#i might do rounds 2-4 tomorrow? when it is not 1 am and if anyone is interested

[ljxlj48]

A Racer’s Heart

Chapter 1

F1Driver!Jeno x Reader x F1Driver!Jaemin

Genre: love triangle, co-workers to lovers, slight enemies to lovers

Word count: 3K+

Warnings: swearing

Author’s Note: IM BACK LOVELIES!!!! Ahhhh so a little update, I am back to uni again, a quarter of my family moved away, I was in a relationship, that ended, and more that’s not coming to mind right now. I don’t know how often I’m gonna be writing, I want to do more but the reality is I don’t have as much time as before. Also I took major steps back from K-pop, I think there was just too much going on in the community that I couldn’t keep up with it anymore. Anyway, hugs and kisses to anyone reading <3

——————————————————

Formula One (also known as Formula 1 or F1) is the highest class of international racing for open-wheel single-seater formula racing cars sanctioned by the Fédération Internationale de l'Automobile (FIA). The World Drivers' Championship, which became the FIA Formula One World Championship in 1981, has been one of the premier forms of racing around the world since its inaugural season in 1950. The word formula in the name refers to the set of rules to which all participants' cars must conform. A Formula One season consists of a series of races, known as Grands Prix, which take place worldwide on both purpose-built circuits and closed public roads.

This is your first season with NCT, but your 4th season in Formula 1, as a race engineer for the infamous Lee Jeno. Jeno had entered the sport when he was just 18, racing for Alfa Romeo, however now he was with a team that matched his talent. He was in a competitive car this season. As exciting as it was for Jeno, it was exciting for you too.

You had known Jeno since before his days at Alfa Romeo. You had been his race engineer since formula 4, when you were assigned to Jeno for a race, by mistake. Jeno went on to win his first f4 race with you as the person talking him through it. Since then you had been his race engineer for every race he entered in. And you watched Jeno dominate in formula 3, and formula 2 before entering into formula 1. And even in a non competitive care, he continued to outperform expectations.

You were gonna stay by his side, and watch him stand on the top of the podium as champion of the world, talking him through the entire time.

However, your heart might have other plans for you.

-

“That’s P4, Jen, P4.”

“Fuck, that was a good lap,” you could hear Jeno chuckle on the other side.

“Race like that tomorrow, and you’ll be on the podium,”

“We’ll be on the podium,” Jeno corrected you, “I can’t do this without you.”

“I’ll meet you in the garage.”

You took off the headset, and took a sigh of relief. No matter how many free practices, qualifying sessions or races you talked Jeno through, you never liked it. You don’t remember when you started to feel anxious about seeing Jeno in the car, but you knew you couldn’t sit still until he was out of it.

You took note of where everyone was on the grid, Jeno didn’t care if the information pertained to him or not, he wanted to know it. You met Jeno by the car to be right where he got out.

“P4,” you said with the biggest smile you could manage for Jeno, P4 was well above anyone’s expectations for qualifying. Since this was Jeno’s first season with NCT, he was expected to qualify P7, P8. Although you're not too surprised about P4, Jeno had a habit of making his talents known.

“P4 today, P1 tomorrow,” Jeno said with a smile, as the two of you began to walk to his dressing room.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, Leclerc is still on pole. Verstappen is P2, Sainz P3, Na P5, Perez P6, Hamilton P7, Bottas is P8,”

“Bottas?” Jeno questioned cutting you off, “in the Alfa Romeo?”

“The Ferrari is fast, and Alfa Romeo is a Ferrari engine.”

“Who rounds out the top ten?”

“Maggunsen at P9, and Alonso at P10.”

Jeno sat in the chair, leaning back, his head tilted up, looking at you. “You know, I’m so lucky to have you?”

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you appreciate me more then?” You asked, not being serious at all, just teasing Jeno.

“I do,” Jeno stood up now, coming close to you, “I am forever grateful to you.”

Seven years, you have known Jeno for seven years now, almost going on eight. Jeno has been with you through getting your GED, all through college, three boyfriends, getting your first place and more. He is your longest standing relationship, that it makes you question just how platonic everything is.

“Go already (y/n), I’ll look at your notes, and we’ll go over it tomorrow.” Jeno said, stepping away, grabbing the tablet with your notes. “I’m serious, go.”

You let out the breath you were holding, “alright,” you gathered your things before exiting, turning back one last time for the night, “call me if you have any questions, I’m serious, you know I’m a night owl.”

“I will,” Jeno smiled back to you.

-

You laid in your hotel room, scrolling through the usual social media, when a very curious caption caught your eye. It was a quote taken from a post qualifying interview from today.

“I think Sunday is more important than Saturday… We’ll just have to wait until tomorrow to form any opinions.” Quote from Na Jaemin, about today’s qualifying.

You clicked the link to read the article about that particular interview. To which, Jaemin had subtly stated that Jeno out qualifying him was a complete luck, and that tomorrow would show who is the better driver overall.

Your first thought was to call Jeno and tell him the ridiculous lies that Jaemin was spewing out, but knowing teddy bear Jeno, he would tell you to just let it go. That his racing will speak for him, that what Jaemin said is nothing but words.

So without Jeno having to tell you, you did exactly that, you let it go, for now.

-

Sunday, race day. You were excited to say the least, you met Jeno in the hotel before going down to the paddock.

“You’re starting P4, Sainz is ahead of you,” you remind Jeno, “It’s gonna be difficult getting through Leclerc and Verstappen, so your main competition is going to be Sainz.”

“Are you saying that the best I can do is P3?” Jeno asked with just enough of a glint in his eye for most people to assume he was teasing, but not enough to convince you that he wasn’t serious.

“You can win it today, but it’s more important that you cross the finish line than winning,” you say. Jeno still looks a little in between, not fully convinced, you stop him before walking into the NCT motorhome. “You’re gonna do great, you’re gonna show everyone your worth of your seat, and you’re gonna come home safely,” you take a breath, “and maybe you can win on top of all that?” You smiled.

“Yeah I think I can win on top of all of that,” Jeno smiled once again. He always tended to be an overthinker. Always in his own head about things, allowing other people's opinions to fester inside of him, he never could pull himself out of his own thoughts. You would always do that for him.

-

All the cars lined up after the formation lap, you sat in front of your screen with the other race engineers.

“P4 and P5, the goal is to maintain positions.” Taeyong announced to the entire crew. NCT finished in 4th in the Championship last season, just behind Ferrari, ahead of Mclaren. Taeyong’s goal for this season was 3rd or better. In the practice sessions of this weekend, the car was on par with the Redbull but behind the Ferrari, so 3rd should be achievable. If all was to go well.

“Radio check, 1, 2. Can you hear me Jen?”

“Loud and clear,” Jeno responded back clear as day.

‘And its lights out and away we go.’

-

“We’re gonna box this lap, box.” You spoke into the mic, telling Jeno what to do.

“Did you just tell Lee to box?” Mark, another race engineer asked, in a panicky manner.

“Yeah, that was the strategy we all agreed on,” you answered back, worry starting to fill you.

“Na was supposed to be first then Lee,” Mark looked even more panicked than earlier.

“We’re double stacking?” You questioned as you turned your attention out to the pit lane, where the crew waits with two sets of medium tyres.

You watched, holding your breath as Jeno pulled into the slot, his tyres removed, a new set screwed on, and he was released just as Jaemin came up to the garage. You let out your breath, as the double stacking worked.

“2.2,” shouted one of the crew, to let everyone know Jeno’s pit stop was 2.2 seconds, “2.3” and Jaemin’s was 2.3 seconds. You and Mark high fives over a successful double stacking.

Just before Taeyong shouted out, “what the fuck was that?” You and Mark turned back to look at Taeyong, both of your guys face going pale. “That wasn’t the strategy.”

“Yeah but it worked.” Mark smiled.

“If you keep fucking up, you minus well work at Ferrari.”

“Come on boss, it’s only Bahrain, cut us a little slack,” you smiled sweetly at Taeyong. You had heard more than once, from more than one person that Taeyong was a bit uptight during the race, and that he’s much more reasonable after a race.

-

“That’s the checked flag, Jen, P3! P3!” You shouted into the mic for Jeno to hear.

“LETS GO,” Jeno shouted out loud into the radio, “fuck that felt good, I can’t wait to see you.”

“I’ll be waiting at the bottom of the podium for you,” you spoke into the mic once again. Your heart twisting just a bit knowing that your words were heavy with feelings. Funny thing, Jeno is actually the reason your last relationship didn’t work out. Although you refused to tell Jeno that. Your previous partner thought that you and Jeno were too close, that you guys were always more than just friends.

When Jeno asked why your partner ended it, you just said that it was because of conflicting schedules. It would crush Jeno to know that it was him, no matter how many times you would try to convince him that it was for the best. He would just believe that he was standing in the way of your chance to be happy.

-

You looked up at the podium watching Jeno spray the champagne, you could feel the light droplets of the liquid, tap down on your face. Jeno shook hands with Charles and Carlos, before taking a picture together. You felt this sudden heat radiating next to you, you turned to see Jaemin standing next to you. He must’ve just arrived after his weigh in. He looked very handsome, handsomely angry standing next to you, watching his competition standing on the podium. And vaguely, just a hint of emotion behind the anger was admiration.

You turned back to watch Jeno enjoy the podium, before saying “have you formed any opinions, Na?” You side eyed Jaemin. You watched him huff, before turning to walk back to the garage.

-

“1, 2, 3, say cheese,”

You smiled brightly turning to look at Jeno, when the flash went off, he remained staring straight. Trophy in one hand, the other one wrapped around you.

“Okay, good.” The photographer announced.

Jeno looked back at you, finally, his eyes curved like little moons. “What a good race,” Jeno’s smile never leaves his face. Jaemin came around to the two of you.

“Congratulations, Lee,” Jaemin stuck out his hand for Jeno to shake, “good race.”

“Thanks Jaemin,” Jeno took Jaemin’s hand in a firm grasp. The two come together for a hug, before both parting their own ways. You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes, because at the end of the day, whatever rivalry that goes on between Jeno and Jaemin. It stays on the track, the minute they step out of the car, they are colleagues, co-workers. It was like that for all the drivers, rivals on the track, friends off the track.

As soon as you made it back to the hotel, you started packing up all your belongings. You flew out to Saudi first thing in the morning, and you had meetings all day Monday.

-

The time in between races went by faster than you wished. Before you knew it, it was Friday again and Jeno was getting ready for free practice 1.

“Based on last week, the car should have the straight line speed, in the turns that’s all you,” you said to Jeno as he got strapped in his seat, before you went back to the pit wall.

“I got it,” Jeno smiled, as he put on his gloves.

“Safe release yeah?” You said to one of Jeno’s mechanics. You watched as Jeno drove out, down the pit lane, onto the race track. He started off with an outlap, just getting the car right. Just before he got to the line, “remember talk to me Jen,” you reminded. Jeno did have a habit of getting too much into the groove, and forgetting to relay conditions.

“Yes ma’am,” you heard Jeno chuckle. He started his lap, absolutely flying through the circuit.

-

“He’s too wide into turn 4,” Doyoung, one of the race strategists, said as the both of you watched Jeno on the monitor.

“Keep it tight into turn 4 Jen,” you spoke over the radio, trying to remind Jeno gently.

“I’m trying, but I’m loosing the rear too much,” Jeno was clearly frustrated.

“We should end the session early for him,” you said to Doyoung, not wanting to risk further damage to the car.

“He needs to run more laps, we don’t have enough data for the race yet,” Doyoung said, as he reviewed the screens, “have him pit for a break, but send him back out before free practice ends.”

“Yes,” you obliged, “Jen, box box.”

-

“The car has too much oversteer,” Jeno said, clearly frustrated about free practice. He couldn’t find his pace in the car, not nearly as much as he wanted to. “I like a little more oversteer too, but that was just insane.”

You sat in the debriefing room with all the race engineers and strategist, as well as Jeno, Jaemin and Taeyong. “I have to agree with Jeno on this,” Jaemin said as he leaned back into his chair. You looked at him for a good moment, thinking that he was actually very handsome, but only when he wasn’t talking. “The oversteer is insane, the steering wheel is pointless,” Jaemin said, and just like that he wasn’t handsome to you anymore.

“We can adjust that, but it’s gonna take time to find the right balance, for the both of you,” Johnny, the chief technical engineer, who designed the car, said, “it won’t be done by the next race.”

“It could also be the track, I wouldn’t do any drastic changes yet,” Jeno spoke, trying to considerate of everyone else, “last weekend the car felt good, we were on pace with the Mercedes.”

“Jaemin?” Taeyong asked, looking at his other driver now.

“No, I agree, if there’s still an oversteer problem by free practice 3 than maybe we need to make an adjustment, but right now is too early,” Jaemin looked around the table, making his opinion heard, “we’re just being honest with what we feel in the car.” Jaemin gestured to himself and Jeno.

“Good,” Taeyong said, “y/n, mark, you have the code list, go over it with your drivers, this is gonna be the list until Spain. Other than that, you guys are dismissed.”

Everyone began to gather their things, and leave, “oh Jaemin,” Taeyong spoke up before you and Jeno had left the room, “go see Ten, he wants to go over some PR stuff with you.”

You could hear Jaemin scoff, but you just smirked to yourself. That’s what he gets for making comments about your driver.

-

“P6 Jen,” you said as Jeno crossed the finish line for qualifying.

“Not bad team, let’s get them tomorrow,” Jeno said as he made his way into the pit lane. You met Jeno in the garage, after getting the car settled in it’s spot. After Jeno got out of the car, “where did Jaemin qualifie?”

“Jaemin was knocked out in Q2, he’s P12 for tomorrow.”

“Who’s ahead of me?”

“Ocon, ahead of him Verstappen,”

“Behind me?”

“Russell and then Alonso” you said.

“Ocon shouldn’t be a problem, but Max is something else,” Jeno said, thinking about the overtakes for tomorrow. “Russell and Alonso behind me isn’t great either though.”

“It’s gonna be a difficult one for sure, but you’ll get it done.”

-

“That’s P8 Jen,” you said as Jeno crossed the finish line at the end of the race.

“I’m sorry team, could’ve done better,” Jeno said, clearly upset about those last few laps.

“Jeno, this is Taeyong, that was a good race,” Taeyong spoke quickly, “you did good Jeno, proud of you man.”

“Thanks team, we’ll bring it next time.” You could hear Jeno chuckle just a little this time. “Y/n, where did Na finish?”

“P12, just outside the points,” you answered. “I’ll see you in garage Jen.”

After Jeno finished his weigh in and he finally met you in the garage, did you properly congratulate him for a truly spectacular race. “I finished lower than what I started,” Jeno sighed.

“You did good, and you raced hard, that’s what’s important.” You answered, “not to mention you also came home safely and you finished within the points.”

“I guess,” Jeno said in between sips of water, clearly exhausted from the race. At this time you could see Jaemin walking towards the both of you.

Jaemin came up on Jeno’s side, sticking out his hand, “good race Lee,” Jaemin said with a firm shake and a pat on the back.

“You too Na,” Jeno answered kindly. You couldn’t help but scoff just a bit. Jaemin side-eyed you a bit before walking away without another word. “Play nicely y/n,” Jeno said, giving you a look, after Jaemin had walked a bit away.

“I always do,” you smirked, before turning on your heels to make it back towards the hospitality room.

“Yeah right,” Jeno said loud enough for you to hear, before following after you.

-

In the media pen, Jaemin was making his rounds for the post-race interviews.

“Jaemin, thoughts after the race?” One lady asked.

“Um it was a difficult one,” Jaemin answered, wiping the sweat away from his face with the back of his arm. You just happened to be in the area, Jeno was also making his rounds, and you were waiting for him. “I obviously didn’t qualify in the best place, and we lost places early on in the race, so it definitely wasn’t one of my better performances.”

You were close enough to hear Jaemin, as well as the following question, “this is the second race in a row that your teammate has outperformed you, do you think there’s gonna be some added pressure now? Maybe a little more determination to do better?”

You couldn’t, for the life of you, understand why reporters would ask those type of questions. Questions that attempt to provoke a reaction. Questions that fueled fake rivalries. You knew the drivers hated being asked those types of questions. However, nonetheless you stayed close enough to hear Jaemin’s answer.

Jaemin chuckled before responding, “I mean of course there’s added pressure when you’re not performing at the same level that you were the previous season, but that’s not Jeno’s fault. And of course there’s determination to do better, but that’s regardless of how Jeno is doing, because I know I’m not doing as good as I did last season.”

You were thoroughly surprised at Jaemin’s answer. You didn’t expect Jaemin to give a very clean answer, you genuinely thought that he wouldn’ve hinted at his poor performance being Jeno’s fault, but truly he didn’t.

“I see, thank you for your time Jaemin,” the reporter smiled.

“Thank you,” Jaemin smiled at the reporter, and for half a second you blushed at his smile. He looked very handsome, post-race, race suit tied around his waist, hair slightly out of place, sweat dripping down the side of his forehead, pearly whites flashing with a bad boy smile.

“Are you drooling at my driver?” Mark, Jaemin’s race engineer, asked catching you in a moment of weakness.

“There’s many drivers in that media pen, I could be drooling at any number of them,” you scoffed at Mark’s accusations.

-

Just as you were packing up your stuff for the night, getting ready to head back to the hotel, you could hear someone talking. You peaked around the corner to see who it was. It was Jaemin, he was on the phone.

“I know…I know…” Jaemin sounded frustrated with whomever he was talking to. You didn’t want to eavesdrop, but it’s not your fault if the person is talking loud enough for you to hear. “It’s only the second race of the season,” Jaemin sighed.

You peaked around the corner again, to see Jaemin running his hand through his hair. You took notice of his grip on the phone against his ear, get tighter. “I didn’t call to be scolded by you Dad, I called to check in on mom,” Jaemin said finally, his tone sent chills down your spine.

That was your que to leave, you turned to go in the other direction, you slipped on a pair of earbuds pretending not to be able to hear anything. Thankfully just in time, Jaemin ended up pacing, and walking around the corner in your direction. By the time Jaemin saw you, you had your poker face ready, and your music playing. Jaemin took notice of the earbuds you were wearing, already drawing the conclusion that you didn’t hear him. He walked back to where he came from, while you walked in the opposite direction.

You officially called it a night after that, heading straight for the hotel. You figured you would just completely forget you heard anything.

———————————

Taglist: @90sgatsby-jjh

[starfleetwitch]

20 Questions for Writers

Thanks for the tag @technicallywrite

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

13

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

93,749

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Holby City (Berena)

Doctor who / UNIT (Kate Stewart, Sarah Jane Smith, Ace, Tegan and Osgood)

Worst Witch (Miss Hardbroom)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Still Beating

The Gift

Happy Anniversary

Happy New Year Mrs and Mrs Wolfe

Operation: Steal your girl

5. Do you respond to comments?

I do my very best because I appreciate every single one of them!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Its probably a toss up between Hush Little Baby , Happy Anniversary and The Ghost of Tomorrow

However, I am on the very CUSP of posting a new fic that even I'm like 'Oh my god... do you just dead ass hate happiness?' 😂

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I'm genuinely looking through my fics like... Omg I really do hate happiness. But alas, it was between The Gift and She's Not You and I feel like She's Not You wins because you technically had to read through trauma before it got there

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not on fics no. I once got hate on artwork though. The commenter said I should be ashamed and what would Elisabeth Sladen's family think about the fact I'd drawn Sarah Jane kissing another woman... Jokes on the commenter though cause Elisabeth Sladen's IRL daughter recently posted the artwork in question on her instagram because she was basically like HECK YEAH, GO FOR IT MUM! 😂

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Me? Write smut? I don't even... I... WHAT IS SMUT?

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I'm currently writing a long ass fic that crosses over with SEVERAL fandoms within the Jemma Redgrave Multiverse just so I can make a 'We don't talk about Bruno' reference

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Technically yes but it was never published. I DID illustrate fics for a couple of people though!

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

Berena... with a side order of Kate Stewart just getting her some from anyone and everyone apparently. Womans been through a lot man... she just needs herself some comfort.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

The multiverse fic with the we dont talk about Bruno reference 😂

Nah for real I'm gonna say Still Beating. Bernies been bleeding out on the trauma unit floor for 4 years now, maybe more. Even if I DO get round to finishing it, it wont be what I wanted it to be. I had a lot of avenues to go down with the ex husband being involved in her treatment and recovery and now I've lost a bit of heart in it that I might cut that section out.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Oh. I... don't know. I don't know if I actually have any, I just write.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Sometimes I compare myself to other writers and I get really frustrated when I cant write poetically like them. When I read their work I really FEEL an emotional connection. I read slowly just to savour the words because they're so delicious and I'd LOVE to know how to do write like that.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

If it calls for it... ok? I don't understand the question. I didn't know this was an issue I needed to have thoughts on.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

1998 Worst Witch. I started as I meant to go on. Inflicting trauma on my favs with no real plan to bring them out of it 😂

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Oh don't make me choose my favourite child! I enjoyed writing Still Beating but I'm gonna say Operation: Steal your girl cause I just had SO MUCH FUN with it and the comments make me believe others also had fun reading it 😂

RIGHT! On to the taggy tags: @akaanonymouth @seahorsepencils @ktlsyrtis @colourmestoked04 @defo-not-sfw

[violettelueur]

— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE ONE || RYOMEN SUKUNA

↳ featuring : itadori yuji + fushiguro megumi + gojo satoru + ryomen sukuna from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mentions of blood + mention of killing + mention of mass murder (word massacres is mentioned) + mention of death + swearing and EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 07 february

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 3.8k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ next episode : for myself

↳ barista’s notes : to be honest with you guys, this little imagine here is such a mess and i had fun writing it since it have me an excuse to watch the first and a tiny bit of episodes one and two of jujutsu kaisen again ʕ￫ᴥ￩　ʔ 

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. all the ‘curse spells’ mentioned in this are related to Bleach (their use of Kido - credits go to: Tite Kubo) so these ain’t my original ideas since i started this at like 11pm on a saturday night. 

2. there is some dialogue missing since this is from your perspective as a reader and not Fushiguro’s or Itadori’s 

3. as you all know, the storyline isn’t mine, it belongs to Gege Akutami 

4. this whole thing might be confusing and please don’t expect a part two because i will do it when i am ready or feel like i can at the right time ʕ ᵒ ᴥ ᵒʔ 

5. i don’t know, if i am going to add this onto my masterlist since this was just for fun to be honest!

thank you so much for taking the time to read this and i hope you enjoy your free cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen) ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡

“L/N, are you going to come with us?”

Looking away from the window you were viewing out from, you paused sipping from your carton of orange juice before turning your head to quickly discover two female students looking at you with anticipation in their eyes only for you to look at them in some sort of confusion. 

“Come one, don’t tell me you didn’t hear about it? Coach Takagi and Itadori are competing!” one of the girls complained, obviously slightly annoyed at your oblivious nature to the news that was going around the school at this moment in time.

“Competing for?” you then questioned, as you stood straight from your leaning position causing the other female student to then rapidly answer by saying, “Coach is trying to requite Itadori for the nationals, so if he wins then itadori has to join the track club to compete!” 

‘Huh? What a drag’

“So do you wanna come to the track field with us to see who is going to win?” the two students asked again in a desperate tone, leading you to look at the window you were previously looking from to see the exact location that they had stated. “I’ll watch from here, it has a higher and wider view, so I would have a better look” you replied, before pointing at the track field that was on the other side of the glass causing the students to look out before nodding.

“We really want to see it up close, so we’ll see you tomorrow yeah?” the first female student asked, leading you to smile and nod at them before seeing them rapidly take off to the track field trying to make sure they arrived before the competition started.

Turning your smile back into a straight line, you turn back to the window that you were looking through before being interrupted while placing your drink’s straw between your lips letting the sweet but citrusy juice flow down your throat. Admiring the view, you decided to let your eyes roam free for a bit to see if there was anything interesting to observe before the supposed ‘competition’ started, which then led you to pause at the sight of the closed rugby field down below.

Coming out of the ground was a horrific creature with four arms before climbing up the pole revealing its large teeth leading you to stare at it with complete boredom as you then mentally took a quick note to exorcise it later when the school closed. However, what also came into your sights was a single male student down before staring at the same curse you were observing causing you to continue analysing the situation.

‘Can he see it? I don’t recall a student here having any curse energy’

From what you could tell, the student had black erratic hair with his hands in his pocket but from what you could see that other’s couldn’t, there was a faint but noticeable aura of curse energy surrounding his body generating a feeling of curiosity but nervousness within your stomach as you place your empty carton away from your lips. Suddenly, the male turned around leading you to have somewhat a clearer view of him, only to discover that he also had a pair of emerald eyes which then made you come to the conclusion that he wasn’t a student from the school. How could he? You could tell this ‘student’, and yourself was the same age meaning you would have at least seen him once or twice down the hallways and there was no new information about a student coming in, if there was, it would have been a buzz.

‘Don’t tell me one of the clans managed to find out about me?’ you anxious thought, leading you to take a short step back ensuring this sorcerer didn’t have a vivid view of you when you did of him. Hearing some cheering, you turned your head to the other side to find a small crowd forming with a metal ball being flung as two students ran out to measure the length between the dip of the sand from the coach indicating to you that the competition had started.

“14 metres!’ the one student shouted, leading to a round of applause from the audience spectating the event. However, from what your ears were managing to pick up, there were cheers for Itadori leading you to wonder if you could recall the classmate they were shouting for.

“Ah~ Itadori Yuji ha?” you rhetorically asked the air around you, not expecting an answer in return. Itadori Yuji was a first-year student like you were, member of the small occult research club with second years Sasaki and Iguchi when he could be in any athletic club if he wanted to. However, understandably you knew some people would rather do something than what their natural talents indicated. Once again, you saw the metal ball being thrown - this time from the pink-haired students - only for it to land that the corner of the football goal, yet what was the shocking thing was that the metal of the goal was bent leading you to look at the sight within widened eye - of course, you knew Itadori was fast and strong but not to the extent of what you had just witnessed.

“Wow, no wonder he was called ‘Tiger of the West Middle’,” you muttered under your breath before quickly reverting your eyes to find the sorcerer you were wary of. Surprisingly, he was now on the track field looking upon the competition mixing well with the other students like a little chameleon. Although, before you could continue to observe the student trying to see what his intentions were, Itadori suddenly ran past him with his large backpack on, only for the erratic-haired sorcerer’s eye to suddenly widen the second they crossed each other leading him to reach out for your classmate. However, there was only dust to be collected as Itadori was suddenly out of reach.

“Just what are you trying to gain, sorcerer? It’s already a drag that you’re here,” you quietly mumbled irritation before turning away from the window you were gazing from to collect your school bag from your classroom since you left it there to not have the burden of carrying it on your shoulder. However, what you didn’t notice was the same sorcerer peering up at the same window you were looking from with perplexity painted on his face.

‘Was someone watching me?’

                                              ꕥ

“Don’t tell me someone got a hold of that damn finger?” you angrily stated, as you suddenly felt an immense amount of pressure invade the school causing you to wonder if there was anyone within the school with you right now, as you began to increasingly worry about whoever got a hold of the special-grade object that you found a few nights before.

