#I have to tell my therapist today the reason I keep putting off doctors and dentist appointments

[hereticsgravesite]

[withcameraandpen]

Sondam Week 2024, Day 6

Give it up for the Day 6 prompt, Future! I took some liberties with this one (as if I haven't been this whole time lol), but enjoy chapter 6 of The Despair Killings! You can read the rest on AO3 here!

Gundham marched across the gravel parking lot of Hope Springs Therapy, opened the door, and went inside. It was a quarter to twelve, which would fit in snugly with the average therapist’s schedule; Komaeda offered 45-minute sessions, and coming right before lunch meant Komaeda couldn’t rush off to some other appointment. Gundham had him trapped.

He waited patiently, sitting in a hardbacked wooden chair as he catalogued every inch of the room until the door to Komaeda’s inner sanctum opened. Komaeda emerged with a weary patient in tow, a young lady with auburn hair and freckles. Komaeda also looked tired, but he perked up when he saw Gundham waiting.

“Hello, Agent Tanaka,” he said. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He stood. “I have more questions regarding a former client.”

“Of course.” Komaeda turned to the young woman. “We had a good session today, Mahiru. Do something nice for yourself.”

“I will,” said the young woman. “Thanks, Nagito.”

She nodded at both men and then left, heaving a sigh as she walked through the door. “Come with me, Agent,” said Komaeda. “Do you mind if I make myself some tea?”

“Not at all.”

Komaeda led him through a narrow hallway and into a modest kitchen at the back of the office. On the spindly table in the corner of the room sat a decorative incense burner that resembled the leaning tower of Pisa. “I hope you don’t mind incense, either,” said Komaeda as he picked up a box of incense sticks on the table. “I’m a firm believer in the restorative power of scent.”

“By all means.”

In short order, the incense was lit, its heady scent washing over the room. Komaeda opened a cabinet and pulled out a box of tea bags. “What can I do for you, Agent?”

“I was deliberating on the records your shared with us of Mister Kuzuryu’s visits,” he began. “I thought it odd how rarely Kuzuryu mentioned his wife’s death during your sessions, even though he’d been seeing you for over a year.” At first, he assumed it was Kuzuryu’s natural reticence to speak of a difficult loss, to say nothing of his potential involvement. But after fair Sonia shared her wisdom, Gundham saw sinister machinations in the doctor’s omission.

“Not for lack of trying,” Komaeda replied with a sigh. “But I wasn’t surprised. Even when they’re going to therapy, people hate talking about the reason they’re there.”

“What did he share with you? Did he ever allude to playing a role in the incident?”

Komaeda’s eyes flashed. “He’s still protected by client confidentiality, even after death.”

Gundham shook himself. Do not be hasty. “Indubitably.”

“Luckily, I can tell you one thing.” Komaeda poured a cup of water and put it in the microwave. “He never shared a specific reason for coming in, though he sought me out shortly after Peko’s death.”

“So that was merely interpretation.” Gundham found that hard to believe. “What do you make of Mister Kuzuryu also being stabbed by one of his wife’s swords?”

He frowned. “I don’t know what you mean. What am I supposed to make of it?”

“Well, it’s highly coincidental, isn’t it?”

“I think it’s sad.” His lips pursed. “And stunning beyond belief. But I suppose people find romance in rumor.”

“Do you believe Kuzuryu was innocent? Did he ever say so?”

Komaeda’s eyes flashed. “I can’t tell you that.”

Gundham was onto something. His reticence, his guarded demeanor, the sharpness in his eyes – yes, Gundham was close, indeed. “Did you ever treat Kazuichi Soda? He was the most recent murder victim.”

“The mechanic, right. It’s awful, isn’t it?” he said, his voice flat. “I can hardly keep them all straight anymore, which is its own kind of awful.”

“We are working our hardest.”

“Of course you are. My apologies, I meant no offense.”

The microwave beeped. Komaeda took out the mug and put the tea bag in, allowing it to steep as he turned back to Gundham. “I’m afraid Kazuichi wasn’t a client of mine.”

“How odd,” Gundham replied. “A friend of his told me he had seen you the day of his death.”

He shrugged. “Maybe in passing?”

“No, I’m afraid she was quite explicit. According to her, Mister Soda had a meeting with his therapist the day he was killed.”

“Must not have been me, then.” He shrugged, though his eyes were locked on Gundham. “Maybe he had an online therapist? In all likelihood, he did that or maybe went to the next town over to keep his treatment as private as possible.”

“I see. And what of the other victims? Did you ever treat Nekomaru Nidai and Ibuki Mioda?”

“No.” He sighed bitterly. “You know what town you’re in, don’t you? Around these parts, you can’t admit to being different in any way, and that includes needing mental health support. I hope all these people were seeking support, and I hope their friends and family seek it as well, now more than ever. No one should grieve alone.”

Gundham blinked. Something about Komaeda’s speech muddled his mind. “You seem to resent how people treat mental health here.”

“I think people would rather say they were having an affair than admit to seeing me.” The steam from the mug warmed his face, turning his cheeks rosy and giving his eyes a hazy look. “But if I have to be half the town’s mistress in order to heal them, so be it.”

Gundham’s mind turned to sticky black muck. His eyelids grew heavy. “May we open a window?”

Komaeda’s head tilted suddenly. “Do you use a lot of incense, Agent Tanaka?”

“I am accustomed to the smell, yes.”

“You must be. You’re very resilient.”

The world tilted suddenly. Gundham was falling, his head smacking against the countertop as he crashed to the ground. He tried to get up, but his limbs were too heavy, his arms lying still at his sides.

A smug grin grew on Komaeda’s face. He walked over to the incense burner, plucked the stick out, and then stuck it in his cup of tea. The end fizzled out.

“It’s impressive how long you lasted,” he said. “It was almost too much for me, even with the tea’s aroma blocking it out.”

Darkness called to Gundham, pulling him down to some cold, watery, unknowable depths. “It was only a matter of time till someone found the connection,” said Komaeda, opening a drawer. “I destroyed all their records, though I couldn’t resist keeping Fuyuhiko’s. What a fascinating subject!”

He knelt beside Gundham and pulled his limp wrists together, a zip tie in hand. “He admitted he killed his wife in our first session. He showed deep remorse, but at the same time, petrifying fear that he would be found out. People are so afraid, aren’t they? I’m starting to think real, genuine joy is just an absence of fear.

“When I made my mind up about what I had to do, I knew I had to take out any mention of Peko in my notes. We all had our suspicions, but that’s quite different from knowing for sure, isn’t it? He told me he plunged her own sword into her, enraged when she admitted she stepped out on him. With him dead, there’s only one other person in the world who knows which one it is.”

“The one you used on him?” Gundham wheezed.

Komaeda grinned. “The police are idiots, but even that’s too much of a coincidence for them.”

He snapped the zip tie around Gundham’s hands, cinching it so tightly that the plastic dug into his wrists. “The others?” Gundham choked out. “Is this what you did to the others?”

“Most of them.” Komaeda sat back on his heels, watching him. “But nothing lasts forever. I knew someone at some future point would figure me out, but I got pretty lucky it was you.”

Gundham’s tongue felt thick and numb. His eyes fluttered, growing heavier with each blink, as he asked, “Me?”

Komaeda’s grin widened. “Someone Witch Creek won’t miss.”

Sonia paced the length of her motel room, limping along as the sun crept down to the horizon. She’d been a ball of nerves since she and Gundham parted ways. The tension grew every minute until this one, when it finally became unbearable.

She unlocked the door and flew out of the motel room, marching to the car parked on the opposite side of the lot. The plainclothes police officers inside jumped when they saw her in the rearview mirror. The one in the passenger seat reached for the door, but the driver side officer held him back.

Sonia went to the driver’s side window and knocked. The officer rolled it down, staring at her with his surly, piggish eyes. “You shouldn’t be out here, y’know.”

“It’s an emergency. Have you heard from Agent Tanaka?”

“No,” he said gruffly.

“Neither have I, but he said he’d be back hours ago.”

The officer shrugged. “He’s not a predictable guy, in case you didn’t notice.”

“He’s not predictable, but he is reliable,” she retorted. “Aren’t you worried?”

“Matter of fact, I’m relieved.” The officer chuckled. “If he’s off on a bender, we might get to move on the case.”

“He could be hurt!” she exclaimed, aghast.

“He’s armed, ma’am. He’ll be fine.” He leaned out of the car. “But you won’t be unless you get back to your room and stop talking to us.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a reminder that someone’s more concerned with you than the devil worshipper.”

She bit back a huffy retort and stormed back to her room, slamming the door behind her. She knew something was wrong. Why did Gundham go in alone? Had he told anyone about the connection between the victims, or that he was going to see that connection?

Even if he had, every other officer would probably dismiss him just like those other two. After that chilly reception, no wonder he saved his energy!

Calling the station wouldn’t help, either. They all thought he was a madman and his deduction would be dismissed as the ravings of one. Why was Witch Creek so stuffy and proud to the point it made them stupid?

She picked up one of the “evidence” boxes the police had brought her earlier, filled with the clothes and toiletries they smuggled out of her home to avoid rousing the killer’s suspicion. She pulled out sweaters and fleece-lined leggings, digging until she found her switchblade at the bottom.

She had asked for it as a safeguard, imagining she would keep it under her pillow as she slept. Now she stuck it in her pocket as she pulled on her jacket and boots, and then undid her ponytail and wound it back up into a bun. She walked over to the bed and crawled across it to the window.

She pushed the thin curtains aside. Through the window, she saw the busy highway and the McDonald’s right next to it, with a long line of cars wrapping around the building just in time for the drive-thru dinner rush. The police hadn’t put a sentry here in part because there just wasn’t anywhere to park a car where an officer could both hide and protect her, and also because it was too busy for someone to sneak in without being spotted. They never thought about someone sneaking out.

She knew she would be spotted and the gossip would make its way to her guards before long, so she had to move. “If it ain’t broke,” she muttered to herself as she climbed out the motel window, “don’t fix it.”

[multitrackdrifting]

As a formerly unmedicated/undiagnosed ADHD haver that managed it for over 20 years before I got diagnosed formally my strategies for overcoming the Executive Dysfunction beast is:

Go to the library if you need to work without distractions, the environment and quiet atmosphere is kind of overpowered because it can make even a very busy mind lock in.

Try to regulate your consumption of caffeine, if you overdo it you might not get the effect of it after a while. Personally, I have always drank a lot of caffeine but I realized caffeiene dosen't even work on me even if I drank a redbull nothing changes and I could drink soda before sleeping and it doesn't do anything to my ability to sleep.

Be careful of habits that are related to dopamine addiction, I play a few live service games and gacha games myself but you should try to recognise patterns of behaviour and how they impact your ability to focus. I personally get more of the sit there and do nothing kind of ADHD, so this doesn't really apply to me but a lot of my friends have had to kick a lot of games out of their life because of how it made their ADHD worse.

Put it in a spreadsheet, this is the nerd in me speaking but I think it's easier to regulate your behaviour if you make an acountability chart of sorts. Put each half hour into a table and then put stuff you want to do into it. It's a planner but way more involved. If you don't like using excel or something just get a journal and keep it with your stuff in a backpack or whatever bag you carry with you. Some people tell me having a smart watch has helped them since it will vibrate on their wrist to hit key times they need to do stuff.

Find an accountability partner, this one is a lot harder than most but if you have a friend that has similar or related struggles wtih personal development it can be pretty difficult to hold yourself acountable for the things that you do each day. It doesn't make you a terrible person to be unproductive, but that doesn't mean it's healthy to let certain habits turn absorb our time to a debilitating degree. Today it's an afternoon wasted watching anime, tomorrow it's a power bill you forgot to pay off and you're freezing in the midst of winter with surcharges and late fees. Having another person to catch up with that isn't necessarily a therapist can be quite helpful, just remember to establish boundaries and not like overdo it.

Seeking help, not everyone is privileged enough to seek professional help or even find professionals who are sensitive to their needs and circumstances. It's different cause seeing a doctor is free in Australia, but if you have a primary care practitioner or GP you can request specialists that have certain experiences like whether its dealing with your cultural background or specific needs. Even if they cannot, it would not hurt to ask. It's not going to work for everyone, but for me, who was "just managing" for over 20 years, I had to suck it up and force myself to go through the process and I cannot state how stark the differnece is between me before and after. I hope you can find something that helps you.

Find a way to push the information you need to the top of your mental stack, this is gonna sound straight up deranged but I have like an innervoice, not like a person I talk to or that talks to me, but I process like an intense doomsday kind of scenario that essentially just says to me "hey man, if you relax right now, you're going to let your habits slip, and you're going to start regressing". It doesn't work for everyone and that's fine, I can only have that kind of internal pressure because I use it to drive myself and it doesn't have any auxiliary effect on making me feel like shit or something. The actual reason it works is because it's pushing my priority "tasks" to the top of my mental stack so I can then decide how to process them in a timely or actionable manner. Do not conceive of some doomsday scenario like me, that only works because it doesn't make me panic LOL - find a way to hold yourself accountable and confront pressing deadlines in a healthy way and it will definitely help you become more regimented. The best thing my psychiatrist has ever said to me when he asked how I keep my habits healthy I just said I go to the gym and I have a job, and he was like "those are just things that you do, you can still have unhealthy habits unrelated to those things in your off time" and I was like damn he is cooking. He is right though, my personal habits can be pretty bad, so that's why I try to ensure I don't numb my mind on the weekends. This feeds back into the spreadsheet thing because if you track your time usage it's easier to see what habits are statistically likely to destroy your ability to be productive in ways that you want to apply yourself whether it's your hobbies or something way more punishing like entrance/certification exams.

[gracie7209]

Amaryllis

Chapter Two: Wednesday

Pairing: Frankie x f!Reader

WC: 4.7K

Warnings: Mostly fluff and a little angst…

Summary: Something, no, make that someone, throws a wrench in your normal weekly routine.

A/N: This was originally posted as a Writer Wednesday entry well over a year ago and was the first chapter I completed for this story. The concept is the same, but some words/phrases have been changed. You can read the original Writer Wednesday post HERE.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Tom knows that you go see your mother in the City every Wednesday… You go and spend the day taking her around to do her shopping, Doctor appointments etc and you have to go see your OBGYN once a month anyway, so it all works out. You started getting pretty bad anxiety within the last couple of years or so… Your arrangement taking its toll, but Tom would never let you see a counselor or therapist because he fears what you would tell them. Even though revealing the inner workings of your life would put at risk the one person you were doing this all for in the first place… So you avoid the conversation entirely and go every week just to get some things off your chest, since you would have no one else to talk to otherwise.

Today, you go for your regularly scheduled appointment. 9:30 am every week without fail. As soon as you walk in you see a familiar face, currently nose deep in a magazine. You keep walking forward and take a seat. You open your book and try not to make it obvious that you’re hiding your face.

Tom isn’t aware of these appointments, which is why you felt safe having them at all since they took place over an hour out of town. You’ve been coming regularly and never once has there been an issue with seeing someone either you or Tom knew. Until today…. Today, Tom’s friend Frankie is sitting in the waiting area, left foot resting on his knee, thumbing through the pages of the standard medical magazine set out for patients' to help pass the time. So far, he has yet to notice you. You let out a breath and continue flipping through the pages of your book.

Apparently Frankie is early to his appointment, because even though he was here well before you, your name is called loud and clear. Of course, Frankie hears your last name and he looks up at you then. He just smiles and waves a friendly hello, and—

Nothing else happens. The world doesn’t suddenly combust at him seeing you. So you wave back a little awkwardly and make your way to the nurse waiting at the door to take you back for your appointment.

The hour is over way too soon and when you walk out, thankfully the waiting area is empty of Frankie. So you quickly make your way to your car and head to see your mother and carry on with your regular Wednesday routine.

You’re hoping that there would be no reason for Frankie to bring it up to Tom… Like ‘hey man, saw your wife today at the therapist’s office…..” etc etc… there should be no reason for him to, so you force yourself to let it go. Thankfully, Tom never says anything (you know he would if he knew) so you go about the rest of your week as normal.

Next week rolls around and you show up extra early for your appointment, hoping like hell that you would be called before Frankie even showed up. If he showed up at all.. There was no reason for you to believe that he had a regular schedule like yours. It was just a one off and you needed to stop worrying about it. And you did… That is until Frankie walks out of the doors as he was finished with his own appointment.. How had you never seen him here before when you’d been coming for so long?

Frankie spots you this time and walks over to you slowly to say hello…. “You’re Tom’s wife right?” You nod quietly. “I thought that was you last week, but I wasn't sure. I’d never seen you in here before, but my appointment last week got pushed back for some scheduling issue… So I…” he slows down his words… “I guess I normally wouldn’t have.”

He’s rambling. Frankie is cringing internally at the realization, but you hardly pay it any notice when your own thoughts are doing much the same. —So that explains it. And you just HAD to show up early to your own appointment this time trying to AVOID him..

You still haven’t said anything so the silence quickly becomes awkward… “Well it was good seeing you. Uh, tell Tom I said ‘hey.’” And with that, he leaves you to stare blankly at his back as he leaves the office. Again, you’re hoping that there would be no reason for this to get back to Tom. Thankfully, it doesn’t.

Next week you go to your appointment at the normal time… He said it himself that his regular appointment was earlier than yours, so you just needed to go like you normally would and everything would be fine… And you’re right. You go in and he’s not there. You get called back and go into your appointment, breathing a quick sigh of relief.

When your hour is up, you walk out and he’s still not there. Again, you let go of the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and make your way to your car with a smile on your face.

The air is cool and the sun is shining when you exit the building and you are ready to take on the rest of the day… Refreshed that your anxiety was unnecessary, only to curse the ground at your misfortune because apparently the universe hated you and enjoyed your misery…..

Walking up to your car, you see the back passenger’s side tire is now flatter than a pancake. “Shit,” you let the word escape your lips quietly, shaking your head as you think about your options:

Option number one: You change the tire. This would be great if you had any knowledge whatsoever on HOW to change a tire.

Option number two: You call your husband—Well if you called him, he would want to know why you were parked at the Doctor’s office, and also without your mother, you instantly decide against it, which leaves you with option number three….

You do nothing.

You look out across the parking lot and continue to ponder your poor options when you notice a little diner across the street. You decide to just take a breath and grab a coffee and maybe something to eat while you figure things out. You call your mom to let her know; she doesn't own a vehicle which is why you made the weekly trip up here. Fortunately, she was still stocked up on food and she didn’t see her own doctor until next week, so you not making it today shouldn’t hurt anything.

So, you make your way over to the diner. You honestly think the City is beautiful… all of the buildings, nothing like in your town. Everything was so big and open.. You missed it a lot….

When you step inside, the door has a little bell that dings signaling a new customer. You walk to the front and wait to be seated. You just want a few minutes of quiet so you ask for the secluded booth over in the corner. Perfect. You sit and order a coffee with cream and sugar and pick up a menu and attempt to let your mind relax.

The funny thing about anxiety is that letting your mind relax is the equivalent of asking a toddler to sit still…. They may WANT to, but their little bodies just have so much pent up energy that despite your effort they HAVE to move… Your anxious thoughts immediately take over—

‘How am I going to get this settled without letting Tom know?’

‘I wonder what would happen if I just stayed here… Forever?’ ‘No, no, can’t do that’

‘I really like this mug’ ‘Do I want a sandwich? Or maybe some soup?’

‘Hmm, the guy at the counter has a pretty nice back… snug jacket, broad shoulders and faded jeans. Dark brown curls peeking out from underneath his ball cap… Oh my God! That’s Frankie!!’

You curse to yourself, which apparently wasn’t really to yourself, when your very audible gasp is heard near the front, to which said object of your attention turns and immediately lays eyes on you. His face actually seems to light up… You wonder why that is? You also notice how flush you suddenly feel for shamelessly admiring his back side, not knowing at all who it was as if he could hear your thoughts.

He’s making his way over and lucky you, you’re cornered in your little secluded booth… ‘Breathe…. Breathe…’ you tell yourself until you hear “Hey there,” Frankie is upbeat and to anyone else looking, you seem to be catching up with a friend. “Hi Frankie,” you say softly.

“Funny seeing you here… if you weren’t married to Tom, I’d think I had a stalker,” he says in a joyful tone, but the wild deer caught in headlights look on your face has him apologizing almost immediately. “Sorry, just kidding… Promise! —But I will say, I’ve run into you the last three weeks in a row now…” He’s looking at you with a question on his tongue, but he won’t ask it. So you answer for him. “My mother lives here in the City, so I help take her around on Wednesdays.”

“Must’ve just missed each other before then.” He smiles before saying “well it was good seeing you.” He seems to hesitate before adding, “Hope you have a good day.” He goes to leave and you suddenly remember your current dilemma….

”Wait, Frankie?” He turns to you, a look of confusion on his face, “actually, I’ve run into some trouble with my car. The tire is flat. Is there um, any way you could help me figure out how to get it home?”

It takes him a moment to respond… like his gears are turning, but he finally answers you, “oh, uh yeah, sure. I’d be happy to.”

God you sound like an idiot, Frankie chastises himself.. Why are you making this awkward? Well, she’s beautiful, you dumbass, and you’re fucking awkward— His running commentary matches your own, unbeknownst to you.

