows a worryingly wobbly Peter down the sidewalk, guessing he must be headed to the clinic just a few blocks away. By the way he's swaying left and right, he shouldn't have been able to say even one coherent thing to her, but he rattled off all her faults like he was speaking directly from her subconscious.

"Come on, Peter. Just stop!" she calls after him, but he continues on without acknowledgement. He's walking too fast for her to catch up without putting herself through significant discomfort, yet she keeps following at an increased pace. They make it for two blocks before she shrieks in pain. Her shoe gets caught onto a sharp protrusion from the pavement, and she puts her arms out to break the fall, but her knee still takes the brunt of it. It's so intense she grits her teeth hard, grunting through tightly closed lips as shocks travel along the cartilage. Her palms burn with indented gravel that scrape at easily breakable skin, and her left arm gives way from the impact, leaving her head to bounce off the pavement.

Breathing shallowly and gripping whatever she can to soothe the pain, she doesn't realize Peter has returned until his hands cover hers. He's muttering incessant no's under his breath, moving skittishly and touching her seemingly everywhere at once before cradling her head in his lap.

"No please, please. Please, not you."

He says it over and over, and she's so confused it almost overrides the pain emanating from the bluntness of the impact. Peter begins to murmur apologies as he dabs at her temple with the hem of his shirt, making her look up at him in a daze. She's putting all the effort into studying his face, hoping it'll both distract her from the burning of her knee and unravel previously elusive mysteries. Like why his eyes seem to be perceiving something other than what he's really seeing, and why his chapped lip trembles like something horrendous has happened.

Something horrendous has happened, she realizes, but not here and not now. She reaches up with her less injured hand to wipe the tears that begin to fall, noting how warm the skin of his cheek is. Her other hand goes to cover the one of his that rests awkwardly on her shoulder. He's touching her where he knows she's comfortable, despite his frantic outburst just a few seconds ago. She doesn't think she'd mind very much if he just swallowed her up the way he seems to be itching to do.

"Do you need a map?" she whispers to him, drinking in his glistening eyes and wholly wishing to dry them.

"What?" Peter sniffles, just as quiet of a whisper leaving him.

"So you can get back to me."

He flounders in response, clearly not knowing what to do. Her thumb needs to stop brushing the underside of his jaw before she does something stupid like asking him to kiss her. He's in distress. He's drunk. She's taken a bit of a tumble, and his words still linger not very far from her heart. They're a mess tonight.

"Can you help me up?"

To her surprise, he doesn't. He swoops her up entirely, and a frightened whimper escapes her at the thought of how wobbly he was a minute ago. She'd put both arms around his neck if she could, but her left can't reach. The angle is too wide. The adrenaline must be wearing off now, because she's hurting in more places than she realized.

"I'm taking you to the hospital."

She scoffs, amused. Even she knows it's not that bad.

"You're taking me to the clinic so I can get a band-aid and a leg compress. Maybe a lollipop for being so brave."

Peter nods, looking serious like a heart attack, and it makes her laugh despite herself. She can only hope they'll make it the remaining few blocks without another tumble, and she's impressed to find that he seems to have shaken off his stupor entirely. His grip and balance are both excellent, and she feels secure. Not that she has anything to compare it to - she's never been carried before, at least not that she remembers. Either he's masking it very well, or the intoxication evaporated some time in the last few minutes. The woman at the front desk stands up in surprise when they enter, but Peter assuages her concern with a quick dismissal.

"It's ok Norah, I got her."

In some capacity, she does feel 'gotten', whatever that means. His chest is warm and solid against her head, and though he still smells of alcohol, the scent that spun her in a tizzy Monday night lingers at his collar. It's different on him. It's the difference between melting sugar in cold versus hot water. One of them takes significantly less to achieve its purpose. She isn't exactly eager to be set down, but eventually his warmth does leave her. She keeps inhaling surreptitiously until he gently puts her down on the massage bed. He leaves the room before she can even sit up properly, and she has a minute to sober up alone.

First deciding to assess the damage, she pulls the hem of her tracksuit bottoms to just above her knee, seeing the skin is already starting to bruise in that nice way that lets her know some tiny blood vessels popped. Not that she can see all that many of them under the layer of scars running from knee to ankle. They're jagged and nonsensical, because rebar doesn't usually follow a steady pattern when piercing your leg. The pain is somewhat manageable, but she suspects that's because she took her medication only an hour before leaving for the Korean place. A mild stabbing sensation every few seconds is the worst of it, at least for now.

The second part of the assessment is the worst one. There's much to think about, particularly all the things that were said that crossed many lines. Professionally and personally, a transgression has occurred.

When Peter returns, he stops closer to the door than to her. Their eyes meet, and they both appear to be thinking along the same lines. He's holding a first aid kit in one hand and leg compression sleeve in the other.

"I can um - I can get someone else to do this if you don't want me to uh… Just, if you don't want to see me right now."

She hums, studying him from head to toe. Not wanting to see him is an exaggeration, she knows that. And though he seems to have calmed from his previous state, he was inebriated enough to be swaying left and right. Maybe talking more isn't the brightest idea. So why can't she decline politely and say they'll meet up at a better time for them both?

"Do you want to?"

His eyes widen.

"Want to what?"

"See me," she clarifies.

All at once, he seems to soften up - shoulders sagging, releasing a breath that looked like it hurt to hold in, head tilting. He steps closer and closer until he's right there, jeans lightly brushing against her exposed knee. He's caging her in with his gaze, and she's letting him.

"I wanna take care of you."

Her soft little sigh is, even to her ears, the picture of weakness. How does it take only a handful of words to make her throat close up? How is she seeing things that aren't even there?

"Stop doing that," Peter says, lips pressing together for the briefest moment before he speaks again. "You heard what I said. That's all there is. Stop turning it into something else in your head."

He speaks so determinedly, she misses the moment he sets down the supplies he brought, and it's only when she feels his light touch under her chin that she's embarrassed to notice her eyes well up.

"If you need me to say it flat out, then I guess that's what I gotta do."

That line snaps her attention like an unruly planet pulled into orbit by a much larger cosmic force. Suddenly, she's just there to listen with no background noise.

"I care about you. You're important to me. I know it might not look that way, because I said a lot of awful things to you. But I swear, I didn't mean any of them. I was - " He looks away. "Something terrible did happen. I was taking it out on you, and I shouldn't have. I never should have. I might've just blown it all up before I even -"

He sighs in frustration, but it's also just the most exhaustion she's seen him display, ever. Peter looks worn out, and the contrast between the him she's come to know and the person in front of her now is more jarring than it should be. He didn't get like this overnight; it was her that missed and misinterpreted who knows how many clues into his well-being. The cuts on his face solidify that fact even more. Some psychologist she is. Where was she looking? Was she looking away, trying so hard not to be seen by him that she ended up the one blinded?

"What do you think you've blown up?" she asks, hoping her voice will work and surprised when it does.

Peter bites the inside of his cheek, letting his hand drop from her chin and running it through his hair.

"I dunno. Maybe I've been imagining things too. Seeing what I wanted to see. Maybe there wasn't anything to blow up."

Her heart surges through her throat and attempts to crawl out of her mouth. She hasn't been this scared in a while.

"Peter. Please, tell me what you think you've blown up," she finds herself begging, unable to give a verdict until she knows beyond any doubt what he was trying to say.

And Peter, for his part, looks misty eyed and desperate too. Time has slowed down just a little bit.

"This. Us. If that was ever a thing. I can see why you might not feel that way now, but I - I do. I don't know if I can say it any more clearly."

Breathing out to try and regain some semblance of outer calm, her initial reaction is to look away while speaking. But she can't. She owes him the same direct honesty, and she's been averting her gaze for too long anyway.

"You haven't blown anything up." For a moment, she thinks that will be enough, but quickly realizes it's only because she's hoping to spare herself vulnerability. Unfortunately, that's also the instinct that got them here, so getting them out will require a different approach. She needs to say what she thinks, and she needs to stop turning very clear statements into something less than what they are. He likes you. Deal with it.

"I like your smile. I've never thought it wasn't sincere. I just thought that maybe it was too good to really mean what I wanted it to mean," she confesses, taking a break to let the words be heard by her too. She's uncomfortable in every way one gets when utterings truths that have never seen the light of day. It makes language seem a different force altogether, capable of wielding reality in unpredictable ways - the opposite of everything she's learned to do.

"You said some harsh things I wish I didn't have to hear from you, but you didn't lie. And you weren't fully yourself. I was worried you might still not be, but you seemed pretty observant at the bar, so…"

Peter winces in response, seemingly wanting to say something in return but stopping himself to let her continue.

"It's ok. I don't hold grudges." She smiles. "Especially not against people I need in my life."

He looks caught off guard, and she wonders if what she said is a surprise to him. He had her all figured out just a little while ago.

"I'm sure there's a lot of specialists in town who could do the job."

He picks now to be coy? Or is he the one flustered for the first time? It's strange to think that just a couple of days ago she was wondering if they'd ever switch places, with him being the one under the microscope for a change. Is this that moment? It's not as triumphant as she thought it would be. This doesn't feel like a power struggle. It's just two idiots doing what should have been much easier from the beginning, what with their respective professions.

"Maybe, but none of them are you. I need you in my life as Peter, not as my therapist."

"Is this you saying you no longer require my services?"

It's good to see a glimpse of his usual good humor returning. It lights up his eyes to her preferred twinkle, and she doesn't feel as tense that she might be staring at his mouth. It's allowed now - in moderation. Still, there is something she'd like to address tonight, before it fizzles out into obscurity and remains a sore spot between them.

"What you said earlier, about me being afraid I have nothing to offer anyone - " His grimace gives her pause, but she presses on ahead for the sake of clearing the air.

"I have thought that before. I can't say it isn't on my mind more than once a day, especially if I'm by myself. I just wanted to make things clear. I don't hate myself. I just know there's a lot of things I can't do anymore. I'm in pain every day. It makes me tired, and it makes me more irrational than even I know what to do with. And it's not shallow of me to say that yes, I don't look the same anymore. I haven't come to terms with that. I don't know how to be carefree just wearing whatever. I - you know I don't like being touched. That's not going to go away immediately just because I know how you feel now. It's fine when you do it in our sessions, but somehow, the thought of it happening in any other setting sort of…" Makes me nervous.

She doesn't continue because it might be a little too much honesty. She didn't need to bring up the concept of him touching her in different contexts. That's not the kind of thing people discuss before they've even gone on one date. But, she has brought it up, and now she must deal.

