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taexual · 1 year

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sleepwalking ● 6 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, mutual pining, SLOW BURN, mentions of smoking and other questionable decisions

words: 9.8k (🤐)

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 6 ► the fighting that i keep inviting could lead me to my grave

Two 4 AM trains in the span of 48 hours were more than you or Jungkook could handle, so both of you slept through nearly the entire nine-hour ride from Paris to Berlin. You only woke up for the transfer in Mannheim, but barely—hunger carried you both to the train station where you could buy warm pastries before going back to sleep.

By the time the two of you rejoined the band, you felt exhausted and disoriented. Although you didn’t regret the detour to Paris, you still struggled to imagine how Jungkook was going to manage to perform a show in Berlin tonight. You hoped the exhaustion from the trip would numb him down to just the right level of insanity that he’d be able to pull it off.

In any case, you sent him to get some sleep for a few hours before Rated Riot’s soundcheck, while you went to check up on the crew that you’d left unsupervised while you were in Paris.

Unsurprisingly, everything was under control: Seokjin kept a tight grip on the stage management crew—you probably wouldn’t have believed it if you hadn’t seen it time and time again, but someone who joked around at every chance he got still managed to have one of the strongest work ethics on tour—and Namjoon had kept the remaining members of Rated Riot busy.

If you hadn’t been exhausted to the point of confusion, you might have felt offended about how little you were needed here.

Half an hour later, Luna found you stumbling back into the tour bus.

“How was the wedding?” she asked straight away.

She wasn’t the type to conceal her eagerness when she was particularly curious about something—it was not even the wedding in this case, but your confrontation with Jungkook—but she still made sure to help you climb up the bus steps before you tumbled backwards and broke your neck.

You were far too tired to understand the expectations that hid behind her question, however, as you mumbled dejectedly, “I caught the bouquet.”

“You—” she began to say and then burst into laughter so unexpectedly that the roadie, who’d been unloading the stage equipment outside the bus, flinched in surprise. “You caught the bouquet! Of course, you caught the fucking bouquet.”

You wondered if you were too out of it to understand why this was so funny to her that she couldn’t stop laughing the entire ride to the venue, but you lacked the energy to ask.

“There was no ex,” you said as you glided towards your bunk while your amused friend stood back, covering up the sharp angles on your way with her hand. “Sid was just being an idiot. If I see him—well, I probably won’t do anything because I don’t know what the laws for assault are in Germany—are we in Germany? I’m so tired.”

Noticing your haphazard stream of thoughts, Luna pulled herself together and stopped laughing—but only for a short while—as she helped you reach your bunk.

“We are in Germany,” she confirmed. “Although I’m not sure where you are. How about you take a quick nap while the band does their soundcheck?”

“No, no. I have things to do now that I’m back. To make up for leaving.”

“Things are fine,” she assured you. You knew she was right, but your guilt was persistent. “Nothing fell apart while you were gone. The guys took care of themselves just fine. You’ve raised them well.”

You acknowledged the joke with a small, tired smile. That was good enough for Luna, who was starting to get worried your condition would require medical attention, considering how adamantly you were resisting her attempts to sit you down in your bunk—despite looking like you may fall asleep standing up.

“Are you sure?” you asked again.

“I am,” she said. “Sleep, okay? We’ll be fine.”

Somewhere deep in your exhausted subconsciousness, you realised how unprofessional it would be to take a nap while the band you managed went to the soundcheck on their own. But your eyes were closing without your say so, and you hardly could have helped anyone in a state like this anyway.

When you woke up several hours later, Rated Riot were doing their Meet & Greet according to schedule, and you felt much better—or, at least, good enough to return to your regular duties. You grabbed a Snickers bar from the mini-fridge, and then went out of the bus and into the venue.

As it turned out, it was only the stage management crew and the producers who had kept things in control; they were the ones who hadn’t noticed your absence. Unfortunately, everyone else had.

Luna was kind when she told you that nothing fell apart while you were gone.

Some things wobbled, and there were several rushed phone calls you had to make to fix it—namely, to make up for one of the interviews that Rated Riot missed because they were doing another interview, which wasn’t initially scheduled— but you were grateful for all of it. The sudden rush of adrenaline completely woke you up.

Meanwhile, Jungkook was doing jumping jacks in the changing room to keep himself awake after he managed to survive the Meet & Greet. It wasn’t terrible—it was, actually, very inspiring as these events tended to be—but he couldn’t stop apologising to the fans for his incessant yawning. It just wasn’t right. He was better than that—the fans deserved his complete presence.

The other Rated Riot members were getting snacks at the buffet on the first floor; they planned to go exploring Berlin for an hour or two before the show. Aware of that, Sid, Jude, and Minjun found their way into the changing room.

Their arrival stopped Jungkook’s exercise before they even announced their entrance. For a minute, the four of them regarded each other in complete silence.

Even Jude was quiet this time. As it turned out, his earlier sneezing was a lesser-known withdrawal symptom that one night out in the city seemed to fix—at least that’s what he informed everyone in the group chat. Jungkook wanted to know nothing about it; he rarely drew lines with his friends, but he drew one here. His preferred method of intoxication had always been alcohol and cigarettes, he never needed more thrills.

“Well!” Jungkook finally exclaimed. “If it isn’t my four-thousand dollars.”

Even if his friends hadn’t seen you two leave together the other day, everyone travelling with Rated Riot was aware that the manager of the band was going to be gone for a day, because she was taking a trip to Paris with Jungkook.

Sid mumbled something incoherent while Jude shook his head, and Minjun just stood there, hands in his pockets. He was the one who spoke up first, glancing between the three other boys.

“It seems like he won fair and square,” he said to Sid and Jude, both of whom appeared to be looking for loopholes. “I see no appeals.”

“That’s right,” Jungkook declared. “I did win fair. Even though some of you tried to play dirty.”

He only glanced at Sid as he said this—the insinuation obvious enough—but his friend reacted like he’d been shot.

“I didn’t even say anything to her!” he defended. Jungkook couldn’t help a knowing grin—he hadn’t even said anything about Sid talking to you. Irritably, Sid continued, “and how did you even win, exactly? We bet on a date, not a—whatever the fuck you two did.”

“We went on a date,” Jungkook said again, taking pride in his calm tone and the way it seemed to cause steam to come out of Sid’s ears. “To a wedding. Do I get an extra $500 for how romantic that is?”

Really, he didn’t care about the extra money. He cared about Sid’s reaction—and it was satisfying. The older boy rolled his eyes and kept toying with his hands: crossing, then uncrossing them, stuffing them in his pockets, then resting them on the back of a chair in front of him.

Finally, he said, “you went as friends.”

“She was my date,” Jungkook reiterated. “That’s how weddings work. You don’t bring friends, you bring dates.”

“That’s not—” Jude tried to interject, but Sid extended a dangerous hand and cut him off with this gesture alone.

“Did you kiss her at the end of this date?” he asked, the last word sounding more like a synonym for a massacre than a romantic night out on his lips.

Jungkook frowned at him. “How is that relevant to the bet?”

“It’s the most important part. That’s the one thing that separates your—your outing from actual dates.”

Jungkook swallowed and looked at his other friends. Jude seemed distracted, not paying much attention to the conversation at all, while Minjun just appeared uncomfortable like he had the first time he found out about the bet. Neither of them jumped to his side or even offered a sympathetic nod.

“That wasn’t what we talked about when we agreed to the bet,” Jungkook said. His voice lacked certainty and Sid picked up on it immediately.

“That’s literally how dates go,” he said and broke off into a leisurely stroll around the changing room. His previous resentment had long but faded as he explained, “you spend time together, you talk, whatever—then you kiss.”

“Sid, my man,” Minjun waited until Sid stopped walking, then patted him on the back, mocking comfort. “This reasoning is not on your side at all.”

“Yeah,” Jude agreed, snorting. “By this logic, you’ve never been on a single date in your whole life.”

Sid pushed his tongue into his cheek in annoyance, and even Jungkook grinned as the two boys high-fived over Sid’s head.

“It was a date,” Jungkook repeated once more. “Stop looking for ways out of it and go get my money.”

Jude pushed his hand into his back pocket where he kept his wallet—this didn’t seem to faze him much; for someone who had an abundance of it, this was just money—but Sid extended his hand again, signalling for him to stop. Clearly, it wasn’t just money for him. It was a matter of pride.

“Dude, you have got to stop doing that,” Jude said as Sid’s arm smacked him on the chest. “I’m not a fucking dog.”

Ignoring him, Sid narrowed his eyes at Jungkook. “You went to that wedding as friends and you know it.”

“Actually, thanks to you, I barely went to that wedding at all,” Jungkook shot back. He took one step closer to Sid with each sentence that followed, “but I did. And I took her as my date. Just like I said I would. So, pay up.”

By the time he finished speaking, he was right in front of him—and, therefore, had the best seats in the house to witness Sid actually hesitate, likely for the first time in his life.

Still, Sid clicked his tongue and said, “I don’t think so.”

Throwing his head back with a groan, Jungkook placed his hands on his hips.

“Sounds like you’re too idiotic to admit you lost,” he said. “Now what?”

He’d meant the question for the rest of his friends, but it was Sid who needed less than two seconds to offer a solution.

“We’ll use a referee,” he said, turning around. “Minjun?”

Clearly not having expected to be assigned this role, Minjun opened his mouth in surprise, then closed it again.

“What—why do I have to referee?” he asked after a moment. “I wasn’t even there when you made the bet.”

“That’s exactly why,” Sid said. “Jungkook, Jude and I are involved. You’re the only one who can be impartial.”

Jungkook didn’t protest; he didn’t see the point. Minjun was more level-headed than Sid, so he liked those odds. Not to mention, he’d always had a different friendship with Minjun, one that actually felt like a friendship. So, he only shrugged when Minjun glanced at him as if asking if he agreed with this.

Noticing this, Sid wondered, for a split-second, if Minjun really could be as impartial as he thought he’d be (and he’d thought that, of course, Minjun would swing more in his direction—all of Sid’s friends did, that’s why they were his friends).

“Fine,” Minjun decided, making his way to the middle of the changing room. “Sit down. Tell us about the date.”

All three of them obediently relocated to the couch. Jungkook had to sit on the armrest because Sid and Jude took up the entirety of the loveseat with their exceptional talent at manspreading.

“What else do you want me to say?” he asked. “I already told you everything.”

“That was barely anything,” Sid protested next to him.

Jungkook was about to argue back, but Minjun spoke first, “Sid’s right. I need to know more details so I can make an informed decision.”

Jungkook didn’t know if that was fair—he’d taken you out on a date, he’d won—and he didn’t want to share anything else with them. This seemed like Sid’s way to rile him up even more, and the rest of his friends played along with it.

“We went to a wedding,” he said.

“You already said that,” Minjun pointed out.

“Okay,” Jungkook clenched his jaw. Then added, “we took a train to get there.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Jude was the one who got annoyed first as he groaned and locked his hands behind his head. “If that’s all you did, you definitely didn’t go to that wedding as dates. You barely went as friends, my man.”

Offended, Jungkook shuffled in his seat, trying to throw one leg over the other, but nearly losing his balance on the armrest as he did. He settled back into his previous stoic position.

“That’s—that’s not all we did,” he said awkwardly.

“Okay, so what else?” Minjun encouraged. “Did you talk?”

“No, we mimed to make it more fun,” he deadpanned. “Of course, we fucking talked. We talked the whole time on the train.”

Ignoring his wit, Minjun gave a thoughtful nod. “Okay. So, that’s what? Fifteen hours of non-stop talking? That’s a point for Jungkook.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sid immediately perked up, leaning forward with so much force that he nearly knocked Jungkook off the armrest. “But how do we know he’s not lying to us?”

Jungkook thought he might start throwing things. He wasn’t sure how he felt about whatever this was, but it sure reminded him of an interrogation, and he couldn’t help feeling defensive—to the point of physical violence if that’s what it took. But Minjun took his role as a referee very seriously.

“Because I have to pry information about this date out of him,” he said. Sid leaned back in his seat, smacking his lips in resignation. Minjun added, this time throwing a warning look at Jungkook, “and because if he says something I have a hard time believing, I’ll go straight to the other source.”

Jungkook widened his eyes, near-frantic. “You can’t ask her. She’ll kick me out of the band. She’ll never fucking speak to me again!”

Unsure which consequence Jungkook was more afraid of, Minjun nodded and said, gentler now, “then don’t lie.”

“I haven’t lied once,” he argued, picking up a decorative pillow off the floor—it must have fallen there when the two boys sat down on the couch—and tossing it at Sid, who caught it before it hit his face. “Your distrustful ass needs to shut up and quit whining. You fucking lost.”

“I didn’t fucking—”

“Focus,” Minjun said firmly—like a teacher, trying to discipline unruly kindergartners. “Jungkook. What did you talk about? How many mentions of your feelings for each other?”

Jungkook closed his eyes at the question, pushing his chin forward, an expression of blatant disbelief on his face.

“How many mentions of—what the fuck?” he spoke, unable to repeat the question without scoffing. He opened his eyes to look at each one of his friends. “Have any of you ever been on a real date?”

“I’d be on one right now if we weren’t holding court about a fucking bet,” Jude mumbled, his stare vacant as he clearly shifted in and out of focus on this conversation.

“I take it no mentions, then,” Minjun concluded.

“Of course, no mentions,” Jungkook groaned, throwing his hands in the air. “Who the fuck—”

“1-1,” Minjun declared, cutting him off. Cursing under his breath at the ridiculous, almost unrealistic turn that this bet had taken, Jungkook pushed himself deeper into the armrest, his side purposefully digging into Sid’s. Minjun asked, “how much time did you spend together—just the two of you—excluding the time on the train?”

“Wh—okay,” the vocalist inhaled, figuring he’d have to actually answer this one or else his friend would vote in Sid’s favour again. “We took a cab to the wedding. And walked around the Champs-Elysées.”

“Good, good,” Minjun nodded. “Was there any sort of—"

“Wait,” Jungkook stopped him, “don’t I get a point for that?”

“For what?” Sid interjected. “Walking down the street with her?”

“It wasn’t a fucking—”

“You get half a point,” Minjun said. “Now was there any sort of physical touching? Any hugs? Embraces?”

Again, Jungkook was forced to give his friends questioning looks. He felt incredulous—not just because it was starting to seem likely that he’d lose the bet, but also because they were forcing him to share the parts of his life that he’d never shared with anyone other than you before.

“You’re exploiting the shit out of me right now,” he said.

Minjun groaned and proceeded to curse as he spun around his axis, finally losing patience—not with Jungkook per se. He was just tired of being the middleman in a very stupid, childish game.

“We’re literally trying to find out if you were on a date or not,” he said louder. “Why is it so hard for you to just answer the questions and get this over with?”

“Because it’s my fucking business!” Jungkook snapped, jumping to his feet. “We never agreed that I’d have to share any details about the date. Just the fact that there even was a date was supposed to be enough.”

“But we don’t know if there was a date,” Sid argued—in every way that Jungkook appeared agitated right now, Sid came off as victorious. He knew this wasn’t looking good for Jungkook. “That’s the whole point.”

“Why the fuck would I take her to Paris,” he demanded, aware that he was yelling now, “if not for a fucking date?!”

“Because you’re in love with her,” Sid shot back. The relative calmness of his voice in comparison to his only pissed Jungkook off more.

Both of them were standing now, but Sid, who was only taller by a few centimetres, somehow always had the upper hand—not just in this conversation, but in their friendship, too.

In barely fifteen minutes, the tables had turned completely, and Jungkook was the one losing control of himself.

“That has nothing to do with—oh my God,” he covered his face with his hands and turned his back to his friends, giving up. “Okay. Fine. I can’t do this shit.”

“So, you admit defeat?” Sid asked—Jungkook could hear the grin on his friend’s face without looking at him.

“I admit nothing,” he grumbled.

“If you can’t prove it was a date, you lose.”

Turning around to look at him, Jungkook shrugged with exaggerated intensity as he asked through a humourless laugh, “how would I prove it? Everything I say sounds like a joke to you three.”