“Ok, so where are you parked?” Frankie tries to curb his thoughts by just addressing the task at hand.

“Across the street…” You point in the general direction of the office building, “at Dr. Pomater’s office.”

“Oh, that’s right. I usually come over here for a late breakfast after my appointment.” Frankie is annoyed at himself— she doesn’t care, she just needs your help.

Also food… She just got here, there’s no way she’s already eaten..

“Did you um, want to eat first? I noticed you only have a coffee..”

“Oh, I uh, well yes. I guess I haven't gotten the chance to order yet.” —Frankie thinks your light accent is endearing. It’s not super thick or put on, but almost makes you sound elegant, which he would argue matches you pretty well.

“But you’ve already eaten, I’d hate to keep you any longer than necessary. I can just eat when I get back home.” Your stomach chooses that exact moment to growl, like the traitor it is…. Frankie notices.

“Nah, I don’t mind. I’m off on Wednesdays so I’m free. I actually could go for another cup of coffee, if you don’t mind the company.”

You smile slightly at that and say “Ok, well would you like to sit? I will try to order and finish quickly.”

“There’s really no rush, go ahead and take your time and we can talk about our options for getting you back up and running.”

You agree and so you both sit in your booth across from each other… You decide to go ahead with the soup and sandwich combo, sneaking a peek over the top of your menu before the waitress comes back over —Frankie is looking down at his own menu… He’s wearing a light gray t-shirt, the material thin, but not worn. He’s got his jacket on as he was about to leave before your squeak of surprise at seeing him alerted him of your presence. One thing you hadn’t noticed about him before were the thick rimmed black glasses he was wearing now. Had he been wearing those before? After a moment you notice he takes them off and puts them in his inner jacket pocket and sets down his menu. So just reading glasses then, you suppose… You think to yourself how they give him a very boyish quality that makes you smile inwardly. You definitely should NOT be noticing this, so you look back down at your menu.

The waitress makes her way to you and takes your order. Frankie orders his coffee with cream and sugar… Hmm… You think how Tom would never drink anything unless it resembled something akin to freshly laid tarmac, claiming it “separated the men from the boys” or some other ridiculous admonition.

You notice Frankie looking at you and shit, did he ask me something?

“Hmm?”

He smiles slightly at that and you notice a dimple in his right cheek… Again, noticing things you shouldn’t…. His chuckle breaks you out of your head yet again as he says “I was just wondering where Tom was today?”

“Oh, Tom is uh..” your frustration at the question prevents you from answering right away. This was the entire reasoning for your anxiety toward Frankie seeing you. You couldn’t afford for Tom to find out about these appointments and put a stop to them. The small amount of peace of mind it provides you with, gets you through the week and you’re just not ready to lose that yet.

“Um, well Tom he uh, usually works on Wednesdays… shows his houses.”

—His brow furrows slightly like he can sense your hesitation, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Gotcha, yeah I haven’t seen him since that fight night awhile back….” The night I met you he reminds himself. “That was a pretty fun night…. First time I got to see the guys in a while.”

—Your stomach clenches at the memory of Tom on that night, but you’ve gotten good at hiding your disgust by now, “yeah — Um so is there an auto repair place nearby or…? I honestly know nothing about cars,” you laugh nervously, hoping he doesn’t notice your obvious shift in conversation away from Tom.

Your waitress then makes her way back over with your food and Frankie’s coffee. He takes a long sip and you start in on your soup.

—“Do you have a spare? I’ve got my jack in the truck. I could probably just change it for you.”

You feel like an idiot, but answer honestly, “I really don’t know. I’m sorry.” You give a nervous laugh and Frankie chuckles. He’s not making fun of you, but he thinks it adds to your charm.

He chuckles again and shakes his head a little, shrugging off a thought…

—‘This is Tom’s wife man, get a hold of yourself..’

He continues to shake the thought from his mind and moves on — “What kind of car do you have?”

‘Real smooth’ —

“Oh, it’s a… I’m really not sure…”

“That’s ok. We’ll figure it out. It’s probably in the tire well like most.”

—Your blank stare makes him cough and regroup, “I mean that there are some that have them underneath, but most sedans have them in the trunk.” Still nothing — You would be embarrassed, but you were genuinely just confused. Tom ensured that you were only knowledgeable in things meant to be handled by women like cooking and cleaning house. “Let the men handle things sweetie,” Tom would say when it came to just about anything etc.

“It’s ok,” he laughs again, but it doesn’t have the condescension attached to it that you’d come to expect from Tom. You think to yourself that it’s a nice sound coming from Frankie.

“I think I know where to find it and how to get you going again.” He smiles at you again and you say a quiet “thank you” as you go to finish the remainder of your meal in a comfortable silence.

Frankie is looking out the window now…The view from the diner overlooks a little park and you think the colored leaves against the still green grass is beautiful… Fall has always been your favorite season and you thank the Lord that the majority of your pregnancy will be in the cooler months.

After a bit, your waitress walks over and asks “is there anything else I can get y’all today?”

“No thank you,” you and Frankie both say at the same time, pulling another light chuckle out of Frankie and a smile from the waitress. She finishes writing out your check then puts it face down on the table and scoots the paper toward Frankie.

You both reach for it at the same time again and while his gets to it first, you go in and lightly swat at his hand saying “no sir….” And you wiggle a finger at him. “You’re already fixing my car…. The least I could do is pay for your coffee.”

He tries to come up with some quip to keep the lightness going but falls short and just puts his hands up in a mock surrender. Broken pride and all — he’s not upset; far from it actually, but he can’t help the small pout that makes him look offended… the sly look in his eyes tells you he’s only playing though, and you lift your chin in triumph at your little win.

It takes him a moment to remember that this is a completely abnormal situation whereas he is with his friend’s — No not his actual friend - his mentor maybe? He doesn’t really know what Tom even is to him anymore. All he knows is that —this is Tom’s wife and you’re simply having coffee and he is going to help you get your car running—

Frankie’s thoughts are interrupted when you stand up and say “come on, follow me.” He trails behind you - the awkwardness coming back slightly.

You pay the bill and walk toward the exit. Frankie follows and you both head outside into the crisp Fall air. You start to walk toward your car that’s parked across the street when Frankie stops you —

“Uh, my truck is over here. We can just drive over if you’d like?”

“Ok,” is all you say. Why is this so awkward? You already find yourself missing the ease of the diner.

He is just a friend of Tom’s helping you get to your car… Nothing to worry about.

Frankie’s truck is kind of what you’d expect — it’s an older looking truck. You have no idea of the model, just that it’s aged. -Brown with tan lines down the sides — almost matching his jacket. The inside is clean, but the interior is worn.. it smells of gas and oil, with a little hint of vanilla from the little tree air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror. When you first opened the passenger door, there was a horrible creaky sound that you were well used to. Your Papá used to have a truck similar to this and the thought makes you smile.

“She’s a little old, but she takes good care of me,” Frankie says warmly. His adoration for the truck is evident in his tone. His hand worries at his scruffy chin and he asks “ready to go?” You quickly nod and close your door.

The drive to your car is short — Neither of you say anything other than an “over there” as you point to which car is yours.

So when Frankie asks you if you’ve called Tom yet you jump… unsure if it’s an accusation or just from the question as a whole.

“No, I didn’t want to bother him. He’s usually very busy.” Frankie almost scoffs at that.

“What?” You ask him. He almost seemed annoyed.

“I don’t know why it would bother him to hear from his wife when she has a problem. I’d hope he would want to make sure you’re ok. Make sure you get home safely.”

Frankie is having a hard time keeping his mouth shut…. Tom very rarely mentioned you unless prompted when the guys got together… and before he met you it didn’t really matter… but having spent just this short amount of time with you today, it makes his blood boil. He doesn’t have words to voice the why behind that quite yet.

You honestly don’t know what to say to that. Tom was never like that with you for obvious reasons, but Frankie wouldn’t know that.

“Well — Ok, so you see…” you sigh… there was no other way to do this. Unless you said otherwise, there was no way this wouldn’t get brought up to Tom. Not about the car, but the where. You wanted to be honest. You wanted to be able to talk with someone about your situation, but you couldn’t. Not about everything anyway. Not yet.

“Frankie, can I say something? Without judgement and without this getting back to Tom?” He nods. The confusion is clear on his face… “Would it be ok if this just stayed between us?” You motion between the two of you. “About the Doctor I mean..?” He’s still looking confused. Similar to how you must’ve looked when he was talking to you about cars.

“Tom doesn’t know that I see Dr. Pomater. He’s never believed in Therapy and thinks it’s a waste of time and money,” — ‘amongst other things’ you think to yourself.

“He wouldn’t be happy to know that I’ve been seeing one. But to me, just having someone to talk to that is unbiased and non-judgemental? It helps me feel better.” You know you sound childish, but it’s the truth and Frankie holds all the cards here.

After a moment you hear Frankie respond. “So he just thinks you’re taking care of your mother on Wednesdays?” He looks up at you at the question.

“I do take care of my mother.. She doesn’t speak English well and she doesn’t own a vehicle, so she needs assistance getting groceries and getting to and from Doctor’s appointments. It also allows me to spend more time with her since I moved out of the city.”

Frankie nods — He seems to be processing.

“So, Tom doesn’t like the thought of a therapist, or he won’t let you have one?”

“I, um… I..” you trail off.

You look down, breathe in then out through your nose. You look back up at him and —he must know how Tom is… “Tom, he… No.” And you leave it at that.

You look away and start unbuckling your seatbelt— Frankie says your name and you turn back to him to see this look…. It’s a mesh of worry and concern, but also something else you can’t put a name to. His lips are parted like he just paused mid-sentence — “Does Tom…? I mean — Tom has never really told any of us much about you. Is he, uh, is he ok? To you?”

You’re not liking where this is heading.. Frankie continues…

“When we were in the service, he was my Team Lead and I’ve always respected him for his position. We’ve all managed to keep in touch for the sake of all the shit we’ve been through together. But through all of it, we didn’t even know you existed until a couple of years ago…”

Shaking his head, he starts again.. “To say we were shocked to learn that he had a wife—was a fucking understatement.”

“Where are you going with this Frankie?”

Upon hearing his name, he stops and looks at you…. “How did you and Tom meet?”

“It was a long time ago. I believe we met at the grocery store. He was in line behind me and my mother.”

“When did you get married? He never told us anything until about two years ago… during our last deployment.”

“Um, six, almost seven years ago… Yes, it will be seven years in March.” Nope no this is not good……

“How old are you—?” He says your name at this to really stick the question….

“Twe— I’m twenty-five.”

“So you were 18 when you got married? How long did you know each other before that?” Frankie can’t seem to stop the words from leaving his mouth…

You think he is almost accusatory in his questioning and you’re unsure of where all of this emotion is coming from.

“Frankie, these are very personal questions… Why do you need to know this?”

“Sorry — I’m sorry.” He looks down and takes a breath. He immediately looks like he feels terrible for even asking and waits a few moments before starting again— He’s struggling with his words— wanting so much to understand what exactly is going on, but he knows he hasn’t earned that right yet. He feels terrible and hopes that he hasn’t offended you.

Frankie takes a stuttered breath, “it was inappropriate to ask you those questions and for that I’m sorry. I just don’t understand him sometimes. You think you know a lot about a person when you work side by side with them in life or death situations like we did, but turns out I don’t know much about him at all. I’m sorry…”

You dislike the look on his face… the despair of a situation you know absolutely nothing about is clear, so you try to lighten the mood…

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t know much about him either…”

You get a small laugh at that so you take it as a win.

After another minute or two of semi-awkward silence, Frankie moves to get out of the truck.. “Well let’s see what we’re working with here.”

He grabs his jack out of the back of the truck and makes his way over to your car. You pop the button to the trunk and he easily finds your spare. He goes back to the bed of his truck and looks around for a moment and comes back with this X looking tool. You can tell he’s done this before, many times, and you flush at how ignorant you must’ve sounded to him… shaking your head, you just let it go… You don’t feel like Frankie is judging you for what you lack in tire changing etiquette, so you turn and watch him to see if you could maybe even learn a few things.

Frankie takes off his jacket after he gets the car partially up off the ground — taking the X tool and beginning to remove the bolts from the hubcap.

He’s so quick and efficient, he makes it look easy. As Frankie is crouched down, you notice a little bit of sweat at the small of his back that’s dampened his thin t-shirt slightly.. You also notice that the material hugs his torso and makes a show of the muscles in his back and shoulders as he keeps himself steady. The muscles in his arms flexing as he grunts slightly with the exertion to loosen the bolts… it has to be the hormones that are making you focus on entirely the wrong thing, but….

No, you need to look away, so you try to find something else to focus on while he finishes.

Looking up you begin to silently name each thing you see, desperately trying to keep your focus away from Frankie’s backside— blue sky, birds, leaves, trees, more trees, there’s a couple walking their dog, a mother pushing a stroller….. You go so far as to start listing the color of each new vehicle that passes by…

This is ridiculous— you think to yourself. You’re a grown woman and you can handle this.

You turn back around, just as Frankie is standing up. The tire is on and he’s wiping his hands off on his jeans. “I think we got it all done.”

“Thank you so much Frankie— Really, I truly appreciate it.”

“You're welcome,” he smiles back at you.

“How can I repay you?”

“You bought me coffee, remember? We’re even.”

“No seriously, coffee doesn’t count.”

“Ok fine, how about you pay me back with a second coffee next week? And maybe a donut?”

You tense slightly at the thought because you know how that looks…. But you shake the thought away because you should be allowed to have a friend. And coffee with a friend should be ok. Right??

“Alright, you’ve got yourself a deal. I’ll see you next week then.”

He quirks a small smile and nods, “see you next week—.”

Your name sounds so soft coming from his mouth that you instantly blush, turning quickly to walk around to the drivers side and get in. He’s already back to his truck before he offers a small wave. You smile and wave back, starting the car to head to your Mother’s and continue on with your day. The smile never leaving your face as you drive away.

******

A/N: I’ve been playing with the wording of this chapter just trying to get it to flow the right way, but I feel like I’m running in circles with it so here it is lol As always please let me know if you would like to be tagged or if you would like to be removed from the tag list. Thanks for reading!

Tag List:

@just-here-for-the-moment @boliv-jenta @heythere-mel @sunnysidekit @wildemaven @harriedandharassed @bitchwitch1981 @hnt-escape @autumnleaves1991-blog @queridopascal-main @queridopascal @quica-quica-quica @littlemisspascal

[hypnified]

It's not gonna be structured, I'm just gonna roll switching from oc to oc.

I feel like Barks would never sleep at night because he would just think about all the brothers he couldn’t save after every mission. But even when he sleeps willingly it doesn't last long.

If Bear were to ever get in a relationship he could never sleep after an argument, he won't sleep until everything has been settled.

Storm probably has the most tattoos out of all my clones, but they all happen to be dedicated to the brothers he's lost. He almost got one dedicated to Barks.

Put Skunker and Barks in a room, and I can assure you that Skunker is leaving with a dislocation (Barks didn't do it.)

Bear drinks enough caf to probably kill a person, but he'd deny it. "This is my first cup today." I can confirm that would be a lie, he's probably drunk two, maybe three.

Erix has a bullet in a necklace given by Skunker the first time they met, the other Skunker jokingly said "Next time you annoy me this is gonna go in your forehead" and Erix kept it just to annoy him.

Bear would give droids pronouns I think

Storm will literally hit Barks for no reason and when Barks hits back, Storm screams for Rex

Barks will try to explode you with his mind if you annoy him

Barks: "snapping my back like a glow stick would solve all my problems."

Storm absolutely FACEPLANTED the first time he stepped off a gunship for the first time. Nobody let's him live it down. The next time he did it was in front of Anakin

Erix will do something, blame Storm and boom Barks and Storm argue. He loves it.

Erix cusses like a sailor

Skunker admires Barks and Rex for putting up with the chaos

Skunker bombards waxer, boil and wooley with jokes

Bear bites off more than he can chew

Now some incorrect quotes:

Barks: I hope no one lowkey hates me.

Barks: Highkey hate me. Hate me with every fiber of your being.

Barks: Go big or go home.

-

Barks: Sometimes, I don’t realize an event was traumatic until I tell it as a funny story and notice everyone is staring at me weird.

-

Barks: I don’t think the therapist is supposed to say ‘wow’ that many times during their first session with a client, but here we are.

-

Barks: I'm so tired of this life. I want to be a roomba. I want knives taped to me. And I want to be set loose.

-

Storm: I was put on this earth to do one thing.

Storm: Luckily I forgot what it was so I can do whatever I want.

-

Storm: Is this a good idea?

Storm: Probably not.

Storm: Do I care?

Storm: No.

-

Erix: I'm a firm believer in "if you're going to fail, you might as well fail spectacularly."

-

Storm: I didn’t even realize how sarcastic I was being. It’s starting to become a problem, I think.

-

Erix: Barks, gather the others. We need to have another Storm -is-doing-something-stupid-again-and-we-have-to-stop-them-before-they-hurt-someone convention.

-

Barks: I’m not a doctor I’m a medic.

Erix: What’s the difference then?

Barks: Well doctors actually save lives, medics just make you feel more comfortable as you die.

Storm: Note to self; never get shot.

-

Barks: Life keeps fucking me and I can't remember the safeword.

-

Barks: My expectations are low, but they can always go lower.

-

Barks: My knee just cracked so loudly that I half expect it to glow in the dark tonight.

-

Erix: In your opinion, what is the height of stupidity?

Barks, turning to Storm: How tall are you?

-

Storm: Dandelions symbolize everything I want to be in life.

Barks: Fluffy and dead with a gust of wind?

Storm: Unapologetic. Hard to kill. Feral, filled with sunlight, bright, beautiful in a way that the conventional and controlling hate but cannot ever fully destroy. Stubborn. Happy. Bastardous. Friends with bees. Highly disapproving of lawns. Full of wishes that will be carried far after I die.

Erix: Edible.

-

Erix: What if mayonnaise came in cans?

Storm: Well, that would such because you can't microwave metal.

Barks: Good morning to everyone except these two people.

-

Erix: Pros and cons of dating me.

Erix: Pros. You'll be the cute one.

Erix: Cons. Holy shit, where do I begin-

-

Phoenix: I scare people a lot because I walk very softly and they don't hear me enter rooms. So when they turn around, I'm just kind of there and their fear fuels me.

-

Phoenix: God has let me live another day and I'm going to make it everyone's problem.

-

Lazarus: I’m gonna mix a can of Red Bull with seventeen shots of espresso in a fishbowl and then chug it while Kids by MGMT plays in the background so I can perceive twenty-three spatial dimensions and fight my own soul.

-

Lazarus, writing in their diary with a glitter gel pen: I'm losing my sense of humanity. Nothing matters. God is dead. There's blood on my hands.

[multifandumbmeg]

Random update per my fics:

Sorry I haven't updated in the last few days. I usually try to write some every day, but I took a day off to plan Golden Glint and then finished the mini fic (Reckoning of Mike Carrera) I started before it because that's what I wanted to write and I wanted to finish it.

On the topic of all my in-progress fics, my writing just isn't consistent right now. I mentioned a while ago that I'm going through AO3 author's curse and would eventually expand on that, so since I'm extremely frustrated and paralyzed from being productive today I'll do that now.

Starting from winter/late fall of 2022 I got sick and basically never got better. I was having illness after illness that meds weren't solving, and my headaches just got more and more frequent until they were every day for at least three months. By the time I came home from Korea, I was having full-blown debilitating migraines every day and attacks where I would almost pass out and couldn't breathe. It took me a couple months but I got on insurance, started a new job, and managed to convince my parents to let me focus on getting my health together this year.

It's been extremely difficult and frustrating because US healthcare, but I found out I do not in fact have ANY allergies despite doctors telling me I do, literally putting me on allergy shots for a year, and telling me that was the cause of migraines, inability to breathe, and constant illness, none of which were true. I had to prove this to them by fighting to see an actual allergist and getting re-tested which costs me hundreds of dollars out of pocket, but at least the allergist was a good dude who wrote a SCATHING letter to my primary care demanding I be sent to the proper specialists for my symptoms. Several blood tests and medications later, we have whammy number two:

The hypoglycemia I was diagnosed with as a teenager was not in fact random. Instead, I have hyperthyroidism caused by Graves Disease. Except I ALSO have Hashimoto's Disease, because I am just so special like that. Basically, rather than allergies like I was always told, I have been getting every single sickness that rolled by for the past several decades and because I was so used to being sick and so criminally gaslit about it, I didn't even know I was ill and just kept going. Thyroid also has tumors on it. I may also have other autoimmune disorders, or thyroid cancer, but I won't know until I finally see an endocrinologist an hour away later this month.

Though my daily migraines stopped last summer, I still get frequent headaches and now extremely bad ones (or migraines) every time it rains. Generally, there seems to be some kind of inflammation issue where my body over-reacts to literally everything by swelling up and causing more problems.

Possibly tied to that, I was in pain every single day at work. Considering my age, there is no normal reason I should be crippled by joint pain but that is yet to be solved. I now only work two days a week, which has helped significantly, but I am still consistently in a ton of pain two days a week, sometimes three as a rebound.

