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angeli-marco-writes · 3 years

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Sherlock Holmes - Kiss Me, Mr Detective

A/N - Season 1!Sherlock, the cutie. And friends to lovers. Two of my favourite things. I do not own Sherlock Holmes, the character, the universe, the adaptations or anything: this is a work of fiction set on the BBC adaptation of Sherlock. Did I still write 8.2k words (exactly) for it? Yes. I also don’t own the song or the lyrics used within, and if you fancy it, listen to ‘Kiss Me’ by Ed Sheeran while reading.

Warnings - Bad language. Mentions of murder and drug usage. Mild angst. Smut, loss of virginity, masturbation, oral m receiving, penetration, unprotected sex, so 18+.

Summary - After a fight with John leaves Sherlock feeling particularly down, he calls on the one person who is always there to support him. Only tonight, it’s different. Feelings come to a head, exploration ensues, but is this just a one time thing? That depends on whether she stays the night...

TO SHERLOCK, it’s just another normal day, whereas to John? He’d rather not admit how regularly these awful days roll around. Sure, the case didn’t go as well as it could’ve, and Sherlock admittedly could’ve made much more of an effort to comfort John after the apparent ‘heartbreak’ he endured. He just could not understand it. Why the hell was John so emotionally responsive to a case they’d been on for less than twenty four hours which turned out to be a bust anyway?

“You are absolutely unbelievable!”

“People die every day, John. You’ve killed people, as have I. It isn’t that great a surprise.” Sherlock deadpans, picking up his teacup, raising it to his lips, drawing a long sip from the warm liquid.

“Oh, yeah, of course. The proud, the cold untroubled heart of stone, that never mused on sorrow but its own.” John mocks. “Do you not even care that people are still dead despite the fact you solved the case?”

“They’d be dead either way,” he reiterates, “at least we got to them before they completely decomposed. Will me caring about them stop them from being dead? No, Dr Watson, it will not.”

“Sherlock!”

“John!” He mimics.

John slams his hands down on the desk, shaking the wood and everything resting on it, surely sending the vibrations through the floor and notifying Mrs Hudson of their ‘domestic’ as she so likes to call them. The buffalo even begins to swing. John’s tea is long forgotten, but Sherlock’s is keeping him grounded, calm, as John waggles his fist in Sherlock’s passive, blank face.

“You-” he pauses, gulping down breath. “You are a fucking machine, I can’t even deal with you right now. How dare you be so cold hearted and untroubled by this. You’re a disgrace.”

As if he hasn’t heard that one before, Sherlock scoffs.

Placing his teacup back down with a clink, he stands, the darkness of the night, of the room, closing in on them both. Nights like these really are danger nights, any night John leaves him. That’s what's coming next, but there isn’t a thing he knows to say or do to prevent the inevitable. He’ll simply just text Her instead, she’ll keep him grounded.

“Why? Emotional context? Emotion, whether of ridicule, anger, or sorrow, whether raised at a puppet show, a funeral, or a battle, is your grandest of levellers. The man who would be always superior should be always apathetic.”

With a huff like a bull, John viciously turns on his heel, blaspheming under his breath, cursing Sherlock out. He reaches for his coat and snatches it off the stand, slamming the door open.

“MACHINE.” John screams before pulling the door shut with a great slam, seething, the coat stand still rocking in his wake.

John’s footsteps thunder down the stairs, but before he’s even gone, Sherlock’s phone is withdrawn, and he’s tapping out a message.

Can you come over? Please? SH

It wouldn’t usually bother him as much. The case didn’t phase him, at all, but John’s opinion did. It always does. But today was a particularly long day of being brutish and rude, cold and distant, his usual and true self, but John’s more and more impatient with him now.

Being called a ‘machine’ is, again, nothing unusual, but this time it stings a little more than usual, especially after his recent arrest, and a fallout with Molly. He only has one person left, right now, who doesn’t hate him. His longest friend, the one he keeps away from it all so as to not tarnish her life with his misdeeds; Y/N, the one he can always rely on.

He knows she’s arrived by the sound of his window crashing open. Crawling up the bricks, skimming the drainpipe, latching onto the ivy; it’s her usual manner of entry. She never uses the door.

Putting his cups and saucers into the sink, he makes his way through the house, opening his bedroom door to find her already sitting there on the bed, her coat hung up on the hook, her work clothes clinging to her body.

“Hey there Mr Detective, you okay?” she asks as jovially as she can muster.

The way he ambles across the room, his dressing gown floating behind him, and slumps down onto the bed, instantly tells her he’s not okay at all. She can’t help but to look upon him sympathetically, edging a smidge closer to him, until he’s prompted enough to wrap his arms around her torso, finding his rightful place tangled around her. She knows him well enough - his past, and his current life - to realise she’s the only person he’s ever felt comfortable enough around to do this with, and that brings her a certain swelling pride in her bosom, one that doesn’t go unnoticed by Sherlock as he feels her skin heat up against his cheek.

It doesn’t take long, either, for his head to follow suit, burying into her chest. He’s always, always had a thing for her boobs, ever since they were in uni together.

That’s something so special about the two of them, he doesn’t have to say anything for her to know he’s not okay the way he does with everyone else. And naturally, he can read everything about her in a split second.

“I’m here, bud.”

Above all else, he just needs to know someone is there for him in moments like these. The world is cruel to him, and Y/N wishes more than anything that it wasn’t. Upon instinct, her hands stray, one to his back, pressing against the silk of his dressing gown, the other cradling his long neck, fingers knotting in the dark curls there.

She isn’t sure how long she stays there, simply holding him, feeling every twitch of his muscles, every breath of his against her skin, but she likes it. Of course she does, every time she likes it. Sherlock brings her an inordinate amount of comfort at the best of times, today is no exception, especially with what the day has held. Even when she’s the one comforting him, he doesn’t realise how much he helps her too.

His flat is so familiar, his bed as comfortable as her own. She knows his sock index, she’s studied his periodic table over his shoulder more times than she’d care to admit, and she even has her own toothbrush in the bathroom in case she has to pop over for an emergency freshen up. Sherlock has, and always will be, her first port of call, and that she remembers as she shifts further onto the quilted bedspread, her phone on his oak bedside locker.

His head begins to stir against her chest, his curls tickling her collarbones, small hums escaping his lips as he pushes himself up, his elegant yet trembling hands still splayed on her waist.

“I could feel your heart beating weirdly, what’s wrong?” he asks, quirking his eyebrows.

“Just the usual.” she vaguely replies.

Sherlock isn’t having it, though, and scans her a little more. “You’re still in your work clothes.”

“Great deduction. I was hoping you’d go a little deeper, though.”

“You hate wearing work clothes longer than necessary, which means you had plans straight after work, considering you finished… five hours ago? That’s your usual time for today. Counting overtime, forty five minutes, walk to your car, another ten, but your umbrella wasn’t working, round that up to an hour, leaving at 6. You arrived home, no, not home, at your boyfriend’s house for dinner. However, you’re not comfortable enough with one another yet for you to use his shower, or perhaps you are, but you elected not to, and stay in damp clothes that only had seventeen minutes to dry with the heater on in your car for the journey there. You ate dinner, Mexican, had a glass and a half of five percent wine, realised you couldn’t drive, but you didn’t particularly want to stay. Nonetheless you sat and watched the telly with him for hours, football, I can see the dreariness in your eyes. I know how much you hate it, and frankly, same. You stayed for almost all of the match, seeing as you’re now sober, but something else happened.” She lulls her head to the side, prompting him, her smile not meeting her eyes. “As soon as the match ended, he tried to make a move on you, he pressed his mouth to yours, he tried to push his hand up your skirt;” his throat bobs with a vicious gulp; despising the thought of anyone else laying a finger on her, “you swatted him away, rightfully so.”

He pauses a minute, his harsh tone of voice and his sharp face softening. He can see the vulnerability in her eyes, her walls about to crumble. This woman he appreciates so much. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

Smiling melancholically up at him, she brings her hand back to his hair, her fingers carding through the soft curls. His face buries back into her chest just as her voice offers a broken whisper, “I broke it off. I was the one who couldn’t commit this time.”

And as she lays her head on top of his, her breathing more shallow, resounding in her chest, he dwells over those very words. The way she said them, not to mention the words themselves, hold a myriad of meaning. What could she possibly-

Oh.

The subtext, yes, impeccable. She’s always had a way with implications and subtext, always knowing that the likelihood of him actually picking up on it is little to none. But now, now he’s become trained to her, her way of life, her way of thinking, her way of speaking. This is too good an opportunity to miss. If she means what he thinks she means, ever hopeful, then this is completely unfamiliar territory.

Gathering all of his courage in one deep breath, he begins to pepper kisses on her skin. The faintest brush of his lips on the tops of her breasts, all that’s available to him with her shirt the way it is. He feels her heart flutter, her breathing stutter, but despite the chemical flush of her chest, he still isn’t quite sure she likes it. Not until he feels her grip on his hair increase, and he glances up to see her head thrown back. Her spine delicately arches against his hand, thrusting her chest further into his face.

His nimble fingers reach for her buttons, undoing the top two, giving him space enough to find the valley between her breasts. Lathering kisses there, licking the swells of her boobs, his tongue pulsates with the increased thrumming of her heart. The sensation is new, so unbridled, and he doesn’t quite know what to do with the stirring in his loins right about now. That unknowing is only further amplified by the sound that rips from her chest when he involuntarily bites down on the supple flesh. It couldn’t be… a moan?

Sure, he understands the chemistry of it, the reactions that occur in the synapses of the brain, the pheromones and hormones released when one is aroused, but this is all new to him. And, from his embarrassingly basic level of theory, surely that doesn’t start until some more stimulation on other parts of the body commence? Nipples, perhaps something lower down… then again, what does Sherlock know?

Of course it’s an intimate moment, the closest he’s been to a woman before, and maybe that’s why he freezes, stops, and she tugs his head up by his hair, her gentle, pleasured smile with her lips softly parted deepening the look of bewilderment painted onto his face. Her eyes are twinkling, alight with an excitement he hasn’t seen for far too long.

“What are you doing?” she whispers.

He shrugs his shoulders with a sudden force, his dressing gown falling off a little. “I don’t know. But now I feel like I read your pining words all wrong.”

She gasps, a wheezing sound, sucking the air from the room. She smacks his arm gently, muffled by his button-down and dressing gown. “I wasn’t pining! I was saying.”

“Hmm, same difference.”

Everyone must acquiesce when it comes to Sherlock Holmes. “But no, you didn’t read them wrong at all, but I know you don’t see me that way, you don’t feel things that way.”

He pauses, his beautiful plump lips pursed, fidgeting on the bed. Brushing her hair off her face reveals the pain she expressed. However, her eyes glued on his, sadness is betrayed in every line of his young, clean-shaven face. His entire bone structure is taking a nosedive.

“For you, I’ve been feeling everything from hate to love to lust, and I guess that’s how I know I want to hold you close.”

“Sherlock...” she whispers, her singular word an inflection of surprise.

Never tearing his eyes from her, his hand comes up to her cheek, rubbing his thumb over the slightly blushing skin, searching her face, with his big blue eyes, for a shred of reluctance. But, all he sees is her, so he elects to do what his heart is yelling at him to do for once, and kisses her breathless. His full lips holding hers, his one hand on her face, the other still wrapped around her back. Hers fly around his neck, clinging to him for dear life.

It doesn’t take long, their movements steadily heating, for their previously slow, intimate kiss to grow into something more, Y/N pulling herself up from the bed and making herself comfortable on Sherlock’s lap. His breath hitches in his throat, a cute little hiccupping sound escaping his lips in between embraces.

As much as he loves just this, soft caressing and gentle petting, he just knows she wants more. He does too, that much is evident from the length prodding at Y/N’s inner thigh as she moves gently on his lap. She won’t make a move, though, he’s too inexperienced, and she’s too much of a sweetheart to corrupt him, so she thinks. Ever since he first saw her, she’s been corrupting him slowly. He didn’t realise at first, but over the years, he began to understand, and now he’s in too deep.

For Y/N? It’s always been him. Every breakup she’s had, she’ll come to Sherlock’s flat, full well knowing the real reason she broke up with them, because she couldn’t commit, because she was too caught up on him.

Skimming his hands beneath her shirt, he savours the press of his hands on her bare skin, warmth seeping from her body into his, his fingers dancing along her spine. Electricity shocks her in bursts, unlike anything else, from his touch alone.

“May I take your shirt off?” he asks.

“Fuck, yes.” she groans. “May I do yours?”

“Be my guest.”

In a tangle of limbs, a few buttons pop off, and eventually, two shirts make it out the other side, tossed from the bed and into the laundry pile. Aka Sherlock’s floor. He’s like that: sock indexes, yet he won’t get a hamper. A walking contrast.

His thumbs press beneath the band of her bra, savouring the pressure of the flesh that falls into his hands, but that’s as far as he gets.

“Never undone a bra before?”

He shakes his head sheepishly. “I know the theory. Just… you always wear peculiar ones.”

“I wear relatively normal bras, and this one is certainly bog standard. Had I known you’d be undressing me Mr Detective, I’d have worn something nicer.”

“Just do it for me.” He requests, chuckling.

She unfastens her bra, and allows her breasts to spill from the cups, into Sherlock’s awaiting hands. The gasp that erupts from him sends Y/N’s brain into overdrive. He’s cupped her chest through her shirt before, buried his nose into her cleavage countless times, but never before have they had such skin on skin contact. Her lips press to his neck, shifting her closer to him. Sucking on his pressure point, she receives a similar gasp in response, only this one is more guttural, more a sound of pleasure than surprise. He’s wilting from a single kiss to his neck.

“Has no one ever given you a hickey?” She husks in his ear, her voice alone sending tremors down his spine.

“N- fuck, no.”

“I’ll make it worth it. All of this.”

“I know you will.”

She fuses her lips onto his again, savouring the faint hesitations as he grapples with his breath, eager to get some control on his mind with all that’s happening. Never did she ever think Sherlock would be here beneath her, his rough fingertips brushing over her peaked buds, and his palms dancing over her waist. Never did she think she’d hear him whisper his next words, either, not in a million years.

“More.” he pleads. “Can we do… more? Whatever that entails?”

“That depends what you want to do.”

“Get me out of these damn trousers. They're rather uncomfortable.”

She snorts lightly, a piggy like sound, the one they bonded over all those years ago. “I can feel why.”

“I imagine you want out of your work trousers, too.”

“God, yes; they’re ghastly.”

“I don’t think so.” he hums. “You look nice.”

Her cheeks begin to burn, blood rushing to colour them, betraying her true feelings, but as he tweaks her nose playfully, the little snort escapes again.

They were in the dining hall, second week of university, almost ten years ago, and Y/N was sitting with her friends, downing enough coffee to sink a ship, eating her hangover away, when her friends decided to make her laugh with tales of last night's drunken events. Unbeknownst to her, one of the greatest minds of the twenty-first century was sitting just a few seats down on the half-empty bench, watching her perceptively in his periphery. That’s when he first heard the sound. The cutest thing, and it startled him into action, beginning his deductions almost instantly. Admittedly, her student ID on the table aided him a little.

He shocked her from her haze, too, as soon as he spoke her name.

“Y/N, eighteen, jurisprudence first year, freshers week over with. You left a boyfriend back home, but you’re more sad about leaving your dog, as I would be. You don’t particularly care about law but know it’s a good undergraduate to receive anyway. Dyed hair, extrovert, killer hangover, and apparently there’s a little piggy living inside your nose. Sherlock Holmes, would you like some aspirin?”

“That’s weird; what are you, some kind of detective?” She asked, sans malice, a playful bounce to her words.

“Chemistry, going for a masters. But I do like the mystery, yes.”

“So you’re… bright. Nice to meet you, Sherlock, and it seems you know almost everything you need to know about me. But yes, I will take that aspirin, if you don’t mind. How was your weekend?”

