#i hit the max image count anyways so whatever

[aashiyancha]

Happy Tuesday! Didn't finish doodling the whole skit so its probably gonna be at least another part. Anyways, here's A day with Reinhard and Ares part 2

And ofc if you would like to read the rest and in order here's the masterpost link!

[markerofthemidnight]

sorry for the late ask abt my abno concept, i was gonna send images but i forgot you cant send links over anon asks .. T-01-13 ; "Small Nurse" -> "Saccharine" it looks like a light pink stuffed animal with no arms, and fluffy bunny ears which have white insides. it has a nurse cap with a pink heart that's the same color as its torso, and it has a zipper on it's torso too it looks like a bunny to be more approachable, its more like a costume honestly its main goal is to help people! it's seen the violence in the world, so it wants to make people happy by making them see everything as candy, which makes them see gore as candy too the basic concept rlly is that it's a "nurse" that can be assigned to give ur agents candy pills it gives the pills by opening the zipper and reaching out to hand them over those pills can slightly boost their stats, however if used over 3 times on the same agent, said nugget will go into a crazed state (similar to what signing machine does), and start 2 kill ur other ones. it likes repression and attachment work, which will probably tie into their story once i finalize everything here also sorry for it not being that organized btw idk how to put my thoughts together that well...

wake up babe the company drug dealer was just extracted

Jokes aside, I really like this concept! Saccharine is a very good girl :)

For my two cents on how this would work: Its risk classification is about… what, HE? If it can be assigned specifically to give your agents pills, maybe that’s a unique work called “Medicate”, probably replacing Instinct!

The pills themselves increase every stat except Justice. After cracking open one of their coworkers like a piñata, Addicted employees cannibalise them to recover HP.

Her EGO is called something like Sugar Rush, Substance Abuse, Prescription, Lovesick, or hell, just Saccharine, like Laetitia and her gear. Whatever you think is the most thematically appropriate.

It’s not exactly the best HE gear out there, but still worth the PE-boxes, and there’s plenty of it to go around (the max for the Suit is 3, the Weapon’s max is 2, and only the weapon has a stat requirement: a measly Level 3 Temperance).

Her Gift is a nurse hat that applies bonuses to Temperance and Fortitude, and her Suit is a doctor’s uniform with great defence against Red (because it defends against physical threats, which illnesses would technically count as).

The Weapon is a Black club: specifically, a pinkish-purple piñata bat (to once again pull piñata symbolism with the Agents) with medical needles sticking out from it for some extra “you really do not want to be hit by this”.

Sorry, I went a bit too hard on this. Hope you enjoyed anyways!

[torchickentacos]

I've never understood Drew snapping in that one scene. Could you try to explain it? You seem to get him well

First off, hello and thank you! I don't know that I get him as much as I just like to poke around his brain and emotions and just don't shut up about him tbh? I see a fucked up fictional guy and explore his emotional issues like a corn maze. See also: Zuko, Clive from PL, BOTW Zelda who I'm counting as a fucked up fictional guy here, et cetera. So anon, I went back and watched that episode, and here are my thoughts. I’m keeping it as close to canon as I can here, though if you’re on my blog you’re likely looking for the ship side of it too. I will touch on that since I do think it’s canonically interwoven with this scene, but I’m trying to mostly focus on Drew as his own character. I do love shipping but more than that I think AG has made characters that stand well on their own, so I did take that into account though he is, in canon, somewhat inextractible from May since their stories are very deliberately playing off of one another. Anyways, let's go, feel free to disagree with me, I'm just some random person with opinions that people trust to go to for information for some reason. And I love it, though I'm not sure what I did to deserve it.

On the surface, it appears that Drew is just unhappy with Absol’s performance. I think we all know it’s not just that, though-but what exactly IS it? I have a few theories, since in the english dub, at least, it’s not clear on the surface level. 

One, and probably the most popular theory I’ve seen back in ye olde pokemon forum days if we’re to not take the explanation of ‘absol did bad’ at face value, is that the stress got to him and she was in the wrong place at the wrong time, not helped by them likely having to face off. Which, sure, whatever- but Drew isn’t the type of person to let contest stress get to him. He’s about perfected that cool facade, though we are really seeing the cracks in the surface here. I think it’s fairly surface-level to read it as just competitive energy getting to him. 

Theory two, I’ve seen people say it’s him getting freaked out and realizing how much of a threat May really is, and this is the moment where he takes her seriously. I think this may play into it a bit, but I do think he took her seriously before this point. This comes after Who What When Where Wynaut (WWWWW) and Spontaneous Combusken, both episodes where she challenges him or is neck-and-neck in terms of banter and conversation. Especially Spontaneous Combusken-in that episode, she’s so good at countering his remarks that he actually chickens out of the conversation (cue “Drew is such a weenie” from Max). Not to mention that in WWWWW she literally saves his ass from death via drowning.I think after that you kind of have to take someone seriously. So, I do think her being a serious rival that he sees as an equal plays into it, but I would not say this was the single defining event where that comes to the surface. However, evidence to support this is here- Solidad says May’s performance in the first round ‘really shook him’, and I do think that plays into it. 

Theory three, the one I find the most interesting. I think that there’s a possibility that Drew is in his head about their rivalry and how that interacts and counteracts with his other feelings for her. Because how do you balance a delicate friendship, a rivalry, and romantic feelings? Not easily, I imagine, and I think Drew bottled up a lot of that and it hit a peak here and spilled out. First, we have him and May in a definite shift at this point. He’s still kind of arrogant, but it’s toned down and they are friends at this point. At the very least, he’s fond of her (source: that frame from WWWWW where he's just looking at her softly, as he does, and tumblr is back to not letting me insert images). 

Actually, scratch that- at this point, it is solid canon he has a crush on her. Solidad does her ‘therapist breaking hipaa privacy laws’ thing and tells may, quote, “he has feelings for you”. Now, May, along with most advanceshippers (love you guys-not an attack lol), seem to assume that the word ‘feelings’ here isn’t super heavy. I put that down to her being dense though because the phrase ‘feelings for you’ is fairly cut and dry. So, canon-at this point, he likes her romantically, and he’s going to have to face her in the grand festival. I think this is a moment where he realizes those two things may be hard to balance in the future. I think he’s got a lot of anxiety about his relationship with May at the moment, whatever the fuck it is. 

So, let’s move to the actual moment where he yells at her. First off, I think Solidad might have actually made things worse. (I think literally everyone being there was the opposite of helpful, actually- Drew is a weird introvert who probably felt somewhat trapped in the situation, though that’s my interpretation of it). Anyways, Solidad immediately calls him out on his bullshit in front of May, Brock, Max, and Ash, which… way to deescalate the situation there. While Drew DOES need someone blunt like that, I don’t think this was the time for her to do her therapist hipaa stuff and talk in front of everyone about how he felt like he failed (very prideful character). So, that makes it worse. So, he grits his teeth, nods, and tries to leave the situation. However, May catches him and tells him that Absol tried its best and that Drew shouldn’t be angry at it (which I really don’t think he is). And he yells at her. 

It’s the scenes after it that solidify it as him struggling with their friendship/rivalry/romantic thing, though-or at least solidify it as a possibility if we're willing to look deeper than pokemon meant for us to. This theory is mostly cemented by the scene where Ash and Drew talk (sorry, respectshippers-not trying to take over your moment here!). They end up talking about rivalries. Ash says stuff about never talking to rivals about how they train (which. One, Paul foreshadowing. But two, wasn’t that the whole thing with Ash and Charmander’s blue haired cowboy trainer? Darius or something?) Anyways, this scene ends with Drew saying “I hear ya. We’re rivals, May and I.” And the emphasis on their rivalry in this talk is what really makes me think a lot of that anger was misdirected weird emotions he had towards their rivalry in conflict towards his other feelings. Is this a stretch? Maybe, idk, but I had fun and it makes sense in my head. Hope this is what you asked for!!!

[askroahmmythril]

A Worms Armageddon Map Tutorial, by Neo

So since it’s been asked about and there are apparently many a picky detail that can cause custom maps in Worms Armageddon to not show up (and even then, they can be tricky to find), Neo has put together a tutorial on how to make them work.  I thus turn you over to our guest lecturer.

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

Hello there, Neo speaking, I'm the one that actually made the maps used in Roahm's videos, so I'll be the one guiding you to get your new map working for the game

I presume you have the map already made, but I have to assume all possible reasons as to why the map may not work, so forgive me for writing it down as a tutorial.

Now then, first up, making the map. I won't tell you how to make it, as I'm sure you can figure out the drawing/image editting process to do so, but I do need to address a few things about the maps.

1) Map size is important: the game allows for ludicrous sizes of .png images to be used for maps and although there is a min and a max for sizes you usually wouldn't run into problems here since the size isn't usually an issue. But there is a caveat: the pixel count on either horizontal or vertical axis must be divisible by 8. This means that if your map is, say, 803 pixels wide, it won't work, it needs to be a number divisible by 8.

2) Transparency: when working on a map, I recommend using transparency to figure out where your worms will be walking on, and if you're gonna have a lot of worms in one match (6 teams of 8 worms each, for example) you need a lot of space to work with, so the fields should be pretty open.

For instance, whatever falls into the checkered background (which indicates transparency) is something your worm will be able to walk, jump or jump rope across. Whatever is the solid color will be used as part of the ground or walls that make up your map.

As a result, be careful with stray pixels, as those can be an annoyance for players to find a sudden unseeable thing that impedes their progress. 

The alternative to transparency is having the background colored in pure black (RGB 0, 0, 0) and have the color black be a different shade of color (RGB 1, 1, 1) if you need it, but honestly that seems a bit too complicated, so I just let transparency do the work.

3) Anti-aliasing: Worms can't do anti-aliasing. In case you don't know, its how the outline of an object is smoothed out for the sake of the picture on a PNG. When the game runs anti-aliasing, its interpreted as a bunch of random stray pixels.

Make sure the outline of the map is jagged and pixelated before you load it up. 

4) Color: A reason of why the map may not load is that it has too much color, as Worms has an upper limit of how many different colors are on the palette This doesn't mean you need to count the pixels, just that you need to run it through an automatic filter. 

A program like Gimp will run your png through a color limiting filter automatically. 

just hit Image > Mode > Index... 

And just set the color palette to something similar to this, color max that Worms has is 112 colors. 

Assuming you save the map and its ready to use (or that you downloaded one from the net) then to load up the map you do the following.

This is the steps that I presume you've already done, but no harm in going over where to put them at. Basically, just go to where your folder files of Worms Armaggeddon are located, you can do so (assuming you're using steam) through the client itself or by following a similar URL to the one I have on my folder

Go to the User folder and inside of that you'll find "SavedLevels", that's where they should be in to be able to load in the game. Presuming that the criteria of color, transparency and size are met, anyway. 

To load up the map in-game, simply start up a match and this is the devious bit, the maps won't load on this drop down menu since these are the default ones to the game, they cannot be changed. 

Instead, left click on the map so that it auto-generates one at random and then right click it to bring up the custom map menus. 

Once you do, this menu will pop up, and in this dropdown menu you will find your custom map files. 

Bada-bing-bada-boom 

Just click exit and the game will be ready to go.

Just keep in mind: if you're making a custom map the requirements of color, size and transparency must be met, otherwise the map will not work.

I apologize for making it long winded, but this should more or less help guarantee you can use it.

Oh by the way, if you're playing online with friends only the host needs the map. Since its a png file the game can simply share it with every other player every time its loaded up. Voice packs and fanfares however need to be in every player's computer, but that's besides the point here

[danielxricciardo]

Hi love the writing! Could you do something angsty around 26 or 35 with max??

Summary: You found out Max cheated on you

Warnings: angst, swearing

Word count: 2.5k

26. “Those things you said yesterday, did you mean them?”

35. “What will you do if we break up?”

'Max is looking at you' you read what your best friend Anthony, an engineer at Red Bull Racing, wrote.

And you worked at Red Bull Racing too, you decided with Max Verstappen, your boyfriend, that this is the best way for you to travel with him. You didn't have a complicated job. You dealt with filtering the negative ad on the team and then you gave it to Victoria to deal with the articles as she knew.

'Okay, let him look,' you write on the piece of paper that Anthony wrote quickly on.

You were at a meeting with all the Red Bull Racing employees, to your bad luck. Being in the same room with Max Verstappen was the last thing you wanted at the time.

Sure, your relationship was beautiful, or it had been anyway. He was whatever you wished from a man and more. He looked like a bad boy but he was the cutest and most thoughtful man you knew and he made you feel safe even when you couldn't see him.

His words still resonate in your mind and you had to make a supernatural effort not to cry.

You knew Max Verstappen loved you. He told you that every day and showed you through the gestures he made. He never gave you a reason to doubt him, and you didn't look for scandal either.

But every time you saw her, a lump appeared in your stomach. Without wanting to, you became careful around you, looking for her or Max. When you saw them talking, you looked for any excuse to go near them.

But your fear was unfounded, wasn't it? Max loved you, you were together for two years and you were fine.

But you also looked at her. She had also had a long-term relationship with Daniil Kvyat, a relationship of almost three years and they have a little girl together. There can be nothing between them.

Anthony has told you several times that Max and Kelly have been spending a lot of time together, at least lately, and you said you weren't worried. Why would you be?

But last night all your worries and fears came upon you at once. Anthony told you he saw Max leave the paddock with Kelly and didn't come back for about three hours. He didn't want to pay attention to this thing but when Anthony went to the driver to show him some sketches he noticed a small bruise on the backside of his neck.

"Really?" he tells you laughing. "How old are you to leave hickeys on your skin? Only teenagers still do that."

You felt all the color drained from your face. Hickey? You never left anything like that on his skin.

Anthony probably realized that what he said was not about you.

"Y/N... I'm so sorry..."

"It's ok," you say and smile at him even though you wanted to die at that moment. "I need a little bath, I'll be right back," you say and get up from the chair.

You started crying in the bathroom. You were disappointed, scared, disgusted, and shocked. To learn that someone you trusted unconditionally had been lying, cheating, and had developed an emotional bond with another woman behind your back was not registering in your brain.

Yes, you weren't a model, you didn't look like one, but Max always told you that you were perfect and that no other woman compares to you.

You literally could not wrap your head around what was happening...

You hoped that your darkest thoughts would never come true, but they did. Max and Kelly. Together. Behind your back.

It feels like every nerve in your body has either frozen or left your vessel completely. Your body literally enters a state of shock; adrenaline. You are absolutely stripped. Vulnerability. Disbelief. Disgust. Horror. Anger. Confusion. Shattering, crippling, traumatizing heartbreak.

Trust, honesty, and respect are necessary for a relationship, and Max just shattered all three at once. You have been the victim of an emotional crime. You ask yourself, how could this person fuck me over like this?

I trusted them.

I loved them.

I was loyal to them.

I kept my end of the fucking bargain.

How could you emotionally manipulate me?

What was I lacking?

Am I the problem?

Truly sickening, reality-twisting, mind-fucking stuff. You just couldn't believe that this was happening to you. Infidelity is something you hear about quite often, in books, movies, the media, or to other people, but not to you. This was somebody you loved with all of your heart, who told you he loved you, who had never shown the slightest inclination of dishonesty or moral transgression or disloyalty.

"Y/N, are you okay?" you heard Anthony behind the door, the fear and worry present in his voice.

"I'm fine," you say, though no one would have believed you. "I'll be there in a moment."

You splashed some water on your face, looked in the mirror, and bit your lip. You looked like hell. The eyes were red, the small veins that irrigated the eyeballs were broken, the face was red, in a combination between the violent crying crisis and the anger you had.

What were you going to do? Will you pretend you didn't know anything? Will you tell him you knew? Were you going to break up with him or were you going to wait for him to break up with you to be with Kelly?

You finally came out of the bathroom and Anthony was waiting for you at the door. He hugged you tight and assured you that everything would be fine. But he had no way of knowing that. It was nothing more than his simple hope that his best friend would not lose her fucking mind.

The phone starts ringing. Anthony lets you go and he goes to see who's calling you. He gives you a worried look. You immediately realized that it was Max who was calling you. Tears began to flow down your cheeks again and Anthony took your reaction as an invitation for him to answer the phone.

"Hey, man," he replies, and you don't hear what Max is saying. "No, she went for a coffee and left her phone on the table. Okay, I'll tell her. Okay, bye."

You approach him after he's finished the call to make sure you don't hear Max's voice.

"He said to go to his room."

"I don't want to see him."

"I realized that. Let's go, we'll deal with this problem later."

You went for a walk. The fresh air calmed you down a bit, but you had all kinds of thoughts in your mind.

How many times has this happened? Did you really want to know that? You really wanted to know how many times he kissed her and then he would come to you and tell you that he loves you.

If Anthony hadn't seen the hickey, how many more times did he planned to cheat on you?

Did he love her? That would have hurt you the most, knowing that you failed to give Max the love he needed and had to look for it in the arms and bed of another woman.

"Just know that I understand your feelings. I've been through this myself." Anthony breaks the silence and you look at him. "To be cheated on, it's a feeling of helplessness and zero self-worth. You feel as if you didn't do enough for that person which is why they reached out for someone else sexually or romantically. You blame it on yourself half the time. You dig for answers in your memories to try to figure out where you went wrong, where things started to go in a different direction. You hope that it won't happen again. You hope that the saying "once a cheater, always a cheater" it's just a myth. They broke your trust, how could you ever trust them again, right? You become paranoid when they go out at night or they don't answer your phone calls by the first ring. You find yourself having more down and depressed days than happy days. And a lot of questions will always replay in the back of your mind. Why? Why now? Why with them? How could this be happening to you? No matter how many times you get an answer, it won't be enough. Day after day, it'll get better but worse at the same time."

After two hours you returned to the paddock. You were immediately notified that Max was looking for you everywhere and he was worried he couldn't find you. Ironic, isn't it?

"Y/N!" you hear Max's voice.

"Do you want me to stay with you?" Anthony asks, standing in front of you to block your image of Max.

"No, it's okay. I'll handle it somehow..."

Anthony nods and leaves, staring angrily at Max.

"Hey, I was looking for you everywhere. Are you okay? Your eyes are a little red." he asks and if you didn't know better you'd think he cared.

"Let's go somewhere private."

You went to his room. You sat on his bed and thought about what you could say. You were thinking about what Anthony told you when you walked together.

Max hands you a dose of Red Bull and you take it, feeling your throat very dry.

"We need to talk," you tell him and you feel your eyes start to sting. It was not yet time to start crying.

"Okay? Is something wrong?"

"Is it true what Anthony told me?" you ask and you see that Max doesn't know what you mean; how would he know? "Is it true that you and Kelly spent some time together?"

His face went blank for a moment as he tried to understand.

"What you mean?"

You reach out your trembling hand to the collar of his polo shirt to lower it where Anthony told you it was the mark.

And Anthony was right. There was, in front of you, the hickey Kelly made on him.

Max didn't expect that. He looks at you with wide eyes and you hear his heart start beating harder. Sweat dripped down his forehead.

He looked away from you, numb. You discovered his secret. You didn't know if he was afraid of your reaction or sorry you found out his little secret.

"I didn't intend to hurt you," he says, and you realize he's telling the truth.

He had a guttural voice.

You smile at them. A broken smile that hid the primordial desire to cry and hit him with all your best.

"I don't care about your intentions. They're irrelevant. You didn't intend to hurt me? Well, you didn't intentionally try to keep me from harm either."

You don't know where you had the strength to look into his eyes and not cry. Max looks crushed. Because you found out? Because you're breaking up? Because he has to put an end to the affair with Kelly?

"How long was it actually going on before I found out?"

You see Max trying to think of an answer that doesn't affect you so much or destroy you at all.

"For less than a month," he answers.

One month? Where were you a month ago? In Spain. Did something happen there? Did you notice anything strange about him? To his behavior? No. You didn't notice anything.

Was he really that good at hiding his mistakes?

That, of course, if he considers the relationship with Kelly a mistake.

"Did you ever think of me when you were with her?"

He did not answer. You didn't even know if you wanted to know the answer to that. What would it be like to answer that he never thought of you and that his mind was soaked in serotonin that only Kelly could think of those moments?

"I never stopped loving you."

"I don't believe you loved me while you were cheating on me. Love and betrayal are incompatible. I don't feel safe with that kind of 'love.'"

"So? You're breaking up with me?" Max asks.

Although you still had so much to say, you no longer had the power. You were so mentally and physically exhausted that you just wanted to be alone and cry.

"There's nothing else to do, is there?" you say and leave his room.

Anthony was waiting for you. He noticed that you had no tears on your face and frowned.

"What happened? Did you guys make up?"

You hug Anthony hard and cry. At that moment you gave up being strong. You gave up pretending, even in front of you, that you were fine.

Fuck it, you weren't fine. You were far from fine.

You looked back at Christian Horner, who was presenting something on the video projector. You lost the whole meeting with the crew. You had no idea what was being said.

Honestly, you don't even care what they said. You only worked there because you were Max Verstappen's girlfriend. But for eighteen hours, this was no longer true. So what's stopping you from going to Christian and telling him you're resigning? What keeps you from going home and forgetting about Max, forgetting the last two years of your life and starting over?

"That's it for today, thank you very much, friends, and let's get back to work, yeah?"

Everyone gets up from their seats. Anthony draws your attention and beckons you to look at the garage door.

You could faint then and there. No one and nothing ever prepared you for the emotions you were experiencing then. Kelly Piquet was at the garage door, waiting for the meeting to end. She was staring at Max, but he was just looking at you.

"Can we talk a little?"

You nod to Anthony that you're fine and he can leave. You look at Max and you see that he doesn't look very good. He had dark circles and you're sure he didn't sleep last night either, just like you.

“Those things you said yesterday, did you mean them?” he asks, looking down at his shoes.

"Yes," you answer categorically, looking at his face, waiting for him to raise his head so you can look him in the eye.

“What will you do if we break up? You will leave here or-” you interrupt him.

"Not 'if I break up with you,' we've already gotten over it," you say and Max looks at you with wide eyes. "We already broke up last night. I'm still here because I haven't had a chance to talk to Christian yet to tell him I'm resigning."

"Are you leaving?"

"I have nothing to do here. I came to Red Bull Racing for you."

A tear runs down Max's cheek.

"What can I tell you to stay?"

"There's nothing left to say. Now go," you say and you feel a lump in your throat. "She's waiting for you."

Max turns to the garage door to see who you're talking about.

"I gave her a text message last night and told her it was all a mistake between us."

You smile at him. "Goodbye, Max," you say then you shout for Christian.

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #189

Today on Fate and Phantasms we’re making the royal hikkikoneet of Himeji Castle, Osakabehime! This giant nerd is a Lore Bard, because it’s hard to stay in your room all day and not read things, as well as a Trickery Domain Cleric to fill your castle to the brim with ghostly defenses (and run away to your kotatsu when things get scary).

Check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: Prepare for trouble, and make it double!

Race and Background

Going by Fate’s official lore, Osakabehime is a kitsune like Tamamo. But, since Tamamo’s pretty insistent on No Doubles, O-heems here had to change her race, and so do we. So we’re making her a Hexblood to get some castle magic right off the bat. This makes Batty Fey and Humanoid, and she gets +1 Wisdom and +2 Charisma. She keeps the standard Medium size, but she still gets Darkvision, Fey Resilience against the charmed condition, Hex Magic which lets her cast Disguise Self and Hex using her Charisma. You can cast one of these spells for free each day, or by using spell slots.

She can also make Magic Tokens out of her hair (and other things, but those are gross), letting her send a message to the creature holding it. Also, while she’s within 10 miles of the token, she can enter a trance to see and hear through the token for 1 minute, after which the token is destroyed. She can make a token once per long rest, and they only last until her next long rest anyway, so don’t get excited about stockpiling them like I just did before reading that part.

Castle Guardian Spirit isn’t an official D&D background, but fortunately Mangaka is! Or at least, Guild Artisan has the same sort of ring to it. This gives Batty proficiency in Insight and Persuasion.

Ability Scores

Batty’s Wisdom should be her highest stat. Making good art requires good eyes to figure out how to improve your technique. Second best is her Charisma. She’s got that awkward underdog style going for her, despite how much she overthinks things. Her Dexterity is also pretty high. She might not move around much, but she’s an expert at hiding from responsibilities! Batty’s Intelligence is above average, it’s hard to spend that much time on the internet and not learn something. Her Constitution isn’t great, I blame staying inside all day, but we’re dumping Strength for pretty much the same reason. There’s nothing saying a NEET can’t be a gym rat, but that’s def not Batty.

Class Levels

Bard 1: Starting off as a bard gives Batty all sorts of proficiencies, like Dexterity and Charisma saves, Sleight of Hand and Performance to master her brushstrokes, History for living for so long, and Stealth to slip away from crowds. If she does end up next to people though, she can use her Bardic Inspiration to give them a d6 for one of their checks, saves, or attack rolls Charisma Bonus times per long rest. Batty can also use her Charisma to cast Spells! Minor Illusion and Silent Image will create the first soldiers in her origami army (they can’t touch people, but they can be distracting!). She also gets Feather Fall for some bat parachuting, Blade Ward to hide from physical attacks in her kotatsu dimension, Charm Person to avoid fights altogether, and Distort Value to make even a neck guard look like a proof of courage.

Cleric 1: Bouncing over to cleric real quick will give us all sorts of goodies. Since Batty is a Trickery cleric, she gets a Blessing of the Trickster, giving another creature advantage on stealth checks for an hour. Don’t you know heavy armor is uruso noisy? Keep it quiet! She also learns another set of spells (since we’re multiclassing you’ll have to use the special table to figure out how many slots you have now.) that use her Wisdom to cast and prepare them. She gets Charm Person and Disguise Self for free, which... she already had from level one... But, she also gets cantrips! Guidance and Resistance will make you a little more knowledgeable than everyone else about everything, and Thaumaturgy will help you get your spooky castle ghost thing going. You can also prepare spells like Bane to dull the senses of intruders, and Purify Food and Drink and Sanctuary to protect yourself and guests.

Bard 2: Second level bards are even better at everything since they’re Jacks of All Trades, adding half their proficiency to all skill checks. They also learn a Song of Rest, so anyone brave enough to spend a short rest in Himeji Castle will heal an extra d6 when they use hit dice. Your Magical Inspiration makes your bardic inspiration dice even better, letting your allies add the d6 to the damage or healing of a spell! Batty can also cast Speak with Animals now! Turns out she has an army of like 800 animal spirits helping out, which certainly explains all the origami.