In January, before I had gotten any diagnoses, my parents gave me an ultimatum that they were kicking me out in May. I had to beg them to go part-time because I simply could not keep up with job applications while I was so constantly tired and pain. After sobbing for two straight days about the inevitability of becoming homeless because I can't afford to or logistically live on my own, my mom convinced my dad to let me go part time on the condition that I continue to pay the same rent Ive been paying to live in one of their empty spare rooms.

In February, I went in for the first appointment toward getting an Autism screening. The therapist suggested I get an ADHD test and recommended me for the official autism screening, saying I have a solid case for suspecting. After a little computer game and another talking appointment, slightly to my own surprise (especially because of how easy it was) I was clinically diagnosed with ADHD. I recently started meds for that and it has made basic tasks and job applications infinitely easier to the extent it's insane, plus my final Autism screening is next week and based on my results every step of the process so far diagnosis seems likely.

All that said, the job search process has been soul-destroyingly frustrating. I have a masters degree in a specialized field, backed up by a Bachelor's in a relevant field, years of study abroad and work abroad (which is relevant to my career path) and a track record of excellent academic achievement. I also speak French and Korean near-fluently and am conversational in Romanian and Russian, as well as knowing a fair few phrases in a number of other languages. Every job I've had has stressed me out to the point of quitting by around a year (hello Autism), but also none were related to what I studied at all, highly customer service oriented, and still every one would tell you I was one of the best employees they ever had and begged me to stay. Even with this track record, after literally HUNDREDS AND HUNDREDS of applications (which in my field almost always require a cover letter, often questionnaires and lengthy short answers, or even writing samples in addition) I have had ONE interview in four years. ONE. And I was so heinously underqualified for that hail-Mary I'm 99% certain they only interviewed me to meet a quota. As you can imagine, for someone with highly probable AuDHD, doing the same thing over and over for 4 years with a 100% failure rate is enough to make me want to dive into a lake with a pile of bricks chained to my back.

I'm still months out from seeing a neurologist about my headaches and general constant pain, I don't have a plan of action for my buck-wild medical anomaly thyroid, and I don't know if my parents are kicking me out next month. They haven't brought it up so maybe with my recent headway on the Peace Corps application (was told I stand a very good chance, but that's another contract job overseas, further pushing back my ability to find a stable, long term career job) and slew of diagnoses and medications, my dad is cooling off a bit. I don't know.

All that to say my body is crumbling out from under me, my job is stressful, and despite being extremely qualified and putting in so much effort, I have zero long-term life prospects. Sometimes, that results in me diving whole-hog into writing for fun and as an outlet, other times I'm too tired or need to bury myself in mindless content consumption or days of spending every spare moment staring at my ceiling in silence until I maybe fall asleep. Did I also mention the crippling lifelong insomnia which my ADHD meds (along with rapid weight loss I'm desperately trying to curb because I'm already borderline underweight due to my thyroid) are exacerbating?

Anywyay. Point is I'm very tired and stressed so my writing is going to be much less consistent than in the past. Hope you understand. Also just an update for my online friends. TMI but I needed to rant and put it out there for those wondering to lower expectations.

[honeysuckle-venom]

I've been having a bit of a rough time the past week or so. Dancing on the edge of psychosis, dipping in and out of it, trying to avoid falling into it head first as I do difficult and triggering therapy work. But I've also been making significant progress, especially in today's session. The food issues that I have are...not exactly an eating disorder? I mean, it's not not an eating disorder. But it's closer to food based OCD and food based delusions that mimic orthorexia in their expression than anything else. And I made major progress today in therapy in figuring out what's going on there.

My food stuff got a lot worse this fall, as I dealt with discovering I had liver tumors and spent months unsure if I had cancer or another life threatening condition. I don't, thankfully, but it was an incredibly scary and honestly traumatic experience, particularly when combined with my preexisting medical trauma. And then when we learned that the tumors are benign I just kind of...didn't deal with any of that and pushed it all aside, especially as they began to shrink now that I'm off the medication that caused them. And all of the terror and helplessness of that experience has been transformed into food based compulsions and delusions, for several reasons. Because I have an eating disorder history and a tendency to use food in that way, because I've had food based compulsions and delusions in the past, because our culture tells us that food is both the cause and cure of any and all health conditions, because doctors throughout this experience were telling me to lose weight and follow certain diets, etc etc etc. But there's one piece of the puzzle that I didn't put together until today when my therapist brought it up.

My tumors were caused by oral contraceptive medication. For years every single day I ingested something that, unbeknownst to me, was causing dangerous tumors to grow in my liver. If we had not discovered them in time and I had continued to take my medication there's a very real chance they would have ruptured and I would have died. Something that I thought was good for me that I was ingesting was secretly hurting me and causing my body to betray me. Of fucking course I now have delusions that the things I ingest will hurt me/give me diseases/cause my organs to rot: that essentially happened to me! Of course I'm afraid of putting things into my body and the effects those things might have, of course I'm obsessive about the potential health effects of different things that I might put inside me! Of course I need to feel in control of what I ingest, of course I panic when I feel that I'm breaking rules that keep me safe, of course my contamination and poisoning delusions have been acting up, of course! I'm a paranoid schizophrenic with a preexisting eating disorder and delusions of being poisoned since I was 3 years old, and then I discover that something I've been swallowing every night was causing masses to form in my organs? No fucking wonder I reacted this way.

The food stuff has been so bad lately, and trying to untangle it in therapy has honestly been making it temporarily worse, but I feel like this was a significant breakthrough today and I'm hopeful that understanding more of what's behind my incredibly intense and irrational fears and behaviors around food will soon lead to being more able to start recovering from those fears and behaviors.

[sincelastsession]

Am I proud of what I said in a reactive abuse position? Hell no.

At the time could I control the compulsion to write that? Nope.

It's all the stuff that I'm telling you that he told me over the phone okay hell fucking no

Do I look like the asshole and he looks like the innocent dad never did anything wrong? Yup.

I seriously cannot even tell my father about the farmer's market and the fact that there was glitter in the pool and the fact that I had to call the courtesy officer and I was going to tell him the record store and various other interesting things and then I was going to ask him if he wanted to go certain places with me when he had free time coming up but I never got to that point I never got to the point where I was like hey dad I would love it if we hung out

But I must be insane for even thinking that that's a possibility since he can't even keep his hands to himself because January 11th wasn't the only time he put his hands-on me and telling me he's sorry doesn't mean shit to me

He's not working on himself he's not changing he's not doing anything for himself that's positive and I'm not in control of that and I'm not trying to be in control of that I don't care if my language sounds controlling I tell people I'm not trying to control you I don't lie about those things

I don't care if it sounds controlling that shouldn't be the focus here the focus should be literally that he is obviously to the point where I have that reaction

And you said it was safe for me to talk to him and now I am going through hell and I am having flashback

I only had an hour of sleep last night because I'm dumb bullshit and I was trying to rest and then I just said it I would just talk to my dad because it's a Saturday it maybe he wouldn't be awake and wanting to talk to me because he seemed like he gave a fuck in therapy but nope it was bullshit again because this is a cycle it's a violent cycle it's a violent cycle

I don't feel safe talking to him in person or over the phone anymore

Every time I hit a trigger which I never know what the triggers are for him because he doesn't explain it to me and then they're usually really unreasonable like hey Kim when you speak it's a trigger hey Kim when you exist it's a trigger hey Kim when you breathe wrong it's a trigger I think he's maybe using the pop culture reference incorrectly

It is not a clinical trigger it doesn't make sense to me and he won't explain it to me he just thinks I'm going to read his fucking mind

I am fucking crying my face off

I thought today was gonna be a good day thought I'd have a great conversation with my dad and I would get off the phone and feel okay for once

But he had to treat me like shit for no reason there was no reason none of what he told me or said to me was OK and yes I did have a reactive abuse response and yes I do believe he fucking deserved that

And no I'm not trying to punish him I'm trying to get him to see how upset it makes me and how it affects me because he doesn't seem to understand doctors or therapists or me he just makes up his own narrative in his head and then tells me I'm full of shit and my doctors are wrong and my therapist is wrong and all this other crap because he's not getting his way

I didn't even ask him for anything I didn't ask him to fix anything I just wanted to talk to him

If he's busy and he's not in the mood to talk then he needs to let me know instead of waiting for me to guess or ask because I don't know if I'm supposed to do that because that might be the wrong thing to do

I don't think you understand that it's like walking on eggshells trying to speak to him about anything or like walking in a minefield and you never know when he's going to explode at you

I said something 3 times in a row because I was trying to start over because I could not remember where I was at in the sentence because he kept fucking interrupting me

Then he told me I said it 6 times and I said that's not true and then he was like I don't wanna play games and I'm like I Don't Know what the fuck you're talking about I'm not trying to play a game I Don't understand what you Mean by that and Then you can see you're doing it again you're playing games or Whatever the fuck he said

And then he starts playing his weird little crazy ass narcissistic games

And then he tells me that we're exactly alike and that is the farthest from the fucking truth

He doesn't know anything about me because he won't even listen

I don't even know if he has the ability to listen I don't even know what his issues and diagnosis is

I don't deserve the abuse

I don't know how to not respond to the bullshit and just I'm tired of taking the abuse I'm going to fight back

Why should I have to just take it

Why does he hate me so much I didn't do anything

And yes everything that I said to him was mean

But that seems to be the only thing he fucking understands

I can't talk nicely to him anymore because even if I do that's wrong I can't do anything right in his eyes and he has to have a tantrum or a shit fit about it

And he hangs up in my face and he knows that this triggers me to blow up phones and I told him not to do that I've asked both my parents not to hang up in my face like assholes

Because I'm not gonna sit around and just let them be fucking assholes and not fight back

Why should I have to be the one that takes everything from everybody

Why am I the scapegoat what did I do

I didn't know he was working on stuff for his new job I didn't know he was busy he didn't fucking tell me any of that

I didn't know that me calling him and speaking to him was irritating and horrible and all the other horrible shit he said to me

I'm about to buy an app so I can record my calls with him because I can't stand this shit anymore because he thinks he's gonna manipulate my therapist and everybody else and make me look horrible and not take accountability for his shit

And I know that I could react better I probably could do some things differently and I will try to work on that but I am not fucking He's going to talk to that fucking asshole until he gives me a proper apology and shows me that he is working on himself because absolutely nobody would have put up with what he told me on the phone

Nobody would have just laid down and let him hit them with words he beats me like a Dead Horse with everything that I do wrong

I'm always wrong always fucking wrong everything I do every word I say is wrong he looks pained when he speaks to me like I'm a sure like I'm a fucking burden and you can't stand me or by voice or the words that come out of my mouth or anything and the man doesn't even know anything about me because I never get to even tell him anything about me because me trying to tell him something about me is wrong

What the hell

I told you I warned you and he just pulled some bullshit and now my life is even worse because my phone is going to get turned off probably or it's another threat again

You have any idea how anxious and upset and how many fucking flashbacks are going through my head right now

I am in flight or fight hypervigilant mode to the maximum and I don't know what to do and there are loud people outside and all I want to do is open my door and scream at them to shut the fuck up

And I can't do that and I can't get any fucking peace and I obviously can't talk to anybody correctly because I'm a fuck up I'm the fuck up I am the screw up I am the worst daughter on earth I can't do anything right and everything is my fault and I don't learn and I can't make my father happy and he expects me to and it's not my fucking job

He has his triggers which he won't even tell me what they are and the ones that he does tell me what they are they're just me I'm the tbigger me speaking is the trigger even though I've never done anything to him to cause that trigger so I think he's just using it as an excuse

Because there is absolutely no fucking proof that he has the same conditions I do because he won't talk to me about it

It's really hard to communicate when you call someone and you try to talk to them and they don't want to talk and they said they'll talk to you about it later and then later never comes

But they're sorry and they want to tell you about something and they want you to listen to them and everything they have to say and so you do that and then you think it's your turn to talk and you might as well just go fuck yourself because you're gonna get treated like shit every fucking time you try to speak to your dad

It's not okay

Not fucking okay

There is just no excuse for how he treats me

Unless he has dementia and some uncontrollable condition that makes him act like a psycho bastard then there is no excuse

And then he doesn't understand that I'm having a reactive abuse thing happen.

He doesn't want to hear about my problems he doesn't want to learn he doesn't fucking seem to want to be my father

All I see and hear from him is resentment and him wanting me to change and him bullshitting my therapists

And the finger gets pointed at me

I am busy trying to work of myself and I thought that I could speak to my father because you thought it was fine so I did what you told me to do and now I'm just getting abused again.

And you said I could be mad at you you told me that so yes I am mad.

Possibly unreasonably so but I am angry

I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to do anymore I don't have the money it's going to magically appear out of the air to get the fuck away from these people

I can't get financially stable and stay no contact with my father

And you can ask me about why in therapy

Because he set up a card that I could use for my Venmo so I could sell art but then when I tried to do something with it and somebody gave me some money for my birthday on that account he got nosy and went and looked at it when he told me he was going to stay out of that account and then bitched me out because I had money in there and then where did it go when I sent somebody money from that account to their account for something that they bought me and it was none of his fucking businessBecause he set up a card that I could use for my Venmo so I could sell art but then when I tried to do something with it and somebody gave me some money for my birthday on that account he got nosy and went and looked at it when he told me he was going to stay out of that account and then bitched me out because I had money in there and then where did it go when I sent somebody money from that account to their account for something that they bought me and it was none of his fucking business

He speaks of me having poor boundaries when he has none

Actually I think my boundaries are pretty fucking clear

And he just stomps all over them and does what he wants and he thinks he's entitled to do that

He thinks it's OK to just continuously treat me like shit

My sister does not get treated like this because she plays up to him and goes oh daddy this said oh daddy that

And she just threatens that she's gonna leave and never come back and it shuts him up

I just want to talk to my dad

Apparently I can't do that and he's probably gonna drop dead before I ever have a good relationship with him

You have no idea what's that hurts you don't even it's clear how much any of this drives me insane it hurts me

I just wanted to have a good day and I was having a good day and I thought I could have a good solid short conversation with my father and it didn't even get into 1 minute before he started attacking me for things that I can't control.

And I asked him to be patient and he said he was trying to be but he wasn't he was just interrupting me over and over again and then threatening me and then screaming fuck you at me when I asked him what his diagnosis was when he said he was the same as me and I was just like him

I'm not just like him

I'm not like anybody

I'm myself whatever that is but it's not him

I am not a bad person and I am tired of being put in that light of a bad person

And yes those text messages are pretty fucking harsh but you don't hear what he's telling me on the phone and what he has said to me before and what he threatens

I cannot just get financially stable by September unless he expects me to do some sort of porn

But I wouldn't want to do that because all he does is sit around and look at porn and talk to people who are younger than or of the same age as my fucking sister because he's a fucking creep

But I'm crazy if I bring that up even though I've caught him talking to underage or people younger than me and it's creepy and he was doing that on my computer years ago and he probably still does it

He has hit on women who were younger than me in public as if he was a teenager himself and he doesn't remember this nor does he acknowledge this and he thinks that I'm psychotic

He has neglected everything and now he's mad he has to take care of it

He has neglected his health and now he is slowly dying I assume because he won't tell me anything about his health but he doesn't look so great

Like I can't even I just want to scream I just want to scream so badly

I want to fight I feel like fighting I could put my fist through the fucking wall I am so angry and fucking fed up with this dumb shit

I would probably break my hand so I'm not going to do that because then I won't be able to draw but I don't know I haven't felt like drawing or doing art since that was just pushed on me my entire fucking life I used to enjoy it but I don't fucking enjoy anything now because I'm not allowed to enjoy anything now I'm not allowed to say anything because everything I do and say is wrong

He fucking terrorizes me

And then he acts like an innocent baby when I go in at him when I get triggered when I compulsively need to say something instead of just letting it go and walking away like I should but it's very hard to do that when you're constantly abused and you don't want to just sit around and take it anymore

I feel so profoundly misunderstood and hurt

I don't even understand what the hell he's even talking about half the time

How am I supposed to read his mind all these rules and triggers that he magically has like is he just making that up to mock me or does he actually have a problem and what the fuck is the problem so I can understand it

How am I supposed to be patient with him when he can't wait for me to finish a sentence without jumping my ass because I spoke incorrectly

Or because I just didn't hurry up and get to the point

Can't yell at somebody and treat them like shit and they're suddenly fixed and better

And every time I get better he has to knock me down again

I am so sick of this shit so fucking sick of it I don't want to deal with it anymore I don't want to deal with anything I am tired of this it's starting up again he's just being awful again

He's going to continue to do this over and over and then he's gonna pretend he's a nice thoughtful loving father who is just so pathetic and poor because he's taking care of me

Did he tell you he has an IRA?

Did he tell you he once had a ton of money he lost because he didn't pay taxes?

Did he tell you he plays the stock market and loses sooooo much money.

I am terrified of him

He is such a fucking liar

I didn't even want to leave your office at the same time as him because I didn't want to be alone in the parking lot with him

I got home and I had to get my weighted blanket to stop myself from shaking

Then I had fucking heart palpitations and had to call him because my mother wasn't answering the phone and I didn't know if I needed to go to the hospital or not so he brings me this weird little EKG widget thing

And he tells me what heart Doctor to get into sea and I have an appointment on Monday with my primary care so she could get me a referral but in between all of this he's abusing me verbally and emotionally and psychologically

He knows I'm in PTSD flair he knows what my diagnosis are he will not educate himself about any of it and then he treats me like shit and tells me that I can control all of it when I cannot currently do that and may not ever be able to do that I have not yet been able to control the things that bother him

But it's not my job to please him and he has acted this way like a giant overgrown child that needs to be pleased and pacified and for everything to go his way my entire fucking life

[journalofsorts2]

self harm, masturbation (brief)

god i don't know how to correctly phrase this without sounding like a masochist. masochist? sadist? no i just looked it up it's masochist for self pain or whatever, sadist is for others pain. anyway back on topic. i gain too much pleasure from bad emotions. or not that, but that? i don't know how to explain it correctly. like i willingly put myself through bad emotions and i ?enjoy? it. i've talked about this a little with my therapist when i showed up to a session right after crying a bunch. i had been listening to my uber sad playlist cause i was falling asleep and that would keep me awake but then i started like bawling my eyes out, i showed up fine for my appointment but i've been trying to lie less when people ask me 'how are you?' and she asks that at the beginning of every session. but she didn't outright say it was unhealthy but you could tell that's what she thought. but like the sad playlist is just one example, like i listen to that playlist at a minimum of once a week but i have other things that make me sad. whenever i find a piece of media that makes me sad i'll be addicted to it and wring it dry of any sad emotions it summons in me. fanfiction is a common one for me, movies that make me cry, i'll rewatch clips of the scene that made me cry over and over again. same with shows. songs too but i already talked about that. there's other stuff i'm not thinking of right now but most of the time it is media that i revisit over and over again. god, it's a wonder how i didn't end up self harming earlier y'know? like how did it take me this long to discover how much i enjoy the bite of a flame or the sting of a blade? i mean i dabbled in self harm before but now i've come to appreciate the more generic forms of self harm y'know? like the cliches are cliches for a reason. oh god, i met with my primary care today and i told her i was improving. improving! how the fuck is devolving into burning myself improving? and of course i lied on the little sheet and to her face, 'have you ever had any thoughts of hurting yourself or others?' yes of course i have but i don't want to be involuntarily hospitalized again so no i haven't had those thoughts and i've definitely not acted on the 'yourself' ones. but like the sad part is that i genuinely think i'm improving. like i've been having more frequent good days and better quality good days. but the problem isn't that i'm cutting and burning on the bad days cause the bad days are so bad, the problem is that i'm cutting and burning on the good days. like i do it because it feels good and i want to feel good. fuck, i make myself sad on the good days too because i'll go and purposely listen to my sad playlist specifically to make me cry because i like crying and i like feeling sad. idk man maybe i am a masochist. but i feel like masochism has to have a sexual component and that doesn't really have a part here. like yeah sure i'd be into some shit in the bedroom but that doesn't really fit into why i self harm y'know? like i'm not masturbating with one hand and cutting with the other y'know? they're separate realms of happy. idk man this post is too long and i feel like i've gotten off topic. i just, i feel weird for liking negative things this much. like i joke about how something on my bucket list is to break a limb, and like for the most part it's not a joke because i want what that experience. i want that pain, i want those doctors visits, i want the tough healing process, i want the itchy cast, i want all of it y'know? idk man rant over, i'm fucking mental. idk idk idk

[battinscn]

MISSING YOU — popstar! theodore nott x f! reader

CONTENT WARNING: angst/ mentions of therapy/ being under medication/ mental health

SUMMARY: theodore’s job takes him away from you a lot and hi here understanding for the most part. but after countless broken promises, you had enough.

WC/ AVG. READING TIME: 1574 words/ 8 minutes

return to the theodore masterlist here

"THANK YOU DR macmillan," you thanked your therapist.