He smiled at her, the first true smile he’d given in a long time. “It was nice, thank you.”

And thus a friendship was born, all because he heard her little piggy snort.

Her slender fingers work wonders with the fastener and zip of his suit trousers, and even manage hers too, all within the space of a few seconds, but Sherlock is reluctant to let her go, even just to get her trousers off.

“I need to sit up, just for a minute.”

“No.” Sherlock commands, insistent. “We can make this work.”

“Sure we can, but it won’t be very comfortable. Come on.”

She’s barely peeled away from him and wrestled hers off before he’s drawing her back in for a kiss, his trousers settled just above his knees.

“Sherlock,” she protests, mumbling against his lips, her hands on his heavenly, broad, muscular shoulders. “Sher!”

Her squeal at his sudden tug on her panties disappears, captured by his eager mouth. And in fact, her panties seem to disappear along with it, thanks to Sherlock’s swift movements and nimble hands. Maybe he’s had some experience to be so good at this…

“You sure you wanna go this far?”

“More sure than I’ve ever been. I need you.”

He takes a deep inhale, dropping his forehead against hers, his breathing coming out in bursts as he tries to get a grasp on the situation. “Kiss me.”

She doesn’t need to be told twice, instantly getting to work on the waistband of his boxers as his tongue lavishes her own. His hips rise briefly, just long enough for her to tug the elasticated material from around him, slipping past her, and then he kicks it into their growing pile of clothes. His length falls into her awaiting palm, and-

“Wow.” She exhales in amazement. “If I’d known you were packing this much, I’d have jumped you long ago.”

“No you wouldn’t.”

“Absolutely not, until tonight I thought you’d just laugh at me.”

He pecks her lips affectionately, “Never. You’re bloody beautiful, I’ll let you do anything to me.”

“Hmm, anything, you say?”

Stifling a chuckle against her neck, he recommences, “Maybe not anything.”

Yeah, that's definitely the right call. Still, she finds herself all but clawing at him, her breath hovering teasingly just over his lips, their noses touching, her hands clamped to his cheeks, feeling the building heat there. She must be making such a mess of his bed right about now, but for one night? It can’t matter.

This is a one time thing, it has to be. Sherlock just needs to release some tension, she just so happens to be there. Still, she can’t prevent the little glimmer of hope shining through at the possibility of this being a more-than-one-time thing. The moral compunctions of their friendship after this don’t matter anymore, because he’s leaving a fire in his wake, his delicious fingertips digging bruisingly into her bum before trailing lightly up her spine, skimming her shoulder, brushing her neck - arched for him to reach where he wants, able to mark her as his own - and finally slipping over her lips, taken obediently by her awaiting mouth. Christ, if there’s one thing she hopes for tonight, it’s that his actions never relent.

Whether it’s what he intends to happen or not, his fingers in her mouth give her an idea, one she prays he goes along with at least a little, so she pulls away. The dirty, telling smile on her face hints at what she’s about to do, lending Sherlock to shift a little more up the bed, his eyes following her every move. Hands splayed on his thighs, her small fingers gripping onto the fine hairs there, she begins to take his tip into her mouth, never once breaking eye contact with him. Yeah, this is what’ll drive him insane.

Inch by inch, she takes him into the welcoming heat of her mouth, pulling off slowly, only to go down again. She adds her tongue into the mix at some point, too, and her hand, on what she can’t reach, tickling his balls, but further than that, his mind is blank. Hot white, washed with pleasure. The sounds he emits are other worldly, so much that he has to muffle himself with his own hand; what would Mrs Hudson say? He’s always had such control over his mind and body, but this… he’s slowly losing all semblance of control, and he’s not even mad about it. What he does know is that there’s a building heat in his abdomen, a coil about to spring, and his cock is beginning to twitch. If she keeps going this incredible way, her teeth grazing him ever so gently, adding another new sensation into the mix, he’s inexorably going to finish before he can help it.

“As much as I adore your torturous ministrations, I think I need to be inside you…” He husks, his voice deep.

A smirk gracing her lips, she looks up at him through half-lidded eyes, mischief glinting in her pretty little mesmerising eyes for a second, before she hollows her cheeks and takes him wholly, allowing his length to slip partially down her throat. Her moan reverberates around him, and Sherlock begins to thrash above her, scrunching the duvet in his hands, not caring if it creases. If there’s one thing Sherlock hates, it’s creases. And being called a machine by his best friend. Right now, though, it seems as though every misstep in his day has led him here, into the welcoming heat of Y/N’s mouth, taking him so eagerly, her tongue lapping at the vein on the underside of his dick, a string of saliva remaining as she pulls away.

“I think you’ve got a couple of rounds in you, Mr Detective. Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yes.” He stammers, his head tossed back in pure ecstasy a moment later as she begins to work on the head with kitten licks. “But… can I s- fuck me, say something?”

“I plan on it.” she chuckles, “anything.”

She goes back to peppering kisses all over his member, tip to base, brushing his balls, working her way back up.

“Touch yourself f- for me.”

“What? Why?”

Her tone is more inquisitive than anything else, but upon that playfully rueful look in his lust-darkened baby blue eyes, she knows he’s going to get her back for this little display, and he’s just worked out how. It works both ways, she can prepare herself for what’s to come next while pleasuring him. And he gets to watch. It’s a win-win for him. Maybe he likes this sex thing a little more than he’s letting on.

“Are you sure you want me to? I’ll just make a mess on your sheets, Sher.”

She swallows him again, bobbing her head up and down on his length a few times while he grapples with literal reality. He’s teetering on the edge. One more move, and he’s a goner. His head is already against the wall, lolled there.

“I don’t care about the sheets, darling, I need you ready for me.”

She gulps, nods, and reaches one hand around her, skimming over her stomach, until it nestles between her thighs. She rubs her thumb over his tip, collecting the pre-come beading there, while she rubs over her throbbing pearl, pressing softly. Then, as she inches down on his cock, taking him in her mouth, she also collects the slick from between her thighs, and uses it as a lube to push a finger inside herself. Of all the times she’s touched herself, she never imagined, even in her wild Sherlock fantasies, that she’d be doing it with his dick down her throat. With every bob of her head, she scissors herself more, sinking back onto her fingers.

“I think I’m-” Sherlock begins to say, his words cut off by an utterly obscene moan splitting the air.

She hastily abandons her one post, and wraps both of her hands around his girth, working on what she can’t fit into her mouth with her increased speed, licking and suckling his head as he begins to fall apart, coming, with a scream, down her throat, his one hand clamped over his mouth, biting down harshly to silence his cries; the other buried in her hair.

His whole body falls lax, completely spent, meanwhile, Y/N savours every drop she’s been able to draw from him. He softens in her mouth, allowing her change to slip away from him, grasping a tissue from the bedside to wipe away any excess. That’s certainly something she never thought would happen…

He’s calm, though, smiling lazily through hooded eyes, his breathing regulated once more, making beckoning motions to her with his big hands. He’s placated, though, and sliding her hands into his, she’s allowed time enough to get into place, smiling softly at him, raking her fingers over his scalp in a comforting way. Even as she sits herself on his lap, she can feel him hardening beneath her ass, slowly but surely. She was right about him, he’s definitely got another round in him.

“Do you have a condom?” he asks.

“No, sweetheart, they’re in my other bag. I didn’t plan on getting any for a while… do you?”

“Not in here, that I’m aware of. John may have stashed some in my less favoured dressing gowns or socks, and he definitely has some upstairs, but I’m unawares.”

“I’m gonna sound crazy here, but do we need one?” She says hesitantly. His eyes widen, he cocks his head to the side. “I was tested after my last partner, I’m clean, and on birth control. You’re a virgin. There’s no point, is there?”

“You have a considerably good point.”

With that, energy rejuvenated a little, he wraps an arm around her body, flipping them over so he’s on top, shadowing her, looming over her, gazing down at every inch of her naked beauty.

“Take your time. I’ll be your safety.”

“I know.” he whispers, a tearful smile making its way onto her face. “Thank you.”

He needn’t say more, because she already knows why she’s being thanked. For her kindness, for making him so comfortable, for accepting the fact he’s still a virgin in his late twenties and, if he’s being honest, has no damn clue what the practicality and reality of sex is. Sure, he’s seen porn. He’s also looked at John’s laptop. But that doesn’t prepare one for when the moment comes. It’s like all of that goes out the window, and he simply remembers the first time he opened a biology textbook at secondary school, pictures of flushed organs staring back at him, desperately waiting to be relieved. That’s what his own coock is like right now, already hard again, virtually pulsating with hunger in his palm. He strokes himself a couple of times, glancing down at Y/N’s wide eyes.

“Are you okay? Can I…”

“Yes, Sherlock,” she chuckles, “whenever you’re ready.”

Now, he thinks. He rubs two digits through her folds, gathering her wetness, enamoured with the way it glistens on his fingertips. Tentatively, he brings his fingers up to his mouth, swirling his tongue around them to get a taste. Eyes rolling into the back of his head, he moans. She’s better than any cup of tea he’s ever had.

His cock slaps against his lower stomach pleadingly, so he grasps it in his hand, and begins to enter her, pushing gently, feeling every flutter of her walls. Her arms fly out, hands grasping his shoulders, nails leaving crescent moons in their wake at the delicious stretch. It’s nothing like they’ve ever felt before.

“Can I move?” He asks, balls deep inside her, their pelvises flush against one another.

“Please.” She all but begs.

Before doing anything else, Sherlock hooks one strong arm around her body, malleable in his hands, and holds her chest against his. Her breasts push into his skin, her nipples gaining friction from the dusting of hair there. Her one hand cups his slender neck, the other, his sharp cheek. Their eyes meet in a fierce gaze of burning intensity, and he begins to move. Slow, calculated, sharp thrusts punctuate her core. With every heavenly stroke, he can feel the ridges in her velvet walls, squeezing around him unwittingly.

“Jesus,” she cries, her clutch increasing.

“Hmm, not quite.”

The smirk in his words is quite literally audible. He’s so cocky, so full of himself, and fuck if she can’t feel another gush of arousal coursing through her, drenching his cock. How does he manage to be so attractive when he’s so dishevelled?

“Is that good?” He asks, unsure.

“So good.”

She brings her legs up, skimming the clenched backs of his thighs, until they wrap around him, drawing his hips into her at a new and improved angle. Heels digging into the base of his spine, he begins to move with a new purpose, his thrusts more passionate as his breath is drained from him by her kisses, his eyes alight with a new flame.

“Oh my God, Sherlock.” She pants, pulling him in for a kiss he greedily returns.

He drives his hips deeper, squeezing his fingertips into her supple waist bruisingly. It’ll be a mark that she belonged to him once, even just for one night. That’s when he reaches that special spongy spot that makes her entire body buckle. She all but screams, pressing into him wholly.

The coil is building, ready to break. He seems to be nearing the edge, too, his member twitching inside her when he buries himself particularly deep. She’s oh so fucking close… She licks into his mouth filthily, desperately clashing her teeth with his, eager for his kisses to tide her over. Silence her. Shifting his supporting hand, he trails one dextrous finger around to circle her clit, adding the faintest pressure for a moment. She mewls as he groans into her hot skin, clawing at him, entirely at his whim. Now he knows where to press, he settled his grip back around her, and draws her in close. This time around, he bends his knees a little more to measure his movements more carefully, ensuring that he ruts up and brushes her sensitive bud with his pelvis, helped by the extra friction of his neatly trimmed pubic hair on every thrust within her, his tip just scraping her g-spot.

“I- Sherlock, please tell me you’re- oh sweet mercy- close.”

He grunts softly in her ear. “So close.”

Their lips meet tenderly, passionately, in what they acknowledge to be a final kiss, moans mixing between them, savoured by the other.

His thighs clench, her legs tighten around his waist, and finally, her sweet walls flutter, squeezing him as she reaches her climax, his not following long after, spilling inside her, painting her soft walls white, marking her.

“Y/N,” he cries in ecstasy as his orgasm reaches him. “Sher…” she repeats, her saving grace as pleasure washes over her entirely.

Their whole bodies wind up pressed together, bound together as one, skin on skin completely, becoming one another.

He lets her down gently, unravelling his grip, unsurprised when their sweaty skin sticks together. Her long legs unfurl, splaying in a butterfly. Sherlock tumbles ungracefully away, somehow landing with a certain gangly elegance on the space of mattress beside her, his arm instinctively flying over to place on her stomach, the skin hot and flushed red. Her chest moves hastily up and down with the thrumming of her heart, while his barely shifts despite his shallow breaths, his white skin glistening in the moonlight.

“Are you okay?” He huffs, turning on his side. “You look pretty fucked out.”

His baby blue eyes train instantly on her nipples, hard in the open air. This is the first notifier, the first inkling she has to feel self conscious, so she draws the sheet up around her as best as she can. Sherlock’s not having any of it, taking a stronghold on her arms, and pulling her until she’s lying on him, naught to separate them.

“I’ve never been this close to anyone physically and y'know.” He hums tiredly. She’s never heard him sound tired before…

She smiles up at him as best she can, “Are you glad?”

He begins to hold her ever closer, squeezing her tighter, feeling every ridge of her body.

“I’m so glad that you were my first, in so many ways.”

Praise from Sherlock is a rarity, and she’ll take it as and when she can, savouring every moment, this time by holding him like a koala, her grip not wavering.

“I’m glad too, Mr Detective.”

He brushes a kiss to her cheek, “As much as I like this, we need to get you cleaned up.”

A supporting arm beneath her bum, he picks her up, and unsteadily ambles into the bathroom.

“I don’t know much about this, but I know you should probably use the toilet, should you want to avoid a UTI, so if you’d like me to leave…”

He sets her down on the loo seat, cupping his hands over his nether regions, and he hurries to grasp for things, until she puts her hand on his arm, squeezing in a conciliatory manner.

“You do remember the camping trip, don’t you? You really don’t have to leave just because I have to pee, you never did before. In fact, you frequently annoyed me with it if you had a particular point to make, steadfastly refusing to leave the bathroom after following me in there when I went to pee. Why does this change anything?”

He shrugs, dropping whatever was in his arms, “It just doesn’t feel the same now, though.”

“Ooo, and now Mr Detective feels things.” She jokes, poking at his ribs.

He recoils, chuckling with her, “Only for you.”

As Y/N washes her hand, Sherlock begins to wrangle with a floorboard, clattering about until he eventually pulls out a small lock box, from which he withdraws a packet of brand new marks-and-spencer's ladies briefs.

“Why the fuck do you have these? Anything you wanna tell me?” she asks, eyes wide.

“John’s idea. He has plenty of girls over here who frequently stay the night, simply a precautionary error.” He takes a beat, gargling with some mouthwash, “they’re clean, new, I just don’t like the idea of you in dirty underwear, and I know how reluctant you are to go without them whenever you’re not in your own bed. I stayed with you enough nights in university to know that.”

Those nights were awfully painful. She’d take the floor, he’d take the bed, and every time she’d have to wash the sheets. He’d sweat and vomit, shake and cry, plead for the pain to be over. He wouldn’t go to hospital, he wouldn’t call his brother, he’d just turn up on her doorstep, high as a kite, almost in tears, knowing he’d gone a little too far. And each time, it was a little farther.

“Thank you, Sherlock.”

She takes them from him, and begins to shimmy them up her legs, only prevented by Sherlock moving to grab a handful of her arse.

“Hmm, I like this. Fancy another round?” He smirks.

“I’m too tired, babe. Give me a bit.”

He can see the lazy smile on her face, the tiredness in her pretty eyes, so he wets a flannel, and begins to clean her up with gentle movements between tender kisses.

“How do you know how to do all of this?” She asks, inquisitive more than anything.

“Instinct, I suppose. I never read or learned about it, seeing as I never thought it would happen.”

She snaps the waistband before moving her hands to his waist, leaning up onto her toes to reach him, kissing her softly.

“Look at you now.”

