#but this doctor gave a full physical and asked about my sleeping habits and said 'has no one talked to you sbout sleep apnea before?'

[prettybearbutch]

diagnosed with a tight little thrussy (doctor says I have a crowded oropharynx that could be causing sleep apnea)

[sodasback]

Let Go - Part 3

Reposting from my deleted acct.

Warnings: physical violence

That night you got a text from JJ’s number.

JJ: Hey Y/N, it’s Pope. I stole JJ’s phone and he’s trying to kill me over it right now. 

JJ: Anyway, he hasn’t stopped talking about you. Just thought you should know.

JJ: Don’t let him hide you from us. 

JJ: Kay gotta go, can’t breathe, bye

You laughed out loud at Pope’s texts and swooned over the fact that JJ was talking about you to his friends and that the Pogues, or Pope at least, seemed like he wanted to hangout with you.Then more texts came through. 

JJ: Sry pope doesnt kno wut hes talking about. ignore him. 

JJ: i cant let ur head get any bigger knowing tht im simping for u over here. I’ll have to put u in ur place again.😉

Y/N: Is that place on my knees in front of you?

JJ: ugh stop. ur gonna make me hard and wer on the boat

Y/N: Hey you started it

JJ: Yeah well I’ll finish it too when i see u tmrw pretty girl

Y/N: You better 😈

JJ: ur killin me smalls 🍆

You went to sleep that night blissfully happy. But you woke up full of dread knowing you had to breakup with Rafe. 

You texted him telling him that you needed to see him and talk. He seemed to know something was up, but he told you to meet him at your favorite park in Figure 8. 

Before you left to meet him, you texted JJ that you were meeting Rafe. And then you shared your location with him. You had a feeling JJ would end up being close by, but you frowned when he didn’t text back and thought maybe you should call him. No, it’ll be fine. Rafe doesn’t need to know what happened. I’ll just end it and it’ll be fine.

 You pulled up to the park and saw Rafe....

You had worn a hoodie, because it was the only thing you had that would really cover all the hickeys, that you also tried, pretty unsuccessfully, to cover with make-up.

“Hey beautiful” he greeted you softly from his spot seated at a bench and kissed your cheek as you sat down next to him. You were ashamed of yourself that you still felt a warm fuzzy feeling despite the fact that Rafe didn’t you treat you right and JJ already showed you more affection in such a short time.

“Hey doll” you greeted back out of habit.

You and Rafe were both quiet for a minute, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. You and Rafe enjoyed the scenery and the nearby fountain in silence.

“It’s over huh?” He asked solemnly, still looking off in the distance at first and then to you.

“Yeah” You admitted with a sigh before continuing, “I think we’re just growing apart and maybe we’re not the best for one another.” You said slowly.

You hated yourself for saying it that way, for not calling Rafe out on everything. And you hated yourself for not being 100% truthful that you cheated. But a part of you still loved him and a bigger part of you was just trying to survive this without a screaming match or something worse.

Rafe nodded and offered a small smile.

“I’ll always love you though. You know that right?” He said, squeezing your hand gently.

You melted a little. Rafe really could be the boyfriend you needed ...sometimes.

“Me too” is all you said with a gentle smile.

Rafe sighed and stood up. He opened his arms out for a hug. You stepped in and wrapped your arms around his waist. 

That wasn’t so bad you thought as you breathed in his cologne one last time and savored being in his arms for a second.

You felt Rafe shift a little and playing with the hood of your sweatshirt.

“Why’re you wearing a hoodie?” He asked, with genuine intrigue in his voice. You felt your heart stop and you tried to stop yourself from sweating more than you already were. You swallowed hard and then cleared your throat, trying to act casual.

“Just was a little chilly earlier.” You stated simply, pulling away from Rafe. Who looked at you skeptically. 

“It’s July. It’s hot as fuck out. There’s no way you’re cold.” He said tugging at the hem of the jacket. You pushed his hands away. 

“Rafe stop. I wanna keep it on. I’m cold.” You said, trying to squirm away from him. He firmly grabbed hold of both your wrists and pulled you towards him a little, motivating you to look up at his now deeply disbelieving expression. The furrow in his brow, made you nervous and you bit the inside of your cheek. You could see the gears turning in his head as he registered your very guilty and scared demeanor you couldn’t hide.

“Why’re you wearing a jacket, Y/N?” He asked in a sternly dangerous tone that gave you goosebumps. Your breathing started getting heavy. 

“Rafe” You warned nervously. 

His jaw became clenched. And he forcefully ripped the hemline of your pullover upward and wrenched your arm out one of the sleeves. 

“Rafe! Stop!” You yelled at him as you tried to squirm away but he manhandled you and harshly tugged your hoodie the rest of the way off and threw it on the ground, leaving you in your sports bra, completely exposing the hickeys on your neck and chest. You quickly tried to cover yourself and reach down for your hoodie at the same time, but Rafe grabbed your forearms again, hard enough to leave bruises. 

Fuck. Where’s JJ when you need him?

Rafe looked you up and down before tightening his grip on your arms. “You little fucking whore.” He swore through gritted teeth. 

“Rafe you’re hurting me.” You said with a whiny tone you couldn’t hold back.

“You’re just cold, huh? I can’t believe you fucked another guy, you cheating slut!” He spat as he throttled you.

“Rafe calm down.” You said, trying not to cry. God, JJ, please come. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“You’re sorry?! You’re sorry?!” Rafe laughed darkly, before moving a hand to your throat, but not fully squeezing yet. “You cheat on me and all you can say is you’re sorry?!” 

“Rafe! Please!” You begged, tears now welling up in your eyes. 

“Who’d you let fuck you, Y/N? Hmm? Who marked you up knowing you were mine?”

“Rafe, please let go!” You cried. 

“Tell me who it was, Y/N!” He growled at you in a way that made your blood run cold and he started to squeeze your throat. You clawed at his hand and his arm as he cut off your airway. 

“Cameron!” JJ yelled as he ran over to you. Rafe was caught off guard and let go of your throat. You collapsed to the ground gasping for air. JJ immediately was at your side. 

“Y/N! Are you okay? Go to your car, now.” JJ told you. But you stayed in your position, mostly out of necessity, given the fact you couldn’t breathe. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me” Rafe said. “You cheated on me with this fucking piece of shit pogue?!” He asked you, as JJ stood up and faced him. 

“Leave. Now.” JJ told Rafe.

Rafe snorted, “Or what?” He challenged, stepping towards JJ.

Right then, police sirens went off. All 3 of you turned to see a Kildare County Sheriff SUV and Shoupe step out.

“Is there a problem gentleman?” Shoupe asked them walking towards the 3 of you.

Rafe and JJ were glaring at each other. You took the opportunity to put your hoodie back on.

Finally, Rafe said, “No problem here officer.” As he didn’t take his eyes off JJ, daring him to rat him out.

“Looks like you’re on the wrong side of town, Mr. Maybank. Everything okay Miss Y/L/N?” Shoupe asked.

“Yeah, JJ came to take me home. Rafe was just leaving.” You said.

By now, Shoupe had taken notice of the red mark on your neck and the fact you were on the ground with a defensive JJ in between you and Rafe. It was very obvious what had been going on.

“Mr. Cameron, I think you should head on home now.” Shoupe said. And you internally rolled your eyes. Of course, Shoupe would let Rafe just leave.

Rafe just glared at JJ.

“Rafe.” Shoupe said more firmly.

“I’ll see you soon Y/N, Maybank.” He promised in a dangerous tone before turning toward his car.

JJ watched him leave with his fists clenched. Once Rafe was driving away, JJ took a deep breath and pulled you into a tight hug.

“Miss Y/L/N, do you need to see a doctor?” Shoupe asked.

“No, I’m fine.” You said from JJ’s arms.

“Alright. You 2 take care, now.” Shoupe said as both an apology and a warning getting back in his car.

Now, it was just you and JJ. He was still holding you tight. “Are you okay?” He asked softly, glancing down at you. You nodded but kept your head tight to his chest squeezing his waist and cried a little. 

You only let yourself cry for a second and then sucked it up and when you sniffled, JJ held you back a little so he could look at you. He checked your expression and waited for you to nod as he slowly and gently pulled the collar of your hoodie down a little so he could see your neck.

A pained grimace appeared on JJ’s face and anyone looking at him could have probably seen his heart break in front of them as he looked at your injury.

You might have JUST admitted feelings for each other yesterday, but you couldn’t explain it. You and JJ felt right. It was young summer love, a whirlwind romance where you both fell hard and fast. And the fact that he was partly at fault for the huge hematoma forming on your neck, the fact Rafe quite literally could have killed you made JJ feel like crumbling.

“I’m gonna kill him.” JJ said to himself more than you. “Fuck, I’m so sorry Y/N.” 

“JJ. This is not your fault. Okay? Rafe is the one who had his hand around my neck not you.” You said with your hands holding his face. 

“But I-”

“No! Stop! I’m telling you this isn’t your fault. And I’m fine. See? I’m in one piece.”

JJ almost had tears spilling out. 

“I promise.” You reassured him. He closed his eyes and nodded. 

“So you taking me out on a date or what, Maybank?” You asked, desperately just wanting to see JJ’s face free of anguish again. He smiled a little and sniffled. 

“Yeah, I’m taking you out. Give me your keys.” He said smiling.

“Uh uh” You tsked, “You think I’m gonna let you drive my Porsche? I’ve seen you take a turn in John B’s van on 2 wheels. I’m not letting you behind the wheel of my baby.” 

“Fine” JJ pouted. But then he snatched the keys from your hand and mimicked the shocked look on your face and taunted you. 

“JJ!” You shouted reaching for the keys, but he held them out of reach from you. 

“Ooh sucks to be short, huh Y/N?” He said as he stumbled to your car still holding you back from the keys. 

“JJ.” You said seriously. “Give. Me. My. Keys.” He just looked at you waiting for you to threaten something as he stood next to the driver’s door. “Give me my keys or I’m not sucking your dick for a month.” You threatened. 

“Pfft” JJ scoffed, “Like you could go a month without begging for my cock down your throat? Bet” He said, nodding his chin up at you. You contemplated it and you knew he was probably right. You furrowed your brow. 

“I swear to god, if you crash my car, I will kill you Maybank.” You said as you walked to the passenger’s. 

“Whoo!” JJ cheered before awkwardly crawling into your front seat. “Jesus, your seat’s so close to the wheel!” He complained throwing the seat back and fixing all the mirrors. 

“JJ! You are fucking up all my stuff!” You yelled at him and punched him in the arm. He ignored you and revved the engine. 

“Ooofff” JJ groaned, “this is making me so horny. Can we have sex later?” 

You glared at him. 

“You’re eating me out for at least an hour for stealing my car.” You folded your arms and looked out the front windshield. JJ leaned over and pecked your cheek. 

“My pleasure baby.” he said, throwing your car in drive and screeching the tires. 

“JJ!”

Taglist: @moniamaybank @hernameisnoell @moonrisebeach @abbyj1822 @october-cameron @railmerafe

[amberwild420]

one step back, two steps forward (pt. 5)

masterlist

outed identity

The next day wasn’t any better than the other days. Kaylan walked through the hallways to the locker room. The irregular arrival time for school is the habit she picked up in the long run.

 Considering there would be no schedule to follow for planned accidents. But the best thing that comes with the habit is to accidentally eavesdropping people’s conversation.

(a/n: most people may not know that following a proper schedule can lead to many planned accidents that include framing someone up, kidnapping or stealing. and yes I’m speaking from experience. )

Like today.

 She was just getting her necessary things in the locker (despite having no security on it. But Kaylan put her customize lock that included special mechanism before it could open or the imposter will have a face full of flour. and that is one scary face).

 …….telling you she is dangerous.

 Raising an eyebrow, Kaylan quietly listen to what was being said. She had a vague idea but she still needed to confirm it.

 Oh like chat isn’t dangerous. With the power he has he can turn me into dust.

 Well she carry a knife!

 Apparently Adrien and Marinette were talking about her. But she doesn’t remember Adrien anywhere around her when she threatened certain people.

 Oh………………………

    Oh!

   OH!

She clasped a hand over her mouth when the realization hit her like ton of bricks.

 *******************************************************************************************

Marinette had a good start. It has been too long that she had taken down an akuma faster despite it being a strong one. If it wasn’t for Kaylan and her abilities plus her plans, she would have been a goner.

 Today she had a good night sleep and was up before her alarm. Even Tikki could feel the energy of her chosen.

  You are definitely looking good after a good night sleep, Marinette.

I didn’t know I needed that until I got it. Can’t say I regret sleeping early for once. Look Tikki! Guess we’ll be early to school once.

  What are you waiting for then, bug? Let’s go.

  With the encouragement, Marinette started getting ready. She got her bag, macron box for Kaylan (which was overdue anyway) and left for school. She hummed a tune of Jagged’s new album.

 She was having a good start of the day.

But that came to a screeching halt when she saw Adrien next to her locker.

 Why? Why, god, why?! Where had she gone wrong?!

 You see, from the day Adrien asked her to take the high road and preferred Lila’s feelings over her, her crush on him started dying. The day when she told her parents what he was telling her and how her left her alone to fend for herself after promising to have her back, she realized how obsessive she was and how toxic it was turning. So she took a step back and realized how much free time she had when she was not obsessing over Adrien.

The final nail in the coffin was right before when Kaylan came, he kept his disappointed gaze on her when she tried to defend herself after a huge accusation. It was lucky that Kaylan called out to the lies and can trash talk unlike her that she felt better.

 And here it was today, he was right in front of her locker apparently waiting for her. Steeling her nerves, she step forward catching his eye.

  Adrien.

 Marinette! Can we talk?

 Make it quick Adrien! I don’t have much time. I need to see Kaylan.

Well this is about Kaylan.

 Adrien if you are going to say how Kaylan should stay quiet and let Lila do whatever she want, let me tell you I do not control Kaylan. She has her own mind and she can think it. Unlike those people, Kaylan actually have my back and she actually gives me enough time to explain myself.

 Marinette that’s not what I was going to tell you.

 Raising an eyebrow, Marinette gave him a look that says ‘oh really’. But he ignored it. Like someone she knew.  (an: who do you think?)

  Look I think you should stay away from Kaylan, she isn’t what you think she is.

Oh! Then do tell who she is?

 Adrien opened his mouth but close it quickly. He was rather dumbfounded at her lack of panic. Normally Marinette would panic at such a news but now…….

  Marinette she is dangerous. She …….. I saw her threatening chat noir. Like really threaten him with a knife……

  so she threatened you? I’m rather glad she did, it was due any time now by ladybug and it would be revoking the miraculous you’re wearing.

Adrien you’re exaggerating. How is it possible that a civilian can threaten a miraculous hero?

Marinette….you-you don’t understand, she actually threaten him and even threw a knife at him. Don’t you understand I don’t want you to get hurt?

 You’re kidding right. If you didn’t wanted me to get hurt you would have had my back in all this….. Whatever is going on?

  Mari…….but Lila will get……

  Get what huh? Akumatized?! She will get akumatized if I tried to out her but what about me?! What will happen to me? Won’t I get akumatized because my friends are hurting me over some lies she is telling to my class!

You won’t get akumatized. You are our everyday ladybug. And beside her lies are not hurting anyone.

  THEY ARE HURTING ME!

  That’s not what we’re supposed to talk about. We are talking about Kaylan. I keep telling you she is dangerous.

  Oh! And like chat isn’t dangerous. With the power he has he can turn me to dust.

Well she carries a knife!

  Marinette sighed. Her mood was worsening with every minute. Even Tikki couldn’t keep her calm. Well how could she when she herself was seething with rage.

  How dare this incompetent cat to hurt her chosen again and again. In and out of the mask and asking her to let everyone walkover her. Unforgiveable!

You’re awfully protective of chat noir. Are you sure what he did was the right thing or did you just saw me threatening him and assumed the worst in me?

  Like some kind of a knight in a shining armor, Kaylan stepped forward and stood next to Marinette facing Adrien. While she was next to Marinette she made sure that the sweet girl next to her was slightly hidden behind her. Her awfully prominent presence was enough to keep the attention on herself. Adrien scoffed at the new girl.

 Don’t you know it is rude to eavesdropping on people when they are having a private conversation?

 And seems like you don’t know that badmouthing someone behind their back is also considered quite rude.

………….

  Oh my! No comeback! I thought we were pointing out all the rude things one has done to other.

  You stay away from Marinette. She doesn’t need you!

   Kaylan smirked viciously. Her eyes gleamed in amusement. This kid was daring to threaten her.

Oh! Like she would need you. You spineless coward.

  *smack*

 Marinette gasped when Kaylan grabbed Adrien’s fist. She knew that Adrien was passive but his aggressive behavior was rather shocking. It wasn’t like him anymore.

 This aggressive behavior, the forcing and putting the blame on her. This was going nowhere. Rather than just being a burden he was also hurting civilians. She need to get the cat miraculous back.

 And fast.

Her thoughts were spiraling with every possible scenario and worst outcome that she didn’t even notice when the conversation ended and when Kaylan pulled her away.

*******************************************************************************************

Kaylan caught the fist that model threw at her without even flinching. Though he looked skinny but he definitely had enhanced strength. That was definitely the result of the magic he used. But compared to her who is training endlessly both physically and magically, he was nothing.

  Easy now kitty……

  Her voice whispered. Her gleaming eyes looked like they cut through him. His breath was caught in his throat. He looked at the girl with wide eyes. She looked so serious right now. He step back and nearly fell on the floor but he scrambled and ran off.

Kaylan sighed and turned to Marinette. Her wide eyes and trembling figure was enough to let her know that she was going in shock. Hurriedly she pulled her to the girl’s bathroom before pulling her in hug and whispering how she was alright and she was there for her and encouraging her to not give up and rocking her back and forth.

 Her efforts worked. She sighed tiredly and melted in the hug. The door opened and in came the blonde.

 Chloe?

 Instead of saying anything she just gave a water bottle to the pair and left. Kaylan smiled and made sure they were ready to face the class.

Marinette was tired already. And class hasn’t even started. It seems like that all the luck is being sucked from her outside her mask.

 Well it could be true considering every akuma battle had been longer and brutal than the last. Defeating doctor plague was her luck and encountering Kaylan who helped her get out of tight situation was double luck but Kaylan actually possessing magic of her own and planning was definitely triple luck.

 She melted in the hug. Whatever chat or Adrien say about her. She is nice. Her hugs are also nice.

 Her thoughts scattered when she saw the figure that came through the door. The signature yellow jacket was something that she can never forget.

Chloe?

 Without saying anything, she just handed the water bottle and left.

 It’s almost time for the class. Freshen up so we can go.

 Some things will remain mysterious.

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taglist

@ravenclaw-questions-gone-writing

@captainmac6

@moonlightstar64

@miraculousvoltron

@aesthticnpoetic

@emmarosemary11

@marichat-forever-legend

@northernbluetongue

@nyx-in-line

@adalouise1987

@desygner

[azurevi]

on land where we can touch the moon (2/?)

PART 1 PART 3

A quick note- this is pretty messy. I'm planning as I write, so there'll be information scattered across the words, and it may be overwhelming...kinda. I have added a little note about what happened in this chapter in the end. This series is also up on ao3.

There is, naturally, a reason Azul was stuck with the name 'The Sea Merchant'.

It wasn't a bad name, and there was no hint of degradation in it. It just wasn't particularly suiting. Azul wasn't a merchant. He wasn't even a shopkeeper. He was just invested in a little magic, and this hobby of his got leaked out somehow. 

His magic was certainly something. It's A Deal allowed him to confiscate another person's valued quality in exchange for their wish. Anything could come to life as long as the deal was equal.

Only the drunk and people in desperate need of help ever went to him for help. After Azul had started mastering his magic, he reckoned that it hadn't been used to its full potential. If the person on the other side of the deal failed to meet the requirement, Azul could take even more from them without suffering any loss. 

And so he sugarcoated and exaggerated his words, put up the most professional smile he could manage. For a few weeks all was well. He'd gained himself a melodious voice, splendid flexibility and a ton of unique magics, but nothing great ever lasted. He was soon exposed as a scammer and his notoriety was whispered among the streets, passed on and on until every family warned their kids not to ever run into him. And Azul, with his fame and prosperity wilting under the gossip and points of fingers, was forced into giving up his success.

He had been in hiding ever since.

He could never understand how something as atrocious could happen to him. If it hadn't been for the sneers and isolation in the entirety of his childhood, he wouldn't have grown up hating everything and everyone around him that called him ugly, unwanted, repulsive. It should've justified his desire for revenge.

Instead, God decided that his suffering was not anywhere close to enough and kicked him down the cliff where he was crying for help.

That being said, Azul was grateful to have Jade and Leech sticking around after everything. The two of them were also unpopular among others, so they eventually got close as a tight-knitted trio.

"No you didn't," Jade said firmly. 

"I did, Jade. I did," Azul sighed, "They were dying, Jade, I couldn't just let them die,"

"Well, you should've."

"Don't be so uptight. Azul was doing the right thing, wasn't he?" Floyd winked. "So. Were they good-looking?"

"What?"

"The human. You must've saved them for a reason,"

Azul hated how Floyd's words implied that he would never do good unless there was something in it for him, but one could never lie in the face of truth. 

"I just didn't want to let them die. It was their birthday,"

"What does that have to do with everything?" Jade asked. "You went above the water. You saved a human. You were almost caught. You could've died up there, you know. How did you even manage to breathe?"

"I just… did." Azul said, twirling his tentacles in nervousness. Jade was entirely disapproving of his actions, while Floyd on the contrary seemed to be mildly intrigued. 

Everything still felt like a fever dream. All the fireworks and cheering and explosion were still vividly scorched into his mind as if they'd been put on repeat. The splendid colors, light giggles and- 

And those beautiful eyes of yours. The way your hair flowed in the night sky with ease, how you laughed like tomorrow was promised and your life had been planned out before you, a clear and untainted path to success. Azul couldn't decide on whether he was jealous or amazed.

"Well, you better hope they didn't really see you, or that they forgot about it. If the humans come down here to hunt us down-" Jade couldn't even bear to finish the imagination. He simply shook his head in dismay.

"I swear I saw someone! I couldn't have just been washed ashore!"

"Apparently, you were," Jack said, stroding with large steps that had you panting to keep up. "Near-death experiences do things to our mind, your majesty,"

"That may be the case for others, but I'm sure I was conscious," you retorted. "I woke up to a pair of pale, azure eyes, then in a blink they were behind the rock. If it hadn't been for you-"

"I apologize for worrying about you, your majesty."

You bit your tongue. Fighting with Jack always ended with him being passive-aggressive and you stepping back reluctantly. Plus he was as stern as a rock. Almost nothing could move his belief.

Shouting and grunting could be heard from inside the medical room where Ace, Deuce and Grim were being tended to.

Jack flung open the door, and the three stumbled to get into the blankets and put on a excruciated expression.

"I see you're all healed up," Jack said. Ace hummed lowly and slapped his forehead with the back of his hand. 

"I'm at death's door, commander. It pains me to say this, but I might need to take more days off,"

Jack was quiet for a while, and you could almost see a drop of sweat sliding down Ace's forehead.

"And you, Deuce?" Jack challenged.

"I'm traumatized," 

"And Grim?"

You arched your brow, at which he shivered in fear. "I- I'm feeling fine already,"

"So it's just Ace and Deuce, right?" Jack said. Ace and Deuce nodded their heads so hard they could fall off.

"Alright. Your health is of utmost importance to us, so I'll contact the Raven Healer…"

"The what?!" Deuce's voice croaked.

"The Raven Healer. Surely you've heard of him. He's best known for being able to treat any diseases, both mentally and physically,"

You were sure there were sweats rolling down Ace's cheeks now. "But- but doesn't he heal by using bizzare mediciness…?"

"Oh yes. His magic is what makes him such an infallible doctor. You two seem to be in a lot of pain. I'm sure he'll free you of your suffering."

You turned sharply towards the door and stifled a laughter. 

"That's… not very necessary…" Deuce's voice faltered word by word. He was fully aware that he'd already lost. "You know what, commander? I think I can dive back into work right this instant!"

Jack smirked smugly. "Splendid. And you, Ace?"

The two of them stared at each other so intensely there seemed to be sparkles between them. Finally, Ace gave in. "I'll start work tomorrow,"

They didn't even wait for Jack to walk completely out of the door to whine. They looked fully healthy, even more energized than you.

"Anyways, did you find your saviour?"

You sighed. Ace and Deuce were still skeptical about your 'story', which you'd corrected to 'experience', but at least they were open-minded. 

"No clues. I've had guards patrolling about every two hours. Nothing has yet to happen,"

They eyed each other uneasily, then back at you with a worried face. Before they could make assumptions, you defended yourself. "No, I'm not sick. My head's not concussed,"

"Well," Grim scurried to your lap. "Perhaps your saviour doesn't wish to be found?"

That'd be unwanted. You would wish for anything but to create troubles for your lifesaver. Nonetheless, you knew you wouldn't be able to sleep without sending your gratitude. 

Alright, there might be a selfish motif. You were admittedly curious about those light, pensive eyes and silvery, gleaming hair under sunlight. All these unknown were like a gravity pool, pulling you deeper and deeper into the mystery.

"Well, you ought not to lose hope," Ace patted your shoulder casually, like you weren't the princette of the kingdom he was serving for. "Maybe you'll actually run into him. Fate has a weird habit for setting unexpected traps."

It wasn't so much love as a tender curiosity, but the line segregating them was so flimsy that one's got to mix them up at some point.

Azul found himself in such a dilemma. He couldn't decide whether it was attraction or nosiness that he was feeling. Either way, it's got him hooked like a drug. Something beautiful had finally entered his life like light piercing through a thick fog of ink, and it was possessive. Azul had a feeling that it wouldn't go away until it had drained him of his mind.

The door to his room was thrown open and Azul had to hide the peeled petals and green stem in a jumble. He had been chanting 'they love me, they love me not' for the past hour. To his luck, Jade and Leech didn't seem to have noticed his haste expression. They were both panting when they swam inside.

"What's wrong?" Azul's first instinct was that something had gone south.

"There-" Floyd wheezed. "There's a sta-"

"There's a fallen statue in the Coral Maze," Jade finished the sentence. "People are fussing over it,"

"Okay," Azul eased back into his bed. He'd already lost interest at 'Coral Maze'. It was at the centre of where the majority of sea creatures inhabited. Nothing could make him go anywhere near civilization and its hubristic aesthetic again.

Or so he thought.

"No- you don't get it. It's a statue of a human that sank along with wreckages of a big ship, and it's made of gold,"

A statue made of gold.

He recalled it now. It was supposed to be your birthday present. The consternation of what followed the present revelation had been so intense that it'd washed the memory of the statue out.

"We just thought that it could be the statue you mentioned in your story, you know? It looked really grand…" Floyd sighed.

Azul wanted to get up and swim over right there, right then, but he knew he couldn't. What would others say to him the moment they saw the shadows of their tentacles crawling on their pure and oh-so royal ground? What accusations would they throw his way? How many children will be led away from him like he was some man-eating, brutal abomination?

Not to mention the unforgiving rage he'd evoked in trying to scam them in the past. Dishonesty was highly criticised in their high-class society. It was as if they were saints that had never done one thing wrong. Bet they'd never even stayed up past midnight.

"You ought to come take a look!" Floyd suggested. A casual, friendly proposal.

"No," Azul snapped. "No, no. I'm not going there,"

"They're planning to use the gold," Jade said. "You know how they are. They see one thing from the ground and start screeching in pain,"

They were going to use your statue. The statue that was perhaps the only thing that was related to you, the one way to never have to forget about you again in case that you never met again.

And to imagine the effect it'd add to his collections! A big gold statue in the centre of his grotto, accentuated by the sparkling of other jewelries. It'd be complete.

"I'll sit on it," Azul decided. He was not to act rashly, lest he walked one step wrong and brought upon himself misery and misfortune. If he really was to pay a visit, he would act in secret. Perhaps in the veil of the night. 

"Just don't act alone, okay?" Jade said. Azul nodded despite not paying any mind to him.

In the dead of the night Azul decided to sneak out. Alone. It was a mistake, really. Azul couldn't stop thinking about your statue, and by the time he realized how absurd it was, he'd already gone to the Coral Maze.

There was nary a shadow except his own. Still, it was much lighter than where he lived even at night. The distorted image of the moon waved from above as Azul made his way through the many identical corals. Then he finally found your majestic statue standing solemnly in the centre. The only beauty in the water.

It was a sight for sore eyes. White, pure light reflected off the gold and created streams of gleams onto the ground. That someone would ever find it to be disgraceful was incomprehensible to Azul. Something like this deserved to be put on display in the museum for all to see.

There was no radiance on your face and no splendid colors in your eyes. It was merely a fraction of what you were. Nonetheless, it was enough for Azul.

"Who's roaming there?" an alerted voice asked. When Azul turned, he saw a silhouette looming from outside the Coral Maze, holding two anglerfishes in hands and waving them in the water.

Panic was the only thing Azul felt as he hid behind the statue, struggling to keep his tentacles out of sight. The light stayed right in front of him for a while before skimming away.

Azul grabbed the statue and swam, pushing his tentacles through the water as hard as he could. 

"Wait there- oh goodness!" 

There were several voices now, mumbling and inquiring. Then light was casted upon his flitting figure and there were bemused gasps before someone yelled, "Seize him!"

Azul was out of breath. He wished he excelled in fitness but instead he was stuck with incongruous tentacles that would never cooperate at the most needed times.

A hand grasped the end of his tentacle but slipped off. He kept the statue tight in his arms, as if his life depended on it. He could tell that they were near now, and was trying very hard not to imagine the gruesome outcomes.

Someone grabbed his tentacles. He faltered and was pulled back despite protests.

"Keep him in place!" another person yelled as the crowd moved to keep Azul fenced in.

Azul couldn't see anything. Everything was a poor mixture of shadow and distaste and sneers. He was probably going to die right there.

"I can't believe you have the guts to come back, Ashengrotto. After all the things you've done!" someone spoke up.