“I put a protective seal on it, who the hell broke it!?” you muttered, as you panicky ran up the stairs trying to follow the presence of the object you were desperately trying to get a hold of before forcibly pushing a door open leading it to smash against the wall as you continued to sprint across the halls.

As you quickly turned the corner, you saw a large curse blocking the path leading you to instinctively flow your curse energy flow to your hand to the tips of your finger as you began to confidently recite the spell you were about to cast after you had finished drawing the symbol with your curse energy in the air.

“Disintegrate, you black dog of Rondanini! Look upon yourself with the horror and then claw out your own throat! Binding Curse Spell number nine: Geki!” you chanted, leading to a thin light aqua aura of curse energy to surround the curse causing it to become completely paralysed. However, before you could cast another spell to destroy the curse, there was a sudden interruption causing you to look at the person in complete shock as they flew into the corridor from outside the window only for you to discover it was your own classmate.

“Itadori!” you screamed, only for him to grab what seemed like two people away from the curse as it was still immobilised from your spell leading you to turn to the side to find that it was both Sasaki and Iguchi in his arms causing your eye to further widen only for you to be then distracted by the curse being blown away to your direction leading you to use another spell to make sure you were caught in the process.

“Binding Curse Spell number eighty-one: Danku,” you hurriedly stated, leading to a large rectangular defensive wall to shield you away from the decapitated parts of the curse as well as the technique being used for it to explode the way it did. Unexpectedly, once the pathway was cleared you suddenly came eye to eye with the sorcerer you were peering down on the track field this afternoon causing a wave of uneasiness to consume your body. 

“Who are you?” he questioned leading to the two dogs beside him to growl at you showing their sharp canine that could easily pierce your skin if he commanded them to. Slowly, your hand moved to the hilt of your katana that was hanging horizontally on your back, before quickly coming to the conclusion that it wasn’t difficult to slice the two dogs down if you desired to.

“Shikigamis huh? I should just cut the user down before they could reach me, then they would disappear’

“Oh L/N? What are you doing here?” Itadori asked in shock, leading you and the sorcerer to look at him before the sorcerer suspiciously asked, “you know who she is?”.

“She’s a student at my school, she is in the higher class since she’s smarter than me,” Itadori explained, as he took the time to check on his two club members with a sincere look on his face to then discover that they were unconscious with Sasaki in a decent state with Iguchi in somewhat the same condition but with injuries to his face. Letting your shield gradually disappear, you slowly walked up to your senior as you crouched down to hover a hand over his face letting a flow of curse energy begin to heal his wounds.

“Itadori, how the hell did they get the finger?” you angrily questioned the boy while continuing to heal your upperclassman causing him to look at you in shock - due to your acknowledgement of the object - as he caught the cursed object that slipped out of Sasaki’s pocket once he picked her up in a bridal style. 

“How do you know about it?” the sorcerer then asked, only to be quickly silenced when you gave him a heated glare only for itadori to then explain that he was the one that picked it up for them since they wanted to sneak back into the school to unwrap the talisman for research for the occult club leading an irk to appear on your forehead. “Wasn’t there like a talisman paper placed on the door? You know like those like sheet of paper with Ancient Japanese writing painted on it?” you asked in a stern tone as you completed the healing process only for itadori to give you a questionable look.

“There was a hint of paper being there, but it seemed like it was ripped off,” itadori answered wearily, leading you to look up at him with enlarged eyes as you let out a breath of complete shock.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN RIPPED OFF?” you screamed as you rushed to your feet before grabbing the collar of his classic yellow jumper. From what you could recall, there was no possible way for the seal to be completely ripped off by the hands of a normal person, not even a simple sorcerer could even go through the barrier you had placed on it leading you to turn to the sorcerer, who was looking at the argument that was occurring right in front of his face.

“Was it you? No, from what I can see, you ain’t even a high enough grade to even go through it...Ah shit,” you cursed as you let go of Itadori’s collar before beginning to try to think of all the possibilities that could have happened that led to this accident.

“So, is this it Fushiguro?” Itadori asked the sorcerer, completely ignoring you as you were in a state of shock and confusion on what was going on. “Yeah, that’s the special-grade curse object, Ryomen Sukuna’s finger,” the sorcerer confirmed with Itadori as he then quickly mentioned, “it’s a miracle that it didn’t get swallowed, thanks to L/N curse technique back there.”

‘Fushiguro huh? Not Zenin, that’s a relief’

“Why would anything eat it? Does it taste good?” Itadori asked in curiosity, leading you and Fushguro to look at the boy with a questionable look on both your faces.

“Don’t be stupid,” you and Fushiguro simultaneously stated causing both of you to look at each other in shock before you then explained, “you’d do it to gain stronger curse energy. It’s dangerous, so hand it over to Fushiguro, it’s best to have him keep hold of it since the seal I placed was broken.”

“Sure, sure,” Itadori casually said, as he outstretched his hand to pass the finger to Fushiguro. However, before the sorcerer could take the object away from Itadori’s gasp, a large hand began to reach down below the two people causing you to look up in fear before instinctively pushing the two boys away from the area it was trying to target.

“RUN!” you screamed, before the ceiling crashed down between both of you, leaving you completely alone and vulnerable as the dust invaded your sights. In a panic, you swiftly grabbed the hilt of your katana to release the blade from its casing revealing an all-black weapon your hands, but once the smoked clear you found Fushiguro trapped in the hands of the curse before being forcibly through to the concrete wall causing a few hints of blood escaping from his mouth, to which lead to the two dogs that were protecting Itadori as well as the two second-year to disappear.

‘Shadows? Don’t tell me…’

However, before you could even complete your sudden thought, there was a sudden flash of lights blinding you before the whole side of the school to be destroyed along with Fushiguro, who was thrown across. In a state of terror, you rushed outside before using your speed to jump up the height needed before stabbing back of the curse’s head with your katana before quickly retreating back, leaving it there as the curse screeched in pain while preparing another curse spell to use to finish off the monstrosity.

“Destructive Curse Spell number seventy-three: Soren Soka-” you screamed, but you were interrupted once you suddenly found Itadori aggressively punch the curse’s head leading Fushiguro, who was laying down on the ground with blood pouring down his face to angrily shout, “Itadori! Why can’t you understand to take those two and run?!”.

“You’re in big trouble yourself!” Itadori screamed back, before being swung around as he then suddenly was being dragged along the metal railings of the balcony before his body was then swung into the air.

“Only curses can exorcise other curses! You can’t beat it!” Fushiguro argued back, only for this attempt to fall on death’s ears as itadori continued to fight against the curse as he masterfully dodged its attacks before playing his own as he kicked its ruby eye.

“Besides, I have my own troublesome curse already!” Itadori declared, causing you to look at your classmate in complete annoyance since you didn’t have a single clue on what he was rabbling about. As of right now, all you were wondering was where the cursed finger was since the last time you had seen it was in Itdori’s possession. 

Suddenly, before you realised it, the mentioned cursed object had slipped out of Itadori’s grasp causing you to quickly stand up on your feet to jump across the cure to reach it. On the other hand, it seemed like the curse was blocking your way by how it used both its arms to capture Itadori leading to the student to jump as high as he could to catch the finger by the grip of his teeth.

“You idiot!” you screamed, as you tried to concentrate your curse energy to flow to your palms as your katana was still within the curse’s head. “Hand it over to me or you'll be eaten, too!” Fushiguro yelled in a panic as he finally got up on his feet to chase after the wanted object.

Slowly, you raised your right hand before using your index finger to use it as a guide to where to aim your next spell at the finger without damaging your schoolmate in the process. “Destructive Curse Spell number one: Sho,” you quickly chanted leading to a small amount of curse energy in a concentrated manner to shoot from the tip of your index finger, yet before it even had the chance to hit the finger away from Itadori’s teeth, he threw thing finger up in the air using the force of his head leading your curse spell to be a futile attempt.

“There is a way to save everyone! I just need some cursed energy right. Fushiguro, L/N?!” Itadori cried out, leading you to again attempt to shoot the cursed finger away from where you assumed Itadori wanted it to go, while Fushiguro looked upon the situation in complete fear of what was going to happen.

“Don’t..Don’t do it!” Fushiguro shouted in a hostile tone, only for Itadori to swallow the special-grade cursed object causing you and the other sorcerer to look at the scene in complete disbelief.

‘He’s going to die, that’s a deadly poison..but...there’s a one in a million chance’

Suddenly, the arms of the curse disintegrated into small particles of flesh before Itadori landed on his feet, only for the curse to attempt to attack the salmon-hair boy again, leading to being completely destroyed with a single wing of an arm to which caused your katana, which was stuck within the flesh of the curse, to fly into the air before landing with a loud ‘clunk’. 

Yet, that wasn’t your main concern.

Your feet were glued to the ground as you looked upon the sight right in front of you. Fushiguro was staring at the same scene with dread flooding his green eyes as Itadori was now covered with the black markings of what you both come to know from basic jujutsu knowledge.

‘Y/N dear, I’m so sorry for putting you through this, if Sukuna ever comes into this era, it is your duty as a sorcerer and the only offspring of the L/N clan to exorcise him, promise me that please?’

‘Why.....why did you have to die mother?’

“Ah, I knew it! The light feels best in the flesh,” ‘Itadori’ declared, as he then processed to rip his yellow hoodie in excitement before brisking his flesh to the moonlight that was shining right above him. “A cursed spirit’s flesh is so boring. Where are the people? The women?!” ‘Itadori’ questioned before jumping onto the railings as he continued his speech, “what a wonderful era to be in, women and children are crawling everywhere like maggots. Marvellous! It’ll be a massacre!”

Without the acknowledgement of who you deemed to be Sukuna and Fushiguro, you slowly raised your right hand with an open palm as you began to whisper another curse spell to make the exorcism a little easier for you, “Binding Curse Spell number sixty-three: Sajo Sabaku''. As you closed your palm, there was a sudden manifestation of a yellow electrified chain being created as it loosely surrounded the King of Curse before tightly securing its place around his body.

“Ah-” Sukuna said in surprise before taking a step back from the balcony to observe the yellow chains that encaptured him. “L/N!” Fushiguro shouted as he looked at you with widened eyes surprised at how you figured out how to retain him so fast.

‘At this rate, he should be somewhat easier to exorcise, Itadori has only one finger within his system, it’s going to be okay right?’

However, before you could even comprehend what to do next as your tactic you suddenly heard a change in tone of voice. “What do you think you’re doing with my body?”  Sukuna asked, only for you to realise that it was Itadori who was speaking at this moment in time, “give it back”.

“How are you able to move?” Sukuna questioned his vessel back, as he was in pure confusion on how the human still maintained some control of his body. “I mean, it’s my body,” itadori answered back, only causing you more confusion on what was going on since Sukuna’s markings were still visible to his body.

“Don’t move! You’re no longer human,” Fushiguro stated in a serious tone, as he crouched down before moving his hand in front of him as he processed to make fists. 

“Under Jujutsu regulations, Itadori Yuuji, I will exorcise you as a curse!” Fushiguro announced, causing you to look at him with surprise painted upon your face. However, since you were beginning to lose a certain amount of curse energy, your chains slowly began to disappear leading Itadori’s hands to now more freely while Fushiguro’s worries about you begin to increase.

“Wait, really. I‘m just fine!” Itadori stated in innocence, as he raised his now-free hands as if he was surrendering to the sorcerer while his markings began to fade gradually. “More importantly, you and I are both pretty beat up, let’s go to a hospital,” Itadori declared as he was worried for the male right in front of him. On the other hand, you suddenly realise that there were shadows slowly swirling around Fushiguro leading to your assumption earlier to be true.

‘Fushguro is a Zenin...I..have….to’

“What’s the situation?” 

All of a sudden, a new voice came into the area leading you to turn your head to the side to find a rather tall male standing next to Fushiguro. From a quick glance, you could immediately inform yourself that had spiky white hair with a black blindfold covering his eyes, as he carried a paper bag on his arm while wearing a similar outfit to Fushiguro meaning he was another sorcerer.

“Gojo-sensei?! Why are you here?” Fushiguro asked in surprise, as he turned to look at what you assumed to be his teacher leading to the shadows around him to immediately disappear from sight.

“Gojo…” you muttered under your breath as you looked at the two male sorcerers right in front of you in horror as you came to the realisation on the situation you were facing.

‘Mother…..I’ve been found…..’

© violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost

[kohanayaki]

.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 5

Harry confronts you with a familiar piece of suspiciously folded parchment, and you tell him the story of how you helped create it (mostly told through flashbacks taking place in the Marauders era).

LINKS:   CH 1   CH 2    CH 3   CH 4   CH 5   CH 6   CH 7   CH 8

___________________________________________________________

Ch 5 .:Narrow Spaces and New Alliances:. 

Your eyes drifted open slowly, the bright streams of sunlight coming in through your window strangely unbecoming of 12 Grimmauld Place. It took you a moment to get your bearings as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and remembered where you were. As you sat there, looking around Sirius' guest bedroom, last night's events all seemed to flood back to you at once. You groaned into the comforter, feeling your face burn as you recalled blatantly staring at his lips just minutes after crying into his shirt for at least half an hour.

Come on, get it together, you thought to yourself, you're here because Dumbledore summoned you, stay on task.

However, as soon as that memory left your head another replaced it, this one weighing heavier on your chest. You found yourself thinking back to your encounter with Severus. Well, as much as you could call it an 'encounter.' Even when you couldn't see him, you could feel him when you reached out to him with your mind. Severus was good at blocking legillemency— too good, in fact, because you would know the familiar force of his mental shield anywhere. You'd never felt it as powerful coming from anyone else. You almost laughed at the irony of it; the very thing he was trying to use to keep hidden was exactly what had given him away. That, and the smell of him, which took you back to the moment you'd first smelled that damn amortentia potion. . .

You tried to shake off the thought as you properly got out of bed and changed into some casual clothes. The next Order meeting wasn't until tomorrow afternoon, so you had the day mostly to yourself, but you knew the next time you were all in a room together you would have to address some things privately if you had any hope of working together efficiently. You gently padded down the wooden stairs, the door to Sirius' room still closed. He never was an early riser.

As you reached the kitchen you began to put a pot of coffee on when you heard someone approach the room, stalling in the kitchen entrance. You turned around to see Harry in the doorway.

“Morning,” you grinned, turning back to the counter and using your wand to bring some water to a boil, “Coffee? Tea?”

“Oh,” Harry said, a bit embarrassed you'd caught him in mid-thought, “no, I'm okay.”

“What's on your mind?” you asked.

“Um, I was wondering if you could tell me, I mean, if you have the time. . .” he trailed off, reaching for his back pocket, “well, the thing is, a few years ago I found—”

“Kreacher heard sounds coming from the kitchen and did not expect (Y/n)'s return,” Harry jumped at the house elf's sudden arrival, but you seemed unphased.  

“Though master's half mudblood godson remains here,” the elf muttered to himself, “How many more days must it be?”

“Hello, Kreacher,” you greeted him, “nothing nasty about Harry, now, alright? Don't forget he's my godson too.”

“Of course,” Kreacher said, thickly sarcastic but with respect for you in his tone nonetheless. His permanent frown seemed to deepen, however, when he saw you next to the coffee maker. “(Y/n) of house (L/n) should not have to be using the kitchen. Mistress Black would have wept to see a pureblood use muggle equipment. If (Y/n) requires refreshment Kreacher will have it ready.”

“There's no need for that,” you said, “Besides, it's done already, see? You can go on now.”

Kreacher squinted at the cup you poured for yourself. “Always peculiar,” he grumbled, stalking away at your request and muttering to himself all the while.

“He's oddly. . . nice to you,” Harry said, green eyes quizzical behind his round-framed glasses.

“He is,” you chuckled.

“But, well, you're—”

“A blood traitor?” you gave him an easy smile when you saw his expression, easing his fears that he'd actually offended you. “I know,” you said, “he's been through a lot, it's complicated. Trust me, he wasn't always like this to me. It takes time. And it doesn't hurt to be nice to him either.”

Harry decided against bringing up that the nicest person that he knew to the house elf was Hermione, who Kreacher regularly called a 'mudblood wench,' but decided to focus on the 'taking time' part of your statement, wondering  just how long this kind of progress took with the spiteful elf. Besides, you seemed to have some sort of history with him.

“Anyways, what was it you were saying?” you asked Harry.

“Oh, right,” he said, reaching back around him, “um, my friends Fred and George, you've met them?”

“Molly and Arthur's twins, of course,” you smiled, “little imps, they are. Those two could give your father and Sirius a run for their money.”

“Right!” Harry said, “well, that's sort of the point. They're the ones who gave me this.”

As you turned around to face him you stalled mid-stir, nearly dropping your mug as you did. Even as a piece of blank parchment you knew what it was, the distinctive accordion folds that met in the center giving it away.

“How in the world. . .” you trailed off as Harry handed it to you, “but Filch—”

“Didn't do a very good job of hiding it, apparently,” Harry finished, “I thought you might want to do the honors?”

You nodded wordlessly, a pang of unexpected emotion hitting you as you pressed your wand to the map's center.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

The faded, brown ink showed itself as its protection charm was washed away, revealing the nostalgia-inducing inscription scrawled in your respective handwritings:

Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs, and Fangs are proud to present: The Marauders Map

“Do Remus and Sirius know you have this?” you asked Harry, who nodded.

“Professor Lupin gave it back to me third year before he left Hogwarts,” he said, “but he never told me anything about it after that.” he seemed deep in thought for a moment before looking up at you. “If everyone else is who I think it is, you're Fangs, right?”

It was your turn to nod now.

“I always wondered, how did you do it?” Harry said, hardly containing his curiosity, and you couldn't help but think how much he looked like James in that moment. “How does it work? What sort of magic did you use? All the secret passageways, how did you find them?”

“Alright, slow down,” you laughed lightly, giving in, “I suppose there's no harm in telling you.”

Harry brightened at that, bounding into the living room and taking a seat on the couch as if to say 'we've got all day,' which you did. It warmed your heart to see him so excited, this was one of the only ways he could get to know his parents— through the stories that remained from the people who loved them. If you could help the picture of his family in his mind become a bit clearer, you would tell him any story he wanted to know. He deserved that much after everything he'd been through.

You took a seat opposite him, still nursing your cup of coffee.

“Well,” you said, “it's a long story, starting with how bad those lot were at keeping secrets. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1974   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Run!” James half shouted half laughed as Filch hobbled after the four of them. Sirius nearly bit his tongue trying to keep in his laughter as the Caretaker slung insults and promises of punishment their way, cat ears and a tail freshly sprouted from his body.

“I can't believe we actually did that,” Sirius cackled, keeping easy pace with James.

“I can't believe you dragged me into this,” Remus panted, his current body not lending itself well to physical activity. For once he actually wished he was a werewolf right about now.

“I don't know if I can keep up,” Peter wheezed, falling behind.

“Oh come on,” James said, grabbing his sleeve and helping him run, “we can out run a gummy-legged old prat like him.”

“I don't know, he's faster than he looks,” Remus pointed out as Filch rounded the corner behind them.

“Damn,” James cursed under his breath, “we'll lose him if we can make it to the one-eyed-witch passageway.”

“We'll never activate it in time,” Remus countered.

“The hallway behind the third floor tapestry?” Peter suggested.

“No, Filch knows about that one now,” Sirius said.

“Why the hell didn't you bring your cloak?” Remus huffed.

“Well getting caught wasn't supposed to be part of the plan, but someone had to let out a laugh before we could get out!”

“Just save your air and sprint!” Sirius hissed.

The extended run time was starting to catch up to all of them now, and when they'd made a wrong turn to a blocked off corridor they thought they were done for.

“Hey, morons, over here!”

Four heads snapped towards the sound of your whisper, but you were nowhere to be found. Suddenly, one of the light pillars began to shift, revealing a large crack in the wall just big enough for them to fit sideways.

No questions were asked with no time to waste, and the four boys clamored after one another so they could fit inside. Your magic moved the pillar back in place just in time, and you watched from your hiding spot as Filch reached the walled-off passage in surprise, grumbling as he looked around for the culprits behind you. You had to stifle a snicker as his cat ears lowered; was that growling coming from the back of this throat or did you imagine that? Eventually he stumbled off in frustration and you sighed.

“Alright, the coast is clear,” you said.

“Why did you help us?” James rose a brow, that signature shit-eating grin back on his face like it never left, “you haven't fallen in love with me since our truce, have you?”

“Dream on, Potter,” you rolled your eyes, pushing him out of the crevice and smirking as he tumbled to the floor.

“It seems like I'm always saving you nowadays,” you said, stepping out of the wall yourself with the rest of the boys following.

Remus was thoroughly confused, looking pointedly between you and Sirius. He knew you and James were pretty much friends now, but he also noticed that the hostile air that always seemed to be present with you and the elder Black had diminished. He'd even seen you two talking in the halls lately. Sirius gave him a look; he would explain what happened in the forest with Lucius to Remus later. Mostly he didn't want to admit that Remus was right about you not being so bad if he gave you a chance; you had actually been getting on pretty well since that night.

“You do realize it's no fun winning the house cup when you four practically make Gryffindor ineligible every year with all the shit you get up to, right?” you chuckled, “some competition would be nice for a change.”

“We'll see if you're singing the same tune when Quidditch season rolls around,” James said smugly.

“You're right,” you said, squaring up against him, “guess that's a new competition we've got going for us.”

It had recently been announced that you and James had both been selected to play Seeker for your respective houses next year. It was an arrangement that had the whole school talking, your rivalry turned (mostly) friendship now infamous, even if it was a recent occurrence.

“Hold on, how did you know that was there?” Peter asked you, pointing to the moving column, “even we didn't know about it.”

“Oh?” you crossed your arms, “and are you four supposedly some kind of all-knowing secret masters? Because clearly there's things you don't know about yet.”

Sirius slapped a hand over Peter's mouth before he could retaliate and give away what they've been working on.

“Yes, well, apparently,” he said, ignoring Peter's muffled protests.

You looked at them curiously, all four boys looking suspiciously nervous.

The next day at breakfast, James had brought up the idea of 'hiring' you to help them finish the map.

“I'm telling you, I think we can really make progress with their help,” he pitched, “they clearly know what they're talking about, and we know they can pull a hell of a prank from all the times they've gotten me.”

“How do we know they won't tell anyone?” Peter countered, “I don't know what's up with you, but you're trusting them too fast, James.”

“They're not the type that would tell,” Remus admitted.

“Oh, not you too!” Peter whined.

“I'm just saying, they'll likely appreciate what we've gathered so far and have a fair bit to add,” Lupin insisted, “it could be worth a try if you really want to finish it before we graduate—”

“Finish what?”

The four boys jolted upright, turning to see you and Lily.

“Are you guys okay?” Lily asked, concern written across her features.

“Of course!”

“Never better!”

“Why wouldn't we be?”

Remus just groaned at his friends' panicked answers. This was hopeless.

You and Lily shared a knowing look off the the side.

“Alright, whatever you say. . .”

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

Harry laughed heartily,

“Wow, I mean, I know you said they were bad, but that bad?”

“For being expert pranksters who hardly ever managed to get caught, they were remarkably terrible at hiding things,” you said, chuckling along with him, “It didn't take us long to figure out they were up to something, although they seemed to think they were brilliant at covering it up, Remus had to burst their bubble eventually.”

Harry shook his head, smiling fondly and imagining all the scenes in his head as you continued your tale.

“So that was when they were first starting to put the map together,” you continued, “but that wasn't even the biggest secret they were hiding. Of course, I wouldn't find out about that for another year, but we'll get to that part of the story later. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1975   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This tastes awful,” Sirius complained, trying to ignore the plant prodding the under-side of his tongue.

“Well if you were expecting treacle toffee I'm sorry to disappoint,” James rolled his eyes, equally nauseated by the bitter tinge of the Mandrake leaf in his mouth.

“There's no way someone can do this for an entire month,” Peter said, “How do you brush your teeth? What if you accidentally swallow it when you're eating?”

“You three have fun with that,” Remus chuckled, flipping through an old library book and his mouth gratefully leafless.

“How about some gratitude, Moony?” James said, “We're doing this for you.”

“Please, you just want to see if you can turn into a dragon or something,” Lupin chortled, “and you don't actually have to go through with all this. Who knows if this animagus stuff will actually work.”

“Well, a dragon would suit me,” James mused, “but of course we're going to see this through, mate. You know we'd do anything for you.”

Remus smiled to himself, not responding and not needing to. He knew.

“Hey guys,” you grinned, walking up to the Gryffindor table.

Peter gulped suddenly in surprise as you came up behind him, and his eyes widened in horror.

“Shit!” he coughed out, “I-I swallowed it!”

“Your. . . food?” you questioned, glancing over at the boys who all had that same, vaguely panicked look about them.

“Okay, it was funny at first, but you guys have been acting weird since last year and now it's worrying,” you admitted.

The four looked between themselves and came to a sort of silent conclusion. Maybe in this scenario it was better to tell one secret to keep the other. And so, later that night, they told you to meet them after lights out so they could tell you what was really going on. You snuck out of your dorm room and made your way through the secret tunnel to the Gryffindor common room, a route you'd taken plenty of times to mess with James.

You pushed a loose panel of wood open, coming into the warmly lit space through one of the cabinets. You pushed an armchair that was half blocking your path out of the way as you crawled through the space.

“Blimey!” Sirius jumped, “give us a heads up, would you?”

“Sush,” Remus scolded him, “you really don't understand the concept of an inside voice, do you?”

“Alright, well I'm here,” you said, brushing off your robes, “now what's this big secret? This better not be a trick because I've been working on a new hex.”

“Nothing like that,” James assured you, “we've been working on something we think you might be interested in, if you're willing to contribute.”

He stepped to the side so you could see the floor where they'd been huddled around and your eyes widened.

“Merlin,” you said. The red and gold carpet was covered in at least forty different pieces of parchment. Pages upon pages overlapped with each other, each messily detailing a different part and level of the castle in scribbles of smudged ink. “This is. . .”

“The entirety of the Hogwarts castle and surrounding land,” Sirius said proudly, “complete with secret passageways.”

“This is our lives' work, (Y/n),” James said, “be impressed!”

“What impresses me most is how none of you have any sense of scale,” you said, sifting through the papers, “you should really condense this. Kind of hard to make any use of a map if you have to flip to page thirty-three to find the kitchens.”

“Point taken,” Remus said, “it could do with some reorganization.”

“And probably a bigger piece of paper,” you mentioned.

“Right, that. . .”

“That's not all there is to it, though,” Peter said, “Sirius?”

The curly haired boy stepped forward, pressing his wand to the center of the floor.

“Revelare Popularis,”

You watched in wonder as hundreds of names suddenly appeared across the pieces of paper, all students and faculty you recognized. They were scrawled in Sirius' handwriting, as if he'd written them himself.

“This spell shows where everyone in any location on this map is at this very moment,” he said, “It's not exact, and we've been working on variations.”

“So you can plan ahead without getting caught,” you mused, “how'd you learn something as advanced as this, Black?”

“I get around,” Sirius shrugged, unabashedly showing off. Peter rolled his eyes.

