#Thriller and Suspense

[readersmagnet]

Lost Causes by Donna J. Thompson

“Lost Causes” by Donna J. Thompson will keep you on the edge of your seat. When psychologist Casey West tells Detective Larkin a wild story about a mental hospital, he doesn’t believe her. But when her friend is murdered, Larkin starts to think she might be right. Can Casey help Larkin crack the case before she ends up dead too?

With twists and turns that you won’t see coming, you’ll be guessing until the very end. Grab a copy at www.donnajthompson.com.

[pascaloverx]

HAUNTED

Summary: You awaken from a two-year coma to find that Detective Lois has been eagerly awaiting your recovery, believing you might have witnessed something crucial to catching a serial killer. What you didn’t expect is to learn that she suspects your doctor of being the murderer—and even more shockingly, it appears that you are married to him. Now, you must uncover your lost memories and find out who Charlie Mayhew truly is to you.

Author's Note: Yes, I'm writing another fanfic featuring Nicholas Alexander Chavez’s character from Grotesquerie. The characters belong to the universe created by Ryan Murphy in the series Grotesquerie (2024). This fanfic will include violence, strong language, and adult content. It will portray the character Charlie Mayhew as a doctor. I hope you enjoy the fanfic, but there's nothing certain about its future.

PREVIEW TWO

© credits for the owners of the pictures used. they don't belong to me. credit is not mine for the pictures.

ONE

The tension in your hospital room is palpable, Detective Lois and Dr. Mayhew locking eyes as if each were ready to strike. You’re bewildered, unsure of whom or what to believe. But one thing is clear: Dr. Mayhew is your husband. He appears to be the quickest path to recovering your memory—even though Lois seems convinced he’s the reason you’re in this condition.

“Detective Tryon, as eager as you are to drag a statement out of my wife, she’ll be of no use to your scheme of blaming me for your incompetence,” Dr. Mayhew says, running a hand through his hair with a clear hint of tension. “She remembers nothing, and your persistence will only confuse her further.” He sighs heavily, while Lois watches him with a mocking smile, as if her patience has completely worn thin.

“Your performance is so convincing. You must have taken acting lessons at some point in your life,” she says, stepping toward him with a threatening air. “I can’t allow you to harm this woman before she has the chance to tell the world who you really are.”

“Enough!” you exclaim, frustrated by their bickering. Both turn to you, their expressions shifting to something like concern. “Detective Tryon, I appreciate your efforts to keep me safe. But if this man truly is my husband, that must mean something,” you say, almost on instinct. Perhaps you’re being foolish, even hasty. But there has to be something to this. Taking a risk is all you have left—now that you don’t even belong to yourself.

"Are you really willing to risk your life to be near this man, Y/N?" Detective Tryon holds your arm, her grip nearly desperate, as though trying to pull you away from Dr. Mayhew. The force of it makes you uncomfortable, and you wince, letting out a low sound of pain.

“Release my wife, Detective,” Dr. Mayhew snaps, his tone finally sharpened, his calm composure cracking. “I remind you that if we report your misconduct to your superiors, your entire baseless case will fall apart.” He steps between you and Lois, his hands slipping into his lab coat pockets, the stance a clear challenge.

"What would truly please you, right?" Lois challenges, staring straight into Dr. Mayhew's eyes. You watch them silently, still feeling the ache in your arm where Lois had grabbed you.

"Would you like to know what would actually please me?" Dr. Mayhew whispers, moving closer to Lois. "I’d be pleased to have my wife with me again, without the interference of a lunatic so obsessed with her own failures that she needs to ruin my life just to sleep at night. Careful, Lois. You’re becoming obsessed with me." You're uncertain of his intentions, but the authoritative tone in his voice and the way he carries himself is undeniably alluring.

Lois narrows her eyes, her expression darkening as Dr. Mayhew moves closer, his tone laced with mockery and barely concealed venom. “Is that so, Dr. Mayhew? Obsession, you call it?” she scoffs, a bitter smile playing on her lips. “Let’s not confuse dedication to justice with obsession. But perhaps you’re simply too accustomed to manipulating the truth to recognize it when you see it.”

You watch the exchange, torn between skepticism and an undeniable draw toward him. Despite the sharp edge in his words, the way Dr. Mayhew stands his ground, unyielding and unafraid, stirs something within you. Even as his gaze shifts to meet yours, there’s an intensity there that unsettles yet captivates you—a magnetic pull that defies reason.

“Why not focus on your own affairs, Detective,” he murmurs, his eyes still on you, a slight smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, “and let my wife and I… reconnect. Unless, of course, you’ve truly no other purpose in your life than meddling in mine.”

Your confidence is remarkable, Charlie," Lois remarks. "Mrs. Mayhew, if you need me for any reason, here’s my number. I’ll also be visiting again soon to see if there’s been any progress in your memory recovery." She hands you a card with her contact information, then smirks mockingly at Dr. Mayhew. "And don’t worry, Charlie, I’ll let Megan know you’ll be unavailable." With that, she finally exits your hospital room.

Charlie stares at you, irritation burning in his gaze. "Do you believe her?" Dr. Mayhew demands, advancing toward you with sudden intensity. You feel as if the air is being drawn from your lungs with his nearness, his gaze piercing. "Honestly, I don’t know whom to believe," you murmur, leaning back against the hospital bed behind you, your eyes locked onto his.

"Fine!" he exclaims, voice laced with indignation. He turns to leave, but then hesitates, his hand lingering on the door frame as if torn between staying and leaving. After a tense pause, he steps back inside, his tone shifting from anger to something raw and vulnerable.

"Y/N… if you can’t trust me, then at least remember what we once were. Remember the promises we made." His voice drops to a murmur, almost pleading. "I’m not the monster she’s painting me to be." The intensity in his words sends a shiver down your spine, leaving you more conflicted than ever as he finally, reluctantly, exits the room. What makes it all worse is that neither of them is truly thinking about you. Neither one noticed that you’ve only just discovered your own name, that you're lost and confused. They don’t see that you don’t want to be manipulated—you want to be understood.

“You are like him…” you murmur, recognizing that you’re no longer in your hospital room. Everything around you is intensely white—the walls, the bed you're seated on, every corner spotless and untouched. A cross hangs on the wall behind the priest, casting a shadow that flickers slightly, as if from candlelight. The room feels steeped in something sacred, almost otherworldly, like a faint echo of a memory stirring within you. The priest looks at you with a serene expression, though there’s an unmistakable weight behind his gaze. As he steps closer, the almost sacred atmosphere around you amplifies the tension. You try to process the overwhelming resemblance to Dr. Mayhew—even the contours of his face are identical, but the priest’s shorter, more traditional hairstyle highlights the difference. Your mind wavers between doubt and recognition, as if your subconscious is trying to unveil something long forgotten.

“You keep searching for answers outside yourself, yet everything you need lies within,” he murmurs, his deep voice echoing through the room like a quiet revelation.

“Father, I don’t know. I don’t know what to do, what to feel,” you whisper, your voice breaking as you meet his gaze. Tears slip down your cheeks, and a quiet, aching desperation fills the space between you. The priest, unmoved yet tender, holds your gaze.

“Faith moves mountains, and as long as it resides within you, you will be safe,” he murmurs, his voice a gentle command that resonates deeply. “Find your faith, and you will know what—and whom—to believe.”

Despite the haziness, a strange comfort wraps around your heart, soft yet unexplainable. His words, laced with a familiar warmth, guide you into a calm acceptance, though the reason remains unknown. Then, leaning closer, he whispers in your ear, “Now, kneel and seek forgiveness.” Almost instinctively, you find yourself on your knees before him, grasping the folds of his robe at his knees, your head bowed as though in reverence.

“Father, forgive me,” you whisper, your head bowed. His fingers lift your chin gently, compelling you to meet his gaze. “How can I grant you absolution, when your hands are stained with blood, my sweet sinner?” he murmurs, lowering his face near yours, his breath warm against your ear, sending a chill down your spine.

You’re shocked, frozen beneath his intense gaze, but unable to break away. As you glance down, horror floods your senses—you see your hands smeared with blood. Stumbling backward, you gasp, eyes wide in disbelief. The priest rises from the bed, stepping slowly toward you with an unwavering gaze, a faint trail of blood marking his face. You’re overwhelmed with fear, a scream building in your throat until it finally erupts, piercing the silence. And then—just like that—you awaken from your haunting dream, heart racing, as the unsettling remnants of the nightmare fade into the dim light of your hospital room.

Dr. Mayhew, startled awake in the chair beside your bed, immediately reaches for you. “Hey, Y/N, are you alright?” he asks, his voice filled with concern as he stands and wraps you in a firm embrace. His arms encircle you with a warmth that feels protective, grounding you in the present moment, as if he’s trying to shield you from whatever haunted you.

“I… I had a nightmare,” you whisper once you catch your breath, the tension beginning to ease as you lean into his hold. And everything feels like déjà vu. Just like before, you wake from a nightmare involving the priest, and once again, Dr. Mayhew is by your side. You can't help but wonder if there’s a connection between his presence and the terrifying, bloody dreams that haunt you each night.

“Don’t worry, darling,” Dr. Mayhew murmurs softly, his hand tracing gentle circles on your back, his touch soothing. The warmth of his embrace gives you an unexpected feeling of lightness, as though he’s holding you together amidst the lingering fragments of your nightmare.

“Can we leave this place?” you ask, your voice trembling as you try to stifle the tears that have flowed since you woke. He holds you a little closer, and you feel a subtle tension in his grip, as if considering your question carefully.

“We will, soon,” he assures, his tone steady, though a flicker of something unreadable passes over his face. “For now, rest. I’ll be here.”

"Stay here; I need you to answer me—while looking into my eyes," you insist, tugging at Dr. Mayhew's clothes, almost dislodging his tie. Though he’d intended to return to the hospital chair, he remains by your side, his gaze steady yet guarded.

“Will you even believe my answer?” he asks softly, his voice carrying a hint of doubt, as though unsure anything he says would hold weight with you. His eyes search yours, wary yet attentive, as if weighing what he’s willing to reveal.

"You'll have to take the risk and believe that I will," you say softly, though you're unsure if you can truly trust anything he says. Dr. Mayhew's hand reaches gently to touch your face, but you instinctively pull back, murmuring, "I’m sorry."

“Ask me whatever you wish, Y/N,” he says, his voice tinged with impatience, perhaps confused by your conflicting actions—clinging to him, pulling him closer, yet retreating from his touch. You, too, are struggling to understand what you’re feeling, torn between wanting him near and pushing him away.

“Do you love me?” you ask, your gaze unwavering, trying to find answers in the depths of his eyes. His stare holds yours, as if the question should be irrelevant, as if he has already shown you everything you need to know. His expression softens, but the weight of his response carries something more.

"I’m your husband, Y/N," he replies, his voice steady, but there's an intensity in his eyes, a depth of meaning that you can’t ignore. "Doesn't that answer everything?" His words hang in the air, thick with unspoken emotion, and for a moment, you wonder if the truth lies somewhere in the space between his claims and the confusion that churns in your heart.

"Answer me, Dr. Mayhew, do you love me?" you ask, using a more assertive tone, making it clear that you are not satisfied with his previous answer. He smiles, as if he can't believe it. "I love you, Mrs. Mayhew. I would die for you if necessary," he responds confidently. His eyes are fixed on you, as if waiting for something.

"Then even if the truth disappoints me. Even if you think it's going to hurt me, I need you to be honest. About these murders, about Megan, about everything." You speak firmly, staring into his eyes.

Dr. Mayhew's expression hardens as you mention the two things he surely wishes you would forget. For a moment, he looks at the hospital room wall without saying anything. "Honesty is a double-edged sword. As you inflict it on someone, someone can inflict it on you," his gaze darkens, his demeanor heavy, almost demonic. "If honesty is what you want; honesty is all you'll get."

He stands up, lifting his face to yours, now standing directly in front of you. "You think the truth will set you free, but sometimes it only binds you to something far worse," Dr. Mayhew says, so close to your face it feels as though he's about to kiss you. His words are heavy, yet his gaze is devilishly captivating. For a moment, you sense that he's savoring the expression of fear in your eyes. "Then let the truth bind us both, if that's what we deserve," you reply, challenging him, even though a part of you trembles with fear.

He straightens his coat, his hand running through his hair with a sharp, almost angry gesture, as though attempting to pull himself together. "Rest, Y/N. The truth will find its way to you, sooner or later. But I can promise you this: I am, and will always be, honest with the woman I love—even if she doubts me." With those words, Dr. Mayhew places a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, a gesture of tenderness. Then, without another word, he exits your hospital room, leaving you in a heavy silence.

[alternativeulster]

it's interesting to see thg having a renaissance bc i was 12 when i read the first book, and found rue to be the character i could most relate to, given that she was my age. katniss felt like a cool older sister that i looked up to. now i'm 22 and reading the series is a completely different experience, katniss is a child and rue is a baby and the whole thing is so much more devastating. so fucked up how getting older recontextualises shit.