Bard 3: As a Lore bard, Batty gets even more proficiencies, making her really good with Deception, Arcana, and Religion. I mean, she is kind of a god already. She can also turn her bardic inspiration into Cutting Words, reducing a creature’s check, attack roll, or damage by that amount instead of adding to it. She means well, but her cringey moments can get pretty uramessy. She also get Expertise in Performance and Stealth, doubling her jozu modifier. She can also cast Animal Messenger to make her first origami animal that can actually help you, delivering a message to a creature you specify in a location you’ve been before.

Bard 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to bump up your Charisma for more inspiration and confidence, meaning more helpful hints and more cringey cutting words per long rest. This also makes your spells better! Speaking of, you get Prestidigitation to make real origami at will, and Phantasmal Force to make an origami horse that can really trample people. Well, kind of. It’s still an illusion, but the damage is real.

Bard 5: Fifth level bards get stronger Bardic Inspiration, their dice turning into d8s. They also become a Font of Inspiration, thanks to their inspiration dice refilling on short rests instead of long ones. You can also use third level spells now, like using a Glyph of Warding to hide Phantasmal Forces all around your castle. You can use these glyphs to create Explosive Runes for straight damage, or Spell Glyphs to store spells of the level you cast the glyph at or lower, which will target whatever activated the glyph in the first place. It takes an hour and 200 gold to cast, but it also lets you ignore concentration, so... actually this would be a great way to summon creatures. Just stick a glyph in a book, throw it at a creature’s head, boom, summons without concentration. You’re welcome.

Bard 6: Sixth level bards can waste their turn using Countercharm to give allies advantage on saves against being frightened or charmed. You already get half of that for free, so why bother. More importantly, you get Additional Magical Secrets, giving you two spells from any class. For your normal spell, grab Nondetection to prevent yourself from getting found through magic, then use magical secrets to pick up Leomund’s Tiny Hut to hide in a proper kotatsu of protection, and Conjure Animals for some slightly fleshier origami animals. We’ll get the real deal later, but this works just as well, yo-i.

Bard 7: Seventh level bards get fourth level spells, like Hallucinatory Terrain. Changing up the whole castle grounds is a good way to get people lost, and if they’re lost they’re less likely to find you.

Bard 8: Max out your Charisma with this ASI for better spells and more cringe. You can also use Greater Invisibility to keep yourself hidden, even while making more origami.

Bard 9: Your last level of bard makes your Song of Rest a d8 too, but more importantly, you also get fifth level spells, meaning you can finally cast Animate Objects to make real origami animals of variable sizes. You can create up to 10 animals this way, with medium pieces of paper counting as two, large pieces as four, and huge objects as eight. You can also upcast this spell for more objects at once. Rise, my mighty karmy!

Cleric 2: Now that we have your origarmy ready to go, we can finally dip back into cleric! Second level clerics can Channel Divinity once per short rest, either Turning Undead with a wisdom save, or Invoking Duplicity to create an illusory copy of yourself for a minute. The illusion has to stay within 120 feet of you, but you can cast spells as though you were standing in its space. Perfect for when you have to fight but you want to stay in your tiny hut at the same time.

Cleric 3: Third level clerics get second level spells, like Mirror Image and Pass without Trace. Finally, you can make yourself sneaky! You also get access to a bunch of other spells that will make yourself more protected- Aid increases your and up to two other creature’s max HP for 8 hours, Protection from Poison protects you... from poison, and Zone of Truth makes sure nobody can hide their plans from you.

Cleric 4: With your bard stuff taken care of, you can use this ASI to bump up your Wisdom for stronger cleric spells. You also learn Mending. Your army is made of paper, they’re going to get torn eventually.

Cleric 5: Fifth level clerics can Destroy Undead of CR 1/2 or lower when they’re turned, and they also get third level spells, like Blink and Dispel Magic. Bringing your own magic into someone’s house is shitsurei manners, don’t you think? You can also Bestow Curses on particularly rude guests, Meld into Stone to hide away without a trace, and create Spirit Guardians to protect yourself from melee attacks.

Cleric 6: As a sixth level cleric, you can Channel Divinity twice per rest, and you can use it to put on a Cloak of Shadows, becoming invisible until the end of next turn, or until you attack or cast a spell.

Cleric 7: Seventh level clerics get fourth level spells, like Dimension Door to pop straight into your kotatsu from 500 feet away. You can also cast Polymorph to reclaim your foxy glory! Or turn into a T Rex, if you want to powergame. Your choice. You also get access to Guardians of Faith, which are like Spirit Guardians, but they don’t stick near you- perfect for when you want to avoid being in a fight entirely. You can also use an Aura of Life and/or Aura of Purity to make your hikkolife a bit easier. The former gives nearby allies resistance to necrotic damage, immunity to max HP reduction, and autoheals creatures when they start their turn with 0 hit points. Hey, another spell that would be really good to keep around in a glyph of warding! The latter prevents disease, gives creatures in it resistance against poison damage, and has advantage on saves against being blinded, charmed, deafened, frightened, paralyzed, poisoned, and stunned.

Cleric 8: Use your last ASI to max out your Wisdom for the best cleric spells possible. Your Destroy Undead grows to affect creatures of CR 1 or lower, and you also get a Divine Strike, causing all your weapon attacks to deal an extra 1d8 poison damage. I mean... no reason to turn down a free gift, right?

Cleric 9: Ninth level clerics get fifth level spells, like Dominate Person and Modify Memory to sculpt the minds of those foolish enough to enter your castle without permission. You can also use Insect Plague to create a massive swarm of tiny origami bats, dealing piercing damage to creatures stuck in them. Alternatively, use Hallow to make your castle a more liminal space, adding a bunch of effects against celestials, elementals, fey (probably should just not include that one.), fiends, and undead, preventing them from entering the area and messing with their magic and mental effects. There’s also a ton of other effects you can add, just take a look at the spell, we’re not writing them all out here.

Cleric 10: Tenth level clerics get Divine Intervention, letting you pray to your god for a roya-l get out of jail free card once a day, with a week’s break after it actually works. You have a roughly 1 in 10 chance of it working each time you use it, based on your cleric level. If it works, you can get whatever your DM thinks is appropriate- maybe a couple robots show up to help out your plan to be lazy forever? Nah, that’d be silly. You can also cast Sacred Flame this level. I was running out of good cantrips to give you, and kitsune are known for will of wisps and the like, so it’s sort of on theme.

Cleric 11: Your capstone level makes Destroy Undead affect creatures of CR 2 or lower, and you get sixth level spells! Forbiddance locks magical travel out of an area for up to a day- if you cast the spell every day for a month, it’ll last until dispelled. You can also force extraplanar creatures to take a bunch of damage every turn they’re in the area without a save, so Tamamo will finally leave you alone. You can use Word of Recall to teleport back to your kotatsu from anywhere, no restrictions. (Technically you have to pick a spot that is involved with your god, but aside from that.) Or, you can use a Heroes’ Feast to make the rest of your party stronger so you won’t feel as bad when you leave the fighting to them. This cures creatures of all disease and poison, makes them immune to poison and being frightened, gives them advantage on wisdom saves, and increases their max HP, all for 24 hours.

Pros and Cons

Pros:

Glyph of Warding lets you set up tons of traps and store spells away for later, all without using concentration. That is huge for a build whose main source of damage comes from summon spells. Not only does it let you cast more of them, it also means the ones you have up won’t disappear because you get hit.

Speaking of, it’s really easy for you to avoid combat entirely. Go invisible, hide in a tiny hut and let your duplicity do the fighting for you, throw gobs of paper at enemies then run the other way, whatever they do doesn’t matter because you won’t be around to get hit anyway!

If an enemy does try to chase you down, they’ll have to pass through your massive army of summons first-with an upcasted Animate Objects, that means they’ll be taking 18 attacks of opportunity before they even walk through them all, and that’s before factoring nonsense from your glyphs.

Cons:

You are terrible at fighting directly. You have very few spells that deal damage directly, you have barely over 100 HP, and your AC is 11 if you’re playing to character. Once somebody does make it past your paper, you’d better have a word of recall ready.

Multiclassing really hurts spellcasters. It means you don’t get 7th level or higher spells, you have to spend all your ASIs on casting modifiers to make them both good, and you don’t get the guaranteed intervention from only being a cleric.

You have a big army, but they’re still made of paper. If you go the tiny bat route, all your summons will only have 20 hp, which means one fireball will tear through all of them in a single blow.

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Weak ~ S.R. (part 1)

A/n: I’ve been catching up on the show so my thoughts have been all over the place- all of them about Reid lol. This is only one of three multipart song fics I have planned for him, but I promise I’ll finish your guys’ requests before full diving into them. I just needed to blow off some steam for him really fast. This is an old idea I’m bringing back because I liked the concept. It makes me laugh.

Warning

Word Count: 7700+

MASTERLIST

"No thank you" is what I should've said, I should be in bed. But temptations of trouble on my tongue, troubles yet to come. One sip, bad for me; one hit, bad for me; one kiss, bad for me... but I give in so easily.

Everyone has that thing they look back on and cringe at. That childhood memory that keeps you awake at night. That one thing you did in high school that ruined your reputation until you moved on to college. Things that come back every once in a while and make you cringe and wonder what on God's good Earth possessed you to do THAT. Even if you didn't have anxiety, it happened to everyone.

Or, at least Y/n convinced herself that was the case.

It had just been one of those things. One of those things that haunted her every time she got down time or saw someone who looked like... like... him. When anything reminded her of him and she remembered that god awful act of idiocy she had committed. Because it had just been her immaturity. Her young age and lack of experience. It had been a lapse in judgment. It had been a moment of stupidity and she would never, NEVER do anything like it ever again because she was older and wiser now. She was a different person now.

What had she done you ask?

Y/n had always been interested in the psychology of twisted people. She watched the news and wondered how one went about solving crimes like that. Especially really terrible ones like serial killers. How did you make a career out of getting into the minds of truly demented people and not be darkened by it? Or was that why the head of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, Aaron Hotchner, never smiled?

It all started with that fascination. She had been nineteen years old and a barista at a coffee shop, dreaming of being a real life super hero who saved lives and made the world a little more safe with every bad person put behind bars or under the ground. It didn't matter which to her at the time- they were bad people. They killed and raped and tortured and destroyed- why would they deserve anything but death anyway?

One day a boy came in. Maybe two or three years older than her, max. He was cute and tired and quiet. He came, he waited in line, he got his coffee, he left. He was completely oblivious to Y/n as she tried to talk to him. Flirt with him. Like a normal person talking to another normal person. But god she was really anxious and awkward and he seemed to look right through her and it made her voice die every time she tried. She couldn't even call his name when she was finished making his coffee. Her infatuation was obvious to everyone else. Another employee had written her number on the cup to help her out but he'd either never seen it or had ignored it because he had never used it. Even when he stopped coming, she still remembered him. She remembered his face and his name and his coffee order. She started to get it herself, holding onto the one part of him she had. It was a little weird, but she had nothing else other than that damn coffee order and she was taken by him. What else was she going to do? It was innocent.

Then she'd seen his face on the news. Spencer Reid of the FBI, part of the BAU. The boy she had been thinking about for months was suddenly part of the team she'd dreamed of being apart of for years? Her two obsessions aligned in one perfect moment and something... clicked. She was watching the news for a whole different reason now.

She didn't know when it had escalated past that. When she had taken that next step that would be something so unforgivable she would hate herself for years afterward.

Every morning on her way to work, she passed by The Place. Where he was, with his team, catching bad guys and making the world safer just like she wanted to. She wondered what he was like. How he had gotten on the team so young. She wondered how someone so quiet and seemingly oblivious could make it in a job like that. She wondered what his relationships were like. Were they friends or just coworkers? Did he still like his coffee the same way? What did his voice sound like? His laugh?

Suddenly she was across the street on her day off, looking at the building that held all the things she wanted most, imaging walking in and out of those doors. Imagining so long that she watched the team walk right out. They seemed familiar with each other, but each person held a rather grim expression. Her mind wiped of any other thought when she saw him. He was wearing a long sleeve button up, sleeves rolled above his elbows. A vest and a tie accompanied it. His hair was gelled back, glasses in his hands. He seemed to be lost in thought, his lips pressed together tightly.

When the thought to follow him crossed her mind, she went home. It was a dark thought that lead to dangerous places. She didn't recognize where this path was taking her, she just knew that whatever was happening to her, following someone home and learning where they lived without them knowing about it was crossing a line she couldn't be okay with.

Apparently, the same understanding didn't carry to taking pictures.

She had two whole shoe boxes of Polaroid pictures before she did anything else. She never looked at them after she shoved them in the boxes and pushed them under her bed; she just smiled at the boxes and remembered the times she'd watched him walk in and out of those doors and had taken one picture each time to commemorate the moment.

A year. She watched him for a year, following behind him on local cases, other work events, or even family and friends stuff. She did cross that line, but never once did she follow him home. Later in life when she burned those pictures, she tried to hold onto that. She never followed him home. She did however, send him a gift. She thought maybe if she could reach out to him somehow and start a sort of exchange, then maybe she could transition into actually being apart of his life. And that's all she really wanted. She wanted to shake his hand and have them make eye contact. He wanted him to see her.

There was a note, with just a simple "hello" on a single piece of paper, attached to a small bag of sour skittles. They were his favorite candy- but she only knew that because every time he came into work with some, he smiled a little wider. She knew it because she'd seen his friends give him them as a gift for Christmas. They made him happy.

When he saw the candy, he looked confused. When he read the note, he looked terrified.

Y/n didn't try to contact him again.

Something about the look on his face shook her to her core. Hadn't it been innocent enough? He couldn't know she had been getting to know him from her far away place. It was just candy and a note. It should have just been a shy person reaching out a call for friendship.

Then it hit her.

She knew which car was his. She knew his favorite candy. Those were things you didn't just know randomly. If she had been a casual admirer or had just had a crush on him, perhaps sending a flower to him at work would have been more low key. But she had wanted to give him something personal and she had. But she shouldn't have been able to.

The only reason she could was because she had stalked him.

She was a stalker.

It was never a word that had even crossed her mind until that exact moment, but once it came it wouldn't leave. That's what she was after all. She watched the news that day. Spencer wasn't there, but there was a story about a stalker in another state. She'd skimmed her usual spots on the internet to catch up on busted cases all over the country, like she usually did. A stalker who had killed five women in the expanse of a year. A year.

She had been stalking Spencer for just over a year. She had given him the gift on the anniversary of the day she had first seen him on the news. When things had clicked for her and she'd had that weird feeling like they were fated to be together. She had seen his fear and she had read that article and then all she could think about were her hands covered in blood. His blood. She imagined a future where she was in prison for life because she had crossed too many lines and had ended up on the wrong side of the future she'd always dreamed of. She wasn't protecting people and making the world better. She was making it worse, just by existing. Just like all of those people she had so easily dismissed and loathed, she deserved to die.

But that hadn't happened yet. She could still save herself from that future, because she had never followed him home. She let work distract her and her pictures and little tidbits of knowledge would be enough for her. Because her imagination, for whatever reason, could fuel her better than reality and she knew it because in the back of her mind somewhere, she'd known from thew beginning what his reaction would be if she ever exposed herself to him for real. She had knows what he would do when he saw that candy before she'd seen him do it, because she had been studying the minds of criminals for years now and she knew the mindset of the victims just as well. She might not be stupid, but she might be crazy.

Y/n full stopped it. She burned a photo every time she thought about him. She'd been wondering how to wean herself off of not ever seeing Spencer Reid again, from seeing him nearly every other day. This was her compromise. Every time she missed him, she pulled out those shoe boxes and she pulled out a picture and she looked at it a few minutes as the fire warmed before she threw it in and put the shoe boxes back under her bead. The only reason she didn't burn the photos all in one go was because she was afraid that if she didn't have something else, she might snap and go back to the real person. And she couldn't do that. What she had done was wrong and she was never, EVER going down that path again. She wouldn't be a villain.

It was a hard turn of events. It was like... withdraw. When she finished off the first shoe box, she cried. She felt insane and unstable and dangerously depressed. So, she got into therapy. The first session she told the therapist everything, stressing that she hadn't technically done anything too wrong and that she wanted to never do it again and that she needed help not getting there again. She was beyond relieved when the therapist - Michael Lyran - took pity on her and agreed to help her rather than turn her into the police. He said that she was seeking help and had realized what she'd done was wrong, so there was hope for her. He wouldn't give up on her.

Within a few months, she was a lot better. Y/n and Michael met up on the year anniversary of when she'd stopped stalking him. The second year anniversary of when she'd started in the first place. They burned the second box of photos together. She hadn't touched it since finishing off the first box. Until now. At the very least, Michael never looked at any of the pictures and neither did Y/n. He knew who they would contain, and he didn't feel comfortable peering into someone's personal lives at possibly very personal or vulnerable moments. He didn't want to tempt Y/n to do so either.

At the end of it all, what mattered was that it was over. Y/n was a lot more confident and understood her emotions a lot better. She said goodbye to Michael and she moved states, far enough that when she got a job as the police force secretary, she was sure she'd be able to follow her childhood dream without ever having to cross paths with the man who's life she'd almost ruined. She hadn't gained the confidence yet to actually join the force - she still felt unworthy after her escapade - but she was also making some sort of difference. Her skills of focus and determination and precision came in handy when she needed to keep names, dates, and appointments all in order in a limited space. She became a valued member of society, and she was proud of who she was.

Then something terrible happened. There was a string of murders that was very clearly panning out to some kind of serial killer. Y/n didn't think anything of it past that. In situation like this when crime boosted, she had to be on her game and keep testimonies and such in order so that if anyone needed a file, it would be easy to navigate and immediately on hand for use. She mostly dealt with people panicking, which kept her busy with the serial killer. Something that had never really been a concern now had her so busy, she had no room for any other thoughts. She had to keep herself calm and level headed and in control so she could reassure people in the most convincing way possible. Once again, she was succeeding in her work field.

It could have been anyone. Any other team could have come in. The FBI did not just have one team, surely. Someone else could have ended up there other than...

Y/n almost choked when she saw the doors open. Because there was none other than Spencer Reid, years after she'd finally gotten over him and fully moved on with her life. Right when she'd come to terms with her mistakes and had made a better name for herself. Right when she was getting good at her job and beginning to inch toward that childhood yearning, Spencer fucking Reid was in her town. In her police department.

And he was headed right for her.

And no thank you is how it should've gone- I should stay strong. But I'm weak, and what's wrong with that? Boy, oh boy I love it when I fall for that. I'm weak, and what's wrong with that? Boy, oh boy I love ya when I fall for that. I'm weak.

It was Aaron Hotchner who actually spoke to her, asking to see the police chief. Y/n had directed the team in the right direction, refusing to look at the man who she was dying to look at most.

His hair had grown longer. He wasn't wearing glasses anymore. It wasn't gelled back anymore either, and he had ditched the vests. When had he made so many changes? She didn't know, but god was she relieved. If he had come in that precinct looking the exact same as five years ago, or even close to it, she would have been sucked right back into the fantasy. Not that he wasn't cute now. But he wasn't the same person, and she could distance herself from him. And from that part of her that yearned to take him in. This wasn't her Spencer. God, he had NEVER been her anything. Anything but her almost-victim in her almost-villainhood.

Five years ago, she repeated several times in her mind. It had been five whole years since she'd first seen him and become obsessed. Three years of being completely Reid free. Of being a strictly good person who did normal, sane, healthy things. She wasn't going to chuck all her hard work now. She was a different person. A BETTER person.

Then he spoke and ruined the whole thing.

"Hey I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of the bathrooms." He was looking at her and she felt her throat close. Suddenly she was that nineteen year barista again. She didn't know how to move or talk or even look at him. She cowered under his gaze and he seemed to be taken aback by that.

All she could think about was that she'd heard his voice. After five whole years, she finally knew what his voice sounded like.

She ran away from him without answering his question. She ran outside and tried to remember how to breathe. Her brain was racing and her thoughts were muddy and her hands were shaking. Her head was suddenly crammed with a really ugly image of a person she'd worked very hard not to be. A person she could have become. Someone she avoided thinking about or remembering. She'd made it almost twenty full months not thinking about Spencer even once. About her past mistakes. A blessed twenty months of finally not hating herself, and he had waltzed in with that smile and spoke with a voice even more beautiful than she'd imagined and now she was losing her mind.

A thought hit her.

She wasn't panicking because she wanted to be closer to Spencer. She wasn't panicking because she felt those old cravings coming back. She wasn't panicking because her mind was trying to fill in all the gaps of knowledge she had now that it had been so many years. Not because that hunger from years ago was back, or even because she could feel exactly how far apart their bodies were. Not because she wanted to talk to him, or because she wanted to be near him, or because he had seen her finally after so long of wishing he would. He had looked at her and seen her and TALKED to her, which would have sent her over the moon five years ago.

No, Y/n's panic came from the thought that all of her past mistakes would follow her forever, ruining her life every time, no matter where she went or how much she'd recovered or how hard she had worked. Becoming obsessed with Agent Reid had cost her job. It was her fault- she was distracted and irritable and steadily becoming unbearable to have around as she felt worse and worse about what she was doing. She'd become unstable. Without her therapist, she might have ended up on the streets even after she gave up chasing after a man who deserved better than some creepy ass fly on the wall. If that happened again... she liked it here. She liked her job. She wanted to be a cop and help people. Be someone who could, in some way, make a difference in this really terrible world getting worse by the second because as time passed, everyone was getting even meaner, and that created even more sick and twisted and depraved villains. She wanted to be in that story, and if that one year of idiocy ruined it for her forever... what would she do then?

One conclusion came from this realization: No one could ever know about that year. No one other than her past therapist, who was no threat to her future and wanted her to be free of her mistakes as much as she did.

What came next was a plan.

First: She would not become friends with Spencer Reid or any of his associates. She would limit her contact with them, remaining distant and civil only. If even one of them got close and she slipped in any way, it would be game over and then things might really go south. She had given Spencer a gift that day, and that might be seen as some sort of threat or something. Anything. It could be bad and she couldn't take chances.

Second: She would not let herself take in any new information about Spencer Reid or any of his associates. She could easily get swallowed up in her work, and if there really was a serial killer running around out there, they'd need her to be on her game and make their job as easy as possible. She would refrain from talking to any of them about anything other than work. She didn't need anything that could set off her old habits again and send her back down that path.

Third: She would not think of him as Spencer Reid, someone she used to dream about, but as Agent Reid. She was going to put space between her and him as much as possible. He was high above her in almost every way- in importance; in intellect; in physical height. If she focused on that and treated as him as a teacher or parent or the president of the united states rather than some cute guy her age who was super smart and kind of interesting, or even a coworker who was at all within her reach, it would be much easier not to get involved.

She could do this.

Already feeling better, she smoothed her shirt, shook her head, took a deep breath and went back inside.

She could do this.

-

"How do you guys like your coffee?"

Already Y/n was struggling keeping her rules, but on hard cases she always brought the team working coffee to help boost them in the morning- a treat from her to thank them for what they did. Even if they'd already gotten themselves coffee, they were always eager to take the one she gave them as well so it had become a sort of tradition. A case without coffee brought in by Y/n like mana from Heaven in the hands of angel just didn't go as well. She felt it rude to potentially leave the BAU team without coffee though, so... here she was, asking some personal information like she'd told herself she wouldn't do.

This could slip though. It was just coffee, and it would only be a few times, and it was the least she could do after all they were doing to make her town safe. After all she'd done. This was a thank you gift, not for personal gain.

She'd asked Agent Morgan, so now she stood before him as he tilted his head curiously. "Why?"

"I..." She fiddled nervously with her fingers behind her back. "It's a surprise." He rose an eyebrow. "I'm going to use it to break into your mind and learn all your secrets." It had been meant to be a little snarky. Why else would she want his coffee order? But instead he laughed and she felt herself smile along. It was contagious.

The fact that he could find the strength enough to smile even after all he'd been through was admirable. But Y/n wasn't going to think about that.

Agent Morgan seemed to be just the person to ask. He told her all his teammate's orders as she listed off their names so they didn't forget anyone. There were quite a few of them, and Y/n would hate herself if she missed one. She thanked him and went to turn away. "Wait what about Reid?"

Y/n could have strangled herself right then and there. Why had she assumed she'd still know the order in the first place? It had been half a decade. It could have changed. Not to mention it looked suspicious as hell if she had walked in here already knowing it without having to ask anyone. Thank god she had never done anything bad- she was terrible at keeping secrets. "Of course!" She turned back, rolling her eyes at herself. "I'm such a dork." She handed the small piece of paper she'd been writing the orders on to him.

Which, again, was a mistake. She had written all of the other orders herself without hesitation. But she also knew that if she wrote down his order, she'd have it memorized AGAIN, and she couldn't let herself get even that close to him. He needed to stay as much a mystery to her as possible. One she didn't care about and didn't want to solve and would not even a little bit understand. Morgan seemed confused but then wrote it down. Y/n took it with a smile and then left, folding it in half and refusing to look at it.

In the local coffee shop, she rung the bell on the counter. The lady who ran the place - Mrs. Miyre - grinned upon seeing her. "Y/n!" The girl waved. "I've been expecting you with all these murders going around? They say it's a serial killer."

"I can't say too much, but it's a big case." Mrs. Miyre nodded.

"Who are you ordering for this morning?" Y/n told her the names of the cops on shift for the beginning of the day. More might come in later, but Agent Hotchner had made it clear he didn't want too many crowding the place, so only a part of the force was actually in the office. The others were watching the streets and searching for any more clues, or had the day off. When she began to list off the BAU members, Mrs. Miyre rose her eyebrows. "New recruits?"

"The FBI actually," Y/n sighed. The older woman looked surprise and she nodded. "Like I said- big case." She sighed. "I figured I'd throw them in too."

"You're such a sweetheart." Y/n blushed. "We'll have them in a few, darling. Wait here." Y/n nodded and took a seat at the bar. The door was propped open to let the cool morning air drift through the place and keep it from getting stuffy. This place had been amazingly refreshing after the congested city life Y/n was used to growing up in DC. It was easier to breathe up here. Lots of open space and a nearby wood to go camping at the drop of a hate anytime you wanted. Y/n gets lost in that for a moment. The feeling of the cool air and the moving air sliding against her skin and the soft sunlight and the clean air. She snaps out of it when Mrs. Miyre comes back with the coffee. She's got a few drink holders and it makes Y/n laugh. Together they take it all back to the car and Y/n drives back very carefully so none of it spills. Once there, she grabs one of the officers to help get all the drinks inside. Mrs. Miyre named all of the cups as usual and as Officer Leo - the one who helped her - and Y/n hand out the drinks, somehow she ends up with a certain Agent's coffee.

In her good mood, still relaxed from the nice drive and the nice morning and the nice coffee waiting for her when she was done, Reid approaches with her a small smile. "Having a good morning?"

Y/n tried to reel herself in. "I guess I shouldn't be, considering the murders and stuff."