“So, the only drawback, of course, is that the spell doesn't work in real time,” Remus said, “so by the time you get where you need to go. . .”

“People will have moved,” James finished, “we're willing to share this little trove of knowledge with you if you're willing to give up all the secret rooms, passages, and hiding places you know.”

“And we thought you may have a solution to our timing problem,” Remus said, “I could tell from our study sessions you quite enjoy learning ahead of your year.”

Your eyes scanned the pages, and you were admittedly impressed. There was ton of stuff on here you had no idea about, but you knew a fair amount was missing as well. It seemed like a fair trade.

“I'm in,” you said.

“What?” Peter blinked, “it was that easy?”

“This is a useful tool you've got,” you said, “I think we can all benefit from it being improved. And now that you mention it, I actually do think I've read about a similar spell to that paper charm. It was in some Gaelic tome in the restricted section on ancient magic. I'm not even sure it used a wand. It was called the Homunculus charm. From what I read it sounded like it acted as a live feed for people in any given location, clan leaders used it to plan ambushes and keep track of citizens. If we could link it to the entire castle. . .”

“We'd be able to see where everyone is—”

“And what they're doing—”

“—At every hour of every day!”

“True, albeit a bit stalkerish,” you quipped, “you let me in on this if I add in what I know, and you got yourself a deal.”

James put out his hand, and as tempted as you were to turn it green or make all the bones in it disappear, you reached out and shook it.

“I do believe this puts us in a formal alliance, Potter,” you said cheekily.

“I believe so,” James smirked.

“Terrifying,” Remus chuckled, “This school won't even know what hit it.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” James said with a cheshire grin, “let's steal ourselves a book, shall we?”

Read chapter 6 here!

Taglist:  @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi @nxstalgicnxbxdy @calaryssia @aleksanderwh0r3 @mialupin1

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Northern Exposure | Bucky // End

❄ PART 4 OF THE MINI-SERIES ❄

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Warnings: non consent sex and rape (series); violence, creepiness on part of our boys, predatory behaviour, Bucky’s an asshole, they’re all too lonely and too desperate, mistaken identity, spanking, binding, death, mentions of brainwashing.

This is dark! fic and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairings: Sam Wilson x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, A Bad Time x Reader

Series Synopsis: You’re a nature photographer stationed up north but the arctic isolation comes to an unexpected and unpleasant end.

Note: I'm gonna be away dealing with lots of personal issues but will see yall when I get back and look forward to it.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You were dazed as Steve pulled the tee shirt back over your head. He sat you in the same chair he made you fuck him on and you stared at your palms as he moved around. Your body didn’t feel like yours. You bent and unbent your fingers as you tried to feel anything but the buzzing rawness in your core. A plate clinked loudly on the table and you raised your head.

Steve pulled up a chair around the side of the table, his knee almost against yours as he sat, “you have to eat.”

You blinked at the dry looking chicken breast on yellow rice with overcooked corn and peas. He took the fork and you reached for it and he quickly batted down your hand.

Confused, you parted your lips and he cut into the chicken. He scooped up a forkful and held it out to you carefully, his hand cupped under it to catch any spills.

“It’s hot, blow on it,” he said.

You felt hollow and your brain could only think of the food as the scent made your stomach clench hungrily. You blew carefully on the fork and let him slide it into your mouth. He repeated it, again and again. Each bite was easier and despite the odd texture of the food, you didn’t mind the taste.

When the plate was cleared, he set down the fork and unfolded the paper napkin. He wiped your mouth, his finger tickled your bottom lip and he hummed. He handed you the bottle of water and leaned back as he watched you drink.

“You gotta keep your energy up,” he said, “it’s our fault. We’ve neglected you.”

You put the bottle down and shrunk in on yourself. It was all fucked. The more you sat there across from this man, the more your chest felt as if it would collapse. You lowered your head again and traced the line of your palm with your thumb.

“You need to sleep, I know Sam didn’t let you do much of that,” he said, “admittedly, I was selfishly impatient,” he stood and you watched him cross the room. He took the throw from over the back of the couch and looked over his shoulder at you, “come on. You should at least try.”

You didn’t move. You hung your head and swayed slightly. Everything around you was blurry, the air felt fuzzy, and your skin pricked with terror.

“Sweetheart--”

“Don’t call me that,” you hissed, “I’m not… not that. What you’re doing--”

“Over here right now,” his tone was stern and unyielding, “don’t make me repeat myself.”

You clenched your jaw and glanced over at him. His hand was on his hip as his eyes bore into you and the vein in his forehead made you flinch. There was a tenuous wire wound tight between his good side and his bad side.

You rose and ambled over to him clumsily. Your thighs rubbed together painfully and the effort made your pelvis ache. He grabbed your shoulder and guided you down onto the couch. He threw the blanket over you and tucked in the sides, his hands crawled over it and he felt your curves through the warm layer.

“Oh…” he retracted his hand and stood straight as he poked his tongue out and watched you, “I…” 

You turned onto your side and tried to ignore him. Sleep might be your only escape from that hell.

“Are you…” he hesitated, “I came in you. Are you on… something?”

You sniffed and rolled so that your back was to him. You whimpered as your thigh hit each other and pulled the blanket to your chin. You wanted to vomit up all the food he’d just fed you.

“I need to know,” he touched your shoulder, “if you’re not--”

“I have an implant…” you mumbled.

“Implant?” he repeated.

You stared at the back of the couch. Was he really that stupid?

“They put it in your arm. It’s good for a couple years,” you shrugged, “don’t worry, you’ll only be hurting me.”

You heard him swallow. He was quiet and his footsteps trailed softly away from you.

“I’m taking care of you,” he said, “you’re lucky I am because Sam doesn’t give a shit and Bucky would sooner throw you out in the snow.”

You didn’t answer. You covered your head with the blanket and closed your eyes. You were so exhausted, so sore, so worn out that you could only think of sleep. You wanted to forget about the man behind you and the two others wandering out on the tundra. You wanted to pretend for the little time you could that everything was normal.

❄

The door woke you and sent you back into a spin. You huddled under the blanket and nestled further into the cushions as the boots clomped and a heavy dragging scratched the floor. You focused on keeping even breaths as the lock buzzed back into place.

“This was at her door,” a knock on wood followed Bucky’s voice and you could guess that your weakly crate of groceries had arrived, “it’s gonna be a while before anyone knows she’s gone.”

“Shh,” Sam hushed.

“She’s awake,” Bucky spat back, “I can hear her heart going.”

You cringed and slowly sat up. You looked over at the men as Steve helped Bucky pull the lid off the crate. Sam smiled at you and unzipped his jacket, “how are you doing, baby?”

“Fine,” you murmured and pushed yourself into the corner of the couch and folded yourself up beneath the blanket.

“Real milk,” Bucky declared as he pulled out the carton, “and bread.”

“Who brings all this?” Steve asked as Sam unlaced his boots, watching you as he impatiently undressed.

“The depot,” you answered.

“The depot? And they know you’re up here?”

“They get my money and they bring up what I order,” you grumbled, “I doubt they care as long as they’re paid.”

Steve nodded and shared a look with Bucky. Sam rounded the couch and sat beside you, he played with the edge of the blanket as you kept as far from him as you could. The other two kept sorting through the haul.

“Go back tomorrow, get the radio,” Steve said, “and we’ll have her place another order.”

Bucky looked at him quizzically then continued reading the side of a can of chili, “and why should I do that?”

“We’ll have her check in with her boss, tell them she’s safe,” Steve said, “she is, really.”

“No,” you said, “I won’t, I’ll--”

The can barely missed you and bounced off the wall. You looked behind you and eyed the dent as you pushed yourself up on the arm and the blanket fell away from you. You shook as you faced Bucky.

“You can’t trust her,” he said as he turned back to Steve, “you both know that and now you want to give her a radio--”

“Baby,” Sam grabbed your ankle and drew you back down onto the cushion. His arm snaked around you and he caressed your cheek as he held you to him, “it’s okay.” He tensed and peered over his shoulder, “do it again, jackass, and it’ll be thrown right back at you.”

A low growl followed and then the rustle of the groceries. A silence pervaded the bunker and made you shiver. Sam lifted the blanket over you again and held you tighter. He rocked you as he placed your head on his chest.

“You just gonna let her sit around on the couch all day? Lay on her back all night as we’re out there--”

“She’ll cook,” Steve asserted, “won’t you, sweetheart?”

You didn’t respond as you listened to Sam’s heartbeat and inhaled his scent. His touch made your skin crawl but his strength made you stay.

“I can take care of myself,” Bucky insisted.

“What the fuck is your problem, man?” Sam snarled.

“You know what the problem is,” Bucky retorted, “you fuckin’ know.”

“Buck,” Steve warned.

“He gave me bad intel,” Bucky’s boots hammered towards you, “just so he could have his little plaything.”

Sam slid you away from him and stood to stand chest to chest with his fellow agent. You gaped up at them as Steve came close and put his hands on their shoulders.

“Enough,” Steve warned.

“No, I could have killed her because this asshole lied, I could--”

“And you offered to kill her anyway,” Sam pushed Bucky, “so what the fuck’s the problem?”

“This is a mission, not a vacation,” Bucky sneered, “Hydra is still out there, Ursa is probably laughing at us right now--”

“It’s about the mission?” Sam challenged, “really? You didn’t care three days ago when you tried to run back Stateside.”

“Shut up,” Bucky snapped.

“You shut up, man,” they shoved each other at the same time and Steve got between them.

“Hey, both of you,” he pointed at them and looked from one to the other, “stop. Right now.”

Bucky roiled and Sam glared back at them as the other man barely kept them apart. One wrong move and it would be a full blown fight.

“You know what will happen, Steve,” Bucky’s voice cracked, “you know I can’t control it.”

“Only if you keep holding back,” Steve lowered his voice and waved off Sam, “she’s good, she’s obedient.”

“She’s scared,” Bucky said, “and that means she’s unpredictable.”

“Then help us, help us train her,” Steve said.

“No, I can’t,” Bucky shook his head, “not-- last time--”

“We’re here now, we won’t let it happen again,” Steve coaxed as Sam retreated, “but you keep doing this and it will.”

You stood slowly as Sam went to the crate and reached in. He took out a chocolate bar and smiled. You crept along the wall and a floor board gave away your movement. All three men looked over at you.

“I… need the bathroom,” you breathed.

Steve nodded and waved you on. He turned back to Bucky and grabbed his arm. He lowered his voice as the latter’s blue eyes peeked over at you. You couldn’t hear what he was saying but the way Bucky stared made you tremble. You scurried away and hid inside the bathroom.

You inhaled as your nerves bounced off each other. You listened through the door and your blood chilled.

“It’s different,” Bucky said, “if it was Ursa, she’d deserve it.”

“You won’t hurt her, that’s not you,” Steve argued, “she’s a good girl.”

“He doesn’t care,” Bucky gritted, “he doesn’t listen.”

“Bucky…” Steve sighed, “there’s no him, only you.”

“I can’t,” Bucky said, “not yet.”

❄

Two more days, you thought it was only two. They passed slowly but in a blur. Your time was marked by the little chores given to you by Steve; you cooked the meals, blending your farmer’s haul and their military dry freeze rations and you tidied up to keep yourself busy and try to evade them. It didn’t matter, your work could wait until they had their pleasure.

A routine was put in place. You ate with the men and when they left in the morning, you slept until the afternoon, then you got up and cleaned and cooked. When they returned, you ate again and after supper, Sam or Steve took you into the bedroom. By the time the others retired, you were settled under the arm of your respective tormenter.

The fourth morning was particularly chilly. Sam and Steve woke up early and whispered in the dark. That night, you’d been trapped against Steve’s hot body but despite that, Sam bent to kiss your cheek. Steve placed a folded shirt in the empty spot beside you.

“You can wear that today,” he kept his voice low as the other super soldier continued snoring, “me and Sam have to go out on the ice. We’ll be back late.”

You nodded and looked past him to Bucky’s sleeping form, a lump in the dark.

“He has his own work but it’s early still,” Steve assured you, “he doesn’t like the water but we need two men.” Steve bent and rubbed your cheek, “just keep your head down and he’ll be gone before you know it.”

You were quiet as they left. You heard them readying in the other room and the heavy front door of the bunker signalled their departure.

You laid in the dark and thought of the third man. You could still recall that ominous conversation and the fire in his eyes every time he looked at you. You quivered as you thought of how he avoided you, stalking along your peripheral like a predator. Salivating but hesitant.

You couldn’t figure out what it all meant. You only knew that it couldn’t be good. Whatever scared Bucky about himself terrified you even more. Sam and Steve even seemed reluctant to push him too far, as if afraid they would trigger something uncontrollable and that fed your fear further.

You didn’t want to be there when he woke up. You sat up and pulled on the long sleeved tee. You crossed your arms and stood, keeping your head down as you stepped between the bed. A sudden movement in the dark made you flinch and you realised the snoring had stopped. Bucky caught your wrist before you could get to the end of the bed.

You spun back to him as he sat up and clung to your arm. You stared at him through the black as his metal grip squeezed tighter. You shook and tried to pull away.

“They’re going to keep you,” he said quietly, “nothing I can do about that.”

“Please, let me--”

“I don’t want to kill you,” he continued, “I only said it because I hoped it would keep it from happening. That they might leave you there so I wouldn’t.”

“What--”

“I can’t help it,” he pulled you until your knee hit the mattress, “I try not to go that far but--” He yanked until you fell forward across his legs, “he wants you.”

“Bucky--”

“Not me,” he held your hip as his other hand rubbed your ass, “the soldat.”

He lifted his hand and struck your ass. You cried out and fought as you tried to push yourself up. He grabbed the back of your neck and wrenched you up, getting to his knees as he turned and forced you flat across the bed.

“They never let them live,” he whispered as he straddled you, “they made me kill them but if I didn’t fuck them, they couldn’t control me… him.”

“I don’t know what--”

“Maybe… maybe I can try…” his lips brushed your own as he bent over you, “I hear you with them and I want to try.”

“Bucky,” you touched his metal hand as it stretched along your throat, “please, you can let me go-- you can--”

He squeezed until your voice turned to a wisp and you rasped loudly as you tried to breathe.

“They’ll find you even if I do,” he said, “or make me find you.”

“Pl--” you coughed and grasped his fingers as your eyes watered.

He pushed off of you suddenly and you gasped for air. He grabbed your ankles and you yelped as he dragged you off the bed. Your back hit the floor and knocked the wind out of you. You sputtered as he pulled you through the door. The light of the front room shone in halos in your vision and he stopped in front of the low table before the couch.

He let you go and jabbed you with his toe, “don’t move.”

He retreated and you rolled onto your side. You sat up and glanced at the door. He opened a drawer and you stood shakily. He was going to kill you, he said so himself. You didn’t think about it long as you raced to the door and tried to twist the handle. The pin pad beeped and you tried to force it. You grunted as you heard him behind you.

The beeping grew louder and kept on. The alarm made your ears ring as he hauled you back. He forced you onto the coffee table, flat on your stomach as he tore your wrists down to the legs of the table. He wound a zip tie around each and moved back. You kicked out and he caught your ankles, bending your legs around the side of the table to bind them too.

You straddled the table, your chest heavy against the wood as he moved to disarm the alarm. His tee shirt fluttered to the floor as he tossed it in front of you. He chuckled darkly and paced around you as he toyed with the elastic of his sweats.

“This is what Hydra did, they tied the women down, had a special device for it,” he reached and tickled your spine, “but this will do.”

“Please, why--”

“They did what they could… the doctors in Wakanda. They tried to get it all out but… there’s things you can’t shake,” he slapped your ass and the whole table jolted, “those things are often what you need most.”

He spanked you again and your skin burned from his vibranium palm. You whined and let your head hang over the edge of the table.

“Please, it’s not too late, Bucky,” you begged, “you don’t want this--”

“I can’t be like them,” he interrupted, “I can’t be nice.”

“Please--”

“I’m going to break your jaw if you don’t shut up,” he smacked your ass and rounded the table again, “you can’t blame me, they wanted you.”

You gulped up air and shook your head. You heard the rustle of fabric and he kicked away his sweats. He went to the foot of the table and bent to grip it one either side of you. He sat on the wood between your legs and kneaded your thighs.

“They think you can fix me,” he rubbed your ass and slapped it with both hands, “but they don’t know.”

He gripped your hips and lifted himself. He held himself up with one hand on the table and felt along your ass as he bent his legs over yours. The table felt brittle beneath his weight. He pushed down your folds with his fingers and shoved two inside of you. He pulled in and out until your body slickened for him.

He tutted and dragged out of you and up to your ass. He spread your wetness around your tight ring and hummed.

“They haven’t touched this, have they?” he taunted and poked his finger against your hole.

You clenched your teeth as he pushed inside and you whimpered as he reached his knuckle. Even as little as that hurt and your body quaked from the intrusion. He pulled out as pressed two fingers to your ring. He forced them both inside and fingered your ass slowly as you groaned in agony.

“This will be just for me,” he rasped, “they can have your cunt.”

You pulled on your wrists until the plastic cut into your skin. His hand sped up and you tensed around his fingers. He groped your ass with his other and hummed.

“You’ll only make it worse,” he said, “not that it really matters to me.”

“You said-- you didn’t-- want-- to-- do this--” you puffed through the pain.

“I never said I didn’t want to fuck you,” he snickered.

“It hurts… Bucky--”

“I told you,” he pushed deep until his knuckles met your ass, “shut up.”

You swallowed your voice and he moved free hand up under your arm and leaned over your. He slid his fingers out of your ass and guided his tip along your tight ring. He held his breath as he pushed inside of you just a little and you exclaimed. He stretched you painfully as his metal fingers framed his dick as he eased further in.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “oh fuck,” inch by inch, the pain intensified and when he was his limit, you were sobbing.

His hand grazed your shoulder and he gripped your throat as he pressed his body flush to yours, his legs bent beside your ass. He rocked atop you as his other hand came up to meet his other. He encircled your neck and squeezed as he kept his hips moving.

He purred and his hot breath tickled your scalp. Through all the pain, you felt a plucking, deeper than anything before. You coughed as his fingers twined and he choked you harder. He sat up and pulled your head up as he kept his hands around your throat. He arched your back painfully as your arms strained against the ties.

He jerked his hips roughly. All patience was gone as he tilted into you rampantly and panted hungrily. Your eyes rolled back and your tongue lolled out as you wheezed, barely breathing as his fingers got firmer and firmer.

“This is it, doll,” he snarled, “this is how it ends… every time.”

He pounded into you and tremors of agony rolled through your body. Your eyes closed as your mouth grew arid and bitter. Your head throbbed as he sped up, flesh clapping so loudly it was all you could hear. Your body spasmed as you felt the strength leaving you, as the air drained entirely from your lungs, and sand filled your limbs.

Your head sagged over his hands and you bit your tongue without feeling it. Your body spasmed as he didn’t let up. You surrendered to the darkness as it closed it and promised to dull the torture, to end it all. Your body went limp over the table and the heat of his flesh and the roughness of the wood faded away.

You sank into the endless abyss and welcomed its embrace. It was over, all over. You were free.

[honey-milk-depresso]

Meanie (Azul Ashengrotto x Reader)

SORRY TWST COMMUNTITY TRYING TO GET AS MANY DRAFT ELIMINATED AS POSSIBLE SORRY FOR BLASTING SHIT IN YOUR FACE BUT LIKE HOPE YOU ENJOY PLEASE DON’T KILL ME-

Based on a manga I think you know when you read it-

I suck I know-

Warning: Slight under aged drinking but it’s purely fluff, nothing serious.

Part 1

part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8 (END)

“Sevens, y/n. What do you want?”

“A hang out! At the VIP room!”

“You know how much that’s going to cost you right? You don’t have much on you.”

“Yeah, yeah I know but, I spend it on my friend!”

“You’re paying me.”

“Exactly!”

Azul sighed in irritation. He can never get enough of you, can he?

“Fine.”

“YES!! I’ll bring some things along!”

=====================================================

“You got to be kidding me..”

Lying on the table, there were an assortment of chips, soft drinks, sweet snacks and to top it all off, a bottle of plum wine.

“Y/n, you shouldn’t be drinking. You’re under aged.”

You laughed heartily. “Don’t worry! It’s only once in a while! Besides, I really like plum wine! I’m not drinking it for the sake of looking cool! Ahehehe~!”

He sighed, putting his hat and jacket suit by the table and plopping himself on the couch, leaving him with his white collared shirt with his sleeves rolled up and pants.

He cringed slightly as all the snacks were unhealthy.

“Couldn’t you have bring snacks of healthier options?”

“Azul, you should treat yourself every once in a while. Being healthy is good, but you can eat junk just once! Besides, it’s a happy occasion!”

“You do this at least twice a week.”

“Not at night or with snacks.”

“True..”

He saw you stuff chips in your mouth in one goal, like a rapid animal.

“Geez, y/n eat slowly. You might choke.”

“Awww, does Azul care for me~?”

“I don’t want a dead body filled with chips in the VIP lounge.”

“So mean!!”

He smiled a little. Your outgoing and cheerful attitude annoyed him at times, but he still couldn’t help but smile at how endearing you could be.

“Geez, you eat like it’s the end of your world.”

Ah.

You took out a pack of poker cards and slam it on the table.

“LET’S PLAY!”

“SEVENS, Y/N! JUST PUT IT DOWN LIKE A NORMAL HUMAN AND NOT TREAT YOUR CARDS LIKE A HAMMER-”

“Well geez, sorry.”

You took the cards out and began shuffling them, clearing the snacks to one side and spreading the cards in a circle.

“Alright, the rules are simple: You can’t quit in the middle!”

“Well, obviously.”

You had always bring about weird games to play. Like the time you played with 2 chess boards for no reason. One to play chess and one to play checkers, then if you get to take one chess or checker piece away, you had to do math question on your assignment, both of which you lost, and had to do the homework yourself. So this isn’t new to him. Maybe you’ll pull out your magic history homework.

“Alright just pick a card!”

“I got the twelve of spades.”

“HAH! QUEEN OF HEARTS!!”

“You don’t have to yell.”

“Now, since I have the larger number, I’ll ask you truth or dare!”

“So, truth or dare??”

“Truth.”

“So~ Do you think Idia or Jade is more handsome to you?~”

He nearly spit out the canned grape juice he was drinking.

“W-what type of question is that?!”

“Those are the rules! If you don’t want to answer a question you pick “dare”! And with “dare”, I’ll make you do something and you can’t quit or complain!”

This is the game of the devil, he thought. What is worse? Answering your ridiculous question or doing you ridiculous “dare”?

Screw it. Better answer than do it, right?

“I’ll stick with truth...”

“Okay! So.. Idia or Jade is handsome to you??”

“......Idia..?”

“Oooh, really ? I thought Jade was pretty handsome himself though. Ah well!”

For some reason, he felt a little irritated when you said Jade was handsome.

“Moving along!”

You two pick your cards.

“Hmm~ five of diamonds? I got twelve of clovers!~~”

“Oh goodness..”

How is he having this much of bad luck today? He’s thinking you shuffled the cards in your favor.

A little flustered due to the plum wine, you slurred a little with the next question.

“Truth or dare??”

“Truth.”

“If Idia was a girl, and she’d be the prettiest girl in NRC, and everyone else are girls, where would I be ranked in looks?”

“What?”

“ANSWER MEEEE~”

“Second.”

“H-heh???” Now you were very flustered.

“So I am pretty to you??? Aww you’re so sweet, Azul!!”

“That’s because I can never imagine NRC being a girls’ school.”

“I-”

=====================================================

“Huh??? Aw man I got two of spades!”

“Twelve of hearts.”

“Oh no..”

Well looks like the tables have finally turned. 

After answering your many ridiculous dares, it’s finally his turn. By now he can tell you’re very drunk. You weren’t think straight and you were slurring and getting flustered a lot.

“Truth or dare.”

“TRUTH!”

He paused to think for a while on what he wanted to ask you.

“Have you ever had a first kiss?”

“HuH?? WHAT? ”

“Silence fool.”

“MEANIE!!”

“But... No I haven’t. Wonder who would wanna kiss me~~?”

“Your lips would reek plum wine, I don’t think anyone would.”

“HEY AZULLL I THOUGHT WE WERE FREINDSSS!!!”

He smiled.

“I’m just joking.”

=============================================================

“Hehehehe~ Truth or dare??~~”

“...dare.”

He said hesitantly. It’s been what? 9 to 11 rounds already and you only had truths, while you complained all his questions were like job interview questions.

“Ohohoho~ Well then,” you spread your arms open, “carry meee to beddd~~”

He blanked. His face was unreadable.

“Hey! Carry-”

Suddenly, you felt your entire body being lifted from the couch. Azul was carrying you bridal style close to his chest. You felt his steady heartbeat and you couldn’t help but blush at the sudden contact.

He went over to the secret guest bedroom and plopped you down on the bed.

“I’ll make sure you’ll go back to Ramshackle tomorrow. It’s a weekend anyways.”

You buried your face in your hands as you squirmed, giggling.

“Ehehehehe~~ That really surprised me! Thank you, Azul!~~”

“Okay, Azul! Pick a card for me.”

“It’s getting very late.”

“But like what you said tomorrow is the weekend!!!!”

“Still. You should be sleeping.”

“Okay! One last dare! I promise!”

He sighed. “Fine.”

He picked a card.

“What did I get??”

“King of Spades.”

“Oooh~ What did you get???”

He picked a card. “Three clovers.”

“Hmmm~ My turn then! This one would be truth only!”

You paused and he heard the blankets being ruffled as you shifted to a different position.

“If I said.. I was really scared of dying, what would you do?”

He swerved his head to look at you, his eyes scanning you.

You were completely calm that it scared him.

“Nonsense, you aren’t going to die.”

Right?

“Aheheheh~ Well I’m super tired! You should go to sleep too!”

He off the lights, the only light shining now was the lamp beside your bed on the night stand.

“Call me when you wake up. I’ll be in my room.”

“Got it~!”

And he closed the door.

To be continued..

=========================

HEYA FOLKS WANT ME TO DO PART 2??? Just reblog or request I don’t know I-

I died.

[manggojooz]

Foolish Love, Fake Love (Part 10)

pairing: idol!Jungkook x bodyguard!reader

word count: ~2,590

genre: idol!au; angst; romance; drama; enemies to lovers sort of thing

warnings: some references to stalkerish behaviour

previous part: Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 |  Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |  Part 6  | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 

summary: If all you can give me is a fake love, then I will be the fool to pretend that it is all true.

Taglist: @a-hopelessly-imaginative-girl @dollwithluv @sweetcheeksdna @yeontanie21 @peachygiraffe14 @jeontaes-world  @forvever-ddaeng @namjoonsslutakakoreanmanswhore @apurpledheart @ggukkieeee​ @witchxlove

You frowned at the smiley boy who awkwardly stood outside your door.  

“Uhh, you gonna let me in... or we gonna stand here all night?” Jungkook asked.

“Let... let you in? But why-” you were still only half-awake.  

Jungkook shoved his way past you in one swift move and you stumbled against the door slightly. Catching your balance again you quickly followed him into the apartment.  

“What are you doing here?” you asked as you trailed him into your own kitchen.  