[weirdlookindog]

Simone Signoret in Les diaboliques (1955)

[deliciousangelfestival]

Another Ending - 4 | Bucky Barnes

Character: ex!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: It was supposed to be a short week watching over your niece, who loves romance books. She thought you were just a normal aunt, but it turns out you have secrets.

Tags: Spies, action, threat, offense, fight scene, violence, romance, comedy.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 ,-

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Inside the cozy café, where the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the soft hum of chatter, Jill Krege sat at her usual spot near the window. The café was a revolving door of people, each bringing their unique quirks and stories, making it the perfect place to find inspiration for new characters. For a bestselling author like Jill, places like this were gold mines—at least, they usually were.

Today, however, was different. Despite the stream of customers, none sparked the creative flame she was hoping for. She sighed, disappointed, and began packing her belongings into her bag. Her latest novel, The Red Swan, had catapulted her to fame, and with that fame came the pressure to produce something just as captivating. Her agent was already pushing her for a new book, but inspiration was proving elusive.

Just as she was about to leave, a new group entered the café—a family, by the looks of it. A mother, a father, and their teenage daughter. Jill's eyes were immediately drawn to them. The mother had a cool, confident demeanor, and the father… something about him struck a chord. He reminded her of the male protagonist in The Red Swan. And the daughter? She seemed like an ordinary teenager, though her eyes were sharp, and observant.

As the daughter scanned the drinks menu, she glanced over at Jill, and their eyes met, her eyes lightened up like she recognized someone.

She must be a fan, Jill thought, instinctively straightening her posture and smoothing her hair. She reached into her bag, readying a pen for an autograph.

Lori turned to you both and whispered. “Why don’t you guys get drinks? I’ll give you the signal.”

Watching her stride confidently towards Jill, both you and Bucky felt a flicker of unease. “Did a 13-year-old just give us an order?” Bucky murmured.

“She’s perfect,” you replied with a smirk, clearly impressed by Lori’s nerve.

Bucky chuckled, squeezing your hand as you both walked toward the cashier. “So, what will it be, dear? I’ll take the usual—an iced Americano.”

You shot him a look, surprised by the sudden intimacy. Bucky leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “We have to play the roles of mom and dad, right?” he whispered, a playful wink following his words.

Rolling your eyes, you turned to the cashier. “Two iced Americanos and one matcha latte, please,” you said. Then, glancing at him, you added, “A real married couple would stop acting so lovey-dovey.”

While waiting for the drinks, you both stood in silence. “I noticed you never mentioned Lori's father,” Bucky remarked, remembering that Lori had mentioned her father, but you had never brought him up.

“He died,” you answered, your voice subdued. Lori's father had passed away several years ago from stomach cancer. Your sister had become obsessed with creating healthy food in hopes of helping him. Though he managed to maintain his weight and appearance, the cancer cells never stopped, and eventually, they took his life.

In the wake of his death, your sister became even more fervent about spreading healthy eating habits. Lori, on the other hand, had been very quiet after her father's death. To cope with her grief, she had turned to reading books, finding solace in them. You knew that was her way of escaping.

She used to be a quiet girl like you, but after her father died, she began to change. She became more like him—cheerful, funny, and with a love for singing.

Bucky was taken aback. With Lori’s cheerful demeanor, he had never imagined she had experienced such pain. Now, he felt a pang of sympathy for her.

Meanwhile, Lori approached Jill cautiously, her steps deliberate. She paused before speaking, her voice small and nervous. “Hello, Miss Jill?”

Jill’s smile widened as she turned to face the young fan. “Hello to you too.”

Any pretense of Lori’s role melted away as her inner fangirl took over. “I’m your biggest fan! I really love this book!” She held up a copy of The Red Swan with gleaming eyes. “Can I get your autograph and maybe a picture with you? But only if it’s okay.”

Jill’s heart warmed at the polite request. Fans like Lori were the reason she loved what she did. “Of course!” she said, signing the book and preparing for a photo.

Lori suddenly looked around, feigning surprise. “Oh no, my phone’s with my dad!” She waved you and Bucky over. “Mom, Dad! Come here!”

That’s the signal, you thought as you and Bucky made your way to Lori. The two of you snapped a few photos, with Lori grinning from ear to ear.

“Mom, let’s take a picture together!” Lori suggested, her voice dropping to a whisper as she turned to Jill. “My mom won’t admit it, but she loves your book too.”

Jill nodded, finding the idea charming, and invited you to join in. You played along, acting bashful as you handed the phone to Bucky.

Now, it was you, Lori, and Jill posing together.

“One, two, three, say Tchaikovsky!” Bucky announced with a grin.

You and Lori smiled brightly, both saying “Tchaikovsky!” in unison.

But Jill didn’t. The color drained from her face as she heard the name. Tchaikovsky. No one ever mentioned that name, not in her circles, not even in passing.

It wasn’t a name associated with classical music for her—it was tied to something far more sinister, something only she and a select few knew about. It was the name of a mission, a report she had read, and a man she never wanted to cross paths with again.

Jill froze, her mind racing. How do they know?

Your eyes narrowed as you saw her reaction. It was all the confirmation you needed. The name was a gamble—a code word that only someone with knowledge of the mission would recognize. And Jill’s reaction was telling.

You leaned in close, your voice a whisper that barely reached her ears. “If you want to live, follow us.”

Jill nodded, her hands trembling as she hurriedly gathered her belongings and followed you out of the café.

As you made your way to the car, you and Bucky exchanged a glance. Both of you noticed the black sedans idling near the café, their drivers watching you intently. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. You weren’t safe yet.

“Get in, quick,” Bucky urged as the four of you piled into the car. He floored the gas, pulling away from the curb just as the sedans roared to life, tires screeching as they gave chase.

Jill clutched her bag tightly, her eyes wide with fear as she glanced back at the cars gaining on you. “Who are they?” she whispered, her voice shaking.

“Not the kind of people you want to meet,” you replied, your tone grim as you kept your eyes on the road ahead.

The chase intensified, with Bucky weaving through traffic, narrowly avoiding collisions as he tried to lose the tail. You kept a close watch on the side mirrors, searching for any sign of an opportunity to shake them off.

Finally, as you approached a busy intersection, Bucky made a sharp turn, diving into a narrow alleyway just as the traffic light turned red. The sedans were forced to a stop, unable to follow.

Bucky didn’t slow down until you were several blocks away, the sound of sirens fading into the distance. Only then did he exhale, glancing at you with a look of relief. “We lost them. For now.”

Jill was still in shock, her mind racing to make sense of what had just happened. You turned to her, your expression serious. “We need to talk. And you’re going to tell us everything.”

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

In a secluded, dimly lit room, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Jill Krege sat tied to a wooden chair, her hands bound behind her back. The only sound was the faint creak of the old floorboards beneath her feet. Her eyes darted around nervously, landing on the door where you and Bucky stood, your expressions unreadable.

Lori was safely out of sight, back in the car, just as you insisted. This could go bad quickly, and you couldn’t risk her being involved.

“Now, Miss Jill,” Bucky began, his voice low and controlled, “tell us. How do you know about the Red Swan mission? Are you with the agency?”

Jill’s head snapped up, panic flashing in her eyes. “No,” she stammered, shaking her head vigorously. She glanced between you and Bucky, her gaze dropping to the floor as she mumbled, “I’m sorry. Did he send you here for royalties? I’ll prepare the payment as soon as I can.”

Both you and Bucky exchanged a look of surprise. “He?” you questioned, your tone sharp.

Jill hesitated, too terrified to continue. Her hands trembled, the ropes binding her wrists biting into her skin.

“Please, believe me,” she pleaded, her voice cracking. “I had no idea the story would blow up like this. I’m just a failed writer who took another job as a nurse at a nursing home. I changed all the names to make sure they didn’t match the reports.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up. “Make changes? The mission details, the routes, the street names, the hotel numbers, even the seats at the opera—they’re all the same. You’re a lazy author.”

Jill winced, guilt washing over her. She hadn’t had the money to pay for a fact-checker, and the publisher assured her it was fine. Nobody had ever complained—until today.

But then, a realization struck her, and she lifted her head, her eyes widening. “Wait a minute! Are you Agent Cipher?”

Her gaze shifted to you. “And you’re Agent Nightingale?”

A spark of excitement lit up her face, reminiscent of Lori’s fangirl energy. “Oh my God! Both of you are real! I can’t believe it!” She looked you and Bucky over, from head to toe, nodding as if something had clicked. “I can see why.”

Bucky sighed inwardly, feeling more exhausted than before. Another one, he thought. “For the last time, Miss Krege, who gave you the details of this mission?”

Jill’s excitement dimmed slightly as she answered, “It was Mr. Henry Tucci.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Is he bald, with scars on the back of his head, and only three fingers on his left hand?”

Jill’s eyes widened further. “Yes! There are scars on the back of his head, but he’s not bald anymore.”

That was all you needed to hear. The physical description matched perfectly. You knew who Henry Tucci really was—your former handler, Mr. Herb.

The one who still had access to those classified reports. Jill wasn’t a threat; she was just a nurse who had stumbled upon a treasure trove of secrets and turned them into a novel. But something still didn’t add up.

Why would Henry be so careless as to let someone like Jill get her hands on those reports?

“That’s all we need,” you said, your tone firm but not unkind. You pulled up a chair and began cutting the rope that bound her hands. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

Bucky leaned in close to Jill, his voice low and dangerous. “If a word about us gets out, you know what will happen, right?”

Jill nodded quickly, too frightened to speak.

“Where is this nursing home?” you asked, your eyes narrowing.

Jill scratched her head, hesitant. “At Legacy Residence Nursing Home. It’s not exactly a nursing home…”

“Explain,” you demanded.

“It’s a nursing home,” Jill began cautiously, “but it’s also like a prison for elders. Most of them are too old to be in a regular jail.”

You massaged your forehead, frustration mounting. This just got a whole lot more complicated.

“Let’s go,” you said to Bucky, turning on your heel and heading for the door.

“Wait, wait… I have questions!” Jill called after you, desperation creeping into her voice. “Can I interview you for my next book?”

“No,” you and Bucky replied in unison, not breaking stride.

“Please! Maybe I could give the characters a good ending,” Jill insisted.

Your footsteps faltered. “What happened to the ending?” you asked, a dangerous edge in your voice.

Jill hesitated, her excitement faltering under your glare. “Well… it’s a sad ending. The male character gets shot and falls off a cliff.”

You shot Bucky a look, both of you visibly tensing.

“But it could be an open ending,” Jill added quickly. “Look at you both now—you’re alive!”

“No,” you repeated, this time more forcefully.

Jill tried to follow you to the car, still pleading her case, but you and Bucky ignored her. Lori, however, couldn’t bear to see her idol so dejected. She rolled down the window as you approached.

“Miss Krege, I’m sorry,” Lori said, her voice small but sincere.

Jill spotted her and asked. “Are you their daughter?”

“Lori, don’t answer that,” you warned.

Jill reached into her bag and pulled out a card. “If you have any stories, please contact me. This is my private number.”

Lori’s eyes widened in disbelief. She had just gotten her idol’s number. “Yes, you can count on me!”

“Bye!” she called out as the car started to move.

Jill waved back, a mix of disappointment and excitement swirling within her. Today was her lucky day. Despite the danger, she had everything she needed for her next bestseller.

Seeing Jill’s figure shrink and eventually disappear from view, Lori adjusted her sitting position and asked, “So where are we going next?”

“To a nursing home. This time we need your acting skills again,” you replied.

Lori gave a salute gesture. “At your service, Sergeant!” Then she turned to Bucky. “Did I do a great job?”

Bucky glanced at her through the rearview mirror. Reaching back, he patted her head. “You did. I’m proud of you.”

When Lori heard that, she felt a lump in her throat. It had been a while since she’d heard those words or had someone pat her head. Bucky’s large hand reminded her of her father. She lowered her head, cleared her throat, and asked, “What do I need to do next?”

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

At Legacy Residence Nursing Home, the atmosphere was far from the peaceful retirement community it might appear to be at first glance. This was no ordinary place where elders spent their twilight years in comfort. Instead, it was a luxurious prison, a haven for former criminals who were too powerful and wealthy to serve time in a regular jail.

The residents here were dangerous individuals, their pasts shrouded in secrecy, and though it was technically a prison, the price of admission ensured that their surroundings were lavish. Guards patrolled the grounds, and the security was tight, but family visits were almost unheard of.

Most of the criminals housed here had long since alienated any relatives, and their only visitors were usually lawyers managing their affairs.

So when you and Lori walked through the front doors, your presence caused quite a stir. The guards exchanged puzzled glances, and the receptionist at the front desk looked up in surprise as you approached.

“Hello,” you greeted her politely, keeping your voice calm and composed.

“Yes, ma'am. How can I help you?” the receptionist replied, her tone professional but tinged with curiosity.

You cleared your throat, mentally preparing yourself for the act you were about to put on. “Yes, uhm, I’d like to visit my father, Mr. Henry Tucci.”

The receptionist’s fingers flew over the keyboard, searching the system. “Uhm, Mr. Tucci doesn’t have any listed family.”