"i'll have nurse johnson prepare your medication and you can sign out by the front desk."

you nodded in acknowledgment and left the doctor's office.

you noticed that it was a quarter past five and started on dinner. while the chicken was in the oven you remembered to record the episode of theodore's favourite show on telly so he could watch it when he had the time.

you did the laundry and ironed out theodore's dress shirts that had crumpled in the wash. you placed them neatly in his cupboard in colour order, that way, it was easier for him to pick out clothes for the day since he was always in a hurry.

as you tidied, you saw how theodore's white trainers had gotten dirty and cleaned them as well. pretty soon, dinner was cooked, the house was cleaned, and you were already showered.

you set the table and started on your dinnner, placing a heating charm on theodore's plate so his food would not get cold.

you washed your plate and settled into bed. you soon fell asleep alone in the cold bed, pulling the duvet closer to you to keep warm.

when you awoke the next day, the bed was suspiciously empty, which meant that theodore had not came home the night before.

you lazily rubbed your hands over you face and put on your house slippers. you washed your face, brushed your teeth, and treaded into the kitchen.

as you were frying up and egg, you heard something tapping on your window.

"thank you sweet pea," you cooed to the delivery owl as it dropped today's copy of witch weekly into your hands.

you were about to toss the magazine aside to read later when the headline caught your attention.

"lead singer theodore nott caught getting cozy with actress eloise delacour at french pub" was written in bold.

your eyes trailed to the picture of your boyfriend, standing way too close to the french actress for your liking.

you threw the magazine angrily at the counter as you ran your hands through your hair, trying to rationalise your thoughts.

you switched the hob off and leaned your elbows against the counter, holding your head in your hands.

you then heard a pop sound, theodore holding onto his backpack, his wand in one hand.

you picked your head up and barely glanced at him, before turning to make yourself a cup of tea.

"hey..." theodore threw his bag onto the sofa and trudged over to you, confused by your cold demeanour.

you would usually jump into his arms and pepper him in kisses whenever he came home after a long tour.

theodore attempted to hug you from behind but you pushed him away.

"what's wrong?" theodore's brows came to a furrow.

"what's wrong?" you scoffed and practically threw the magazine at him, "look at this and tell me what's wrong."

theodore picked the paper off the floor and looked at it.

"y/n...sweetheart...it's not what it looks like, management just thought it would be good marketing for our new record so they hosted a party last night," theodore set the magazine down and tried to step closer to you.

"stop..." your voice shook as you placed your hand in front of you to prevent theodore from coming near you.

"i'm sorry y/n, i really am. after those pictures nothing else happened i promise." theodore reasoned, his eyes pleading.

"it was my birthday," you muttured.

"huh?"

"it was my birthday, yesterday," you spoke a bit louder.

"what? no it wasn't your birthday's next week, on the-" theodore looked at the calender that was hung on the wall, "fourth...", he trailed off after seeing that today's date was the fifth.

you sniffed and wiped your cheek with your palm.

"shit, i'll make it up to you, i promise. i'm off for the whole month, i promise i'll pamper you and-"

"i can't do this anymore theodore. i can't sit here and pretend that everything's fine when it's not. i was patient whenever you had to work late, i was understanding when your management wanted to keep us a secret to upkeep your teenage hearthrob reputation. but i just can't anymore." you held your hand to your mouth to prevent the sob that threatened to spill.

"y/n..." theodore tried to step closer to you but your hand still remained in the space between you both.

"yesterday, when i blew out my candles by myself, my one wish was to for once be your first choice." your voice broke, "it's always your work before me, but just for one day in the year, all i wanted was for you to choose me."

your body weakened and theodore quickly caught you by your forearms, supporting you with his hands below your elbow.

you let yourself break as theodore looked at you guiltily, wondering how had he ever fucked up enough to hurt the girl like he had.

the moment was interrupted when theodore's manager's voice filled the small condo.

"theodore, we need you in the studio. the weird sisters have agreed to do a demo and this can be huge for us." the middle aged man fire talked.

you saw the look on theodore's face, you had been dating long enough to know that was his contemplating face.

if he was even contemplating leaving while you were falling apart in his arms then the conversation between the two of you was not evern worth having.

"go." you pulled your arms away and leaned agains the counter.

"you made your choice when you were weighing out the options in your head, you made your choice and you didn't choose me," you pointed to the fireplace, "go."

you shoved past theodore and hurried into your bedroom, slamming the door shut.

"y/n," theodore opened the door and looked down as you sat on the edge of the bed.

"go away," you said coldly.

"you know what? fine," theodore gritted his teeth, "if you want me to go so badly, i'll go."

before he could walk off, you gripped onto his wrist, "you'll never find another like me."

it had been six months since you packed your necessities and left without another word.

six months later and here theodore was, sitting in his front room as a girl laid underneath him.

sloppy kisses were shared but all on his head was how the girl was not you.

her lips did not feel like yours, the hand that threaded through his hair did not feel like yours.

"i'm sorry," theodore pulled away and fixed his dress shirt, sitting straight.

"it's alright," the girl smiled at him, "your mind was everywhere but me, even when you offered to bring it back to your flat."

she picked up her bag and wiped her thumb on the corner of her mouth to fix her lipstick, "thank you for tonight, i had fun nevertheless, but i can tell you love her, whoever you've been thinking about. so tell her that you do, it's never too late."

and with that theodore was left alone in the apartment that you once shared.

he stared at the photograph of you and him above the fireplace, one that he never had the heart to take down, selfishly praying that you were alone as well, dumping whichever fool that was not enough for you.

because theodore knew that nobody could ever be good enough for you.

theodore got into the bathroom and a chip in the tiled wall caught his notice.

he could feel the magic coming off it and removed the charm from the medicine cabinet.

he picked the potions up and read the labels off it, your name printed at the top.

he never knew.

theodore never knew you were struggling with your mental health and he wondered why you had chose to keep him from it.

"fuck," theodore slammed his fists on the wash basin and ran his hands through his hair.

you were suffering alone and theodore never knew. maybe if he loved harder you would have told him, maybe if he had checked if you were alright, you would have told him. maybe if he had fought harder that night, you would have told him.

he tried to get over you, he really did. he had somehow convinced himself that he never needed you, that his pride mattered more.

but theodore let you slip through his fingers and there was nothing he regretted more than that.

it was only after you had broken up that theodore realised that he would indeed never find another like you.

nobody would make him honey tea just the way he liked it when his throat felt scratchy after voice lessons like you would.

nobody would tuck him into bed when he was not feeling his best after a long day at the recording studio like you would.

nobody would surprise him at his shows that he would do all over europe, holding up a handmade sign despite being almost trampled by people in the pit like you would.

it was six months after you had gotten your heart absolutely shattered by him that theodore finally admitted to himself that he missed you.

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[diaday333]

Hello, hello! Today's topic is... (drumroll please)... Your life's porpoise 🐬... Get it? Cuz the pictures are of porpoises ? (Crickets) ok uh moving on 😅 yep yep, your life's purpose ! Now just because this is your life’s purpose, doesn’t mean that you have to follow it! If you see something and your like “nah,” then that’s ok! But knowing your life's purpose could really help you out.

To pick a pile, take a deep breath, relax, and pick whichever porpoise you’re drawn to!

Warning ! Warning! Remember, tarot readings are not the end all be all. So if there is something that you don't like or if it doesn't resonate, don't take it! Second, don't take tarot readings as replacement for professional advice, I beg of you. Finally, I'm dyslexic, so if something is... Off, either call it out or ignore it and move on with your life-respectfully.

Also, if you enjoy my readings and you want to, you could donate and support me! I would appreciate it a lot!

My cash app ||| my kofi

Pile one

Hello, hello pile ones!

Your life purpose is to be surrounded with people! You're not really meant to be "alone." This could mean starting a family, but it doesn't have to be. You are more or less supposed be the decision maker. You're like the person that everyone relies on, (not in an unhealthy way). You have a very loving and kind energy. You are meant to share you wisdom with the world!

How to follow your life's purpose: don't carry anyone else's burden. Don't get caught up in the past or in bad habits. Admit when you need to change. Stop worrying too much. Embrace change.

Advice: don't give up on your goals. Don't micromanage things. Let things come to you.

Pile two

Hello pile twos!

You are meant to help people. You have this energy that heals and helps people. You are an incredibly wise person who gives amazing advice. Now you don't have to help people through a spiritual practice like reading tarot, but it could something like a teacher, therapist, doctor, etc.

How to follow your life's purpose: seek out more divine wisdom, like a spiritual teacher, though don't feel like you have to. Work on yourself. Work on healing yourself first before trying to help anyone else.

Advice: don't feel like you need to step up into some kind of position don't feel you owe anybody anything.

Pile three

Hello pile threes!

Your life purpose is to be freeee. Ok that may sound weird, but you are not meant to held down or shackled. You are not meant to hide who you are. Life's too short to not be who you are.

How to follow your life purpose: Be yourself! Don't care what anyone says about you ! Be as weird as you want! You are a very unique person. Speak up and don't hide yourself!

Advice: be confident in yourself. Bring your plans to life! Don't just keep them in your big, beautiful head. Be bold! And lastly, don't doubt yourself.

Pile four

Hello pile fours!

Your life purpose is to be bold! You're not meant to just sit back and let things happen. You are meant to be outspoken and confident. Your kinda like that friend that everyone needs because you tell it how it is and don't take no BS.

How to follow your life purpose: learn many things! Don't just be a one trick pony. Take action! If you're sure about something, follow it! Don't do anyone's bidding. Stand up for yourself.

Advice: be confident in yourself. Don't let anyone walk all over your for any reason. Be independent. Like I said don't just stick to what you know, learn new languages! Don't be scared of talking.

Pile five

Hello pile fives!

Hmm, well you certainly are the romantic type. Ok, well this may sound weird, but in a way you are meant to be someone's dream person. Now, now, I don't mean that's all you have to be, like being a house spouse (tee-hee), but being romantic is like in your nature.

How to follow your life's purpose: keep on dreaming. Really never stop dreaming! And then put those dreams into action! Work on finding the perfect person for you, cuz they're out there! I feel like some of you have given up on love, well don't 😡 Jk I'm not mad, but for real, don't give up, ok?

Advice: Don't let people treat you like a toy! If someone is not willing to commit, drop 'em! Don't change yourself for anyone, like if you're not someone's type, that's fine! You're still attractive and someone out there thinks so too!

Pile six

Hello pile sixes!

You are meant to help people. This could be as simple as giving advice, getting someone out of a slump, or saying hi to someone on the street! You have a very healing energy. You are meant to live by your own rules. Don't change yourself to fit in and don't let anyone change you! You are meant to be you!

How to follow your life's purpose: Love yourself. Be defiant. Like I said, don't let anyone change you or hold you down. Don't let anyone keep you in a box.

Advice: Dont be afraid to tear things down, like old standards! Be careful or cautious of the people you're around! Don't let people into your circle unless you know they are for your highest good!

Thank you for reading ! And yes, I know that advice and the how to and kinda the same, but leave me alone 😭 I like giving advice!

[specialagentsergio]

baby kiss it better

summary: When D.C. implements a lockdown order, you and Spencer decide to quarantine together. There’s just one problem—he’s working from home, and his coworkers don’t know about you.

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

category: fluff

content warnings: a few swear words, but otherwise it’s just fluff

a/n: ahh, the secret partner trope. how i love it. this is set in 2020, but with the season 5 cast! i was feeling particularly self-indulgent, so i made reader a night shift worker. this is for you, fellow night owls. stay safe out there everyone, and wear a mask!

a/n 2: i don’t actually know what a doctor or physical therapist would recommend for spencer’s knee injury. this is just going on my basic understanding of anatomy (i took a class in it this fall!) and what i've seen on grey’s anatomy lol.

word count: 2.2k

masterlist

Spencer tries not to grimace as he shifts in his chair. Working from home during the lockdown had initially seemed like it came at a great time, starting just a month after his knee injury. Sure, he wasn’t thrilled about having to do almost everything digitally, but at least he wouldn’t have to worry about being mobile.

Unfortunately, that had turned out to be a downside. Tethered to his seat by headphones, he hasn’t been able to get up and stretch his leg properly, and as a result, is experiencing more pain.

It’s only 8:30, but he can already feel it flaring up. It’s been happening earlier every day, likely due to the existing irritation from the day before. Today is Thursday, and he’s miserable—he dreads to think of what tomorrow will be like.

He’s wondering if there’s some way he could get out of work tomorrow when he hears the sound of the front door being unlocked. He looks up to see you pushing the door open with your shoulder, carrying far too many grocery bags than is reasonable.

“Be careful!” he exclaims, watching as you teeter to the side a little. You just wave him off and close the door with your heel.

Working from home may not have been the positive he was expecting it to be, but you’ve more than made up for it. The two of you had decided to quarantine together, and he’s really loved having you around. Granted, you’ve only been here since Sunday, but he’s starting to think that this is going to end with him asking you to move in with him for good.

He hears a thunk as you dump all the groceries on the kitchen table. Then you’re back in the living room, taking off your mask as you walk by so you can blow him a kiss. He presses his knuckles to his mouth to hide his smile.

Usually you give him a proper cheek or forehead kiss when you get home, but the team doesn’t know about you yet. It’s not that he’s necessarily keeping you a secret, he just... likes having you to himself, and he doesn’t really want it to change just yet.

He’s also not looking forward to the pitch Garcia’s voice is going to hit when she finds out he’s been dating someone for over a year without telling her.

“Are you listening, Reid?” Hotch’s voice makes Spencer focus back in on the screen.

“Oh, y-yeah. Yeah, of course. Um, I was just thinking that this choice of rope to bind the victims is interesting.” He doles out a few facts about it, which seems to do an adequate job of convincing everyone that he’s paying attention.

They take a break when the main briefing is over—Jack needs something from Hotch and Sergio has apparently knocked something breakable off of Emily’s kitchen counter. He slides his headphones off and mutes his mic. Apparently that’s a cue you’ve been waiting for, because only a few moments later you’re placing a mug of tea on his desk.

“Green tea,” you say. “Might help reduce the inflammation in your knee.” Then you’re lifting his foot off the small stool it’s resting on and sliding another pillow under it so his leg is more elevated.

“Wh—“ he starts, but you’re already hurrying back into the kitchen. You come back with a baggie of ice wrapped in a dishtowel in your hands, which you place it gently on top of his knee.

“Twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off,” you say. “Then repeat with heat instead, like your physical therapist said. I’ll get the heating pad from the bedroom.”

“Hey, wait.” Spencer snags your wrists before you can walk away again. “How’d you know it was hurting?”

“Oh, I always know,” you reply. “You should have realized that by now.”

He thinks on that as you leave to get the heating pad, sipping his tea. You do always seem to just know, whether he’s in physical pain, a bad case is bothering him, or even if he’s just in a bad mood and doesn’t know why himself.

Not a day goes by where he doesn’t feel incredibly lucky to have you in his life.

“I’m leaving it by this outlet behind you. Have you been doing your stretches?”

He bites his lip, hesitating because he knows you won’t like the answer. But he doesn’t have to say it; you can tell from his expression.

“Spencer. You know you need to be doing them.”

“I know, I do,” he insists. “I just... can’t really get up and do them with these headphones.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Okay, so take them off. Your laptop has speakers.”

“But I don’t want to disturb you,” he protests. Since you work the night shift, you sleep during the day, usually heading to bed around 11 AM. He doesn’t want the noise from the Zoom calls to keep you up. Much like the bullpen in the FBI building, the calls can get rowdy.

“You won’t,” you assure. “I’ll just shut the bedroom door.”

“I guess that works,” he relents. “But I feel weird getting up and stretching in front of everyone. Like, wouldn’t that be disruptive?”

You sigh. “Spencer, I understand it’ll make you self-conscious, but you want full mobility in your knee again, right?”

“Yeah, I do, I get it,” he says sullenly, looking down into his mug. “I need to do the stretches if I want it to heal well.”

“Hey.” You take one of his hands and squeeze it. “I’m not trying to annoy you. I just want you to get better and be in less pain. I don’t like to see you hurting.”

“You’re not annoying me. I guess I’m just... not really used to being taken care of,” he admits quietly.

“Well, I’m gonna fix that.”

The confidence in your voice makes him unable to hold back a smile. “Alright.”

You smile back. “Is there anything else I can do?”

Spencer’s about to tell you that you’ve done plenty when an idea strikes him. He tilts his head to the side. “Well, there is something.”

“Yes?”

“There’s some research—nothing too substantial, but still some—that says kisses can help relieve pain,” he says.

You laugh, but it’s not unkind. “Oh, so you want me to kiss it better?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, glancing away shyly.

“Okay, then.” You tuck his hair behind his ear and press a kiss to his forehead. “Better?” you ask softly.

He hums. “Better.”

“Good.” You stand back up and stretch. “Well, I’ll be awake for a few more hours, so let me know if you need anything.”

“I will.”

Spencer puts his headphones back on—he wants to wait to unplug them until you go to bed to spare you from hearing anything gruesome—and looks back at the screen to find Morgan, Emily, JJ, and Garcia staring him down. Rather hesitantly, he unmutes his mic and asks, “What?”

Emily is grinning—she looks the more awake than she has all morning. “Is there anything you wanna tell us?” she asks.

“Yeah, Spence,” JJ chimes in, “any new developments in your life?”

“I don’t—” he starts, then it hits him like a truck. He remembered to mute his mic, but the camera was still on. Clearly, they all saw you kiss his forehead. He barely stops himself from hitting his head against the table; he covers his face with his hands instead and groans.

“Isn’t the whole point of all this that we stay away from other people?” Morgan asks, and Spencer doesn’t have to look up to know that Derek has a shit-eating grin on his face.

“People outside of your household,” he corrects without thinking.

“Oh my god!” Garcia shrieks and he winces, pulling the headphones off out of instinct. He’s not the only one—JJ jumps and yanks her earbuds out, and Derek lifts one side of his headphones away from his ear. Spencer hesitantly copies him, putting one half of his headphones back on.

“Jesus, Pen, you scared the shit out of Sergio,” Emily’s saying.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry,” she says, then turns her attention completely to Spencer. “Boy wonder. You’re living with someone and I’m just now hearing about it?”

“I mean, you never asked,” he points out.

“Well, I didn’t think I’d have to!” she huffs. “You usually tell your friends if you’re seeing someone new, let alone living with them!”

“You do, maybe. Emily and I don’t,” he says.

Emily herself shrugs. “Good point. Fair enough, Reid.”

“Besides, we’re not living together,” he continues, “We’re quarantining together.”

“Right, because that’s such a big difference,” JJ teases. He glares at her in return.

Rossi returns to his desk before Penelope can start bombarding Spencer with questions. But there’s no reprieve for him—the man takes one look around and knows something’s up. “Okay, what’s going on?” he asks.

“We just found out pretty boy has a partner,” Morgan sing-songs before Spencer can say anything.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah.”

“And he didn’t tell any of us!” Garcia adds.

Spencer groans again and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “This is exactly why I didn’t say anything,” he mutters.

A knocking sound draws his attention away from the call. You’re standing in the bedroom doorway, your hand resting on the doorframe. “You okay?” you ask. “I just heard you groan.”

Spencer mutes his mic again and then leans over so he’s out of the camera’s frame. “They found out,” he sighs.

“Found out what?”

“Found out about... you.”

Realization crosses your face. “They saw me kissing you better?”

“Yeah. I forgot the camera was still on,” he says sheepishly.

“Well, it was bound to happen eventually.” You make your way over to him and take the ice off his knee. “It’s been twenty minutes, by the way.”

“Thanks. So, um...” He picks up the fidget toy you bought him when he was going stir-crazy in the hospital and starts messing with it. “What do you wanna do about this?”

“Whatever you’re most comfortable with,” you reply immediately.

“Okay, good answer,” he says. “But I actually want to know how you feel about this.”

“Well, I’m fine with meeting them, even if it’s just over Zoom. But if you’d rather wait, I’m fine with that, too. Really,” you add when he raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, well.” Spencer looks back at the screen. Hotch has returned now, and even though he can’t hear anything, it’s clear they’re all waiting on him. Best to just do this now, he thinks, otherwise I’ll be hearing about it all day. “How would you feel about meeting them right now?”

You blink. “Um, okay. So long as you don’t mind me looking like I was up all night, because, you know... I was.”

“You look fine,” he reassures. “Uh, just stay put for a second. Let me ask if this is okay.”

He readjusts to sit in his chair properly. He starts to put his headphones back on, but you unplug them so you can hear what’s happening.

“You ready to continue, Reid?” Hotch asks. It’s business as usual with him—if he was told what happened earlier, Spencer can’t tell.

“Well, actually,” he starts, and nervousness bubbles up in his chest. He glances up and you give him a reassuring smile. “Actually, I was wondering if I could introduce you guys to someone first?”

Garcia squeals. “Ooh, sir, please say yes!”

“Just keep it quick,” Hotch says. He didn’t even hesitate—they totally told him.

Spencer takes a deep breath, then gestures for you to come over. You seem a little nervous as well, but you handle it well, walking around the desk and into the frame. “Oh, we should have gotten you something to sit on,” he laments when you lean over the back of his chair.

“It’s fine.” You drape your arms around his shoulders and adjust so your head is on the same level as his. It’s silent for a moment, then you say, “Well, introduce me, silly.”

