#my depression got so Bad freshman year but i just thought it was normal and then after the year anniversary of him dying my anxiety

[thedevotionaltour]

did u guys know when someone very important to u suddenly dies out of nowhere and you know he was not ready to die at all it makes your anxiety and depression worse and when u don't get any closure or acknowledge it happened it makes it five trillion times worse and then eventually u just go nuts? did everyone know this. did everyone but me know this

[fashionteahouse]

hiii could you do paul x reader

soooo reader is bella's older sister and paul is imprinted on her

Reader knows about bella decision of turned into vampire after her graduation and reader get into a bad depression and her mental ill went too bad cuz she loves her sister too much and doesn't want her to be a monster

and paul with the other pack trying to help her to be better

btw i'm gonna call myself 🥑anon so you can recognise mee😘😘😘

Thank you for your hard work you always do the bestt fics 💖💖💖💖

I've requested alot before and you always ATEEEE thaatt

heyy 🥑anon 💜 thanks so much for supporting my fics so this really means a whole lot !! hope you enjoy :)

my sister says the saddest things - paul x reader

A hand was splayed out, watching the light of the diamonds bounce around in the room. A smile was thrown your way as you watched your little sister admire her ring.

A tight smile was all you could give her. The ring surely was beautiful. However, it didn’t stop you from furrowing your eyebrows. You move your laptop out of the way as you sit up straighter.

“I thought you didn’t like the idea of marriage?” you question her.

She shrugs as she continues to stare at it, “We had to compromise.” she answers quietly.

“What?” you ask, wanting to know what it was, opening your ears so the words from her mouth could be clear.

“He…If I marry him, he’ll change me.” she rushes out but not meeting your gaze.

Standing up slowly, “What?” you knew your sister was smarter than this.

“Why?” you ask, not angrily but in a disappointed tone.

“We will be with each other forever. I don’t want to grow old and Edward still looks the same.” she tells you as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You look elsewhere as you pace a bit. Bella blows out a breath, as you ask quietly, “So..He’s going to do it exactly when?”

“After graduation.”

“Bella you’ve got to be kidding me.” you say to her as she looks down, “Are you serious?” you ask her again.

“I will still be me. It’s not like I’m going to change and become a different person.” She says to plead her case.

“Yes you will. You will be a cold one. A monster.” you say to her, gritting a bit.

“I will not! You don’t have to use those words.”

“What other words can I call that? Seriously. Sure, you’ll live forever but the moment that venom enters your blood stream I will lose you forever. What about mom? What about dad?” you say and continue to pace.

“I will still keep in contact. That’s why you don’t have to worry.” she says, not even thinking about changing her mind.

“You’re altering your life for some boy. A boy who isn’t even a boy but 119 years old! Come on, think!” you tell her, trying to keep your voice from pitching since Charlie was only downstairs in the living room.

“He’s not some boy and you know that. He’s my soulmate just like Paul is yours.” she says, taking a bit of offense.

“I don’t know. Soulmates don’t dump you in the middle of the woods. Soulmates don’t leave you for months on end and claim it’s to ‘protect you’ ” you say as you form quotation marks with your fingers.

Bella stands and narrows her eyes at you, “Wow.” she says and just leaves out of your room, not bothering to close the door back. You move to the door and push to slam it. A frustrated sigh moves past your lips as tears start to prickle.

Being a vampire wasn’t normal. Sure being a shapeshifter wasn’t exactly normal either but at least they still had a heart beat that thumps. They didn’t have to die to transform.

There was still months of school left. You were in your freshman year of community college while she was still in her last year of high school. It made you sad that you didn’t want the school year to end. You hoped and prayed that it would drag on just so you could still be around your living and breathing sister.

At breakfast, things were a bit tense. You kept staring at her and Bella kept staring at you. Charlie noticed as he set his coffee cup down and clears his throat.

“You girls alright?” he asked.

Bella doesn’t say anything but you broke the silence by getting up, “See you dad, I’m going to be late.” you tell him and push in your chair.

You didn’t bother to say goodbye to Bella, at that moment, goodbye meant forever.

You didn’t have a lot of classes this day, but after them, you camped out on the campus library. Deciding to do your homework there instead of home like you always do. You received a text from your little sister.

“Not hanging out with Edward today. Dad is working a double today. Want to just grab something ?”

“I’m okay. I’m going to study instead”

You finish typing back.

Any other time she hung with Edward after school, but you knew she wanted to make things right. You didn’t know how she could even let such thought cross her mind. You felt a dark cloud over yourself, loom as you tried to focus on your work.

Your shoulders were slumped as you listened to Paul’s voice on the phone later that night. His words didn’t process through your brain as your brain was already stuffed on how life would like for you and your sister in the future.

The sister who was cooped up in her room, knowing Edward snuck in through the window.

“Hello?” you hear Paul say into the line.

“Yes?” you say snapping out of your thoughts.

“Did you hear what I said?” Paul asks you.

He didn’t give you any hints as you say, “Um…you were talking about….I don’t know.” You finally say, defeated to give an answer.

“What were you doing?” He asks.

You rub your tired eyes, “Was just thinking about something. Sorry. Can you repeat what you said?”

“Emily’s. Are you coming tomorrow?” he asked again.

The brain inside of your noggin was flashing a trailer of feelings of how you would feel around a gathering of people. You just didn’t have it in you.

“No. I’m uh…I have a lot of work to do.” you tell him.

“You just told me you did your homework.” he plainly says, catching you red handed in a lie.

“Well, I will have homework tomorrow.” you say in a cruelty tone , taking your frustrations out on him and hang up.

Tossing the phone away from you on the other side of the bed, you put your head into your hands. You then scowl at your door.

You just kept thinking about how unfair it was for Edward to agree to do such a thing to Bella. It was like they both didn’t think or care about you or the family you and Bella came from.

You placed a pillow over your eyes, trying your best to wait for the day to pass.

The days passed slowly, your body losing the motivation to rise up out of bed. Missing classes, you just didn’t have it in you to care.

A soft but cautious knock was on your bedroom door. Your cheek was on your pillow. You didn’t have the energy to open your mouth to speak so you let the person behind your door to decipher which answer you would give.

Choosing the ‘come in’ option, your door slowly opens as you hear a meek voice speak, “Are you okay?”

You roll your eyes a bit as your head didn’t face the door. You continue to stare out of the window that faced the bed that you were currently in.

You felt a dip near your covered feet with a hand on your shoulder.

“I made you dinner.” Bella tells you.

You close your eyes and sigh, “I’m not hungry.”

The thought of food didn’t appeal to you. In fact, it made your stomach churn.

“You think people aren’t noticing but I do. You barely ate in days.” Bella calls out. You finally face her. She shakes her head as her eyes travel your face.

“And you look horrible. Whatever’s going on, we can talk about it.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” you tell her listlessly.

“Yes, there is. You’ve been blowing the pack off too. I’m tired of lying for you.” she says.

Throwing the covers off of you, you sit up. “You don’t have to lie for me.”

“Well, you’ve been acting like this since I told you about…you know.” she says.

You cross your arms and glare at a spot on your bedroom wall past her head.

“Come on, Y/N. I know you’re thinking about the worst possible outcome but it will be okay. I promise.” she tried to smoothly say but your face contort into a sorrow look as your lips tremble.

Your hand flies to your face as tears roll down your cheeks. There’s a lot that could happen.

“Please don’t cry. You’ll make me cry.” Bella says as she moves in to hug you.

“Bella just stop. You’re making things worse.” you tell her irritated, pushing her away.

“How?” she asks, feeling the unfairness.

“What do you mean how? You want me to be happy for you? Happy that you’re becoming the enemy.”

“There is no enemy. I will still be your sister. You know that the Cullens have a vegetarian diet so that’s what I will of course will fall into. It’s not like I’m going to be murdering people like the bad ones.”

“Two wings on the same bird, Bella.” you darkly say. You lay back down and turn away from her.

Bella sighs as she looks down. There was nothing else for her to say. However, she didn’t want to leave so soon. She felt it was important you two come to an understanding at least.

“Well, will you at least call Paul?” she asks. She waits for an answer but she doesn’t receive one.

You would, but your phone is dead. You didn’t feel like putting in the energy into charging it.

She sighs again and gives you the privacy that you wanted granted. You were glad that she finally left. The silent tears rolled down again, you didn’t have to worry about someone stopping you from crying.

You grudgingly walk out of your campus, with the goal being getting coffee at a nearby coffee shop.

You hear Paul’s voice as your hand was on the glass door. You turn and see his face, raking over you to see what to think about the sight in front of him.

“What’s going on?” he says, tugging you to him, away from the shop. He smushed your body to his. In a way you did feel a bit better, being around him and in his arms.

“Hm?” he asks as he noticed you haven’t said again.

You try to find the right words as he patiently waited. You sigh, before looking to him, “My sister says the saddest things.” you tell him choking up and this makes him pull you back to him again. You bury your face into his chest to hide the tears that threatened to fall.

“Do you want to talk about it? I’m here if you want to talk.” He offers as you nod after a moment. He takes both thumbs to wipe your hot, salty tears away.

As you sip your hot beverage, Paul decides to speak after moments of processing all that you word vomited to him.

“If you tried talking to her and she’s still being set on it, it might just be out of your hands.” he carefully says. He hasn’t taken a drink of his own beverage. His arms were folded and his face was deep in thought.

”There’s no positivity about this. Why would she trade in her beautiful natural life for something so bleak and dangerous?”

Paul plays a bit with his cup as he looked not directly at you, but at a spot in front of you on the table.

“You have to look at it as, she’s 18. If that’s what she chooses, it’s her choice.” he says.

“I feel like I failed to protect her.”

“You did the best you could. I’m sure you did. But, it’s the life she chose. It’s out of your hands.” He says and you push your cup away.

You wrap your arms around your waist, your mind starts to think about having to accept the reality of your sister’s life.

He places a warm hand on yours, covering it completely before picking it up and keeping your hand in both of his hands.

“What would you do? If it was your sister I mean.” you ask him and he thinks for a moment.

“Of course I would be pissed off but… I would want her to be happy. It seems like Bella wouldn’t cut you out of your life.”

You hoped what he was saying was true. He looks at your hand that’s being covered by both of his, “You don’t have to shut me or the pack out you know?”

You nod, looking down.

“I’m sorry. I will make them something to extend my apologies.” You knew they went crazy for your baked treats.

Going home, you receive a call from Leah. You answer even though your phone was low on battery.

“You went AWOL. That’s so rude.” she says instead of a hello.

You tiredly laugh, “I’m sorry. I’ve just been…” you look to the side and sigh in disparity. There wasn’t much words that could explain how you’re feeling.

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Uh-“

“Exactly. Nothing. So, me and Kim will pick you up tomorrow okay?” Leah tells you and ends it with that.

As you cut the excess dough from a pie that you were making, Bella comes home. She placed her keys on the hook by the front door.

“It smells good.” Bella says grinning as she steps into the kitchen, where you were.

The lit oven showed two other pies that were currently baking. Bella was glad was that you weren’t rotting in bed. She stands next to your work station as she looks over what you have done so far.

“Do you need any help?” Bella asks.

“I got it.” you tell her.

“Are you still mad?” Bella asks you.

“No, I’m not mad.” your shoulders fall and a moment passes , “You won’t be able to eat this stuff soon.” you say in an emotional manner. The clatter of the scissors rattle on the countertop from your hands not being able to hold them anymore. She pulls you into a tight bear hug, Her forearm around the nape of your neck as she held you close.

“Please Bella. Just, please.” you pleaded through a fat sob.

Bella herself was getting emotional. Her big sister was someone she idolized and looked up to. She was very strong in her eyes and to see her break down, made her want to break down as well.

“Everything will be okay.” Bella whispers but you step out of the hug.

“Really? That’s all you can say?”

“I will be happy. I love him, sissy. If it was the other way around, I would want you to be selfish for your own happiness too. Look, ” she says before looking down, “He didn’t want to change me. I insisted him on doing so. He then told me to marry him. We’re both doing something we don’t want to do but we’re doing it because of the love we have for each other. This wasn’t some split second decision.”

You just stare at her, “Are you sure this isn’t about when you went to Italy?”

Silence fell into the air. Bella’s hand nervously run through her hair, “It’s only part of it. I have time but I want to do it after graduation.”

“So just wait then.” you say quietly pleading.

“Alice already had a vision I would be turned.” she whines, not wanting to reconsider her chosen time frame.

“Fuck, Bella. Forever is a long time. You mean to tell me you can’t wait for that little bit of time?”

“I will be older than Edward.” she counters back. Her eyes in horror at such thought.

“You never was like this about age.” you say shaking your head. You then move to the hot oven, covering your hands to take out two hot desserts.

“Are you going to La Push?” she asks.

“Yeah. Leah is picking me up.”

“I can take you. I want to see Jake anyways.” she offers.

“I want to go alone.” you snap to her.

Hurt was displayed on her face but she understood. Leaving you alone in the kitchen as you placed the last pie in the oven to bake.

“You don’t have to chew with your mouth open. It’s disgusting.” you tell Jared, trying to fight a smile.

“Maybe you should disappear more often. If this is an apology, I will accept every time.” he says.

Paul walks past, thumping him at the back of his head before sitting next to you. This brings out a snort that you tried to hide.

“What was that for?” Jared asks, rubbing his head.

“For opening your mouth.” Paul says and drinks his drink.

Leah then comes and pull you up and away from your spot from Paul. She wraps an arm around your shoulders and ask you in an intimate matter as you both move to where people weren’t hovering around.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“I think I will be.” you say.

“Just don’t beat yourself up over it. You still have to live your own life too.”

You nod.

“We can’t kill them because of the treaty. You know this.”

You nod again.

“Plus, what did you realistically think was going to happen once she fell in love with one. She would want to fall into their lifestyle.”

“You don’t see me asking to be a shapeshifter.” you say, looking at Leah’s beautiful face. She displays her teeth as she laughs.

“It’s not possible.”

“Yeah, but if it was, I wouldn’t ask Paul to make me into one.”

This is Leah’s turn to nod. “We can’t really say unless we're really in that type of predicament.”

Embry walks past the corner you and Leah were occupying.

“Wow, cheating on Paul? That’s rich of you.” he says jokingly as he sees you two hugging each other tight.

“Would you shut the hell up?” Leah barks at him, making you bubble out a laugh.

Leah goes to shoo him away and you stay back and lean your back against the wall. You cross your arms and think. Hoping that your little sister will be happy, you couldn’t help but think about how you would grow old and would have to look at her youthful face for the rest of your limited life. Limited. There was no point in fighting or falling out with the only sister you had just because you disapproved her lifestyle choice.

Sighing, you realized that you still love your sister deeply. With your mind made up, you decided to make the most spending time with her before her human life comes to a halt. Just like you found your family, she found hers.

[degenrcy]

deeper than love (3) ao3 link <-

he can only be so successful, you know

kinda short, not a lot of action sorry !!

warnings: incest, noncon, yeah...

you were a brave freshman, taking on high school by yourself- shig graduated a few years back. he was... supposed to be in college by now, but that's okay. everyone goes at their own pace. it was your first day!

"c-come on, shig-nii, i'm gonna be late again!" you whined, holding desperately onto the edge of the bed. you threw your head back when your brother's dick slid inside you quite forcefully- ah when was it not?

"shut the fuck uuuup, dude." he slapped a hand over your mouth, slowly thrusting in and out. god he loved the feeling, nothing topped it. no other girl felt as good as you ever did. he can't believe he's been getting away with it for so long, all the credit has to go to your parents. they shelter you enough as is, they didn't want you to end up like your failure fuck-up older brother, so they force you to bedtime and the only place you can be by yourself is at school after your loving brother drops you off everyday.

the same loving, caring, amazing brother who has been training you to be his personal free-use toy for... hm, a long, long time. he cums in your mouth before school, calls it your energy boost. he convinced you breakfast wasn't that important- just like food in general. he wanted you small and frail forever. might as well engrain an eating disorder into you too while he was at it.

he slapped your cute little butt after he shoved you out his rank, dirty car. you watched him speed off, hearing the bass from his music trail off when he got to the end of the street. you sighed, limping up the steps to class.

"today my presentation is about sexual assault." your peer stood in front of the class nervously, what a mature topic!!

"sexual assault is non-consensual sexual acts..." cue giggling from your class and a shush from your teacher. "sexual assault is usually done by someone you know- a friend, a family member, or another adult you may know."

wow, what kind of friend or family member would do something against your will?

"the sibling incest rape rates in the country are as follows,"

you furrowed your eyebrows.

you raised your hand, perfectly clipped and manicured nails, because your brother wanted you cute and clean at all times, especially if your hand was gonna be around his dick a lot.

"y/n, question?" your teacher smiled. she was glad someone was being respectful.

"so, this is bad to you?" you quirked your head. the whole class fell silent. your teacher looked bewildered. "my brother rapes me all the time, he told me it's completely normal and good!"

your teacher scrambled to the phone, the whole class still quiet.

ever since that day, you've been stuck in therapy sessions three times a week and constantly monitored. shigaraki no longer lived with the family anymore. you had to move schools, no one could forget that day and cruel students liked to make sure no one else did.

"you could fuck y/n, she let her brother hit." boys would bet on it, others were disgusted at the thought.

"i feel bad, but how could you not know that it was wrong! i was there when she told the class- she was all like-" girls avoided you.

at this point, you were more depressed about all the bullying and assumptions than the trauma you actually endured. a few years went by- it was a lonely few years. your brother surely wasn't that bad the whole time, right?

you knocked at his door- you spent very little time finding where he lived. thank god they posted the addresses of registered sex offenders online. your parents were probably getting ready to tear apart the entire neighborhood looking for you, then kill themselves when they realized where you really were.

the door creaked open, revealing an arm, and shoulder, neck, half body- hair- face.

bags under his eyes, stubble, platinum blue dyed hair. the dark eyes, piercing through you.

"y/n?" his voice was so much deeper.

"hi, big brother."

you pushed open the door, pressing the taser mom bought you into his stomach. he fell over without a sound, spazzing a bit on the floor. you jabbed it in his side for good measure, watching his body writhe.

you got to work tying up his wrists behind his back. he was still super skinny, and his place was filthy. his computer was still on, the fans of the pc whirring loudly, blue illuminating the dark corner of his room, tempting you. as a kid, you always wanted to know what he was typing so furiously away at.

he groaned, looking up at you through his bangs. his eyes flicked to the computer, then back to you.

your mouth went dry, heart heavy. he was even more disgusting than you ever perceived. this was who he was? "you're sick, shigaraki."

you crouched down to his level, his eyes quickly darted between your legs, looking at your panties through your dark tights. you smacked him hard, making him gasp out.

"you really can't help yourself, huh?" you wanted to cry.

"you really shouldn't be here, y/n. go home. mom and dad'll kill you."

you frowned, standing up again. your fingers shook, delicate. you lifted your school skirt up by the hems, his lips quivering open and eyes trailing back down to your bottom half. you revealed yourself to him, like old times.

"do you really want me to leave so soon, shig-nii?"

[justyourtypicalwriter]

service dog au hcs because i cant be normal about them?? 👀

Kyle: 👻🫂💔🌟

Stan: 🎶👽💤😶

Kenny: 👻🎶🦾💔

Clyde: 💤🦾🥇😶

Butters: 👽💔💄😶

Cartman: 👻👽😺😶

Craig: 👻🦾🌟😶

Tweek: 👽🫂🍫😶

sorry its a lot �� if youd rather not do any feel free not to lmao

Oh my fucking god this took me way longer than it should have😭-

tw for slight talk of suicide

Kyle: 

👻 - OOH OKAY. Now, I could get REALLY into this with a multitude of different things but the main one has got to be not having control. It’s why he hates being “sick” and hates the aspect of having a service dog for a while. He can’t control when he’ll have a P.O.T.S flare up, he can’t control when he’ll have a bad high or low, he can’t control his tolerance to taking food by mouth nor can he control if it’ll trigger a flashback of some sorts. Mainly, he can’t control where he is on the dependency scale. Kyle needs someone to be there for extra supervision, as much as Noble has benefited him. But at the same time, Kyle is a very stubborn, independent person. He doesn’t want some constant dependency on someone. He has no control over his physical or mental health so he craves control over other factors in life so he doesn’t feel like such an unstable mess.

🫂 - Picking someone for this one was tricky but I think I’m gonna talk about Kyle and Tweek’s relationship while I have this. I see Tweek and Kyle as staying kind of close after Tweek was in their group. They help each other out, especially after Tweek is placed with the Broflovski’s during their senior year. Kyle shows Tweek some distraction techniques he’s picked up on and Tweek works with Kyle to find innovative ways to help him slowly regain some of his independence.

💔 - Such bad emetophobia. It’s not really bad when he’s not the one vomiting though. The ARFID really fucks him over. There was a short period of time where he went on and off the nasal tube, I wanna say like every now and then from 11-13. He really thought he was getting better…he wasn’t. The summer of freshman year is when he really started going downhill at a rapid pace. Just the thought of eating could send him vomiting. Sometimes it’s only for a few minutes, sometimes it's an hour plus.  It hurts, it makes him feel horrible and it happens so often. More often than not he’s shaking, hunched over the toilet bowl either fighting back or in tears. And the poor thing is left exhausted and feeling absolutely disgusting afterwards.

🌟 - This one’s a fun one too. He wants to travel, see the world you know? He’s been so coddled most of his life that he never got the proper chance to but he’s determined to make it happen. 

Stan: 

🎶 - https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3HoLXMmVuoMXPGbTHk7zvL?si=g9r63piOQz2thQKgmXJ3zg&pi=u-Kr5cAidHSeya (I’m jamming to this rn lmao)

👽 - I’m not sure if this counts as a quirk, I mean I kind of feel like it falls under a personality quirk but has a tendency to react emotionally to some things at times while at other times he could give less of a shit.

💤 - Sleep? WHERE?!? (but for some reason he sleeps perfectly fine when a certain redhead is nearby…*cough* fags *cough*)

😶 - This crusty ass emo wet cat looking bitch LOVES dance. Ballet in particular. He rocks gothic ballet routines but he’ll dance to anything. Just him and his fucking black point shoes. If it weren’t for the crippling depression he’d be unstoppable. And no one suspected that he dances until the kids are like thirteen when Stan was bored out of his mind while the gang was at Starks Pond and started doing a bunch of fun tricks to entertain himself. The rest of the groups standing there, jaws on the floor, minds blown because since when did Stanley fucking Marsh know how to do this.

Kenny:

👻 - Losing a loved one, whether it’s a family or friends. Kenny is immortal, he’s gonna keep coming back, but the others? Any health scare, accident, or attempt of someone worries him a lot. It’s why he always has his bag of shit, he’s so worried about losing someone.

🎶 - https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3lhm5rFXq1TXuMUKDiptuI?si=CY4XjCHAQr-fxXDHwQ4dlw&pi=u-E6jLyFZgTFam 

🦾 - Muscular Dystrophy & Chronic Pain (live, laugh, love chronic pain Kenny)

💔 - Okay, okay this one’s more of the concept is angsty when you think of it, but Kenny himself could give less of a shit. Kenny in this au is relatively happy, I mean yeah being chronically ill sucks total ass but he’s chilling with it. The only thing is that Kenny kills himself a lot. He’s ever curious and loves to see what happens. He ends up hanging in Hell with Damien for a while before being sent back and before he knows it he’s wondering “hm, wonder if that’ll happen again-“

Clyde: 

💤 - Clyde has a rocky sleep schedule. His health issues aren’t the reason for it though, it’s Fable. As mentioned in a previous post, she’s a little demon shit and has an ungodly amount of energy. Clyde finds this hysterical until it’s time to get up for school and he’s only slept like three hours.

🦾 - Clyde’s disability for the au is still being debated! Suggestions are currently open!

🥇 - I have a general headcanon that Clyde is really good at videography! Which, for all my Tyde girlies, falls into one of my general headcanons for Tolkien which is script writing. They make short films together and his biggest accomplishment is that one of their films won first place in their school's film contest.

😶 - He’ll play outside in the snow for HOURS. Even more now than when he was a kid since he’s got Fable. Clyde will just take her out for hours and they’ll have the time of their lives.

Butters:

👽 - Yet another personality quirk: Butters always has a ridiculous amount of enthusiasm for someone who’s been through so much shit in his life. He’s an optimist, it’s what draws people in.

💔 - Okay I just really love antagonizing his parents so so much. Haven is owner trained, Butters bought her himself when he was thirteen. When she was still a puppy something minor happens and Steven isn’t very happy about it so he fucking SELLS her. And Butters is so heartbroken. He only had this dog for a week and suddenly she’s just ripped away. It’s actually Cartman (for the most part) who helps him get her back. 

💄 - I know this one’s really basic but I adore giving Butters his eye scar from ‘Fun With Weapons”. It’s very intimidating but Butters is just a silly, goofy guy. 

😶 - Y’know those Instagram and Etsy shops that sell custom service dog gear? Butters is really into sewing and he runs one! Giving gifts has never been easier, he just makes them a new piece of gear.