A wave of relief washed over you. He was here, and he was alive. You quickly composed yourself, shifting your expression to one of sadness and regret. “I’m sorry. Yes, it’s been a long time since I last saw my father. We… cut ties because of his job.”

The receptionist’s gaze softened, understanding flashing in her eyes. She was well aware of the type of people housed here, and it wasn’t hard to imagine a child distancing themselves from a criminal parent.

“And my daughter,” you continued, pulling Lori closer to your side, “she wants to meet her grandfather.”

Lori played her part flawlessly. She looked up at the receptionist with wide, innocent eyes, her lower lip quivering slightly as she clutched a piece of paper tightly in her hands.

The paper, folded neatly, had “Nice to meet you, Grandpa” scrawled on it in Lori’s careful handwriting. She glanced at the receptionist, her expression a perfect mix of hope and nervousness.

The sight of Lori’s apparent longing to meet her grandfather was enough to tug at anyone’s heartstrings. The receptionist’s resolve visibly softened, and she gave you both a sympathetic look. “No matter what, he’s still family, right?”

You nodded, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears, as you reached up to wipe them away with the tip of your finger. “Yes, exactly. Thank you so much for understanding.”

Moved by the emotion in the air, the receptionist handed you two guest necklaces. “I’ll let your father know about the surprise. He’ll be delighted to have his daughter and granddaughter visiting him.”

You accepted the necklaces with a grateful nod, giving her a tearful smile. “Thank you,” you murmured, holding onto Lori’s hand as you prepared to face what came next.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

You and Lori waited in the garden, a beautifully landscaped area that seemed more fitting for a high-end resort than a prison. The sun was shining, birds chirped in the distance, and the gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the meticulously maintained trees.

If it weren't for the discreetly placed guards and the subtle sense of tension in the air, it would be easy to forget that this was a place where some of the world's most dangerous criminals were confined.

Lori, ever the curious and bold teenager, was taking everything in with wide eyes. She wasn’t scared at all; in fact, you almost wished she were, if only to make her a bit more cautious.

Instead, she leaned closer to you, her voice barely above a whisper as she said, "Aunt, that guard over there is handsome. I could see his muscles from here. I wouldn’t mind staying in a place like this."

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at her casual remark. "You’d have to be a criminal first. A threatening and powerful one at that."

Lori pondered this for a moment, her brow furrowing in mock seriousness. "Hmm… what should I do to qualify?"

Before you could reply, you heard a voice behind you, gravelly yet carrying a tone of amused resignation. “They thought I had dementia when I told them I don’t have a daughter or granddaughter.”

You turned to see Henry Tucci approaching. He was an older man in his seventies, his hair a silvery gray that matched the fine lines etched into his weathered face. He wore a pair of glasses that gave him a scholarly look, more like a retired professor than the feared handler he once was.

The years had softened his once intimidating presence, but there was still a sharpness in his eyes that hinted at the formidable man he used to be.

“I guess so. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have let your nurse read the ‘Red Swan’ project,” you replied, keeping your tone even, though the irritation was evident. “Did you forget to secure it properly?”

Henry raised an eyebrow, a smile playing on his lips. “So that’s why you’re here,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of satisfaction. “I remember that young nurse. She had quick hands. If the agency still existed, I would’ve hired her.”

As he spoke, his gaze shifted to Lori, who had been watching him with open curiosity. “You have a daughter?” he asked, a touch of surprise in his voice.

“My niece,” you clarified.

Lori, ever polite despite the strange circumstances, waved her hand. “Hello.”

Henry returned the gesture with a warm smile. “Hello, young lady.”

“Why did you bring your niece here?” he asked you.

“It was because of her that I found out about this,” you replied, pulling out a copy of The Red Swan from your bag. You held it up for Henry to see, the cover prominently displaying the book that had unintentionally exposed so many secrets.

Henry lit his cigar, letting the smoke curl lazily around him before he spoke again. “Ah, yes, that book.” His tone was dismissive but carried an undercurrent of grudging respect. "It’s quite the little troublemaker, isn’t it? Also, the most interesting mission the agency got."

You rolled your eyes and decided to keep the conversation light for now. “How many years did you get?”

Henry’s eyes twinkled with a dark amusement. “For life.”

“I can’t exactly feel sorry for you,” you said, glancing around the picturesque garden. “This place is like heaven.”

Henry lit a cigar, taking a deep inhale before speaking. “Try living here with killers, mafias, and corrupt officials for a few days. My hands itch to strangle their necks—”

You cleared your throat sharply, a pointed reminder of Lori’s presence. Henry caught himself, glancing at Lori before exhaling the smoke and growing more serious. “Where is he?”

“Who?” you asked, though you already knew.

“Your flame, your lover, the traitor,” Henry replied, his tone a mix of disdain and curiosity. Despite Bucky’s potential, Henry had always resented him. Bucky’s betrayal of the agency had been a personal slight.

You avoided his question, focusing on the pressing matter. “First, tell me why you let a civilian read the mission report,” you demanded. “And why was a writer chosen to care for you?”

Henry chuckled softly, tapping his fingers on the table as he considered his answer. “You’ve always had a sharp mind,” he said, a note of pride in his voice. “Yes, I chose her because of her background. And yes, I let her take the report.”

“Why?” you pressed, trying to make sense of his reckless actions.

“Because I’m bored,” Henry replied, his casual tone catching you off guard.

You leaned forward, anger simmering. “Because of you, everyone knows about the mission. And now, they’re chasing me and him.”

Henry’s expression remained unchanged, though a flicker of amusement or regret passed through his eyes. “Oh,” he responded, almost dismissively.

“I could make them stop,” Henry offered as if it were a trivial matter. His eyes glinted with a mix of challenge and opportunity. “As long as you can get me out of here.”

You crossed your arms, your eyes narrowing. “You planned this, didn’t you? You wanted us to come here, to get you out. You want to escape.”

Henry’s smile widened, confirming your suspicions. Jill’s success with the book had not been a mere coincidence; it was a carefully orchestrated plan by Henry himself. He had been pulling the strings from within his gilded cage, manipulating events from the confines of the nursing home.

The real motive behind his actions was far less straightforward than mere boredom. For Henry, it was akin to a twisted game of treasure hunting. He was driven by an intense curiosity, a desire to see which of his old connections would notice the hidden clues buried in the pages of The Red Swan.

What would happen next? Who would come looking? It was a way to inject a bit of excitement into his otherwise monotonous existence.

Over the year since the book’s release, he had watched with a mix of disappointment and impatience. There had been no significant fallout, no grand revelations—until today. But to be honest, he hadn’t anticipated that you, one of his top agents, would be the one to unravel his little game.

And even more surprising was the role of your niece in the discovery. The unexpected involvement of a teenager had added a layer of complexity he hadn’t counted on.

Henry leaned back in his chair, his gaze shifting between you and Lori. “You see, it was never just about the book or the chaos it created. It was about the challenge—testing the waters, seeing if anyone was sharp enough to pick up on the clues I’d planted.”

He chuckled softly, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “I didn’t expect you to come here. I didn’t expect a teenager to be the key to solving my little puzzle. But here you are, proving that even in a place like this, things can still get interesting.”

You stared at him, grappling with the realization that his manipulation had been far more intricate than you’d initially thought. His aim had been to create a ripple effect, to see who would react and how.

“I taught you well,” Henry admitted a hint of pride in his voice. “Now, where’s Bucky?”

You remained silent, giving him nothing.

Unfazed, Henry took another slow puff of his cigar. “I’m the agents’ handler. I know everyone’s real name.”

You stayed quiet, but he continued, undeterred. “He’s already preparing to get you out of here.”

Henry clapped his hands together, clearly pleased. “I knew I could count on you two.”

Lori, who had been listening intently, suddenly spoke up. “Wow… really mind-blowing!” She looked at Henry with wide-eyed admiration. “Sir, you’re a genius.”

Henry chuckled, clearly enjoying the compliment. “Hahaha… thank you, little girl.”

“Are you satisfied with what you’ve done?” you asked, your voice tight with frustration. You clenched your fist, the knuckles whitening as you tried to keep your anger in check.

"You're not exactly blameless yourself," Henry said, his voice carrying a hint of mockery. "You also betrayed the agency."

That was why you and Bucky had been chased—because the previous agency you worked for had also turned against you both.

You shot him a cold look. "It’s what we do."

Henry smirked. “Touché.”

Just then, a guard and the receptionist who had helped you and Lori enter the nursing home appeared. The guard announced, “Mr. Tucci, your visiting time is over.”

Henry rose from his seat and spread his arms, a crooked smile on his face. He looked at you and Lori expectantly, as if waiting for a family embrace. As you moved closer, he leaned in and whispered, "I’ll be expecting my ride. And don’t forget, you owe me."

“What do you mean?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

Henry’s grin widened. “Without this book, you and Bucky wouldn’t have ended up together.”

Lori, her face lit up with a bright smile, chimed in, “He’s right!” She and Henry shared a laugh, the camaraderie between them almost palpable. Meanwhile, you managed only a tight strained smile.

To the guard and receptionist, it looked like a touching family reunion. In reality, you were itching to punch this old man in the face. You forced a smile, though the tension in your shoulders betrayed your true feelings.

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Author Note: Hey friends,

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[thecuriousbeauty]

Traitor- The Present

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Synopsis:y/n is a hard working painter, trying to make the ends meet. She lives with and takes care of her sick Uncle, the only one she has for a family. She has dreams to make it big, and when the desperation for money strikes, she has to make a choice. Walk away after listening to an incredible deal that would fix all her problems, or take up the deal. A top secret, risky deal, which involves meeting Harry Styles.A man once rumored to be a dangerous secret weapon of a leading mafia. artist!y/n x mafia!harry (he's also a doctor)

Word limit: 5,021

Warnings: Smut. Fingering, dirty talk, exhibitionism, choking, light degradation.

Author's note: Thank you so much for all your love on the last part. If you guys want me to add your names to my tag list, just drop me a message! Feedback is appreciated, and please re blog to support me. Happy reading:)

____________________________________________

"I swear there's no one on the planet that makes better sandwiches than you, Harry."

Harry and y/n were enjoying a picnic in the park, complete with ham and cheese sandwiches (cut in triangles, per her request), fruit salad, and cookies they had baked together the night before. Much to both of their delight, the park was nearly empty aside from a few toddlers playing in the jungle gym with their mothers.

Or so they thought.

"What are you doing tonight?", Harry asks her, enjoying the fresh air as he leaned against the tree, with his arm around y/n. Her back was towards his chest, and she was looking up at him.

"Oh I have to talk to a client, who wants to buy one of my paintings.", she lies. She had a meeting with Romania tonight.

"After that?", Harry drawls, kissing her neck.

"I promised Uncle Luke we would play pictionary today!", she says, as his lips hum against the pulse point of her neck.

"You can't get enough of me, can you?", she teases.

"No.", he agrees, stroking her hair between his fingers. "I would spend every minute of the day with you if I could."

"I would get bored.", y/n says playfully, and Harry growls, tightening his grip around her waist making her giggle. "I'll remember that the next time we're in bed.", he whispers in her ear, making her blush.

Then she saw them. Three men surrounded different areas of the park. All three of them were looking at them. y/n suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

"Um, Harry?"

"Hm?"

"I think we should pack up and head home. I'll run late for my meeting with the client.", she says, squeezing his arm gently.

"Already?", he asks, pulling away from her neck and she nods. "I'll spend the night with you tomorrow, okay?"

His face turns into a cute pout, and she wonders how people in his past were intimidated by that face. "Okay. You'll have to make it up to me, baby."

"I will.", she promises, starting to pack everything up. They finished packing their snacks, took their picnic blanket, and y/n took Harry's hand tight in hers, keeping her eyes on the men as they walked to her car.

She drove away soon. "Why don't you drive Harry?", she asks.

"I don't like driving.", he simply says.

"Why is that? Did you have a really bad accident?", she hints.

"Uh...maybe, I don't know. I don't enjoy it. I like walking, and the hospital's close from my house.", he shrugs, looking outside the window. He looked so innocent to y/n.

She drops Harry, before leaving. She had a bad feeling, and she grabbed his hand before he could go. She had already scanned the place to see if the men had followed her, but they hadn't.

"Harry, be careful, yeah?", she says, worried.

"Yeah, why?", he strokes her cheek, noticing that something's bothering her.

"The world is not a good place.", she squeezes his hand. "Lock your doors, okay?"

"I will..are you sure you're okay?"

She smiles, bringing his hand to her lips to kiss it. "I'm okay. I'll see you tomorrow, Harry."

Harry nods, kissing her forehead. "Remember I'm here if you need to talk about something."

The guilt storm hits her hard again, and she nods. "Thank you. I gotta go now."

"Yeah. See you, sunshine."

She had to do it. She had to tell Romania that this has to stop. She got to the building, took the elevator, waited impatiently for it to open and Hans greets her at the door.

"Ah, in time today Miss y/l/n", he remarks, looking at his watch.