"Do you think you wouldn't like it?"

Jesus, that was blunt and an absolutely insane question. She remembers every bit of the fantasy she had Monday night. He probably wouldn't even have to touch her to unwind her like a clock. Daring to peek at him, she's surprised by the genuine intrigue she finds there. He really wants to know, because he might not be as good a mind reader as she assumed.

"No, that's not it. I know I would, I just - "

"You know you would?"

Shit. Shit. Of all the things to say without thinking.

"So you have thought about me."

The smirk in his voice makes her groan, but she resists the urge to climb off the bed and scurry away. The brave thing to do would be to just face him and admit that yes, she has thought about many things, but that would just give him the upper hand. Instead, she'll take the coward's way out and provoke him.

"And you haven't?" she asks, blinking at him. They're the same height in this position, and it's weirdly empowering to not have to look just slightly upwards all the time.

The question rattles him, but not as much as she thought. In fact, the glint she can see take shape in his eyes spells nothing but danger.

"I'll tell if you do."

If she replaced the Cheshire Cat with a picture of him on the cover of Alice in Wonderland, she doesn't think anyone would notice.

"Information isn't free. It has to be earned."

Wherever that comes from, it manages to change the atmosphere in the room in seconds. Peter is quiet as she watches him, transfixed by his expression. It's then that he moves closer, tapping her knee with a featherlight touch. She parts them on instinct, enough to allow him to step forward. He's so close now that her breathing automatically becomes shallow and her eyes unfocused for the briefest moment. It feels good to have him standing between her legs, but the real delight is his arm slowly wrapping around her lower back and pulling her against him, eyes watching attentively for any sign of discomfort. None to be found.

"I wanna kiss you. I've been thinking about that, among other things."

It's really unfair the way her ears seem to be working better than they ever have, picking up on every breathless little whisper, every change in tone from him and sending all that information not to her brain, but much lower down.

"Please."

Every second he leans in closer her heart beats faster, and she worries it might actually stop in her chest when their lips touch. It's gentle and soft and so languid it drives her insane, because the way he's holding her to him and gasping against her mouth between switching angles makes her toes curl in her shoes like she's never been kissed.

His other hand comes up to the junction of her neck and jaw, big and firm and hypnotizingly warm. Embarrassingly, a low moan escapes her lips right before he captures them again, tightening his arm around her in response. A single kiss has never been good enough to make her moan like that, and she fights the urge to wrap her legs around him. She's not sure how that would work out, because they already feel pretty weak and her knee still hurts.

Peter pulls away slowly, thumb caressing her cheek and making her keep her eyes closed for a second longer. When she opens them, she finds a wholly different Peter, pink lips parted enticingly and eyes just a tinge darker than they were before. It's something about his face, or maybe just the way he's holding her, or his scent once again spinning her stupid, but he's changed somehow. The way she's being looked at, though new and unusual, is instantly recognized by the instinctive part of her brain, the part that doesn't really have much to say while her eyes follow him, mesmerized, as he reverently drops to his knees in front of her.

She swallows quickly before she can choke on air. Peter is so close she can feel his breath on the skin of her exposed knee, which his face is almost level with. She's getting more dizzy with every passing second, and she can't decipher the question in his eyes until he says it out loud.

"Can I take care of you, sweetheart? Show you what I've been thinking about?" he murmurs.

The vibration of his lower timbre sends her pulse climbing and a shiver runs through her entire body when his hand touches hers on the edge of the bed. He lifts it gently so he can put his underneath.

"Or maybe you can show me what you've been thinking. Hmm?"

He wants her to show him? Fuck, this is bad. It's a proposal she has trouble processing, because how have all her reservations flown out the window the instant she looked down at him? He might be the one kneeling, but her brain is the one that got short circuited. She can't think of any reason to deny herself what he's offering because she can't think at all. Peter Parker is on his knees, asking to take care of her like that's a thing she knows how to respond to.

"What's going on in that head of yours? Still overthinking?" he asks not unkindly. Someone else would've been turned off by her silence a while ago, but he keeps looking up at her through those unfairly long lashes.

"I don't know what to say," she answers honestly before she can run it through a filter.

"Just say what you're feeling. Do you want me to touch you?"

"Yes." Fuck, that was even faster than her previous answer and more effortless than she imagined.

"So show me where to touch you, baby. You're in control. Show me how to make you feel good."

She breathes in through her nose to attempt to steady herself, removing her hand from atop his to guide it to his cheek, and just that singular touch has her skin tingling with anticipation. When he leans into her palm she almost closes her eyes.

"I thought about you a few days ago," she tells him quietly.

"Yeah?"

She nods, all of a sudden shy but doing her best to mimic his confidence.

"Remember how I forgot to bring my lotion? And you had to use the one here?"

Peter looks confused for a moment before he nudges her hand, urging her to continue.

"I couldn't think of anything all night because I kept smelling you on me."

Her hand leaves Peter's cheek, moving back to cover his hand and boldly guide it to her covered knee. She keeps it there for a few moments before moving hers away.

"I couldn't sleep either. I kept seeing you every time I closed my eyes."

Peter listens intently, moving his hand in a motion that's meant to be soothing but just serves to wind her up. His touch isn't new, but the context and intent are so different that it doesn't matter. If anything, it only makes her wonder more.

"Yeah? What'd you do?" he murmurs.

She tears her eyes away before answering, because despite talking being her main activity in life, saying sensual and lewd things to Peter Parker makes her feel like she's never said anything eloquent ever.

"I thought about you touching me. Like you are now, just… less clothes."

He raises an eyebrow in question, and this time he doesn't have to say it out loud. He's asking her permission and she all too willingly gives it, taking his hand again and guiding it to the waistband of her pants. She helps him pull them off by leaning back on her hands, and she notes with amazement that she's completely forgotten about the tumble she took earlier. The heels of her hands are still smarting, but she can't find it in herself to care.

But, suddenly, reality hits: she's in her underwear in front of Peter and he's looking at her through hooded eyes, and she realizes her fantasy doesn't hold a candle to the real thing. Nervousness blossoms in the pit of her stomach, but she doesn't get to say anything before Peter takes her hand again.

"We don't do anything you don't want, yeah? Promise me."

It rings true of the early days of therapy, when he made her promise not to push herself beyond her limits just to seem tough, and she melts just a little more on the spot. Nodding her head, she whispers the promise back to him and takes advantage of their intertwined hands to once again place his on her thigh, this time higher than earlier.

"I trust you."

Peter smiles softly and leans forward to gently kiss her busted knee, and that one gesture pulls a whimper from her lips. Keeping his eyes on her, he places another kiss further up on the inside of her thigh, right where a different scar begins. Blunt concrete also leaves interesting marks with no particular pattern, but she calms herself through the knowledge that Peter has seen all these before. He's not going anywhere, and he's still watching her like he wants to eat her. She feels his tongue dart out to lick a short stripe in the same spot he kissed.

"Is this what I was doing to you, baby?"

It doesn't even matter what he was doing to her in that scenario, because this is far and above anything she could come up with. But the longer he spends kneeling in front of her, the more her tongue loosens and her mind starts saying whatever it wants.

"Yeah. You can… You can touch me. I want you to."

He might as well, because she's pretty sure he can see the spot forming on her panties. But instead he keeps placing featherlight kisses higher and higher on the inside of her thigh, slow and soft and she's about to ask him again when he sucks a mark against the sensitive skin. He's so close to where she wants him that it drives her insane, and when his tongue peeks out to lick a stripe along her panty line she can't hold back a moan.

"Peter, please."

His immediate groan travels straight to her core, and she gasps as he kisses her through her underwear. It all happens so fast after that, it's like she unlocked some part of his brain with her plea. He moves her panties aside with two fingers and licks into her with a moan that almost ends her. She tilts her head back, eyes closed as she melts into his touch. She can't look at him anymore. She's so wound up and he feels so good that it'll all be over before she's gotten to enjoy it. Her heart is hammering away, thighs trembling as he holds them open with his hands. The sounds he's making have her whimpering this high-pitched nonsense she's never heard spill from her mouth, because he almost sounds like he's the one in ecstasy.

"Taste so good, sweetheart… Fuckin' sweeter than I imagined."

She tries to focus but his words just keep sending her deeper and deeper into the pleasure-induced haze, and without thinking, she brings her hand to his hair and pulls. Peter sucks her clit into his mouth, and it almost pushes her over the edge, but then he moans again and she gets dizzy, going limp in his hold as he devours her.

"Look at me, baby. Wanna see those pretty eyes."

She opens her eyes and notices the room is spinning, but she looks down like he asked and a shock runs through her at how dark his eyes are. He hums appreciatively and pulls her even closer to his mouth, bumping his nose against her and flicking his tongue perfectly.

"Peter," she keens helplessly, arms trembling from the effort of holding herself up. He's got her on the edge of the bed, about to slip off when he pulls away to hook her knees over his shoulders. He wastes no time diving back in and the new angle makes tears gather in her lash line. It feels so fucking good she doesn't want it to stop, but it's then that Peter moans her name, sucking on her clit again and looking straight into her soul. She comes with a soft mewl, his name spilling from her lips repeatedly and mind blanking when he just keeps going, bringing her down gently with kitten licks and light kisses.

"You ok? That feel good?" he asks quietly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Kiss me," she pleads, sure that if he doesn't do it in the next thirty seconds she might start crying.

Peter sets her legs back on the bed carefully, kissing her knee one more time before standing up and gathering her in his arms. His kiss is sweet and reverent, grounding her the way she knew it would and helping to slow down her pulse. She can taste herself on him - a new sensation - and finds that she doesn't mind it. It makes everything even more intimate than it already is, and a tear does escape despite her best effort to calm down.

She pulls away to take a deep breath, and Peter frowns upon seeing her damp cheek.

"What's wrong?" he asks, caressing the skin with his thumb.

"Nothing." She shakes her head. "That felt really good. I just…"

She sighs, biting the inside of her lip to stop another tear from falling. It's stupid, yet important - the sort of thing she doesn't like having to say out loud to another person, but has Peter not proven he can handle what she throws his way?

"I'm not used to this. I'm not used to being treated like - like - " She swallows hard, trying to look at him but failing.

"Like you're precious?"