“Ow, it’s so heavy, I can’t stand carrying it another minute sorry,” he lamented as he dumps the bags of groceries on the tabletop with a thump. “What’s this?” he asked as he peeked inside the bag that contained the chicken soup.

“Soup, I think...” you answered weakly.  

“You ordered it?” he asked.  

“No... I don’t know, some guy just came to deliver it...”

“Mmm okay,” he hummed mindlessly but melodically as he took the package away from the dining table and chucked it to the side of the counter. “Let’s see...” he murmured to himself as he took his handphone from his back pocket.  

“What are you doing here?” you asked again.  

He does not make eye contact with you but stares intently at his phone screen, “I heard you injured your shoulder from last night... I didn’t know and I thought...” he stops suddenly. He side-eyes you for a moment and notices that you were surveying him with that same frown. “Hmm,” he clears his throat rather forcefully, “I just wanted to say I'm sorry, I was overreacting because-”

“Because you thought Yeonjoo was hurt...” you completed his sentence.  

“I didn’t know you hurt yourself while protecting her, to be fair it wasn’t really visible you know...” he voice faded as he sounded a little relieved now that the topic has been broached.  

“It’s our job to get injured so that the people we protect won’t be. You don’t have to be sorry for that,” you replied matter-of-factly.  

“I know I know... but I shouldn’t have jumped to a conclusion and accuse you or shout at you” he still avoided looking at you as he muttered this.  

Sometimes apologies are like this – it does not necessarily make you feel better more so than it makes the other person feel better.  

“So... why are you here at this time?” you questioned a third time.

“Ah... Yuri is at another schedule with some of the hyungs and since I am free tonight so I thought I should come and make sure you ate dinner... at least...” he was still half-mumbling.

“You are here to make me dinner?” you asked incredulously.  

“Eo...” he answered affirmatively.  

---

Jungkook buying sacks of groceries just to make you dinner was the most unimaginable thing even just a day ago, but it was happening right this moment. You were too tired to quarrel with the idea and he had insisted that you get back to resting until everything was ready.  

You could hear a lot of tinkering, “ahh”, “ooh” and the occasional swearing from the kitchen even in your half-awake state. You had no idea how long this lasted but at some point you were awakened by a knock on your room door.  

“Dinner’s ready... are you awake?” his voice was soft but his tone was the usual.  

You pulled yourself out of bed and headed out to the dining table, marginally more alert than you were before.  

The spread that lay before your eyes was a wonder – a bowl of plain rice, some kind of stew that looked like it had a mix of unrecognisable ingredients in it and some kimchi.  

“Do I start with the soup or...” you wondered cautiously.  

“It doesn’t look that appetising but I promise you that it tastes fine and this is beef bone stew with abalone and what’s that thing...” he wasted no time trying to promote his masterpiece.  

You raised an eyebrow at him.  

“It’s some traditional herb... I’m sure it’s good for health” he continued.

He looked at you expectantly as you took a tiny sip of the stew with caution. It tasted... barely edible.  

“How is it? How is it?” he asked like a child who was asking for affirmation from his parents.  

“It’s nice...” you answered soullessly, “are you not having any yourself?”  

“Nope, it’s all for you” he answered very certainly and you weren’t really sure if this was all part of the bigger picture.

Be that as it may, you recalled how Yoongi felt bad for you at the hospital and did not want another one of them thinking that girls are too weak to do this job.  

“About last night... I just need to say it again, you don’t have to feel bad that I was injured and I can understand why you were worked up so you didn’t have to do this, but thanks anyway” you said while looking him straight in the eyes, maybe the drowsiness helps with boosting confidence.  

He sighed unintentionally. “Like I said earlier, I know I don’t have to feel bad about it but I was wrong to yell at you and I just feel bad because I assume that Yeonjoo was hurt while you were fine and... and... I guess she just looked really shaken and you looked fine so I thought...”  

“It’s ok, I get it. It’s just that we usually try our best not to show it even if we are hurt” you explained.

“If you don’t show it how do people know that you are hurt... what's the point of hiding it?” Jungkook mumbles endlessly as he walked back into the kitchen. He picked up the ladle still in the pot of stew, and you were about to continue the conversation but he took a sip of his own masterpiece.

“Bleh... oh my gosh... what’s this? This taste horrible! You should have told me honestly that it tasted bad... wow...” he shouted with his tongue half-hanging out.

“As you know, it’s not my forte to show how I feel” you replied sarcastically.

“Ugh I just wanted to make you something nice... what the heck is this even... you know what, this isn’t counted. I'll buy you something nice, what do you want to eat?” he lamented.

You were never a fan of bland soups and porridges anyway.

“Hmm... steak, buy me a nice a steak” you requested.

“You can eat that now? Or do you mean when you are better?” his eyes were round with curiousness.  

“It’s my rule that when the body is not feeling well, the mouth needs to eat even better than usual” you explained quite nonchalantly while taking another bite of the weirdly-seasoned stew. It seems like you were starting to get used to the taste of it.

“Ohhh, alright then. There is this place I know that’s really hard to get a spot at, I will use some connections and get you some really awesome steak. How about tomorrow, since it’s a rare that we don’t have any schedules... I mean if you are feeling better tomorrow...”  

You nodded somewhat eagerly as you continued taking another mouthful of the mysterious stew.

“Wow, you still gonna drink that?” his eyes were very round and large, clearly depicting his amazement by your ability to stomach his stew. “I’ll send you the time and address tomorrow.”  

---

The next day and an hour before seven.  

“Where are you going?” Yuri was shocked to see you all dressed up.

“I... uh... I’m going for dinner” you stammered. You were going to meet Jungkook at the restaurant at 7pm and the restaurant unfortunately has a casual formal dress code requirement.

“You are going for dinner? With who? Did you take your medicine?” Yuri nagged like a mother sometimes.

You thought for a long moment whether to reveal the truth but you decided to avoid it in prevention of any questioning that might ensure, “Wow, you are so naggy sometimes you know. I’m just meeting someone I know and yes ma’am I took my medicine, except that one painkiller that makes me really drowsy, I'll take that at night when I'm back alright?”  

Yuri throws a towel at you for calling her naggy and told you to hurry and get out of her sight.  

---

Thirty minutes to seven.  

Jungkook suddenly gets a call from Kijin; something must be up with Yeonjoo for him to be calling Jungkook out of the blue.  

“Hyung, what’s up? It's rare that you are calling me directly” Jungkook answered the call.  

“Jungkook-ah... I really didn’t want to bother you but could you come over... she wouldn’t come out or talk to anyone since last night.”  

---

Ten minutes to seven  

Jungkook stares at his watch, just as he took out his phone to type a message to you Kijin opens the door at Yeonjoo’s apartment and he rushes in.  

The door to Yeonjoo’s bedroom was shut tight. On the way here he was on the phone with Kijin the whole time and he explained hwo Yeonjoo had been receiving letters and calls from her longtime stalker.  

“Is that... from that bastard?” Jungkook looked warily at a paper box placed in one corner of the living room.

“Ya... I’m handing it over to the police later... it’s pretty gross inside I don’t think you should go near it” Kijin warned.  

“Why is he back? I thought he went quiet for a while...” Jungkook asked with a deep unhappiness.  

“Not sure, I think he’s been sending Yeonjoo some messages but she won’t speak to me now” Kijin answered with matching concern.  

Jungkook headed straight for Yeonjoo’s room. He carefully knocks on the door; there was no answer.  

“It’s me... are you inside? Can you open the door?”  

He was met with an eerie silence.

“Hyung... should we just go in?” Jungkook whispered to Kijin, his face fraught with worry.

“I think we have little choice now...” Kijing handed over a key to Jungkook.

The door creaked open slowly. Jungkook peered into the room that was pitch black. A narrow ray of light shone into the room from the opened door and he finally sees the silhouette of Yeonjoo crouched on the floor near the foot of the bedframe.  

He ran over anxiously, “Are you alright? Why didn’t you answer us?”  

Her hands scrunched the blanket that she had pulled over her legs. She was staring soullessly ahead but slowly turned to look at Jungkook.  

“He’s back. I'm scared” she uttered.  

“I know, Kijin hyung is reporting it to the police now” Jungkook whispers back.

“I’m tired, but I don’t dare to close my eyes” she whimpers.

“I’m here... I'll be here” Jungkook sat down next to her and she couldn’t help but lean against him.  

---

Five minutes past seven.

You stood at the sidewalk leading to the elegantly-furnished entrance of the restaurant. Unintentionally you looked around whenever you heard any sound of someone walking by. You had messaged Jungkook to ask if he was reaching but there was no reply.  

You did not even know whose name the reservation was under so you felt better waiting for him to outside. Time went by as you counted the number of times a car turned in but it wasn’t his car.  

The night grew colder as the time went by.  Eventually, you took a look at your watch.  

Ten minutes to 8pm – you decided to give Jungkook a call. The call went unanswered and you were not that surprised but now you became slightly worried.  

You made another call, this time to Sejoon.  

“Eo.. Y/N...” Sejoon picked up the call and sounded out of breath.

“Hi Sejoon, are you ok?” you asked out of concern.

“Yah yah I’m fine, just ran out to grab some thing for Yoongi and Hobi who are having a schedule now... do you need something?” Sejoon asked you back.  

“Uh... actually I am wondering if you know where Jungkook is now...” you started slowly, not sure how much to reveal about your plans with Jungkook.

“Jungkook? He’s not with you? I thought he told me he would be having dinner with you today,” answered Sejoon.

So, it is not much of a secret then. “Ah yes, he’s supposed to meet me for dinner but it’s almost past an hour and he’s not here, I tried calling him but couldn’t get him either,” you explained.

“What? Ok, he does tend to be late... but not this late... are you still waiting there?” Sejoon exuded his usual friendliness.  

“Yah, I’m kinda still waiting,” you replied.

“What? I'll try reaching him after I put down these things for Yoongi and Hobi? Let me know if he suddenly shows up,” Sejoon instructed helpfully before you hung up.  

---

Fifteen minutes past eight

Two police officers sat in Yeonjoo’s living room collecting as much information as they could from Yeonjoo and Kijin while Jungkook watched them from kitchen. It took him a whole ten minutes to coax Yeonjoo into speaking with the police after they arrived.  

Now that he had mostly done his part, he was letting go of the tension he had built up over the past hour and suddenly his stomach let out a low growl.  

He thought to himself that he could have been having some fancy steak now. “Right... would be nice to have some steak now... oh shit!” he suddenly jolted up and looked all over for his phone.  

---

Your phone suddenly pinged – a message came in.

“Hey Y/N, I’m so sorry, there was an emergency, I didn’t check my phone until now... you aren’t still waiting right? I hope you already ordered something... don’t wait for me,” the message read.

The cocktail of feelings left a bittersweet aftertaste. You were still trying to decipher what exactly it was. Was it worry? Was it annoyance? Was it disappointment?  

Then your phone rings. It was Sejoon.

“Hello? Y/N? Have you left yet?” Sejoon shouted through the noisy background noises on his end.

“Hey Sejoon, umm, yeah I got a text from Jungkook so I’m leaving now...” you muttered, trying to mask that bittersweet aftertaste  

“Oh he texted you? Great, did you already grab dinner? Do you need me to come down and settle the bill for you?” Sejoon enquired on 80% volume.  

“Uh no no don’t worry about me, I’m gonna go grab dinner when I get home...” you quickly cut in, “... but do you know what happened to him? He just said there’s an emergency... is he ok?”  

“Jungkook? Oh he’s at Yeonjoo’s place apparently. Kijin hyung messaged me just a while ago to give me the heads up,” Sejoon explained as you hear someone calling out his name on the other end, “I gotta go! You can text me if you need anything!”  

You hardly ever needed anything from anyone. You hardly believed that you deserved to need anything from anyone. And today was no different.  

Did he need to do this for you? No.  

Did you need him to keep his promise? No.  

Yet you stared down at the pavement clearly tasting bitterness this time. Of all the reasons, why did it have to be Yeonjoo?  

One of the staff at the restaurant must have observed you standing outside their door for the longest time.  

“Hi Miss, uhh... it’s rather cold out here... are you waiting for someone? Do you want to come in?” he offered kindly.  

there was a melancholic pause. “I was waiting for someone...” you replied with a wistful smile, “but not anymore, thank you.”  

[myhauntedsalem]

13 True Horror Stories from the Psychiatric Ward that Will Give You the Creeps

Death, illness and tragedy have long been part of the history of insane asylums, and for as long as they have existed, so too have the scary stories associated with them. From haunted hospitals to sadistic doctors and nurses, psychiatric wards have been the inspiration for many of our favorite horror movies and books. Yet, the true stories told by the psych ward workers below far surpass any horrors that we might have seen at the cinema or read in a book.

Without further ado, here are thirteen of some of the creepiest psych ward stories on the internet that have been shared by health care professionals.

1. Holding her own Eyes

My mom told me this story from her time at a neuropsychiatric ward while she was in grad school. She was making her routine room checks and happened upon the most horrific scene I’ve ever heard.

This was during the night shift, and generally, all the patients’ bedroom doors should be closed. So my mom turned a corner and noticed an open door. She saw a staff member’s legs on the floor, halfway out the doorway.

When she looked into the room, she saw the patient, a woman with a severe postpartum psychiatric disorder, who had just gouged both of her own eyes out with her bare hands. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, holding her eyes in her hands.

The first staff member to witness the scene, who was now lying face down on the floor, had a heart attack when he first witnessed the woman while he was making his rounds.

My mom screamed for help and frantically tried to perform CPR on the staff member. All the while, the woman just sat rather calmly, holding her own eyes.

2. The Saw

I work as a psychotherapist in a hospital system. My definition of creepy is probably quite a bit different from other medical professionals.

The one that got to me the most was a patient who came to us after attempting suicide by sawing both his arms off at the forearm with a table saw. His arms were reattached, fairly successfully too, with only limited impairments in mobility. All I could think was how bad it would have to be to live in his head that sawing his arms off seemed better than that.

He has since completed suicide.

3. Jane?

We had a young lady in our custody with quite a few issues. We’ll call her Jane. Jane’s first night at our facility staff doing a bed check found Jane in a puddle of blood. Turns out Jane had been slicing the skin around her shin with her finger nails and was pulling her skin up her leg, essentially de-gloving her calf.

Jane also had a ritual she performed every night before bed. While in her room she would run between walls in her room touching them in a crucifix pattern. After doing this for a few hours she would sit on her bed and go to sleep. This particular night Jane was frantic in her pace, practically running between walls. Our night staff observed the entire interaction and reported Jane screaming late into the night. When the staff went to check on Jane she reported Jane standing in the doorway smiling. The staff asked what was wrong and Jane replied, “what makes you think you are speaking to Jane?”

4. The Vampire

My mom worked in mental institutions in her younger years (and actually worked at a large, well-known asylum before it was shut down.)

There was one woman there that thought she was a vampire of sorts. She was only allowed out one hour a day, and they had to use safety precautions. She had already attacked and killed at least one hospital worker before these were enacted.

When my Mom asked about her, it was revealed that she had killed at least two of her children, wounded another as well as her husband because she had some sort of physical condition called Porphyria, which apparently made her crave blood.

By the time that they discovered there was something physically wrong with her, she already had lost her mind from guilt and grief.

5. The Spitter

I’m not a psychologist but my friend is. She told me about a patient of hers who was HIV positive and a paranoid schizophrenic. He thought that the nurses who worked at the hospital he was in were trying to kill him, so he would frequently bite his tongue, and spit HIV positive blood into their faces/mouths. When they had to come into contact with him, they were required to wear full masks and gloves.

6. The Only One

I once knew a woman who had spent part of her residency at a psychiatric hospital for people with severe mental conditions. Apparently, the grounds had a lovely, enclosed greenhouse. One day, one of their schizophrenic patients was sitting on a bench, smoking a cigarette, as a heron frantically flew around. It had found its way in and, not being able to escape, it was smashing into the large panes of glass. The man just sat there watching.

Finally, my counselor asked him if the bird was bothering him and he kind of sighed and said, “Thank god, I thought I was the only one seeing that.”

7. Family Photographs

My sister is the director of a psychiatric hospital. There was recently a lady there who would cut her arms, legs and torso open and place photographs of her family under her skin.

8. Under the Bed

Once, a fellow female patient told me she found writings under her bed. They were just old, small wooden bed frames with hard mattresses that would make all kinds of noises when you rolled over, but I still wondered what exactly she was doing lying under her bed to find these writings.

When she first told me, I thought it was a joke. But sure enough, one day during group we managed to sneak away, and she showed me. Indeed, there were stories written under her bed. After that, we had everyone check under their own beds, and there was more writing under every single bed.

They were stories of patients who had stayed here before, or ways they were planning on killing themselves, or who the good and bad nurses were. It creeped me out.

9. Time of Death

Well, my mother was a nurse that specialized in geriatrics, and she worked for several hospice hospitals for many years. She often described situations at her work with several of the patients. She would say that each person tends to have a very similar “checklist” that they follow right before death. This checklist often ended in a very similar way.

They would get caught talking to someone that wasn’t there. When asked who they (otherwise lucid people) were talking to, they would describe an individual who was already dead. When asked what they were talking about, they would say that their relative wanted to know if they were ready to move on. A pretty common response would be, “Yeah, he/she said that she will take me tomorrow at 3:00.” Well, it would often happen that they would die at the exact time their relatives quoted.

10. The Test Subject

I had an hour-long conversion with a delusional guy who was confined to a mental health facility, and who was probably smarter than I am. Lots of these folks believe that somebody – often the CIA – is either beaming thoughts into their heads, or has implanted a microchip in their brains for this purpose. This guy was offering a very thoughtful argument as to why such claims should not be so quickly dismissed.

“It’s precisely because such delusions are so common that mental patients make the best test subjects,” he said. There he was, confined and protected, constantly observed, his health and behavior documented, and there is zero chance that anyone would ever take his concerns seriously. How else would you test and improve such technology? Does the government not have a strong motivation and a plausible ability to create such a device?

“You can see I’m not irrational,” the man said. “I’m just straight-up telling you that they are doing this to me. I know just how unbelievable it sounds, and yet, here I am.”

11. The Boy who Loved Knives

As a tech in psych years ago, there was a 7-year-old kid sent to the floor because the mom didn’t know what to do with him. Sadly, common thing to happen, even if the kids don’t have psych issues. Anyway, the mom was shaking and crying, and they had to take the kid into another room. She was genuinely afraid of her own son. She had suspected something was wrong when she kept finding mutilated animals in the backyard, but never heard or saw coyotes or anything around. The neighbors smaller pets started disappearing. The boy had an obsession with knives, hiding them around the house. Denying anything when the mom confronted him. Then when the two started getting into arguments, he would get really violent and hit her, push her down and kick her, threaten to kill her. On multiple occasions she woke up in the middle of the night with him standing beside her bed, staring her in the face. She put extra locks on her bedroom door to feel safe while she slept. The last straw was when she lifted up his mattress and found 50+ knives of all shapes and sizes under there. So she brought him to us.

I remember talking to him, treating him like he was just any other kid that came through. He seemed remarkably normal, until you spoke directly to him. He had this way of looking right through you, or maybe like he didn’t see you at all while you were speaking.

He would respond like a robot, like he was just saying words because that’s what we wanted to hear. And he would always put on this creepy, dead-looking smile. Like all mouth and no eye involvement in the smile. Especially when he would get away with something, like taking another kid’s markers and they couldn’t figure it out. Still gives me chills laying here thinking about him.

I believe I met a 7-year-old psychopath.

12. The New Mom

I was a pharmacy technician at a hospital with a psych ward for some time. We would have to go around with a cart and dispense the patients’ medications, and being a 5’2″ girl, a security guard or male nurse would accompany me, just as a precaution. I never had any real issues other than the occasional death grip onto my arm or manic outbursts, but there was one boy who was entirely different.

His chart said he was nine and he had pale skin, dark hair, and huge bright, green eyes. He always greeted me in the most polite way, asked how I was doing, and always found something different to compliment me on every time. He was extremely well-spoken and mature for his age, so I began looking forward to seeing him, as normal small talk is definitely cherished in that setting. If he saw me outside of his room in the halls, he made sure to say hello and always called me “Miss Jones” or “ma’am.”

One day, a couple of our female nurses saw me pause to chat with him in the hallway, and waved me over to ask if I was out of my mind. Apparently, when he was in kindergarten, he grew an intense attachment to his young female teacher.

This escalated to the point of him calling her “Mom” and leaving notes for her about how he wished he were her son. He had a normal home-life with both parents, and the teacher tried to explain to him that she couldn’t be his mom because that would hurt his real mother’s feelings, and that she already had that job covered.

So, he went home and, killed his own mother in her sleep by cutting her throat, so his teacher could be his mom. The female staff had a general rule of not interacting with him excessively to prevent any kind of attachment from forming.

13. Bugs

Nothing I can say can possibly describe the year I worked in Psychiatric Intensive Care. Creepy isn’t the thing that comes to mind when I think back on it…more heartbreaking and horrifying. But creepiness was a part of it. Especially evening and night shifts, naturally.

There is always something disturbing about watching someone while they hallucinate. You can tell it is 100% real to them, and something about that makes you believe it, on some level. A lot of stories end with, “and of course, I had to look over my shoulder to make sure”. You see the emotions it brings out.

There was a woman that came in and sat down across the table from me for her admission interview. She had bandages all over her arms and scotch tape over her mouth and ears. She looked very uncomfortable and wouldn’t really sit still. When the nurse would ask her a question, she would peel the corner of the tape back and answer, then stick the tape back on really fast.

We eventually found out that she saw and felt bugs crawling all over her, and they were trying to get inside her body. The tape was to keep the bugs out. The bandages were because some bugs got in and she had to dig them out. She couldn’t sit still because she felt the bugs all over her even while we sat and talked. The worst part was, she had some idea that it was her mind playing tricks on her. Can you imagine going through your life, feeling like someone is continuously dumping buckets of cockroaches on your head, feeling like they’re all over you and getting inside of you to the point that you’re digging chunks out of your flesh in a panic, all while knowing intellectually that none of it is real?

[procrastinatorimagines]

Here For You Part 6

Fandom: Chicago PD / One Chicago

Series: Here For You

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 (Final)

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Warning/s: none

Word Count: 1,534

Summary: Y/N’s world spun out of control after she got pregnant, uprooting her life and moving to Chicago only for her brother to get involved in a murder trial. Now, her baby is finally here, and with Jay by her side her life feels like it’s finally coming together again, until someone from her past comes back into the picture and threatens to tear down everything she’s tried so hard to build.

The trial process was nervewracking, multiple interviews, assessing characters, income, stability... You were glad you had Jay to lean on when it got overwhelming, but you knew you were the best thing for Lucas, and you held onto that throughout the ordeal. 

Between juggling raising your son and fighting to keep him, you made yourself think about your own future, not just in terms of Jay, but in terms of a career too. So when Lucas was big enough, you were going to start training to be a nurse. It was a time of near constant fear, but also hope; you could see your life beyond this, all you had to go was get past this colosal hurdle. 

Tommy on the other hand, as you learned in court, didn’t have a job or apartment, and had bailed on two separate court-ordered rehabs, leading to hefty fines he couldn’t afford to pay. Needless to say, the trail was going in your favour.

Eventually, the judge ruled that you were to receive full custody, but adviced you let Tommy have visitation at your own discretion, and at a time when he was in a fitter state and child support was being paid regularly and in full, the issue of custody could be revisited. Tommy wasn’t happy, but it was everything you could have asked for. 

You left the courtroom with your head held high that day, Henry passing you back Lucas as he and Jay led you out towards the elevators. Tommy chose that moment to approach, your smile wiped from your face in an instant. 

“Y/N,” he said with force, making you stop in your tracks and turn to face him. He was angry, and while you couldn’t exactly blame him... wait, yes you could. Tommy was the one who wanted to take this to court, actually having the audacity to put you and Lucas through all that thinking he had a chance. 

Jay put a protective hand on your back, positioning himself so that he was slightly shielding you and your son. “You brought this on yourself,” you told him, watching his eyes flare with rage as you continued, “if you’d have just reached out properly, we might have been able to sort something out without needing it to get this far.” 

It wasn’t a lie, you would have considered it, maybe not when you were lying in a hospital bed with your new born baby obviously, and he never should have expected that, but you could have come to an arangement. 

Tommy rolled his eyes and grumbled something you didn’t care to repeat, Jay tensing beside you. “Who the hell is this guy anyway, seriously?” He asked, gesturing to Jay with indignation, “this guy isn’t Lucas’ dad, I am, and what? He gets to be around my kid whenever he wants while I have to beg you for scraps?” 

Lucas was starting to fuss in your arms as you took a step away from Jay towards Tommy, wanting to show him that you were fighting your own battles. Jay cast you a worried glance but he didn’t stop you. You took a breath, leveling yourself as you felt your blood boil. 

“Yes,” you answered his question, much to his shock and anger, “Jay’s been there for me, for us, this whole time since we met, since you left. He’s a good man, kind and dedicated, and Lucas would be lucky to have Jay for a dad.” 

You heard Jay suck in a small sharp breath, not expecting you to say that; Tommy gasped in surprise, almost looking hurt. Honestly, you were surprised you said that outloud too, but there it was. Henry was smiling in a knowing way, glad his sister was finally standing up for herself.  

“You little...” Tommy hissed, taking a step forward and pointing his finger in an acusatory manner. Instinctively, you took a step back, a protective arm around Lucas as he started to cry. That was all the cue Jay needed to intervene, blocking Tommy’s path.

Security took a step forward, ready to de-escalate the situation if they needed to, but Jay had it under control, sensing the shift in Tommy’s stance and the way he clenched his fist. It was an obvious swing, one that Jay dodged with ease, a slight glint clear in his eyes, gaining all the justification he’d been waiting for as he aimed a well placed punch at Tommy’s nose, knocking him to the ground in one hit. 

Tommy looked daised, steam practically coming out of his eyes as he tried to stand, clearly going for round two before he froze, staring at the badge Jay had just revealed under his shirt. Jay signaled to the guard to pick him up off the floor.

“Congratuations Tommy, you’ve just assaulted a police detective in a court house full of witnesses,” he told him, nodding towards the crowd of people who had stopped what they were doing to witness the commotion. 

Any sympathy you might have had was gone as you looked him square in the eyes. “Goodbye Tommy,” you told him, turning on your heals as you soothed your crying son. You already had an actual baby to take care of, you didn’t need to pile a grown man onto that list. Somewhere down the line, you might consider letting him visit Lucas, but that wasn’t going to be anytime soon. Besides, after this there wouldn’t be a judge around who wouldn’t take your side on that matter.

As the doors shut to the elevator and Tommy was taken into custody, you let out a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding, grateful when you felt Jay’s fingers slip into your own. You glanced down at his bruised knuckles and ran your thumb over them lightly, squeezing his hand in thanks as Lucas began to calm down. 

It had been satisfying to watch, if you were being honest, you knew Henry agreed by the smirk that had become permanently plastered on his face. Jay definitely enjoyed it a little too much, but you didn’t blame him.