"I'm not always late.", y/n mumbles and he chuckles, stepping aside. "Come in."

Romania sat on the couch as usual, and y/n wonders if she gets up from there once in a while. Oliver was not standing, for a change. He was sitting on the seat next to the one that y/n usually occupies when she's here.

"Good evening, y/n.", Romania gives her a smile and Oliver ignores her, classic Oliver.

"Hi.", y/n nods, taking her seat.

"Anything stronger than water?", Hans asks her, cocking an eyebrow.

"No, just water. Thanks.", y/n says to him. She didn't want to drink with people who plot to kill other people who got into tragic accidents and lost their memory.

"So? What are your updates this week?", Romania asks her, keeping one of her lean legs over the other and looking at her with interest. Oliver turns her head to look at her, and Hans keeps her water in front of her before sitting on the table he usually leans on.

y/n got talking. She told them everything she found out and didn't. She told them about the ring as well.

"So he's still holding on to that.", Romania smiled. "That's a great break through, y/n."

"Was that Reagen's?", y/n guesses.

"Yes. She didn't know, but Harry was planning to propose to her after that night. After their last mission. Diamond ring, silver beading, wasn't it?"

y/n nods. Romania looks at Hans for confirmation who nodded. "That's the one."

"That means some part of him still isn't ready to let go of Reagen.", Romania says. "Or it was a slip of the mask. He wasn't expecting you to search his room and find the ring. He could easily lie to you, like he probably has numerous times now. Whatever is necessary to keep his identity secret."

"I really think you're wrong, Romania.", y/n says softly. "And I'm sorry that you all lost your friend, but he's no longer in there, if he ever was. The Harry I know is a kind person. He isn't capable of hurting anyone."

"You've fallen for him, haven't you?", Romania sighs. "You're in love and you've been sleeping with him."

Was it love? A fire ignited in her chest whenever she thought about him. Her whole body tingled when he touched her. She wanted to go home to him every day. Was that love? y/n didn't know. She hasn't been in love before.

"I heard he was good in bed.", Hans says, nodding. "Lot of girls wanted to get laid but he only ever had eyes for Reagen."

"He trusts you," Oliver says. "You've gained his trust, y/n. This week, you really have to destroy his walls and get him to remember everything. You don't understand. We need him. His life is in danger if keeps his act going on any longer."

"I-I'll take him somewhere safe, where no one can hurt him.", y/n whispers, then thought about how dumb that sounded.

Romania scoffed. "We have men everywhere, y/n. You have no idea how big we are. You're lucky it's just the three of us talking to you."

"I've seen guys following us, looking at us weirdly. Are they your men?"

"Maybe, maybe not.", Hans shrugs. "Can be enemies plotting his death. Too scared to come any closer to him. They were all terrified of Harry once they got to know he was our secret weapon."

"W-Why do people have to be so terrified of him?", she couldn't help but ask the same question she asked last meeting.

"He is not the man you think he is."Oliver spoke slowly, like he was warning her. "Take his fondness towards you as leverage and find out what we need. Do your job and let us worry about protecting him, okay?"

"You have time till seven days, and I have a plan.", Romania tells her. "Do it as I say, and you'll be done. You'll be free to do as you please, whether he remembers or not."

"B-But I can't just leave him-"

"That's your fault, getting romantically involved with him."

Yes. It was her fault. y/n nods, finishing the entire glass of water. "Tell me your plan."

"Road trip.", she says, clapping her hands together.

"That's your great plan?", y/n asks confused.

"Hans.", Romania said and Hans spread out a map on the table. "Reagen and Harry were smuggling gold from San Francisco to New Mexico, on road.", he says, pointing at the places on the map.

"From here.", y/n spoke softly, and they nodded. She lived outside the city, in a small town near San Francisco, but the nearest city to her is Dan Francisco. 

"It's a sixteen hour road trip. It'll take you two days if you cover 8 hours every day. Four days if you cover four hours every day. The choice is yours. But we need Harry here by the end of this week." Hans pointed to a place near the border. It wasn't Mexico yet.

"This was where the blast took place. Where Reagen died, and where Harry lost his memory. We want you to take him through the same route they took on their last journey together. We're confident Harry will remember something, if not everything."

"You want me to bring him to the same place he lost his past life..to see if the place brings back his memories?", y/n put it together.

"Precisely.", Romania nods. "Now what you want to do in those four days is not my concern. Get a room, go to a party, go to the beach, go to a movie. I don't care. But I need Harry's memories back. Traveling on this route, a route he has taken many times before, has to be the key."

It was a good plan if it works. "And if he remembers?"

"Leave the rest to us.", Oliver says, and y/n buries her head in her hands as she thinks. "Is there another option?"

"This is our best option y/n.", Hans speaks softly. "Our last hope. You can make it happen."

Just one more week and she can put all this behind her. Of course she knew that wasn't possible as she is now involved in Harry's life, but if at all he remembers, even a glimpse of who he used to be, no one can hurt him. They'll all be scared. Things might change between y/n and Harry, but at least he'd be safe, she thought. Yes, she had to make him remember.

"Road trip it is, then."

_____________________________________________________________

Harry sits on his bed, watching as y/n sorts through his wardrobe. "Do you have anything other than these formal shirts?", she asks, finding only more and more of single colored shirts.

"No. That's all I need.", Harry shrugs. "You don't like them?"

y/n turns to smile at him, and walks to him. "I love them, Harry. But for our trip, you definitely need more. I'm gonna take you shopping."

"I don't like shopping..", Harry mumbles, grabbing her hips and pulling her in between his legs. His thumbs draw circles on her skin that's exposed. y/n was wearing a crop top and shorts. "Can I not just love on you for the entire day?", he asks, kissing her neck and y/n feels his soft hair as she moves her hand to play with his hair.

"As much as I would love that..", y/n kisses his lips, making him smile. "You are in dire need of new clothes." She squeaks as Harry pulls her onto his lap. "We can have our fun later."

"The kind of fun we like?", he asks, moving her hair back to expose her neck, attaching his lips to her soft skin.

"Uh huh.", y/n sucks in a breath, twisting a curl around his finger. "Why can't your friend just drive the car back herself?", he asks.

y/n had made up a story to tell Harry about the road trip to Mexico. It had to be convincing. Romania gave her that story as well. She had to say that it was her friend's, and her cousin had driven to San Francisco last time he was here but he took the flight back, so the car was still with her. Now he needed it back, and he was too busy to come here himself.

"Cause she's busy. I owe her one.", y/n says, feeling horrible to lie to him, but she had no option. She would get him on the road, and try her best to make him recollect his memories. If he didn't remember, she would tell him the truth before the week ended. She wouldn't let him get killed. He might leave her when she tells him the truth but it's better than him dying. She could live with regret, but she couldn't, knowing that she helped someone with murder.

"And you need a trip. You've been working non stop, everyone needs a break.", y/n kisses his jaw, and Harry smiles, "I don't need breaks, I love work. The only reason I agreed is because of you."

"You can't say no to me, can you?", y/n pats his cheeks.

"You're cute.", he chuckles, before lifting her off his lap and standing on his feet. "Let's go."

y/n took Harry shopping, and he just stood there like one of the mannequins themselves, while y/n sorted through the clothes. He seemed to be enjoying looking at her, rather than the different collection of clothes.

"Here, try these on. There's the trial room.", y/n says as she places a pile of shirts onto Harry's hands.

"Um, okay." Harry walks to the trial rooms, and y/n chuckles to herself. He was so adorable and innocent. y/n even tried google searching about him, but she didn't find much. She wanted to know why people were scared of him. She wished she could talk to Reagen. She was the only person not afraid of him, and who was closest to him.

“How’s this?”

y/n gives Harry a once over, as he poses for her in a floral shirt.He hadn’t done all the buttons up, and she could see half of his butterfly tattoo.

 She bites her lip, nodding. “Get it.”

Harry looks around, before reaching a hand to tug her into the trial room. “Harry! What if people see?”

“There’s no one around, love.”, Harry pins her to the wall, trapping her with his large frame. “Are you getting worked up?”

“No..”, she lies, breathing heavily as he leans closer, his breath fanning over her face. “No?”, he smirks, pressing her lips onto her hers, and biting her bottom lip. She opens her mouth to let his tongue inside, and lets him explore her mouth. Harry’s knee comes in between her legs, separating them. One hand holds her hip while the other slips up her thigh, to her core. 

She clenches her thighs immediately, and he pinches her thigh. “Keep them open. Let me see for myself if you’re wet.”

She plays with the curls on the back of his head, and grips his shoulder as he parts her panties and runs a finger through her sleek wet folds. 

“Ah hah, looks like someone was lying.”

“Harry stop..t-they’ll hear us..”, she whispers, fighting back a moan as he slips one finger inside her. She was wearing a skirt, so he had easy access. 

“You’ll just have to be quiet then, baby.”, he hums, adding another finger and pumping them in and out of her slowly, in a dangerously slow pace. “Should I let you cum? You lied to me.”

“Y-Yes, please..”, she whimpers, starting to ride his fingers because he wasn’t using them fast enough for her to get off. He pulled away his fingers immediately, and she whined in annoyance. 

“You’ll take what I give you, won’t you sweetheart?”, he questions, the hand holding her hip moving to her throat. “Fuck..yes..”, she answers, her eyes fluttering as she looks at his hand around her throat. “Please..”

“Please what? You want me to choke you?”

“Yes, a-and let me cum.”, she murmurs, and he cocks an eyebrow, pressing his fingers around her neck just enough to make her vision a little bit disoriented, but it felt so good. “Please.”, she quickly adds and he hums in satisfaction. “Get inside me.”

“You’ll get to cum only if you are a good girl and be quiet, okay? Can you do that for me?”

“Yes.”, she agrees, nodding her head and he releases her neck, turning her around. “If you make a sound, I’m gonna stuff these panties into your pretty little mouth, got it?”

“Uh huh..” Harry flips up her skirt and drags down her panties, before unbuckling his pants and getting his dick out of his boxers. She keeps her hands on the mirror covered wall, and he keeps his hand on her shoulder as he slips his hard cock into her pussy.

“Fuck, so tight around me. Such a perfect hole.”, he groans, and she gasps at the feeling of being full, before quickly remembering that she should be quiet. Harry fucks her deep and quick, making her bite her lip so hard she was sure it was bleeding. It felt so fucking good. 

“Feels good, baby? This what you wanted?”Harry's fingers dig into the flesh of her hip.

“So good.”, she hummed, and let out a small scream as he thrusts quickly, and it hit just the spot. She was struggling to keep standing. 

“What did I tell you?”Harry grabs her ass, squeezing one of her cheeks. “What would happen if you couldn’t be quiet?”

“Y-You’d stuff my panties in m-my mouth..oh god.,”, she moans, and he picks up her panties. “That’s right. Want to let the whole world know what a dirty little girl you are? Open your mouth.”

His fingers grabbed her jaw and squeezed, making her open her mouth and he stuffs her panties into her mouth, making her moan around it as he continues to fuck her. “That’s better. Do you still think you deserve to cum?”

She couldn’t answer with the panties in her mouth, and she didn’t think she would be able to even if she could have. She was seeing stars. But she managed a weak nod.

“Yeah? I don’t think so.``, Harry quickened his pace, feeling him getting close and she clenched around him. “Fuck yes, just like that.”, he groans. “B-Because I’m nice, I’ll let you cum. Let go, baby.”

It doesn’t take much longer for her to tip over the edge, and he has to hold her up to make sure she doesn’t fall on her knees. Her legs were shaking from the orgasm, and her head was floating. Harry groaned as he released as well, slowing down his strokes. He pressed his forehead to her shoulder, breathing as they came down from their highs. 

He takes the panties out of her mouth, and presses a kiss to her shoulder. “Can I pull out?”

She nods, and he does, slowly before turning her around and pushing all the cum dripping down her thighs inside her. She whines from sensitivity. “You’ll hold everything in, right love? I’ll take care of it when we get home after our little shopping trip.”

“I-I think we’re done shopping for the day..”, she sighs, head leaning on his chest and he chuckles, pulling her into his arms. He presses a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re so perfect.”

___________________________________________________

Two days later, y/n and Harry were ready for their trip. She had planned it all for four days, the last day would be the seventh day. The end of her four weeks.

"You can always call me anytime.", y/n tells Uncle Luke as she checks the house over and over again, to make sure he has everything. She had found a home nurse who would take care of him when she was gone.

"I'll be fine, y/n. I told you I don't need a nurse!", he says as y/n checks his medicine cabinet, making sure nothing needs a refill.

"I know you can take care of yourself, the nurse is so I don't freak out, okay?", she says, sitting down when her uncle grabs her wrist.

"I'll be good, I promise.", he says, smiling with the soft glint in his eyes. "But you haven't been on a trip since ages, y/n. I want you to have fun."

y/n smiles, squeezing his hand. "You used to love going to new places and outdoors. I wish you were little again so we could both go get ice cream, and I'd push you on the swing in the park.."

y/n leans forward to hug her uncle, closing her eyes in comfort as his arms wrap around her. "You remind me of Reena sometimes. She would be a beautiful smart girl like you right now, if she was alive."