She hides her face in his neck as soon as the truth is out, but nods to let him know and to let herself acknowledge it at last. Peter kisses her temple and shushes the small sobs that couldn't be quieted by her, whispering reassurances that she's everything and more than that to him. It takes her a minute, but she feels much lighter once calmed. A blanket of serenity falls over her in his embrace, and as she slowly becomes more focused, she notices something she didn't before. Peter is rock hard between her legs, and the feeling of it makes blood pound in her ears. She's already drunk on him and wanting, and the emotional security she feels right now makes him even more irresistible. But, when she moves her hand down his chest, he stops her just before she reaches his belt. She's confused and almost hurt for a second before his sinful smile puts her at ease.

"Let's take it slow, yeah? We've all the time in the world and I don't want our first time to be here, kinky as that may be."

She raises an eyebrow at his statement, because he did just eat her out with seemingly no problem, and he didn't care about where they were in the least. A handjob shouldn't be so far outside the bounds of acceptability.

"Oh, baby… Do you think I can have you touch me and not fuck you senseless afterwards?"

She stutters without words while Peter looks like the cat that got the cream, seemingly very happy to have rendered her speechless. He gives her a quick peck before pulling away, looking to the side for the supplies he brought in that have been completely forgotten in favor of a different type of care.

"Let's clean you up and get you home. Gonna have to catch up on our session tomorrow. No slacking."

He's switched to doctor mode so quickly it gives her whiplash, and a small chuckle leaves her at his serious expression. She decides to play into it.

"It's Thursday tomorrow. We don't have a session."

"Don't we?" he volleys back without pause, a grin appearing on his face as he works to clean the small scrape on her forehead from where she hit the pavement.

"I don't know. Where would we meet? The place is closed on Thursdays," she points out with no small degree of mirth, waiting for him to finally ask what she wants him to.

"I think I know a spot where we could go."

"Yeah?"

Peter stops what he's doing to lean in for another kiss, taking her breath away with the look in his eyes. He murmurs a quiet yes against her lips before capturing them with his own, and she sighs blissfully as her eyes close slowly.

.

.

.

Epilogue

Friday, December 17 | 7:52 p.m.

"Come on, sweetheart. Just give me one more."

"Peter, I can't."

"Yeah, you can. C'mon, I got you."

Grunting with the effort, she concentrates on the feeling of his warm hands on her calf to distract herself from the uncomfortable stretch. She's never had her leg at this angle since before the surgery, and even then, it was under much more pleasant circumstances.

"You know, I'd be more motivated if we were doing something else instead," she says, wiping at her brow with the back of her hand.

"Yeah? Like what?" Peter challenges.

"I don't know. What could we possibly be doing that would involve this much contorting?"

"Well there's gymnastics, acrobatics, the trapeze at the circus… Maybe pole dancing," he rattles off, looking down at her with a smirk.

"Mm. Wouldn't mind dancing on some pole."

Peter snorts, amused but undeterred.

"Come on, you're almost there. Just push a little further."

"You know, the things you're saying to me could very easily be heard in a delivery room somewhere."

"Stop wisecracking and focus."

"Bossy," she exhales, moving her leg higher and relying on him less to keep it straight. She can't hold it very long, but the fact is that she's made it - she's finally managed the elusive ninety degree angle they set as a goal a month ago, and it's a victory that doesn't take much to make her smile. Peter helps her move it back down when it starts to shake, but the tremors can't ruin the happiness of having gotten farther than before.

"I did it!"

She sits up from the floor mat, throwing her arms around his neck and peppering his face with kisses until he laughs.

"Easy, tiger. You haven't stretched yet. Don't wanna pull a muscle," he says, pecking her lips in return.

She pouts easily, something she recalls being dead-set against doing in front of him just two months ago. They've had so many firsts together in such a short time, yet none of them felt like moving too fast. Between spending time at each other's places and sleeping together, moving physio from the clinic to her living room still feels like the biggest transition that took no effort at all, at least on his part. He said he wanted to keep being her therapist as well as her boyfriend, but the latter made doing the former difficult. She thought it might have something to do with having to assert authority in their sessions while being equals in a relationship, but the explanation he gave almost made her laugh. He felt weird charging her. That was it.

"Can we skip stretching? I'm really sweaty. Wanna go shower."

She watches him contemplate her proposal, and he sighs in resignation when seeing the hopeful look on her face. He helps her up from the floor, watching her carefully until he deduces she's fine.

"You know, I was gonna ask you to join me, but if you're disappointed, I get it. I can shower all on my own… Just me and my thoughts in there. Who knows what I might come up with?" she muses, walking away from him and towards the bathroom. It's only a second or two before she hears him follow after, biting her lip and squealing when he picks her up from behind. The pain has been getting better over time, or maybe she's learned how to live with it more easily, but overall she suspects it's the change in morale that helps the most. Having someone to care for you and caring for them in return rivals the strongest willpower that attempts to go it alone.

She's been thinking about that more and more as the holidays approach, because as far as she knows, neither of them have any plans. Peter mentioned his only remaining family is his aunt May, but nothing has been said in relation to any end of year celebrations.

She uses the time they take in the shower to come up with the least intrusive way of asking, but Peter wandering hands and gentle touches have her starting the process over. By the time they've gotten out and he's laid her on the bed, taking her apart with his mouth and fingers and cock, her mind has quit on her completely. She's barely coherent as she writhes above him, bracing herself on his chest as he thrusts into her from below, whispering profanities that make her lightheaded.

"So fucking tight, baby. I can feel you shaking. Gonna come for me again?"

She whimpers from a particularly deep brush of his cock inside her, watching his eyes as they glue themselves to the spot where they're connected. Peter isn't just incredibly vocal in the bedroom, she's learned. He's also a voyeuristic lover whose adoration and worshipping can sometimes be overwhelming enough on their own. He's caught her frowning at herself in the mirror once and managed to make her come right there, with lazy flicks on his fingers through her soaked folds and words she'll never forget hotly whispered in her ear.

"Asked you a question, sweetheart. Wanna answer me?" he growls, sitting up so they're chest to chest. Her nipples keep brushing against him with every motion, adding to the flurry of sensations that build up to a crescendo.

"Yes," she moans, hugging him to her. "Yes, I'm close. Don't stop."

"Fuck, you're perfect. Feel so good around me."

"Peter," she tries warning him, and he reacts by pulling her down at the same time that he thrusts up again, ripping the sob of his name from her lips greedily and holding her still as she shakes around him, walls clamping down on his cock repeatedly. He groans into her mouth as the feeling of it snaps his self-control, thrusting a few more times as his orgasm washes over him.

They're both left panting as they come down, her more so than him. Her stamina might not be what it used to, but his is absolutely insane. He'd keep at it if she didn't ask him to stop, and one time she didn't just to see if he could fuck her stupid. Mystery solved. She begged him not to stop until she passed out for a few seconds, and when she came to, Peter was none too pleased. He's been careful ever since.

Her thoughts drift back to her earlier intentions, remembering she had a plan. Well, sort of. She has something she wants, and she has an idea of how to ask for it, but courage? Maybe it's too early, regardless of how well they're bonded. Maybe he does have other plans, and he just didn't discuss them with her, because this is new for them both and she doesn't expect -

"Need a map?"

She laughs breathlessly, dopey and in love as she stares into his eyes.

"Nah, I'm good. I just wanted… I wanted to ask you something. And you don't have to feel like you have to say yes just because you're still inside me."

It's Peter's turn to laugh at her disclaimer, pushing little wisps of hair from her sweaty forehead. They showered for nothing.

"What is it?"

"Well… I know we haven't talked about this, so if you have plans that's ok, but uh, it's gonna be Christmas soon and I would like to spend it with you. Whether we celebrate something or not doesn't matter to me that much, but I know I'll miss you, and I'd like to invite you to stay with me this week."

She tries not to study his reaction too closely, although in their current position that proves difficult. Peter juts his bottom lip out as he appears to think, and it's just shy of adorable and terrifying at the same time. She has no idea what he'll say.

"Well, to accept that I have to ask you something in return. And you don't have to say yes just because I'm still inside you."

She laughs at him repeating her words back to her, and laughs even harder when Peter groans, dropping his head to her shoulder.

"Don't do that," he admonishes without any force behind it, stealing a kiss from her neck before he pulls back.

"What is it? What do you wanna ask?" she says, brushing his hair back and running her fingers through it the way she knows he likes. He closes his eyes after she does it a few times, and she smiles at the sight.

"We don't really celebrate Christmas, aunt May and I. At least not in a religious way. My parents were Jewish, but they were also scientists, so believing in God wasn't really a priority. May and Ben raised me how they knew - we made our own traditions. We ate together on the 25th and we exchanged presents because I told them I heard other kids at school did it and I wanted to do that too, but we don't go through the whole 'putting up a tree' thing."

He's rambling out of nervousness. She can tell because it's different to his usual, more passionate rambling about things he finds fascinating. Still, it's nice to hear a bit of his family's story, and she's happy to know he's had many people to love him, even if he lost them.

"Baby, what do you wanna ask me?"

Peter opens his eyes slowly, looking sleepy and a little bit shy. She tries not to melt, but it's a losing battle.

"I was wondering… if you'd like to do that with us this year? Have lunch at May's house and do presents? I want the most important women in my life to meet," he says, watching her just as patiently as she watched him.

Her heart skips an involuntary beat at his declaration, the phrase ringing around her head and threatening to make everything fuzzy and warm. It's almost enough to make her tear up, but that would make her too emotional and she'd end up saying things neither of them is ready for yet. She settles for kissing his forehead, overwhelmed by the rush of affection warming her chest.

"I'd love that," she murmurs softly.

"Yeah?" he returns just as gently, one of his hands cupping her jaw.

She kisses him in response, trying her best to show him how much his question meant without words that would give away too much too soon. That will happen in its own time, and she's entirely happy letting things come as naturally as they have so far. All they have is each other and a growing tenderness, and it's more than enough for every day. The rest, they'll figure out as they go.

- fin -

A/N: Whew, that was insane. I wrote this in about four days like a woman possessed. It’s also the first time I’ve written any smut whatsoever and now I feel like a whore, but a proud one. As always, let me know your thoughts and don’t hesitate to drop into my inbox with questions or random thoughts about my fics. Thank you for reading.

[jmdbjk]

MNCR merch...

It has a clean, minimalist aesthetic. Gender neutral. Functional. As one person said: it's merch for grownups.

You can even kind of assign members' aesthetics to the items: candle is Jungkook, that bar necklace is Jimin, lotion and lip balm to Hobi, rings to Yoongi, etc.

The prices listed on the preview are most likely the price tags in the Seoul pop-up. They are very reasonable, like the necklace is about $22 USD. And fyi, it only comes with the rectangular bar pendant and does not include the ring. It's interesting they added the ring just for a promo pic.

Anyway.