You looked around at the people in the elevator. They were your family, Lucas’ family. You didn’t need Tommy, hadn’t for a long time, maybe now he’d realise that.

-

“What’s going to happen to Tommy?” You inquired once you were back in the comfort of your own apartment, Lucas finally calmed down and asleep after the ordeal at court. 

“I don’t know, but after that outburst he won’t be allowed near you or Lucas for a long time,” Jay informed you, temporarily putting on his serious detective voice, “I’ll make some calls tomorrow.” You knew he would, he took yours and Lucas’ safety very seriously, Tommy was probably at the 21st right now nursing his nose.

“I didn’t want this, Lucas deserves stability, a good father...” You sighed with frustration, all the emotion you’d bottled up during the day and the trail threatening to boil over. Jay grabbed your hand and you met his eyes, “I meant what I said in there, about you. I want you in his life.”

“I want to be in his life, I love him...” Jay told you honestly, taking a deep readying breath, as if preparing himself for what he was about to say, “I’m kind of in love with you too.”

“Jay-,” You breathed, shocked by his declaration.

“I know you’ve been through a lot and this is sudden, but I love you Y/N, and I want to be a part of your life, both of your lives,” he continued, taking your other hand too. 

His touch was strong, warm, comforting, everything you wanted for yourself and Lucas. Jay had proven time and time again the kind of man he was, without fail, he’d been kind, patient, supportive... everything Tommy had never been, everything you didn’t think you deserved, but here he was, ready to give it all to you without hesitation. 

So you told him the truth, the truth you hadn’t even realised it until this moment, buried deep down as you’d tried to navigate your new life. “I love you too,” you told him, and it was like something cracked open in your chest, and you could breath again. You’d never said those words to anyone, not romantically, but you knew it your heart that you did.

“Yeah?” He asked hopefully, not quite believing that you’d said it back so quickly, or with so much confidence. You took him in as you thought of what to say, every detail.

“Yeah I really do, I guess I’ve been trying to fight it, thinking that it might be selfish to think about a relationship right now, but the truth is you are what’s best for him, and me,” you tried your best to explain, “I love you, and although I don’t know what’s going to happen with Tommy, I know Lucas could never ask for a better father than you.”

“You mean that?” 

"With my whole heart.” 

And then you kissed, and it felt like a promise, a promise of ‘i love you’, a promise of a future, a promise to always been there for each other, whatever came next. 

[sirenprincess15]

Please Don't Leave Me Chapter 16

Title: Please Don’t Leave Me

Author: SirenPrincess

Description: What if Aleksander hadn’t answered the door when Ivan interrupted the war room kissing? What if Aleksander and Alina had a bit more time to get to know each other before Baghra told her his true identity? Alina is the only one who can comfort Aleksander through his nightmares. Will she leave once she knows who he is?

This story is based on the show version and features a soft on the inside, hard on the outside Aleksander with an emphasis on emotional hurt/comfort and angst. If you are looking for lots of hurt!Aleksander thoughts, then this story is for you. Mal exists but pretty much solely to cause Aleksander some angst. Don’t worry. It will be a Darklina ending.

Chapter 1 is a missing scene at the end of Ep 4, and Chapter 2 takes place alongside Ep 5 and then diverges from canon there.

Pairings: Aleksander Morozova/Alina Starkov, bits of Ivan/Fedyor

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Grisha are oppressed in this universe, and I don’t shy away from showing the horrors of that. There may eventually be mentions of canon-typical torture (Fjerdan pyres), death of family members, and cruelty to Grisha children. It’s not the focus, but that backdrop is definitely there and comes up as characters discuss their past.

Spoilers: Demon in the Woods

In this chapter: Alina explores Aleksander's scars in the bath.

Chapter 16

--WARNING--This chapter contains spoilers for Demon in the Wood--

Finally alone in his chambers with a tub full of water, Aleksander found himself running his hands along Alina’s bare body. He could not help admiring her beauty as he ran his palm over the curve of her hip. “I’ve missed this,” he whispered. He kissed down her neck to her collarbone. “Touching, feeling, the way the connection between us flows back and forth when we are both feeling content.” He placed a hand on her side and just let himself feel her. Everything they needed to ease the ache in their chests was in their connection.

She leaned toward him and began kissing across his chest. She had always taken pleasure in kissing his scars, but today she paused. Her fingers lingered on the raised round spots that splattered across his chest. “Are these from that night? With Luda?” she asked cautiously.

He could tell from the emotional pull of their bond that she was unsure if it was okay to talk about, but she wanted to know more. Now that she knew of Luda, he was grateful to be able to acknowledge that night. “They are. She healed the internal damage, but they shot me with another round before the outside healed, and then they caught her.” He shivered at the memory, but it was good for Alina to know. Maybe it would help her understand what their enemies were capable of and why they could not let compassion influence them to make stupid tacticle mistakes.

“Have you ever thought of letting Genya heal them?”

He shook his head. “I could not find a healer for her that night. They had murdered too many of us. If she could not be made whole again, then neither could I.”

“You have the scars whether they show or not. It’s how we let them affect us that matters.” She leaned down and kissed one and then another.

“They don’t bother you?” he checked. He did not wish to have them removed, but he would do anything for her.

She shook her head and kissed another scar. “I’ve always found your scars quite sexy, actually. They show me how strong you are. Now that I know what all you have endured, they show me your strength in a new way.”

He leaned down and kissed her, softly, sweetly. This intimacy was everything that he had missed, and he couldn’t get enough of it. “There used to be more.” He held up his wrist and ran his fingers along the inside. “It scarred badly from where I had pulled against the bonds with such force. I tried to keep them, but … I could not tolerate it, not on my wrists. Every time they brushed the fabric of my sleeve, it triggered the memories of being helpless. I finally let a tailor fix them, not Genya. It was centuries ago. Some scars can be harmful, and we need to let them go.” He touched one of the raised scars near his ribs. “These are the ones I wanted to keep.”

Her hand traced along a long scar diagonally from his shoulder. “And this one?”

He had planned a break from figuring out how to share things with her, but this way seemed so natural. With her love flooding over him, it wasn’t as hard. “That one was a Fjerdan sword that tried to slice me in half. They had been raiding farther and farther south into Ravka, kidnapping all Grisha to burn on their pyres. They even took children. We decided to be aggressive and defend our country and our people. I led the charge to chase them out myself. We successfully defended some villages and had them retreating, but we followed them into Fjerda to a place they stored and tortured Grisha awaiting trial. We liberated it, but it was not without cost.” He gently touched the deep scar tissue. “We were outnumbered. I was able to use my power to keep the Fjerdans from sending in reinforcements. But the children … I had to get them out of there. My second-in-command died for following my command to free the children. I ran in myself after that. I couldn’t leave the children, not the children. The sword slashed deep into my chest, and I fell on top of the children that I was rescuing. The Fjerdan who tried to kill me turned and left us for dead to chase the rest of my soldiers. This wound let us escape. That’s how Ivan came to the Little Palace. He was one of the children who hid under my bleeding chest. His parents had been burned on the pyre. He had a twin brother who didn’t survive the torture they used to determine if the children were Grisha. I’m sorry he seems gruff and demanding of your power. He knows more than anyone what we are up against, and the cost if we don’t succeed at protecting our people.” He worried that he shouldn’t speak of such dark thoughts. It might disrupt the calm contentment that had come over her in the bath, but, then, wasn’t trying to shelter her from the truth exactly what he had nearly lost her over? Maybe this was how he learned to be more honest with her, by sharing one painful memory at a time until she knew enough to understand the harder decisions.

“Has there ever been a moment of your life that wasn’t filled with horrors?”

“When I’m with you.”

She kissed the shoulder and down his arm, then interlaced their fingers. “Perhaps, then, this is a better way to get you to share with me?”

“Promise to just keep kissing me, and I’ll tell you anything.” Maybe he didn’t mean it. Maybe he did. The warmth that radiated from her as she kissed her way back to his chest and down his side kept so many of his worries at bay. Her gentle acceptance as he shared his past pains with her made them less hard to share.

“This one?” she asked about the thick scar that sliced around his thigh.

“That one’s from when I was a child,” he dismissed with a shrug.

She looked him in the eye. “And?”

Could she understand that one now? Would she see him as a monster if he shared the truth or would she kiss him again as she had for the others? This one was different. He hadn’t been saving anyone but himself. “A friend tried to kill me, so I killed her instead.”

He waited for the fear and revulsion to move through her to him, but it didn’t come. “Your friend tried to kill you? When you were a child? How? Why?”

“She wanted to wear my bones for their power. I didn’t want to die.”

“Saints! Aleks!” He could feel the pain in her, but it was … sympathy? She was feeling his pain. No one had ever cared about him like that before.

“It’s nothing. It was a long time ago.”

“Your friend betrayed and tried to kill you as a child to steal your power and wear your bones, and that’s nothing?! You don’t think that maybe that has something to do with your difficulty trusting? In opening up?”

“I … I suppose? It’s just that any time I’ve let myself be vulnerable, it hasn’t ended well.”

She leant down and kissed his leg where it came up above the water. “We change that. Starting now. I want to be the one you can share everything with, Aleksander, no matter how horrible it is.”

He kissed her desperately, as if it might be his last. He wanted to be able to share everything with her, too, more than anything. He feared it was only a dream that she could know everything and accept him, but for tonight he would let himself believe that dream. “What can I do to give you what you need tonight? Alina, I am yours, for anything you need.”

Emotions ebbed back and forth between them as she lay against his chest. She sought his reassurance to speak from her soul. “The truth is that I only feel whole when I’m with you. Take me to bed and make me feel whole again? Please?”

“You’re sure?” he asked. “You know who I am, what I’m capable of. I don’t want you to regret this tomorrow. I could never do that to you.”

“You promised me a night of feeling good, a break from trying to figure everything out. I want to enjoy my night. Whatever we decide about us, I want a night of ecstasy as only you can give me. Please?”

He would not make her beg. With her assurance that she truly wanted him, he lifted her from the tub and carried her to their room.

[thatsbucknasty]

she used to be mine waitress au

summary: Inspired by the broadway musical. Y/N Beck is a pie baking force to be reckoned with. She’s pregnant with her lazy ass husband, Quentin Beck’s baby. As everything around her turns upside down, Doctor James Buchanan Barnes charms his way into her life.

pairing: Y/N x Bucky

characters:

Y/N Beck as Jenna Hunterson

Bucky Barnes as Dr. Pomatter

Wanda Maximoff as Dawn

Natasha Romanoff as Becky

Sam Wilson as Cal

Steve Rogers as Ogie

Nick Fury as Joe

Quentin Beck as Earl Hunterson

Maria Hill as Nurse Norma

a/n: some of the dialogue I got straight from the play/songs to preserve the witty essence of Waitress, but keep in mind this is an au, so I will change things up regarding the storyline and ending. Enjoy!

p.s. let me know if you wanna be tagged c:

p.s. ii this chapter is merely introductory so we won’t get to meet Bucky just yet but he’s coming soon, I promise!

prologue: what’s inside?

My hands pluck the things I know that I need. Peaches, creme fraiche, brown sugar, butter and of course, flour. Today’s a simple one. What should I call it? “Simplicity is key pie”. Nope. Might get confused with “Love’s the key lime pie”. “Some things never change pie”. Yup. That’s it.

“Y/N! What’s the special pie today?” Sam yells at me like every other morning. I don’t complain, I like that grumpy weirdo though I would never admit that to his face. I tell him the name of my newest recipe.

 “I was having a creative block, you see. But then it struck me! Peaches! PEACHES, SAM!!!” I throw my hands in the air.

“No, I get it. Kinda.” He ignores my excitement but I know he actually understands how peaches are nobody’s favorite,but they’re good, they’re simple and they offer everydayness. Sam and I were in High School together and we both wanted to go to culinary school, so I know he gets me.  Neither of us got to make it though, somehow we  ended up here. Working at Nick’s Pies in the same town we grew up in, a town where nothing ever happens.

Nick is already at his table, that’s odd. He’s never here this early. Maybe he’s been watching spy movies late at night again. That “old fart” (Nat’s words, not mine) is adorable if you ask me, even if he gets on everybody’s nerves. Wanda’s cleaning the counter, menus and sugar dispensers. Thoroughly cleaning them. And Nat’s late. As always.

I like working here. These people are like family to me. The only one I have left. Oh, except for Quentin, my husband. I’ve been thinking about how he used to be, you know, when we first fell in love. Things have changed over the years. But it’s all fine. I have it good. Better than my mom at least. And I’m grateful for Quentin, I really am. I just wish he would be more, I don’t know, empathetic? Anyway. I have a weird feeling today. As if things were about to change. Let’s hope it will be for the better.

-

chapter 1: the negative

warning: vomit

Peeling peaches isn’t my favorite part of the pie making process, that’s for sure. I’ve always loved the smell of them, so why are they making me sick now?.

“Someone’s a little fussy today”. Nat says after noticing my state of distress. “Do you need any help, sweetie?” She rounds the table and snatches the peeler from me. “Seriously though, you look pale”.

“I’m fine, Nat. Thank you, but I think I just need some air. I’ll go take Nick’s order”. I walk across to old Nick’s table and he puts his paper down.

“Oh hi, I was wondering when somebody would offer me at least a cup of coffee here. It’s hot, isn’t it? My diner. My own diner doesn’t have any decent air conditioning!” Oh, here we go.

“Sorry, Nick. I’ll tell Sam to fix it, I promise. What can I give you?”

“Well, let’s see. I would like an omelette, with tomato on the side and some fruit salad, on a different plate. And some orange juice. But bring me coffee before you bring the orange juice. And a slice of your… “Some things never change pie”, but bring that after I’m done with my omelette”. It is hot here, he was right. “Oh and also… Jesus, are you okay? You look pale”. 

“I’m okay, Nick”. Oh god. “I think I just… need to…  restroom”. I almost collapse with Wanda on the way to the ladies room and throw my arms around the toilet in the span of ten seconds.

“Y/N! Honey, you okay in there?” I hear Wanda’s voice, or was it Nat’s. Oh here it comes again. “Gosh, I’m washing this stall right after she’s done, we don’t want any patrons catching whatever she’s got”. Wanda. Definitely Wanda.

“Oh scoot! She doesn’t need you being a neat freak right now, Wanda”. Mother Nat scolding the children. 

“I’m okay girls, I may have had a bad sandwich from the gas station last night. That’s it” I wash my hands and mouth over the sink while the girls fuss around me. “Really, everything’s… oh shit”... and here it comes again. I don’t even know if I have anything left inside that actually needs to come out.

Wanda rubs my back gently and says “Honey? Um, when was the last time you got your period?” After I’m done emptying my guts I do the math. “Shit. No, this can’t be happening.” I can feel my heart in my throat. I’m not ready for this. I can’t be.

“Y/N, time to pee on a stick!” Nat helps me up and calls Peter, the diner’s delivery guy. “Okay, Parker, time to be the hero. I need you to go to the drug store and buy a pregnancy test. Here’s twenty bucks, keep the change and don’t tell a soul about this or I’ll have your head, ya hear me?”

-

Two lines. Two pink stupid lines and I’m out of my body. I’m packing my things and going on a plane far from the diner, far from Quentin Beck and his beer smelling, curse yelling, guitar playing ass!

“I thought you don’t sleep with your husband much anymore”. Wanda is brushing my hair with her fingers.

“Stop it, I think she’s in shock”. Nat is washing the test stick. God bless her, she thinks I want to keep it. I shudder, still a little dizzy.

“Shut up, I’m inventing a new pie in my head. Tomorrow’s special. I’ll call it “I don’t want Quentin’s baby pie”. I take my little notebook out of my apron and start writing ingredients down.

 “I don’t think we can put that on the menu board, Y/N”. 

“You could still leave Quentin, you know? If you can bake 27 different kinds of pies every day, you can do it.”

“You’re funny, Nat.  I don’t want a baby right now, but above all, I don’t want a fatherless baby. Girls, I can’t do this on my own. And please don’t tell Sam or Nick yet”. They both grab my arms and Wanda leans on my shoulder.

“Hey, we ain’t saying a word to anyone but we’ve talked about this. Quentin isn’t a good husband, you know that. You think he’ll be a good father?”

“You could come and live with me! It’s a studio but-” I cut Wanda off.

“Okay, girls, enough. Nat, I know he’s difficult sometimes but he’s going through a rough time, he’s in between jobs and I couldn’t do that to him. And Wands, you’re very sweet, but thank you. I’ll figure it out”.

-

chapter 2: what baking can do

-

I already have chapters 2-4 written, so expect them soon. Thoughts?

[argumentl]

The Freedom of Expression - Episode 46 The filming for the Dir en grey Real Avatar music video.

K: Hi, this is Dir en grey's Kaoru with this episode, uh, this week's episode of the Freedom of Expression. Joe san, Tasai san...it feels like a while since we were last here.

J, T: Yeah.

K: We've been on location, plus last time we filmed 4 episodes at once. Quite a while has passed since then.

T: It has.

J: Nothing new with you?

K: No, nothing.

T: Hahaha

J: Tokyo Sports seems pretty busy..

T: Yeah, I watched you two recently...on Niconama.

J: Ah, yeh. You wrote an article, thanks for that.

T: I was a bit envious while working on it.

J: Yeh, but what about that Tokyo Sports hoodie? How is it doing?

T: Yeah, it looks like its selling.

J: Right.

T: Thanks to you two.

J: No, no, its thanks to Kaoru, but..

K: No, no, its nothing.

J: You gotta make something else for round two.

T: Yeah, there might be a T-shirt collaboration in the works.

K: Ehh? Im looking forward to that.

J: Eventually we'll have like a The Freedom of Expression x Tokyo Sports collaboration set?

T: Yeh, and we could sell that, then go to Okinawa.

J: Go to Okinawa? Haha.

K: Hahaha.

J: Our plan is steadily progressing that far..

T: Together with you Joe.

J: Yes, please, haha.

K: Ok, so Joe, can I ask you to get us started today?

J: Got it! This is happy news, the news that Dir en grey will screen an avatar music video. Dir en grey will reveal a new music video on New Years Eve from 11:00pm, which includes avatar characters created using 3D scans of the members. The Explosion screenings of 'The World You Live In', have been sold out. So an encore entitled 'The World You Live In - additional' will be held on New Years Eve as an online broadcast. As well as a special talk event with the members, a music video with real avatar characters, made by 3D scanning each member, will be screened. Kaoru?

K: Thank you

J: This is good news, isn't it?

K: So as a rule, we always broadcast this show on Friday, but we've made it a bit irregular this time in order to talk about this. Well, of course, I've seen it already.

J: Have you? What was it like?

K: Well, first of all, as for the filming, we did our make up and costume etc, and had cameras surrounding us 360°. We filmed it there first, and then in a different studio, we put on clothes that had pointers all over them, and I played air guitar...

J: Ah, you performed.

K: And then we took photos seperately.

J: It sounds like hard work, was it?

K: Not really, it was over quite quickly.

J: Really?

K: For the photo shoot in full dress it was like, 'flash..flash..Ok, finished'. It felt like a waste of all the make up I was wearing. Like, 'Isn't there anything else?' haha.

J: Ah, if only you could've have done more...But when you were finished with all that, they made it into a moving person?

K: Well, yeh, it has the kind of atmosphere as if its in a game.

J, T: Ehh?

T: What are the facial expressions like?

K: It wasn't possible to go as far as making different facial expressions. Well, i mean, you could do that if you had the time, but we didn't...

J: This time you didn't go that far? But its the first time for Dir to try this kind of thing, right?

K: Yeah.

J: Was there any kind of catalyst that made you think, 'Lets do this'?

K: Well, there was a kind offer saying like, 'We can do this kind of thing'..

J: A suggestion came, and you decided to give it a go?

K: Yeah, thats it, kinda like that.

J, T: Ahhh.

J: You know, this is...

T: It looks interesting.

J: Its exciting, right?

K: When I was playing, there was a pointer right in the position that I usually hold my guitar, so they asked me if I could change the position.

J: Ah, the the postion you play the guitar?

K: Yeah. They tried to help me change the position, but it was still interfering, so I ended up playing up here at chest level, which would nomally be impossible, haha.

T: Hahaha

J: Pretty high up, its not very Kaoru style, is it?

K: I think it'll be a sight to see.

T, J: Hahaha.

K: Its soo high up! Haha

T, J: Hahaha.

J: By the way, are you influenced by anyone in particular as to the position in which you hold your guitar?

K: No, its just the best position I can play in, based on the size of my guitar.

J: Ah, I see. But somehow you ended up playing up here while filming this mv?

K: Yeah, well..I had to raise the position a bit.

J: Ahh, did the other members have to change anything?

K: No

J: Just you? Because it got in the way of the pointers?

K: Yeah.

J: Ahh, really? Die always plays quite low down doesn't he?

K: Yeah, he does. When we first put on all those pointers and mimicked playing the instruments, it came up on screen as just like moving lines. Even just looking at that, I could tell it was Die straight away.

J, T: Ehhh.

K: The shape on screen looked just like Die.

T: Thats pretty interesting.

J: He's very characteristic, isn't he? How do you film the drums? With pointers on them?

K: Haha, pretty tough, right? We had to use a photo of the drums and stick them on.

J: It seems like drums would be the most difficult to play by air. Or was it not that bad?

K: Well, if the positions of the pointers were set then...

K: Ahh, and it was over very quickly?

K: Yes　

J: And you were holding your guitar up here? I say that, but I don't know how good it looks *1, haha. Well, if i had to choose, playing it lower down probably seems cooler. There was a lot of people in the 90s playing guitar like that, right? Punks and stuff. They played it quite low down. There isn't anyone who plays it up high, is there?

K: No, not really.

J: How about actually holding it like that, Kaoru?

K: It would be pretty difficult to play.

J: It could be the 'Kaoru position'.

T: Haha.

J: The cool position!

T: Haha

K: Yeah.

J: Im looking forward to this.

T: The song is the new single 'Ochita koto no aru sora'?

K: Yeah.

J: Are you gonna test this out once and see the reaction, then maybe do more?

K: I think it would be interesting if we could spend a bit more time on it, and brush up the backgrounds and stuff.

J: You might be able to make new creations using only this. I am looking forward to this.

T: The broadcast will start at 23:00, ohh so its gonna be on as the year changes.

J: Yes.

K: First we'll show the same footage that was in the explosion screening, and then after the year changes we'll appear, and then play this mv.

J: Ah, I see.

K: During the live broadcast with the members, we'll play this. And then we'll kinda talk a bit.

J: I see.

T: This is a great way to bring in the new year for the people watching.

J: Right? There wasn't much good news in.2020, so they will really appreciate this piece of hope appearing at the end of the year. They'll be looking out for the postion of the guitars!

T: The same position as ???*2

J: Thats it.

K: It seems like Kami had no interest in this topic.

J: Isn't he here today? Are you there, Kami?

Kami: Yes, I'm here. I've seen it too.

J: You've seen it?!

T: Have you?!

Kami: Yes, I have.

J: Cause he's a god, right? He's different from humans.

K: He sees what we see.

Kami: Because gods have power.

J: Power? Even low grade ones?

Kami: But, no, it was very interesting.

J: You enjoyed it?

Kami: I did enjoy it, it was cool.

J: Did you notice anything about the postion Kaoru was holding his guitar?

Kami: Ah, no, not really.

J: Haha, didn't you? As a god, is there any scenes you would recommend to watch out for? Or any points to pay attention to?

Kami: Well, of course the images were good, but I really thought the song was good. Dir en grey are good at writing songs.

J, T: Hahaha.

K: Thanks, haha.

Kami: I think you have talent.

K: We're good, right?

J: Yeah! He's acting like a judge.

Kami: Thats because Im a god.

J: Well, yeah. Haha, saying, 'You're good at writing songs' to a pro. Thats a first. But thats just like Kami. So, you liked the visuals, but you heard the song again in a new light?

Kami: It was fun.

J: Ah, it was fun? Thank you.

T: How about making a Kami avatar?

K: Ah, yeh.

J: We've never seen what Kami looks like..

Kami: I can't show you that yet.

K: We could make an avatar, and then have it come on screen, when he's here.

T: Yeah, like in this area of the screen.

J: Yeah! If its technically possible.

K: Tasai could create the character.

T: Hahaha.

J: Like his legendary..Oh, lets do that.

T: But I can't draw him, I need to see him. Otherwise I'd have to imagine what he looks like.

K: Yeah, just draw it from imagination.

T: Like my own image of Kami?

J: Yeah, something like that. Well, in that case we could each try drawing him..

K: Even if it isn't a moving character, we could put it up on that line that appears when Kami talks..

J: Yeah, I see.

Kami: Im just a regular old guy.

K, T, J: Hahaha

K: Well, we know that...

J: Yeah, from what we've heard from him so far, we can gather that.

T: Thats it. I could kinda get an image of him by listening to all of his stories.

K: A combined picture of him.

J: Or a loud talk session with him. Thats not nice to think about, is it? haha

K: Yeah, with that voice, it might be a bit tough.

J: Haha, yeh, it would be exhausting.

K: Yeah.

J: Yeh..

K: Ok...well, also, this is a bit of promotion for me, but from February we will start our Explosion Screening tour of our Meguro RokumaykanGig live. We'll go all over Japan with it, and the member will also..

J: Join in, do a talk session?

K: Yeah, we'll do talk sessions.

J: You'll be there? Well, it has been announced already, so people can already check out all the info in realation to that.

K: Is that all?

J: Yeah, I think so.

K: Well, I'd love it if everyone was able to watch the live broadcast tomorrow.

J: Yep, don't miss it.

K: Ok, lets finish here for today. Please subscribe. Thank you very much.

*1 Not sure if this bit is entirely right.

*2 Couldn't figure out.

[captainjanegay]

someone holds me safe and warm | Stucky | Sickfic, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergent, Timelines, 4+1 | 5.4k words | Ao3

Summary:

Four times Steve was sick or hurt and Bucky tried his best to care for him and one time the roles were reversed.

A short trip through Stucky timeline with loads of softness and care on the way.

A/N: It's here! My Secret Santa gift for the loveliest @snarky-drabbles​ ♥ I was so worried I won't be able to finish it and it turned out much longer than I wanted it to be but I really hope you'll like it :') I was so happy when I've heard you wanted some nice and soft sickfic and I hope I was able to provide you with exactly what you wanted ♥ I wish you the happiest holidays season, love! Despite the stressing, it was such a pleasure to write it for you ♥ Also big thanks for @metalbvcky​ for hosting this event, it was so much fun :’) And thank you my sweetest Luisa @its-tortle​ for giving it a read and being your incredible, supportive self :’)

.

1. December 9th, 1928

The snow has been falling all night. Bucky’s mum had to almost forcefully drag him away from the window, because Bucky couldn’t stop looking at the tiny snowflakes making layers over layers of fluff on the ground. If he could, he would stay up all night, just to make sure the snow won’t disappear before he wakes up. The only argument that eventually makes him go to sleep is the threat his mum makes, saying that he won’t get to go out with Steve tomorrow if he doesn’t make it to bed in the next 20 minutes. He makes it in 15.