“Oh!” He clears his throat, trying to ignore the heat he feels in his cheeks. “Um, this is (Y/N). My... my partner.”

The call explodes with greetings, everyone talking over each other. “Slow down, slow down,” Spencer pleads. This is all overwhelming enough—he doesn’t need any excess stimuli.

Once it settles, everyone takes their turn introducing themselves (you already know who they all are, though, as he’s told you so much about them). Then you field a few questions—what you do for work, how you met, what your favorite food is (that was Rossi—Spencer suspects that he wants to know for the first dinner party he can hold after quarantine is over).

It’s going well. Everyone seems to like you, and you’re getting by just fine. Until Garcia asks her question, that is.

“So, (Y/N), how long has boy wonder been keeping you a secret from us?”

Both of you tense. “Uh, you know what, I’ll let him answer that,” you say quickly. “It’s just about time for me to go to bed.”

“Wha—no. No, it’s not. It’s just barley past nine,” Spencer protests.

“Yeah, I’m really tired. I’m gonna try and get some extra sleep today.” You give a little wave. “It was nice meeting you all.”

“Don’t leave me,” he whispers desperately. “Not with that question.”

You feign a yawn. “Sorry, I’m just too tired.”

He watches you go back to the bedroom with a pout.

“Well?” Garcia insists when he looks back at her.

Spencer cringes and preemptively lowers his computer volume.

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

tell me what you thought here!

[kissmetae]

Hope

❧ AU: x Taehyung || Friends to Lovers (Lowkey slow-burn)

You felt distressed, caught up in your own emotions and confused by your over-thought thoughts. Going through a rough patch as some would say, where everything felt hopeless and you found yourself scrolling pinterest till 1am looking for "angsty" core aesthetics to fit your new "vibe" of life. But it was easier said than done to dig yourself a hole when your best friend constantly stood by filling the hole back up as you dug in an attempt to stop you, help you and make you feel better, despite having his own issue to deal with... his crush on you.

|| ANGST + SMUT | 11k | x reader | masterlist in bio ||

❧ Disclaimer: This is fiction. Actions and events in these stories are often exaggerated and to a certain degree unrealistic.  Please have this in consideration when reading fiction, especially if it includes sexual content.

❧ Rating: EXPLICIT || sexual content, unprotected sex ||  Warnings: mention of feeling hopeless, "deep reflection", (reader is troubled by something going on in their life but it's open for interpretation/unspecified)

❧ Smut features: Vanilla, desperate, first time together, unprotected, reassuring/concent asking/'checking in' (is this ok? Does it feel good?) top!Tae and a power outage.