The sweatshirt is about $65 USD. The candle is about $26 which is what those 3-wick candles at Bath and Body Works cost at regular price. About $20 for the crate and it seems large enough to be very useful.

If this merch makes it to Weverse Shop, which we expect it will, I'm not expecting the prices to remain low. And then add in shipping... ugh.

Personally, I'm not a huge merch buyer. We'll see what the prices are when it all hits Weverse Shop.

Some are underwhelmed by the designs and the fact all of that decoding/puzzle solving we had to do only culminated in this pile of good.

Some are trying to reconcile the fact the photocard images appear to have been taken back in 2021 and none of the members look like that anymore. That is the case in any set of photocards. All of that collateral material must be produced way ahead of time.

That's ok. Not everything will please everyone. It was still fun while it lasted and seemed to clear out the negativity for a while.

The locations run concurrently for the most part. It's not a traveling show. They all close by the end of June, some open for longer periods than others. Some open longer than a month, one barely ten days. That's a long time just to sell merch. Unless there's something else to push while these shops are open. I guess we'll see.

Jin will be back while these shops are still open.

I just gotta say that there was some planning that went into this. And they started a long time ago. They probably had gotten a lot done (photocards) and then had to pause and regroup when things went somewhat off the rails in 2022.

Who knows, maybe Namjoonie's puzzling delay in enlisting (and perhaps the others) was because they were working on something else that goes along with this Monochrome project...

We wait™️.

[babymetaldoll]

Baby, I'm yours - Chapter ten: “If you walk out on me, I’m walking after you” 

Summary: Spencer takes his one chance to win the love of his life back. Will he get her? 

Word count: 8,5K

Warnings: Angst, alcohol, hangover, sadness, more angst, cursing, and fluff. 

A/N: Hey guys!! fair warning: Just two more chapters after this!!!! 

Series Masterlist | General Masterlist | Prequel’s Masterlist

Previous chapter | Next chapter

(Y/N)’s point of view

My head was killing me. I woke up late and barely had time to shower and do my makeup. Why did I let my mom give me so much alcohol? Who am I kidding? I wanted to get drunk and cry. Now I had to deal with the consequences of my actions.

I didn’t set foot in the bullpen. Instead, after I walked out of the elevator I ran to JJ’s old office and locked myself in there. The smell of fresh coffee hit me as soon as I closed the door behind my back. I knew I wasn’t carrying any coffee, ‘cos that morning I was too late for work to make breakfast, so I was also starving.

But as a miracle, there was a fresh cup of coffee, a fruit salad, and an eclair on the desk. So Spencer had been there already. And he was still trying to win me back. Unfortunately for me, that morning it kinda worked. I was too hungry and hung over to reject that treat. And so, I ate everything he left there for me. I was glad he wasn’t around, though. I didn’t want him to know just how welcome his breakfast was.

- “Good morning”- Spencer stood at the door and stared at me from a safe distance. I barely had time to put the coffee cup down and wipe my mouth from any eclair left- “I’m glad you enjoyed your breakfast.”

- “Was it from you? I thought I was Penelope’s.”

I lied and looked at the papers on my desk to avoid eye contact. The few seconds I looked at him had been painful enough. He looked miserable. The dark rings under his eyes were massive and as dark as the days after Tobias Hankel tortured him. It brought miserable memories to see him like that. It also felt like a heartbreaking confirmation of his drug issues.

- “I was wondering if we could talk after work today.”- Spencer whispered and stayed still, waiting for my reply. But I didn’t say a word. Honestly, I didn’t know what to say. Maybe it was time to talk to him and ends things once and for all. Why was I still delaying that conversation? Only because it scared me to death.

- “I was at your mom’s last night. I don’t know if she told you, or if you heard me.”

I wanted to be mad at him, but as I heard his voice I realized more than anger, the feeling that invaded me was heartbreak. I was brokenhearted. And somehow it felt worst. I could deal with my anger, I knew how to manage it and act in control when I was mad. But brokenhearted was new. I had never felt that way before, not like that. Not to the point of feeling my chest ripped open and my heart pulled out from it.

- “Mom mentioned it.”- I whispered and glued my eyes to the computer screen. Spencer took a few steps closer to my desk, but still, I refused to turn to him.

- “So, about tonight, I was thinking maybe we can have dinner. We hadn’t been to your favorite Italian place in a while.”

- “No, thanks.”- my reply came out harder than I intended. Maybe because his proximity made me feel even more vulnerable.

- “Chipmunk, please.”

- “Good morning.”- Morgan’s voice interrupted Spencer and stopped me from crying. I looked at the door and he stood there, awkwardly, staring at us trying to read the room. It wasn’t hard to decode we were not comfortable.

- “Hey Derek, what can I do for you?”

- “Hotch asked me to tell you a few cadets are coming today for a talk with him and Rossi, and he wanted you to assist him.”

- “Sure, what time?”- I honestly didn’t have time to do it, but anything that meant staying away from Spencer seemed to be a good idea at the moment.

- “Half hour. He wanted to see you in his office.”- I smiled at Derek and stood up.

- “Thank you, Morgan. Excuse me.”- I gathered a notebook, a pen, and my phone, and left the room without any other word or even looking at Reid.

I waved at Prentiss and JJ on my way to Hotch’s office, and they looked at me as if they had seen a ghost. Did I really look that bad? I took mental notes of checking my makeup before the meeting with the cadets. Hotch’s door was open, so I knocked and just walked in before he would say anything.

- “Hey, Morgan said you needed me.”

- “Yes, please take a seat.”- I moved a chair closer to his desk and got ready to listen. Aaron finished signing a few papers and looked at me.

- “Did you sleep?”

- “Do I look too bad?”- I ran my fingers through my hair, probably making a mess, as Hotch raised an eyebrow- “Yes, I slept. Mom and I had a few drinks last night.”

- “I was gonna ask you to assist me in talking with a few cadets, but I think I’m gonna ask JJ to help.”

- “What? Why? Do I really look that bad?”- Hotch stared at me frowning and didn’t say a word. His mouth was a straight line- “I’m gonna take that as a yes.”

- “I’m not saying you look bad, but you are clearly tired.”

- “I’m ok. What do you need me to do? Talk with the kids? Look charming? Sell them the BAU?”

- “Could you and Penelope get a few things to eat? The catering failed us.”- I somehow felt disappointed, but simply nodded. When Morgan said Hotch needed my help, I thought it was something important. Not being his personal shopper assistant.

- “Do you have a grocery list or something?”- I stood up and he handed me a piece of paper.

- “Thank you, (Y/N). I appreciate it.”

Now I wasn’t just tired and depressed, I also felt insulted. Great. I walked through the bullpen straight to Garcia’s batcave on the other side of the floor. There she was, talking with Morgan, giggling like a schoolgirl, staring at him as he smiled at her.

- “Hey guys. Garcia, Hotch asked me to take you shopping today.”- I looked at my friends and tried to look cheerful. Of course, it didn’t work.

- “Oh my god, munchkin, did you sleep?”- Garcia jumped from her chair and walked to me. Her hands rested on my arms as she sweetly caressed me.

- “I did, I had a rushed morning, that’s all. So, ready to go? We are in a hurry.” - Garcia looked at me and then looked at Morgan, who just stood up nodding.

- “Yes, sure. I have to powder my nose first. Wait for me in your car?”- I raised an eyebrow and stared at her. She was blushing, and nervous.

- “Sorry pretty girl. We were just about to finish talking, I need to tell her something. Why don’t you wait for Garcia in your car? She’ll be there in a second”

The way Morgan called me “pretty girl” was odd, for the first time. He was lying, but I didn’t know which part was bullshit. And to be completely honest, I didn’t want to know. I was sleepy, hungover, and grumpy. I just agreed with his idea and walked out of the batcave. It was already bad enough having to go get groceries for Hotch to add more drama to the whole experience.

I sat behind the wheel of my car and kept surfing radio stations, not actually hearing anything. I just kept pushing the button as soon as I realized the song that was playing. Didn’t care if I liked it or now. I was about to call Pen and argue we were already late when the door at the passenger seat opened and Spencer got into the car.

- “Sorry, Garcia couldn’t make it and she asked me to help you instead.”

- “You have to be joking!”- I nearly yelled as he smiled awkwardly and bucked up.- “What are you doing? Get out of my car!”

- “Sorry, but I promised Hotch I wasn’t going to let our personal problems interfere with our work. And as far as I know, this is a work-related trip to get some things to eat.”- he replied calmly, making it so easy to hate him. The worst part was he was right, I knew it and so I just bit my lips and started the car. The faster we got all the groceries, the faster I was away from my liar fiance.

I had been driving in silence for less than five minutes when Spencer started talking. Did I want to listen to his voice? Not at the minute, though a part of me felt it was incredibly comforting to know he was there, in that same car with me. I was still mad at him, but I missed him so much I was going insane.

- “Did Hotch give you a list of things we should get?”

- “Yes”- I answered coldly. It was a thirty-minute drive to the closest Walmart, and I knew I was going to suffer every minute of that ride. I took a mental note to text Garcia as soon as I was out of that car just to tell her how much I hated her.

- “Do you mind if I play some music?”

- “Whatever.”- I kept my eyes glued to the road and made my best effort to pretend Spencer didn’t exist. But do you want to know what he did? He started playing “I’m sorry” songs he knew I’d love.

First, he played “Line without a hook” by Ricky Montgomery, then “Moonlight” by The Future Island. He actually had the nerve to sing it along. I swear I wanted to jump off that car. By the time he sang “Walking after you” by the Foo fighters, I had had enough. So I turned off the radio and he stopped singing right away.

- “Enough music.”

- “Sorry…”- he whispered and stayed in silence for a few minutes. But of course, it didn’t last.

- “Did you get enough sleep last night?”- he whispered and I sighed.

- “No. You?”

- “Neither did I. I don’t know if Frank mentioned it, but he was at our place last night.”- I tried not to show any emotion, but it shocked me to know my best friend had visited him. It also made me feel better to know Frank was taking care of him.

- “No, I haven’t talked to him.”

- “He stopped by at dinner and forced me to eat.”

- “Good.”- I really didn’t know what to answer at that. I kept biting my lips to stop myself from saying anything. Ten minutes later I parked outside Walmart and practically ran out of the car.

Honestly, how the fuck did I get there with Spencer? I just wanted to run away and hide from him. Instead, I walked by his side, as he pushed a fucking cart.