He shrugs. "We're working hard. If we let it get to us, it'll mess us up one day." He speaks as if from experience and it makes Y/n frown. "Thank you. For the coffee," he adds when Y/n shoots him a confused look. She holds it out to him and he grabs it and their hands touch and a spark of electricity runs up her arm. The cup almost drops on the floor with how fast she rips her hand away.

Reid's smile dropping away is the last thing she sees before she gathers the cup holders and books it outside to throw them away.

But I'm weak, and what's wrong with that? Boy, oh boy I love ya when I fall for that. No thank you?

"Hey Y/n?"

She looked up from her work and tried not to groan when she saw S... Agent Reid in front of her. He'd been popping up quite a bit, and with them coming close to catching the killer, Y/n found herself eager for the end of this thing for all the wrong reasons. Of course she wanted the women of this town safe and the killer in jail, but she wanted the BAU unit to go home just as much. She was antsy for it. They hadn't yet though so she smiled at him politely and asked, "Yes, Agent?"

"It's Doctor, actually," he corrected softly. She almost laughed, her smile becoming more genuine. That seemed to encourage him. "I just wanted to... apologize."

"For what?"

"Making you uncomfortable." Y/n tried to hide her panic. "Don't stress about it." Ah, so she had failed to hide it. And had probably failed to hide her emotions every time she'd even thought about trying. "I'm a profiler, so I have a certain level of perception that... that's not my point." He shook his head, seeming a little flustered. Her eyebrows came together in confusion. "Every time I'm around you, you seem to get really anxious and-" He shrugged. "It happens a lot, but usually with babies and dogs and stuff. We call it the Spencer effect." He rolled his eyes, but Y/n could tell that at this point he was just rambling. "I wanted to apologize for whatever it was."

Y/n smiled softly. What a sweet man. "It's not your fault." Her voice was soft, with guilt rather than embarrassment. He'd probably felt bad about this for a while. Maybe since the first day of this whole thing if his perception skills were as great as reputation pronounced. And it was all her fault. Even years later she was still hurting him. "Please don't worry abut it."

He relaxed and she felt relief flood her. "Okay." His hands slipped into his pockets and they both grew silent. Suddenly they were just standing there, looking at each other. She remembered years ago when she'd drunk in every detail she could get. Close up, he was even more handsome and her stomach was filled with butterflies. Which... was a new feeling. She'd seen him work hard for days, stressing and pushing himself. His whole team did, but it was Spencer's care and effort that meant the most to her- probably for obvious reasons. He was as great as she'd imagined him to be, and there was something fulfilling about that. She hadn't wasted her time on someone who was secretly terrible. The person she'd looked up to wasn't an asshole in reality like some famous people, or even people of the past that buried all their mistakes and smiled in public, or even like some people in power now.

Despite all he'd gone through, he put himself entirely into each case. He never hesitated to. Never thought about how much it was going to hurt him in the end, because if he could save just one person this time then he would have won. A small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

And then she realized she was staring and she ripped her eyes away, looking at her hands instead. "I bet you're busy this morning."

"Yeah," he responded, but his voice sounded sort of strained and dry, like there was no moisture in his mouth. She turned and left and, to her surprise, she felt his eyes on her as she did so. What was going on?

-

Things like that kept happening. Agent Reid kept trying to approach her and talk to her. He waved to her as she passed, or smiled at her. Called her name to get her attention. She was so busy avoiding him and doing her work that she wasn't paying attention to much else.

One day they got a message that changed everything.

As she opened the office doors to prepare for everyone coming in soon, she couldn't help but notice the weird red stain on the carpet inside the place. Confused, she opened the doors and went inside. She dropped her coffee when she realized what it was.

THIS IS YOUR FAULT

In big, bright red colors that could only be spray paint inked into the carpet. She'd panicked, thinking the message was somehow for her before the obvious incorrectness of that settled in. What spooked her again was the fact that there had been no break in alerts, otherwise this place would be flooded with people, and everyone would be celebrating having caught the criminal of the day. But it was empty and dark and that sicko was still out there. He had somehow gotten in here, sprayed that, and gotten out again without anyone noticing him. Without setting off any alarms or even leaving the front door unlocked. Or... perhaps they had been and she hadn't noticed?

Y/n had opened this place up hundreds of time. It had taken them some time to trust her with the keys, but once they did, she came in early every morning and get things up and running and turned on so they'd be ready and everyone else could get a little more sleep, since she went home long before all of them did. It left her alone for nearly an hour usually - half an hour in this time of stress - but that seemed to be long enough.

A hand wrapped around her mouth and something cold and circular pressed to the back of her head. "Scream and I shoot you."

Her eyes went wide. "What-?"

"Speak and I shoot you," the person added, just as calmly. "Do you see that message over there?" She hesitated before nodding. "Don't worry sweetheart, it's not for you. It's for your little lapdogs that run this place. The ones that take you for advantage and ignore you while you bust your ass to be seen as good as them." Y/n's eyebrows came together. She was confused. "You're going to come with me. They'll see how much they need you once you're gone." And then Y/n felt the coldness pull away, just for something to hit her rather hard and everything to go instantly dark

-

Getting pistol whipped absolutely sucked, she decided as she blinked her eyes and tried to figure out where she was and what had happened.

It wasn't clear when she'd realized that's why her head hurt so badly, but perhaps it was a realization she'd made before she was completely unconscious, or one she'd made while the world had been lost to her. Whatever it had been, it was her first thought when she woke up again.

She was tied to a chair, that was her second thought. The room she was in didn't yield much else with how dark it was, but she could feel herself strapped to something, and she could also feel herself sitting, so you know. Easy conclusion.

"Aw, she's awake!" Y/n flinched at the sudden sound, but the recognized it as the voice of the person who'd taken her. The unsub, if basic logic could be trusted. "Hello, Sleeping Beauty."

"Hi," she mumbled, shaking her head softly in an attempt to clear it.

A laugh. "Oh I like you. You don't cower and scream like the others."

Y/n sighed. "I'm not afraid of you." She found she wasn't either. She'd dipped he toe in quite a few sick minds. She'd even tiptoed along the edges of being one herself. She'd seen what these people were capable of. She'd seen the pictures of those girls even. She knew what THIS sicko was capable of. But she also knew that they hadn't been tortured or raped, which left this person far from as bad as it got. She knew that the victims were treated quite nicely, with lots of remorse. All up until they died, where there were deep cuts all over the body. The thought had been that the stabbing replaced the rape, which Y/n was kind of okay with actually. Her capture would be less than pleasant and her death would be quick. If she was lucky then she'd be saved with as little trauma as possible.

Or maybe it was just shock.

"Oh you're not, are you?" The person stepped closer and it was that moment that Y/n realized a huge mistake of the profile they'd been going off until this moment.

The profile stated that it was a man, but the person standing in front of Y/n now was definitely a woman.

"Are you going to kill me?"

"Yes," the woman responded calmly.

"Are you going to torture or rape me before that?"

The woman hesitated. "I won't do anything you don't want me to."

Interesting. "What's your name?"

"Maya," she responded. Y/n nodded and continued asking her questions. She learned that Maya was a lesbian and hated men. Y/n couldn't help but think it was rather fair of her to do so, especially when Maya went on to explain just how terrible to her they had been. As many men were to lesbians. She talked about how badly they treated women and how she was tired of watching it. That caught Y/n's attention.

"Why kill women then?"

"To take them away from here." Maya glared at the opposite wall as she leaned against the one behind her. She'd obviously grown comfortable in the exchange. "If I kill men, all that happens is one will replace them. They will grow to hate women more when they realize who I am. I knew they were close, that's why I took you. You were always my goal." Y/n's eyes widen and Maya smiles wider. "You're so kind, and that leaves so much room for them to hurt you. You know, the way I cut up your body- it's only after you're dead, and it's only so they can't do anything to you when they get you back. Did you know that there are men out there that prefer their women dead? Who work in morgues just so they can have sex with them?" Y/n cringed, thinking about her cold, pale body rotting while some man-

"Oh god," she whispered.

"Precisely," Maya agreed.

Y/n shook her head. "You can't be mad at an entire group for what some of them do. Don't get me wrong, men generally suck. But it isn't just men- it's people in general. We as a species are selfish and close minded. In ever group, there's always those extremists who make a bad name for everyone else. I mean- think if cops started to judge lesbians based on what you do. Not all women who like women kill women to punish men. Which honestly is ridiculous if you ask me but-"

Maya grabbed Y/n's face so hard that Y/n's jaw began to hurt. "You defend those assholes? Really?"

Y/n glared. "Years ago I made mistakes. I hurt someone I cared about. You can't villainise men and then ignore the fact that EVERYONE does shit too. I mean, women rape and murder and stalk and abuse. Definitely not as much, but still." She scoffed. "I'm not even saying this to support men. Men DO suck. They're too pretty for their own good and often far too oblivious for everyone else's. But everyone has flaws. What do you gain by killing people? Like you said, more will take their place. What are you going to do, kill all nice women?"

"Yes," Maya growled. That moment, fear consumed Y/n as Maya leaned closer and all Y/n could see in the other woman's eyes was hate. "Fuck up evolution. Because what's happening if the tough people are getting wiped out because men won't pay attention to them. All these pushover women are having babies and raising their sons to be like their fathers and their daughters to be like them."

Y/n's expression hardened. "What about kids who don't end up like their parents?"

Maya slapped her. "We're done playing nice." Y/n looked back just in time to see Maya grab a knife and she felt her heart clench. As much fear as she definitely showed on her face, she refused to whimper or scream. "I promise," Maya cooed. "No one will hurt you ever again. I promise you." She stroked Y/n's face and the girl tied to the chair flinched away. The knife danced along Y/n's throat as Maya began to move behind her where she would have a better grip.

The door busted open just as Maya gripped Y/n's face. "Drop the knife!" Maya tilted Y/n's face back and all the bound girl could see was the face of her assailant and the roof above both of them. "DROP THE KNIFE!"

Y/n closed her eyes and Maya grinned.

Guns went off. Y/n screamed. When Maya's hand left her face, Y/n's head dropped and she kept her eyes close, flinching as the ringing in her ears stopped. Not from the gunshots, but from the sound of Maya's body hitting the floor. She knew that the only way she was getting out of here was if Maya was dead, but it had sounded so different than she'd imagined. She opened her eyes slowly to catch something at the edge of her vision. She looked over and locked eyes with Maya, who was dead but still smiling. Y/n finally screamed.

Hands on her shoulders. She tried to move away from them and looked over to see Spencer. "Hey," he cooed softly. His hands moved up to cup her face. His eyes were wide and warm and his smile was soft and comforting. "Hey Y/n." His thumb brushed her cheek and she felt herself melt into the soft touch. Maya was wrong. Maybe men did suck, but Spencer Reid was different. He would never do anything wrong to Y/n. Even if she did deserve it. Those thoughts were pushed away as Spencer moved his head to keep her looking at him as she almost looked back to Maya. "Hey, I'm right here. I'm here, okay?" She finally nodded and he seemed to relax. "I'm going to untie you now alright?" She nodded again and he moved his hands to do as he'd said he would. When she was free, he moved to her ankles. As he did so she leaned forward, resting her forehead on his shoulder. He froze a second and then moved more carefully as not to disturb her. When her ankles were free he paused. "I'm going to move now. Do you need help standing?" She shook her head and slowly stood to her feet. He stood quickly to help her. He was tall enough for her to step into him, covering her face and hiding in his shoulder. He paused before slowly looping his arms around her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice soft and broken. "I just- I just really-" She caught her breath and seized up as she almost began crying. She wanted to apologize. She wanted him to hate her. She wanted to be alone... but she also didn't. She was terrified of all of the things she'd just been so sure a second ago she wanted. What she deserved. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Spencer soothed. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

She pulled away, shaking slightly. "Yes I do." She ducked around him and started walking out. They were in some kind of small cabin in the woods, but she just looked away from it and began walking.

"Wait, Y/n!" She looked over to see Emily Prentiss. Y/n began to walk faster. She really needed to be away from-

"Y/n stop." Hands on her shoulders and there was Derek Morgan, suddenly in front of her. "I know you probably want to be alone, but you have no idea where you are and you're in shock. Let one of us give you a ride back okay? You can talk about it or not talk, that's fine. But we can't let you wander out here alone hoping you find your way back, especially because we're miles away from town."

Relenting, Y/n nodded. "I just- don't put me with Spencer." She cringed as she used his name. "A- Agent Reid." She closed her eyes. Agent Derek went to say something. Maybe to ask her one of the probably many questions she had. She reached up though and covered his mouth. He leaned away, surprise, and she dropped her hand. "I- I'm sorry, I just-" Her eyes watered and she growled in rage, turning  to pick up a rock and chuck it as hard as she could.

She had almost died.

She was still obsessed with Spencer, even though he deserved someone so much better. Even now, the feeling of his shoulder and the smell of him was filing into her head and she wanted to smile and scream and cry and curl in a ball and never move and she didn't know if it was from him or what Maya had said... or from what Maya almost done.

She crouched down, her chest beginning to constrict. "Y/n," Morgan said softly. She recognized his tone. The same one Reid had used before. Pity and concern. Trying to keep her calm. "I understand you're upset right now. I would be too. What you went through was really scary."

"I'm not a child," Y/n snapped.

"I know," Morgan assured. "But I need you to breathe for me okay? It'll help if you stand up and put your hands over your head... but if you want to sty like this, or even lie down that's okay too." Y/n hesitated before pushing to her feet, forcing her hands above her head. Morgan moved to his feet again as well, keeping to her level so she could always see him. After a second she felt something in her chest loosen and instead of panicking, she was crying. Morgan paused before opening his arms. She leaned into them and he hugged her as she cried. When she calmed and leaned away, he offered her a smile. "You want to get back now?" She nodded. "Come with me. Reid's in the other car." She nodded and followed him. He put his arm around her and she relaxed, rubbing her stuffy nose as he began to run. He slipped into the back with her, Hotchner was in the driver's seat. Neither man spoke until they got to the station. "Is there anyone you want us to call?"

"I don't..." She shrugged. "Have anyone."

Morgan's face grew sad. "Is there anything we can do for you? Take you home?"

Y/n thought about being alone in her empty apartment and shook her head. He nodded, understanding. "Can we just... sit here for a while?" He nodded again and they did. One by one the car filled with the others. Hotchner in the driver's seat, Rossi in the passenger. Prentiss took the seat next to Y/n, and Jureau stood at the door next to Prentiss, leaning rather than sitting. Y/n chuckled as Spencer joined the group, wiping her watery eyes. "Sorry to drag all of you guys into this car. Jesus."

A few chuckles. "It's okay," Jureau sighed.

"You know, you made this case a lot easier," Prentiss told Y/n quietly, reaching a hand to rub her back. "Getting us coffee and being so kind and encouraging. Sometimes when it gets too... when things get really dark, it's hard to concentrate because you're so stressed and worried and you feel so terrible that it clouds your head." Nods in agreement and Y/n smiled despite herself.

"You know." Jureau reached inside her jacket before extending a card. Y/n took it and looked at it. It had a number on it. "If you ever want to talk, that's my number. I'd like it if we stayed in touch."

Y/n smiled wider, even though her heart sunk a little. She finally had a friend...

"Thanks, Agent Jureau."

The woman laughed. "My friends call me JJ. You can too if you want." Y/n nodded.

Well. There went her plan to not to get close to Spencer Reid or any of his associates.

Shit.

[hockeylvr59]

Please Don’t Judge Me Part 5 || Auston Matthews

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: It took me forever, but I finally finished this series. I’ve battled with how to bring things to a good conclusion and I think I finally figured out how to tie things up. For everyone that has waited so very very patiently for this ending, I truly hope you enjoy it. Also I get so much pleasure in using another lyric from the same song as part 1 to inspire the last line of the series. 