Cartman: 

👻 - As much as I love antagonizing Cartman, I love when he has a soft spot for the main four (+Butters) a lot more. So if anyone’s acting out of character it lowkey has him shook. And with good reason, the gang has trauma from finding Stan post suicide attempt. It baffled Cartman since Stan had been acting more than okay for the past week. The bastard cares for his friends although he’ll never fucking tell them so he’s been paying attention to behavior changes ever since, even if they’re minor.

👽 - I’m actually gonna go dive a little deeper into the heterochromia thing. So if my memory is serving me correctly, the eye comes from Kenny so it’s blue. But every so often it has a purplish hue to it for a short period of time. Oh so conveniently, our favorite little poor boy is freshly back from Hell and his eye color has shifted from blue to a freakishly violet shade.

😺 - Oooooh y’all really want me to yap about Dolly. Firstly, she’s so soft. Like her fur was already soft but being that Cartman takes such good care of her, her fur is probably as good as it can get. He’s so gentle with her and she absolutely adores him. As for the rest of the kids: she’s not overly eager to go up to them but she likes them. Except for Kyle she fucking HATES him. 

😶 - Unfortunately Cartman is severely underdeveloped at the moment due to him being the most recent addition to the au so I literally don’t have anything else to say about him.

Craig: 

👻 - I feel like all of these fears have been really angsty but Craig’s is just spiders. They creep him the fuck out. Also high school musical-

🦾 - Epilepsy!

🌟 - It’s really a matter of what he wants to do first. He doesn’t act like it but Craig is really ambitious. Working in something with space is always something he’s wished to do. But he’s also into music (a mix of Tweek and Stan’s fault) and wants to learn violin. 

😶 - I love headcanoning that Craig has piercings so let’s jazz this up for the au a bit. In his late teen years he was (illegally) denied service at various piercing parlors because of Saturn. So he self teaches himself how to (semi) safely do piercings without being a professional and does them for his friends if they want.

Tweek: 

👽 - Second physical quick of the ask but it’s freckles! I love giving Tweek freckles but the ones that are barely visible at any time that’s not summer. That’s when they come out. 

🫂 - I already talked about his relationship with Kyle so let’s talk about Tweek and Clyde. I only just started playing around with their dynamic a few weeks ago while writing a bunch of Staig drabbles. It’s always really funny to me because you’ve got paranoid sarcasm meets hyperactive sensitivity.

🍫 - What a little stress baker! He can’t cook for shit but the boy sure can bake. And he like over bakes too. He doubles the recipe almost every time. It used to be easy to get rid of the extras, he’d just take them to the shop so they could be sold. But after the meth bust he’d basically ding-dong-ditch his friends and leave baskets of baked goods on their doorsteps. 

😶 - Him, Kenny, Kyle, and Bebe all drove out of Colorado for the weekend when they were seventeen because they all needed a break. They stayed at an inn for the weekend and no one knew where they went. So yeah, they were having the time of their lives while everyone back home was losing their shit.

feel free to ask if you want elaborations!

[dearunreliablenarrator]

✨Good day!✨

For the elemental asks:

Psionics: How do you get into the heads of your characters?

Summer: How do you know when you need a break from writing?

also have an awesome day ✨

✨pip pip✨

before we start: TL;DR! i think back to traumatic experiences and drop them in that situation, john quiñones dupe🤩 ; forcing myself to write is like shittin’, push too hard and you’ll get a hemorrhoid.

psionics: How do you get into the heads of your characters?

we’ll stick with the big three for this one. and forgive me when it gets a little mystical in here. and maybe a wee bit sappy. now, i’m a whole hearted believer in that characters are reflective of their creator, from avoiding topics to indulging in them. with that being said,

Grace Davis & Simone Thompson (CUTS): these girls and their stories, are the unfortunate outlet to being black, queer, and depressed in the height of covid. the world shut down on itself and so did its people. we isolated ourselves in more way than one. i think i missed out on one of many crucial parts of life that evolve self exploration and expression.

their heads, just like mine at that time, are riddled with the worries of adjusting to college life (for context, i was a freshman in college when covid hit) not just once but twice. as they never truly bounced back like that world demanded; go back to normal and ignore the plight of those around you, rise and grind.

spiritually, they reflect my ascendant (yes i know some people have ruined the name of astrology but stick with me). which is in scorpio-in a degree i don’t know much about-- so boom we have the moon which is believed to be the face of emotions and scorpio which rules the genitals. can you imagine the turmoil of an isolated new adult unable to express themselves because the forces at hand are too strong to handle alone? they're watching the world burn and being stinged by its flames and now they have somehow glue the pieces back; everyone please bow your head in prayer for these young ladies.

amen.

and we’ll keep forces as a general term, as it’s different for everyone. (psht! spoiler, one got to be gay in peace and the other has a homophobic father 🥰) i also really started my deconstruction on religion here so that’ll be in there too but enough on them today, let’s move on to our romantics.

Warren and Elaine: omg being a romantic these days is so hard! and as the reflection of my thoughts on that, they’re here to show you that romance is only perceived as dead cause it’s not easy! they are my characters to stage the perfect romance; and in my our heads that involves knowing when to say you don’t know and when to say you’re wrong.

and i think we’ll keep it short n’ sweet for them, i fear i will get off topic so onto FREEDOM

Emilia: while not the only star to this show, is the reflection of wee little saturn before they became a gas giant. so she's sheltered, protected, and ignorant to how the world works. but as someone who has a curiosity for everything, she wants to explore what's been hidden from her as a child and to test the limitations of humanity. long story short, we working with the inner child and teen here, a good coming of age like the movies.

alright! still with me? cool..

Summer: How do you know when you need a break from writing?

over the years, i've learned that bad shit has to come out to be polished into a good one. with that being said, when it starts to become a struggle instead of a challenge, i stop. point blank, complete shutdown. if it feels like something isnt flowing in a way i'm used to, i step away. which is sometimes hard, because i feel like we all want to produce something every second; but that has burned me out. so when it feels like i can't get myself to create what i've envisioned, i just take a break. breaks are good. rest is good. you alway come back better than if you had churned out something just to flush it.

---

anyways in the midst of my ramblings, i hope i've made sense (feel free to ask questions, i don't bite)! have a good day/night/evening/mornin'!

[donatellokinnersinner]

Its disability pride month, or so I've heard.

So I wanted to share things I've experienced.

I have 4 biological brothers (3 full, 1 half) and 2 of them are autistic. The first was 2 years younger than me with AuDHD, bipolar, and SPD. The other is 10 years younger than me (the half brother) with only Autism and SPD. I also have an older brother with ADHD.

I'm in the middle of the group, with Autism as well (aspergers, but it's not called that anymore.) I was the one that wasnt diagnosed, only getting any kind of treatment for Depression and PTSD when I was a freshman in high school. I think it was cause they never had a basis of comparison. I didnt have sisters that were considered "normal" I just had myself, and I was who I was. Everything was chalked up to me being a girl.

I didnt quite understand it, but we tried to adapt to my brothers behavior (the youngest lived with Bio Mom). The closer younger brother (let's call him T) had moderate Autism, while in comparison, mine is Mild. He had incredibly sensitive ears, a lack of self control, an oral fixation from hell and an intense interest in Thomas the Train. He couldnt make emotional connections, often telling us that he didnt love us the way we loved him, and he cared more about his friend at school. He stole food, took things apart, wet the bed, and supposedly forced my parents to make our house a prison.

My step mom got depression really bad, and couldnt handle him anymore. There were only 3 of us left living at home. Me, T, and my sibling L who moved out as soon as they graduated that year. Mom went to dad and told him that she needed him to help take care of his son.

Dad refused, and sent T to live with our Bio Mom across the country.

Bio Mom was incredibly narcissistic, valedictorian in law school the year prior to this. She claimed her children only for their successes. My older brother with ADHD (well call him P) was an exact replica of her and had moved in with her the year before cause of a fight with Dad.

And T, who couldnt make emotional connections, moved in with two people who would lash out if they were not given the love they felt they deserved.

T, who couldnt give them the love they felt they deserved.

A year later, I woke up to my oldest sister getting a phone call that he'd passed peacefully in his sleep, according to Bio Mom. She had called our oldest brother to tell everyone cause "she was too heartbroken."

That was her one phone call from jail after what authorities say was "the most gruesome and violent child abuse case theyd ever seen." That was the same day P got arrested later for hanging around the house of a crime scene, and evidence was found on his phone of the "punishments" he gave T when Bio Mom was out of the house, sending them to her for confirmation.

He died from starvation and hypothermia. The woman the birthed him gave him horrendous punishments, locking and shackling him in a closet on a tarp. Putting him in an ice bath the day before cause he couldnt move and she thought he was faking it. When he left my house, he was nearly 180lbs, and grew up to almost 6 feet tall. When he died he was 69lbs.

That was the morning of July 6, 2022.

That was one year ago today.

I found out I was autistic after this, and I couldnt help but hate it at first. I thought I'd end up like him, unable to give a reasonable response and leave my oldest brother with another missing sibling. I buried myself in research, trying to find ways to improve my social skills and emotional maturity. I restarted therapy, and developed an anxiety disorder that has caused me to lose 20lbs in the past year.

And today, one year later, I'm okay with it.

I'm not okay with my family, only really talking to my oldest brother out of my blood related relatives.

I'm not okay with the two blood related people still part of an ongoing trial, because Bio Mom has managed to push the court dare another 3 months.

I'm not okay with the only thing I have left of my little brother, a train necklace with his ashes in it.

I'm not okay with the way even in death, they took three months to plan a funeral, forcing that boys older brother to plan the whole thing instead of the parents that gave up on him.

But I'm okay with myself. Even if it's hard and I struggle and I still hurt, I'm okay with sharing something else with him. I'm okay with beginning to understand through studying psychology how he worked and how to help myself work.

Disability pride month for me is mourning and understanding. Its hate towards those too blind to see what we fight for. Its realizing that despite everything I've struggled with the past year, I can still thrive.

This is only the start of my story, and I'm starting to gain speed, chugging along the tracks impatiently awaiting the day I can hug him again.

But I'm fine with waiting, I still have things I need to do.

[blahhhh-dead]

Haha story time: TW! Venting about my shit life lmao :p

I was separated from my class for most of elementary school and given no recess at any time in the day. Instead I was told to redo the same page of long division over and over till I got it right while sitting beside the most disgusting dudes that are no doubt creeps now.

In middle school I went to a charter school that forced nationalism and conservative agendas. At that point I had a counselor but no one diagnosed me with anything because I "seemed fine". The teachers would disclose my medical history willy nilly and never made any real accommodations even though I tried to advocate for my quiet self at age 11.

I became extremely depressed and suffered with severe apathy and passive suicidal ideations choosing to stay in my bed and ignore hunger or anything else. I was the only one trying to help myself and felt extremely alone. I often wished I could go to sleep forever and imagine how cool the after life must be. Started maladaptive daydreaming to cope.

Once I heard a rumor about the school janitor that mind you WAS IN CHARGE OF THREE OF THE SCHOOL ELECTIVES. I asked the actual PRINCIPAL, she told me it was fake and made up. Not long after I left that janitor was arrested as a p3d0. Exactly what I'd heard from that rumor.

High-school I was only diagnosed with anxiety and OCD but nothing else. The school was too small to have so many kids making the halls packed and hard to navigate for the first time. The teachers didn't care and never knew what was happening so I was always confused.

I wore face masks to keep warm from cold weather and avoid being perceived only to be told I had to take them off and see my full face. Surprise surprise half a year later covid forced quarantine.

Several students were openly racist, homophobic and harassed girls but nothing was really done. Yet when I played my dumb anime game on my phone under my desk to cope with anxiety I was immediately found out and berated for it.

My anxiety was so bad I felt phsycal pain and struggled to sleep every single night before school. I was so exhausted I barely managed to retain any information or even stay awake most days.

The only female friend I ever had started telling rumors about me behind my back even though all I ever did was be nice and listen to her problems. My only long term friends at the time slowly drifted away then the moment they found a reason too they started an argument and I blocked them both.

I barely made it past freshman year. By the end I transferred to a home study school and segregated myself from everyone I had known at the time. I also started needing guidance medication because the phsycal discomfort from anxiety was had grown too strong and kept me magically spiraling all the time.

The charter school housed a teacher that deliberately sabotaged my autistic younger sister because she didn't seem autistic enough to actually need help. They kicked her out of the school and made my mother cry. I finally stopped maladaptive daydreaming at least.

Graduated with barely enough credits to get by and was on a few different pills to manage my anxiety and help me sleep, one of which made me hallucinate which is why I stopped trying to sleep normally.

All my life people thought I was fine because I made jokes, kept silent when in pain because I couldn't even fell it myself, and was singled out by teachers for no reason at all. After graduating I was diagnosed with ADHD and wouldn't you know it SEVERE anxiety as well as a mind set that made me spend too much energy trying to be careful and mindful of others and deny my own exhaustion and need for soothing.

I never smoked, never broke into places, never got into any fights, never harassed people, never dated, never even had a kiss or a proper crush, never partied or snuck out, I just existed. Never played catch with my dad, never had a sweet sixteen or quince, never had a best friends or even a real close friend, I just kept existing.

I'm gonna be 20 by the end of the year but I feel stuck in the age I was that freshman year. Yet at the same time I know I'm more emotionally mature then I was and smarter then the other small town idiots. I have close friends, I try and take care of myself but my body struggles from the left over effects of neglect, I take more medication and barely leave the house due to fear of other outside my home and safety net.

And yet I'm so much happier then I was before and even if it's slow I'm working to get better and love myself. To be the bright smiley person I pretended to be for decades

Man is so tire now -_-

once again shout out to the kids that were left behind in school, when the teachers failed us, treated us like burdens who couldn't do anything right cuz we had a pretty bad learning disability.

[ocqueen]

CW detailed discussion of weight loss/gain, chronic health, and disordered eating

Normally I'd post this type of stuff on my journal blog never to be seen again, but hey. I'm feeling bold and weirdly okay about people I know reading this, and it might be insightful for some other people, too.

A long rambling story about weight and physical/mental health, chronic illness, changing bodies, and roads to recovery

I've just hit a really significant physical milestone for me where I can see myself gaining weight. I don't keep a scale (my mom didn't allow them in the house growing up and I never got one for myself), so I don't know if it's backed up by numbers, but it's enough to where I'm actually filling out my bras, developing a stomach and an ass, can't feel my sharp hip bones or ribs jutting out anymore. It's... weird. I finally get people's insecurities about NOT being twiggy thin like I used to be, can feel those thoughts creeping in already even as a still very thin person every time I struggle to get my new butt into my old size 0 pants, but at the same time there's something a bit joyful about being able to see a body that's taking up more space and changing with my age and what that means about my personal health and recovery in general.

I've been stick thin ever since I was a kid, and as I went through college it was very clear that I wasn't going to get a 'freshman fifteen' - and then just about the same time equally as clear that the reason for that was because I was very chronically ill, violently depressed, and stressed out of my mind in a high-pressure program, all of which meant I had a low appetite and lost a lot of weight. The fabled 'freshman fifteen' was actually there, just keeping me at a baseline thin instead of dropping me off a cliff into more dangerously underweight. Even with it, I was starting to have attacks of hypothermia from lack of fat to keep myself warm, and had to start dressing in heavy layers - something my GP originally couldn't explain.

I've struggled since my diagnoses with managing my health, and a lot with gaining - and keeping - weight. I'd go through periods of weight gain as my conditions were in remission or I better managed my stress levels, only to have a health flare or a bout of deadlines and anxieties and lose it all again. I've barely ever managed to hit my goal weight, and when I did it was probably only for about two weeks. I live in constant fear of falling below 100 pounds again now that I finally managed to get myself over it, to the point where I refused to exercise at all and risk accidentally losing more of what little weight I had, despite it being bad for other areas of my health and well being.

I also tend towards disordered eating since I was a teen, especially once I lost the structures of school, and hate having to feed myself - cooking feels like a drudgery and a chore, and eating out was too expensive and wasteful, so I often forgot or forewent it intentionally - something I did more often in school and during my stints working in television. Eating got put to the wayside, in favor of 'productive tasks' and 'saving money' (as if eating to fuel your body wasn't productive enough). I got headaches, shakes, fatigue, all from not eating enough, and it got bad enough that eventually I got an app specifically to track my calories, which revealed how horrible I've been with fueling my body or eating enough to maintain weight. I tried to change, force myself to eat, and for a time it worked, but I always ended up forgetting and falling back onto old habits.

Now, years later, I've adapted. I eat three meals a day because I have a new job with a time structure, I've learned to intentionally eat more calorie-dense foods to make up for eating less, and I snack when I remember to and keep fruit and packaged snacks around that are easy to grab. I've taught myself to be okay eating takeout if I don't have the energy to cook and I exercise doing strength training and yoga to gain muscle without losing weight (though my current job is quite sedentary and I should probably be doing more cardio, haha). Many of my health conditions are getting better with managed treatment, even while others might worsen, and the main culprits for my medical weight loss have slowly been brought to heel and monitored closely. I'm even on a few meds with a side effect of weight gain, which has helped out, too.

And with all of that together... I think we've finally moved past maintenance. I looked in the mirror the other day and I had a real, true stomach, and smooth bumps at my hips instead of jutting bone, and while it caught me off guard I'm slowly coming to enjoy it instead of fear it. My waist isn't so wasp-thin anymore, filled out by fat or muscle, and it's unclear which but I don't care right now. My face is less gaunt, I look less tired (my mom tells me how much better I look), I'm getting fewer unexplained bouts of hypothermia and I know where my late afternoon headaches are from and can make sure they don't happen anymore. It's surreal to me, like I'm a different person, and while it's a lot of work to manageI know that it's healthier this way. My doctors are now worried about me gaining too MUCH weight, but I'm just happy to settle into a new body for a bit - one that might be able to help carry me wherever I need to go, and one I might be able to treat a bit better in the future if I make sure I don't forget it. It's part of my recovery, not only with my physical health, but a sign of moving past and managing my fast-inducing depression and anxiety, too, and that alone is enough to make me happier than I could have thought a little bit of fat could do.

Anyways, recovery looks a lot of different ways for a lot of different people, but this is mine, and it's something I've been thinking about a lot lately as I go through chronic health flares and scares related to other things. It's a small victory for me that I hope can usher in a few larger ones in the future, and pave the way for something more.

[kisswoshita]

every year that passes, i complete another year of living and most people see it as a good thing, but for me its not. mostly because i want to be a teenage girl forever, but also because theres this feeling and thought that tells me that theres something i need to complete before i turn 18. my life went down hill after 7th grade and i still cry about it because i lost my chance at being a normal teenager. i didn’t go to school for my 8th grade year because of how bad my depression was. i wanted to kill myself, but i didn’t because my heart had hope for something that i wasn’t aware of. after a while of my life slowly falling apart, freshman year arrives. what was i thinking knowing im going to start high school? i was scared, excited and nervous. i was feeling all kinds of emotions. i had thought that starting high school would make my problems slowly disappear. i would see all my old friends and make new friends along the way. id join clubs and actually start doing something with my life. “im finally going to get better this year” i thought, but it all just got worse. i stopped going to school for a long time. i left my mentally and emotionally abusive boyfriend, but then i realized how i lost such a big part of me when i was with him and it broke me so much that i couldn’t get my old self back. i cried every day and every night like it was a routine. i was all alone and had to get used to it. i shopped by myself, i walked by myself, i learned things by myself, i guided myself for a long time. later on arrives 10th grade, i still wasn’t going to school and after a few things that happened during freshman year (i only went for about two weeks) i decided to do homeschool so i enrolled myself in an online program and started doing the work everyday. i was getting better after time yet i knew my depression was still there, it just wasn’t as bad as it was before. i learned a lot of things about myself, i made a few friends and reconnected with old ones. i did a lot of things throughout that time. theres still so many things i haven’t mentioned here, but thats okay. i graduated early, at sixteen, in 2023. i was happy that i didn’t have to worry about school anymore, but there was no ceremony since it was online school. yeah maybe it may not seem like a big deal, but for me it is. i always wished for my family to see me walk down the stage and i dreamed of doing it with the girls that have always meant so much to me. it never happened and i wish it did. i wish the things that happened in 7th grade didn’t happen to me so i wouldn’t have gotten severely depressed. i never went to homecoming yet i always wanted to and i most likely wont ever be able to experience prom. i don’t have any pictures of me with people because of how insecure i’ve always been. i lost my chance at being a normal teenage girl and i wont ever get that back again. thats why im gonna try to make the most out of being 17, but im losing hope. its not going well so far. i need to complete things this year. i need to get skinny and be pretty so i can be able to take pictures with friends and family and have pictures to look back at once im an adult. im running out of time and im afraid.

[1ntr0v3rted]

To be honest whenever I draw I think of things like. How does this look like from above?, side?, it looks weird, not real looking?

Shiz like that it’s a bit annoying in my head even while finding a reference I can do yes I can do any reference but I’m not exactly yk feeling it in the moment but obviously at some point I can’t just ignore it

There’s a point in my life where I got asked what I wanted to do in the future. Well that’s a bit of a tough question, a few years ago and not that long ago I didn’t think I had a future? Like scared to even make it through freshman year and failing I was even having really bad thoughts and I was thinking… am I still in that feeling of doubt??? I mean you never fully know what you wanna do until you do it but I feel kinda as if I’m a odd one out I don’t exactly have motivation (which is a common thing when you have depression) but I have good focus.. but there’s certain things I wanna do but I don’t wanna do, I wonder what people think of that cause I can’t just blab out my medical history and my past after they ask that question ! So I reply with I don’t know which seems to be a Normal reply but than it gets into even more depth and I don’t fully feel like I think about my future I mean dark joke incoming: but 3 or so years ago I thought I’d be 6 feet under without being able to go through freshman year it just in a way sounds strange and obviously I overthink things in the future and I’m overthinking this now! But even routines and how to do things I can’t exactly do so I struggle with this— idk thoughts?

- this was a blog written by a introvert - 3/1/23

[forestlingincorporated]

I wanna talk about Janet Drake

I’m not against exaggeratedly evil versions of Tim’s parents, tbh. It’s fanfiction, if we can depict an Exaggeratedly Good version of Bruce (which we can, and I do, and I love) then we can depict the Drakes as Exaggeratedly Bad. As someone who personally identifies with Tim, and his brand of complicated parental abuse in particular, I find it cathartic to uncomplicate that abuse and rescue him from the Obviously Evil Bad People. 

That said, since much of comics lore is passed down word of mouth, the oral tradition surrounding Tim has developed this idea of Janet as The Worse Parent between her and Jack that was never really present in the comics. We see much LESS of Janet, and we have 20 years worth of comics depicting Jack as a neglectful hotheaded idiot who ultimate does love his son. More importantly, Jack isn’t very much LIKE Tim, so there is a habit to attribute Tim’s traits to his mother... and, as someone who really really identifies with Tim, Tim has... some negative traits. Tim can be a bitch sometimes. He’s fiercely intelligent and sweet and kind, with a strong sense of justice, but he can be cold and judgmental and unthinking - he fights those traits, but he does have them. 

And it is perfectly fine to depict Janet that way. I’ve enjoyed depictions of Cold Calculating Janet Drake, but it’s not the ONLY option, and I want to challenge fans to consider different avenues. Tim could pick up these traits from anywhere: a nanny, Mrs. Mc Ilvaine (”Mrs. Mac”), a teacher, tv, Sherlock Holmes novels, Bruce Wayne himself. Tim is capable of not being like EITHER parent. 

So, what do we KNOW about Janet? (I’ll also touch on Jack, but only in scenes he appears with Janet.) 

When Janet was first introduced she was depicted as a gentle but “modern” woman. This was written in 1989, told by a 13 year old Tim, so this theoretically was meant to take place in 1979. I’m not here to give a lecture on the history of sex discrimination in the united states, but much of the legislation protecting women in the workforce or surrounding women’s bodily autonomy would have been very very new in this initial depiction. 

Here, Janet is shown to be encouraging, emotional, maternal, and projects her own feelings onto Tim. Jack is shown to be slightly sexist, possibly discouraging, but not overbearing. And the artist is shown not to know how to draw children. 

To insert some speculation, I think it’s important to note all the Drakes witnessed a terrible murder/accident that day. I point this out, because this is the last time Jack and Janet are depicted this way. It’s possible they changed as a result of this event specifically. 

However, this is also a story being told by Tim. It’s also possible these events aren’t really “real” at all, and Tim is misremembering what his parents were like as a three-year-old, possibly projecting a more palatable version of his parents into the narrative. This is entirely up to personal interpretation. 

In fact, the Drakes are shown in Legend of the Dark Knight attending Haly’s Circus, and the artist knows what a toddler looks like and they’re depicted as already having a slightly strained relationship. Jack is clearly on the defensive, and Janet seems to be passive-aggressive, though she could just be attempting to explain the situation to her toddler honestly. The intended tone isn’t especially clear. 

I do want to point out, in this depiction, Tim isn’t being carried like he was in the previous one. He’s walking ahead of his parents, which isn’t a terrible horrible crime, but could be dangerous in a crowded place like the circus. Might be a subtle hint to his parents overall neglect. 