After brushing their teeth in an amicable silence, their pinky fingers overlapping on the porcelain of the sink, he aids her back to the bedroom, settling her on the bed. She has things here: deodorant, toothbrush, moisturiser, and yet somehow she doesn’t have underwear, even after all these years. Perhaps that's one too many things to explain…

With superfluous extravagance, he throws her his shirt, offering her a wry wink. She finds a blush clawing its way onto her cheeks, dumbfounded. It smells like him, just like a forest glade if it was rained on by tea and cigarettes. Maybe he’ll let her keep it as a memory.

In such a short amount of time, she’s learnt that he has a very sensitive neck. Very. A single kiss there has him biting back a moan. A low one at that, considering his deep voice also drops almost an octave when he’s aroused. His nipples are almost as sensitive as his neck, and he rather likes it when she tugs on them unwittingly.

His first orgasm comes quickly, but his refractory period is astonishing, and it takes longer to achieve a second high, long enough to make her come more than once, she assumes, though her first orgasm was mind blowing enough for two. Perhaps that’s just because it’s his first time, but it’s impressive nonetheless.

What’s the point in learning all of this if, once he comes around from his post-orgasmic haze, he’ll pretend like it never happened, in typical Sherlock style?

The shirt, though a small gesture, means a lot, and her vision begins to cloud as she looks down at the black cotton.

“You mean you want me to stay?” She croaks.

Sherlock turns to her from his set of drawers, his face full of apparent obviousness, brows furrowed in that cute bewildered way.

“Of course I want you to stay.” He states, like it’s the plainest thing in the world, like it’s stupid for her to even ask. But she’s silent, and when she says nothing in response, he launches into a long winded explanation: don’t show sentiment. “I- I just mean, i-it’s midnight, I’m not having you out in London alone. You stay with me. Only if you want to as well...”

She nods eagerly, “Yes. Yeah, course I want to stay.”

He all but leaps access the room, jumping onto the bed, before planting a proper smooch on her lips, grinning down at her. He slips into his usual side of the bed, and she takes hers, rolling to look at him.

“Don’t get cold.” He warns, tucking the duvet up around her shoulders. She giggles like a child, that small snort sounding again, prompting Sherlock to press his thumb to her nose like a button. “How are you… feeling?”

“I’m fine bub, really. That bloke doesn’t matter to me at all. Bit of a scumbag if I’m honest. You’re the one I’m with, the one I wanna talk about. How are you feeling? Must’ve been a pretty big blow up with John for you to call me and be so... teary.”

He sighs, crestfallen, “He called me a machine.”

Her gasp pierces the air, her hand flying to his hair, stroking in consolation, cooing senseless reassurances to him. She’s done this innumerable times, but now it feels different, like there’s no barrier.

“He’s done it so many times that it needn’t bother me anymore, but the way he looked at me, like I was this abhorrent monster, especially after the day and the disappointing case we had, it got to me. I hate having feelings.”

“You don’t have to hide them with me, though.”

He hums gently, burying into her chest. “I know. That’s why I treasure you so dearly.”

“That means you also have to trust me, and you’re not going to like what I have to say.” His chest heaves, shifting her whole body. That’s his way of giving in. “Please just talk to John. You know that whenever he leaves, he’ll come back, and try to pretend it never happened. He needs to know you’re human and that he upset you, but also that the case upset you as well. No one’s superhuman, and once you let John in on the fact that you’re not a machine, things between you will be so much easier, because you might agree for once.”

“I suppose you’re right.” He grumbles.

He pulls her into his warmth, hooking her leg around his as he snakes his arms around her back, breathing deeply from the crook of her shoulder. She begins to pepper kisses on his salty skin, savouring the taste with every small swipe of her tongue.

“Your heart’s against my chest, your lips pressed to my neck,” he breaks off with a faint whimper when she sucks a little harder, “I’m falling for your eyes, but they don’t know me yet.”

“Of course they do,” she whispers brokenly, hoarsely, “they’ve always known you.” She swallows thickly, “Does that mean it’s a feeling you’ll forget?”

“No, I don’t think I ever can.”

The silent words that pass between them both are so special, too special to be spoken aloud. ‘Think I’m in love now.’

“Kiss me like you wanna be loved.” He begs.

And really, who is Y/N to deny him? They just stay that way a little while, revelling in their lazy kisses, until she begins to fall asleep. It isn’t the first time she’s fallen asleep in his bed, not by any means, but it’s the first time she’s fallen asleep in his arms. She isn’t mad about it.

“Settle down with me, cover me up, cuddle me in. You were made to keep my body warm.” She smiles into her words, and embeds herself into him, entirely covered by the duvet, spattered in his kisses, safe in his arms. Sherlock feels safe with her legs around him, her fingers in his curls, holding himself against her. Amicable silence is how they drift off, Peaceful.

John re-enters 221B at a respectable hour. He got a fair amount of sleep on Greg’s sofa, having no girlfriend in the picture right now, but not enough to deal with Sherlock just yet. Not before his coffee. He expects to see Sherlock sitting in the exact same spot as when he left, perhaps just with a refill of tea, his fingers still steepled beneath his chin, eyes closed yet wide awake. Instead, he arrives at a seemingly empty, considerably clean flat, with no Sherlock in sight. Perhaps the unsleeping man must actually be asleep, he thinks, so he quietens down, and toes off his shoes before wandering farther into the flat. Even if the man does piss him off extraordinary amounts, perhaps he should just check he’s okay…

He gives the bedroom door a quiet rap, listening in momentarily before pushing it open. Frankly, he’d rather have found Sherlock with a cigarette in hand and the whole flat torn to shreds for the level of surprise he gets upon reaching the bed. His first idea is to scream bloody murder, but that might annoy Mrs Hudson, and upon stepping closer, even in the sliver of daylight through the curtains, he sees the duvet riding down a little. The last thing in the world he ever thought he’d see: Sherlock in naught but boxers pressed against a half naked woman, his palm splayed on her bare thigh. Sherlock? Spooning? It seems so, his entire body pressed to this woman. John feels himself go rigid, his feet glued to the floor, his gaze unmoving from shock.

It takes his phone to buzz in his pocket to get him moving, and when he does, all he tries to do is balance precariously on his tip toes in a wry attempt to get a birds-eye view of the whole thing. He’s not disappointed, or disturbed, once he does, though, his army agility proving useful. Sherlock’s hand is holding her, fingers entwined, just next to her chest. He wonders how comfortable it is, but if they’re staying this way, it can’t be too bad. Maybe all Sherlock needed to loosen up was a good shag.

She’s wearing his shirt, too; Sherlock’s black dress shirt from the previous day. And Sherlock? He never seeps in anything less than a full set of pyjamas, he’s weird like that .

This girl begins to stir, her lips parting gently, small hums escaping. Next, her eyelids flutter, and her hair shifts on the pillow. He didn’t make any noise, did he? John was specifically careful not to, just in case. He doesn’t fancy Sherlock’s wrath just yet.

One eye opens, and she whispers, almost incoherently, “Hi John.”

How she knows his name and who he is, he’s not at all sure, because he doesn’t think he’s ever seen this face in his life. The hair is familiar, and maybe, if she were more awake, he’d recognise her smile, but he’s never seen a woman in Sherlock’s company beside Molly Hooper. Speaking of…

Before he can even say anything, though, before he can ask who she is or if she wants tea or if she date-raped his roommate, she’s mumbling, and detaching her hand from Sherlock’s, rolling over. Dumbfounded, John just stands there and watches her cuddle into Sherlock’s chest, her arms wrapping around his torso like second nature. Even in his sleep, not consciously thinking about his actions, he grips her back - one hand resting just above her bum, and buries his nose into her neck.

John can’t help but smile to himself. Maybe their fight was for the best if Sherlock now has a girlfriend, someone he turned to for solace. So, he grasps for the top of the duvet and pulls it up over both of their figures, reaching their shoulders, and leaves, staring wistfully for a brief moment at the seemingly happy couple.

The weight of the duvet of what startles Sherlock, though, stirring him a little, inviting him to him against Y/N’s skin, smiling with eyes barely open. This is really nice, he thinks to himself, not waking up alone.

She smiles back blearily, and in her morning voice, whispers to him, “Kiss me Mr Detective.”

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agmapansa3008 · 3 years

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En Of Love Review

In case anyone is interested in my review of this little Trilogy. This is just my opinion, I don’t mean to offend anyone, so I hope it doesn’t come off like that!

Beware of some spoilers, therefore under the cut:

TOSSARA:

It was boring, but surprisingly that was the intriguing part? It didn’t have any unnecessary drama. For example, Mark is also in love with Bar? That’s fine, Bar just tells him: ‘Sorry, but I like Gun, not you’. So really, it was just sweet, a chill relationship slowly developing. Well, as slowly as possible in 4 eps. I liked the boring, I can’t really explain it.

I really liked Bar. He was a bit of a tsundere, but overall he was sweet and very honest and genuine. He also wasn’t afraid to tell Gun when he was being too much, if for his own sake or even Gun’s sake. You could definitely see that he was the mature one between them, even if he was also pretty childish at times.

I really liked Bar’s friend group, they were entertaining. Although, I’d like to think that they knew that Bar was also already feeling something for Gun, otherwise their constant pushing towards him would be a bit obnoxious. Beam and Na were adorable (and I totally ship them). It’s a shame that we never heard who Na had a crush on. (Pss, Beam Beam Beam).

The relationship overall was really sweet! They had a lot of cute moments and Win and Folk had some good chemistry. I actually really like that they didn’t immediately go from “I like you” to relationship, but that Bar said that yes he likes him, but his feelings are still growing, so he can’t say Yes, yet.

BUT alas, I just didn’t really like Gun. He came off a bit creepy, to be quite honest. Two things specifically:

One, he came off like a stalker: When Beam was talking all about how Gun’s obsessed with Bar, how he knows everything about him and Bar was just sitting there going: “Aww you like me so much, you’re so cute.”, I was just getting major stalker vibes. I get that he’s been in love with Bar for 6 years, but imagine Bar not reciprocating the feelings. Tweak the vibe of the show a bit and you have a stalker thriller (yes, this is exaggerated, I still stand by my point)

Two, he’s kind of emotionally manipulative: The whole confession scene during the Moon & Star contest, for example, completely rubbed me the wrong way. Though this might be a me-thing. I’m very much allergic to public confessions, proposals even worse. I feel like the person being addressed is getting pressured into saying Yes, no matter their feelings. Yes, Bar reciprocated Gun’s feelings, which good, great. But if he hadn’t? Gun even went as far as saying that “He doesn’t know if he could handle it, if Bar rejected him”, crying on stage in front of supposedly the whole Uni? Thaaaaat’s not cool, man

So yeah, overall refreshingly boring with no unnecessary drama. Bar is cute, the relationship was sweet, but I didn’t really like Gun, I’m sorry.

Love Mechanics:

Oh boy, where to start. Where TOSSARA didn’t really have any drama, this one had it all.

Mark, sweetie, I love you and you deserved better. Vee better treat you right from now on, because boy oh boy was I pissed at him. War did a fantastic job portraying the character, especially going from bitter to cute to really bitter to cute again.

Despite my upper point, I didn’t hate Vee. Yes, he’s a fucking idiot, and quite frankly the kiss with Ploy was even dumber than Tonhon’s kiss with Amp but he and Ploy mutually cheated on each other, so we know the relationship wasn’t going well for a while. I’m unclear if he ever told her about also being unfaithful, I bloody hope so. Other than that, he was a major dumbass, but he quickly realised his mistake and tried to reach out. I’m still happy that Mark let him stew, though.

Their whole dynamic was intriguing. I was really hooked on them and I loved that we basically had a shift midway through. War and Yin had some crazy chemistry, as well and it’s so weird to know that War is apparently 4 years older than Yin. You cannot tell.

That being said, the dynamic suffered from the rushed storyline and the batshit timeline. Shit feels like hours or days have passed and people talk about a year, months and “long times”, it was bizarre. Even when we got a sign that said ‘One month later’, it didn’t feel like a month had passed at all, it was all just weird.

Because of that character motivations greatly suffered and I constantly felt like I was missing something, like I hadn’t seen an important scene because we were simply not shown.

It was still really good and I hope with 16 episodes, the complete Love Mechanics series will deal with the pacing better and do more show than tell. I’m really looking forward to it because I really wanna see more of Mark and Vee, and especially War and Yin.

This is Love Story:

While Mark somehow managed to become my fave character overall, This is Love Story is probably my favourite of the Trilogy.

If TOSSARA is the Romance part and Love Mechanics the Drama part, then Love Story is definitely the Comedy part.

Nuea is such a dumbass and I love him. He’s completely helpless and it’s hilarious.

Praram is adorable right until he’s a flirty little devil, he’s precious. The ‘A brother, who’s not a real brother, like a Daddy is not a real Father’ line is fucking iconic.

Prarak knew what was up from the very beginning, we stan.

I really liked Gun’s reaction to Nuea telling him (by accident, no less) that he’s planning on hitting on his brother. Basically “He won’t fall for you anyway, but if he somehow does, break his heart and I will break something else.” Amazing.

I liked how the other couples were integrated. Not too much, but believable since they are all basically in one friend group.

That being said, the friend group was as always bloody amazing. The way they would roast Nuea right there, publically on Facebook was savage and hysterical.

(War’s part in Love Story was to look impatient and on the verge of killing his friends and I love it. He was so pissed at everyone when he was just trying to teach the twins some damn math.)

Love Story had the least messy timeline of the Trilogy, which really helped the story. Even while being the shortest, it still felt the most natural and least confusing.

Overall I enjoyed the Trilogy more than I have thought from previous reviews I’ve read. It had good actors, the couples were nice and while the timelines were messy due to the short episode spans, I still enjoyed myself. Looking forward to Love Mechanics, though I am not looking forward to the love triangle part - and I don’t mean Ploy, I mean Nuea, especially after seeing him with Praram. Though I am looking forward to more Mark. I fucking love War.

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

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CSI: Rogers and Barnes- The Serious Cereal Serial Killer

Episode 5- Defrosting

Co written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Episode Summary: So nothing like the possibly one time love of your life being hurt to make you realise that actually, you might just care a little bit… Episode Warnings: Bad Language words.

Episode Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark (The Ice Queen is thawing…)

Song for Episode: For What It’s Worth by Liam Gallagher

A/N: This entire series contains dark humour (CSI + Brooklyn 99=CSI Steeb) Avengers and Stark Spangled Banner Easter Eggs and jokes. You don’t need to have read the SSB series to understand or enjoy this, but we’ve used the Universe to spin this off from so somethings might puzzle a few of you if you ain’t, but feel free to ask.

Also, our knowledge of American Policing and Brooklyn is limited, so bear with us if we slip up, but at the end of the day this is a fiction so we’ll claim any mistakes as creative license!!

As always we live for re-blogs and comments

CSI Rogers and Barnes Master List

Main Masterlist

“I’m so sorry for your loss…” Bucky bowed his head as he stood next to Steve’s mom.

She dropped her eyes to the floor taking a deep breath.

“I’m alive, jerk.” Steve shot back from where he lay on the hospital bed.

“I was talking about the car, punk.” Bucky shrugged “Or the beard. Man you look like 12 years old without it.” “Not like I had a choice.” Steve grimaced pointing to the line of stitches in the corner of his mouth “And is my car really totalled?” Bucky grimaced and nodded “Fraid it looks that way.” “Shit.”

“Language.” Sarah looked at her son. “Steve, it’s just a heap of metal…”

“No, no bad move, he loved that metal.” Bucky shook his head.

“He should be grateful he is getting away wit cuts and bruising.” Sarah narrowed her eyes “Could have been a hell of a lot worse, he’s been in an out of consciousness for almost 5 hours! I mean what was that idiot doing running the light?”

“It happens Ma.” Steve said gently “He’ll get dealt with.” He rubbed his shoulder which felt a little stiff and then looked up as the Doctor that had been looking after him returned.