"She would. I'm sure she's looking at you from up there.", y/n says to him, and Uncle Luke smiles at her. "My little girl. I'll see her some day."

"Yes, until then, you're stuck with me."

y/n gets him to laugh. "Seriously, have fun y/n, don't think about me, okay? I'll call every day, but don't spend too much time worrying about me."

"I'll try.", she nods.

"Guess you gotta go, Harry will be waiting for you.", he says, stroking her hair back.

"Yup. It's just four days, I can do this right?", she asks for assurance, and Uncle Luke nods, placing a kiss on her forehead. "You can. You know, while I was making tea yesterday, I put in salt instead of sugar?"

"Oh god. That must have tasted horrible."

"My point is, y/n, don't trust everything you see or hear. You can't even differentiate salt from sugar if you don't look carefully."

y/n's eyebrows creased, and she bit her lip, thinking about that statement. Did Uncle Luke mean something? He did throw around words like that often, but this seemed different.

"What do you mean, Uncle?", she asks, pulling back from the hug to look at him.

"What do I mean?", he asks, confused. "Wasn't I talking about Reena?"

y/n knew he had forgotten, and there was no point bringing it up again. He would only get sad about the fact that he forgot something he just said. y/n made sure she packed everything, and went to go pick Harry.

She waits for him in the car, and after half an hour of waiting, he finally comes out. She gets out of the car to help him load his bag into the trunk.

"I thought you were gonna bail on me. We're already two hours past the time we were supposed to leave. We have to-"

y/n stops talking as she turns to look at Harry. He had gotten a haircut, shaved his mustache and trimmed his beard. He looked so handsome, the haircut made his eyes stand out. His green eyes were shining bright. He immediately looked a few years younger. His skin glowed in the sunlight. He wore a black t shirt exposing his muscular arms, and displaying all his tattoos. He wore baggy jeans and sneakers with that.

"Enjoying the view? We're not even in Mexico, yet.", Harry smirks at her, his dimples popping.

She blushes, pushing on his shoulder. He looked incredibly hot. "Who are you? What did you do with Doctor Turner?"

"He's gone for vacation, won't be available for four days. I would recommend rescheduling the appointment if you had one.", he says, making her giggle and hug him. "You look great Harry."

"Thank you, and you always do, y/n. Sorry for the delay, I had some last minute packing left. I'm ready to go now. Oh! I didn't know it was convertible.", he says, looking at the car.

"Isn't it sick? I thought you'll like it.", y/n says, watching him go around and look at it.

"Interesting," he agrees. "It's safe, right?"

"Of course. I drive safely. Hop in, let's begin our trip!"

Harry smiles and kisses her before getting in. Harry asks her questions about where they'll be staying, and she tells him she booked a room in a hotel near the beach for the day.

y/n sang along to the music and Harry listened to her with a smile. She really was a sunshine in his life. They stopped for tea on the way, and for a break. It was a little hut-like place, overlooking the hills. It was the only spot she could find on the highway.

y/n clicked some pictures of Harry as he leaned against the car. He caught her, and brought a hand to his face. "Whyy?", he drawls.

"It's a beautiful view!", she says, smiling as she looks at the photos.

"Let me take yours then! Stand there.", he points to a tree, and snatches her phone out of her hands.

"Okay." y/n walks over and strikes a pose, making Harry grin as he clicks. She made a funny face for the next one, and Harry pinched her side playfully when she came back running to him.

"You're so pretty.", he mumbles, pressing a kiss to her head as she looks at the photos. She smiles, leaning her head on his shoulder and tilting her head up to meet his lips. "Thank you."

They hit the road again. Harry had come off a night shift the day before so he was tired. He yawns and leans his head on the window.

"Will you get sleepy and crash if I sleep?", he asks.

"No, I think I'll survive for a while. We have one and half hours more, get recharged.", she pats his knee.

He was too tired to protest, and he let his eyes close. y/n kept looking at him sideways when she could. Harry looked so peaceful. She wished she could keep him safe with her like this forever.

Harry woke up energetic before they got to their hotel. It was a small place, but the view from their room was beautiful. Palm trees stood tall along the beach, dancing to the tune of the breeze emanating from the waters of the sea. They missed the sunset, but the sky was still painted in hues.

They decided to freshen up and then take a walk on the beach side. y/n changed into a purple and pink blouse, paired with matching shorts and put on her sandals. Harry chose a simple white shirt and black shorts. Harry took her hand when they walked, making y/n's heart flutter. They had held hands before, but now they were away from everyone, in their own world and happy.

Then they sat down on the sand while looking at the calm waters. "Why San Francisco?", y/n asks Harry as she traces her thumb on the cross tattoo on his hand. "You didn't grow up here, did you?"

"I don't think so..", Harry murmurs. "I think I'm from London."

She knew he was British from his accent that was incredibly hot, but London was new information. "Then why did you move here?", she asks.

"I-I don't know..I've been here since the time I remember.", he whispers.

"Move back to London, Harry. Or Mexico, or somewhere.", she mumbles, making him look at her. "Leaving you and my life behind?"

"That's what's safe for you. You can get a job there too, build a beautiful house and fall in love with a beautiful girl. Build your life there, Harry. Be happy.", she whispers, kissing his cheek. She couldn't tell him anything more.

"I built my life here, y/n. I don't know if I can do it again. I'm content with what I have now. I don't think it's possible to fall in love again either."

"Again?", y/n lifts her head from his shoulder. Was he talking about Reagen?

He tucks some of her hair behind her ear. "Yeah. I'm in love with you, y/n."

She felt her ribs hurting from the butterflies fluttering from her stomach up to her ribs, pressing on them. Her heart beat so fast, she thought it would explode out of her chest. y/n stroked his cheek as he looked at her with those gorgeous eyes. Her own eyes filled with tears, so she closed them, not wanting him to see and pressed her lips onto his soft ones. Harry's hand moves to the back of her neck, pulling her closer as he kisses her passionately.

"I love you too, Harry.", y/n whispers back, and touches their foreheads together. It was tearing her apart, hurting him. She would be responsible for breaking his heart. She wanted to walk into the sea and scream, letting the waves of the sea drown her voice.

Will he think think that what they have between them is also an act, when he gets to know the truth? But this was all true. y/n couldn't deny it anymore. She was in love with this man. The man who came into her life unexpectedly, and now without whom she cannot imagine living without.

"I'm happy, y/n. As long as I have you, I'll always be happy.", Harry whispers, pressing a sweet kiss to her forehead.

[pink-alchemy]

[itsfullofstars]

It's official: I'm publishing my first work of fiction, the unhinged novella SKIN & BONES, on 10/22/24 (just in time for Halloween). Pre-order the ebook now!

A mind-bending psychological thriller told in first person by a broken man who submits to a bizarre medical experiment in an effort to redeem himself, and loses his mind in the process.

It's Fight Club meets The Parallax View meets E.R. meets Shutter Island... and utterly unique in its own right. A quick, propulsive, hallucinatory read, rich with supernatural elements and medical suspense, SKIN & BONES takes you on a journey into the labyrinth of one man's fractured psyche.

Skull art by @paul.hollingworth - and it's NOT AI!

[natelikestowrite2054]

The Infection. Wanda Maximoff. Chapter 1

Wanda's not here. We are all that remains.

Summary: After a mission overseas, you return to the compound and meet up with Peter Parker. But something unknown attacks the base, and you soon learn who's behind the carnage.

Warnings: Infected Wanda, uneasy atmosphere, violence, suspense.

Author's Note: I hope you all enjoy reading this first chapter. There will be more to come.

You huffed as you dried hair after taking a well-deserved hot shower. Today had been grueling and unforgiving. The muscles in your body ached badly from the slightest bit of movement, and your eyes could barely stay open. But this wasn't a first-time experience for you. It was one you had done numerous times with the Avengers. The scars down your back, chest, and arms each held a story worth telling.

It had been over a year now since joining their team. A day that you'd never likely forget about. But unlike a majority of them. You didn't wear a suit of armor, possess secret powers, or have superhuman strength. No, you were a normal person, but not without the means to defend yourself. Your old life had taught you many lessons, and that was what aided you the day it all changed.

You neatly folded the towel and hung it over the heated rack. Sighing, you picked up your phone and opened it to check if Wanda had seen your messages. Two messages you'd sent half an hour ago had still gone unseen. Now you were getting worried. You typed up another message to send to her.

Wanda, I'm starting to really worry about you. You only said a few words to me or anyone when we left Sokovia, and then you suddenly disappeared as soon as we got back. If you need space, I understand, but please communicate with me. I love you so much, and I'm here for you. ❤️

Your mind pondered on the circus of theories as to what could've made Wanda so distant that she'd dissappear from everyone.

Did going back to Sokovia reawaken her painful memories? Should you have said more to comfort her? Was she planning on breaking up with you?

You snapped out of those delusional thoughts and exited the bathroom, switching off the lights and carrying your uniform over your forearm. The smell of fabric triggered deep memories of nostalgia from days long gone. You gently placed the outfit on the bed and searched for clothes for the evening.

Ding!

Your heart skipped a beat hearing the notification. You nearly stumbled forward, trying to get your leg through your sweatpants, hoping that Wanda had finally answered your messages. You scooped up your phone and opened to see it was a text message from Peter Parker.

Hey, I'm swinging in now. Meet you at the entrance?

Oh shit. You mumbled, realizing you had forgotten about your plans to hang out with Peter. You had been so overwhelmed with the stress of Wanda that you'd completely forgotten about tonight. It was something you'd planned out for some time, and you had been looking forward to it.

Peter wasn't a part of the Avengers, and that made it almost impossible for you two to see one another. You first met Peter when Tony Stark recruited him to help with a mission. Peter preferred to work alone and stick to being a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. But the day you two met, there was an instant connection.

You ruffled your hair, trying to ease the sudden anxiety of forgetting the hangout. Reluctantly, you texted Peter back.

Sure, I'll meet you by the entrance.

A few seconds later Peter replied.

See you soon.

You pocketed your phone and fixed your hair after messing it up out of frustration. I suppose tonight wouldn't be so bad. After all, you were in need of a break after the eventful day. You walked out of the room into the hallway toward the elevator. Your fingers pressed the top button, and the doors grumbled open. You stepped inside and waited for the lift to arrive at the bottom.

Once you had arrived, you eagerly squeezed through the still-opening elevator doors. The anxiety and excitement of seeing Peter clashed inside you like swords on a battlefield. Your eyes caught him just walking in through the front entrance. He seemed to be struggling to stuff his mask into his jacket.

"Are you struggling a little bit there, Parker?" You snickered. "No, it just won't. Ah, I got it," Peter said. He turned to look at you only to be greeted with a tight embrace. Peter hugged you back, and you winced. "Oh, are you okay?" Peter gasped. "Yeah, I'm just sore from today. I'll talk about it later. But it's great to see you again, Peter. How have you-" An unwelcomed smell entered your nostrils, and you immediately asked, "Okay, why do you smell like pizza?"

Peter clearly embarrassed and turning red answered sheepishly, "Because I've been delivering pizzas."

"Wait, you're delivering pizzas now?" You asked almost a bit taken aback. "When did this start?" "Oh, I started a few months back," Peter told. A thought came to your mind and it made you snort. "Please tell me you've been swinging around in your costume when delivering them, oh please," you prayed. Peter smiled to hide his embarrassment as he admitted to it. You laughed, imagining how confusing it must look for New Yorkers seeing Spider-Man deliver pizzas. "Oh, my gosh, that's brilliant. I can imagine J. Jonah Jamerson is printing a front page for that one. Speaking of that, what happened to taking pictures of yourself for that knucklehead?" You asked, nudging Peter's side.

"I-I've still been doing that. The pizza delivery job is just some extra work." Peter explained. "How come?" You asked. "Well, it's just I've been a little bit behind on rent." Peter told.

"Do you need money?" You asked. "No, no, please, I can't take any of your money. I'll figure something out." Peter assured.

"Peter, if you need help, we -" Peter immediately dismissed your offer again. "No, it's fine, really. I have it under control." You breathed out through your nose to keep your sigh of frustration hidden. "Okay, but please, if you change your mind. We are all here for you."

"I appreciate it, Y/N, thanks." Peter thanked with a cute smile.

You pressed the button for the elevator doors to open. "Tonight, we're just going to relax and enjoy ourselves," you said. "Are you up for a movie and some board games?" "Sounds great, let's do it." Peter agreed. As you both entered the elevator, you pressed for the top floor.

"Is everyone here tonight?" Peter asked. You scratched an itch on your nose before answering, "Yeah, everyone's here. We recently got back from a mission in Sokovia." "Sokovia?" Peter repeated with a peak of interest dripping from his quirky voice. "Yeah, Wanda informed us of another Hydra base there," you explained. "Did you find out what they were doing there?" Peter inquired. "Not yet. We're still reviewing the data we saved before it was all wiped clean. But from what I could gather is that Hydra was running some kind of experiments."