"Yeah! How shameless of you!”

"And he's stealing our properties now! Imagine how desperate he is,"

"You guys don't even want it!" Azul said.

Some guy lurched forward. Azul cowered backwards.

"It's disgusting, yes, but it's still gold." he said as if it was a completely just thing to do. "It landed on our ground, so it belongs to us. On the contrary, you don't have the rights to lay your filthy hands on it. What more do you want to steal from us?"

"I'm taking this because none of you understand the beauty of it!"

This evoked a negative reaction from the crowd, but words could never be taken back. Azul could feel his heart pounding like a prisoner hellbent on escaping. He had to escape. No more of this degrading gazes. No more of the points of fingers.

"Beauty?" the guy scoffed, and for a moment his face scrunched up and he was ready to spit out rage, but then it softened into a smug smirk. "I guess only ugly understands ugly, huh?"

Azul's head throbbed.

"It doesn't justify your actions, ink-blasting thief. Hand that piece of trash over right- uff!"

He was flung deep into the water until he disappeared into nothing but a black dot. People around Azul immediately made way as they fled in screams and wails. His tentacle was still tingling with the impact, but he couldn't quite feel it. Even if he did, he couldn't care less as he skyrocketed to the surface of the water. He blinked and blinked, but his eyes were still blurred by what would be mixed into the seawater eventually. 

He'd had enough. Heard enough, seen enough. If he'd spent one more second down there he would have suffocated to death.

The familiar freshness of air welcomed him the moment he broke through the water's persistence. The land wasn't far ahead. He swam towards it as if it was his sanctuary. 

There was a man sitting on the rock, face hidden under the hood. Azul considered retreating. He had no idea what would happen to him if he was spotted, but nothing better would happen if he were to go back. So he continued swimming and crawled onto the cool soft sand, only letting his head be seen by the man as he hid behind yet another rock where he placed the much valued statue.

He seemed to be asleep, chest heaving up and down at a steady pace. Just as Azul started sliding out, the man raised his head and looked straight at Azul.

They were a pair of humming, white circles, seemingly void of any sentiments. The man had a mask on that shielded his face except for his tightly shut lips. Two crows were staring right at him with the same uncanny manner.

"You've finally arrived," the man said.

Probably the humans had been searching for him. Azul decided to keep his mouth shut.

"I've been hearing your calls…" he tilted his head. "You can come out. I know what you are,"

Azul still hesitated. But he was much closer to the ocean than to the guy, so he slowly let his tentacles into light.

The man remained calm, not a bit taken back by the revelation.

"Well, I've been hearing your calls…" he resumed.

"I never called out to any humans,"

"Not literally. But you have been calling out a lot," he smiled amiably. "You have to know that it's especially hard for me to hear from creatures undersea, so if your wishes managed to reach me, it means you're pretty desperate,"

"I think you have the wrong person," Azul said and started retreating.

The guy sprang up and his crows curled up together beside him. "Wait- I should introduce myself first. I'm the Raven Healer,"

Azul pondered for a while. "That doesn't explain anything except for the crows,"

"You lots haven't heard of me?" he frowned so deep that his brows and eyes were a cluster. "You guys are really secluded,"

That was when Azul finally realized that he knew about them. About all the lives and creatures that inhabited the deep sea.

"And I mean no harm to your realm. My only target is you," he smiled again, this time at an ominous angle.

"Well, I'm quite famous in this realm. I heal people for a living, whether it be physical or emotional needs. Anything you need, I can grant you,"

That's not very different from Azul's magic. 

"Sometimes, when someone is really desperate for a change, their thoughts can be heard by my crows. And you, Azul Ashengrotto…" his smile dropped a bit and his eyes drooped. "is particularly distressed,"

"Alright. It was nice meeting you," Azul nodded respectfully. The man didn't seem to be harmful. If he fled right now, he could probably throw him off.

The Raven Healer stilled, then burst into piles of blatant laughter. "No, no. I've been looking for you, don't you get it? I'm here to grant your wish!"

I'm here to grant your wish. Like how Azul'd promoted his business as the Sea Merchant.

"I understand that you've been suffering quite a lot, and that you want a change. But nothing ever comes without a cost… I'm sure you can understand,"

The healer stood up, the material of his greatcoat fluttering in the wind. He made his way freely to Azul, who could only freeze up as he inspected the statue with great interest.

"The heir to the throne! I see why you're desperate now. They're a real catch," the healer then looked down at the outstretched tentacles without a word. Azul prayed in his mind that he would turn away from them.

"Well, here are my terms. I will grant you a pair of legs in exchange for your magic,"

Wait, what?

Azul was pretty sure the Raven Healer was just imitating him now. A great figure appearing out of the blue to answer your hopes. The catch was that the figure would always take away your most important thing. It was never a fair deal, Azul was aware.

"I don't think you need my magic," Azul breathed.

"Why, I do!" he exclaimed. "Collecting magic is a splendid hobby of mine! It is because of all these magic that I am such a renowned magician,"

He was obviously lying. His smile couldn't reach his eyes, and the orbs where his eyes were supposed to be were humming like a hazard label.

"I think I'll be just fine," Azul hurriedly brought the statue to his chest and started sliding away.

"...How are you going to survive?"

"What?" Azul swiveled, exhausted.

"Up here. With your…" the healer wiggled his fingers.

"I'll find a way,"

"No you won't," the healer protested. Azul looked up to the sky, took a deep breath and decided to entertain him. 

"Why so?"

"You're gonna cause ruckus. Chaos. People are not especially used to seeing half-man half-octopuses roaming their land," he said honestly. 

Despite knowing all this, Azul still considered his word rude. There was a thin line between blunt and disrespectful, and he'd just crossed it. 

"There won't be anyone dealing with you, will there?"

"...I suppose not-"

"Exactly! I am your only hope!" he exclaimed once again, throwing his hands up in the air like a dramatist. "Unless you want to go back?"

Azul glanced at the serene water. He knew that down there, the mermaids and mermen must be panicking over what'd just happened.

"You can't hold onto that statue forever. If you really wish to stay here-"

"I just came, Mr. Healer. I'm not going to stay,"

"Yet. Come on now," he groaned, as if he was the one exasperated. "I know you want it. You need it. So what are you waiting for? You're never going to see all the beauties in this world in this state!"

He was right. Agonizingly right. He couldn't just walk around as an octopus. It would be like a stain on a quaint painting. Moreover, now that he was here, he couldn't just give up the chance to find you again. It's not like the ocean would welcome him anyways.

As if hearing his thoughts, the Raven Healer reached his hand out, "Deal? Your magic for a pair of legs. It's a fantastic trade if you think about it,"

One second. Two second. Azul didn't wait until the third to act on it. The moment their skin touched, Azul felt a stream of warmth coursing through him, rushing to his throat, where he choked up a luminous blue orb. It was within the healer's fingers within seconds.

"And your legs," he rummaged inside his pocket. There seemed to be numerous tiny objects inside as he dug around. Finally, he pulled up a thumb-size bottle and handed it to Azul.

He downed the slimy liquid inside under the healer's encouraging nods, and almost gagged at the sensation. "Guh! What the hell is-"

His tentacles started glowing a bright yellow, bright enough to attract people in this dead of the night. They started to shrink until they completely disappeared, and a pair of human legs replaced them.

He couldn't believe his eyes as he stretched around and surveyed the changes on his body. It took him quite some time to adjust to it, but he was surprisingly good at it. The fabric of the pants that came with the gift fluttered against his 'flesh' like a mother's caress. He felt normal, for once. Not some ugly monster that preyed on innocent kids. Not a marginalized criminal. Not even a wicked fraud. He was just a human wanting to explore the world.

"Three days," the Raven Healer said.

"What?" Azul was too joyous to pay real mind.

"If you can't find the most beautiful thing after three days, you will dissolve into sea bubbles,"

Azul stilled as he comprehended his words, then he started to chant no in his mind. He'd fallen for his trap.

"You didn't mention it at all!" Azul yelled. "Refund! You're scamming me!"

"The pot's calling the kettle black now. How comical," the healer giggled. Azul's heart dropped to the bottom.

"Consider this your own medicine. It's not like you're completely at loss over here!"

"Wait!" Azul reached out to grasp his fainting figure, which had become an opaque vision. 

"We shall reunite in three days. Until then, enjoy."

All that was left was the crashing of the waves and songs of the crickets. Bathed in the glow of the moon, Azul finally came to the conclusion that he'd fucked up.

Life never stopped to give him a break. There were haste footsteps nearing from behind. Azul instinctively retracted his tentacles, but forgot about their absence and tripped instead.

"Yikes! That was a nasty fall. Are you okay?" 

Looking up, two formally looking men were standing above him, one with crimson hair and another navy. There was a sword attached to each of their sides.

"Yeah. I-I'm fine," Azul cleared his throat and stood up.

"Are you homeless?" The redhead asked and was immediately hit by his companion.

"You can't go around asking people whether they are homeless!" he scolded, then turned to Azul brightly. "You must be in search of shelter! Please follow us!"

"That isn't any better," 

"Shut up," the blue-haired snapped with the same polite smile. "Come on, Mr…?"

"A-Azul. Azul Ashengrotto,"

"Yes, Mr. Ashengrotto. We can't have you catching a cold out here,"

Despite his friendly facade, Azul could see underlying motives lurking beneath. But clueless that he was, he didn't have a choice but to follow suit towards the castle-like building in the far distance.

"Your majesty will be pleased to see you," the redhead murmured, but Azul couldn't quite catch that.

"What was that?" he asked.

"It's nothing," was all that he received. "Just that you'll surely love the place."

Conclusion : Azul had once gone around scamming others with his unique magic but was busted and had been further criticised since. The Raven Healer is obviously Crowley, and his magic will be further explained in next chapter.

[whatstheproblembaby]

Fic: Remember Me

Shelagh is a little confused when she wakes up at Nonnatus House, but everything will be all right when Patrick comes for her, won't it?

PG, ~2170 words, hurt/comfort out the ASS.

Read here on AO3!

She didn’t want to, but Shelagh eventually succumbed to the force of her waking mind. Rolling over, she stretched out an arm toward where Patrick should be, looking forward to a quick morning cuddle before they had to get up and tend to their children and patients.

Instead, her arm flopped over the edge of the bed, her fingers clipping the nightstand.

“Wha-” she grunted, vocal cords not quite awake yet. “Patrick?”

Shelagh blinked, and took in-

“Nonnatus?”

She sat up and fished her glasses off the nightstand, thinking that clearing her vision might also help clear her mind. She thought she had fallen asleep in her own bed last night, but she did have to stay over at Nonnatus sometimes if Patrick had a late, last minute call and couldn’t drive her home from the surgery. Perhaps she had just gotten mixed up.

Less explainable, though, was the resistance she met when she tried to slide her glasses over her ears.

“Who gave me a cap?” Shelagh asked as though someone was there to answer her. She patted her hands over her head, feeling the still-familiar white fabric in confusion, then looked down to take in the rest of her attire. “And a nightgown?”

She appreciated the kindness, since sleeping in either her day dress or her nurse’s uniform would have left her wrinkled and uncomfortable, but the fit of the pajamas was perplexing. The nightgown was visually identical to the ones the sisters wore, which made sense. They each had two, so any one of them could have lent her their spare. All of the sisters were slightly taller than she was, though - so how could she feel her feet poking past the hem to press against the sheets? The skirt wasn’t rucked up any higher than it should be.

Shelagh decided not to question it and turned on the lamp before standing up and padding over to the wardrobe. It would be too informal to take breakfast in her borrowed pajamas regardless of how they fit, not to mention the awkwardness she would feel at being garbed like a religious sister once more, even if no one else would think much of it.

“Most of them weren’t even here when I was Sister Bernadette,” she muttered. Shelagh didn’t make a regular habit of talking to herself aloud, but she suddenly wanted the comfort of an expected voice, even if it was just her own. “They wouldn’t know it was...inappropriate. Still, I’d rather be in my own dress and ready to get on with the day when Patrick arrives for me.”

She pulled open the wardrobe door and had to blink several times. In a daze, she shut the doors, counted to five silently, and reopened them.

The contents were the same.

“Habits?” Shelagh said, her accent thickening somewhat in shock. “Why ever-”

A light rap on her door interrupted her question. “Sister? Are you coming to Lauds?”

“I think you have the wrong room,” Shelagh said as she made her way over to let Sister Hilda in. “I’m always happy to attend Lauds with you, of course, but I’m no longer a religious sister. Oh, were you aware that I was once-”

“No longer?” Sister Hilda cut in, a bemused smile on her face. “Sister, are you feeling quite the thing?”

“I don’t understand why you keep calling me Sister. I renounced my vows ages ago.” Shelagh suddenly felt dizzy. Between the wardrobe full of someone else’s clothes and Sister Hilda’s insistence on using the wrong title...it was overwhelming so early in the morning.

Sister Hilda took Shelagh firmly by the upper arms and guided her so they were sitting side by side on the bed. “Sis- pardon.” She cleared her throat when Shelagh glared at her attempt to use the title yet again. “You are scaring me. Are you sure that headache you had at supper last night has gone away?”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Shelagh said, agitated. “And I did not have a headache at supper last night, which I ate, by the way, with my own husband and children!”

“With your - that’s quite enough,” Sister Hilda said. She pushed herself forcefully off the bed before chivvying Shelagh just as emphatically back into lying down. “I’m calling Doctor. I don’t know if you’re feverish or somehow sustained a head injury after Compline, but you are not in your right mind, Sister Bernadette. You will stay here until the doctor can have a look at you. Sister Frances can lead Lauds.”

Shelagh wasn’t sure which part of that speech she wanted to rebut first, but she finally spluttered out “Wh-what about Sister Julienne?” just before Sister Hilda exited the room.

“Mother Julienne is visiting the Hope Clinic in South Africa, as you well know!” The door closed decisively behind Sister Hilda.

“Mother Julienne?” Shelagh echoed. “Oh, what in the world is going on?”

While she was of the mind to flout Sister Hilda’s orders on principle, Shelagh thought she may as well wait there. One way or another, she would get to see Patrick, and she couldn’t exactly wait in the entrance hall in her nightie.

“Wouldn’t that be a shock, though?” she said, a mischievous smile growing on her face as she imagined the look on Patrick’s. She chuckled softly as the door opened again.

“Well, I’m glad you’re laughing, Sister,” Patrick said as he bustled in with Sister Hilda hot on his heels. “One of us should be in a good mood this morning.”

“Oh, Patrick, not you, too!” Shelagh said, shaking her head at his incorrect title for her. “Did Sister Hilda not tell you it was me she’s worried about?”

“You see?” Sister Hilda said, gesturing at her. “Something’s wrong.”

“Clearly,” Patrick said. Shelagh frowned as he hooked his stethoscope over his neck and dug a thermometer out of his bag. “You were right to call me.”

“Really, Patrick, that’s enough,” Shelagh said, moving to swing herself out of bed. “The children will be late for school if we mess about with this sad attempt at a comedy show any longer.”

“Sister, it’s incredibly unprofessional for you to keep calling me by my first name,” Patrick said, catching Shelagh by the arm to keep her in place. As he popped the thermometer into her mouth, he sat next to her on the bed and continued, “And honestly, I was unaware you even knew my first name. Is it in Mother Julienne’s old files somewhere?”

Shelagh’s mouth gaped, the thermometer falling into her lap. “Wh - of course I know your first name. You’re my husband, in case you’ve forgotten!”

Sister Hilda stepped forward, aghast. “Sister! I realize you likely don’t know what you’re saying, but that is beyond the pale! Dr. Turner would never behave so inappropriately toward a woman of God.”

“It’s all right, Sister, I’m not offended,” Patrick said as he pressed a hand clinically to Shelagh’s forehead. She wanted to reach up and cling on, reassure herself, but the lack of affection in Patrick’s eyes stopped her cold. “She’s not feverish. You’re sure she didn’t hit her head yesterday?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Where are the children?” Shelagh interjected. She tried to keep the panic she was feeling out of her voice - Sister Hilda and Patrick didn’t need any more reasons to think she was mentally unwell. “May? Angela? Teddy? Did you leave them with Timothy?”

Patrick recoiled as though she had slapped him. It was Sister Hilda who responded, very softly.

“Dr. Turner’s son died of polio in 1958. You were still in the sanatorium, Sister - do you remember? I can ask Nurse Franklin for more details if it would help.”

“I...I….” The gravity of what Sister Hilda was saying struck her, and Shelagh couldn’t find words, couldn’t find air. She started crying, gentle tears quickly giving way to great, painful heaves that almost drowned out the sound of Patrick instructing Sister Hilda to call an ambulance and the Linchmere over her head. “No, please...Patrick! Don’t - I’m not-”

Her vision started fluttering, and everything went black.

__________________________

Patrick climbed the dark stairs slowly, exhausted after assisting with a long but ultimately rewarding delivery of a new mother of twins. He loosened his tie as he quietly entered his room, not wanting to wake-

“Shelagh!”

His wife was thrashing and sobbing on her side of the bed, her breath coming in frantic gasps between soft cries of “No - Patrick, no!”

“Shelagh, my love, I’m right here,” Patrick said, crossing the room in an instant to drop down beside her on the mattress and start rubbing her back. “I’m right here, wake up.”

“Patrick?” Shelagh’s fitful movements eased ever so slightly, her head tilting toward the sound of his voice.

“Open your eyes, darling, I’m here,” Patrick coaxed. He gently encouraged her to turn onto her other side, facing him, and as she rolled, her eyes opened.

The look of relief and fear that mingled on her face as she came back to consciousness caused him physical pain in his chest.

“Oh...oh, Patrick,” she said, tears welling in her eyes as she sat up. “Tell me you know who I am.”

“What? Shelagh, you’re my wife, of course I know who you are,” he replied, confused.

She threw herself into his arms almost before he had finished his sentence. “Thank God. Thank God.”

Patrick reached out quickly to turn on the bedside lamp before settling against the headboard and pulling Shelagh firmly into his lap. He ran a hand up and down her back soothingly, waiting until her tears calmed enough that she should be able to speak.

“Tell me what happened.”

“It was - oh, it was the worst nightmare,” Shelagh said. She made to slide out of his lap, but he tightened his grip, only allowing her to shift so she was sitting sideways rather than facing him. He handed her the hankie from his trouser pocket so she could wipe her eyes as she continued, “I woke up and I was at Nonnatus House, which was just unusual, but then Sister Hilda started insisting that I was still a sister, and Sister Julienne was actually Mother Julienne and away in South Africa, and you...you….”

She broke off to blow her nose.

“You came to examine me after Sister Hilda called...and you didn’t believe me either. You were going to call the Linchmere. But even worse than that….our children. Timothy.”

“No one believed you about them, either,” Patrick guessed, pressing a kiss to the side of Shelagh’s head when her flinch informed him he was right. “But Tim?”

“In my dream, he didn’t survive polio. Oh, Patrick,” Shelagh sobbed out, tucking her head into the juncture of Patrick’s neck and shoulder.

“Shhh....shhhh, darling,” Patrick said. He removed her headscarf so he could stroke her hair, her back, as the collar of his shirt got progressively wetter. “It was terrible, but it was only a dream. Timothy and the little ones are here. I’m here, and I know you, and I love you.”

After a few long moments, he felt Shelagh’s cries ease, and the vise around his own heart loosened too.

“I’m sorry,” she said, emerging from his neck. “I don’t mean to carry on over a dream.”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Patrick said fiercely. “Your emotions aren’t any less real because they came from a nightmare. What you can do for me, though, is get up and rinse your face. I’ll make everything comfortable for when you’re done.”

Shelagh looked a little reticent as she stood, but she did make her way to the lavatory to wash up. Patrick scrambled to get into his pajamas, turn down the bed, and get the pillows fluffed and rearranged before she returned.

“That does feel better,” she admitted as she reappeared. “Thank you, dearest.”

“All in a day’s work,” Patrick teased gently, lounging on his back. His smile grew as one bloomed hesitantly on her face. “Now come here.”

Shelagh snagged her headscarf from where he’d left it on her pillow and tied it on before crawling into bed and snuggling close. Patrick anchored one arm firmly around her back and brought the other up to stroke the arm she had draped over his chest.

“This is already better than how I fell asleep before,” Shelagh said, voice muzzy.

“As it should be.” Patrick tilted Shelagh’s head up just long enough to kiss her softly, smiling against her mouth at her sleepily inept attempts to kiss him back. “Rest, love. There will be no more nightmares tonight.”

Shelagh’s head fell lightly against his shoulder, and Patrick dipped his to rest it on her crown. He had relied on the sound of Shelagh’s heartbeat and the warmth of her body to sleep when his memories of Northfield and the war had overwhelmed him, and he could only hope the same would be true for her now.

In the morning, she informed him that it was.

[the-darkfactory]

A SICK GIRL.

This text was written and published in November 2018. This is the first time I translate to English. Hope it reaches those who need to read it most. Much love.

I was born dying. I was dragged from my mom's belly straight to the intensive care unit and spent a month in the incubator until I could breathe without machines. I was also born whole and no one ever told me that, one day, my mind was going to split in two.

I was very little when I first felt strange. Very strange. I was already 5’6 feet tall when I started my last year in primary school, finding clothes that fit me was torture. However, for my graduation party, I found a purple dress that seemed perfect. When I tried it on, under that all-showing light in the changing room, I felt fat. That was the first time I was disgusted by my reflection.

After a summer tinged with school farewell melodrama, I started high school. I spent most of my free time studying, listening to the Backstreet Boys or reading Harry Potter. At the end of the first semester, I got the best grades in my class. While everyone at home was happily celebrating, I made a pact with a friend: I was going to stop eating.

My thinness brought about new habits and what I remember the most is how cold I was: during school recess, my friends would go out to play and I would stay in the classroom wearing every sweatshirt I could find. It would take me forty-five minutes to eat an apple and before going to sleep, I would go over each food item I’ve had in the day and calculate the calories. I also learned that I had to get up slowly to avoid the dizziness that turned my room into a washing machine.

One day my family and I went to one of those “all you can eat” restaurants. After two sandwiches and a bit of cake, I started crying because I had an intense stomach ache, but it was all a premeditated drama I staged so they wouldn't make me have dinner. Two days later, my mom dragged me to a clinic. I had to take off my clothes and stand on an ice-cold scale. "You weigh 39 kilos," the doctor announced. "You're anorexic."

I was taken to a hospital that had a team specializing in treating people like me. We waited for hours until my name was called and I was met by an anti-anorexic army: a nutritionist, a clinical doctor, a psychiatrist, a psychologist and others I never understood who they were. They made my parents leave and Anorexia and I were interrogated. They asked us if we vomited, if we had thought about committing suicide and if we had ever been abused. When we talked about my parents' divorce, we burst into tears. Then they faced the back of two chairs and asked us to separate them according to how far apart we felt they had to be from each other in order for us to fit between them. We did it and passed the test: we knew we were tiny. The doctors said I was on the verge of hospitalization. I was a sick girl.

Once our relationship was made official, we went to the hospital three times a week. Long waiting, weighing, talking. We were forbidden to be physically active and we had to write down how much of what we ate a day. Mom sometimes comforted us and sometimes shouted at us. One night she yelled a lot because we had only had a piece of fruit for dinner, but how could I explain to her that eating made Anorexia hurt and so it hurt me too? We were sent to a psychologist we stared at in silence for an hour. We finished our junior year with straight As, enslaved at home and undernourished.

Anorexia and I did everything together. I would start a sentence and she would finish it. When I moved my hand to grab something, she was the one who forced my fingers closed, and if something bothered her, I did whatever was necessary to calm her down. One afternoon, we went cycling with our friends and we were carried on the handlebars so we wouldn't move. Everything was going beautifully until a sudden stop made us fall face first to the ground. We got up spitting teeth and blood. We broke our four incisors, skin came off our lips and we split the right side of our face. That night before showering, I stared at our skeletal, beaten up reflection. Days shy of my fourteenth birthday, I cried my heart out asking Anorexia what the fuck had she done.

I wanted her to go away. The only thing I could do to get her to leave was eat. Sometimes she won, sometimes I won. Once, she lost 100 grams and I went home after the medical check up feeling a killer urge. Another day, I gained 200 and that night she didn’t let me sleep. It was war. If Anorexia told me to hide food, I ran off to snack with my brother. If she hated sandwiches, I'd buy a dozen of my favorites. For every complaint of hers, a food bite of mine, and so, bite by bite, I filled her mouth with silence until I could no longer hear her speak.

I started my second year of high school with a seemingly healthy weight. I went to the hospital once a week. Eventually, I was told I could go once a fortnight, once every twenty-one days and, somehow, I stopped going altogether. I don’t remember how or when that decision was made. The only thing I do know is that during all that time I ate almost nothing from Monday to Friday and a lot from Saturday to Sunday in order to weigh more at the Monday check-ups. The thing was that once the pact between Anorexia and I had been made, she would try and talk to me every day. People didn't notice but I knew she was still there. We were still the best students, we lifted weights after eating a salad and we never got our periods. We were stopped on the streets to be offered jobs at modeling agencies and we realized that our bond had the aesthetic approval of society. I forgave her for all she had done and gave her, again, space in my body to grow.

When we turned seventeen, Anorexia changed. She screamed at me and didn't feel like doing anything. We quit the gym, gained weight and developed insomnia. One drunken night, we came home and went straight to the kitchen. We opened the fridge and devoured, on our knees, all the leftovers from dinner. We then shoved our fingers down our throats. That's how Bulimia arrived.

Bulimia was fiercely hungry. My cheeks, arms, and chin grew like a fatty bubble. I was disgusted by my body and I got dressed in the dark. I stopped studying, I couldn't concentrate on anything else. At prom I had two drinks and passed out. I woke up in hospital with an IV in my arm and my worried mother by my side. I didn't know how to explain that for weeks and in order to be skinny that night, everything I ate, Bulimia vomited.

I wanted to feel normal. I was very weak and exhausted, but Bulimia was young and confident. She never shut up, she would even eat raw polenta in spoonfuls and vomit it all, leaving me tired and confused lying in my bed. Her arrival was abrupt because Anorexia had already drilled holes in my head: they were different versions of the same thing and a pattern of destructive habits that infected everything. They turned my life into a living hell.

We vomited so much that we spent hours burying our heads in the toilet seat and we would only stop when we saw the first thing we had eaten leaving our body. We did it five, six times a day. We used every bathroom we set foot in. The ones at school, my friends' houses, restaurants, my grandmother's, my dad's. I developed arrhythmia and thought that Bulimia was going to get me killed. Some nights, while dreaming that I was violently bingeing, I would wake up desperate and ready to stick my fingers in my mouth until I realized that, that one time, the binge had been a dream. That feeling of “fake need to vomit” was the closest thing to peace I felt during those times.

Bulimia didn't want me around anyone. She made me think I was crazy and that I would never be able to be separated from her. I stayed away from my friends. I stopped having dinner with my family and we would lock ourselves up in my room. Mom would bring me trays of food that Bulimia kept in plastic bags. I once found a rotten chicken inside the closet. It was full of maggots. We were almost found out when my brother saw a glass of vomit in the bathroom that we had forgotten to flush down the toilet. He brought it to me and said, "Is this yours?" while retching. We nodded and took it away from him as if it had been a misplaced shoe.

I don't know how I managed to free myself from anorexia and bulimia, but for the last three years I have hardly felt their presence. Sometimes I wonder if I started traveling around the world to confuse them and leave them stranded in another part of the planet. Maybe they got bored of my criticism and couldn't stand my will to not share my body with them. One thing I’m sure of is that love played a major part. It was crucial to understand that I did not choose to live with them and that asking a person with compulsive thoughts to stop having them is like asking a paralytic to simply stand up and walk.

Anorexia and bulimia stole my time and energy. I gave them my will to live, my projects and motivations. In return, they gave me anxiety, panic attacks, depression and suicidal thoughts. They still whisper to me every now and then but I can ignore them. It’s not always easy. I don’t know, this coexistence has been very strange but they definitely don’t own me anymore. Looking for the reasons I developed this disorder is complex. I know that I was affected by the pressure I felt from a very young age to be perfect, the weirdness that arose in my family dynamics after the divorce and feeling that for society I was worth more as a woman the skinnier I was. The final trigger must have been a genetic predisposition and a bit of mystery: there is still a lot that science doesn't know about all this. Once my disease was established, it became a vicious, out-of-control cycle that was perpetuated by the worst evil of all: silence. I felt a deep shame, thought it was my fault and that, hence, I deserved what was happening to me. That made me sicker and I vowed to hide it, which was possible because these disorders are invisible: they lock themselves inside bodies of all types, gender, background, shape and turn them into slaves.

When I stopped vomiting and regained control of my hands, I wrote this. It feels weird. After seventeen years of being in a symbiotic relationship, there is something I still don't understand: if I am no longer a sick girl, then who am I?

[ugh-supersoldiers]

It Won’t Be Long

MASTERLIST

Characters: Bucky x reader

Summary: Somehow distance is everything as much as it is nothing at all when it comes to the love you have for Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Angst & fluff, really bittersweet (but there will likely be a part two that’s allllll fluff), this is a fic about Bucky and the reader dealing with being separated during social distancing so if that’s triggering please don’t read!

Words: 2314

A/N: This is for everyone missin’ someone while in social distancing who might need a little reminder that it won’t last forever (and for anyone who just loves some good ol fashioned bucky barnes charm). I’ve seen so much longing on my dash and I just want to say, I feel you, I love you, you will get through this, you will see the ones you love again. I wish everyone health and wellbeing.

AND AS ALWAYS REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE MEGA APPRECIATED.

Missing someone is hard, even when it’s necessary.

Keep yourself away from everyone, at least six feet apart at all times. Stay in your own place of residence, don’t pay a physical visit to anyone under any circumstances. Avoid any kind of contact with anyone especially those outside of your immediate household for all reasons unless urgent.

Quarentine. You knew it wouldn’t be easy, you’d anticipated it; emotionally prepared for it, but longing for the presense of someone you love simply can’t be rehearsed into familiarity.