When his mom finally lets him go to the Rogers’ house the next day, it’s well past 11 o’clock. Luckily, the snow is still there and Bucky’s pretty sure there’s more of it than he remembered. On one hand he wants to take the longer route so he can spend more time kicking it up in white, fluffy clouds, jumping into snowdrifts or making snowballs. He doesn’t throw them at anyone, his mum raised him better than that, just drops them back onto the ground. The most fun was in creating a perfectly round ball anyway. But on the other hand, he wants to get to Steve’s house as soon as possible, so they can go out and do all of those things together. Eventually, he decides to take the shortest route possible but he kicks the snow around even more to make up for it.

Ten minutes later he runs up the stairs of the old tenement house and knocks on the door. Two slow and three rapid taps, as always. Bucky bounces on the balls of his feet, waiting for Steve to run to the door to let him in, as always.

But this time it’s not Steve who opens the door. It’s Mrs. Rogers, her face pale and with dark circles under her eyes. But as soon as she sees Bucky a big, genuine smile brightens up her face. It’s the exact same smile Bucky has seen on his friend many times.

“Good morning, James,” she says. “It’s nice to see you.”

“Good morning and likewise, Mrs. Rogers,” Bucky grins, taking off his cap. “Is Steve here? It’s been snowing all night and I was hoping we could go play outside!”

Mrs. Rogers sighs, her smile getting a bit sad. Bucky senses that something’s wrong, and his excitement melts like the snowflakes he tried to catch on his tongue.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Mrs. Rogers says. “Steve’s sick. He won’t be able to go outside for a while. I guess you’ll have to face all this snow by yourself today.”

Bucky's face falls upon hearing that. He was really excited for today and he spent long minutes before he fell asleep last night thinking about all the fun he and Steve could have. But Steve’s sick and the idea of doing all of them alone doesn’t sound fun at all. So instead of saying goodbye and heading home, Bucky looks at Mrs. Rogers with hopeful eyes and asks, “Would you mind if I came in and stayed with Steve for a while?”

The warm smile is back on Steve mother's face as she ruffles Bucky’s hair in an affectionate gesture and steps to the side, letting him in. “Of course, I don’t mind. Steve will be so happy you’re here.”

Bucky quickly shrugs off his coat and kicks off his shoes. Just as quickly, he apologises for all the snow he’s brought inside and picks up his shoes to put them on the rag by the door. Mrs. Rogers only waves a hand at him. Instead of running straight to Steve’s room, Bucky follows Mrs. Rogers to the kitchen when she asks for some help. Tongue sticking out in concentration, Bucky takes a careful hold of the bowl of hot chicken soup and slowly walks after Mrs. Rogers who is carrying an armful of meds and a glass of water.

As soon as they enter the other room, a small, blond head peeks out from under a mountain of blankets. As soon as it notices Bucky, a smile splits its face.

“Bucky!” Steve says, his voice all raspy and weird.

Bucky only grins in response, sending a quick look Steve’s way before he focuses back on the bowl in his hands. Only when it’s safely set aside on the bedside table, Bucky jumps towards the bed. Mrs. Rogers stops him when he tries to give Steve a hug, saying he might get sick, too, so it’s better if he keeps a bit of distance.

Steve's smile falters. He tries to convince Bucky that he should go so he won’t catch anything from him. In response, Bucky calls him a dimwit and drops onto the floor next to the bed. 

Mrs. Rogers checks Steve’s temperature, rubs his back with something with a very strong smell and gives him some medication. Steve looks miserable and a bit embarrassed through all of it. Seeing his friend’s discomfort, Bucky tactfully looks away and starts babbling about the snow, about mean Mr. Flanagan slipping on the icy pavement in front of his house today and falling onto his butt while shouting obscenities. He tells Steve how pretty the park looks with trees and bushes all covered in snow. He asks if Steve would be able to draw them if Bucky describes it to him with all the details he can remember. When he glances up at his friend, Steve’s eyes are finally bright and happy again, and he’s really excited to try. 

Mrs. Rogers leaves a few minutes later, dropping a kiss to Steve’s head and ruffling Bucky’s hair before she walks out of the room. Steve adjusts his pillows so he can sit more upright and takes a small sketchbook from the bedside table. Bucky rests his folded arms on Steve’s bed and places his chin on top of them. As soon as he starts talking about the snowy park, Steve starts drawing. It looks just like the real thing. Soon enough, Bucky starts making up details, at first some believable ones but then he comes up with more and more ridiculous things. Giggling, Steve dutifully puts them on paper. It’s really nice, knowing that Bucky managed to make his best friend laugh despite the misery and terrible cough that escapes his mouth every so often.

The snow might be nice but there’s still plenty of winter left, so Bucky’s sure he and Steve will have a chance to play outside soon. Bucky is more than happy to sit by Steve’s side if it means he can save him from boredom this way.

Besides, their version of the snowy park is so much better than the real thing.

.

2. December 14th, 1936

It’s cold. The old stove is not giving as much heat as it’s supposed to. They’re slowly running out of things to keep the fire running and Bucky should probably check if there are any old wooden crates or something he could take from the docks tomorrow. It’s not freezing yet, but the nights are supposed to get even colder. He has to do something. The coughing fit from the other side of the room makes Bucky take another log from the quickly disappearing pile in the corner, before he goes back to stirring the soup.

He didn’t make it, just heating up a portion of what his mom gave him when he came by for a quick visit earlier today. It’s better than anything he could make, but it’s not as good as Mrs. Rogers’. God, there’s no way anyone could compete with her in terms of cooking or baking. Bucky was pretty sure her chicken soup had some actual healing powers, considering how quickly it was able to get Steve back on his feet.

It’s easier to think about Mrs. Rogers' soups and their magical properties than the fact that each time Steve gets sick, it seems to be worse than the last time. Thinking about that won’t do anyone any good. And Bucky would rather swallow a log than let Steve see how worried he gets sometimes. 

So he stirs the soup extra vigorously before pouring it into a bowl when it gets nice and hot. It’s filled to the brim, so Bucky furrows his brows in concentration as he slowly makes his way across the room.

When he’s halfway there, he hears a laugh from the pile of blankets on the bed. It’s a bit wheezy but it’s a laugh nonetheless. When he looks up, Steve is already looking back at him with a soft smile on his face.

“What?” Bucky asks defensively, feeling flustered all of sudden.

“Nothing,” Steve says. He looks tired and pale but his lips stretch in an even bigger smile. “When you’re concentrating on something, you still stick your tongue out. Just like when you were a kid.”

“Oh fuck off, Rogers,” Bucky mumbles, placing the bowl on a stool that serves as a makeshift bedside table. “You’re not getting any of the soup for being an asshole.”

“How am I an asshole?” Steve asks. “I just think it’s cute that you still do that.”

Feeling that his blush is only getting worse, Bucky turns around and pretends to be very busy putting away the food from his mom. After taking a deep breath, he gets a grip on himself and walks back towards Steve.

As he approaches, Steve tries to slowly pull himself up into a sitting position, his arms shaking with effort. When Bucky reaches out to help him, Steve sends him a warning look so fierce that Bucky just raises his hands in surrender and backs away. He sits on the chair by the small table, stacked with books, old newspapers, letters, some of Steve’s sketches and who knows what else. While Steve eats, Bucky tries to tidy it all up, putting it all into nice piles and filling the quiet with mindless chatter. He tells Steve about the new Christmas tree they’ve put up at the docks, and about Becca’s new guy who seems decent enough to get Bucky’s approval of going out with his sister. Every once in a while, he throws Steve a quick glance. He tries not to sigh at the sight of Steve’s shaking hands or at the fact that he needs to take a little break every few sips as if even eating tired him out. Bucky doesn’t offer help, no matter how much he wants to. Steve would probably strangle him with his bare hands if he did, even in his current weakened state.

So Bucky doesn’t say anything about that, just keeps babbling nonsense, getting an occasional hum or a chuckle out of Steve. After a few more minutes, Steve buries himself back under the blankets.

“It’s very tasty but I’m full,” he says. “Give your mom my thanks when you next see her.”

“How do you know I didn’t make it?” Bucky asks in mock offense, putting away the leftover soup. “You were asleep for most of the day so you can’t be sure.”

“You’re a decent cook, Buck. But that’s way out of your league. You’ve reheated it like a champ, though!”

Bucky narrows his eyes at him and shakes his head. “You’re such a punk, Rogers. Now scoot over - for such a small person, you’re taking an awful amount of space. I’m cold and you have all the blankets.”

They both know it’s just a guise. There’s a perfectly good cover on Bucky’s bed on the other side of the room. Steve doesn’t protest though, just move forward a bit, leaving space for Bucky to slide between him and the wall. As soon as Bucky’s settled, Steve’s body goes lax next to him and he presses his back closer to Bucky’s chest. Automatically, Bucky wraps his arms around Steve’s middle. He rests his head on top of Steve’s, the soft fair hair tickles his cheek. Soon enough Steve’s breathing evens out. Bucky closes his eyes, but it takes him a bit longer to drift away, as he anxiously listens to all the hitches and rumbles in Steve’s breathing. At some point, still deep in his sleep,  Steve in his sleep wraps his long, delicate fingers around Bucky’s wrist. The touch soothing enough to let Bucky calm down and allow the sleepiness to finally take him.

As long as he holds Steve close to his chest, nothing bad can happen.

.

3. December 20th, 1938

There are blood stains on Steve’s white shirt. Some around his collar and some on his cuffs, which means that he managed to pack a punch or two before he got beaten up by whomever he started a fight with this time.

Bucky’s lips are set in a thin line as he tries to get a better look on Steve’s face to assess his injuries. Which wasn’t that easy considering that Steve is currently looking anywhere but at him. 

“Oh, for God’s sake, can you just—,” Bucky says angrily, gripping Steve’s chin and turning his face up. He might be furious that Steve has gotten into another fight, but his grip is gentle. The last thing he wants is to cause Steve more pain. But God knows how badly he wants to punch that reckless punk himself, sometimes.

Steve jaw is set and at first, he looks like he wants to free himself from Bucky’s grasp. Changing his mind, his eyes gaze right into Bucky’s, a challenging expression on his face. Bucky would laugh if it wasn’t for the state of said face.

The blood is most certainly coming from Steve’s split lip. Or maybe it’s from the deep cut on his left cheekbone, surrounded by a darkening bruise. There’s some dried blood under his nose, too. He doesn’t have a black eye this time, so that’s good. Although by the way Steve flinched when squaring his shoulders to look up Bucky thinks it’s a safe bet he got punched or kicked in the ribs. Bucky prays none of his fragile bones are broken.

The anger he felt dissipates, at least a bit. What’s left is worry — which Bucky tries to hide, knowing that Steve would just get annoyed at that – and affection. He stopped trying to hide the latter ages ago.

“Who was it this time?” Bucky sighs, absentmindedly swiping his thumb across Steve jaw, careful not to put pressure on any of the bruises.

“Some asshole, as always. He was shouting obscenities at a girl who didn’t want to go dancing with him or something and he tried to follow her home,” Steve says with a shrug, followed by a wince.

Bucky can’t stop another sigh that escapes his mouth. He really wishes the world would be a better place. A place where people weren’t harassed for no reason, so Steve didn’t feel obligated to help them. Damn Steve Rogers and all his righteous anger and his heart of gold.

“Sit down. I’ll clean you up, punk.” Bucky puts his hand down and takes a step back. When he sees that Steve opens his mouth — to protest, most likely — Bucky points a finger at him. “Don’t argue with me. I will kick your ass. Don’t think I won’t.”

Steve rolls his eyes but there’s a hint of smile tugging at his lips before he turns around and walks toward the bed. Bucky goes to get something to clean up Steve’s cuts.

“I can do it myself,” Steve says when Bucky’s back, reaching out for the wet cloth Bucky brought.

“Oh, I know you can. Just let me be useful since you’ve stolen all the glory, being a hero who saves ladies in distress and all,” Bucky responds, taking a gentle hold of Steve’s chin again.

“If getting beaten up and kicked like a dog is glorious, then yes, I guess I have. You’d be more of a help than I was, if you were there.” Steve’s smile is full of irony as he tries to look away but Bucky’s hand keeps him in place.

Bucky drops the hand that was gently wiping at the cuts on his face and waits. Eventually, Steve’s eyes land on him, probably wondering why Bucky stopped.

“You are worth dozens of men, Stevie. Dozens of me. You’re half my size but you saved so many people already. You’ve stopped that asshole from doing who knows what to this girl and gave her time to get home safely,” Bucky says, his voice steady and sure and his eyes never leaving Steve’s, no matter how Steve wants them to. “You always know the right thing to do, and I swear your heart is made of pure gold. If that’s not glorious, I don’t know what is. You’re incredible, Stevie and help me God, I’ll beat the shit out of you if you keep putting yourself down like this.”

Steve chuckles at the last part and opens his mouth as if to respond but closes it a second later. The smile he gives Bucky is shy and soft. Bucky’s heart aches to just lean down and close the remaining space between them. Instead, he lets go of Steve’s cheek and goes to wet the cloth again. It’s not necessary, but he needs to take a grip on himself before he does something stupid.

A few moments later all the blood is cleaned from Steve’s face, his nose turns out not to be broken this time and most of his cuts have mostly stopped bleeding. Bucky counts that as a win. 

“Take your shirt off,” Bucky says, trying not to blush. “Gotta make sure your ribs are in one piece.”

“Just admit you want to get me naked,” Steve replies without missing a beat. When the words leave his mouth, his eyes widen in shock, as if he wasn’t expecting to say them out loud. “I mean— I didn’t—,” he stammers.

Seeing how the blush colours Steve’s cheeks, still visible despite the bruising, and travels down Steve’s neck and past the collar of his blood-stained shirt, Bucky admits to himself that he is not as strong-willed as he liked to think. Sliding his hand down, Bucky traces Steve’s delicate collarbone with his thumb.

“To be honest, I’d prefer to do that for purposes other than checking if your ribs are intact,” he hopes he sounds nonchalant, but he can feel his cheeks are heating up. 

“Oh really?” Steve asks, cocking an eyebrow up. The challenging look is back, and Bucky is going to lose his mind if Steve doesn’t stop looking at him like that. All cocky and sure of himself, like his face is not beet-red at the moment.

Bucky clears his throat and picks up the cloth. “I guess we have to wait until your cuts and bruises are healed and check.”

Steve laughs, gripping a handful of Bucky’s shirt and tugging him lightly. “Can you— Just come here, you jerk. I’d get up but it really hurts, I think you should kiss it better.”

And Bucky does. He kisses Steve’s split lip and then very gently swipes his mouth across Steve’s cheekbone and jaw to go back to his lips a moment later. A giddy laugh escapes his mouth and he thinks that there’s no other thing he’d be doing. He is not naïve enough to believe Steve will stop coming home with bruises of all sorts, but Bucky will always be there to kiss them better.

.

4. December 1st, 2024

The room is quiet. Or relatively so, considering that Brooklyn rarely gets completely silent, even at night. But it’s quiet enough for Bucky to hear the change in Steve’s breathing, where he lays asleep next to him. He opens his eyes and turns around. Soon enough, Steve starts tossing and turning, his breathing becomes more erratic. All those sleepless nights, spent on anxiously waiting for Steve’s next breath, praying the next one would come are flooding Bucky’s memory. He’s not sure if it’s better now. Steve might not be physically fighting for his life now, but the night terrors that haunt him, certainly make him feel like he does.

Carefully not to startle Steve, Bucky places his flesh hand on his arm. He squeezes lightly and whispers Steve’s name. When it doesn’t help, he tightens his grip for a moment and speaks a bit louder. Steve breathing hitches and he goes still for a moment. But then a strangled cry escapes his lips and he tosses hard enough that it wakes him up. Immediately, he sits upright almost knocking Bucky down in the process and he pants heavily, looking around the room with wide, terrified eyes.

"Steve," Bucky says, trying to keep his voice calm. "It's OK. You're OK. We're in Brooklyn. It's 2024. You're safe, we're safe. Everything's fine, Stevie."

It's like a mantra that Bucky keeps repeating until Steve is able to take full, big breaths again. When he finally turns his head to look at Bucky, he looks scared and lost and it breaks Bucky's heart into pieces. Bringing his hands up, Bucky wants to stroke Steve's cheek in a comforting gesture. But before he has a chance to do that, a grimace crosses Steve's face and he quickly gets out of bed and rushes towards the bathroom. Bucky sighs at the sounds of retching he hears a moment later. He gets out of bed and follows Steve. With a voice no louder than a whisper, he repeats over and over those little affirmations he knows Steve needs to hear and believe anew as he gently rubs his back. 

It doesn't take long for Steve to calm down, but Bucky would gladly sit there all night if needed. Soon enough the dry-heaving stops and only a tiny sob comes out of Steve's mouth.  Bucky helps him to brush his teeth, since his hands are shaking so much it makes it impossible to get the toothpaste out.

After that, Bucky tangles their fingers together and walks out of the bathroom. Instead of going back to bed back to bed, he leads them to the kitchen. He turns on the small lamp by the couch as they pass it,mostly for comfort, since with their respective shares of the serum, navigating in the darkness is not much of a problem for them. The dim light softens the dark edges of the living room and open kitchen space.

Bucky puts the kettle on, his hand not leaving Steve's for a second. He smiles — a bit sadly — as Steve comes closer, and plasters himself to Bucky's back, wrapping his arms tightly around him.

Steve hides his face in the crook of Bucky's neck, right palm coming up to lay flat on Bucky's chest, right over his heart. Bucky takes slow, deliberate breaths, knowing that his calm will help Steve. So without a word, he lets Steve see and hear and feel that they're both alive and safe. That whatever haunted him in his nightmare is not real. At least not anymore.

Bucky brings Steve's left hand, the one he's still holding, up to his lips and places a kiss after kiss on  each of his knuckles. More reassurances are whispered right into Steve's warm skin. 

It's hard to tell how long they stay like this. The water starts boiling and the electric kettle turns itself off at some point but none of them as much as flinch at the sound. It could be hours and it could be mere minutes before Steve's muscles relax and his breathing finally steadies. While he doesn't let go of Bucky, he doesn't cling to him like a lifeboat anymore.

Slowly, Bucky turns around in Steve's arms. His hands gently cup his face and he rests his forehead against Steve's. 

"You're here," Steve says. The statement is just a shaky whisper and Bucky's not sure what to make of it, but he gives a small nod.

"I am. And I'm not going anywhere,"

"It's—," Steve starts, and then swallows. "You were— I thought—"

Leaning away just the slightest bit so he can look at Steve's face, Bucky shakes his head. "Shhh, Steve. It doesn't matter. It wasn't real. Don't torture yourself, love. We can talk about it in the morning if you want to, yeah?"

After a second, Steve gives a small nod. Even though the unease still hides in his eyes, he tries to muster a smile as he shifts his head and presses a kiss to the inside of Bucky's palm.

"Now, I'm going to make you a cup of tea because as Mrs. Rogers used to say—," Bucky says.

" 'A cup of Earl Grey always does more good than harm'" Steve finishes and closes his eyes but the smile grows a tad bigger.

"Bless her Irish soul," Bucky says with a smile of his own. "So I'm gonna make some and then we'll go back to bed. Or cuddle on the couch, or take a walk or whatever you want to do, OK?"

Steve looks up at him, his hand stroking lightly across Bucky's cheekbone. "I love you, Buck. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"And you'll never have to know. I'm not going anywhere, my love. I'll be right by your side for the end of time because that's where I belong. And we've proven enough times that there's not a damn thing that could change that.”

.

5. December 5th, 2025

Bucky was never the one to get sick. When he was a kid he had a bad cold maybe once or twice but it was all forgotten within a week or two. Which is pretty surprising, considering that he was hanging with Steve all the time but never managed to catch anything from him. Later, he has gotten the serum so getting sick stopped being a real issue for him.

So why does his throat feel all scratchy, his nose is too stuffy for him to take a single breath and he feels both hot and cold at the same time?

It's because the world hates him, that's why. There's also a teeny tiny chance that it has something to do with his and Steve's last mission.

They were trailing someone who aspired to create a biological weapon, as one does. It wasn't hard to locate this mad scientist's secret lair or to capture him. Overall it was a pretty simple mission and it was going really smooth. At least until they were to extract the highly reactive bio-bomb that — quite literally — blew up in Bucky's face. It was good he was alone in the room when that happened because as the Avengers-issued doctor has later told him, the substances implicit in the bomb would be lethal to regular people in the dose that attacked Bucky. But to someone enhanced the worst case scenario would mean a heavy case of flu that the organism would be able to fight, eventually.

So, of course, the worst case scenario is exactly what is happening now. Every single muscle in Bucky's body is aching, including the ones he wasn’t even aware existed. The sheets are drenched with sweat and he's still shaking under his layers of covers.

"Steve?" he calls miserably. His voice feels like sandpaper in his dry throat.

Not even a second passes before he hears footsteps and Steve enters the room.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks. There's a worried wrinkle between his brows.

Instead of answering Bucky let's out a little whine and pouts, looking up at Steve from where he's buried under the covers so only the upper half of his face is visible.

And what Steve does? The fucker laughs at him.

"Aren't you supposed to be taking a nap?" Steve asks, looking amused.

"I can't sleep," Bucky rasps out. "I'm uncomfortable and everything hurts and can I just die already?"

Steve laughs. Again. Really, Bucky can't fathom where people got the idea that Steve Rogers is all polite, nice and righteous all the time. He's the biggest asshole Bucky ever knew. 

"I figured you'd be dramatic when sick, but I didn't expect that," Steve says as he sits on the side of the bed. He reaches out with his hand and places it on Bucky's shoulder. It's pleasantly cool against his skin and Bucky closed his eyes and sighs.

"You're a dick," he mumbles. "Absolutely no compassion for the weak and hurting, I don't know how you can live like this."

As Bucky says that, Steve leans over and peppers his face — or at least the part not covered by the duvet — with little kisses. It's nice but Bucky's point still stands. Steve's a monster.

"You need anything?" Steve asks, gently stroking Bucky's hair.

"Yes." When Steve makes a questioning sound, Bucky continues, "the sweet relief of death, please."

Steve sighs heavily but when Bucky opens his eyes and looks at him, his face is both amused and fond. 

“I’m gonna make you some tea and soup, how about that?”

“Huh, so you are going to kill me?” Bucky raises an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t go for poisoning but if that’s—”

Not letting him finish, Steve just gets up and leaves the room. Bucky tries calling after him but he doesn’t get any response and he has a coughing fit after raising his voice, so he gives up.

.

This time Bucky might have actually fallen asleep. He’s not shaking as much so he figures the fever must’ve gone down a bit but now his head is throbbing so he’s really not sure which option he preferred. When he confusedly looks around the room, his eyes land on Steve. He’s back, sitting on the bed by Bucky’s side.

Did Steve wake him up? Now that Bucky thinks about it, he vaguely remembers someone shaking his arm. His point about Steve being a monster still stands.

“Why d’you wake me up?” Bucky whines. “You said I need sleep and now you won’t even give me fifteen minutes.”

“You’ve slept for over two hours, love,” Steve points out, his hand on Bucky’s cheek. “I’m only waking you up cause you’ve barely eaten today and I’ve made some soup.”

Bucky narrows his eyes at Steve. He looks at the clock on the bedside table, but since he has no idea what hour it was when he last talked to Steve, it’s pretty useless. He’s not really hungry, but he figures it’s a reasonable thing to do. So, with a loud groan, he pulls himself up into a sitting position. The monster beside him chuckles at that but actually helps him arrange the pillows so Bucky can sit comfortably and places the small bed tray in his lap.

Despite what Bucky said earlier, the soup is good. Recipes are probably the only rules Steve knows how to follow so he’s a decent cook and knows his way around the kitchen if needed. Bucky gladly eats the whole bowl, enjoying the way it soothes his sore throat. 

When he’s done, he thanks Steve, who takes away the bed tray and gets up, probably to take it to the kitchen. Before he can get up, Bucky grabs his hand.

“Stay with me for a bit?” he asks.

Steve’s face softens. He puts the tray down on the floor and gets in bed, lying on top of the covers next to Bucky. Soon enough Bucky is tucked safely into Steve’s arms and under his chin and he lets out a content sigh.

“You’re feeling any better, sweetheart?” Steve asks.

“I don’t know, I’m so miserable and tired all the time. I hate it so much,” Bucky whines. “Is that what you’ve been going through every time?”

“Mostly. I guess I was too used to this to complain much.”

“And too stubborn. You’ve never let other people see how bad it was,” Bucky points out.

“That, too,” Steve chuckles, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s forehead. “You always were able to make it easier, though.”

Bucky smiles, tucking his face further into Steve’s chest. He feels sleepy again but this time the warmth he feels is not caused by the fever. He mumbles into Steve’s shirt, not sure if the words his brain is trying to communicate are the same ones that his mouth says out loud. But judging by the way Steve’s arms tighten around him and by the “I love you, too” whispered into his hair, Bucky thinks they are. 

[pixie88]

Baby Shower

Chapter 7 - Together - Adam & Ellie.

A/N: This chapter is a fast forward. Rereading it seems like a filler but a fluffy filler! I’m loving my new collages!! SO PRETTY!!! I hope you like it!

Comments always welcome good or bad!

I am only tagging those who have asked to be tagged in this new series from now on as I don't want to annoying people with tags. So Let me know if you would like to be tagged and if I missed anyone sorry just let me know!

Find previous chapters HERE under Together - Adam & Ellie.

Word count: 1885

WARNINGS: ⚠️ Fluffy fluff, NSFW & adult language.

Pairings: Adam x Ellie.

Enjoy 😘

I've been home for 4 days now, I'm bored Adam is at work he wanted to stay home but I convince him that I am fine. But now? Now I'm bored! Daytime TV is awful, I decide to go for a walk. I pop into Bridezillas, Jess looks up at me as I walk into the shop "Hey Ellie! How are you feeling?" she has the most fake smile.

"Hi, I'm feeling OK, just bored!"

"I can imagine it must be just staring at 4 walls all day. Have you heard anything about what is happening to the girl that attacked you?"

"Erm, last I heard they were charging her. Adam is dealing with updates. Has it been busy?"

I don't know if it's real or fake but she gives me an apologetic look "Psycho, hopefully she'll get what's coming to her. Today has been pretty steady actually" the shop phone rings Jess smile and answers it.

I hear the shop door open and turn to greet what I thought would be a customer to be face with his 'Why aren't you resting, look' I feel like a kid being caught with her hand in the cookie jar "Ellie, what are you doing here? Why aren't you at home with your feet up?"

I give him my best pouty sad face "I was bored, so I thought I'd go for a walk and just popped in. How did you know I was here?"

He gives me that grin, "I was walking back from the shop, we needed more tea at work and I saw you in here"

Jess interrupts "Ellie, are you OK to keep an eye out here for a minute or two? Amy is on her break and I need to check out back if a customers dress has been altered?"

I look over my shoulder at her "Yeah, that's fine" She smiles before rushing out the back to the stock room.

"Busted then! I was just so bored I was going to go stir crazy just watching TV"

His arms come around me, his cheek bushes mine as he whispers against my ear "I could've kept you company, but you told me to go back to work!"

I laugh, "Adam!!" I playfully swat him.