“I wasn’t laughing,” Jude spoke up suddenly—another return to the home planet—and then mumbled, “you’re not very funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be—” Jungkook stopped and inhaled sharply. He’d grown tired of playing this courtroom drama with the three of them. “Alright. I need to get ready for the show.”

All three of his friends understood the subtle indication that Jungkook was kicking them out of the changing room—Minjun turned towards the door and Jude stood up from the couch. But Sid stood still.

“The keys,” he said.

Jungkook frowned. “What?”

“Hand over the keys.”

Clenching his jaw, Jungkook kept eye contact with him for a minute before saying firmly, “I’m not handing you anything.”

“You lost the bet,” Sid said—his voice gaining a dangerous edge now that Jungkook wasn’t complying. “The Katana is mine.”

Jungkook pursed his lips as he continued to stare defiantly into his friend’s eyes.

“If I can’t prove it was a date,” he said, “then you can’t prove it wasn’t.”

The two of them watched each other for another minute until Sid licked his lips and nodded, signalling that—for once—he agreed to disagree.

“Alright,” he said, looking around the room. Jungkook did not feel relief. He felt tension. “I see how it is. How about we adjust the conditions of the bet, then?”

Even though he was sure he didn’t want to know, Jungkook still asked, “what does that mean?”

“If you manage to get back together with her,” Sid proposed, “we’ll all pay you $5000 each.”

Just as Jungkook lifted his eyebrows, Minjun furrowed his, declaring right away, “don’t include me in your shit.”

“Fine,” Sid agreed. Then clarified to Jungkook, “Jude and I will pay you $5000 each.”

It took Jude a moment to react, and he, too, tried to back out of this. “I don’t think I—”

“You were in the original bet,” Sid said, shooting a warning look his way, “you can’t get out now.”

Jude wasn’t very pleased with having to go through this again—even if the first bet didn’t, technically, cost him anything. He relented, though, because he always did, “fine, you bitch.”

Sid looked back at Jungkook, waiting for his response.

Aware of the predicament that he’d found himself in—or, rather, that Sid had manipulated him in—Jungkook crossed his arms on his chest and took his time before speaking up.

“And if I disagree?” he asked.

“Well, you have two options here,” Sid said, “either you give the keys to me because you lost the previous bet, or you hand the keys over to Minjun, our impartial referee, while I wait for you to lose this updated bet.”

Minjun rolled his eyes again, annoyed that he still couldn’t escape being involved in Sid’s game.

Jungkook, on the other hand, needed another minute. He’d definitely prefer to give Minjun the keys—just because he knew Minjun might give them back to him.

“So, just to be clear,” Jungkook started slowly, “you’re saying that if I get back together with her, I’m keeping the Katana and getting 10K?”

“Yes,” Sid confirmed. “And if you don’t, the bike’s ours. We’ll find good use for it. How does that sound?”

Like signing your soul over for the devil, that’s how it sounded.

Jungkook shook his head. A date was a date, he thought you would find a way to let that slide if you accidentally found out. But his relationship with you wasn’t for sale.

“I don’t think so,” he said.

Sid took it well, merely shrugging as he extended his hand, palm up. “Well, then hand over the keys.”

Agitated again, Jungkook smacked his palm against Sid’s. “Get out of here. I’m not fucking—”

“You lost the bet,” Sid repeated, enunciating each word so loudly, it cut Jungkook off. “The Katana is fucking mine, I’m just generous enough to give you another chance to win it back.”

“It’s not fucking yours.”

“He’s right,” Jude spoke up again—very unhappy that he was only remembered when the topic turned to him paying. “It’s technically ours.”

“It’s mine,” Jungkook said, taking a moment to look at both, Sid and Jude, as he repeated, “I didn’t lose.”

“Then you have no choice,” Sid concluded. “The bet is ongoing.”

“How is it ongoing?” he argued. “It’s one thing to go on a date—”

“Which you didn’t,” Sid interjected.

“—which I did,” Jungkook countered, his eyes burning with a flame so angry, it was almost a miracle Sid didn’t immediately catch fire. “But you’re suggesting a completely different thing now. Starting a relationship is not the same. Especially if it’s a relationship with someone you already dated before.”

“I know,” Sid said, seemingly unbothered. Jungkook wondered why, because his friend didn’t look pleased, either. He didn’t look like he’d tricked him, like he knew he’d win for sure.

Clearly then, Sid had to think that the odds of winning this bet were, more or less, equal for both of them. That had to mean that a part of him believed that Jungkook could really get back together with you.

Consequently, Jungkook realised that Sid wasn’t, really, suggesting anything at all. He was simply telling him that this was how it was going to be from now on.

“I can’t do that just randomly,” he said. “I can’t just approach her and ask her this. It’s—”

“Two weeks,” Sid said. “That enough for you?”

Jungkook swallowed.

Even though he wanted this, he knew that attempting to get back together with you now could jeopardize everything that you’ve done in the past two years as Rated Riot’s manager. Jungkook didn’t think he wanted to burn down the same bridges that the two of you had built back from the ground up.

That being said, there was a glimmer of hope—very obscure, barely there, not even visible, really, just faintly humming somewhere about his chest—that you would get back together, and his reward wouldn’t just be $10 000.

It’d also be a future with you; the very same one that he could sense in Paris.

He knew he didn’t need a bet to bring this future to the present. If anything, the bet might hinder the progress of your relationship. But if there was a possibility that he’d get everything: you, his bike, and the defeat of Sid; if there was a possibility that, for once, the idiot would lose and all of his shit-talking would come back to make him miserable… Jungkook was on the edge of considering it.

Smirking as the younger boy bit his lip in anxious contemplation, Sid looked at the other two guys in the room and announced cheerfully, “you’re actually doubting this!”

“I’m not doubting the time frame,” Jungkook said. “I’m doubting if you’ll keep your end of the deal since you’re very much fucking me over right now.”

Sid rolled his eyes.

“We can write the conditions down and have Minjun stamp it if that makes you feel better,” he said.

Minjun—the designated lawyer, apparently—groaned, but did not audibly object. This wasn’t a conversation involving him—it barely involved Jude, who was, technically, part of the bet—so he stood back and watched the face-off on the sidelines.

“Stamp it with what?” Jungkook asked, finding this excessive. “Our blood?”

“Anything that makes you feel better.”

Jungkook brought his tongue over his teeth as he thought this over.

He couldn’t do this.

But how could he not? If he gave his bike up now, if he dropped out of the bet, Sid would be free to find you and tell you about it—acting like he didn’t mean it. Like he was just showing off the bike that Jungkook gave him, and the bet simply came up. And then, not only would Jungkook lose his Katana, but he’d definitely lose you, too.

No, he had to be the one who told you about this in hopes that, once your initial anger faded, you would cooperate with him. Not for the Katana, but to make Sid fail. And maybe that could be what brought you together, what made you stay together even after the bet ended.

It’s the only way he could win.

Sighing, he asked. “What are the conditions?”

“First of all,” Sid started—glancing at Minjun who pulled his phone out to write it down. iPhones seemed more formal than bar napkins and Jungkook bit his lip, realising this was serious as Sid dictated the rules, “you both have to be aware that you’re back together.”

“That’s already a given.”

“Not with you it isn’t, you sneaky shit,” Sid disagreed, the seemingly innocent smile on his face concealing his anger about not having gotten his way with the first bet.

“Fine,” Jungkook agreed and immediately offered his own condition, “then you can’t talk to her about the bet or attempt to ruin this for me. Just sit back and wait until it’s over.”

Sid considered this. “Alright. But you can’t tell her anything, either. If I find out that the two of you plotted against me, the deal’s off and the bike is mine.”

Jungkook was the one who needed a minute this time.

Obviously, Sid had single-handedly ruined a plan that, Jungkook now realised, wasn’t very well-developed to begin with. But Sid’s satisfied mug pushed him to clench his jaw and agree anyway.

“Fine,” he settled. “I won’t tell her anything.”

It could still be okay, he hoped. He would just have to find a different way.

Perhaps, he thought suddenly, he could drag this out long enough that Sid would forget about it. Even two weeks could be plenty if enough happened to distract him—or if Jungkook stopped talking about it altogether.

Both boys looked over at Minjun, who typed for two more seconds, then looked up at each of them and nodded.

“The keys,” Sid reminded Jungkook.

Groaning, he pulled them out and passed them over to Minjun who had the decency to look apologetic as he took them from him.

“So,” Sid continued then, grinning mischievously as he extended his hand. “Do we shake on it?”

Jungkook knew he had a big head when it came to talking about this, but he also knew that actually making this happen would be a true challenge. He wasn’t sure if he could do this. He was sure he didn’t want to do this.

But if he succeeded—fuck—he’d get you back. There was hardly anything else in this world he would still want. Maybe a nice meal every now and then, but he’d make do with dry ramen noodles until the end of his days if he had to.

Fuck.

He liked his odds; the date at Kihyun’s wedding went well, after all. But Jungkook could also recall—very vividly—you telling him that you didn’t believe in second chances. Not to mention, you’d been very explicit when you’d asked him not to lie to you again.

Fuck.

“You’re sure taking your sweet time,” Sid teased, his hand still hanging in the air. “Not so sure of yourself anymore?”

It had to get worse before it got better, Jungkook told himself.

He had to agree to this, first of all, to find a way out. Then, he had to win to turn this bet into a distant memory with minimal consequences, to make it almost like it never even happened before—without you knowing, without him losing his bike, without Sid fucking winning.

And, most importantly, through this, he had to find his way back to you.

“Oh, I’m sure,” he lied—he did it well and he could tell, based on the way Sid narrowed his eyes when Jungkook’s palm touched his. “You’re fucking pitiful. But I’m still going to win this.”

Jungkook was worried he’d have a hard time performing after agreeing to the bet, but the concert in Berlin, surprisingly, worked as a distraction.

He sensed the irony: once, he’d used the bet to distract him from the anxiety of the tour. Now he had to perform in order to distract himself from the bet.

Still, once the show finished, Minjun saw the vacancy behind Jungkook’s eyes, and it unsettled him. Wanting to take his friend’s mind off this, he suggested getting drinks once the bus arrived in Copenhagen.

Jungkook took that to assume it’d only be the two of them going out, leaving Sid and Jude to occupy themselves with something else, and he didn’t mind that at all.

But this was where unforeseen circumstances altered their plans.

While the band was having after-show drinks backstage in Berlin, the crew dismantled the stage set: several bars of batten were dropped, causing minor injuries for the staff members in charge of the deconstruction. They didn’t need medical attention, thankfully, but the equipment had been broken—decorative light fixtures with Rated Riot’s logo that were supported on the battens had shattered and the metal pipe constructions had come apart.

You were informed that it would take approximately two hours to salvage what was fixable and load the equipment back onto the buses before you could leave for Copenhagen. Naturally, you were concerned about the state of the staff—if they could even drive after this—but they assured you they were fine. Still, you insisted they rested after having reassembled the equipment and assessed the damage.

Finally, everyone settled on leaving Berlin at five or six in the morning—that gave you, at least, five more hours in the city.

While this might turn out to be a logistical challenge for you and the rest of the roadies, it was an opportunity for Minjun, who immediately pulled Jungkook outside, already looking up the closest bars.

“No time like the present,” he’d said after Jungkook questioned what happened to getting drinks in Denmark. “We grab something here, get some sleep, and then grab something else once we arrive.”

Most unfortunately, Sid and Jude also saw this as an opportunity to get drunk, and did not hesitate to invite themselves to join the other two boys.

Technically, Jungkook and Minjun didn’t even realise that they weren’t the only ones entering the bar until Sid ordered them to get a table while he and Jude went to get drinks.

They were always the ones who picked the drinks for the night, and, for the first time in his life, Jungkook felt a little concerned—Sid and Jude always, without a fail, chose the drinks with the highest alcohol concentration.

“Why do you care?” Minjun asked as the two of them settled in the booth of the bar. “You’ve only passed out drunk, maybe, three times in your whole life.”

“I haven’t slept properly in two days,” Jungkook said. “So the fourth time might be tonight. And if that happens—”

“Don’t worry. I’ll personally carry you home,” Minjun replied. “I’m not getting your girl involved.”

“What girl?” Sid asked, returning with a tray. The question was unnecessary, really; he was already grinning anyway. “Last time I checked, she wanted nothing to do with you and only went to Paris with you out of—”

“One more word about it,” Jungkook said, “and I’m leaving you stranded in Germany.”

“Sensitive,” Sid commented and sat down next to him while Jude climbed into the booth next to Minjun. “Alright. Let’s get you loosened up, you’re awfully uptight.”

Minjun noticed that whatever Jungkook prepared to respond with wasn’t going to be pretty. He wanted to avoid confrontation and pushed the highball glass towards him.

While Jungkook drank, Minjun made sure to shift the topic: staying close enough to the bet so that Sid would remain entertained, but making sure to drift away from you, so Jungkook wouldn’t be triggered, either.

“How’s the engine on your Katana?” he asked. “All good?”

The question seemed innocent enough, but Jungkook saw through this plan as he swallowed his drink. He gave his friend a look—Minjun wasn’t sure if it was grateful or just confused—as he put his glass down and wiped his mouth with the back of his palm.

“It’s fine,” he said. “The oil’s leaking, though. I still don’t know why.”

“The gasket has worn out, probably,” Jude offered right away. If he didn’t have a trust fund bigger than ideas what to do with it, he might have genuinely considered becoming a mechanic.

“It couldn’t have,” Jungkook said. “I just changed it.”

“Did you change all the plugs, too?” Sid asked. He could tell from the look in Jungkook’s eyes as he took another sip instead of answering that he hadn’t. “You don’t know how to take care of it properly. I told you that you should have let me look at it. It’s why I’m going to be—”

“You break everything you touch,” Jude accused before Sid could elaborate further. “Let me take a look at it when we get back.”

Jungkook’s three friends – although significantly wealthier than he was – had always had a soft spot for anything that had wheels. It started out with tuning their bikes when they were fifteen and turned into purchasing their own vehicles when they got older: which meant Sid, Jude, and Minjun getting their first cars at seventeen, and Jungkook purchasing his Katana as soon as he made enough money for it. Minjun had known this when he asked the question that started the conversation.

And so, for the next hour and a half, the four of them immersed themselves in a discussion about Jungkook’s Katana, Sid’s vast collection of chevies (nevermind that he’d inherited the first Chevrolet from his grandfather, and the rest were gifted to him by his parents), and Jude’s latest hobby: restoring his 2002 Nissan Skyline after he’d wrecked it drag-racing.

“See, I knew no one should let you drive,” Sid said—he’d already had five drinks at that point and was, therefore, rocking gently in his seat.

“You’re one to fucking talk” Jude heated up, equally as drunk. “You can’t tell the wheel from your ass.”

Jungkook snickered as he sipped his drink.

Minjun took over the argument, “you’re both shit, actually. As far as I remember, Jungkook and I won most of our races. But I was driving in all of them, of course.”

Here, Jungkook raised his head, his eyebrows furrowed in offence.

“Not true,” he said indignantly. “I was driving at least once when we won.”

Minjun gave him a look. “You crashed into a wall that time.”

“We still won, though.”

“Because Sid dented someone’s fence and lost a tire a minute before you!”

“Still,” Jungkook said with a pout that he was not aware of. Then, he added a very important, “I’m not that bad of a driver.”

There was irony in Minjun’s laugh as he shook his head and began to list off the consequences of their win, “both of us had whiplash. The car was totalled. Your girlfriend nearly left you.”

Jungkook put his glass down with more force than intended—any mention of you sent a signal into his subconsciousness, as it seemed. “Okay, that’s—that’s a different thing.”

“How is that a different thing?” Minjun did not relent. “You’d even named the car after her.”

“Are you implying I crashed it because I’d named it after her?”

“I’m saying if you can’t drive a car you named after your girl, then how can you—”

“You know what?” Sid cut in, growing bored. He pulled his phone out and nearly dropped it as he smacked his elbow into the edge of the table. Hissing in pain, he lifted his phone off the settee and clutched his arm, “fucking shit. God. We need a new race to settle it. You and Minjun wouldn’t be on the same team for once. You think we could rent out cars here?”