Longing inters like you smoke; licking up the walls and permeating even your most primive and forgotten senses until it renders itself all comsuming; suffocating, and in a twist of cruel irony it will scorch the safety of the very fire it specters. 

Longing turns loving someone into torment.

Bucky Barnes. It had been months since you’d been with him.

Months.

You had phonecalls, and videochats, and texting, but it could never match up to his physical presense. It’s amazing the things about someone you realize you took for granted when you’re forced into separation.

Even so much as being in the same room as him felt like something you should have thanked god for at the time.

You’d wanted so desperately to be able to stay with him, to have him live in your apartment with you until social distancing laws were lifted, and that was almost an option - until it wasn’t.

Bucky’s anatomy rendered him in no serious danger of infection, and knowing this as soon as ‘quarentine’ entered his ears he had reached out to every medical facility around to see how he could help. The answers mostly consisted of small routine jobs that doctors and nurses struggled to find the time for, until one really struck him: let us use your biological makeup to see if it helps us solve puzzle of vaccine development.

He’d never signed on to something so quickly in his life.

“My soldier,” You’d laughed, “Always fighting for what’s right, even when it’s not his war.”

“It’s everyone’s war, doll. I’m just doing my part, like everyone else.” He’d replied.

It was true, Bucky would recover quickly from the virus in the extremely rare case that he were to contract it at all, but his work on the vaccine didn’t make him invulnerable to being a carrier and he refused to risk your life in the process of trying to help save so many.

And so, you had spent your time in your apartmen and he at the compound unless at a medical facility being poked and prodded for the sake of humanity. 

It was ungodly early in the morning, nearly three. Far too early to be making a video call, but the world had come to a screeching hault months ago and since then time didn’t seem to matter all that much. And you knew for a fact that he’d still be awake.

You sipped at the tea in your mug as you sat on your bed, reaching for your phone. Your finger hovered over his contact for a moment, a last hesitation as you wondered if perhaps he was sleeping, but it didn’t stop you.

He answered after a single ring.

“I know it’s stupidly early, but I miss you so much and I don’t know what to do with myself because of it.” You whispered immediately, knowing there was little point in offering a salutation.

You could see his face illuminated by the light of his phone screen as he sat cross legged on his bed. His hair was tied back, but a few stray pieces had fallen back onto his face. He looked to be wearing a sweater. It was a soft green. He looked perfect.

“I wasn’t sleeping (Y/N), don’t worry,” He said, “I miss you too, like you wouldn’t believe but it won’t be long now, I promise.” 

He tried his best to reassure you, but you both knew he couldn’t really make that promise. There was no guarentee how much more time would pass until you could be together again.

“I hate this, I can’t do it anymore. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

You were sitting with your covers pulled over your shoulders, sometimes bring a mug to your lips to sip at it. The warm glow of the fairy lights that you’d wrapped around your bedframe gave romantic definition to your features. He could swear he’d never seen something more beautiful in his life, but he thought that every single time he’d been able to see your face since he last saw it in person.

“You’re not going crazy, I would’ve told you by know if you were.” He winked.

The small laugh he earned from you made him smile, even if he could hear the subtly of the tears you were fighting.

“I love you, (Y/N). This is hard, baby, but you have to stay safe for me. We’ll make it, I know we will.”

“I know, Buck. I just feel like a piece of me missing when you’re not around.”

A tear had finally fallen from your waterline and onto your cheek. You quickly wiped it away in hopes he wouldn’t notice. He did.

His face read as if he was in physical agony. He couldn’t stand seeing you like this, but he knew there was nothing he could do other than try his best to make sure you knew he loved you, he missed you, and that this wouldn’t last forever.

“Just think about how great it’ll be when we see each other again.” He whispered, abandoning the crease in his brow in exchange for a small smile.

“It hurts to think about that.” You admitted, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

You’d purposefully tried your best not to think about it too much for that reason, in fact.

“Maybe, but it’s something to look forward to isn’t it?” He pondered, “This feels like forever, but it isn’t. We’re guarenteed to have that moment someday, so why not imagine it? It’s better than this, baby.”

You stared at him in complete awe for a moment as you remembered the man you’d met years ago. The one who couldn’t even so much as bare eye contact with someone for more than a second before looking away, or handle even the lighted touch. That same man, after so much perseverance and growth, was now explaining to you the benefit of looking forward to life’s guarenteed happy moments.

“I’m so proud of you, Buck.”

“What?” He chucked, running a hand down his face in amusement, “Not that I don’t love it when you kiss my ass, but where’d that come from, doll?”

“I’m not kissing your ass, Barnes,” You chided playfully, “I’m telling you the truth. You’ve come a long way from the person you were when you got out. I love you, and I’m amazed by you.”

‘Got out’ he knew meant escaped Hydra’s grasp. You were right, he’d gone through quite the change since then.

“What’s that saying - ‘behind every strong man’..?” He started, raising an eyebrow at you to finish it.

“‘There’s probably a woman nagging him to make dinner for once’.”

Now this really makes him laugh. You watched as his nose scrunched and the crinkles in the corners of his eyes perk up. That’s the laugh you fell for.

“Okay you know for a fact that’s not it, doll. And, I’ll have you know, in the last few weeks I’ve been forced to learn how to cook better since the only other choice is starve.” He quipped, seemingly rather confident in his new found skillset.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Guess I’ll have to show you in person.”

“Yeah...” You muttered daftly as the mention of being with him again came to fruition once more.

“It’ll be amazing.” He said almost dreamily as he closed his eyes, thinking to himself about the ordeal of you being in his arms after so long. He craved you like nothing else.

“Don’t get too full of yourself,” You giggled, “A few months is hardly enough time to match my culinary ability-”

“I meant seein’ you again, baby.”

“Oh.” 

Apparently ‘oh’ was the best answer you could come up with.

“Entertain me for a minute?” He asked you, cocking his head to the side with that signature lopsided smile of his. Bucky knew very well you could never say no to that, even if it was a topic you’d be entirely avoiding.

“Lay it on me, Romeo.” You rolled your eyes, but he knew you secretly wanted to hear what he would tell you just as much as he wanted to say it, even at the risk of bittersweetness.

“Whenever they lift the distancing rules, I don’t care what you’re doing, I don’t care what time it is, I don’t care where you are-”

“It’s a pretty safe bet I’ll be here.”

“Would you let me finish?” He chuckled playfully at your interjection.

You had a habit of seeing humour as an escape, and he knew that this was no exception. He was grateful. If you were joking around and being playful with him, at least it meant you weren’t crying anymore.

“Alright, alright.” You relented, opting to drink your tea and listen to him intently.

“My point is: the moment I’m able to see you again, I will run to you. If there’s a promise I know I can make to you, it’s that. You are my whole heart, doll. Nothing can change that, not distance, not a pandemic, not even your snoring-”

“I do not snore!”

“You absolutely do and I’m not done, you little punk.” He snorted before deciding it was time to leave all joking prods aside, “Baby, I love you. I love you so much that I go to sleep thinking about the next time I can see your pretty face, and I wake up with the same thing on my mind because you give me so much joy. I can’t wait to feel you in my atmosphere, and to hold you in my arms again, and to kiss you - god - doll, I miss kissing you more than anything in the world,”

Bucky had come a long way since you met him, yes, but he did still struggle with being emotive sometimes. Saying all of these things to you so directly was a huge deal for him. You knew better than anyone else that he must mean every single word.

“And the only reason I’m still sane is because I know that I’ll get the chance to soon. I don’t know when, but I know for sure that I will. I’ll wait for you, and you’ll wait for me... and that gives me the incentive I need to keep going everyday.” He offered you a sweet smile, which you returned immediately.

You sighed, entirely lovesick.

“You’re a wonder, James Barnes.”

“Oh, (Y/N)- The first name, really?” He couldn’t help but to laugh, even while fighting of a toe curling cringe.

“What? I haven’t seen you in ages - and you know it’s torture not being able to kiss you senseless after that display of your undying love for me - and you expect me not to lighten the mood?”

He watched you raise your mug to your lips, the lips he missed so dearly. There was a glint of mischeif in your eye, the one that made him fall in love with you in the first place.

“Honestly, I don’t know how I could’ve expected anything else.” He laughed, still trying his best to read your face to see if your absorbed what he was saying.

“It’s not easy for me to deal with indefinite timelines,” You admitted, looking at the wall of your bedroom in the distance, “But you know that already. I feel this torturous sense of longing for you in my bones, and knowing that it’s going to stay there for god knows how much longer...”

“I know, doll. Trust me, I know.” He told you.

“Uncertain reunion dates in the future aside, what I can say for sure is that I have the world’s kindest, bravest, most prolific altruist for a boyfriend, and knowing that you’re not only safe but offering yourself up for the sake of others like you are-” You stopped for a moment, desperately trying to not get choked up, “It gives me so much hope.”

When he heard that, he knew you’d gotten the message. It was about finding incentives that gave you hope, that allowed you happiness in moments of forlorn longing.

“Well, shucks.” 

Bucky heard you snort in reply to his witticism. He closed his eyes and smiled, truely embracing what you’d said to him. All he ever wanted was to do right by the world; to give back to it. He’d gotten the biggest second chance in recorded history, and he’d be damned if he didn’t make the most of it. Knowing you not only saw the work he put in, but that you were proud of him for it? It made him absolutely melt.

“I’m incessantly in love with you and everything you are.” You said with no chastizing mention of his first name this time.

“I love you too, (Y/N). So much.”

You hummed for a moment, and Bucky tried to decipher if you were doing it out of contentment or if you were thinking.

“You miss kissing me, huh..?”

Thinking. It had definitely been thinking. And by the delish tone of your voice and look on your face Bucky saw when he opened his eyes, it was nothing all too innocent.

You circled the rim of your mug with your finger, drawing out your next words languidly and elicited a low groan from him.

“How about you tell me what else you miss, baby?”

[justreadingfics]

Looking For a Heartbeat (ch. 22/26)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Series Summary: You and Bucky used to be in a relationship. Feelings were hurt, you left.  It’s been two years and you’re back. You both will handle the reunion well, won’t you?

Word Count: 5,2K

Warnings for this chapter: fluff, cute kids, dad!bucky. 

A/N:  Thank you @suz-123 for being so amazing. I’m sorry for taking so  long to write this one.  For some reason it  was one of the hardest chapters for me. Ooo, I finally  have chapter count and I’ll most likely end it at the 26th.Links are messing up posts, you can find the masterlist link on my description.

 *I’m going to add all the amazing stuff some people has made for this story on  the  masterlist link.(I should add that my Reader character has no specific physical characteristics, this is just one of the possible representations) this beautiful moodboard  was  made by @buckybarnesbeans​   thank you babe, I loved it. 

By the way, if you somehow feel inspired by my story and want to make a little something out of it, just know you’ll turn me into a very happy writer ;)

~~~

 “She’s all wrinkled.”

“Oh, man!”

“It’s ok,” You chuckle when Harry lets the frustrated whisper out at Luna’s comment, one of the two children in his arms, careful not to wake the peacefully sleeping baby in the crib, “She does look a little wrinkled now, Luna. She came out of my belly just a couple of days ago.” You continue and laugh at the grimace the little girl gives at the information.

“I think she’s cute,” Jon whispers just like his father, gaining a smile from him.

“Thank you, Jon,” You reach and fumble with his hair, “She’ll look cuter in time, I promise, Luna,” You add, amused by the kid’s blatant disappointment at the newborn looks.

Summer ended up not having to stay in intensive care, like most premature babies. The first tests had shown the serum has made her healthier than most babies, but so far that’s it. Doctor Nadine explained that, whether it would make her strong like her dad or bring her any other super characteristic or not, only time would tell.

The first couple of days after you brought Summer home have been extremely busy, with a bustle of people coming and going, everyone wanting to take a little peek at the youngest habitant of the tower, showering her with all kinds of presents from this world and others. You don’t mind it, in fact, you love it, this just means how cared for Summer is by so many of your friends… your family. Besides, it’s certainly fun to watch Steve, the massive and respectful Captain America, bursting into ugly crying every time he gets a chance to hold Summer.

Bucky likes the crowd, too. He’s always eager to show off his daughter, bragging about how healthy and big she was when she was born, how quiet she is, how well she sleeps, how cute her little cry is -which it’s not-, but you let him say whatever. Watching how big his love for your baby is will always be one of the most special things you’ve ever seen…

He’s been staying at the tower, in his old bedroom, and hardly ever leaves yours and Summer’s side. Just now, like an hour or so before Harry arrived with the kids, Bucky only left to go grab some clean clothes from his apartment. You suspect he’s staying a little longer…

“We brought presents,” Luna announces, lifting a little box to the air, after her dad puts her and her twin on the floor.

“Shhh, Luna, the baby is sleeping,” Jon places a finger over his mouth, holding another similar box in his other hand.

“It’s ok.  Summer sleeps like a rock, thank God,” You give Harry a sigh of relief, who chuckles, before you turn back to the little ones, “Ooo, presents, she loves presents, can I see them?” You crouch, reaching out for the boxes, which they both hand you, bouncing on their legs and giggling.

“They chose them themselves,” Harry says, proudly, sitting on the fluffy carpet, following you and the kids.

They both help you unwrap the boxes, and you find two little figures with big bouncy heads. You know what they are. Funko Pops. They’ve made a few of the Avengers before, including one from you.  

“This is Luna Lovegood.”  Luna announces as you stare questioningly at the little figures. She leans over and points to the female one. A blond little girl with big and weird colored glasses.

“This is Jon Snow.” Her brother, points to the male one, all in black and holding up a sword.

You shoot an entertained look at Harry, who only cringes and try to hide into himself.

“Oh, wow, Luna and Jon. It’s you guys?” You ask, already knowing the answer.

“Hum-hum,” They both nod, “And we’ll protect Summer when she cries.” Luna adds.

“Oh,” Your heart melts as you smile and your eyes can’t help but water at the sweetness of their intent, “That’s amazing. Thank you so much.” You bring the little Funkos to your chest, “Summer will love them and I’m so glad she has you guys to protect her. I’ll put them on the shelf right next to her crib, alright?”

They seem pleased with the information as they lift up their chin and smile widely. After giving each a kiss on the cheek and add Harry as a receiver of the thankful gesture, you get up to place the little images on the shelves with Summer’s many stuffies her dad bought her. Not to mention the human size one Tony gave her and now occupies a great deal of the room.

“Mr. Bucky!”

You hear them both shouting in unison and look over your shoulder just in time to watch the two little kids running and throwing themselves at Bucky, who promptly catches them by the  door.

“Ugh, hey, hey,” He adjusts them on each arm, grinning, “How are you guys doing?”

“We’re fine, your little baby is sleeping,” Luna informs quickly, swinging her legs and playing with a lock of his hair absentmindedly.

“She’s cute,” Jon adds from the other arm making Bucky’s smile grow even bigger.

“She is, isn’t she, pal?”

“She’s a little too wrinkled now, but Y/N says she’ll get cuter soon, we brought her presents, look, there’s a huge bear over there, bigger than you, Mr. Bucky,” Luna utters quickly and effusively, with her usual and childish honesty.

Bucky laughs a full belly laugh, before placing them back on the floor. He smiles at you before turning to Harry, who’s now standing up, trying to find some place on his clothes to shove his hands into.

“Hey, man,” Bucky clears his throat and his smile drops a bit when he reaches his hand for Harry to shake.

“Hey, ahm, Summer is beautiful, congratulations,” Harry says, accepting his handshake.

The smile tugs at Bucky’s lips again at the mention of Summer, and after thanking him and letting go of Harry’s hand, he walks towards the crib to watch her sleeping.

You sigh, grabbing a couple of stuffies to show the kids… You noticed how tense Bucky got at the sight of Harry …You hate that.

“Oh, well, well, if it ain’t the Super Spy twins I see? I should take cover.”

“Auntie Nat,” Another burst of happy squeals fills up the room and you’re thankful Summer really seems to be a pretty heavy sleeper so far.

The twins rush to go give Nat a hug. You can’t help but beam at the scene. Nat has told you she and Harry had took the kids on a couple of dates -  without actually telling them about the true nature of their relationship and by the “auntie” before “Nat” and the excitement on their little faces as she crouches to receive their hug, the dates were a success. You couldn’t be happier for your friend.

Glancing over Harry,  you spot the stupid and infatuated look you have ever seen someone put on as his gaze is stuck on the three of them. When his eyes flicker and meet yours, he instantly  straightens up, clearing his throat and blushing harder than when he met Steve.

You chuckle quietly, but doesn’t say or let out any sign of the fact you know exactly the cause of the dumb look on his face.  If they want it that way, you respect that. All this while Bucky remains oblivious to the scene, completely enamored of the little figure on the crib, just staring at her, like he’s done a lot the last few days.

“Hey, Nat,” you greet, with a smirk adorning your face as you saunter over  her, raising a suggestive eyebrow before you hand the little stuffies to Luna and Jon.

“Ahhh, so cute,” Luna yelps and she and Jon entertain themselves with the little bears.

“Hey, hot mama,” She greets back, kissing your cheek, “Hey, there,” She says in her huskiest voice and nods at Harry, taking a not so subtle bite on her lip as she shamelessly gives him a once over.

“H-hi, hey,” He stutters, adjusting his glasses. He doesn’t even dare to look at your direction. How haven’t you noticed those two before?     

“Where’s my girl?” Natasha turns back to you - as if she hasn’t just almost murdered Harry – and puts emphasis on girl. After Summer was born and the secrecy was over, Nat was the absolutely cheeriest in finding out Summer was a girl. I knew it, not a traitor. You believe these were the exact first words she said to the baby with happy tears in her eyes, “Is our little sun, asleep?” She asks, already moving over to the crib.  

In line with her question, the cry Bucky insists on calling “sweet” fills up the room.

“There she is,” you laugh and everyone’s attention turn to the little baby already in Bucky’s arms.

You walk over him as he rocks her and simultaneously checks her diaper, “Ooo, a pretty girl needs a change,” he announces, “Hey, Nat,” He smiles, “It’s ok, it’s my turn,” He addresses to you when you reach to take her, and, as he strikes a baby talk with Summer, he already places her on the changer. You notice he ends up touching her with his metal arm – the gentlest of touches- which makes you feel relieved and proud at the same time.    

“Oh, ok. I think it’s time to feed her again, too. I’ll do it after you’re done.” You say.   

As he starts the process of changing Summer, with the most tender moves you’ve ever seen, Nat stands beside him, caressing her face with the back of her finger and quietly singing a Russian lullaby to soothe her exasperated crying. Your heart turns into a puddle at the scene of two of the deadliest assassins in the world at the complete mercy of the little baby.

“Ahm, we should go, kids.” Harry calls from behind you, enticing effusive lament sounds from the little ones, who’ve been playing with the stuffies.

“Oh no, you don’t have to,” You try to argue as you turn back to them. 

Summer has now eased down her crying, allowing Auntie Nat to the rescue, “Why don’t we go grab some ice cream, huh guys?” She claps her hand, bending over.

Two little faces light up at the proposal, “I want three scoops.” Luna shouts, dropping the stuffie to the floor as her little feet bolts towards a grinning Nat. 

“I want four.” Jon quickly follows her sister and, just  like her, grabs Nat’s hand before they both start pulling her towards the door. 

“Five…” You hear the little girl’s voice, as they’re already out of the room.

When Harry turns to you he’s not even trying to hide the shit-eating smile on his lips anymore. He shrugs before you tell your goodbyes.

~~~

Becoming a mother is truly an interesting process, to say the least,  you understand it more and more, as the months go by with Summer by your side. While one moment it feels like you’ve been awakened for too long, the hours of feeding are endless and you miss missions and it’s like you’ll never adjust to your new routine; at others, you’re crying because your baby is growing too fast, you’re afraid to screw her up and you don’t want to do anything but hold her close to you and never let go.

You love your kid with all your heart and more than anything, but you’re still trying to figure out how to be a mother most of the time- earning you a  lot of long ass sessions with Heloise. While every so often you struggle with your new life, Bucky, as it turns out, is a natural. It’s like he was born to be a father. He does everything with you: he gives her baths, he rocks her to sleep, changes diapers, tells stories she, despite being too young to actually understand them, pays focused attention on... Little by little, his fear of touching her with his metal arm has vanished and it’s like he doesn’t even remember he has it. As a matter of fact, it turns out to be a very useful tool to cool down Summer when the heat is too strong.

One night, while you three struggle with infant cramps and he calms her down by waddling her snugly in a blanket, rubbing soft circles on her back, he tells you he’s been remembering of how he used to take care of his younger sisters and that’s why it seems so much easier with Summer now.

Around the second month after her birth he still hasn’t gone back to his apartment and that’s when the following scene takes place, while you’re feeding Summer on the couch in your living room and he’s right there by your side, dreamily caressing her chubby cheeks -  a habit that often distracts the baby and makes her stop sucking and prolonging the time you spend feeding her, but you would never tell him that. A particularly loud sigh from him catches your attention, making you shift your gaze from your daughter, peacefully dozing in your arms, to him.

“Are you ok?” You asked softly as your eyebrows draw together.

His gaze snaps to you for a second before it drops back to Summer, “Yeah, it’s just… I have to come back to my apartment and… it hurts…” He sighs, “Just the idea of staying away from her… it physically pains me.”

“Oh,” it slips from your mouth, before you look back to her. You imagine what it would feel if you had to stay apart from her… No. Not happening, “Why do you have to go?” You ask.

Hopeful eyes bore into yours, “You wouldn’t mind? I mean…”

His hesitation makes you scoff, “Why would I? This is your home.” You say, shrugging and nodding at Summer, making clear what you mean by “home.”

At the very next day, Bucky moves back to the Tower. But, instead of occupying his old room, he accepts your offer to stay  in a spare bedroom in the apartment Tony made for you. Three floors apart would be too far away from Summer, after all…