“Ok Mr Rogers…your recent scan results show there’s nothing going on with your brain…” Bucky sniggered and Sarah slapped him around the back of the head. “Owww.” he said, reaching up to rub at his hair.

“So if you have someone at home with you, I’m happy you can be discharged.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him for the rest of the evening” Bucky nodded. The Doctor smiled and set about sorting out the forms and in a little while they were making their way, albeit slowly, out of the hospital.

Steve was grateful to his ma and Bucky for getting him home. Once his mother had stopped fussing as much as she could do she finally left with the promise of returning in a few hours and Steve went straight to his bed after popping a few painkillers. He was lucky, it was bruising more than anything, and a few stitches to his face where the glass from the car windows had cut him but all in all nothing too drastic.

He couldn’t help but think back to the last time he’d been injured enough to land him in hospital. They’d been on a drugs bust down town and had gotten separated, and thanks to a catastrophic coms failure he had been ambushed by 6 of the gang at once. He’d managed to get the upper hand at one point until someone had crashed him straight round the back of the head with a piece of wood. Thankfully, it hadn’t been too serious and Katie, Natasha and Clint had stormed in a few seconds later and it was all locked down. Katie had been by his side in the hospital for hours until Peggy had turned up and dismissed her, rather curtly actually. Katie had bitten her tongue and simply left with no fuss, and he and Peggy had ended up having a huge argument.

“I’m your girlfriend, Steven, not her.” Peggy crossed her arms and glared at him as she sat in the chair. “It’s ridiculous how much she hangs around you.” “Peggy, for god’s sake.” he groaned “She came in the ambulance with me!”

“Why not Clint, or Natasha?”

“Oh, you know what, I don’t want to do this now. My head hurts and, well, frankly I’m sick of having the same discussion. She’s my best friend.” “She wants to be more than your friend Steve.” Peggy sighed “Ever since her and Ward split she’s been hanging around like a bad smell.” “She needs support.” Steve shook his head

“She has a brother and god knows how many friends.” Peggy shook her head “But you were the one she called to help her kick Grant out, you changed all her locks…”

“Peg, she’s hurting, and I’m not gonna turn my back on her. She wouldn’t do it to me.” “Bet she can’t wait to get me out of the way.” Peggy sniffed, pursing her lips. “Soon as I’m off to London you mark my words…” “Oh stop being ridiculous.” Steve closed his eyes “Katie wouldn’t do that. And I wouldn’t do it to you either, you know that.” Oh the irony. In the end it had been Peggy that had done it to him. She’d departed to London for the 6 month placement, and they’d both agreed to stay together, what was 6 months after all when you wanted to spend the rest of your life with someone and they wanted to spend the rest of theirs with you?

Or you thought they did. Less than a month later he had received the message, telling him that it wasn’t working, that she thought he was a burden and a tie to a life she wasn’t sure she wanted anymore. He’d tried calling, even debated getting a flight over to speak to her face to face but she’d point blank refused to even consider it, telling him if he turned up she wouldn’t see him.

So it had ended and he and Katie had navigated their heartbreak together. In bars, taking weekend trips upstate, hiking…anything that took their mind off things. And he dare say now, in hindsight, that it had brought them even closer. He understood now that he and Peggy were never going to make it. They were too different. Peggy was practical, realistic, stoic in every area of her life whereas Steve, whilst all those things when he needed to be, also had a softer side, showed his emotions, wore his heart on his sleeve.

Like Katie.

Breaking up with Peggy at the time had killed Steve, but now he realised that it was for the best. But he also knew that it had really tainted his views of relationships in general, even almost a year or so down the line. And the only person he had been close to since he had pushed away.

With a groan he lay back on his pillow and closed his eyes, thankfully the codeine did its job and he slipped into a dreamless, painless sleep.

****

“Guys…” Bucky said loudly over the chatter in the briefing room. Everyone turned their attention to the front and he noticed a few puzzled glances. It wasn’t unusual for a Sergeant to take the mid-morning briefing in any other Precinct, but it was unusual in the 101. Steve liked to see his troops in the morning, he felt it was only fair. “Captain Rogers won’t be in today, and probably not for a little while. He was involved in a car accident last night and…” “An accident?” Wanda spluttered out. “Is he ok?”

“He’s fine. The car that hit his wasn’t travelling that fast it just unfortunately hit the driver’s side. They checked him over at the hospital and decided he was good to go home late last night, or earlier this morning even. Few cuts and bruises, no doubt some injured pride and his car most certainly isn’t ok but…he’s good, just needs to rest.” He couldn’t help but glance at Katie who was looking down at the table as she bit at her thumbnail. Her brow was furrowed and he could see in her face she was concerned but trying not to show it. Bucky didn’t say anything, simply carved up the duties. Whilst the murder investigation was taking most of the resource, there were still the other crimes to cope with and as such he ended up sending Clintasha to go and speak to the victim of a mugging. But for him and Stark, the morning was slow, real slow. She had already called through to Peralta and arranged for them both to head over there the next morning once he had been able to pull the files from the archive but until they didn’t have much else to go on.

“I just hope looking at the old case throws something up.” Katie said, looking at him “Because if not, we’re dead in the water. No leads, nothing…”

“Let’s worry about that tomorrow.” Bucky said. “Look, why don’t you finish for the day? There’s really nothing we can do now.”

“I just got a few bits to tidy up and then I might do, thanks.” she looked back at her screen.

Bucky kept one eye on her as he continued clearing the admin from his inbox, and he could see that she was grappling with something.

“Have you errr…spoken to Captain Rogers?” she asked a few minutes later. Smiling to himself, Bucky looked up.

“Careful, Stark!” Bucky smiled “You almost sound like you care.”

She scowled, “I’m not a completely heartless bitch.”

“I never said you were…”

“Just because I hate him doesn’t mean I want him hurt…”

At that, Bucky almost fist pumped the air when he realised that actually this could work in Steve’s favour somewhat.

“You don’t hate him.” he said, matter of factly, looking at Katie. “You hate what he did, but you don’t hate him. And that’s what you find so hard to take about this entire situation.”

She paused, open mouthed for a moment, before she snapped her jaw shut and folded her arms, glaring at him. “What are you my therapist now?”

“No, just someone who the pair of you are starting to really piss off…” he sighed and ran a hand dramatically through his hair “Did you ever stop to consider exactly why Steve did what he did?” “Because he’s an ass hole.” Katie said, “He got what he wanted and then…”

“You and I both know that’s bullshit doll face.” Bucky said “He’s never been one for one night stands. Had a few at Uni but, well, frankly he always told me he hated it, but that’s not the point…the point is he cared about you…”

“Funny way of showing it…” “…and he did what he did because he thought, in his stupid pea brain, that it was for the best.” “The best?” Katie snorted “he thought bailing on me, and ghosting me was for the best?” “If you two had made a go of things, one of you would have had to move, and it would most likely have been you because Captain vacancies are harder to find…” “Yeah, I kinda figured that we’d have to do something about the chain of command, but, for fucks sake, I was contemplating going to DC…we could have sorted this, made it work!”

“I get it, I do…but this is Steve we’re talking about!” Bucky chuckled with affection, he was a dumbass but he was still his best friend. “The guy is an idiot when it comes to women and very rarely lets his heart rule his head…but with you he did. And that shows me just how much you mean to him.”

Katie looked down at her hands, her fingers were twisting around one another. After a little while she looked up and shook her head “That doesn’t make what he did ok.” “No, and I’m not trying to make excuses for him.” Bucky said gently “Just trying to give you the explanation you’re not allowing him to give to you himself.”

Katie turned away from him and wiped at her eyes. Bucky was tactful enough to look away whilst she composed herself.

“If you wanna go and check in on him I know he’d appreciate it.” he said, sowing the seeds of the idea in her mind. “Just think about it.”

She shrugged, but there was a definite softer expression on her face as she turned back to her computer.

About half an hour later Bucky came back from the bathroom to find her gone. Tacked to his monitor was a post-it note.

“Thought about it…thanks Buck.” “Don’t blow it Punk…” he mumbled to himself as he re-read the note before scrunching it up and throwing it in the bin, a huge smile playing on his face as he laced his fingers behind his head, swinging his feet up onto his desk.

“What you looking so smug about?” Natasha asked and he looked over to see he was being watched by her and Clint.

“Well…” he said, leaning back in his chair “Seems that the stupid Punk getting t-boned made Katie realise that she actually still cares about him. So Phase 1 of ‘Operation Cap’n Crunch and Special K” is officially underway. Time to prepare Phase 2 Romanoff.”

“Wait, Phase 1 was getting someone to T-bone him?” Natasha looked at Bucky, her mouth open.

“What?” Bucky frowned as Barton looked at him.

“That’s just sick man…” Clint pointed at him before he frowned and looked at Nat “hang on, what plan?” “Oh after I spoke to her yesterday, I talked to Serge and we decided that we’re fed up of the pair of them moping around and pretend hating each other, when they’re both blatantly still head over heels despite their protestations to the contrary.” Nat shrugged “So we came up with a 3 step plan, of which the first phase, I thought, was simply making them talk…”

“Yeah, and I was gonna lock them in a cupboard or his office until they agreed to do so but hey, I’m all for grabbing the moment, right? This worked a treat” Bucky said, grinning at them both.

“So what’s Phase 2?” Clint asked. Natasha arched an eyebrow and grinned at him.

“Wait and see Barton, wait and see.”

Clint blinked, looked at Natasha who now had a devilish grin spreading across her face an then back to Bucky who was smirking into his coffee cup.

“Man I love you guys!” Clint said with a small laugh as he leaned back in his chair.

***** “Ma for the last time stop fussing…” Steve looked at his mom as she set a mug of coffee down on the table in front of him.

“I’m your mother, Steven…” she looked at him. “It’s my job to fuss. Now, what do you fancy for dinner?” He was just about to tell her he was capable of dialling a pizza when he heard the key in the lock and glanced at his watch, frowning. It was early for Bucky to be home.

“Buck?” he questioned. But the reply wasn’t what he was expecting, or who he was expecting for that matter.

“No, it’s errr, me.”

Steve looked at his mother whose face had lit up at the sound of Katie’s voice and he pushed himself up of the sofa, hissing a the bite of pain in his side and turned to see her stepping nervously into the living room.

“How did…” he asked and she looked at him, sheepishly, holding up her keys.

“Never did give it you back.” she said softly. He watched as her eyes travelled over the bruising and cuts on his face and her brow furrowed somewhat as she swallowed thickly and continued “Thought you might have changed the locks, you know like you did for me when I threw Grant out.” “Not really the same thing.” he said with a soft smile. “But I’m surprised you kept it.” “It was on my keyring.” she said, shrugging “I kinda forgot about it, should have mailed it to you or something…” Steve could tell that wasn’t the truth. There’s no way she would have forgotten about it, but he didn’t pick her up on her white lie. The fact she had kept it made him slightly hopeful she wasn’t quite as ready to give up on him as she made out.

“Hi Sarah…” she said in a small voice, her gaze turning to his ma.

“Oh my little star…” Sarah hurried over to give her a warm hug before she held her at arms length “Let me look at you…I love the hair!” “It’s grown a little.” Katie smiled, running her hand through her hair, the longer side was now an inch or so below her chin.

“How have you been?” Sarah pressed.

“Oh, you know…” she shrugged “Ok.”

Sarah smiled at her and then over at Steve before she nodded. “Well I was just about to head out to the store to pick something up for tonight.” “Ma, I told you…” “And I told you to shut up.” She shot him a look “Does carbonara suit?”

Steve sighed “Yeah, that’s great…” “Ok, so, I’ll be back in a little while…” she said, rushing for her purse.

“Hang on I’ll get my wallet…” Steve made to move and she shook her head

“I don’t want or need your money.” she said sternly. Again he rolled his eyes and noticed a smile on Katie’s face.

His ma made to hug her again “If you’re not here when I get back, you best stop by some time…oh, did he give you your pie the other night?”

“He did and it was amazing as always!” Katie smiled, giving her another hug “And I will, I promise.” With that his mom left them alone, and once the door was shut Katie turned back to him and looked him up and down as she raised an eyebrow “You look like you got in a fight with a bus.” “Not quite, it was a chevvy Blazer.” he said, chuckling slightly at her joke.

“How are you feeling?” “I’m ok, just a bit sore. Be fine in a few days.” She nodded “Ok, well, that’s all I wanted to check…when Bucky said you’d been hurt I just…” she trailed off, taking a deep breath before she sighed, “God why is this so awkward?”

Steve gave her a soft smile “Because I fucked it up?” She gave a soft huff of a laugh.

“Do you want a drink?” he offered “Ma just made a fresh pot of coffee so…” “I err, I don’t…” she looked at her watch, biting her lip. Steve could tell she was searching for a reason to say no so he decided to put her out of her misery.

“It’s fine, honestly.” he said, “You don’t have to make excuses not to stay. I appreciate you popping in.” She licked her lips and looked at him, her green eyes searching his before she smiled softly “Coffee’s great, you stay where you are. I’ll get it.”

“Everything’s in the same place…” he said softly and she nodded. But she didn’t move straight away. Instead he noticed her eyes flickering to the space by the TV where the photo of the two of them used to be.

“It’s in the bedroom.” he said. She looked at him, blushing slightly that she’d been caught but didn’t try and deny what she’d been thinking.

“I’m not gonna lie, my copy is in a drawer.” she replied quietly “I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away but…” She swallowed and headed into the kitchen. He slowly sat back down and he heard her clinking about before she emerged with a mug. She placed it on the coffee table, removing her keys and phone from her pocket before she tossed those just to the left of her mug and took a seat on the sofa, picking up her drink and cradling it in both hands, the way she always did when she was seeking comfort.

“Has the station fallen to pieces yet?” Steve asked and she snorted.

“Not quite.” she smiled “To be honest it’s a bit slow. Oh, erm, I’m going to see Peralta tomorrow with Bucky, dig through the files on the old rape case. I know it’s just a hunch but something feels off.” “Well your instincts have never failed you before.” Steve smiled gently.

She smiled and shrugged “Who knows?” “Stop it.” Steve said.

“Stop what?” She frowned

“Doubting yourself.”

“I’m not.” “Yes you are I can tell. You always do it.” “No I don’t.” Steve chuckled and then winced at the pain in his side “Yes you do. And you’ve no reason to. You’re a damned good detective.”

She took a sip from her drink and looked down before she opened her mouth as if to say something but then closed it. She took a deep breath and swallowed, her eyes remaining on the floor.

“Use your words Doll.” he said, softly.

“I don’t want another argument.” she said quietly. “It doesn’t matter…” “Katie.” he urged, his voice almost stern.

“I just… “ she licked her lips “I was just thinking that, well, I can’t remember the last time we did this, you know, drank coffee in your lounge.” “I can tell you exactly when it was.” he said “It was the morning of the Christmas party. About 12 hours before I sent everything sideways.”

She looked at him, before she looked away and Steve felt a pang in his chest that was totally unrelated to his accident. He yearned for her, longed for the way things used to be before he’d fucked it all up.

“I never thought you would be the man that I cried myself to sleep over.” she said so quietly he almost missed it.

As she placed the mug back on the coffee table Steve took a shaky breath “It wasn’t easy for me either you know?” he looked at her, blinking back his own tears “I hurt too.” “Yes but you did it to yourself Steve!” she said, running her hands over her face

“You think I don’t know that?” he said, his voice a little louder “If I could change it, go back and do it differently I would but I can’t…”

“Bucky told me why you did it, that it was your stupid idea of being noble.” she cut him off, her voice soft as she shook her head “Frankly I’ve never heard anything as ridiculous in my life…all that stuff and panic about getting involved in someone in your chain of command…Steve, I had had feelings for you for a long time before that, do you think for one second that I never considered what it would mean? Fuck, I’d just told you I was considering the DC move, I’d have been well out of your chain then!”

“I should have talked to you, I get that…I do” he pressed “I was an idiot and I panicked and then I didn’t want anything to stop you moving or getting in your way and tying you back here..”