Back to A Lonely Place of Dying, in Tim’s memories of the night he discovered Robin and Dick Grayson were the same person at nine-years-old, his parents are home, and watching TV together while Tim played... trucks, idk, in the living room with them. (This is semi-interesting, because you could say “oh, Tim liked vehicle toys as a kid” or you could extrapolate that this is another subtle indication of Jack’s sexism, providing Tim with appropriately “boy toys.” Either interpretation is valid. If Tim was assigned female at birth, would they have been given “girl toys,” or allowed to play with whatever they wanted?) 

This is, to my knowledge, the only panel of the Drakes when Tim is between ages 3 and 13. They’re all together, which might indicate that the Drakes were home more often when Tim was 9, only later going on business trips when Tim was “old enough” but... 

This is Tim’s boarding school when he’s 13. While most boarding schools in the US are for grades 9-12, Tim is clearly not a freshman at age 13; look how much younger the other kids in this panel are. In the US, the youngest you can attend most boarding schools is 7. 

That means Tim could have begun going to boarding school anytime between 7 and 13. He most likely spent all of middle school in boarding school, at least. There are an almost infinite number of possible ways the Drakes handled having a business that required lots of international travel, an archeology hobby, AND a very young child. Janet staying home until Tim was 7, 11, 13, is equally possible as the Drakes having a nanny until 7, 11, 13. Tim just doesn’t talk about that period of his life very much.

(”What about Mrs. Mac?” - it is unclear when Mrs. Mac begins working for the Drakes. We only see her when Jack comes out of his coma. She could either be a long standing staff member, or a recent hire.) 

Note: I’ve seen it said that it’s canon that “According to Tim, when his parents were home, they made a point to try and include him in their activities, bringing him along to events that were normally adults only.” I have never seen this panel, or I don’t remember it, so I cannot confirm, but I also cannot debunk this because... comics. 

By the time Tim is 13, Jack and Janet are away on business trips a lot, with limited communication, and no firm return date. If I’m feeling generous, I’d say it was harder to communicate internationally in 1990 than it is today. If I’m not feeling generous, I’d say the Drakes are extremely wealthy, and international communication was easier than ever before in the 80s and 90s. They’re not even going home to see Tim in a week or two, they’re going home and calling Tim at boarding school in a week or two. 

Even Bruce thinks its weird, though he doesn’t say so to Tim’s face. It’s written almost as if Tim’s parents’ neglect was meant to be a plot point that just got forgotten about. 

Tim’s parents are fighting at this point (their poor assistant), but Janet still goes with Jack on these business trips. And she’s clearly involved in the business, somehow, but the comics never SAY what Janet’s JOB is. We’re told Jack is the exec, but Janet is ONLY ever referred to as Jack’s wife, though they’re later described as the “heads” of the company, plural. 

Just to be clear, this is Jack’s business. There’s a perception that Jack is a bad business man because he and Janet fight over company decisions, and Jack looses the business after Janet dies, but Jack looses the company YEARS after Janet dies, and maintains it for about a year after No Man’s Land at that. We’re not told how Jack looses the business, but he’s got to be doing something right. Janet isn’t necessarily the “real brains” of Drake Industries. 

And I’m not... gonna... touch the... exploitation and racism because... I’m not qualified to do that. But, here’s the panel. The Drakes sure seem exploitative and racist in their business decisions. Someone else can... analyze that with more nuance. 

Regardless how how long they’ve been fighting, when their lives are in danger, the Drakes fall back into a loving husband and wife. Their marriage may be falling apart, but they do care about each other. 

I want to show these panels because it shows that Tim and Jack do have things in common. They’re both level headed in a crisis and can be somewhat cold in their practicality. Janet meanwhile and silent. Jack is later willing rant and rave at their captors, but Janet remains silent. 

That is, until they’re alone, and she finally lets herself fall apart. 

God, Jack can be obnoxious. Janet just looks miserable and resigned. I actually think Tim takes after his parents in this respect in equal measure. Tim can have a temper, but he can also be fairly melancholy and defeatist. 

Jack keeps reminding Janet to be strong and in control, which could be period typical sexism? But Jack seems so practiced and ready with the words of encouragement, and with Tim’s history with depression, I wonder if Janet has an inclination towards it as well. 

As the end approaches, when Jack brings up Tim, Janet seems to have a lot of regret. She talks about “wasting” the good things, and I don’t think it’s too big of a stretch to assume she’s talking about time spent with her only child. 

From this point on, Janet is at times spoken of, but not seen. Like here, when Jack says Janet wouldn’t approve of him and Tim being so “far apart.” He says this after he tells him he takes back his threat to send him back to boarding school, which might imply Janet was against the idea of boarding school? Though she obviously lost that argument when she was alive. 

Jack will of course renege on this later, but that’s Jack Drake for you. 

Or here in Tim’s illness induced dream, where he gets everything he wants. Though, since this is a fantasy of Tim’s, where his father and girlfriend are both more accepting and understanding than they are in real life, I would take this depiction of Janet with a grain of salt. 

After loosing Drake Industries, Jack thinks about Janet (though, they call her Catherine/Cathy for some fucking reason) during his depressive episode. And... uh... 

Hallucinates a Valkyrie???? Is this symbolic of suicidal thoughts, or is she... real? Or is he seriously hallucinating? 

Anyway, we’re not here to discuss Jack’s mental state, the fact that he forgot Tim’s birthday, or that concerning “I was going to knock some sense into you but you’re still bigger than me” statement from Tim, we’re here to talk about Janet. And even though this entire arc is about Jack mourning his first wife, they don’t SAY anything about Janet herself at all. I mean, they don’t even get her name right, so I guess what was I expecting. 

Then there’s Origins and Omens, which also doesn’t say anything about Janet, except that Tim’s memory of her is faulty - Janet was poisoned, her assistant Jeremy’s throat was slit on television, but Tim seems to have conflated the death he did see with the death he didn’t. 

The only piece of canon to suggest that Janet might be cold, is Tim compares her to Thalia. And even then, he’s really just saying Janet was protective of him. It’s kind of a scary look to make at your kid, but Bruce does the same thing, so. 

I do want to say... it’s not 100% clear if Tim is even talking about Janet. He could be talking about Dana. Dana was observably protective of Tim, though I don’t think he’s ever called her mom. He PROBABLY means Janet. 

And finally we have Tim visiting his mother’s grave (in a duel Christian/Jewish cemetery, make of that what you will), where Tim says she was “a little religious.”

And that’s it! That is all we know about Janet Drake in New Earth. Hardly the Mom From Hell, but she isn’t perfect. I’d be interested in seeing some alternate depictions of her within the fandom. 

I’m still gonna eat up Terrible Parents From Hell like a starving puppy dog, though. Just some food for creative thought. 

[teamhappyme]

your heart was glass, i dropped it (champagne problems)

peter stone x female!reader

word count: 15,526 (a monstrosity)

warnings: canon typical mentions of violence, rape, and death, brief allusions to sex (blink and you’ll miss it), mentions of anxiety & depression

a/n: hi friends, i’m back from my little break and reduced screen time to post this monstrosity of a piece i’ve been working on for just shy of six months now. this took everything in me to write, and it has my heart forever and ever. i hope you all can find some enjoyment in it and it doesn’t suck too bad - shoutout to red @hurricanejjareau eau for inspiring me to write this, sticking with me as I teased her for months about this, and the gif credit (i didn’t ask this time because i wanted to surprise you with posting this in the middle of the day so i hope you don’t mind tehehehe)

It was the middle of winter, the grey February sky felt like it would never leave, and the endless melting snow piles were keeping your feet frozen for days. That’s what normally went through your head as you walked to the courthouse; but today you were worried about the grey clouds looming over your ADA’s head, and the uncertain future ahead of him.

You were having a hard time keeping up with Liv as she practically ran up the steps of One Hogan Place, splashing through every puddle without another glance. You followed her in and up the two flights of stairs, yelling out that the trial was in part thirteen. 

By the time you got to the third floor, the hallway was void of any press that you assumed would be there. The two of you were running late, coming straight from a crime scene. You knew that they would break for lunch soon, but Liv insisted on going to support Barba. 

You approached the grand oak doors to the courtroom, Liv trying her best to open them without a sound. The prosecution had a witness on the stand, and a few heads turned to look at who entered. 

Not wanting to disrupt the flow of the trial, the two of you stayed standing in the back of the courtroom, listening in as the prosecutor finished with the witness, turning to make his way back to the bench. 

That’s when you saw him. And for a split second, you got to look at him without being seen. To take in the presence of the poised attorney without the burning glare of his eyes on you. 

But inevitably, those blue eyes met your own, knocking every thought out of your head that wasn’t Peter Stone. 

In that moment you were twenty five again, standing in front of the Buckingham Fountain in Chicago, making the hardest decision of your young life. Looking at Peter Stone, down on one knee with a ring box propped open, tears in your eyes as you gave him the answer he never expected to hear: no.

The judge was speaking now, drawing your attention back to the courtroom. You hadn’t even noticed Peter’s back was facing you again.

Court would reconvene after lunch, and you took this as an opportunity to clear your head. 

“I’m going to run out and grab us some coffee.” You muttered to Liv before exiting through the oak doors. 

It was your turn to run down the stairs now, not giving a second thought to bumped shoulders or slippery marble steps. You needed fresh air, a deep breath, and caffeine to prepare you for what was about to happen. 

You never thought he’d come back to New York. The Peter Stone you knew wanted to make a name for himself, separate from his father’s shadow. Chicago was his fresh start; one that you couldn’t be a part of.

New York was your home. You lived in the city your whole life, meeting Peter when you moved a block away from him your freshman year of high school. You stumbled into him on your way to the subway; your school uniforms matched, creating a quick conversation that bled into a beautiful friendship as you continued to spend mornings, then afternoons, and entire weekends together.

By the end of that school year, you considered Peter Stone one of your best friends. The two of you spent weekends riding the subway through the boroughs, accompanying each other to Mets games, and after some time, confiding in each other when life got to be too much to handle on your own. 

You felt comfortable around each other, and that friendship laid the groundwork for a relationship between the two of you your senior year of high school. 

It happened on a random Tuesday night, walking back from an ice cream run when things shifted. Peter stopped in front of a vendor selling half price flowers, buying the last bouquet of purple tulips they had. He made an offhand comment about how they were your favorite, handing them to you with a shy smile on his face. And before you let the feelings you had for him dissipate, you pushed up on your tiptoes, placed a chaste kiss on his cheek, and reached for his hand.

And for eight years, you two continued to be each other’s person. Supporting, uplifting, and loving one another, even from eight hundred miles apart. 

But even an eleven year partnership can crumble under the toughest circumstances.

“Detective!” You looked back to the coffee cart, grabbing the drinks for you and Liv before heading back up the marble steps. 

Liv came into your line of vision, standing next to a pillar and gesturing flagrantly with her arms. As you stepped closer you saw she was engaged in a conversation with Peter Stone.

More accurately, she was engaged in an argument with Peter Stone.

You stepped up next to her, listening as she defended Barba with a slight shake in her voice. 

“I’m talking about a decent man who did a decent thing.” She finished, looking over at you just long enough to take the coffee from your hand. You clocked the pooling tears in her eyes, and the way she swallowed around the lump in her throat. Barba meant more to her than you could ever know.

“Lieutenant, let’s head back inside,” you started, wanting to get her out of this situation without causing anyone any harm. You motioned to the doors of the courthouse, not daring a glance at Peter as she shifted her weight, getting ready to walk away.

But he was saying your name, in a softer voice than he used with Liv, and you slowly met his gaze.

You hadn’t seen him in person in seven years. His hair was a little darker now, dirty blonde roots kept shorter on the sides and styled to perfection; if he was going to be a cocky prosecutor he had to look the part.

A small part of you wanted to smile at him, wrap your arms around him, and make a joke about how long it’s been since the Mets have had a decent starting pitcher. Yeah, a small part of you wishes you could be with Peter, your best friend, one more time in the city.

But the larger part of you knew that wasn’t a possibility anymore; that that relationship was severed seven years ago, along with that girl you used to be. 

“Do you two know each other?” Liv asks, breaking you from your spiraling thoughts. 

You look at her, then quickly back to Peter, not knowing how to answer her question. You see his jaw clench the slightest bit, before he speaks up again. 

“We used to. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to grab a coffee before we reconvene.”

Liv watched him walk down the steps as you kept your gaze on the wall in front of you. You felt her eyes move from him to you, ignoring her as you led the walk back inside.

She was silent as you two waited for the elevator this time, presumably trying to figure out how in the world this situation could have gotten any stranger. She looked over at you once more as the doors closed and you pressed the button for the third floor. 

“So,” she started, knowing she was going to ask again. “How do you know Peter Stone?”

You surprised yourself with the scoff that escaped your lips. Your lives had been intertwined for more than a decade, until it all came crashing down. It would be easier to explain how you didn’t know him. 

“He proposed to me seven years ago.” You looked over at your Lieutenant after a few more seconds in silence, her eyes widened in shock. “Maybe I’ll enlighten you once this is all over.”

****

Only a few days after Barba was found not guilty, Peter Stone was appointed the new ADA for SVU. You were shocked, not only that he was offered the position, but that he accepted. Working for one of his father’s oldest friends and bosses, in the same building Ben Stone had become a legend, was never what Peter wanted for himself.

But that was the old Peter. You didn’t know this new one.

Liv had pulled you in first when she got the news. After your confession at the courthouse, she wanted to have a conversation with you to make sure you were comfortable with the decision, and that it wouldn’t affect your work. 

She didn’t ask for any more information on the subject, which you were grateful for. It was a messy sequence of events that not even you and Peter could fully comprehend at the time. 

You did however let the rest of the squad know your history with Stone. After an awkward, and rather uncomfortable experience during your first interrogation together, you knew you had to come clean. It wasn’t fair to their work environment, and you told them you would try to work on the professional nature of the relationship. 

It had been two weeks since he came aboard, and he was about to get his hands on his first messy special victims case. And to make matters worse, it was Sonny’s niece. 

After getting her disclosure in the station, Peter joined you and Liv outside of interrogation to discuss logistics. 

“Another male student spent the night in her room? Don’t you think that’s something she should have mentioned?”

“That doesn’t mean she wasn’t assaulted,” you replied, your tone coming across sharper than you meant it to. He held your stare, his face impossible to read. It always was.

“It’s not uncommon for a victim to leave out part of her story,” Liv interrupted, trying to get to the bottom of this. “She was probably embarrassed. Listen, college age assaults are rarely a clean narrative. There can be alcohol involved, the victim can feel conflicted, there’s self blame. It’s complicated.”

He sighed. “Okay. I’ll follow your lead. You’ll follow up with Mia?”

“Yes. The RA too.” Liv confirmed. 

“Listen, we get it. You need a case you can prosecute. SVU isn’t the same as trying homicides. But I believe her, we all believe her. She needs you to be on her side too.” You explained. 

“I am. But I also need a case that won’t bounce on a motion to dismiss.” You scoffed while crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Understood, Counselor.” Liv ended the conversation, giving a nod to the two of you before going back in to talk to the kid.

Liv left the two of you in the hallway, eyes trained on the one way mirror to avoid looking at one another. You hadn’t directly spoken in the weeks that he’d been settling in here. It wasn’t out of spite, at least not on your end. You were thrown back into each other’s lives without any notice, and you needed a minute to gather your thoughts before talking to the man who was once your entire world.

“Do you need anything else, other than confirmed statements from the RA and Mia?” You asked, turning to look at Peter. 

“No. That should be it for the case.” He started, stepping back from the glass. “But I think we would both benefit from having our own conversation about,” He motioned between the two of you, and let out a sigh. “This situation.”

“I agree with you. But, now isn’t the best time.” You looked out into the squadroom, Rollins, Carisi, and Fin seated around the round table, trying to find something else to help Mia. “Sonny, and Mia, really need us to focus on this case.”

He nodded, while sticking his hands in his pockets. “Alright. Then I’ll talk to you later, Detective.”

You watched as he walked out through the squadroom, giving a nod to the rest of the squad at the table. You followed out a few seconds later, heading straight to the breakroom to pour a cup of coffee.

“Everything alright?” Rollins asked, and grabbed her own mug. “Looked a little tense in there.”

“Amanda, why don’t you ask me what you really want to ask me?” You knew Rollins had been itching to get the details about you and Peter since the moment you told her there was history. You understood the intrigue; you’d been dying to ask Liv about her and Barba after you witnessed their charged goodbye from a distance. 

“So you and Stone,” she started, and you let out a shallow laugh. “What happened between the two of you?”

You took a minute to formulate a response. It was confusing, the way your relationship with Peter had progressed from teenagers to young adults. He was the only constant in your life, and then, he was gone.

“We’ve been in each other’s lives since we were fourteen.”

“Fourteen? Wow. I don’t think I’ve kept a friendship, never mind a relationship, with anyone for nearly twenty years.”

“Well, we were friends first, for a long time. Believe it or not, he wasn’t always this confident and cocky,” you said with a smile. “We spent a lot of time learning about each other. We built a strong friendship that just naturally formed into partners and a relationship. But we didn’t stay those kids forever; we wanted different things, and we wanted to be selfish. Me a little more so than him.”

“That’s what your twenties are for, though. And if he couldn’t handle that, that’s his loss.”

“It was mine, actually.” Her eyes widened the slightest bit. “I didn’t want to figure things out, I didn’t want to compromise. I was afraid. Peter was sure of us, but I just couldn’t meet him there.”

You’d laid it all out for Amanda, and you watched as she took a few seconds to register the information.

“And you haven’t spoken in…”

“Seven years. Felt like I’d lost a part of myself for a while. Felt like my family lost a part of themselves for a while.”

After eight years together, people were bound to get attached. Your parents, your siblings, they were devastated when you told them. And things never really went back to normal.

“So, what happens now?” She questioned, that familiar smirk settling back on her face. “If my ex showed up out of the blue, no matter how much time has passed, I think some feelings might resurface.”

“I thought you didn’t like him,” you interjected, not wanting to answer her question. Because you weren’t too sure how you were feeling about the reunion yourself.

“I don’t. Doesn’t mean I can’t be nosy about your lives, though.”

You took a sip of your coffee, wincing a little at the bitter punch it packed. 

“I’m not really sure,” you started. “Still trying to get used to seeing him walk in here like he owns the place.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll put him in his place for you.” you laughed as she gave your shoulder a squeeze. “And I’ll help you out too, if you need.”

“I know,” she left you in the breakroom, a chance to recover and regroup before focusing on helping another friend. 

When everything first happened, you never thought you’d be able to get to a place where you could use a nonchalant tone describing your relationship with Peter. The time you spent together was too important, too consuming to mention in a brief conversation. But with distance, and time, it got easier, narrowing the story down to a few short sentences. 

It still hurt, and it would continue to hurt every time you told it. At least now, the pain only lasted for those few short sentences.

****

Two weeks later, once Mia’s trial was over, you found yourself walking down the hall to Peter’s office. It was a grueling trial for everyone involved, especially Carisi. You knew the guilt he carried for lying, and causing his niece more pain, but she got justice. And you would remind him of that for as long as he needed.

You expected to see Carmen at her desk as you rounded the corner, but instead you were greeted with an empty desk. The blinds were drawn in the office, but you could see an orange light peeking through the wooden slats. 

You took a breath, working up the courage to knock. Things were still tense between him and the squad, but you were hoping that after this case, after he got justice for Mia, things could start to settle. 

You gave three strong knocks, and got a ‘come in’ in response. When you opened the door, you were met with a shirtless Peter Stone, his toned torso on full display. 

That’s certainly something you haven’t seen in a while.

“Oh, sorry,” you muttered out and quickly turned around, hoping your cheeks weren’t as red as 

they felt. 

“It’s fine, I told you to come in.” You locked your eyes on the door until he told you he was decent. When you turned back around, you took in his casual appearance; a sweater and jeans replaced the sharp suit he had on earlier in the day. “Did you need something?”

“I just wanted to thank you for not ripping Carisi’s head off after what happened when he testified. He really cares about his family, and sometimes it can get messy.”

“Well, what good would he be to anyone without a head.” He quipped, a small smile etched on his face. You forgot how infectious his grin could be, as you felt your own lips turn into a smile.

Your eyes followed Peter around his office, as he put away files, fastened his watch back on his wrist, and pushed his chair in behind his desk. He was already settled in here, comfortable in this space and his job. One that you were tangled into.

“Is there something else on your mind?” He asked, as you continued to dig your toe into the carpet, your anxious ticks giving you away.

“I figured we could finally talk about this working together situation,” you started, suddenly feeling extremely nervous in front of him. “Unless you have somewhere to be.”

“No, now’s a good time.” He motioned for you to take a seat at the round table, and he joined you on your right. 

For the first time in your life, you felt unsteady around Peter Stone. There was a time when he was the only person you wanted to talk to, the only person you felt truly yourself around. But now, you didn’t know the man sitting three feet away from you.

All because you said no.

“I want you to know that I didn’t intend on coming back to New York to take this job. If I knew you were here before Jack asked me to take Barba’s case, I wouldn’t have accepted.”

“You shouldn’t be worrying about me when deciding to accept a job,” you said.

“I know. But, I want you to know that I didn’t come back home to seek you out, or open up what happened in the past. I just came home to bury my father, settle his things, and get back to Chicago.”

You went to Ben’s funeral, stood at the back of the church and listened as Jack McCoy delivered a touching eulogy. You didn’t even know Peter was there until Rafael told you he spotted him in the second pew. 

You had a front row seat to the complicated relationship between father and son, so you wouldn’t be surprised if Peter didn’t show.

“I’m sorry about Ben’s passing, Peter. I sent flowers for the last address I had for you, but clearly, you never got them.” He let out a little laugh. “I would’ve told you so at the funeral, but I didn’t know if you were there.”

“I didn’t know you were there either. I’m surprised that you went, you didn’t have to go.”

“Of course I went,” you started, your voice steadier now. “It doesn’t matter what happened between us, he was a decent man. And he,” you paused. 

‘He gave me you,’ is what you wanted to say. 

“He was your father.”

You opened the door to the past now, and both of you realized it. But the only way you were going to get through this awkward stage was talking about it.

“I don’t want things to be uncomfortable between us. I want us to be able to coexist, at least in a professional capacity, so that we don’t need a buffer every time we’re working on a case together. Now, with that being said,” he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “You should probably use the quiet of my office right now to get out any anger you have towards me.”

“Peter, I’m not angry with you. At least not for the reasons you think. I am mad that you prosecuted one of my friends and colleagues, but I understand why you did it. If anyone should be frustrated it’s you.” he looked over at you, waiting for you to continue. “I left you standing in the middle of Chicago without so much as a goodbye. You deserved an explanation, but I acted like a coward.”

“You weren’t a coward.” He said, and let out a sigh. “We were just kids back then. We had no idea what we were doing. You aren’t the only one to blame for the way things ended.”

“But I’m the one who turned down the man on one knee.” 

You saw the twitch in his jaw as he settled against the back of his chair. The two of you never spoke about the proposal after it happened. You really did leave Peter standing in front of Lake Michigan, repeatedly telling him you couldn’t say yes, until you just walked away. You turned your back on the best person you ever knew, because you were afraid.

You’ve rationalized your decision to say no so many times; you were too young, you were starting your careers in different cities, and you felt like the two of you were in completely different headspaces. And in the moment where you should’ve felt the closest to him, you felt like you were completely alone.

“I wish I hadn’t walked away like that.” you started, meeting his gaze. “You were my best friend, Peter. Eleven years we knew each other, and I turned my back on you like that.” you snapped your fingers, and tried to swallow the lump in your throat. “Even though our relationship ended that day, our friendship didn’t have to. And I’m sorry that I took that away from you.”

Neither of you moved for a few seconds; It’s not everyday you have a conversation about your almost proposal with your ex. So you just watched him, with a hazy gaze, and waited for him to acknowledge what you said. 

“But I’ll make you the same offer; you can capitalize on the privacy and get your anger out on me for leaving right now.”

“I’m not mad at you. I was upset, and confused for a few months, but I worked through it.” He ran a hand through his slightly fussed hair as he collected his thoughts. “I accepted why you left the way that you did. But more than anything, I missed my friend. And now, I wish we didn’t feel like strangers around each other.” 

“Me either.” 

Before either of you could break another silence, the office phone started to ring. Carmen wasn’t here to intercept the call, going directly to the source. 

“Do you need to get that?” You asked, as he made no movement to stand up from his seat. 

“They’ll leave a message if it’s important. I’m technically off the clock,” he referenced his casual clothing, and you smiled in return. 

“I know that we’ve been through a lot together, and apart, but if we’re going to be working together, and existing in the same city, I would like to try to be friends again.” You offered up.

“I don’t think we ever stopped being friends. We know too much about each other.”

“Like how you broke your wrist while riding down the handrail in the subway,” you rattled off, your heart racing the slightest bit after falling back into step with him. 

But then you heard him laugh. Not as easy and carefree as it used to be, but it was still Peter.

“Hey, at least I didn’t trip over my own two feet and sprain an ankle in a soccer game,”

“I was tripped!” You exclaimed, stubborn and defensive as ever. “The only yellow card I ever got. That ref deserved my outburst, cause that girl tripped me.”