On the days after his moving, it doesn’t slip from your attention that, after you ask Friday to wake you up again if he had nightmares – like you did what if feels like ages ago- not even once she ends up having to do it, since, while he’s not taking care of Summer, he sleeps peacefully and deeply…

~~~

When Summer is six months old you decide to go back to missions. You start with small and quick ones that don’t require you to leave the city. Staying away from her those few moments is a sweet pain, but one you know it’ll be good for you. And for her, honestly.

Bucky decides to wait a little longer, which you’re glad for. You’re not sure how you feel about a nanny or daycare yet. Bucky’s safe and you’re very fond of safe when it comes to your baby daughter.

One of his favorite things in the world is to dress up Summer. While you usually go for the most practical pieces of clothing you find, he likes to adorn her hair with big bows, ribbons, tiaras, cute hats matching the most adorable dresses, buying her new ones almost on a daily basis. All of it very comfortable and harmless for her, of course.

She’s nine months old when Tony pulls up a small party to celebrate Pepper’s birthday. If it were up to him, he would definitely go big at the celebration, but Pepper said she preferred something small and he respected it. Well, at least as far as Tony Stark’s concept of “small” would go.  He uses the pool area for the party, inviting the Avengers, a few agents from fellow organizations and a small group of friends.  

This is Summer’s first real party and she looks absolutely endearing in Bucky’s arms when you three walk into the place. He’s chosen a red dress with white polka dots for her. There’s a white bowknot on the waist matching a big ribbon of the same color on her head and white little party shoes. She’s swaying her legs back and forth, as one arm rests lazily around her dad’s neck and she shifts her gaze from him to all the people who stop by to tell her what a beautiful baby she is.

Each day she looks more and more like you, but some traces are all her father’s, like her big blue eyes. But what really fills your heart with love and pride is that Summer is growing into a pretty sociable and charming kid. Everyone around her at the party gains a huge smile as a response and, if the praise really pleases her, she lets out a giggle and puts up a funny scrunched up face you’ve taught her to do. The cutest.

“Auntie Nat… Auntie Nat…” Natasha repeats in a baby voice, playing with Summer’s little hand.

“Cool down, Natasha, she’s nine months old.” Sam rolls his eyes beside her, before shaking his head at you.  

“This girl is a prodigy. And, you don’t get to say anything, it’s already enough her first smile was to you.” Nat grimaces at him.

“She loves Uncle Sam, don’t you, pretty girl? Don’t you?” Sam also uses his baby voice, brushing his finger on Summer’s nose, pulling out a giggle from the happy baby and a snarl from Nat.   

Her first smile was indeed aimed to Sam while he made a weird dance for her. Bucky was absolutely devastated. At least he turned out being the second person to make her smile, by imitating exactly what Sam was doing. However, for Steve’s dismay and many of the others, her undeniably favorite uncle is Thor with all the lightning magic he pulls for her, even if he doesn’t show up as much as the others. She loves all her uncles and aunties, though, dearly, which she should for being so spoiled by all of them.

“Come on, stop it. She loves all of you, guys…” You intercede. You can’t resist and pop a loud kiss on your daughter’s soft and chubby cheek. 

“But no more than she loves her daddy, of course.” Bucky pecks her other one and you two end up trapping the baby girl between a series of tiny kisses.      

“Oh, God, that’s too sweet, I’m gonna get sick…” Sam makes a face, but smiles anyway and you pull your tongue out, “Ok. I’m going to take a look around,” He says, after chuckling at the three of you.  

“Me too,” Nat says,  “Are you guys sitting down here?” She asks, pointing at the nearest table.

You’ve just arrived, but haven’t really still settled. When the favorite little person of the team gets in the place, there’s a lot of stops on your way so everyone can say hello and gush praises on her.  

“Uhm, yeah,” You answer, before addressing to Bucky, “What about we sit for a moment, then we can take Summer to play a bit and watch the kids.” You point to the playground where a number of recreation workers entertain the children.

“Yeah, sounds good.” Bucky agrees, already pushing stroller with his free hand towards the table.

After Nat and Sam leave and the three of you set yourselves on the round table, Wanda approaches and somehow manages to steal Summer from Bucky’s arms, sitting down next to you and snatching the kid’s attention with red drawings in the air.

“I’m gonna go say hello to Steve and grab some food, I’m starving. Do you want anything?” Bucky asks you, already getting up.

“Oh, sure, thank you.” You’re starving too, getting ready to go out with a baby, even in the same tower you live, isn’t a walk in the park and you’ve forgotten to eat at all that morning, “Can you bring, uhm,” You twist your mouth and frown, thinking about all the goodies that can be easily found at Tony’s parties every single  time, “Ooo, see if there’s lobster sliders, ugh, of course, those little fried shrimp balls, a bit of potato chips and-”

“Garlic bread.” He winks at you with a knowing smirk on his face.

A smile twists your lips widely, enticing one of his own, “Yeah, garlic bread,” You confirm, softly.  

Someone clearing their throat bursts the little bubble quickly growing around you and him. This… the bubble… has been happening a lot lately. You turn to the sound’s direction to see Wanda staring at both of you, eyebrows high on her forehead, while Summer is also watching quietly you and Bucky from her lap. 

“Oh, do you want anything, Wands?” Bucky asks, brushing the back of his neck.

“I’m good, thanks.”  She answers with a small smile.

“Alright, be right back.” He rushes away after kissing the top of Summer’s head.

You lean to grab a bottle of water from the bucket of ice a waiter has left there when you sat.

“What the hell are you doing?”  

“What do you mean?” You don’t look at Wanda, pouring some water on your glass before  taking a sip.

“You and Bucky.”

“Don’t even go there, Wands. There’s no me and Bucky.” You notice Summer starting to fuss with nothing to do and reach for the bag the grab and give her a pair of maracas, her current favorite toy.   She accepts it and promptly starts to swing them to the air, loving the noise it produces. You smile fondly at her.

“You’re honestly going to tell me you don’t see what’s going on?” Wanda tilts her head.

You shrug, still focusing on Summer, who keeps playing excitedly on her aunt’s lap.

“I think it’s been what?” Wanda insists with a bit of impatience seeping into her tone, “Nine months since I last saw you two separated from one another? You’re keep doing things together and for each other… I felt completely invisible here. Did he actually complete your sentence? For God’s sake, he lives in your apartment, Y.N.”

Your eyes snap up to her.

“You’re living a married life without actually being married.” Her gaze bore into yours and you can see the care in them.

You halt for a second. If you think about it, it’s true. You haven’t talked about your relationship again but you did fall into a routine of a couple. You do everything together, he’s living with you…  You haven’t even thought about seeing someone else and you’re pretty sure he hasn’t either. It feels so different from before… before you left, but at the same time, it feels like nothing has changed, like you’ve never left and you still belong to each other. Except you don’t… Not really. 

 It’s been good this way. So good… but you would die and kill to kiss him again. Not a kiss like the one you two gave at Summer’s birth, but a passionate, devastatingly breathtaking kiss, you dream about frequently…to feel his hot skin against yours… to hold him in your sleep...

But this is you… It doesn’t mean he feels the same way and if you try anything and this isn’t what he wants or maybe what he’s ready for…

“We’re being parents, Wands.” When you finally speak is but a whisper. “We haven’t had time to think of anything other than Summer all this time. You’re right, we’ve been really…huh… attached to each other ever since she was born and it’s so worthy to be like this. I’m so happy. He’s happy. I’m afraid that…” You take in a deep breath, looking down.

“That if you try to change it, you’ll lose it. You’ll lose him.” Wanda speak your mind and you know she is not even using her powers.

You nod quietly.

“Oh, honey…”

You tighten your lips in a sad smile and shrug.

“Hey, there,” Harry’s voice catches the attention from both of you as he walks towards the table. Well, the three of you, actually, since Summer swings her little maracas even harder and puts on a beautiful and almost toothless grin for him.

After you and Wanda answer his greeting, Harry goes straight to Summer and excuses himself to grab her from Wanda’s lap, lifting her into the air, ripping out happy squeaks from the baby and fond looks from the two adults, seizing the previous subject completely. Harry and the kids have been visiting a lot ever since she was born and Summer absolutely adores them, especially the kids.

“Where’s Luna and Jon?” You ask. 

“Oh, they went straight to the playground.”  He answers after blowing a few raspberries on Summer’s  stomach,  making her squirm and giggle.  “I was looking for…ahm,” He seems taken aback for a moment, shifting gazes from you to Wanda, “I haven’t seen anyone else, is, huh, everyone here, yet?”

Wanda smirks at you, before standing up, “Don’t worry, I’ll let Nat know you’re here. I’ll talk to you later, Y/N,” She taps Harry’s shoulder on her way out.

Harry’s jaw drops at her comment and he’s livid when he looks back at you, “I- why- I don’t know why she-”

“Hush, Harry,” you snicker, interrupting him while before he becomes a stuttering mess, “Come, sit here,” you tap Wanda’s vacant spot and he does as you say, a sheepish and confused look on his face, “I know.”  You smile at him.

He gapes at you while he adjusts Summer on his lap and she goes back to play with her pair of maracas, “You know?” His whole face turns into crimson red and his eyes grow impossibly round.

“I do, took me  a while to figure it out I admit it,” you shake your head, mocking a disappointment face at yourself, “I’m not sure how long Wanda knows but, powers or not, it’s almost impossible to hide anything from her,” you add a little bitterly given the bit of conversation you’ve just had with her.

“Oh…  I thought no one knew yet.” He seems lost in his own thoughts. 

“Listen, Harry,” You lean closer to him, “I understand why you two decided to keep it as a secret, but I just wanted you to know…I’ve never seen her so happy as these last few months.”

His whole face lights up and he can’t help the curl on his lips while he adjusts his glasses on his face, “R-really?”

“Really,” You nod, smiling “And I’m so damn happy for the two of you, as well. You both deserve what’s best.”

While his grin grows bigger, Summer eyes raise from her maracas to you and she drops the toy to the floor, reaching her little arms to you. 

“Oh, come here, my little sun,” You promptly take her from Harry’s lap to yours. Someone misses mommy and your heart never ceases to skip a beat every time she does that.

After you kiss your daughter’s forehead and tickle her sides, she lays back comfortably against you and you go back to Harry,  “You better take care of her, mister, or you’ll have to deal with one super person or two.”

 “Oh no, don’t worry, I’ve only felt this way once before, and…”He says quietly, “Goddammit, I love her… I love her.” He repeats as his chest heavies.

“Oh my God, Harry.” You gasp and immediately pulls him into a hug, which he quickly  responds. Two of your best friends in love- because you damn well know Nat’s in love with him too- is one hell of a huge thing and your heart fills up with pride and hope for them.

When you part from Harry, you spot a broad figure standing by the table. Summer lets out happy squeals at the sight of her father. He only takes his eyes away from Harry  to smile at the baby, while managing to carry four plates filled with food on his arms.

“Oh, hey.” Harry beams, the joy of the confession still lingering on his whole demeanour.

“Hey, uhm, Wanda told me to tell you to come back to the playground and you’ll find what you’re looking for.” Bucky narrows his eyes at him.

“Oh, ok”  Harry can’t hide his excitement when his gaze find yours, “Got to go, see you guys around?”

“Sure,” You nod at him, still smiling.

Once he’s gone, Bucky takes his seat beside you, disposing the plates on the table. You put Summer on the stroller, handing her a few more toys, so you two can take a little time to eat.

 A few minutes later you have already devoured the lobster slider and Bucky remains silent, apart from a brooding noise or two as answers to your attempts at making conversation. He hasn’t even touched his food and just plays with it in a very evident gloomy way.  

Considering Harry is a constant presence in your lives, one would think Bucky would have cooled down his initial wariness of him. And he did. He truly did. However, you notice sometimes he gets like this when you’re somehow a little too expressive with your friendly affection for Harry. You’re not sure if this is jealous and of what he could be jealous of, but you hate to see him like that.  

“Hey, Bucky,” you call, absentmindedly.

He just hums to acknowledge it.  

“Take a look over there.”

He gazes at you, before following the direction of your pointing finger: Nat and Harry, right across the pool, with their back to you as they watch Luna and Jon playing with the rest of the kids. Sam standing on Nat’s other side.  

“What?” He frowns at you.

“Just…keep looking.”

He turns back to them and, just a few seconds later, you both watch as Nat’s hand navigates smoothly to grab one of Harry’s butt cheeks.

You laugh quietly when Bucky’s jaw drops.  

“No way,” his eyes widen and he looks back at you.

“Way…Since that car accident, before Summer was born,” You inform, relishing in his astonished expression. A very similar one to the face you’ve might have had when you found out.

He lets out a loud and long laugh and his shoulder loses all the tenseness. Shaking his head in disbelief, he reaches out and grabs a piece of garlic bread from your plate to shove it in his mouth. 

A small smile remains on his lips for the rest of the day while Wanda’s words echo into your mind…

What the hell are you doing?

~ ~ ~

Ch.  23 coming soon. 

[ambitionsource]

Who in the a class is in some kind of therapy?

what a question LMAO. but honestly, a very fair one indeed. while discussing this, es and i ended up basically dividing it into three groups (if someone isn’t mentioned, it just means none apply)

Is In Therapy Currently

Isadora || as we know from the canon of S3, isa is currently in therapy to work through the grief of valerie dying as well as like... the built up abandonment issues, anxiety, and struggles she has articulating or processing emotions lmao. it also helps her learn better methods to work with her autism

Farkle || i mean... we all watched S1 & 2. we know why he’s there LMAO and by god does he need it. it’s good that he’s improving though!!

Chai || she officially started therapy after the events of S1 while she was abroad because evidently her parents divorce really fucked with her emotional state and coping mechanisms -- as well as having sort of emotionally distant parents and having to navigate the world on her own. basically, money =/= nurturing. but yeah i think she realized what she did with tormenting her classmates wasn’t Healthy perhaps and so she sought out the resources to fix it on her own. her parents certainly weren’t going to be much help

Clarissa || clarissa has been in and out of therapy here and there since she was little, mainly for managing OCD. usually she’s fine and her appointments are infrequent (monthly at this current rate), but she tends to go back to her therapist when circumstances get very stressful, like the events of S2 (she mentions going back to therapy in a scene with charlie and haley in 210)

Not In Therapy Currently, but Has Before

Riley || though not by choice, riley went to therapy for a stretch of time in the aftermath of her bullying experience freshman year. by the start of S1, though, she’s on the tail-end of it after a whole summer full of it. she also had stints in family therapy when she was little when cory and topie were having their first bouts of marriage problems, but she doesn’t remember all that obviously. she’s thought about going back for herself because of all the divorce strain, but ultimately opted against it bc she didn’t want to go through cory or topanga. she mainly sticks to talking to eric if things get too overwhelming and using the coping mechanisms she already has

Darby || miss darbs spent some time in therapy in late elementary school due to having issues socializing with her peers. i think she’s always been a bit awkward and desperate to please, so that can get messy with kids cause kids are mean. she was also definitely bullied at that age for being really tall and so i think her parents put her therapy out of genuine concern just with the hopes that like, she’d be able to develop some coping mechanisms and have a safe space to get advice if they didn’t have the answers. and in some ways it helped, other ways no -- her friendships aren’t the healthiest still (as she’s the doormat), but i think she holds her own BETTER with the plastics having gone to therapy than if she never developed those emotional tools at all

Has Not / Is Not but Really Fucking Should Be in Therapy

LUCAS || this is like the most obvious blinking lights sirens wailing example ever. he is a walking textbook for endorsing therapy. between the domestic abuse, mommy and daddy issues, self-esteem in the subbasement, lack of life purpose, inability to read others well emotionally, inability to process his own emotions, the physical aversion due to his trauma, his kleptomania, his risk-taking behavior, his habit of lying, the fact that he has canonically walked off for days at a time with no warning, explanation, or safety net, that he sleeps in a fucking technician’s booth, he used to free-climb buildings SOMETIMES IN THE RAIN, no sense of self-preservation, intrusive thoughts, inability to express appreciation or affection in a normal non-stressful way...... this man is a therapist’s dream and nightmare. they could spend YEARS unpacking him. but will he ever go to therapy? no. because he a) doesn’t think he needs it, b) can’t ask for help ever, and c) could never afford it. and at this point, d) if his dad heard he was seeking help like that he would shut it down instantly. anyway, he’s the biggest case here. underline him in red

Charlie || charlie is a great example of someone who is like coping... sort of... not really... it Looks like they’re coping but they aren’t really and they really need help. like yes, charlie has stability in certain areas of his life that others don’t, and he’s extremely self-aware of his privileges, but i think that’s part of the problem. he’s convinced himself he doesn’t need or shouldn’t get external help because there are people who have it so much worse than him and he doesn’t... he doesn’t really need it, does he? he’s fine. he’ll be fine. and even if he did think about getting “help,” i think his first instinct -- and advice from others -- would be to go to his church leadership, which is not a suggestion made with ill will but just isn’t helpful considering half of his trauma is tied to his relationship with god and the church and faith. he needs a more objective space to unpack all of that, and obviously church itself is not the answer. i think that charlie will be able to work through a lot of his initial issues on his own with time and patience with himself (something we’re in the thick of right now -- we’re just barely in the acceptance phase), but he should really go to therapy in the future just to like... work through all of the long-term trauma he endured from his upbringing and bridgette’s exile and the dueling psychology of church vs sexuality. like... that’s gonna take some time to unravel and he needs to be in the right place to pursue that on his own. will he, i dont know, but i think when he does a certain heaviness he’s been carrying his entire life will finally like... lift. and he’ll be able to breathe better

Asher || so asher is a bit of a clusterfuck LMAO like he’s diagnosed officially with generalized anxiety disorder but he never saw a specialist, his mom diagnosed him since she’s a psychologist. the complexity here is that because of that... well, they say you should never let family be your personal doctors and i think that’s true for mental health professionals too. like emily basically gave asher the generic coping rundown when he was really young, and then he went on to develop his own coping mechanisms with, at least, a very fundamental understanding of what’s wrong with him. but he kind of developed his own complex about it all too, bc i think emily took pride in him being able to figure it all out and be so capable with his own mental health without ever going to therapy and he kind of internalized that, as well as having internalized a lot his mom’s perspectives and opinions as a mental health professional in a way that its like... well my MOM said that, so i feel kind of some type of way about it. so its all really complicated and twisted in his head and he just doesnt bother to unpack it (something, ironically, therapy would probably help lol). the thing about asher is that for all intents and purposes, he does cope well and he is really in tune with his own mental state. it’s just that he could seriously benefit from having an objective party help him untangle some of his neuroses i think and it would take some of the constant stress off his shoulders, but he’s honestly too stuck in his ways at this point to go. that being said, he’s a vocal advocate for therapy and its benefits -- just not for himself

Nigel || as discussed a bit in the ask i answered about him, i just think nigel carries way too much pressure on himself and he could benefit from someone helping him work through things instead of carrying all his stress on his own -- even if its less complex than some others. he’s like same range as clarissa.

Maya || maya has no issue with self-esteem, but i think she could still benefit from someone helping her actually unpack her issues over her dad and why she is the way she is. a therapist who specializes in narcissism would be a good fit for her -- not because she is one, but she does have... certain quirks where i think having that specialization can help unravel her motivations and actions a little more easily

Missy || she’s just a fucking mess. she shouldn’t be redeemed but i think therapy could really do her a favor and maybe make her less terrible and psychopathic towards people who aren’t like her. maybe

-- Maggie & Es

[yukiobeyme]

Heya! It's me again. I really don't want to come off as rude or impatient. Would it be ok if I asked for Ikevamp comfort headcanons? That MC is self harming (actively, if possible) and just fluff and angst? I don't care who or how many suitors you choose. You wrote a post about maybe writing it and I know I already commented on it, I could just really do with this type of fic. Thank you so much and It's completely ok if you're uncomfortable writing that or any other reason ^^

YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE!!! Sorry I’ve been MIA my dad went to the hospital with COVID and pneumonia and I am a full-time student. I did miss your reply and I do apologize for that! I did jump this up in my requests because I feel like lots of people need this comfort. Feel free to reach out to me if you need to talk, I know I’ve been in the same situation during this time. You ARE NOT ALONE! YOU ARE LOVED! I am going to break this up into parts simply so I can research some of the characters a little more and make sure they are as accurate as possible.

But I need this right now as well. Some of them are ambiguous if MC and the Boys are in a relationship or not, up to the reader to decide. Also, these are more like drabbles then headcanons. TW: Active Self-Harm and Depression. If you are at risk please reach out whether it is a professional, friends, family or to Crisis Hotlines.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline – For youth and adults (800) 273 8255

Text HOME to 741741 (US & Canada)

Text HOME to 85258 (UK)

Text HOME 0861800280 (Ireland)

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG AND ADD MORE HOTLINES

I also might have Vincent’s and Theo’s Out of Character, but Vincent Van Gogh suffered from Depression and had many mental breakdowns and ate paint in a form of self-harm due to the toxicity of the paints during the time.

 Sebastian

It did not take Sebastian long before he realized a knife was missing from the kitchen. At first, he didn’t know where it went but he was very observant and immediately noticed your change of behavior. You kept your sleeves down even if you were washing dishes, how you occasionally seemed to dig your arm into the countertop, or used your other hand to press against your other arm.

He tried to ignore the nagging feeling but kept an eye on you. He couldn’t ignore it when you were in the kitchen together when he heard you let out a hiss, it seemed like your arm caught on the counter and you instantly clenched your arm. He immediately noticed that your white sleeve was turning red. He froze for a moment before he moved towards you. Catching you before you could leave the kitchen and pulling you to sit on one of the stools in the kitchen. You looked like a deer in the headlights and was ridged like a stone statue. You stared straight ahead and avoided his eyes as he rolled up his sleeves. He heard his breath hitch when he rolled up your sleeves.

“MC? Why?” For Sebastian to be strict and calm, you hear his voice wavier and tried to catch your eyes.

That’s what broke you, you immediately started to cry, you dropped your head into your hands. You felt his hand rest on your shoulder.

“I’m going to get the first aid kit, please stay here. Wait for me please,” Sebastian’s voice was full of emotion, he gave your shoulder a final squeeze before he left to get the first aid. You were left alone, but you took the time to calm down and watch the blood dry. Sebastian came back quickly and immediately started to doctor you up.

“We don’t have to talk about it know… but I need to know, is that why there is a kitchen knife missing?” Sebastian knew the answer, but he had to make sure, he had to confirm it. You nodded, still not looking at him and you couldn’t find your voice at all.

“MC look at me please,” Sebastian’s voice was urgent and quiet. It took you a moment, but you looked up at him, with tears in your eyes. You took in his furrowed brows, his eyes full of concern and the start of tears forming.

“MC, I am here for you. You have ten other people that are here for you. You are important. You are important to me,” His voice cracked on the last sentence, tears finally falling grey eyes. You immediately lunged towards him and wrapped your arms around him and snuggling into his chest. He held you just as tight and you stayed in silence.

“Take the rest of the day off, if you need too,” Sebastian said quietly, rubbing mindless circles on your back.

“No,” you immediately answered, “I need the distraction,” you whispered pulling away slightly and looking at him. He nodded and gave you a soft smile before his face become serious, “ I would like the knife back, take an hour then. Collect yourself and I’ll give you a list of things to do,”. With that, he sent you off.

Once in the safety of your room, you sat heavily on your bed and took a deep breath. You took a few minutes to calm down and relax before you went and grabbed the knife. It still had dried blood on it, you turned it over in your hands, debating and thinking. You jumped when you heard a knock on the door and it opening to reveal Sebastian.

He was quiet and wide eye when he saw you holding the knife, “Sorry to barge in but I figure it would be better to collect the knife from you.” You let out a heavy breath and nodded, holding out the knife to him.

“Thank you,” Sebastian held the knife gingerly, also as if he was afraid and saddened by it.

For the rest of the week, you were given mindless tasks that took all day. But they weren’t unwelcomed, and you appreciated Sebastian not forcing you to talk to him. Though he did check on you and request to see how the cuts were healing and seeing if you were comfortable to let Arthur seem them. You would finally come around and talk to Sebastian about your self-harming habits, how it started, and why you continued. He would always make tea and have your favorite pastries at the ready so you could comfortably sit and talk about it. When you needed it, he would allow you in his room and collect you in his arms when you needed it. Letting you decide if you wanted to talk about it or simply wanted his silence comfort.

Leonardo Da Vinci

He had seen it all in his 500 years. It made his soul and heart ache if he actually had them. To see you suffer so much you that you took it out on yourself physically made him hurt as well. He found out when you were in his room playing with Lumiere and your sleeves rose that he caught silver lines as well as angry red lines.

“What happened Cara Mia?” He asked softly rising from his floor and catching your arm in his hand.

You immediately pulled away from him, your first mistake. “Oh, Lumiere must have scratched me, it’s no big deal,” you tried to act casual about it and shrug it off but you were an open book to him.

“Cara Mia, you are lying to me,” It wasn’t a question, he gazed into your eyes and tipped your chin up to make sure you kept eye contact with him. You left out a shaky breath, “Leonardo, let me have this one, for now, please” you begged, pleaded with him.

“You did it to yourself. Why? With what?” Leonardo's thoughts were racing at this point. Looking into your eyes trying to find the answers.

“Yes,” you said quietly. “I brought my razor apart. I need to feel. Be in control,” you whispered, Leonardo almost missed your answer.

Leonardo simply nodded and collected you into his arms and pulled you into his bed. He practically rested his body onto on you, his weight wasn’t unwelcomed though, it was comforting and grounding.

You stayed like this for a while, Leonardo started out whispering love into your skin and pressing soft kisses to whatever skin he could reach. Soon he started to sing old Italian lullabies to you, you tried to fight off the heaviness in your eyes.

“Sleep Cara Mia, you are exhausted. I’ll be here when you wake,” Leonardo paused in his sing before pressing a final kiss on your forehead and continued to sing to you. You let sleep overcome you, enjoying his warmth. When you woke, you had moved so you were on top of Leonardo and you were clinging to his chest. You looked up at Leonardo’s face and saw his gold eyes watching over you gently.

“Cara Mia?” he said softly, wrapping his arms tighter around you.  “How are you feeling?” he watched your face carefully.

When he asked you felt the exhaustion of the emotional turmoil wash over you again, with a deep breath you told him just that.

“That is to be expected,” he started, “Cara Mia?”

You hummed in respond looking at him in the eyes, his eyes were full of sorrow and concern.

“Will you allow me to tend to your wounds and confiscate your razors?” Leonardo asked slowly, carefully picking his words. You panicked, the idea of letting him see the extent of the damage you have done to yourself, as well as losing your only coping mechanism here. Leonardo picked up on how you stiffened in his arms.

“Cara Mia, it’s okay. How are we make a deal? Whenever you want to harm yourself you come to see me? You can harm me instead, I will heal quicker,” He offered as it was obvious, and in the most casual voice. Your eyes widened, “NO!” you practically shouted at him and pulled away from him, you felt the panic rising and your breath quicken.

“Relax Cara Mia,” he pulled you back against his chest. “Your reaction to hurting me is the same I feel that you hurting yourself,” he started rubbing circles on your back. You took a deep breath and let yourself relax against him.

After a few moments of silence, Leonardo spoke up again, “Why don’t we go take a bath together?” without answering him. He urged you to sit up then stand. He moved around to collect his things before reaching out his hand towards you, “shall we?”

You took his hand and he whisked you away. He helped you strip once you were behind the closed door of the bath. He was careful around your arm, trying to quickly recover when he saw how many cuts littered your arms. He then stripped himself and guided you to the bath. You recalled all the other times you took a bath with him, how it was heated and passionate. This time it was different, it was gentle and intimate. He washed your back and your hair, gently humming to you. After some time, he wrapped you in his arms and you both sat in silence, letting the heat of the bath relax the tension out of your bodies.

“I’m sorry, Leonardo,” you whispered to him.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Cara Mia or at least not to me,” He pressed you to his chest.

“I am here for you Cara Mia, for the rest of my life. I love you and will love you for as long as I live,” He continued turning you slightly.

“But you will live forever,” you looked at him in confusion.

“Exactly,” he gave you a soft smile and gave you a soft kiss

 Arthur Conan Doyle (TW: DESCRIPTION OF SELF-HARM AND BLOOD AND NSFW)

You forgot to roll your sleeves back down before entering Arthur’s room to deliver his usual afternoon coffee. He mutters thanks fully focused on completing his thoughts before looking up at you. His eyes immediately fell to your arms.

“By Jove!,” He exclaimed as he jumped from his seat and grasped you are to get a better look at the wounds. “Who did this to you?” Arthur’s eyes were dark and full of rage. He was demanding to know, and his grip was too tight, almost painful.

“Arthur, you’re hurting me,” you whimpered, the fresh cuts still burned from the pressure. It was a mix of delight and too much pain. His grip loosened but was still firm as he looked at you, waiting for your answer.

“Who did it to you, MC,” His voice was softer, trying to catch your eyes but you refused to look at him. “MC, please?” he begged, desperate.

“Look at the angle of the cuts, Arthur,” you said firmly, feeling angry bubble within you. You didn’t know if you were angry you were caught or angry that Arthur was pretending to care. Arthur looked taken back by your words but did as you told. Twisting your arm around so he could carefully look at the cuts.

“Did you do this to yourself?” he whispered, his eyes widened and filled with tears. He looked shattered and looked at you in confused wonder.

“No shit, Sherlock,” you shoved Arthur’s chest putting space between you. He stumbled backwards in shock and faced twisted in hurt. Before he could say anything else, you stormed out of his room and immediately went to hide in yours.

Your hands shook, the panic was clawing at your throat. You felt out of control and you didn’t feel real. You went to were you had hidden your razor and pulled it out. You let it catch the light and twisted it in your hands. You went back to your bed and sat down, your breathing became labored and heart speed up as you pressed the razor to your wrist. The blood beaded up immediately and you relished in the feeling as pain and calm flood through your body. You lost yourself as you continuously dragged the razor over and over again. You didn’t hear your door open or someone steps into your room.

Soon a shadow fell over you and a hand rested on your hand that held the razor. Your head jerked up as you meet Arthur’s eyes that were full of emotions; pain, pain, and brimming with tears.

“MC,” his voice was tight, he was chocking on your name and his emotions. You realized you had hot tears running down your face and your body shook. Arthur’s gently grabbed the razor from you and pocketed it, before he stared intently at your arm.

“Go away Arthur,” you tried to be firm and push him away, but you sound pathetic. Arthur focused on the blood on your arm.

“May I?” He gestured at your arm, ignoring how you asked him to leave. “Vampire saliva can seal the wounds and stop the bleeding,” answering your silent questions. You pulled your arm out of view before you sigh and held you arm out to him.

“Thank you, MC,” Arthur whispered before dropping his head and gently lapped at your cuts. You watched in amazement as the blood seemed to stop immediately. You were surprised it actually stung and hurt, most times when Arthur bit you, it hurt for a second before it turned into pure pleasure but not this time. He muttered apologizes as he saw you flinch.