He was already browsing on his phone when Minjun snorted. “Definitely not at four in the morning.”

“We could do it tomorrow,” Jude suggested. Sid nodded right away. Jude pointed his glass at his friend’s phone and said, “look up rental places in Denmark.”

If Jungkook wasn’t so tired—and the two Manhattans he’d consumed didn’t help, either—he would have been surprised that Jude knew his European countries well enough to recognize Copenhagen as the capital of Denmark. Instead, he pulled his own phone out of his pocket.

“Actually,” he said then. “Maybe we should go. The bar closes soon, and we have to get back to the bus.”

Sid lifted his eyebrows and looked at his friends for support—Jude was already gathering his belongings, and Minjun was already halfway out of the booth, too.

“Wow,” Sid said, despite being the only one who had a problem with Jungkook’s statement. “What’d she do to you? You’re no fun.”

“I agree with him,” Minjun cut in before Jungkook could say—or throw, as he clutched his empty glass—anything else. “We should go.”

Rolling his eyes and grunting about how boring everyone had gotten in Europe, Sid pushed past them to exit the booth and headed to the bathroom before they left. Minjun made him swear not to drink anything else on his way back, and the rest of the boys went outside to wait.

Meanwhile, you had been busy helping the roadies out—before they politely escorted you outside, claiming that they were stressed out by the endless phone calls you were getting from the label after they heard of the problems with the stage set—so you hadn’t seen Jungkook leave with his friends.

But Maggie—friend, tour photographer, social drinker with an alcohol tolerance that could have knocked Jungkook out—had spotted them. And it gave her a wonderful idea the second she saw you lingering by the exit of the venue.

“Since we’re stuck in Berlin,” she had announced to you, “let’s do something with it.”

It had sounded like a suggestion only for a second—immediately after she said it, she grabbed your hand and pulled you after herself to find Luna. It wouldn’t have been a proper night out if the three of you weren’t together.

Not many bars were still open at nearly four in the morning, but Maggie seemed to have a radar—the three of you were in a booth at the very back of some half-deserted pub before the remaining 20% of your phone battery could run out.

“I don’t think I should have left, to be honest,” you said, your hand hesitating around the cocktail glass that Maggie had ordered for you as soon as you walked inside. “We were having kind of a crisis back there.”

“You weren’t doing anything,” Maggie replied. She was sitting next to you and leaned over to pat your back in a comforting manner as she admitted, “I overheard Otto call Seokjin to come pick you up and get you out of there.”

Otto was one of the roadies and Seokjin’s right hand backstage. You didn’t know he initiated your removal from the venue, and you didn’t particularly like being excluded when you thought you could have been helpful. Clearly, the stage management team thought otherwise.

“I’m with Maggie,” Luna said; she knew you’d expect her to back you up, so she spoke before you could. “If something happens, you can still go back. A few drinks won’t hurt.”

“Yeah, and besides,” Maggie raised her glass, “if the boys get to drink, we should, too.”

The two girls laughed at this, clinking their glasses—it seemed like an appropriate toast—but you needed another minute in your managerial role before you could fully detach yourself.

“What do you mean?” you asked. “Who’s drinking?”

You directed your attention at Luna—your gaze inquiring about her boyfriend’s whereabouts—and she swallowed her drink before speaking. “I don’t know. Taehyung is asleep on the bus.”

“It’s Jungkook,” Maggie answered you. “I saw him leave with his friends.”

You closed your eyes, realising that you should have expected this.

Everything seemed to have been decided for you – you weren’t required back at the venue and you couldn’t, exactly, stumble around the streets of Berlin in search of Jungkook and his friends, either.

If anything, you were required here as your friends watched you expectantly.

They were right, really. A few drinks weren’t going to be a problem if you’d get a call (that is, if your phone wouldn’t die until then). And you were tired, anyway—to the point where sleep evaded you sometimes, just because you craved it so much. Alcohol might even help in this case.

However, as soon as you finally tasted the cocktail in your glass, you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You glanced at your friends first—they were either lifting their eyebrows (in Maggie’s case) or rolling their eyes (in Luna’s)—then you swallowed and turned around.

“What a coincidence!” Sid exclaimed when your eyes met.

A part of you—a dark impulse that you didn’t try particularly hard to control—wanted to toss your remaining drink right at him; like holy water at a possessed child. Begone, demon.

Before you could react, however, Jungkook rushed into the bar from outside. You merely had enough time to grasp what was happening—the bar that Maggie had picked happened to be the same one that Jungkook and his friends had been drinking in—before Jungkook pulled on Sid’s shoulder, forcefully dragging him away from you.

“He was just leaving,” he said briskly.

Sid tried to resist, but Jungkook had more strength—and far more determination. “I wasn’t. I’m actually—”

“He’s leaving,” Jungkook repeated with a strictness in his voice that you weren’t sure you’d heard before.

“What are you even doing here?” Sid whined at his friend as he was tossed to a side that was furthest away from you. “I thought you were waiting outside.”

“You took too long,” Jungkook mumbled. “Go.”

Sid groaned, but allowed the younger boy to literally drag him away. Once Minjun was close enough, he took over and grabbed the side of Sid’s jacket, pushing him through the door of the bar.

Jungkook looked back at you and gave you a small nod—as though encouraging you to stay with your friends instead of going after him to check up on him. You nodded back, thus allowing him to walk outside after Sid.

Jungkook was fuming.

Things had been going well tonight; he’d actually had a nice night with his friends and even forgot that these were the same people who pushed him into this bet.

But then he was forced to watch—in horror—as Sid approached you back at the bar, and he remembered everything.

So, while Sid pushed Minjun off of himself, Jungkook snarled, “I thought it was clear that you can’t fucking talk to her.”

Sid only shrugged and pulled out a cigarette from a pack inside his jacket pocket. “I just went over to say hi.”

“Don’t.”

Sid rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t going to mention the bet,” he spoke and offered cigarettes to Jude and Minjun first, then to Jungkook. All three of them took one each. Sid lit his up and continued, “you can’t forbid me from talking to her altogether.”

“Actually, I can,” Jungkook replied, still irritated that he hadn’t been there—once again—to stop Sid from approaching you. “And that’s exactly what I’m doing now.”

Despite the argument, Jungkook took Sid’s lighter when he offered it to him. In doing so, he realised that the paradox of this situation summarised their friendship fairly well. It had always been like this between him and Sid: constantly bantering and arguing, but staying friends, nevertheless.

“Why?” Sid asked with a grin, perpetually amused by Jungkook’s protectiveness. He blew smoke out and asked, “scared I’ll steal her from you?”

Jude and Minjun snorted in unison. The mocking sound took Sid’s attention off Jungkook as he glowered at them.

“You’re drunker than I thought,” Minjun commented, bolder than Jude was under Sid’s glare.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Sid challenged. “You all know I’m one of a fucking kind.”

Now Jude and Minjun were nearly howling with laughter, and even Jungkook couldn’t resist smirking. Meanwhile, Sid’s frown deepened. He liked to tease others; he didn’t like to be teased—never mind that he was setting himself up for mockery.

“You’re not shit,” Jude retorted, too drunk to come up with a wittier comeback. “She would never go for you.”

“No, he had a point,” Jungkook said. “She’s never hated anyone for as long as I’ve known her. Except for him.” He turned to Sid with a derisive grin. “So, you really are one of a kind.”

“Oh, I see,” Sid laughed humourlessly. He took another drag and then said to Jungkook—not even blinking as he watched him, “tonight was fun. But it’s going to get even better once you lose the bet.”

Jungkook remained apathetic as he removed the cigarette from his lips. “I won’t.”

“You will,” Sid insisted. His intense staring was an intimidation tactic that Jungkook had already grown accustomed to. He did not twitch or back away when Sid leaned in closer. “And you know why? Because you’re in love with her.”

This time, he wasn’t going to argue otherwise. Sid had used this as a weapon, he meant to ridicule him with it. But Jungkook—in this tipsy and tired state—realised that his self-esteem didn’t depend on whether his friends thought he still loved you or not.

Before, he had been eager to show them that he didn’t care about you—he thought that was the only way he could prove that his friends weren’t significantly better than him just because they weren’t in love with anyone.

Now he was going to show them that he did care about you, and caring still didn’t make him inferior.

“This might be disappointing to you,” Jungkook retorted, “but I can be in love with her and still make you lose.”

“See,” Sid said, grinning because this confession was precisely what he was coaxing out of Jungkook. And it was precisely the reason why Sid thought Jungkook would never win against him—be it a bet, or just in life in general. “But I don’t think you can.”

“Sit back and watch me, then,” Jungkook replied, blowing smoke out in Sid’s face. He pulled back immediately and the dissatisfied frown on his face was, simply put, beautiful.

Back inside, the girls chose to avoid discussing what had just happened with you. They had their reasons for changing the topic, too: Maggie had a policy against all boys who dared to interrupt your girls’ night, and Luna simply knew that if you continued to talk about this, you’d be more tempted to go out and check if Jungkook wasn’t getting into trouble.

But not even ten minutes later—just when you’d finished your second glass—Jungkook himself unexpectedly returned to the bar. You’d noticed him from across the room, and the second your eyes met, he made a beeline for you.

“Sorry about that before,” he said to everyone at your table, nodding apologetically at Luna and Maggie. “I, um, wanted to let you know that I’m going to be heading back. The bus is about to leave, right?”

Still surprised by his sudden reappearance, you were slow to pick your phone up. The battery had finally given in; you couldn’t tell what time it was. Both girls noticed this and were about to pull their own electronics out, but Jungkook reacted first.

“It’s four-thirty,” he said helpfully. “The bar is closing soon.”

“Oh.” You nodded. “Yeah. The bus is leaving in an hour, probably. Where’s the rest of your posse?”

“They already left,” he said without a further comment. Instead, he asked, “actually, can I talk to you for a second before I go?”

You looked back at your friends—both of them gave you permissive nods with grins that might’ve made the Cheshire Cat run away in shame.

“Sure,” you told Jungkook and turned your head away from your friends as if you could pretend you hadn’t seen their teasing smiles—that only made them giggle more.

The two of you walked towards the nearly empty bar—reasonable people were asleep this early in the morning—which wasn’t very far from your booth, but you figured the music played loud enough to drown your conversation out.

“So, um,” Jungkook began slowly—awkwardly—as he leaned his elbow against the bar top. “How are you feeling after the trip and… everything?”

There was something endearing about the uncertainty with which he’d asked you this. Pursing your lips lightly to hide your smile, you said, “it should be me asking you that.”

“It’s not. I’m the one asking,” he said so matter-of-factly that your smile only widened. He added, “I’m fine anyway.”

“I’m okay, too,” you said. “Tired to the point of taking a nap right on this bar, but other than that, I’m fine.”

He glanced at the bar after you’d mentioned it—as if assessing if it’d be a comfortable enough place to sleep on.

“Will you, um—will you be okay going back?” he asked then.

Your smile was plain and obvious now; hiding it required too much effort. Maybe the drinks Maggie got you were laced with something.

“It should be me asking you that, too,” you said.

“I’ll be perfect,” he replied, waving his hand around dismissively. “But I can, uh, stay back,” he looked at your friends over his shoulder—you noticed them both turn away, having been caught staring. “But I don’t want to interrupt.”

“Oh, yeah, no,” you agreed, your eyes still locked on the girls. “Maggie has a strict no-boys rule.”

You weren’t sure if she heard you or if her sudden snickering was unrelated to your comment.

“Oh?” this seemed to pique his interest. “Are you going to get in trouble now?”

“Probably,” you said casually enough. Trouble with Maggie usually meant more drinks, so you weren’t particularly worried. “She might already have a penalty for me.”

Despite you making it sound like this wasn’t the first time a boy interrupted your girls’ night to talk to you, Jungkook felt himself smile—he was the boy you’d broken Maggie’s rule for tonight.

“Because of me?” he still asked, a noticeable sense of entitlement behind his words.

“Don’t get excited.”

He snorted. “What’s the penalty? I’ll do it for you.”

“I’ll do it myself,” you said with a sigh as you extended your hands and laid your head on the bartop. “But some other night. I’m shutting down now.” You noticed the flash of concern in his eyes after you’d said that and added, “I’ll be fine. We’ll be heading back soon anyway. Get back to your friends.”

Your last sentence made him pause.

“That’s—” he stopped for another moment to mentally rewind through all the years that he’s known you. “That’s probably the first time you said that.”

You shrugged, having just enough energy to tease, “I trust Minjun.”

“Minju—but not me?” he questioned, offended.

“I’m working on it.”

“Well, how do I speed that up, then?”

“You can’t.”

He watched you for a minute, analysing your face for a possible option. He offered, “another trip to Paris?”

You knew he was joking, but you still grunted in refusal—that only made his teasing smirk widen.

“That’ll do the opposite,” you said. “I’m not going off-tour again. Look what happened tonight.”

You weren’t completely serious, but you couldn’t help but still feel uncomfortable that you had the leisure to travel Europe and drink with your friends, while the rest of the staff had to struggle with a stage set that was, apparently, falling apart.

Jungkook wasn’t sure if you genuinely blamed yourself or if this was just an illustrative exaggeration—your tired face was hard to read.

“Our trip to Paris is unrelated to what happened with the stage tonight,” he assured you in any case.

“Related or not,” you said and yawned mid-word, “now I can’t get proper sleep.”

His reaction was immediate—with one hand on your palm that you’d rested on the bar top, and another one on your waist, he encouraged, “come on, then. I’ll take you back to the bus. Let’s sleep.”

You were tempted—not just because his touch was warm and soft, but also because the thought of sleep seemed so satisfying right now that even the music in the bar faded into the background.

Still, you resisted, “the girls—”

“We’re fine!” Luna hollered; her glass raised. She was already tipsy and, obviously, had been waiting for an opening to give you permission to leave. “Maggie and I are going to stay back a while.”

You lifted your head to look at your friends again and caught them both smirking at you. They had seemingly overheard the entirety of your conversation, never mind the music.

“The bar closes in half an hour,” you reminded them with a frown. Jungkook’s hands were still on you—more supportive than before as soon as he felt the gentle sway of your tired body.

“We’ll find a way to keep ourselves busy until it’s time to leave,” Maggie added—which surprised you. Normally, it was the three of you against anyone who dared to interrupt your night. “You two can go ahead.”

You turned to Jungkook, who nodded at the door and seemed to make this decision for you. You really needed that today and you were quite unashamed about it; if anything, you appreciated everyone else deciding what you’d do for once.

You stood up properly and took a step away from him—he had to let go and did so reluctantly—to pick up your phone and your handbag from the booth. Your friends watched you, beaming, and you caught yourself before you began to smile, too.

Then, you allowed Jungkook to take you back to the bus.

It wasn’t a long walk, but you felt too drained to even take your shoes off when you got back. Plugging your phone in to charge, you laid down on your bunk, still in your clothes, and looked over at Jungkook.

Stubbornly, he refused to go to sleep until he was sure you were settled, so he was leaning against the partition wall between the opposite row of bunks.

“I’m still waiting until my phone will charge some,” you said, trying to make him reconsider. You paused to yawn again, then explained, “so I can check on the rest of our staff.”

“I’ll wait with you, then,” he said.

“No,” your firm voice got him to stop unexpectedly—he was already approaching you. “You hadn’t gotten any sleep, either. And you performed a whole gig tonight. Go to sleep.”

He resumed his journey and took a seat next to you on your bunk. “I’ll wait.”

You rolled over on your back to look at him. “You literally don’t have to do that.”

“And I’ll do it anyway.”

You exhaled, far too tired to argue about this. Your eyes could barely stay open enough to make sure he really was sitting on your bunk, and you hadn’t just dreamt him—the possibility wasn’t far-fetched, after all. It’s happened before.

“You shouldn’t,” you said softly, your eyes fluttering shut.

��I’m an adult, right? You said so,” he reminded you. You were worried that your words at the wedding would come back to bite you. “So, I can stay up waiting with you if I want.”