“Whatever you say,” he said in a teasing tone, and you lightly shoved his shoulder. 

“You know I’m right,” you murmured back, catching the smallest smile on his face. 

It felt… okay again between the two of you. Nothing was going to change overnight, or even after one conversation, but it was a start. It was fixing the foundation to an old friendship.

****

Over the course of the next two months, Peter started to acclimate to working for the special victims unit. Sonny began gravitating towards him, the new ADA wasn’t grilling him about being a wanna-be lawyer like Barba used to. Fin and Liv warmed up to him little by little as well, seeing him earn his stripes in action. Rollins, on the other hand, still wasn’t ready to support him one hundred percent yet. And selfishly, you were glad she didn’t roll over. He needed to continue to prove himself if he’s going to make a difference here.

The two of you were getting along as well as most casual coworkers do. You talked through the cases, sat in on trial preps, and ran some interrogations together. There weren’t any more uncomfortable encounters or frustrated conversations. All the personal stuff was squared away, so you could focus on the important tasks at hand.

He continued to let Liv guide him through cases, reminding him that it’s about the victims more than it is the defendant, and that we’re not going to win them all. 

But there were still moments, like this trafficking case, that Peter refused to bend his black or white perception of the law for. 

“You’re serious.” He deadpanned, not amused by this meeting.

You and Amanda had found a discrepancy in Miguel Lopez’s testimony. He admitted to burning Lourdes in the apartment, but she never told him to say that. It was something his guilty conscience admitted to, giving too much of the truth away. 

“Yes, I’m serious.” Liv responded.

Peter and Liv had been at each other’s throats throughout the investigation. Liv, and everyone in the squad, believed Lourdes was raped by Miguel. With all of your combined years in SVU, you knew when a victim was lying and telling the truth. Peter, keeping the law close to his chest, couldn’t accept the allegations without any evidence. 

“It won’t hold up in court.” He muttered back, as you gripped the edges of the table even tighter, knowing Liv wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Miguel Lopez raped and tortured Lourdes. She’s not mistaken. His confession to her, his confession to me, was real.”

“It’s not on tape.”

“I was there. I heard it!” Liv exclaimed. “This is my word!”

“You are not thinking clearly,” 

“Peter.” you interjected, voice firm, and you caught his gaze for a second. But he continued.

“You are choosing to believe what you want to believe.”

“Peter!” It was your turn to shout, everyone growing silent as you walked past him, a “let’s go,” leaving your lips as you led the way to interrogation one. 

You heard his feet scuffing the linoleum floor the entire walk, like a child who didn’t get the toy they wanted at the store. Once the two of you were in there, you shut the door and prepared to lay into him. 

“What is the matter with you?”

“What’s the matter with me? All of you are convinced that Lourdes was trafficked and raped by Miguel Lopez, yet there is absolutely no physical evidence that proves your claim.”

“You don’t believe Liv? You don’t believe that what she witnessed for four hours wasn’t true?” You questioned, not willing to believe that Peter saw through this girl.

“I think something did happen to her,” he started. “But we don’t know if it was Miguel. And even if it was, that doesn’t entitle her to seek revenge.”

“But it does entitle her to claim what was once hers.” You crossed your arms over your chest, willing yourself to hold your ground against him. “And if revenge is part of that, then… then so be it.”

You saw the twitch in his jaw, and the way his eyes fell the slightest bit. 

“You don’t believe that.” He said, his tone soft, and filled with disbelief. He didn’t know the woman standing in front of him anymore.

“I do.” He shook his head, not willing to believe it. “Peter, you’ve only been here a few months. This has been my reality for five years. Listening to hundreds of victims tell their stories, their fears, how their lives were changed forever because of one awful moment. I’ve watched victims take the stand and look their abuser in the eye, and I’ve watched victims cower away in absolute terror. And on rare occasions, I’ve seen them take matters into their own hands. And I support whatever they need to do in order to take back their lives, even what Lourdes did to Miguel.”

“And the man that died? The man she killed along the way?” His voice was so cold, so completely detached from the complex situation in front of him. 

“I don’t support blind rage and murder, if that’s what you’re asking me. That man shouldn’t have died at Lourdes’ hand. But he was involved in trafficking, raping, and torturing women. So, I’d say justice was served in the end. And before you say it’s a jury’s job to bring justice, look me in the eye and tell me that you’d rather have them both go free than have been killed in a fit of justified rage.” He bowed his head, knowing he didn’t want them to go free, knowing that you would win this discussion. “The law isn’t black and white, as much as you wish it could be. It’s complicated, and unfair, and most of the time, doesn’t do as much as we want it to. So, I’m going to take a win when I can.”

He nodded, but before he could respond, his phone started to ring. He greeted Fin on the other end of the line, and you watched his jaw tense right back up. His hand was curled into a fist, slowly beginning to flex it open and shut. His tells hadn’t changed in ten years.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, as he ended the call. He walked across the room and opened the door, pausing in the doorway for a second.

“They took Pam.”

The next thirty minutes were a whirlwind. You and Amanda tried to track any and every member from the cartel to New York and the facility Pam was staying at while Liv and Peter tracked down Miguel and brought him in for interrogation. They only took fifteen minutes to break him, and the four of you were off to the warehouse they were keeping Pam.

You and Rollins jumped in the backseat, Peter riding shotgun as Liv gunned it on the highway. Peter was silent the entire ride, but sat alert with his back straight, hand clutching the grab handle for dear life. 

When you finally got there Fin, Carisi, and a swarm of patrol cars were waiting for you. Liv threw a vest to Peter, quickly strapping himself in before running through the crowd of people.

You entered the warehouse in single file, finding the trafficked girls locked up in a cage. After letting them go and directing them out with a SWAT member, you resumed running to the action.

Liv and Sonny led the way with Peter behind their backs, as you, Fin and Amanda came close behind. You congregated behind the SWAT shields, and that’s when you finally caught a glimpse of Pam. 

The last time you saw Pam was about four years ago. She was at a facility in the city, and you were still trying to rationalize the decision you made three years prior. Ever since you met Pam, you loved spending time with her. She joked with Peter when you guys were young, and she often ganged up on him with you. Even when she was first put in a facility, and the schizophrenia got worse, she still put a smile on your face.

Years had gone by, but she looked the same; long strawberry blonde hair, gaping eyes, and a youthful face. One that was now filled with horror as Diego held a rifle to her head.

You heard the man in question shouting about guns, and Liv bickering with ESU to let her take control. But all that focus left you as Peter took a step forward, hands raised in the air.

You moved to step with him, but Sonny placed a hand on your shoulder, holding you back. The five of you had created a second line of defense now, waiting to see how this was going to play out.

“Peter!” Pam exclaimed, as he finally stepped out in front of the shields. He was vulnerable, even with a vest, and you tried again to take a step towards him. But Sonny’s grip was firm on your shoulder, and you yielded to the reminder.

“Peter,” she whimpered out, losing hope, and giving in to the fear.

There was more shouting, more demands being made, but your eyes were glued on the two siblings in front of you. 

All of a sudden, Diego loosened his grip on Pam, and she started walking towards you.

“Peter!” She called out, a quarter of the way there, when you saw Diego raise the rifle. Before you could even react, he opened fire on Pam, knocking her to the ground.

Everyone moved in an instant, dozens of rounds being fired, your ears already ringing from the noise. It lasted thirty seconds before Diego slumped into the front seat of his jeep, bullet wounds covering his body.

Your heart was racing as you lowered your gun, checking to make sure you were all okay. 

But then you saw Peter, hovering over Pam’s bloody body, begging her to stay alive. All you could hear were her whimpers, struggling to stay alive, and the strain in Peter’s voice as he yelled for a medic. 

You covered your mouth and turned away from the scene in front of you, as Liv walked over to Peter, laying a hand on his shoulder.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, and tried your hardest to blink away the tears forming in your eyes. But you felt Sonny’s hand find your shoulder again, gently turning you around, so you could let your tears fall in hiding.

-

The following night, you went down to One Hogan Place to check in on Peter. 

He rode back to the city with Liv yesterday, but none of you have seen or heard from him since. On your way out of the precinct tonight, you called Carmen to see if he was in. She said he let her go at lunch, but he didn’t show any signs of leaving with her.

As you approached his door, his shades were drawn, but you could see the flicker of a light on. You didn’t bother knocking before you entered, knowing you would go in no matter the answer.

The door swung open to his office, and you saw Peter Stone sitting on the couch, bottle of whiskey on the coffee table, and his head in his hands. 

You tried to shut the door quietly, but the old office doors let out a high squeak, getting Peter to raise his head. You took a breath as you looked over his appearance: his eyes were red, his face looking worn from the sleep you’re sure he didn’t get. 

But neither of you say anything, not knowing how to approach this conversation. 

As coworkers. As exes. As friends.

So you start simple. You start with the good. 

“The feds rounded up all of Miguel’s associates on both sides of the border.”

“That’s good.” He nodded, his grip on the whiskey glass loosening.

But he can’t look back up at you. He stares at the glass in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. He’s swallowing his emotions, you think to yourself. He’s exerting every ounce of physical strength he has to keep himself grounded and from falling apart. Some things never change.

“Peter, I’m so sorry.” You choke out, trying not to break in front of him. Even with seven years spent apart, you still feel everything he does. You still feel like your lives are tied together.

“All I can remember right now, is when I was nine, playing stick ball with my buddies in the schoolyard, Pam showed up with a bloody lip.” He let out a sigh and swallowed around the lump in his throat. “She said Billy Collier pushed her down the stairs, and I beat the living hell out of him.”

“He always was an asshole,” you added, involuntarily. You quickly apologized, but noticed the smallest shadow of a smile across his face. But it didn’t last, as you watched his fingers circle the rim of his glass, and he locked his eyes on the table once more. 

“I didn’t even hesitate to absolutely destroy the kid that hurt my sister. And now,” he shook his head. “She had a gun pointed at her head, and I just stood there and watched.”

“If you had tried anything, he would’ve killed you too. You talked to her, Peter. You tried to calm her down, to let her know you were there for her.”

He nodded, brushing his hand down his face. He looked exhausted.

“You don’t have to be here, you don’t have to stay.” He said, which in turn only made you move across the room and sit down next to him.

“I’m not going anywhere. Pam was family to me, you were family to me,” you felt a tear escape as you assured him, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Without tearing his gaze from that spot on the table, he reached over with his right hand. You grabbed it without hesitation, as he twined your fingers together, and finally let out a breath.

“There was nothing you could have done, Peter.” He nodded while slowly lifting his head.

“The last thing,” his voice was shaky, and you just wanted him to let go. “The last thing she said was Peter. She hasn’t recognized me in years, and the moment she’s about to die,”

With your free hand, you pulled him into you, letting him cry onto your shoulder for as long as he needed to. You let go of his hand so you could run your fingers through his hair, in an attempt to comfort him. To let him know that he didn’t have to shoulder these emotions and this pain alone. 

Without thinking, you pressed a kiss to the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder. It was the one thing that could get him to calm down, and breathe when you were together. It wasn’t your place anymore, to be comforting and kissing a man that wasn’t yours. 

But he needed the familiarity. He needed to be held by someone who knew him, and cared for him, and saw him the same way his family did. He needed you.

So he held on tighter after that, adjusting himself so that his head was resting against your own. He listened to your heartbeat, sporadic at first, but he listened for seconds, minutes, hours. He doesn’t know how long. All he knows is that eventually, his heartbeat slowed down, and matched the rhythm of your own.

****

“Here are your coffees, Detective.”

“Thank you, have a good one.” You left a dollar in the tip jar before grabbing the coffees, smiling at the barista before walking out of the cafe.

Carisi was waiting for you out on the sidewalk, thanking you as you handed him his second dose of caffeine for the day. 

“You’re welcome.” You started the walk back to the precinct, taking advantage of the warm September weather before the air turned brisk. “Now, why did you rush me out of the precinct twenty minutes ago as soon as Stone stepped in for interrogation?” 

Sonny let out a sigh before taking a sip of his coffee. Three years spent partnered together and working across a desk from one another, you got to know each other well.

“Have you talked to Stone at all about Pam?” he started, glancing over at you to make sure it was okay to continue. “I mean, I know you’ve spoken about work, and cases, but you guys were close once, and I wanted to make sure he’s checking in with someone who can really understand him.”

It’s been two months since Pam died, and Peter hasn’t talked to you about it since that night in his office. You sat with him for almost two hours, holding onto each other until he felt strong enough to let go.

You tried to bring it up since then, but you were always shut down with a poor excuse.  He needed to prep for a trial, he was meeting with Jack McCoy, or he was just too tired to talk about  it today. Whatever the excuse was, you didn’t push him. He would come to you if he wanted your help.

“No, I haven’t. But I’m not entirely sure I would be his first choice as a confidant.” he nodded. But Carisi’s inquiries only sparked your curiosity. “Why, is there something I should know?”

He ran his fingers through his hair, debating if he should tell you what Peter’s been up to these past few months.

“I don’t think it’s anything serious, but ever since everything happened, he’s been calling me to go out for a drink almost every night. At first, I joined him every time he asked. I knew he needed a friend, and I wanted to support him in any way I could. But after a few weeks, the calls didn’t subside, and neither did the drinks. Before everything happened, and I would meet him at Forlini’s, it would be strictly beer before a trial. Now he goes straight for the 60 proof whiskey, averaging half a bottle a night.”

“Still? Maybe he’s tapered off,”

“No, I still check in on him, once or twice a week. Same routine. But it was a few weeks ago, God I probably shouldn’t even tell you this,” He started rambling, but you tugged on his arm to get him to stop.

“Just spit it out, Carisi.”

“You and Rollins were at Rikers talking Caputo into testifying, but that was the first day of the trial. We were ten minutes out from opening testimonies and no one had seen or heard from him. I stopped by his apartment, flashed the badge to get up since he wasn’t answering any of our calls, and I was met with a pretty drained Peter Stone at the door. He begged me to wait in the lobby, said he just needed a few minutes for the ibuprofen to kick in. As he shut the door on me, I saw two other women in the apartment with him.”

Your movements stalled for a second, completely forgetting you were in the middle of a sidewalk in New York City. 

“Women? As in, plural?” You asked, too caught up on that piece of information to care if you came off as the nosy ex.

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but it seems out of his behavior.” He said with a sheepish look on his face.

“Well, I wouldn’t know, seeing as it’s been seven years since he’s shared anything with me. You seem to be the closest friend he has, so if you think that’s out of behavior for him, then I trust you.”

“It is.” You nodded, and followed along as Carisi started walking again. “I’m just worried about him. And I know you are too, even if things are different between the two of you now.”

“I am. Thank you, Sonny. You’re a good friend, to both of us.” 

The short walk back to the precinct was quiet after that, as you tried to plan what you would say to Peter once you got the chance.

When the two of you got back, the squadroom was empty, Rollins and Liv watching the interrogation in her office.

“Did you guys pick someone up for the Ferncroft kidnapping?” Sonny asked as the two of you settled in with the others. Fin was leading the interrogation, Peter sitting patiently across from the suspect. 

“Yeah, this is Monica Strauss. She nannied for the family up until a few months ago, and we found her brother’s DNA on site. Trying to see if she will give us anything on him.”

“Do you think she did it?” You asked, watching as Peter stood up from his seat.

“No, I think she was just a stepping stone to get to the Ferncroft’s.” Liv added. You watched for the next few minutes as Fin and Peter danced around the table, pressing into Monica.

Until something finally cracked. 

Peter slammed his hands down on the table, causing Monica, and most of you on this side of the glass to flinch. 

“Your brother’s DNA is all over that apartment! If you want to protect him, if you want to be a half decent sibling to him, you will tell us where he is right now. If you don’t, I’ll charge him with kidnapping, and be sure to let him know you wouldn’t do anything to help him.”

“Get him out of there,” you said at the same time Liv started knocking on the glass. You watched as Fin exited first, Peter still leaning on the table. 

“How does it feel, knowing you were so close to saving your brother, but couldn’t?”

Liv banged on the glass harder after his admission, waiting for him at the door connecting the two rooms. 

“I had her. She was gonna give him up.”

“You’re not a detective, Counselor. You crossed a line in there.” Liv said as he crossed his arms over his chest, resembling an upset child.

“Because all of you play by the rules 24/7, right?” 

You looked over at Liv, a mix of disgust and empathy covering her face. You were ready for her to rip him a new one, right in front of the whole squad. Instead, her eyes met your own, asking you for any help in this situation; one that was clearly more than just this case. 

“Give us the room?” You asked, and your Lieutenant nodded, leading the charge out of her office as her comrades followed behind her.

As the door closed to her office, you caught the scoff that left Peter’s mouth.

“Are you going to give me a lecture on interrogation etiquette now? Explain to me how things  work in SVU, because I’m so incapable of doing anything right?”

“No, that’s not my job.” You watched as he leaned against the mirror. You could see Monica being taken back into holding by Fin. “How are you holding up, Peter?”

He tucked his chin to his chest, not bothering to hide the morose laugh he let out. “I’m fine. There’s nothing to be held up on. Pam’s dead, I’m alive. No point in dwelling on the past.”

“So an outburst about sibling obligation has nothing to do with Pam? Just a coincidence?” 

“There’s nothing deeper to unpack here. My sister died. I buried her, I settled her affairs, and I came back to work. Nothing spectacular for you to try and fix.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, Peter.”

He pushed off the wall, walking toward you now. “What, what is this act you're pulling on me now? All this pity, this misplaced guilt and grief, are you projecting it on me?”

You rolled your eyes. “You know what, some of us are genuinely worried about you. You watched your sister get shot to death in front of your eyes, so God forbid we try and check in on you once in a while.”

“And I told you I was fine.”

“And your version of fine is drinking half a bottle of whiskey then bringing home some girls for a night you can’t even remember seven nights a week?”

The sentence spilled out of you before you even realized what you were saying. But now it was out there, lingering in the space between the two of you, waiting for one of you to pick it back up. 

It was your turn to cross your arms now, on the defensive, as you waited for him to respond.

“Carisi has a big mouth I see.” He muttered out, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“He was worried about you. I’m worried about you. That’s not you, Peter.”

“How do you know who I am anymore? You left the old me seven years ago.”

You took half a step back, as if the words physically toppled over you.

“I thought we talked through this,” your voice was quieter now, and you felt infinitely smaller. The conversation included you now. “You said you understood why I had to leave.”

“And you believed me?” He exasperated. “I was ready to spend the rest of my life with you, and you just walked away like we were nothing.” He ran a frustrated hand over his face before continuing. “So yeah, this is me now. I go to bars, I bring home women I don’t know, and do the same thing all over again the next day. And when Pam died, and you said that we were like family, things got worse. Or really, this just showed me who I really am.”

“You’re going to blame me for turning down your proposal for the shitty life you’re living now?” You were over being sympathetic now. “Did you ever stop to think why I said no? Why I walked away from you after eleven years by your side?”

“I don’t want to get into this,” he started, trying to change the subject.

“No, you opened the door, let’s have it out.” You gestured into the room, no one else surrounding you. “I walked away from you, and you're still pissed off about it.”

“You left me standing in the middle of Chicago, looking like a fucking idiot. Of course I’m still pissed about it!”

“You’re mad about me ending it, or about your reputation, Peter?” You shook your head. “I spent the last three years of our relationship compromising for you. You wanted to give baseball a real shot, and I supported you, flying out whenever I could to go see your games. And when you got hurt and had to turn in your uniform, I supported your decision to stay in Chicago and go to law school. And again, I flew out whenever you needed me to reassure you that you could do this. I was constantly bending over backwards just to please you.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me any of this?” he asked, his voice matching your level. “You, you told me you wanted to get married. You told me you wanted us to move back to New York, live in a brownstone and have a family. You told me you wanted me.”

You felt tears starting to form in your eyes, knowing how much you broke him. How much pain and doubt you put him through by cutting him off that day in Chicago. 

“I did want you, Peter. But I was scared. You were Peter Stone, you were making a name for yourself in Chicago. Everywhere we went, people knew who you were. I was afraid that one day, you’d look at me, and wonder why the hell you stayed with me for so long when you could’ve had everything and more in Chicago. I was afraid that I was going to lose myself, trying to compete with people in a brand new city. I’d already sacrificed so much for you, hid so many of my fears, my accomplishments, my feelings from you those last few years. And when you got down on one knee, in the middle of the city, I just couldn’t say yes. I couldn’t picture you spending the rest of your life with me.”

He shook his head, quickly bringing his hand up to swipe away a tear that fell. 

“I would have given all of that up for you. I would have done anything for you to believe that.” He picked up his briefcase, letting you know he was done with this conversation. 

“Where are you going? We can’t just leave the conversation like this,” you said, your tone coming off desperate as you watched him open the door. 

“I have to prep a witness. Besides, I’ve waited seven years for this conversation, I think I can wait a little longer.”

“Peter, don’t-” but your sentence was cut off by the slamming of Liv’s door behind him. 

You leaned on the back of the chair, dipping your head as you repressed the sobs creeping up your throat.

You spent the past seven years rationalizing that decision, trying to make yourself believe that everything was okay between the two of you. But you broke both of your hearts that day, and you did it all over again after this conversation.

“Hey, Liv needs us to go check up on a witness. I’ll meet you by the car?” Sonny asked, poking his head into the room.

You straightened, keeping your back turned to him. You sniffled quietly and gently wiped at your eyes. “Yeah I’ll meet you down there in five. Just gonna stop in the bathroom.”

“Okay.” He knocked twice on the door as he left, and you took a moment to take a deep breath.

This conversation was far from over.

**** 

After a few hours of tracking down a witness and convincing them to testify, the sun was already starting to set in the city. Carisi was dying to grab dinner, but you had other plans for your evening. 

He pulled up in front of One Hogan, the normally packed stairs pretty empty after six o’clock. 

“Are you sure he’s even here? He’s had a pretty light case load this week, maybe he called it an early night to catch up on some rest.”

“I know he’s here, Sonny.”

“Is this about what happened earlier?” You looked over at him, his blue eyes widening in sympathy for you. “The walls aren’t soundproof, and you guys weren’t exactly whispering.”

“Yeah, well I wasn’t really planning for an argument when I decided to talk to him.”

He nodded, a small smile creeping across his face. “Fair enough.”

“Thanks for dropping me off. I’ll see you in the morning.” You gently closed the car door, tapping twice on the window before making your way up the courthouse steps. 

You took the elevator up to the eighth floor, wasting no time once you stepped onto the old grey carpet of the DA’s office. You hadn’t prepared what you were going to say, but you didn’t need to. You were still reeling from the argument just a few hours earlier, and you were done tiptoeing around the situation.

As you turned down the hallway, you caught Carmen’s eye at the copy machine.

“Is he in his office?”

“Yes,” She started, as you walked past her and toward his office door. “But Detective, he asked not to be disturbed by any calls or visitors.”

You could see him through the wooden slats trying to cover the windows, reviewing paperwork at his desk. 

“Well it’s a good thing I’m not just any visitor,” you said before opening his door, no knock given for a warning. He looked up from his papers, his face annoyingly stoic upon your entrance.

“You can’t just blame me for ruining your life then walk out of the precinct like a goddamn coward.”

“Mr. Stone,” Carmen came in after you, interrupting any Momentum you were trying to create. “I’m sorry, I tried to tell her you weren’t available.”

 “It’s okay, Carmen. We’re fine, thank you.” She nodded, exiting the office as quick as she entered, slowly closing the door behind her. He looked back at you. “You were saying?”

 “Don’t act all smug and innocent now that we’re on your territory.”

 “Well, what do you want me to say? You want me to apologize? Fine, I’m sorry that you were so miserable in our relationship that you couldn’t tell me about it,”

 “Stop putting words in my mouth!” You exclaimed while running a frustrated hand through your hair. He let out a sigh, gathering himself for a few seconds, before moving to lean against the front of his desk.

 He crossed his arms over his chest, still defensive, as you got ready to speak again.

“I have relived that moment in front of Lake Michigan over, and over, and over again in my head. I’ve gone through every scenario, trying to find the one where I say yes without either one of us feeling like we compromised a part of ourselves to make it work, but there isn’t one. And that truth hurts me just as much as it hurts you.

“I should’ve talked to you about how I was feeling,” you admitted. “When you told me you were going to give baseball a real shot, I was terrified that I would lose you. You were in a new city, living your dream, with guys your age and reputations that could get you anything you ever wanted. I trusted you, I don’t want you to doubt that, but I just couldn’t help but think you would leave me for it. For more independence, more freedom. And every time I thought about telling you, everytime I thought about asking for reassurance, I would see you play. And you belonged on the mound. You would find me after every game, with a smile that was larger than life plastered on your face, and I would forget all about it. I saw how happy you were, and that made it all worth it for me.

“But then you got hurt, you turned the jersey in, and went back out there for law school. And again, I was terrified that you were going to leave me. I was a rookie cop in Brooklyn, working shitty hours almost a thousand miles away. I never doubted that you would become a great lawyer, but your ambition scared me. Because I didn’t know what I wanted other than you. I didn’t need anything else except you.