Once he was done, he pulled back and looked over the wounds making sure that all the bleeding had stopped. Arthur couldn’t bring himself to look at your face only looking at your arm that was full of a mix of fresh cuts and old scars. You both sat in silence, you looked at his face once you hear him sniffle.

“MC, allow me to make love to you?” Arthur said quietly finally looking up at you. His face was blotchy due to crying and his cheeks had trails of tears. You looked at him for a while before you nodded, your emotions were on edge and you didn’t know what to feel.

Arthur guided you on your back before he started to press soft kisses all over your face, slowing unbuttoning your shirt and pressuring kisses to the new skin as it was revealed. Once your shirt was off, he focused on kissing you arms, when he got to your arm that was covered in the cuts and scars, he kissed every single one of them. Whispering how much he loved you, how special you were, how beautiful you were, how he wished he knew you were suffering. He worshiped your body, scars, and all until you were close to tears. You wanted to fight every statement he said, reject the idea you were beautiful, you were special or important. You weren’t though things, but the words died on your tongue as he continued.

He was soft and gently with you, as if you could break or disappear at any moment. There was no rush or roughness. Your organism built up slowly and drove you wild, you arched into his kisses and praise. You reached your peak together. As you came down from your high, you fell into a deep sleep, emotionally exhausted from the events.

You woke up with Arthur clinging to you, at some point he must have left to get his doctor bag because your arm was completely bandaged up and he was dressed in his PJs.

“Arthur?” you whispered, rolling over in his embrace to face you. He slowly opened his eyes and gave you a sad smile.

“How are you feeling?” He started to trace circles on your back, his touch was so gentle. You felt your eye tear up again, you wanted to fight him again.

“Please don’t fight me, I am not going anywhere,” he whispered pulling you closer to him. “You can cry, it’s okay. I am here for you,”

“But for how long? You are just going to leave eventually,” your voice cracked, you tried to shove yourself away from him, but he tightened his grip on you and kept you close.

“I’m not going away, I mean it. You are too important to me. You should know by now I’m greedy. I’m not letting you go,” His arms tightened around you to emphasis his point.

“You don’t have to believe my words; I will provide it to you through my actions. It won’t get better overnight, but I will be here for you regardless,” He said, making sure you were making eye contact with him.

You nodded not being him but hoping it was true. You clung to him, as he whispered how much he adored you, how important and loved you are. Waiting until you were ready to talk and tell him your story.

Vincent van Gogh (TW: SUICIDE MENTION)

Vincent knew you were hurting. He could tell by how you looked, how fake your smile looked, he recognized the look. He had it often during his time as a human, especially before breakdowns that would lead him to be admitted. He asked you to hang out in his room one day ask he painted, he reassured you, you weren’t going to model for him, he just wanted your company.

You settled yourself down on his couch with your own sketchbook, you opened it and randomly started to doodle as Vincent started to paint. You sat in comfortable silence for a while, both of you got lost in your drawings.

“I used to eat paint,” Vincent said after some time, putting his brushes down and looking over at you. “I wanted to poison myself by eating paint and drinking turpentine,” his voice was clear and strong as he revealed a dark secret to you. He said it as if he was making a comment on the weather.

“Vincent?” You asked softly as you rose and reached out to him. Your eyes full of concern as you placed your hand on his arm.

“I wasn’t allowed in my studio when I was suffering from my attacks,” He continued looking at where your hand rested on his arm. “I remember how Theo would always be considered and hurting along with me,” he continued you looking at you the whole time.

“Why are you telling me this?” you asked softly wondering why he shared it out the blue.

“I believe we are similar in the way of when we are hurting, we hurt ourselves on the outside to show others we are hurting,” Vincent started, “ We don’t know how to our words, how to communicate with others we are hurting,” Vincent let his hand rest on top of yours.

You realized the implication of his words and you felt your eyes widened.

“May I see where you are hurting yourself?” Vincent asked quietly dropping his head slightly.

You sucked in a breath, “How did you know?” you were scared and terrified, what he would do if he saw the extent of all the damage you have done to yourself.

“Like I said we are alike in that way, please let me see MC” Vincent answered softly. You nodded and stepped away from Vincent, he looked surprised until he saw that you moved to unbutton your shirt and his eyes widened as scars and cuts appeared as you revealed your skin. Scars decorated your chest, arms, shoulders, where you could reach there seemed to be a mix of scars and fresh cuts.

Vincent’s eyes filled with sadness as you pulled you into a silent hug. You felt vulnerable and raw, you haven’t shown or talked about your self-harming habit in years. You knew it wasn’t healthy, but you didn’t know how else to cope.

You stayed in the hug for a while in complete silence. Eventually, Vincent gently swayed you back and forth in comfort. You felt the tears spring up and you clung onto Vincent. That was when he gently walked you to the couch and made it so you both could lay down. Your head was rested on his chest and you took in a deep breath of his scent and clung to him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Vincent asked, comforting you the best he could.

You started to shake your head no but then sighed. You paused before you looked away from him and started to tell your story. The demons you faced and how they made you feel so worthless, that you weren’t important, and you deserved the pain and suffering. You were destined to be unhappy and you wouldn’t amount to anything. Vincent listened in absolute silence, gently squeezing you occasionally to keep you talking. The more you talked the better you felt but you felt yourself draining. When you finished your story, you hide your face in his chest.

“Thank you, MC” Vincent replied softly kissing the top of your head and tightened his arms around you.

“You are so brave, you’ve done so well,” Vincent continued to praise you. Showing you with love and affection that you felt like you didn’t deserve, and you told him just as much.

“Of course, you deserve it,” Vincent's hand moved to tilt your chin up to look at him.

“But we don’t need to talk about it anymore,” Vincent watched you carefully.

“Thank you, Vincent,” you both feel silent, you snuggled closer to his chest. Letting your eyes fall shut, exhausted.

“I’m here for you MC, always,”

 Theodorus van Gogh

“Hondje?” You stopped dusting in the library and looked up Theo, who had a confused look on his face.

“Yes, Theo?” setting down your dusting rag and walked towards him, returning a confused look.

“Why can I smell your blood? I could smell it down the hall.” Theo’s voice had no emotion, but he watched you intently. You instantly panicked and pulled your arm tighter to your side.

“Hondje?” Theo’s voice cracked and stepped towards you. You were surprised it wasn’t often Theo was gentle, he had a rough exterior and teasing most of the time. You knew it was serious, but you didn’t want to admit you had relapsed. Theo already knew you struggled with self-harm, you had talked to Vincent about it and of course, word got back to your boyfriend. Though he never confronted you about it, instead he waited until you became more intimate with one another and he saw them.

You watched Theo’s face fall, figuring out the answer for himself. He was quick to move towards you and wrap you in a tight hug. He was breathing heavily; you could feel the anger and rage vibrate through his body. You were stiff in his arms.

“I’m not angry at you, MC. I promise,” Theo’s voice was rougher than he wanted. He took a deep breath trying to calm down.

“I’m angry at myself for not noticing you were hurting again. I didn’t always catch it with Vincent, I swore to myself I would always catch on and help before you or Vincent starts to hurt yourselves again. I failed you,” Theo’s voice wavered, his voice is tight, and he tightened his grip on you.

“Theo, no. I should have come to you. This isn’t your fault,” you whispered back at him, holding him just as tight.

“I want you to come to me or Vincent if you are more comfortable with him,” Theo sounded like he was pleading with you.

“Why did it start up again?” Theo whispered

“I don’t know… La Tristesse Durera Toujours,” you finally sighed dropping your head, so it rested on his shoulder.

Theo’s body stilled, you heard him suck in a breath, and you felt his heart start to race.

“MC, no. Please,” It seemed like those words broke Theo, he clung to you as if you were going to disappear if he let go. His breath hitched and you felt his tears fall. You felt drained and emotionless, you felt empty once you said those words.

Theo gathered you in his arms and picked you up. He walked straight to his room, placing you gently on the bed before turning around to lock the door. You laid there absolutely still, Theo headed back to the bed stopping to take off his shoes, suspenders, jacket, and his pants. He then walked towards you and removed your shoes as well before he crawled onto his bed and right beside you. He threw his arm over you and pulled you close to him.

“I can’t lose you MC. I can’t I promise that isn’t true. I can’t lose you like I lost Vincent. It destroyed me. I was dead in six months after he died.” Theo chocked out. You nodded and moved towards him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

You both clung to each other, hoping to reassure one another it would be okay, without words.

“I’m here for you MC, always. I love you,” Theo whispered, you pulled back looking at him, it wasn’t often Theo used your name and you couldn’t help but give him a small smile, “I love you too, Theo,”.

“We will get through this together,” Theo rested his head on top of yours.

“Together,” you whispered back in agreement.

 Note: La Tristesse Durera Toujours is Dutch for “The Sadness Last Forever,” and Theo wrote in a letter to one of his sisters that those were Vincent’s last words. Vincent van Gogh suffered from hallucinations and attacks that would cause him to eat paint to try and poison himself and drink turpentine. During one of Vincent’s hallucinations, he cut off his left ear. Vincent van Gogh died in Theo’s arms a few days after shooting himself in the chest and died of an infection (Though there are rumors a group of kids taunted him and shot him and Vincent lied to protect them, but that isn’t confirmed.) After Vincent’s death, Theo's physical and mental health deteriorated quickly. Theo ended up being admitted and passed away on January 25, 1891, 6 months after Vincent’s death. His cause of death was Dementia paralytic, which was determined to be chronic, genetic, and due to overworking himself.

[marvinswriting]

stupid social experiment

Disclaimer: there is no logic and this would not happen in real life but its a shrink fic and those are never quite logical are they..... anyway be ready for frustrating levels of inaccuracy, I'm sorry Tw: it's a long fic, a lot happens, there's a bunch. D slur, shots, falling, fainting, extreme fear, the usual

minimal to no mean girls knowledge needed for this fic

This was bound to be stupid as fuck.

Northshore doesn't get picked for anything good.

So this "social experiment" was going to be boring. 

Calling it now.

We don't even know what it's about. Parents know. They signed a bunch of forms.

We don't know who is running it, what they're trying to study, any of it.

If it's just a Here's What You Do episode I'm dropping out of high school.

"Janis!" An arm wraps around my shoulder and I turn to see Damian. 

"Hey," I show him the slip of paper I was handed. "I've been randomly selected for the experiment. Why are they calling it an experiment? What is it?! What are they going to do to me?" I flop against Damian dramatically and he laughs.

"Jan, your mom signed off on whatever it's about. I'm sure you're fine."

"Well, I hope so. Because they want me in the library right now."

Damian tsks. "I'll either see you at lunch or the next period if it takes too long."

I nod. "Right."

Damian squeezes my shoulder before breaking away, heading to the lunchroom. "Love you!"

"Love you too." I mumble, making way to the library.

There's a teacher outside, keeping watch, and all windows to the libraries are covered.

A pit forms in my stomach.

Whats this experiment about that requires so much secrecy.

"Hello, Janis." The teacher nods. She's a short English teacher I had last year. 

Hated her, she never let Damian and I sit together.

"The library is closed today, I'm sorry."

"I'm here for the-" My voice falters as I lift the paper. "Thing."

She nods, opening the door.

The library is filled with students and people I've never seen before. There's a cloth creating a barrier from the entrance to the library and the back, with students and workers walking in and out.

"Hey, love!" There is a lady at the main desk who I've never seen before. Definitely not a librarian. "Can I get you checked in?"

"Yeah, Uh- what's this all about?"

"Surprise." The lady says with a wink. "Name?"

"Janis, Sarkisian. S-A-R-K-I-S-I-A-N."

"Alrighty, Janis. Height and grade?"

Height and grade?!

Why hight?

"I- uh, senior. And 5'10?"

"Lovely. You can go right back and sit in one of those chairs while you wait."

I frown but walk over to the clump of chairs anyway.

Aaron Samuels sat in one of the chairs to the far right. He gave me a slight nod before looking away.

Whatever.

Better than how most people treated space dyke.

The curtain behind me pulled back revealing Regina Geroge walking through.

 I instantly looked to the ground, avoiding all eye contact.

Revenge party was last year. Yeah, we both apologized, but that didn't make us friends.

Nowhere near, actually. 

"Coco, Sarkisian, and Samuels?" A professional doctor person pulled back the curtain, calling names off a clipboard. A couple of us got up, walking back.

My heart was pounding out of anxiety and curiosity.

I hated being on camera. Were they gonna interview me?

"Please sit down for your shots?"

"Our what?" Aaron asked.

"You mean a photo, right?" Somebody called from behind me.

"No, like the quick pinch with a needle. You may each take a seat."

I froze.

No.

Nope.

Nu-uh.

"I don't do- needles." I say, stepping backward.

The doctor sighed. "A fear of needles is normal, I'll make it quick."

Why do we need shots for a social experiment?

"You can find somebody else." I say, shaking my head. "I'm not kidding. I kicked a nurse once."

The doctor just chuckled, guiding me to a chair. "Relax, deep breaths, it won't be too bad."

I wanted to scream and cry, thrash around because what the fuck has my mom signed me up for- but I can't do that in the fucking high school library.

Instead, I let the "doctor" clean my arm, scrunching my eyes tight and cringing.

I flinch when I feel a pinch in my arm, followed by a quick tap with a bandaid.

"All done. See? Not so bad."

Debatable.

"What was that?" I ask, getting up.

The doctor smiled. "All part of the social experiment."

Don't I have the right to fucking know what's just been injected into me?

Did I just get a heroin addiction?

Shane Madej’s fears seem a lot more relevant now.

The doctor hands me a lollipop. "Only for the best patients."

I frown, but take it anyway.

One weird social experiment.

-

"A shot?" 

"A shot."

Janis had just joined Damian and I at the lunch table, telling us about the social experiment.

"They gave me a butterscotch lollipop. I don't even like butterscotch!" Janis whined. "Want it, Cady?"

I shake my head. "I'm good."

"Damian?"

The boy takes the lollipop without hesitation. "But you hate shots."

"I do. I'm surprised I didn't puke."

"No kicking the nurse?"

"No."

"This is good!" Damian grinned. "A big step."

"There's gotta be a law about injecting people with random needles and not telling them." I say.

Janis just shook her head. "You would think so."

-

"Regina!" Gretchen ran up to me. "Any updates about that shot you got?"

I shrug. "No Gretch. And it's been a week. I doubt anything is going to happen."

I've been going into the library every day to get my vitals rechecked. 

No changes.

Some social experiment.

Gretchen nodded. "Well then if you're up for it, maybe we could throw a party this weekend?"

I shrugged. "Let's ask Karen about it at lunch."

Gretchen nodded, typing away in her phone. "Let's go to the cafeteria."

I nod, turning on my heels and stepping away from the locker. 

My limbs feel funny, like tv static all over.

Not painful and nowhere near enough to be concerning, but- odd.

-

"Aaron, you need to pay attention." I scold. 

"Cady, my head hurts. Can we take a small break." Aaron shakes his head. "I don't know what's up with me." It's Aaron and I's lunch period and while Aaron is great, I would much rather spend it with Janis and Damian right now.

I sigh. "Sure. Let me know when you feel better." 

Aaron nods, taking a sip of his water. I look back down to my notes trying to prepare what to do next.

I can hear Aaron place his water bottle back down, letting out a pitiful moan.

"Aaron, if you really feel sick maybe it's best you go ho-" I look up but Aaron isn't there anymore. "Aaron?"

-

Damian and I walked through the halls idly. It was almost the end of our lunch period and we didn't really have anywhere to be. 

"Dame, my head is pounding." I groan. 

Everything felt off. It started small- a minor headache that formed last period, but now everything hurt. I felt nauseous, my head may explode, my limbs felt heavy, and my vision was swarming.

Damian took no pity in me. "This is what three all-nighters in a row does to you Jan. I love you and I wish I could help, you should have gone to bed last night when I told you too."

"Something tells me this isn't lack of sleep." I mumble, looking down. My vision had fully become a swarm of grey haze.

"You got sick because of a shity immune system because of lack of sleep."

He doesn't believe me. 

I mean, he shouldn't.

He's right, I have a history of bad habits getting me sick.

But,

"Damian that's not-" I take a shuddering breath and stop walking. My entire body feels numb and broken. "That's not it."

Was this death?

It ached to the point of sharp pain.

"C'mon Jan." I could faintly hear Damian keep walking over a harsh ringing in my ears.

"I- ah-"

My knees were buckling, everything burned. Why does it burn? 

I could vaguely feel my knees hit the cold tile before I felt nothing.

Not that it lasted long.

Or maybe it did.

I fucking passed out.

My vision was blurry as I peered down at the tile. The ring in my ear was fading but my body still had an overall ache. I didn't want to move. I didn't want to lift my head. 

I just wanted to lay back down.

But- 

The bell was gonna ring and seeing space dyke just lying on her stomach probably was just gonna get me teased.

I sit up, ignoring the way my stomach twists and look up-

-what the fuck?

What the fuck what the fuck what the fresh ever-loving godsend of a fuck?

Even through the blurry haze covering my vision, I could tell something was wrong.

The lockers in front of me were big.

Not big, fucking huge.

The other set of lockers I had pushed myself against were the same. The tiles underneath me weren't an exception. 

The entire hallway was hu-

No.

I've seen the movies.

I know where this goes.

I'm just really small.

Somehow- that realization didn't sit much better with me.

My stomach twists again as I look down.

Maybe I was still passed out?

Was this a weird hallucination?

Something deep down told me that wasn't the case.

"Janis?"

I freeze. 

My breath feels caught in my throat.

I know that voice.

It's loud and echoes through the halls, but I know that voice.

I don't raise my head, I don't think I can physically bring myself to move, to react, to respond. 

I'm frozen. Maybe it's fear, maybe its denial that this is actually happening.

From my peripheral vision, I can see sneakers a couple feet away.

Giant fucking sneakers.

Too close.

Too big.

I know who owns a pair like that.

I force myself to look up slowly, ignoring the dull thump in my head.

Damian stood a little further down the hall at his full height.

How I should be right now.

He looked down at me with wide eyes, probably having the same moment I'm having. 

Everything is so big.

Except for me.

Oh god.

My throat is dry and if feels like air isn't properly getting to my lungs as it should. 

Damian, my best friend, who was tall normally, now quite literally towered over me. 

Neither of us said anything.

Neither of us moved.

My brain was still trying to process the situation.

This had to be a weird fucking dream.

Right?

Damian was right, I need more sleep, so my body forced shut down and now I've got a nightmare.

Right?

My mind thinks back to the shot I got Monday. Five days later and nothing changed- until now.

Was this-

Was this part of the experiment?

"Hey, Jan?" Damian's voice is soft, but that doesn't make it quiet.

To me, at least.

"Are you okay?"

I don't respond. I can't bring myself to. I'm frozen.

I'm tiny.

I've been shrunken and now I'm in the middle of a giant ass high school hallway, unmoving.

What the fuck?

What the fuck.

"The bell is gonna ring. You can't just sit there." Damian talks again.

I give a small nod, not really paying attention.

How could I? 

I was four inches tall- at most.

The world that was normally just scary was now big and scary.

I look back down to the floor underneath me. I can't look up, I don't want to look up.

This was just a weird fucking dream.

It had to be.

"Jan-" Damian's voice is full of worry.

My total silence probably isn't helping.

There's movement out of the corner of my eye as Damian steps forward.

"No!" 

My head snaps up as I push myself back.

Damian freezes, visibly surprised by the sudden outbursts.

"Please. Just- not yet. I-" I look at my hand that pressed onto the ground. It's so small compared to the pattern in the tile. 

I'm so small.

I bite my lip, trying not to cry. It'd be stupid to cry. Crying won't fucking fix this.

"I'm sorry." I whisper. I know Damian can't hear it. I don't look back at him. 

I don't want to see the hurt and worry on his face.

Stupid fucking social experiment.

Damian knelt down but it didn't help. 

Everything was so big. 

What the fuck. 

"Jan?" His voice was softer this time. "You okay?" 

I gazed up at him, he looked as scared as I felt. But- so tall. 

"I'm-" My voice trails off. What do you say in this circumstance? 

The hell if I were to know. Damian frowns. 

"The bell is gonna ring, Janis. We gotta get you somewhere."

I push myself further against the wall. 

I knew what he was implying.

I'd have to move.

He'd have to pick me up.

This was Damian. He wouldn't hurt me. 

But I'm so small. 

What if something happened? 

What if I fell? 

"Janis," I can hear the stress in Damian's voice. "I'm not gonna touch you unless you say okay. But- we're running out of time here."

I rub my hands up and down my fishnets nervously. "O-okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah." I push myself off the locker, taking a deep breath.

It's just Damian, it's just Damian, it's just Damian.

Damian leans forward slowly, like he was scared to set me off again. 

Everything about seeing a giant hand reach for me set off so many alarm bells in my head but I tried not to let it show.

It's just Damian, it's just Damian, it's just Damian.

I force myself to look away as his hand gently scoops me up from behind.

Woah.

That's-

-different.

Damian sits back on his heels, bringing his other hand to cup underneath me. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I- thanks." 

I've held Damian's hand before, quite often actually. But I've never been held in Damian's hand before.

It was weird.

Like, when he moved, my body felt a little delayed. I was hyper-aware of the slightest shifts. 

"I'm gonna get up now." Damian warns me. 

He shifts me gently into one hand and holds it closer to his chest as he sits up.

I grab onto his fingers at the sudden change in altitude. It was only a couple feet but it left me a little nauseated. 

Damian freezes. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Sorry just-"

"Don't apologize." Damian says softly.

I know he's scared, maybe even as terrified as me. But I'm not sure how to comfort him. 

I fit in his hand. 

I can hardly do much.

"I'm gonna find an empty classroom, okay?"

"Alright." I don't let go of his finger as he begins walking, pulling me closer. 

-

"Regina, please calm down"

"Calm down?! Gretchen did you just tell me to calm down?! I am the size of a Crayola Crayon and your gonna tell me to calm the fuck down?!"

Gretchen blinked at me, her mouth agape.

I groaned, placing my head in my hands. One minute I'm sitting at my lunch table complaining of a headache, the next I'm passed out on the lunch table.

"You're kinda cute at this size. Like a doll." Karen smiled. 

"Well, I'm not supposed to be a doll, Karen!"

I didn't seem to be the only person in the cafeteria having this issue. The entire room was just general panic all around.

"Regina, I know your upset but please don't stand so close to the edge of the table-" 

I look back to Gretchen just in time to see a hand reach for me.

"Stop!" I hold my hands out defensively, taking like seven steps backward. 

Gretchen's hand falls back into her lap and she stares at me wide-eyed. "Regina I'm sorry, I just-"

"I don't need your help." I say through gritted teeth. 

I feel pathetic for getting freaked over a hand. Gretchen's hand no less.

There were tears in my eyes and my heart was pounding. 

This is embarrassing.

"Are you crying?"

"No, Karen. I'm not."

"Gretchen, I think she's crying."

I can't help but laugh at the blonde in front of me. It's a short, bitter laugh, but it's a laugh.

Karen seems to take this as a win as she hums contently, turning back to her phone.

Gretchen is staring at the hand in her lap and I feel a wave of guilt wash over me. 

It's not her fault I freaked out.

I look down at my body.

Tiny.

There's no way I'm traveling around on my own.

I'm gonna need Gretchen and Karen. 

I can't keep yelling at them.

I wipe the tears away from my eyes, stepping forward. 

"Hey, Gretch?"

"Yeah?" She doesn't look away from her hand. 

"I'm sorry for uh- lashing out. It wasn't your fault."

Gretchen looks up at me like she's never heard an apology before. Probably not from me at least.

Maybe it's selfish to only apologize when it benefits me. It probably is. But-

I've got bigger worries than my moral compass right now.

There's a crackling of the intercom, a lot louder than I ever remember it being. 

"The whole school to the gymnasium, asap."

"Do you think that has to do with whatever just- happened?" Gretchen motions vaguely to my small form.

"The hell if I know. Just pick me up and let's go."

Gretchen hesitates. "Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you or anything I-"

"Gretchen. I can't walk there myself."

"Right."

-

I pushed carefully through the crowds of students in the hall, extremely mindful of Aaron in my hands. 

It seems we weren't the only ones with this issue as I passed all my classmates, a couple of them also holding tiny peers.

There's a group of football jocks all traveling in a pack. "Glen Coco coming through." They yelled. 

I caught a glimpse into the center of their group and sure enough, Glen Coco sat in one of his bigger friend's hands.

"Cady!"

I turn around to see Damian coming over. "Thank god you're okay."

I nod. "Yeah, where's Janis?"

"Hey." 

I blink in disbelief at the small girl cupped in Damian's hands. She looked like she was gripping onto his pointer finger like her life depended on it.

How many students were affected?!

I frown. "I'm so sorry, Janis."

"Yeah, me too." She sighs. "Is that Aaron?!"

"Yeah." He calls from my hands. I lift him up more with a smile.

"Studying gone wrong."

Damian just shakes his head. "We were in the hallways."

We continue walking into the gymnasium. The bleachers are already pulled out and there is a man in a white coat standing at a podium. I can feel Aaron tense up in my hands as Damian and I take seats near the relative front. 

"You recognize him?" I ask. 

Aaron says something, but I can't hear him over the crowd around us.

"Hold on, Aaron." I shift my hands, bringing him up to my shoulder. "I can bearly hear you."

"Oh," He climbs on, gripping the shirt underneath him. I'm careful to remain deathly still as he sits.

That was one of the doctors who were giving shots."

I nod. "So this whole thing is related to the shrinking."

I look over to Janis, who Damian held protectively close to him. The poor girl seemed terrified and to be honest, I would be too.

The gymnasium was crowded and unnerving at my size. I can't imagine how she and Aaron feel.

I wish I could help more but everyone seemed equally at a loss of the situation.

"Janis?"

She was staring out at nothing, totally out of it.

"Hey, Jan, Cady's talking to you." Damian nudged her gently.

She blinked, shaking her head before turning to me. "You okay?" I ask.

"It's really loud," Janis says. I can tell shes yelling just to get her voice to travel so I nod instead of keeping the conversation going. 

The man-who-shot-my-friends-doctor-person stepped up to the podium, raising his hands to call for silence.

When the school had settled down, he began. I didn't pay much attention. He basically gave us his name and a vague description of his job. "Studying how society reacts to changes and new environments". He said he was excited to work with us, he had never taken his studies to a highschool. 

Basically, shrinking half the school was a change. A big one if you asked me. And they wanted to see how a much of immature teenagers react.

Don't scientists have better things to be doing?

Like curing cancer?

I felt hyper-aware of Aaron balancing carefully on my shoulder as the scientist talked. 

"It is odd that the results took a week to show." 

Aaron scoffed. He was so close to my ear that I could hear him clearly. 

"With that being said, it will be a couple of days before we've got a reverse and there's no saying how long it will be for it to kick in." 

"How long are you thinking?" A student from beside me said. 

"A week. At least." 

"A least?!" I behind me to see a small Regina rushed to the edge of Gretchen's hand, ignoring the yell Gretchen gave, curling her fingers up. "I'm gonna be like this for a fucking week?" 

I looked at Damian next to me. Janis sunk low into his hands, tears in her eyes. My heart broke slightly.

I wish I could pull her into a hug and help like she has done so many times for me.

The most scient continued. "You are all expected to continue attending class as usual. We will keep the selected student updated and-"

"Wait! How are they expected to get to class?"

"Yeah!"

"This sounds dangerous."

I nodded along to the last one. It did.

The scientist sighed. "That is for you to figure out. Now-"

-

"This is stupid. So fucking stupid." I frown. 

Damian looked down at me. "Yeah."

He was walking to his car with Cady (and Aaron and me). Damian normally drove Cady and I home but now I really needed the help.

"I'm a high school student! I should be worrying about my next chemistry exam. Not the fact that I'm three and a half inches tall."

Aaron made a noise of agreement from where he clung to Cady's shoulder.

Bold moves, dude.

I'll stay here.

Damian shifted me into one hand as he opened his car door.

"How are we gonna do this?" He mumbled, sitting down.

We were all silent for a bit.

"I could hold both of them?" Cady offered as she shifted Aaron into her hands.

"Jan, you okay with that?" Damian asked.

I trusted Cady. I really did. In the short amount of time I got to know her, she was quick to become an important person in my life.

But I barely felt comfortable with Damian right now. And it's Damian.

Still, despite all my inner turmoil, I nodded. "Yeah."

Damian gives me a look and I know he can see right through my semi brave face. But he doesn't push.

"Alright." He leans over, carefully depositing me next to Aaron and starting the car. "Aaron, are you going with Cady?"

"Yeah."

To have somebody my (new) size sitting next to me felt oddly confronting. 

Cady's hands weren't as warm as Damian's, but I knew that before. 

It was weird, to sit in a hand I used to be able to hold.

When I closed my eyes and sat shoulder to shoulder with Aaron, I could almost feel like this was normal.

-

"So, should I cancel the party this weekend?" Gretchen asked.

Karen frowned. "Not the party!"

"No, Gretchen. I may be tiny but my house fucking isn't."

"Regina, that sounds dangerous."

I scoff. "And?"

"What if you get hurt? What if any tiny gets hurt?"

"What's your point, Gretchen? If you've already decided you're gonna cancel my party, then why bother asking me?"

I don't miss the way Gretchen flinches back.

Part of me felt bad. The other part felt smug. Like even at my size, I can still call shots. I'm still in charge.

"I was just looking out for you." Gretchen says sadly.

Well, the smug feeling didn't last long.

I take a deep breath. "Then let's just reschedule for next week. I should be back by then, right?"

Gretchen gives a soft smile. "Right."

-

My house wasn't big. Just me and my mom, sometimes Damian. 

But holy fuck was it big right now.

Damian shut the front door behind him, bringing both hands underneath me.

"Ms. Sarkisian? Are you home?"

Obviously, Damian was with me. We were always together before and well- we had to be now.

At least for me.

"Is that Damian?" A familiar voice calls from the kitchen. "Janis isn't here hon, I'm sorry." 

Damian laughs nervously, holding me closer to his chest. "Actually-"

My mom emerged from the kitchen with a smile. "I thought she was coming home with you-"

Her eyes fall to Damian's hands and I wave awkwardly. 

"Oh." 

I hate having everyone's eyes on me, I hate having everyone touching me and holding me, I just hate being small in general.

I was slowly getting used to Damian holding me, and Cady wasn't that bad- 

but I wasn't ready for more.

So when my mom steps forward, I lean back into Damian's hand, hoping she'll get the hint.

She doesn't, but Damian does. He tips his hand up a bit so I fall with my back to his chest, his fingers curled over me. 

When my mom catches on, she steps back again, giving us space. "It actually worked." Her voice is filled with humor and disbelief.

"Huh?" Of course, my mom knew what she was signing me up for. But- part of me had hoped she just missed the fine print or something.

"I didn't think it would work. Especially as it got closer to the end of the week."

"Mom- you knew?"

"Well, yeah."

I push myself further against Damian. "You would do this, to your own daughter."

"It's for science! You know, I wanted to be a scientist once when I was little."

"Then you become three inches tall for science!" I don't bother to hide the anger in my voice.

I feel-

I don't know how I feel.

I don't know what to feel.

Scared? Mad? Betrayed? Shocked?

I'm terrified. And it's my mom's fault.

My mom steps backward at my sudden outburst. "Janis-"

"No." I cut her off bitterly. "We can talk later. I just- I need time. To calm down."

She nods sadly.

The worst part of it all?

My own mother can't seem to grasp why this is wrong.

She turns on her heels, going back to whatever she was doing before.

"Damian?" I ask, sinking down.

"Yeah?"

"Your house?"

"Of course."

-

"Regina, are you feeling okay?" Gretchen asked.

I turn, looking up at her. It felt weird to have to look up all the time now. We were in the Smith household because I wasn't ready to go home yet. I didn't want to face the reality of all this. 

The fact that my own parents signed off.

"Yeah, why?"

Gretchen shrugged. "You've been acting odd. Like- I know the shrinking and you've got a lot on your mind but-" Gretchen rambles trying to validate calling my actions 'odd'. "The point is- I was wondering if you were all good."

"What do you mean when you say odd?" I ask.

Gretchen's face flushed. "Not in a bad way or anything! Just- I don't wanna say nicer because that implies you were nice before but like- less snappy? Like not that that's a bad thing or-"

My jaw slacks a little, but I refuse to let my shock show. 

Was I such a bitch that not yelling for half a day was noticeable?

I haven't yelled in literally six hours but that was enough for Gretchen to pick up on and check on me?

I silently begin to reevaluate my attitude towards my friends as Gretchen continues to ramble about how it wasn't a bad thing and she wasn't trying to offend me.

-

I spent most of my Friday with Aaron. But Saturday nights were for me, Damian, Janis, and whatever movie we felt fit the mood.

And no shrinking was gonna change that. 