You sighed in response, your mind refusing to think of any more arguments or questions about why he found it necessary to bother waiting with you.

Satisfied, Jungkook scooted deeper into your bunk and crossed his legs, getting more comfortable.

He did as he’d promised—waited with you until your phone charged enough to make a phone call. Then he brought you water, because you called Seokjin and couldn’t say a word, your throat too dry to speak.

And then, half an hour later, when you were already asleep and he was sure you wouldn’t remember, he pulled your duvet over your body—so you wouldn’t get cold—and pressed a soft, tentative kiss to your forehead—so he wouldn’t, either.

chapter title credits: palaye royale, “toxic in you”

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#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fafiction #jungkook rockstar au #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fanfiction #jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #bts au #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts angst #bts rockstar au

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callsign-magnolia · 2 months

Text

Undiagnosed // Ch. 21

Mature Content 18+

Jake Seresin x Neurodivergent OC

Summary: Katie Blair grew up trying to be the perfect daughter. She always struggled to be the prim and proper little girl her parents wanted. Big personality as a kid, but now at 25, she's the shy admiral's daughter who just keeps her head down and tries to get through law school. So what happens when she's had enough and with help from a certain Lieutenant, she gets out.

Warnings: Emotional abuse, trauma response, abusive parents, smut, mentions of thoughts of suicide.

Word Count: 3.6k

Chapter 20 | Masterlist

“Who do you think you are-” “Shut up!” I yelled as I turned to face her. She closed the door a shocked look on her face. “How fucking dare you.” I said as I pointed at her. “How dare I?” I nodded. “Yeah. As I grew up I realized what a shitty mother you were but I never expected this kind of low from you!” She was reeling. “Shitty mother? You should be grateful to us! We raised you with only the best-” “AND I WAS MISERABLE!” I screamed. “You raised me with so much fucking trauma! You want to know why I was so ‘emotional’? Maybe you should read these!” I tossed the papers at her, the paper clip keeping them together. She grabbed them and within a second her face fell. “How did you get these?” She asked. “My doctor gave them to me when I went to see her today. Asked me of I was taking anything for my ADHD and depression.” I’m sure my face was tinged red, showing how angry I am and I hope she understands the severity of this. “You didn’t tell me.” I seethed. “You didn’t tell me when you knew of ways to help me.” I said as I stepped closer. “Instead you let me suffer and struggle and be made fun of and called the weird kid my entire childhood.” I was in her face by the time I finished. “You let me suffer and consider suicide at fucking thirteen years old when I could’ve been in therapy and on medications to make me function better!” “They only gave us this diagnosis to shove pills down your throat! You don’t have any of this! You were and are just a bad misbehaved child! You needed what our parents gave and that was a good ass whooping! I messed up with you because I was too soft on you.” She stepped past me and I was shocked.

“Too soft on me?! Smacking me in the face was too soft? Daddy beating the hell out of me with a belt was too soft?! You’re sick in the head!” I said and she scoffed. “I did what I had to do-” “No, you did what you thought was easy! Because you couldn’t buck up and be a decent person or a good mother! Because having patience for your child was too hard!” “WE COULDN’T HANDLE YOU!” She screamed in response. “YOU WERE THE WORST BEHAVED CHILD I HAD EVER MET!” It shouldn’t have but it stung. “We couldn’t handle you! I couldn’t stand to be in the same room with you! Especially when you were a baby! You would just cry and cry and I almost just stopped taking care of you all together but I knew if you died your father and I would be in prison!” My chest heaved at her words. It hit me hard how little she truly cared. I walked over and snatched the papers as a coughing fit hit me. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and you’ll drop dead. It’s the least you deserve after all these years of torture and abuse.” She laughed loudly at my words. “I’ll be here good and long after you’re dead. If I’m lucky I’ll watch them lower your casket.” I stopped in my tracks at her words. “No, you won’t. Because now I have a happy life and I’m away from the misery you’ve inflicted on me!” I said as I turned away from her and headed for the door. “Oh by the way, I was at the doctors for a flu diagnosis. Hopefully one of your lungs will collapse and you’ll suffer on the floor.” Her face dropped. My mom rarely got sick but she’s in her sixties so she’s more susceptible. “You little bitch!” She rushed forward and raised her hand but my fingers wrapped around her wrist, effectively stopping her. My free hand came back before my own palm connected with her face and she stumbled back.

My chest heaved as I looked at her down on the floor, holding her face as she breathed heavily. “It hurts doesn’t it?” I asked and she moved her hand, revealing a red mark. “All the times you and daddy hit me, it didn’t just hurt physically. I sat there and I wondered what I could’ve done to deserve it, what made you hate me. But now I know all I had to do was be born. Don’t worry, you’ll never see or hear from me again. You can start pretending I never existed.” With that I walked out the front door, slamming it on my way out. I got in the truck and immediately left. I picked up my medicine before going home. As soon as I was home I grabbed all my stuff and went inside. When I got the door closed and latched everything hit me at once. I leaned against the door as the sobs hit and sunk down till my knees were against my chest. I almost feel like it would be better if I did something to make them hate me, but simply my mere existence made my mother want to go as far as kill me. Having my mother confirm they never loved me hit hard and I feel like my heart is being split apart. Eventually I got up and took a shower, knowing it may make me feel a little better. Once I was out I dried off, took my medicine and crawled into the spare bed in the guest room. I wanted to do my best to keep Jake from getting sick and that meant sleeping in here for a while. My mind raced with all the thoughts and memories of my parents, how I never truly did anything, they just hated me. Tears ran down my face, soaking my neck and pillow as I cried myself to sleep.

Fingers ran through my hair and roused me from my sleep. “Hey, darlin’. Why you in here?” Jake whispered, leaning down to kiss my temple. “I didn’t wanna get you sick.” I mumbled. “I appreciate that. What did the doctor say?” Everything came rushing back and tears came to my eyes. I sat straight up, keeping the covers against my chest as I looked away from him. “I-I do have the flu.” I said as I rubbed my eyes. He hummed and kissed my bare shoulder. “I’ll make some soup for dinner.” I shook my head. “You don’t have to. I’m not hungry.” He raised a brow at me. “Are you sure?” I nodded, giving him a small smile. “I’m sure.” He sighed and kissed my head again. “Okay, you’ll holler if you need me right?” I nodded as I laid back down and he stood. “I love you, Jake.” I whispered as he walked towards the door. “I love you too, Katie.” He closed the door behind him and my tears came back. I leaned over to my purse in the chair next to the bed and pulled out my diagnosis papers. I read over them the words depression, attention deficit hyperactive disorder, and autism glared at me from the white paper. If Jake saw this would he change his mind? Would he no longer love me? The thought terrified me. I couldn’t lose him. He’s a big part of me figuring out who I am without my parents, I’m not sure I could turn around and figure out who I am without him. “I won’t tell him. He can’t know.” I said as I stuffed the papers back in my purse, laying down again. “I can’t tell him. “ I muttered, fingers gripping my pillow tightly.

Two days later I still felt like shit and I haven’t eaten. “Katie darlin’, you have to eat. You’re starving yourself right now.” Jake muttered as he came into the guest room. “Jake, I’m just not hungry.” I was sitting up in bed doing some school work and this was the third time today he’s asked me to eat. I’ve been drinking a bunch of water but I had no appetite. “You’re not going to get any better just sitting there and not eating. You’re only gonna get weaker and it’ll take you longer to get over this.” I huffed, closing my eyes. “Jake. I am not hungry. Now please, stop pestering me about it.” I said. “Katie, you have to eat.” I slammed the lid of my laptop closed. “Jake! I am not hungry! Now for the love of God JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!” I yelled and he stepped back in surprise. I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Jake, I'm sorry. I just don’t feel good and I just want to be left alone.” I set my laptop on the table and laid back down, my back to him and the door. He sighed before leaving and closing the door and more tears streamed down my face. Another day passed by, it was almost time for Jake to come home from work and I was in the kitchen finally trying to make myself something to eat.

I had decided to just do some noodles with a little chicken and tomato sauce. The chicken was already cooked so I just tossed it into the pan with the sauce. I leaned against the counter reading as I waited and when the timer went off for the noodles I heard the front door open. I grabbed the pot and walked it to the sink to drain them but as I went to tilt it I lost my grip and the pot went into the floor spilling noodles and boiling water everywhere. “Katie?” Jake sounded concerned and came into the kitchen. I just stared at my food on the ground and everything within me broke. “Dammit!” I screamed, grabbing the pot and slamming it down onto the counter. “I can’t even just make fucking pasta!” I felt like all of my emotions were just gonna explode out of me. “What dumbass can’t make pasta?!” My hands went into my hair as tears burst from my eyes. I felt like I was having a complete breakdown. “Katie, darlin’. Your feet!” My feet had been covered in boiling water but I honestly couldn’t bring myself to care. Jake rushed over, lifting me till I was sat on the counter. “Oh, Katie, your feet.” They were an ugly shade of red and I could feel them throbbing. Jake cut the sink on and turned me till he could stick my feet under the cool water. “Stay there while I clean this up.” I just stared at my feet in the sink. Jake cleaned up my mess and took my chicken off the stove before turning to me. He cut the water off and grabbed a paper towel to dry my feet. “I’m sorry.”

He looked at me with raised brows. “Why are you sorry?” He asked as I started to cry. “You just got home and I made a mess and I just let you clean it up. I should’ve stopped you and done it myself. God I’m such an awful person! I can’t even cook for myself without making a huge ass mess and I’ve been so mean to you when all you’ve tried to do is help me and-” I was startled when his large hands gently grabbed my face. “Hey, hey. Where is all this coming from?” He asked as he stared into my eyes and I started sobbing. I was sobbing hard and he just pulled me into him and held me. I clutched to him like a child as my tears soaked his clothes. His hand rubbed my back and he whispered soothing words to me as he held me. “I’m sorry!” I cried into his shoulder. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” He held me for a few more minutes until I calmed down and I sat up and looked him in the eyes. “I went and saw my mother a few days ago.” His eyes widened and his face turned red. “Katie, why would you do that?” He didn’t sound mad, but he looked it. “I-I had to confront her. I couldn’t go the rest of my life without talking to her.” I spit out, hoping to ease his anger but I realized I had brought up a whole other situation with it. “Confront her about what?” He asked, confusion all over his face. I bit my lip, not knowing how to tell him. “Katie, what is going on? Is this part of why you’ve been acting weird the last few days?” He asked as his hands slid from my face to my neck.

I slid off the counter and walked away, up to my room and he followed close behind. “Katie.” He asked as he stopped in the doorway. I had the paper in my hands and I stared at it. “When I went to the doctor I discovered a few things about myself. Things my parents never told me. N-no matter how you feel about this I’ll respect it. If you want to break up we can, if you want me to leave I will-” “Darlin’.” He walked over and grabbed my hand, pulling me to sit on the bed next to him. “You need to talk to me, Katie.” I sighed, holding the paper out to him. I buried my face in my hands as he read it. I’m not sure how long we sat in silence for but when I sat up his arms were hanging down between his legs as he stared straight ahead. “Jake?” I asked. “I can’t believe this.” He muttered, looking down at the paper again. “Jake, I’m sorry-” “You’re sorry?!” He jumped up and I got scared, he stood over me and I could swear smoke was coming out of his ears. “How can you be sorry when you have nothing to be sorry for?!” He asked and I was confused. “Your parents, the two people who were supposed to love you and take care of you kept something this big from you? Your entire life?” He asked, staring at the paper again. “Yeah.” I muttered, looking down at my hands, not wanting to meet his gaze but I yelped when I was grabbed and he pulled me into him. He squeezed me and I stood still for a second before hugging him back.

“Katie, I swear to you, your parents will never be able to hurt you again.” I pulled away, meeting his gaze. “Yo-you don’t think I’m weird or want to break up?” I asked and he set the papers down before pulling me into him again, one arm around my waist, the other cradling my face. “Katie, I fell in love with you. Everything about you. Every little quirk in your personality, all of it. Katie, all of this is what makes you you and I fell in love with every bit of it. Now there’s just a name for all of it.” Tears soaked my cheeks as I bit my lip. “I love you, too.” I said before squeezing him to me. He held me as I cried, rubbing my back. “Is this what you confronted your mom about?” I nodded, wiping my eyes. “I was so angry when I found out I barged my way into her house and yelled at her.” He cracked a small smile. “And I hit her.” I confessed and his face fell. “I’m going to assume she hit you first?” I tilted my head side to side. “She attempted but I stopped her and then hit her.” My face burned with a blush. “Well it was self defense.” I hummed as my eyes locked on the door behind him. “I asked her if it hurt. I hope it did. I want them both to hurt like I have my entire life.” Jake’s face fell and he tilted my chin so I was looking at him. “They’ll get what they deserve Katie, but it’s also not good to wish harm on people.” I knew he was right, it would only tank my mental health. “You’re right.” I muttered and he held the back of my neck, pulling me towards him till his lips pressed against my forehead. “Why don’t you go put some burn cream on your feet, crawl in bed with some socks, and I’ll make your food and bring it to you.” I shook my head. “My feet don’t hurt, and I can make my food. You just got home from work-” He stopped me, shaking his head. “I just got home from work and I want to make you food. You’re exhausted from being sick and constantly thinking about what’s on these papers.” He said as he shook said papers. “I want you to relax and finally get some rest.” I sighed, giving in. “Okay.” I said and he smiled. “And you need to go get in our bed, I haven’t been sleeping right with you in here.” I pursed my lips. “Jake, I’m still sick.” I said and he shrugged. “If I haven’t gotten it yet, I won’t now.” I sighed again and nodded. “Okay. Where’s the burn cream?” I asked and he grinned. “Under the cabinet, in the first aid kit.” I nodded, trudging out.

I did as he asked and put the cream on my feet and slid some fuzzy socks over them before crawling in bed. I curled up facing Jake’s side, his smell wafting into my nose and I quickly drifted off. “Darlin’.” I immediately woke up, looking up at him as he held a tray. “Sorry, it was so easy to fall asleep.” I said as I sat up. He set the tray next to me and chuckled. “You’re exhausted. I reheated some of that tomato soup you had in the freezer, and made you a grilled cheese.” He said before kissing my temple. “Mm, thank you.” I muttered. I set the tray in my lap as he stood from kneeling on his side of the bed. “I’ll be back, gonna get you something to drink.” I just hummed as I started eating. It was good and I could already tell I was starting to feel better. After a minute Jake came back in with ginger ale and a second tray. “Here.” He sat the drink on my tray and sat next to me before kicking off his shoes. I watched as he wandered around the room, grabbing a pair of sweatpants and kicking off his jeans and longhorn shirt before slipping the sweatpatns on and crawling in bed with me. “Thank you for this, Jake.” I said as I leaned back against the pillows. “You’re welcome, darlin’.” He grabbed my hand, kissing it gently before letting go and grabbing the remote. “Okay, let’s see what movie we can find.”

The following week I was much better and went back to school although I was shaking on Tuesday for clinicals. “Hey, glad to see your feeling better.” I was startled by Crystal’s voice as I walked into the break room. “Oh, yeah. The flu really kicked my butt.” I pulled out the breakfast sanwich Jake made for me before he went to work and sat across from her. “Last time I had it I didn’t think I was gonna make it out alive.” She said and chuckled. “Thankfully mine wasn’t that bad.” I told her. “Well let me know when you’re done and we can get started.” I furrowed my brows in confusion. “Get started?” She nodded. “Yeah, you’re with me. I was the only one who didn’t get one of you so you’re with me.” She smiled at me and I felt so relieved. “Oh, thank god. I was scared I was going to be paired up with someone mean.” I laughed. I had heard from Starla that the nurse she was paired up with was awful towards her and she left here crying on the second day of clinicals. Crystal chuckled and shook her head. “No, just me. Meet me out at the nurse’s station once your done.” I nodded and continued eating. Soon others filed in including Annie. “I’m so glad you’re back. Brooke and I are studying at her apartment tonight, we wnated to know if you wanted to join?” I nodded. “Let me see how I feel after today and I’ll let you know before we leave.” She gave me a thumbs up before walking out.