“I did want to marry you. I wanted to live in a brownstone with you, start a family, all of it. That wasn’t a lie. But doubt and insecurity are powerful and all consuming. And I quickly realized, if I was unhappy with myself now, how was I going to feel about myself in ten years? Twenty, even? I needed to grow without you, I needed to figure out what I wanted as an individual before I could be with you.

“Unfortunately, I couldn’t exactly articulate that feeling to you when you were down on one knee. Hell, I couldn’t even articulate the feeling for myself until months after the fact. I started going to therapy, believe it or not.” 

You looked over at Peter, not being able to hold eye contact through your explanation for longer than five seconds. But his gaze was unwavering, and a small nod from him let you know it was okay to continue. 

“A lot of that inadequacy I felt with you turned into misplaced anger, usually toward you, because you didn’t try to help me. Which took a lot of sessions for me to understand that you weren’t being a narcissist, you just didn’t know.” He let out a small laugh, making you feel a little better about the situation. “There was a lot of stuff that I had to work through on my own, that I should’ve been working on since I was younger, but I had a pretty good friend that kept me happy and loved me long enough for me to ignore it.”

“Yeah, well he had a lot of shit to work through on his own, too.” You smiled, walking over to join him in leaning against his desk. He uncrossed his arms, now lightly gripping the edge of his desk. “I’m sorry for being petty and talking over you. I’ve been told I’m kind of an asshole outside of the courtroom.”

“Who told you that, Liv or Rollins?”

“Both of them.” He said and you couldn’t help but laugh. They were going to make sure he knew his place in the squad. 

The anger you walked in here with quickly dissipated once you got him to listen to you. That was something that never changed, nearly two decades knowing him and he still remained obstinate as ever. 

After a few seconds in silence, you wondered if this is what closure felt like. It felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest, sitting there ever since you saw Peter prosecuting Barba. You felt the grief of your relationship finally lighten up, letting you think about your time together without the failed proposal looming over your head. 

 “Do you remember the first time you kissed me?” you asked, all the confidence you strode in here with had left your voice, now sounding like a shy little girl. “We were outside of the drug store on the corner of our block. It was almost midnight, I have no idea why we went there-”

“We were looking for rainbow sprinkles,” he interrupted. You looked over at him, shocked that he would remember such a small detail. “We were making ice cream sundaes, and we only had chocolate jimmies at my house. You were insistent on having rainbow sprinkles on top of your sundae, so we ran down the street before the store closed. We got the last tub, and when we walked out of there, you had the biggest smile on your face. You were standing under a monstrosity of a streetlight, the yellow light showcasing your fuzzy pajama pants and slippers, and I thought you were beautiful. So I kissed you, and prayed that you felt the same way, even though I had a pretty good feeling that kiss on the cheek you gave me a few days before meant you did.”

He looked over at you once he was done, not even trying to hide the tears that had so clearly formed in your eyes. You forgot about this feeling with Peter. You missed this feeling with Peter.

“I’m sorry that I hurt you.” Your voice only wavered the slightest bit.

“I know. I’m sorry too.”

A single tear traced your cheek, giving you a chance to look away from him. A few more fell as you wiped them away, giving you a few seconds to spin the conversation to keep you from crying any more.

“I know you didn’t want to talk about it earlier, and I’m not going to force you to now, but I want you to know I’m here for you. What happened to Pam, it’s not a normal grieving process. I know you said you’ve changed, and you can deal with it any way you want. But I’m the only one left that knew her the way you did. And maybe talking about it, and remembering how much you loved each other could help.”

He nodded, his jaw clenching once again to remain neutral. 

“Maybe,” That was a start.

You sat there for another minute, enjoying the amicable silence as long as you could before you had to go.

“I should probably head out. If I leave now, I can probably catch Rollins and Carisi before they’ve ordered anything for dinner.” Pushing off his desk, you grabbed your sweater and phone that you must have thrown onto the chair in your fit of rage. You didn’t remember any of that. “Thank you for listening. I’m glad we could talk through everything, finally.”

“Me too. I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

You nodded. “Tomorrow, bright and early.”

You made your way to the door, but pulled your hand off the handle when you heard your name. 

“Rollins and Carisi,” Peter started. “Are they together?”

You smiled. “They should be. They’re both a little too blind to see though. Maybe you could work on Carisi during your weekly drinks together.”

Teasing each other like you didn’t just talk through your seven year relationship. I guess closure really can work. 

He gave you a smirk in return. “Maybe.”

****

“Carisi, I’m only coming to this stupid thing because you said you’d buy me a real dinner afterward.” You muttered out as you held the hem of your dress in your hand and started walking up the grand stairs.

“Listen, we just gotta stay for an hour, two tops, so I can talk to some of the Brooklyn DAs. Then I promise I’ll buy you a milkshake and fries.” He extended his left arm out to you, and linked them together. 

“What about a burger?”

“Your dinner order is going to cost more than these tickets,” he said and you let out a laugh.

“Well this was a perfect opportunity to ask Rollins out on a date, and you whiffed. So, now you pay the price.”

You didn’t miss the way his cheeks turned rosy red as you made it to the entrance of the gala.

“For your information, I was going to ask her. Then she mentioned it was Jesse’s dance recital, and I couldn’t ask after that. Besides, our first date shouldn’t be a work event.”

The two of you went through the metal detectors, Carisi showing your tickets before entering the main ballroom. 

You looked over at him in his gray tux, hair perfectly styled, and the comforting smile resting on his face that just made him Sonny Carisi. And you were happy he was finally going to take control of his life. 

“She’s going to say yes,” you started as he grabbed two champagne flutes off a passing tray. “No matter when you ask her, no matter the occasion, she’s going to say yes to you.” 

“I hope so.” He said with a shy smile, as he led the way to the first suits of the night.

When you were little, you always dreamt of going to an event like this. Dressing up in a fancy gown, heels so high they made your feet scream, hair and make up done like you were a movie star, and dancing and laughing the night away. 

The Gala for the District Attorneys of the Five Boroughs was not what you dreamt of. You had the pretty dress from Nordstrom Rack, little block heels from TjMaxx, and your normal makeup routine matched with a bolder lip and simple hair. There was no one to impress here; the DAs office was a place you tried to steer clear of.

You’d been here an hour, and Carisi had already introduced you to six different DAs from the Brooklyn office. He was a natural with them all, anyone that got a chance to talk to Sonny Carisi always loved him. They talked about recent SVU cases, upcoming Brooklyn cases, and some new Supreme Court rulings. Honestly, the conversations were what you imagined law school lectures sounded like. 

After the third introduction, you started to zone out after learning their names. You listened for keywords, made appropriate gestures to seem like you were listening intently, and chimed in if Carisi prompted you to. Most of the time, you sipped your champagne, scanned the room every few minutes, and rolled your sore ankles for some relief. 

You tuned back into this conversation as Carisi started his farewells, adding a goodbye and nice to meet you before he led the way to a free hightop to lean against. 

“I don’t know how you can have the same conversations with these people that lack so much personality. I feel like my brain is going to rot in here.”

“Well if I’m going to break into any of the DAs offices, I need to do some ass kissing.”

It had been two years since he passed the Bar exam, but he gave no intentions of moving outside of the squadroom to the courtroom until now. Realistically, you knew this day was coming. But even two years later, you still weren’t ready for the change. 

“You’re really going through with this?”

“Well I can’t just sit on law school loans and a degree and not use it,” he started, his face slowly changing after looking at you. “What’s going on in that tired head?”

“Nothing,” you sighed. “I’m just gonna miss you. Almost four years we spent pissing each other off during stakeouts and memorizing coffee orders. It's gonna be hard to replace you as a partner.”

He smiled, reaching over the table to give your hand a squeeze. “I know. I’m gonna miss you too. Especially the little paper balls you throw onto my desk every afternoon.” You laughed as he pulled his hand back. “But I’m just changing jobs. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“And I’ll see you when you come to pick up Rollins from the station for date nights,” you teased and he rolled his eyes. 

He grabbed another two champagne flutes from the bar, handing one bubbly glass to you.

“Hey, Stone’s here.” Your eyes widened as Sonny waved him over, standing out of your line of sight. “I didn’t think he was the gala type.”

“He isn’t.” You murmured out before Peter stepped up to your hightop.

He was in his classic black suit without a tie, not wasting any time getting changed for an event he probably didn’t even want to be at.

“Hey guys.”

“Hey. I didn’t think you’d be one to attend a work sanctioned event.” Carisi said, getting a small smile out of you.

“Well you think right. Jack McCoy thought it would be good if I dropped by for a little while, mingled with some of my colleagues.”

“And how’s that going?” You asked.

“Awfully mundane.” He answered with a smile. “What about you guys? Two cops at a lawyer ego fest? Nothing better to do on a Wednesday night?”

“I’m trying to get my name out there, make some connections with DAs throughout the boroughs. And my partner here agreed to tag along.”

“He bribed me with fries and a milkshake.” You clarified.

“Of course he did. Cookie dough from the Bryer’s family stand?”

“Obviously.” 

Carisi looked at the two of you, quickly falling into place even after years apart. Even though he didn’t witness the years you two were together, moments like these would come along, and he could only imagine how happy the two of you must have been.

“I just saw the Manhattan DA by the bar,” Carisi interrupted, drawing your attention back to him. “I guess you can sit this one out, five conversations later I think I have it down.”

“Are you sure?” You asked. “I’m sure the sixth person I’ve met tonight wouldn’t wince after finding out I’m a cop.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure. Keep your wise mouth over here, please.” He joked as he excused himself from the table. 

You and Peter watched him head over to the bar, introducing himself to a brunette woman who you now know is the Manhattan DA. Barely thirty seconds into meeting her and she already has a smile on her face. That’s Sonny Carisi for you.

You looked away from the conversation between the two lawyers, about to ask Peter about the case you guys were currently working on, but he was already looking at you.

“What?” You asked defensively, tucking a piece of hair behind your ears and quickly glancing down at your outfit. “Do I look like an idiot? I’m trying to blend in with the white collar crowd,” 

You pinched the fabric of your dress and let it flow, gesturing to the elegant piece of clothing you bought just for this occasion.

“No, you look fine.” His eyes softened and looked you over one more time. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” It was only a matter of seconds before your cheeks started to warm. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Well, a suit is very versatile. Works in a courtroom, interrogations, and even galas.”

“Lucky you. I haven’t been in a gown since prom. I should’ve just kept that dress, it would’ve been a statement piece over ten years later.”

“I’m not so sure the purple and yellow swirls would have helped Carisi win over any of the DAs.” Peter commented with a small smile.

But you had forgotten he was your date. You forgot he knew exactly what that hideous dress looked like. You forgot that you two danced the night away. You forgot for a minute that he’s the reason you can’t listen to Coldplay’s yellow. 

You forgot, for the smallest moment, that you had even been together.

And what a scary moment it was.

“Hey,” He ducked his head, his eyes meeting you at your level. “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you shook your head and took a sip of your champagne. “Just remembering that awful, awful dress.”

Before you were thrown off any more in this conversation, Jack McCoy approached your table.

“Counselor,” he rested a hand on Peter’s shoulder, a smile gracing both of their faces. “Glad to see you could make it.”

“Well my boss didn’t really give me a choice. He’s kind of a pain in the ass.” They exchanged a look, and you had to stifle the laugh rising in your throat.

“Jack, I’m sure you remember the Detective,” Peter said, moving the conversation to you. 

Jack shook your hand, and you gave him your best smile. “I believe we’ve crossed paths once or twice. She may have even told me off about prosecuting one Rafael Barba.”

“I would say I’m sorry, but I told him off too.” you pointed to Peter, rolling his eyes. “But we’re all just doing our job.”

“I like her,” Jack said with a smile. “She reminds me a lot of a young baseball player I knew once.”

“Alright, alright. Don’t you have other DA’s to piss off here tonight?” Peter interrupted. 

“I do. It was nice to see you, Detective,” you smiled as he took a step away from the table. “And don’t think you can skip out on the dance floor tonight, Stone.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Peter ended it, Jack giving a slight wave behind his back. 

He turned back to you, his smile never wavering. How was he not nervous around you? 

Ever since he came back from Chicago, you had to think about what you said a little more than normal. Not to mention bury the guilt and anger you still felt.

But he just looked at you like nothing ever happened. Like nothing destroyed the relationship you two once had. Your stomach was in knots anytime you caught a glimpse of him. You couldn’t form a coherent thought around him, your mind kept going back to that one awful day in Chicago, where you changed your lives forever. It was why you were so defensive that first day outside the courthouse, during his first interrogation, really up until Pam’s death, when you knew he needed someone that could understand the grief he was in. 

You wanted to push past it. You wanted to smile like Peter did, be able to reminisce about high school and college without the hurt seeping into your chest. You’d gotten closure, yelled and screamed, insulted and forgave one another, but there was something still holding you back. 

“Hey,” for the second time tonight, Peter lowered himself to your level, giving you that annoyingly charming crooked smile, before asking “are you alright?”

“No,” you answered honestly, and without thinking through an explanation. “Why do you remember the color of my prom dress?”

“What?” He asked, a bit incredulous, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips.

“Why do you remember the color of my prom dress?” you asked again, as if you were asking a simple question as what’s the weather like outside. “How do you remember all of this stuff? Our  first kiss, the fact that I only like rainbow sprinkles, when I sprained my fucking ankle in soccer,”

“Why does any of this matter?” He interrupted, taking a step closer to you.

“Because you talk about these things as if everything was sunshine and rainbows between us, like we lived on fucking cloud nine and drank nothing but champagne and happiness. And that’s, that’s not how it was.”

Your voice was rising, catching the eye of some prominent lawyers, including Sonny and the Manhattan DA. 

You lowered your head, gathering your clutch and slipping your heels back on. “I should go before I embarrass Carisi,”

“Don’t leave, not like this,” Peter grabbed your arm as you tried to walk away from the table, making you pause for a second, before brushing him off. 

“Tell Carisi I’ll see him tomorrow.” Your voice was half an octave lower, eyes straight ahead as you started walking toward the exit.

Peter called out for you once, and then twice, but stopped at the same time you heard some gangly footsteps catching up with you. You halted once you approached the steps, listening as Sonny asked you to wait, and the tears started to fall. 

What a night.

****

“Go home, Rollins. I’ll finish up here, the girls will be excited to see you.”

“Ok. But if anything comes up, call me. I‘ll probably just be sleeping on the couch.”

“Okay,” you said with a laugh. “Liv and I can hold down the fort.”

She packed up her bag and tidied her desk for the night, waving goodbye as she had her nanny on the phone.

You refocused on the paperwork in front of you, sighing at the thick stack waiting to be finished. 

Getting through half the stack was your goal for tonight, and by 7:30, your hand was cramping as you were a few shy of completion. They could wait until tomorrow.

Before you pack up your things and rush out the door, you stop in at your Lieutenant’s office, Liv still chugging away at her own desk. 

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

“Hey Liv, do you need anything before I head out?”

Her head snapped up, and you saw the grimace of pain on her face. The crick in her neck was something you were all too familiar with. 

“No, no, I’m good.” She cracked her knuckles and stretched a little in her chair. “In all honesty I didn’t even know you were still here. Thought you left with Rollins a few hours ago.”

“Wanted to get a head start on paperwork. Besides, she deserved an early night with the girls for once.”

You guys had been busy for weeks, case after case being thrown at you, you barely had time to think about what you were going to eat for dinner. 

“Just trying to catch up, huh? Not avoiding anything?”

“There’s nothing in my life to avoid, unless you count the stack of unopened mail on my counter or the weeks of Say Yes to the Dress episodes in my DVR.”

The knock on Liv’s opened door paused the conversation, as you turned to look at the visitor. 

“Sorry to interrupt,”

This guy is fucking everywhere. 

“You’re not interrupting, Peter. We’re both about to head out, unless you need something from me,” Liv answered.

You focused on the floor, wanting to be anywhere in the world except back in this office with Peter. This place was full of bad mojo for the two of you. 

“No, I actually came to talk to the detective.” He didn’t sound like himself. He sounded cautious, and once you looked back at him, you saw the nerves painted across his face. 

Good. He was finally as terrified as you were to talk. 

“Let me grab my bag, and we can walk out.”

You exchanged goodbye’s with Olivia before quickly, and rather clumsily, knocking your bag into the side of Carisi’s metal desk on the way out. You didn’t even bother packing up your desk; Peter was making you nervous just by watching you in your space. 

“So, what did you want to talk about? Is it the Mendoza case?” You asked as the two of you stepped onto the elevator and he pressed the button for level 1.

“No. I wanted to talk about the other night.”

The gala.

“What’s there to talk about?”

“Am I seriously going to have to pry every piece of information out of you from here on out?” He had an attitude, not putting up with your act of deniability. 

The doors opened to the lobby, and you led the way out to the street. You walked down the sidewalk a little bit before stopping in front of a quieter spot near the cruiser parking lot.

The sun set about half an hour ago, so the only light source you had was the bright yellow lamp post beating down on the two of you. It didn’t matter that he was standing under the fluorescent bulb; Peter was glowing in his white button down and overcoat. 

He always seemed to glow.

“Well you wanted to talk, so get to speaking before I change my mind.”

“Why are you acting like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like none of this matters to you!” he exclaimed, your eyes widening the slightest bit. It was usually you making the most noise. “From the moment you saw me in the courtroom a year ago, you’ve been avoiding me and every conversation about us. It took you weeks just to talk to me about our working situation, never mind our friendship. You keep me at an arm's length, bringing up our past and things we used to do, only to shut it down the minute I reminisce about something we did that made me so fucking happy. I thought we talked through this a month ago, said our peace and moved on. I thought we were comfortable with each other again.”

“We are,” you mustered out.

“Then why can’t you talk to me anymore?” He asked, and you could hear the genuity in his voice. “At the gala, you were the one that brought up the stupid prom dress. We were laughing, having a good time, and it felt like normal, until I said you wore a purple dress. And then you shut down, distanced yourself from me again, leaving me on an island filled with our past, letting me second guess every single moment we shared together. Wondering if you felt the same about the midnight ice cream runs, Sunday subway rides, crying in the back of my dads fucking station wagon when he told me about Pam, ”

He ran a hand through his hair, catching his breath in the process. You barely noticed the tremor as he raised his hand. 

“Did our relationship not mean the same to you?”

For the second time in your life, you felt what could only be described as heartbreak. In the literal, physical meaning, the ache in your chest felt like your heart had split in two. And both times, it was because of Peter Stone. 

“Of course it meant the same to me, Peter. I remember the first day I met you, that stupid lopsided grin you had didn’t leave your face the entire subway ride. You were the only person at school that talked to me, the new girl, for two months.”

You smiled as you began to remember nearly every interaction you shared.

“I remember the first time I met your father and Pam, she wouldn’t stop teasing you about me. I remember the Red Sox vs. Yankees game we went to sophomore year and you had to give me your Mariano Rivera jersey after some drunk guy spilled his beer all over me. I remember tutoring you in Spanish, bribing you with nickels to use at the stupid toy machine at the corner store. I remember your first cell phone number, and the way you ended your voicemail with an ‘okay, that sounded like shit. Oh fuck, i’m still recording!’ and couldn’t figure out how to fix it for weeks. 

“In my apartment, I have the ticket stub from the first Mets game we went to. I pressed one of the purple tulips you gave me a week before we started dating and I keep it in my favorite book. I kept the receipt from our first date, I kept the boarding pass to my first plane ticket to Chicago. In the back of my closet, I still have your Cubs jersey on a hanger.

“I remember being happy with you, Peter. I remember our first kiss so clearly, I remember when you said ‘I love you’ in the library, I remember you teaching me how to slow dance for my cousin’s wedding, I remember our first time and how incredibly safe you made me feel. I remember being loved by you every single day for eight years.”

There were tears in your eyes now as you took a breath, but he never once looked away from you. 

“Every time I see you, all I can think about is you kneeling in front of me as I destroy what we had. And I know I don’t deserve to feel this heartbroken about the situation that I caused, but I do.”

A tear rolled down your cheek, but you didn’t even flinch.

“I’m never going to find something like that again, a love that made me feel seen, even in my worst moments, despite my own shortcomings. I was stubborn, and took too long to understand myself. I realized this all too late, but I’ve accepted it.”

“I don’t blame you,” he finally interrupted, taking the smallest step toward you. You shook your head, the movement causing more tears to fall. He took the last two steps to reach you, grabbing your hands in his own. “And I know, it's going to take a lot more than me telling you that to convince you, but we have to start somewhere. We hurt each other in different ways whether we meant to or not. So, please listen to me when I say I don’t blame you.

“As for finding a relationship like ours again, I don’t think I’ll be able to find something like it, or something that surpasses it, at that rate. And I don’t want to. Because I only want to feel that all consuming love with you.”

“Peter,” you started, clearing your throat and wiping away your tears. “The last thing you want is to go through this again.”

“When are you going to understand that my feelings for you never went away?” He started, and you felt your heart rate quicken. “You were more than just a girl I wanted to marry. You were my best friend. And being without you these last few years has been incredibly lonely.” 

He took a minute to think about what he was going to say next, his brows furrowing and then relaxing a few times to make sure he got it right.

“I want you in my life. As my colleague, as my friend, and my partner. But if you don’t want that, I’m willing to take whatever you’ll give me. But please, please don’t cut me out again.”

It was his eyes that began to fill with tears now, the light catching the blue irises fighting to keep the tears in. Part of you wished he would just let go, stop trying to contain himself and his emotions. 

But you were doing the exact same thing.

“I’m scared we’re going to fail again.” You admitted, and Peter just smiled in return. 

Finally. You were letting him in.

“How do you know it’s going to fail if you don’t even give it a chance?”

You took a deep breath as he rubbed his thumb across your knuckles.

“No one knows me better than you do,”

“And that terrifies you.” He finished, a small smile resting on his face. “It’s terrifying for me too. But it saves me a lot of time not having to learn your birthday or favorite color.”

He got the smallest smile out of you. “I am terrified, and also feel strangely at peace, and I’m still going to be sorry.”

Before you could continue self flagellating, he rested his hand on the side of your face, and gently placed his lips over yours. It was chaste, incredibly sweet as you remembered what he tasted like, and lasted only a few seconds longer than the first one you shared sixteen years ago.

He pulled away slowly, running his thumb across your cheek in the gentlest manner. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, okay?”

You nodded, as he kissed you again, in the same chaste yet heart shattering way. When he pulled away, he was quick to pull you back to him, placing a kiss on your forehead before tucking you under his chin, his arms securely wrapped around your waist.

You tucked yourself into his neck, gently running your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. And, because you could, you placed a kiss to the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder, without feeling embarrassed about it this time.

Because he was yours again. And you weren’t going to let him go this time.

“I love you,” you whispered into his skin, and pressed your lips to the same spot once again.

You felt the curve of his lips as he kissed your head, “I love you too,” murmured into your hair and the empty city block around you.

Or so you thought.

About fifty feet away, standing in the back entrance to the precinct, were Sonny and Amanda, spying on the spectacle between the two of you.

“How do we tell her that we caught a case after this?” Carisi asked, tearing his eyes away from your embrace and down at Amanda.

“The same way you told me. Over a second date dinner before we even got the bread.” She teased, getting him to roll his eyes. 

She reached for his hand as he began to walk away, gently squeezing to let him know she understood the circumstances, and that it didn’t change anything.

The soft smile he gave her in return nearly killed her. 

“Hey Romeo and Juliet!” Rollins shouted, in an attempt to both get your attention and reclaim her strong demeanor. “We got a case, so if you could wrap up the balcony scene, that would be great.”

You flinched the slightest bit when you heard Rollins shout at you, quickly settling back into Peter’s chest as he gently squeezed your sides.

“Busted already. Thought we’d at least have a couple days to figure this out for ourselves.”

You pulled away just far enough so you could look up at him and admire his sparkling blue eyes. 

“We will. But until then, business as usual.” 

“But no self-sabotage or flagellating.” He added. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

You smiled and rose onto your tiptoes to kiss him, starting in the same slow way you always did, enjoying the lazy way your lips moved together. This is what heaven felt like, and you remember now why you never felt anxious in Peter’s presence. 

He started to pull away, but you snuck in a few more small kisses, the smile on his face growing after each one. 

“I’ll call you when I can, okay?” 

He kept his eyes on yours as he took a second before answering, a deep breath in and out, replaced by a beautiful Peter smile. 

“Okay.”

It was hard to explain what happened in that moment he took for himself, but you knew it was for you. To show you he loved, respected, and accepted you for who you were in the past, and who you are now. And it’s all you could ever ask for.

****

tags: @hurricanejjareau @qvid-pro-qvo @duchesschameleon​ @averyhotchner​

[flannels-and-fannypacks]

Will They Won’t They | Part 1/4 [Reggie Peters]

Pairing: Reggie Peters x fem!reader

Words: 7000

Summary: Reggie and reader were the best of friends up until middle school where they drifted apart and decided never to speak to each other again. What happens when a shared algebra class and a resulting detention force them to spend and increasing amount of time together. Will it be enough to overcome the mutual hate? Or was the relationship doomed from the start.