How do you know when you've reached the complete state of hopelessness? Do people ever become 100% hopeless? You inhaled deeply and sighed it out. Gaze to the white ceiling, back on the bed and legs up against the wall. The tingle in your feet from the lack of circulation made them look somewhat less alive and feel cold. With a tilt of the hips you allowed your legs to slowly fall to the side, forming a new pose in the shape of a 90 degree angle on the bed and allowing for the less zombie-ish color to return to your feet. Hopelessness. Feeling like there is no point yet still stubbornly aching in the inner crevice of the head with a wish for there to be a chance for something else. A change, a plot twist a sudden eureka to make the entire world loose it's zombie color pallet and become lively and vibrant again. Hope. Or a wish for hope. It's probably some basic programming, like survival instinct, hope instinct. But at this point you didn't want to believe. You wanted to be grumpy, upset, frustrated. To curse society and curse what isn't fair and curse all the norms and expectations around you regardless of who made them up! Curse the media, curse the mold for perfect and the lip filler ads, curse the restrictions planted by your own beliefs and curse the cause of said belief! But feeling frustrated and angry is hard. Not only is it exhausting but it's the hardest emotion to let out fully and feel satisfied by after. If anything anger and frustration feels like a self-fueling fire that keeps burning more and more until you get exhausted and slump down on the bed with your legs up the wall. Crying would've been easier. You sat up, feeling a brief spin in the head due to your advanced modelling poses and reached for your water bottle. Water, Zen, calm rivers, refreshment, sound of clucking water in the harbor... rain. You turned towards your bedroom window at the sudden raging pattering sound outside. Even the sky needed to cry today. You reached for your phone, having it be faced down for the past hour or so after giving up on ranting about your dilemma to your friend. You had two types of friends. Those who were there for you when convenient and those who were there for you regardless. Taehyung was one of them. 3 missed calls. 15 texts- make that 16. A sting of guilt washed through realizing he must've been worried sick the past hour. Too exhausted to use your vocal chords you opened the text chat. Taehyung was the definition personified of a caring person. Sometimes to the extent where you'd question if it was more than anyone deserved. Did the world deserve Taehyung? You didn't make it through the second text before your doorbell rang followed by a loud bang. It sounded urgent... You got up from bed and slipped your feet into your white fluffy slippers and made your way to the front door of your apartment. You unhooked the clasp and unlocked your door to see one of the rainstorm's victims dripping water onto your doormat. Taehyung, Dressed in a green raincoat and hair clinging to his forehead and temples. His chest was rising unnaturally with his attempts to regain his breathe. "Tae-" He stepped in, an arm wrapping around your side and the other pressing your head to his wet shoulder. "If you didn't make me so worried... I would've removed my raincoat before hugging you." He squeezed. "See this as my revenge." His heart was beating fast. He pulled back after a few seconds, breathing stable and his red hands reaching to unbutton his raincoat. Did he not wear gloves? He pulled the door shut behind him and gently kicked off his boots. Apparently not. "I'll... go hang your raincoat in the bathroom for it to dry" you said, taking it from him. He was quick to address the elephant. "Why didn't you reply to my texts?" He followed behind you. "I... I left my phone to charge and I got distracted..." you made up, hanging his raincoat up in the shower. "I didn't come here to scold you, but when you tell me you're feeling hopeless, you get that it makes me worried right?" His voice was gentle and he looked at you with concerned eyes, stood in the door to the bathroom. Actually.... you didn't. Why would anyone worry... everyone seemed to always take it as nihilistic comedy or something and swat it away with something along the lines of "you’re just hungry" or the classic "are you on your period?" Maybe you were or maybe you weren't but why would that matter? Just thinking about it made you feel annoyed. As if any deep emotion only was caused by a period, it's just a period, why would anyone, let alone someone with a period themselves ask someone else that in a way that minimizes the reason they feel upset or angry or whatever emot- "Hey?" Taehyung pulled you back out from inside your head. "I don't know..." He crossed his arms over his chest and you knew that look far too well. "We'll talk about it, but right now, I'm here to make it better and take care of you. Did you eat?" You shook your head. "Great! Because I stopped by at the shop on my way... before the rain attacked me and picked up some stuff, including~" he said with an eager tone and walked towards the grocery bag you hadn’t noticed until now. He picked it up and dug his hand in for something. "Du du du du" he sang dramatically and slowly pulled out the familiar dark blue packaging. The love of your life, the source of all things good. Chocolate. The good one! Not the weird orange wrapping one you hated, but the blue one, the holy blue one, your favorite one. "I remember your frustration when you saw the empty shelf of horror last week and it was restocked today so i picked up three just in case." "THREE?!" "Mhm!" He nodded proudly. You could cry, finally, but for other reasons. "TaeTae you're the best." You walked towards him, hugging him tight. He was the bestest of the best, the hero, the savior, chocolate delivery man. Oh what would life be without him. A blush spread across his cheeks. "You did it again." He said shyly "Hm? Did what?" "You called me TaeTae." "You don't like it?" "... I do." -- Taehyung had you stationed at the kitchen table while he cooked. With a focused gaze he scrolled on his phone, reading the next step for the recipe while stirring the pot. You were pretty sure he knew this recipe by heart now, he'd cooked it for you before and he should be confident in it but seemingly not enough yet to put the recipe down. The kitchen smelt amazing and you could feel your hunger cry out for whatever was simmering in the pot. Taehyung gently tapped the wooden spoon against the pot as he added another ingredient. "Are you going to tell me what happened?" He asked. That's where you'd left him hanging in your texts when exhaustion took over... "I just..." "Is it /that/ thing?" Taehyung asked, very much knowing of your source for distress already. "Kinda... but this time it feels different... I’m not nervous or eager, I just felt like I was waiting and waiting and what if I waited so long for nothing and I.... it doesn’t make sense but I just feel numb at this point and like I'm losing hope. Like every odd is set against me and I'm the only one dumb enough to still bet on myself." "And me. Except I'm not dumb, nor are you and I'll always bet on you. Always." Oh Taehyung... "Well, as your personal doctor and advisor and therapist and nurse, care-taker, comfort teddy and so on, I am going to prescribe you with some stuff." You chuckled. "Please go ahead." He placed a plate in front of you and another on the opposite end of the table. "Firstly, a good healing meal." "And you’ve already done everything in your power right now, you’ve been working hard. Maybetoohard." He mumbled under his breathe followed by a fake cough. "That said, let me distract you." "How?" "Well, some old school friends wanted to go out clubbing this weekend and-" "You don't like clubbing." "Hold on, let me get to the point. My suggestion is that you can come too, it won’t only be them. There will be the general club people too of course and I think most of them were bringing other friends or their girlfriends too so... it might be fun? If it sucks, we'll ditch and go to the midnight bowling place or noraebang, yes?" Maybe having some social interaction, an excuse to dress up and good music wasn't such a bad idea? The only thing bugging you was the potential mess there could be... and lately with your stressed mind you hadn't been the best at handling those environments, but after all this was just a club, with dancing people... it couldn't be that bad right? Bowling did sound fun too though... But you knew distraction and fun was what you probably needed. Maybe it wouldn't solve the issues but maybe it'd make it weigh less. The small distractions did a lot, a big one should do even more. "Sure." "Really?!" You could've sworn you just witnessed his ears wiggle from excitement. "I'll come." -- When Taehyung said "clubbing" you expected big flashy neon signs, a red rope and a guard and pulsing music coming from inside... not a giant base, a sax and a set-up of almost 4 different types of synthesizers. A jazz club. You should've known. The band was some sort of electro jazz fusion sprinkled with funk type band, as they introduced themselves as and they weren't bad, not at all. In fact this was a lot cozier than an uncomfortable packed nightclub. You just wish Taehyung told you so you could've worn your comfy flowy favorite dress rather than your tight little black one, wanting to fit in with the scene... Taehyung was dressed in black slacks, a green sweater and a brown coat that was hung over his chair, paired with his trademark assortment of bracelets on his wrist. Including the one you gave him for his birthday two years ago. He never took it off since the day he got it. It made you smile seeing it on his wrist. Taehyung's old school friends, the few you had managed to great during the evening were all really nice and most of them had their arm either around another or a hand held by another. You couldn't help but feel a little awkward, the questioning looks that didn't need to be vocal for you to understand. "Is this your girlfriend?" Taehyung just smiled, maybe playing it off was best... or did he just not notice the silent question? At first you expected a shrug or something but nope... "Would you like something more to drink?" Taehyung asked, leaning in so you'd hear him over the music and pointing towards your nearly empty glass. "I think I'm alright." "What?" "I'm ok." You leaned in closer. "Do you want to dance?" You and Taehyung were seated alone at one of the many tables as the majority were occupied dancing to the beats of the band and the rest drinking at other tables or mingling around. You had been up there at least twice, maybe even three times dancing the best you could and Taehyung always being by your side but your brain was starting to get a little drowsy. "I think I'm going to call it a night. But you can stay if you want." "No no, if you want to go home I'll come with you, let me walk you home." "I'll take a taxi its ok" "I insist." "So do I" the few drink he had had were enough to make his words braver and bolder. "It's late, I don't want you to go back alone regardless of if you take a taxi. I'll walk you." Fine. "Ok" Taehyung swept the remainder of his wine  and grabbed his coat and waved some quick goodbyes. It was cold outside. Dark and empty... maybe it was good Taehyung insisted after all. He stumbled slightly, alarming you. Your hands instinctively reached for him and he giggled. "You only had two glasses I doubt you're drunk right now." "Maybe I wiwwle tipdie" he giggled, clearly  acting up. "Does wiwwle tipdie Taehyung need help? Should I carry you on my back?" "No! I should be carrying you, do you have a blister on your heal from your shoes? Sore feet? Sore legs? Anything I can use as an excuse?" You laughed, patting him gently on the back. A cold breeze travelled through the street and you pulled your jacket tighter around you. "You're cold?" Taehyung asked "A little... my choice of dress wasn't the best." "I think you look beautiful." The sudden compliment caught you off guard. "... thanks." "Thanks? For what?" "The compliment" "I'm simply stating the facts." He said, looking to the side and slipping his hands into his pockets. "It sure is cold..." Why was it feeling awkward suddenly? Silence between the two of you would usually be comfortable... "Thanks for bringing me too." "Did you have fun?" He turned to face you again. "Yes, it was better than I expected." "I'm glad to hear that." "But let’s go bowling next time." "Sure!" He smiled widely. A source of warmth suddenly surrounded you and you looked up to see Taehyung's face turned away yet again but his arm resting around your shoulder, wrapping his coat around you and urging you closer into his side till your hips almost brushed against each other. The rest of the walk back home was a few minutes of silence, but luckily you didn't live far. "Home sweet home" "How will you get home?" You asked, concerned. "Ah..." he checked the time on his phone. "Well I've missed the last train... so unless I can find a taxi which so far I've seen none I'll have to sleep at the station." "No you're not, come, you can call a taxi from my place and at least wait inside instead of out in the cold." You said, grabbing his arm and pulling him with you through the entrance. "Nobody's picking up?" You asked Taehyung looked down at his phone with a confused look. "It keeps hanging up on me? I don't know if maybe their line is down or something?" "It would explain why we didn't see any on the walk back." "I guess so... so now what?" He looked up at you. "Guess you'll have to stay the night." He grinned. "Can't remember the last time we had a sleep-over" he chuckled and removed his coat. He was right, it must've been years ago... the last time you could remember was a movie night gone sleep over during winter when it had snowed so no traffic was able to move at all. You grabbed a spare cover and a pillow and handed it to Taehyung, sleepiness already present in his eyes. "Hey." Taehyung said, laying out the pillow and cover on your sofa. "If I have a nightmare can I come lay next to you?" He grinned. "If you have to." He replied with a puppy gaze. "Good night TaeTae." His eyes widened and he looked down at the couch. "... Good night." -- The question was when would you wake to the sound of birds chirping instead of the aggressive rasp of the snow plow dragging across the street? It almost sounded like it was more ir less plowing the asphalt off the earth rather than the snow. More irritating was that it just added to your unsatisfying sleep and rough awakening streak. One good morning was all you asked for... You sat up, slid off the edge of the bed and slipped into your slippers that were neatly set up by its side. A scratch of the head and an adjusting pull of the bun on your head and you headed to you first destination; tea. With heavy steps you dragged yourself out of your room and were met by the surprise you had forgotten was left on your couch from last night, sprawled across the sofa... in only boxers. Oh god. The covers were halfway on the floor, only covering his legs, barely. It was cold too but should you just ignore him... no, you couldn't... but what if you woke him up? He was only in boxers and you were already trying your best not to look but your brain had already registered that they were black and Calvins... please no more information... thigh muscles NO! Chest, focus on the chest. He was breathing, he was alive. Inhale, exhale. You carefully made your way towards him. His chest was toned... the type perfect to rest your head on NO! Messy hair... It really didn't help that your best friend was as attractive as he was. You bent down and carefully picked up the cover, pulling it back up over his upper body. He must've been really cold, his nipples- NO. You shook your head furiously to get rid of the thought. You turned around 180 degrees and marched to the kitchen. Tea. Tea. Tea. Tae. TEA! You could hear the covers rustle as he shifted, followed by a soft groan. Oh no... Please no. Although... why was it so dangerous for him to see you in your own home, making tea. I don't know! But regardless it felt like an action movie stealth scene for the grand heist judging by your heart beat. The boiler was too loud, the accidental clink of the mug as you set it to the counter too, the rip of packaging of the tea bag, the wind whistling outside! Sweat? You were sweating, stress consuming you yet again over the moist pointless little thi- "Hey?" The tea cup smashed against the kitchen floor along with your gasp and you grabbed the door handle of the kitchen cupboard for support. Taehyung starred at you with wide startled eyes. Maybe your screech scared him as much as his sudden presence scared you. "Sorry." He chuckled, voice so deep and raspy you could practically feel his vocal chords vibrate. Your heart was pounding hard. Could he at least have been swaddled in the covers and not in his boxers right now... You diverted your eyes to the porcelain shards across the floor. "Wait wait wait!" Taehyung yelped, holding his hand out to stop you from moving. But it was too late. The dark kitchen along with your giddiness had of course resulted in the unfortunate miss step. You sighed, lifting your foot from the chard as you felt something wet trickle down your foot. Taehyung quickly reached to turn the lights on, the bright shine blinding both of you briefly and making the view of him even clearer. "Stay there." Taehyung ordered. Your kitchen was pretty small so there wasn't much space to move without risking another wrong step. A cup of tea and now all this. You slapped your arms to your sides in a deep pout. Making a new cup now just felt wrong but you craved a cup so bad and it was cold... the floor was cold, you were cold... and not to mention everything hanging in form of heavy weights on your shoulders and chilling on top of the imaginary storm cloud above you right now. It's like your issues were mocking you and just making everything worse. Maybe the issue was that you related to the once-was intact mug. You felt split and unorganized, all over the place and dependent on things you knew you shouldn’t be depending your hope and happiness on but yet day after day you’d lose yourself in a visualization of a scenario of perfection were everything would be ok until again the door was slammed in your face and you had to start all over again. No matter how many times you felt like this time would be different and this time you were ready, this time it'd all go your way because the past was forgiven and your time wasn’t right but again and again .... Your patience was running out. You sniffed, wiping the tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand. Taehyung came back holding a broom and a dust pan when he saw your face of tears. "No..." he sounded panicked. He leaned down quickly sweeping the chards to the side of the kitchen and tossing the broom and pan into the pile so he could approach you. Strong lean arms embarrassed you like out of a 6 different angles k-drama scene. A hand found its place on the back of your head, softly petting you as the other pressed you closer to his warm chest. Never had you expected  that hugging Taehyung would feel this safe. May it be because he was the one you could be truly vulnerable with or that he was the one that knew what was going on right now, but whatever he did... he did it just right. "You don't need to say anything." He whispered. "I know." He squeezed you a little firmer. "I know." He reassured. "Sssh" his hand felt so gentle as it caressed you. "It's going to be ok." He felt so warm. "I'm here." His skin felt so soft against your hands. "I'm not going anywhere." Your heart calmed down. Taehyung didn't pull away until you became silent and your breathing stable. But even then he didn't pull away completely, only enough to look at your face and caress his thumbs under each eye gently. "I'll reheat the water for you." He smiled softly and reached for the switch on the kettle. You didn't want to let go, not just yet. But he slipped away carefully and kneeled to sweep up the shards and discarded the pieces into the bin. He briefly disappeared and came back holding his sweater, arms slipped in and pulling it over his head as he entered, causing his shoulders to naturally flex slightly as he slipped it on. He grabbed two mugs from the cupboard, added a bag in each and filled them with the hot water. You tugged and fidgeted at your sleeve as you watched, feeling unusually shy in his presence. "Come, let’s sit on the sofa" Taehyung said and grabbed a mug in each hand but quickly came to a halt. "Your foot!" You had forgotten about it too. He placed the mugs back down and watched you as you lifted to check the cut. "Fuck." Taehyung said and quickly ripped a piece of kitchen towel off and handed it to you. Holding one hand against the fridge for support and the other wiping the smeared mess on your foot you watched as Taehyung quickly disappeared and reappeared again with your med kit. "Does it hurt?" He asked, rummaging through the kit. "No, it just stings a little." He pulled out some disinfectant solution and eyes you quickly up and down. Before you knew it he was stood in front of you, kneeling slightly as you felt his large hand grab a hold behind your thigh and his arm scooped you up on him. Your heart was back to its rapid pace again. He set you down on the sofa carefully and went back to grab the disinfectant and the tea mugs. He sat on the floor in front of you, soaking a cotton pad with the solution and gentle pulling your foot towards him by the ankle. "Ah, thanks goodness it doesn't seem to be deep." He said with relief, gently dabbing the cotton pad to the wound. It stung a little but it wasn't too bad. "All nice and clean, do you have cute band-aids?" "Only boring plain ones I'm afraid." Taehyung scrunched his nose. "Boo." With a band-aid beneath your foot and your longed for tea in your hands you sat next to him on the sofa. "An eventful morning." "I should become your fulltime caretaker at this point." Taehyung joked. "Not that I'd mind." "Will you pay me?" He raised his brows as well as the mug to his lips. "No way." You smiled. "Charity work is good for karma." "I already have good karma!" Taehyung protested, pretending to be offended. He laughed that trademark warm laugh that was like a smooth cackle that somehow always triggered a little firework to go off in your chest. You smiled, looking into your mug as if it'd tell you a fortune. ... you swallowed and looked up. In winter the sun rose late and had begun its voyage above the horizon, painting the sky a bright warm orange tone as it shined in through the window behind Taehyung. No. You didn't have feelings for him. You just felt some post-event shakiness and nerves and for the matter of a fact you finally got your much needed cry. It must just be your chest feeling lighter thanks to the cry. "So, do you have any planes today?" Taehyung asked. "I don't even know what day it is." "Good, I don't have plans either and it's Saturday for your information. But I do have a potential plan and that is, since I'm already here, to spend the day with you unless you have important to do's, which you shouldn't, because you need a break." He whispered towards the end. "A fmnn break." He repeated, biting his lip on the word to censor himself, but he got his point across. "A break would be nice... but when I try, I feel distressed as if I shouldn't be doing it because I'm wasting my time. I need-" "A distraction" Taehyung filled in. You nodded. "Then thou shall sit here and watch my live-in-action cooking show live from your kitchen." He said cheerfully, slapping his hands to his thighs as he stood up. "Do you have strawberries?" He asked. "In the freezer." "Yes!" He made his way to the kitchen, worth to mention is the open floor plan of your apartment so you could see him well enough from where you were seated. The soft messy curls on his head bounced with him as he walked. He dramatically pointed at you with a spatula in his hand. "Welcome." He said, speaking deeply into the spatula. "The pancake and strawberry smoothie extravaganza extraordinaire show with your host." He point his thumb and index under his chin. "Kim Taehyung." His goofiness never failed to bring a smile to your face. He went to grab his phone on the sofa table. "I need background music...." he hummed as he scrolled, spatula still in his other hand. "Jeopardy music 10 hours?" He looked up at you for an opinion. "Please no." He giggled and a calm upbeat song started playing from him phone as he put it back down and resorted to the kitchen. While frying up the first batch he was spaced out, humming on the theme tune to jeopardy anyway. You had made yourself comfortable on the sofa, lying down. The sofa smelt like him now. The same sweet comforting scent as the hug had... and his coat the numerous times he'd wrapped it around you when it was cold or shielded you from the rain with it. But speaking of memory, thinking back at those often occurring times you were also reminded about how a previous "friend" used to try and provoke you into being nervous and shy in Taehyung's presence. You'd been close for years and maybe she had an issue with that or something but she'd always find ways to tease you in way. Claiming Taehyung was giving you "looks" or "checking you out" in ways she as a self-declared expert in men deemed were of more than friendly nature. And since she as expert of men by that likely thought all men were the same, proves how reliable of a source she was. Taehyung he just.... you were close. She just wanted to make you feel embarrassed and self-conscious and make it awkward between you. You hated thinking about that. It made you overthink and feel awkward. Like an evil loop. You looked up at the breakfast chef, catching his eye as he quickly looked back down to the pancakes. You could get used to this view. Handsome man in boxers and sweater making you pancakes when you’re feeling blue, the headline in your head spelled out. The Zen experience of the kitchen fan being turned off brought stillness and Taehyung emerges with a plate of pancakes, disappearing and re-appearing again after denying your offer to help with the strawberry smoothies, plates, forks, knifes and every suitable pancake topping he had been able to locate in your kitchen. And a tube of mustard as a joke that you only kept in your fridge for when your dad came over to dinner and his weird obsession with having mustard on everything. It was probably even expired. "Enjoy your meal." "You're my hero Taehyung." You said, stabbing a pancake. "I can be your hero baby." You froze. "What?" "Haven't you heard that song?" He smiled. Oh.. "Hero? By Enrique Iglesias?" "Ah, now that you mention it-" "With the weird music video were goes on this road trip with the girl and then he's suddenly rubbing money over her body in this random stone house." "Is this what you binge on youtube at 2am when I wake up to 15 links and emotional texts." "Do not judge me!" You giggled. "I'm not, I like waking up to those texts from you. You sent them to me for a reason." Taehyung smiled shyly. "Yeah... anyhow! I have a suggestion, a proposal, a-" "Go on" "Since I'm your hero, but even I weren't. I thought maybe I could stay here a few days? Only if you want me to, of course. I just-" he became shyer. "I like to think that you seem to feel better when I'm around and you're going through a rough time so I'd like to be there for you, like you are for me." Your heart made its presence in your chest known yet again. "You should think.... because it's true." "So?" "It'd be nice." He smiled widely. "Great! But I do need to go home and pack some clothes and... some pajamas and Yeontan! He is a great comforter trust me, he has cheered me up many times when I've cried." "Cried? What were you crying about?" "Oh- uhm it's nothing, it's ok now so." He swatted it away. "Boys cry too." He joked, but it tasted weird. "But he's staying with my parents this weekend, but if you want I can go pick him up." He suggested. "It's ok, he needs time with his grandparent." Taehyung chuckled. "Well they love their grandson so I'm sure they wouldn't mind having him stay an extra day or two." -- You couldn't help but feel bad that Taehyung had to sleep on the sofa... His bag with clothes and necessities was placed in the hallway and the covers neatly hung over the backrest. "We could take turns and sleep in the bed every other day." "I told you it was fine." Taehyung insisted, again. "I just feel bad..." "Then let’s both sleep in your bed and call it even." "...." your cheeks felt hot. "See, so I'll sleep on the sofa. Don't worry about it!" What does he mean "see"? ... you were simply imagining what excuse to use as to how your head would coincidentally end up on his chest instead of your pillow. "Or we'll both sleep on the sofa, but it might be a bit cramped." He continued. "Maybe this was a bad idea..." "Hey no! No, I'm just joking. Don't feel bad ok." Taehyung's hands smoothed down your arms. "Beds are better at healing wounds on the feet too." You exhaled deeply. "Oh TaeTae..." "Doesn't this feel like we're having a pajama party or sleep over?" He smiled. "Kinda, should we build a blanket fort and watch movies?" His mouth dropped open. "I'm just kidding!" You laughed He pouted. "Oh you want to?" A nod. "You want to build a fort and watch movies?" You asked with more excitement. More enthusiastic nodding. You both cracked up laughing on the sofa together. "I'm serious though." Taehyung grinned. -- You lied awake in your bed, eyes to the ceiling. For some wild reason you both thought it would be a great idea to binge through the entire twilight saga series as a source of comedy but you only made it up to half-way through eclipse when it became too much to handle for both of you. The first movie was easy to mock and laugh at and make fun out if but once it got more serious and romantic in new moon it started getting a little awkward. To say the least, feeling flustered from watching twilight but not due to the movie itself but from the presence of Taehyung right next to you in your make-shift sofa blanket fort. You couldn't stop thinking about him. And he was out there... on your sofa, right now. And who knew if he was in cute polka dot pajamas with his hair a mess on the pillow or his tight fitted boxers and his hair tied up.. You bit your lip, crossing your legs at the visual. You remembered the first time you witnessed Taehyung tie his hair up and how it felt like being punched in the gut. It's not possible to be that attractive. "Then aren't you attracted to him?" The voice echoed in your head. Just because you find someone attractive doesn't mean you're attracted to them! Which is very much true. But Taehyung's personality was attractive too which was harder to justify the same way. And his person. And him. The entire package. You sighed. Maybe the stupidest thing you could do right now was reach for your phone and google "do I have feelings for my best friend?" Ah yes. A quiz. Maybe it wasn't so stupid after all, it'd say maybe you like him but you're not into him at the very most. Question 1, do you find them attractive. Well who wouldn't? And like mentioned it doesn't mean you're attracted to him. Yes. Question 2, do they like you? Pfft... what kind of question is that? How would you know? I don't know... or yes I guess? I mean he clearly likes you as a friend or he wouldn't be up to making all this effort for you but do they mean platonically? You ticked maybe. Question 3, Do you stalk them on social media? What the??? He's your best friend! The algorhythm shoves his posts in your face weather you like it or not. Sometimes. Question 4, Do you see them a lot? Yes. Question 5, Do you want to know more about them? You already know everything ... but what he cries about to Yeontan is something. Yes. Question 6, when you see them with somebody else who isn't considered their friend, how do you feel? Jealous. Question 7, when they're around you how do you feel? Nervous or self-conscious or nothing or i don’t know... well nervous AND a little self-conscious depending on the situation and if he's dressed or in just his boxers. Nervous. Question 8, Do you think about them? Yes. Always. Question 9, Do you laugh at their jokes? Another weird one but yes. Question 10, are they your ex? Huh? No. Definitely. A lot. You placed your phone screen down on your chest and let out a sigh. Maybe visualizing a kiss or two while in the shower was a crime after all... or was the question why were you in the first place? He was amazing in every type of way and you wanted to know if he was amazing at kissing too andmaybeinbed but you can't just ask him that or try it out, so you had to resort to imagination.... Who were you even trying to convince at this point? You liked him. Definitely. And a lot. The realization did nothing to help you fall asleep unfortunately. Another 15 minutes in dark silence passed when you suddenly heard the floorboards squeak. Maybe Taehyung was going to the bathroom or grabbing a glass of water... But the soft pats of his feet should've stopped by now... Your half open door pushed open a bit more shyly and Taehyung peaked in. Dressed in pajama bottoms, but no shirt. "You're awake." He said, whispering. "So are you." "I can't sleep..." he rubbed his arm. "I feel lonely." As if you'd deny him looking all shy and vulnerable in your door. You scooted to the side in your bed, making raise his brows in hope and anticipation, fingers fidgeting. "Come." You said, patting the bed next to you. The bed dipped gently as he lied down and you put the covers over him. He shifted onto his side, placing his head on your pillow. This was better. But since you just took an online quiz to realize you had feelings for this man currently shirtless in your bed, you couldn’t help but feel incredibly awkward. "How come you're feeling lonely?" You asked, trying to conceal your stiffness "To a start I sleep better when I get to hold something." He said shyly "Who?" You asked, intending for it to be a thought. "When I'm at home, Yeontan." Of course... "He lays on the bed and I feel less lonely and hearing him walk around or do something makes me feel soothed knowing I'm not alone... for the most part." "Are the tears you cry... tears of loneliness?" You could tell it triggered something in him. He bit his lip and nodded gently, eyes glossy. "For the most part it's just me and a pillow." He confessed. "But you could say-... it's something like that, yes." Face to face, mere inches apart. You thanked the darkness of the room that he couldn't see you blush right now but unreasonable fear that he'd somehow "sense" it in the atmosphere still worried you. You shouldn't have taken that stupid quiz it only made you start overthinking and it was probably rigged and the questions were weird so why should you listen to it? Get back to your senses! He's your best friend and you're comfortable with him! Calm down! "... I know it's dumb" Taehyung mumbled. "I know it seems like I'm this easy-going social butterfly with lots of friends who can find someone to hang out with within seconds... but when I'm alone at home, I just feel so empty. Like if nobody sees me, I don't exist. Thus when I'm alone, I'm not real anymore." "That's very philosophical, but what if someone thinks about you while you are alone? Then wouldn't you exist since somebody has you on their mind?" "But it'd be impossible for me to know and people have better things to do than walk around and daydream about me." It stung a little inside hearing him say this. "People are actually capable of multitasking you see, they can do these better things you speak of and think about you at the same time. I think about you a lot, sometimes I think about you while doing the laundry, riding the bus or taking a show- that sound's wrong." Taehyung chuckled. "But you get what I mean." "What do you mean?" He asked "That I think about you and that you aren't alone TaeTae, you never are. If you're ever feeling lonely, maybe think about me. If that helps. Or get to know yourself more, become your own friend or create an imaginary friend!" "I already do that." "Have an imaginary friend?" "Think about you." Oh. "... does it help?" You asked shyly. He shook his head. "It just makes me miss you and want to come to see you." Is it possible to experience a softer heart attack than you just did? Rather than a heart exploding in saw gore-level mess it gently poofed and became a small cloud of red feathers gently falling to the ground. Since when had you become a softie? Two hours ago you were all if there's no sex in the romance novel, it's not worth my time but now you suddenly felt an urge to ransack the romance section of the nearest library to read every cheesy romance story you could find until you could find one similar to your own. Your... own? What? With... with Taehyung? ... not that you’d visualize every male lead character as coincidentally similar to him regardless of how their looks were described in the book.... "Maybe I do need to spend some time with myself to get over it..." No! Stay here with me! "I can spend more time with you." Taehyung looked up. "I think that could benefit us both." He sounded more hopeful now. "Well, you're already here so it's also convenient." Despite the darkness you could make out the smile on his face that appeared. Cute. But wait... did Taehyung suggest he could stay here for you, because he felt lonely? He shifted slightly and the sheets rustled. His leg accidently brushed against yours and your first thought was to tangle your legs with his in a leg tackle war... but you still felt too on edge to act casual and playful with him like you normally could. You swallowed. "How long have you felt this way?" "A while... a long while. At first it was nothing but then it got worse and even more worse when I realized this one thing." "What thing was that if I may ask?" He sighed. "It's hard to explain... but, say a friend." "Mhm?" "A friend feels kinda lost, existentialism and stuff going on, doesn't like to be by himself, then he finds this person and they make him forget it all but once they’re apart it all returns to him again like they were his escape but only for as long as they were together." "Is that only with that one person or all?" "No no, only that person. And then he realizes he might be in love, or he's addicted to the person in a way, but in a good way not an obsessive way just-" "In love?" "Something like that." "You're in love?" "Huh?! What no! This was about a friend! I'm not talking about me!" "Then what did you realize Taehyung?" You could tell his mind briefly blanked in panic. "I realized that maybe I, as said friend need to find that person for me." "A person?" He nodded shyly. "You want to fall in love?" "I don't know... something like that." 'Something like that' seemed to be his catchphrase this evening. But in love? A person? His person?... that couldn't be you... could it? Did he want you to be his person? Were you his person?? The questions and confusion kept spiraling through your head, (finally) making you feel tired and exhausted. "I think... I just want to tend to someone else than myself, to not have to think so much about it and instead take care of somebody else." "Is that why you offered to stay?" "Yes and no, I want to take care of you because I am genuinely concerned and worried about you, I want to be there for you. But also, sleeping on the couch last night, hearing you tiptoe around the kitchen... it made me feel comforted." His voice sounded drowsy. "If you want... I can be your person in this scenario." You suggested. "You've already become.. person." He mumbled, sinking deeper into his half-awake state. -- You stretched your leg out one at the time, twisting your body gently and inhaling deeply into a stretch, gently batting your eyes open. You pushed a palm against the bed to get up into a seated position when something suddenly restrained you, heavy over your abdomen. Surprised, you raised the sheet to see the reminder of what you had forgotten last night. Over your waist, a lean arm with faint thin dark hairs and a few subtle veins travelling up the forearm from the large hand clung to the side of your waist... all attached to the source of warmth to your left, Taehyung. His dark locks a mess on the pillow, his bare upper body now fully on display in the daylight and his polka dot pajama pants haven travelled down a bit too far low for your sanity... Cursed be the eyes in your skull for travelling down the view. You would've noticed it sooner or later regardless, especially since your thigh was  a hair between touching it. It, being the weird relief of knowing he got some deep relaxing sleep in... but with an awkward morning surprise... and his arm wouldn't grant you freedom without you accidentally or intentionally having to wake him up. You carefully shifted to at least have your thighs at a safer distance, but your bed wasn't intended for two people, so it was easier said than done. His grip suddenly tightened and a low groan escaped him as he shifted. Why did you feel fear as if you shouldn’t be present in your bed in which he entered himself. If anyone Taehyung should be the one fearing his life right now. His thumb caressed your side gently and it felt nice... soothing. Until his eyes suddenly opened wide with a soft gasp as you felt his morning hard on grace against your thigh. Eyes that pleaded and begged you didn't notice pierced into yours and you decided to play along. "Did you sleep well?" His hand quickly retreated to your disappointment. "Sorry i... I did it in my sleep it wasn't-" "It's ok, you said you sleep well holding something and being held didn't feel too bad..." "Well, in that case, I actually slept better than I have in a really long time." He said, voice raspy and deep still. He rolled onto his back, thankfully, and placed his hand behind his head. "Did you?" "Huh?" "Did you sleep well?" "In fact, I did." You said, answering truthfully and resisting the urge to put your head on his bare chest. If only the lord or whoever would stop testing me... "Hungry?" He asked. You nodded. "Great, I'll fix something ok, but close your eyes." "Why?" "I'm shirtless." ... right. You covered your eyes with your hands and the warmth left your side as he got up and escaped the room. You slowly got up, trying to win some time for him but a few brief seconds later heard the sound of the bathroom door down the hall closing and locking. Yikes. That went smoother than expected. You set up some tea, knowing Taehyung described coffee as the closest to unlethal poison you could find, you knew he'd prefer tea or hot chocolate and that there was no use to ask. You knew him too well. It was nice having him here. And waking up with a strong arm around your waist wasn't too bad either... if only you could've let yourself enjoy the moment instead of freaking out, what if he grew cautious now and you'd never experience it again? You sighed softly, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard. After a while, the kettle clicked and you poured some water into each mug. It had been a while now... ... was he meditating in there? There was no sound of the shower, or anything, not that you were listening. Would it be weird if you asked if he was ok? Since the kettle was off the entire apartment became significantly more silent. You heard a faint mumble. "Fuck..." You swallowed. Ear please momentarily turn off, mind and imagination too please. You reached to put the kettle back on but since the water was already hot it clicked off again after 5 seconds. The bathroom door opened and you braced yourself to not look down. Luckily, he was now wearing his oversized sweater or else you would've failed immediately. He let out a soft chuckle. "I spaced out." His cheeks were flushed red and glowing. Right. "I made you some tea." -- Why were deep topics always easier to talk about at night? Were people like clams? You wake up and it opens a little and once we hit the night the clam is fully open and then closes during sleep to a new no-talk-me-I-not-have-tea-yet to ask-me-about-how-i-view-existentialism cycle? Or were nights just vulnerable with the darkness? In that case you should metaphorically speaking be an open clam all day during winter when the sun goes into its own hibernation. But here you were again, just like last night, except... 20 minutes into the sudden power outage that made your impromptu movie night come to a halt. And it was getting really cold. Bundled up under a cover together, staring at the flicker of the candle on the coffee table in silence. "I was going to offer to make you tea to warm you up but the kettle..." Taehyung said with a soft chuckle. "The power will probably come back any moment soon." He said optimistically. As you looked out of the window earlier, you noticed it wasn't just your place, but the entire block seemed to have an outage. Unusual. But the current roaring rain storm outside likely had something to do with it. The wind was aggressive, the windows shook, it whistled in a creepy way and the trees outside rustled loudly. "How about we play a game?" Taehyung suddenly suggested, breaking off the silence again. He was feeling awkward, you could tell. He always rested his hands in his lap, fidgeting or poking at the cuticles of his nails when he felt awkward. "Sure, what should we play?" His face lit up. "Questions and answers? I can start!" "Shoot!" You folded your legs and shifted to face him on the couch. "What's your ideal type." ... he... immediately went there. "Looks or personality?" Taehyung shrugged. "Both." "Well it depends on the vibe they give off of course... and mainly. I guess tall, but it's not that important, wide shoulders are always nice." You paused to think, how can I describe Taehyung without it sounding like I'm describing Taehyung. "Funny, caring, optimistic, outgoing..." "Like me!" He smiled widely. You leaned back, squinting while caressing your chin, examining him playfully. "Hmmmn" He placed his hands under his jaw, like he was displaying his face and batted his eyelashes. "Not bad, not bad." He looked disappointed. "Just not bad?" You playfully nudged his arm. "It's your turn to answer. "Fine." He pouted, crossing his arms over his chest but cracking a giggle. "I'll ask you the same question." "Very original, you." "It's called recycling, so tell me." "I did." "Huh?" "You." Your heart froze briefly before beginning to pound. "Me?" "Mn!" He said confidently. "You're not bad" he mocked. You swallowed. "I have a question about the rules." "Go on" "If I ask you anything, do you have to tell the truth?" "Yes! Nothing but. So you better tell me what you actually think rather than 'not bad'" "Is the friend you talked about actually you? And am I the person?" He tensed up, swallowing. "I guess it was obvious..." he mumbled, rubbing his arm and looking down at his lap. "I just..." he began, but reluctance interrupted him. "I understand." You said. He looked up, seemingly surprised yet still tensed "I make you feel less lonely." He nodded slowly. "Which makes sense. After all we're best friends." You continued. "... right." He looked away. "Best friends." Taehyung reached up to move his hair away from his eyes, still facing down as if he was considering something. "So... what do you think of me?" His voice sounded more serious. Where to start of course he was gorgeous! Wide shoulders, a build you'd die to slide your hands down, dark big eyes, a sweet smile with plump lips, sculpted perfectly and his honey skin. Person wise... he was someone you'd want to have as your person. "A nice person" He scoffed. "Seriously?" He seemed upset. He finally looked up, meeting your gaze. There was a sparkle in his eye. The warm light from the candle made his face glow even more. "I mean person as in the person you have, a your-person" "A nice your-person?" He tilted his head. "You told me yesterday in bed that you can feel like someone is your person because they bring you comfort and make all your problems go away and you feel better just by being in their presence! A nice that-type-of-person." "But I was talking about you!" He pleaded "And now I'm talking about you." "You are my person, what do you mean?" He asked, placing emphasis on "my" "That you're my person too. Am I being unclear?" "No, not at all. I just wanted to hear you say it." "So you tricked me?" You scoffed. "Not really." He leaned closer. "But maybe I set you up and you simply walked into my trap." "So now what? We're just going to sit here in denial over the fact that we both admitted to being each other's person?" You questioned, feeling slightly panicky and picking at your nails. Was this platonic or not? "We don't have to" he grinned. "But to be clear, I'm not talking about you being my person as in my other half, my best friend type person, even though you are that too bit this isn't it." "Are you trying to tell me that you're in love with me?" He tensed up again. Fuck it. "Then just say it, stop confusing me with your riddles and metaphors and I won't do the same. Just tell me-" His hand pressed against the back of your head as he leaned in almost all the way. He caressed the back of your head gently and your gaze dropped to his soft pink lips with the tiny freckle to the side. You leaned in close enough to brush a gentle touch before Taehyung pressed you closer for your lips to finally collide. It started off desperate yet a little shy. You pressed back, grabbing at his sides and the kiss deepened. Your heart was pounding. Never did you expect he'd just go for it and kiss you when you showed some bold courage towards him but you didn’t have a slightest regret because he tasted so good against your mouth. His plump pink lips so passionate, so needy but also so gentle and triggering an explosion in your chest. Taehyung leaned over you, making you lay down on the couch as he crawled on top and it turned into an even wilder heated make out. Your hand tangled into his hair, his hand rubbed against the side of your waist under your top. Fearing it'd be the first, last and only, you wanted every single piece of this moment you could have. Unintentional, his touch triggered a soft moan to escape your throat, which subsequently triggered a groan from Taehyung. Making a sound like that with his voice should be illegal. It did things to you, things you didn't want to confess. But the box of secret confessions was torn open within seconds as Taehyung, a heavy breathing mess suddenly pulled away from your lips and landed by your ear, exhaling deeply. "Fuck, I'm hard." He groaned and you knew the box was flying out the windows with your filthy confession floating aimlessly around for him to hear but all you managed to stutter out was a choked "huh?" "If you knew how long I've wanted you for." He whispered. "How scared I've been of being rejected because I knew it'd shatter me." The hopeless romantic you knew he was made his attendance known. "A friend?" You chuckled. "Maybe I set myself up with that one, I admit. But I was hoping you'd catch on." He chuckled, still breathless. He planted a kiss against your neck. Were you about to have sex? Would it lead to that? Did you mind? Certainly not... Taehyung pushed up slightly, looking down at you. "May I?" You nodded and he smiled widely, pressing a kiss to your lips. Shifting, he easily found his place between your thighs and grinded up against you slowly with pressure, causing both of you to exhale into a sweet needy moan. Your feelings felt scattered all over the place but this wasn't the time to pick them up. You wanted to let go, to surrender, just for this moment. Let go of everything clawing at your back, clouding the sunny skies and draining you. There is nothing more exhausting than smiling pretending everything is ok while whatever inflated issue in beast form is clawing its nails across your back and the scars sting like lemon juice was just rubbed all over you, feeling disgusting and sticky, let alone in pain and with a sore back from the held tension. He grinded again, sensually this time as the tip of his nose travelled up your neck, inhaling your sweet scent. "Mmm" he hummed softly. Your hand made its way to his nape as he settled by your neck. "I could fall asleep here." He chuckled. "Right here in your neck, it's so warm and smells so nice. It's more effective than lavender." "Are you enchanted by my odor?" He laughed his trademark bubble laugh. "I wish you knew how much fun you are." He squeezed you, rubbing up firmer to you with a desperate grunt. "Fuck I can't take it anymore." He stood on his knees, crossing his arms in front of him and grabbing the hem of his sweater, pulling it up and off, exposing his soft skin and toned chest as it fell to the floor. His hand reached for the button on his pants but before making it to the zipper his attention returned back to you with his hands sliding up under your top and pulling it up over your head. "I just want to make sure again... is it ok?" He asked, eyes big. "Yes, touch me, kiss me, do whatever you want just don’t leave the couch. At least not without me." He smirked at this, finally able to surrender to his greed. Taehyung reached for the waistline of your pants, unbuttoning, unzipping and pulling them down your hips with your underwear going off with them. His fingers softly rakes over your skin as he travelled down your legs, your hips lifted to assist him and then they were tossed onto the floor. He reached for his own zipper again but you sat up, quickly swatting his hand away and reaching for it yourself. He was on his knees between your thighs. You pulled them down, sliding your hands over his soft curved hips, revealing his tight fitted boxers with little to any space left for his hard on. You swallowed. He blushed. Relieved that Taehyung took over the lead again you lied back down as his hands gently pushed you back, slipping the bra straps off your shoulders and reaching behind you to unhook and free you from your final piece of clothing. But with this one he wasn't in a rush. He slowly tugged at the lacey fabric, revealing your chest to him as he bit his lip. "Wow." He mumbled and his patience was gone. One hand grabbed your left boob, feeling it and squeezing it softly as the other slipped into his boxer to touch himself. He whimpered, seemingly trembling as a result of his desperation and the discomfort he must be feeling in those tight pair of... he let go of your boob, quickly pulling his boxers down and himself out. You felt your core twist and ache and his boxers joined the pile of clothes on the floor. Taehyung fell forward onto all fours on top of you. Fully exposed, fully erect and a full sight to take in in the dim light in the dark. Distracted and eyes travelling all over him, his hand suddenly cupped your chin, tilting it up for you to face him. His nose graced over yours in a sweet eskimo kiss before his lips, just as gently pressed to yours. Taehyung's hand slid down your neck, your chest and down until he found himself. Your toes curled as you felt his touch where you wanted him the most in this moment, the tip of him slowly sliding up and down your slit, triggering your need even more. Taehyung let out a shaky exhale. His lips were parted and eyes staring right down at your exposed curves. He positioned himself, slowly sliding the tip in, just to feel... just to get some urgent relief... he leaned his head back and his hands landed a tight grip of your waist. He couldn't take it anymore. Slowly and carefully he began to push. Making sure by studying your every expression that he wasn't hurting you and that it felt good. A sweet whimper escaped you, causing him to grin in delight as he pushed in deeper. He was thick... the gentle stretch he caused felt amazing and you couldn't stop yourself from clenching around him, making him moan and managing to make you even wetter just by the sound. With a soft grunt he slipped in all the way. Giving you a moment to adjust to his size, he moved his hand up to caress your cheek with the back of his hand. His touch felt like magic. Like a gentle feather smoothing over your cheek, but slender and strong, with long dainty beautiful fingers. You leaned into his touch. "Does it feel ok?" He whispered. You gave a reassuring nod. He pulled his hips back and thrusted back in, not too soft and not too hard he picked up a slow but deep rhythm for his movements. Your hands felt their way up and across his back, studying every curve and where he naturally flexed as he moved. His hands were firmly holding you in place at the waist, every desperate exhale and every shaky inhale sending almost an ASMR like tingle down your spine via your ear until your name suddenly slipped his lips. Most people feel a fuzzy like feeling inside hearing their proper name be called but this... this was unlike no other time. His deep voice, following a whimper, exhaling your name like a magic spell and it fading into a shiver-causing moan. To put it simply it was the sexiest thing you've ever heard and it activated a whole new part within you that felt foreign but so so so good. Like your blood had suddenly turned into liquid gold, all happy hormones releasing in a firework spelling the world "nothing else matters" in an imaginary sky. You wrapped your arms tighter around him, moaning his name out felt liberating. And it clearly triggered an equal reaction. His cheeks were already flushed and his eyes went wide. He smirked, growing more desperate, fucking your harder and deeper, chasing release. "Please cum for me." He whispered, pleading. "Please." He didn't need to place a formal request, you were already loosing yourself. The only sound echoing in the darkness being the roaring wind and rain along with your breaths and groans and the sound of his hips and your thighs. Wet, heavenly sounds to you. His sweet moans, his broad back, his dick... everything about him made you feel euphoric. The ever building tension below, the sweat forming on his forehead... "I'm gonna cum" he whimpered. Thinking your body couldn't possibly react stronger to him than it already was, it did. The thrusts grew faster, grunts louder and you could feel yourself leak even more. Back arching, tension growing... it felt even tighter now... you could feel him so well, every movement until you suddenly came un-done with a loud whimper to his ear, setting him off into his own orgasm, cumming deep inside with a string of "oh"s and groans, gritting his teeth together and tensing his face in a greedy expression. He slowed down to a halt, remaining inside, breathless on top of you. The light on the sofa table had reached its end and the faint scent of smoke filled the air as the flame went out, making the room completely pitch black. Taehyung's face nuzzled softly against your neck, inhaling the scent of you deeply  and being soothed. "Wow." He coughed, followed by a groan. "Wow." You repeated, happy that the light went out so he couldn’t see your flushed face. "You ok?" He whispered, vulnerability present in his voice. "I didn't go to hard right?" "It was amazing." He let out a breath of release and an awkward chuckle. "I'll pull out.." he said shyly, moving his hips back slowly and gently, slipping out. To your surprise, Taehyung climbed off of you, standing on his feet. The cold air made your nipples ache and your skin shiver. You wanted your human blanket and source of heat back. But you didn’t have to wait for long. A pair of strong arms slid in under you, lifting you up with ease. "The sofa is too tiny." He carried you into your bedroom, gently putting you back down on the bed and laying down on his side next to you, pulling you close to his chest where his heart was still pounding hard. He hugged you tight, caressing the back of your head. His lips pressed against the crown of your head gently. "My good girl." He whispered, sounding almost proud. Your cheeks burned and a weird sense to cry bubbled up but you quickly swallowed it and hugged him tighter, burying your face against his chest. Never had you thought being called a good girl, specifically "Taehyung's" good girl would be able to move you to tears. But maybe it's what you needed to hear, mixed with the hormonal serotonin cocktail your body just released upon you. "You'll always have me." He nuzzled his nose in your hair. With a click the power came back on, including your pink hue nightstand lamp next to the bed. Taehyung's cheeks were deeply flushed, amplified by the flattering pink light cast over him. You giggled.   Had this really just happened? Because it felt so right. Or was it just the relief of sex? But masturbating had never made you feel this emotional before... You looked up at Taehyung's face again and he smiled softly, his hand caressing your bare back up and down. It was definitely him.