Once I was done I cleaned up and walked out towards the nurse’s station. Most of the rooms were dark and empty as I walked by and rounded the corner to see Crystal in front of a computer. “Okay, have a seat.” She said as she rolled a chair over. “Kim is going to review all of our patients with us.” I nodded and sat down with my notepad and pen. Once we got everything I blinked rapidly. “You okay?” Kim asked and I nodded. “Yeah, it’s just a lot to take in and I already feel like I’ve missed so much.” Kim and Crystal both nodded. “Well better get used to it sweetheart. It’s all fast paced around here.” I nodded and she smiled before standing. “I’m getting out of here. I have the next three days off and I’m only going to use them to sleep.” Crystal and I both said our goodbye’s before she stood. “So, you wanna go check some vitals with me?” I nodded rapidly, excited to get started.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @graceandpursuit @cherrycola27 @daisydaisygoose @rosiahills22 @deanoheartspie @cornishkat @high-speed-r @fogle97 @mygyn @ohgodnotagainn @emma8895eb @senjoritanana @kmc1989 @sandaltoesocks @dempy @itsdesiree86 @sunderland-6 @jstarr86 @brooke-stinson @rachkon @topguncultleader @bethbunnyy @topgun-imagines @clancycucumber230 @seitmai @kkrenae @djs8891 @shanimallina87 @wildxwidow @eugene-emt-roe @hisredheadedgoddess28 @littlewhiterose @formulapierre @wade-wilsons-chew-toy @bethabear @halstead-severide-fan @gg-trini @memeorydotcom @schreksdoubledeckerhomechecker @inthestars-underthesun @praline357 @fanboyluvr @greaser9902 @felinegrate @lemmons1998 @thegoddessc @lynnevanss @daddyslittlevillain

#undiagnosed #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #hangman #adhd #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin #jake seresin top gun #top gun hangman #jake Seresin x adhd OC

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kiragecko · 10 months

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A few weeks ago, I flew to visit my grandma with my little brother and sister. My little brother had never been on a plane, and my sister only has once, almost a decade ago. It was an experience.

All three of us are in our 30s and neurodivergent¹. My little brother has Down’s Syndrome² and is probably autistic. He communicates mostly through echolalia³.

I suspected there might be challenges, so I tried to contact the airline before purchasing tickets. This did NOT work. The Westjet agents weren’t allowed to discuss anything with me until I had booked a flight. I was purchasing nonrefundable tickets. The website was quite clear that they could kick us from the plane if they couldn’t support our needs. And they wouldn’t tell me if they could support our needs!

I ended up calling around 8 times. Finally, after purchasing tickets and jumping through all the hoops, someone was willing to talk. They mostly said that everything was up to the people letting us on to the flight, but at least they talked to me!

My main concern was the pacing. My brother’s favourite activity is pacing in circles and repeating movie/song quotes to himself. Once we got on the plane things would be fine (we had movies for him to watch), but I was concerned that other passengers waiting to board would find this stressful. Like - that isn’t our problem, it’s their’s - but flying is hard! If there was a way for us to not add more stress, I wanted to find it!

The airline was zero help, so we did our best to prepare on our own. My uncle died the day before the trip, and that increased stress levels. My autistic sister was dealing with that, a sense of responsibility for my brother, and also anxiety about a mostly-new experience (flying).

And then the plane gets delayed.

By an hour, at first.

The airline said we should be there TWO HOURS early for domestic flights. Which is ridiculous. TWO HOURS??? Especially since everything before security can now be done online? But we obediently turn up two hours before the new flight time, and are immediately directed to the priority security line. Which is good. Even the short line is boring for my brother, and I can’t let him pace in the few open spaces. But ten minutes later we’re at our gate, ready to leave.

Now we just have to wait for an hour and fifty minutes!

We had hoped my brother would want to watch his first movie. But he's riled up from lines and crowds and gets right to pacing. A few people have to slow down as they pass, but he’s not hurting anyone, so I let him be.

I’m more worried about my sister, now. She lives with the aunt that found my uncle. She hasn’t slept in days, worrying about the trip. She isn’t handling the noise and crowds. So I keep an eye on my brother (at least 50% to make sure he doesn’t take some of the chocolate he keeps eyeing when he passes the gift shop), occasionally ask if he wants to watch a movie, and watch my sister slowly descend into a panic attack. Not fun. Eventually I send her to the bathroom, hoping that it will be quieter and she can calm down.

BUT! Events have happened during this time! The plane has been delayed another 15 minutes! It is explained that they have had to replace the plane with one they haven’t yet finished retrofitting. This new plane doesn’t have as much overhead baggage space. They need at least 15 pieces of carry-on luggage to be checked. If the passangers aren’t willing to do this, there will be large delays once loading starts, as people are FORCED to check their luggage. Also, there’s no first class on the new plane. Or charging ports. Or meals. Or in-flight entertainment. First class passengers can request some money back. And if anyone misses their connecting flight due to the delays, tickets to their new flights will be provided upon landing.

People start to get tired and stressed. The intercom keeps threatening them. Now it’s 30 bags that need to be checked. Delays will be even longer if this doesn’t happen!

At this point, security shows up. They ask if anyone will take responsibility for the pacing guy. I do. They show visible discomfort with the situation, and his disability. Can I make him stop pacing? I can try, but probably not. Please do that, it is bothering the other passengers. Oh? Really?? Who could have guessed that?!

My brother is NOT willing to sit down. We stand in the concourse, while I talk to him about sitting down and he makes annoyed sounds at me. I’m not about to force him. I don’t want us to get kicked out of the airport, but can they do that for something as minor as acting weird in public? Mostly, I’m worried about all our electronics, which I abandoned in the open when security showed up. I’m not sure if security will try something with my brother if I leave him to pace while I clean things up.

And now, the hero shows up. The head of security has been called, and he comes over and asks me if there’s anything my brother needs. No, there isn’t, he’s quite happy to pace. It’s everyone else that is being bothered.

“I don’t care about them. He has just as much right to this space as they do. I just want to make sure you guys have everything you need. Would he like a sensory package?”

He wouldn’t like a sensory package, but this guy’s offer of the chapel as a quiet space IS interesting. Mostly because my sister is off in sensory shut-down somewhere, and needs a quiet space. But also because I could relax a little nobody would be watching us, and I could relax if my brother had an enclosed room to pace in. (No chocolates!)

As I’m agreeing to this, my sister returns. Head of Security respectfully tries to explain the situation to her. I look at her hunched body language and tell him to just talk to me. Then I send her to pack up our stuff. He wants to Include Her. She really, really does not want to be included.

He also wants to Include my brother. It’s kind of cute. He’s overflowing with good intentions, but obviously hasn’t had a lot of chance to put them into practice yet. He’s incredibly respectful, but in ways that would work a bit better for people who are more interested in their own decision making than my brother. I’m charmed.

Another person shows up. She is introduced as the Accessibility Specialist, and we are asked if we’re okay with her support. Oh yes, I am very okay with this. After she gets caught up - and she reiterates that everyone else can suck it, my brother is allowed to inhabit this space how he wishes - we get ready to head for the chapel. But the plane is about to land. There probably isn’t enough time to transition there and then back. So instead, we all wait around and listen to our two heroes conspire.

Accessibility Specialist has had the job for a month. Or, at least, she's been PAID to do this job for a month. She's been doing it unofficially much longer. She has IDEAS. So that’s where all the unpolished We Respect Everyone energy is coming from. Head of Security is one of her co-conspirators!

In-between plotting, Accessibility Specialist asks me questions. She hears about the amount of phonecalls, and the unsatisfactory answers. The complete lack of support. The fact that I had told the airline that this exact situation was likely to happen, and then got security called on us anyways. She tells me that this information is very helpful. Her plans will benefit from specific examples.

She tells me how unsatisfactory it is to have to send people to the chapel. They're pushing for a quiet room. I agree that this would have been helpful. My brother would probably have been calmer in a quiet space, which would have helped us AND reduced the stress for others. (Also, both me and my sister would have benefited from the quiet. But I didn’t say that.)

In all the commotion, I’ve forgotten to talk to the boarding people about priority boarding. But Accessibility Specialist is on the ball! We stand off to the side, behind a rope, while the plane disembarks. (My brother starts off pacing RIGHT in the way of the disembarkment, so sneaking into the roped off area is a good idea.) We’re going to be the very first ones to board, even before the people in wheelchairs. I pray that my brother is willing to walk onto the plane – he hasn’t been willing to follow me since we got out of security.

The boarding people are on their best behaviour. They make a special trip over to us to scan our tickets. They send someone down the ramp to check on the plane’s status. We are now VIPs. And we seem to have made the Accessibility Specialist’s day. She is so SMUG as she whispers with the Head of Security!

They ask if we’re okay with them accompanying us to the plane. Sure! I’m having a great time watching their excitement. It’s changed a very difficult experience into a pleasurable one. (For me. They are thankfully respecting my sister’s desire to be ignored. She is still not having fun. And my brother is pretty done with this experience. He’s found some quotes about ‘going home’ and ‘not doing this’ to share with me.)

Finally, we get the nod. My brother calmly follows us down the ramp. We get to the plane and are asked to pause for a moment while they finish moving some storage carts around. Seems reasonable to me, but Accessibility Specialist darts forward and takes photos, documenting SOMETHING. And then we get on the plane.

The plane itself would have been great. My brother happily took a seat. Enjoyed looking out the windows. And was excited to watch Shrek. My sister relaxed. And I LOVE flying. But, sadly, electronics must be stowed during liftoff and landing. My brother did NOT take these unreasonable demands from me well. He eventually forgave me for the take-off misdemeanor, especially after I put on my own headphones and quoted the movie with him. But my sins at landing were too much. For half an hour after he left the airport, he kept repeating, “NO more flying!” and “Not like this!” Any comments about flying for the next day got his hackles up.

So, I won’t do that to him again. But it was a very interesting experience for me! I am glad I got to have it.

And if anyone has flown through Winnipeg’s Richardson International Airport⁴ in the last while, and wants to tell them about any good or bad accessibility experiences, I think there’s someone there that would appreciate it. I want to see what she can accomplish.

PS. She’s also started a program where you can practice getting ready to board a plane! You sign up and they take you through the whole experience, from signing in to walking the boarding ramp. (Or, possibily, just whichever portion is concerning you.) I wish I had thought to contact the airport itself, rather than just contacting the airline and looking at the government’s resources. Good things are happening there.

¹ neurodivergent – brain works in a non-typical way

² Down’s Syndrome – an intellectual disability

³ echolalia – communication by repeating/echoing things heard, either right after hearing them, or a long time later

⁴ Winnipeg is in Manitoba, Canada

#accessibility #disabilities #airplanes #airports #I got a response from her yesterday #after sending in feedback (so she'd have more documented examples)#saying she's going to be 'sharing it widely'#so I decided I'd tell this story one more time #she deserves to succeed

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angelwings-crossbowstrings · 7 months

Text

Simply Save Me

Pairing: Scud x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Cock warming; minor drug use; sexual themes

Summary: Scud is a known bad boy but what happens when you act like a bad girl?

A/N: Just catching plot bunnies with @lazyneonrabbitt 🩵

It was incredibly difficult to keep still, nearly impossible. You were so full, the intrusion that at first burned had morphed into a pleasurable stretch. You were near desperate to feel him moving inside you, massaging your deepest walls.

“Josh.” You had your arms wound around his neck with your face buried against his shoulder. The position was necessary so he could adequately see the screen. With his biceps bracketing your ribs, he was able to handle the controller, moving it back and forth instinctually trying to encapsulate the movements on the television.

“Come on, man! It was right there!” Scud yelled into the headset. You wanted to shush him, suddenly afraid that Blade or, oh god, Whistler would barge in to complain about the noise. They would find you utterly bare and split open on your boyfriend’s cock, clinging to him with tears in your eyes. Scud was still clothed, belt and zipper spread open. It was bad enough that the strangers he chose to game with could hear every whine and whimper.

“Please, Josh. Please.” You brushed your lips over his throat, licking his pulse point and feeling his heartbeat thrumming beneath your tongue.

“Sit still, baby. Almost got this round in the bag.” He leaned, continuing to press buttons on the controller while grabbing up the half of a joint from the ashtray. The movement had him nearly pulling out only to fully re-enter you.

“God, I need you. Please.” You began to roll your hips, the smell of weed wafting into your nostrils to combine with the spicy scent of his skin. He grunted and placed one hand on your hip, growling when you heard the specific tone indicating his character in the game had died.

“Aw, man. Crash and burn. Couldn’t just stay still, could ya, girl? Wasn’t enough to just sit pretty on me, just had to take more.” You continued at a slow pace, already panting from the pleasure, how your walls would tighten only to be stretched back open with each downward roll.

“I’m sorry, baby, I just needed you so bad.” You breathed against his ear. The controller and headset hit the floor with a thud and then his other hand was sliding up your side, over to palm at your breast. “Oh, god, yes. Touch me.” One hand disappeared as he hit the joint one last time, holding his breath as he put it out in the ashtray.

“Gonna wish you’d been good for me, babe.” He smirked with smoke billowing from his mouth and nose. Both hands slid around to your ass, grabbing greedy handfuls before gripping tight to lift you with him as he stood. You whimpered when he pulled out and deposited you on his bed, your hungry cunt left clenching around nothing.

The drawer to the nightstand slid open. You knew exactly what that meant for you. He was considering all the options at his disposal, finally reaching inside to pull out something with a quick flash of purple. Scud was notorious for tweaking anything he could use in the bedroom or crafting something of his own. A shiver ran over your form, anticipation building. You never knew what your boyfriend had planned for you. And you had just given him plenty reason to torture you in the most pleasurable ways his skilled mind could create.

Bowing over you at the same time something silicone pressed against your hot core, the inventor kissed you, grinning against your lips.

“Hold on, baby girl. The Scudster’s gonna show you what happens when you don’t behave.”

#murda writes #scud x female reader #scud x reader #scud fanfiction #joshua scud frohmeyer #scud #scud smut #Spotify

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bellarkeselection · 1 month

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His Compass of Harrenhal - part 3

Part 2 - Part 4

Tag list - @only4thefics @superintenseart @universallyrascaldreamercookie @uniquecroissant @vavafaure1994

It had been a few weeks before we had received the news that Grover Tully had died. Once receiving that letter I hadn’t managed to will myself out of my bed chambers that I shared with Daemon. Having my whole body buried underneath the covers while I just cried in a ball hearing the heavy door creak open and my husband’s voice came out into the room. “Y/n, what are you doing underneath the covers?”

“I’m not feeling well, husband.” I muttered not removing the covers off of my face while I cried. I wasn’t quite sure how much emotion I could show towards him about the passing of my Lord father.

His boots could be heard scuffing across the stone floor till I felt the mattress dip down at his weight while he crawled underneath the covers and wrapped his arms around my shaking form seeing the tears still coming from my eyes. “I don't really know what it's like to lose a parent. But I don't remember as much of my mother as I wish I did.” He gently ran his through my hair letting my tears soak his shirt with tears.

“I'm really glad you’re here. I don't want to be alone right now.” I snuff into the crook or his neck.

He kissed the crown of my head before he heard someone knock on our door. “I'm right here, little fish - Go away. We don't wish to be disturbed!”

“My apologies, my prince. Simon peaked his head inside our chambers altering us. “The Riverlands lords are waiting for you, your grace.”

Daemon and I followed Strong outside seeing all the Riverland lords and young Oscar waiting for us. I fixed my gaze only on my nephew. “Be welcome, my lords...and you have my thanks for answering my summons. I know I'm not the man my grandsire was, but I hope to begin well, and go on from there.” My very nervous nephew cleared his throat trying to address the bannermen properly.

Daemon moved away from my side shaking his fist in the air before pointing to the young lord. “Well said. One thing is clear...the Rivermen honor the old ways and abide by tradition. Here, then, is tradition. Grover Tully is dead. Lord Oscar raised up in his place. You have been summoned here to swear anew your fealty to him, and as his bannermen, answer his call.”

“And what would that call be?” A Riverlord I couldn’t recall the name of asked out into the open.