WARNINGS: swears, spicy dancing, ANGST

A/N: Okay this is the first of hopefully many collabs between Drea and I! We’re both so excited to share out very long baby with you and hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed writing it! - mimi <3

A/N (2): hi babes it’s drea taking over HAHAHA to repeat what mimi said, we are SO EXCITED to collab and work together to create this SUPER ANGSTY but also SUPER FLUFFY AND FUN fic! your feedback is highly appreciated! and if you like our writing, please like, comment, and reblog! we’d love to hear what you have to say! sending my love! - drea :)

                        ◤━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◥

The night was young in your eyes. All the lights in the (L/N) household were off, aside from the nightlight in your bedroom. Despite it being nearly eleven at night, you and your best friend, Reggie Peters, were far from tired.

The soft humming from the radio was all that could be heard from your room, along with the occasional giggle from you or joke cracked by Reggie. You laid on your bed next to him, your legs tangled in the bedsheets. As much as you loved sleepovers with your best friend, you had to admit that Reggie’s growth spurt did not help your cramped situation.

“Your elbow is jabbing my ribs,” you grumbled, kicking Reggie towards the edge of your bed.

The boy only shoved you back, a playful smirk on his face. “You’re just jealous I’m taller than you now, Cookie,” he said triumphantly.

“I’m jealous you’re taking up all the space on my bed, dork,” you shot back, kicking hard enough to push him over the edge. Reggie let out a yelp before hitting the ground, groaning upon the impact. You fell into a fit of giggles as you peeked over the edge of your bed to see a pair of narrowed blue-green eyes and a scowl. “Sorry, Flicka,” you squeaked.

Reggie glared at you jokingly, rubbing his elbow in pain. “No you’re not,” he whispered back.

“Yeah, I’m not.”

You swung your legs over the edge of your bed, standing up to reach -well almost- Reggie’s height. You frowned at his arm, gingerly taking it into your hands. The boy winced upon first touch, but relaxed in your grasp. “Does it hurt a lot?” you asked in a concerned voice.

Reggie shrugged his shoulders. “It’s whatever,” he responded nonchalantly, but the pain in his voice was visible.

You raised an eyebrow at your best friend. “You don’t have to pretend to be all strong and tough,” you reminded him.

The taller boy sighed, a pout adorning his lips. “I know,” he murmured. “But we’re starting middle school soon. I should be ‘all strong and tough.’”

Snorting, you shook your head. “Who cares about that nonsense?” you exclaimed in a hushed voice. “We all feel pain, that’s not a bad thing. Besides, it’s just me, Flicka. You don’t need to put up an act.”

Reggie’s lips turned upwards as he looked into your eyes. Everything just felt right at the moment. The smile on your face. The redness in his cheeks. The moonlight reached the window and illuminated the room. It was perfect.

The radio, forgotten by the two of you, started to play a new song. Your song.

“You got a fast car

I want a ticket to anywhere”

Glancing up at Reggie, you could both tell you were thinking the exact same thing.

“Dance with me, Flicka?” you asked, giving his hands a squeeze.

Reggie’s face burned in embarrassment as you moved his hand to your waist. “I’m not any good at this, you know that, Cookie,” he muttered, resting his chin on top of your head.

You scoffed, starting to sway along to the music. “Just follow my lead, Reggie. I promise I won’t leave you hanging.”

There, the two of you swayed silently to the music. The moon shined bright from your window, making the blue and green in his eyes shine brighter than usual. Reggie watched as you moved your head so that it laid against his chest. You could hear his heart practically beating out of his chest, making you giggle softly.

“Flicka? you spoke up in a hushed tone. Reggie only hummed in reply. You took a deep breath. “Promise me you’ll never leave me?”

Reggie looked out the window, seeing a glimpse of both of your reflections through the glass. “I’d never leave you, Cookie.”

“You promise?” you whispered.

“I promise.”

That was your first broken promise. The first broken promise upon millions. Reggie told you he’d never leave you, that he’d always be your friend.

Funny how fragile promises can be.

That was nearly seven years ago. The late nights spent doing who knows what, listening to the radio seemed like a distant memory from a past life.

Now your days were spent alone in the library, bent over textbooks determined to ace your classes to get a scholarship and go to a good college. You wouldn’t make your parents pay for that. That was asking too much of them.

You weren’t sure where Reggie was, or what he was doing. Once you both were in middle school, he found himself new friends, and apparently a band, too. Even though you weren’t on speaking terms, you had listened to his music every once in a while. You knew he was destined for big things. Those big things just didn’t include you.

But that was fine. Your entire life wasn’t centred around some boy from your childhood. You had school and your family. So, for you, that meant signing up for all the most challenging classes and studying your ass off for all of them.

You didn’t want to admit it but this class was killing you. Your pride always got in the way. Most of the time, you believed you were capable of passing every class with flying colours. But, there was no denying this class was more difficult than the others. How were you supposed to know what effects the Great Depression had on farmers of that era? You weren’t them and they were all dead.

Your tired eyes drifted over to the clock and you sighed as you realized what time it was. Packing your things, you left the library and dragged your feet to your algebra class.

Sitting patiently in the front row while your teacher explained the lesson plan you barely even registered the faint knock on the door frame, but when you turned your head up your expression changed from one neutral to a scowl.

He hadn’t changed a bit. Aside from the whole outfit -he definitely switched his old sports sweatshirts for leather jackets sometime in freshman year- he was the same old Reggie Peters. The same dark hair, piercing blue-green eyes, and rosy red cheeks.

“Um, sorry I’m supposed to be in algebra with Mr. Milenika, I just got transferred.” the dark hair teen said, running a hand through his hair and shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Yes, Mr. Peters correct?”

Reggie nodded wordlessly. Your heart was beating out of your chest. Not from nerves, but is pure hatred for the boy. He couldn’t be in this class. He just couldn’t. Why would the universe do that to you?

“Very well, take a seat.”

Reggie walked into the class, eyeing where to take a seat when he noticed the only open spot was next to you.

His features hardened and he threw his bag down next to the empty desk, pulling out the chair and sitting in it with a loud thump.

“Flicka,” you spat.

“Cookie,” he nodded with a hiss in return.

“Great, I take it you two know each other?” Mr. Milenika asked, unaware of the drama that was associated with whatever relationship you and Reggie had. It was a stretch to say you even had one.

You and Reggie gave him a bitter “Yes.”

Mr. Milenika, never one who was ever good at differentiating bitterness and normal answers, beamed at the two.

“Good, because even though this is a math class, I will make you work with your partner quite often. So I suggest you get to know whoever is sitting next to you.” Your body stiffened. As if it couldn’t get any worse, Mr. Milenka never failed to disappoint.

Mr. Milenika continued on, explaining the rest of the plan for the class, but you seemed unable to concentrate, entirely focused on the boy who was now sitting next to you. With his stupid face and stupidly strong cologne, you couldn’t focus at all on whatever was on the board. It was as though you were in a haze, and all you could think about was him.

It had been years since you’d last spoken, not to mention you barely saw him in the halls anymore. He was notorious for skipping class to go rehearse with his so-called band while you were quite the opposite. Never missing a day, no matter what it took.

“Never thought you were one for staring,” he whispered under his breath and you scoffed.

“Oh so we don’t talk for seven years and you think now’s a good time to start?”

“Yeah, I do, cause then I could tell you how stupid those shoes look,”

“I’m literally just wearing converse, you are too Reginald,” you spat.

“Shut up!” he said, raising his voice slightly.

“You first!” you said, voice becoming louder. Was it a childish comeback? Perhaps, but you weren’t one to back down, no matter how stupid your comebacks were.

Now the whole class was listening, even Mr. Milenika had stopped teaching to observe what was going on with his students and just as he was about to intervene it seemed the debate had gotten worse.

“Me? shut up? You’re the one who was always bossing me around and telling me what to do! I could never get in a word with you!” Reggie snapped back.

“That’s because you were too thick-skulled to listen to anything I had to say!” you hissed, not realizing the audience you had. “Who knows Flicka maybe if you had you wouldn’t have failed this class last term!”

“That was uncalled for!” Reggie exclaimed, now standing from his chair. “And it’s not my fault the tutor bailed on me because it was a conflict of interest. This isn’t Judge Judy (Y/N)! If anything it’s your fault!”

“You manipulative little asshole!”

“Suck up!”

“Motherf-,”

“That’s enough!” Mr. Milenika yelled over both of you, causing you to shrink and turn to look at the very angry teacher. “Never in my years of teaching have I seen such barbaric behaviour! That’s two months' detention. Both of you! Now go to Mrs. Hillside’s office, immediately.”

Reggie angrily grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder, kicking a stray chair on his way out while you followed close behind in a much quieter fashion.

You had no words as you entered the principal’s office, sitting across from her desk while Reggie took the seat next to yours.

It was your first day back from the holiday. Your first day back and you finally had a conversation with your childhood best friend in seven years and got two months of detention with said childhood best friend. Your heart ached at the thought of the big flaw printed on your record. You only had Reggie to blame.

Purposefully, you shuffled away from him and he rolled his eyes as Mrs. Hillside finished her phone conversation with Mr. Milenika.

“Disrupting a class?” The woman exclaimed. “Foul language? Damaging school property?” Your face burned at each accusation.

Mrs. Hillside glared at you. “Ms.(L/N),” she addressed with a frown. “I did not expect such reckless and irresponsible behaviour from a promising student like you. I’m greatly disappointed.”

Tears threatened to fall from your eyes. “Please don’t make it go on my record,” you whimpered, your voice cracking.

The woman pressed her lips together. “You’re lucky this is your first detention, Ms.(L/N).” You released the breath you had no idea you were holding.

“Kiss ass,” Reggie muttered.

You narrowed your eyes at the boy, prepared to shoot back another comeback when your principal had something far better.

“I find that rich from you, Mr. Peters,” she laughed humorlessly. “Remind me, how many detentions did you have last term?” The boy’s cheek flushed, instantly shutting his mouth. You held back a laugh as to not get a snapback of your own from the teacher. “Now as much as this is infuriating, you both do have a class that I believe would be in your best interest not to miss. So we’ll draw up a schedule for these two months of detention and then you can return to your class in an orderly fashion. You understand?”

“Yes ma’am,” you nodded and Reggie just shrugged, if he blew this for you, well let’s just say there wouldn’t be any evidence of the crime.

“So let’s make this three days a week for two months. Thursday, Friday and Saturday and the hours will vary from time to time depending on the tasks you need to complete.”

“Three times a week?” Reggie exclaimed. “Mrs. Hillside, I have band practice-”

“And I’m losing my patience,” she cut him off. “Now go back to class before I make it four detentions a week.”

You squeaked a quiet “Thank you” before picking up your things and leaving the principal’s office. Speeding down the hallways, you didn’t hear Reggie catching up close behind you. When you saw a blur of black and red in the corner of your eye, you fought the urge to turn your head.

“Stupid Reggie Peters,” you muttered under your breath. “Stupid algebra class. Stupid Mr. Milenka and his stupid detention. Stupid-”

“Are you talking to me, Cookie?” Reggie spoke up, making you jump in surprise. By that time, you were already at the door of your algebra class.

You pressed your binder close to your chest, shooting the boy a pointed glare. “I hate you,” you said, opening the door just enough for you to slip through and slam in Reggie’s face.

You didn’t dare speak when you returned back to class, not wanting to try your luck and possibly extend your already long detention.

Reggie seemed to be thinking the same thing, possibly except he didn’t have his record on the line it was that stupid band practice of his. If he had spent as much time studying as he did practicing maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation because he would have passed the class in the first place.

You knew that you’d need to spend time catching up tonight so you didn’t even bother paying attention to the lesson. Anger bubbled in your chest as you mindlessly wrote notes for the class, not processing anything at all. Occasionally, you would notice a pair of blue-green eyes staring at you, only for them to turn back to the board each time you would look back.

You couldn’t even look each other in the eye. How were you supposed to last two months of detention with him?

Finally, the bell rang and allowed you to escape the confinement that was the loud stares of your classmates as you headed to your first assigned detention. Cleaning up the backroom of the library.

Reaching the library, you were met with the librarian, Mr. Mallard. The old man was hunched over a box filled with books, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. It seemed as though he didn’t realize you were right behind him, so you awkwardly cleared your throat.

Mr. Mallard jumped, turned around to see you nervously waving at him. “Oh, Ms. (L/N), I didn’t see you there.” You waved his comment off.

“Not a problem,” you said with a kind smile. You mentally let out a sigh of relief. Good thing Mr. Mallard was nicer than the rest of the teachers here.

“I was just listening to music,” he explained, nodding at the radio playing soft music. He looked back at you. “You know I used to be a dancer back in my day? Now, I got this bad back, so I’m stuck here with you rascals.” You laughed at the man as he tried to snap his fingers and sway his hips to the music. “Ah, I got too carried away, sorry, dear. Now I must be getting old because I could have sworn there were supposed to be two of you here with me.”

You nodded, looking around for the boy in a leather jacket and red flannel, but came up empty. “He must be running late,” you told him.

Mr. Mallard frowned. “Well, I guess we can wait for him,” he settled, sitting down on his desk chair. “Feel free to take a seat over there until he comes in.”

Reggie came in a few minutes later, tossing his bag onto one of the chairs and placing his bass guitar on the table.

“The usual Mr. Mallard?” Reggie asked and the older man gave him a nod. It seemed Reggie had become familiar with the library as you had, just in a different way. “Well what are you waiting for?” he looked at you unimpressed. “The faster we start the faster we leave.”

You didn’t say a word, only followed him into the back room where you’d be organizing some old books, boxes and trophies

You stepped into the room, squinting at the shadows of assorted boxes. It was completely dark.

“Well, come on, Cookie,” Reggie said, giving you a shove. “We don’t have all day.”

You took in a shaky breath. “It’s dark,” you pointed out.

Reggie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I think we’ve established that,” he said. “Let’s just find the light switch and start cleaning.”

You nodded, blindly searching along the walls for that damn switch. Not noticing the small box on the floor, you kicked it aside, spilling all sorts of books onto the floor. You squeaked in fear, grabbing the first thing in sight. Of course, that had to be Reggie’s hand.

You whipped your head around, face red in embarrassment. Lucky for you the darkness of the room prevented him from seeing that. “Sorry,” you muttered.

Reggie scoffed at you. “Still scared of the dark?” he asked in a teasing voice.

“Still sleep with that horse plushie of yours?” you shot back.

Reggie glared at you but didn’t say anything else. Without letting go of your hand he flicked on the switch and the room filled with a dim orange hue.

“You can let go now,” you said, trying to shimmy your hand away from his, only prompting him to grip harder.

“What are you scared of me now?” he asked with a smirk and you scowled, ripping your hand away from his.

“Let’s just clean, like you said, the faster we get this done the faster we can go home.”

The room was silent aside from the noises of books falling against the floor, making a quiet thud. You made a small area of your own in the back of the room, a stack of boxes hiding your view of Reggie. But from the lack of noises made in his part of the room, you could tell he wasn’t doing anything productive.

You poked your head out of your small space, frowning at the boy. He was sitting on the floor, slouching as he scribbled on a dusty piece of paper.

“Hey!” you called out, throwing an old yearbook in his direction.

Reggie barely ducked in time, sitting up and turning in your area. “What the hell?” he yelled.

“We’re supposed to be working on cleaning this room!” you snapped. “You aren’t doing shit, Flicka.”

“I did clean,” he muttered. “I just had an idea for the band-”

“That stupid band! Why can’t you just stop for once in your life and focus on what’s in front of you,” you scowled, frustrated that even now you were the one stuck doing all the work. Seemed like maybe things hadn’t changed much from seven years ago.

“Maybe if you loosened a screw or two we wouldn’t need to have this conversation,”

“Just shut up Reginald, you have no idea what it means to take responsibility for something. You haven’t changed and you never will.”

Reggie was about to come back with a retort when the door to the backroom swung open and Mr. Mallard came in with a smile on his face.

“Could I get you kids some snacks?” he asked kindly.

“Always, you’re the man Mr. M.” Reggie grinned, completely ignoring you and giving the librarian a high five from where he sat on the ground.

“I’m good Mr. Mallard,” you shook your head and he left you both with a nod of his head and promised to be back with some assortment of fruits and such.

After your first detention, it was safe to say that all hope of fixing your friendship with Reggie went down the drain. It seemed as though every hour you spent with him gave you all the more reasons to throttle him and be glad he stopped talking to you back in middle school.

—

Detentions became just another regular part of your week, integrated with your studying and your part-time job at the cafe. So you were more than happy to take a minute and walk back home where you could take a minute to rest.

Unfortunately, the universe had other plans.

“Reggie!” a voice yelled. You took a deep breath as you tried to make yourself invisible. It was his friends, Luke, Alex, and Bobby. The friends he left you for.

Reggie’s face lit up as he walked past you, running over to his friends. “Hey guys!” he said with a toothy grin. “What are you doing here?”

Luke shrugged his shoulders. “We thought we might as well give you a ride to practice since we were already around here for lunch,” he explained nonchalantly.

Bobby sent his friend a glare. “You mean I gave you a ride,” he corrected, gesturing to the keys in his hand.”

Luke waved his comment off. “Details. Oh, who’s that?” Luke asked pointing over to you and you tried to pick up your pace before he eventually made his way to you.

“That’s just (Y/N),” Reggie shrugged. “We have detention together.” Luke approached you with an overexcited pep in his step. You tried to back away as subtly as possible, but you were stopped by a wall.

“You’re adorable!” he grinned, throwing an arm around your shoulder while you looked at him in a sort of odd confusion. “Your face is so cute and pink, kind of like a bunny! You know, growing up I had this bunny for a pet named Carrot. We’re adopting you, right boys?”

You ducked under his arm, trying to stay as polite as possible. “Oh, I’d love to be your friend and all,” you began nervously. “But um...I just have things to do and-”

“We’re. Adopting. You,” Luke said in a sickly sweet but firm voice. “Right boys?”

As you tried to slip out of his grasp and walk away, Alex, who was also coincidentally your lab partner, called out from the van.

“Hey (N/N), you need a ride?”

“No thanks! I’m fine walking,” you called back, but Luke didn’t want to take no for an answer. He ran up in front of you and scooped you in his arms, throwing you over his shoulder causing you to shriek in surprise.

“We’re taking you with us! Who knows what kind of dangerous types are wandering around LA.”

“At the moment I would think you’re one of them!” you exclaimed, squirming to have him put you down, before finally giving up when he tossed you in the van. “Could this constitute a kidnapping? I feel like it’s a kidnapping. Can I call the police?”

Reggie followed close behind the two of you, clearly not liking this at all. He had already spent enough time with you in detention. Now you’re with his friends? He took the backseat, right behind you. “Dude, come on,” Reggie said as Luke fastened your seatbelt before patting the top of your head. You shot the guitarist a glare. “I really don’t want to be arrested for kidnapping. Especially since it’s her. Lord knows she’ll manage to pin the charges on me.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Nonsense,” he said. “We’re not kidnapping her. We’re making friends!”

“That’s not how making friends works, Patterson!” you yelled as he slid the van door closed.

While they were making their way to your house Luke seemed to glance at the time on the dash and gasped.

“Shit! Guys turn around we’re gonna be late for practice!”

“Practice, you said you were taking me home!” you exclaimed. “This is actually a kidnapping now! Flicka your friends suck!”

“Sorry Lady Bunny,” Luke shrugged and you whined.

Reggie groaned and banged his head on the seat in front of him while Bobby took a definitely illegal u-turn to go where they normally had their rehearsals.

The car stopped in front of a fairly nice house with a big studio. The boys filed out, leaving you grumbling in the back seat. Luke opened the door, bowing dramatically.

“Lady Bunny,” Luke said, reaching his hand out to you.

You scowled at the boy, crossing your arms on your chest. “I want to go home,” you muttered.

“No can do, Lady Bunny,” Luke said with a shrug of his shoulders. “We have practice to do.”

“Then I’ll walk home,” you whined.

Luke laughed at your frustrated face. “Can’t let you do that either,” he told you. “Besides, you’re too little and innocent to brave the world on your own.” Luke reached for your cheek, patting it softly until you turned your head and bit his finger. “Ouch!”

“Yeah, bunnies bite, dick head. This is holding an innocent party against their will and you will do jail time,”

“(N/N), just stick around this once, I’ll make sure you get home later,” Alex offered and you slouched in your seat and mumbled a “Fine,”

Alex patted your back and led you into the large studio where there was a girl with frizzy brown curly hair, sitting on a couch.

“Finally! What took you guys so long!” she sighed and stood up.

“We adopted a bunny, Rose!” Luke grinned and hugged you from behind tucking your chin in his shoulder. You rolled your eyes and mouthed help me, to the girl and she scrunched her nose as if to say, ‘sorry honey there isn’t anything I can do.’

Luke pulled you to the couch and sat you down. “Now you stay there while we practice, okay bunny?” he said, patting your head.

“If you’re good we might give you snacks,” Bobby added from behind Luke, snickering under his breath.

Rose shot both boys a pointed look. “Cut that out, you two,” she ordered. Rose sat next to you, patting your knee. “Can I get you anything? Water? A snack? You don’t have to do a flip for treats or whatever.”

You laughed in response, nervously playing with the hem of your sweater. “I’m fine, thank you,” you responded politely. “If anything I just want a ride home.”

Rose frowned, leaning against the pillow cushions. “I’d give you a ride but my sister took the car for today,” she explained apologetically. Rose could sense the awkward tension, and wanted to break the ice. “So which one of them is your boyfriend?”

You choked on air, not expecting her question. For once, you were thankful the band was blasting music. “I’m sorry?” you coughed, causing Rose to reach over to grab a water bottle from the table and offer it to you. You took a big gulp, sighing. “What made you think that?”

Rose hummed as she thought of her answer. “Well, you’re way too nervous around me,” she began. “And the boys all keep on looking at you. Alex is not your boyfriend because he’s currently talking to this guy in my English class. Bobby...definitely isn’t your type, now that I look at you. I considered Luke for a moment but he’s way too dedicated to music to date anyone but his six-string, you also just seemed way too annoyed by him, but what’s new. And now that leaves Reggie.” she looked over at the boy playing the bass. Reggie, who apparently was watching the two of you talk, quickly ducked his head, his cheeks visibly red. “You two have history, don’t you?”

You froze, eyes widening. “How did you-”

“I think you forgot we were in the same homeroom since fourth grade,” she laughed. “You and Reggie, you guys were glued at the hip. Don’t you have nicknames for each other or something?”

“I-I guess,” you shrugged, it wasn’t really something you used as a term of endearment anymore, but it was still there. “He was Flicka and I was Cookie,”

“Did you date?” she asked curiously, leaning in closer.

“No,” you shook your head. “Just friends. Used to be.” you corrected and Rose frowned, but before she could ask another question you stopped her. “If I have to sit here and wait for Alex to take me home you think we could talk about something else?”

“Sure,” Rose nodded, “Well in that case I think you should come around here more often,”

“What do you mean?” you nervously chuckled.

“I don’t know, I just think we’d be pretty good friends,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders.

You leaned your head on her shoulder, smiling at the warm feeling bubbling inside you. “Yeah,” you agreed in a quiet voice. “I’m starting to think so, too.”

—

“And then he told me I was annoying!” you hissed, angrily scribbling the data of your experiment onto your notebook. “Can you believe that? Him!”

Alex anxiously watched you as you reached for a pipette, squeezing the poor thing like it stole your money. “Really?” Alex only said in a shaky voice.

You nodded furiously, taking the indicator, not even caring to count out your drops and just pouring the purple liquid haphazardly into the Erlenmeyer flask.

“He’s-He’s just a… argh! I can’t stand him!” you waved your hands almost knocking over the whole buret and ring stand with a very strong molarity composition of hydrochloric acid in it causing Alex to let out a strangled yelp from the back of his throat.

“C-can you please at least stay ten feet away from the table?” he requested. “You’re going to either break something or send me to the hospital with an acid burn and I really would prefer if that didn’t happen.”

You placed your materials down, glaring at the blond boy. “What are you talking about?” you snapped, not meaning to take your anger out on your friend (and chemistry experiment, at that).

Alex placed his hands up in the air in defence. “Just-” he swallowed loudly, trying to think of the right words. “Maybe take a deep breath? I know Reggie gets you all angry and stuff, but please don’t put our lives and chemistry grade on the line.”

“Makes me mad is a fucking understatement,” you grumbled.

“Okay, we can start there,” Alex began, slowly moving the materials far away from you. “I think it’s reasonable and incredibly understandable that you dislike him. But do you really hate him?”

You scowled. “Yes, Alexander,” you said in a scarily calm voice. “As a matter of fact, I do. He’s a fucking pain in my ass and can go fuck himself for all I care. He’s rude, inconsiderate, and selfish beyond belief.”

“And why do you think that?”

“Alex, you’re not my therapist, stop acting like you have every right to be in my business when you don’t know a single thing about me!”

Alex didn’t respond to that comment, fearing what you might say next. You paused, noticing Alex’s uneasiness. “I’m sorry,” you only mumbled.

He nodded wordlessly, gently placing his hand over yours. “Don’t worry about it, (N/N),” he reassured you.