[tryingmybestpls]

Not A Team-Part 1: The Start

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: The Reader tries to live a normal life, but her memories won’t leave her alone. Rhodey comes to visit the reader with a proposition.

Rating: T

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Talks of death, talks of mental illness, mentions of feeling alone

Four Months Ago

"Y/N, do you think you can tell me why you're here?" The female therapist asks, clicking her one before setting it down on her notepad. The ex-hero shifts on the charcoal grey couch, wanting to be anywhere but here. While she knows that the room should be sort of calming, but it has the directly opposite affect on Y/N. Her stomach is twisting in knots and she feels like her breakfast is going to come up.

"I was told I had to come here." Y/N replies, looking down at her chipping burgundy nail polish. There was hardly any color left on her nails, but what was left was stubbornly holding on, a constant reminder of what she had painted them for.

"Yes, but why were you told to come here?" The doctor-whose name was escaping Y/N at the moment-pushes, shifting in her own seat. Y/N continues to stay silent, which makes the therapist sigh, "Look Y/N, you have to be here. The only way you are able to get out of this is when I am able to determine that you aren't a danger to yourself or others. The government needs to know that you are okay. It's apart of the Acco-"

"I-I messed up. I messed up bad." Y/N cuts her off, wanting to get this all over as quickly as possible.

It's the understatement of the century.  I messed up bad. That's what you say when you crash your car or get too drunk and text your ex. "Messing up bad" doesn't land you in court mandated therapy. No, Y/N hadn't "messed up bad", but she couldn't say what she had actually done. Even if she couldn't get the words out of her mouth, she was well aware if she had done. The smell of burning flesh used to be something she would wear like a perfume. Now it threatens to invade her nose, forcing her to go back to that night. Y/N tries her best to ignore it, but it's so hard to forget a smell like that.

"And when you say mess up-"

"I used my powers and people got hurt." Y/N answers, her hands getting hot. She glances down, trying to will away the heat and the fire that will surely follow. The therapist writes down a few more notes. Y/N finds herself hating the way the pen scratches at the paper, the sound almost deafening.

"Is it hard to control your powers?" The doctor asks, to which Y/N immediately shakes her head. She looks back up at the therapist, clasping her hands tightly together. Y/N is trying to look as normal and okay as possible, hoping that the therapist believes her little act.

"No. It-They're just slightly influenced by my emotions and I was just really emotional that day." Y/N replies as she feels the heat move away from her hands. She shifts on the couch, hating the attention she's getting right now, hating the way the therapist's eyes seem to notice every little movement and thought. The therapist writes that down, nodding.

"Why were you so emotional, Y/N?" The woman questions. The ex-Avenger looks back down at her hands, her wedding ring shimmers in the light that's streaming through the windows. Just seeing it makes her stomach sink, her throat tightening with that same emotion.

-

Now

Y/N has always hated silence.

It's the reason why she loved being in the city so much. It was constantly awake. There was never a moment of silence, no the city was always screaming and shouting. Y/N had welcomed the sound with open arms. Even when the Avengers moved out of the city and went upstate, it was still loud. Everyone kept different hours, everyone had different tasks so the base was never completely quiet. Life on the run with Steve, Sam, Wanda, and Nat wasn't quiet either. The five of them were a family, always constantly talking and bickering.

But now, she lived alone.

It was raining out today. The incessant pounding of the water droplets against the roof and the ground outside provided a much needed melody as Y/N moved around the house. Boxes still littered the rooms, precariously stacked on top of each other. She's been leaving here for a while, but some boxes she can't bring herself to unpack. For example, the large one in the middle of the living room that was labeled "WEDDING DRESS + BOUQUET" was now being used as an impromptu side table. Another one that was shoved into the second bedroom had "PICTURES FROM COMPOUND" scrawled on the side in sharpie. She doesn't think she'll ever open that one, not knowing how she handle all of those memories.

Y/N forces herself to pick up one of the boxes in the kitchen, this one labeled "WINTER CLOTHES". Usually, she would be outside tending to the garden (her therapist had told her that she needed a hobby to keep herself busy) or doing small tasks that needed to be done. However, because of the rain she was stuck inside with all the boxes that she had yet to unpack. The box is heavy, most of the weight most likely coming from her bulky winter coats.

Y/N had left the city she had loved so much, packing up her life to move to a small little house upstate. The city didn't feel like home anymore. Living in Steve's apartment without him felt wrong. It had never felt like home, didn't feel like she belonged there. They never lived at the apartment together, they didn't share any memories here. No, this place was all Steve. She was constantly surrounded by Steve-his things, his memory, his smell. It was suffocating, being surrounded by a man that had abandoned you.

Five years she was gone. Five years he had grieved and mourned over her and then-almost immediately when Y/N came back, Steve decided he didn't want to stay with her. He didn't tell her what he was going to do. Maybe he knew that if he had, she would've tried to talk him out of it. Y/N knows that she would've begged for him to stay with her. She was a. proud woman, but she wasn't proud enough to beg.

She had expected him to come back to her. Y/N thought he was going to return the stones and come back. She had thought they were going to be able to continue where they had left off, they were going to able to be together after all this time. They were finally going to be able to settle down and start that family that Steve had always hinted at. Get a house with a white picket fence and get a cute little dog. The fucking American Dream.

And then he had came back as an old man, with a gold wedding band that she hadn't given him on his finger. Steve gave Sam his shield and his legacy, no longer able to carry the mantle of Captain America. And Y/N-well Y/N's world just crumbled around her, her dreams shattering because Steve decided that he was going to move on.

She still loved him, she even still loves him now. It was impossible not to love him, even though he had left her behind. Y/N tried her best to hate him-told herself that Steve had betrayed her and that he didn't want her. She tried to tell herself that Steve didn't even love her, because if he had loved her why would he be so willing to abandon her, especially after he had just got her back? It didn't matter how much he hurt her or what he did to her, Y/N's heart would always belong to Steve whether she liked it or not.

Feeling incredibly conflicted, Y/N had forced herself to stay her by husband's side as he got sick. She didn't ask for an apology, even as Steve told her over and over that he was incredibly sorry for what he did. Y/N knew that he wasn't actually sorry because if he was actually sorry, he wouldn't have lived an entire life with Peggy. She wouldn't tell him how hurt she was or how looking at her wedding ring made her feel sick now. No, Y/N had played the role of the dutiful wife. She held his hand as his condition worsened and made sure his affairs were in order. Her feelings didn't matter as she tried to make his last days more comfortable.

And then he died.

Steve died, leaving her behind. She didn't dare talk about what had happened, what he had put her through. Y/N, even with all of the bullshit he had put her through, didn't want to tarnish his legacy. Steve Rogers was a hero and she wasn't going to be the one that ruined that for everyone. Even Sam tried to ask her if she was okay and she had just brushed it off, telling him that she was glad that Steve had picked him to carry on the legacy attached to the shield he had received.

Y/N had tried to carry on after Steve was buried, but it was hard. She was dropped into a world where all of her friends were gone, a world that had moved on without her. It was a world that she didn't belong in and she knew it. Y/N tried her best to return to normal, but she quickly learned that there was no such thing as the normal she was used to. Everything felt wrong, felt off in some minuscule way that made her unable to adapt to regular life again.

Y/N just kept bottling up her emotions, the pressure continuing to build up as the days went on. She was drowning it and there was no life preserver in sight. Everyone else went back to normal, going back to school or getting a job or finding ways to get busy. Y/N knows that she should've gotten help, that she should've tried talking to someone, but she didn't. Maybe a part of her didn't want to admit there actually was a problem, that Steve hadn't been the perfect husband and she felt abandoned by the man she married.

And that had led to her completely losing it.

Y/N would later be told that it was a nervous breakdown. A nervous breakdown. She felt-and still feels-like that name wasn’t what she experienced. It was so much more than just a nervous breakdown.

It had led to innocent people getting hurt, people that hadn't cause her pain, people that were most likely suffering just as much as she was. Her emotions were just too high and her powers-her powers decided to act on her impulses and her feelings. She had just been so God damn angry at Steve-

Y/N has to drop the box she was holding, her hands growing hot. She mutters curse words as she hears what sounds like glass shattering inside the box as she forces herself to calm down. She does the breathing exercise that the therapist had told her to do, attempting to rein in her emotions. Her eyes shut, breathing in through her nose, and out through her mouth. Y/N tries to pull the heat back inside of her, but it just won't go back in.

Her heart is beating fast in her chest as she quickly moves back into the living room, her feet carrying her to the front door. Her bright red hand grabs ahold of the doorknob, throwing the door open.

The rain is much louder now, making it almost hard to see with how much is coming down. It hits the ground violently, a cold wind trying its best to cool Y/N off, to no avail.

She quickly walked down the steps of the porch as the heat crawled up her arms, her temperature rising. Y/N knows she won't have the time to take off her clothes and she also knows that she's gone past the point of attempting to rein her powers in. Her hands catch first, bright yellow and orange flames quickly covering her skin, coating them until no skin remained.

The flame crawls over her body, burning away  her clothes before the flames take over her entire body. The rain turns into steam as soon as it hits her fire covered body, a cloud surrounding her. Y/N feels more relaxed as the flame licks at her skin, covering her from head to toe. It's easier to calm down after she does this, getting some of those stronger feelings released in order to return back to normal.

-

Hours later while she is in the middle of cooking, someone knocks on her door. Y/N sighs softly, putting her slotted spoon back down on the counter, quickly wiping her hands on a dishcloth. She makes her way to the front door, not bothering to look through the peephole before she opens the door.

Rhodey stands before her, dressed in far more causal clothing that he usually is in. Y/N's eyes are immediately drawn to the thick manila folder in clutched tightly in his hands. He gives her a small smile. Y/N knows that he isn't just here to visit. No one ever comes to visit.

"Hey." Rhodey says gently, almost as if he's testing the waters. They haven't seen each other in a few months, not since the events that had led her to moving all the way out of here, not since she got out of the psych ward she had voluntarily gone to after her accident. Voluntarily is the wrong word here. The US Government had all but strong armed her into going.

"Hi. Uh-Here, come in. It's cold out." Y/N responds, opening the door a little wider. Rhodey's smile grows as he steps inside. He stops for a moment, looking around at her home. It's small, almost more of a cottage than an actual home. He takes note of the lack of any personal items, no pictures out on display, no tchotchkes. Boxes still litter the living room even though she's lived here for a few months.

"It looks good. Real cozy." Rhodey comments as Y/N shuts the door. She nods, giving him a polite smile as she moves past him to go back into the kitchen.

"Why'd you come by? I know it isn't for dinner." Y/N cuts straight to the point. She doesn't even bother looking at him as she checks to see if her pasta is ready. Rhodey's smile falters for a moment while she strains the pasta. He clears his throat, quickly regaining his composure.

"I-Well I stopped by because I wanted to talk to you about something." Rhodey walks into her kitchen, leaning against the counter as she pours the pasta back into the now empty pot. Y/N holds out her hand for the folder, which he immediately hands over. She flicks through it, seeing the plans for an exhibit honoring her husband. Rhodey shifts slightly as he sees her eyebrows knit together. As she goes through the pictures, she can see that it wasn't in the preplanning phase. They had their exhibit ready, all done up with a fresh paint job.