Daemon rested his left hand on the top handle of his sword that was attached to his hip. “In his wisdom, he has pledged his house, and yours, to me.”

“Lord Oscar, for generations we have been guided by the judgment of your forebears. Why should we now follow a boy, younger than my own sons, when you will align with one who will desecrate the innocent to reach his aims?” Lord Piper challenged my nephew.

Lord Blackwood pushed two other men who had chains wrapped around their wrists before the group. “I did only what was necessary, my lord. And I now deliver to you the traitor. Amos Bracken and his son.”

“No more traitor to his land. than you, Willem Blackwood.” Lord Piper scoffed at Lord Blackwood.

“I take to heart your words, Lord Piper, and I agree, I-I-I am young. And I have no love for Daemon Targaryen, unlike my beloved Aunt Y/n seems to. He has dishonored himself and the crown with his...comportment here.” Oscar turned back towards me and Daemon very slowly making me feel nervous knowing that me choosing to be with Daemon now put a target on my back against my former family House Tully. “Nevertheless, having so little experience to guide me, my best course is to defer to the oath my grandsire swore to King Viserys when he named Rhaenyra his heir. I see no reason to cast aside loyalty. no matter how loathsome I may find her representative, the prince.”

Daemon interrupted the young lord. “King. Mind your tongue, boy.”

“Daemon, don’t.” I stepped forward squeezing his forearm causing his purple eyes to drift down to meet my soft gaze.

Oscar slowly stalked over to the dragon prince getting in his face not fazed by what he had said. “Will you have our army or not? I am, in the end, a Riverman and the word of my house stands, even if certain people are unworthy of it.”

“Your Lord Oscar is bold. But he is perhaps not wrong. I may have been a touch enthusiastic. in pursuing my aims. But don't allow my failings to...keep you from supporting an upright man.” Daemon stepped beside Oscar shifting his gaze around to the other lords that surrounded them.

Lady Mallister spoke up. “Lord Oscar, we honor the old ways, as Prince Daemon says and the old ways call for justice to be done.”

“Justice has been done. They who bent the knee to the usurper have been brought to heel. And now, we unite before our liege lord...and our king consort.” Lord Blackwood yanked the two men who were his prisoners forward, eyeing his ledge lord to see if he was impressed or not by his actions.

“I accept you as my vassal, Willem Blackwood… but...I am Lord Paramount of all River Houses. And there is only one answer for the crimes you visited upon your neighbors.” Oscar raised a brow with a look of disgust to him.

Lord Blackwood wasn’t expecting that reaction from his lord. “I did only what His Grace the king required of me.”

“It is true that he made clear his base desires, but you did not have to pursue such savagery. You did it... because you wanted to.” Oscar deepened his voice in a threatening manner to one of his bannermen.

Another lord in the crowd raised his voice. “Our young lord speaks truly.”

Oscar simply declared. “Seize him.”

“God's no.” I gasped and brought a hand up to my lips briefly forgetting how we dealt with traitors in the Riverlands.

Willem Blackwood attempted to fight against his loyal lords dragging him before their Ledge Lord. “Don't fuckin' do this. Your Grace, command them. I've only served you. Command them.”

“If His Grace wishes to show contrition for his acts and to prove himself deserving of our banners he must now rectify his grievous error. Denounce your crimes...and dispense justice.” Oscar didn’t draw his sword and rather focused his eyes on the dragon prince telling him that he would be the one to take the lord's head.

“Oh, dear.” The knight who currently watches over the castle watched with nerves when my husband drew his sword and moved forward over Lord Blackwood who had been thrown down in front of him on his knees.

I didn’t realize a scream escaped my lips at the exact same time when Daemon raised his sword above his head and then lowered it beheading the man. “Ahh! D - Daemon.” I croaked with water eyes as he came back over to me, dropping his sword on the ground and just leading me inside the old castle.

“I didn’t think you’d have to see something like that. Are you - is the baby okay?” He asked me with a much gentler tone compared to the more serious one he had delivered to the Riverland Lords outside.

Placing one hand over his that was resting on my swollen belly I whispered meeting his eyes. “We’re alright, my king.”

“Good. I won’t lose my wife and little dragon if I can help it.” Daemon rested his forehead down against mine and I smiled about to kiss him till another set of doors around was flung opened by Simon Strong.

“Your Grace, my lady. Queen Rhaenyra has landed near the castle. She is requesting your presence, my prince.”

Clutching the fabric of Daemon's tunic in my fingers he pulled my head against his chest while I whispered under my breath very much terrified. “That can't be good for me.” Either she would accept me or try go feed me to her dragon.

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arjwrites · 2 months

Note

— Heuheueheuehueeheu OK! Good to know that bc i love angst and """"dark themes""""!! And well, now I have two request ideas with Winchester!reader ☝️ I was thinking that just asking for Castiel might end up tiring for you so ONE (1) of them do not include him (this one)

Could you write a Sam&Dean x Older sister Winchester!reader angst where the reader (16) has just returned rlly injured from a hunt with her father to the point where she almost died and John is angry because she is weak while Sam(10) and Dean (14) try to help her???? She's like “I'm fine” while she's fckin bleeding on the floor 😭 — 👼 angel anon (I SIMPLY LOVE YHIS NICKNAME 🥹)

You're Not Weak - Young!Sam + Dean Winchester x Older Sister!Reader

Summary: Your little brothers are always there for you after a hunt with your father goes south.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: John Winchester-induced angst. Slight references to abuse. Fem!Reader

A/N: HI ANGEL ANON! This request has been sitting in my inbox a while, I am so sorry it took so long to get out to you! This was something new for me- I've never written young Sam and Dean so I can't decide if I'm totally happy with this. I really hope you enjoy it!

It was torture. The road in front of you stretched long and dark. Quiet hung heavy in the air since neither of you had the words to speak- John out of anger, and you out of fear. Every so often, when the car would pass under a streetlight, you would peek over to your father in the driver’s seat. The lamps would illuminate his profile just enough for you to catch the outline of his expression. Each time, it grew the pit in your stomach until you felt like you were going to cave in on yourself and disappear. At this point, he probably wouldn’t have even noticed.

It would’ve been one thing if he had yelled at you, screamed at you, told you all the things you did wrong and all the ways that you could be better. But he didn’t. He was so silent on the drive back to the motel- the kind of silent that teetered on the precipice of something you were all too familiar with. And all the blood pouring out of your cut didn’t help the worry. You were starting to feel delirious but you dared not bring it up. John already knew you were hurt- he had watched the creature throw you to the ground and slash at your side, waiting in the background for you to handle it yourself. You- 16, a fairly new hunter, his daughter.

“Where were you?” You had cried after he came to your rescue.

“I thought you could handle it. Turns out, you couldn’t.”

John had broken the silence of the ride a few times, muttering things under his breath. You could make out a few things here and there- can’t trust… ridiculous… weak. But for the most part, silence prevailed the entire car ride. He didn’t even say a word when you pulled into the motel parking lot, getting out of the car and slamming the door behind him. You scrambled out of your own door, grabbing your things from the trunk and limping in behind the man, following him through the threshold into the room where Sam and Dean sat side by side on the couch.

“How’d it go? Did you get it?” Dean rose from his seat, always eager to hear about your hunts. He couldn’t ever stand staying behind. John snatched the now unloaded shotgun out of your hand and tossed at Dean, catching him off guard. He fumbled for a moment before gripping it across his chest like a soldier at attention.

“Barely. You’re coming with me next time, Dean. Your sister can’t seem to handle herself and it’s gonna get us all killed. She can stay behind and babysit.” His tone was spiteful and dark. You knew there was something bubbling right below the surface- you and Dean shared a knowing look and a silent prayer that it wouldn’t boil over. John turned and stormed back out the front door you had just entered from. At the sound of the door’s slam, Sam’s head whipped towards you, attention now pulled from the TV show he had been engrossed in.

You weren’t going to cry in front of your brothers. This whole ordeal had been embarrassing enough already, and you already felt weak without falling apart in front of them. You had to put on a brave face for them. It was your job to protect them, to provide a buffer between them and your father- to absorb the abuse so the two young boys wouldn’t ever have to face the aftershock. It was hard enough looking into Dean’s eyes- Dean, who understood, who knew it was now his turn to fall victim to the same fate. But when Sam- poor, innocent Sammy- trotted over from the couch asking if you were okay, a sob ripped from your lips. The impact of the sound escaping caused you to double over in pain, irritating the cut down your left side. Your brothers rushed to you in an instant, taking you by the arms to help lead you over to the bed.

“I’m okay, it’s fine,” you protested, in a desperate attempt to save face.

But Sam and Dean didn’t listen. You hated when they had to see you like this, the poor kids patching up the damage that should have been yours alone to deal with. But by the way they stood, staring at you in earnest, you knew there would be no telling them no.

“Dean, can you just grab me something to stop this blood?” You asked, which sent the boy running across the room and to scramble together a few things you may need. Dean’s worry for you was practical, methodical. He was quick to grab the first aid kit to help you stop the bleeding and patch back up. Watching him through the blurred vision of your tears, you thought to yourself how effectively John had trained Dean, and how great of a hunter he was going to be. It made your stomach churn. Sam, on the other hand, clung close to you. He snuggled into your good side and you wrapped an arm around his small frame. Sam’s care for you was sweet and innocent. You closed your eyes and prayed that Sam would never wind up a part of this life. That he would never feel the burn of stitching up his own wound, or the sting of your father’s hateful words.

With Sam still nestled into you, giving you a surge of comfort, Dean sat with the first aid packet, already reaching to run a disinfectant across the cut.

“Sorry,” Dean mumbled, without pausing his task.

“S’okay. Here, I got it,” you replied, reaching to grab the supplies from Dean, who pulled them out of your grasp.

“Relax. You’re pretty hurt, I’ll do it.”

“Dad already thinks I’m weak enough. If he walks back in here to see me letting you play nurse, I think he’ll disown me.”

“You aren’t weak,” Sam’s small voice spoke up. He looked up to you with wide eyes and continued. “You’re our big sister, you’re not weak at all.” You pushed the hair out of Sam’s eyes, ruffling it into the top of his head.

“Thanks, Sammy,” you offered back with a smile. You were happy to have your brothers to come back to in these tough times. They each had their unique ways of being there for you, but you appreciated them both endlessly. You silently wished it could be like this forever. As much as you hated hunting with your father, it was better this way because it meant your brothers would be safe, that they would be there to help patch you up and lift your spirits when you were down.

So there you sat with your younger brothers. Dean worked on cleaning and bandaging your injuries, while Sam told you stories all about what he was learning at school or what was happening in his favorite TV shows. The three of you sat, laughed, chatted, and everything felt like it was okay again. A while passed, and Dean’s work was long finished, but you all lingered, sat side by side by side on your bed. When the conversation finally lulled, you spoke.

“It’s late Sammy, you should get to bed.” Sam pouted in response but trudged across the room, tucking himself into the pull-out bed Dean had made for him earlier. You marveled at how it never took Sam long to fall asleep- you hoped it would stay that way, that the horrors of the world would never keep him up at night.

After Sam had gone to bed, you and Dean sat in silence, apart from the occasional pained expletives that spilled from your lips when you would shift in your seat combined with the concern that came from Dean’s. When you were sure the youngest boy had fallen asleep, Dean spoke.

“He’s right, you know. Sammy, I mean. You aren’t weak.”

“I fucked it up Dean, I almost got us killed.”

“You’re a good hunter. Don’t let Dad talk to you like that. Don’t let him make you feel like you’re not good enough.”

“Well, looks like I don’t have a choice. It’s your turn now,” you said with a humorless laugh. It hurt your heart to think that Dean, your kid brother, would be taking your place. But your father had been training him for years, and in a way, you knew this was coming. The second Dean was old enough, you knew the man would toss you aside in favor of your younger brother. John was always critical of you. No matter what you did, you were never good enough. To him, you were just a fill-in for Dean until he was able to step into the role himself. You knew Dean would be good at hunting- hell, he’d probably be a lot better than you. But the combination of rejection by your father and fear for your little brother weighed on your heart.

“Just be careful, Dean, okay? It’s… scary out there sometimes. You need to look out for yourself.”

“I know. It’s what I’ve been training for. I’ll be okay.” Dean’s response was tender to match your concern, but it was also laced with a sense of pride. Dean was excited to hunt. It was as if he was stepping into a destiny he had been working towards his whole life. The familiar pit in your stomach began to grow.

“We should get some sleep,” Dean decided. He rose, packing the first aid supplies back into the duffle bag that sat slumped by the bed. You struggled to your feet, drawing in a sharp breath, before ambling across the room to your own bed. Dean called your name.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe it’s a good thing Dad doesn’t want you to hunt with him anymore… You deserve better than this. Than Dad. I… just want you to be happy.” The tears welled back in your eyes, but Dean continued. “Sam and I look up to you a lot. Just don’t think badly about yourself, okay? Sam will be happy to have you around.”

Throwing Dean a thankful smile, you tucked yourself into bed. Tomorrow weighed heavy on your mind- it meant dealing with your injuries, facing your father, and watching your younger brother head out on his first hunt. But tonight, you let your whole body relax. For now, you and your brothers were safe and sound. And that would have to be enough.

#winchesters x reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x sister!reader #john winchester hate club #supernatural reader insert #supernatural x reader

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thenextdawn-temporarilyclosed · 1 year

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Soul Secrets

Word count: 2.9K

Summary: the not so typical soulmate mark AU. You own a bakery, and your mark goes famous without you having no idea why or even who has it.

Warnings: bad writing. That’s it.

Pairing: Jenna Ortega X Fem!Reader

Started writing this a month and a half ago and finished it now on my laptop, I think it came out good? Idk you guys let me know!

———

Having a bakery was by far one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to do in your life. You had inherited this shop after your parents died in a tragic accident, and ever since you had been struggling quite a lot. Your shop was famous in Los Angeles, you had a lot of orders from celebrities and famous people, and you had enough money to pay the shop bills and pay for your nice dream house where you lived on your own. You also worked on your own, the shop had always been handled by the family, so you had to keep going on your own. It wasn’t a simple bakery where people come and go just to buy orders, you also offered bar services, where you wold sell donuts, cake pieces and whatever you could come up with.

Your parents always told you ‘when you find your soulmate, you’re gonna work here together and continue the family’s legacy’ and you were always up to that, if it wasn’t for the fact that you had one of the rarest soulmate marks in the whole world. A piece of braided hair on your right collarbone, just under your visible bone. Usually your soulmate mark represents a part of you, a part of your life… but you couldn’t find it a meaning, no matter how hard you tried. You never hid it, but you weren’t trying to show it either, and your friends… well, you didn’t have any. You dedicated yourself to your shop, it was the only thing you had left from your parents and you wanted to make it worth it, you wanted to keep the name high. So you never knew if there were other people around with your same soulmate mark.

On this particular day where the bakery has been less busy than usual, you were turned around listening to some music on the radio and singing along, when the door to the shop opened. “Hello and good afternoon! How can I help you today?” You said turning around and looking at who had just entered, it was a short brunette, shoulder-length hair and chocolate colored eyes, freckles all over her nose and cheeks… she was marvelous. You gulped as you met her eyes, silently gay panicking as you waited for her to speak. She smiled at you before speaking. “Hey there, I would like-“ she stopped when her eyes travelled from yours to your collarbone, where she saw your soulmate mark. Her shoulders slumped, and you gave her a confused look.

“You’re one of those people.” She sighed and looked away. “…what people?” You asked, “yeah I have a rare soulmate mark, is that weird?” You asked her again and she chuckled, was she mad? You didn’t know. She shook her head. “A lot of people had that soulmate mark tattooed because it is incredibly famous. Can’t believe there’s someone that would get to this point just for attentions” she seemed upset, but you weren’t gonna let a complete stranger talk to you like that. “Uhm excuse me? I have no Idea what you’re talking about. I was born with this mark, I’ve had it for as long as I can remember, hell I even have baby pictures of me with it! I don’t have social medias, I don’t go to the movies and I definitely don’t know why it even is famous. If you came here just to talk to me like that, then there’s the door, turn around and leave”

You pointed to the door, and the girl in front of you, who didn’t even introduce herself, looked at the door before moving to sit down at one of the tables, waiting for you to go get her order. You sighed and shook your head, you were about to close up actually because it was closing time, but something inside of you told you not to. Something inside of you told you to wait, get her order, her name and just get to know her. So you finished up what you were doing, and headed towards her, to take her order. “Sorry about… that. I just don’t like when people talk to me like they know me or they have an idea about me” you said and she nodded, seemingly understanding but she seemed distraught. However you didn’t know her, so you couldn’t interrogate her about that. “What can I get for you?” You asked, notepad and pen in hand as you flashed her a smile.