“You thought I’d do a Peggy?” she looked at him, frowning, as if she was understanding something for the first time, which in fairness she probably was. “That I’d move and things would end”

He didn’t reply, he knew that one look in his eyes would be enough to tell her. She always knew.

“Steve, what Peggy did was cruel. The way she left and then ended it, calling you a burden and a tie she didn’t need…I’d never have done that.”

“I know.” he said softly “I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, you weren’t.” She shook her head before she spoke again, her voice cracking slightly. “You know what the worst thing about all this is?”

One look at her was enough to tell him she was struggling to keep herself controlled, he could see from the way her chest was heaving and she was stuttering for words.

“I can’t hate you.” she shrugged “No matter how much I try, and believe me I tried, I just can’t. I wanted so hard not to care when Bucky told me you’d been hurt, but all I could think about was making sure you were ok.”

She stopped for a moment and took a deep breath as her tears began to fall. She looked up and he saw her before him, as utterly broken as he had ever seen her. Her face crumpled and she stuttered to him. “I miss you. I miss my best friend.” With that he felt a tear slide out of his own eye and he moved from his chair onto the sofa besides her, pulling her to him, ignoring the aches and pains in his battered body. She didn’t shy away, instead she pressed her face into his chest, her arms linking round his waist at the back as his hands gently slid up and down her back, soothing her as he had done so many times before.

“I’m sorry.” he managed to stutter “I really am…I never wanted to hurt you sweetheart, I swear…”

He pulled her tighter to him and then instantly winced as the pain in his ribs. She pulled back straight away and looked at him.

“Steve…”

He felt a little light headed then, and it must have shown as she frowned a little.

“Hey, you look really pale.” she said, concern etched across her pretty face “Don’t pass out on me…” “I’m fine, honestly…” he protested. “When was the last time you ate?”

“I errr…” he shrugged, scrunching his eyes shut. “Yesterday, some point. Mac and Cheese.” “You made Mac and Cheese?” she said as a twitch in the corner of her mouth grew into a small smile. “Sorta, well, opened the box…”

“Mac and cheese, from a box.” the smile went and she looked horrified “Steven that is disgusting. I showed you like a million times how to make it properly.” “Yeah well it never comes out as well as yours so…” he blinked again and took a deep breath. No, he definitely felt dizzy.

“You need to lie down.” she said, standing up.

“I’m fine…” he protested, but she wasn’t fooled. She never was fooled by his bullshit. “Stop being a stubborn asshole and do as you’re told.” she said sternly as she grabbed a throw cushion and positioned it against the arm of the sofa. “Go on.” she patted it gently and he slowly moved himself backwards, laying his head where she told him.

“Just need to close my eyes for a moment…” he muttered, and he did.

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

Steve blinked and stirred a bit. He was tired and his ribcage ached. He opened one of his eyes and saw Katie sitting on the armchair beside the couch, her shoes discarded and her legs tucked underneath her as she was reading something on her phone. A warm feeling filled his chest and he closed his eye and smiled at the thought that she was still there, looking after him, keeping him company even though he was sure she’d rather be anywhere else. She had said earlier she had missed him, she had missed her best friend. If only they could go back to the way they were. He was snapped from his thoughts by the sound of keys in the door before it opened, shut and his mother’s shoes tapped down the hallway.

“Shhhh” he heard and opened one eye again, ever so slightly, to see Katie moving her right index finger to her lips and pointing her head at him, where he lay on the couch holding onto a yellow cushion for dear life.

“Is he asleep?” Sarah asked in a hushed voice.

“Apparently” Katie answered, and he didn’t miss the fond look she shot his way. “He was feeling dizzy and I forced him to lie down and rest. I didn’t want to leave him alone so I thought I’d wait for you or Bucky to come back.” she added as if trying to excuse herself for being there.

“Good. Thanks for looking after him.” the old woman smiled at her fondly. And then Steve decided he should make them aware he was awake.

“I wasn’t dizzy.” Steve suddenly said with a hoarse voice. He rubbed his eyes and tried to sit up so fast all his body was in pain and he grimaced again.

“Steven!” Sarah scolded him. “Be careful, love. Have you taken your painkillers?”

“Yes ma.” he answered. “Took them before you left.”

She nodded and smiled at her son and then turned to Katie “And you, my dear, are having Carbonara with us this evening?”

"Sarah, I don’t want….” Katie started but Sarah cut her off.

“I wasn’t asking Star.” she said “It’s the least I can do after you looked after this mad driver I have for a son. Besides, you’re helping me fix it, we have a lot to catch up on.”

“Wait Ma! I’ll help you with those” Steve said as his mother turned to head for the kitchen, taking a shopping bag in each hand.

“No. Stay put. I’m perfectly able to do it myself, Stevie. You rest until dinner’s ready.” she refused her son’s offer.

Katie stood up and sighed. “I’ll better go help her.” she said before smiling at him and ruffling the hair on the top of his head softly, and God that was a balm to his soul. Such a familiar action she had done so many times before, but yet never had it felt so significant as it did then. The ghost of a grin threatened to spread on his face at her show of affection but it was quickly turned into a grimace as she tugged on the longer locks at the top of his head.

“Ouch!” he exclaimed and Katie, who was heading for the kitchen turned to look at him and grinned.

“Serves you well for letting them shave you.”

“I was kind of unconscious so I didn’t have much of a choice” he looked at her “And besides, they had to stitch my lip.” he shrugged innocently.

“Whatever.” she said over her shoulder walking towards the kitchen.

Steve leant against the back of the sofa, closed his eyes and let out a contented sigh. Was it him or was the ice queen beginning to thaw?

He must have dozed off again, but that stupid grin was clearly on his face as he was jerked back to the here and now by another voice about 15 minutes later.

“Are you high?” he heard Bucky ask him. Steve opened his eyes to see a smug smile on his friend’s face who was examining the packet of painkillers the doctors had prescribed him.

“Jerk.”

“I love you too, honey.” Bucky grinned at him and frowned when he heard the two female laughs coming from the kitchen.

“Is that…?” Bucky asked squinting his eyes at Steve and he nodded.

“She came by this afternoon. Ma invited her for dinner.” he said.

“Well, this is getting interesting.” Bucky smirked, tossing the packet of painkillers down onto the table “Very interesting indeed.”

Steve didn’t miss the cunning smile on his friend’s face as he turned and headed for the kitchen.

“Buck.” Steve warned him, but Bucky was already gone. He came back a few minutes later drinking a beer and sat sprawled on the armchair beside the couch and Steve cast a longing look at the bottle.

“Don’t even think of it.” he said mocking Steve’s captain voice “You’re not allowed to drink a single drop of alcohol on those things.”

Steve groaned took the TV remote and started channel-hopping until he found a film that caught his attention.

“Why does Superman wear a cape? I don’t get it. What’s with making superheroes look like idiots with those spangly tight outfits?” Bucky began to rant but Steve ignored him.

Bucky side eyed him for a moment, before he smirked to himself. “Sooo. I guess you and your girl are on better terms now, seeing as she still hasn’t torn your head off.”

“She’s not…”

“Your girl. Hmmm, yet you wanted to punch me in the face for buying her lunch.” Bucky finished for him. “You’re smiling, just saying pal.” he added pointing at him with his beer bottle before turning to the TV screen again. But as he gave Steve another side glance, he could see the blonde was smiling again.

Twenty minutes later Katie emerged from the kitchen cleaning her hands with a tea towel.

“Dinner will be ready in five, so move your asses and help me lay the table.” she said standing in front of the TV screen, hands on the buckle of her belt.

“Yes, Mrs. Captain.” Bucky sat up mocking a salute.

Kate shot him a glare and both turned to watch as Steve was struggling to stand up from the couch with a pained expression to no avail.

“Here, hold on to us.” Bucky offered reaching one of his arms out for Steve to hold at the same time Katie approached the coach and offered hers. But they couldn’t lift his weight.

“Come on, man. Are you on our team?” Bucky asked between gritted teeth.

“Just represent. Pull!” Steve bit back. And with that they were able to lift the Captain’s weight and haul him upright.

“Are you ok? Are you still dizzy?” Katie asked Steve while she rubbed his arm.

“I’m fine, doll. Thanks.”

Bucky flinched waiting for Katie’s outburst at the pet name, but when nothing came he just raised an eyebrow at the pair but they were too busy looking at one another to notice him. He just smiled, shaking his head. He had to remember to text Romanoff later.

“Ok, pal. Lean on me, I’ll walk you to the dining room.” Bucky said ducking under Steve’s armpit and putting his friend arm over his shoulder while holding his waist with his free hand. “We are your sidekicks after all.”

“Yeah, just like Mulder and Scully you two.” Steve scoffed.

“Thought it was Cagney and Lacey?” Katie, who was walking ahead of them, turned to quip.

Soon after the table was ready and Sarah had finished fixing a salad to go with the Carbonara. She passed the bowl to Katie who placed it at the centre of the table and all four sat to enjoy the food. But as Bucky was about to take a breadstick Sarah slapped his hand.

“What’s with people slapping my hands?” Bucky protested

“Have you washed your hands, young man?” Sarah asked. "God only knows where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing.”

“Or who.” Katie muttered under his breath and shared a smile with Steve who was sitting opposite her. He grinned back.

“Yes, I did ma'am.” Bucky answered, taking the breadstick from the bread basket and biting it unceremoniously.

“Are you going to tell us where you’ve been all day?” Steve asked looking at him while he helped himself to some salad.

“Playing Captain Dickhead.” he quipped.

Sarah, who had just stood up to go find a pitcher of water, smacked him on the back of his head.

“Language!” the old lady said and Katie couldn’t help but snigger.

“Ouch!” Bucky dropped the fork on the plate and rubbed the back of his head as he looked at Steve “Doing your job, buddy. Which I must say I did beautifully.” he added with a smug smile.

“Well, he didn’t burn the station down.” Katie shrugged.

“Chasing the bad guys. Looking after your herd.” Bucky continued.

“We’re not goats.” Katie scoffed.

“That is debatable, honey.” Bucky said pointing at her with his fork and Steve smiled at the bickering between the two. “And I met a friend later.” he added casually.

“Oh, anyone nice?” Sarah asked excitedly as she returned with the water.

“Don’t encourage him Ma.” Steve shook his head.

“You could say that.” he looked at Sarah smiling before adding “Name’s Sammy, we’re not a thing yet.”

Steve saw Katie stop eating and try to catch Bucky’s eye but he was avoiding her purposefully. After a second or two she gave in and stood up.

“I’ll fetch the Carbonara, pass me your plates.” she said holding out her hand at Bucky and looking at him intently. He shot her another passive look, but there was a faint tinge of red in his cheeks and as Steve watched Katie smirked, knowingly, before she collected the other plates.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Sarah said to Katie as she headed to the kitchen. “And James, make sure you treat your dame right.” he said looking at him before raising an eyebrow at her son.

“Will do.” Bucky said looking at the woman at the same time he reached for his water glass.

“You’re not a thing? Yet?” Steve asked Bucky leaning an arm on the back of the chair to look at him directly.

“Nope.” he replied, not wanting to go into many details.

“But you could be?”

Bucky shrugged.

“What are you waiting for?” Katie asked placing a pasta plate in front of Sarah.

“Just leave him alone.” Sarah said patting Katie’s hand. Katie shrugged and dropped another plate in front of Bucky before returning for her and Steve’s.

“Thifif delishos” Bucky grunted with his mouth full of food.

“Thank you, I guess. Did you mean the food was delicious?” Sarah laughed and Bucky nodded.

“It is good, thanks.” Steve said, nodding appreciatively.

“It should be after feeding on mac and cheese from a box. Did you know that?” Katie asked Sarah, who nodded resigned and shook her head.

“What’s wrong with box mac and cheese?” Bucky looked up.

“What’s wrong with it? It’s disgusting!” Katie said, affronted.

“Katie cooks the best Mac and cheese you’d ever taste.” Steve told Bucky before he shot her a wink as he refilled her glass with water.

“Thanks, Stevie.” she smiled back softly.

Bucky couldn’t help but grin. “STEVIE?” he mouthed to Sarah who nodded at him, smiling knowingly.

For Steve it was like he had been taken back to before everything went wrong. Sitting with his Mom, Katie, eating dinner…with the addition of Bucky this time. It was nice. The 4 of them ate, chatting, there was no arguing, no frosty moments. Ok, it wasn’t as easy as it had been once upon a time but still, this was progress. And he wasn’t taking it for granted.

Eventually his mother announced it was late and that she should be going. Much to Steve’s disappointment, Katie checked her watch and nodded in agreement.

“I’ll walk down with you Sarah.” Katie said “Tony’s already bitching about me treating his place like a hotel. If I’m much later home he’ll probably threaten to Ground me or something…”

Bucky and Steve both sniggered as Sarah looked at Katie.

“If he’s annoying you that much you can always come stay with me love.” she said and Katie grinned.

“You’d feed me that much apple pie and banana bread I’d be the size of a house.” “Well you do look like you need feeding up….have you been eating properly in DC?” “Ma stop it.” Steve sighed as Katie laughed.

“I’m promise you I eat as much now as I always have.” she assured the woman as they both stood up. “As you’ve just seen. I look like I’m having a food baby.”

Bucky and Steve both rose along with them, Bucky hugging Katie whilst Steve gave his mom a squeeze.

“Don’t blow this…” she hissed into his ear.

“I’ll try not to.” he replied gently.

She stepped back and Steve turned to Katie. Bucky and Sarah were tactful enough to move away to the door, talking loudly to give them some space.

“Think the polar ice caps are melting…” Bucky mumbled to Sarah who smiled as she watched Katie slip her arms round Steve’s waist.

“None so blind as those who will not see.” Sarah mused back.

“Aint that the truth…” Bucky said.

As her arms connected at the base of his back, the familiar fit of her body against his made Steve close his eyes as he gently hugged her back, dropping an affectionate kiss to the crown of her head as he always had done.

“Thank you.” he said softly, “for coming round and…” “It’s ok.” she said, she stepped back and licked her lips and took a deep breath “Look, Steve, I can’t promise everything can go back to like it was before but…maybe we can move forward right?”

“Forward’s good for me doll.” he assured her.

She smiled and turned towards the door. “See you tomorrow Bucky.” “Yeah later Doll Face…” he said to her retreating back.

The two men watched as she paused momentarily, took a deep breath before she held up her right hand and flipped him off over her shoulder, without so much as a look back.

Bucky let out a bark of a laugh and Steve chuckled as the door shut.

@the-omni-princess @momobaby227 @geekofmanythings16 @angelofhell-666 @thewackywriter @marvelfansworld @cobalt-gear @asgardlover75 @jennmurawski13 @jtargaryen18 @saiyanprincessswanie @navispalace @patzammit @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @djeniiscorner @ayamenimthiriel @coldmuffinbanditshoe @disneylovingal @madzmilllz @sgtjaamesbaarnes @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @southerngracela @goldenfightergir @kellymat @official-and-unstable-satan @charmed-asylum @pagesoflauren

#csi rogers and barnes #csi au #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #clint barton #wanda maximoff #tony stark #sam wilson #thor odinson #bruce banner

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pleasant-boi · 4 years

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OK I'm still on wisdom tooth pain killers and I can't write shit so stuff for this AU where I give Akechi some parental figures to disappoint.

It is still going to be really, really bad. Akechi still gets involved with the conspiracy though he's like... 10% more mentally stable this time around due to some good influences.

By god we're getting you a fucking proper redemption arc bro.

I'm going to age the p3 cast a couple of years, since canonically there is a 5-6 year gap between the events of p3 and p5 if I remember correctly, and I want everyone to be adults ™ and in Tokyo for plot reasons when the p5 cast are children. I was thinking of maybe around 7 years? So Akihiko and Mitsuru are 25, Junpei and Yukari 24, Fuuka 23 and Ken 18 while the p5 cast are around 10-12...if my math is correct I'm gay ok?