Silence followed, aside from the quiet mumbling of instructions for the experiment. Minutes in, you finally decided to break the silence.

“Because he left me,” you whispered in a broken voice.

Alex raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry?” he said, genuinely not hearing you.

You sighed, placing your pencil and notebook down. “He left me for your stupid band. He got friends and I got nothing,” you explained further. You removed your glasses, wiping away a stray tear. “I probably shouldn’t even be mad at him, at this point. He’s moved on...and got popular and actually has something going on for himself. And me?” You laughed humorlessly at yourself. “I work a job to help mom and dad pay the bills and work my ass off so I can go to school and make a life for myself. No one told me trying for success would be so lonely.”

“(Y/N),” Alex said, frowning slightly.

You shook your head. “But he’s happy, isn’t he?” you asked. “Reggie. He’s smiling wider than I’ve ever seen before. Singing and playing the bass, dancing his heart out on stage. He never used to do those things with me.” You looked away from Alex, unable to take his pitiful gaze. “He’s changed while I’ve stayed the same. I’m stuck here, still moping about my past. Maybe he’s right. Maybe he is better off without me.”

“He’s not,” Alex said without even thinking.

“How could you say that? He’s clearly happier. It’s not like you can pretend you don’t see that,”

“But he’s not. He just replaced what he had, his friendship with you, with music. I might not know him as well as you, but it’s his coping mechanism. It hides all the bad things in life that he chooses not to deal with,”

“Reggie’s not like that,” you shook your head, refusing to believe what Alex was saying.

Alex, starting to get frustrated, slammed his hands on the edge of the table. “Dammit, (Y/N) can you just realize for one second that you don’t hate Reggie and that Reggie doesn’t hate you?” Your mouth remained closed, so Alex took it as an opportunity to push further. “You two talk my ears off about each other more than you realize. It’s always “Reggie did this” or “(Y/N) did that” can’t you two get your heads out of your asses and see that?”

“C-Can you take care of this, I’m just going to run to the washroom,” you murmured, not waiting for a response. You took off your goggles, gloves and lab coat, making your way to the courtyard, contrary to where you said you were going. Pulling your MP3 player out of your pocket you threw on a pair of battered headphones and turned the volume all the way up clicking on the familiar track of Fast Car maybe you couldn’t run away physically, but right now, your heart sure needed a break.

—

“You two will be with Mrs. Leona today in the dance room,”

“What does she need?” you asked with much confusion. Normally Saturdays were used for either sitting in silence or cleaning up some area of the school.

“She needs help choreographing the dance she’s going to use for the sophomore class next semester,” Mrs. Hillside explained. “Now go on, get dressed and meet her in the dance room.”

You and Reggie walked away to the locker rooms. A scowl was plastered on the boy’s face. “These detentions are getting more and more ridiculous each day,” he muttered.

Scoffing, you crossed your arms on your chest. “Well, that’s something we both can agree on.”

You parted ways for a short time to get changed before meeting back up again in the dance room where Mrs. Leona was already setting up and waiting for you both.

“Perfect! So glad you guys could make it,” she grinned.

“We have detention,” Reggie noted. “Not really much of a choice,” You shot the boy a glare, elbowing him roughly in the ribs.

“Right,” she chuckled. “Well, I’m working on a routine for my sophomores. Apparently, they think we’re doing the same thing over and over again so I’m going to give them something new for a change. I was thinking a partner assignment would work best.”

You and Reggie nodded as Mrs. Leona walked over to the stereo, popping in a CD and playing All That She Wants in the background on repeat while she would lead the stretches.

“Isn’t this song a little inappropriate to have sophomores dancing to? Or like even just to play in school?” you asked as you followed along.

Reggie rolled his eyes. “Of course that’s what you ask,” he muttered.

Mrs. Leona waved off your comment. “It’s fine,” she insisted. “It’s an upbeat song, and it’s “in,” so might as well give the kids a fun assignment.”

“Mrs. Leona, what kind of dance moves are you thinking?” Reggie asked curiously. “Because I’m not that good of a dancer and (Y/N) is practically so old she could break her hip by breathing.”

“I’m not old,” you snapped, crossing your arms on your chest.

“You sure act like it,” he shot back.

“You bit-”

“Enough talking!” Mrs. Leona cut you both off. “More dancing. Now I have a couple of ideas for you two, so make sure you’re really stretched out so you don’t pull something.”

You groaned, looking up at the ceiling. “What did I get myself into?”

—

“It’s a simple concept!” Mrs. Leona insisted after the millionth attempt. “You two are just so awkward with each other.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “Can you just explain it again, please?” you requested.

Mrs. Leona sighed, standing up to show you the dance sequence. “Reggie, take her hand and bring it to your lips. Step away, and (Y/N) you pull him back. Then Reggie turn so that you and (Y/N) are facing each other. At that point, you grab him by the shirt while he takes your waist, then he twirls you and goes in to dip you. Simple enough!”

Simple to maybe a Rockette, but not to a bassist and an awkward bookworm.

“Let’s take it from there, okay guys?”

You grumbled to yourself, positioning yourself in front of the boy. “This is way too much,” you muttered, mostly to yourself.

“Just shut up and do what she says,” Reggie hissed. “I don’t want to be any closer to you than I have to.”

When the music started playing, you felt Reggie’s fingertips trace down your arm to your hand, unknowingly creating a trail of goosebumps. Weaving his fingers with yours, he brought your intertwined hands up to his face, his lips ever so gently grazing your hand.

On beat, Reggie started to walk away from you, only for you to pull him back. His eyes met yours as you brought your other hand to his chest, balling the fabric of his shirt in your fist. You watched as he dropped his hand to your waist before pulling away to twirl you. The moment he pulled you back into his chest, you saw his cheeks redden. You were so close, close enough to smell that stupidly distracting cologne of his. You knew Reggie was just as flustered. His hand was getting clammy in yours. Before you could even process it, he dipped you down, making you gasp in surprise.

You didn’t even notice the music had stopped. All that was on your mind at that moment was Reggie. His eyes flicked down to yours, and you could have sworn you saw a hint of a smile on his lips.

The loud clapping coming from Mrs. Leona had snapped you out of your trance. Immediately regaining his composure, Reggie loosened his grip on you. You fell to the ground, hitting your elbow upon impact.

“Ass,” you muttered, rubbing your elbow in pain.

“If you’re saying I’ve got a good one then I agree,” he smirked and you scoffed loudly.

Mrs. Leona walked up to the two of you. “That was probably the best dancing I’ve seen from the two of you all morning,” she applauded. “And for that, you can take a five-minute break,”

“Oh thank God,” you whispered and flopped onto the ground, trying to relax your muscles. You tried to pull one leg over the other, stretching it out, but unable to turn properly in order to pull the tension out of your muscle.

Your eyes were closed so you didn’t notice Reggie coming closer and kneeling toward you, placing a hand on your thigh and pushing it down for you, causing you to open your eyes and see him practically leaning over top of you.

“Ow! Fuck! Too much,” you hissed and he loosened his grip. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Helping you stretch, you’re ancient so I thought I might be able to lend a hand,”

“Get your hand off me,” you said seriously.

“What,” he grinned, lifting his hand higher and causing your breath to hitch and slap his hand away and sit up, scooching back.

“Fuck off Flicka,” you said, the words barely able to leave your mouth, throat turning dry.

“Only trying to help, Cookie,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. He looked over at your arm, seeing as you winced with every movement. “Does it hurt a lot?”

You cradled your elbow. “It’s whatever,” you mumbled in response, unconsciously mimicking his answer.

Reggie scoffed, leaning back on his hands. “Say what you want, Cookie, but I know when you’re lying. You can’t pretend around me.” You paused, vaguely remembering that night with the radio.

“I said I’m fine, Reggie,” you insisted firmly.

“Just let me see it,” he asked, crawling over to you, prompting you to scoot all the way back until you hit the mirror. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he frowned.

“That’s what you said seven years ago but I’ve learnt the hard way to take promises from you with a grain of salt,” you said venomously.

Reggie paused, moving back to his spot, far away from you. “Fine,” he simply said. “But don’t act like you were the only victim. I got hurt, too.”

You opened your mouth to respond when Mrs. Leona walked back into the room with three water bottles. “Well, I’m back. Are you two rested enough to continue?”

You shook your head. “Mrs. Leona, um I think it’s probably time we head back to Mrs. Hillside’s office,” you suggested. “It’s erm, late and I hurt my elbow, so…”

Mrs. Leona nodded understandingly. “Yes, of course, I forgot how much time had passed. You two work so well together, I might as well keep you guys in my class!” You laughed nervously before grabbing your things and waving goodbye. You didn’t bother looking back at Reggie. There was nothing left to say.

[helenazbmrskai]

It’s all timing - pjm

– If you’re searching for a light and fluffy read well, this won’t be your cup of tea so continue with caution darlings! –

Title – It’s all timing

Pairing – cold husband! Jimin x clocksmith! OC

Genre – fantasy, romance, extreme amount of angst, time travel, smut, marriage, established relationship, Ceo, exes to lovers

Summary – I learnt the hard way that marriage can change a person. I would have never thought that an old watch will let me have a glimpse of my ex-husband’s world but don’t be mistaken I’m not here to fix things. I’m here to change it.

Warning(s) – Jimin is not a loveable character here (until way way later), cheating, mentions of emotional abuse and manipulation, falling in and out of love, the past and present clash a lot, different timelines that may be confusing, this is going to be a wild ride girls and boys, themes of depression and sadness, feeling of worthlessness, and self-image distortion, numbness, discussion of not wanting to have children. Unedited.

Word Count – (5.2k)

[21st March 2021]

Things between us were not always complicated. Our friendship was always exceptional even when friends fought and sought different ways after freshman year at the local Community College, Jimin and I were glued to each other’s side and maybe that’s why no one was surprised as we announced our plans to get married after we graduated.

The new world that greeted us after we finished high school only seemed meaningful because I had Jimin by my side. At that time I had no idea I’ll fall for him this hard, he literally became the extension of myself, my arms and limbs and the lungs that kept me alive. He was my first serious boyfriend even though I dated a few guys here and there before him but none of those relationships seemed to work out either because of me or the guy. Jimin is someone who could easily have his ways with words so when he decided to show interest in me as in more than friends, it was inevitable that I would give in. He was a wonderful lover in the beginning. Passionate and loving, we had many movie nights that ended up with his hands down my pants as his thick fingers rubbed my clit. He bought me flowers and comforted me when I had a bad day.

His cunning smile could get him out of a lot of trouble. Maybe that’s why I never saw the other side of him that sometimes peeked through his carefully crafted mask. I decided to ignore all the red flags until I found myself in a loveless marriage with a man that I couldn’t recognise anymore. Once I realised what had happened it was already too late.

 [12nd November 2018]

Jimin hated the fact that I was a heavy sleeper. He even threatened me once that he’ll sleep in the guest room if he had to wake up one more time to my alarm relentlessly ringing while I showed no signs of waking up any time soon.

My workspace was on the other side of town. The rent was cheap so it was worth the extra miles and the full tank of gas in my car but because of it I had to wake up extra early so I could finish showering then I would go to the kitchen to make lunch for Jimin to take with him to work and still have enough time to get ready with a freshly brewed coffee in one hand and toast in the other. Even after our first year in marriage passed by like a flash, Jimin continued to be his affectionate self, he showered me with kisses and felt needy for my touch.

It was one of our best years together. Jimin started to get more involved with his father’s company and my workshop began to gain more popularity to my greatest surprise. While I was working on an old clock that was brought into my shop by an old married couple a few hours ago my focus kept wandering back to this morning. Smiling under my nose as I thought back to why I was late to open up my little workshop this particular morning.

Jimin likes to be spontaneous he always calls me a bore when I hesitate to try out new things but this time he did not have to do much convincing before I agreed. It was weirdly satisfying to wake up to Jimin’s head buried between the juncture of my thighs, shaking and aroused even though I couldn’t feel or hear him do all those sinful things to me while I was asleep. I didn’t feel him take off my panties or lift the covers to expose my bare centre to his hungry eyes and when our gazes met he proudly told me how well I took his fingers even while I was unconscious.

Experimenting was not something I was willing to do before Jimin showed me the appeal of trying out new things. With him by my side, I felt invincible like I could conquer the world if he stays next to me holding my hand tight.

We outlived all expectations. They said high school sweethearts don’t last, well, we did.  Even though both of our parents were against the idea of us marrying each other so young we ended up doing just that. Jimin proposed after we got our diploma and I said yes. We lived together as roommates throughout all those years we spent together studying and we moved in together after both of us got our first jobs as postgrads.

I was happy it felt like we were at the top of the world but if I had known that after that year everything will go downhill I would have tried to be happier.

 [24th December 2019]

Do you know what are the telltales of cheaters? Well, it starts with subtle changes in his behaviour, you begin to see him less he makes up excuses of having too much work to do or stress so that he could avoid your advances.

He tries to make it up to you with expensive gifts but they mean nothing after the tenth impersonal present because all you would ever want is his attention and love instead of those pathetic attempts of showing their devotion with empty words. The last and most important one on the list is the new anonymous contact on his phone that shows several phone calls and text messages back and forth for hours.

Jimin did all of those.

He stopped experimenting with me. He would fuck me from behind even when I told him I want to see his face. No foreplay, no more cute nose kisses and breathless laughs between the acts of lust and playful wandering fingers.

He no longer cared if I finished first or not at all because after he was done it meant it was over. Jimin took a shower and crawled into bed facing away from me now that this task was taken care of. After the fifth time that he left me hanging, I gathered all the courage that’s left in me to stop his hands from dipping under my pants. I felt disgusted and used he made me think I’m a mere fucktoy that he can discard once it lost its appeal.

I had one of the worst days at work. The clock I was working on was missing a crucial part that I could only import from abroad and the man who wanted it fixed told me to don’t bother because he can’t afford such an expensive repair. It was not something that I could control, the clock was antique for fucks sake. He left without paying for my services even though I told him it was not the only part that I needed to change.

On my way home, a drunk man almost crashed into me with his Sedan and it left me a little shaken up, it was justified to feel the way I was and when Jimin tried to make a move on me by groping my breasts without asking permission first I just snapped.

Not one to back up he snapped right back and it led to one of our ugliest fights. I couldn’t believe the words he so carelessly let out from between those poisonous lips. We had quarrels before every couple has that, it’s normal to disagree to some extents but he went too far this time around. It’s not just the words that left me a crying mess on our bedroom floor with snot stuffing my nostrils, sniffing and rubbing the tears from my swollen eyes. I broke down once I heard the front door shut with a force that made the windows shake. It was past midnight when I heard shuffling and muffled voices, I knew Jimin was back so I cracked the door open just enough to peek into the dark living room.

It was not just Jimin, the smell of alcohol penetrated my nostrils as I watched my husband with disgust, making out with a girl in our shared apartment. I couldn’t believe the audacity he had to bring this chick back where we’re supposed to live together, it was just too much. Hearing him ram into her from the guest bedroom while I cried in our shared bedroom with just one wall separating us. I bet he didn’t even hear the front door closing while I dialled my friend’s number to pick me up. He couldn’t have heard that over that girl’s loud moaning.

I don’t remember when I finally stopped crying in my friend’s arms. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her what happened. It was enough humiliation to witness my once loving husband come home with a quick fuck after a fight, it doesn’t matter that he was reeking of expensive shots of alcohol. It didn’t make his actions any less painful.

My heart broke into a million more pieces when I saw him calling me the next day. I didn’t have the guts to pick up, all I could see was him kissing another girl. I bet he was so drunk that he couldn’t remember anything, I wonder if he yelled at the girl in the morning to get the fuck out once he realised it’s not me who lays beside him. Wishful thinking on my part, he probably fucked her in the morning too just before he called me.

Somi finds my body doubled over her toilet throwing up water since it’s been a while I last ate. She helps me through it and gently gathers my hair into a loose ponytail so I won’t get any in my hair as beads of sweat and tears are rolling down my face. My body works on autopilot going through the cleaning motions as I take a burning hot shower and then lay down to get some rest. My body aches and the fatigue is evident in every lazy flutter of my lashes.

I hear his voice, pleading to my friend to let him see me. Now it’s dark outside, it must be hours that I slept through. Somi denies that I’m here and I’m thankful for her quick understanding, the last thing I want right now is to face him. Even though I never told her what happened between us she could sense that it’s more than just a little lovers quarrel.

Our second anniversary would have been next month but instead of roses and kisses next to a dimly lit dinner table, there’s only a big envelope with papers. Divorce papers. The first time he sees me after a month of silence is to have his signature that would end this relationship for good. Today should have been a nice memory filled with laughter and passionate lovemaking. Maybe we were never meant to find each other. Better off as friends, these simple yet powerful words might have saved our future back then if one of us were brave enough to say it.

Jimin looks worn out, it’s obvious he rushed here from his office once you called, he wears his formal attire. He didn’t think you would show up even though it’s supposed to be the day that you should celebrate another year of marriage.

The papers lay heavy on his side of the table as he skims through the content he sees that you already signed your part. He picks up the pen that I prepared in advance, his hands are shaking almost crushing the poor stationery in half with the strength that he holds it.

”I don’t want to d-divorce.” It’s the first sentence that he says to me. His lips are quivering and fat tears are rolling down his cheeks by the time he dares to look into my eyes. I’m however are past the point of shedding crocodile tears. I cried over him enough times to make my face feel numb and puffy with the amount of sadness that poured out of my body in pathetic waves. I can’t keep eye contact for long as his face keeps reminding me of that night I tried so hard to erase from my memory this past month. A part of me is furious seeing him cry, he was the one who sealed out fate. He has no right to feel sad or plead with me to give him another chance.

”If you ever loved me, you will sign it. I give you a week to do the right thing.” With those last words, our anniversary ended.

 [13rd October 2020]

”It’s been a whole year after your divorce, don’t you think it’s time to get yourself out there again?” So this is why she wanted to see me I realise.

I know Somi means well, but I dread those words coming out of her mouth every once in a while. If I think about it she was always good at choosing the worst timing to bring the subject up. She’s not aware that this particular day holds a lot of those sour memories that I once cherished. This day was once one of the most important days to me, to us.

Today is Jimin’s Birthday, it’s the first time since we became friends and then later lovers that we don’t spend this day together anymore. I don’t know how to feel about it yet. I used this new year to heal from my wounds that the love of my life left behind. Getting used to living alone after living with someone for so long was tough. I caught myself making more food than I needed or when I was shopping I got those yoghurts that Jimin loves so much even though I’ve always hated the taste of those. I end up throwing them out at home. I blocked his number and any kind of social media that I could think of from the top of my head. The silence between us was crushing at first, I thought that there are no more tears left to shed but when I got our divorce papers from my attorney I couldn’t stop the new waves of tears from escaping.

Yet all my efforts seem to be in vain as my mind keeps going back to him. I catch myself wondering how he’s doing. If he feels as shitty as me even after a full year apart. If he ever wished things would have been different between us. I just wanted to know if he ever regretted destroying our marriage because of another girl. I don’t know if they are together or not or if he dates her now that I’m out of the picture but it’s better left this way. I’m already heartbroken, seeing him again would just open up my barely healed wounds.

”Can we not talk about this today? I’m feeling kinda low right now.” I sigh, shaking my head habitually if only it would make me stop thinking about him. There’s an old fashioned watch with a silver-coated socket in front of me, it’s pretty. A middle-aged woman brought it to me today telling me that it was a gift from his grandfather but it was never in working condition. She went to several locksmiths over the years but no one could fix it so she asked at last that I would be willing to pay for it. I found it interesting so I agreed to buy it from her. I started working on the old watch and at the beginning, it didn’t want to tick even when I made the necessary changes. I just couldn’t figure out what was wrong with it when seemingly it didn’t have anything that needed to be fixed.

On my way home after a rough day at work, I bought some soju from the corner convenience store so I could at least get drunk enough to sleep through the whole night. The pills my therapist prescribed for me doesn’t seem to work at all nowadays.

I placed the watch down onto my bedside table and pulled the comforter over my drunk head. I heard the loud ticking of a clock but I don’t remember having one on the wall. I thought that my drunk mind probably was still hung up on the fact that I couldn’t even fix a simple watch so I shrugged the noises off and closed my eyes until red dots filled my vision.

I just need some sleep.

 [13rd November 2018]

”Wake up, baby. You’ll be late again.” There’s a kiss on my shoulder then on my temple as warm hands turn me around in bed. It feels oddly familiar to have two hands around my waist that pulls me into a hard chest, blond fluffy hair fills my vision once my eyelashes flutter open.

I’m back in our shared bedroom at his lavish apartment that’s a lot better than the shitty apartment that I was able to afford after our messy divorce. Divorce? Wait. A. Fucking. Minute. What is Jimin doing here holding me? It’s been too long that I saw him but he looks oddly young here, the Jimin I last saw started to get wrinkles and lost a bit of weight but this man reminds me of the boy I fell in love with. I remember getting drunk last night but I’m sure even at the state I was in I couldn’t get here on my own and I don’t remember getting a taxi or even getting up from my bed last night. I frantically search for my phone that I conveniently find on the nightstand, speechless as I watch Jimin stretch like we just didn’t share a bed together after one year of not seeing each other. He shouldn’t look so relaxed while I panic internally.

Then I see the date as my phone screen activates with my touch. I don’t use this phone anymore, I got another one after I blocked Jimin’s number because this device was a birthday present from him that kept reminding me of, well, him so I decided to change it even though I couldn’t afford a similar model like this with my single salary. I remember this day like it only happened yesterday it was around the time that he got a good position at his father’s company and we were both invited to a found raiser event. I bought this beautiful red dress that he eagerly ripped off of me once we were back at home slightly buzzed on the champagne.

It doesn’t make sense though. The only explanation that I can come up with is that I might be still drunk and I’m hallucinating of some sort after all it was just yesterday that Jimin’s birthday made me think about us again.

I lock myself into the bathroom. Sighing in relief once I am able to get away from Jimin’s inquiring eyes. He looked so confused when I refused to kiss him on the lips. I always kissed him goodbye before I went to work when things were still good between us. I just don’t know what to make of things right now, I’m so confused. It doesn’t feel like a dream at all and Jimin acts like he’s my husband rather than my ex-husband who cheated on me.

I splash some water on my face to calm down my nerves and I gasp when I look at my reflection in the mirror. My hair, it’s long. I got rid of those long locks after our divorce was done, Jimin liked my hair like this, long and curly, so I decided to cut it short.

”Baby, did you bring your work home? I don’t remember seeing this old thing on our nightstand when we went to sleep.” Eyes widening I rip open the bathroom door startling Jimin as I grab the old watch out of his hands. The digits are frozen one at eight and the other at one. 18. 2018? Jimin catches my hand mid-air as I try to slap myself so I could make sure this is not a dream.

”Baby say something. You’re scaring me. Are you alright?” Jimin holds my hand gently thumbs rubbing my skin as his eyes express his worry. It’s been a while since he was so affectionate. He stopped caring for me after he found that girl. I let him pull me into a hug, I missed this. I missed him but this moment doesn’t change the fact that the Jimin I loved so much cheated on me.

I left to go to work earlier than I used to around this time and I know Jimin noticed. I told him to get some takeout for lunch too.

I worked on the clocks hoping that it will distract me but it just made me think of what happened this morning more. Doing it the second time around made the process easier, I knew what was wrong with the clocks before I get them into pieces. I even remembered the young couple who brought an expensive watch to get it more fitted to his arms and he accidentally left his bracelet on my working bench after trying on the watch to see it fits after the adjustments.

Jimin sulked a little after I denied his kisses but he didn’t force me and for that I was thankful. He nagged me even when we were surrounded by his father’s workers at the found raising event to tell him what made me ’mad’ at him because he wants to apologize properly if he did something wrong. I didn’t say anything, I couldn’t just tell him he should apologize for something he will do in the future, it will just make me the weird one.

I was nervous to go home after the event because I remember how this night was supposed to end. My hand tightens around his arm when I see her approach us. I feel my stomach sink when she smiles at the both of us, introducing herself as Jimin’s coworker. I didn’t remember meeting her here but at that time I had no idea she’ll be the one who my husband cheats on me with. It was dark that day but I remember her blonde hair and her voice. I remember her moaning Jimin’s name.

”Y/N?” I snap my head towards the sound of his voice. He looks concerned it’s not the first time tonight that he had to repeat what he said. I feel sick, my body subconsciously leans on him to get a grip of reality.

I realised this is when it began. Her smile is anything but genuine as she fakes her concern, I can see the jealousy in her dark orbs as she watches my hand around my husband’s arm. She wanted him for herself all this time. She just doesn’t know yet that she succeeded a year after. A tear slid down my cheeks but I aggressively got rid of it before it could reach my chin. Jimin caged me between his strong arms drawing soothing circles onto my back but it doesn’t affect my body positively how it used to I cried harder inside his arms.

Jimin excused us and she relented even though it was clear as day that she wanted to send me daggers through her stare rather than her wishes for me to get better. The car ride was silent, he didn’t let go of my hand and I let him. I let this version of Jimin comfort me because he didn’t do anything wrong, not yet. He had no idea that this was our last happy years spent together before everything went downhill after that.