Warnings: premature delivery

Word Count: 1,284

~~~~~

After his talk with the guys, Auston had called his parents and told them that he was going to be a dad. Their disappointment with him was almost as crushing as being eliminated from the Stanley Cup playoffs. He knew that he had fucked up, was still fucking up, but he didn’t know what to do or how to fix things. There had been so many times that he drafted a text to see if you wanted to get ice cream or to ask if there was anything you needed but he was always too chicken to press send. 

He had no idea how to be a dad. He certainly didn’t have his shit together the way that you seemed to. 

But when you’d reached out with appointment information he found himself driving to the doctor’s office without a second thought. Maybe if he just showed up things would start to fall into place. 

Observing you, he noticed that your bump was even bigger than before. You seemed exhausted and kept rubbing at your lower back. But then there was a thumping sound and a grainy image filled the screen in front of him. Your doctor pointed out the different body parts of the baby and it was only then that it fully clicked that he was going to have a kid. Still, he was so afraid of fucking things up that he didn’t say anything. Instead, he helped you up, walked with you out of the office, and took the pictures you offered him without another word. 

The fact that he’d ordered you a pregnancy pillow to be delivered to your apartment was honestly the only thing he could think of to do. 

After that, he knew he should reach out to you, but once again there was just something holding him back. So he went home to Arizona for a month or so before returning to Toronto to do some training. He’d just gotten back from the gym when his phone rang, Mitch’s number lighting up the screen. He hadn’t really talked to Mitch recently, his teammate was still pissed at him for the way he was handling things. Mitch calling was kind of surprising but he answered anyway. 

“Yeah, dude, what’s up?” He replied, moving around his kitchen to get a bottle of Gatorade. 

“You better come to the hospital,” Mitch whispered, his voice frantic. 

“Why what’s up?” Auston questioned, not fully picking up on his teammate’s tone. 

“Y/N is in labor. Doctors’ can’t stop it.” Mitch explained. Hearing that you were in labor caused Auston’s heart to race. “Dude...it’s way too early,” Mitch added. “Get your ass down here now.” 

___

Fifteen minutes later, Auston found himself walking through the winding hospital halls trying to figure out where Mitch had directed him to come. As he turned a corner he spotted his teammate, who was clearly stressed to the max. 

“About fucking time,” Mitch grumbled when he spotted him. 

“What the hell happened?” Auston found himself asking, his pulse still racing. 

“She’s been having back pain off and on for weeks,” Mitch explained. “Which you’d fucking know if you had manned up like you were supposed to.” He mumbled under his breath. “Today it got really bad while she was at lunch with me and Steph so we brought her down here. Apparently, the pain is contractions and she’s not responding to the medicine doctor’s gave her to stop them. She’s only 27 weeks and the baby is coming. She’s fucking terrified Auston, Steph can barely get her to calm down and none of this is good for her or the baby.” 

A strangled scream sounded from a room just a few feet away and Mitch let out a heavy sigh before motioning to the door. 

“Don’t fuck things up even more. Go be with her.” Mitch pushed. Walking through the hospital door, Auston’s eyes went wide. You were laying on your side in bed, tears streaming down your face as you gripped Steph’s hand. Your face was pale, wires seemed to be everywhere, and waves of fear immediately crashed over him. Hearing the door, Steph’s head turned in his direction and she motioned for him to approach the bed. 

“Y/N...sweetheart. Auston is here.” She murmured softly. She urged him to take her place right beside you and murmured that she would be back in just a few minutes. 

Almost instantly, another contraction surged through your body causing you to scream, and as soon as it passed, it was replaced by another round of sobs. 

“Fuck.” Auston mumbled. He didn’t know what to do. But seeing you in pain, seeing you cry finally triggered something in him. Moving around the bed, Auston maneuvered around the wires before slipping in behind you, his arms wrapping firmly around your body, his hand lacing in yours. There was something about his touch that was grounding, the way his fingers traced over your skin as you cried. 

When another contraction hit, he kissed your head, his lips lingering against your temple until it passed. 

“I’m so so sorry.” He breathed. “I’m such a fuck up. I’ve been so scared of fucking things up that I’ve done just that over and over again.” The tone of voice with which he spoke was one you’d never heard before and you knew he was being genuine. “You’re so fucking incredible. You’re so much stronger than I could ever be. I swear to you, whatever you need, I’m here.”  

“I’m so scared.” You whispered, your voice thick from all of the crying. 

“I know. I’m scared too.” Auston quickly replied. “But they’re going to be okay. You’re both going to be okay.” He said the words with such conviction that for a moment you believed it to be true because he said it would be. Then another contraction hit, more painful than the last. This time you felt the overwhelming need to push. Crying out that it was too early, that you weren’t ready, that the baby wasn’t ready, you missed Steph appearing at the door and then quickly rushing out to get your doctors and nurses. When the group of them returned, the nurses urged you to let them examine you again, before your doctor informed you that it was time to push. Again you protested, but as your nurses moved your legs into a better position, instructing Auston to hold your leg up another contraction hit and you screamed again. 

“Just listen to the doctors.” Auston urged you, his voice scarily steady. “If they tell you to push, you need to push sweetheart. I’m right here. It’s going to be okay. You and our baby are going to be okay.” This time when a contraction hit and the nurses told you to push, you complied, bearing down into it. The sound of Auston counting softly filled your ears as you pushed over and over until finally, the feeling of pressure gave way. 

For far too long the room was eerily quiet, but then a quiet cry filled the room. Suddenly a nurse rushed forward to you, placing a tiny infant onto your chest. 

“We need to get her to the NICU but you can see her for a moment first.” Seeing his baby....his daughter draped against your chest brought tears to Auston’s eyes and he kissed your temple once more. 

“You did so good.” He praised. “She’s beautiful.” 

Though there was a long, long road ahead of you still, this was the first time you’d truly had hope. Hope in Auston as a father, hope for the two of you. 

Sometimes things have to get ugly before they can become beautiful.

[prettyboyreid]

tell me about the stars

Request: For the prompt list could you do number 1 from the angst/sad section and can it be reid speaking to cat? Maybe at her execution or him visiting her in prison or something? Thanks!

Cat Adams had one last request of Dr. Reid before her execution.

Warnings: Mentions of needles, mentions of death

Word Count: 6,014

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” 

He looked over the letter he had just received from the Mount Pleasant Women’s Correctional Facility one more time, both at the official announcement he had requested after his last meeting with her, along with a handwritten letter with the name “Spencie” written in wide, neat letters, signed at the bottom by none other than Cat Adams. 

He leaned forward on the round table as he looked it over again, glancing up at the door at the sound of a light knock.  He gave Jennifer a small, obviously forced smile, looking down at the flimsy notebook paper once again. 

“Everything okay, Spence?” she asked him in her motherly voice, knowing it was more of an impulse whenever she noticed him under duress.  His hands grasped onto the edges of the table until the bones in his knuckles pressed against the skin, burning them white.  He simply shook his head, some of his light brown curls falling down into his eyes. 

“Her execution is next Thursday.  She requested the lethal injection,” he told her, his hazel eyes scanning over her writing again to make sure he actually understood what she had asked of him.  Knowing her, however, made the entire letter feel more like a demand.  He slid the paper across the table to his friend, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes as he let out a groan.  The blonde woman picked up the paper, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she read what had been written to him.

“Spencie, 

I hope you haven’t missed me too much since our last date.  I know I left you probably missing me like crazy, but I’m sure you managed to control yourself without me around. 

They gave me the execution date, two weeks from today - two days before your birthday, if my math is correct.  Of course, by lethal injection.  I might as well shoot up once before I die, right? 

I managed to get my lawyer to work out a deal with the warden.  I didn’t want any special last meal - I’ll end up looking too bloated in my best dress when you bury me, and I can’t have you having that as your last image of me.  

I want one last date with the good doctor - you, of course. 

I figured you’d be at the execution anyway, but I wanted to make sure you got to say your last goodbyes to me before you lost me forever.  Now, whether you decide to bring me a Happy Meal or not is entirely up to you.  Whatever you need to set the mood.  Personally, I’d prefer something more classy for our last meeting, but it is up to the gentleman to bring it all together.  It’s just my job to look pretty. 

I can’t wait to see you again, Spencie.  I know you can’t wait to see me either.  Tell Maxine and Mommy Dearest I said hi! 

-Cat Adams xoxo”

She even went so far as to draw a little heart at the bottom of the page, with “S+C” written on the inside of it.  

“I have to go.”

“No, you don’t Spence,” she quickly assured him, folding the letter up before making her way around the table to talk to him.  She leaned herself against the edge of the table as she spoke to him, her hands folding together in her lap as she looked over at him.  He kept his focus on the execution notice in front of him.  

“She’s just trying to get into your head one last time.  It’s what she does.  If you go, she wins,” she tried to convince him.  He looked over at her after a few moments, pushing out a breath of air through his nose.  

“What if she’s planning something else?  What if she’s trying to hurt someone again and I’m the only one who has the ability to stop it?”  He asked, knowing that every time she wanted to speak to him someone was getting hurt.  He didn’t want to talk to her, he told himself, but he didn’t want anyone else to get hurt at the hands of Cat Adams.   JJ sighed out heavily as she listened to his concerns, knowing where he was coming from, but still not liking the idea of him being in the same room as her again. 

“I know it’s frustrating, but she doesn’t have a taunt about anything specific this time, besides you mom and Max, but we know that they’re both safe and will be.  I really just think she’s trying to get in your head.”

He tugged at the tightly knotted tie that clung to the collar of his shirt, suddenly feeling as though he was being suffocated by his choice.  He paced around the room as he thought  through all of the possible situations and outcomes of what she could possibly do, but it was no use.  She was the one person that was always able to stump him.  She was by no means as smart as him, but she was by far one of the most clever people he’d ever come in contact with.  It was one of the handful of things he hated about her. 

“I don’t think I can take that chance, Jennifer,” he said softly, his feet finally coming to a stop in front of the large window overlooking the bullpen.  He watched as Tara and Luke talked at his desk, and Emily and Matt having their first cup of coffee in their little kitchen.  Emily had a stack of files under her arms, probably looking into a replacement for Rossi.  Kevin Lynch was currently covering for Garcia while they searched for her replacement, but he knew that a lot of the team would rather keep him on since they at least knew him.  He looked back to his best friend, her hands still laced together in her lap as she watched him, letting him make the decision for himself.

He couldn’t risk any of them getting hurt because he was too prideful to go face a woman that they had outsmarted three times before.  

JJ already knew that. 

-

After work on Thursday, he had called in a takeout order for an Italian restaurant that was on the way to the prison.  He figured he could at least play into her fantasy if she did have something planned.  It was probably the best way to protect everyone. 

He picked up the order and drove to the prison.  It was a silent drive, but his mind raced a mile a minute.  For the past week and a half, she had been stuck under his skin like a splinter, and he couldn’t wait to put it all behind him.  For five years now, she had followed him and his team, trying to break them down and beat them.  Today was the last time they’d ever need to think about her. 

He decided on going alone, mostly to minimize any possible damage she could try to inflict, and because he didn’t know what really was going to happen.  He had a habit of losing his temper around her, and he didn’t want to give her the benefit of the doubt by letting his team see the way she could affect him. 

Once he had parked his car in one of the available spots near the entrance, he turned off the car and sitting at the wheel, his eyes fixated on the sign in front of him, reminding him where he was.   He didn’t want to be here.  It was the absolute last place he wanted to be in the entire world.  But, of course, he worried what she would do if he didn’t show up.  

As the watch that clung onto his wrist showed the time of 7:45 PM, he gripped tightly onto the steering wheel and let out a heavy breath.  He thought for a brief moment, he should just turn around and go back home.  He should forget about all of this, forget about her, and let her execution play out the way it was supposed to.  

He pushed the car door open and grabbed the bag of food, locking the doors before he made his way to the front doors of the prison.  Upon entering, he flashed one of the guards his FBI badge, letting them know why he was there silently.  The guard nodded towards another in the little booth by the entrance, and the door pushed itself open.  

He led Spencer back through a dark hall of the building, the only sounds he could hear being his heavy steps and the heartbeat in his ear.  The hall seemed to drag on for miles, as if she was trying to make him walk as far as he possibly could to see how far he would go to see him.  He checked his watch as the guard unlocked the door he presumed she was behind, watching it barely hit 8:00 before he walked in. 

“Spencie!” 

Her voice was much too cheerful for what she was about to endure in four hours.  He half expected her to be wallowing, feeling bad for herself, or to try and start a riot to put it off even more.  

He realized she was really ready to die. 

She could tell, simply by his demeanor, he was ready as well. 

“Hello, Cat,” he said, walking further into the room as the guard pulled the door shut and locked it behind him.  He set the bag of food down on the table in front of her, though she paid no mind to it.  Her focus was primarily on him.  It made his stomach wrench. 

“Italian, my favorite!” she exclaimed, her gaze still on him as she pulled the plastic apart, grabbing the two to-go boxes before setting them on the metal table, each in front of one of the rusting metal chairs. 

“Have a seat.  You look like you’ve had a long day,” she coaxed with her infamous mischievous smile, opening her box before grabbing one of the small packages of silverware the restaurant had added in. 

He sat across from her, his hands folded neatly in his lap as she began to dig into the food, keeping up an act as if she was trying to be on her best behavior.  It didn’t last long. 

“Come on!  Eat!  You couldn’t have gotten all of this food just for me,” she said with a grin, twirling a bit of spaghetti around her fork as she spoke to him.  He silently opened his food and did the same, taking a bite of his dinner while keeping his eyes on her. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me why you’re here?” she pressed.  He imagined her waiting a little longer before beginning to taunt him.  He couldn’t blame her, though - she did only have four hours left to torture him as much as she could. 

“I figured you’d tell me when you were ready,” he said simply and emotionlessly, twisting the spaghetti around his fork.  He wanted to do his best to give her as little attention as possible, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it up for that long. 

She hummed a little bit at his answer, almost unsatisfied with it.  She almost didn’t respond to him, wanting him to actually ask her, but she knew she didn’t have that kind of time.  They both knew she didn’t. 

“I wanted you to make up for our last date.  It wasn’t exactly a girl’s dream evening, you know,” she quipped, trying to get a rise out of him, trying to get him to break his little charade and try to humor her.  She was going to be dead in three and a half hours, and then he could forget about her for the rest of his life.  He could be happy and not even remember her name.  But all she wanted was tonight. 

He held back from rolling his eyes at her answer, crossing his ankles under his seat as he continued to eat his meal quietly.  He wanted to hear everything she said, and he knew the only way was to lure it out of her with his silence.  The one thing she could hardly bear.  Of course, it worked.  A few quiet minutes passed as she ate, her eyes shifting over every inch of her date’s face, trying to profile him the way he had done to her since the first time they spoke. 

“Although, you really did surprise me with that kiss.  Did you ever kiss Maxine like that?” she questioned, grinning as she noticed his grip tightening on the plastic utensil.  It was the most she’d gotten out of him all evening. 

“Do you really care about how I am with her?  I thought tonight was all about you?” he asked, taking another bite of his food as he watched, waited for her next move.  

Talking with Cat Adams was like a game of chess - strategic, long, and a big waiting game.  It was her move, yet he was already four moves ahead, thinking of what he could do next to stay ahead of her. 

“Yes… no,” she said, rolling her eyes a bit as she slumped back in her seat.  She folded her arms across her chest, pushing the food away as she looked at him.  “At least you have the right idea.  It is all about me, so why don’t you act like it is?  You can make up for last time and then drop me off at home at the execution table.”  

He watched her body language, relaxing in the small room they had to themselves.  She noticed, leaning forward again so her elbows rested on the table.  “Come on, Spencie.  Just act like you’re on a date with her.”

He paused for a moment, doing his best to remain stoic as he watched her move.  Almost too slowly, like she was drawing each and every second out as if it would give her more time with him. 

He cleared his throat before closing his box and tossing it in the flimsy bag he had brought it in.  “How are you, Cat?”  She found the question rather humorous, considering she knew he’d probably been keeping tabs on her and her behavior since she had told him she was going to be put to death.  

“You can do better than that, Spencer,” she pressed on, her dark gaze flicking from his lips back up to his hazel eyes.  Once she realized he wasn’t moving on without her answer, she let out a soft huff.  “I’m doing great.  I’m dying in…” she grabbed his wrist and slipped his watch off, checking the time before looking back up at him.  “Three hours.  You wasted one hour trying to profile me, when you could’ve made it worth my while,”  she reminded him, wrapping the watch around her much smaller wrist. 

“What did you want me to talk about?” he asked, leaning back in his chair again, his hands laced together in his lap as he waited for her response. 

“Me, of course!” she said, throwing her hands up to bring more attention to herself, like the bright orange jumpsuit didn’t already have her sticking out like a sore thumb.  “Ask me about the baby, ask me why I wanted to have the lethal injection, talk about me.  I know you haven’t been able to get me out of that pretty little brain of yours.”

“I don’t think about you.  Quite honestly, I haven’t thought about you since our last date,” he lied to her, knowing she wouldn’t pick up on it as easily as he would be able to. 

He thought about her at least once a week.  He thought about her whenever he called his mother to talk about how she was doing.  He thought about her whenever Max kissed him last month when he got back from a case.  He thought about her when he bought a new watch, not wanting to wear something so plagued with her touch around every day.  He hated that she had become so prominent in his life, wanting nothing more to forget about her.  He pushed her to the back of his mind, but her maniacal grin always found his way back into his thoughts.  He would never say it aloud, but he couldn’t have been more relieved when he found out she was going to be executed.  He hoped it would bring him peace, finally getting some sort of justice for himself after all she had put him through. 

She gave him a playful frown.  She knew it wasn’t true, but she’d rather not waste her last hours arguing with him over what he would never admit.  She knew he would stand by that statement until midnight, as they plunged the lethal needle into her veins. 

“Why did you really want to see me, Cat?” he asked her just as she had opened his mouth.  Her lips broke into a smile, standing up from her seat before walking over to him, standing beside him and hoisting herself onto the metal table.  

“Do you really want to know the truth?”

“Did you hurt anyone this time?”

She smiled down at him, flattered he would think that of her.  She wanted to lie to him, make his blood pulse against every inch of his veins out of anger, but she knew it wouldn’t do either of them any good. 

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you.  And I knew since you’d be here anyway to watch me die, I figured you could try to make me feel better about not ever being able to see you again,” she told him.  She truthfully didn’t have some big elaborate scheme planned out.  She thought about it, of course.  She even planned out a few ideas.  But somewhere deep in her gut, she wanted to have a good memory with him.  One where all of his focus was on her, not someone else he cared far more about. 

His eyes watched her check the time again, and she let out a hum.  9:17.   She’d been counting down the minutes all day.  She probably didn’t need to check the watch.  She did it for him.  She did it to remind him how little time she had left.  She hoped it would make him feel bad for putting her here, for having her next up on the execution block.  And it almost worked. 

“How do you expect me to make you feel better?  What do you want me to do?” he asked.  His mouth was pressed into a flat line, his eyebrows raised as he waited for a response.  She pretended to think for a moment as if she hadn’t planned out how the evening would go down to the last move she would make on him before he sat in an audience for her final performance. 

“Take me out on a walk.  In the yard.  The stars will be out, right?”  she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.  He nodded at her question, looking back to the window where a guard was more than likely watching over their every move.  The door unlocked and was pushed open, and Spencer stood up, holding out a hand for her.  He would play into every last move she set up for him at this point, mentally picturing his girlfriend to make everything easier.  

She laced her hand with his quickly, following behind him like a little school girl following her crush around the playground.  He only looked ahead as the guard led him down the hall again, two big red doors awaiting them at the end.  He felt her eyes burning into him, the bright flash of her white teeth catching on the light out of the corner of his eye.  She was enjoying herself, much more than she was supposed to be. 

“Did you really never think about me?” she asked as the guard pushed the door open, a gust of cold air washing over the two of them.  He looked around for a moment, looking up at the clear sky before his gaze landed down on her.  She looked at him, silently pleading for an answer. 

“Not until you sent me your letter,” he answered coldly, walking towards the benches that were scattered around the spacious area.  He sat down in the center, and she sat beside him.  Her eyes never left him, even when he was barely a shadow before the motion sensored lights kicked in and lit the area up like Times Square. 

“Why not?” she asked, her voice carrying the same tone as a pouting child.  He realized long ago that she might as well be a child, considering she always wanted it to be about her and she would do anything to keep it on her.  Which was why he was out in the cold 53° weather, with the last person he wanted to be with on October 26th. 

“Why, Spencer?” she pressed agitatedly, just wanting an answer out of him.  She knew it would be an answer she wouldn’t want, one that she’d be better off if she never heard what he had to say.  He didn’t have to worry about her feelings anymore, since she wouldn’t remember anything he ever said to her in two and a half hours.  

“Honestly? I can’t stand the thought of you.  I can’t help but think about every bad thing you’ve done, every victim you took, every person you put through hell just to get back at a man whose face you probably wouldn’t be able to pick out in a lineup.  You hurt people close to me just to see me, so pardon me for not exactly being thrilled about the idea of you.”

And, for the first time in her shortened life, Catherine Adams didn’t know what to say.

His words stung in her chest, like he reached into her and squeezed her heart until it couldn’t beat anymore.  But, she wasn’t capable of being hurt.  His words rang in her head that he always told her - “You’re incapable of having the same emotions as me.”  She never believed him when he said that to her, but that didn’t keep them out of her head.  It was one of the many things she could never stop thinking about, along with the way he looked when he met her for the first time and the way he kissed her outside his apartment a year ago.  

She stared up at him blankly, hiding any emotions she allegedly didn’t have as she watched him.  He never looked down at her when he spoke.  He stared straight ahead at the brick wall in front of him, and she figured he was counting each and every brick so he could ignore her. 

She laid her head on his shoulder as he stayed silent, not knowing what to say to him.  Nothing she could say would change the way he felt about her, and she figured it would be a waste of breath to try and convince him otherwise.  

She sat with him for an hour in silence, a single tear falling from her eyes, but she wiped it away before he could notice.  She was a psychopath.  She couldn’t have emotions.  He’d accuse her of faking it for sympathy, and the last thing she really wanted right now was to be lectured by Dr. Spencer Reid. 

He had noticed it, his focus turning to her the moment he noticed she was no longer paying attention to him.  He noted the way her breathing would speed up every few moments, and he couldn’t help but wonder what thoughts were running through her mind.  He wanted to know if she actually was ready for her fate, if she wanted everything to finally be over for her.  He wanted to know if she felt like she had done everything she wanted to, if she had a bucket list she was or wasn’t able to complete.  

He couldn’t find the words to ever ask her. 

“Spencer?”

“What?”

“Tell me about the stars.” 

He looked down at her, not noticing he had become lost in his own thoughts.  She was looking up at the sky now, her arm looped around his as she remained as close to him as he possibly could.  Her body was pressed to his, as if she was trying to stay behind with him.  He thought it was the least he could do, before looking up the clear night sky once again. 

For about half an hour, as the air chilled around them minute by minute, he told her about the constellations that they could see.  He talked about how the Zodiacs came to be pillars of Astrology and where superstitions about each star sign came from.  He told her anything he could remember about everything above them, until the guard came up to them. 

“They need her back inside, Dr. Reid,” he informed him.  Spencer looked down at Cat again, her gaze dropping from the spheres of gas millions of miles away to the man beside her.  She took in his features for the last time, committing every freckle, every eyelash, every wispy curl to memory before she stood up.  The guard placed the handcuffs around her wrists and tightened them, leading the two back into the prison and towards the back of the building, towards the execution chamber.  

The walk was long and silent.  Cat’s gaze focused on the end of the long hallway, staring straight ahead.  Spencer’s eyes locked on the three pairs of shoes that shuffled down the quiet hall, chewing on his tongue as he thought of the last thing he would say to her.  He thought about why he cared so much about it.  He wondered if she’d care if he even said anything to her. 

They had reached the chamber in a matter of minutes, stopping outside the door as Cat looked up at him.  The guard took off her handcuffs, letting her have a few more minutes of freedom before everything was taken from her.  Spencer could tell from the look in his eyes that this night wouldn’t leave his memory for a while. 

Cat slid the watch off of her wrist, taking his hand in hers before sliding it back to its rightful place.  Both of them stared down at the time. 11:52.  She had eight minutes left.  Eight minutes left of breath, eight minutes left of life. 

Eight minutes left of him. 

She looked up at him after watching the small arms on the watch tick around the circle, and his eyes followed her.  She gave him a soft smile.  It was genuine.  It physically hurt him to see it. 

“Did you mean it?” She asked him in a quiet voice.  She didn’t sound like herself.  If he thought she was capable, he would think she was scared.  He never answered her question.  He hated to lie, but he didn’t want to make her last moments any worse than they already were.  She simply nodded, looking down at her feet before back up at him.  

“Thank you.  For today,”  she admitted to him.  He treated her with the same amount of respect as he would have given a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe, but it had been the best memory she held with him.  She leaned up on the tips of her toes and swayed closer to him, pressing her lips to his scruffed cheek before returning to her normal height.  She stared at him for another moment before the door opened, and they were faced with the warden. 

“They’re ready for you, Miss Adams.”

The guard ushered her into the room slowly, and she stole one last glance before the heavy metal door closed behind her.  He let out a heavy breath he had held since he walked into the first room, looking up into the fluorescent lights for a moment.  This was the moment he’d been waiting for for five years, one he practically prayed to come quicker.  

He made his way around to the viewing area, noticing some of the family members of her victims - wives, parents, children.  People who have waited for justice longer than he had.  People who he helped grieve.  He weaved his way around the seats and towards the front, taking a seat at the center. 

He watched as they strapped her to a chair in the center of the room just on the other side of the glass, holding her in her place.  She almost looked as if she was at peace as they inserted the needle into the vein of her right arm, her head resting against the back of the chair as her eyes searched for something in the room across from her.  Once she had found what she was looking for, she let out a sigh, her eyes locking with Spencer’s for the last time. 

“Do you have any last words?” the warden asked, making his way to the large set up that displayed the chemicals that were soon to find home inside the girl strapped to the chair.  She simply swallowed and nodded, her hand gripping on the edge of the chairs arm as she watched Spencer. 

“I’m sorry,” she managed out after a moment.  He watched as her eyes welled with tears and she unapologetically let them fall on her round cheeks.  Right before the warden pressed the button that would send her to her final fate, she blurted out one last thing. 

“I really did love you, Spencie.”

His eyes didn’t leave her once she admitted her deathbed confession, but he could tell that her fate had officially been sealed.  He watched as her face slowly relaxed, her body slumped into the chair as any life she had drained from her eyes.  The recorder announced her time of death to be 12:02 AM, October 27th.  He let out a shaky breath as the blinds lowered, separating him and the families from her.  He heard quiet sobs let out around him, the families finally having a storm cloud that had been hovering them for years clear away.  One person, a father of one of her victims, he presumed, slowly clapped.  Everyone began filtering out of his room, but he didn’t move.  He couldn’t. 

He was escorted out by the warden at 12:15.  They walked quietly down the barren halls to the front of the building, Spencer’s hands digging into his pockets.  He thanked the warden for making a few exceptions, promising that he owed him before he made his way to his car.  He unlocked it and sat in the driver’s seat, but didn’t put the key in the ignition.  