"Back thanks Ellie!" Jess calls from behind.

"Right, come on I'm taking you to lunch"

"Oooo, can we go to The Grill? I'm really feeling a chicken burger! Oh, and ice! Baby wants ice!"

He laughs, entwines his fingers through mine and pulls me towards the door "Bye Jess!" I call over

"Bye!"

We get outside "I just need to pop these into the office" we walk over to his office, we get out the front then I freeze on the spot.

Adam turns to look at me, then it clicks and his face turns to concern "Ellie, beautiful! I'm sorry! You know what I'll leave these here and tell Rob there outside. Don't worry I won't let anyone hurt you or Charlie! I promise! Let's get you some lunch"

 ~*~*~*~

After lunch Adam drops me home, I'm looking round the spare bedroom we emptied a few weeks ago. We have the paint, furniture, and furnishings. Nina and Al decided to stay another week after my incident with Laura. I give Nina a text, half an hour later, Al and Nina arrive "Ellie, let's get start on this room" Nina rushes me upstairs. She paints not letting me help and Al puts together the furniture.

I hear my phone.

*1 New Message from Hubster*

[Hey yummy mummy, I hope you're at home resting! I will grab you a couple of bags of ice on the way home! x]

[Hi my gorgeous husband, I am! I've just grabbed one of your hoodies while the heating is heating up as I'm cold. I will send a photo as proof haha! You know how to make a girl happy, I just finished the bag we got at lunch :( xx]

I take a kissy-pouty face photo with his white hoodie in my hand to throw him off and hit send.

*1 New Message from Hubster*

[Beautiful! Probably all that ice you've eaten that's made you cold. OK, I'll get 4 bags might last until tomorrow at least. x]

[Haha, it probs is! I might get in bed until I warm up. Not a bad craving to have, can't put on weight eating ice! haha. We will see you later xx]

Later I'm just putting the vacuum round Charlie new bedroom, Nina and Al have, left as they have plans with Elaine.

"Ellie? Gorgeous? Are you here?"

I hear him call out as he comes in for work "I'm up here! Come up!" I call down, I rush out of the room and close the door.

He reaches the top of the stairs and turns to me "There you are!"

"I have a surprise for you!"

He narrow his eyes at me "Would it have anything to do with that paint on, your forehead?"

I touch my head (Crap!) "Ellie, what have you been up to?"

"Come here, cover your eyes and follow me!" I pull him with me as I open the door "You can't open your eyes until say!"

He grins, I pull him further into the room "Open them!"

He opens his eyes and looks round the room "Ellie, Wow! This is amazing!" he has the brightest smile, "Wait, you didn't lift that furniture did you?"

I laugh "No, of course not. I got your mum and dad to help. Your dad put everything together your mum painted the walls, I did offer to help but she would only let me make teas"

He wraps his arms around me "Ellie, it's perfect!" he claims my lips with his "Now, let me make you dinner!"

"No, Adam I'll make it! You've been at work all day"

He cups my face "And you're pregnant and came home only 4 days ago! I'm cooking no arguments" he kisses my lips softly. I know there's not point in protesting.

~*~*~*~

4 Weeks later.

He clutches my hips as I'm bouncing up and down him "Fuck baby! That's it ride me!" he pushes off the bed and sits up as pulls me to his lips.

I grasp his lip between my teeth, he groans and I let go before his lips kiss along my pulse line. He moves his hips up burying himself further into me "Yes! That's it! Oh!!" a wave of pleasure explodes between my legs and I hit my climax.

He drives into me a few more times before he hits his own.

I collapse onto him, he wraps me up into his arms "Do you have to go to work today?" I put on my pouty face.

He chuckles "Not had enough?"

I shook my head, "You will have so much more fun with me" I wink.

"I would but I'm busy at work" he kisses me gently before getting out of bed, he turns "But you can always join me in the shower!" he winks. I jump up, and he pulls me towards the bathroom with him.

After our shower we are in the bedroom getting dressed, I'm sat on the bed when I feel a flutter in my tummy (That's new) I rest a hand against my bump and I feel it "Adam!! He's kicking!" He spins round and rushes over to me, I take his hand and place it where I felt the kick.

*Kick!*

Adam felt it, his face lights up "He kicked!" then another and another. "Oh wow! This is amazing Ellie!" Adam's phone rings and rings and rings "Rob, what's up?...Yeah, of course. OK, I'll be right there!" he hangs up "I've got to go. I love you...the both of you" he kisses my cheek then my bump.

"We'll see you later!" I smile.

I have today off as Amy needed to swap days. Mum has invited me to lunch at the club, I take the train into the city centre.

[Hey husband! <<I don't think I'll ever get bored of calling you that! 5 weeks tomorrow you made me your proud wife! How's work? Not working to hard I hope?! You'll need your energy for later ;) Just on my way to mum's club for lunch. x]

*1 New Message from Hubster*

[Hello my beautiful wife < I won't get bored of calling you that either xx. Wow, feels like yesterday! Yeah, work is fine muddling through. Oh, will I now? Why would that be!? Have fun and think of me stuck here! xx]

[Good because that's my title until I'm 6 feet under! haha. Aww just think we could be in bed sweating, panting and screaming each others names...but you chose work. Because I plan you for you to fuck me all night! haha! x]

*1 New Message from Hubster*

[That won't be for a long time yet! Fuck picturing it now *boxers feeling tight!* I won't make that mistake again. I plan to keep you in bed until you're sore ;) I need to get back to work. I love you both xx]

[I could've helped with that....but I can't now. You better not!!!!!!!! Ooooh looking forward to it. We love you too x]

~*~*~*~

I get to the club and head inside.

*SURPRISE!*

I look around the room is decorated in blue balloons, it's a boy and baby shower banners! Everyone is here my mum, Tom, Amy, Justin, Elaine, Nina, Kerry and Adam. My emotions get the better of me and I burst into tears.

Mum rushes over to me "Oh, El's this was supposed to have the opposite effect"

I smell his aftershave then feel his arms wrap around me "Hey beautiful! No tears!"

I smile through the tears, he cups my face and wipes them away "Sorry, I just wasn't expecting this! It's such a lovely gesture!" I apologize.

I dry my tears and Adam leads me to a table "Was this your doing? I thought you were busy?"

"Hey Ellie, You can cry if your want to 1. it's your party and 2. you're pregnant, you can be emotional and no one can question it" Elaine calls over.

He gives me a smug smile, "I had to make you believe that because I needed to get here to help your mum. Do you really think I would have turned down a day in bed with you for work?"

I laugh, "I'll remember that next time! Your mum is here! She's racking up some air miles"

"When Mel mentioned it to me a few months ago I had a word with mum. I said she didn't need to come down, but she wanted to. I think she likes you more than me," he laughs, "But seriously she wants to be here in her words 'Adam don't be so silly this is my first grandchild I'm going to get on the first plane for everything, the birth, their first steps etc'"

I laugh, "Bless her!"

Later after gifts and food. I'm catching up with Tom "How are you feeling El's?"

"Like an emotional hippo!" He laughs, "So, it looks like you and Justin are over your little spat?"

"Yeah, El's there's something I need to tell you," he gives me a look I can't read.

"What? What is it?"

"El's, come on let's cut the cake!" Mum pulls me away before Tom can answer. (What does he want to tell me?)

Continue reading this story here - Chapter 8.

@lem-20 @khoicesbyk @aussieez @shewillreadyou @txemrn @irisofpurple

[spooks-and-tea]

Entangled (Spencer Reid x femReader)

Summary: You don’t know how it happened. One moment you were watching Criminal Minds, and the next moment you were literally in the show. Can Spencer be the key to helping you find your way back home?

Warnings: minor character death, mentions of su*cide, bad explanations of quantum mechanics, sexual situations, the usual criminal minds-type content

A/N: wow I’ve been on this site for ages, nearly as long as Criminal Minds was on air, lol, but this is my first fic posted here. I plan to make this one into a few parts if people like it. If this has any relation to other fics it’s not intended. Literally just an idea that popped in my brain. I’ll also eventually add it to my wattpad .@ kittentastic

Word Count: 3,119

Chapter 1.  Chapter 2.  Chapter 3.  Chapter 4. Chapter 5.  Chapter 6.  Chapter 7. Chapter 8.  Chapter 9.  Chapter 10.  Chapter 11.

It was an average, lonely, autumn night. Halloween was nearing and you didn't have anywhere to be. Long estranged from the people you once called family, and friends, you were starting a new life in L.A.

Yeah, you were one of those small-town girls with big-city dreams. You wanted to be an actress, a dream your father had once encouraged. When he suddenly died, you had nothing left but a new step-mother who discouraged your dreams and was more than happy to disown you when you reached 18 years of age; a classic Cinderella story.

It had taken a while, getting yourself through university and saving up enough money to move out to L.A. Now you were 27 and living your dreams...partly. You worked at a coffee shop in Hollywood; a great way to meet people that could potentially cast you in a big production, but that plan had yet to come to fruition. Every audition would have someone else in mind for the part.

Today, you had finished yet another round of auditions for everything from small commercial bits to tv shows. You poured yourself a glass of red wine after finishing your microwavable meal-for-one dinner. Wine would always be your go-to drink after your dissappointing days, it was great at helping you sleep. You clicked on the tv and sipped your drink from your criss-crossed sitting position and soon found a Criminal Minds marathon that was just starting. It almost seemed like fate as tomorrow you had an audition lined up for the very same show.

You smiled as the bright, happy, Penelope Garcia came into the shot, followed by the rest of the BAU. You absentmindedly bit your lip as Dr. Spencer Reid came into frame.

Like a large percentage of the show's viewership, you found the handsome genius slipping into one or two of your fantasies. You may have daydreamed about the Dr. being a real person and walking into your workplace to order coffee and whisk you off your feet. You may have also woken up from a few dreams involving the handcuffs he was currently restraining an unsub with.

You wondered if you would get the part. Would it be odd having to pretend this dream-man was real? You'd hope you could contain your blushing around Matthew at least.

You finished your drink and stretched out on the couch, already feeling your eyes growing heavy. You found your mind wandering as you grew more and more tired, hardly paying attention to the episode. The last thought you had before you drifted off was, "what if Spencer Reid was a real person?"

Bright lights of assorted colors and shapes danced behind your tired eyes. You felt a tugging sensation that seemed to pull you from your core. It felt warm and safe, like it wanted to protect you. A hum grew louder and louder in your ear canal, followed by a crackling wind. It was like an electric storm. The smell of coffee and a woodsy vanilla filled whatever place you were in. It was odd, you knew this, but you weren't scared. Something told you this was right. Your body began to rise higher and higher until a loud snap echoed around you, shattering your surroundings.

"Whoa, sleeping on the job now Y/N? Did someone tire you out last night?" A woman's voice broke through the fog as your mind caught up with you.

Wait, am I still dreaming? That voice...it sounds like...

"Pretty Boy, you wanna check her for a pulse?"

And that is definitely...

"I-I don't think that's necessary."

You slowly lifted your head and opened your eyes wide. Your blurred vision slowly grew used to the bright indoor lighting. Your eyes widened as you saw none other than JJ, Morgan, and Reid. Yes, the fictional characters were standing in front of you.

How was this even possible? You had to be dreaming, or maybe you were forgetting and you were at a very strange audition. Yes, that had to be it, logically.

"Good morning Sleeping Beauty. Rough night? I didn't think Reid's Doctor Who nights were that wild, I might have to tag along and chaperone you two next time." Morgan greeted with a teasing smirk.

"How late did you two go for last night?" JJ asked, leaning against the desk that you had been sleeping on, and sipping her coffee.

She directed the question to you, but you didn't remember this dialogue in the audition script. When you didn't answer, Spencer spoke up.

"She texted me when she got home safe at 9:43pm. I made sure she left early as the rain was starting up. Now, of course, she could have stayed up longer, but we continued to exchange texts until she texted me goodnight at 10:15pm."

"Goodnight texts? Remind me and JJ here why you two aren't dating again?" Morgan crossed his arms looking between you and Spencer.

You blinked, taking a chance to finally look around. There were no cameras in sight. Above you was a tiled ceiling with office lighting. No directors or normal-looking crew members were around.

"Matthew?" You asked, directing your question to a stuttering, red-faced Reid.

Everyone turned their attention back to you. Reid, or Matthew, raised his eyebrow at you. And turned to look if anyone was standing behind him that you could be talking to.

"Who is Matthew, Y/N?" He asks, cautiously.

Oh my god. I must be dreaming.

You stood up and slowly reached out to Reid, who was standing closest to you. You gently poked his cheek. He looked almost afraid at your actions.

"Spencer?" You lower your shaky hand. He felt real, he was standing in front of you. You could smell his morning coffee.

"Yeah?"

"Pinch me."

"What? Why?"

"So I know that I'm not dreaming." You could feel his eyes prodding you, profiling.

"Maybe we should get you to a doctor-"

You grabbed his wrist and placed his hand on your upper arm.

"Pinch me. Hard."

Spencer winced as he did what you asked of him. He obviously did not want to hurt you. You felt your nerves fire off in pulses of pain where he pinched. You sharply inhaled and he immediately dropped his hand.

"Oh my god," you stammered, "ohmygodohmygodohmygod."

This is real. Spencer Reid is real.

You slid back down in your chair and looked at an open mouthed JJ and Morgan, staring at you in shock.

"What kind of kinky shit are you two into?" Morgan narrowed his eyes at Reid.

"This is no time for teasing Derek. I think she's suffering from a concussion." JJ reached out, concerned, feeling your forehead for a fever.

"She doesn't have any visible signs of bruising. Y/N do you remember hitting your head on anything, or experiencing whiplash today?" Reid, growing serious turned your chair towards him, raking his fingers through your hair to check your scalp for any tender spots.

For a moment you had to stop yourself from sighing, it just felt nice, and it was Spencer.

"No I'm-I'm fine, my head feels fine." You answered.

"What's the last thing you remember doing?"

You bit your lip, should you answer him truthfully? How would you even explain something so illogical.

"I-I remember. I fell asleep on the couch watching tv." In a different reality.

"Do you think it's possible you rolled off of the couch in your sleep?"

You frowned to yourself.

"It's possible."

It's never happened before, but you suppose it would explain things. This was definitely a hallucination. Maybe it was one of those Spencer-centric dreams.

"Spence, I think you should take Y/N to the hospital. I'll cover for you with Hotch." JJ suggested.

Spencer nodded in agreement while Morgan looked worriedly at you. JJ got up from the desk to seek out Hotch in his office.

"Do you have your keys?" Spencer asked, still looking you over.

"Um-" you checked your pockets and sure enough found a ring of keys in your pants pocket. You dropped them into Spencer's outstretched hand.

"Can you walk?" Spencer's voice went softer.

You shivered as you did whenever you heard that tone on the show. He could make a living doing ASMR with that voice.

You stood with Spencer's unneeded, but much appreciated, help. He seemed to have no problem holding your hands to help you, something you considered to be out of character for the germaphobic Dr. Reid. Then again, the show did not go this long without it's occasional inconsistencies. Was your subconscious hallucination really thinking these things out?

You followed him to the elevator with ease, taking in your surroundings as you went. As the elevator doors closed, Spencer frowned at you once again.

"Your pupils have been dilated since you woke up." He spoke.

Yeah probably because the attractive genius I've been dreaming of for years is vividly realistic and talking to me.

"Is that a sign of head trauma?"

"Actually yes, you could be experiencing a sensitivity to light as a result of your head trauma. If that's the case, then you're in luck because it's been raining all day."

You followed Spencer out to your car, or at least you thought it was your car. You didn't exactly own one before dropping into this hallucination world. You were saving up for one, but didn't really need it as you lived close to your job and took public transit when you needed to go further distances. This car was nice, you supposed the dream BAU job payed well.

Spencer drove you to the hospital and waited in the waiting room as you received a full check up and MRI. You hoped he wasn't too bored waiting. As the doctor returned with your results you asked if Spencer could come in to hear the diagnosis. The doctor asked if he was family and you lied saying he was your fiancé. The doctor really didn't seem to care and Spencer was allowed in. He looked confident, prepared to discuss anything scientific that you may not understand yourself.

"Well Y/N, after reviewing your MRI scans and testing results, I can confidently assure you that you are perfectly healthy. We can order some blood tests for you if you wish, but from the concussion symptoms you thought you had, and from the results I have in front of me, I don't believe they are necessary." The doctor said with a smile, probably just happy to be delivering some good news.

"That can't be right." You shook your head and frowned.

"Y/N was clearly exhibiting fatigue, light sensitivity, memory loss, and confusion at work. If she's not concussed, what is wrong with her?" Spencer asked.

"I'd say your fiancé is simply experiencing the effects of exhaustion and a lack of sleep. My advice? Take her home and let her rest."

Spencer firmly shut his mouth as the doctor said "fiancé."

The doctor turned to you. "If you'd like, I can perscribe you a sleeping sedative."

You shook your head "no." You couldn't believe it; you'd slept at a reasonable hour, and you didn't feel fatigued.

Everything was starting to feel so real. The warmth of Spencer sitting so close to you felt real. The rain that fell on your skin felt real. The medicinal scent of the hospital made your feel sick. You could only think of one final way to try to wake up.

"Spencer can you stop somewhere for me?" You asked as he drove you home.

"Sure."

"Is there a lake near by?"

"Yeah...you don't remember? You've jogged on the trails near it with JJ and Morgan."

"Can you take me there? There's something I need to do."

You were beginning to grow used to the worried look on his face. The way his eyes softened reminded you of a puppy.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to you. If this was a dream concocted by your brain, wouldn't Spencer be a bit more romantic? In your dreams he could range from a hardcore, post-prison, genius, bad boy to a nerdy romantic, but he was always, obviously, interested in you right away. This Spencer seemed to be your friend, just your friend. By now he would've usually confessed his undying love and maybe taken you in the back seat of your car. Yeah, you weren't the most creative person. What kind of dream was this?

You felt a blush coming on as Spencer side-eyed you. Your brain would never torture you with a long-con, would it?

Spencer took you to the lake, walking beside you without a word, most likely thinking you were going crazy and in need of sleep. You walked to the edge of the trail and looked down at the lake. It was a ways down, the point you were standing was more like a cliff. You determined that the water must have been about a 6 second drop down for someone your size

"Y/N, why did you want me to take you out here?" Spencer asked as he eyed the waters below.

You stayed silent as you took a few steps back. You took a deep breath, and before you could second-guess yourself, you ran to the edge of the cliff and jumped.

"Y/N!" Was the last, panicked thing you heard before the body of water came rushing towards you.

Your body submerged in the icy cold water and sunk deep down from the speed at which you fell. All you could hear was the echoing pressure of the water against your eardrums. This was your last resort. You knew if anything could wake you up, it would be this, your biggest fear.

Your father had drowned, he worked on a fisherman's boat and a storm had overturned the ship far out in the ocean. All that had been recovered was assorted pieces of the ship's wreckage. You'd never even had the chance to learn how to swim as the fear had already settled in before your step-mother could arrange lessons.

If you could drown in this confusing dream-world, maybe you would wake up in time for your Criminal Minds audition.

Your lungs protested as you let yourself sink. You closed your eyes and let your muscles relax. Your head screamed at you, telling you that you absolutely should not be doing this. Fear prickled at your skin. Why did this feel like you were actually dying?

A heartbeat later, you heard the water's surface explode above you, but you didn't have the strength to look up. Your brain processed something wrapping around you and tugging you up, but you could not open your eyes to see what it was. You held on to your last bit of consciousness as you breeched the surface of the water and felt the chilly air assault your skin.

Arms pulled you somewhere. Your body was dragged up something solid, the backs of your legs scraped against rocks. It must have been land. Hands applied pressure, pushing like a heartbeat against your center, you could hardly feel it. A hand held your mouth open while another pinched your nose closed. Lips pushed, rushed, against your own as air was forced back into you. The hand left your mouth and returned to pumping.

"Come on. Come back to me Y/N. Please." Pleading followed by more air.

The strange entity repeated the process once more before you felt everything come up, forcing you back to reality.

You coughed and choked up water and bile; the rain washed it all away. Your lungs were aching and your skin was ice cold. The only warmth was what lingered from the person's lips. A hand pat and rubbed your back, helping you cough up everything. When it was all over your whole body was shivering. Your muscles gave out and a pair of arms wrapped around you, holding you up.

"Y/N."

You weakly turned your head.

Spencer. He's still here. He's really here.

He was soaked, hair ringlets stuck to his face, and his eyes were rimmed red. He looked like an angel, hand carved by Michelangelo himself.

Your brain was trying to catch up with his words.

"Y/N, I need to get you back to the car before we both go into hypothermia. Can you walk?" He asked through chattering teeth.

Your throat was killing you, so you opted for just shaking your head "no" in response.

"I'll have to carry you then, okay?"

You nodded, doubtful he could, especially in his weakened state.

He stood, grabbing his bearings before scooping you up. You weakly held his neck and lay your head on his shoulder. Your pain was numbed, you knew, from the biting cold.

Spencer managed to carry you all the way back to the car, placing you gently in the backseat and turning the heat all the way up. He climbed in the backseat with you and began to remove his jacket and tie.

"We have to remove our clothes, they're soaking wet and we have to warm up. Do you need me to help you undress?" There was no hint of teasing or slyness in Spencer's voice. He was completely serious and you knew he was right.

"I-I can't. Everything is numb." You managed to croak out, wincing at the pain it brought your throat.

"Alright, um- I'll only remove your shirt and pants."

You nodded, weakly.

Spencer removed his own shirt before carefully lifting yours over your head. He made sure to keep his eyes on your face as much as possible and not linger his gaze anywhere else. Next he removed your shoes, socks, and peeled your pants down your legs. You managed to arch your back slightly to help him. Lastly, he removed his own pants and threw all the clothes in a pile on the floor of you car.

"I'm going to hold you now, if that's alright. We need each other's body heat." Spencer looked less confident now. You managed to nod a "yes."

If you weren't so close to death, you knew your brain would be shorting out at the thought of being held by a half-naked, and very real, Spencer Reid.

He helped you lay down across the seats and settled in next to you. He wrapped his arms around you and rubbed his hands along your shoulders and back in an effort to warm you and massage your tensed muscles.

A few minutes of this went by before you could finally move. You wrapped your arms around Spencer, holding him close as his body warmed your own, and you cried against his chest.

One thought repeated over and over again in your head.

This is real.

You worked for the BAU and Spencer Reid had just saved your life. 

Next Chapter

[beautifulletdownfics]

Sail The Widest Stretch || Part 6

Go here for story menu including further links to things like playlist & mood boards.

Read Part 1 Here Read Part 2 Here Read Part 3 Here Read Part 4 Here Read Part 5 Here

++

Part Six, Existential Crisis Club, Lifetime Membership

To celebrate Harry's thirty-second birthday, they get dinner before the quiz.

"Hi," Amelia calls gently, ten steps from where Harry is standing waiting for her in the foyer to her office building.

Harry's head snaps up, happy surprise lighting up his features, "Hi yourself," He smiles, slips his phone into his pocket and winds an arm around Amelia's waist. The kiss he presses to the shell of her ear is sweet but surges with an undercurrent of intimacy, "You look beautiful.”

"You look quite handsome yourself," Amelia returns boldly, "Was admiring you as I came over."

"Oh you were, were you?" Harry kinks his head to one side as mischief plays in his eyes, "You can just tell I've got a heart of gold from the other side of the room, can't you?"

Amelia laughs, "Yeah," She nods, blushing, "You can. Anyone who can't see it must be mad. Happy birthday."

Harry kisses above her right eyebrow, "Thanks. C'mon, let's go to the pub. You're gonna give me an ego."

They pick a pub halfway to the one in Brixton they'll go to after for the quiz. Harry's been living through an intense craving for a chicken pie, and Amelia's happy enough choosing from the limited menu of fried, salty meals. She hasn't eaten like this in a while. There's a quiz at this pub tonight too, so Harry and Amelia find a table right at the back of the pub, away from the chatter of teams of friends meeting early for a few pints. Amelia feels his knees pressed against hers under the table and neither pull away from the contact. It's steadying. She likes it.

He's just finished telling the story of how he got the small, blue bruise under his eye the night before during his indoor football match when Amelia's phone rings.

Hannah.

"You can answer it, if you need to," Harry's seen the name on the screen and the way Amelia was about to silence the call before she saw who it was, "Answer. Could be important."

Harry had no idea how important it might be, she smiles meekly, "I think I do need to get it, sorry."

"Don't apologise, I'll go get us another round."

He leaves the table, and Amelia answers the call from Hannah, who tells her she's been asked to have another breakfast meeting with the CEO, Steven, this time through their assistants. Amelia's glad she already spoke to Hannah about the whole thing.

Harry prepared to wait at the bar until he sees Amelia's call end. But she's sitting looking at the cutlery on the table before the barman has finished pouring the drinks. She's been in a happy mood so far, for the first time Amelia hasn't needed the first hour to warm up to him again. Harry gets the sense they've built the level of comfort between them so much now it doesn't fade with a few days apart. He's glad for it. Doesn't really care that he was the one to initiate his own celebratory dinner with her.

"Everything okay?" He asks as he sits down, handing her the glass of white.

She nods, "Another breakfast tomorrow."

Harry's eyebrows raised, "Meetings out of work hours … You getting headhunted or something?"

"No," Amelia shakes her head, relieved she can't be accused of lying just yet. "Not getting headhunted. It's internal."

He doesn't pick up the clue. Instead, Harry watches her over his glass, "What are you doing this weekend? A few people are coming over for drinks on Saturday … For my birthday. I'd like it if you came."

"I'll come," Amelia tucks her hair behind her ear, "Can I make you a cake?"

"That would be brilliant," He's turned red, "At what age am I too old for a birthday cake?"

"I'll let you know when you get to it," She replies quickly.

Harry watches her go quiet, and he briefly looks at her phone like it might tell him what changed. He's been looking forward to seeing her all day, and really, he can't believe his luck Amelia agreed to this. It's their first date. Or he's counting it as such. Her breakfast in the morning might ruin his plan to steal her for the night after the quiz though. Which is a damn shame because the white dress pants she's wearing make her arse look fantastic and Harry's desperate for a private moment so he can run his hands all over her.

"Do you know who I spent twenty-five minutes talking about on the phone with Hazel the other night?"

Amelia looks up at him and gives him a coy smile Harry wishes he could bottle, "Who?"

"Dora the Explorer," Harry says flippantly, waiting a beat before he continues, "And then at least another forty minutes talking about you."

She's laughing again, and Amelia shrugs at him, "I can't help my appeal, Harry."

His eyes crinkle, "Wouldn't have you any other way … Haze's truly obsessed with you. Gemma printed out photos from her party, and apparently one of you and Hazel made the fridge."

Amelia's eyebrows rise, "I made the fridge?"

"Yes, and I didn't. I'm extremely bitter about it." Harry's really playing it up for her, "You should really be grovelling right now."

She crosses one leg over the other in a deliberate move to catch his eye, raises her wine glass to her lips and then looks at Harry from under her lashes, "If I'm honest, I'd prefer to grovel later tonight."