She's seen the exhibit before. Y/N had teased Steve constantly over it, thinking it was the funniest thing that he had a whole exhibit dedicated to him, a man who couldn't even use a cell phone. Steve told her once that he didn't mind the teasing, told her that it was one of his favorite things about her.

But that was then and this is now.

"The Smithsonian wants to expand their exhibit on Steve. I don't exactly see why this has anything to do with me." Y/N's eyes catch on a picture of her and Steve at their wedding, big stupid smiles stretched across their faces. The page notes possibly names for this part of the exhibit, all of them making that emotion crawl up into her throat.

"They want you to speak at the opening. You and Sam." Rhodey answers, watching as her face drops. Y/N closes the folder, still looking down at it. The papers suddenly feels like they're a million pounds, weighed down so many memories. For a second, Rhodey gets his hopes up, thinking that she is actually considering it.

"Get someone else to do it." Y/N tells him, handing the folder back over to the man. Her voice is a lot colder than it was before and her friend could practically see Y/N building her walls back up. Rhodey sighs, holding it for a moment before setting it down on the counter.

"They want people who knew him, Y/N."

"Then get someone else because I sure as hell didn't." She snaps, the fire on the stove growing. Y/N quickly shuts off the burners, shaking her head, "Ask Barnes, ask literally anyone else."

Rhodey opens his mouth before shutting it. He didn't know how to respond. He knew that his friend was upset, but as soon as Steve did what he did, she had shut herself off. Rhodey had tried and tried to get through to her and after what she had did...Rhodey knew she was going through a lot and that Y/N wouldn't tell him or anyone else how she was feeling. She just wasn't that type of person, never has been.

Y/N swallows the lump in her throat that threaten to swell up, serving Rhodey a plate full of food without him asking if he wants one. She ignores all the memories that flash in her mind, trying to keep it together. She hands the plate to Rhodey without saying a single word before serving herself . Y/N grabs them both drinks and napkins, moving around the kitchen in complete silence. They both sit down at her little table, the only sounds being the two of them breathing and their forks hitting their plates.

"How are you doing?" Rhodey breaks the silence, looking across at her. Y/N pushes her food around her plate, shrugging her shoulders.

"Doing better. I go to therapy once a week like I'm supposed to. It's-It's a lot easier to breathe out here." She replies, setting her fork down. Rhodey gives her a small smile.

"I'm glad you're doing better. I'm sorry I haven't been checking in on you. I know you wanted space and some time." He says softly, to which Y/N shakes her head, taking a sip of her drink. She knew that Rhodey felt guilty over her situation, but the man has enough on his plate. He doesn't need to adding 'taking care of Y/N' to his long list of tasks.

"You've been busy. There's a lot of rebuilding that needs to be done and you shouldn't have to be checking in on me." She looks up at him attempting to give him some peace of mind, "I'm doing better, I promise."

It wasn't the biggest lie she's ever told. She was doing better, but she still wasn't herself. Although, Y/N didn't know if she could ever return to being herself pre-Blip. Before all of this shit, she had Steve to lean on. Now...well now she didn't have anyone, and she didn't want to burden any of her friends with her issues. They had their own shit they were going through. They didn't need to deal with hers.

Later on, long after dinner had finished and the rain decided that it was done working for the day, Rhodey stood up from his spot on the couch. Y/N smiled warmly at him, walking with him to the front door. When they step outside onto the porch, the night air is cool and calm, the lovely smell of rain surrounding them.

"Y/N, I just wanted to say that I didn't want to ask you. I know-I know you're still healing. They told me I had to ask, but I didn't want to. I just want you to know that." Rhodey suddenly announces, turning towards her. Both of them were barely illuminated by the porch lights and the light spilling out from her front door. Y/N nodded, that lump in her throat returning.

"I know. I know, Rhodey." She replies, her voice cracking slightly. Y/N stands there for a moment, both of them looking at each other before she decides to throw her arms round him. Her friend is a little surprised by the action, but hugs her back happily. Y/N shuts her eyes for moment, resting her chin on his shoulder. He rubs her back soothingly, wondering if this is the first hug she's had since Steve's funeral. They pull part, once again looking at each other.

"You take care of yourself okay? I'm going to try to come and visit more, but I need to take care of yourself." Rhodey tells her, giving her a kind smile, "And don't be afraid to text, okay? You can tell me about anything, it doesn't even have to be important."

"I'll be sure to text you all about the growth of my sunflowers and whether or not I am capable of fixing a sink." She teases, which makes the man laugh.

"That's all I ask. It was nice seeing you Y/N." Rhodey tells her, making his way down the steps of his porch. Y/N leans against one of the posts, wrapping her arms around herself.

"It was nice seeing you too." Y/N responds as she watches him walk over to his car. He gives her a small wave before climbing inside. She stays on the porch until he drives away, not moving until she can no longer see his tail lights.

Y/N relaxes her shoulders, sighing softly as she turns on her heel and walks back inside. The ex-hero shuts and locks her door. She walks back into the kitchen, gathering the discarded and used plates. As she is putting them in the sink, her eyes land on the manila folder resting on the counter.

Y/N knows that Rhodey most likely deliberately left it behind. She reaches out and picks it up again, a picture slipping out and falling into the floor. Y/N bends over to grab it, holding it gently between her thumb and forefinger. She flips it over, being greeted with the sight of her husband smiling back at her. Y/N knows the picture well-it's one she took.

She finds herself smiling back at him, her finger tracing over the image. She took it after a mission. Steve's hair is a mess from his helmet, his face dirty and he has a split lip. The shield is propped up in the seat beside him and he's just smiling at her. He looks incredibly tired, but he's still smiling at her. This is the Steve she fell in love with, the Steve that had promised to give the world. The one she had seen herself raising a family with.

Y/N leans against the counter, resting the photograph beside the open folder. She flicks through it again, her eyes studying the exhibit dedicated to her and her relationship with Steve Rogers. 'Two Heroes United' was the name they ended up on. It makes tears brim in her eyes as she looks over all of the pictures that make up this part of the exhibit. While normally she didn't like sharing her personal relationships with the world, this felt okay somehow, it felt almost cathartic.

She shuts the folder, taking another glance at it. Her finger traces the embossed Smithsonian logo on the cover of it. If she did it, she wouldn't be doing it alone. If Sam could do it, it couldn't be that bad.

Right?

[freckleslikestars]

Yes I’m an adult. Yes I still use sticker charts.

And let me tell you, no advise any doctor or therapist has given me has helped more than sticker charts.

And they work for multiple reasons:

1) my adhd brain has a visible goal to reach for. My brain doesn’t see an end goal in brushing my teeth or taking my meds, but if after doing each of those things I get to put a shiny sticker on a laminated piece of paper, yeah, my brain says that is a valid goal and achievement.

2) kind of like the first one, it’s that instant gratification and satisfaction and serotonin release. There’s no instant gratification with doing the washing, but there is when a sticker is put on the chart.

3) I have a dissociative disorder. I have whole days where I don’t know who I am or what I was doing five minutes ago. Having a visual record of chores and meds and personal hygiene means that I know what has been done without needing to ask others.

4) it means that my dad and my friends can help support me. My dad can look at the meds chart or the teeth chart and see if I’ve taken my meds or brushed my teeth today, and if I haven’t he can prompt me. It means he doesn’t have to ask, and wait for me to try and remember. And it means if I do start to slip we can both take a note of it and track it.

5) stickers are cool

(I literally just have an a4 piece of printer paper with a grid of 31 days printed on it, laminated, and then with whiteboard marker the month and any days that aren’t in the month crossed off. I then blutack it to the wall next to whatever it needs to be next to: one next to the sink in the bathroom for my teeth, one on the door next to where I keep my meds, one by the washing machine, etc. and a little ziplock bag of stickers hung up next to each of them (just like cheap sticker sheets, not the ones that I make) and then at the end of the month I wipe off the sheet, peel off the stickers and use them some place else, and start again)

[hisoknen]

warnings: dubcon, mirror sex, unprotected sex, mild degradation, malpractice lol wc: 2.9k prompt: “do as you’re told.”

a/n: thank you @joyousandverywarlike​ for being the best beta reader, friend and hype lady! i appreciate you endlessly

Your lower back has been killing you for weeks. When you went to the doctor, they had recommended Advil a few times daily, but it certainly wasn’t getting any better. You couldn’t sit at work properly. Getting out of bed sent pain shooting down to your legs and you couldn’t take it anymore. You finally decided to go back and beg for a physical therapist recommendation.

The clinic was very intimate and quaint. The walls are a soft beige paired with dark brown chairs and couches. You sit in the waiting room, idly scrolling through your phone after checking in. 

Your eyes move up from your phone as you hear a low voice call your name. There’s a toned man with dark brown hair giving you a crooked, charming smile. He has a white button-down that snuggly wraps around his figure, paired with a dark green tie.

“Uh, that’s me-” you thickly swallow as you rise from the chair walking toward where he stood. “Right this way,” he holds the door open, letting it go as you cross the threshold. 

“I am Doctor Shindou, you can call me Doctor Yo,” he speaks as he strides in front of you. You can see the muscles in his back ripple against his tight shirt. “Right in here, you can take a seat,” he motions as you step past him and find the spot. “So what brings you in today?” he settles himself in front of the desk, taking a look at the file in his hands. 

“I’ve been having an ache in my back for quite some time now,” you relay to him the steps you’ve been taking with pain meds and how work has become a challenge. Taking in his unruly dark brown hair and warm chocolatey eyes. 

“Where would you say it’s located?” His jaw fixes as he holds out a diagram. You can’t help but let your eyes wander to his large hands, nails trimmed, before you point at the spot.

“Did you start experiencing this after something in particular?” He places the chart onto the table. You stare up at him taking in his gaze wandering down your body before climbing up to meet your eyes. “Picking up a heavy box or falling?”

“Nothing I can really think of.” Your brow furrows as you try to rack your brain for something inn particular that could have started this all, coming up blank.

“Chin up, Y/n!” He clasps his large hands around yours holding them tight, the warmth radiating against your skin. “We’ll figure this out together!” He assures you with a vibrant smile. The initial contact startles you, but after taking in his warm gaze, you nod with a smile.

“Stand up for me, yeah?” He drops your hand, rising. Gathering your bearings, you stand. He smiles warmly, closing the distance between you. Taking a step toward you, a little too close for comfort. Shindou wraps his arms around you, pressing his fingers into the small of your back. You stumble forward, against his chest.

“Is it here?” His breath fans across your face, a hint of mint washing through you. You glance up at him with a start, the same vibrant smile from before sending a shudder through your body.

“Uh, yeah-” you can feel your cheeks heating up, eyes darting to the floor. “It’s actually just a bit lower down.” You aren’t lying. He needs to know where it is, but the close proximity and prompting for his hands to travel lower feels indecent. 

You wouldn’t mind letting your own hands wander down his body. Worse things could happen. The hottest man you’ve encountered in months has his hands on you, who are you to complain?

“Here?” He asks, his hand lightly tracing down your back to the small divots at the base, thumb swirling circles against the fabric of your shirt. 

“Yes-” you clear your throat as his touch lingers a second too long. Doctor Yo steps away from you, seemingly not as phased by the close proximity you shared only moments before. 

“Lumbar pain is fairly common, let’s try out a few things and let me know if you feel pain or a stretch anywhere.” He shoots you a friendly smile, walking to his desk to make notes.

This couldn’t have all been in your head, right? He could have checked from the side if he wanted to, but he came at you straight on. It seemed a bit too casual for a physician to be doing. But then again, you aren’t going to be the one to complain. You think to yourself, recalling the feeling of his body close to your own.

“Y/n, you still with me?” A voice brings you back to reality, you can feel the heat creep onto your ears. 

“So what I’m going to have you do is put your legs shoulders width apart and bend at the hips,” he motions with his own body. “Make sure to keep your back straight as you lean forward and go at it at a 90-degree angle.” You follow his motions, feeling a stretch in your muscles. 

“Feel anything?” He asks tilting your head up. You find him in front of you. “Here I’m going to take your hands and adjust you real quick,” his fingers grasp at your wrist, lightly tugging your body forward. 

“Make sure you keep the angle, angel.” You look down at the floor, the name sending chills through your body. “You’re a little off-kilter. Here one second.” Shindou drops your wrists throwing you off balance momentarily, standing up straight. 

“Everything good?”

“Ah, yes, sorry I could feel the stretch. I just needed a second to catch my breath.” You assure him. Taking the opportunity to slow your heart that’s pounding too fast for a physical therapist visit.

“Alright, this time, grab onto the exam table for something to prop you up,” he smiles kindly. 

“Okay, I’m ready,” you look down and adjust your feet before bending forward once more, fingers latching onto the cool plastic, feeling his gaze on your body.

“Like this, right?” You let out a breath, relaxing into the position. The stretch feels fantastic. Dr. Yo really knows what he’s talking about.

“Almost, here more like this,” you sense him moving behind you and feel him press gently against you, hands lowering onto your hips to push you down slightly. 

“That’s better,” he moves slowly, sending your warmth through you. “See, if you don’t do it right, it can actually be more harmful than helpful.” His laughter makes you uneasy. There is something about it that you can’t quite place. It feels empty.

“Doctor Yo, I-” you try and straighten up. 

“Do as you’re told.” The tone he’d taken at the beginning of your appointment has disappeared completely. Once light and friendly, his words are now cold and stern, fingers digging into your clothed hips.

Your mouth dries up. You can only focus on the heat radiating off of his body as he commands you, the shape of his hardening cock imprinting into you.

“Can you feel it?” You can’t tell if he’s talking about the stretch from the exercise or his growing erection pressed flush against you. He dips his fingers underneath your shirt, scaling them up to your waist, kneading your flesh.

“Lucky for you, I have a tool that is perfect for getting your muscles relaxed,” you can feel his breath fan across the back of your neck as he cranes over your body. His hands moving to your hips, thumbs pressed into your lower back. You let out a startled gasp as vibrations begin to course through his fingertips. He lets out a soft chuckle above you, massaging into the muscle.

“Feel’s good, right?” He pulls your ass to his strained cock. A soft moan floats past your lips as you feel the vibrations thrum through your tense muscles. Maybe this is all just his method of practice. Your body that were once tight and sore is starting to release tension.

“I- It does,” you nod your head, moving back against him without thought. 

“These might get in the way.” He pulls away from you, releasing your hips in a swift motion. The cold air hits your naked skin the instant he drags your shorts down to your knees. 

“Dr. Yo,” you try to push off of the table. 

“Ah-ah,” he pushes your back, “You didn’t even wear panties to come here?” His tongue clicks in amusement

Your cheeks heated up. He shouldn’t be doing this. It’s not like you knew something like this would happen, you left in a hurry this morning to make it here on time. You could reason with everything else he had done up to this point, but this was another level. 

“What do we have here,” your body jolts forward at the light touch he directs at your glistening core. You can feel his breath tickling the skin, craning your neck back to see what he’s doing. He’s crouched down, parallel to your indecent body. His eyes look over to you when he notices your body shift. 

“We can’t have you making a mess in my office, Y/n.” His mouth closing in on your exposed cunt as he envelopes your lips. You let out a moan, the feeling of his tongue softly trailing up and down, sending a wave of vibrations to the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

You feel his smile against your skin after letting out a string of incoherent sounds as he continues his assault. The combination of the vibrations and the swirling of his tongue take over your mind. 

You hear a shuffling accompanied by the sound of a zipper as he disconnects from your core. You let out a whine at the loss of contact.

“But if you stretch in one position for too long, it’s no good,” he whispers into your ear, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you flush against his chest. Your back arches as your ass is pushed flush against his cock, a bead of precum leaking onto your back. Your head rests against his shoulder, his other hand wandering to your hips. 

“How about we turn over here so we can see your form?” He shifts his body so that the both of you are now facing the mirror beside the exam table. Your heart picks up when you take in the reflection. He has his hand wrapped around your throat, tilting your head back, and his other hand sneaking around your front to prod your clit.

“See, for the most part, you have it down. But I think we need to make one more adjustment to make sure the form is perfect Y/n,” the hand vanishes from its place, a whine escaping your lips at the loss of delicious contact. 

“I think this will do the trick,” you can feel the tip of his cock running a lazy line up and down your soaked lips. He sends another steady wave of vibrations to his length, teasing you while you struggle to let him know what you want. 

“Pl-” you try to get out, the vibrations increasing in their intensity. Your mouth hangs open, eyes closing while you focus on the sensations overcoming your body. 

“Eyes open,” he commands, his hand tightening its grip around your throat, pulling you from your lustful thoughts.

In one fluid motion, he has your lips splayed open as he buries his cock in you. A gargled gasp escapes from your open mouth, walls convulsing around him as they attempt to accommodate his size. The stretch is laced with pain and pleasure. 

The pronounced veins on the underside of his cock imprint their memory into your mind. Your entire body just a vessel meant to receive the pleasure he is willing to give you.

“Fuck Y/n,” Shindou lets out a strangled groan. Dragging his cock slowly out of your quivering hole, only to plunge back into it once more with haste, mouth attaching to the soft spot where your neck and shoulder meet.

“Your slutty pussy is just sucking me inside.” He ruts into you, gradually picking up his pace. Snaking his hands to your front, finger sending waves of pleasure the moment it makes contact with your bundle of nerves. 

Pleasure surges through you, your mind going blank as he uses your cunt to please himself, fingers creeping past your lips. “Suck.” Hazily, you wrap your lips around his fingers, swirling your tongue around his digits. 

“Fuck angel, you’re really getting the hang of this,” his voice is full of enthusiasm while he continues to pump himself into you. You can feel yourself on the edge of climax, your cunt milking his cock, each stroke timed with a growl in his throat. 

“Come for me, Y/n,” his fingers push down onto your clit while picking up his pace. The urgency in his rumbling voice and the pulsing of his fingers pressing into you sends you over the edge. You cry out his name as the orgasm is ripped from your body. His fingers don’t let up their pace as he slows inside of you. Your cunt threatens to push him out with the way it squeezes around him.

“Good girl,” the slick sounds of cock moving in and out of your abused hole reverberate around the room, slowly coming to a halt as he stills inside of you. His heavy breathing tickles the back of your neck.

Your knees give way under you, and he moves in tandem with you to the floor. The slick covers the insides of your thighs as you pant, recovering from the waves of pleasure that coursed through your body.

“On your knees,” he lets out in a raspy breath. “What do yo-”

“We’re not done with your exercises Y/n,” you weakly crawl forward so that your knees are pressed are on the tile, your arms trembling as you press your palms into the cold surface. 

“Knees apart,” he prods your thighs spreading them for you. “They need to be line with your shoulders,” he instructs, whipping his mouth with the back of his hand, grabbing hold of your hip.

“Your eyes need to be looking straight ahead, so you keep your spine in line.” He positions behind you, bottoming out in your stretched hole. “You’re going to need to alternate between curling your back and straightening it.” You push back against him, following his instructions with a weak ‘yes.’ The authoritative tone in his voice ringing through your ears. 

“Just like that. Fuck, you feel amazing.” You let out small moans as he continues his sloppy thrusts, using your body to stroke his cock. Continuing to undulate your back like he’d instructed, you feel his cock begin to twitch inside of you.

“Plea-” you beg him to give you more. Your core flexing and releasing around, you begin to push back against him, forgetting all about your instructions.

“You want more, huh?” His grip on your hips is impossibly tight. Fingernails dig into your flesh. With each thrust, you can feel the vibrations strike against your cervix, tears pooling in your eyes, and clouding your vision. Pain and pleasure blend into one as he fucks into your spent body. 

“You have such-” he thrusts into your tight hole, “an eager little pussy.” You can hear the sound of him pulling air through tightly clenched teeth.

“Are you that hungry for my cum?” He pulls at your thighs, using them as a lever to inch further inside of your cunt, his thick cock threatening to enter your womb.

“I’m gonna cu-” you’re cut off by the tremors in his cock intensifying. Your hands give out from under you, your cheek pressed to the floor, vision going blurry. The buildup of pressure in your stomach releasing.

He stays buried in you, wet forehead resting against your heaving back, both lost for air. Your pussy continues to milk the cum from his cock as you both let out soft noises. Gruff pants escape from his lips with each pull.

The moment he pulls out of your abused core, you can feel the cum spilling out. You lay on the floor to catch your breath. The cold tile is the only thing tying you to reality. There is no sound in the room other than the both of you gasping for air, bodies spent.

“You still have plenty of work to be done before that back of yours is back in working order.” He smiles at you before walking to the mirror to readjust his tie. He walks over to the desk and opens the cupboard, pulling a towel from it and tossing it your way.

“Clean yourself up, you’ll need to schedule a follow-up appointment on the way out. Make sure you look… somewhat presentable,” he nods to your disheveled figure. Is he just going to fuck you and leave? Move onto his next patient while you lie in the other room, cum spilling out of your sore cunt?

“I’ll be seeing you here again next week.” You look up, startled to find him zipping his pants, threading the belt back through the loops. You hadn’t even noticed him standing, let alone dressing once again. 

“I’m excited to continue working with you, Y/n! You’ll be feeling as good as new soon enough.” The same buoyant smile crosses his lips, a glint of satisfaction shining in his eyes as he closes the door.

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