He held me in his arms.

 [5th March 2019]

After my revisit of 2018, I realised a few things. Firstly, I can travel between time with that old watch that only seem to works for a short period of time until it stops at the year I want to visit. The second thing I learnt is that Jimin can be manipulated with the right words. I decided after that night I saw her face raging with malice and jealousy that I’ll find out what really had happened between them. I know Jimin loved me even though I had doubts about it after our divorce. I knew him well we spend so much time together as friends even before we started dating. However, I never thought he would go so low as to cheat on his wife.

He was always gentle and understanding with me. Accepting the fact that I didn’t want to have children. He loved them but accepted me for who I was and never questioned why I felt this way. He was a good man, a good husband.

So I decided to watch him from afar and when she thought no one was looking, she showed her teeth like a venomous snake planting ideas into Jimin’s head talking shit about me, twisting my actions and words; going as far as telling him she thinks I am cheating on him! I know those pictures were fake as I did no such thing. I was so in love with him I would never betray him like that.

Then I remembered his odd change in behaviour, how he treated our once lovemaking sessions as fucking. How he couldn’t look into my eyes while he buried his dick inside my cunt made sense in a way now.

He thought I was the one who played him. He let himself believe that I was late from our dinners because I was fucking someone behind his back and when I told him I’m not in the mood to have sex. He got even angrier he thought that if I lied to his face he will show me what pain feels like by fucking that snake in our guest bedroom. My head was swimming overwhelmed with this information.

The truth hurt like hell.

I thought I will feel somewhat better once I discovered the truth but I feel even shitter. Jimin believed her, he didn’t bother to ask me if I was indeed cheating on him but can I really blame him? I didn’t ask either when I suspected it. We let our insecurities and that jealous bitch stand in between our marriage making it crumble down to pieces. I was angry, raging as my hand shook with it and it led me back to that day it happened. It felt too late to fix things so I closed my eyes and turned the clock. Leaving everything behind. Once and for all.

There’s nothing left for me to change in our past, I can’t fix our past mistakes but maybe I could change things in the future. Starting with exposing that snake. I wasn’t even surprised to see her as the head of the newly developed department.

[11st April 2021]

Jimin took over the firm after his father fell ill as I got to know from her assistant. I could tell she was surprised to see my face but even more surprised to realise it’s not Jimin’s whereabouts that I want to know but rather hers.

I shouldn’t be this smug about the fact that he cut all ties with her after our divorce. Deep down he was still a good man who couldn’t believe the fact that he fucked someone else while his wife cried next door with just one thin wall separating them.

I pictured this moment in my head a lot after I came back from the past. I’m way past the hurt and anger that settled in my bones for a full year and even before that. Instead, I felt eerily calm for someone who’s here to put up a show for the employees. I don’t even care if they think I’m crazy because once I locate her in her cubicles and dig my hair into her scalp pulling her hair hard with my iron grip all I could feel is utter satisfaction.

”I hope you enjoyed your good fuck. Was it satisfying to make my husband a cheater? I bet it was. Did you think I will never find out that you fed him lies and spread rumours about me sleeping around with men?”

Even the security watched as I pulled her by the hair the commotion around us almost drowned out the crying noises she made because of the pain. I didn’t pull that hard though, I hate her with every fibre of my being but I’m not a malicious person like her. She would deserve worse than what I’m doing but I never want to go down to her level ever again so I let her go.

”How did you found out?” She looked pale as a ghost. I know she was scared she had every right to be because I’m sure I have that crazy look in my eyes.

”It doesn’t matter. What does matter, however, is that now I know what you did to him. All for what? Just to have him all to yourself? Look how that turned out for you.” The people around us fell silent that’s how I knew Jimin is here. So I took a step closer to her and smiled.

”I never cheated on him but you know this well. This is not even why I feel so angry. The reason why I want to rip your hair out right this instant is not because you spread lies and badmouthed me but because you made him a cheater.”

It’s his first time seeing me after our divorce but I’ve been seeing him these past weeks thanks to the old watch. This time around I was able to look into his eyes and see that boy I fell in love with. We went through so much together, maybe.

Maybe we can overcome this too.

©️ helenazbmrskai (Like and Reblog don’t repost!)

[marvelsbetch]

Peter Parker’s betrayal

Warning: Depressed Peter, Betrayed Peter, Dick head Stark.

-Peter POV-

I was so excited for this weekend, I had finally convinced Aunt May to let me stay the night at Stark towers. Mr. Stark and had been begging for weeks for me to stay the weekend so we could geek-out about nuclear physics and new suit upgrades to our heats content. After quite a bad Friday, Ned and MJ has been acting weird and Flash seems to have gotten more violent and cocky. Plus, when Happy drove me back to my apartment he never spoke to me, not even his dry hello, he just gave me sympathetic glances as if he knew something I didn't. Saturday was the day, the day I had been waiting for since I first heard of Mr. Stark and his work. Since I read the first news article on Iron Man. Since I was 6 years old.

It started great, the sun was shining unusually bright for a March morning, Aunt May had made me her world famous pancakes worthy of Mr. Stark himself. My bag was already packed and ready, all I had to do was wait. Wait for Happy to come and pick me up and take me to what would've been the best weekend of my life.

How I wish I could go back. I wish I could go back to being this happy and content with my life. I wish.

"Peter! Happy's here!" Aunt May yelled at me from the living room, I was waiting on my bed.

"Okay, I'm coming." I told her grabbing my bag and walking to the door to meet Happy.

All he did was give me a sympathetic look and lead me outside to the car. The last time I'll ever see this car. The drive to Stark Tower was similar to the drive home last night. Awkward and eerily silent. The thirty minute drive felt like two hours as a sense of impending doom washed over me. I should've listened to my senses and asked Happy to turn back.

Soon we pulled into the Stark tower garage and started walking towards the elevator, Happy following close behind. We rode up to the penthouse again, in silence and walked into the living room.

My heart shattered.

Mr. Stark was sat on the couch watching a movie with popcorn and Ice cream while talking to someone. A teenage boy I recognised. The teenage boy who tormented me since freshman year. The teenage boy names Eugene 'Flash' Thompson. Sat on Mr. Starks couch, watching a movie. What is going on.

"Hey Mr Stark." I spoke waving at him and walking further into the living room.

"Oh Peter. What're you doing here?" He asked.

"Come on. It's the sleepover we've been planning for months. The one we begged my Aunt to let us have, you've got to be joking right?" I asked scared of the answer.

"Oh, no I don't. I was busy with Flash, he's such a cool guy you know." Mr. Stark told me. "Why don't you go work on something in the lab while I finish this movie with Flash. Then we can all do something together." He suggested.

"Sounds great." I mumbled as I slowly moved back to the elevator to go to my lab.

Hours passed in the lab and there was no sign of Mr. Stark anywhere. It's as if he forgot me. I had finished upgrading my suit, multiple times, tested it and managed to build new web shooters from scratch. He never came.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y show me Mr. Stark." I requested.

"Of course Peter." She responded, even she sounded like she had sympathy for me.

The image she showed me broke my heart. Mr. Stark and Flash were sat on the couch, likely not even left since I last saw them, laughing with each other. Laughing at me.

"And then he just fell, like out of no where. Didn't trip over anything, just fell. The whole cafeteria laughed at him while I got up and ran away crying like a little baby." Flash told the traitor. Lies. He had tripped me while I was getting my lunch and it split all over my clothes and the floor.

"Oh my God, how pathetic." Mr. Stark said through tears of laughter.

Speaking of tears, I felt my own eyes welling up. How could he? After all we had been through with the Thanos snap, how hard he tried to get me back. How could he do this to me? He even called me son a few times, I sometimes called him Dad by accident but he never let me live it down.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y stop." I requested through sobs.

"I'm sorry Peter. Should I inform Mr. Stark of your distress?" F.R.I.D.A.Y asked with as much sympathy as a robot could as the image disappeared.

"No, he probably wouldn't care anyway." I told her as I heard footsteps coming towards the lab.

"What's up Penis? Upset that I'm closer to Tony?" Flash taunted as he entered my lab, something only Mr. Stark is allowed to do without my permission.

"No. Just overwhelmed." I told him wiping my tears away and getting angry.

"Well, Tony told me to come down and let you know that we may have to reschedule the whole sleepover thing." He told me smirking.

“Why?" I asked.

"We've just made plans, more important than any of yours." He told me leaving the room.

I broke down crying, what's happening. Just a few days ago everything was normal, what changed? Soon heavy crying turned into a full blown panic attack. Great.

"Mr. Parker Mr. Stark has been notified of your current state. He said he'll be here when he can." F.R.I.D.A.Y informed me making it worse.

There was a time when he would drop everything to make sure I was okay. He walked out of numerous meetings, one was with the president, because I was the slightest bit panicky. Now, having a panic attack on the floor below him he's all of a sudden too busy. Too busy with Flash.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y call Nat please." I requested through sobs.

"Peter? What's going on are you okay?" Nat's voice rung out immediately, she picks up fast.

"No. Can you come to my lab please?" I requested calming down slightly.

"Of course. Where's Stark?" She asked as I heard her moving around and a door slam.

“He's, uh, with someone. Too busy to come down and help me." I told her making it worse again at the thought of it. He's basically abandoned me for Flash.

"Okay I'm 5 minutes away. Stay calm." She instructed.

Less than five minutes later Nat came bursting through the doors Mr. Stark in tow. He was holding his ear making me feel like she'd dragged him down here aggressively.

"What's this for?! Me and Flash just got the crucial plot point of the movie!" Mr. Stark yelled at Nat.

"This is more important! You left him down here to have a panic attack on his own! He had to call me to come and help! What's wrong with you?!" Nat yelled back and she walked over to comfort me.

"I told him I would be there when I could, a.k.a, not at the crucial plot point of the movie!" Mr. Stark responded making Nat send daggers at him.

"That's not as important as the welfare of your intern, the person you call your son. What's going on and who's that person in the living room anyway?" Nat growled at him.

"My names Eugene 'Flash' Thompson. I'm Tony's new intern." Flash introduced himself sticking his hand out for Nat to shake it. Strange, I didn't even know he was here.

"Leave. Peter's Tony's intern." Nat growled at him pushing his hand away.

"Not anymore. I decided to hire Flash instead, sorry Peter." Mr. Stark informed me with very little sympathy in his voice. "You can still intern, just not for me."

"Stop talking before I throw you out of this window." Nat warned. "Why all of a sudden do you think Peter's not good enough? You were calling him your son not even two days ago!" Nat yelled.

"Realisation I guess. I realised that the future of my company should be left with someone strong and willing. Not someone who trips over noting in the middle of his school cafeteria." Mr. Stark told her, her eyes went red.

"I didn't trip over nothing, Eugene shook his foot out for me trip over. He's been tormenting me for years." I explained hoping to make Mr. Stark see his fault.

"Now you're lying to me?" He accused glaring at me. "If that's true then why didn't you tell me before hand? Convenient it only comes up now."

"I never told you because I could handle it. Didn't know it would lead to you being the ultimate back stabbing traitor." I growled at him finally standing my ground.

"Don't call me a traitor when you've just lied to my face. I want you out of my building and out of my life." Mr. Stark told me making Nat, once again, glare daggers at him.

"You're utterly delusional. You kick him out you loose me, no more black widow." Nat threatened standing right infront of Mr. Stark, challenging him.

"Fine, I've got everyone else on my side. Wish I could say you'll be missed." He told her smirking.

Next thing I know Nat grabbed my arm and bags before leading me out of the building. We walked passed Happy and Pepper who both stopped us to say sorry and promise that they'll speak to Tony. Nat told them not to bother as he won't change. Happy offered to drive us home but Mr. Stark called him to say that if he did he'd be fired. He still offered but I couldn't let him loose his job over me.

"I'm so sorry for this Peter. I tried to tell but he won't listen, I'll try and fix this I promise. You have my word and my number should you need it. He won't realise what he had until he lost it. You'll both be missed." Pepper sobbed as she hugged me tight, my surrogate mother.

"The offer of a ride still stands, he'll die without me and he knows it. If he fires me it's his loss." Happy told me placing a hand on my shoulder.

"No it's fine, you shouldn't be getting roped into this, this is my mess." I told me making everyone sigh.

"This is not your mess, it's Tony's and soon enough I'll make him clean it up. You have my word." Pepper promised before Mr. Stark walked up to us all.

"If you don't leave now I'll have security kick you out." He growled at me only making me want to cry in a corner somewhere. I've truly been abandoned by my only father figure.

"Fine, we're leaving." Happy said grabbing my shoulder and leading me and Nat out of the building. Did he just quit?

"Did you just quit?" I asked him.

"Yep." Was his short response. Dear God, what has this turned into?

"You'll never be hired again if you walk out those doors." Mr. Stark threatened.

"I'd rather live on the streets than work for you and that brat upstairs." Happy told him before we all walked out of the building.

"This is real. I've been abandoned." I spoke finally admitting it before breaking down into tears.

Nat quickly comforted me and we started to make our way back to my apartment. This is going to be fun to explain to Aunt May.

-2 months later-

It's been two months since Mr. Stark abandoned me and my life has taken an interesting turn. After a day or two everyone had found out about what had happened and boycotted anything to do with Mr. Stark. They never went to meetings, either towers, training sessions and even missions. Pepper left him the night he abandoned me. Mr Stark was truly alone except for Flash, many employees quit and his sales took a hard hit once word got out to the media. My name wasn't mentioned but Flash's was, this made my school life so much harder as Flash now believed he was some sort of celebrity.

Happy drove me to and from school everyday in his own car. He and my aunt had become really close over the past two months and I've started to have the suspicion that they may be dating. Probably. Nat barley left my side if it was necessary, she even sneaks around school sometimes just to make sure I'm okay, I'm far from it. School has become even more of a nightmare than it already was. Flash's taunting became worse and physical, most teachers turned a blind eye in fear of Mr. Stark. Ned and MJ left me after claiming that I was just pathetic, hard to disagree if I'm honest, and everyone of my teachers has become so much harder on me. Life just isn't good right now.

-Two years later-

Two years. Two years since the faithful night and life has become good. I graduated with great grades, despite me not having the best time in school in the past few years and teachers becoming extra tough on me. I passed with mostly As and A+s. after graduation I got a scholarship to Cal tech and started my courses. I plan to open my own business, not to spite Stark, as fun as that would be, but to help those in need. I want to start a company that focuses on helping to poor and improving their living conditions.

-Ten years later-

My company was a massive success. I make cheap but reliable electronics that not only help the poor improve their lives but most of the profits go to improving their lives in other ways. Just last month I traveled to Cambodia to a town full of people so poor they had to buy their houses on rivers because they couldn't afford land. It was eye opening and we helped so much, buying land for them, helping them build stable homes and facilities, building toilets and other necessities. I feel great with myself if I'm being honest.

I've also recently come out at Bisexual with the announcement of me and my boyfriends engagement, Wade Wilson also known as Deadpool. Life's good.

Also, Flash took over Stark industries but it's not been going well. He can't run a business or build a piece of tech to save his life, the sales have plummeted and they've had to lay of hundreds of people in the past month. Most of which, came to me. Now, let me make this clear, I did not start my company to spite Stark and try and beat him. I started it because people like him and Flash don't care about the people who have less of a say, I look out for the little guy. Always have and always will.

I still continue with my spider man work and have received countless awards for my work helping the little guy. Weather that be a common mugging or helping people escape war torn countries. I found a way to build more houses and have more land while also expanding the rain forest and saving the environment. I have dedicated my life to helping others, I made the decision when I was fifteen and ten years later I still stand my it.

-Five years later-

Stark Industries went bankrupt. Flash had run it into the ground with failed experiments and an attempt to bring back the weapons department but with my work, it wasn't necessary. There were no more wars to fight and weapons were seen as a thing of the past.

"Peter please I'm sorry. Flash manipulated me to believe that you were less of a person. Please, I've lost everything because of him." Stark begged, tears brimming his eyes as he as me for a job in my offices.

First he asked for CEO but me and Pepper handles those duties. Then it was Public Relations but Steve and Clint have those conceded. He went through all jobs only to find them to be taken by those he once called his friends. Currently he's begging for a low-level position but I was willing to give him a second chance. He's suffered enough over the past fifteen years.

"Okay, here's a deal. I'll invest back into Stark Industries but you have to promise to help people. No more Eugene or decisions made by yourself. I'll try and convince Pepper to work with you again but I can't promise anything. It's not completely your fault Eugene ran your company into the ground and I'm willing to help but you have to work with me. You have to promise to help people and the environment, look at what I've achieved." I said gesturing to the office building on the 40th floor of our main headquarters.

Over the past five years Pepper and I had made some excellent business decisions and our profits sky rocketed, we have buildings all over the world and I became one of the richest men in the world. I still give back and if anything, I've given more back in the past few years.

More money. More resources. More output. More help to those who need it. World poverty has dropped to less than 10%, an immaculate improvement to the 80% of fifteen years ago.

"I promise. I don't think I can tell you how happy I am Peter." Stark told him smiling like an idiot.

-Another ten years later-

We did it. The rainforests were saved. No animals were near extinction. Both my company and Stark Industries were on the map helping those who need it, not many now though. World Poverty was less than 0.5% of the population and soon to be eradicated. We saved the planet and the people on it but most importantly, we made a flying car. Life was good.

[heliads]

Of Sorcerers and Spiderwebs Chapter Four: Hopeless

Y/N L/N is a Master of the Mystic Arts, trained by Doctor Strange himself. When she first meets Peter Parker as they fight side by side against Thanos, she isn’t expecting for their brief partnership to blossom into a love that could last a lifetime.

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After realizing that you’re in love with Peter Parker, it feels even harder to drag yourself out of bed to head to school the next morning. Even the sight of him walking towards you from across the crowded hallways of Midtown hurts- you know that no matter how close the two of you become, he’ll never see you as anything more than a friend.

In fact, just the simple act of seeing him confirms that you truly love him. You’re not sure how you didn’t realize it before, but it’s glaringly obvious now. When the two of you are paired together for some partner activity in class, you’re able to laugh and smile with him as if you’ve known him your entire life. 

That’s the easiest thing about Peter- with him, you’re able to just live and be whoever you want to be. There aren’t any expectations with him- no rules or assumptions or anything. He doesn’t presume you to be anything more than yourself. You’re not sure anyone’s made you feel like that in a long time.

However, things aren’t exactly perfect. Now that you’re actually paying attention to how you feel about Peter, you’re also noticing how Peter feels about other people. Specifically, how he feels about one of his closest friends, MJ. Case in point: whatever’s going on with them during this exact lunch one sunny afternoon at Midtown.

Although technically there are four of you at the lunch table, Peter’s clearly centered around MJ and MJ alone. He’s sitting next to her, leaning over to face her in a way that shuts out everything else around him. They’re engaged in some deep conversation about the ethics of neuroscience, something that you happen to know a lot about thanks to Stephen and that you could easily debate along with them. However, you already tried to enter the conversation and were talked over more than a few times, so you’ve given that up.

You can’t exactly blame Peter for being wrapped up in MJ. She’s practically perfect for him- she supports him being Spider-Man, she knows enough about his favorite topics to have discussions like the one they’re having now, and they both have the perfect blend of shy and talkative that makes them equals. The only problem is that she’s not you.

The worst part is that Peter is clearly in love with her. Here’s the thing- nobody looks at a girl the way Peter is looking at MJ right now, with that stupid soft smile on his face as she talks and that unnameable expression his eyes, without being in love. You suppose that’s why it hurts you so much to see him. It shouldn’t, of course, Peter’s known MJ for far longer than he’s known you and you just arrived at Midtown a few months ago. Yet your heart still feels a painful twinge every time you glance their way.

“You good, Y/N?”

You’re broken out of your trance when Ned speaks to you. Blinking once to clear your head, you turn to him. “Yeah, I’m just, uh, considering my plans for the future. I’ve heard about this really cool opportunity within the different international Sanctums to go out in search of people who could potentially become Masters of the Mystic Arts to monitor them and offer aid if they need it.”

What you’re talking about isn’t a lie- you have heard about this program, and it’s been simmering away in the back of your mind for quite some time. You had assumed that you weren’t going to act on it, as your life was going very well over in New York, but for once you might be convinced to move away as a nomad for the sorcerers.

Ned looks impressed. “That does sound cool. So you’d basically get to vacation around the world in the name of the Sanctums?” You incline your head, confirming his words. “That’s the thing- it sounds amazing. The only thing is, I’d have to apply and I don’t know if they’ll let me in or not. And, even if they do let me in, I’m just wondering if I would be able to leave all of this behind. It feels like I just got here.”

Ned nods. “I mean, I don’t really know what to tell you. Wizards-I mean, sorcerers, kind of have a priority of coolness over everything else. I guess you just have to ask yourself what you’d be giving up by leaving, and if you think the pros of the trip would outweigh the cons.”

You look at him, somewhat surprised. “That’s actually really good advice. Thanks, Ned.” The boy smiles. “Hey, if I can’t be a superhero I can at least give out super-good talks.” The two of you dissolve in laughter, but your smile fades slightly when you realize Peter hasn’t even heard you at all. Would he care if you left?

The next day, you slump down into your seat at the lunch table with a glower that could rival the stormy weather outside. Ned raises his eyebrows at the sight of you. “Well, I didn’t think you could look even more depressed than yesterday, but I guess I was wrong. What, did Sorcerers Worldwide not let you into their program?”

You point a finger at him in agreement. “I showed up and asked if I could go through with their program. I showed them everything I could do, which is more than the average adult at the Sanctum. Even with that, they still won’t let me go. They kept saying something about how I should be finishing school before I go traipsing around the globe. That doesn’t even make sense- they pulled me out of my freshman and sophomore years so they could train me at Kamar-Taj, why is it not okay now?”

Across the table from you, Peter looks stunned. “Wait, what do you mean? You were going to leave Midtown for some errand of the sorcerers?” You nod, staring up at the ceiling bleakly. “It was going to be so cool, too. But no, I have to wait until I’m out of high school or college or whenever they run out of excuses.”

Peter leans forward, and you realize for the first time that he actually seems cross, almost hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me? I thought you liked it here.” You can’t help but feel defensive at his questioning. “I did. Yesterday, at lunch. I talked about it right here. I guess you weren't paying attention. Besides, I do like Midtown, but are you telling me you’d rather go to high school than travel the world?”

Peter scoffs. “Yeah, it would be fun to leave for a vacation or a weekend trip. You just got here, do you really not care about all of us enough to leave it all behind for some jaunt around the world?” You raise your eyebrows. “Why are you so upset? I just said that I wouldn’t be going anyway. And besides, I do care about everyone here, which is why I talked about the possibility of me going on this trip yesterday to all of you. I suppose you just weren’t listening.”

Peter’s opening his mouth, presumably to deliver a no doubt intense remark, but Ned places his hands in between the two of you, interrupting him. “You know what, I think what Peter means is that we’d all be sad to see you go, Y/N. We’re sorry that you didn’t get into your program, but at least you still have us, right?”

You tilt your head towards Ned, pointedly ignoring Peter. “Thank you, Ned. I absolutely agree. Midtown is, and will always be, an amazing school with amazing people and I wouldn’t want to miss it for the world.” You and Ned continue to have a conversation in the same forced calm voices, and eventually Peter joins in. MJ arrives later, and joins in the chatter as well, although she does raise her eyebrows at the tension clearly brewing between you and Peter.

When lunch ends, the four of you are heading back to your classroom when you suddenly stop moving. Your friends stop as well, looking back at you in confusion. “Everything alright, Y/N?” MJ asks, but you just shake your head fervently. “Everything is very much not alright. It’s like I can sense something strange in the school. I don’t know what it is, but it isn’t human and it isn’t going away.”

Your friends walk back up to you. “Can you tell us anything else about it?” Ned questions. You try and latch onto the sudden feeling, but you can’t sense anything else. “I think I’m going to have to use my astral form to check it out. Can you make sure nobody notices what I’m doing?” Your friends nod their assent, and huddle up around you to hide you from view. If anyone happens to walk by, they’ll just see a group of students clustered around a locker.

You fling your shoulders back, closing your eyes and opening them once more to find yourself in your astral form, glowing and weightless just like normal. As you head off down the hallway in search of whatever malevolent entity is creeping around the school, you glance once over your shoulder and can’t help but feel slightly better when you notice that Peter is the first one to reach out and catch you, despite everything that just happened.

Brushing away thoughts of Peter and the concern clearly written across his face at the thought of you heading into danger, you continue on down the hallways. You quickly check classrooms and halls of lockers, and you notice that the strange feeling of darkness is emanating from a room down a few flights of stairs. The basement. 

Of course it had to be the basement, the darkest, coldest, most formidable place in the whole school. Why couldn’t creepy things just hide in plain sight for once? Why the basement? You shudder briefly, then force yourself down through the floor until you’re standing just outside the basement door. You step forward, walking through the door, and suppress a silent scream when you see what’s inside.

When you suddenly jerk back to life in Peter’s arms, your friends look at you with startled eyes. “What is it? What did you see?” All you can do is clasp on to Peter, who’s still holding you tight. “Something is coming. Something bad.”

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