He tugged on his tie roughly until the loop was wide enough to pull it over his head, throwing it into the passenger's seat with his leather messenger bag and his gun holster.  He held onto the steering wheel tightly as he rested his head against the steering wheel, taking long, deep breaths as he ran through the events of the evening once again.  

But her last words rang in his ears like a gunshot.  

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Emily’s number after a few minutes, hoping she would still be awake as the phone rang twice. 

“Spencer?  Is everything alright?” she asked, her tone laced with worry.  Her voice instantly helped release the tension that had built up over the past few hours, rubbing at his eyes tiredly with his large hand before leaning back in his seat.

“I think I need to take a sick day.”  He swallowed thickly again as he looked at the prison sign, his head falling  back against the headrest as he waited for her to respond.  She was silent for a minute, trying to pick up on his breathing and assess what was going through his head.  Of course she knew what this evening was, but she never got to talk to him about it before he left.  She didn’t really know what he was like going into the situation, which didn’t help her figure out how he was leaving it. 

“Of course, whatever you need,” she reassured him.  He let out a quiet sigh, nodding as he let his eyes close for a moment. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He let his eyes slowly open, looking to the center console between the two front seats, where her letter was opened and on display for him to reread quickly. 

“Her last words were that she loved me, Emily.”

It was dead silent on the other line.  He couldn’t even hear her breathing.  He pulled the phone from his ear for a moment just to make sure he hadn’t lost their connection before pressing it back to the spot it was before. 

“She was trying to get under your skin, Spencer.  You know that she was-”

“Incapable of emotions.  I know,” he cut her off, the heel of his hand digging into his eye as if it would clear everything up for him, explain why she said what she said, why she did what she did. 

“Go home.  Get some sleep.  We’ll all come visit you after work tomorrow.  Saturday, we’re all going to Rossi’s.  He wanted to host your birthday this year,” Emily told him.  He nodded again, practically forgetting what this weekend had even held for him and his friends.

“Alright.”

“Spencer?”

“Yes?”

“It’s all over.  You don’t have to worry about her anymore,” she reminded him.  Her voice of reason comforted him, wiping at his eyes with the sleeves of his button-up once he felt hot tears falling over his cheeks. 

“Thank you. Goodnight, Emily.”  He hung up the phone as soon as he pulled it away from his cheek, putting the keys in the ignition finally.  He listened to the engine roar to life before putting the car in reverse, pulling out of the parking lot before turning the car to the road, and finally heading home for the night. 

He couldn’t help but feel a little guilty.  He couldn’t be bothered to show her at least a little more kindness on her last living day.  He treated her the way he wished he could have after she took his mother, after she took Max’s family.  He didn’t even treat her as poorly as she had treated everyone else, yet he felt bad.  He felt bad because he wasn’t the same as her, he tried to tell himself.  He repeated it to himself on the long, quiet ride back to his apartment. 

I’m not like her. 

I’m not like her.

I’m not like her.

When he had pulled up to his apartment complex at 1:23 AM, parking the car in the spot he always parked in, turning off the ignition before gathering his things and heading into the towering building.  His feet trudged up the stairs as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb any of his neighbors at the ungodly hour.  

He unlocked this door before walking inside, hanging the keys on the hook once he closed the door.  He dropped everything down on his large leather couch, his body carrying him over to his bedroom.  He was too drained to even take off his tight slacks and the button-up that hugged his chest, crawling underneath the heavy duvet and resting his head against the feather pillows.  

He slowly let his eyes close in the comfortable darkness, falling into a deep sleep he felt he earned after the day he had.  But for at least a few more moments, before his body finally had been drained of every last drop of energy left in him, one thought kept his brain turning over and over.

If he hated the thought of her so much, why couldn’t he stop thinking about her?

[ghostspideys-moved]

All For The Best

Chapter Ten

A/N: So, I haven’t updated this in weeks, and for anyone who’s been reading, I’m sorry. I’ve simply had no motivation or reason to believe that updating mattered, but it’s here now. And hopefully I can get back to writing again.

Word Count: 1.8k

Pairings: Steve Harrington x OC, Nancy Wheeler x Jonathan Byers x OC

Summary: Just as the night comes to a close and everything seems to go back to normal, it gets a little worse first.

There was a split second where Hawthorne still hadn’t felt the effects of River’s powers hit him yet. But the moment it kicked in, he felt like he had a splitting headache. He wasn’t used to it, of course. Before now, he’d never had to handle the kind of powers his sister had. And with the chaos going on around them, he could hear everyone’s thoughts hitting him constantly. He couldn’t even pick anything out of the noise, which made it worse. 

Hawthorne tried as hard as he could to block it out and drag River away to safety. By now, they were out of fireworks and had nothing else to defend themselves. Save for Hawthorne, though he knew he’d only be able to do so much when he couldn’t totally control these new powers right off the bat. His main concern, though, was keeping River safe now that she was unconscious. It was overwhelming, especially with El in trouble. 

From a safer spot on the upper level, close enough to everyone else if they needed help, he could see Billy hunched over El. Something was clearly happening, and he knew better than to interfere, but he kept an eye on them just in case Billy tried anything. 

Any attack the Mind Flayer threw at them, he fended off the best he could. While he had a decent idea of River's powers, he still wasn't quite sure how she could handle them so well. But he was slowly getting the hang of it. Admittedly, if you took away the telepathy part, he was enjoying this. For once, he was actually being of some use and not totally wanting to run away. Something about it gave Hawthorne just enough confidence to keep up the defense. With no other plans and their firework supply depleted, he had to be brave long enough in the hopes that El might be okay. And since he could tell El was using her powers to try breaking Billy from his possession, he thought interfering might be a bad move.

To his amazement, though, Billy stood, seemingly snapping out of whatever hold the Mind Flayer had on him. Not far from them, Max and Mike came running in. Hawthorne was relieved to see them. In the chaos, they hadn’t had time to look for them, so it saved him some stress. He spotted a few injuries on both of them, but they weren’t dead, and that might as well be a win for them.

Hawthorne handed River over to Steve as he rushed over to the rail, watching as Billy fended off the Mind Flayer. That was the last thing he’d expected to see tonight, but he supposed stranger things had happened. Though Hawthorne hated Billy, he was relieved to see that El was fine and out of harm’s way because of him. That was all that really mattered to him. 

Even from the other side of the room, it was easy to sense Max’s distress as it became clear Billy wasn’t making it out of this alive. The Mind Flayer had him caught as he took one final hit straight to the chest. Knowing River would be safe here with Steve and Robin, he raced down to the lower level of the mall. He ran as quick as he could, and he could already hear Max’s thoughts. They were a mix of concern, confusion, grief, and anger. He wasn’t even sure she knew what she was feeling. 

The Mind Flayer collapsed as Hawthorne reached Max, who collapsed in El’s arms. He knelt down and pulled them both close so they wouldn’t have to see Billy’s lifeless body splayed on the floor. Both girls were sobbing messes, but he didn’t mind at all. They’d been through so much, and they deserved to let it out. 

He only tried to get them standing when a hoard of soldiers charged in, hurrying them outside to safety. Outside, it was raining, and the fluorescent lights of the Starcourt sign painted the asphalt with bright pinks and blues. Hawthorne tried to focus on small details like that to keep himself grounded. He was a little better at drowning out the thoughts of everyone around him enough to keep his head from pounding. 

Ambulances and firetrucks waited outside. They were given medical attention while the soldiers and Dr. Owens did a sweep of the building. Hawthorne wasn’t too badly injured, all things considered. Only drained and ready for a nap. He wiped at the blood dripping from his nose as a paramedic looked him over. 

It was hard to think he’d made it through another world-ending catastrophe when he’d been so convinced the first time was pure luck. Maybe he had it in him after all. Hawthorne kept an eye out for Joyce and Hopper, hoping they both made it out just fine. Clearly they’d been able to close the gate if the Mind Flayer had gone down, but there was still worry lingering in the back of his mind. Anything could have happened to them after closing it.

Once Hawthorne was patched up, he went to check on El. He knew she’d probably been the most physically and mentally taxed of them all. But she seemed okay. As okay as she could be, anyways. 

Thankfully, Hawthorne spotted Joyce coming out of Starcourt. She was greeted by Will rushing over to hug her. Though she seemed relieved to see her son, something was wrong. Even without River’s powers, he could sense it. For just a moment, he let down the mental walls he’d put up in the hopes of figuring out what was troubling her. He mostly caught glimpses of images, probably her memories as she recalled what happened in the base, but he got the gist. Hawthorne wished he hadn’t looked because his anxiety took over the moment he realized what was wrong.

Hopper was gone.

All the hope he had of everything going back to normal was instantly crushed. Grief settled in, like he’d been punched in the gut. Which might have been preferable to this. This was so much worse. 

Hawthorne caught Joyce’s gaze for a second, and she gave him an apologetic look. One that made his heart ache and twist. In that one look, he could tell she was just as grief-stricken as him.

It wasn’t long before River came to, and his hold on her powers finally gave. She had them back, and it felt like a weight was lifted from his shoulders. How she controlled that much power was beyond him. For once, though, he was glad he didn’t have to deal with that everyday. 

Steve was sitting with River in an ambulance, a shock blanket wrapped around them as she was getting her arm set in a sling for now. Though she was clearly still in pain, she looked relieved to be outside. Though he didn’t want to ruin that, Hawthorne knew he had to tell her about Hopper. Someone had to. 

Hawthorne tried not to let his grief show as he walked over. River’s arm was a bit swollen, but it looked better than he thought it would. “How’s your arm doing?” he asked.

“Not too bad,” she said. “Could be a lot worse.”

He wasn’t sure if it was because she had her powers back or if she just knew him that well, but her brows furrowed, and she seemed to sense something was off. She looked him over, probably checking for injuries, before finally asking, “What happened?”

Hawthorne opened his mouth to speak, but it took him a few tries before he could say anything. He was worried about how horribly she was likely to take it.

“Hopper didn’t come back,” he finally said. As he expected, River’s entire demeanor shifted drastically. Before, she’d at least appeared to have some hope, but now that was gone. 

“What do you mean?” He was sure she knew the answer, but he’d expected her denial.

“He’s gone. Joyce came back, Murray came back, but no Hopper.” It felt way too real the more he had to say it.

River finally seemed to be processing the weight of the reality. Tears welled up in her eyes, and his heart sunk. Hawthorne hated to see her like this, but he knew he’d done the right thing by telling her. She curled up into Steve’s side, and he took that as his cue to let her be. 

Despite the loss tonight brought, everyone else was intact physically, if not mentally. Hawthorne let Rex out of Jonathan’s car. The poor dog mostly seemed shaken by all the noise and people, but he was otherwise okay. Naturally, though, his instinct seemed to be checking on River, because he found her rather quickly. Noticing her saddened state, Rex hopped up with some help and curled up next to River. Hawthorne knew she needed the comfort, so he let Rex stay with her. Tonight felt like the longest night of his life.

Joyce let Hawthorne stay at the Byers house for the night since the rest of the kids were staying. Besides, River took Rex and went with Steve, and he wouldn’t be able to sleep in the cabin alone. He’d never sleep if he did. And he was sure El shared the same sentiment. Being around their friends might be for the best. 

Nancy even stayed, which he’d been hoping for honestly. He was glad to see her and Jonathan were doing better. It gave him some peace of mind among everything else that was going horribly wrong in his life. 

The kids were working out sleeping arrangements, though they all seemed content to sleep in a pile to keep each other close and comforted. Hawthorne would have been fine taking the couch for himself, but Jonathan insisted he join him and Nancy in his room. It was probably for the best. He was a tall guy, and curling up on the couch wouldn’t have been comfortable. 

Jonathan’s bed was big enough for the three of them when they piled together. Hawthorne had Nancy laying on his chest and his arm wrapped around Jonathan as he held him close. He felt much better being able to hold them. It grounded him, and he knew they were safe now. 

Surprisingly, Nancy was the first to pass out, though neither of them blamed her. That left Hawthorne and Jonathan, who tried to keep their voices low for her sake. 

“How are you feeling?” Jonathan asked, looking up at him with concern in his eyes. 

Hawthorne didn’t want to lie to him. He felt awful. “Tired,” he answered. “But I don’t think I’ll be getting much sleep after this.” He didn’t think he really could when his mind kept drifting back to what he’d seen from Joyce.

“That’s okay. You lost your dad today. I don’t think anyone will blame you for feeling like shit for a while.” Coming from Jonathan, it was oddly reassuring. He always had a way of making Hawthorne feel like the world wasn’t totally against him. 

Though he didn’t feel his best, it was enough for him knowing that he had both of them to help him through his grief. He kissed Jonathan’s forehead and relaxed for now. Even from here, Hawthorne could just make out the kids hushed voices, clearly unable to sleep just as much as him. It comforted him knowing he wasn’t alone. Especially once Jonathan fell asleep, his breath becoming even and tension leaving his body.

He wasn’t sure how long he was awake, but the silence, interrupted only by the occasional whisper from the kids, was starting to lull him to sleep. Though he wasn’t sure he wanted to sleep, not knowing what might await him in his dreams, Hawthorne felt himself giving in. He deserved some rest after such a long night. Tomorrow, he could worry about everything else. Even when he finally fell asleep, his protective grasp on Nancy and Jonathan didn’t loosen.

//

Taglist: @charmedtenderness @nxncywheeler​ @koibecomedragons​

[stevesnailbat]

hawkins nights | steve harrington x hargrove!reader

summary: Steve can’t get over the girl who left him behind for her hometown, so he listens to messages from her constantly.

warnings: mentions of death, violence and abuse, tipsy driving, literally just ANGST

word count: 1.9K

a/n: this is based off of Malibu Nights by LANY, which is one of my favorite songs at the moment. I hope I did this wonderful song justice with this sad piece, enjoy!

It wasn’t unusual for Steve to be in this situation. In his bed, staring at the ceiling with a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels next to him. Nights like this were becoming too common for him, but he couldn’t stop himself from doing it. He wanted to feel again, and it was the only way he could.

He was numb to the pain, but the thought of Y/N still left a constantly dull sting on his heart. All he really wanted was to go back to a time when things were alright, a time when he could see her smile again. But her smile faded long ago, and so did her presence. He missed her more than he though she could comprehend, but still, he gave her space.

Steve got his voicemail recorder not long before everything that happened. Before Starcourt, he had vowed to keep all of her messages to him, just to hear her voice when he missed her. Little did he know, that would be every day soon after.

So there he was, listening to the last five messages she sent him on repeat, just to hear her voice again.

03 JULY 1985: Hi Stevie! It’s Y/N. I—uh—hadn’t heard from you in the last day or so, so I was just calling to see if you still wanted to go to the festival tomorrow night? Just...Just give me a call when you get this...I love you.

Nights like this were almost routine to him. He always started in order, listening to the only one from before made his pain dissipate for a millisecond. When he heard her cheery and hopeful voice on the tape, his heart fluttered. It brought him back to the way she’d react every time she would see him while they were together.

The smile that would grow on her face when she realized Steve was near was something that he never got tired of. It was like the first time they met every time she would see him, like she fell in love with him all over again when looking at him every time. Her excited voice in the message brought him back to the way she would talk to him like he hung the moon every damn day.

14 JULY 1985: Steve, it’s me. I know you aren’t home right now but I wanted you to know that I’m—fuck—I’m not going today. I just can’t, I can’t see him like that. My dad, he’s really mad. He thinks I’m the ungrateful and disrespectful one. Ironic, right? Anyways, you don’t have to go, I don’t expect you to. I love you.

She told him all the time that he was his true escape from reality, that he was what she looked forward to every day, and it meant the world to Steve. He would have given anything in these moments to hear her say that to him one last time.

As he listened to this message, a pang of guilt always hit his stomach. Steve wished that he could have been there to save her from her family sooner. Any animosity towards Billy had dissipated long ago, leaving after Y/N revealed the secrets of her family to Steve. He realized that they both were playing characters, trying to seem confident and tough was the only way they knew how to fit in.

This message always brought images of Neil’s stone-cold face when he heard it. He saw that look many times over the months they were dating, but one time stuck out in his mind and never went away. The one time Neil’s face changed was when he saw Steve comforting his hysterical daughter, but only for a sliver of a moment. There was a certain sadness in that moment that went away so quickly, that turned right back into an emotionless expression.

That was the only day Steve had ever seen Y/N scream at her dad. It was the first time Steve had ever seen Neil let her do it, only because he knew she was inconsolable. As Steve held her in his arms in that parking lot, all he could think about was the way she was so afraid of her house before and how her fears were probably growing exponentially now that her only protector was gone.

Steve would usually feel a tear slip down his cheek at this point, hearing Y/N’s broken voice making him think about all the times she would use him as her escape from the hell that was the Hargrove residence. He thought about what probably ensued after she told Neil that she wasn’t going to the funeral. He remembered seeing the bruised on her chin the next day and she just brushed off his questions, telling him that it was nothing.

Steve always worried, though. But she insisted over and over again that she was fine, that she was strong and could handle him, that she had to protect Max now, that she had to protect Max now. He’d never forgive himself for letting her go through those times for so goddamn long; he wished he could’ve helped sooner.

20 JULY 1985: Hey, me again. Thank you for everything. Thank you for being there for me through this, I know I’m a piece of work. B always said whoever ended up with me would have their work cut out for them. And you really worked your ass off to help me. That’s all I really wanted to say, thank you. I love you.

Steve heart ached at the thought of Y/N and Billy’s small moments together, the small moments where they were just brother and sister instead of protector and protected. She would talk about those times with Steve like they were the most treasured moments of her life, along with the times she spent alone with Max.

He knew she wanted nothing but to be normal for once, she craved the bliss that came from family time she hadn’t gotten for the first eighteen years of her life. More than anyone else, Steve understood. So, he tried his hardest to get along with Billy, for her sake. He wanted her to feel like they could possibly be civil, like she could feel happy again with someone who at least one person in her family approved of.

It took Billy a while to accept the fact that Steve was around for the long run, but he finally did. Steve could remember exactly what Billy told him when he accepted it; Y/N was asleep with her head in Steve’s lap as he stroked her hair on her couch. Billy walked through the living room to go outside for a smoke, but stopped in his tracks when he saw the couple sitting in the dark room as the credits for Flashdance rolled on the TV screen.

“You really love her, don’t ya, Harrington?” Billy asked that night, seeing the smile that was on Steve’s face as he quietly adored her sleeping on him “You don’t look at people you just like in that way.”

“Yeah, I guess I really do.” he replied, feeling a bit uneasy about the question coming from the normally abrasive boy.

“She’s a handful, but you already know that.” Billy chuckled, digging for his lighter in his pocket. “Just—Just take care of her, will ya? If not, I’ll be obligated to fuck you up.”

04 AUGUST 1985: Hi. It’s been a month since he’s been gone now I’m having a really hard time today and I don’t know what to do. I thought about coming to see you but it’s so early and I’m a mess. I don’t know how much longer I can stay in this godforsaken town. I don’t know what else to say, but please just call me when you see this, I love you.

That message in particular was when usually he found himself tempted to turn the tape off, but he never would. He wanted nothing more to be there for her again, to hold her through the pain she was still in. The pain he was in from her leaving was substantial, but he knew it pales in comparison to hers.

The first time he heard that message, he dropped everything he was doing to call her. She had been crying for hours by that time and was near inconsolable. The ache he felt in his heart was the same every time he heard her voice on that fourth message, the ache he felt in his heart was ever-present after that day and he knew it would go away.

After that day, she was different. She had a revelation of her own on that day, but didn’t talk about it with him. She knew that he would try to talk her out of whatever it was that she wanted to do, and he knew she didn’t want him to. He tried to keep her close, not letting her push him away as much as she wanted to. He didn’t understand why he did it at first, but soon realized it was because he knew what was coming soon.

Steve knew in the back of his mind that she would leave, he always knew.

He knew what came after that dreadful fourth tape, but he always found himself with tear-brimmed eyes. It was his only weakness, listening to the last tape, but he knew he had to see it through every time.

12 AUGUST 1985: Steve, I’m sorry. I really am...I just can’t do this anymore, I have to leave Hawkins. I can’t stand to be in the town that he died in anymore, I have to go home. I need to go back to California. I wish things were different and you could come with me, but please. For me, just move on. You deserve the world, I love you.

The last message played over in his mind even after it stopped playing every time, he had every word, every hitch of her breath, every pause memorized. Every time it would play over in his mind, he’d take another swig of the Jack to forget, to get the thoughts to dissipate.

It was around this time that he’d usually get into his car and drive around to distract himself further, it never worked for too long, though. He didn’t care that he was tipsy or even drunk, his cares were out the window as his heart shattered every time. The only thing on his mind was the fact that she wasn’t there anymore, and he wanted to think about anything else.

He couldn’t move on, he just couldn’t make himself find someone new. Steve thought she was the one he’d be with for the rest of his life. He even promised her that he’d marry her someday. She was too heartbroken to see that she needed him as much as he needed her when she left, though. The only thing on her mind was finding home once again, and he understood.

This time was different that usual, though. Something had switched in his mind and he was no longer satisfied by listening to her voice or by driving around aimlessly for hours. He wanted to hold her again, even if it was the last time he ever saw her.

So, he set out to do just that. He wanted to find her in California and tell her he loved her or even see her face, even if it was the last time he ever saw her.

[mamapamanderson]

One on One Time | Mother and Son

Who: Pamela & Blaine Anderson ( @blaineandersonsub )

When: Tuesday 2.23.21

Where: On Campus Cafe

What: Pam and Blaine have lunch to catch up.

Pamela Anderson

It was no secret that Pam adored her son and it was a matter of time before she was jumping onto the opportunity to spend some one on one quality time with him. With her handbag clutched in the crook of her elbow and her heels hitting the floor and filling the small space with the sound of her presence, she approached Blaine with a smile and opened her arms for a much needed hug. "I know I just saw you yesterday, but I was missing you already. Come here, anak."

Blaine Anderson

Having his mom back meant everything to Blaine. He loved his dad, but he'd always had a special connection with his mother. When he noticed his mother approaching with outstretched arms, Blaine stood from the table he was sat at and moved to hug her tightly, letting out a soft laugh. "I was missing you too, mama. I'd be wrong not to see you as much as possible while you're here."

Pamela Anderson

As soon as he was in her arms, she wrapped them tightly around him, bringing him in close as her hand cupped the back of his neck and her nose nuzzled into his perfect hair. "Well I would hope so, it's been too long since I've been able to see you everyday. You kids grew up way too fast, I was just telling your father on the phone." Reluctantly, Pam pulled away from Blaine, pressing a kiss to his forehead and smiling as she took the seat in front of where he was sitting. Pulling her purse holder from her purse, she hung it to the edge of the table beside her and hooked her handbag right on it, smiling at the satisfaction the little contraption gave her. "Okay, so what kind of place is this? What will you be ordering for your Mama?"

Blaine Anderson

Blaine smiled softly at the nuzzling, followed by the kiss to his forehead. "I actually have to agree with you on that one. Feels like just yesterday I was leaving for college," He said, gaze following his mother as he slid back down into his chair. "Oh, you spoke to dad? How is he? Where did work send him this time?" He asked curiously, unable to stop the chuckle as he watched her hang the purse holder on the table next to them. It was always nice to see his mother getting so happy over employing small, innovative things like that, he could tell they brought her some level of joy. Getting to see things like that also gave him potential future gift ideas. "It's a sandwich and coffee shop. I got us two coffees, some water and a chicken and cranberry on ciabatta with tomato soup. It's on the healthier side of the menu, but it's one of my favorite combos here."

Pamela Anderson

"They have him somewhere in Singapore right now," Pam responded absentmindedly as she looked over the menu, just to see what they had. It was a normal thing for them, Mark going off on his business trips. At first Pam protested him traveling so much, but she grew accustomed to it and wasn't going to complain about how it was the reason she was able to live so lavishly. She never wanted for anything and for her that meant success. Especially if her kids got to go to a school as lavish as this one. "That sounds lovely, anak," she said with a brith smile, leaning over to cup his face with the palm of her hand. "Thank you. So we didn't really get to catch up yesterday at the pool. I want to know everything. Who have you been sceneing with? Spending time with? Is there a special someone?" She continued, giving her son a wink

Blaine Anderson

Blaine nodded, smiling over at his mother as he leaned into the touch on his face. After a moment, he sat up straighter, maintaining the smile as he listened to her talking about his dad, and then his food choices. "Of course. Only the best for the best mom ever to walk through the gates of this campus," He teased, though the affectionate look on his face proved that he meant it, because he absolutely did. However, he hadn't been prepared for that next line of questioning, but he maintained the smile on his face as their food was brought over and set in front of them. "I've been scening with Queen Max and she actually has me under orders Monday too, I helped Miss Mercedes unpack so I guess that counts, and then I did a scene with Sir Sebastian. However, I can't say I haven't enjoyed those experiences. As for someone special, no. Not yet anyway," He smiled, quickly grabbing his cup of water to take a sip after the waitress had left.

Pamela Anderson

Pam always had a close relationship with Blaine and she was just happy it could carry on over to when he was grown and away from home. She loved all of her kids, she really did, but there was a special bond she had with Blaine, ever since he was a baby. It was why she dug in a little deeper when asking him about his time at the academy. She was concerned with Princess and Carter's progress, but was far more invested in Blaine's. Pam pulled back, scrunching her face right away. "There is someone walking around here calling themselves Queen?" She asked, before shaking her head and taking a sip of her own water. "I see. I guess we really are among the rich and entitled, hah?" It was so like Pam, to be judgmental right away before meeting someone. "I'm just happy you are meeting people and doing scenes. I was worried about you when you first come here. You'll find someone special." She reached out and covered Blaine's hand with her own. "Because you are the most special person I know."

Blaine Anderson

"Yeah, I thought it was a joke at first, but nope. However, someone else uses Fire Lord as a title, so I guess people are just really into the unique titles here," Blaine smiled down at the table, drumming his fingers on the side of the cup. Adjusting to the new title usage was a little hard to remember at first, but he quickly caught on, as he did with most things. "I was concerned when I first got here, because I hadn't seen Princess or Carter in so long. But once I got over that hurdle, it was easy from there. Speaking of, would you mind giving me Princess' phone number? I have her in my phone but I want to make sure it's up to date phone number wise," He said, taking another drink of water as he smiled down at the way his mother's hand rested over his. He felt a little wrong going behind Princess' back to get it, but he hadn't spoken to her much since he'd first come in. "Thanks, mama, that really means a lot to me. I've already met a few cool ones, and I know I should be focusing on finding a claim, but... I'm more worried about upholding the legacy. I need to keep my grades up to do that, and I don't want to distract myself." That was at least halfway true, anyway.

Pamela Anderson

Pam rolled her eyes. Not at Blaine but at the way this new generation seemed to be butchering the use of titles. As Blaine went on, it didn’t help her annoyance. “Is Princess still being hard headed?” She asked, her accent thinker than ever. It always came out when she talked about her oldest daughter and she didn’t know why. Kalangitan, that’s why. “Yes, I will send it now.” She reached into her purse to pull out her phone and sent the contact to Blaine. “Focus on what makes you happy.” His father didn’t agree with that sentiment, but his father wasn’t here.

Blaine Anderson

Blaine smiled and pulled his phone from his pocket, quickly saving the contact in his phone just to be on the safe side. He'd text her at some point, when he managed to find something actually productive to say. As he slid his phone back into his pocket, he chuckled softly. "I... well, it's Princess. She's never quite been a fan of me, but... I'm working on it. We're kind of stuck together now," He informed, nodding once. When he was told to focus on what made him happy, he paused for a moment, but he new better than to argue. He simply nodded, offering her a small smile. "I will. I might have... exaggerated a little earlier. There is one boy, I guess. But he's taken."