Spencer’s point of view

My plan wasn’t working. Ok, fine, it wasn’t the best plan ever, but I was desperate. When Morgan told me Hotch needed (Y/N) to get some groceries for his meeting with Garcia, I basically begged her to let me go with (Y/N) instead. It was the only way I knew I could talk to her in private outside work. Or even just hang out with her a little bit. I even listed a few songs I could use to melt her heart but failed terribly. So there I was, pushing a cart around Walmart, following her around the store in silence. She just kept picking snacks for the cadets and I didn’t say a word.

- “Can you pick a few sandwiches? I’m gonna get the cupcakes and we are done.”- those were the only words she said to me the entire time we were at the store. If you ask me, my plan was a complete failure.

- “Sure. Do you need anything else?”- but (Y/N) didn’t answer, she had already walked away from me.

The ride back to Quantico was basically silent. The radio was on, but we just heard the local news. I tried to think of any other moment in my life when (Y/N) had been this mad at me, but I couldn’t recall anything. I remembered when I pushed her out of my apartment, while on drugs. Even after that, she wasn’t mad at me. She just wanted to help me quit drugs.

I knew how much I had ruined things, but I still kept realizing every day just how bad my situation was with her. I mean it. I knew of all the things I could have done to her, getting drugs was the worst. It was the same as cheating. And I would never cheat on her.

- “I’m sorry”- I whispered as (Y/N) parked her car back at the BAU. She looked at me for a second, it was the first time she had knowledge my existence since we left the store, though I had been sitting in the same car with her for over half an hour.

- “I know. But sorry it’s not enough”- she replied and opened the door.

- “I miss you, chipmunk”- I said as I grabbed a few of the bags with groceries and she closed the car.

- “I know. But what do you want me to do? Forgive you and pretend you didn’t break my heart?”

I broke her heart. I had sworn I was never going to do anything remotely close to it, but I did anyway. I didn’t mean to, but I still did it. I didn’t deserve her.

(Y/N) didn’t wait for my reply, she just turned around and walked to the elevator, holding a bunch of paper bags. I followed her quickly and bit my lips. I knew no matter what I said, I wasn’t going to fix anything with her that day. At least no there. I needed proof.

(Y/N)’s point of view

I never thought things would end up the way they did. I held a gin and tonic dad had made for me and sat by the pool in our backyard. Mom set a few things to eat at a table nearby, as Frank, Mikey, and Lu kept talking about their week.

When did I time travel and went back to college? ‘Cos it felt like our old Fridays at home. My friends were always at my house, probably ‘cos mom loved hosting and feeding them. Dad would stop by after his shift and put an eye on us, and if Phoenix didn’t have a better plan, he would stay with us and play any random board game we picked.

Yes, it was sweet, but under the circumstances I was under, it felt odd. Specially ‘cos neither dad nor my older brother knew what had happened with Spencer, and they kept asking me if he was going to join us any time soon.

- “Not today.”- I replied and took a long sip of my drink. That was not how my first night off work was planned to be. But at that point, nothing was going according to plan.

- “What the hell? Is there something wrong?”- dad asked mom and I pretended I didn’t listen.

- “No, they just argued. But everything is ok”- dad scoffed and lighted a cigarette.

- “I’m sure it’s just pre-wedding anxiety.”- mom didn’t reply, she just stared at me and cut me a warm smile.

- “So what do you wanna play tonight?”- Mikey held a bunch of games and stared at us expectantly- “Catan for old days? Exploding kittens? Jenga?”

- “Anything but Scrabble”- Frank grabbed a beer and sat next to me- “Sorry, but playing with you, nugget, is the worst thing ever.”- I just shook my head and sighed.

- “I’m not really in the mood for games. Can we just… do nothing?”

- “Oh come on, peanut! It’s your last weekend as a single woman! Next Friday we are gonna be at the rehearsing dinner”- Phoenix stood behind me and shook my shoulders. His words weren’t meant to hurt, but they did. I didn’t want to think about the wedding. I still didn’t know if I wanted to marry Reid. And I still didn’t want to think about it.

- “How about a nice round of Uno and then we can watch a movie?”- Lu suggested and smiled at me- “Something you like, filled with gore and maybe zombies.”

- “A movie sounds nice.”- I replied and watched Mikey shuffling the cards- “Are you going out tonight?”- I asked my brother, who sat at the table with us and sipped his beer.

- “And miss all this fun? No way!”- he chuckled and looked at me for a few seconds more than usual. And I hated knowing he had realized there was something wrong with me. I was glad he didn’t ask anything though, ‘cos I didn’t want to share my relationship issues with him. Not that I didn’t trust him, I just knew he would get super mad at Reid, and probably in his “older brother mode,” which mostly meant threatening to punch him for breaking my heart.

Mom and dad kept talking, god knows about what, as me and my friends- plus my brother- kept playing Uno, and somehow, I even had fun. Until the bell rang and I felt a chill run down my spine because I knew who was standing at the door. You didn’t need to be a genius to figure it out.

Dad stood up to answer and I looked at my friends. They all knew what was coming, and I guess we were all trying to figure out how to avoid any argument in front of everybody.

- “Peanut, your husband is here!”- dad announced and tapped on Spencer’s back as they walked to us, waving awkwardly. I don’t think he thought everybody was going to be there that night.

I stood up and did the only thing that made sense: I tried to keep Spencer from talking with my family.

- “Hey, let’s go inside.”- I grabbed his arm, ready to drag him back into the house, but Phoenix stopped me.

- “My new brother!! Long time no see! Have a beer with me!”- Spencer looked at him and then at me. I tried to beg him with my eyes not to do anything stupid and for a second, I thought he had understood.

- “Hey Phoenix, nice to see you. I didn’t know you were in town.”

- “I asked for the entire week free for my little sister’s wedding.”- he answered proudly- “Besides, I am waiting for your bachelor party!”

- “I’m planning that!”- Frank announced, I don’t know if he was serious or if that was his way to help me. It worked though, Phoenix turned to my friend and started asking what he had planned, and I dragged Spencer into the house in a second.

- “What are you doing here?”- I closed the kitchen door, trying to get some privacy.

- “Sorry, I didn’t know you had company.”- he said and opened his satchel- “I just stopped by to give you these.”- he took a few envelopes and put them in my hand. I stared at them not getting what he was doing. So I stared at him and raised my eyebrows, waiting for an explanation.

- “I know you are not going to believe me when I tell you I haven’t taken a drop of Dilaudid since you helped me recover, but I hope these will help you see how sober I am.”

- “What are these?”

- “All the drug tests I managed to get done in these few days. There are urine, hair, and saliva drug tests in there. They are all negative.”- I stayed still, staring at those envelopes for a few seconds, maybe minutes because it felt forever. And Spencer kept his eyes on me the entire time. Waiting for my reaction.

- “What do you want me to do now?”- I asked him finally- “Read the results and trust you again?”

- “These are proof I didn’t do drugs, I didn’t lie.”

- “You did lie, you got the fucking drugs in the first place. You felt like you could start using it again and never told me about it. Why?”

Spencer opened his mouth, but no word came from it. He just stared at me with watered-up eyes, trying to gather his thoughts.

- “Fine, you never used it, but you bought it. You went behind my back and for a moment, you actually considered using it. You also never got rid of it. Until I found it, that shit was still in your jacket, ready for another moment of weakness.”

- “Chipmunk, that’s not what happened! Yes, I was weak and bought it, but as soon as I was home alone, ready to use it…”- Spencer wanted to tell her he had stopped because he realized it was a mistake. But the truth was, he stopped because Frank interrupted him.

- “Why didn’t you trust me? Why did you keep it to yourself? We’ve been a team for so many years! Way before we started dating! I’ve always been there for you, you’ve always shared how you felt with me! Why did you stop?”- I tried not to yell, but failed. I had been trying to control my feelings and my thoughts for two days already, and I couldn’t do it any longer.

- “I… I didn’t want to look weak in front of you.”- he confessed as tears started falling down his eyes- “I didn’t want you to think you had a weak boyfriend.”

- “I would have rather have an honest boyfriend”- I threw the envelopes on the kitchen island and stared at him, making my best effort not to cry.- “Now how do I trust you again?”

- “I am so sorry”- he murmured as he started sobbing. It broke my heart to look at him like that. He just closed his eyes and cried in front of me, knowing there was nothing he could say that might fix what he had done.

- “I didn’t ask you that question to make you feel bad. I asked you ‘cos I really want to know”- my chin quivered as I said those words- “How can I trust you again, Spencer? After you broke my heart? How can I marry you? How can I know you won’t do it again?”

- “Peanut?”- I turned around and looked at my dad frowning. Next to him was my brother. And behind them, mom and my friends. They were all staring at the show.

- “Can you just leave us alone?”- I whispered and my friends quickly disappeared. But my family didn’t even move.

- “What the hell is going on here? Why are you crying?”- Phoenix walked toward me and stood in front of Spencer, looking intimidating. I even wondered if he was still carrying his gun with him.

- “We were just talking”- I tried to explain and make lights off of the whole deal, but we were both crying and we had yelled, which clearly they had all heard.

- “What the fuck did you do to my sister?”- my brother didn’t even try to have a conversation, he pushed Spencer back, and I quickly grabbed him and kept him away from Reid.

- “Stop, stop, he didn’t do anything.”

- “(Y/N), you are crying and yelling you are never going to trust him again, obviously he broke your heart!”- my brother argued and turned to Reid again- “What the fuck did you do? Did you cheat on her? ‘Cos if you did, I’m gonna fucking kill you, and I’m not even kidding!”

- “Stop! Phoenix!”- I stood in front of Spencer and tried to shield him from any attack from my older brother.

- “This is between the two of us, it doesn’t involve any of you! So just get out!”- I tried to sound firm, but instead, my voice broke and I sounded pathetic.

- “Peanut…”- dad said and looked at me concerned.

- “Chief (Y/L/N), Phoenix, I didn’t cheat on her, but I did break her trust.”- Spencer whispered as he tried to stop crying- “A few years back…”- and I cut him right there.

- “They don’t have to know what happened.”

- “But I wanna tell them, chipmunk. I love you, and I am ashamed of what happened. I want you to forgive me, and I want your family to forgive me for making you cry too.”

His words moved me, and I couldn’t say another word. I just stared at him wiping off the tears from his face as he stood in front of my dad and brother, confessing the one thing I never wanted either of them to know.

- “A few years ago I was kidnapped and tortured by an unsub. His name was Tobias Hankel. He was delusional and had split personalities. He drugged me for days, as a way to help me survive his torture. That’s how I got hooked on Dilaudid. I struggled to quit for a few months after I was back to work. I had never used any substance before, and I don’t think I would have been able to quit if it wasn’t for (Y/N).”