"Experiments?" "What kind?" Peter asked. "Some kind of human testing. We were concerned about there being new super humans. But again, we won't fully know as half the data was destroyed when we began our assault."

"Mhm, so everything else is okay?" Peter asked. "Yeah, everything's... f-fine." You answered, not trying your best to hide the stress and worry for Wanda that was eating you like a cancer.

"Hey, you okay?" You glanced back up at Peter and stuttered with your explanation. "Y-Yeah, I'm fine just tired."

"Are you sure?" Peter asked again.

"Yeah, I'm sure," you whispered with a half convincing smile.

The mini screen in the corner of the elevator caught your attention. For some bizarre reason, the floor numbers seem to have frozen in time. But that's when you noticed the shift in Peter's expression. His eyes were wide like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Peter?" "Peter what's wrong?" You asked. Those few seconds felt like a lifetime time before Peter answered, "Y/N, something's wrong, something's -"

The elevator suddenly stopped.

You both froze in place, feeling the rumble of the elevator throughout your bodies. The lights from above flickered on and off until darkness followed. "What happened to the power?!" You exclaimed whilst frantically pushing the buttons on the panel. Nothing worked. Peter stepped toward the doors, prying his fingers in-between them. The young hero grunted with effort as he separated the doors. It sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Peter stepped out first, keeping his arm out in front of you in a protective manner. His eyes scanned the darkened hallway for any sudden movements.

"W-What's going on?" You muttered.

"Y/N, listen to me. There's something very dangerous nearby. Whatever it is, we need t-"

The thundering sound of clanging echoed through the floors above. You looked up toward the ceiling, listening to the deafening noises. But what came next was unlike anything you'd heard before. A loud screeching roar beyond human capability, and it made every hair on your body stand up. You started to hyperventilate, feeling the vibration of it throughout your body. "W-What was..." You choked out through your panicked breaths.

"Come on!" Peter exclaimed as he shoved the staircase door open. You raced after Peter with the adrenaline, igniting and fueling your body like a soldier charging onto the battlefield. As you climbed the stairs, the sound of gunfire and yelling was growing louder with every step. "Come on, Y/N!" Peter yelled from above. "We're almost at the top!" You leaped up the last set of stairs when you heard the screeching of Peter's shoes. You halted thinking Peter had come face to face with what was responsible. But as you looked up, there was nothing but what remained of the stairway door.

You slowly stepped up onto the walkway and inspected the scene of the crime. The door had been torn apart from the center and pulled inward. But what caught your eye made your heart skip a beat. Carved deep into the metal of the door appeared to be the workings of something with sharp claws.

"What could've done this?" You whispered.

Peter unzipped his grey jacket and swiftly took it off, revealing his tightly red and blue fitted costume. You turned away to look back at the door and bravely decided to investigate further. "Y/N, wait." Peter warned. You ignored it and squeezed through the gap in the door. Once you were through, your eyes gazed upon more of the same claw marks on the wall. Following the trail lead, you down the blackened hallway where the doors leading to the living room had been ripped clean off.

"Peter." You quietly called. Peter emerged through the gap and saw the carnage before him. "Oh my God." Peter gasped with wide eyes. "Okay, Y/N, I need you to listen to me. You need to get out of here and call Nick Fury. I'll go and investigate." Shaking your head, you argued, "No, I'm not leaving you here." Peter stepped closer and put both his hands on your biceps with a firm grip. "Y/N, please just listen to me. Whatever did this is dangerous. I sensed it before the power was cut. I can't let you get hurt." Again, you shook your head, ignoring Peter's reason. "I can't let you face this alone, I won't run knowing I could've done something." "Y/N it's too dangerous, and you don't have anything to protect yourself with," Peter pointed out.

"I'm staying." You repeated arrogantly.

Peter stared into your eyes. His expression was mixed between frustration, anger, and worry, knowing he couldn't change your mind. Peter pulled down his mask and repeated, "Okay, but promise me that the moment something happens to me. You save yourself. Promise me."

"I promise Peter." You answered confidently.

Peter nodded, and you both started to move cautiously toward the living room. He kept his arm out in front of in a protective manner. Anxiety made your hands clamy, and your heart thumped loudly in your ears as you entered the room.

Your eyes scanned the darkened area. There was no sign of anybody. Glass was scattered all over the floor, the couches and TV were tipped over, pieces of Tony's equipment broken and discarded like trash. Even one of the large windows had been shattered. It was like a battlefield. You continued following behind Peter with sweat dripping down your face like raindrops. When you felt something underneath your foot. You lifted your shoe off the object only to see it was a gun.

Natasha's gun.

You scooped up the pistol and checked it only to find the weapon had been completely emptied. Whatever Natasha was trying to bring down didn't surcome easily to bullet wounds.

Peter's eyes surveyed the area in front of him when he suddenly felt his spidey sense trigger drowning out his footsteps that came to a hault. You felt Peter's hand grab your shirt in a bone crushing grip. He whispered in a low tone, "Y/N, don't move." You froze like a statue, not daring to move another muscle.

Peter's breathing was shallow. His sharp spidey sense ringed loudly. Peter desperately searched for the threat, but there was nothing but the darkness that swallowed you both like a nightmare. The young hero needed to concentrate on where the threat was and quickly. Peter took a deep breath in and let it out. All went quiet. Peter's spidey sense homed in on the danger, and he moved his two fingers to the center of his web shooter before whispering the bone-chilling word.

"Run."

Peter shoved you out of the way. Emerging from the darkness were a pair of long tendrils that grabbed ahold of Peter's wrists and ankles like an octopus seizing its prey from within its lair.

You landed hard on the ground, crazing your cheek on the broken glass. Turning your head, you saw Peter pinned against the wall by the long, dark tendrils. Suddenly, one of the tendrils perked up and lunged toward you. Just as it was about to snatch your ankle, it was yanked back by one of Peter's webs. "Run, Y/N, RUN!" Peter groaned out.

You quickly stood to your feet and sprinted out of the room toward the stairway door. The sound of Peter's yellling traveled through the walls and followed you like a haunting spirit of mockery. The thought of what that monster was doing to Peter was too much bear, but you couldn't stop. You had to escape whilst Peter held it off.

The last flight of stairs was just below you now. You wasted no time and leaped down them, landing on your two feet. Grunting, you pushed the door open and sprinted toward the exit. You could make out the sight of the far-off street lights through the glass windows above the front door. Freedom was just ahead you could almost taste it.

Suddenly, you stopped hearing a loud rumble from above. The ground shook like an earthqauke was unfolding. Your eyes followed the sourace above when the ceiling collapsed, forcing you to retreat. You helplessly watched as Peter fell through the rubble. He reached out to fire a web to save himself, but it was too late. Peter crashed onto the title surface, cracking it. His body went limp as he laid trapped underneath a pile of rubble.

"Peter!" You cried.

You ran to Peter's side. But stopped upon seeing a dark shadow land in front of you and to your horror you saw it was...

Wanda.

No, it couldn't be. But it was indeed her. The right half of her body was consumed by a black and red substance that stretched all across the right side of her body like torn clothing. But the most disturbing feature was the right side, her mouth littered with rows of sharp fang like teeth.

You turned to flee. But Wanda was too fast. She raised up her right arm, and the black and red goo stretched across her hand like multiple streams transforming into a long tendril. It attacked with incredible speed and wrapped tightly around your throat. You kicked and squirmed as the oxygen supply to your lungs was cut off.

Wanda slowly turned you to face her and pulled you uncomfortably close to her face. Her wide pupils stared deeply into yours like a vengeful demon. "W-Wanda." You choked out in a pleading tone. The cold, slimey tendril tightened like an anaconda. All you heard leaving Wanda's lips was a chuckle that echoed through your ears.

As your world began to turn dark, you continued to thrash desperately, trying to break free, but you slowly felt yourself scumming to the sleep.

"Sweet dreams, little lamb."

[readersmagnet]

Black Menace by Kenneth J. Sousa

Join Mik, the brave moorhen, in his quest to defy stereotypes, battle predators, and assemble an army to overthrow the reign of terror orchestrated by Greybeard in “Black Menace: Scourge of an Apocalyptic World” by Kenneth J. Sousa. Discover the power of unity, resilience, and triumph in this captivating tale of courage.

Overthrow the reign of terror. Grab a copy at www.authorkennethjsousa.com.

[gaybookpromotions]

Jagged Shores Series Tour - Thom Collins

SERIES TOUR for the Jagged Shores Series by Thom Collins Book 1: North Point Book 2: Safe Harbour Book 3: Deep Waters Book 4: Cold Day Dawning Book 5: Jagged Ends releases on April 30.  Goodreads Amazon US Series Link  |  Amazon UK Series Link Pride Publishing Genres: Contemporary M/M Romance Themes: Murder, Thriller, and Suspense, set in the UK Heat Rating: 4 flames Each book can…

[pascaloverx]

HAUNTED

Summary: You awaken from a two-year coma to find that Detective Lois has been eagerly awaiting your recovery, believing you might have witnessed something crucial to catching a serial killer. What you didn’t expect is to learn that she suspects your doctor of being the murderer—and even more shockingly, it appears that you are married to him. Now, you must uncover your lost memories and find out who Charlie Mayhew truly is to you.

Author's Note: Yes, I'm writing another fanfic featuring Nicholas Alexander Chavez’s character from Grotesquerie. The characters belong to the universe created by Ryan Murphy in the series Grotesquerie (2024). This fanfic will include violence, strong language, and adult content. It will portray the character Charlie Mayhew as a doctor. I hope you enjoy the fanfic, but there's nothing certain about its future. If you like this fanfic, please interact, leave comments. This author will be grateful for any interaction.

ONE THREE

© credits for the owners of the pictures used. they don't belong to me. credit is not mine for the pictures.

TWO

You were finally discharged from the hospital after nearly a week of being poked, prodded, and thoroughly examined. However, your husband seemed displeased with the last conversation you shared. He hadn’t returned to visit you, leaving an unsettling emptiness in your chest. Even in your dreams, the striking face of your husband was absent. The fictional priest, your recurring specter, no longer graced you with his haunting visits. Detective Lois came to see you twice. The first time, you welcomed her, but when she began disparaging your husband, you quickly lost interest in continuing the conversation. The second time, you thought it best to turn her away before Dr. Mayhew discovered she had been there.

Now you are packing your clothes to return home—clothes you do not recall buying or ever wearing before. A house that does not feel like a home, for you have no memory of it. Whether you like it or not, Dr. Mayhew is the only semblance of familiarity you have. Yet, he seems to have lost interest in you. He is probably ready to file for divorce and pursue his happily ever after with the detective with whom he may or may not have had an affair.

"Mrs. Mayhew, are you ready to go home?" a strange man asks as he stands in the doorway. He is wearing a suit, and from the formal way he speaks to you, you assume he is not a relative of yours.

"I'm sorry, but I have no idea who you are. Actually, I'm waiting for my husband." You say, holding your suitcase while sitting on the edge of the hospital bed. The man seems to be preparing to say something that will hurt you. "Mrs. Mayhew, I’m your husband's driver. He can’t pick you up; he had an urgent commitment." He says, adjusting his suit, almost as if he’s embarrassed by the news. He seems to feel pity for you. For some reason, the fact that your husband is avoiding you irritates you.

"In that case, let's go." You say, a bit downcast but holding onto your suitcase tightly, trying not to let your anger show. You know there will be a moment when you'll give your husband a lesson—he's the one who deserves to hear your complaints.

"Follow me, I'll take you to the car and we'll head to your house soon," the driver says, raising his arm for you to hold onto as you make your way to the hospital exit. You try to keep up the appearance of being fine, smiling as you say goodbye to the hospital staff while being accompanied by your husband’s driver, Ed. As he drives you home, he starts talking about his life. He tells you how you had recommended him for the job as a personal driver. You learn that you used to give him art lessons and suggested him to your husband. The information leaves you more confused. You have the impression that you were wealthy, given the fancy clothes you wear and the fact that you have a private driver, but it seems you were also teaching art. This leaves you wondering about the life you used to lead in your own home.

When you arrive at the house, it’s almost everything you imagined. It’s large, not a mansion, but it has two floors, a garden, and a pool. Ed helps you out of the car and guides you on where to place your luggage, leading you toward the entrance of the house.

"On the first floor, you’ll find the kitchen, living room, laundry, and a guest bedroom. There’s also a dining room, but it’s only used for special occasions. On the second floor, there’s the master suite and the boss’s office. If you’d like, I can take you there," Ed says politely, though you sense that you need to spend some time getting familiar with your home and you don't want to bother Ed with your demands.

"There’s no need to trouble yourself, Ed. You’re free to go, and thank you for taking the time to pick me up from the hospital," you say graciously.

"It was my pleasure to assist you. If you need anything, I'll be just outside," Ed says before leaving you alone. For a moment, you find yourself captivated, taking in the details of the first floor of your home. As you admire the kitchen, a sudden noise from the upper floor catches your attention.