Pamela Anderson

"I can talk to her if you like," she offered, knowing exactly how hard headed her daughter could be. She was the spitting image of her mother after all. As Blaine went on, he captured Pam's full attention. She knew there had to be someone special. Blaine was always someone who poured love and affection, most people didn't deserve it but she would never stand in the way of something Blaine wanted. "He is not pulling on your a string... no, what is the word... Oh. He is not leading you on, was he?" She asked with concern in her voice.

Blaine Anderson

Blaine shook his head quickly, chewing on the inside of his lower lip for a moment. He knew that would just do more harm than good. Not to mention, they weren't children anymore. He had to be able to work things out with Princess without running to their parents for help. "Not really, no. Sorry. I kind of just need some kind of direction, mostly. I want things to be better, but I also know it's going to take time. She didn't just... start feeling this way overnight, and I don't want to minimize whatever happened that got her to this point," He tried to explain, offering Pam a small smile. "She actually got coffee with me when I first got here, so that was a positive," He quickly added, hoping to talk Princess up some so it didn't seem all bad. Then, of course, the part mentioning Sebastian came back, and he really didn't know how to answer. "Well, no. It's mostly me putting myself in this position, you know? It's not the first time I've gotten... feelings for a straight guy."

Pamela Anderson

Pam nodded. "I think she just misses her Papa and doesn't... hasn't figured out how to deal with it," she offered sadly. Pam tried to do so many things to help Princess, even therapy, but none of it stuck. "Just let her know that you won't give up. That none of us will, not matter how much she wants to pull away." Pam smiled at Blaine's effort and just offered a nod. "Well I am glad some progress is being made." Then as Blaine went on, Pam's heart just ached for her son. "Oh, anak," she said with a frown. "I am sorry." She pressed her hand to the side of his face again and ran her thumb along his cheek bone. "It's preparing you. It's all preparing you for finding the love that you're supposed to have. It will work out for you one day."

Blaine Anderson

Blaine nodded slowly and offered Pam a small smile. "I understand," He murmured, looking down at his hands for a moment. "I'll do that. I guess I need to start pushing more, instead of waiting for her to come to me. Thanks, mama," He said, glancing back up as his smile only grew. It felt like everything was starting to make more sense, and he almost wondered why he hadn't connected the dots sooner. "It is getting better, yeah. It was fun, even." When she pressed her hand to his cheek again, he maintained the same smile and nodded once. "Thanks, mama. I appreciate that. Just need to stop making the same mistakes over and over." Except he's not straight, he's just pretending to be. The thought almost made Blaine roll his eyes, but he knew better than to do that while having a discussion with his mother. That was just bound to end in disaster.

Pamela Anderson

"You're very welcome, my son," she offered with a soft smile, pulling back just in time for their food to get there. "I'm so glad I was able to come here and spend some time with all of you. And don't worry about those mistakes," she went on. "It's how we all learn. And how we grow." She pulled a small bottle of hand sanitizer out and rubbed some into her hands before reaching out and dropping some into Blaine's hands. "I'm very proud of you and the man you've become. "And so is your father." He was a little more absent than she liked and wasn't always the kindest to Blaine, but deep down she knew he loved his kids as well. "I can't wait to see what else is in store for you."

[judesstfrancis]

so I was late to asking u things and I don't want u to have to repeat yourself so answer all the questions in the thing that you haven't already answered thank u 😌

the way I had to pull out my laptop to answer these bc I couldn’t keep them straight on my phone clipboard................ fdskjfsdkj I think I’m gonna put most of these under a read more so they don’t take up too much dash space. thank u!! <3

zinc white; how are you really feeling today? no one-word answers please!

honestly I’m great! it is currently almost 2 in the morning but my day was nice, I got some new clothes, did my laundry, made a good dinner...good vibes all around, loving it for me rn

yellow ochre; name an artist/band whom you just discovered & can’t get enough of!

I haven’t really listened to a lot of new music lately dkfjskj I think the most recent new artist I started listening to was orville peck?? but that was back in like february

naples yellow; where do you feel most at home?

uhh when I’m at home. yes I’m a homebody <3

raw sienna; with whom do you feel most at home? 

truly it’s with the thots I just feel so at ease

golden ochre; describe the relationship you have with your closest friend.

it’s just easy, u know? like no matter what we’re doing, even if we’re just vibing on our own together, it’s nice. I can tell them absolutely anything and it’s not weird and I don’t have to force it out at all

cadmium orange; what do you like to do on your days off?

ok first I always see if any of my friends are busy fkdjsfkj and if they aren’t I see if they wanna just chill or w/e but otherwise just like. turning some music up and sitting in my room with a book/a couple movies I love is ideal for me on a day off. I am very simple I just like to chill

orange lake; do you have anyone you can turn to when you’re sad?

yes! there are two whole people in this world that I spill absolutely everything to bc I trust them with my life and esp when I’m sad bc they always make me feel better. talking to them when I’m having A Day is like I vent and instantly I am normal again. they know who they are I’m sure but for transparency’s sake, it’s u (robin) and maya, no one else gets to unlock my tragic backstories <3

titans; do you prefer slow mornings or relaxing evenings? 

relaxing evenings!

shakhnazaryan red; are you currently binge-watching anything? 

actually I am currently rewatching cycles 1 through 22 of america’s next top model, I’m on like cycle 5 rn I think. having the time of my life, thanks for asking

red ochre; are you more right-brained (creative) or left-brained (analytical)?

I am very much more into creative endeavors, like work-wise, but I feel like the way I think about things is much more analytical. like I prefer Making things, writing or various crafts or what have u, but even when I create I think about the things I’m doing like analytically?? so ig left-brained

burnt sienna; is there a painting that brings you peace when you look at it? 

boy with squirrel by john singleton copley. I love him

english red; what animal do you relate to most?

interesting question! I have no idea. maybe birds? like a finch, maybe. they seem like they have fun

cadmium red; do you have a “type” when it comes to a significant other? 

this one is hard for me to answer bc like. I truly have no idea what a “type” is idk if that’s an ace thing or what. no? maybe? all the people I’ve had crushes on have been vastly different, in terms of like physical looks so probably not actually. I’m not attracted to muscular people tho bc I don’t think they have feelings <3

carmine; what does your ideal second date look like?

once again I have never pictured a date. I just want to hold hands! I think for the ideal first date question I said it just had to be going somewhere where we could Do things together, like walking around a museum or going through shops downtown or something, and that does still apply here, but for the sake of shaking it up, uhh...idk maybe staying in and watching a movie. like not at a theater no one needs to know my business like that but like. at a House. whoever’s, I’m not picky, again ideally I just want to hold hands.

madder lake red; would you ever kiss someone (or accept a kiss) on a first date?

yes. literally if the first thing u do is kiss me I am okay with it. I’m 23 someone just take the shot and kiss me already I’m going crazy over here

quinacridone rose; what’s something you’re really looking forward to? 

really looking forward to the holidays personally I got everyone some really good gifts this year and I can’t wait to hand them out. also my copy of 13 storeys is supposed to finally ship out this week, for real this time! so that’s exciting too

violet rose; what does your dream house look like? 

u know that idealized house with the yellow paint and the white trim? yes. just small and cute and homey

violet; is there any place in particular you’d like to settle down? 

I guess not?? I’d like to be somewhere near my mom bc she’s important to me but like. as long as I’m living with someone I love it doesn’t really matter where I don’t think

blue lake; what would you like to do/accomplish before you settle down?

uh. settling down to me equates to like falling in love and living together so honestly that could happen any time. I need to get a job before we live together so I can like Help Out but like. really any time

cobalt blue spectral; what is the most beautiful place you have ever been to?

I have not been to a lot of places! I’ve been to new york, and san diego, and like. phoenix outside of where I live so. actually if I can include like buildings in places I would like to say that one opera house I went to in new york. I learned I wasn’t a fan of operas BUT I also learned those chandeliers were cool as hell

ultramarine; when was the last time you were in a good mood? do you know/remember what sparked it?

I’m usually in a good mood, I think? my baseline mood is genuinely just like. happy/chill, pero I think the last time I felt Euphoria (tm) was a couple days ago when my mom and I made a really nice dinner together and my brother was there and we just played board games all night

blue; what’s the most recent dream you remember?

I have this recurring habit of waking up from dreams but only barely so when I fall back asleep it feels like I just woke up within the dream? anyway the last one was like that but in one of the times I ‘woke up’ I looked out the window and instead of outside there was like this. static photo of buffalo grazing in open fields?? and it was like green screened kinda, so when I move the image moved with my line of sight it was weird. that’s how I knew it was a dream and woke myself up again, only to immediately fall back asleep and feel like I was waking up from a dream within a dream again

bright blue; what does your dream family look like? any kids or pets? how many of each?

I think living with friends would be cool. like I want to have a significant other I live with but also if we lived with other friends that would be fun. kids, maybe! would be something I’d have to discuss with whatever partner I have in the future. if yes to kids, max two. also I don't want babies, preferably I would adopt older children. pets absolutely, however many doesn’t matter. I’m open to just living in a house with the love of my life and like twelve dogs, that’s ok with me

blue cobalt; do you like your name? would you give yourself a different name if you could?

I do like my name! I think it’s nice and it feels like it fits me. I don’t think I’d change it ever, but if I did I think maybe I’d go with jude bc yes I do love to project <3

prussian azure; what’s your favorite scent?

it’s a tie between suntan lotion and the lumber aisle of any hardware store

azure blue; what’s your favorite type of tea, if any?

vanilla rooibos tea supremacy!

turquoise blue; if you could start a garden, what would you plant?

lots of flowers, first of all. also some kitchen herbs. maybe some fruits!

cerulean blue; if you were guaranteed to have a viewership, would you start a youtube vlog?

yes <3 I want to force people to listen to my pretentious horror opinions and get paid for it

glauconite; describe your body without using any negative adjectives.

look I just have to say it: I’m hot. last night I took a photo and saw my nose from the side and went “omg who IS she” like it’s cute. I’M cute. I’ve seen my ass in the mirror and nothing can top it, sorry

yellow green; picture yourself walking in a field. what do you see & hear in this scenario?

all I’m getting is those scenes from horror movies where eerie whistling starts and like birds start going crazy

green light; are you in a comfortable place in life? if not, what do you think might make it better?

I think so?? I’d like to be more financially secure, pero. I think for the most part yeah I’m alright

green; name three countries you want to visit; do you have any actual plans in place to visit any of them?

ireland and greece for sure, ireland is the one I have most planned out in my head. ig maybe england for the third one, just bc I know my mom wants to go and also I’m very bad at geography so I don’t know what counts as a country. I had to look all these up, I do want to visit them tho, genuinely! esp ireland

emerald green; do you speak any languages besides english? are there any additional languages you want to learn?

the one I’m most fluent in is spanish! and I’m still cracking along at russian, currently I can hold a conversation with like a 4 year old and we can understand each other, it’s pretty cool. I really wanna get into learning irish!! I have a few resources downloaded onto my phone I just haven’t gotten around to it yet

oxide of chromium; what’s your favorite book?

a little life <3 yes I hate it when things are sad just to be sad yes this is my favorite book I contain multitudes

mars brown; what’s a movie that always puts a smile on your face/makes you laugh?

the burbs! I’ve seen it so many times but it always hits

burnt umber; what’s something you plan to do before the day is over to take care of yourself?

the day IS over it’s like two thirty am now but uh. drink some water before I sleep probably

voronezhskaya black; what or who is your go-to outlet for when you need to vent?

I post the “kirby’s fucking pissed” meme on twitter and then I ask u (robin) if I can yell for like five minutes and then I feel valid and then I am normal again

payne’s gray; describe your aesthetic?

it’s a little bit jock and it’s a little bit 1980s skater boy but the best way I can really Describe it is just “gay”

[shreddedparchment]

Of Two Minds Pt.08

You’ve Got Us

07/20/2019

Pairing: Bucky x Reader x Steve     Word Count: 11,442

Masterpost   Warnings: fluff, allusions to rape, descriptions of sexual assault, angst, language, unprotected sex, fingering, smut, pervy Steve

A/N: I don’t know what to say except that I lied. This is the second to last chapter. lol As I was writing what should have been the last chapter...well, you see the word count. It got long and I still have some stuff to show so, one more chapter for this story. If you are triggered by sexual assault, please do not read this chapter. I don’t plan on talking about it again in the next chapter but it does weigh heavy on this one. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Let me know what you think and what your favorite part is! As always, if you happen to reblog, thanks for helping me spread my work. xoxo

Waking up sandwiched between two super soldiers is almost everyone’s dream. Male. Female. Alien attracted to humans. Everyone.

In theory.

Actually waking up sandwiched between two bodies that run at normal than higher temperatures? Holy fuck are you sweating.

It’s the heat that wakes you, along with the pain of pressure on your broken leg.

You whimper, stirring between four large arms, two constricted around your waist. The other two just under your breasts.

As you move, the bastards actually tighten their grip!

You whimper again, this time, sobbing lightly because someone’s large leg is resting on your cast.

“Ow, Steve…” You complain.

Beside you he opens his eyes at the sound of your voice. Cloudy, groggy storm blues searching for the siren that called his name.

He actually smiles at you!

You try to twist, and something clicks behind his eyes. They’re suddenly clear and alert and he’s taking his arms back and he pushes Bucky back away from you roughly.

Bucky goes sprawling, releasing you as he tumbles over the side of the bed.

“What the hell?!” He complains, the thud of his body hitting the floor punctuating his irritation.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Y/N! Oh, honey, I’m sorry. Was it me? Did I hurt you?” Steve is on his knees, pale, with the sharp bite of panic in his eyes.

His hands hover over your leg uselessly while you struggle to sit up. You’re all sticky and uncomfortable.

“What happened?” Bucky asks, groggy too but he’s watching Steve’s panic with a worry line between his eyes as he pulls himself back up onto the bed to sit beside you.

“We hurt her!” Steve stresses.

You reach for him. “Steve…”

He ignores you, worried about your leg.

“Calm down, Steve. She’s okay.” Bucky yawns, hooking his right hand behind your sweaty neck. He helps you sit up but then scratches the nape of your neck, observing the pain on your face. “You okay, baby?”

You don’t like him touching you while you’re all sweaty, but you nod, trying to ignore the pulsating pain in your leg.

“Of course, she’s not okay.” Steve continues. “Look at her face.”

He’s wide awake now and he looks at the way you’re biting your lip, staring at your cast, clearly hurting.

“We have to get it looked at.” Steve concludes.

“Steve…” You try again, but he’s beyond reason. He’s on his feet, grabbing a fresh pair of Bucky’s loose sweats and pulling them on before he also takes a random t-shirt from a pile on Bucky’s dresser.

The pants are slightly short leaving the peach skin of his ankles exposed and the t-shirt is too tight around the chest. It’s straining to contain his muscular torso.

“I’ll go get Helen. Stay here. Don’t move. I’ll get her and bring her here.” Steve tells you, pointing at you and Bucky before he yanks the door open and disappears at a run.

You sigh. Yes, you’re in pain but…

“He’s just worried about you.” Bucky explains. “He was a mess when you were missing. It’s why I-”

Oh no. My Steve…You worry.

He stops, watching the doorway Steve just disappeared through and you can tell he’s thinking about something. Remembering something.

“Bucky?” You probe, careful to keep your voice low and even but you fail. The pain of your leg seeps through and it brings his gaze back down to you.

He smiles at you, a real smile, soft and reassuring as he cups your cheek, pinches it with affection, then moves to grab his own sleep pants and slip them back on. He’d been asleep in his boxers and even then, with almost nothing on—both of them because Steve had also just been sleeping in his briefs—he was a radiator.

He pulls a muscle tee on then moves back to you. “Come on, let’s catch up with him before he really brings Cho up here. She can’t do anything in this room anyway.”

He stoops down and you wrap your left arm around his neck while he scoops you up, careful of your injured leg.

“Does it hurt a lot?” He asks, taking you towards the elevator, watching you closely in case you try to lie.

“Someone was sleeping with their leg on it.” You admit, a grimace to convey the pain. “You boys are heavy.”

“Shit. I’m sorry, sugar.” He says, frowning sadly but at least he’s not panicking like Steve.

The elevator dings and begins its descent.

“I’m sweaty.” You whine, unable to help yourself anymore. “Do I smell?”

Bucky smiles, his worry fading. “Guess we didn’t think about how hot three bodies under that blanket would be, huh?”

He looks at you, thinks about it, then buries his head into your neck to take a long whiff.

He leans up to hover his lips against your ear. “You smell good enough to eat.”

Your skin erupts into goosebumps that have nothing to do with temperature or the pain in your leg.

As your core ignites, your mind is suddenly plagued by flashes of thick, glistening brown skin. Aaron’s skin. It’s everywhere and your flash of arousal shifts into confusion and fear.

“Y/N?” Bucky checks, noticing your shift. “You okay?”

“Bucky…what happened while I was missing?” Clarity is key. “To me. What happened? I-I can’t remember.”

Bucky’s smile, playful attitude disappears as he sighs. The corners of his lips turn down sadly, a storm cloud darkens both your moods.

“I don’t know.” He shakes his head, squeezing you a bit more tightly in his arms. “I wish I knew.”

You cling to him more closely, wracking your brain to remember your time away from them but now that you’re not feeling sexy for Bucky, the image that had flashed in your mind seems to have faded and all you’re left with is the knowledge that whatever you just saw is distressing and fills you with fear.

The elevator doors open, and you look out to find Steve moving towards it, dragging a flustered looking nurse with him.

The shy rosy flush in her cheeks tells you that she would have gone anywhere he’d be willing to lead her.

You can’t blame her. His torso is squeezed into Bucky’s slightly too small shirt, his butt nice and tight and wrapped in Bucky’s smaller than Steve needs sweats. His hair is a mess. Bedhead to the max. He’s looks so damn adorable that you love him just a bit more for freaking out on you and giving you this heavenly image.

You can’t blame her. But you do.

Mine.

Your mind thinks randomly, recovering from your confusion fairly quickly with the sight of Steve before you.

Bucky chuckles, and you look up at him as he walks towards Steve.

“What?” You ask him.

“I didn’t know you were so easy to make jealous.” He teases.

Your cheeks burn but you glare unfairly at the nurse as she stops at the sight of you in Bucky’s arms. She’s startled, all signs of her own flustered state gone.

“You’re both mine.” You growl, under your breath, feeling feisty and irritable because of your leg.

“Y/N?” Steve gasps, moving towards you and Bucky. “Why did you move her? What if you hurt her more?”

“She’s okay, Steve. Here. Take her.” Bucky kisses your temple but then passes you off to Steve who eagerly takes you into his arms.

He sighs, relieved to be holding you maybe? Then presses his lips to the side of your head to hold a long sorrowful kiss.

“I’m okay, Steve. Really. The pain is less now but I do think we’ll have to get it x-rayed again.” You’re pretty sure that the cast will need to be re-set too.

“This way.” The nurse’s cheeks are flushed again, this time surprised. Probably because Bucky had kissed you and now Steve is kissing you. Word is going to travel fast.

“I’m sorry, hon. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He sighs, walking after her, moving for an exam room to wait for a doctor.

“Hey, it coulda been me too, Punk. Stop taking all the credit.” Bucky tells him, walking slightly behind the two of you, staring at your face.

You turn to look over Steve’s broad shoulders at him. He smiles at you.

Are these real smiles? You wish you could be truly sure that Bucky is okay with this. He resisted it for so long, pushed you away harshly, because he couldn’t deal with the thought of you and Steve together. Yet, here he is now, passing you off to Steve. Kissing you while you’re in Steve’s arms.

He hadn’t even said anything about Steve being in the bed with you two.

With the worry clearly etched on your face, Bucky relaxes his smile, knowing full well where your mind must be.

“It’s okay.” He tells you.

“What is?” You ask him, needing to hear him say it.

Steve looks at you then at Bucky over his shoulder before ducking into the exam room and quickly placing you onto the cushioned table.

“What are you two talking about?” Steve asks, carefully moving your broken leg to elevate it with a nearby pillow.

“Nothing.” Bucky tells him, a small exasperated sigh in his voice. “Who are we waiting for?”

“Helen.” Steve says, deciding to ignore whatever secret you and Bucky are sharing.

“Isn’t there another doctor?” Bucky asks.

“It has to be Helen.” Steve insists. “Y/N trusts her.”

Slowly, Steve begins to shift back into Captain mode. He hasn’t sounded stern like this in a bit and you wonder if it’s because of your secret conversation with Bucky.

“Steve, are you-?”

“I’m fine, honey.” He tells you, moving up to caress the back of your head. “I just want you to be okay.”

“I am okay. Any doctor will do.” You tell him, but he frowns.

“I’m gonna go find Helen.” He tells Bucky.

Bucky nods. “Okay.”

He leaves, Bucky moving to take a seat beside you. He takes your hand and looks up at you, stroking the curves of your knuckles with his thumb.

“I think it’s best to just let him do what he needs to do.” Bucky tells you.

“Was it really very bad?” You ask him. “Steve? When I was gone?”

Bucky looks at your broken leg and shakes his head slowly. “I’ve never seen him like that before. I’ve never seen Steve break.”

You broke Steve?!

“He wanted to get you back so badly. We both did but Steve…” He trails off, unable to articulate Steve’s state while you were missing.

“When did he come into the room with us?” You wonder, moving past the terrible concocted image of Steve, the broken man, that is now painted into your head.

“Last night.” Bucky smiles, and once again you worry.

“Bucky? Are you really okay with all of this?” You ask him, turning slightly to face him a bit better.

He meets your eyes and you see the shock on his face, steel blue eyes flickering with bewilderment. “Of course. I told you that I was. I meant it.”

“Really? I’m not—I don’t want to lose you, Bucky.” You whisper, torn up about everything. It had all seemed so real.

You, Bucky, and Steve were finally happening but pain and unbearable heat aside, waking up next to Steve and Bucky seemed like a dream. Too good to be true.

“He loves you.” Bucky says. “He really, truly loves you. He’s so happy with you and you’re so in love with him, Y/N. I can’t…I don’t want to keep you two apart. For my own sake, I can’t do that to the two of you. Would I prefer to be the only one? Sometimes.”

You bite your lip.

“But that’s only because I’d never thought that one day I’d be sharing the love my life with the other love of my life. Steve is my brother. My family. I’ve always wanted him to find someone to make him happy it just…it turned out to be you. For both of us.

“Trust me, baby. I’m a hundred percent…okay, maybe ninety-nine point nine, nine percent okay with it.” The sincerity in his voice only halfway convinces you, but the honesty that he still wants you for himself a little bit fills up the rest.

“I love you.” You tell him, eager for him to know how much he means to you. “I nearly died without you.”

Literally, but you remember the agony you’d felt while you laid on the couch when he’d declared that he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t be with you and Steve together, and you know that you could never have survived losing him.

You might have gone on living but it would have been a half-life, devoid of joy and true happiness.

He reaches behind you to caress your back, stroking it to give you some comfort. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“So, how did Steve end up in bed with us?” You continue, you’d been so exhausted, you hadn’t felt him come in.

“I invited him.” Bucky admits.

You freeze, startled at how into this relationship Bucky really is willing to dive headfirst into.

“Did you not like it?” He checks.

“No!” You hurry. “No, I loved it. Well…except for the sweating and the crushed leg.”

Bucky chuckles. “I’ll ask F.R.I.D.A.Y. to make the room cooler at bedtime.”

“You’re going to let him sleep with us again?” You ask with subdued excitement.

“Well, yeah. Isn’t that what you want? Both of us?”

“Yes.” You smile at him. “Always.”

“I’m sure there’ll be some nights where he’ll wanna sleep by himself. And when it’s his turn, I’ll check with him first to see if it’s okay that I sleep in his bed. I don’t want to step on his toes.” Bucky confesses.

“You won’t.” Steve suddenly says, hovering in the doorway. “You’re always welcome with us. We want you with us.”

You look up at Steve, absolutely gushing with love for him as you smile. He’s been behind this since the beginning. With Steve, you have no doubt.

He seems to sense your flooding of affection for him or maybe it’s because he can finally do it and it’s okay, but he crosses the room to your other side and cups your face. He kisses you, long and slow. Lips lapping over yours as you whimper with pleasure this time.

You can feel Bucky’s hand still rubbing slow circles on your lower back and it feels good to have them both touching you. Both your loves.

Steve pulls back and Bucky stands, cupping the right side of your face with his metal hand and turns you towards him so that he might kiss you too. His passion is familiar now, less explosive but just as burning.

You reach up to run your fingers through his long dark locks, his tongue moves in familiar ways, tasting you and his lips know just how to kiss you so that you moan into him.

Another set of lips press open mouthed kisses just behind your right ear. Bucky moves his hand to make room for Steve and you’re suddenly floating. Your stomach is in tumbles as four hands gently graze along your body as you take your right hand to wrap up back behind Steve’s head, holding his lips against your neck.

“Alright, what happened? Why are you back here after only one da-woah. Oh.” Helen’s voice filters in from the doorway. “Okay, I was not expecting to walk in on…that.”

Bucky and Steve pull back, Bucky retaining his hand on your back while Steve—so ready to do this but not used to being with you romantically—takes a small step back and reaches up to scratch at the back of his neck nervously as his cheeks paint themselves crimson.

“Sorry.” Helen continues. “Should I come back later?”

“No!” Both Bucky and Steve exclaim, both eager to get your leg back to normal because they both seem to know that until it is, those breathless kisses are leading nowhere.

“Please,” You plead, because now your need for Steve is officially unbearable. “Fix my leg.”

Helen puts you on bed rest for two weeks. It sucks. It also means that you can’t have fun with your boys. Steve sits beside you, arm draped over your shoulders in his bed. It’s his week.

His TV sits on, some old movie playing that you’ve never seen but you’re almost certain that Steve is paying as much attention to it as you are. That is to say, you’re highly ignorant of the plot or what the people are saying because Steve’s left thumb is rubbing circles on your shoulder, slipping under the strap of your tank top every so often to graze against the skin.

Your skin is humming from his touch. His right hand is holding onto yours, tracing stupid teasing circles along the center of your palm with his middle finger.

Jokes on him of course because the teasing is also making his breathing shallow as he stares at the screen and pretends to watch.

Really, you and Steve are just highly aware of every inch of each other. The way his legs are stretched out beside yours, bare feet gently rubbing against your own. Every now and then he tucks you in tighter underneath his left arm and sighs. His huge thigh is so hot against yours. Even through your shorts and his jeans you can feel him.

You’re certain he can hear the uneven beat of your heart every time he changes the pattern of that stupidly long middle finger of his on your palm. You shut your eyes, trying to fight the image of him sliding that hand down into the waistband of your shorts, down into your undies to slide the tip of that finger along your-

Bucky laughs, his head on your lap, left side. Hair draped over the right as you run your left hand through it. It shakes you and draws your attention.

“What?” You ask him, startled back to reality, voice slightly panicked.

“You two are seriously ridiculous.” He says.

“Why?” Steve asks, attention also pulled to Bucky.

He intertwines his fingers with yours, his palm to the back of your hand. At least this way you’re not so distracted.

“It’s just another week. You’ll be fucking in no time.” He says lightly, easy. Like it’s just another fact that weighs no heavier on him than the fact that the sky is blue.

“Bucky!” You chastise him, more embarrassed and surprised by his language.

Not that Bucky swearing is anything new, but you’ve never heard him talk about you fucking anyone but him. All of this is still so…You glance at Steve to see him grinning, a scarlet blush on his cheek.

You elbow his ribs and he laughs. “What? I do really wanna fuck you.”

“Steve!” You gasp, also not the first time he’s sworn around you but…fucking?

“I mean…” He smiles wider, shyly, excited. It’s a crooked smile that makes your heart skip a beat as he leans in towards you, staring at your collarbone as he tries to think of what to say. “I’ve been wanting to make love to you for years, Y/N.”

Your breath catches.

“She’s really good in bed.” Bucky states, shifting onto his right side so that he can look at the TV straight on.

He rubs your thigh, down to your knee then back up, giving it a squeeze.

“Makes these cute little high-pitched squeaks when you get her just right.” He brags, but not for himself. He’s seriously just really into the noises you make, and it gives you flutters.

“Bucky.” You nudge him with your left hand, but he catches it and brings it down and around to the front of his face, kissing your palm with love.

“I wanna hear…” Steve laments, leaning into your ear to whisper.

Ugh…you’re so aroused. You’re so wet. This is impossible.

“You both need to stop talking about sex.” You turn to look at Steve and he’s so close and he’s not backing away as you turn so his lips are right there.

He leans in and kisses you, stealing your breath as you inhale, eyes closed.

You moan, hand drifting away from Bucky so that you can cup the right side of Steve’s face.

The smacking is loud, and you can feel Bucky’s head turn back towards you.

Is he watching?

You open your eyes and give him a glance.

Yes. He’s watching.

There’s no jealousy in his eyes, no anger, or hurt. There’s a curiosity in them. A wonder. Steve notices your distracted state and he pulls back, relieving your lungs with oxygen but it’s a short reprieve because Bucky reaches up, hooks his hand around the back of your neck and pulls you down while he pushes himself up with his other hand to kiss you.