Koromaru is not dying, persona makes animals immortal I don't make the rules I'm all for angst/whump but the dog lives. Koromaru insists on looking after strays so everyone in sees constantly fosters little animals - mostly Ken, but the others occasionally too, especially when Ken was exams

Is this also a convoluted way to give Akechi a puppy to bond with?

Yes, yes it is.

Basically adult!SEES with uni!Ken is like having cousins who live in the same city when you're in university. You love them you don't talk for months and suddenly you're around them for like a week straight. Ride or die (or ignore their existence for like 2 months straight because you were living ur life ™)

Ken is in his first year of uni in the beginning of this. He's studying to be a vet. Or maybe a doctor. Maybe he'll change majors in the future. Not sure. But I headcon him as wanting to get into something thats helps people like medicine and the boy has a soft spot for animals

Everyone is dealing with trauma. Other than Ken who like Arena (we're just using stuff we like from that game and ignoring the rest shh) stopped getting involved with shadow stuff and had a relatively normal rest of his childhood - with some help of Kirijo appointed therapists-, Junpei is the most well adjusted.

Everyone is still in a place where they feel due to the event's of p3 and after the death of p3mc, femc (twin AU! TWIN AU! ) and everyone else in their lives, getting close to people other than their group is... Hard.

Junpei is too busy loving his npc wife, so it's easier to ignore the bad stuff. He also has children. He cried when they were born for like a month straight. Thinking of them being twins, one of them having red hair like Chidori because of anime reasons ™.

Because of that they end up with a lot of impromptu sleep overs and basically everyone has a spare room except Ken because he's a student, Junpei because he has kids and even with Mitsuru being everyones unofficial platonic sugar mommy, that many rooms is expensive and Yukari who is the only one not officially living in Tokyo but she's there like 80% of the year for shootings and has a studio apartment.

They avoid gathering at Fuuka, because she insists on making food every time and while it is usually edible (or edibles lmao) she likes to experiment a lot. So it's a bet between normal food, maybe a bit burned sometimes but nowhere near as bad as in highschool or mystery food X.

I'm keeping Akihiko as a c- 🤮 as a cop, only because I found his reason for it in Arena super wholesome. If not maybe a police consultant. I'm still on the fence about it. Plus Mitsuru needs inside allies for shadow ops.

Speaking of Akihiko, that's how I'm giving Akechi parental figures!

One of Akechi's Foster homes locks him out when he doesn't come straight from school and this time they don't even let him in for the night.

Akechi kinda runs away, gets lost and ends up spending the night crying in some random alley before passing out.

If I'm keeping the cop ™ route maybe someone calls the police and Akihiko ends up checking it out. Or maybe he's out running in the middle of the night, because let's face it, probably no one could relax before 1am, anxiety about the dark hour some how returning and it's something Akihiko 'I deal with the deep terror of losing again everyone close to me by punching things, working my body to its limit and putting myself in danger but I'm definitely not an adrenaline junkie' Sanada would do

Speaking of which the investigation team definitely checks for the midnight chanell every time too

Akihiko sees a passed out kid in the middle of the night and of course he tries to help. He asks if he's lost etc and ultimately he asks and where are his parents.

It's mid fall so while the temperature isn't deadly it is cold out, maybe it's raining too, for the extra suffering/whump, and he's pushing a bit with the questions because the kid is definitely going to get pneumonia if he hasn't already.

Akechi doesn't really respond until the parent thing, almost screams about how his mom is dead and no body wants him around and starts crying again.

Akihiko has braincells, however none of them are any help with social interactions. Much less with a sobbing child in the middle of the night.

I'm not sure where to go exactly from here but Akechi clearly has a fever (and if we're going with the rain route especially he needs to get dry and warm asap) and is really against going to the hospital because 'they're going to kill me if there is a hospital bill' so either

a) Akihiko calls child services and takes him to the station and sits with him until they arrive or

b) he takes him back to his apartment for the night because it is late, the kid needs some sleep and blankets and he knows the system is underfunding and overworked at best so it would be better to just call them in the morning

That particular one can have some cute hurt/comfort with pancakes for breakfast because Akihiko is also pancake boi and Akechi crying again because no one has been nice to him in years

Anyway, both end with Akihiko giving Akechi his number and telling him to call if something bad happens again.

Akechi doesn't. At least for a little something over half a year. He's in a really bad foster home and one night he ends up locked in the hall closet, trying not to cry because even breathing hurts but if he did make more noise it would be worse.

He has the number memorised by now and when he tries to curl up in the small space and feels a cellphone in a fallen jacket (remember the 2000s where most people used their cells only outside or when you wanted to talk to your crush?) , he takes it out, heart beating loudly before sending a series of panicked texts explaining the situation

He doesn't really think that it's going to do anything because there isn't a response but the small part of him that hoped something would go right for once still hurts

Meanwhile Akihiko didn't even think about replying because he almost had to be physically restrained from running there and punching the shit out of them

It's not even 20 minutes later when the police comes with Akihiko and at that point Akechi is almost unconscious, but starts screaming and banging against the locked door when he hears the commotion, immediately passing out when he feels it open

When he comes to he's a in a hospital, getting yelled by a social worker about how he has to change homes again some soon and it his fault and Akechi just bites his lips, trying to tune it out and not cry again.

Akihiko overhears all that and while he would normally just leave it to the proper authority and is nowhere near close to the ready for a responsibility like that, is like 'fuck it temporarily custody until he's healed and also I'm giving this kid some proper food and a couple of punching lessons'

There's more but this is already getting long asdvyrsvgjcw

#persona 5 #persona 3 #persona fanfiction #this is so angsty shuzjs #i have a lot of ideas #Part 2 maybe later #I should be writing my akira palace au I have the main draft #But there's a lot of people spending and on painkillers I cannot keep track of that #Plus plot bunny goes brrr #I hope the read more works

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rainandhotchocolate · 5 years

Text

About Last Night - P2

A/N So i know I have a million other requests but I’m a sucker for this story sooooo here’s part 2222 lel enjoy!!

Mon 12:00pm

Sirius ~ So before I read the weekend news, should I be worried about seeing any murders I was supposed to be involved in? ~

Y/N ~ Don’t worry I planted your fingertips everywhere so they’ll know you were involved as well ~

Sirius ~ Oh thank god, I needed something to destroy my reputation ~

Y/N ~ And what reputation is that? ~

Sirius ~ Oh you know, cool edgy creative writing major with a soft side ™ ~

Y/N ~ Dear god you’re one of them :O ~

Sirius ~ Ur DiffEReNT thAN OthER giRlS ~

Y/N ~ **Blocked**

Sirius ~ I sincerely hope you know I was joking ~

Y/N ~ I guess I’ll have to find out :P What are you up to today? ~

Sirius ~ Well apart from giving my alibi to police, I have about 3 hours of classes today and an essay due ~

Y/N ~ Wow, that sounds like a super fun day – any good classes? ~

Sirius ~ Yeah I’m enjoying my lit class at the moment, we are doing genre fiction at the moment so looking into how writers create worlds, even within our own world, and why genre fiction is so looked down upon in literature society ~

~ and now that I’ve typed that out I am realising that it probably doesn’t sound wildly interesting ~

Y/N ~ Hahaha nah it does! That would be cool to learn about, I’m a sucker for genre fiction tbh, could never read the classics ~

Sirius ~ That just means you never found a good classic 😉 – What kinda stuff do you read? ~

Y/N ~ look I want no judgement here… I honestly mostly read fantasy/ sci-fi ~

Sirius ~ Have you read Dune?? ~

Y/N ~ Yes !!! Holy shit such a good series !! ~

Sirius ~ I’ve been trying to get my mates to read it for a LIFETIME its so good ~

Y/N ~ I would have thought Remus would have read them? He’s always got a new book with him ~

Sirius ~ I didn’t know you knew Remus as well? But yeah, he in theory would but he also has a long list of to reads and wants to go through them one after another ~

Y/N ~ Yeah, he studies with Lily a lot and I sometimes join them 😊. Also jesus that’s commitment, I’m usually picking up another book whilst I’m halfway through another ~

Sirius ~ I have no idea how he does it, if I’m being honest, if I hate a book I just don’t finish it (please don’t tell my literary friends I told you that, I would be killed in my sleep) ~

Y/N ~ Haha your secret is safe with me – imo I reckon that’s the best way to read, like why force yourself through something just because it’s a classic or whatever, I feel like that’s why so many people don’t read a lot you know? ~

Sirius ~ Completely! I actually just realised I have no idea what you study? ~

Y/N ~ Ahh that’s because I’ve been avoiding the question ~

Sirius ~ It can’t be worse than creative writing – I won’t even get a job after uni ~

Y/N ~ Oh believe me, it is. I study communications ~

Sirius ~ Oh dear lord you are every white girl who ever existed ~

Y/N ~ I know, I’m perpetuating the stereotype its very disappointing tbh ~

Sirius ~ So is that where you work then? ~

Y/N ~ Wow you remember a lot haha yeah, I’m doing an internship in social media management, it’s surprisingly soul-sucking ~

Sirius ~ Is that surprising… 😉 ~

Y/N ~ I mean, that was thinly veiled sarcasm haha but it’s actually not all bad, the strategy behind content etc is actually pretty interesting, and I’m working for an eco-friendly company so at least I get to come up with cool environmental memes ~

Sirius ~ Ahh yes, hit the youth with the memes ~

Y/N ~ See, you’re learning the comms ways already ~

Thurs 11:28pm

Y/N ~ Whats ya facebook? ~

Sirius ~ Uhhh… Sirius Black? It’s not wildly hard to find, why? ~

Y/N ~ I’m gonna be real, I would like to stalk you ~

Sirius ~ Is this Y/N? ~

Y/N ~ :O ok you’ve known Y/N like 2 days how did you guess that ~

Sirius ~ Cause this message felt like one of those old school msn ‘my friend hacked me !!!’ ~

Y/N ~ You’re a smart boi, Black ~

Sirius ~ thank you kindly stranger ~

Fri 6:45 am

Y/N ~ I AM SO SORRY ~

~ MARLENE STOLE MY PHONE ~

~ I PROMISE I’M NOT A STALKER ~

Sirius ~ Why on earth are you awake right now ~

Y/N ~ Because my body never allows me to sleep in ~

Sirius ~ how rude, also don’t worry I accepted your Facebook request so you can stalk all you want 😉 ~

Y/N ~ Literally am going to stab Marlene ~

Sirius ~ At least she’s up front ~

Y/N ~ Wait why are you awake rn? ~

Sirius ~ James wants to make the firsts soccer team at uni and has decided I must train with him ~

Y/N ~ Well that’s gross ~

Sirius ~ Couldn’t have said that better myself ~

Y/N ~ so what does this training consist of ~

Sirius ~ Mainly James trying to shoot balls at my head as I attempt to goal keep ~

Y/N ~ Can’t see that ending well ~

Sirius ~ Excuse you, I happen to be VERY athletic. I am a multisided human being thanks ~

Y/N ~ I am so sorry to have placed my predisposed ideas on you ☹ pls forgive ~

Sirius ~ I will have to think about it – right now James wanted me to do suicides and I must go into hiding ~

Y/N ~ Godspeed ~

Sun 2:58pm

Y/N ~ Ok I know I promised not to stalk, but what the fuck is going on in this picture ~

~ file ~

Sirius ~ oh no no no no no no no no ~

Y/N ~ ehheheheheheheheh ~

Sirius ~ I really thought my privacy settings were better than this ~

Y/N ~ Yeah this was very easy to find ~

Sirius ~ I’m going to kill James ~

Y/N ~ You can’t blame james for this beauty ~

Sirius ~ Oh I really can, he decided it would be hilarious for us to have a photoshoot when I was completely trashed one night. And then proceeded to post everything and tag me ~

Y/N ~ James sounds like a fun night out ~

Sirius ~ I wouldn’t say that to lily ~

Y/N ~ What she doesn’t know won’t kill her 😉 ~

Sirius ~ You are slyer than I thought ~

Y/N ~ I think I’m going to frame this photo and place it all over your uni ~

Sirius ~ You wouldn’t ~

Y/N ~ You may need to convince me otherwise ~

Sirius ~ Anything to avoid that embarrassment in my life ~

Y/N ~ Perhaps you’ll just have to owe me for sparing you ~

Sirius ~ I think that’s a fair deal – what about a coffee? ~

Y/N ~ I think a coffee or two would be a fair trade off :P ~

Sirius ~ Well I have the most disgusting week of midterms but perhaps on the weekend? ~

Y/N ~ Sounds LIT ~

Sirius ~ You’ve just made me regret inviting you anywhere ~

Y/N ~ That’s what I’m here for 😉 ~

Wed 3:07pm

Sirius ~ Bit of a creepy question, but did I see you at uni today? Navy Skirt, Black Jumper, & tights?

Y/N ~ Wow you really observe an outfit don’t you ~

Sirius ~ I mean I noticed the outfit cause I thought it looked good and then I realised it was you and so it stuck in my head ~

~ in a less creepy way ~

~ in fact let me just completely start over – were you at uni today? I think I saw you! ~

Y/N ~ Maybe, what was I wearing? ~

Sirius ~ I hate you ~

Y/N ~ 😉 Well to answer your question, yes I was at uni – it was Lily and I’s weekly cheap lunch date ~

Sirius ~ Classy ladies you two are ~

Y/N ~ Couldn’t describe us better myself ~

Sirius ~ Oh by the way, are you going to Remus’ party this Friday? ~

Y/N ~ Mmmm I was thinking about it, why? ~

Sirius ~ No reason, I just knew Lily was invited and he mentioned inviting some of her friends ~

Y/N ~ Mmmm, yeah he told Lily to bring Marlene and me along, unsure though as Lily is particularly annoyed at James this week and he will of course be there and be annoying ~

Sirius ~ What if I can promise he won’t annoy her? ~

Y/N ~ I really don’t think you should make a promise you can’t keep :P ~

Sirius ~ Ah, you underestimate me! James has to go home this weekend to see his parents so he won’t actually be there ~

Y/N ~ This is a very interesting development – we may reconsider ~

Sirius ~ Well Remus does throw a great party ~

Y/N ~ DO you actually know what James did anyway? She usually likes to rant about it but she’s been shut in her room the past 2 days ~

Sirius ~ Honestly I’m not sure, James has been unprecedently quiet as well ~

Y/N ~ Hmmm how odd ~

Sirius ~ Indeed it is ~

Friday 4:42pm

Y/N ~ What are you guys wearing tonight? ~

Marlene ~ Not sure, I’m torn between a velour tracksuit or the classic Canadian tuxedo ~

Lily ~ Both very classy options ~

Marlene ~ You know me, go hard or go hard ~

Y/N ~ You’re both incredibly unhelpful ~

Marlene ~ Worried about meeting a certain dark haired texter? ~

Y/N ~ Am I not allowed to want my best friends’ help on my outfits?? ~

Marlene ~ I mean I can’t help you look hot if I don’t know who its for 😉 ~

Lily ~ God forbid she looks hot for herself ~

Marlene ~ Hey, you’ve gotta play to your audience ~

Y/N ~ How would you even know what he likes ~

Lily ~ She stalked him around campus yesterday ~

Y/N ~ um MARLENE ~

Marlene ~ I just wanted to know his style, habits, if he was a psycho killer ~

Lily ~ She has a point, if he’s as annoying as James we have to protect you at all costs ~

Marlene ~ We need to make sure she isn’t sucked in by his serial killer prowess ~

Y/N ~ You’re making me sound like prey ~

Marlene ~ 😉 ~

Y/N ~ How did you even stalk him, Lily has no classes with him ~

Marlene ~ I have my ways ~

Lily ~ She flirted with the office assistant until she gave her Sirius’ schedule ~

Y/N ~ You minx ~

Marlene ~ No one can resist my charms ~

Lily ~ That is yet to be determined actually ~

Y/N ~ very true Lils, we’ve never met anyone you’ve dated yet ~

Marlene ~ Sooooo not the point, and we’ve gone off topic! How are you going to wow Mr Black ~

Y/N ~ That is 100% not what I asked ~

Lily ~ you may as well have ~

Y/N ~ You both suck ~

Lily ~ Wear that flowy black dress you refuse to ever wear!! ~

Marlene ~ YES YOU LOOK BANGING IN THAT ~

Y/N ~ ugh but it’s a casual party ~

Marlene ~ Who gives a shit, stand out ~

Lily ~ He’ll be drooling ~

Y/N ~ I don’t need him to drool I just want to make a good first impression ~

Marlene ~ Aha the truth finally comes out ~

Y/N ~ if you were actually in your dorm I’d be hitting the roof with a broomstick rn ~

Lily ~ Where are you?? ~

Marlene ~ Where do you think 😉 ~

Lily ~ Not the office assistant ~

Marlene ~ 😉 ~

Lily ~ How!? I was with you the whole time, you never exchanged numbers ~

Marlene ~ Exchanging numbers doesn’t have to be an oral task… unlike other things 😉 ~

Y/N ~ We get it, your sexual prowess is above all of us ~

Lily ~ I’m honestly impressed, she was cute ~

Marlene ~ I’m offended you’d be impressed tbh ~

Y/N ~ Ok so you are both coming over to my house in an hour to dress and intoxicate me ~

Lily ~ Deal ~

Marlene ~ Maybe give me an extra 30 mins 😊 ~

Taglist: @averytruerayofsunshine @siriuslyjanhvi @blushingskywalker @blackpinkdolan @thebabblingbookworm @cherrie511 @imlukesnirvana @avengersassemblee @maraudersandco @sly-vixen-up2nogood @katbernoulli @sirius-lysad @evyiione @minerva26love @aikeia @gollyderek @greatwombatblaze @songforhema @your-typical-giggle

#rainandhotchocolate #sirius #sirius black #sirius x reader #sirius x you #Sirius x Y/N #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #Marauders RP #marauders x you #marauders #marauders imagine #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #sirius black x reader

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haberdashing · 4 years

Text

What A Tangled Web We Weave (1/?)