You freeze, startled by the unexpected noise. You were certain you were alone in the house, but now it seems you might have company. The thought races through your mind—it could be a burglar or perhaps one of your husband's mistresses waiting for his return, especially since you're convinced he's not home. Uncertain of your next move, you consider calling for Ed, but that might alert whoever is upstairs. Resolute, you grab a knife from the kitchen, gripping it tightly as you ascend the stairs, steeling yourself to confront whoever dares to intrude, the sound of water running hinting at someone taking a bath above.

You step into the master suite, your eyes scanning the space. Scattered across the bed are some of your husband's clothes, as though he had been deciding what to wear. Framed photos of the two of you together adorn the room, alongside other items that affirm this as the bedroom of a married couple. However, investigating the nuances of your marital life is not why you climbed the unnecessarily numerous stairs. Silently, you make your way to the bathroom, drawn by the muffled sounds coming from within the shower, mingling with the steady cascade of water. Your heart pounds as you realize—there's definitely a man in there, taking a shower. You grip the knife tightly in your hands and gather your courage to open the shower curtain.

Your husband stands before you, utterly exposed, his body glistening with water and lightly lathered with soap, one hand still gripping his cock mid-motion. "What the hell, Y/N?" Doctor Mayhew exclaims, his voice laced with shock and alarm.

Frozen for a moment, you struggle to process the scene, your grip tightening around the knife in your hand. Heat rises to your face, and without thinking further, you turn on your heel abruptly, your embarrassment overwhelming. "I— I didn’t know it was you," you stammer, your voice shaky as you try to compose yourself, your back still turned to him.

"Did it ever occur to you to ask?" your husband snaps, his voice sharp with irritation. You're unsure if his anger stems from being caught in such a vulnerable state or from having his private moment interrupted.

"It didn’t cross my mind," you retort, doing your best to maintain your composure despite the vivid image of his naked form lingering in your thoughts. "Especially since I assumed a man too busy to fetch his own wife from the hospital wouldn’t be occupied... pleasuring himself in the shower." Your tone is steady, but there's a slight edge to your words, masking your own embarrassment.

"I thought you'd prefer to return with someone you didn't consider a cold-blooded, adulterous murderer," Doctor Mayhew says, his tone laced with dry humor as he continues his shower. "Had I known you cared about my presence, I would have been there. And as for giving myself pleasure, despite the belief that I've had a torrid affair with another woman, my fidelity to you is so absolute that my only mistress is my hand." He chuckles softly, the sound almost mocking, while you remain rooted in place, still stunned and unable to respond or even move.

"If you'd cared enough to visit me after our last meeting, you would have known that I did want you there to bring me home," you say, your voice tinged with hurt. The air grows heavy for a moment, the tension palpable, until the sound of the running water comes to an abrupt stop.

"I was there every day," Doctor Mayhew replies, his tone soft yet steady. "But only while you were asleep. I didn’t want to trouble you. Your doctors told me you were improving, and I thought my presence might upset you." He steps out of the shower, the sound of his movements drawing closer to you. You can feel his breath against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. Before you can respond, his arms encircle yours, gently but firmly taking the knife from your grip. He places it on the bathroom counter, the action deliberate yet tender.

You turn, now standing face-to-face with your husband, Doctor Mayhew. A towel is loosely wrapped around his waist, droplets of water still trailing down his skin. "I wanted you there," you murmur, your voice barely audible, the words almost brushing against his lips. His face is dangerously close to yours, his presence overwhelming.

"I'm sorry, mi amor. I should have brought you home," he says, his voice low and full of regret as he steps even closer. Your eyes instinctively fall to his lips before locking onto his gaze. A heat rises within you, an undeniable pull—an ache to claim what is already yours.

And as if driven by instinct, you rise on your toes and press your lips to his in a tentative kiss, barely a whisper of contact, as though testing the waters. The taste of him is intoxicating—something that feels like it should be savored again and again. It’s overwhelming, addictive, his soft lips brushing against yours as your heart seems to stop for a fleeting moment. But caution wins, and you pull back, breath hitching as you study him. His eyes remain closed for a moment longer, his fingers brushing over his lips as though to confirm the reality of what just transpired. Slowly, his eyes open, smoldering with an intensity that takes your breath away.

"You shouldn’t have done that," Doctor Mayhew murmurs, his voice a low growl. Before you can respond, his arms snake around your waist, lifting you effortlessly as he crashes his lips into yours with fervor. The kiss is fire itself—searing and unrelenting, as though he wants to consume you entirely, pulling you closer, desperate for more of you with each passing second.

And it’s as if something ignites within you, a spark that feels as though you’ve always belonged to him. “Charlie…” you murmur between his kisses, your breaths coming in short gasps as you try to steady yourself.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes wide with surprise, though a glimmer of adoration softens his features. “That’s the first time you’ve called me Charlie since you woke up,” he whispers, his voice almost reverent against your lips.

You respond with a tender peck, letting yourself sink into the safety of his arms. “I wish I could remember you. I hope you know that,” you confess, gazing into his eyes. It’s the most honest thing you’ve said since you regained consciousness, and the raw sincerity in your voice hangs between you like a fragile thread of hope.

"I don’t care that you’ve forgotten me. I only want you to allow yourself to get to know me again," Charlie says softly, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek.

"Do you think having sex would help me remember you?" The question escapes your lips before you can even process it, the desire that’s been simmering since you saw him moments ago suddenly rising to the surface.

Charlie freezes, his lips lingering near your skin as his breath hitches. His gaze locks onto yours, a mix of surprise and amusement flickering in his eyes. "I thought I was the doctor here," Charlie murmurs, a faint smirk curving his lips as his eyes search yours. The teasing tone in his voice doesn’t mask the tension building between you.

He takes a step closer, his hands gently finding your waist, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "But if that’s your hypothesis..." his voice drops, low and intoxicating, "I’d be more than willing to help you test it." The heat in his gaze is undeniable, yet there’s a tenderness there, as though he’s waiting for your permission to cross the line you just hinted at.

The sound of a phone ringing breaks the moment, echoing from the direction of the bedroom. Charlie seems momentarily hesitant, glancing toward the source of the noise before he gives in and walks over to answer it. His voice lowers, the words indistinct as he speaks in murmurs, clearly trying to keep the conversation private. You stand there, feeling a shift in the atmosphere as his attention moves elsewhere. When he returns, there's a visible change in his demeanor, a hint of disappointment in his eyes. "Unfortunately, we can't test your hypothesis right now," he says, his tone a little colder than before. He plants a soft kiss on your lips before continuing, trying to lighten the mood. "I have a patient in need of urgent assistance."

Charlie leans in to give you a quick kiss on the lips, a fleeting gesture to maintain some connection despite the shift in mood. "But you’re welcome to stay here, take a relaxing bath, and explore the house. The only room that’s locked is my office, but the rest is open. You’ve met Ed, our driver. Mary, the housekeeper, is here as well, though you haven’t met her yet. If you’re hungry, all the takeout numbers are by the phone," he says before turning to finish getting ready.

As he finishes getting dressed, you can sense something unspoken hanging in the air between you, his demeanor colder now. "And, if you want to pick up where we left off later... just let me know," he adds, his words lingering in the space between you, leaving the invitation open yet uncertain. He pauses, studying you for a moment longer than necessary before turning to finish his preparations, the unspoken tension between you both hanging in the air.

"I think I'll take a bath and get acquainted with the house, but I'd like to have dinner with you," you say as you watch him finish getting dressed for work, struggling with the knot of his tie. You step forward, as if you're naturally accustomed to this, and expertly tie the knot for him—firm and neat. He smiles, genuinely appreciative.

"It seems like you still remember how to make a perfect tie knot," he comments, then takes your hands in his and presses a gentle kiss to your fingers. "I'll be here for dinner," he assures you before grabbing his briefcase and lab coat, rushing out the door. You're certainly charmed by your husband, but there's a growing sense of unease, too. Why would he be so secretive about his calls and office if he has nothing to hide?

[save-the-data]

Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru A.K.A Love is a Poison | S01E05

Japanese Drama - 2024, 10 episodes

~~ Adapted from the novel “Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru” (毒恋～毒もすぎれば恋となる～) Makino Keisuke (牧野圭祐).

Native Title:#毒恋～毒もすぎれば恋となる～

Genres:#LGBTQ+ | #Suspense|#Thriller

Tags:#Lawyer Male Lead | #Adapted from a Novel

Cast:#Hama Shogo | #Hyodo Katsumi

Links:  GAGA | Viki | YouTube | iQIYI | WeTV | Youku | Tencent | Netflix (JPN)

Catalog: Episode GIF set | Japanese BL | Japanese Drama

[squishymain]

I made more The Edge Of Sleep Icons using the logo

[thepedanticbohemian]

My writing has been compared to Stephen King, Thomas Harris, Dean Koontz, and Peter Straub. Why? Because I'm unafraid to go there when it comes to disturbing imagery. Gory details don't scare me, though they will likely scare my readers. Sort of the point, really. lol

[thecuriousbeauty]

Traitor-The Present

Chapter 1

Synopsis:y/n is a hard working painter, trying to make the ends meet. She lives with and takes care of her sick Uncle, the only one she has for a family. She has dreams to make it big, and when the desperation for money strikes, she has to make a choice. Walk away after listening to an incredible deal that would fix all her problems, or take up the deal. A top secret, risky deal, which involves meeting Harry Styles.A man once rumored to be a dangerous secret weapon of a leading mafia. artist!y/n x mafia!harry (he's also a doctor)

Word Count: 3601

Author's note: This chapter is just a start to what I hope will be a very interesting thriller. This is my fan first fiction, but I've made sure that it's all planned out properly for you guys. Warnings will be mentioned at the beginning of every chapter. Please re blog to support me if you like it! Next chapter will be up very soon:)

Warnings: Talks about mafia, gold smuggling, accident.

___________________________________________

"Ms. y/l/n, this is the second time I'm calling you, I'm afraid I cannot wait longer. I may have to-"

y/n closes her eyes, bringing her index and thumb finger to squeeze at the skin of the bridge of her nose. "No, no! Mr. Timothy please give me some time, I promise I'll send everything I owe you, just give me some time."

She was due on her rent on the little place she and her uncle call as home.

"I can't give you any more time, Miss. By tomorrow 8 pm, or I'll have you evicted.", Mr. Timothy told her on the phone. 

"Yes, um thank you." y/n sighs as she keeps her phone on the table, and looks around at the mess of her living room. It was a small flat, with a decent living room, a comfortable couch, a TV where her uncle usually spends away the day when she's out working, and two bedrooms. 

Her phone beeped, with an alarm to make sure her uncle took her medicines, and she walked to his bedroom. He was resting on the bed, back supported by a pillow as he read a book. He loves books on underworld mysteries and mafias. She never gets it. 

"Uncle Luke, it's time for your meds.", she says. 

From the time she remembers, y/n was raised by her uncle. She doesn't remember having a father, or a mother, she only has her Uncle Luke to call as family. Whenever she asked him about her family, he would stroke her hair and tell her that no one realized how special she was.

She loved her uncle, he was her father figure. Uncle Luke got diagnosed with Alzheimer's a few months back, and he had to retire from his job as a librarian. Sometimes, he appears completely normal. y/n's heart breaks when she sees the painful expression on her uncle's face as he tries to remember something that shouldn't have been that difficult to remember.

"I took them.", her uncle smiles at her, lifting his eyes from the book. "Are you okay? You seem stressed."

She smiles for his sake, nodding. "Just tired. You need anything?"

Uncle Luke shakes his head, before taking her hand. "Is it money? I can help you out, go back to my job-"

"-No, Uncle Luke, I got it.", y/n squeezes his hand. "I just need you to rest up and be okay. I'm gonna try and squeeze in another job, I'll work something out. I've gotta go now."

Uncle Luke nods, gently ruffling her hair. "Off you go, y/n."

"See you in the evening!"

y/n rushes out the door, and takes the train to the cafe. She doesn't work as a barista, the cafe wanted someone to paint beautiful pictures on the canvas while their customers enjoyed their service. The Golden Cup cafe was a beautiful place. Covered with greenery, sweet smelling flowers and little tables around. 

y/n set up her canvas, paints and brushes. "Morning.", her best friend Sania nudges her elbow. Sania works as a server in the same cafe, and they have been best friends since the first day they met.

"Good morning. It's not good though, I hope yours was good.", y/n rambles, stressed about her desperate need for money.

"Woah, what happened?", Sania asks watching her mix a few colors onto her palate. y/n tells her about the rent problems, and Sania nods understandingly. She also had her debt issues, but recently, she was doing well. y/n thought her rough patch would also be over soon, but she had no hope now. 

"I can set you up an appointment with the people I was talking about.", Sania tells her, and it gains her attention. "They can help you."

"I don't want to do anything illegal Sania-"

"-No, it's not illegal. It's off charts, but you're gonna get money in exchange for a task they assign you. It's simple!"

"That task may involve illegal activities.", y/n shakes her head. Last thing she needed was to go to jail, leaving her uncle all alone.