He's floored. Completely floored. His gaze lingers on the way her hips are eventuated by the new position she's sitting in, and Amelia's blouse shifts to show the top of the curve of her left breast and Harry's… He snaps his eyes back to her face and finds her a little, smug smile on her face. The heat still sits behind her eyes.

"You're a fucking menace," Harry accuses, almost needs to adjust himself in his trousers.

Keep your bloody cool, mate, he thinks.

"I've got a gift for you at home," Amelia continues, not batting an eye at Harry's fluster. "For your birthday."

He narrows his eyes at her, "Keep this up, Amelia, I dare you."

++

Harry watches Amelia the whole quiz.

When they arrive the only two spots left on the table are opposite each other, so Harry can't touch her thigh or take her hand in his like he'd done the week before. Instead, he watches Amelia scribe for the team, the only part of her Harry can reach is nudging her foot with his under the table.

She's different this week. Amelia banters with him on a few of the answers, and it strikes him that she looks positively radiant and buoyant under the dim pub lighting. Usually, she crawls in on herself on Thursday nights and Harry's only chance at Amelia the Spectacular is going home with her after. This week though she's different. Sitting between Grace and Deon, he almost thinks she's enjoying herself. Amelia writes 'Pin The Tail On Harry' as the team name for the quiz, reminding the table it's his birthday and earning him a shoutout from the quizmaster.

The air sizzles between them, and maybe Harry's just imaging it, that the flirting game they started at dinner is continuing and Amelia's out of her shell for him. Perhaps he's imagining the heated glances and lusty looks he gets every now and again from Amelia, and they aren't really there at all. But, he thinks they are.

Grace gives Amelia a peculiar look when, for the third time, Amelia laughs at something Harry says, "You're bloody chirpy tonight, really rubbing it in."

Marc makes a comment about a six-figure salary making him chirpy too. Amelia ignores the comment, mainly because it's nowhere close to being accurate. Harry barely holds his tongue.

Amelia's smile falters slightly at Grace's angry tone though, and she looks at the girl sitting next to her, "It's Harry's birthday … What are you going on about?"

Grace crosses her arms over her chest and turns away, "Don't worry."

Even though Amelia knows it's a ploy, she still takes the bait, "What's wrong, Grace?"

"You haven't even noticed Luke's not here, none of you has!"

Amelia bites her lip. She did notice, she just didn't ask about it. Harry watches Amelia's guilty look from across the table and has to fight the scowl when he looks at Grace, "Figured you'd say something if there was anything to it … Is he alright?"

"I wouldn't know, would I?" Grace hisses at Harry, "He fucking broke up with me, didn't he!"

Harry's surprise is genuine, "I'm sorry, Grace, that's miserable."

Amelia reaches for Grace's hand and squeezes it gently, "Yeah, that sucks, Grace. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Grace sniffs petulantly, and nobody believes that she's done talking about it, but the next round starts and the room goes quiet around them.

Amelia isn't sure what to do about Grace. The next round, she tries to figure out what the best course of action is between scrawling down answers and telling herself to ignore the way Deon's sitting a little too close. His date left about half an hour into the quiz, clearly not interested in spending any further time with him. He's not usually invested in the quiz at all, but this week he's leaning over her shoulder and telling Amelia she's got artistic handwriting. Whatever that means.

The rest of the quiz passes with an air of awkwardness, and even though they come second, nobody really celebrates it. The prize voucher is given to Grace so she can drown her sorrows at the bar next week. Amelia gives her a hug as they all leave, mentioning the Saturday pilates class Grace won't come to. Amelia doesn't say anything to Harry but knows he'll be leaving in the same direction as her.

Harry doesn't touch her until they're around the first corner, but as soon as he can he sides up to Amelia and laces his arm over her shoulder, "Do I get birthday cake tonight as well?"

"You do actually," Amelia sounds surprised he's asked but Harry's more surprised by her answer.

"I do?"

She laughs, "I might have something up my sleeve for you."

Harry's arm drops in favour of taking one of her hands in his, "To be clear we're not talking in euphemisms, are we? You genuinely mean cake?"

Amelia's other hand comes over and swipes at his tummy, "Yes, I mean cake!"

He grabs it and kisses the back of her knuckles as they walk into the tube station, he murmurs against her skin, "Let's skip the quiz next week, hmm?"

When they get to Amelia's house, it's not the same as the first time Harry came home with her. They haven't stopped for a drink on the way, and when Amelia unlocks the door, there's no pushing each other up against the walls. Harry kicks off his shoes and leaves his work bag at the door, follows her into the kitchen where Amelia leaves her handbag on a stool and sheds her coat to the sofa. He throws his on top of it with his suit jacket. There's a comfortable quiet about them, an intimacy Harry wouldn't trade for anything.

Harry flips the kettle on and turns around to watch Amelia pulling off her heels and stretching her toes on the carpet in relief. She's switched on a lamp in the living room and then comes back to open the fridge, turning back with a small box in her hand and a smile on her face.

"I really hope I have some birthday candles somewhere."

His hip is pushed out of the way so Amelia can rummage through her kitchen draws in search of something celebratory for the top of the cupcake she brought at lunchtime. A little victory cry fills the kitchen when she pulls out a single yellow, striped candle.

"Lemme see," Harry's pushing his nose over Amelia's shoulder to try to see what's in the box.

She raises her elbow to block him, snaps the lid closed and turns around, "No, you've got to wait."

Harry can't remember being quite so happy as he is right now. He grins at her and traps Amelia where she is by leaning his palms against the bench on either side of her hips, "You're adorable, know that?"

Her cheeks stain pink, and she pushes him away with her elbows against his chest, "Back up, do you want cake or not?"

He hums to himself and doesn't say the dirty thing he'd actually prefer, instead Harry turns around and makes them both a tea. Behind him, Harry hears the distinct noise of a match being lit, and then Amelia tell him he can turn around.

"Happy birthday to you," She starts singing, immediately regretting it but unable to stop now. Harry beams at the scene he turns around to, Amelia's face lit up from below and her blush taking over her chest now too, "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear, Harry …"

"Happy birthday to me!" Harry sings the last line with her, lunging forward with his face to take a bite out of the side of the small, chocolate cupcake she's holding out, the yellow candle standing proudly atop.

Amelia screams when Harry's mouth wraps around the cupcake, and he catches it with both hands just as she's about to drop it in surprise. He munches on his mouthful happily and takes Amelia against his chest with his free arm, offering the cake to her. She's wriggling and shaking her head which only makes Harry tilt the treat closer to her mouth until eventually, Amelia has to relent and take a bite. Harry makes sure to push a little icing to her nose before taking a far-too-large second bite himself.

"Tastes pretty good, yeah?" He asks through a chocolatey grin, watching Amelia struggle to keep the cake in her mouth. Harry leans forward and licks the icing from her nose, loving the look of surprise that takes over her face, "Icing's the best bit, babe, can't let it go to waste."

"I'm glad you're enjoying it," Amelia pretends she's not completely melted in his arms, swallowing thickly, "I nearly choked just then."

Harry's dimples pull at his cheeks, "I'd resuscitate you, you're in safe hands."

Amelia can't think of a way to add to the joke, all she's thinking is that she does feel safe with Harry. Or something like it. She feels the absence of the weight of her world, which she figures must be something close to feeling safe.

"I got you a gift too," Amelia pulls away to retrieve a small yellow bag from her coffee table. When she comes back over to him, she slips right back into the same spot in front of him.

Harry takes the bag from her and tilts his face down to hers with a teasing grin, "What? Hazel gets a gift from Paris, best you can do for me is Selfridges?"

"Okay," Amelia mouths the word and raises her features, looks out of over the apartment in faux awkwardness, "Doesn't like gifts. Noted."

He laughs and thanks her for the gift, insists she didn't need to get him anything. He pulls out the two silk ties he immediately knows will become his favourites and thanks her profusely, loving the thought of Amelia shopping for him.

"Happy birthday," She settles with, unsure of what else to say other than tilting her chin up and looking at Harry's mouth.

It's a cue he takes, revelling in the way Amelia crosses her arms around behind his neck and as soon as their mouths touch she sighs against him. Harry presses his hips into hers tightly, abandons the last of the cupcake onto the bench behind her and pulls Amelia closer. Their tongues tangle hotly, and Amelia brings her hands down to cup Harry's cheeks, loving the closeness and the way she can feel how his body responds to hers. Her legs are pulsing, and she feels excitement build in her belly.

"Fuck," Harry breaths out, his forehead pushed to hers as they sway in the kitchen light, "It never stops feeling like I'm on fire with you."

Amelia's fingers tuck into the front of his trousers, pulling his shirt out from where it was neatly tucked in. She's observing his face for his response, Harry's eyes close when Amelia tugs his zip, and her hand sinks down into his pants to take hold of his hard cock. He bites his lip when he opens his eyes again to watch her, trying desperately to let the moment play out slowly, instead of taking over and having her as urgently as he wants to.

When Amelia goes to pull his trousers down Harry's quick to cover her hands to stop the movement, "I swear to god, Amelia … Jesus, let's… You'll ruin your fucking knees on the tiles."

She sees he's being serious and can't help the laugh that comes from her, "Well, I'm obviously not as good at that as I thought. You're entirely too coherent."

"Only just," He returns quickly, "Upstairs, c'mon."

A few moments later, Harry's sitting shirtless in only his briefs at the end of Amelia's bed. She's emerged from her walk-in wardrobe with just her shirt and knickers on. Harry almost whines about the white trousers that captured his attention all night are gone. But his gaze fixes on her thighs and hips and his mouth shuts the hell up.

"Didn't want anything getting on them," She gives him a pointed look, walks over and settles between his knees, "And they're a bitch to iron."

Harry traces his fingers up the back of her legs, slowly feeling up her thighs and over the curve of her backside. The shape of her is mesmerising, his Amelia the Seductive. She sinks down, and Harry's hands end up on her shoulders, he turns them over to scratch lightly at the nape of her neck.

"Are you happy with where my knees will be now?"

"Perfectly," He smiles at her, anticipation clenching at the muscles of his stomach and causing him to twitch in his pants.

"Stand up," Amelia says quietly, waiting for him to move before ridding Harry of the last garment he's wearing. When he sits again, she takes him in one hand and latches the other on the top of his thigh. She hears Harry take in a breath and smiles to herself as her tongue takes the first delicate swipe at the tip of his hard length.

Harry's so enthralled watching her he can barely breathe. She's using her mouth in ways that are turning Harry on so unbelievably he feels like he's going to explode in only a few minutes. Amelia's fingers tease while her mouth applies sinfully perfect pressure, sucking and lapping at any spot she discovers is sensitive. Harry doesn't last very long at all before he can feel an orgasm building. So much of him wants to surrender to it, but his hands move to her jaw to still her. Amelia's mouth releases him, and Harry can barely stand the sight of her swollen, red lips.

"C' mere," He pulls her up and Amelia's dropping her knickers to the floor as she does so, following Harry as he lies down after shuffling up the bed. "You're fucking gorgeous, know that?"

"You're not too bad yourself," She whispers back, stealing a kiss that Harry gives freely. She rests her thighs on either side of his hips, and Harry looks up at her, completely done for. Amelia has her hands tracing the lines of his chest, watching the way he holds in his breath the lower they get.

"Are you wet for me, baby?" Harry asks gruffly, fingers digging into her sides, willing her to angle her body down slightly so he can feel himself against her slick core. "Let me feel it."

Amelia dips her hips back in exactly the movement Harry wished for, and they both gasp at the sensation of her wet heat coming into contact with his cock. She swivels her hips gently, watching Harry beneath her and feeling a settling degree of power over the situation. His eyes are closed, and Amelia can tell Harry's holding back to prolong it all, but she's taking delight in trying to push him to madness.

It's working.

"I swear to god …" He's cottoned on to Amelia's little game and holds her hips more forcefully, stilling her when he feels his head slide against her clit. She jerks slightly, and there's some resistance against Harry's hands, but he holds her there, "Feel good?"

"Yeah," She breathes out, voice shaking and her hands gripping at Harry's ribs. "Fuck."

Harry gets a face-full of her chest in the next moment as Amelia leans up over him for her bedside draw. She's still wearing her work shirt and bra, and Harry manages to nuzzle his nose between her breasts. His hands land on her arse and dip down between her legs as he hears her rustling around, just as his fingers grace the seam of her slit Amelia's back with a condom between her pointer and middle finger.

They both watch her tear the packet and then move her body down Harry's thighs so she can see what she's doing. A (painful, for Harry) moment later he's covered and Amelia's rising back up over him. She tucks her hand down between them and runs it down the length of him.

"You good?" Amelia asks, holding her lips against the side of Harry's mouth. He nods against her and takes her mouth with his as Amelia lines him up and slowly sinks down. Her body takes him pleasantly, but Amelia holds back from going too fast, purely so Harry feels every inch.

"Shit," He pants against her lips, hands sliding up under her shirt to squeeze at her breasts, "You're so fucking … Ah, Jesus Christ."

Amelia sits up, letting the new position naturally press them closer where their bodies join. Harry fumbles for the buttons on her top and urges Amelia to help him take it off. Her breasts strain against the beige lace of her bra and Harry briefly thinks it's lingerie beautiful enough to leave on. But Amelia reaches around behind her back, the bra falls away, and Harry groans in appreciation.

The image of her slowly riding him is one he knows he'll carry to his grave.

++

Harry gets an invite to Friday drinks at Amelia's.

He arrives after everyone else because he went home to change out of the suit he recycled from the day before. All day at work he fought with himself to stop reliving his night with Amelia in too much detail. He feels the pleasant tension and tightness in his thighs and stomach and hopes Amelia feels as satisfied as he does.

Hannah opens the door to him, and after they exchange pleasantries as Harry takes off his coat, her gaze drops to the overnight bag in Harry's hand, "Oh, I didn't get a sleepover invite."

Harry catches the teasing look in her eyes, and he feels caught, wondering how much Amelia has said to her friend. It could just as easily be his gym bag, but something tells Harry that Hannah knows he stayed the night.

"You left your scarf here," She says eventually, "I know Amelia's wardrobe like my own, and she does not have a grey scarf … And the look on your face right now tells me my guess was spot on. Eek!" Hannah claps her hands together and steps closer to Harry, dropping the volume of her voice, "Can I please go on record and say this is very good. Very very good."

"Sorry," Harry scratches the back of his neck uncomfortably, "What's very good?"

"You and Amelia," Hannah exclaims quietly, "Dale and I … Well, mostly me, worry about her and her whole 'No Dating' thing, which if you ask me, is completely stupid coming from probably the most phenomenal woman I know … Anyway, the two of you … So bloody good."

Harry watches Hannah realise she's probably said too much, but he has to know more, "She's not been with anyone—

—Oh, she'll hook up to scratch the itch, you know," Hannah speaks over him, "But Amelia categorically doesn't date. Ever."

Before Harry can ask anything else, Amelia herself appears further down the hallway, a breathtaking smile on her face. Harry sees she's dressed down in jeans and a knitted jumper as well, "You two coming in or what?"

Hannah leaves him standing in his spot, and it takes Harry a few seconds to walk towards Amelia, who notices the bag in his hand, their conversation from that morning playing in both their heads. The invite to Friday night drinks also came with an invite to stay the night. Harry held images of making her breakfast again in his mind all day, well, when he wasn't imaging going down on her in the shower again.

"Thought about you all day …" He teeters off at the end, feeling a blush come over his cheeks. He desperately wants to ask about her breakfast with the CEO but doesn't.

Amelia smiles at him, "You too. C'mon, do you want a glass of wine? Or something stronger?"

"Stronger, please," Harry swallows thickly, following her perky arse into the kitchen and struggling to tear his eyes from her as the other bodies in the room come into sight, and Amelia introduces him around.

Harry falls into easy conversation with Dale, Hannah's boyfriend, who seems to be equally taking shelter on the outer of the room. Amelia's kitchen and living area is full of happy people, more than a few of whom Harry's never met before, but he's grown used to that now. Somewhere along the line, Amelia filled her world with people Harry didn't know.

Amelia's sitting on her sofa talking to Hannah, but really she's watching Harry talk to Dale. Something close to guilt hangs from her chest, watching him there. Particularly because Hannah is still fishing for more about the interview Amelia had today. She spent two hours in a boardroom putting herself forward for a promotion she's not sure she wants or is equipped for. At every stage though, Amelia's had those more senior than her telling her how invaluable the experience will be.

Amelia thinks it went well, which is worrying her.

"Should we do shots?" She shouts, not really knowing where the suggestion came from, only that Amelia feels like she needs something to settle the jitters inside her. Something more to forget the work week and step into the weekend.

Amelia ends up in the kitchen with Dale who has found limes and is quartering them beside her because he knows the only liquor she has appropriate for shots is tequila.

"Han said you had your big interview today, how did it go?" He's kept his voice low, and Amelia appreciates it.

Still, she looks up to make sure nobody else is listening in. Everyone's busy in the living room, "I hated it," Amelia tells Dale honestly, "But it went well. All really positive … I'm terrified."

Harry's watching the quiet conversation Amelia and Dale are having in the kitchen and wishes like anything he knew what they were talking about. Dale's leaning against the bench facing away from him as he talks to Amelia so Harry can't try to lipread. All he has to go off is Amelia's expression as she deposits a row of shot glasses onto her chopping board and lines up the cut limes. She's frowning but nodding along to whatever is being said to her. Eventually, Amelia looks up and gives Dale a grateful smile. Harry sees her say thank you and what he swears is 'We'll see what happens' and he hopes they're not talking about him and Amelia. He'd like to think she's got more faith in him than that.

When she comes back over to the group, Harry watches as the effects of the tequila take hold. Amelia flourishes in front of him as a board game is brought out and they're suddenly a team in Trivial Pursuit. He lives for the moment Amelia chooses him to be her teammate, telling the group her and Harry simply aren't allowed to not be a team when it comes to trivia. Amelia rambles her way through telling everyone how they met at Uni and have been doing pub trivia once a week ever since. Really Harry's watching her banter with her friends, loudly accusing another team of cheating or sharing in the private jokes of the group. Not even when they were drunk at parties together at Uni did Harry ever see this side to Amelia. This isn't Amelia the Elegant or Amelia the Fragile—she's not any of the Amelia's he's ever met before.

Amelia the Vivacious, Amelia the Effervescent, he thinks.

At one point a particular song plays over her Google Home, and Amelia gets Hannah up to dance for a chorus. Harry's sure that her friends have noticed the way he can't take his eyes off her. They're probably wondering who the hell this bloke is Amelia's invited in who lives in a constant state of Guppy Mouth, just watching her live. That's Harry, the Weird Old Friend Whose Jaw Lives on the Floor.

They have rushed, feverish sex in the kitchen and then again in Amelia's bed once everyone's gone home. Harry can't get enough of her, and Amelia is happy to give. She's felt Harry's eyes on her the whole evening and finds the distraction of his tongue in places she swears it belongs takes some of the edge off the throbbing in her head and the anxiety pooling in her belly.

It's 3am before Harry falls asleep, Amelia's curled into his side in her sleep, and if he wasn't so physically spent he might stay awake to drink in more of the moment. Drink in more of the different sides of Amelia that are suddenly opening out to him like a maze on the back of a cereal box. Harry can trace from the centre out through a dozen paths, so far he's getting dead ends, but each little journey from her heart is revealing more, and Harry doesn't mind feeling like he'll never know it all.

Give him a hundred years with this girl if they all feel the way the last few months have.

++

In the morning Amelia wakes up, and it takes her a few minutes to realise it's the weekend.

Harry's asleep next to her, or he is until she reemerges from the bathroom to him sleepily rubbing at his eyes, waiting for her to return to bed.

"Morning," He greets, hair sticking up in all directions and pink-cheeked on the side he'd been sleeping.

"Good morning," Amelia returns, slipping back into bed with a long sleeve t-shirt on to help the chill in the air. "I've turned the heat on, forgot about it last night."

"You're meant to say I'm so hot I made you forget," Harry shuffles closer to her when she's settled, threading an arm over her hip and slipping his hand up her back.

She pretends to hesitate to agree with him but relents when he threatens to tickle at her sides, "That's exactly what I was thinking!"

They fall into a comfortable silence for a little while. Amelia checks her phone, and Harry watches her Instagram feed as his chin presses into her shoulder. She locks it and drops the phone onto the duvet beside her, waiting to see if Harry will speak. When he does, it's not about breakfast, like Amelia expected, or anything to do with his birthday drinks that night. She started thinking about what cake to make him, but Harry's thoughts couldn't have been further from hers.

"Have you had boyfriends?" Harry asks quietly, staring at the ornate ceilings above and feeling Amelia turn her head to look at him, "I've obviously not met any but … I was just wondering, have there been guys we haven't met?"

"No," Amelia replies simply, but feeling her defences rise a touch, she doesn't know what he's getting at, "There's not been any one."

"Why don't you date?" Harry follow up, and she's sure he's rehearsed this series of questioning in his head. She doesn't know Hannah planted it the night before.

She decides to try shutting it down simply, "I just don't date."

"There's got to be a reason," Harry presses, "Why?"

It takes the five seconds of silence between his question and her reply for Harry to suddenly consider that maybe something happened to her. Like, something. He's terrified of the thought of someone touching Amelia in a way she didn't consent to. Desperate for her to say it was something else. Some other reason.

"There's no reason," Amelia tries but sees Harry doesn't buy it, "Fine, it's my job … I just … My job keeps me busy."

"Did you get hurt by someone?"

"What?" Amelia rears back a little to see the worry in his eyes, "No, god, no, Harry. Nothing like that. I just … It's nothing."

Harry scoffs, "Bullshit it's nothing. You're beautiful and kind and smart … I literally cannot think of a single man who wouldn't want to date you."

Amelia's starting to panic. She doesn't know where this has come from or what point (if any) Harry is trying to make. They've not spoken about what they're doing or who they are to each other, and Amelia needs it to stay that way. She doesn't know if she could bear telling Harry they're nothing, that they have to be nothing. She feels like he's interrogating her and judging her for the answers. Mostly, Amelia's annoyed at the way she sort of wants to tell him why.

Maybe that would shut him up, Amelia thinks, Maybe my sad little rotten world would stop Harry in his tracks.

"Meils," He uses the nickname that she hates to admit completely brings her to her knees. Amelia feels heat build behind her eyes, and her throat go thick, "Why do you shut yourself away?"

She blinks back tears as she focuses on her fingers tangled in the sheets in front of her, and the words tumble out as easily as thoughts, "When my Gran dies it's just me."

Harry frowns at her words immediately. He doesn't see the connection, so he waits for her to explain. Amelia doesn't want to tell him anything. Further, nobody's ever wandered far enough in to get to this point before. She sniffs, and Harry's hand curls further around her side, a silent show of support Amelia knows she doesn't deserve.

"When your Gran passes away, surely it would be nice to have someone?" Harry's question is cautious because he knows it also holds a rebuttal to what she's said. He's smart enough to know if this has to anything to do with grief it's probably not going to make perfect sense.

"I don't have a family, Harry." Amelia states it plainly, "When Gran dies what else do I have to offer someone? The whole point is you meet someone and two families become one, right? I don't have a family, I've got nothing to offer. I'm just me. What would anyone get out of that?"

"What would they get out of it?" Harry repeats incredulously, hoisting himself up onto his elbow, so he's looking down at her tear-stained face, "Are you kidding? You! Amelia, they'd get you."

She keeps her eyes fixed on the ceiling, "You don't get it, Harry."

"I don't," Harry agrees tersely, "You're one of my favourite people, and you don't think you're worth a thing, of course, I don't fucking get it."

Amelia huffs, more at herself than him, "I don't think I'm worth nothing."

"You just said you think you've got nothing to offer!"

"It's different for you, Harry."

"What's different?"

"You didn't lose them all," She tells him, speaking of his mother and the rest of his family without saying so, "You've got … You didn't lose your whole world."

Harry sits with that. His heart tugging to the floor, he feels so bad for her. Watches the loneliness and helplessness swallow Amelia whole beside him. Harry thought he'd die himself when he first lost his mother, even though he had months to say goodbye and time to get used to the idea of her not being around for all the milestones coming in his life. Amelia losing both her parents always struck him as exceptionally cruel because it was sad—twice as sad as his loss—but this is the first time it's really hit him, the way it robbed her of her whole family for the rest of her life. And the way it's coloured her to continually look out at other people and see what she was missing. Amelia considers the world to be a series of family units, intermingling and connecting, and she's separate from it, unable to contribute or picture herself breaking in.

He understands. When her Gran passes away, there won't be anyone left to witness her life. Nobody who yearned for her arrival from the womb, nobody who saw the stage of her childhood, nobody who read her stories in bed and listened to her biggest dreams. Harry's heart breaks for her for the hundredth time, but this time he tastes the hopelessness in it all. She's too used to being alone, too prepared for this to be her life.

Amelia's crying and they're tears she can't stop. Harry's not saying anything, and if she was thinking better, she might be able to say something to move on from this particular topic of conversation. She's burning with shame and embarrassment for a dozen reasons, but mostly Amelia hates that Harry drew it out of her. She used to be stronger than this.

"Sorry, this is not a sexy thing to be doing in bed," She swipes at her under eyes with her sleeve.

Harry sucks in a deep breath and moves her chin so Amelia's looking at him, "Not everything you do has to be sexy, Amelia."

He looks sad. And Amelia thinks he has such a lovely face and heart that Harry should never look sad. He's watching her like she might start crying again, but Amelia's determined not to now that she seems to have halted it. There's kindness in his eyes that she can't bear to accept and something else that she thinks is close to hope or some other secret emotion that feels far away from her realm of possibility.

If she was truly going to wreck the friendship, Amelia might try to initiate sex, but she knows Harry would reject her because he's a Nice Person. She'd lash out because it hurt which would get them nowhere.

Instead, she says just one word, "Coffee?"

Harry has no idea how or what to say to anything else Amelia has revealed, so he agrees simply to avoid saying the wrong thing. But Harry's tucked away her fear and the way Amelia wholeheartedly doesn't see her own worth as something to work on another day.

For now, he follows her downstairs and lets her initiate a conversation about the night before.

++

Amelia has most of the day to herself.

She manages to convince Harry to leave after breakfast, she wants to go to her pilates class and then needs the afternoon to figure out what cake to make him for his birthday drinks.

After her class, Amelia spends the best part of an hour walking around her local Waitrose going back and forth at the baking shelves, putting items into her basket and then taking them out again. In the end, she decides on a plain vanilla cake with rainbow icing and a buttercream filling. She doesn't think Harry will have complicated taste when it comes to birthday cake.

Amelia revels in the silence of her kitchen. She doesn't put on music or a podcast or a movie, her thoughts are enough to fill the room around her. In that regard, she's glad the recipe isn't complicated, she's barely paying attention to what her hands are doing as she recounts the last 48 hours with Harry.

He's getting too close to cracking her open, and Amelia's not ready for that. The questions about her dating habits are haunting her. And the secret Amelia's keeping at work. The more she considers what's happening with Harry, the more Amelia realises he's slowly edging them towards more than she can commit to.

She didn't set out to date Harry. It was just sex.

It was supposed to just be sex.

++

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