“What have you got? I’ve had a lot of coworkers tell me about this place and how good they eat whenever they come here” she said and that made you smile brightly. “That’s really good to know” you said “uhm, I don’t have anything fresh out of the oven, but if you wait a bit more I’m actually working on a new recipe fresh out of my mind” you said, “that is… if you’re not in a rush” you said and shrugged “isn’t it closing time?” You nodded “yes it is, I can still close and let you stay to try it?” You watched the girl think about it for a moment before she nodded, and you nearly jumped excitedly and went back to the kitchen. To the girl… this was actually really weird. You didn’t know who she was, you didn’t know that she was Jenna Ortega and that she was a famous actress and that she was your soulmate. You didn’t know that she had the same mark as you and that it was leaked in her new upcoming movie’s trailer.

She wanted to get to know you.

Soon enough you were back at her table, a piece of cake in a plate and the whole dish itself looked amazing. It was perfectly done, perfectly decorated… and she knew that it would taste just the same. Perfect.

And it did, it was perfect. You sat on the chair directly in front of her, watching for any sign of a reaction. The girl let out a grunt/moan of pleasure, and you couldn’t help the smile that forced its way on your mouth. “How is it?” No reply came out of her yet, but she took another bite. “God, this is amazing” she said and kept on eating it “what are the ingredients?” She asked and you smiled “it’s a vegan cake actually. I’ve had people ask me some but I’ve never tried anything, until now.” You said and watched as she went wide eyed “you’re telling me that this is not actually made out of milk and stuff?” She watched as you nodded “damn. You must be a really good chef” she said and smiled “thank you thank you. I uhm… I Don’t think I caught your name?” You said smiling.

“I’m Jenna” she said and held out her hand. “Well nice to meet you Jenna, I’m (Y/N)”

That, is how you met your mother- no wait. That is how you met your soulmate. Only… you didn’t know it was her. The more time passed, the more you two got to know each other and let me tell you, there was a connection that both of you felt immediately. You were just so at ease with each other, you made each other feel safe and happy and it was by far the best you’ve felt after your parents’s death. You had learned about her that she was an actress, that she had a new movie coming out soon and that she was now having a break, just being with her family and making time to relax, coming to your bakery especially at closing time and you let her. You knew how hard it must be being famous, if she ever came during the day she would be surrounded by fans so you let her come past closing time, you closed the shop and let her stay in so she could relax and try your new recipes.

It had now been a couple months and On this other day you had closed the shop, waiting for Jenna as you sat down at her usual table, managing the bills while a new recipe was cooking in the oven when you heard a knock on the door. You smiled brightly when you saw Jenna, unlocking the door to let her inside. She immediately smelled around before sitting down where you were just sitting. “Making me something new?” She asked and you smiled, nodding. “Yep! You seem like the cinnamon kind of girl so I’m making something cinnamon based” you said as you made your way to the kitchen, where a sweet cinnamon cake had just finished getting ready. “You know me well” she giggled and sat down, soon you brought her the sweet before sitting back down in front of her, eyes on the bills again.

“Managing bills?” She asked as she saw you nod and sigh, hands in your hair. “Yeah. I’m not really good at this stuff. It takes me hours and I’m glad I have company now” you said and tapped your pen on the table “don’t you have anyone to help you? Parents, friends, soulmate…” she said as she looked at you “well,” you sighed “parents are dead and I inherited this shop, friends I don’t really have any and soulmate… unknown” you shrugged “soulmate marks usually have a meaning in your life, but what does a piece of braided hair mean? I’ve never even braided my hair!” You chuckled at yourself before going back on your bills. “Random question uh, you remember that I told you I have a movie coming out?” You nodded at her. It was the movie where her mark was leaked, the same mark you had on your collarbone and that you didn’t know she had.

“Do you want to come with me to the premiere?”

———

Unlike your expectations you agreed. You were going to a Movie premiere, Jenna’s new movie. You didn’t usually get out of your eyes if not to go open your shop, you didn’t go to the movies as you had no one to go with but now you had her… and it wasn’t just a movie night… it was a freaking premiere. That day Jenna had her stylists and after you were given your dress for the night, make up artists started working on you, and you noticed that the first thing they did was use a really dense and strong foundation to cover your mark. “Why are you covering it?” You asked, looking at the woman holding the sponge. “Trust me, you don’t want anyone to see it” you didn’t know why that would be a problem, so you decided to stay quiet and not argue back. It took them A LOT both to cover the mark and actually apply normal make up, you had a very light skin color so it was hard finding a foundation color that even matched your skin.

When you were all ready and you got out of your apartment, you found a car that was already waiting for you, you were confused at first, but then you remembered Jenna telling you that she would come pick you up, so you quickly got in the car, where you saw her already smiling at you. Your Jaw nearly dropped seeing how pretty she looked, and you could see a small blush forming on her cheeks “you look… gorgeous” you said and took in her appearance and she giggled, gently punching your shoulder “shut up, have you seen yourself?” She said, making you blush “yeah I know I’m very pretty” you smiled and soon enough you had arrived at the premiere. You were about to get off the car when Jenna stopped you. “Wait, did the make up artists cover your mark?” She asked slightly moving your dress away from your shoulder so she could see if it was covered.

“Yeah yeah, they covered it, why is it so important?” Jenna wanted to reply, and you saw her hesitate, her mouth opening and closing continuously before she eventually sighed and shook her head. “Nothing, you’ll see later” you nodded in confusion and got off the car with her, flashes and cameras immediately pointed at the both of you as pictures were being taken. Surprisingly enough, you didn’t mind all this attention. You knew that this would be a great occasion to sponsor your bakery, even though it was already known pretty well. A few of the actors recognized you from your shop and form the TV spot and instagram posts about your bakery, you were more than happy to hear their opinion on your shop and you politely invited them to come over some times to try your specialties for a lower price. You were thriving anyway, so a lower price would mean nothing.

After Jenna was taken A LOT of pictures, it was finally time for you to get into the theatre and actually watch the movie. It started off amazing, Jenna’s acting was fantastic and you were stunned by both her beauty and how good she was at acting. She often turned around to see you with your jaw dropped open at her job, or maybe at how pretty she looked, or maybe both?

However, at one particular point of the movie, Jenna pur her hand on your arm, her eyes not trailing away from the screen. “Here it comes, look look” she said, it was the scene where her soulmate mark was getting revealed. A piece of braided hair on her right collarbone… same as you. As soon as it was revealed, she looked at you, only to see you… asleep. You had fallen asleep, and Jenna didn’t know how to react. You didn’t see her mark, you didn’t know she was your soulmate.

Jenna woke you up at the end of the movie, she didn’t speak a word to you if not just to tell you “we’re leaving” and “get in the car.” Admit it, you were kinda scared and felt like you were a kid who had just gotten in trouble and waiting for your mother to scold you. You didn’t know where you were going but you assumed you were going back to her apartment when she took out the keys to it from her purse. “Jenna, will you tell me what’s going on?” You asked her for the thousand time in 15 minutes. “Will you be quiet for just a minute?” Jenna asked, she was mad, but still being polite. “Are you seriously mad because I fell asleep? Jeez, I was exhausted! It’s not like I decided to fall asleep” you chuckled and didn’t even realize that you had gotten into her apartment.

You tried to complain yet once more after she didn’t give you a reply, but suddenly you were in her arms and you felt her lips on yours, it was all so sudden, so fast. You liked her that way, you really did but she never gave you any sign of liking you back… well, until now. “Jen-“ you said in between kisses, your hands on her waist and you didn’t know if you should bring her closer or push her away, ask her for some kind of explanation. You had questions, you really did and that’s why you pushed her away. “Jen, what’s the meaning of this?” You asked, you were still relatively close and the smell of her perfume was filling your nostrils, “(Y/N)… you’re my soulmate” she nearly whispered, and you looked at her in confusion. “What? But in the movie you had another mark-“ “the movie, (Y/N)” she interrupted you “there was a scene that you didn’t see, because you had fallen asleep, where my real mark was revealed”

You were even more confused now, your thoughts weren’t making any sense, and the only wan that had some was “show me” you said, in a few seconds Jenna took your hand and brought you to her bathroom, she took some lotion and wipes and cleaned the make up away from her collarbone, a piece of braided hair appearing as a soulmate mark. You were shocked, you were processing too many things at once and you were confused, considering that you had woken up not too long before.

“You’re my-“ you gulped. “I’m your…” Jenna giggled and you furrowed your brows. “Yes, we are soulmates” you took a few more seconds to process the new pieve of information, but when you did you walked closer to her, brought her close to you from her hips and pressed your lips against hers, and you felt a really satisfying cry come out from her. You were finally hers… she was finally yours. Nothing else mattered now, just the two of you.

You wished that the kiss could last forever, but eventually air was needed and you pulled away, being just a few inches away from each other you just smiled lovingly. “Why a piece of braided hair, tho?” You asked, your hand gently caressing her cheek. “I didn’t know until a few days before I met you… I got a new role, for a Netflix show” she whispered and looked at you. “And what is it?” You asked her.

“Wednesday Addams”

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cloudrunnerscinnamon · 4 months

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A short, slightly angsty Twelfth Doctor one shot - but don't worry, it's cute in the end :)

Imagine you are traveling with the Doctor and at some point, after another ludicrous adventure, there are emotions demanding to be felt. What’s going to happen?

(picture not mine)

"Just Once"

„Do you trust me?“ the Doctor asked. His hands were firmly wrapped around your upper arms and he stared unblinkingly at you.

„Yes, yes of course, yes of course I do,“ you stuttered, „ always!“

The Doctor heavily breathed out through his nose and cast his view down, head hanging for a second before it snapped back up. This irritated you. Why did he seem disappointed? Why did you get the feeling that the Time Lord actually wished to be rejected. Was it because of fear? Was he scared of the responsibility that came with the trust that others put in him? That you obviously put in him… But why did he ask then? You were puzzled which had to be showing on your face because the Doctor’s face grew a bit softer, a bit less pensive and he seemed to really look at you again.

Then it dawned on you. He was asking for permission, which was also why he did hope you would deny him. Permission for what though? You had been running with this man for what felt like forever. Why did he need reassurance now? Now of all times?

You both had just barely made it out of an underground city which had been flooded by an acidic river. Until the last second the Doctor and you had tried everything to reverse the polarity of the thick, clear liquid but to no avail. In the end you still had to flee, almost not making it. Both of your clothes were scorched from the acid. Your boots looked especially bad. The soles were almost completely gone. Shame really, you did love those minty Doc Martens. Now, thinking back you realized how close of a call this last adventure had been. Suddenly something „clicked“ and you understood. Naturally the Doctor would pick a time like this to inquire upon your faith. It weren’t just your emotions running high but the Time Lord’s too. You had almost lost each other. All over in a blink of an eye. Gone. Unceremoniously slurped up by some acid glibber-liquid-river-thing. Dissolved into nothingness.

Panic rose in you, even more adrenalin rushing your system. Panic you should have felt minutes ago racing against a tide bellowing after you. But all that kicked in now.

„I could have died,“ you whispered to yourself eyes not really looking, your gaze going inward.

„We could have died!“ You yelled and your voice rung in your own ears, harsh and loud. You slapped your hand over your mouth shocked by the enormity of your statement and a tremble went through your entire body.

„Doctor,“ it sounded muffled against the palm of your hand. Tears sprang to your eyes, a familiar sting. Your throat felt very tight all of a sudden and then you couldn’t hold it back any longer. A heart-wrenching sob left your body.

The Doctor’s own eyes didn’t hold tears but they still carried a heavy sadness. His hands moved a little, making a very small stroking motion up and down your arms and shoulders. Then he removed your hand from your face which was still covering your mouth. He kept holding onto it tightly. His long slim fingers folded themselves around yours and that pressure anchored you back down. Wordlessly the Doctor started to wipe away your tears. All the while he kept holding your gaze and you didn’t know if you could handle the intensity or the intimacy of his actions. When he finally spoke the Time Lord’s voice was rough with emotions.

„But you didn’t. We didn’t.“ It almost sounded like he was only saying those words to make sure they were still holding up to reality.

The lump in your throat eased up a little. The Doctor’s hand on your face calmed you down and you leaned your head more into it. You let him take more of the weight that had been sitting heavy on you. Your eyes fell shut. His caress was blooming like a bright light in your mind and you relished all the attention he was giving you. How could those fingers be so soft and gentle when he hardly ever seeked out another one’s touch? How could he put so much comfort in one touch when he never let anyone be so kind with him? How could he be so gingerly when he would never allow himself to be treated the same?

You feel is thumb running slowly over your cheekbone. Once, twice then you lose count, lost in the sensation. The Doctor’s hand that was still holding yours squeezed lightly, you could feel a tug. It pulled you out of your head, like a rope pulling you out from under the water. You broke the surface and your eyes flickered open again. There he was and his cross eyebrows – not so cross right now. „He is so close“, you thought. Had he been that close a minute ago?

I am not a hugger. The Doctor’s voice echoed through your memories from a while back. Him uttering these words really had stung a lot. He had respectfully but also firmly peeled himself out off your embrace and gone back to fiddling about the Tardis’ console. Of course even back then you had known that the Doctor did not reciprocate your feelings for him. At least most definitely not the romantic ones. A friend, maybe even a best friend, something resembling family by choice – yes absolutely but not a lover, not that kind of love. So his comment about not being a hugger did not surprise you too much. Numerous times you had become firsthand witness to the Doctor and his awkward little dances to avoid physical contact with just about anyone. However it still shattered your fragile human heart. Secretly you had wished he would make an exception for you. Oh, how stupid of you to think that. Acid rivers wont kill me, you rebuked yourself, but my naiveté and wishful thinking are going to be the death of me.

No, the Time Lord really hadn’t been so close a moment ago and you were still certain that he wasn’t a hugger. So what was going on? His face was so close you could, for the first time, make out the little brown spots in the Doctor’s blueish-green eyes. It came with a bit of a surprise to you that you had never really thought about what color his eyes were. You just knew you always wanted to see them. Now that they had been unwaveringly on you for the last minutes you found yourself growing uneasy. The adrenalin, the panic, the close proximity to the Doctor and his strange behavior had you strung tight like a rubber-band about to snap. For a short time there was only breathing. It made you painfully self-aware, too loud, too heavy, too quick. Matching right up with the beating of your heart and you wondered if the Doctor’s two hearts were hammering away in his chest as well. You wanted to put your hand on his chest and feel, you needed to know. The craving was so strong you had to actively keep yourself from reaching out. There was no way you would invade his space like that even though he was practically pushing „his space“ onto yours by now.

You were lost and so confused. For all you knew you too could have been holding a silent conversation judging by the staring contest but you had no clue what about. The Tardis translates pretty much any language in time and space, why doesn’t she speak grumpy, Scottish Time Lord and his many dialects just this once. A huffed laughter slips out between your lips and you loose eye contact with the Doctor for a second. This was getting ridiculous and frankly you were past waiting.

„Doctor,“ with a swift movement you push his left hand off of your face and pull your hand free of his right.

„What is going on, what do you want? What are we doing here, I don’t –“. And his hands snapped back in position this time both on your face, holding it lightly, effectively shutting you up. You were dumfounded, brain not braining. A sound, which could have been interpreted as something in the area of „Doctor?“ but that would have been reaching, left your mouth. The Time Lord looked at you, registering all your emotions. His lips were slightly parted and his eyes wandered all over your face like he was trying to create a blueprint for his memory. And then wondrously he stepped even closer. It could have been the dim lights in the Tardis’ hallway but you were sure the Doctor’s eyes darkened. His body was so close to yours that you felt the heat radiating off of him. You stayed perfectly still not sure what to think, feel or do.