So here I say in the Hubbard basement. Damian sat to my right, holding Janis close to his chest as some mindless film played.

I was trying to pay attention to the movie. Like if I concentrated on the bad plot, I wouldn't be worrying about the small girl who literally fit into Damian's hands. The girl who was supposed to be taller than me. The bravest girl I knew, who looked so small and vulnerable that it physically hurt.

No wonder Damian was so worried about her.

I just wanted to help her- but there was nothing I could do. There was no way to help.

So I turn my attention to the movie instead.

"Cady," Damian whispered from next to me.

"Yeah?" I respond, not taking my eyes off the screen.

"Okay first off, lower your voice," Damian whispered his voice laced with rising panic. "Second, look."

I turn to see what's getting Damian so worked up.

Janis had pressed herself against Damian's chest, her eyes closed and her small form peaceful. 

The tense shoulders and fearful eyes she had since the shrink was gone. She looked calm and relaxed, I couldn't help but smile.

"Shes's asleep." I said softly, now understanding why Damian wanted me so quiet.

"What do I do?!" Damian hissed.

I hold back a laugh. "What do you mean? You've fallen asleep on each other plenty of times before. You know what to do."

"But - she's so small." Damian whispered, pressing his hands closer around the girl. 

"And?"

"What if she gets hurt or something?"

"Damian, we're just watching a movie." I point out. "She'll be okay."

"Right."

-

The weekend flew by pretty fast.

Karen and Gretchen stayed over the whole time and they were likely the only reason I haven't died yet. 

The school day- now that's a different story.

It was only lunchtime on Monday and I was ready to give it all up and take a nap.

"Regina, you okay?" Gretchen asked. 

"Yeah, just- tired."

I was trying to snap less but I also didn't have the energy in me to snap. 

"You might be better if you ate something," Gretchen said.

"Like what?"

"A french fry." Karen said, showing her tray forward a bit.

-

"Janis. That is a full Dorito."

"Okay, and?"

"There are smaller, broken pieces in the bag."

"I'm aware."

I watch with a smile as my friends maneuver around this new normal. Specifically, lunch, during this new normal. 

"Cady, tell Damian I can eat an entire Dorito if I want to eat an entire Dorito."

I lean back. "Don't drag me into this. You can try and eat an entire Dorito. Doesn't mean you'll be successful."

Janis scoffs. "Nobody has faith in me."

"It's a full Dorito, Janis." Aaron grins from next to her. "Even if you could eat it, do you think this period is enough time? It's gonna go stale before you can finish it."

"Dude, how long does it take you to eat a Dorito? I have forty-five minutes." Janis shoots back.

I watched with amusement as Janis held the chip, trying to examine the best way to go about her snack. 

Damian just shook his head and went back to eating. "You're crazy Janis Sarkisian."

"And you're jealous you can't eat a giant Dorito, Damian Hubbard."

-

It was Tuesday. 

The scientist had been keeping Northshore updated and we should be back to normal by Friday.

Friday was so far away. 

I was just lucky Damian had so many classes with me. 

It never got any less weird, sitting on his desk instead of next to his desk. 

But- it could be worse.

I hadn't talked to my mom yet.

I know I'm gonna break down in tears when I do.

It can wait till Friday when I'm back to normal.

I mean-

-she didn't bother to reach out.

So I won't either. 

Damian and I were in study hall in the very back of the library. 

It had reopened once all the equipment was pulled out.

It will probably reclose for Friday.

But its only fucking Tuesday.

I look up at Damian, whos working on stuff for other classes- y'know, like most students do in study hall. 

Damian had been so understanding of my initial freakout. And even now- when I still freak the fuck out.

Did it get annoying having to carry me everywhere?

I already thought I was pretty annoying.

Space Dyke, Northshore's lesbian with enough trama for four. 

I bet being so dependent suddenly wouldn't help my case.

But what could I do?

I couldn't just walk away and give him a break.

I mean-

I could stay home.

But then I'd have to face mom.

Alone.

But Damian deserved the break.

I dunno.

I don't want him to hate me after this week.

There's movement in front of me as I look up to see Cady sit down.

"Hey, guys!" She smiles.

"Hi!" I grin, shoving all my worries down. A talk with Cady was the perfect way to get my mind off things. "Where's Aaron?" I ask when I notice he isn't on her shoulder.

 "Aaron is with some soccer buddies. I love him- I really do, but I just needed a break."

Oh.

I look back to Damian, who just smiled before turning back to his work.

My heart sank. 

I mean- he didn't verbally agree but- I'm right here, why would he?

If Cady feels that way- Damian probably does too.

I look down at my lap in a vain attempt to hide the tears that burned at the corner of my eyes.

I don't want to lose Damian because I'm too fucking small to do anything myself.

I move closer to the edge of the table as Cady starts unpacking her books.

I don't want to take up too much room just because I can't sit on a chair like a normal person.

Cady and Damian talk quietly to each other but I only half listen. 

The library is pretty crowded for a study hall period and I'm 99% sure more of these kids weren't in study hall. 

A lot of students were taking advantage of this week to skip saying their smaller friends needed their help.

And hey- I'm not gonna sit here and say that's not why Damian has skipped acting class to sit with me in art the past few days- because he has. Honestly, add it to the book about why he hates me.

Damian loves his acting class. 

There's a group of freshmen messing around a table over. I'm on the side of the table opposite from them, but I still eye them worriedly. All I need is for the right book to go flying and I'm done for. 

I can feel Damian looking at me before I even lookup.

"You okay, Jan?"

"Yeah. Just tired." I look at him and pray from this size he can't tell that my eyes are red.

Damian clearly doesn't buy it. He's silent for a bit as he studies me carefully before speaking. "I love you." He says with a smile.

My face flushes. To this day, the random reminders still catch me off guard. Damian always seems to know when I need to hear it. 

"I love you too." I smile.

Cady awes softly and I feel my face heat up more. 

"It's not aw."

"It really is." Cady grins.

Before I can make a comeback, one of the freshmen from the other table, stumbles backward into our desk. The platform I'm sitting on jolts and my hands shoot backwards to catch myself. Only-

There's no desk.

I gasp, as gravity drags me over the edge of the table.

The fall itself was a lot quicker then I expected. My brain hadn't even properly caught up to what had just happened until-

I land on my side, my face grazing against the rough carpeted library floor. 

Pain shoots through my arm and my cheek feels hot.

I let out a staggered gasp, screwing my eyes shut.

Everything managed to be burning hot yet ice-cold at the same time. My entire side was enveloped in pain.

It hurt so bad.

My lungs wouldn't work.

I've had the wind knocked out of me before.

But this was so much worse.

I fell off a desk. A two and a half foot drop should not cause me this much pain.

But I'm small.

And fragile.

And probably annoying.

A hand gently scoops me up as I curl in on myself more.

I already have a pretty good idea of who it is but I don't want to open my eyes and deal with the reality of the situation.

I'm tiny.

I fell off a desk.

And now I'm in extreme pain.

So much for not worrying Damian, huh.

"Jan?" 

I don't respond.

My face stings. Rug Burn but make it the entire side of your face.

I couldn't tell if it was bleeding or an open wound, but I could tell it was painful as fuck.

"Janis?" Damian tries again. I can hear the fear in his voice, the panic he's trying not to let show.

Because of me.

I roll onto my back and open my eyes.

Damian has his hands resting on the desk and both him and Cady were peering down at me worriedly.

I could tell they were trying to make sure I was okay while still giving me my space but-

it was too much.

"I fell." I say softly.

"Yeah. You did." Cady agrees sadly. "Are you okay?"

"It hurts." I break away from their gazes. The utter heartbreak and the way Damian clearly took it personally was too much.

"I'm so sorry, Jan." 

"It's not your fault." I force myself into a sitting position, ignoring the way half my body aches or the way each breath I took felt shallow and empty. 

"You fell," Damian said softly, a dejected look on his face. "You got hurt. I watched you just fall. Oh my god-" Damian's hand slips out from underneath me, as I landed gently on the center of the table. "I need to go grab water. I'll be back." 

I watch silently as Damian gets up and walks away before I turn around to face Cady.

"Is he-"

"He'll be okay," She says softly, her eyes trailing Damian out of the room. "Are you okay?"

"Just shaken up, I guess," I say, my hand absentmindedly touching the side of my face.

"I think we all are." Cady frowns.

I look to the abandons work Damian was doing before this. "Why did Damian take it so personally?"

Cady signed. "This week with the 'social experiment' has been kinda hard on everyone. We're all a little stressed and- while Damian and I may not know what you're going through, we also have some new changes to adapt to. Like carrying around your best friend. That's a lot of pressure and trust, a literal life in your hands. He just wants to make sure you're okay. To see you fall and get hurt- well, that's just what he was trying to prevent. If it were Aaron that fell, I'd probably react the same. He'll be fine. Just give him time to get water and calm down."

I nod, looking at the table underneath me. Damian is upset, and it's my fault. 

Add that to the many reasons he will hate me after this week.

-

This week is dragging by for me, and I wasn't one of the people shrunk. I can only imagine how Aaron or Janis feel right now. Every morning the student affected by the experiment had to go into the nurse's office for vital checks which meant Damian and I spent most of our time before the official start of the school day waiting outside the nurse's office. 

A lot of students waited outside for their friends as well but Damian and I didn't interact with them.

Until today at least.

"Cady?"

I turn around to see Gretchen Weiners walking over.

"Hey!" I smile. "What's up?"

"My stress levels." Damian mumbles from behind me.

Gretchen grins. "I think everyone waiting in this hallway can relate. I assume Damian is here for Janis but what about you Cady? Do you both watch her or-"

"I'm waiting for Aaron actually."

Gretchen wiggles her eyebrows suggestively and I quickly raise my hands in defense.

"No- Aaron and I are just friends. Nothing more."

Gretchen deflates with a sigh. "Well, that's boring. Anybody else you're looking for? Maybe another tiny you hang out with a bunch?"

I feel my face flush as I wave my hand. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You, Cady Heron, are a terrible liar." Gretchen winks before turning away. "Bye you two!"

"She's right you know," Damian says once Gretchen is out of earshot. "You are a god awful liar."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore." I huff, pulling out my phone. "I'm here for Aaron. That's it."

-

The hallway was never a favorite of mine. I mean, when you're in eighth grade and can't walk two feet without homophobic slurs being thrown at you- 

-you learn to hate it.

But this week has turned my hatred for the hallway into a fear of the hallway. The crowds and loud voices that were nothing more than an annoyance before post as an actual threat now. The whole falling incident in the library yesterday just solidified my fears.

I could get hurt so easily at this size. 

In the beginning of the week, everyone was careful. The shrink still hadn't fully set in for most people, the fact that this was reality wasn't solidified in our heads. 

But people were more reckless now. It was Wednesday, the reality of the situation had set in. The hallways were back to their normal loud and crowded state. 

I pressed myself closer to Damian as he passed through a clump of students.

Unlike Aaron, who pretty quickly decided he preferred traveling by shoulder, I stayed in Damian's hands. Too many things could go wrong any other way. I stiffen every time I watch Aaron almost tip over when Cady isn't even walking.

No thanks.

All the locker slams and loud voices created a ringing in my ears and the big groups just made me cringe.

I hated crowds before.

And that's when I wasn't three and a half inches tall. 

"You okay, Janis?" Damian asked bringing his hands up more.

"Yeah, it's just- it's overwhelming." 

Damian nods. He doesn't understand but- he's trying.

I appreciate it. A lot. He's been so patient during my freakouts. He's so understanding when I hesitate to do the little things, like get picked up. He really is trying.

A locker slams a couple feet away and I instinctively flinch. All the noise is making my head hurt and I just want to go home.

Not home with Damian to the Hubbard's.

My home.

At my full height.

Where I can do things for myself.

Where I'm not in constant danger and a stressor to everyone who cares.

My eyes burn and I look down, rubbing my eyes in hope to stop the tears before they can even fall.

I'm not going to start crying in the middle of the school hallway.

"Janis?"

Of course, Damian caught on to my mood. Why wouldn't he? Why would I just give him a break where he won't constantly worrying about me? 

"I'm really fine. I swear. It's tits, dude. Just overwhelmed." 

Damian shoots a quick glance at me before looking up again- he is still walking through the halls after all. "I'm-" Damian hesitates. "I'm gonna try something, okay? Just tell me if it's any better or totally worse."

"Huh?"

Damian doesn't explain as he suddenly lifts his hand. I instantly stiffen as I'm hit with slight vertigo, things like this never get any less weird. 

What is he doing?! He's moving in the halls why is he- What if I fall or get hurt or-

My inner turmoil is broken as Damian tips his hand and I fall backwards-

-into a pocket?

I'm disoriented as I quickly pull myself up in confusion.

I was in the chest pocket of Damian's denim jacket. He looks down at me. 

"You okay?"

I pause, looking around. "Yeah. I'm good."

It was, new. As were a lot of things this week.

But new didn't mean bad. I don't know what I expected the inside of a pocket to be like, but, it was pretty roomy. And if I ducked fully in, the loud bangs of the hallway were muffled. 

I sunk down as Damian continued walking, satisfied that I was okay. Light streamed through the lip of the pocket, which shifted as Damian walked. Light also filtered gently through the denim fabric, so it wasn't very dark or unsettling. It was the opposite actually. I couldn't see everything going on around me, but it wasn't bad. I wasn't scared not to be aware of my surroundings. The overall presence of Damian was a welcoming comfort amongst the muted sounds of outside. 

And-

Holy shit.

I've fallen asleep laying with Damian before. I've had my head on his chest before, I know what his heartbeat sounds like.

But from here it's so loud and clear.  It's directly next to me and I can almost feel it in my body. 

I'm really small enough to fit in a fucking pocket, huh.

The sounds of the hallway outside fade and I pop my head up. We've reached our next class.

Damian sits at his desk and I allow myself to be scooped up carefully. 

"Were the hallways better now?"

I grin. "Dude- you have a loud fucking heartbeat."

-

"Hey, Gretchen?" I roll the pencil in front of me back and forth, unable to look up and meet Gretchen's eyes. 

"Yeah, Regina?"

I take a deep breath, looking up. "Was- am I a bad friend?"

Gretchen leans back in her chair, tilting her head. "What do you mean?"

I already want out of this conversation. Emotions are gross and I hate it here. But- Gretchen deserves this talk. She has done so much for me this week and she's always done so much for me. Even when I wasn't tiny, Gretchen was there if I ever needed her. No hesitation and at any hour. I took advantage of that for so long. 

"This week, when I stopped yelling and being bossy and- basically when I stopped being a bitch, you noticed. That means in the past I had had to have been such an asshole that I go one day without snapping and it's such a difference that you pick up on it. So like-" I shrug, looking back at the pencil in front of me. "Sorry, I guess. For being a big bitch."

I never thought I'd be pouring my feelings to my friend in study hall when I'm under four inches tall and sitting on a desk. 

But I also never thought I'd be under four inches tall in general.

"Regina," Gretchen pauses, at a loss. Clearly, she wasn't expecting an apology.

I don't know if that makes me feel any better about my past actions.

"This week helps me realize that I really took advantage of how much you care about me," I explain. "I don't know what I would do without you, Gretchen. Karen too. But- you were there the most this week. Even after all I've done is been a bitch. So, I'm sorry for being a bitch. And thank you for uh- caring."

Gretchen smiles. "Of course, Regina. You're my best friend. And you aren't always 'bitchy'," She does air quotes with a grin. "Thank you for apologizing though. It means a lot."

I smile sheepishly, turning my attention back to the pencil as I begin to roll it again. "Yeah well, an apology was overdue."

-

"Janis, why do I get the feeling this is a disaster waiting to happen?" Damian asks from where he sat behind me. The obvious amusement in his voice is not lost on me.

"Because, it probably is," I answer simply. 

It was Thursday and to say I was falling behind in art was an understatement. I needed to do something if I wanted a piece to enter into the next art show. Besides, the art was already sketched onto the canvas I just had to start applying paint.

How bad could this be?

I had has Damian layout paints onto a pallet for me as I grabbed the lightest brushes I could find. It was a thin tip which wasn't bad since I was going to be using small brushes for the background anyway. 

I've tried using a pencil at this size before. It's hard- but not impossible. It just feels like a full-body workout and the lines are sloppy. How hard could using a paintbrush be?

Very hard.

For starters, pencil tips are solid. I can rest the pencil on the surface I'm drawing on and use my body weight to move it.

I have to actually hold the paintbrush or else I'll damage the tip.

I hear Damian laugh behind me as I lean backwards a bit too far, trying to find balance with the weight of the paintbrush.

I land on my butt, the brush rolling off my lap and onto the table. 

"Great." I groan, flopping backward.

I can't even hold it long enough to dip it into the paint.

"It was a beautiful attempt." Damian teases. "Maybe next time."

"Shut up." I sit up again, turning to him. "Not all of us can stand full height and pick up a paintbrush easily-" My voice trails off as I get an idea.

"No," Damian leans back in this chair. "I don't know what you're thinking but I'll tell you right now the answer is no. I know that look on your face."

"Please?" I whine. "Damian, I haven't even told you my idea yet."

He huffs. "What is your idea?"

I pick up the paintbrush, stumbly as I hold it out to Damian. "I tell you where the color goes, you do the painting."

Damian shakes his head. "Janis you know I can't paint."

"Just listen to what I say and it will be fine!"

Damian takes the paintbrush from me but lowers it back to the table. "No way. I'm not gonna ruin your work."

"Damian, you wouldn't be ruining it. Please? I know you can do it. C'mon, I need to start the painting before it's too late!" I walk back over to my canvas. "I'd literally point where it goes and we'd be fine. Please? I can't do it myself." 

"You couldn't ask Cady or something? You're talking to the person with the least artistic talent in the world."

I roll my eyes. "You're being dramatic. C'mon, let's start with blue."

"It's your funeral." Damian sigh, picking up the paintbrush.

I grin, walking over to the canvas. "See that section? That whole area is that shade of the blue. And then we can mix the lighter shade for closer to the right."

"I agreed to put color on a canvas- I'm not mixing shades."

"Damian that's literally the easiest part."

"Are you lying or is it actually?"

"Well- for some people it can be."

"Janis."

"Relax! I believe in you. You're gonna do great."

-

"Regina, are you excited?" Karen asked.

"Yeah, I can't wait."

It was finally fucking Friday. By the end of today I'll be back to normal. 

It felt weird.

Like, I was so ready to get back to normal, but this week helped me learn some things about myself and my friendships.

It definitely a week I don't think I'll ever forget.

"Let's go." Gretchen smiles, scooping me up.

-

"Yknow," I laughed nervously. "Maybe staying small isn't such a bad idea- I mean, no needles that way, right?"

"Janis." Damian shook his head. 

Last week I had no warning before the shot. I didn't have time to panic. Yeah, I was scared, but I was mostly confused. Now, I was terrified. 

They were giving the shots and then sending the tinies to the cafeteria to wait for it to sink in. Apparently this time it would only take about ten minutes.

"Damian, did you see what they did to Aaron? The syringes are huge."

"Yes, but the needles aren't. The needles are tiny, it's gonna feel just like a normal shot. The syringes are so big so the doctors can see what they're doing. It's okay."

"What if they miss? What if they inject whatever the fuck into a major vein?! Is that how shots normally work?! I don't even know Damian! I don't want to bleed out and die!"

"You aren't going to bleed out and die." Damian shifts me into one hand. We're next in l- well, I'm next in line.

"Are you sure there's like- no other alternative?"

Damian shook his head. "Nope, Jan. Sorry."

I hug my arms tighter around myself. Damian had taken my jacket from be five minutes ago. This isn't his first time making sure I get my shots. He knew what to do. And typically, he knew how to help.

But nothing was bringing me comfort at this point. I couldn't concentrate on anything other than the giant fucking syringes. Can you blame me? So what the needle is the width of an average needle for my hight? The syringe is still as tall as me. And that's scary as fuck.

Add that on top of the fact that needles, in general, are scary as fuck and I'm not having a good time.

I feel like I may puke as Damian steps forward.

It's my turn.

Oh fuck.

Hell no.

I'd rather stay tiny and die than get a fucking shot.

"Damian-"

"I know, Jan. It's gonna be okay."

It's a different nurse then who gave me the shot last week. "It's okay to be nervous!" She already seems nicer than the other nurse. 

Not that it helps.

"I know it seems scary but it's just like a normal shot. Same ol' pinch."

I force a weak smile. 

Can Damian feel how bad I'm shaking?

I truly don't think this is worth it.

I could simply pass away.

That's a good alternative.

The nurse turns around to a table where her tools are stationed. "Do you want to be set down somewhere or-"

"No," My voice is strained and it's painfully obvious I'm terrified. "I can do it with Damian."

The nurse nods, walking over.

Now, 

I was terrified before.

But when I physically saw the needle?

Game over.

"W-wait-" I step backward ignoring the way Damain's other hand shoots up to make sure I don't fall.

The nurse pauses but doesn't lower the needle or step back. 

"Jan, it's gonna be easier if you get it over with." Damian reminds me gently.

"No- I know I just-" I step back again. "I can't- I-" I was dangerously close to the edge of Damian's hand. There was no more room for me back up. 

I couldn't take my eyes off the needle. The syringe has to be as tall as I was. It-

Fuck.

"Janis," Damian's voice is a familiar stern but soft. "You need to get the shot."

I can't bring myself to respond verbally as I shake my head.

I can't.

Nope.

No.

I-

There's movement out of the corner of my eye as fingers wrap around me, pinning my arms to my sides.

I gasp, snapped out of my thoughts. 

"Damian-"

"Please, Jan, you need to get the shot."

"Put me down!" 

It's a fist. That's what if fucking is.

It's not painful, Damian isn't being hard or anything. But I sure as hell can't move. My bicep is totally exposed and I can't move my arms or turn away or-

The nurse catches onto what Damian's doing and steps closer.

"Damian put me down! Please!"

He doesn't move as the nurse steps closer. A giant cloth is swiped against my arm, cleaning it and I freeze, turning away.

I can't get out of this.

I can't avoid it.

Just like last week, there's a pinching sensation on my arm and I stiffen.

There are tears at the corners of my eyes and I feel childish that it affecting me this much.

Why can't I be normal and just get a shot?

Damian's hand around me opens as the nurse steps away and I sit down in the center of his palm. "I'm sorry," He says holding me up to eye level. "But you know you needed that shot."

"No, I didn't." I cross my arms. 

"Janis." Damian shakes his head with a laugh.

He walked away from the stations and over to the cafe. Inside was just a bunch of tinies placed on tables and honestly, it was a comedic sight. 

"I wanna go over by Aaron," I say, pointing to one of the closer tables.

Damian nods, walking over. 

I slip off his hand as we reach the table and wave. "Bye. Love you. And uh- thanks for helping me with the shot."

Damian laughs. "Of course, Jan. I'll see you soon, okay? I love you."

"So, how did Ms. I hate shots, Janis Sarkisian, deal with the needle?" Aaron asked. 

I huff. "Don't wanna talk about it."

-

The hallway buzzed with nervous energy. I talked idly with Gretchen as we waited, but the undercurrent of excitement wasn't missed by anyone.

It was still technically school hours but all student who helped their smaller classmates this week was outside the cafeteria, waiting eagerly to see their friends at full height again.

I watched as Damian left the cafeteria and I waved him over.

"Janis, as always, was a nuisance at getting her shot."

"Hello to you too." I grin. "Really that bad?"

"It's always that bad. She kicked a nurse once! She's gotten better, I used to have to hold a thirteen-year-old Janis in my lap just for a flu shot, but I guess a syringe the size of you is pretty scary because all improvement went out the fucking window."

Gretchen nodded. "Middle school Regina and Janis had a lot in common. Most notable? Their fear of needles."

"Well, Aaron was fine." I grin.

"Wow, lucky you." Gretchen rolled her eyes. "But- that's over now and hopefully we won't ever have to deal with giant needles ever again."

"Don't jinx us." I laugh.

Damian grins. "Since its technically still the school day I gotta bolt and talk to a teacher really fast but I'm gonna do my best to get back before they're all out. Whenever that is."

"Alright," I wave him off. "Go hurry!"

-

My libs felt weird and my head hurt a bit but I could care less.

I was back.

Full height.

I high fived Aaron as we grinned. 

This entire week was a giant nightmare.

Pun intended.

But it was over.

I'm back.

"Hell yeah!"

We follow the crowd of classmates, all normal height again, out into the hallway.

There were students everywhere hugging and cheering. 

I looked around, unable to find Cady or Damian.

Aaron stepped past me, beelining to his soccer friends.

The dude spent equal time with Cady and his teammates so I'm sure I'll see him talking to Cady later.

There's a thump somewhere to my left and I turn to see all three plastics on the ground in a hug, Regina clearly having taken them down. 

I grin but move on, continuing my own search for my friends.

I know Damian said he needed to talk with a teacher and he may not still be back but-

Cady should be here somewhere.

Despite being back to normal height I can't see over the mass of students.

I step away from the door and start making my way through the crowd in hopes of better luck finding either of my friends.

My eye catches a familiar reddish head of hair through the sea of students.

I grin, pushing through the crowd.

Cady has her back to me as I stand next to her. She's on the phone and doesn't notice.

"No Damian, I don't see either of them. Yes you should hurry, are you kidding me?! Okay, okay, you're right. Bye."

"So, who are we looking for?"

Cady whirls around to face me. "Janis?!"

"Mhm?"

Cady grins, pulling me into a tight hug, pressing her face into my shoulder.

"Nice to see you too, Cads." I laugh, wrapping my arms around her. 

We pull apart and she grins up at me. "I forgot how tall you were."

"Yeah, me too."

As I suspected earlier, Aaron walks over and I step away, giving them space to talk.

I stand by the edge of the hallway, separating myself from the crowd.

I may not be small as fuck anymore but that doesn't make me hate big groups any less. 

"Janis!"

I smile, turning to the sound of my name, already knowing who it is. 

"You took your sweet time." I grin.

Damian doesn't respond he simply pulls me close, his arms wrapping around me.

For spending the whole week with Damian, I felt like I missed him. Or really just the hugs.

I missed the hugs.

I gladly return the hug, laughing as Damian just holds me tighter. 

"I'm glad you're okay." He says softly.

There was so much emotion in that one sentence as Damian squeezes softly.

I pull back a little bringing my hands up to his cheeks. "Hey."

"Hi." He whispers. There are tears in his eyes, matching the ones probably in my own.

"Thank you so much for everything you did this week, man. I love you."

"I love you, too."

I smile softly as Damian presses a kiss to my forehead before pulling away. 

"It feels weird standing here at this size." I confess, looking at the crowd of students in the halls.

"It's gonna take some getting used to after this week." Damian nods.

"Yeah." I agree, turning back to him. My eye catches his denim jacket. I step forward, hooking my pointer finger over the lip of his chest pocket. "Jesus Christ, that's a small fucking pocket."

"Yeah, Jan. It is."

"I was small!"

"Mhm."

"Give me your hand."

Damian complies, and I raise my hand next to his in comparison. I've always had small hands so I'm not surprised when his are bigger than mine. But still- 

I fit in his hand.

"Woah." 

Damian laughs. "Now do you see how I felt?"

"Yeah. That's tits."

"Mm, not the word I would use, but sure, Jan. It was tits."

"I wouldn't do it again tho."

"Thank god." Damian shakes his head. "Stupid social experiment."

"Stupid social experiment." I agree.

dw, janis lived her life at the hubbards and never saw her mother again. as she should. @realmisspolarbear @smallsoysauce @musicallygt @sourishlemons

[justjessame]

The Deal Chapter 30

Negan, after taking away my gun and knife, motions to his bed. And I go rigid. Surely that’s not what he’s brought me here to do. He has a fully stocked harem. Full of women who look like they give a far bigger shit about what they look like than me.

He takes stock of my stillness, and gives a small chuckle. Dear God, was he going to laugh at my inhibition to go to bed with him? “Jessica, I’m not planning on joining you.” He takes my hand and I try desperately not to flinch at the casualness of the touch, so foreign to me since I cannot remember the last time anyone had tried. The pads of his fingers are calloused, they remind me of Daryl’s, but his hand seems bigger, more slender. He’s tugging me toward the bed, and then, once standing in front of it, he tries to sooth me. “You look exhausted.”

Do I? It seems like I’m always sleeping when I’m not taking care of Judith. My room in Alexandria had become a refuge from the world, and I’d had to force myself to leave it.

Negan watches me. And once again, I wish I could see what he saw. If my mask really had gone away, I wanted to know how far it had slipped, and how to put it back in place. “Go ahead, Jessica. I’ll be working right over there,” he points back to where we’d been seated.

Since sleep is the fastest way to nowhere, I take off my boots and without a shred of hesitancy left, I pull off my jeans and climb in the bed. The urge is heavy now, to escape again. To get away inside my own head, where nothing waits. Because, even if Negan can see that I’m broken, he can’t see that the dark release of nothing and nowhere is all I can ever wish for.

When I wake up, it’s dark. Completely dark, without even the light of the stars and moon coming through the window we’d sat by when I’d arrived. I wondered, had it happened? Had the darkness that I’d slipped into so willingly finally taken me over completely? I felt no fear. No worry. I felt nothing. And in that, I found solace.

The next time I surface, the light’s blinding. Sunlight shining through the window that I’d seen when we’d sat down and Negan had tried to unlock my secrets. I wished it hadn’t come. Morning. Not, I told myself, because I wanted to die. Simply because I found safety in the nothing. In the dark of nowhere.

Negan is sitting in the chair he’d sat in the day before. At least I think it’s the day before. I can see him without sitting up or giving him a sign I’ve awakened. And with this advantage, I study the man who had studied me. He’s reading a sheaf of papers. The bat resting on the table before him, within reach, as seems to be his habit. There’s a walkie talkie beside it. His leather jacket is gone, tossed over the chair I’d occupied before. One hand is shading his eyes, while the other is holding the papers. And I wonder, why him? Why could he see so easily what no one else could? What knowledge does this dangerous man have that my own father doesn’t? What experience would give him the ability to read me easier than Daryl, a man I’d given everything to? And what would he do with the knowledge? The truth about Rick Grimes’ daughter? The reality of my stability or instability? The fact that I wasn’t strong, or brave, or built for this world? The veil that I’d worn so carefully and fully that not even those closest to me could see through it?

He fidgeted, as though he could feel my eyes on him. And I closed mine quickly. Feigning sleep, praying that the darkness would come again, that I’d be able to escape back to nowhere, to nothing.

It didn’t work. He’d seen or thought he’d seen my eyes open. And he called to me, loudly and clearly. “Jessica, come over here.” It was an order. Plain and simple. And since I’d traded my life for Glenn’s, I complied.

I got out of his bed, pulled my jeans back on and walked barefoot over to where he was sitting. He’d tossed the papers onto the table and sat back in his chair to study me standing beside him. And I waited to see what he’d expect of me now. Whatever he saw, it didn’t seem to please him.

“Put on your boots,” he gestured to where I’d set them before resting. “Time for a fucking tour.”

I pulled on my boots and sighed. It wasn’t loud, but he’d heard it, I’m sure. It seemed like he was attuned to every fucking minutia of my being, and I’d just met him. I could hear him pulling on his jacket, the sound of him taking his bat in hand. I turned around to see him far closer than I’d expected him to be. His hand reached out and cupped my chin so he could tilt my face up for his inspection. A rough thumbpad traced beneath my eye, as he studied my face.

“Not much of an improvement,” his voice was low, quiet even. He shook his head and released me. “Let’s fucking go, let you see what you gave up your fucking life for.”

I should have felt fear. It should have made me worry about what I was going to see. Yet, I felt nothing. I wasn’t here, not really, not as long as I could slip back inside myself, back to nowhere.

I followed him, again close enough to keep up without exerting myself, but far enough that I didn’t have to be near him. As I’d been able to do for months, or years now, I took note of everything without taking in anything. Going through the motions, seeing but not experiencing, taking stock but not worrying, all of that was as second nature to me as breathing. As fighting. As surviving.

The marketplace, or whatever he termed it, where his people bartered points earned through work for necessities or luxuries. The cafeteria, again based around earnings through these jobs that he kept mentioning. He stopped our tour long enough to give me food. Hovering to watch me eat, making sure everything was consumed. Satisfied that I’d gotten something down, as though I didn’t eat, we kept going and I wondered, perhaps he had decided on my purpose. Perhaps. Outside, a closer look at his walker security system, I wondered if eventually we’d all be found here, guarding a building without any notice of what or who we had been before. Back inside, to the infirmary, where the wife that had introduced herself, Sherry, was getting results of a pregnancy test.

I had a flicker, as she told Negan it was negative, as the man with the ruined face was nearby, of something tugging in the back of my mind. Hadn’t I, at some point, wanted this? The hope of a child. The future of a family. With Daryl? Maybe, but that was once upon a time, and this was the real world.