Your eyebrows shoot up with the pleasure of his kiss. Eyes shut. God, they can both kiss like nobody’s business.

You reach down, placing your hand on Bucky’s chest and trace the shape of his chiseled pecs, still defined even through the slightly loose t-shirt.

When he pulls back with a lips smack just as loud as Steve’s, he lays his head back down onto your lap and grins up at you.

“This is torture.” You tell them both. “If we do it now…I’d technically still be in bed right? It counts as bed rest.”

Steve leans in to kiss your temple, chuckling at your eagerness.

“Soon.” He sighs. “You need real rest. But I can’t wait to make love to you, honey.”

“Me too, baby.” Bucky agrees. “I can’t wait to show you how much I’ve missed you. How glad I am that we found you.”

Steve nuzzles into your hair, inhaling and exhaling with what must be the worry and relief of your time spent away from them, missing.

“I’m gonna show you just how much I’ve wanted you all these years.” He tells you, determined. Excited.

The prospect of the both of them making love to you is thrilling. You’re trapped in the lust bubble until, beside you, Steve straightens up a bit to look down at his other best friend.

“I have a request.” He begins.

Bucky watches him. He assesses the expression on his face then after a moment, he sits up and turns to face both of you, legs crossed as he takes your left hand and holds it in both of his.

The cool of his left hand feels good on your heated skin. Damn Super Soldiers getting you all hot and bothered when you’re on bed rest.

“What is it?” He asks, watching Steve only.

You’ve been watching them when they talk about this stuff. About you and them. It’s not business. You’ve seen them when they talk business during missions and at meetings. This is more complicated.

It reminds you of when you were a kid, and your parents would discuss things about you and your sister. Before your dad died and your mom married the idiot.

Familial. Calm. Responsibility. Like a decision must be made and they are determined to find the right one.

It’s reassuring the seriousness that they take this whole arrangement with. It makes you feel that maybe this might really work.

“I…I want our first time to be alone.” He says, hesitating but only because he seems to have other questions that he’s unwilling to speak or perhaps he can’t?

“Of course, Steve.” Bucky shakes his head. “I thought that went without saying?”

Steve nods, looks down at you, then back up at Bucky. “I know, I just…needed to vocalize it. Make sure you were okay with it.”

“What? Did you expect me to sit and watch?” Strangely, Bucky doesn’t sound repulsed or even offended by the idea.

“Eventually? I think she’d like us together.” Steve says, shocking your eyes wide.

“Steve?” You ask him, searching his face but he won’t look at you. He’s watching Bucky who is nodding.

“I was thinking the same thing. I’ve been thinking it since that first night in my room.” He admits.

He reaches back to scratch the nape of his neck.

“How do you feel about that?” Steve asks him.

“I’m okay with it, I think. It’ll be weird. I’ve never had to share her like that before.”

“And the whole naked thing?” Steve begins but Bucky cuts him off.

“Really, Steve?” He scoffs.

“It’s different in that situation, isn’t it? I mean, I know we’ve…communal showers and we grew up together and stuff, so we know what’s down there but to have another naked guy touching your girl…”

“Our girl.” Bucky corrects him. “Our girl, Steve.”

You can almost see the weight of worry lift off of Steve’s shoulders.

“I know you and Y/N are worried how committed I really am to this and trust me, I’m ready. I spent two weeks not knowing whether you were alive or dead.” He’s suddenly talking to you, staring at you and giving your hand a squeeze.

“When?” Steve asks.

“I don’t know. Probably not for a while.” Bucky admits. “As ready as I am to commit to this, it will need to take some adjusting to.”

You’re just about to butt into the conversation to tell them how much you appreciate them talking these things out but F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s smooth accented voice interrupts.

“Pardon the intrusion, Captain.”

“What is it, F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” Steve checks, sitting up even straighter, alert.

“Nothing to cause panic.” She must be sensing the stress in his voice. “Mr. Stark would like to know if you, Sergeant Barnes and Y/N would like to join the briefing on the search?”

“Search?” You ask, curious and confused as Bucky and Steve exchange very meaningful and loaded looks. “What search?”

“We’ll be right down.” Bucky says, sitting up and scooting to the edge of the bed to pull his shoes back on.

Steve removes his arm from around you and slides out of the other side, pulling a hoodie on over his t-shirt then moving to sit and put his own shoes on by his desk.

Bucky grabs the remote and shuts off the TV before turning to look at you.

“Come on, sugar.”

“What search, Bucky?” You ask him, feeling so utterly out of the loop.

Despite your questioning, you slide your butt over to the edge but before you can turn to put your feet on the ground, Bucky scoops you up.

“The one for Aaron. We weren’t gonna just let it go.” He says.

The animosity in his voice is clear. He wants revenge and honestly, you kinda do too. But mostly, what you want is to know what happened in those two weeks that you can’t remember.

“He got away.” You realize fearfully and swallow hard.

“He’ll never get his hands on you again.” Steve says, following you and Bucky out to the elevator.

The three of you load in while you think about the day you escaped him. You’d knocked him out. How had he gotten away?

“There’s only so many places he can hide. We’ll find him.” Bucky assures you. “Then we can have so much welcome home sex you’ll have to do another two weeks of bed rest.”

What a moment before might have been a tempting statement fills you with chills.

“You’ve got us.” Bucky says, assuring you. “We’ll keep you safe, Y/N.”

“Always.” Steve assures you.

­­­-----

The common room is nearly empty. Only Tony, Nat, and Sam sit there, waiting for the three of you.

They look for you when you enter, eyes gaping and eager to see what condition you might be in.

Nat smiles at you and you return her affection, happy to see her. Tony gets to his feet, pulling out a chair for you on the end of the table.

“You look better.” He states, eyes searching your face as Bucky sits you down.

“Thanks. I feel better.” You smile at him as Bucky takes a seat on your left.

Steve sits to your right, bending down to lift your leg and place it on his lap to elevate it.

Nat sits with the largest grin on her face, her eyes roaming the careful way Steve sets your leg on his lap then keeps his hand on your knee before trailing up to your thigh then back down, rubbing it soothingly.

“How’s the noggin? Remember anything yet?” Tony wonders, moving back towards his own seat to sit back down.

“Tony…” Nat warns.

He looks at her and rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Let’s get started. Pull up the map.”

The large monitor at the opposite end of the table, directly across from you, flares on and you watch a large map of the world populate. At first it could be a satellite image.

“Take out all land mass.” Tony instructs, and all of the names and color for every continent, island, or piece of earth disappears leaving their shapes white and blank. “And bring up all oceans.”

The monitor populates the names of every ocean in the world, dividing the Pacific and Atlantic into separate pieces. A north and south for each.

“Where was it, Nat?” Tony asks and Nat gets to her feet and moves to the monitor.

“Hmmm, about right here.” She places her finger on the monitor, around the spot that you last remember seeing Aaron’s ship before you’d all gone on the mission that failed.

A bright red dot begins to pulse where her finger is and she removes it, staring at the spot.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. bring up the last known co-ordinates for the ship we found Y/N on.” Tony instructs and F.R.I.D.A.Y. adds a new dot, slightly deeper in shade of red. “Connect them through the most likely route.”

You watch a line snake its way between the dot in the South Atlantic to the darker dot in the waters by the southernmost tip of Africa.

“That looks about right.” Nat says, “The ship wasn’t actually running when we found it. It was coasting. It would have been pulled by the current.”

“How sure are we that he’s there?” Bucky asks.

Nat sits herself on the edge of the table, twisting back to look at Bucky with her arms crossed across her chest. “Not very sure. We know that’s where the ship is, but we didn’t find him on it when we found Y/N.”

“We waited too long to find him.” Steve sighs.

“No one blames you Steve.” Nat assures him. “Or Bucky. You took a moment. I’m sure if I’d been in your shoes, I would have done the same.”

You look at Steve whose face is wracked with guilt and embarrassment, probably because of how desperate he’d been to find you and how lost he had been in that feeling.

When they’d finally found you, all he could think about was being with you. He’d told you this while falling asleep two nights ago. All he’d wanted to do was hold you and feel you, safe, in his arms.

He looks at you and you give him a small smile, reaching under the table to place your hand over his but he turns his over and intertwines his fingers with yours.

Bucky doesn’t look guilty. He’s giving Nat a long appreciative look, followed by a thankful nod for her words. He must know how guilty Steve must feel.

“We were both there, Steve.” He tells him, turning to his life-long friend. “We both failed in catching him.”

You blink, stunned and loving the complete turn around Bucky has made since you were taken. He’s so supportive of Steve being in this relationship with the two of you now.

It might be wrong to think it, but you’re glad that Aaron took you. If it means that you, Bucky, and Steve can be together. It was worth it.

As that thought flows through your mind, you’re bombarded with the disgusting image of a heavy tongue, the sharp taste of alcohol. Vodka? It’s second hand, like you’re tasting in on something…or someone.

You feel hard, bruising fingers digging into your shoulders, arms, hips. It passes in an instant and you blink, a grimace on your face.

“Are you hurting?” Steve asks, noticing your expression.

“No.” You tell him, turning to meet his storm blues.

“I can take you back to the room.” Steve insists.

“I’m okay, Steve.” You assure him.

“You sure?”

“Yes.” You smile and without hesitation, Steve scoots closer, adjusting your leg as he goes until he can wrap an arm around your shoulders.

Tony blinks at the two of you, his eyes then wander to Bucky who is staring at the monitor. The silence seems to go one forever until Bucky finally meets Tony’s eyes.

“What?” He asks, looking slightly startled to be watched.

“What’s going on here?” He looks at you and Steve then back at Bucky.

Bucky doesn’t even bother to turn. “Is that really your business?”

Tony looks at Nat who’s smiling wide, staring at her feet.

“Tony…” You start.

“She’s ours.” Steve says, his brow furrowed as he dares Tony to say something.

Tony however gives Bucky one more glance as Bucky’s own lips curl into a smug smile, arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Wow.” Tony mutters, turning to Nat who has turned to look at him. “I didn’t think they had it in them.”

Nat chuckles amused and apparently thinking the same thing.

“I didn’t think that’s where it would end up, but I’m glad I pushed Steve on her.” She says.

Tony looks impressed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bucky asks him, eyes narrowed.

“Nothing. Just…someone from your gen, I didn’t think it was possible.” He admits.

“Oh.” Bucky replies lamely. He seems to understand what Tony is saying. “It wasn’t without struggle.”

“I bet.” Tony laughs.

Your cheeks are burning, slightly embarrassed by the focus on your sex life. “How are we monitoring the ship?”

Your attempt to get them back onto work is successful and Tony looks back to the monitor. “Satellite mostly. Vision, Sam, and Wanda have gone to check the base we were ambushed at. See if they can find any clues.”

“But he’s not there.” You realize. “Not on the ship. Not at the base?”

“No.” Nat shakes her head, frowning with her own arms crossed across her own chest, mirroring Bucky. “He’s not there.”

“I wanna go back.” You state.

Bucky and Steve both look at you, startled and both of them shift to face you.

“What?” Steve asks.

“I wanna go see the ship.” You tell him, then turn to Bucky. “I need to go back.”

“Why?” He asks, reluctant, a bite of anger in his voice.

“I…I need to see if I can remember what happened in those two weeks.” You explain. “I’ve been-”

You’re not really sure why you stop talking but you do.

“What is it, honey?” Steve asks, reaching down to rub your back.

“I’ve been getting flashes.” You confess and both men tense beside you.

“What kind of flashes?” Bucky asks.

“What have you seen?” Steve wonders, at the same time.

“Nothing clear.” You tell them, not wanting to admit what you think those flashes might be. “Just fragments. Nothing’s coherent. It’s jumbled. I get tastes and smells. The memory of pain.”

Bucky’s metal hand is clenched into a tight fist, groaning on the table as he squeezes Aaron’s neck in his mind.

“You think going back to the ship will help you remember?” He already knows what you’re going to say but he also doesn’t want to take you.

“Yes.” You whisper, strained and emotional. “I do.”

Bucky looks at Steve and they share one long look, both of their brows furrowed, exchanging words and communicating as only they can without words.

Steve is the one that nods. “Okay. But we go first.”

The ship rocks beneath you. It sways one way for a long time, then the other.

With the sea calmer, it’s easier for you to walk around the huge deck with your boot.

Bucky and Steve walk beside you. They’re uneasy with you here. Protective. However, they keep their hands to themselves because you’ve already snapped at them for trying to hold you and keep you from walking on your still very much broken ankle.

Helen had frowned at you when she’d checked your leg and you’d told her you were coming here. But you don’t care. You need to do this.

The brine in the air coats your skin, making it sticky. It’s hot. You’re already moist from the heat and the salt makes you feel dirty even if you aren’t.

You’re in full uniform, despite the injury, the right leg cut up high on your thigh which leaves your skin exposed on that side.

It’s like a waking nightmare, this place of rust and tarnish. A ghost ship. No one but you, Bucky, and Steve on board.

The sun hangs high, not a cloud in sight. A single glistening bulb to light up your dark day.

Part of you knows what you’ll find here. You know, but you can’t stop. You need to remember even if you’ll wish afterwards that you don’t.

As your each the hatch door, the one you’d tripped over and broken your ankle on, Steve hurries forward to open it.

Bucky moves inside first, scanning the landing before he holds out his hand for you to take it.

You do. You need help. There’s no denying it.

Feeling like a helpless child is just something that you don’t need from Bucky and Steve. They don’t need to coddle you.

Bucky helps you over the rim of the hatch then Steve follows, his hands hovering beside your waist as Bucky helps you down the creaking metal stairs.

Everything looks so much clearer today than it did that day. The walls had been so large and looming as you’d raced away from Aaron. Dark. Threatening.

Today they’re only walls. Just as you remember. Top half painted red. Bottom painted black.

“Which way?” Bucky asks you, stopping at an intersection you don’t remember running through, but your gut tells you straight, so you point onwards.

Bucky goes. The deeper the three of you walk the darker it seems to get.

Somehow, the electricity is still working but the lights are dim and there are spaces of darkness between one and the other.

“Y/N…” Steve begins, worry heavy.

“I’m fine.” You tell him, the edge of irritation still dripping in your tone.

You know they love you, but you aren’t made of glass.

He sighs behind you, frustrated too. He hates you being here. More than Bucky does.

“Steve.” Bucky warns.

You can feel the anger between them but also the camaraderie. The ease of their movements and decisions in their one and only goal of keeping you safe.

The ship groans around you, a wailing that scratches and peels your insides as a terrible feeling begins to overcome you.

That noise is so familiar. The cry of metal brings back another flash of memory. It comes on quickly but this time, it isn’t fleeting. You catch the image and hold onto it.

With a gasp, you let it overwhelm you.

You’re sobbing. Crying weakly with sadness and surrender because you don’t stand a chance. This is the absolute end for you, and you know it.

He’s touching you. Caressing and groping. Hands slipping underneath your shirt to pluck and pull at your breasts.

You shut your eyes and wish you were anywhere but here. You want to fight, to scream and struggle but the straps are too tight, and you can’t move.

There’s no use begging. There’s nothing you can say to make him stop.

“Y/N?” Bucky checks, seeing the pain on your face, the revulsion in the downward twist of your mouth.

“I’m okay.” You insist, breathless and you move past him, ignoring the heavy silence behind you as he and Steve exchange what is probably one of those weighty looks they seem to communicate with.

The door you’re looking for is close.

You see the sign in Portuguese that designates this as the Medical Bay. The smell of ammonia, the sea, but also the smell of rotting fish bring back the only memory that you’ve been able to really see clearly. The one you made before your escape. The freshest one.

Your plan of seducing Aaron. Pretending you want him so that he’ll untie you. You feel his hand between your legs again, pressing and massaging as you internally gag but hope that the deceit works.

Now you realize that the reason you’d known to give in to him, the reason you’d known that he’d fall for it is because he’d already been wearing you down.

As you reach the doorway of the room you’d been kept in, you glance around at the low ceilings, the rusted corners of the walls and furniture. You see the table you’d been strapped to, your straps still hanging from the sides of the thin mattress.

It takes all of your grit to step into that room and allow yourself to be consumed by the truth of those two weeks.

“Y/N?” Steve says gently, reaching out to stroke your elbow.

You move to the nearest seat; the one Aaron had been sitting in by your bed. Bolted into the floor. All you can do is stare at the mattress, listening as the loves of your life follow.

Should you tell them? You don’t want to. This will anger them. It might break them.

“This is where he had me.” You tell them and listen as they move to stand at your sides. Bucky on your right. Steve to your left.

You take Bucky’s hand, holding onto the metal with a sudden need to feel him there. Then you take Steve’s right with your left.

“I…” You hesitate, shutting your eyes and it clips by like a silent film. Short bursts of memory as vivid as a movie. A horror. Each clip cuts off and then the new one takes its place.

Aaron pinning you down, hard aggressive hands on your hips, leaving bruises while you plead with him and struggle. Your face a grimace of pain and sorrow.

Aaron with his head between your legs where you don’t want to feel him, as you bang your head back against the bed—your hands clenching and curling into claws—wishing you could be dead because you can’t believe that even with the white hot anger surging through you that you still can’t rip through your binds and strangle him.

Aaron naked above you, his body pressed down on you so heavy that you can hardly breath. Gasping and crying and he hits you because he hates that you won’t stop sobbing. He presses his palm against the left side of your face, shoving it painfully into the mattress as you finally go still and let him do what he wants.

Aaron cleaning you afterwards. Finding new clothes because he tore your suit. He dresses you and makes you as pretty as he can manage before you finally pass out.

That had only been the first time.

You open your eyes and stare at the bed where you’d wished it would all just be over. You’d assumed he would kill you. You’d thought that you’d never see Bucky again or Steve. In your head you had told them you loved them and goodbye while also lamenting that Bucky probably didn’t care that you loved him still.

You’d thought about how much you’d hurt him by wanting Steve and in effect torturing Steve by wanting him but knowing you’d have to leave them both.

Pulling Bucky’s hand up closer, you press it to your cheek, snuggling into the metal. Grateful that he’d changed his mind. He does love you after all.

“What baby?” He asks, voice as soft as the tuft on a kitten’s belly.

You look up at him, staring into the dark gray of his eyes, wishing they were bright with the moon and the stars, even the scorching sun outside, instead of darkened by the hideousness of this place.

“Let’s go home.” You sigh.

Steve’s drops your hand but only so that he can caress the back of your head.

Somehow, they both know that you don’t want to talk about it.

“You’re safe now, Y/N.” Steve assures you. “We’ve got you.”

The ride home is quiet but you’re in their arms. You cling to Bucky while Steve rests his arm behind Bucky’s shoulders so that he can sit close to you too. He runs his hands along the back of your head, caressing you. Comforting you.

They can see that you need it even if they don’t know why. Your loves are so good. They don’t ask you why and you’re grateful. Maybe when you’re ready…someday…you’ll tell them.

All you want to do now is pull yourself back up. Leave all of that behind and love them. You want to start living the life you’d thought was impossible to have in that bed while Aaron broke you.

And yet, as you tighten your arms around Bucky’s waist, your mind wonders where Aaron has slinked off to and you hope that he fell overboard trying to escape. Please let him have drowned.

Bucky takes a mission. For you. For Steve. He knows it’s time. It’s been almost two months. Your cast came off and your ankle still isn’t completely healed but it’s much better.

This of course means only one thing.

Steve.

It feels like an event. Almost like the anticipation when you know something good is supposed to come and the day is looming closer and closer. The promise of pleasures and happiness painting the day yellow.

It’s evening when Bucky pulls you into the hangar. He’s still clutching your hand, turning to look you over.

“How’s your ankle?” He looks down at your feet, sandals worn because you can’t stand slipping your ankle in and out of shoes.

It still aches.

“I’m okay.” You promise him.

“He’s excited.” Bucky says, an amused half smile on his lips.

“Me too.” You admit. “I’m sorry that you’re going though. I hate it when you leave.”

“I’ll always come back to you.” He says and there’s no doubt in your mind. “I hope he knows how much of a sacrifice I’m making to let him go first.”

“Bucky…” You smile wryly. It sounds funny when he puts it that way.

He traces the shape of your hip, his hand slipping a little further to the back to stroke the curve of your bum.

His touch is exhilarating. Now you definitely don’t want him to go.

“It’s time.” He says. “After tonight we’ll know for sure if this is gonna work.”

“Does it hurt you?” You frown, worrying as you reach up to place your hands on his chest, stroking the tight muscle.

“Not hurt. I am worried. Worried that you’ll like it too much or not enough. I want this to work, Y/N.” He’s serious too.

“It’s not weird talking about me having sex with someone else anymore?” You wonder.

“Not weird. Maybe surreal? If it had been before that asswipe, I think I’d have been going out of my mind. The idea of someone else touching you back then was absolutely crazy.”

“And now?”

“Well, it’s Steve. Our Steve. It’s okay.” He nods. He means it. You love him. “But anyone else tries to touch you, let them know I’ve got a knife with a lovely edge that’ll cut through bone.”

You chuckle, the threat real but low and sensational. You bite your bottom lip, feeling a small bit of panic parting with him.

He’s been your rock since the ship. Since you remembered.

You haven’t told him but he’s kind of guessed. He even cried with you one night when Steve was passed out. Too deeply asleep to hear the distress the two of you were in. Bucky had apologized to you for not being by your side where he belonged.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I should have been there.” His voice catches, hitching on the last word as his whisper becomes a sob. “I should have stopped him.”

“It’s not your fault, Bucky.” You sigh. How had he guessed? You hadn’t given any hints.

You’ve been so careful. You haven’t even flinched or cried since that day on the jet back home. Perhaps he saw it in your eyes?

“I’ll kill him.” Bucky gasps, growling his whisper as he pulls you close.

His arms are vices are you, steel and flesh. You can almost feel his desire to absorb you. To trap you there against his chest where you’re safe and no one can ever touch you that way again.

You sob quietly, afraid of waking Steve.

“Does he know?” You ask Bucky and Bucky pulls back to stare into your eyes. His face is a torn expression of agony and searching worry. He wants you to be okay. He can’t stand the idea of you hurting.

The love in his eyes in so painful but warm and healing too.

Bucky swallows hard and licks his lips. He strokes your cheeks, wiping away the slow soundless tears that roll along your cheeks, staining your pillow.

Almost like he knows that you and Bucky are talking about him, Steve’s arms tighten around your waist. He cuddles more securely against your back, the tip of his nose grazing against the back of your head.

He breathes in deeply then exhales with a small moan as his sleep pulls him down deeper. You know that sound by heart now. He won’t wake up again tonight.

“He guesses.” Bucky says, looking over your head at Steve. “It kills us both. No one was supposed to do that to you. Both of us failed.”

“No.” You sigh, tracing the scruffy point of his chin. His face is so close, you could kiss him with a tilt of your head. “It just happened Bucky. No one failed anyone. It’s over. I’m okay. I’m here with you and Stevie and I’m so happy.”

Bucky sighs, shutting his eyes and squeezing them tight. He’s struggling because he knows he should let it go. He needs to let it go. You’re telling him that you’re moving on.

“I’m just so angry. I’ve never wanted to pull someone’s spine out through their mouths so much.”

“I know. And I’m so grateful, babe. But I don’t want him to hurt us. I love you and I love Steve and it’s us until the world ends. Right?” You stroke his cheek with one finger.

“How can I help?” He asks, completely at a loss. “How do I make this better?”

“You can’t. Just love me. That’s all I need. Hug me and kiss me and never bring it up again.” You rub his nose with yours, staring into those nearly black eyes of his. “I choose you and Steve. He didn’t break me.”

Bucky wraps his arms around you and Steve, pulling both of you closer in order to press you right up against his own chest. It’s almost like you will never be close enough.

He kisses you lovingly. Sorrowfully. Steve groans and Bucky pulls back, realizing he’s holding on too tight.

“Sorry, punk.” He tells sleeping Steve.

Steve sighs in his sleep and releases you. He turns around and you twist in Bucky’s arms to wrap your arms around Steve’s waist and spoon up behind him. Bucky hugs you both again, hands softly resting on Steve’s sides as he kisses your head and all three of you finally drift off to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

The word hasn’t left your lips or his. No one calls it what it was because neither of you need to. All of you know what happened on that ship. All of you know what Aaron is.

You refuse to let it drag you down, but you’ve also started seeing someone to talk about it. Bucky approves. Steve gave you the name and number. Your boyfriends are so supportive.

It surprises you that with your first night with Steve hovering over you, you don’t feel the need to call her. But you also know that this intimacy is not what happened on that ship.

You want Steve. It’s not the same. This…this is love.

“If you need to stop, tell him. It’s Steve so he’ll probably panic but he’ll take good care of you.” Bucky says.

“I know. I’ll be fine. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. Except you.” You smile up at him, hooking your hands around his hips to give him a quick shake and he dips to kiss you, breathing in as he opens his mouth and dips his tongue in to taste you.

You moan against his lips.

“Come on, lover boy.” Nat teases, pulling on his hair a little as she passes but Bucky doesn’t break the kiss.

He wraps one arm around your waist and pulls you against his chest.

You know that he’s making it count.

He leaves you breathless and trembling. Eager for his return.

“When you come back…your turn.” You lick your lips, staring at his in anticipation of the fun you’ll both have.

“Stay safe.” He pleads with you, giving you one final peck before reaching down to grab his bag.

“Come back to me.” You demand and he goes with one quick final wave as the ramp rises and the door shuts.

The jet rises, hovering out of the hangar into the evening sky, then disappears too quickly leaving the air heavy with your want and woe.

Your heart aches all the way back up to your floor.

Frowning with your mind on Bucky, you move out of the elevator but freeze as you’re suddenly face to face with a trail of very tiny LED flame colored candles. The lights in the hallway and sitting room are off plunging the usually bright space into semi-darkness, lit only by the trail of candles.

Safer. You’re tickled that even in this particular situation, Steve considers safety first.

You follow the trail, stepping between the alternating pattern of lights; one on the left then a little further ahead one on the right.

The trail leads all the way to your room, halfway between Steve’s and Bucky’s. It winds into the room and then up onto your desk where the candles stop but a string of lights begin on the wall. They wind their way up to the ceiling in mismatching arches. A total of six light strings gather up over your bed, bathing it in a soft yellow glow.

Standing beside it, Steve nervously shifts his weight from one foot to the other, wearing a nice light blue button up to go with his black jeans. An angel in casual clothes.

You stop by your desk, staring at him with wide eyes and an easy smile.

“I wanted to do something special, but I didn’t want to be cheesy with rose petals and all of that…I…I know that things have been a little tough lately. I know with what happened-”

“Steve…” You interrupt him, not needing to hear the rest.

You’re ready.

Everything is perfect. The light casts vibrant shine and shadow across Steve’s beauty, pulling you in. Seducing you.

“Kiss me.” You order and he crosses the room in three large steps. Eager.

You’re in his arms, lifted off the ground as he kisses you. He turns you, carries you to the bed and the two of you fall onto the mattress. He lays himself on you, crushing you to the bed.

It happens in an unwelcome instant. His weight on you the trigger.

You flash back to the ship.

Your heart panics and you gasp, a sudden and passing fear makes you pull back and whimper.

“Shit.” Steve says, pulling back, staring into your eyes as he makes to get up. “I’m sorry.”

“Wait…” You tell him, shaking your head quickly as you look up into his beautiful storm blue eyes. “Just give me a second.”

“Honey, we don’t have to.” He says.

“Steve, shut up.” You say sternly. “You’re fucking me tonight, you hear me?”

The statement catches him off guard, but he doesn’t protest again.

“I just…” You sigh, tracing the shape of his arms to his shoulders then down to his chest and the buttons of his shirt.

You undo the top one and then the next then freeze. Suddenly, you know what you need.

As you finish with his buttons, you push the shirt down off his wide shoulders exposing taut, shifting muscles as he leans down to kiss your lips with a soft peck. With a firm hand you push him up until you can turn him around to sit on the bed. You straddle his waist, pushing his shirt off of him and he understands now what you’re wanting.

He takes his shirt off for you and then traces the shape of your shoulders, up to your neck to press his fingers against the sides.

“What next?” He asks, showing you that he knows you’re in charge.

This is what you need. You need to be in control.

“Take off my shirt.” You tell him, kissing him as he hooks his hands into the bottom and pulls it up over your head. “Now my bra.”

His hands shift slowly, giving you time to stop him should you need to, but you don’t. He unclasps the fabric and then slips it off your shoulders, exposing your breasts.

His jaw drops and he goes to grab them, hands eager but you get off of him, step back a bit and unbutton your pants before he can. Letting them fall, you step out of them then move to stand closer to the edge of the bed.

“Take off my panties, Steve.” You don’t dare break eye contact with him, and he stares right back at you, reading your every mood shift.

He scoots to the edge of the bed and guides you between his knees. Slowly, he pushes your panties down, staring into your eyes until they fall at your feet.

“Take off your pants. Your underwear too.” You instruct and he leans back to unbutton them, lifting his ass up a bit to push them down along with his briefs.

Your eyes wander down, following the path of his exposure. The slow, sensual exposure of his solid muscle, chiseled abs, tight hips, narrow waist, strong thighs…and then you see the pink swell of his cock. It’s erect, ready for you.

He leans back, letting you ogle him to your heart’s content, never once looking down at your body as he waits for your next order.

“If my ankle was better…I’d ride you.” You tell him.