„I will do this once, because I just have to know.“ The Doctor whispered while bending down a little. His mouth was inches from yours and you could feel his hot breath on your lips.

„I need,“ he pressed his eyes shut and your breath hitched in anticipation, was this really happening?

„I need so see how it feels, I need to know if…“ He hesitated. The Time Lord opened his eyes again giving you a pleading look almost begging for help. You understood then that he was battling with himself.

Almost losing you had made him realize how much you actually meant to him and he wanted to act on it. He wanted to show you but this would mean completely going against all his rules. He was the Doctor he couldn’t get too close, he needed to keep a safe distance – always. Otherwise the inevitable loss would tear him apart. But not knowing what it would feel like to just give in made him want to crawl out of his own skin. For once the Time Lord wanted to feel it all, the butterflies, the longing, the safety, the familiarity and all the sweet nullities because how could he deny his hearts when they were bound to feel the pain of parting eventually.

You could see the ongoing struggle on the Doctor’s face.You wanted to help him badly but without taking the choice away from him. Knowing the Doctor meant to understand that he couldn’t be pushed. So you decided to simply repeat your statement from a few minutes ago.

„Doctor,“ you mutter, “ I trust you, always.“

In an instant the Doctor’s mouth was on yours. His weight pushed you against the curved wall of the hallway. The cool metal, a harsh contrast to the warmth between you too. One of his hands brushed past your jawline, along your neck, up into your hair. The other fell down to your waist holding onto you.

When you kissed it was a brush of soft lips. For all the need the Doctor had held right before kissing you, it was all but slow and tender now. Then the tip of his tongue nudged against your lips softly asking for more but it didn’t feel forward, it was rather sweet, almost shy. You opened your mouth and the Doctor deepened the kiss tentatively.

Suddenly you could taste him. There was thunderstorm and starlight, vanilla ice cream mixed with the smoky bite of a good Scottish whisky and something else, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It was glorious and you just melted into the Time Lord. Your bodies slotted against each other like they had always been intended to do just that and still he pulled you closer. Never letting go. There was heavy breathing and tiny noises but from whom you couldn’t tell.

Did you stop breathing and just kept on kissing? You had no idea.

Did said kiss last for two seconds or two hours? Still you had no clue.

All too soon the kissing stopped and pathetically a whimper slipped out of you when you felt the Doctor pull away just a bit. It was not for long though. He proceeded to place wispy kisses all over your face and your knees turned all wobbly. You always knew the Doctor was a kind and sweet soul but you never imagined him to be so smooth and caring when it came to physical contact. That realization made your heart want to burst out of your chest. Could you love this man even more?

The next time he reached your mouth he melted against it with a sigh. That sound robbed you of any restraint you might have still held and this time you passionately deepened the kiss.

When the two of you came up out of the haze for air, the Doctor looked slightly disheveled and you couldn’t help yourself but it was just adorable. Tousled hair, red cheeks, whiffled eyes.

You were still in his arms, you both didn’t seem to want to move. The Time Lord had never looked so openly and lovingly at you before. It felt like he wanted to make sure you understood that he was ready to let someone in. To let you in.

You smiled at him. Gently you ran your thumb over the Doctor’s cheek. He closed his eyes and a small smile was playing on his lips.

And then suddenly, you had figured it out.

„Oh, I know now,“ you said softly steeling one more chased peck on the lips from the Doctor to confirm your guess. He looked at you curiously.

„You know what?“ His voice low and husky.

„Oranges.“ you exclaimed and leaned forward a little. Speaking while your lips touched his.

„You taste like a loud thunderstorm and bright starlight, like vanilla ice cream doused with smoky whisky and fresh oranges.“

The Doctor laughed, burying his face in your neck and layering it with kisses.

„I aim to please,“ he said and you both had to laugh at that.

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mrs-barnes-rogers-writes · 5 months

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Pretty As A Picture - Chapter 4

Marvel

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader x Bucky Barnes

Theme: Soulmates - Feeling the connection as soon as you see each other.

Summary: When Bucky fell from the train, their soulmate was told he was gone. When Steve Rogers disappeared into the ice, their soulmate was again told one of her soulmates were gone. But she didn't believe it. Couldn't believe it. Committed to a mental health institute, she dies of a broken heart. That's at least what the hidden S.H.I.E.LD files say, but if that's the case than why is there a photo of her. A photo that shows her side by side two redhaired Avengers.

Warnings will be per chapter.

For this fic reader will be British, but let your imagination replace if needed.

Chapter Summary: The team try to piece together everything together and Steve needs answers.

Chapter Warning: Sad Steve, sad Bucky, talk of death mental illness, electric shock treatment, and attempted sexual violence (not in detail).

The ringing of an incoming call, allowed Nat a moment’s reprieve.

“It’s Clint, I made him aware. Thought he should be part of this. He is part of our family after all.” Tony spoke, looking at Steve for permission to connect the call. Steve nodded and Tony answered tapping his phone to share the projection of Clint and Laura, the latter holding baby Nathaniel.

“Please tell me this is some weird prank.” Clint went first.

“You think we’d joke about something like this?” Steve snapped.

“No, of course not.” Laura replied, elbowing Clint, “but I think I speak for both of us when I say, what the fuck you guys.”

A little voice in the background shouted ‘language’ but didn’t get the usual laughter.

“Romanoff I don’t want to have to ask you again. Start talking.”

“I met her when she worked for British Intelligence. Clint introduced us.”

“So you knew her first?” Sam asked, directly his question at Clint on the screen.

“I did. She was an analyst initially, one of the best, if not the best. Still is.”

“So, she’s British?” Asked Rhodey.

“She is.” Answered Nat.

“Was she then?” Rhodey asked Steve and he nodded his reply.

“Man, what type of dumb question is that? You can’t change nationalities.” Sam asked.

“Actually Samuel, you can, not your birth place of course but when residing….”

“Vis not now.” Wanda said.

Pepper decided at this moment to take a handle of things as she watched Steve’s annoyance grow.

“Why don’t we go one at a time? Clint, so you met her first?”

“Yeah, initially just over comms, as part of the partnership between the different agencies but it was clear early on how good she was. The last mission Laura did, we, well we found out on the mission that Laura was pregnant. We were chasing some arms dealer in Greece that had decided to start manufacturing chemicals to control people. Masses of people. We ran into some trouble. The extraction team were too far out and we were in pretty deep. I thought ‘this is it’, I’d taken my soulmate and my unborn child into a death trap, and then the sprinklers came on, and some 90s boy band starts coming out the speakers of the warehouse. It gave us a hint of time, just seconds to get the upper hand. We stole one of the ingredients so they couldn’t manufacture it and ran. A mile down the road there’s a pay phone ringing. It’s her. Telling us the S.H.I.E.L.D analysts were ‘shockingly shit’ and she’d dialled in and taken over. She directed us to a drain, told us the route to take. When we came up at the exit point, the SAS was there to extract us.”

“Holy shit. I don’t think I know anyone who can just call up the SAS like that, not even their own, not even us.” Sam added.

“She can, she’s got them wrapped around her finger I swear.” Clint said.

“Well, that’ll be guilt.” Nat muttered.

“What did you say?” Sam asked.

“She said something about guilt.” Bucky said, suddenly speaking up.

“Nat it’s not your place to tell them.” Clint stated firmly.

“Tell us what Romanoff?” Pushed Steve.

Pepper decided to refocus the conversation again.

“Laura, have you met her?”

“I have. She’s godmother to our children. Same as Natasha. She’s our soul sister.”

Steve huffed and leaned back in his chair.

“Nat?” Pushed Pepper.

“I met her over comms the same as they did to start with, Clint introduced us over a video call and then Fury sent me to recruit her.”

“For the Avengers?” Asked Steve.

“Not right away. S.H.I.E.L.D, then the Avengers. First as an analyst, then an agent.”

“I’m taking her lack of presence means she politely declined?” Quipped Tony.

“Not exactly.” Looking around at everyone’s confused faces Nat continued “it wasn’t exactly polite, she told me to fuck off.”

There was a rumble of light laughter.

“Hang on, hang on, she knew who you were?” Rhodey asked trying not to laugh, “she knew you were Natasha Romanoff, former assassin, Black Widow, and the British analyst, she told you to fuck off?”

“Yes Rhodey, she told me to fuck off.”

More amusement passed through the group. Then Laura’s voice.

“Tell them exactly what she said.”

Nat sighed.

“Fine. She said ‘I already told Fury and Barton no, and now I’m going to tell you Romanoff, no, a big fat fucking no, now get your Russian, double agent ass off my desk and fuck right off.’ She also had me escorted out of the building and had 001 revoke my access given to me under the partnership.”

"I like her already."

"Hush Tony."

Steve and Bucky exchanged a look. It definitely sounded like their girl but it also didn’t explain their soulmate being there now.

Bucky was next to speak. His voice still sounding a little broken.

“Was she, erm, like us? Is she like us? Was she frozen?”

“Buck we know she wasn’t, Peggy identified her.” he replied, tapping the file.

“What is this? May I look at this?” Asked Tony.

Steve nodded.

“Do you remember the liaison meetings around the time of the First Accords? A member of each agency was there?” The team nodded. “Well after Peggy’s estate was settled, one the British guys pushed that into my hand and left. It’s all about her, her background info, her career and what happened after us.”

“What happened?” Vision asked.

“Oh god.” Peppers voice interrupted. “Sorry I just.”

She pointed down and Steve could see she was reading the medical papers from when their soulmate was sectioned.

“She was institutionalised. Although the British call it sectioned. She was really insistent that we were both still alive. Kicked up quite a fuss. They had her sedated and shipped back home and put in a mental hospital.”

“They shouldn’t have done that Steve, they should have sent her to Ma like it said in our papers.” Bucky snapped tearfully.

“I know Buck. That’s why Peggy did what she did.”

“What did Agent Carter do exactly?” Asked Vision.

“She tried to get a guardianship.” Tony answered looking at the papers. “Wait, Dad’s name is here.”

“They both did. Your Dad and Peggy, but it was too late. She’d passed before.”

“Because of what they did to her?” Pepper asked.

“What do you mean? What they did to her?” Asked Bruce, finally breaking his silence. Tony glanced up at Steve.

“Can he see this?”

Steve clenched his jaw.

“It might help, that’s all, give us an idea of if she could have survived that.”

“She didn’t but fine.” Steve said through gritted teeth.

The file was passed down to Bruce, whose brow furrowed the moment he opened it.

“Jesus Christ.”

The room stayed silent as Bruce read through the file.

“I’m sorry Steve, Bucky, electric shock treatment of that amount, along with what they gave her, and the Broken Heart Syndrome. It’s unlikely she could have survived that.”

“She didn’t. The next piece of paper is signed by Peggy and Howard. Peggy identified her and registered her death. Howard paid for her funeral.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Tony asked, disappointed in his tone.

“I was going to and then everything else happened. I was going to tell you and ask if you’d help me find the grave.”

“But there isn’t one right? I looked, there was nothing and that’s because she’s alive?” Asked Sam. Steve shook his head.

“May I add something Captain Rogers?” Asked Vision “I believe it may help the others understanding.”

Steve frowned but nodded.

“When Agents and Analyst, anyone above a a certain category joins an intelligence agency they under go testing and that now includes DNA and genetics, along with regular retesting. It would have raised concerns had she have been the age of Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes and her identity would have been revealed or at least have led her to S.H.I.E.L.D for investigation not recruitment.”

Tony and Bruce both nodded in agreement.

“Captain Rogers what was the purpose of light implications that Peggy was your soulmate?”

Steve went to speak but was interrupted by Bucky.

“I hated that by the way and so did she.”

“I know Buck but we had to keep her safe.” Steve paused for a moment before continuing, “I found her right before I went looking for Buck. Peggy said we needed two things, a plane and route in. Howard got the plane and our soulmate was the map girl. I felt it the moment I saw her. My luck never was the best and then I find her and it’s in a war zone, I’m about to go on a suicide mission to find my best friend. Our eyes met and I was falling over my feet like the little kid in Brooklyn.”

“He actually did fall over his own damn feet. Our girl had to help him up off the floor.”

The team laughed softly.

“It’s true, that gave your Dad and Peg some laughs.” He said to Tony.

“Tell them the rest.” Bucky smirked.

“I kissed her, practically threw myself at her and kissed her. She was not amused, she was pretty pissed.”

“What was it she said ‘you yanks are all the bloody same’.”

Steve smiled, “Something like that, she pushed me off, told me off and shoved a pair of maps into my hands. Buck met her when he came back to base.”

“I didn’t throw myself at her, as hard as it was not to, and at least brought her a drink first.”

Steve smiled again as Bucky shared his memory before starting again.

“It’s not documented anywhere but when we were out on a mission there was an attack back at the base, a small group of energy agents had snuck in on a delivery truck. One of them went into what we called the War Room, trying to see the plans. Well, that’s what Phillips' first thought. Our girl was in there with another agent who was shot and killed. She got into a scuffle with the enemy agent and disarmed him but he didn’t stop and he tried to hurt her, in the worst way possible. Buck had slipped a pocket knife into her stocking before we left and she used it. Peggy burst in and finished the job. When they searched his body, there was a photo, albeit a bad one but a photo and a description of her. They hadn’t just come to see our plans, they’d come for her.”

“That’s why everything was deleted?” Nat stated, “Why I couldn't find anything, pictures, film, newsreels, all of it?”

Steve nodded. “Peggy pointed out she was safer with us than back home, we had no idea who knew about her. Every single one of those agents had a damn picture of her.”

“Peg made some calls, she knew someone at the BBC, Pathe News, some had lost soulmates in the war, so they clipped every image of her out.” Bucky added.

“So the photograph in your compass? Of Agent Carter? It was a diversion tactic?” Asked Vision.

Steve nodded, smile now gone. Sam still confused asked questions.

“OK, I need to piece this together out loud for a second and you know I’ve got your backs right? But for the non science bros, or super intelligent creations, no offence”

Replies of “non taken” echoed round the room.

“You said Peggy identified her, after she’d passed, Howard paid for the funeral, so they hid her really damn well for seventy years or this ain’t your girl. Like Vis said someone would have flagged her age.”

“It’s her!” Bucky snapped.

“Buck.”

“I’m trying to be the voice of reason here, make sense of it all. Are you sure that’s her?” Sam asked pointing at the pictures Buck still held. “You said yourself, she was deleted from everything, you don’t have a point of reference, a photo. You’ve been through some shit, you’ve been froze. Also, there's no point of reference for any of us either, with everything gone, we've all tried to look. I'm just saying you’ve been through a lot. Maybe the memory is blurred.”

It was at this point Bucky lost it.

“I remember everything!” He cried out “I remember her, I remember my Ma, my sisters, everything, all the god damn awful fucking things I’ve done, that they made me do. Shuri pieced it altogether and the good things, the good memories, her, the memory of her is what gets me through, when I can’t do it, when I can barely breathe.”

“Buck take a breath.”

“Just show them Steve, they’re looking at me like I’m damn crazy, about to ship me back to Wakanda! Show them.”

Steve rose from his seat and pulled out his compass. A compass that had been seen on newsreels, in newspapers and in history books. He slowly opened it and carefully removed the picture of Peggy. Hidden behind the S.H.I.E.L.D founder was their soulmate.

Faded and a little rough round the ages but the others could now see it clearly for themselves as Steve set the compass down displaying the photograph. Bucky reluctantly placed those from Wanda beside it.

It was the same person. You. Soul sister to the Bartons, Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner and most recently, Wanda Maximoff, were in both pictures.

And you were Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes soulmate and you were alive.

Enjoy this fic? Fancy a cuppa? My Ko-Fi.

#steve rogers x reader #avengers au #bucky barnes #steve rogers #bucky barnes x reader #avengers #steve x reader x bucky #soulmate au #avengers soulmate au #steve rogers x reader x bucky

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