Spencer paused his words and looked down at his hands for a moment. I knew that wasn’t a subject that came easy for him to speak about, and I felt awfully guilty to know he was telling my family about it because he didn’t want them to think he had cheated on me.

- “She was the only one who worried about me enough to show me how much I was hurting people with my behavior. And she even took time off work to help me rehab. I was already in love with her back then, but after that, I knew she was the only drug I wanted to be hooked on for the rest of my life.”

Wow, I surely didn’t see that kind of confession coming. He actually loved me even back then?

- “But a few months ago, when we found out our friend Prentiss had died, I had a moment of weakness and got Dilaudid again behind her back. I felt useless and hurt. And for a split second, I thought drugs were the way to cope with my pain. But I stopped. I didn’t use a drop.”

- “Spencer, please don’t”- I whispered and he shook his head.

- “No, Chipmunk. I want them to know, ‘cos I know I fucked up, but you made me better once, and you stopped me from using again. I love you and I knew you deserved a better man. Not a drug addict. So I didn’t use the drugs I got and crawled back to her arms.”

No one said a word. I’m sure no one saw it coming, not even close. Phoenix was clearly confused, and my dad was shocked. I wanted to hold Spencer’s hand for courage but stopped myself. I was still mad at him, even after that confession.

- “But, as you can imagine, you can’t hide anything from a profiler, and she found out what I had done. Now I am here begging for mercy because I can’t picture life without her. I know I broke her trust and she is mad at me, but I’ll wait forever if there is a chance she takes me back.”

I looked at him and he cut me a short, sad smile.

- “I can not be without you, matter of fact”- he whispered, and my chest tightened. I just stared at him and felt my heart beating as hard as it could go.

- “Spencer, I think you should leave”- that was all my father said. I looked at him confused, I thought after Spencer’s confession he would be nicer to him, but no. Apparently, that wasn’t enough for either him or my brother.

Reid nodded and started walking. He looked at me and waved as I just stood there, motionless

- “I’m sorry to bother you.”- that was all he said before he walked away. Mom followed him to the door as I stood in the middle of the kitchen, not knowing what to do.

- “Are you ok?”- dad asked and I shook my head- “Come here peanut, let’s have a talk.”

Dad held my hand and guided me back outside, where I had left my drink. I grabbed it and drank the entire thing without even breathing. I had never needed a drink as much as I did that minute. My friends looked at me from the side and cut me a sympathetic smile. Dad just walked toward me and asked:

- “After all I heard, I only have one question for you: Do you still wanna marry Doctor Reid?”

I opened my mouth to answer as I stared at him. I only nodded and broke into tears. No matter how hurt I was, I loved Spencer. He was the best person I had ever met, and I couldn’t just let him go. I had waited for him for so long, and now that I had him, could I let him go due to drugs? I knew I was mad at him, I knew I had said I couldn’t trust him… but I loved Spencer more than I loved life itself. I didn’t want to go through life without him.

Dad opened his arms and hugged me. And for once, I didn’t argue or even struggled. I just let him embrace me and wrap me in his arms. I didn’t even notice when I started crying, I just realized when mom handed me a kleenex box.

- “I’m so mad at him, dad, but I love him so much”- I mumbled and he just nodded.

- “I know, peanut, I know.”

- “Please don’t hate him!”

- “Come on, how could I? Did you see what that kid just did? He faced your entire family just to make sure we all knew he didn’t cheat on you.”- I looked at him and dad ran his fingers across my cheeks, wiping off the tears that kept falling.

- “But… he just told you he had a drug problem and you kicked him out.”

- “Because I wanted to talk to you. He loves you, you love him. You made him a better man and he gives you joy”- dad smiled at me and looked right into my eyes- “I’ve loved Spencer from day one not only because he was clearly in love with you, but because he made you happy. You loved him way before you even admitted it. He always took care of you out there, on the field. And I know he would die just to keep you safe.”

- “Dad…”- I argued ‘cos I felt embarrassed, but he continued his speech.

- “Yes, he is fucked up, and he made a huge mistake, but he loves you. Not just with words, but with acts.”

- “I know, dad.”- I managed to mumble.

- “And believe me, I know it’s hard to trust someone who broke your heart, but it’s easier when it’s someone who is willing to do anything he can to rebuild that trust.”

- “But what if he fucks up again?”- I whispered and looked down at my hands. Mom walked over and wrapped an arm around my waistline, moving me closer to her.

- “My baby. You don’t know that. Even if you hadn’t had this argument with Spencer, you would had never known if he was ever going to fail you. When you love someone, you can only give them your heart and wish he never fails you.”

It was odd hearing my divorce parents giving me couple’s advices. But I always knew they got along after their divorce, and somehow, in a very weird, personal way, they still loved each other.

- “Besides, I’m pretty sure he knows if he breaks your heart, I’m gonna kill him.”- Phoenix added and lighted another cigarette.

- “I’m not sure he knows you don’t wanna kill him now.”- I pointed out and poured myself another drink.

- “That’s the idea. He has to live in complete fear. Never tell him I’m happy you are gonna marry him.”- my brother winked and I frowned confused.

My whole family now knew Spencer had drug issues in the past. And no one actually cared. Why? Was it because they all thought highly best of him? Because they all knew just how much he loved me?

My family was well aware of how much Spencer loved me, and they all gave us their blessing, in a very odd and awkward way.

Spencer’s point of view

Saturday morning found me awake, sitting on the floor of the apartment, surrounded by books. I didn’t sleep at all the night before. I just tried to keep myself busy reading to avoid thinking and overanalyzing what had happened. But I knew I was screwed.

(Y/N)’s parents were now aware I was a drug addict, and that I had failed their daughter. There was no way our wedding was ever going to happen now. I was sure. So I just stared around the apartment we had shared for a few months, thinking I should have known better from the start. When had I ever been this happy? It was clear this bliss was not meant for me. It had never had, and I would never be.

I noticed the sun was already shining outside my windows, a few rays of light sneaking between the curtains. I groaned and didn’t move from my spot against the wall. The floor was cold and uncomfortable, but I didn’t think I deserved better. I grabbed the book I had been re-reading for the hundredth time that night: (Y/N)’s copy of Pride and Prejudice. I held it close to my chest, like I dreamt of doing with her, and closed my eyes.

Time didn’t seem to pass fast enough, but I didn’t care. I didn’t have anything to do or anywhere to go. I didn’t even move to make myself a cup of coffee. I just held that book with my life and sat on the floor. Until a sound on the door made me jump. It was a key opening the lock. I whipped my head and held my breath. Slowly, the door opened and (Y/N)’s silhouette appeared by the frame. She looked around, searching for something.

- “Hey”- I whispered from my spot and slowly stood up. (Y/N) walked in and closed the door behind her back. She stayed still in the middle of the room not saying a word. I glued my eyes to her, not knowing what to say. Why was she there? To pick us her stuff? If that was the case, I didn’t want to stay around.

- “What happened here?”- she questioned me and pointed at the mess I had created.

- “I… needed to… couldn’t find a book”- that was my lousy explanation.

- “And then a tornado crushed the entire place”- she added and I smiled looking down, embarrassed.

- “Yeah, something like that.”

There was a weird silence among us. I didn’t know what to say. Until the smell of coffee captured all my senses and I noticed she was carrying a tray.

- “I brought you breakfast”- she whispered and slowly moved to the kitchen, the only place that was safe from the mess I had created. I followed her in silence and watched her unpack two cups of coffee, a bagel, and a muffin.

- “Thank you”- I replied as she gave me all the food. She just sipped her cup of coffee and looked at me. I grabbed the bagel and took a bite. Just then I realized I hadn’t eaten in over a day. I had survived only on coffee and herbal tea.

She didn’t comment on it, but I’m sure she noticed I was starving. Probably that’s why she bought my favorite breakfast. I chewed in silence. She held her cup of coffee with both hands and didn’t say a word for a few minutes. Until she whispered:

- “Ok, now we can talk."

And I immediately choke on my bagel.

I coughed and drank a sip of my coffee, trying to recover my breath.

- “Are you ok?”- she asked and started hitting me in the back right in the middle of the shoulder blades.

- “Yes… thank you.”- I cleared my throat and (Y/N) gave me a glass of water, one I drank rather quickly.

- “Sure?”

- “Yeah, just…”- I cut her a short smile as finished my water.- “So you wanna talk, finally.”- (Y/N) nodded and put her coffee down. I stared at her, resting against the counter just staring at her hands for a few minutes. I was scared, terrified actually, of her decision, but I was willing to find out just to stop the pain and the agony of the unknown.

- “Yes.”- (Y/N) whispered and took a deep breath- “I’m sorry.”

My heart broke with those words. She was apologizing ‘cos she was about to end things for good. I stared at her, fighting the tears back, and lowered my eyes.

- “I’m sorry I ran from you all these days, but I just couldn’t find a way to talk to you. I was beyond mad at you. You lied to me and went behind my back.”- she enumerated my mistakes as I simply heard her sentencing my fate.

- “I understand.”- that was all I managed to say.

- “You have no idea how I felt when I discovered that bottle, Spencer.”- she continued talking and I glued my eyes to my feet as she did- “I was hurt and disappointed. You broke my heart.”

- “I’m sorry.”- I mumbled and felt how the tears started falling from my eyes, soaking my cheeks.

- “Why did you do it?”- I just shook my head at her question.

- “I don’t know.”

- “Yes, you do. You said you didn’t want me to think I had a weak boyfriend.”- she added and I whipped off the tears from my cheeks. Not the strongest action against that statement, I must add.

- “I’m sorry I couldn’t be who you needed.”- I murmured. And that was all I managed to say.

- “I never asked you to be anything, Spencer. I just wanted you to love me.”

- “And I love you! so much!”- my words sounded so pathetic as I spoke the out loud. It was so hard to maintain that conversation, ‘cos I just wanted to hug (Y/N) and burst into tears. But she remained still, standing against the counter, arms crossed on her chest.

- “Then why couldn’t you tell me the truth? Why did you go behind my back?”- (Y/N) questioned me and I heard her voice break as she did. I was too ashamed to look her in the eyes and explain everything.

- “I… I don’t know! ‘Cos you deserved better than a wreak boyfriend who kept thinking about using drugs to avoid the pain of losing a friend, and the terror of not being good enough to keep you safe!”

I ended up confessing and grabbed my coffee cup. It was too early to drink, though it felt like a good time for a whisky. But the coffee should be enough.