You love the flare of his cheeks, bright scarlet as he no doubt pictures you straddling him again to bounce on his lap.

“But I can’t…” You sigh and move closer so that his cock is twitching against your thigh.

“What do you want me to do, baby doll? Tell me.”

“Touch me.” You plead.

This is his permission to look at you and he eats up the exposed visage of your nude form. His eyes tell you that he absolutely loves it.

He brings his hands up along the outside of your thighs, your hips, then he slides his left back behind you to trace the curve of your ass while his right slides down between your legs to play with your slick folds.

You shut your eyes, mouth watering as his middle finger starts at your nub. Rubs a few quick circles then slides his finger back and pushes it inside of you.

“Fuck…” You moan, arching your back, torso pushed towards him.

“Tell me, baby doll.” He says, voice low and husky, eyes dark with lust. Telling you with his eyes what he hopes you’ll say.

“Lick my tits.” You order, and he dives forward. Grateful.

He takes your nipple into his mouth, tracing long slow wet circles with his tongue. He sucks gently, tongue moving in slow waves as he adds another finger to your dripping core. He pumps his fingers faster, sloppy wet noises making your ears burn.

You’re so wet for him. Have been for so long.

“Oh, Steve…” You sigh, as he pulls you closer, wrapping his left arm around your waist.

He tilts his hand down lower, bringing his fingers up at an angle, hooking them as they hit that sweet spot.

“Fuck!” You gasp, lifting your right knee to rest on the outside of his left thigh.

With the added room, he pumps you faster, the lewd noises of your cunt only adding to your arousal. You gasp, head thrown back as you lean into his movements, chasing the peak of that pressure building in your pelvis.

He presses his thumb down onto your clit only twice making you orgasm. You shudder, curling back towards him and he catches you, holding you close as he gently grazes his teeth along your nipples and slows the pump of his fingers.

You twitch until he stops completely and removes his digits, bringing them up to his mouth to suck and lick clean.

The sight of him is so lurid, it drives the heat back into your tummy and you wrap your arm around his neck, leaning down to kiss him and taste yourself on his tongue.

His hands are ceaseless in their movement, exploring every bend and curve of your body as he kisses you, loving the feel of your dewy skin. Sparkling with tiny incandescent stars.

When he pulls back, he pushes your hair back, tilting your head so that your sex-hazed eyes will focus on his.

“Now what?”

“Fuck me, Steve.” You beg, “Please, fuck me.”

Steve tosses you back down onto your back then after a moment of consideration he flips you onto your left and slides in behind you. He lifts your right leg, hooking it up and over his waist.

“Don’t wanna hurt your leg, baby doll.” He lines himself up with your opening, scooting in closer and closer until his chest is pressed against your back.

You look over your shoulder at him and he leans forward to meet your lips in a kiss as he buries himself in you, thrusting his hips against your ass with a soft clap.

The moan that shudders from your mouth into his quakes. He feels so different to Bucky. Still big but longer. Reaching. Not as thick but in this position, he’s hitting that sweet spot again.

Breaking the kiss, you reach back to press your hand against his ass, holding him there for a moment to enjoy the sensation.

“You like that, honey?”

“Yeah.” You reply, voice rising in pitch and you hear the squeak that Bucky had told Steve about a few weeks back. It’s more of a cry. An exclamation of pleasure.

Steve smiles, enjoying the sound. Taking pride that he’s brought it out in you like Bucky said he might if he gets you just right.

He pulls back and thrusts in again. You cry out, falling forward to grip the sheets in as tight a fist as you can manage with the buzz from your previous climax making your muscles weak.

Steve finds his rhythm, pumping in and out with clean, long strokes. You’re so wet that he slides in with no resistance. It makes him eager and he’s soon shoving himself into you fast and hard.

He kisses your shoulder, pushing you forward so that he can kiss the center of your back. He crushes you flat into the mattress, shifting so that you’re laying completely flat as he settles right over you, burying himself all the way to the hilt.

Reaching down between your body and the bed, he finds your clit and curls his fingers flat against it, pushing on it hard and in time with his thrusts. His other arm wraps around your shoulders, hand slipping down to squeeze your right breast.

He nips at your neck, biting and sucking, licking when you whimper and mewl his name.

“Steve…oh, fuck baby…Steeeeeve”

Your toes curl. Legs bending up on either side of Steve’s knees. Pressure building until your body goes rigid then crumbles into twitches as you’re overcome with ecstasy.

Steve grinds down hard, grunting, thrusting slower and harder only twice more then he spills himself into you, hot and thick.

The two of you lay there, gasping for breath.

Steve pulls himself up a bit but only to trace kisses along the middle of your back, down along your spine. He’s still so hard. Still ready.

“I wanna go again.” He confesses, balancing on his hands with his arms extended as he watches the side of your face he can see.

You chuckle, hearing the longing in his voice. It’s an almost strangled desire and you know where it’s coming from.

“When?” You ask.

“Right now.” He sighs, leaning down over you again on his elbows, kissing your back once more.

“No,” You sigh, swallowing to clear your throat as you catch your breath. “When did you first want to sleep with me?”

“Oh.” Steve doesn’t even think. “Remember that night when we got back from Sokovia and you thought we should take a dip in the hot tub to relax?”

You think back to the night, full of somewhat revels but also somber reflection at the loss of life.

“Yeah.”

“Remember how you gave me that massage when I was feeling down about the people we couldn’t save?” He asks.

“You mean when you pretended to be okay with it, but I saw through your lying ass and got you to give in and tell me the truth?” You throw at him and he chuckles.

“Only for you.” He admits. “I only gave in because it was you.”

“That was when you first wanted to sleep with me?” You ask.

“No. Remember when Thor came in and you turned around and leaned over the edge to talk to him?” He seems to remember the moment so vividly, but that part isn’t so clear to you.

“Sort of?” You remember being annoyed because you were alone with Steve in the hot tub and if anything was going to happen it would have been there.

“Well, when you bent over, your suit bottoms got…I don’t know, stuck in the crease where your butt meets your leg,” He reaches down to trace the very curve he means and your skin breaks into shivers. “And they kinda…awe, man, this is gonna make me sound like such a perv.”

“Tell me.” You beg, pushing him back so that he falls out of you, but you turn around to lay on your back. He settles back down between your legs.

“I saw you. Your…” He lowers his voice, cheeks flaming again. “Your pretty little pussy.”

Your own heart stammers in your chest at the shyness in his voice. He just finished having his way with you but hearing him talk like that about you fills you with such a thrill.

“It was just there, all open for me to see. I almost leaned over to touch…taste…but then you sat back down. It was only for two seconds but I saw it and I um…I—remember how I left right after that?” He asks.

You shake your head because no. You don’t remember. You’re lamenting your quick movement to sit. If you’d let him see you back then for a little longer…maybe he would have given in to taste you?

Damn it!

“Well, I went to my room and jerked off to your picture. That one of us by the lake? And you’re wearing that other swimsuit. The one with the stripes.” He admits, somewhat embarrassed. Somewhat glad. Somewhat nervous.

You laugh, reaching up to cup the sides of his face, feeling the heat of his cheeks as your own burn too.

“Well, you don’t have to jerk off anymore, Steve. I’m right here.” You assure him. “Or if you do…let me watch?”

He smiles, leaning down to kiss you. Chuckling against your lips.

Finally, after so many years of unrequited love, you and Steve are together.

“Yeah.” He agrees. “And I’ve got you right where I want you.”

Your mouth falls open as he pushes in once more, intent on making up for lost time.

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[repulsivepangolin7]

Fic: 31 days of whump (23/31)

And of course I needed to make a chapter regarding some of the general challenges we’re going through. And who’s the main whumpee in my universe? You guessed, it. Luca.

Word count: 2 516

 “You know, it would’ve been a lot easier if everyone just followed the quarantine rules.” Hondo sighed as Black Betty roared through the streets of downtown LA.

“So true, so true.” Deacon nodded as he strapped his helmet on.

“Evil never sleeps.” Tan shrugged as he made sure the laces of his boots were tucked in.

“Well, neither do we!” Luca grinned from behind the wheel.

“Ain’t that right!” Hondo chuckled as they turned into the block they were headed to, “Alright, you know the deal. Stay liquid!”

 SWATSWATSWAT

 It’s a heart-stopping moment when you suddenly know everything’s going to go wrong. When you know you’re screwed over. When you’re looking down the barrel of a loaded gun.

It wasn’t the first time in his career, and in a weird way he hoped it wouldn’t be the last one either. Last one sounded too, final.

“Please…” he attempted, “Don’t shoot, please.”

“Put your gun down!” the masked guy yelled.

Luca nodded and the gun tracked his movements.

He could feel his heart beating at his max limit. His mouth was dry as plaster wall, his hands were starting to get shaky.

Everything’s going to be alright, Luca… Everything’s going to be alright.

And everything was going alright.

-Until a car outside backfired, and the scared shitless masked guy who probably wasn’t used to holding weapons to people put a bit too much pressure on the trigger and fired.

At first it felt like someone hit him in the thigh with a baseball bat. And he had a couple of glorious seconds filled with that weird feeling when you know you’ve been hit hard by something, but it doesn’t hurt yet. Where everything is just stupidly numb.

He slammed to the floor, it was like his right leg just disappeared from below him.

“SHIT!” Luca almost barked a laugh when he heard the masked guy freak out, “Shit man! SHIT! I didn’t mean to!”

Then his brain started interpreting the signals his leg was sending him correctly, and lord it hurt. The pain was almost paralyzing.

Then his brain started decoding the severity of it all.

“F***!” he muttered to himself before pressing down on the radio button, “Officer down. GSW, right thigh. Making a tourniquet.”

Then he loosened his belt, and prepared to wrap that around high up on his thigh.

The masked kid was still freaking out five yards away. He had laid his gun down on the counter.

Luca looked down at the wound after he had tightened the makeshift tourniquet as much as he possibly could. It still bled too much.

He muttered another word of profanity.

“Kid! Hey kid!” it was a last ditch effort, he knew, but the others had gone upstairs because that was the information they had gotten. Fifth floor, two shooters. “Kid, I need help!”

The masked kid froze.

“Kid, can you find anything I can use as either a tourniquet or to press down on this wound?”

The kid looked at him. “What?”

“You know any first aid?”

The kid’s mouth fell open under the mask, then he nodded. “A little.”

“I need to put pressure on this.” Luca winced, “And-or something that works better as a tourniquet than my belt. Can you find that?”

The kid nodded and picked up his gun again, which Luca first took to be a very bad sign, before he saw the kid unhooking the strap from the assault rifle and placing the gun back where he had placed it earlier.

Then he jogged over to somewhere Luca couldn’t see, before he came back a few seconds later with a rolled up piece of fabric.

“I’m so sorry! I never meant to!” the kid apologized as he handed Luca the stuff, “I didn’t mean to shoot you!”

“Then why were you pointing a freaking gun at me?” Luca growled back, the pain setting him a bit more on edge than he liked.

“I’m sorry, I’m stupid.”

“Forget it, just help me with this…” Luca grimaced, pointing at his leg.

Rapid footsteps hurried down the stairs, Luca knew the team well enough to know that it was Hondo and Deacon.

“Luca, how bad is it?” Deacon asked.

Luca killed off a groan, before he called out for his two teammates, “Don’t shoot, we’re good here!”

Then he looked at the wound on his leg, it was still bleeding steadily. “Harder.”

The kid pressed down harder on the wound, causing Luca to collapse backwards with a long growl.

Deacon and Hondo ran over, taking in the scene.

“That’s not enough pressure.” Hondo noted, kneeling down beside the kid, who now had lifted his mask from his face. “Let me, alright?”

The kid nodded, but held pressure until Hondo was ready to take over.

Deacon secured the kid in handcuffs. Then he attempted finding better suited materials for a proper tourniquet.

 SWATSWATSWAT

 The next couple of days were a blur of pain, low hemoglobin, pain and his mind playing PTSD-like tricks on him. Oh, and pain.

The x-rays had showed that the bullet had broken his femur a bit above his knee, and as a result of his leg collapsing in a weird way, he had managed to break his tibia as well. And along with that, a lot of soft tissue damage followed.

Thanks to the way the world was going to hell in a hurry, this wasn’t like any other of his previous hospital stays.

For one, he hadn’t had any visitors. They weren’t allowed in. Which he took as a good sign, right now visitors would probably mean that he was on the fast track to leaving in a body bag.

The other main thing was that his pain was nowhere near managed. He was basically getting Tylenol for a gunshot wound.

He had gotten a couple of bags worth of fullblood and some saline or whatever drips to keep the effects of blood loss down.

And the nurses tried their best to keep up with whatever shitshow was going on outside of his room, and avoid infecting other patients. That kind of setup limited the number of different nurses who came in to him during a shift. Usually it was just one per shift, with another one stepping in if the main nurse was called to one of the isolation rooms for something urgent.

He had already been the assistant in one of his own dressing changes. Which had not been his favorite part of the day. Luckily lifting by the metal rod going between the four sets of pins was a practical way to move his leg without too much pain or hassle. It hurt less holding the bar than his actual leg. That being said, with the minimum amount of pain killers he was on due to the now national shortage, it hurt more than it should anyway.

 SWATSWATSWAT

 Luckily the internet still worked, and for the moment that would have to be his social lifeline to the rest of the world.

He was just about finished with his lunch when his phone started buzzing.

He picked it up and looked at it, seeing an incoming FaceTime call from Tuana.

He accepted the call with a grin.

“Hey there…” Tuana and Kelly grinned in unison.

“Hey girls!” he grinned back, “How’s quarantine life going?”

“It’s BORING!” Kelly frowned, “I can’t hang outside with my friends.”

Luca chuckled, “Well, this won’t last forever. Everyone just has to do their part until it passes.”

Kelly sighed, but nodded. “How are you doing Luca?”

He shrugged, he didn’t feel like admitting how bad it actually felt to her. He didn’t want this kid to see his weak side. “I’m holding up. It’s pretty boring here as well…”

“I wish we could come visit you…” she pouted.

“That would have been nice, but rules are rules…” he sighed, “I can barely wait for my leg to be good enough to get out of here and see you again.”

Kelly and Tuana nodded.

“Hey, Kelly… Could you give me and Luca some time alone?”

Kelly shrugged, “Oh, I could probably finish reading my book today!”

“That’s a GREAT idea!” Luca grinned, happy that Kelly had started finding joy in reading, “Talk to you later!”

“Yeah, later!” Kelly waved before she vanished from the screen.

Tuana followed her with her eyes, before she looked back at the screen, “Alright, she’s in her room.”

“Man, I miss you…” he sighed, “Both of you.”

“We miss you too…” Tuana replied.

“So, how’s self quarantine going?”

“Well, I’m bored as well. But…” she shrugged, “I think that’s mostly because I miss you.”

His chest felt warmer hearing that.

“So, how’s the hospital? How’s your leg?”

“Leg… My leg feels like it’s been shot.” Luca rolled his eyes, “It hurts.”

Tuana shot him an empathetic look.

“The hospital feels different. A bit middle-apocalyptic…”

She couldn’t help but chuckle.

“But are you good?” she asked, “Except the injured leg?”

“Yeah.” Luca nodded, “Except for the leg, I’m all good.”

“Can you show it to me?”

“The leg?”

Tuana nodded, “My mind kept providing me with all these worst case images ever since I heard you got shot.”

Luca nodded.

“I just need to see it so that my head doesn’t play it up worse than it is.”

Luca nodded, “I get it.”

“So, can you show me?”

“I can.” he nodded, “I’ve got some metal pins poking out of my leg and a bar or two linking them. And of course there’s bandage in between.”

She nodded.

“Just want you to be prepared, alright? And it’s pretty bruised. -And the bandage is partially soaked through.”

Tuana nodded.

“Alright, switching camera now.”

Tuana nodded, and Luca hit the icon to use the camera behind the phone instead of the front facing one.

“Ouch.” was all she said at first.

“Yeah, it… It looks how it looks.”

“Does they know if you’ll be back to normal?”

Luca shook his head a bit, but remembered that the camera was facing the wrong way. “No, they don’t.”

“What do they know?”

“That I won’t be putting weight on that leg for at least three months, or longer.” Luca switched the camera setting back, “And there’s no way of telling if I’ll be able to get back to work this time around, but they expect that if I make it… It’ll be at least a year before that happens.”

“And how long before you’re out of the hospital?”

“Not until my leg has stopped bleeding.” Luca sighed, “Might be anywhere from a few more days to a few more weeks.”

“You’re coming home to us then?” obvious hope in her eyes.

“Yeah, as long as you’ll have me.” Luca smirked.

“Always.” Tuana nodded.

 SWATSWATSWAT

 It took two and a half weeks before he was released from the hospital, with Tylenol and crutches.

He could barely move, barely manage to stand up with help of his crutches. But seeing Tuana come to pick him up outside the hospital made his will bigger than anything.

Tuana was standing outside the hospital when the nurse who had been looking after him that day rolled him down to the lobby in a wheelchair to make things easier for him.

“Well, look at you, handsome!” Tuana grinned as Luca and the nurse came outside the main entrance.

“Hey!” Luca beamed back, “You won’t believe how good it is to finally see you again!”

“I think I have an idea…” Tuana chuckled, “I’ve missed you too, you know.”

Luca grinned. Then he looked at his truck, which Tuana was picking him up in. His expression fell a little.

“Err, I might need some help.” He paused, pointing at the truck, “I don’t think it’ll be easy to get into the passenger seat.”

“Well, I figured your truck would be easier than my tiny car…” Tuana shrugged.

“Oh, you’re definitely right about that.” Luca nodded, “But… My leg…”

Tuana nodded, she knew what he was trying to say. It was painful. Every fractional movement hurt, didn’t matter if it was planned or unplanned. She had learned that through their daily FaceTime calls.

 SWATSWATSWAT

 They made it home to the apartment complex Tuana lived in, and up to the right floor. Luca was beading with sweat by the time she was about to unlock the door.

“Are you feeling alright?”

“A little lightheaded.” Luca answered honestly, “And that right there is the longest walk I’ve had in more than two weeks.”

“So, sit down?”

“Yeah. I need to sit down.” Luca swallowed, concentrating hard on keeping his balance.

“Can you make it inside to the couch?”

“Think so.”

“Try not to pass out on me, alright?”

“Yes Ma’am.” Luca nodded, keeping a death grip on his crutches.

She unlocked, and he made it in safely.

He hopped directly over to the couch, and started lowering himself onto the couch. Then he lifted his leg onto the couch with a grimace.

“Pillows? Do you need more pillows?”

“Nah. I’m good.” Luca grit out, looking nowhere near the vicinity of okay even.

“I’m finding more pillows.” She declared, “And a glass of water.”

“Thanks.”

As Tuana looked for pillows and a glass of water, the door to Kelly’s room clicked open, and she practically ran out to the living room. “Luca!”

He managed a brave smile, “Hey kiddo!”

She skidded to a stop a few feet away from the couch, her mouth agape. “Your leg…”

Luca nodded, “It looks… It doesn’t look good, does it?”

Kelly shook her head.

“It’s going to be alright.” He promised.

“Promise?”

“It’s going to take time, but my leg is going to get better.” Luca shrugged, “And I’ll be more fun again. I’m not very fun right now.”

Kelly looked between Luca’s face and his leg. “Why don’t you have a cast?”

“Because the doctors thought fixing my leg like this would be the best option.” Luca shrugged as he contemplated moving his leg a little. Those pillows Tuana was looking for would be very welcomed after all.

Kelly was silent for a few seconds extra, then she took a deep breath. “Can I give you a hug? We’re not supposed to hug now, because the virus, but… I want to give you a hug.”

Luca smiled, “Sure. A careful hug, alright?”

Kelly nodded and stepped over to hug him.

“Hey, I want to get in on that one…” Tuana chuckled as she came back in the living room.

Luca grinned, “It’s been way too long since we had a proper group hug, right?”

“Yeah.” Kelly nodded on his shoulder and he held out an arm for Tuana to join.

“I missed the two of you a lot.”

“We missed you too.” Kelly said, squeezing a bit harder, “Promise you won’t get shot again.”

“I’ll do my very best.” Luca nodded, “Alright?”

Kelly shrugged a bit, “I guess.”

Okay, remember, this was written early on in this pandemic, and we had no clue how it was going to end up being (not on a national basis for my home country, or internationally). At the hospital I was a student at, we had some shortages early on. I no longer remember exactly what it was we were running short on because it got straightened out pretty quickly, but it was some kind of antibiotic. And we didn’t know how the supply for all the meds were going to work if things went real caca, so my brain made up a scenario which might have turned out realistic, but it didn’t end up that way over here at least.  And nationwide there was a shortage of paracetamol and ibuprofen because people bought it like they were getting ready for the apocalypse, and they planned on having a constant headache. Kinda like T.P.

[lady-divine-writes]

ACITW AU - “Julian and Sebastian’s Big Secret” (Rated NC17)

So, this was a pivotal plot point that everyone was curious about, and which I had included in the last post I posted, but I didn’t like how I left it. That was just the skeleton of what this scene was meant to be in many ways, and that’s been bothering me. So, for anyone who wants to read it the way it was supposed to play out, here it is. It starts when Kurt and Sebastian have to go hunt down Julian who, having been ghosted by Cooper, up and disappears. (1968 words)

Thank you :)

“I even called the house,” Julian says, staring ahead of him with blank eyes, talking sotto voce, as if the two of them aren't standing there beside him, listening to every word. “Emily says he just … he just left. He didn’t pack a bag, didn’t tell anyone where he was going ... just pfft. Gone.”

“Julian, I'm ... I’m so sorry,” Kurt says sincerely, his heart sinking when that light that always lingers in Julian's eyes, the one that blazes hot behind the ice blue of his irises, starts to burn low, threatening to go out.

“So many secrets …” Julian shakes his head, looking down at his phone clutched in his hand as if any moment it might spring to life with a call or a text. “We’re so good at keeping secrets, aren’t we, Sebby?”

Kurt feels Sebastian go rigid beside him.

“Julian …”

Kurt has heard Sebastian say his brother’s name dozens of times, and as many different ways.

He’s said it jokingly.

He’s said it seriously.

He’s spat it like a curse.

He’s said it with affection.

But this was a plea.

He was begging Julian to stop.

“We keep secrets from mom and dad," Julian continues, again to himself as if they aren't there, "secrets from Liv. Hell, the two of you kept the biggest secret of all. You even had me duped, though, apparently that isn't as hard as I thought.”

Julian laughs, sad and hollow, until it becomes a cough.

“Julian …” Sebastian repeats his plea softer, subconsciously searching for and taking Kurt's hand. He squeezes it tight, and Kurt can't help noticing how it shakes.

Julian looks at his brother with a wry smirk, lifting the shot glass in his fist in an unspoken toast and downing it in a single gulp. He slams it down on the bar, the glass bottom hitting the wood with a poignant thunk.

“Now why haven’t you told him yet, Sebby?” he asks, mockingly upbeat the way depressed drunks sound when the liquor finally hits. This Julian is such a departure from the one Kurt normally sees – the suave and sophisticated sexy man whose every word speaks to Kurt’s artistic soul – that he might as well be a complete stranger. Someone who looks so much like Julian that from a distance on a cloudy day he could be mistaken for him, but turns out to not be him.

This transformation frightens Kurt, but Sebastian’s reaction to it concerns him more.

Sebastian squeezes Kurt’s hand a little harder, coming to a conclusion that Kurt has yet to come to.

“Tell me … tell me what?” Kurt asks. He at Julian, then to Sebastian. He would rather hear from Sebastian, but Julian gets to him first.

“Why it is that he went away,” Julian replies, talking to the wood grain in the bar, the bottom of his glass – everything but them. “You know it wasn’t your fault, Sebby. At least, if you tell him, he’ll know exactly how much of a bastard I really am, and you’ll never have to worry about losing him again. Not to me, anyway.”

That last part was meant as a joke, but to Kurt, it feels more like a jab. Not at Kurt, and not at Sebastian. At himself. He’s skewering himself on his own metaphoric sword, one he’s been carrying around with him ever since whatever happened happened.

Whatever he’s about to say, he doesn’t expect Kurt to forgive him, or to speak to him ever again.

Kurt’s eyes meet Sebastian’s, but Sebastian isn’t looking at him. He’s staring at some insignificant spot on the bar. He looks frozen. Numb.

“Come on, Sebby,” Julian says, tears burning in his eyes that Kurt can hear in his voice. “You love him. He loves you. He should know, dontcha think?”

Sebastian still can’t seem to answer. He’s paralyzed, mouth agape, unable to breathe a single word. Kurt has never seen Sebastian like this. Whatever Sebastian hasn’t told Kurt yet, whatever this pain is that the two of them hold on to, that the two of them share, Julian is getting ready to spill it. Kurt won't deny that he wants to know - he wants to help - but this is not how Kurt wants to find out. Not like this.

“Julian, no,” Kurt says, even though he’s sure what he’s saying no to is the one thing he’s wanted to know all summer. “You can’t do this. You can’t hurt your brother like this. It’s not right.”

“No, Kurt! It’s my story, too.” Julian sniffs. “And I … I need you to hear it, to try and forgive me because what I did made this …” He flicks a finger between Kurt and Sebastian “… so much harder for you. And you don’t deserve that.”

Julian had mentioned early on that Sebastian would never want to look weak or vulnerable. Kurt suspects they have that in common. Kurt wonders when the last time Sebastian saw his brother like this was. A while, he assumes, if the way Sebastian’s eyes widen are any indication.

“It’s … it’s fine.” Kurt’s voice is thick, on the verge of panic. He feels like he’s standing in the path of a runaway train with nowhere to run, no way to escape. “Really. Forget about it. I … I forgive you. It’s …”

Julian shakes his head. “Don’t, Kurt. You don’t understand. You can’t even conceive of how bad I hurt him …”

“Julian …” Kurt speaks firmly, putting his free hand on Julian’s knee and squeezing, trying to break through his haze of whiskey and self-pity “… please, stop. I don’t need to know.”

“Yes,” Sebastian agrees behind him. Kurt turns to look at his boyfriend, expecting him to be looking away, off in the distance like Julian, or maybe down at his shoes, but he’s looking right at Kurt instead. “Yes, you do.”

Kurt slowly shakes his head.

This time, it's Kurt's turn to plead.

"Sebastian ..."

“That’s the spirit, baby brother,” Julian cuts in with a fake laugh and a halfhearted version of his trademark salute, which has been conspicuously missing the past week since he’s been brooding over Cooper. He takes his next shot off the bar and passes it to Sebastian. Kurt watches Sebastian sadly put the glass to his lips, snap his head back, and down the drink, a single tear racing down his cheek and getting lost in his hair. “Let’s tell our story together.”

Julian knocks on the bar as the bartender walks by and the man fills their glasses. He sets one out for Kurt without asking and fills that one, too. Kurt is so stunned he doesn’t have the wherewithal to wave the man away. On his end, the bartender doesn’t seem to mind that Kurt and Sebastian don’t look anywhere close to 21. He looks about as done with life as they all feel right now, or like the bouncer at Scandals when Kurt and Blaine first went, which would be a funny comparison any other time but now. Kurt wishes he could bring it up, break the tension, get a smile out of Sebastian, steer this conversation in a different direction.

But that would be beneath them.

“There was this … guy,” Julian begins, landing on that word as if the crux of their problems is always some guy.” Seb fell so hard for him, so fast. He called my brother all sorts of cutesy nicknames. They were so adorable together. Frankly, it made me kind of sick. But, in the spirit of brotherly love, I wanted to help Sebby land this boy, because back then, he had no game to speak of. I got them some fake IDs, and I took them out drinking.” Another shot appears. Julian downs it, and just as quickly, it’s refilled. Kurt has lost count at this point. “It might have been love. Was it?” Julian squints up at Sebastian for an answer. Sebastian stares but says nothing. Julian shrugs. “I don’t know. It could have been. But right before we went out, I got into a fight with Cooper, and I turned into an asshole. I got them both drunk, and then I seduced this poor boy of Seb’s. Man, I pulled out all the stops for that kid! I mean, I really went overboard. And he fell for it – hook, line, and sinker.” Another shot goes down Julian’s throat. “Sebby, he got mad, sulked in a corner, had one too many to drink. He got real sick and went to the bathroom, and while he was in there, there was … there was this man ...” Julian hiccups.

Warning bells sound off in Kurt’s head, coursing through his body, carrying adrenaline with them, and now his hands begin to shake. “Don’t. Stop. I don’t think I should hear …”

“No,” Sebastian whispers. “Let him … let him finish.”

“When I got to them …” Julian squeezes his eyes shut, tears leaking from the sides “… he had Sebastian pinned between the sinks, had his pants unzipped and his hand down them.” Julian’s voice shudders, gaze glues to his glass as if he can see the memory there playing before his eyes. It probably is, Kurt thinks. It probably plays back for him over and over when he shuts his eyes, when he drinks too much … every day that Sebastian was overseas … “He was trying to kiss him, k-kept saying …” Julian clears his throat so violently Kurt can feel his own throat go raw “… kept saying that he wanted to t-taste himself on Seb’s lips.”

And that’s the moment.

The moment when those alarms in Kurt’s head, and all that coursing adrenaline, build in his chest, and explode.

With those words, Kurt’s entire body folds in on itself and freezes solid from the top of his head to the soles of his feet. It creeps underneath his hair, makes his follicles itch as if bugs have been nesting there and are now clawing to get out. A sudden picture of Sebastian pinned against a bathroom wall like Kurt was with Max back in that bar in Columbus fills Kurt’s brain. The man pinning Sebastian there, Kurt fills in with the vilest human being his mind can come up with. And now that that image is there, Kurt knows it’ll never leave him.

Like Sebastian and Julian, he’ll never be free of it.

But back in Columbus, when Max tried to assault Kurt, Sebastian was there. Sebastian saved him. Even though that memory enrages Kurt, it doesn’t paralyze him with fear.

A second later, he feels the phantom of Dave Karofsky’s mouth on his, and his knees almost buckle beneath him.

“So … so, that man … he …”

“Yeah,” Sebastian says with the last bit of voice he has left. “Big brother charged to the rescue about a minute too late.”

“Oh … oh God. Sebastian …” Kurt turns to his boyfriend, to reach out and hold him, but the hand that’s been latched on to his since this saga began slips away. By the time Kurt spots him, he’s nowhere within reach, weeding his way through the crowd to get outside, get some air. “That’s what happened between the two of you?” Kurt says, staring at his boyfriend’s back, fighting between running after him and giving him a minute to pull himself together. “That’s why Sebastian went to Paris? That’s why he stayed away for so long?”

“Yup.” Julian downs his next shot. Kurt’s and Sebastian’s, too, with such effortless fluidity, those glasses might as well be full of water. “That’s the story of how big bad Julian Smythe let his brother down, lost his trust … and broke his heart.”