TMA AU diverging from canon at the end of episode 92. Jon is forced into an arranged marriage by Elias; Martin does what he can to help.

on AO3

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6

As Jon stayed behind in Elias’ office, the rest of the archives staff slowly headed back to their usual work stations, a gloomy silence filling the air as nobody was entirely willing to discuss what had just happened. Basira, lacking a work station of her own at the moment, simply flopped down on the ground, alternating between flipping through a book she had picked up somewhere between Elias’ office and the archives and engaging Daisy in whispered, furtive conversation.

Martin wondered if he was the only one whose eyes kept drifting towards the door, hoping that Jon was back at the Institute for good, that he’d be joining them in the Archives any minute now. At the very least, he certainly wasn’t the only one who was more than a bit distracted from actually getting any work done; Melanie kept looking at her phone, while Tim was at least focused on his work computer, but appeared to be playing some sort of violent video game on it, one that Martin couldn’t recognize at a glance.

The door did, in fact, open after several minutes, but Martin had to suppress a shiver as he saw that Jon was accompanied by Elias, who looked as smug as ever despite having had a gun pointed at his head only a few short minutes beforehand.

“Apparently I’ll be back here in the Archives for a bit.” Jon said abruptly. No greeting, no explanation, no pretense of being enthused about his return to the Institute. Not that Martin blamed him for that last one, really. It wasn’t exactly an ideal work environment these days, and the events of the past hour or so had made that clearer than ever.

“Oh goodie.” Melanie replied, the sarcasm in her reply as sharp as a knife.

“Glad to have you back?” Martin offered up, uncertainty creeping into his voice as he kept looking between Jon and Elias. If all that was going on was Jon returning to work at the Institute rather than... wherever it was he’d been staying all this time, then Jon could have broken that news himself. Elias’ presence suggested that there was more to this announcement than a simple return to work.

Tim paused his video game, but didn’t actually say anything in response to Jon’s statement, though the glare he directed at both Jon and Elias spoke volumes in and of itself.

“I haven’t told you why I want you back in the building, though, have I?” Elias asked.

It was Elias’ idea. Of course it was Elias’ idea. It made sense, really, given that Elias was Jon’s boss (and boss to the rest of them, Martin supposed, at least by proxy--except Daisy, but then, where exactly she stood after all of this wasn’t entirely clear), but Martin still had to suppress a sigh upon finding that out.

The question had seemed like a rhetorical one, but Jon still responded with a soft “No, you haven’t.”

Tim finally spoke up at that. “Go on, then, boss. Enlighten us.”

(Martin wasn’t sure which had thrown more sarcasm into their voice, Tim or Melanie. Either of them could certainly give the other a run for their money.)

Though the “boss” reference left it open to either Jon or Elias, it was the latter who responded.

“Jon here will be getting married in a month.”

The look of shock on Jon’s face made it clear that this was news to him as much as to the rest of the archives staff.

The room erupted into a series of shouts bleeding into one another until they seemed to form a single cacophonous mess.

“Wait, what?”

“No, that can’t be right-”

“Why isn’t Jon the one telling us this?”

“Jon? Married? Seriously?”

“Who says?”

“And how does this affect the rest of us, exactly?”

Elias cleared his throat, like a schoolteacher commanding a classroom full of unruly pupils, and the room quickly settled back into silence as he spoke up again.

“We’re quickly reaching a crucial junction when it comes to keeping the state of the world as we know it intact, and we’ll need some support in order to maintain both the Institute and Jon’s position within it in the months to come. As a symbol of that support, Jon and somebody connected to one of our allies will marry one another in order to strengthen the link between us.”

A few seconds passed before anyone responded; to Martin’s surprise, it was Basira, eyes now focused on Elias rather than on the still-open book in her lap.

“What does that actually mean?”

Elias sighed, but before he could respond, Jon spoke up, irritation and a strange sort of resignation both evident in his voice.

“If I’m understanding this right, it means Elias is having me married off to somebody I don’t know, who probably has some sort of powers that could kill me, as part of some supernatural alliance deal to stop the end of the world.”

“Yep, that tracks.” Tim added.

“More or less.” Elias responded. “Though there’s no need to worry about your personal safety, Jon. The whole point is that they’ll be here to help.”

“Forgive me if I’m less than overjoyed by the idea of receiving ‘help’ from some mystery person, especially given the track record I’ve got with people claiming they’re trying to help me.” Martin was pretty sure Jon’s glaring at Elias was especially pointed as that sentence wrapped up.

“Overjoyed or not, I’m afraid you’ve got no say in the matter. You will be married in a month’s time. The arrangements have already been made.”

“Hang on, you can’t just do that!”

Even Martin was a little surprised by how loud and passionate his voice became when he spoke up, and a few quick glances around the room revealed that he wasn’t the only surprised one.

“Just because Jon works for you doesn’t mean you can, can decide who he marries, or if he marries, or, or anything to do with his personal life, for that matter! Jon’s still his own person, not just some pawn of yours!”

“Interesting phrasing there; Jon and I actually just finished a conversation about his very... personhood. Or lack thereof.”

God, Martin wanted to punch Elias in the face. Apparently killing him was off the table for the time being, but punching him couldn’t hurt, right?

...oh, who was he kidding? Martin wasn’t generally the one to start a fight, at least not a literal, physical one, and past experience showed that he was much less likely to be the puncher than the one being punched.

It was a nice thought, though, at least.

Elias went on. “I suppose Jon could try to object, if he so chooses, but I suspect that any such effort would end rather... messily. Besides, the Web does have its way of getting what it wants, no matter who protests about it.”

“...the Web? My... my future spouse will be connected to the Web?”

Jon looked unhealthily pale, and Martin was reminded of the arguments the two of them had had before over spiders, how Jon always vehemently defended the point of view that they were nasty little critters that deserved to be killed on sight, no matter how hard Martin tried to explain their place in the ecosystem or his personal liking of them. Martin knew most people weren’t fond of spiders in the least, but Jon... Jon seemed to have an honest-to-God phobia about them.

“Yes. They’re a powerful ally, and they’d be a powerful enemy, too; I think it’s much better to ensure they’re on our side for this operation than risk the opposite. I’m still working out the details with Annabelle Cane, though, so I’m not yet sure whether your betrothed will be Ms. Cane herself or one of her associates.”

Annabelle Cane... that name had come up in one of the statements, hadn’t it? Some arachnophobia experiment gone wrong, a uni student left with too many limbs...

One look at Jon made it clear that he’d made the same connection Martin had. He looked like he was about ready to keel over.

“Are you going to have the rest of us married off too, then?” Melanie asked; a second later, when Elias hadn’t responded, she let out a bitter laugh and added, “Don’t tell me you’re actually considering it.”

“No, I don’t think so. Jon’s a bit of a special case in that regard. But if anything about the situation changes, I’ll be sure to keep you all posted.”

“You’re an asshole!” Tim said, though Martin honestly wasn’t sure whether it was related to the news about Jon’s involuntary marriage or just about... well, about everything Elias did, really.

“Duly noted. Now, unless there’s anything else...”

Elias turned away, but Jon grabbed his shoulder as he reached for the door.

“There’s nothing I can do about any of this?”

“I wouldn’t say that. You can buy yourself a tuxedo, for one thing.”

And with those parting words of wisdom, Elias Bouchard left the Archives, closing the door softly but firmly behind him.

“I... I need to sit down. Process all of this.” Sitting down was probably a good idea, given that Martin still wasn’t convinced Jon wasn’t on the verge of passing out; Jon looked positively ill, worse by far than he’d appeared during their earlier showdown with Elias, and he hadn’t been at his best then either. “I’ll be in my office, but don’t bother me unless it’s urgent, alright? I do not want to talk about this.”

Jon practically stomped off to his office, slamming the door behind him and leaving an awkward silence in his wake.

#tma #tma au #tma fic #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #the magnus archives au #the magnus archives fic #the magnus archives fanfic #personal #my writing

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marvel-lucy · 5 years

Text

The Walking Disaster, chapter 6

This went a bit awry, it was supposed to feature a naked Steve thanks to @amandarosemire but that’ll have to wait until chapter 7 because, like the main character, I don’t know when to shut up. Sorry. Please note, gif is actually plot-relevant!

All chapters are on the Walking Disaster Masterlist

Sometimes you just have to own it. Hold your arms up to the universe and say ‘yes this is me. I’m the one who didn’t think to open her door and walk down the hall, but instead teetered along a rusty fire escape then fell face first through the window of my crush. Hi. Nice to meet you.’

It takes a moment to sink in, what he’s said. I gawp down at the keys in my hand, the window, and Steve’s face, as he struggles to catch his breath, then it hits, and I giggle, then I snigger, then I see Steve crack up again and I let out an undignified snort and lose it. It’s not even that funny but there are days when the stars align and something ridiculous becomes the thing that will make you laugh randomly in a library three months later when it pops into your head. This was one of those times.

Eventually of course, we get to the gasping stage, then the hiccupping stage, then the sort of awkward sigh, then we’re both sitting there on the floor. I’d like to say we then start talking, move in together, and have adorable children, but instead I stand up and smile.

‘So, thanks for letting me use your apartment. I won’t say it’s not a regular occurrence, locking myself out, but I promise not to climb through your window more than, say, once a week?’

‘Mi ventana es tu ventana.’ Oh, he speaks Spanish. Nope, that does make him at all 100% sexier, definitely not. Oh Dios mío…

I pick up my bag, and he kindly picks up my basket so I can open my door with my keys, trying to pretend I can’t see him grinning as I do. Once I’m inside my apartment, I sort of give him a wave, and start to shut the door, when he puts his arm out, and stops it.

‘Um, would you want to get a coffee later?’

I blink, completely stupefied. Mr Beautiful is asking the perfect storm of caffeine-tsunamis for a coffee?

‘Never mind, sorry, don’t worry…’ he backs away, cheeks flushed, and I realise I’ve paused too long.

‘No, wait, Steve. Yeah, that’d be nice. Just maybe bring an umbrella, just in case?’

If you saw the way his face lit up, you’d almost believe he really wants to spend time with me. Maybe he just needs me to sign some disclaimer before he uploads the video somewhere. He gives me a kind of thumbs up, says ‘half an hour?’ and disappears back into his apartment.

I am not getting my hopes up. I am not. The fact I spend 15 minutes of the next half an hour sorting through my laundry for the right ‘it’s Sunday and I’ve made no effort, but I just look this cute anyway!’ outfit is irrelevant. It turns out I don’t own that anyway. I own work clothes (boring, corporate-y, need ironing) and non-work clothes (comfy, stretchy, probably also need ironing but don’t get it). I pick the least worst, and text Nat. Then I spend another 5 minutes trying to arrange my hair to cover my eyebrow, but in a sexy peekaboo way. What I manage is to look as if I’ve glued my bangs to my eyelid with hair gel. Because I have. Then I text Nat again. Then I spend another five minutes scrubbing my hair with a wash cloth to get the gel out, and then rubbing it with a towel so it does look wet, then combing it and praying. Then I text Nat. The last five minutes is spent putting my shoes on (the right feet), texting Nat, finding my purse (in the fridge), texting Nat, pacing up and down fanning myself so I don’t look red, texting Nat, and then opening the door to Steve’s knock, with my best casual ‘oh I’ve just been reading Dostoevsky for the last 30 minutes, how about you?’ nonchalant look. Nailed it. Then my phone beeps 12 times as Nat replies to all my texts. Too late to check now, I just have to hope that all her advice over the last ten years of friendship has sunk in.

I walk down the stairs with Steve, and try to remember what Nat’s said in the past. There was a lot of ‘be yourself, you’re great’ which is obviously no help. I remember ‘you’re lovely’ and ‘people like you because you’re funny and sweet’ and Jesus, has she never given me ANYthing I could use? Like, how to be her? Because that’s what I need now. I’ll just have to wing it.

We make that awkward conversation about the weather, and laundry and so on, on the walk. I want to say something funny about keys and windows and fire escapes, but I’m channeling Nat, all mysterious and sexy. I try raising one eyebrow in a knowing way, like she does, but then I remember that eyebrow is missing, so the effect is probably a little less than appealing. Then I try raising the other eyebrow, but as it turns out, I can’t get it to go up. Then I realise what I’m actually doing is randomly opening my eyes wide, and wrinkling my nose. Look you try it. Try raising one eyebrow if you can’t. See how you look. Now imagine the look on Steve’s face as he watches this. We haven’t even made it to the coffee shop and already I can see the regret in his eyes.

I try to pretend I’m just about to sneeze, and work on keeping my face very still, then realise I can’t remember what faces do normally. It’s like when you try and think about how much eye contact to make, it all goes wrong. You either stare, unblinking, or else you fixate on someone’s chin and they keep trying to duck their heads to meet your eyes… you know… don’t you? Anyway, by now conversation has died out completely and I can’t remember how faces work. So it’s kind of inevitable when Steve and I reach the coffee shop that he looks at me a bit strangely.

‘Um, are you OK? If you don’t want a coffee, you can just say, I’m just… not sure what your expressions mean…’ I sigh. I need Nat’s advice before I screw this up.

‘No, I do want to be here. I was trying to raise one eyebrow in an intriguing manner, but I couldn’t, so I tried the other, but then I realised I was being weird, and then I forgot what faces were supposed to do…’ I tail off. This is not helping me look normal.

‘Oh like when you forget how much eye contact to make?’

‘YES!’ I feel my shoulders, and my frozen face, relax. ‘Yes, Nat thought I was weird when I said I couldn’t remember, but it’s not just me!’ Steve’s face relaxes too, now he realises I’m not ‘wish I wasn’t here weird’ but just regular weird.

‘Yeah, I once screwed up a job interview because I was so intent on not staring, that I forgot to make any eye contact, and instead spoke entirely to a spot over the interviewer’s shoulder. She kept turning around to look, and I may have convinced her that her office was haunted…’

Oh god, can this man be any more perfect? This kinda breaks the ice, I have to admit. Can it be that Captain Fantastic is… a bit weird?