- “I was so scared this could ever happen!”- (Y/N) sobbed after a few seconds, and I finally looked at her.

Her eyes were red, filled with tears. She wrapped her own arms around her waist, holding herself the way I wanted to hold her. It hurt to look at her in so much pain. A pain I knew I had inflected.

- “I never imagined it would be this bad, but I was scared that us dating would affect what we had before.”- (Y/N) mumbled. I stared at her in silence, not getting what she was talking about.

- “When we were friends, we could tell each other anything. Everything that ever happened to us. And when we started dating I feared for a moment that might change. But then everything was perfect, and you were great, and I was happy… why couldn’t you just tell me how you felt? Why did you keep this from me?”

- “I’m so sorry”- I sobbed and heard (Y/N) whimpering. I don’t know how I managed to move from my spot, but my urges to comfort her were stronger than anything I had ever felt before.

So I held her.

I wrapped my arms around her body and moved her against me, keeping her as close as possible. I hadn’t felt her this near in days and my entire being ached for her. As corny as that sounds, it was a fact. I knew right there I was definitely never going to be able to live without her. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I needed her in more ways than I could even imagine.

- “I’m sorry too”- (Y/N) mumbled against my chest as I kept her secured in my arms.

- “Why are you sorry? You didn’t do anything wrong”- I whispered and kissed the top of my head, only because I couldn’t hold myself back for a moment.

- “I’m sorry I didn’t support you when you felt bad.”- she moved from my arms and looked at me, and those pretty eyes were so honest and painfully beautiful, I just stared at her speechless.

- “I’m sorry I couldn’t be the girlfriend you deserve. I got mad and yelled, and I refused to talk to you… I shouldn’t had.”

I cupped her face with both my hands and ran my thumbs down her cheeks, cleaning her soft skin from any tear that fell from her eyes. She wasn’t joking, she was sorry for real. And I couldn’t even begin to explain how wrong she was for apologizing over something like that.

- “You didn’t do anything wrong, chipmunk. I was the one who ruined everything.”- I whispered, but she shook her head, ready to argue with me.

- “You didn’t feel like telling me what was wrong. That was my fault as well.”- she replied and bit her lower lip, trying not to cry.

- “Never say that again. None of this was your fault. I was weak, and I didn’t want to be a burden.”

- “You felt like you couldn’t tell me something. That has to be in part my fault.”- I shook my head and lost myself in her eyes, as she looked at me, pleading for forgiveness, even when she shouldn’t- “I hurt you, honey bunny. I will never forgive myself for that.”

- “Please, don’t say that.”- I kissed her forehead as tears blurred my vision- “You were nothing but wonderful to me every day we were together.”- I whispered and felt staring at her in adoration as she wide opened her eyes and gasped.

- “We… were together?”- she muttered and tears filled her eyes as she stared right at me.

- “I… you.. when we…”- why was it so hard for me to put myself together around her?- “I… I understand if you don’t want to…”

- “But I want to”- her whisper was a ray of hope that hit and woke me, filling me with an energy I hadn’t felt ever since I lost her.

- “You… still love me?”- I asked her and she nodded right away. I smiled at her, feeling my eyes fill with tears. I leaned in and rested my forehead against hers as her hands clinging around my neck. My heart was beating so hard inside my chest, finally, I felt alive again.

- “And do you still want to marry me?”- I whispered, still a little scared of her answer.

- “I do, if you want to.”- (Y/N) answered and smiled at me for a second, looking incredibly nervous of my answer.

- “I want to, so much”- I quickly replied and crushed my lips against her instantly. I held her even closer, if possible, and kissed her with all the passion and love I could, rubbing my lips against her and slipping my tongue into her mouth in a second. I didn’t want to waste time. I couldn’t hold myself. I felt that my sould was back inside my body, and my heart was finally complete. She loved me, she was going to marry me. She wasn’t going to leave my side.

- “I love you so much, (Y/N)”- I murmured against her lips. I kept both my hands on her cheeks, scared she might realize she was making a mistake and could try to escape from me. But instead. She tangled her fingers in my hair and moaned.

- “I love you, I love you”- she repeated as she continued kissing me. I moved my hands from her face to her waist and lifted her, sitting her on the counter. She gasped and giggled as I did, never breaking the kiss for longer than a few seconds to catch our breath.

I rested my hands on her waist and kept them there as we kissed. It was passionate, but still very sweet. I wanted everything of her, I had missed her kisses, her body, her presence, and her entire being. I didn’t know how to take it all in again, I just knew I needed to catch up on every kiss I had missed during our fight.

- “I promise I’m never keeping anything from you again”- I whispered and she nodded. She continued kissing me, as her hands caressed my cheeks softly.

- “I promise I’ll be more supportive. You can tell me anything.”- she mumbled and then started kissing my neck. My weakest spot.- “I’ll be the best wife you ever dreamed of.”

I couldn’t answer that, I just groaned and kissed her deeper. My hands moved slowly from her waist to the gem of her t-shirt and started taking it off. And that’s when she stopped me.

- “Wait.”- she gasped for air and held both my hands.

- “What is it?”- I tried to kiss her neck, but she moved from me.

- “I want us to wait.”

- “Wait for what?”- I think all the blood in my body was focused on my lower half, ‘cos I was being really dumb.

- “Wait to have sex again, until we are married.”- (Y/N) explained and I was in shock.

- “B… but.. What… why?”- I mumbled and widened my eyes, staring at her. (Y/N) blushed and bit her lips, making it even harder for me to control myself. I was dying to bite her lips as well.

- “It’s just a week. And I think if we wait to do it again until we are married, it would make it all more special.”

I stared at her, trying to make sense of what she was saying. All I needed that minute was to feel her body against mine and to kiss every inch of her skin. I had missed her, I craved for her. And she wanted me to wait for an entire week?!

- “Don’t you think?”- (Y/N) asked and raised an eyebrow. I kept trying to find the right words to tell her how I felt, but I still felt like walking around eggshells with her. So I sighed and nodded.

- “Sure. It will make it more special.”

I was doomed.

- “I know it’s gonna be hard, honey bunny. I’ve missed you so much all these days we’ve been apart”- (Y/N) kissed me softly, and sucked my lower lip as she parted from me- “But just imagine how hot our wedding night is gonna be.”

- “So hot”- I whispered and kissed her fiercely one more time. I moved my hand underneath her t-shirt and she stopped me right before I could reach her bra.

- “I told you, honey bunny. I wanna wait.”

- “But I don’t think I can wait.”- I kissed her neck and she giggled as I did. She wrapped her arms around my neck, stopping my advances as she stared at me. I sighed and looked into her eyes. She wasn’t kidding.

- “Trust me, this is not easy for me either. But…”- her hands held my cheeks, stopping me from kissing her neck any longer. She just looked me in the eyes and smiled- “But it’s just for a few days.”

- “I don’t think I’m gonna be able to hold myself sleeping with you for the next few days and not touching you, ma cherie.”- I whispered and my fingers played with her soft skin underneath her shirt. She bit her lower lip staring at me with an innocent look in her eyes.

- “I know, me neither. That’s why I won’t be sleeping with you until our wedding night.”

My balls turned blue in a second.

I stopped and frowned. She was smiling mischievously. She knew what she was doing to me, and she was enjoying it.

- “But… why?”- I whispered. (Y/N) started caressing my hair, playing with my scalp and with my hair between her fingers. I hummed and nearly melted at her touch, as I waited for her answer.

- “We are going to spend the rest of our lives together, honey. I want you to miss me a little before the big day, that way, you won’t get tired of me that quickly.”

I shook my head as I heard her and rested my forehead against hers for a second.

- “I would never get tired of you, I swear.”- my voice was a whisper. I knew I was pleading, but she couldn’t just come and deny me what I was craving the most: her.

- “Come on, let’s go out. We have to pick up your tux.”- she said and kissed the top of my nose. (Y/N) jumped from the counter and grabbed my hand. Cleary, that was a fight I was never going to win, and maybe she still wanted to torture me for what I had done to her. And maybe, she was right.

- “Saturday night, we are gonna leave that party early”- I warn her and hear her giggling- “I am not going to be able to keep my hands off you.”

- “Are you that needy, honey?”- she teases and crawls me out of the kitchen.

- “Yes”- I mumble and feel how my pants are immediately tighter. Again.

- “But you have to be a good boy until next friday”- she replies and winks- “Now, let’s clean this mess and then we’ll pick your tux, ok?”

Morgan would have made fun of me, ‘cos I was whipped. And he was right. It was no secret, I would do anything and everything I could to make (Y/N) happy. 

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[pastanest]

if you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post. I was able to retrieve this thanks to @rosieathena - thanks so much!! ♡

Spencer Reid x she/her!reader

TW: reference to domestic violence

Must Have Been The Wind

Spencer returned home late that first night, tiredly stumbling through his apartment door during the early hours of the morning and crashing on his bed as soon as it was within reach. The case he had just helped solve was, of course, as stressful as any other, but the mystery itself was not particularly difficult to decipher, it just so happened that the team’s flight home was delayed by four hours.

Naturally, the tired genius was desperate for sleep, but right as he closed his eyes, the sound of glass shattering stirred him awake again. At first, he thought his ears were playing tricks on him, and he tried to drift off to sleep again, but then he heard something else. From the apartment above his, he could hear a woman crying. There was no chance of Spencer getting back to sleep, his hero instincts had kicked in, and before he knew it he was getting in the elevator, ascending to the second floor.

He speed walked down the hall to the door of the apartment directly above his, following the cries until he was knocking on the dark oak door. The crying stopped immediately, on the other side of the door someone was shuffling around, and Spencer tried to decipher what could be going on. Was she tidying the mess of broken glass? Was she hiding something? Before he could make a conclusion, the door opened, but only slightly. There stood a woman, her puffy eyes indicating that she had been the one crying, but aside from that distinction he didnt recognise her at all, she must have only recently moved in. One of her hands clutched at the wooly turtle neck sweater hugging her form, as though she was holding up the neck to hide herself further, and her other hand held the door so that it couldnt open any further.

“Hello, Im Spencer Reid, I live in the apartment below you and I couldnt help hearing the sound of glass shattering and someone crying- the sounds were coming from above me, I just wanted to see if you were alright?” The young genius explained himself, and used the knowledge from his profession to decode your body language.