I didn’t pay attention to the interaction between Negan and the doctor, or Negan and the man he called ‘D’ or the wife. The doctor, I’m sure I was told his name, but what need did we have of names? What did it matter? He stepped forward, toward me, and asked me to sit on the exam table. I sat. I did what was asked of me, nothing more, nothing less. It was automatic, muscle memory with a hint of listening to what was necessary. Simple. Done. I didn’t notice what he’d checked, or what he said. I didn’t care. I was healthy, clearly, since I was still breathing. I’m sure Negan and the doctor spoke. I’m sure they shot me looks. I didn’t pay attention, I’d gone back to nothing. To nowhere. Where it was blank and easy.

I was told to follow him again. And I did. Back through the building, more hallways, more information. Then we returned to the room filled with women. All clamoring for attention, and he brushed them off and took me back to his private space. And he told me to get more rest, and I wondered why? What was so important about my resting? But I only pondered for a moment, because in the end, nowhere was beckoning. And that temptation of nothing was too powerful to resist.

I woke to darkness again. Complete and perfect. Home. And as I let my internal darkness tempt me away, I wondered if it mattered where I was physically, since I wasn’t there. Not really.

[adoreyou303]

Sweet Creature (H.S. Fic)

(CW:  mentions of vomiting, pregnancy, and lots of fluff!)

Chapter 3

In the weeks following the attack, she’s been different. There is no question about why, but when her physical state starts to change, Harry’s attention is particularly piqued. Even though she seemed to be on the path to recovery from her trauma, she’s suddenly back to feeling tired, nauseous, and moody. These were all typical symptoms she struggled with in the throes of her PTSD in the first couple weeks after her assault; however, they began to lessen once she started therapy. 

Harry watches her closely as she tries to rehearse her newest single, Misplaced. He can tell something is causing her discomfort, but it isn’t until she throws the guitar strap off her shoulder and runs out of the room that he realizes something else is going on. He is quick to follow down the hall, watching as she flings herself into the nearest room. Hot on her heels, he presses a palm to the door to stop it from closing. He catches a glimpse of her falling to her knees, hugging a trash can close to her chest, gagging violently. 

“Love, why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?” he asks, crouching behind her. He runs his fingers through her slightly sweaty hair, pulling it into a loose ponytail. “Sit back a little. Catch your breath.” 

She slumps back into his chest, thankful his body is there to catch her. Taking some slow breaths, she tries to conjure an excuse to give Harry about why she didn’t tell him of the sickly feeling she’s felt lately. Before she gets the chance, she feels her stomach turn again. 

“Again?” he questions, letting go of her as she reaches for the trash can. Nodding quickly, she tries to scoot further away from Harry, feeling embarrassed for being seen this way. She doesn’t get far before his warm hands find a place on her back. 

“Okay?” he murmurs, rubbing her arms soothingly. Breathing quickly, but finally feeling better, she hums softly. She lays on the ground next to Harry, who runs his fingers through her hair. “What’s going on, love? You haven’t been well at all. I’m worried about you.”

“I think I’m just overtired.”

“Whenever you’re not here you’re sleeping. Are you sure? Maybe you should see the doctor,” he presses, his fingers gently caressing her face. She takes a moment to think back to her routine lately. She has been sleeping a lot, but no matter how much she sleeps, she is always tired. 

“I guess getting a check up wouldn’t hurt,” she shrugs, closing her eyes and leaning into his touch. He nods with a small smile, feeling encouraged she is willing to get help. 

The doctor’s office no longer feels like a place of help. Rather, it’s a place of triggers and trauma. The smell of wipes remind her of stitches in the most painful places. The lights above give way to uncomfortable memories staring at the ceiling waiting for scans, doctors, or investigators. The beeps, alarms, and hissing of machines that provide solace for families who rely on the steady sounds for reassurance of their loved ones brings feelings of anxiety, heightened nerves, and moistened hands knowing at any time it can alert the whole floor to her next panic attack. 

She clutches Harry’s hand tightly as they wait in the small, underdecorated waiting room. Her leg bounces quickly as her mind wanders aimlessly. With his other hand, Harry reaches over and settles her leg. 

“It’s okay, love. It’s a simple check up. In and out, then we can go home and you can rest,” he reassures. She nods nervously, her eyes never leaving the door. As soon as it opens, she bolts out of her chair towards the nurse. Harry quickly follows behind her and apologizes. “She’s quite nervous.” 

“It’s no problem. I just need to get your weight and height before I get you to your room,” the nurse explains, gesturing to the scale. Melanie frowns when she notices her weight has changed in the last few weeks despite it being relatively stable. “I wouldn’t worry. It isn’t uncommon for weight to fluctuate after a stressful or traumatic event.” 

She nods, but doesn’t seem convinced. Harry feels confused too. He hasn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary about her eating habits, but he also doesn’t pay attention to her weight. She looks beautiful to him. She always has. He follows behind the two women to the consultation room. He lingers behind before stepping in.

“Are you coming in?” she asks nervously. 

“Would you like me to stay with you?”

“Please?” she squeaks, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. His face sports a gentle smile as he steps through the door frame, the nurse shutting the door behind him. 

After her vitals are taken, Dr. Rameriz joins them. 

“Hi, Melanie. I hear you’ve been feeling unwell. What’s been going on?” she asks, taking a seat in front of her. Melanie looks between Harry and the doctor before speaking. 

“I don’t know… I guess lately I’ve been feeling really tired. I’ve been nauseous and I get irritable easily. It feels like how I used to when I was first attacked,” she shrugs, her eyes downcast. 

“And…” Harry encourages her to continue. When it’s clear she isn’t going to share it herself, he takes it upon himself to speak for her. “She’s been throwing up quite a bit. We know her anxiety and panic can make her sick, but it seems a little more than usual.” 

“Hmm. Melanie, have you had any tenderness anywhere? Your stomach, your back, or breasts?” 

“Yes, all of those at some point.”

“I’m going to ask you a question and it’s going to be difficult. Do you remember the last time you had your period?” Dr. Rameriz questions, looking between the two. Harry can feel her stiffen next to him. He wraps his arm around her shrinking frame and reminds her to breathe. 

“I-I don’t know. I thought you said the medicines you gave me at the hospital would stop my period for a while, s-so I haven’t been paying attention,” she stutters. Dr. Rameriz nods and types a few things into her computer.

“When you were at the hospital, we ran a full panel of tests. Those include a screening for STDs and STIs and a pregnancy test. All came back negative, but the issue with testing the day of the attack is it could be too early to detect any signs of infection or pregnancy..”

“Are you saying…?” Harry begins.

“I don’t know. I think right now our best option is to run some tests and go from there, okay?” 

“Pink is positive, blue is negative,” the nurse reminds them, sticking the strip into the specimen cup. The room collectively holds its breath while they wait for her to pull it out. A small gasp escapes his mouth as the tip of the white paper turns an inescapable bright pink. He turns his head to look at her, but she sits in the chair next to him with an unreadable expression. 

“Dr. Rameriz will be back in shortly to talk with you about your other test results,” the nurse says quietly, leaving the pink strip on the counter and slowly retreating from the room. 

A loud silence rings out as the two process this news. Her arms hang limply in her lap, her eyes locked on the counter where the test lies. His shoulders tense as he remembers the face of her attacker. His blood boils every second he thinks his best friend would potentially have to relive this trauma for the rest of her life by looking at a child who shares half the genes of her attacker. Neither one of them can think of words to speak at this moment, so they remain silent until a knock on the door cuts through the air like a knife.

“I just got your results,” she starts solemnly, reading the room. “The good news is you are completely clear of any type of infection. You are as healthy as can be. I see you’ve seen the result of the pregnancy test, though. If you’d like, I can set you up to do some further testing and give you an estimate of how far along you are and we can discuss options today, or I can give you some information and you can come back at a later time.” 

“Maybe it would be best if you waited-”

“I want to know,” she suddenly interrupts. Harry whips his head around to look at her. Her eyes are locked on Dr. Rameriz, her expression still unreadable, yet unwavering. 

“Okay. I will have a nurse set up a sonogram and get some blood drawn and we will go from there,” Dr. Rameriz responds, closing her file. 

“Are you sure? This is a lot,” Harry warns, brows furrowing in concern. 

“I’m sure,” she nods, her eyes meeting his. He can tell she is deep in thought, but what about he couldn’t tell. If only he would let her into that beautiful mind of hers. He longed to know what she thought of. 

A nurse interrupts their connection to take them to the sonogram room. This time, she insists Harry walk next to her. She wraps herself around his tattooed arm, snuggling close to his body. He can’t stop the smile that is spreading across his face. He loves the feeling of her on his arm. He would do anything to keep her there. 

Once on the table, he stands next to her and resumes his hold on her hand. It’s found a home in her hold. While the technician is setting things up, she turns her head to face Harry. The crinkling of the paper underneath her alerts Harry of her movement. He looks down at her and presses a palm to her forehead, softly her pushing hair back. She gives a gentle smile, grateful for her best friend and his soothing touch. Her cheeks burn as he continues to caress her face sweetly. She tries to hide it by nuzzling into his hand, but it’s of no use. He can see the color on the apples of her cheeks.

“Okay, I’m going to lift your shirt here. It’s going to be a bit chilly. Sorry about that,” the tech starts. “I need you to relax a little.” 

“Sorry, I’m nervous,” she laughs, letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Harry blinks rapidly, before letting out a tight laugh himself. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he’s heard that gorgeous sound. It’s like music to his ears. A few minutes pass as the tech looks around. Then, she pauses and lets out an excited squeal. 

“There you are! See that there? That is your baby. I’d say you’re about 8 weeks or so,” she exclaims, turning the screen towards the pair. Harry leans down so close his breath is fanning across her face. He can see tears welling in her eyes. Hell, tears are welling in his eyes. He’s always wanted kids. Since he’s met her, he knew he wanted kids with her. He’d never imagined it would be this way, but it didn’t matter. He’s determined to stand by her side. 

“Everything looks great. Would you like a picture to take home?” she asks, typing a few things on the machine. Melanie nods, her eyes glued to the screen. Surprised by her answer, Harry wonders what she is doing. The tech prints a picture of the ultrasound and hands it to her before leaving the room. 

Dr. Rameriz meets with them one last time, giving them a packet of information to take home. She gives them the numbers of a few OB-GYNs she recommends before sending them on their way. 

The car ride home is silent, but comfortable. Melanie runs her finger across the image of the baby, her baby. A mix of emotion swells in her chest. She can feel curiosity seeping off of Harry, but she doesn’t know what to say. She’s too entranced by this tiny human. Too scared to speak. Too enamoured to feel. 

Leaving Melanie to her thoughts, Harry sits in the front room of his house. His favorite armchair is drenched in sunlight, the perfect spot for writing. It’s there where he makes himself comfortable for hours while writing about anything and everything, from the way her voice travels through an empty room and fills it with a rich, velvet sound to the color of turquoise waves crashing on sandy beaches in a place he dreams of taking her. A soft knock on the door pulls him out of his trance. Leaning against the door frame, peaking into the room, she quietly asks if she can come in.

“You don’ have to ask, love. Come ‘ere,” he beckons, setting his journal down on the table next to him. She slowly walks over, her fiddling with her fingers nervously. He opens his arms as soon as she’s next to him. She expertly climbs into his lap, hiding her face in his neck. Minutes pass as the two sit in silence, Harry holding her together. He feels her breathing get uneven as warm tears wet his neck. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks gently, nuzzling his nose against her forehead.

“Why is this happening to me?” she mumbles into his neck, sniffling wetly. 

“What was that, love?” he asks, craning his neck towards her to try to hear her better. 

“I don’t know what to do,” she croaks. “I can’t do this. This isn’t supposed to happen. Now there’s a baby involved? How am I supposed to decide? God, I sound so selfish,” she rushes out, pushing the heels of her palms to her eyes. 

“Hey, hey, now. Slow down. You’re not selfish. None of this was supposed to happen, you’re right. But the only thing that matters is that you make the best decision for you and you only. You don’t have to decide right this second,” he replies, giving her hands a gentle squeeze. 

“What do I do?” she asks hoarsely, looking at him with glassy eyes. For a moment, he is almost tempted to tell her something, anything, to make her stop crying, but instead, he presses a gentle kiss to her nose. He drops his hands to her belly, which is still flat. 

“I can’t tell you what to do, but whatever you decide, you have my full support. You are not alone,” he promises, running his thumbs along her sides. His small, but meaningful gesture almost makes her heart explode. Even the smallest of his touches or gestures are full of love. 

She would be lying if she said she didn’t have feelings for her best friend. When they started working together, things got a little complicated. Spending every second together solidified her feelings for him, but seeing him surrounded by so many successful, talented, and beautiful women in the industry made her realize she would probably be the last person Harry would want. He could have anyone he wanted and she seriously doubted he would go for her. They’ve been friends for years and they’ve never been anything more, so she figured this wouldn’t cause change. That didn’t mean her feelings diminished or vanished, though. She knew, no matter what she chose, Harry would be right by her side. She truly did feel lucky to have him.

[amandaoftherosemire]

Cuddled Up -- One-shot

Fandom: Marvel  

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Author: @amandaoftherosemire​

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6.011

Format: One-shot

Warnings: 18+ only, explicit content, language, fluff, smut, flut/smuff

Summary: Despite his reputation as both terrifyingly lethal and legendarily surly, you know an entirely different Bucky Barnes. One lazy afternoon, after you’d been separated for a while, things get steamy while cuddled up in your bed.

A/N: This was a request in my ask box oh so many months ago. I think @-hiddlesdweeb- was looking for a cute little drabble, but the plot bunny ran away with me and it turned into a full on smutty one-shot. I hope that’s okay? :D

Dating Bucky Barnes left you privy to all sorts of secrets. Some of them were serious, like when he’d confided in you about the things he'd done when held captive by HYDRA. Most were harmless, like you knew that Captain America was the messiest human being you'd ever met who was not actively trying to breed a new form of mold (college friend, weird dude). You knew that Falcon tended to anthropomorphize things and loved it that you went along with him on it, petting any number of objects at his request. You also knew that if the Black Widow could be coaxed into over imbibing, she could also be coaxed into singing, in a surprisingly sweet voice, old Russian folk songs (and Bucky could be coaxed with cuddles into translating for you).

Because that was the biggest secret, though it was undoubtedly the least dangerous secret of all time: Bucky Barnes was a champion cuddler.

You weren't sure you could tell the secret if you wanted to, so at odds with his public image and reputation was the reality of Bucky in private. You were certain that no one other than the very few people who knew him best would even believe you should you try to describe the way he seemed nearly addicted to the feel of your skin. He was almost aggressive in his need to be touching you at all times. As long as you were alone, you were snuggled in some way against him.

As far as you knew it was still a secret, too. Although Bucky wasn't cold or aloof when you were together in public, he was extremely discreet, with many of the mannerisms and concerns about propriety with which he'd been raised. He was affectionate, holding your hand or putting an arm around your shoulders, but he always kept every touch carefully chaste. In public.

In private, he would only stop touching you if you stopped him. Not that you tried very hard or very often. Still, cooking dinner was less than easy with a six-foot tall well-muscled super soldier wrapped around you, so sometimes you had to put your foot down. You always made it up to him, because you understood where it was coming from.

You understood that Bucky had a skin hunger more profound than you could possibly imagine. No human is built to withstand the trauma he'd endured, and the decades of physical isolation, only touched either to give pain or receive it, or with the cold impersonality of doctors and scientists, had left deep psychological scars. He needed physical affection more than anyone you'd ever known. You were only too happy to oblige, though lately it had been getting more and more difficult to do so.

Because although you'd slept twined around Bucky dressed in next to nothing several times a week for months, the two of you had never been more physically intimate than those full body cuddles and frequent heated make out sessions. He'd told you he needed time, and when he'd confessed it in a whisper, you could see he had been terrified you'd reject him. That night you'd taken him into your bed for the first time, starting a habit of sleeping together whenever possible. To your surprise, you both slept better pressed against the other. You could wait for the rest; you were certain he was worth waiting for.

That didn't mean that you weren't going quietly insane, however. You spent much of your time skin to skin with the sexiest man you'd ever met, how could you not be going insane? Every time you were alone with him, it was getting harder and harder to restrain yourself from rubbing all over him like a cat in heat. Hell, every time you were alone with yourself you were making do with your vibrator and fantasies of riding that big sexy body until you forgot your own name. Only the knowledge that he needed better from you kept you from giving in and begging.

"You have that look on your face." Bucky's voice was a rumble, vibrating in his chest and into yours, setting your heart skipping and your breath catching.

Careful to control yourself, you took a halting breath, then a steadier one before you answered. "Which look?" You were murmuring, your voice low and inviting. You couldn't help it; when you were this close to Bucky your body betrayed both your good intentions and common sense. The two of you were laying side by side, facing one another, your head resting on the pillow on top of Bucky's vibranium arm. Your legs were tangled together, and his flesh arm was firmly wrapped around you, pressing you as close to his chest as possible, his lips a breath from yours.

Bucky stalled a moment by nuzzling into your neck with a grumble of approval. The scent there in the soft hollow under your ear where your jaw met your neck was delicious. He never passed up an opportunity to bury his face there. He was delighted to find himself with ample opportunity as you'd taken him to your bed as soon as he'd arrived. He knew why you'd done so; you'd known how much he'd needed it. He hadn't seen you in almost a week, something nearly unheard of since the day he'd met you.

"You look…" Hungry, Bucky thought, but kept the word to himself as he didn't know how you'd react should he say something so blatant. "Thoughtful," he said instead. He cursed inwardly, wanting to ask you if you were as ready as he to become more intimate. He'd been dying to fuck you since he first laid eyes on you, but he'd needed time to reacclimate to being… human. He hadn't known how quickly he'd become comfortable with you. He hadn't known how your warmth and understanding would help him heal. He hadn't known how quickly he'd start to ache for you.

You had been simply perfect. There really was no other word for it. You'd accepted him without judgement or condemnation. You'd given him a safe place to rest, where he could remember who he was, who he had been, where he could figure out who he wanted to be. You'd been so easy with the arrangement, in fact, he had begun to wonder if you preferred it. The only reason he hadn't asked to make love to you yet was his fear that to add a sexual dynamic would ruin what you already had.

“I was thinking about how fucking pretty you are," you whispered, and the longing in your voice seemed to seep beneath Bucky's skin, his body heating and yearning toward yours.

Not certain he wasn't hearing only what he wanted to, he grinned at you and leaned forward to kiss you gently. His plump, pink lips were impossibly soft and infinitely tender as they brushed oh so gently against yours. These soft kisses and warm embraces were heaven. Nearly a religious experience, laying under the soft cloud of your comforter, your velvet skin sliding against his, Bucky felt cleansed by your touch. The feel of your body resting, pressing against him, seemed to seep into him, the simple act of trusting him with your soft form like a balm on his soul.

Bucky kept kissing you, but he let his mouth wander over the corners of your mouth, your cheeks, eyelids. You giggled at the tickle of his beard when he started feathering his mouth over the line of your jaw, nuzzling into your neck. He pressed his mouth to your pulse, letting it rest there to feel your heartbeat.

His flesh hand started rubbing slowly up and down your spine, pressing you close with every pass. You snuggled closer, sighing as you ran your hand up over his neck and into his hair. He had occasionally mentioned cutting it, but you loved the feel of the smooth, soft locks running through your fingers. He practically purred whenever you combed your hands through his hair, only encouraging you. That sexy rumble haunted your dreams; you were desperate to find out how else you could elicit that delicious sound.

Bucky was having a hard time not moaning aloud. He loved it when you ran your hands through his hair. On days when it wouldn't stay out of his eyes no matter how strictly he tied it back the only thing that stopped him from taking his combat knife to it was the memory of how your fingers felt gently tugging at the roots of his hair, your nails scratching over his scalp and sending shivers down his spine. Holding back the shameless sound, keeping it to a growl in his throat, left him feeling edgy and needy.

He let his hand drift down, brushing down past the small of your back. Your breath caught as that hand drifted back up and under your tank top. The feel of his hot palm skimming over your skin sent chills rushing out from that warmth through your limbs and into your fingertips. You let out that caught breath in a shuddering rush and rubbed your cheek against Bucky's temple.

"Is this okay?" he murmured against your neck, his soft lips moving against your skin. You tilted your head back to give him better access. He took immediate advantage, nuzzling closer in.

"Yeah," you replied. You were almost ashamed at how breathy and, well, needy you sounded. If he was less sexy or his body less stimulating, you might have been. As it was, you gave in and moved to rub yourself lightly against him, your hands tightening in his hair.

Bucky bit back a groan. Your body was lush and smooth and beautiful, and he adored every moment he spent tangled in your limbs. His arm tightened around you, his palm sliding up your backbone and pulling your tank top upward. The skin of your stomach and the lower curves of your breasts were bared and pressed against Bucky's muscled abdomen. He hummed and rocked gently against you, reveling in the slide of your skin against his.

You hummed back and stretched against him, only to slide yourself more firmly against his luscious body. "I love your skin. I wonder if it feels as nice all. over." The pause between the words was there to make the invitation clear. You would understand if he wasn't yet ready, but you saw no reason to not make clear your interest in getting more physically intimate.

Oh, thank god, Bucky thought, and figured there was no reason he shouldn’t take you up on what sounded like the most exciting offer he’d ever been given. His mouth opened against the skin of your neck and he began placing gentle kisses at your pulse point. He felt your heart rate kick up against his mouth and moved his hand down your back and ass, molding and squeezing your flesh until he reached your leg.

You were already breathing hard at the feel of Bucky’s hand moving over your bare skin with what felt like desire when his big, calloused hand curled under your thigh and hitched your leg around his waist. Though you had felt his arousal against you before, he’d never gotten this close. You were painfully aware of how wet you were and knew he had to feel it even through his underwear where his rock-hard erection pressed firmly against your core.

“God, y/n,” Bucky was scraping his teeth over the cords of your neck as his vibranium hand moved to the small of your back to arch you into his mouth. “You think I’m pretty? If you could see how beautiful you are like this…” He broke off to lave your collarbones with his tongue, spurring you to be the first to give in and moan aloud while he set your skin aflame with his talented mouth.

You used your grip in his hair as leverage to rub yourself against him shamelessly. He wanted you; you could hear it in the throb in his voice. That rich tone gave you the courage to offer it all. "Bucky, if you want me, if you're ready, you can have me." Bucky was almost laying on top of you, nestled between your legs, one hand gripping your thigh to lift and open you to him, one arm pressing you upward into his mouth as his lips nudged the edge of your neckline aside to take your nipple into his mouth. You arched and moaned and writhed against him. "I'm yours," you finished, your voice a genuine whine of need.

Bucky couldn't have resisted your siren song had he wanted to. He could hardly wait to be inside you, rocking you both to climax, but he also wanted to savor your slowly, to prolong every moment of the pleasure that came from loving you for the very first time. It was a dilemma. He thought now he shouldn't have waited so long, tempted himself so much. He didn't know if he was capable of taking it slow at this point, his hand on your thigh was squeezing tight and his mouth drawing deeper and deeper on your breast. He had to fuck you. The only thing that could stop him now was you.

That wasn’t happening. You could feel Bucky's flesh hand toying with the lace on the edge of your underwear where your thigh met your ass. It was making you crazy, but the last thing you wanted was for him to stop. You tightened your leg around his waist and rocked yourself shamelessly against his erection.

Bucky's hand slid under the edge of your underwear to cup your ass and press you even more firmly against him. The feel of his big, warm palm skimming over your bare skin was immediately followed by the grip of his fingers digging into your flesh as his mouth grew more avid over your breasts. You were shuddering with the need to give in to all the dark fantasies you'd had in the last several months, but Bucky's almost agonizingly slow pace held back the rush of passion.

Bucky felt like his desire for you had claws and teeth and were using both to spur him on. It took everything he had to go slowly, to not rush either of you. He'd been dreaming of this day since he met you. He wanted to take his time with you, to savor rather than savage.

What he wanted and what he was capable of, however, were two different things. Your body was undulating against him in an invitation as old as time and Bucky was finding it harder and harder to think clearly, his mind fogged with lust at the taste of you on his lips, at the sight of you warm and glowing with desire.

You were done thinking, as a matter of fact, bringing your hands up and shoving Bucky over onto his back. You climbed atop him, straddling his hips and stripping your disarranged tank top from your body and tossing it away. You stretched out on top of him and wiggled out of your underwear, tossing them aside, too. Watching you remove your clothing with such efficient, impatient motions, Bucky thought you were the most glorious thing he'd ever seen.

Both hands slid up your thighs, over your waist and around your back to draw you gently down, to press your chest against his as he took your mouth once more. With lips and tongues and teeth you devoured one another, your hands starving as they raced over skin dewed with sweat and warm with passion.

You froze as you felt Bucky's hand sliding between your thighs for the first time, holding back the sobs of relief at needs finally fulfilled. "Too fast?" Bucky murmured and began to withdraw. You whimpered in protest and settled yourself more firmly against his hand, rocking lightly.

"Faster, harder, more!" You were about ready to lose your mind. Those calloused fingers were sliding through your soaking wet folds, teasing gently at the notch where your clitoris was nearly begging for his touch. You slid your hands up his body, reveling in the feel of firm muscle under smooth skin, up into his hair. You clenched your fists and tilted his head gently to look deep into those stormy eyes now glowing with lust and something that looked a lot like love. "Bucky," you almost whined, "I need you. I can't stand it."

The next thing you knew, you were on your back. Bucky had rolled you over, bracing himself on the arm he'd tucked under your neck. His flesh hand was still between your legs, one finger dipping into you while his thumb brushed delicately over your clit. You were a moaning mess, your hands, seemingly of their own accord, drifting down over his tight stomach and under the waistband of the boxer briefs he was inexplicably still wearing.

As soon as your hands closed around Bucky's impressive erection, he growled in his throat and slid a second finger into you. You bucked your hips and gasped in response, causing Bucky to drop his forehead to yours and pump his fingers faster. The feel of those long, rough digits sliding in and out of you was delirious and you couldn't stop the near mewls of need and pleasure.

"Babygirl." Bucky straight moaned the word, his will straining against the temptation of your writhing body. Unable to resist, he pulled his fingers from your tight, wet cunt and brought them to his mouth. The taste was even better than he'd imagined, and the sight of him sucking the flavor from his fingertips nearly had you coming on the spot. His eyes burned as they stared into yours, and the lop-sided smile he sent you had your heart fluttering. "I only get one chance to make love to you for the first time. I don't want to rush it."

His hand returned to your clit and began rubbing in gentle circles, slowly. You would ask him to go faster, nearly desperate for your climax at this point, but the utter sweetness wrapped around utter debauchery had your heart stumbling even as your core clenched. The warmth spread out from your chest and heat raced over your skin. You couldn't help but love this lunatic that had invaded your life with all of your heart. The rich emotion twined with the lust and had you clinging more tightly as you rocked against his busy hand.

Lying alongside of you, Bucky could see the length of your bare form, your body seeming to glow in the afternoon sunlight streaming through your bedroom window. Your hand around his cock was driving him crazy, twisting and circling his length, but the sight of your body arching and trembling with your climbing passion was irresistible to him. The only thing he wanted more than to be inside you was to see you coming first. He doubted he'd have to wait very long, and thanked god for it; you, writhing under his hand, whimpering in your throat, was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. Lust's teeth had become sabers and the claws talons.

Bucky wasn't wrong, you weren't far from your orgasm. As a matter of fact, you'd have come already had he only moved his fingers a little faster. You hadn't told him because his statement about not rushing it had touched you. If he wanted to take his time, who were you to complain, really?

The first tremors started in your core, clenching around nothing as Bucky's fingers were busy rubbing circles into your clit. The warm tremors shivered out and through your body until your toes and fingers curled into the sheet and your back arched as though drawn steadily upward by a string. Bucky could hardly believe you were real, so gorgeous was the climax of your passion.

You floated down from a deliciously soft orgasm, your body warmed and revved for more. As Bucky gently worked you through the final aftershocks, you relaxed back into the bed with a cat-that-ate-the-canary smugness. Your hand hadn't left Bucky's underwear, and the feel of your hand squeezing around his cock choked off the laugh he'd been about to let loose at the look on your face.

The next thing he knew, you were pushing him back over and pulling at his boxer briefs. This time Bucky couldn't help but laugh at your impatience as he helped you divest him of his underwear. As soon as the two of you were equally naked, you were clambering on top of him. His hands settled on your thighs as you sat up, and the feel of your heated wetness bathing the back of his cock had him arching his neck and groaning aloud. He rocked his hips, sliding through your folds, prompting a hum of approval from him and a gasp of almost pained pleasure from you.

Careful to allow for the sensitivity that followed your orgasm, you leaned forward to fasten your mouth on Bucky's neck, kissing, biting, sucking, enthralled with the salt of his skin as your hands raced over his shoulders, down his arms. Your fingers dug into the muscles of his chest and stomach as you moved to take Bucky's earlobe between your teeth. Your greed, your hunger, seemed to seep beneath his skin, setting his heart racing in exhilaration. The feel of your breath wafting over his ear as you spoke had a shudder of pure need working through him.

"Do you know how many times I've touched myself in this bed, thinking of exactly this?" You felt the shudder and the knowledge that he was as hungry as you only added to the sultry invitation in your tone. Bucky was panting at this point, utterly enthralled with this new aspect of your personality. He hadn't known you could talk dirty, but he was delighted to find out. "I have wanted this big, gorgeous body under me, wanted to ride you into oblivion, since the day I first set eyes on you." Your voice was a raspy whisper and seemed to shiver over Bucky's eardrums, causing goosebumps to erupt all over.

Bucky drew in a quick breath when he felt you tilt your hips, positioning the tip of his cock at your entrance. You lifted your head to look into Bucky's eyes, the normally arctic blue now incandescent. Your nose brushing his as you breathed each other's breath, you moved ever so gently against him, allowing just the barest tip to enter you. Since he didn't want to rush, and now that your orgasm had taken the edge off, you could spend the indefinite future like this, atop the luscious body of the sexiest man on the planet, your skin slick and sliding against his, his hands on your body as you memorized the exact texture of his with yours.