He takes my coffee order, and joins the line, so I go and grab a table, and use the opportunity to read Nat’s texts.

Me: Help, Steve’s asked me out for coffee after I crawled through his window (don’t ask) and how can I be cool and sexy like you so he falls for me? Go!

Nat: You crawled through his window?

Nat: Just be you! He wouldn’t have asked you for coffee if he didn’t like you

Nat: Just don’t tell him weird medical stories. Save that for date 2

Nat: Because this is date 1. Fact

Nat: Bucky agrees

Nat: I’m with Bucky. He says Steve asking someone for coffee is A BIG DEAL

Nat: Don’t try and be me. You’re great

Nat: Bucky says I’m great

Nat: I have SO much to tell you

Nat: Bucky says I can’t tell you. I’ll kill him first then tell you

Nat: Anyway, gotta go. Stuff to do. By stuff I mean Bucky

Nat: BE YOURSELF. You’re a gorgeous lovely person. Love ya

Fat lot of use that is. I mean, Steve asking me for coffee being a big deal is kinda cute and I can feel my insides go a little smushy, but basically what I get from this is Nat’s too busy canoodling to help out. ‘Be yourself’. Pfft. Thanks a bunch.

A coffee appears on the table, and I look up to see Steve sitting opposite me.

‘Everything OK?’

‘Yeah, Nat. She’s with Bucky?’

Oh god, please don’t let her ask me loads of questions about Bucky. Let me pretend for an hour that she’s not interested in him, please?

‘Ah yeah, I got a bunch of texts from him last night extolling her virtues. I told him I’d block his number if he carried on. You known her long?’

Oh god, please don’t let him be another one of those guys who wants to get to know me, to get to know Nat. Let me pretend for an hour that he’s not interested in her, please?

‘Ten years. Since uni.’ I keep it short, I don’t want to be drawn into a conversation about Nat’s favourite things and where she likes to hang out and could I just put in a good word? Apparently some days I walk around with a Nat Signal shining out of me. Ha. Nat Signal. Get it? There’s a bit of a pause in our conversation and for a moment I wonder if I said that out loud.

Steve takes a sip of his iced coffee, and I take a sip of my hot coffee. Carefully. Then lower it down to the table with extreme precision. When the cup is safely down, I give myself a little nod of approval, and look up to see Steve grinning. He mimes giving me a round of applause, and I bow. I feel so… happy.

‘So is there a reason you were trying to raise an eyebrow intriguingly? I’m intrigued.’

‘Ah, well this is where I should come up with something cute and also convincing to say, but to be honest, my brain doesn’t work that fast, and I’ll only come up with something an hour later, which is apparently called l’esprit de l’escalier in French, which means something like coming up with a witty reply half way down the stairs, and anyway, I’ve been talking this whole time to try and give my brain time to come up with something but ‘ve got nothing but the truth, so I’ll go with that, which is that I was trying to be as cool as Nat is, and she does this thing with her eyebrow that makes her look mysterious even when it really just means she wasn’t listening, but apparently my face doesn’t do that. So there’s that.’

Too much? Possibly.

‘Trepverter’

I look blank.

‘Trepverter. Staircase words. Yiddish for the same as that French you said. But… why were you trying to look like Nat?’

‘Ah.’ I take a sip of my coffee again and encourage my brain to run up and down some stairs to come up with a convincing reply. Shuffle around in my chair a bit. ‘Would you believe me if I said I was auditioning for a community theatre role as… Nat.’ He raises his eyebrow sarcastically.

‘Oh great, so you can do it too!’ I point, then contort my face in an attempt to copy it, but my brows are still firmly set. At least I won’t need botox when I’m older since apparently my face doesn’t move.

‘So?’ Damn, I thought he’d forgotten. I sigh.

‘Nat’s so cool. Everyone likes her, she’s all enigmatic and serene. I was just trying to be a bit more like her, so you’d like me.’ Those last three words are said into my coffee cup, quietly, in the hope they’re not noticed. Between the mumbling into cappuccino, and the woosh of the coffee shop, I might get away with it. I risk a look up, over the rim of my cup which is still held up to my face. Steve’s looking puzzled.

‘But I d…’

It’s possible he was going to say ‘I do like you’. It’s not that out there right? I mean, it could have been ‘but I don’t like you’, sure. It could have been ‘but I dance flamenco on Tuesdays’ or ‘but I do fondue’ but he could have been going to say he liked me. But the man sitting at the table behind me took that moment to stand up. He shoved his chair back a little too vigorously, which hit the back of my chair, which knocked me forwards, which threw my cup of coffee – please note, not just the coffee, but the cup - across the table, which hit Steve full force in the nose. His voice stopped and the cup clattered to the table, and coffee dripped slowly down his shirt as a red line swelled across his nose.

And that’s the story of why I’m never drinking coffee again. Because 2 out of 2 times, it’s not ended well for me and Steve. 100% failure rate.

Like I say, Starbucks employees are really nice at giving you ice for your injuries. So we walk back to the apartment, with Steve clutching a bag of ice to his nose and I say sorry in every way I can think of but he’s really quiet and I’ve completely arsed it up again, haven’t I?

She wants me to like her? Why would she want me to like her if she likes Bucky? Does she want me to put in a good word? Wait, what if… no… she can’t like me? Crap, my nose really hurts…

---

@melconnor2007 @avengerscompound @kittyslove @badassbaker@phoenix21love @lbouvet @bellenuit45 @prplprincez @gingerrootknits@pineapplebooboo @feelmyroarrrr @avengerofyourheart @eyeofdionysus @hellomissmabel @learisa @mitra-k-w @imhereforbvcky @shaddixlife @supernatural-girl97 @iwillbeinmynest @amrita31199 @algud @whatsbetterthanfantasy @pixierox101 @edward-lover18 @madcheshire89 @heartfulloffandoms @chipilerendi @kenya-17 @mckorni32843 @amandarosemire @rda89 @nyxveracity @sea040561 @mrsalh32611 @ruinerofcheese @callmebucky-doll @vintagepigeon @bubbasmom @sassycanoodler @ladylorelitany @natcad @thisismysecrethappyplace @geeksareunique @mywinterwolf @moderapoppins @rinthehufflepuff @holyfuckloueh @onebatch--twobatch @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @patzammit @procrastinatingart1st

#bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x ofc #marvel au #marvel fanfic

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the-dyslexic-blogger · 4 years

Text

so this is where it begins

So, Hi I'm Dino (obviously not my real name but I wish it were haha). There is a trigger warning to self-harm, mention of suicide and depression.

I'm 20 and attending university a few of my friends have done some blogs, so I decided this is where I'm going to start.

As a reader, I thought you'd better known I have dyslexia. Hence, it is a big step to write a blog as, usually, I'm not too fond of it (the dreaded writing spelling and grammar NOOO), But here we go.

In my lifetime, I've been through a lot of crap to get to be who I am today( I will probably talk about some of this in other blogs.) Of course, the aftermath of having a lot of crap happen to you is a lot of issues in the future and a lot of trauma.

There is a daily struggle with mental health. Everything is a battle most days I have to drag myself out of bed which is so very hard to do many little tasks that are easier for other like showering I find is a massive task (thanks depression love you too). Most nights I'm up to the early hours of the morning fighting the demons in my head screaming at me to give in and will not shut up until I give in to the blade and feel the sweet relief of pain as I cut myself. The blood flows out of wherever I've cut it from, Even after this it's not the end of the battle, I get a big hit off of the guilt about doing it, so I don't sleep whatsoever so am tired all the time. In the daytime dark thoughts still spinning around my head, monsters breathing down my neck. Throughout the day, they are lingering over me, waiting for me to mess up somehow and then reminding me of this mistake all day.

The night time is when they are the loudest when everyone I could turn to is asleep. Still, I don't want to bother my friends with my shitty problems 'they don't care. "They don't like you' the demons whisper in my ear when I pick up the phone to text someone, To scream out and get help for my head trying to kill me, haunting me dark thoughts taking over my mind full of darkness and nightmares no light left I'm alone with my thoughts so, I give in and let the demons take over like a bring me the horizon quote 'it comes in waves, I close my eyes Hold my breath and let it bury me I'm not okay, and it's not all right '. I'd say night time is like a tight rope your battling to staying it while monsters are trying to push you off watch you fall to your death some people make it, but some fall off. I always cant get the thought of they (The demons) have been there when no one else was. They have never left me like everyone does.....

Its been about eight years since I started cutting I've been self-harming for a while I can't remember exactly when I began, it began as hitting myself hard. , it only developed into cutting in year seven. I was bullied a lot, so this triggered me to start cutting myself. I felt worthless and like I deserved it everyone hated me so I may as well hate myself too. It began to get worse when my best friend I'd known since I was in primary school killed herself. The guilt consumed me whole, and I became a shadow of who I used to be I was no longer that sweet innocent child who had no care in the world. I was a self-destructive monster who wanted nothing less than to hurt me and wanted nothing more than have me dead. (I'm not going into the suicidal thoughts in this one yet maybe in a future blog.) Yet no one knew. I wouldn't show any emotions expect happy I was 'hyper ', but it was all an act to stop the evil thoughts consuming me and not to let anyone worry about me I didn't deserve that. I'd tell myself daily that I deserve the pain that I cause myself.

I tried to get help for the bullying at school, but my school made it worse so from then forward I shut down completely refused to talk to anyone about my depression. I didn't have a pleasant childhood my parents were abusive (again not going into that in this one). I didn't have many friends, so I never felt good about myself. This was all a massive kick at my self-esteem. It was only until year 11 when my games teacher noticed me as always wearing long sleeves in the blistering heat when we were playing rounders.

It was a childcare lesson she took me aside and took me to the school nurse then I'll never forget how my heart dropped when she said "roll your sleeves up" I first refused. She suggested that she'd go outside the room and to show the school nurse to make sure they wasn't infected or anything so I agreed to this. After this miss brown was the most supportive and she'd been. School became a bit easier from then. We started talking more and more each lesson I enjoyed her company.

One of my bullies who I am very close to now, and we talk a lot came up to me and apologized for what she has said to me in the past. I forgave her, and we sat and chatted about things I let her open up, and she had been through a lot of shit as well, and I felt terrible and told her she could talk to me. After this we became friends, and we talk now and then.

At this point, I was still self-harming and being bullied even cyberbullied to the point the police was involved. Another traumatizing event happened during this time I put my trust into the wrong person and regretted it. I still regret it today and hate myself. But we will cover that in another blog.

I did my GCSEs did pretty well, and life was okay even though I was still at home my self-harming was still a thing, That summer my sister found out about it she asked I told her not to tell mum. Guess what she did TOLD MY FUCKING Mum. My mum was in a lousy mood came to me shouted at me to take my jumper off, so I did she saw the cuts and had a go at me took my phone off me and grounded me and more which I'm not going to go into yet. It was horrible of course I cut again and again and felt suicidal she made me feel so worthless and alone.

Starting college for the first time was stressful and made my anxiety so bad. The first year of college was when I began therapy Tamsin was my therapist. She was lovely, helped me a lot. My self-harming didn't stop but reduced a bit whereas before the sweet relief of the blade and saw how much id bleed was most nights. It was like it was part of my routine. Go to school/college get home to wait till everyone is asleep then cut my night away.

Then lie in bed and stare at the ceiling thinking of how worthless I was and how I want to be dead how I wish I could cut deeper and made it worse for myself. This reduced a bit it wasn't every night, but most nights it was rough and never thought it would consume my life as much as it did never thought id still be here struggling with it.

I've cut myself a few times where I think I probably should have gone to the hospital, but I didn't. One of these times was in my next college it was rough as my original college had told me I wasn't good enough, And that I Wouldn't make it, so I moved to a new college. One of the first weeks there I remember cutting very deep and panicking it was a hot day I was at work and had got home and felt stressed over things and cut my arm badly. I wrapped a sock on it was all I had and texted my girlfriend she told me to find my mate I walked into town found my mate we went to the shop got some supplies sat on a bench and patched it up. I knew a paramedic, so I texted them asking them what I should do they told me to put alcohol on it, Once I got in I put some rum into a small glass went upstairs and told my dad I was going for a bath I ran the water got a wet flannel and bit it. At the same time, I cleaned it I screamed into the flannel in pain I put the water on so my parents couldn't hear me I led on the floor after this and cried to myself silently until I was done then I came out so my dad wouldn't think anything of it went back into my room and cried myself to sleep.

The second year of college wasn't too bad. I had a shit therapist who would tell me things that triggered my eating disorder and would make me feel suicidal. I remember going into her appointments feeling okay and come out feeling suicidal. I had good best mates in my life it was okay (I was still cutting through) thankfully. I am always thankful to this day my friends stopped me from going to this therapist as she made things worse I stopped seeing her for a few months if I didn't stop seeing her id be 6 feet under the ground with nothing to me but a skull.

I wasn't in therapy for a few months as I needed a break from it all until my cutting and suicidal feelings got worse, so I decided to get back into therapy with the help of my friend I had this lovely therapist called Sharon she stuck by me and suggested I go to the doctors, so I did. I was put in meds and probably diagnosed with my issues. However, id had them since I was at least eight or nine at least had some of them like anxiety. Things calmed down meds helped me but also affected me badly I got all of the side effects,( so that wasn't fun.) Still, things went pretty smoothly until university applications I was accepted into a good uni on a conditional offer. This all went wrong this was in 3rd year by the way my college fucked up and put me into The inappropriate exams I couldn't do the GCSE due to my mental health my therapist suggested I do not take it I was suicidal and cutting.

So I didn't get into the university I tried to get into another one they rejected me as I was about to give up hope my friend introduced me to clearing, and that's how I got into the university I'm in now.

Self-harm and suicidal thoughts still attack me, and I still struggle with simple things like just staying alive and not cutting. Each year I wonder am I going to make it to the next year or will I kill myself before the year ends its an achievement getting through the year and surviving it.

I have excellent people in my life now. I feel happy with where I am for the first time in my whole life. I've never felt pleased with the way things are going things usually fuck up. I'm pretty sure life will throw another obstacle my way eventually, but I'm sure one day it will get better. Self-harm will be in the past one day, not right now I'm not ready to stop altogether I can't physically do that (sorry). One day my mental illnesses will be manageable without the pain that comes with them now. Years down the line, I can say I WAS a self-harmer instead of I AM a self-harmer. That will be a while I still need to heal my emotional scars and finally be free from the monster that is depression. Depression is a war you either win or you die trying it's the worst beast of them all the strongest beast, but even the biggest worst beast can be beaten. I believe in all of you out there struggling with your depression. Suicidal thoughts depression can be beaten, look at those who have got through it google it many celebrities have depression and won the war in their head. People like Lady Gaga, Demi Lovato, Ellen DeGeneres and many more.

Depression is the silent killer it waits till your alone( i mean not alone physically; you could be in a room full of people and still feel alone. )

Then it strikes with false things about no one caring about you. But you are so much stronger than you think if you need support, there are people out there who care about you. You may feel alone but don't tell me in the world of billions, and billions of people, not one cares because that's not true I care.

It's okay not to be okay. I look back and see things do get better from the point I am now to the point I was six years ago things have changed, things may not work out to start with, but it will be okay. Still, they will work out one day this darkness your in will be light you won't have to struggle with the beats in your head the silent monsters that grip you with their claws and consume you alive.

So there you go that some of my battle with self-harm I will go into things a bit more in future. I hope you liked it is not the happiest (sorrrryyyyyyyyyyy ). Still, I hope I can inspire you and give you hope that it does get better and things will work out.

You probably have been told this thousand of but here is the Samaritans number they good and living is good once you get past the darkness of depression. You will get through this your strong enough!

Stay strong fighter!

love

Dino xx

summations:116 123

#blog #mental health #self destruction #self healing #self harrrm

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