Your body was mostly hidden behind the door, only one half of you properly visible as the dark apartment behind you cast a shadow over your features. It was obvious that you were cowering away from Spencer, but at his words, you visibly relaxed a little, and he was very glad of that. Why had you been afraid of him? He noticed that your eyes were wildly glancing inside your apartment, at the slightest noise your head would turn to look inside. Was there someone else in there? Were you in danger? The kind smile that overtook your features distracted Spencer from his thoughts, he couldnt help it, your smile only enhanced the beauty that he already acknowledged but chose to ignore because he was focussed on trying to help.

“Hi Spencer, Im (Y/N). I appreciate your concern, and I-” You paused, avoiding eye contact with Spencer. “-I wish I could tell you about the noise, but I didnt hear a thing! It must have been the wind, maybe I left a window open and something fell. Whatever the cause, Im sorry if the noise woke you.”

Spencer shook his head, he was about to tell you that you didnt need to apologise, and then he was going to try and talk to you more, because every red flag he knew was telling him that you were lying. But, before he could even open his mouth, you continued.

“Anyway, I wont keep you, I’ll go and close the windows, have a good night, sir!” And with that, you closed the door, disappearing.

Spencer heard the fake pleasantness in your voice, you were trying to convince him that you were alright, but you must have known it wasnt working, so you cut the conversation short before he could question you further. Or, maybe Spencer’s paranoid ears were playing tricks on him. It was plausible, he couldnt deny that, and he didnt have any reason to dispute it aside from his own opinion, which told him you were anything but alright.

Though he returned to his apartment, he didnt sleep that night, his body forced him to stay awake and listen carefully for anymore sounds. There were no more disturbances, and Spencer went into work the following morning convincing himself that it really must have been the wind.

Spencer was away for three nights on a case after that first interaction, and while he was away he couldnt help but worry about you.

He returned to his apartment at around lunchtime, the flight home wasnt delayed at all this time around. There was a knock at his door about 20 minutes after he’d arrived at his apartment, his suitcase was only half unpacked. Spencer frowned in confusion, but was quick to open his door and greet whoever wanted to see him. There you stood, a scarf around your neck and a plate of cookies in your hands, which you held out to him.

“The other night, I didnt really get the chance to introduce myself, we’ve- sorry, I’ve only just moved in, and I wanted to apologise again for waking you, so I baked you some cookies! I tried to replace all ingredients that you could possibly be allergic to with safe substitutes, as I dont know whether you have any allergies.” You spoke kindly, your voice less fearful and fake than the last time Spencer had heard it.

Spencer smiled. “Thank you very much (Y/N), do you want to come in for a coffee? Im a little out of stock of almost every other consumable item because I’ve been away, so these cookies have come at an ideal time!”

You chuckled at that and nodded, which Spencer hadnt expected.

“Happy to be of service! And thank you, I’d love to.” You told him, and he stepped aside to welcome you into his home.

Once Spencer had closed his front door, you placed the cookies down on a kitchen counter and turned to look at him.

“I cant stay long, Im afraid Im caught up with paperwork right now.” You said, keeping your voice level as you gestured to Spencer, wordlessly asking for a pen and paper.

He nodded, confused as to why you were asking in such a way, but he still fetched you a notepad and a pen, while casually replying to your spoken words. “Oh, what’s the paperwork?”

While you scribbled down on the notepad, you made up a response to Spencer’s question, both of you aware that the verbal conversation you were having was mostly based on lies. “Y’know, the usual, safety reports and whatnot. Im a nurse.”

You showed him what you’d written on the notepad:

He’s listening. Above. Need help. Please.

Alarm bells rang in Spencer’s head, and he made eye contact so you knew he’d read it.

“How long have you been a nurse?” He asked, not thinking or caring for his words as you pulled the scarf from your neck.

Bruises, in the shape of fingers and lines, wrapped themselves around your neck like a collar. Spencer felt his blood boil as he held his hand out and waited for you to pass him the pen, before he scribbled down beneath your message.

Give me his name.

You nodded at his message. “I’ve been a nurse for almost 5 years now, it’s a job I have a real passion for, there’s nothing like saving people every single day.” You held his gaze as you spoke, and then tore your eyes from his in order to jott down the name of the man you lived with, as well as some background information.

Night shift. Medford. Oregon. Took me as I was getting in my car 6 months ago. Drags me from place to place. Makes me work to pay him. Goes out and kills. Comes back and beats me black and blue.

Spencer made a mental note of everything you’d written and took his phone out from his back pocket. He typed out all of the information in a text to Penelope, desperately hoping that she wasnt busy at that precise moment. At the end of his message, he added “She’s in my apartment, I’ll protect her, but please get people here as soon as possible”.

“I can imagine a job like that would be very rewarding.” Spencer said to you as he took the pen.

It’s done, they’re on their way.

You visibly breathed a sigh of relief, and Spencer darted over to his front door to lock it, just in case the murderer in your apartment tried to get to you. He ran to his bedroom and took his gun from his suitcase, stuffing it under the back of his belt as a precaution.

The police sirens reached your ears just as Spencer re-entered the room, and several loud thuds from above followed immediately after. Spencer noticed you visibly flinch at every thud, and he was quick to stand in front of you and take ahold of your hand to calm you down. Unfortunately, his efforts were no match for the roar coming from the hall above.

“YOU LITTLE BITCH, WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO!?!”

You started hyperventilating, unable to process the petrifying fear of that monster coming after you. Spencer turned and pulled you into his arms, knowing that he had at least a few seconds to hold you before the killer got out of the elevator.

“I promise you, I will never let him hurt you again.” He comforted you, his voice so soft in contrast to the harsh words you were used to hearing from the man you had been held captive by.

At the sound of the elevator doors opening, Spencer let go of you and retrieved his gun, aiming for his own front door. If that evil creature got to the door before the police got upstairs, Spencer was ready. You grabbed part of his shirt and balled it in your fist, allowing yourself to stay attached to him and feel just a little safer. The loudest footsteps Spencer had ever heard ran down the hall until they reached his door, a fist pounded against it only once before he was thrown to the floor by the police - or at least, that’s what you and Spencer assumed had happened, based on what you could hear. A much quieter knock landed on his door.

“Who is it?” Spencer called loudly.

“It’s me, kid!” Derek Morgan called from the other side, and Spencer relaxed as he unlocked the door for his friend.

“Garcia?” Spencer guessed.

“Yeah, she searched that guy’s name and found close to fifteen cases all leading to him, he’ll never know a life outside of grey walls after this.” Derek replied, before he walked around his friend to introduce himself to you.

Instinctively, you backed away and shook your head at him, so Derek stopped walking towards you and held his hands up.

“Hey, Im not gonna hurt you, Im a friend of Reid’s. Do you think you can come to the station to answer some questions? You are the only person to survive a conversation with that guy, you have the power to give him the sentence he deserves.” Derek asked, his voice far more gentle than it was when he spoke to Spencer.

You cast your gaze to the floor. “I’ll answer whatever questions are necessary, but I can guarantee that no amount of prison time will serve as justice for what he did to me and so many others.”

Spencer felt his heart sink and his veins fill with fire at your words, he had no idea what you had gone through, he didnt even want to imagine it, but the way you phrased it made it sound as though you could never recover. In that moment, Spencer made it his mission to do whatever he could to help you get through this.

Through every interview, every question, he sat beside you. Anytime a question was too invasive or he could see you being made uncomfortable by what you were having to describe, he stepped in and either took you out of the room to encourage you and give you a long hug, or unleashed just the tiniest bit of sass towards the cop interviewing you, which was an interaction fierce enough to shut anyone up.

Once you had done everything you could to aid the investigation, Spencer drove you both back to his apartment block. He helped you collect the very few things that belonged to you in the apartment you’d been held in, before leading you back to his home, where he had given you permission to stay, as he couldnt bear the thought of leaving you to continue sleeping in your old apartment. He had offered to drive you all the way back to Oregon, to your home, but you said you could never ask that of him, and there was no way you could be on your own after that. Spencer gave you his phone so that you could call your family, and all of them cried happy tears through the phone at finding out that you were okay after disappearing for 6 months. You explained to them that you had a place to stay until the case was completely over with and you were safe to return home, you didnt want to be on your own until that monster was definitely behind bars for good.

“You can stay here as long as you want.” Spencer spoke from across the living room as you ended your call with your family.

You shook your head guiltily. “I’ll be out of your hair as soon as possible, I dont want to overstay my welcome.”

Spencer approached you carefully and smiled down at you. “You are always welcome. I also appreciate the company.”

You couldnt help smiling up at him. “Thank you, for everything.”

Spencer modestly shrugged away your gratitude. “You dont need to thank me.”

You grabbed his hand then, forcing modest eyes to look at you. “If it wasnt for you, I could be dead right now.”

Spencer frowned at this, both because he didnt like the idea of you being dead, and because he realised he hadnt asked a blindingly obvious question. “How did you know I’d be able to help? You came to my door with a plan, how did you know I’d go along with it?”

You smiled at this. “Clearly you were too tired to remember to take off your lanyard the night we met, Doctor Spencer Reid, FBI.” You winked, and Spencer laughed.

“I completely forgot! You just outmatched someone with a career in profiling!” He exclaimed, unable to believe how he could have forgotten such a simple detail.

Then it was your turn to shrug modestly, only you did so with expert sarcasm. “Well, what can I say? Im very good.”

Apparently it was already decided that you would be sleeping in Spencer’s room while he slept on the couch, though this was never discussed, Spencer had decided inside his own head and refused to even entertain you arguing with him. You laid under his covers, your head on his pillow, the calming scent of him enveloping you in a way that comforted you more than anything else. Spencer sat beside you, his hand holding yours.

“If you need anything, or wake up at all, Im just outside the door. And if you’re too scared to get up, call out to me.” He almost whispered, taking care to speak in a way that would encourage your tiredness.

You squeezed his hand. “Could you just...stay?”

Spencer’s eyes widened. “In here? In bed? With you?” Alarm bells rang in his head again, this time for an entirely different reason.

You chuckled at his suddenly flustered state. “Yes, in here, in this bed, with me. Please, if it’s not too much to ask, I feel a lot safer with you here.”

Spencer’s heart swelled, and without saying another word he climbed into bed beside you. As soon as he was under the covers, your body felt a gravitational pull towards his. Before you knew it, your head was resting on Spencer’s chest and his arms were holding you tightly against him. A rattling sound against the window made you jump and hide in the covers.

“What was that!?!” You squeaked in a panic.

“Shh, I think that really was the wind his time.” Spencer answered, his arms pulling you from under the covers and back into his warm embrace. You felt your entire body begin to relax the moment he touched you.

And for the first time in six months, you felt safe enough to sleep.