"No, it won't. Come on y/n, they helped me.", Sania smiles at another coworker, and lowers her voice. "You don't even have to agree immediately, you can decide and get back to them. This job isn't going to be enough to make ends meet and you know that. Think about it."

"Sania take table 4 please!"

"Yes.", Sania nodded at y/n. "I have to get back to work."

y/n also had to get to work, she smiled at the customers before putting her brush to the canvas. She doesn't decide on what to paint. She just lets the inspiration take over. The customers watched in awe as her hand moved skillfully, without an effort. y/n didn't think about her problems when she painted. When she painted, she was in her own world where everything was alright. That was why her paintings all turned out extraordinary.

She talked to the customers who came up to her. During her break, she sat with her cold mint lemon tea and thought about everything Sania said. She was right, she needed the money. Just talking with them wouldn't hurt would it? 

She approached Sania later on that day. "I'll um, I'll talk to them."

"Good! I'll set you up a meeting tonight.", Sania smiled and gave her a side hug. "The choice will be yours babe, to take up the offer or not."

y/n looks around nervously as Sania leads her through an alleyway. It was a sketchy place. There were no people around. 

"Are you sure this is the right place?", y/n whispers.

"Yes.", Sania holds her hand. "They like to be discreet."

"Why? Because of their illegal businesses?"

"Stel. I don't know if they have illegal businesses or not, but they won't involve you in anything like that. There, that's the building. Third floor."

"You're not coming with me?", y/n asks as she stares up at the tall building. It looked musty and old. Much like a haunted house.

"No, but I'll wait for you in the car, okay?", Sania says and y/n sighs, wondering if this was a bad idea. "You'll be fine.", Sania assures.

y/n nods, and goes inside the building. She took the elevator, and waited until it got to the third floor. The building didn't look as bad inside.  

"y/n, y/l/n?", a man asks. He was tall, clad in a black shirt and black pants. He had an AirPod in his right ear, an expensive watch on his left arm. 

"Yes.", y/n answers and the man nods, before walking towards the end of the hallway. y/n assumed she was supposed to follow him so she did. They stopped at a room, and he opened it, stepping aside for her to enter. "Please."

The door closed behind her as she entered the room. She noticed the velvety purple couch in the middle of the room, where a bold looking woman sat. Neat white blouse tucked into dark red pants, along with red heels and red lipstick coating her lips made her look like the boss. She was the only one sitting, the other two men were leaning against a table, and the other was looking outside the window, not paying attention to her. They wore similar clothes to the man who brought her here.

The woman looks her down, her dark brown eyes trying to stare into her soul. Her short hair was sleeked back. 

"Miss y/l/n, please take a seat.", she gave her a smile, but y/n knew it wasn't a warm smile, it was more like a challenging smile. 

"Thanks." y/n sits on the chair in front of the woman. "I am Romania Pelt, nice to meet you.", the woman said, no shake of hands. 

"I guess you already know my name.", y/n replies nervously.

"Come on Hans, where are your manners? Ask our guest if she'd like something to drink.", Romania looks at the man leaning on the table and staring at y/n.

"Anything to drink?", he promptly asks.

"Um, mint lemon ice tea?", y/n blurts out nervously, and the man smirks in amusement, before turning around and fixing her a water. "Water will do too, thank you.", y/n takes a sip, and keeps the water on the table, before keeping her hands on her lap. 

"So Miss y/l/n, we know about the trouble you're in and we want to help you out.", Romania tells her.

"If you want to help me out, I have to do something for you. Let me tell you, I will not take part in anything involving illegal issues like drug dealing, or sexual favors for anyone.", y/n put it out.

"Okay.", Romania nods. "Anything else?"

"You know illegal includes dealing with unauthorized guns, stealing, trespassing-"

"We're aware what illegal covers.", Romania cuts her off, and the man chuckles like she was funny. "You're right about doing us a favor. Let me tell you about it."

y/n nods. "We have a big business, all around the world. We do a lot of things, which involves a lot of side operations.", Romania said in a way y/n wouldn't know what the things were. "But now we're at a little bit of a loss."

"I um can't help you with business.", y/n murmurs.

"I know. But you can help us bring back our main player."

y/n raises an eyebrow as Romania continued. "He was our leader. He was the best at everything. Masterplans, hacking, leading our opponents into traps. He was mainly in charge of the gold smuggling. One night when he was travelling with the gold along with his partner, something happened between them. All we know is that there was a blast, and his partner died. The gold was gone too."

"He didn't die?", y/n asked.

"No.", Romania smiled. "Harry Styles does not go down easily."

Harry Styles. y/n liked the story but she didn't like what she was going to hear. "In the blast, Harry suffered a severe head injury. He was in a coma for a while, but he came back. Unfortunately, he doesn't remember anything that happened.", Romania said. "He has forgotten everything about his past life. We know it must have scared him deeply, losing his partner. She was his lover. Reagan Jones. She was the only one in our unit who was just as good as Harry. They both were literally, a power couple."

y/n felt bad for the guy. "When Reagan died, Harry permanently lost a piece of him too. Not a small piece. A large part of his past life."

"W-What's he doing now?", y/n asks.

"He is a doctor.", Romania says. "Only we knew him as who he was. On the outside he maintained an image as our Doctor. He remembers about being a doctor, so that's how he's leading a living now. Everyone knew about Reagen and not to mess with her, but Harry was our secret weapon, and we need him back. We've given him enough time to sulk about Reagen. It was unfortunate, and we all hate that we lost her but we need Harry back in his bearings."

"What do you want me to do about that?", y/n asks confused.

"You need to befriend him.", Romania says. "Talk to him, get to know him. We heard from Sania that you love talking, and you're great with customers. So do your thing. Eventually, we need you to ask him about what happened that night, what really went wrong, where is the gold?"

"You just said he doesn't remember."

Romania and Hans smile, even the man who was looking outside the window up until now and ignoring y/n, now turns around. "You are going to make him remember.", he said in his gruff voice.

"I'm not a brain surgeon!", y/n scoffed out a laugh. Who do these people think she is?

"We think Harry remembers everything. But he is putting on a show, a mask, to hide whatever he knows. He knows something huge, that's why he does not want to come back to his old life. We need to crack his shell somehow. We've all tried y/n, but someone like you is who we need. Do whatever you need to do, but please, you have to make him remember." Romania had a desperation to her voice now. "Oliver, please."

The bearded gruff man Oliver, pulls out a wad of cash. "Thirty thousand dollars, you can take this now, if you accept our deal."

y/n's eyes widens at the cash. "It's not black, it's real money.", Romania assures. "And on completion of the task, we will give you the rest. Five hundred thousand dollars in total."

"W-Why would you pay me so much?"

"Because this is important to us. We need Harry back.", Oliver says slowly. "I need my best friend back."

Hans pats his arm like he was offering the man comfort. "You'll have to report to me weekly, and you get four weeks to make him remember.", Romania says.

"Four weeks?!", y/n was surprised. How can she make a man remember things he doesn't want to remember in four weeks?

"You can do it.", Romania tells her. "Let me show you his picture. Hans?"

Hans nodded and handed y/n a photo. "That's him. The most wanted man. By now, our opponents also know about Harry. They knew Reagan alone couldn't carry off what she did. So Harry has a lot of people wishing him dead. They don't want to risk him remembering and going back to the person he was."

y/n looked at the photo of the man as the thoughts ran in her mind. A man who lost his lover, and lost his memory. Now he's living without knowing that he is a live target for the big thugs. He was handsome, y/n thought. Luscious brown hair, styled neatly, a little and his green eyes were so deep, like they held a forest inside them. This was the person she was supposed to befriend.

"You can take your time to think about it, give me a call by tomorrow.", Romania slides her card over to y/n. "Nice talking to you, Miss y/l/n."

"I'll escort you outside.", Hans says, and y/n understand that they're done talking to her.

_____________________________________________________________

"Well he's a handsome man, Reagan must have been lucky.", Uncle Luke says as y/n shows him the photo of Harry and tells him the story. y/n shared everything with Uncle Luke. Sania was her best friend, but she still didn't share some things with her that she would with Uncle Luke. 

"Well she's dead.", y/n mumbles. "What do you think?"

"This man must be important.", Uncle Luke says, and y/n nods. "If they're willing to pay so much just in return for his memory."

"What if he doesn't want to remember Uncle Luke?", y/n asks softly. "Reagen died. That must have scarred him deeply. Maybe there's something more to it. Maybe someone attacked them and he couldn't save her. He must be in pain, that's why his mind is shutting it all off."

"Don't get personal, darling.", Uncle Luke advises. "We don't know what kind of a man Harry was, so don't feel for him. Your job is just to befriend him and make him remember."

"I'm too curious to let this go now.", y/n says. "I only read about mafias in novels! I told Sania they were real."

"Mafia?", Uncle Luke laughs. "You confirmed they're mafia?"

"Of course. Business, she said. So secretive! You had to see the building and all the men.", y/n laughs too. "You're right, I won't get personal. I just need the money. Maybe we can get out of this town sooner than we thought, Uncle Luke."

Her uncle smiles, patting her hand as he closes her eyes. "Reena said she'll come over for dinner."

y/n's smile freezes as she hears that. Reena was Uncle Luke's daughter, she had died in a fire. She hates when the disease does this. Uncle Luke had early onset Alzheimer's, so it wasn't as bad as him not being able to recognize her. But she still hated it. 

"I'll make her favorite pasta.", y/n whispers, fluffing his pillow. "You get some rest, Uncle Luke. I love you."

She had to get him the best care. He took care of her all her life. She took the card, and called Romania.

"Miss y/l/n, good to hear from you.", Romania's voice says.

"I'll do it.", y/n said before she could change her mind. "I'll bring his memories back."

___________________________________________

She decided to go with the classic method of meeting first. Go out for drinks. y/n wasn't a big drinker, most of the time. She wasn't going to drink too much today, she wanted to be sober enough to remember everything she got out of the man. 

Romania sent her the details of the hospital in which Harry worked, and told her that he goes to the bar down the street after his working hours sometimes. y/n hoped this would be one day like that, as she set out to the bar. y/n wore a chrome yellow fluffy, silky top along with her jeans and heels. She let her hair out. 

She looked around the bar as she entered, not spotting her target. She decided to wait.

"What would you like, ma'am? New here?", the bartender smiles at her. 

"Uh yes, first time here." She skims through the names of the drinks. 

"First drink on the house. I'll get you our special cocktail?", he asks.

"Okay!" 

Anything on the house sounded amazing.

"I'll be right back.", he winks at her and goes away. y/n turned on her chair to continue scanning the crowd. The bartender was cute, but she had stuff to do.

Her drink came faster than Harry, and she was disappointed he wouldn't come to the bar that night when she finally saw him.

The photo didn't do justice. Harry Styles stood tall, six feet two at least, she thought. His stubble had grown out, and his hair had curls peeking out. Sharp cheekbones that could slice through skin and strong shoulders that hid beneath his light blue shirt. 

He appeared stressed as he ran a hand through his hair, and sat on the empty chair a few seats away from her. "Usual.", he nodded at the bartender, who got to making his drink right away. y/n watched him roll his shirt sleeves back, and sit with his head on his hands. He must have had a rough day.

Then he lifted his head up suddenly and looked straight at her, like he knew she had been watching him. Their eyes connected for a second, before he looked away. 

y/n felt a shiver up her spine. 

That was close, y/n breathed as she sipped the concoction. 

She waited until he had drowned a drink, of what looked like whiskey, before she made her move. 

She gave him her best smile as she took the seat next to him. "Hi, rough day?"

He didn't spare her a look, but he grunted in reply.

Very polite.

"I had a rough day too.", y/n goes on. "Being an artist isn't easy. Sometimes it's hard to get into the creative head space. I had some decisions to make today, and that interfered with my work."

"Artist?", his voice was smooth and deep.

"Yes. I paint.", she answers. "What do you do?"

"ER Doctor.", he looks at her with those eyes looking like they were brimming a storm behind them. "I like art."

"You do? You should come to the cafe sometime, then.", y/n says, treading on careful steps. 

"I don't get time to take a stroll into a cafe.", Harry scoffs, taking a big gulp of his drink. 

"Your job is difficult.", y/n agrees. "Do you like being a doctor?"

Harry tilts his head to study her. "Yes."

y/n waited for him to say something more, but he didn't. Great. He does love talking.

"What do you like about art?", she asks. That, she could talk about.

"The colors.", he answers, looking away from her again. "They have a hidden meaning, most of the time. The artist might not even have an idea when they start, but it turns out beautiful when they're done. Like they gave life to it."

That was the most he had told her since they started talking, and Stella smiled at his description. "I have a small studio too, you should stop by when you have time, Doctor-"

"Turner.", he completes. "Harry Turner."

Either he changed his last name, or he doesn't remember. y/n offers her hand to shake. "y/n, y/l/n."

He nods, and she feels the rough callouses of his fingers as it brushes hers. His hand was warm, and she liked the feel of it on hers. It made her feel safe. Why did it make her feel like that? Why did she feel like it was a familiar hand?

Chapter Two