Now, however, Bucky couldn't stand it any longer. He didn't want to rush, true, but the sight of you coming on his hand had him harder than he'd ever been and the sultry wetness bathing his tip was making him frantic. His fingers dug into your hips, tilting them until the head of his cock slipped inside you. You dropped your head like a flower too heavy for its stem and gasped for a moment, the sensation wearing away your willpower.

"Doll," he whispered, and the familiar endearment was unfamiliar in the dark and erotic tone that had taken over his voice. "I need to be inside you. Do you have protection?”

Your breath was coming in shuddering gasps, but you had enough willpower to retort. "What happened to taking it slow?" you asked with a smirk in a voice dark with lust and tight with need. “Already taken care of. We’re both clean and I’m on birth control.”

Bucky flashed a grin so cocky and wicked, you could practically feel yourself getting wetter. You wondered if it was your imagination or if he could feel you aching for him where you rested almost connected, but not quite. "In that case, inside you," he growled. His fingers tightened on your hips and you could feel how badly he wanted to take control and pull you down on to him. "Then slow." He gritted out the last, the cords of his neck taut and signaling the edge of his control.

You loved that you'd brought him to this point, nearly primitive in his need for you. His desire only heightened yours and you decided that his plan was the finest you'd ever heard. With a low moan, you sank down onto him. Though you were soaking wet, it still took care to ease him into you without pain. You went a touch faster than that, the slight rasp oddly delicious.

When he was seated to the hilt, you sat, aching to move, but needing a moment to adjust to the feeling of absolute fullness. You felt taken, claimed, like he had touched places no one else ever had. Your heart was pounding in your chest in both excitement and a joyous kind of terror.

Your breath was coming in quick, irregular little gasps, and Bucky's head cleared slightly from the utter glory of being inside of you. You were like a wet velvet fist clenched around him and it was sheer heaven. However, your breathing was a little too close to panicky for Bucky's liking, and he sat up, folding his legs under you and wrapping your legs around his waist. As soon as your face was close enough, Bucky was taking your mouth with a fervor you'd never had from him before. You fucking loved it.

Lips, teeth, and tongue clashed, and though you were fervent, still you were mostly gentle with one another. Little nips and slow bites added a hint of pleasurable pain. Despite that, every touch, every kiss, every caress transmitted affection. You felt like you were getting lost in a universe of soft sighs and tender touch.

Bucky stopped kissing you, but spoke against your mouth, desperate to maintain that connection. "I know it's cliché. I don't care." Bucky's voice was indignant, as though you were in the middle of an argument and the change in his demeanor gave you whiplash. You pulled back to stare, hurt and confused, into Bucky's face.

What you found there didn't match the tone of his voice, however. He had a soft smile on his face and the heated blue of his eyes was gentle even as it seared. The next words out of his mouth made sense only in context of his expression. Otherwise, they did not compute. "I love you," he said, and his smile beamed out. For the first time, you saw the roguish boy he'd been in the serious man he'd become.

"And I'm not just saying that because being inside you has to be what fucking an angel feels like." His voice had dropped, low and throaty. You were having a minor mental breakdown at all the information he just dumped on you in the middle of a near religious sexual experience. Still, the tone had the expected effect and you clenched around him, causing him to tilt his head back and groan in pleasure.

You couldn't help it, the slight movements of his hips were having a heated effect on you; you began rocking gently, easing Bucky very slightly in and out of your wet, clinging channel. Bucky was gasping when he continued. "I feel like I've loved you forever, like I loved you my whole life, I just didn't know it until I found you."

Your heart was sighing and your mind fogging as you rocked a little faster, a little harder, Bucky's cock sliding a little further out before sliding back home again. "I love you," you sighed, your body undulating against him, rubbing your breasts against his chest, sliding your arms up his muscled back. His vibranium arm came around your back, his hand gripping your hip and pulling you more firmly, more quickly against him. His flesh hand was sliding up your back to cup the back of your head.

"Why does it frighten you?" Bucky whispered as he rubbed his beard against your cheek. He could hear your heart pounding oddly for desire and your gasping breaths still spoke of panic, not passion.

You couldn't answer for a moment, your throat locked closed. So much was pouring through you, emotion, sensation, pleasure, fear, and biggest of all, love, pure and simple. You swallowed and were able to force your throat open long enough to rasp, "It's too much," before all that feeling rose up and blocked your voice once more. You didn't feel like your body was big enough to hold it all, as though if you spoke it would all come streaming out of you, like light.

Bucky slowed the pace but kept rocking gently into you in an oddly soothing rhythm. Rather than feeding the fire, it stoked the embers, and allowed you to adjust to the delicious feel of Bucky inside you. Meanwhile, he was tracing small circles on your back with his fingertips, again oddly soothing, yet arousing. His beard was soft against your face and neck, with just enough scratch to make you imagine how good it would feel on the inside of your thighs.

A surprisingly short time later, your heart was only pounding a little, and this time in pure desire. Your throat was no longer choked with emotion, locking all of it inside. Now that you could answer Bucky, you wanted to be sure and do it right.

"That sounds like soulmates,” you murmured, becoming lost once again in the sensation of Bucky’s body moving against and into you, “and I don't know if I believe in all of that. But I know I won the fucking jackpot, to be in the right place, at the right time, to meet you. If it's all at chance, then I have the best luck.” Your tone was wry, but only a touch against the absolute seriousness underneath.

Bucky's cocky grin flashed again, and you couldn't help but smile back, enraptured by his happiness, enchanted by the knowledge that you caused it.

You couldn't stand it for one second longer.

Your hands raced over him to tangle in his hair, gripping at the roots. You placed your forehead against his and began rocking a little more quickly, but a lot more firmly against him, pulling further away before nearly slamming back down. "Did you know that I use my vibrator every time you leave because being tangled up in you drives me fucking crazy?"

"Fuck, y/n, you're killing me here." Bucky tilted his head and kissed you, muffling your sultry laugh. That laugh turned into a squeal at the feeling of all that muscle bunching beneath you before bursting into action to tumble you over onto your back once more. Rather than his hand, however, it was his hips sliding between your legs as his arms caged you in.

In one fluid motion, Bucky was tilting his hips to slide back inside you in an easy, smooth thrust. Bracing himself on his elbows, he began to thrust into you, both faster and harder, to your delight. You wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders and back and clung, meeting him thrust for thrust.

"Mmm, finally," you murmured, the motion rasping along your nerve endings and leaving you breathless.

Bucky laughed, also a little breathless, you noted smugly, his hair falling around you in a curtain as his bright eyes seared into yours. "If this was what you wanted," he rumbled, and the sound seemed to skim along every inch of skin not already pressed to his, "all you had to do was say so."

"Quit trying to ruin my fun," you teased, your voice muffled against his throat where you were testing the texture of his skin there with your teeth.

The warmth twined around the heat and had Bucky shaking. "If you're trying to make me come like it's my first time, doll, you're on the right track."

The breath of your laugh wafted over Bucky's neck, cool where your mouth had been and sending chills down his spine. Unable to stop himself, near the final edge of his control, his hips began to move even more roughly against you. You responded by tightening around him as you used your legs to rock your hips up into him.

You could feel him rubbing against your walls and the friction was driving you higher and higher. Between both of you adjusting angles and his flesh hand reaching down to cup your ass and hold you up, his hips were driving into you at the perfect angle to rub against the rough patch on your forward wall. The sensation was making you insane.

"Race you?” you asked with your last working brain cell, the delicious rhythm having destroyed the rest. Your eyes fluttered closed and you arched your back to rub your breasts against his chest. You could feel the tiny flutters around him that you knew would soon melt into tingles and moaned softly.

Bucky continued to thrust quickly into you, enchanted by the sight of you taken over by his touch, spellbound by the sound of your pleasure. Nothing in his life so far had enraptured him more thoroughly than this moment, your throaty moan as you found your climax, the feel of your nails sinking into his flesh as you arched against him, the clench of your core in rippling waves as your release crashed over you both and dragged him reluctantly over the edge with you.

He'd wanted to make it last, to love you for hours to make up for the months he'd denied you both, but you were so beautiful in the full flower of your sensuality, your skin glowing and dewed with perspiration, your lips parted to allow moans and gasps of breath out and in.

You were drowning in a sea of sensation. Bucky had continued to thrust into you at that perfect angle and pace, prolonging your orgasm and sending those tingles into convulsions, your hips bucking erratically at the surge of pleasure. Even as you thought you couldn't take any more, Bucky moved even harder and faster against you in short, quick thrusts that made you feel like you were going to lose your mind. You were whining and sobbing, the pleasure on the edge of pain, when you felt him explode inside you. The sensation sent a shudder through you, and Bucky moaned at the feeling of you still rippling and shuddering around him.

The two of you seemed to hang there, suspended, as a number of aftershocks shivered through you and into him. Slowly, your gasping breathing and racing heart returned to normal and you became aware of the weight of the super soldier crushing you into the bed.

He became aware at almost the same moment, alerted by the tiny struggling motions you'd involuntarily and unknowingly begun to make in reaction to your restrained breath. Now that you wanted to breathe more deeply, you'd become aware that you could not, and it was starting to freak you out. Bucky immediately rolled to the side but pulled you into his arms to press as much of his skin as possible against yours, your bodies cooling as your limbs tangled together and you nuzzled into his chest.

You smiled to yourself, sweaty, sticky, kind of needing to pee, and happier than you'd ever been in your entire life. You could evidently cross off the worry that sex would ruin the cuddles; you'd gotten addicted to the feel of Bucky's skin against yours. Apparently, Bucky agreed that there was no substitute for cuddles.

But it wasn’t too much later before Bucky’s hands began wandering.

The End

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[lady-divine-writes]

Portrait of the Artist as a Son (Rated NC17)

Summary: After visiting the home where Sebastian's mother will spend the rest of her life, Kurt has some trouble sleeping ... in part because he wakes up to find his boyfriend gone.

Part of the Deliver Me verse

Read on AO3.

Kurt couldn’t sleep.

He had fallen asleep fine, his head resting on Sebastian’s chest, listening to the even ‘thump-thump’ of his boyfriend’s heartbeat. They’d gone to bed naked – a habit ever since he started sleeping in Sebastian’s arms. Sebastian claimed he didn’t sleep well without making love to Kurt first, and Kurt had no intention of complaining. Even on the rare nights when they fought, they still ended up tangled in each other’s arms.

It was the best way in the world to end an argument.

Sebastian’s body was like a furnace - a constant source of heat against Kurt’s skin. And Kurt loved it. He loved his boyfriend’s heat. Kurt imagined it started in Sebastian’s heart and traveled via his blood throughout his whole body.

For some reason, though, the bed felt cold, the Egyptian cotton sheets like ice against his skin. Not to mention an odd, muffled rustling had started to invade Kurt’s dreams.

A rustling that sounded like someone rifling through drawers and paperwork …

… and it was coming from the living room.

He really didn’t feel like opening his eyes to find out what it was. The sound put his body on lock down – paralyzed him with fear. He wanted Sebastian, and to know that everything was okay. But since no one seemed to be offering that information (for a second time during their visit), it was up to Kurt to do the sleuthing, find out what was up.

He pried open his eyes.

He’d been lying flat on his stomach on his side of the bed. The other side, the side he was staring at, was empty. The blankets had been tucked around his body but it didn’t help. Without Sebastian, everything seemed stark, bare.

Kurt scanned the lonely room, lying in the silence, listening for any sound.

After several minutes, he heard one.

Another rustle.

Kurt’s muscles tightened so quickly, his neck ached and his head throbbed.

He didn’t want to call into the darkness for Sebastian, afraid of disturbing the source of the noise in case it wasn’t him – a ridiculous notion since the Smythe house, as far as Kurt could tell, was a fortress locked behind a metal fence. Who in the world beside Sebastian would be there?

Possibly Sebastian’s father, back with a weapon and looking for revenge? If anyone knew the ins and outs of the Smythe estate, including secret entrances and passageways, it would be him, right? Even with the security Richard had hired, he’d know if a loophole existed that would get him inside.

And he’d have reason to come back, reason to hunt down Sebastian specifically.

From the side of his eye, Kurt noticed the French doors that led to the living room open a crack. He sat up slowly, rolling tense muscles in an attempt to convince them to move, careful not to shift the bed too much lest the frame creak.

They’d discovered earlier that night that the old frame could be awfully loud. Kurt blushed remembering the close calls they had when they swore the legs would snap, the memory of what prompted the strain …

… exactly what Sebastian had done with his mouth and where.

Kurt took a moment to slip on Sebastian’s favorite green satin pants and a black t-shirt, adding a thick, white robe to guard against the cold. He looked around him for a weapon, just in case. The only thing he could find close by that fit the bill was Sebastian’s empty brandy bottle.

Kurt picked it up.

Even empty, it was heavy.

It could still knock out a filthy, homophobic motherfucker like Cornelius Smythe.

But what if he had a gun? Or what if it wasn’t him? What if he’d hired some large, muscular goon to do his dirty work for him?

Kurt’s hands gripping the bottle for dear life began to sweat, so much so that he was afraid he’d lose hold of it, drop it on his foot.

Give himself away.

He swallowed hard, squared his shoulders, clenched his jaw.

He’d already faced down one asshole with a gun. He’d do it again.

Especially to save Sebastian.

Kurt tip-toed over to the double doors, one foot in front of the other.

Louder rustling stopped him in his tracks.

He gulped hard and waited … for another rustle, for an explanation, but for Sebastian most of all.

He got neither, so he decided to continue forward.

Step after step he crept up to the doors. He put a flat palm to the wood, pushed one open a crack, and peeked out.

A man sat on the sofa, only his silhouette visible, hunched over double as if in pain. Kurt stared at him a long while until he lifted his head and showed his face.

Relieved, Kurt put the bottle down.

With the aid of the full moon streaming blue light through the windows, he could see the silhouette belonged to Sebastian. He had pulled the coffee table up to him, sandwiching his knees against the cushions. He leaned forward again, scrutinizing a spread of photographs. Off to the side, lying open, sat an album, pages so full they challenged the binding.

Both the photos and the album filled Kurt with melancholy. But when he looked at Sebastian, chin in his hands, eyes sad and staring, Kurt’s heart sank. Tracks from dried tears lined Sebastian’s cheeks, his eyes red-rimmed, lips swollen from where he bit back sobs.

Kurt knew what was going through Sebastian’s mind while he looked at those photographs.

They’d gotten the news that his mother’s mental faculties were deteriorating quickly – quicker than anyone had anticipated considering her exceptional physical health. Her doctors didn’t know how long it would be until she forgot her children entirely.

Sebastian absorbing that information, the blank expression on his face as he did his best to listen, then leaving abruptly, going outside for air, had been heartbreaking.

But Sebastian sitting in the dark, alone, crying, shattered Kurt’s heart.

He contemplated going back to bed, giving Sebastian his privacy, but something pulled Kurt into the room, to the sofa, to sit by Sebastian’s side. Without turning his head or saying a word, Sebastian took Kurt’s hand and placed it on his knee, tracing over his knuckles with his fingertips.

“I’m sorry if I woke you,” he said, voice breaking.

“You didn’t.” Kurt smiled, but Sebastian didn’t see, his eyes glued to the pictures on the table. Kurt turned his attention to the pictures, too - photos Sebastian had taken of Kurt’s house, of Kurt, of the two of them together. There were pictures from Sebastian’s room as well of Sebastian and Richard, Richard and his family, Sebastian with his mom. Kurt peeked past Sebastian’s body to the book open at his side. It wasn’t an album, but a scrapbook, one Sebastian was in the process of making. Sebastian had been mounting photos onto black pages and writing captions underneath in gold.

Sentiments of love, some paragraphs long.

Kurt couldn’t help the sound that escaped his throat, but that tiny noise triggered something in Sebastian’s brain, something that had been trapped all night as he flipped through photo after photo of the woman he loved … the woman he was losing. He broke down, tears streaming down his cheeks before he could stop them, shoulders crumbling, body bowing beyond his ability to control. Kurt wrapped his arms around him, cuddling him close, desperate to find a way to soothe him.

Kurt knew what it was like to lose a mother. He thought that might help him here, but he felt lost. Navigating his own grief had been difficult.

Navigating someone else’s was impossible.

He didn’t tell Sebastian it would be all right, because Kurt knew it wouldn’t. Not completely.

He didn’t try to quiet Sebastian’s tears. Kurt knew he needed to let them out.

He opened the edges of his robe and surrounded Sebastian with his warmth, let Sebastian crush his body against him, shaking with sobs, until he felt he would break apart. There they sat, wrapped around one another, until the stress of the day bled away – from Sebastian into Kurt, and from Kurt into the universe.

The sky had begun to lighten when Sebastian finally calmed down. Kurt took his face in his hands and kissed him gently, let Sebastian lay him back on the sofa and climb over him, kissing him back.

“How much more do you have to finish?” Kurt whispered when Sebastian’s lips left his mouth and started traveling down his neck.

“A---a few,” Sebastian admitted. “But I’m having a problem finding a caption for one.”

“Show me?” Kurt requested.

Sebastian righted them both and handed Kurt the book, open so he could see all the pictures, all the stories, all the ‘I love yous’ written between the lines. The picture without a caption was of Sebastian. It was the picture Kurt had taken when he gave Sebastian the camera. The photo was mounted in the center of the page with nothing written underneath.

“Ah.” Kurt sighed at the handsome face smiling back at him. “Portrait of the artist.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian said. “That’s about it, though.”

“What do you mean?” Kurt asked, careful fingers hovering above, tracing around the mouth and eyes. All this time together and one look, just this slight smile, could take Kurt’s breath away.

“What else am I?” Sebastian huffed. “Everything I am, everything I’ve done, I accomplished because of money. I don’t really have anything that’s my own. I’m the product of privilege. That’s all. Maybe my dad was right. Maybe I am worthless.”

Kurt glared at Sebastian, eyes wide. “You know, if I didn’t love you so much, I would slap you. In fact, I just might.”

Sebastian’s eyes lit up, their playful spark returning. Kurt rolled his.

“Here.” Kurt reached past Sebastian for the gold Sharpie he’d been writing with. “I don’t ever want to hear you tell me that you’re worthless,” Kurt muttered as he wrote, “because both you and I know that isn’t true. I won’t hear it …” Sebastian tried to peek, but Kurt wouldn’t let him. Not long after, Kurt handed the book back. “You’re worth everything to me.”

Sebastian looked at the words written neatly beneath the photo, read them to himself.

Sebastian Smythe

Photographer

Adventurer

Harvard student

Defender of the innocent

Willing to risk his life for those he loves

Loyal partner

Beloved son

Sebastian looked at Kurt with wet eyes and smiled.

Kurt winked. “In no particular order.”

[minnarr]

leia meets the prequels gang, pt. 3

Last time, Leia stuck to Padmé and Anakin like a burr; met Obi-Wan and confided in him; and managed to get on Anakin’s bad side. In this section, Leia tries to rest at Obi-Wan’s as the Senate declares war and they both get a surprise.

See all parts at this link

----

The Temple had been like a kicked hive when Leia arrived. By the time Obi-Wan found her again, it seemed to have quieted into sleep at last. “My apologies,” he said, looking somehow even more tired than before. “I have not had an opportunity to make proper arrangements, but I can offer you a bed for the night. I’m afraid the Temple visitors’ quarters are rather overrun at the moment.”

It was strange to enter a Jedi’s quarters. They weren’t quite as ascetic as Leia had imagined; certainly more comfortable than a room on a Rebel base. “You can take Anakin’s room for now, if you don’t mind the mess,” Obi-Wan said. “There’s clean sheets, at least.” He pointed out the fresher, and a set of clean clothes he had found for her.

He hesitated in the middle of his kitchen, looking at her with perplexity.

“Go sleep,” Leia told him. “You look like you need it.”

He nodded, then ducked into his own room, the door closing a moment later.

Leia moved through the strange space, cleaning up as best she could around the bacta patches and aches. It was the first shower she’d had in... Well, it was long overdue. Anakin’s room was a mess; not filthy, just cluttered. There were racing posters, model ships, a worktable filled with mechanical odds and ends. It had the air of a bedroom where he’d grown up, and Leia wondered at that, and felt like an interloper.

When she finally sank into the bed, she expected to sleep immediately. Instead, her head flooded with images and sensations. Finally, she closed her eyes and began to count, following a familiar meditation exercise.

She had let the practice lapse over the last year or so, but it used to be one of her best tools to cope with her childhood panics. She resolved to start doing it regularly again. If nothing else, she could manage that.

Slowly, she managed to quiet the noise in her head and return to blankness.

The next morning, she woke earlier than she wanted to, her body screaming at her but her mind alert. It’s the sun, she realized, and groaned. To her surprise, when she stepped into the kitchen, she found Obi-Wan already there, a mug of caf in hand but his eyes closed. He startled when she took the pot from beside him to pour her own cup.

“Morning,” he said.

She looked him over. “Not enough sleep?”

“I don’t think a week would be enough,” he admitted.

“Agreed,” Leia said, and sat down across from him.

“I have a meeting with the Council this morning,” he said. “The Jedi High Council, I should say. I’m not sure how long it will take, but I will get you better settled in the next day or so. You don’t mind staying around here and resting for a few days, I hope?” His pleading eyes suggested she didn’t have many other choices.

“Has the Senate declared war yet?” Leia asked.

Obi-Wan winced. “No, not yet,” he said. “But the debates are well underway. I’ll leave you a datapad if you want to follow along.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “Have you had a medical exam with the Temple healers yet?”

“I think they were busy,” Leia said.

“I’ll make you an appointment. It’s the first step, anyway, if you want to stay in the Temple for a little while.” There was a gap somewhere in there, as if there were another reason to arrange the exam. His mind was probably just wandering, though; anyone’s would be.

“You don’t have to look after me, you know,” Leia said dryly. “I can make whatever appointments I need.”

“Mm.” Obi-Wan rubbed a hand over his beard, blinking at her. “You’re not a Jedi, so you need a sponsor to stay here. That would be me, and it’s my duty to liaise with Temple staff on your behalf. You just may be a bit bored for a few days. I...it might be better if you were to stay here, rather than wandering about the Temple.”

“Your people are gearing up for war, and I’m an unknown,” Leia said. “I understand.” She didn’t like it, but she understood. “I need the rest,” she assured Obi-Wan, and it wasn’t a lie. “I needed it even before we went haring off to Geonosis. I’ll take it while I can get it.”

The next days were an excruciating combination of idleness and expectation. Even hidden away in Obi-Wan's quarters, Leia felt the suffocating tension of these days as the Senate debated, and the Jedi High Council deliberated, and war slowly turned into a reality. She did visit a healer on the second day, who gave her a simple physical exam and took a blood draw to run routine tests. She didn’t stop to see Anakin. After their strange conversation, she wasn’t sure that he would want to.

One evening, Obi-Wan returned to his quarters and went straight to the sofa, settling into it with careful dignity. It looked like if he was any less careful, he would simply fall into it. “The Senate just declared war with the Confederation of Independent Systems,” he said heavily.

Leia set a mug next to Obi-Wan's seat: not caf, but a more soothing tea. “I know,” she said.

He picked up the tea and sipped it, his eyes closed. “We’ve accepted a clone army.”

“I know.”

“I’m a General.”

Leia sat down beside Obi-Wan and turned to him. They didn’t know each other well, but she had known war for far longer than he had, for all his experience getting into and out of fights. She reached out, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Yes, you are General Obi-Wan Kenobi. A man whose strength, compassion, and cunning were such that my— That those who served with you trusted you and remembered you for those qualities.”

“You speak in the past tense about something that hasn’t happened yet,” Obi-Wan said.

“And you’re correcting my grammar on the verge of a war,” Leia said, amused. “You’ll be all right, Obi-Wan. You can do the job in front of you with honor and wisdom.”

“But not success,” he said, looking at her. “Don’t we lose?”

Leia shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe not anymore. Hope is all I have, and there’s a lot more of it go around now.”

With the debates over and a course decided for the Republic, Leia expected Obi-Wan to have a little more time. What she did not expect was for him to come back to his quarters halfway through the next day and pin her with a stare. “You have never been to this Temple?” he asked. “Or any Jedi Temple?”

“No,” Leia said cautiously.

Obi-Wan ran a hand through his hair. “Just where did you live in this other time? Why did no one find you?”

Leia stood, unsure what had set Obi-Wan off like this. “It depends on who you think should have found me,” she said.

“The Jedi, of course,” Obi-Wan said, and he looked at her again with naked disbelief. “Leia, do you not know that you are incredibly strong in the Force?”

“What?” Leia laughed. “Of course I’m not.”

“You’ve never known things you shouldn’t, or gotten headaches in large crowds? No instances of impossible luck or improbable reflexes? Nothing’s ever come to you inexplicably simply because you needed it desperately?”

Leia frowned and looked away, her scalp tingling. Carefully, she pushed away the nervousness and raised a calm face to Obi-Wan. “Nothing that can’t be explained,” she said. “I used to get intense migraines after parties, or after going down into the city. The doctors said that it was probably linked with my anxiety. Once we got that under control, the headaches became very infrequent.”

“Forgive me for prying,” Obi-Wan said, finally finding a semblance of calm again, “but how did you get that anxiety under control?”

“Counseling sessions,” Leia said, not sure where he was going with this. “Meditation. Making sure I kept up healthy habits.”

“Leia, these are things that a strongly empathetic Force user can experience, if they are left untrained,” Obi-Wan said. “People’s minds—the energy of them, their emotions and surface thoughts—press in on you if you are unshielded and can quickly become overwhelming. It is possible, I suppose, that the meditation you did helped you to build up mental shields. But your shields are too strong to be merely accidental.”

“You mean,” Leia said, “the walls around my thoughts?” She had maintained them for half her lifetime. It had been described to her as an emotional control technique by her meditation teacher. Of course, they had helped her hide her true feelings in the Imperial Senate, and she had fallen back on them when she had nothing else at Darth Vader’s hands.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said. “They are a simple but very subtle shielding technique. I did not know that you had shields in place until I specifically went looking for them.”

Leia pulled back, glaring at him. “You went poking in my mind?”

“No,” Obi-Wan said. “Merely brushed against its boundaries. I believe you felt it, just now, because I also felt you shut me out.”

Leia shuddered, and for a moment the memory of Vader came back to her, terrifyingly real. Had he probed her mind along with everything else he had done? Everything had been so mixed up in bone-deep terror and pain that it was hard to separate out what was physical and what was something else. For a moment, she heard the amplified hiss of his breath, felt his physical presence looming over her. And then she breathed, and she was just looking up at Obi-Wan.

“If not by my shields, how did you find out that I am like you?” she asked.

“The blood test the healers took,” Obi-Wan said. “If I had known it would come back positive—if I had known that it would be so high—I would not have...”

“What did you do?” Leia said, hearing the growl in her voice.

“It is a simple test,” Obi-Wan started.

“That you do without patients’ consent?”

“That is part of a typical intake exam for those entering the Temple,” Obi-Wan said. “It is not part of the standard physical for adult visitors or staff, no, but I suggested a full work-up, and generally that includes the midichlorian count.”

Leia closed her eyes. He had violated medical ethics in a way that troubled her. She claimed to be a time traveler who had arrived just at the cusp of an intergalactic war. That he had awarded her the trust and consideration he did was a gift, she told herself, though it didn’t soothe her anger. “You haven’t been jumping at shadows around me,” she said. “So why order the test?”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said.

“He was suspicious of me,” Leia said.

“He was, and he did more than test your shields. He tried to reach into your mind to see if you were trustworthy, and he failed.” Obi-Wan held up a hand when Leia opened her mouth, outraged. “After I was done telling him how wrong that was, I suggested that it might be the effect of pain medication, but he was very insistent. And I...I wondered.”

“So I’m strong in the Force,” Leia said. “What are you planning to do with that?”

“That’s a very good question. It’s not often that we find people who are strong but untrained so late in life,” he said. “I have encountered one or two in my time who never saw the Jedi temple or joined one of the other Force traditions we recognize, but they were not happy meetings. When we brought Anakin to the Temple, he was considered shockingly old.”

“How old was he?”

“Nine.”

Leia blinked at Obi-Wan. “I am nineteen,” she said flatly. “And I’ve done just fine on my own. Perhaps nobody needs to know.”

Obi-Wan considered, his eyes troubled. “Perhaps it would have been better that way. Perhaps we still could keep it secret, but if you are to stay here…”

“What other option is there?”

“You could tell the Council how you came here,” Obi-Wan suggested.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t know them,” Leia said.

“And you know me so well?”

“I can honestly say I never met you before Padmé introduced us, but my father trusted you, and that’s worth a lot.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes sparked with interest. “Your father?”

Leia had no template for a safe way to operate in this situation. If she took no risks, then she might cut off opportunities. Her heart ached to hear her father’s voice again, to see his face, even if it was much younger than she had ever known it. He might be on Coruscant now; he already held the Senate seat for Alderaan. Impulsively, she said, “Bail Organa.”

“Bail’s daughter,” Obi-Wan said, his eyebrows rising, and looked her over as if seeing her for the first time. “You are not what I would expect from a princess of Alderaan,” he said, nonplussed.

“I was raised in interesting times,” Leia said. Taking pity on him, she added, “I was adopted. I have no idea who my birth parents were. Wherever this,” she waved her hand, “Force, whatever, comes from, it’s not from Bail and Breha Organa.”

“Well. Wherever it comes from, there's something else to take into consideration before you decide not to confide in the Council. Those unhappy meetings I mentioned,” he said. “The more that you hide, the more likely they are to suspect you of being a dark side Force-user, perhaps an acolyte to someone powerful and dangerous.”

Leia frowned. Obi-Wan was young, but...they were at the beginning of the Clone Wars; her father had spoken of him as a man entrusted with much responsibility even then. “They won’t trust your judgement?”

“Some Council members believe my judgement to be...clouded, in such cases.” Obi-Wan's tone spoke of mild amusement, but there was something shuttered behind his eyes. “Anakin, you see. He is powerful like you, and many still believe it was dangerous for us to train him. It was I who finally made them agree to take him, and who oversaw his training.”

“Why dangerous? Surely it’s more dangerous to let something like this go untrained, if what you told me about my headaches is correct.” Her parents must have known what she was. Leia knew from her work with the Rebellion how dangerous the galaxy was for children strong in the Force. They must have known, and taken quiet steps to protect her.

“It’s not as simple as a skill to be learned. Those who do not train from a young age in the ways of the Jedi are at risk of being corrupted by the dark side of the Force. There are powers in the galaxy right now—”

Leia cut him off. “But it’s not inevitable.”

“No. With all my heart, I believe it is not inevitable. But not all of the Council does, and even those who do...Leia.” Obi-Wan stopped, trying to marshal his words. “Let’s just say that they have very good reason to be wary of unknown Force-users right now. Please, be open with them.”

“Not yet.” Leia shook her head. “They have no reason to believe me—honestly, Obi-Wan, I don’t know why you believe me.”

“I don’t know, either,” Obi-Wan muttered. He sat in one of the chairs at last. “All right, we won’t tell the Council yet, though it goes against all of my training. But you should decide what you’re going to do about Anakin’s suspicions. I know him, and he never drops anything.”

“You vouching for me won’t be enough?”

Obi-Wan laughed shortly. “Not without an explanation, and definitely not without telling him I investigated.”

“I’ll…talk to him,” Leia said. “If you think he’ll see me again.”