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#on account of they get sat down at a kitchen table and forbidden to leave

boldlyvoid · 3 years

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Sugar, Honey, Ice Tea | Chapter 5-9

1Summary: Fix-it-fic: Dr. Y/L/N and Savannah Hayes have been best friends since their medical internship at Bethesda General. When she receives a frantic call that Derek's best friend is being transferred to the prison she works at, an unlikely friendship bubbles.

Eventually falling head over heels for the innocent man.

Warnings: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Prison, Prison Violence, Assault, Blood, Depression, Murder, Self-Hatred, Hurt Spencer Reid, Canon-Typical Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Drug Addiction, References to Drugs, Drug Use, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Romantic Tension, Forbidden Love, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Strangers to Lovers, Requited Love, Falling In Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, past abusive relationship, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault

Word Count: 14.3K

1-4, 5-9, Epilogue

Chapter 5

Spencer agreed to a Thursday night game night in her office sometime last week, and she’s spent every day since then planning it out for him.

Learning that he really loved Tandoori chicken, making it from scratch at home and packaging it into a couple containers to bring into work. She followed a recipe from Pinterest, hoping it bared any resemblance to what he was used to, only changing full chicken to boneless bite size cutlets, because he couldn’t use a knife in the prison.

She got a chess set at the store, as well as a deck of playing cards for the Vegas boy. Rushing out her door early Thursday morning so she could stop and get a coffee and one of his favourite doughnuts too.

Deciding that she wasn’t going to tell him how she felt any time soon, just wanting to show him friendship and support until he was finally out of prison. Vowing to uphold her oath, he was a patient in her care, she would care for him as such until he wasn’t.

She carefully placed her lunchbox and the chess set on the security desk, letting them look through it as she waited. Taking out all the food from her bag, looking through the plastic to ensure she wasn’t sneaking in anything.

“It’s just my lunch for the next 2 days, I promise,” she smiled.

“I know, but I have to look anyway,” the nice man smiled. “Have a good day today Dr. Pat.”

“Thank’s, you too, officer Kyle,” she smiled, picking her things back up and heading past the gates.

Spencer was turning the corner towards the infirmary as she walked towards the door. Officer Wilkins holding him in handcuffs as he roughly walked Spencer to her office.

“Hey, hey, hey,” she stopped, looking at Wilkins like he was an idiot. “Un-cuff inmate Reid, he’s not a threat. Plus, he can hold some things for me.”

“Whatever,” he huffed, roughly taking the cuffs off Spencer's wrists before leaving. Not saying another word.

“What a dick,” she mumbled as she handed him the lunchbox.

“Good morning Spencer,” she changed her tone to match her growing smile.

He sighed, smiling back as he rubbed his wrists. “Good morning to you too, Y/N.”

She opened the infirmary door, walking past all the sleeping men in the care area. Unlocking her office before inviting Spencer in. “Sorry I was almost late,” she said softly, taking the chess set and a brown paper bag out of her purse.

She set it on Spencer's desk along with the coffee that was in her hand, “for all your help this week,” she smiled.

Spencer placed her lunchbox in her fridge, laying a hand on her back as he walked past her towards his desk. “You’re too kind to me,” he was bashful as always.

“I have something I wanted to talk to you about,” she closed the door softly, making sure the blinds on the doors window were closed as well.

“That doesn’t sound good,” he tried to joke as he sat down.

“I asked to help with your case, maybe give a fresh opinion, so Penelope sent me all the files but I haven’t opened them yet,” she sat on the edge of her desk. Trying to read his body language as he took out his donut.

He liked the pink frosting off his finger, nodding as he followed along. “Why not?”

“I wanted your permission,” she pressed her lips together in an awkward smiled. His eyes raising to meet hers, innocent as ever.

“Oh?”

“You’re very reserved, you have rules about what you share, I don’t want to break the trust we’ve built by looking into something so intimate,” she explained her thoughts. “It’s not fair for me to learn about the worst thing that’s ever happened to you, without you being the one to tell me.”

“What do you know already?” He asked softly, blinking at her as he patiently waited.

She smiled at him softly, grateful that he understood. “I know the 3 charges that you’re in on, and that you’re being framed.”

“I think I would prefer it if you read the file and just asked me questions. I don’t think I have the mental capacity to recite it all back to you today,” he was honest. Taking a sip of his coffee and looking away from her.

Giving up so much of himself to her so early in the day, she felt like he was finally comfortable with her.

She found the key to his thoughts and it opened just right, she could see the hurt that flowed through him, but she could also see the happiness. The side of him that he was afraid to bring out, in fear it would get him in more trouble.

“Okay,” she agreed. Sitting at her desk and finally opening the email form Penelope.

She read through his tox-screens, his drug history, his mental state. His first-hand accounts, witness statements, clues and findings his team had made. It all felt like the plot to a bad movie about revenge, possibly even female rage. But for what?

“I finished reading,” she said softly, brows furrowed as she chews the inside of her cheek. “Do you know anyone other than this Mr. Scratch guy who you’ve put away, wronged, lead on, or just pissed off?”

“Why?” He asked, clearly attached to the idea this was all Mr. Scratch’s doing.

“It feels like revenge, but very well planed. Like a women is mad at you so she found your weakness, I’ve done mean shit to exes in the past but this is insane. They knew you’d do anything for your mom, they knew your drug history, and the fact you might get schizophrenia one day, they wanted to drug you and make you think you did all this.”

Spencer stood then, listening to her words as he scrunched his face. Thinking as hard as he could, “can you call Penelope?”

“Yeah,” she nodded as she dialled her number, putting her on speaker phone.

“Well hello there, Love Doctor,” Penelope teased as she answered.

“Um hi, Spencer wanted to talk to you,” she panicked.

“Oh, sorry, how are you Spencer?”

Spencer looked so confused, “I’m good… Y/N and I were looking at the case files you sent-”

“Good, did you find anything?” Penelope cut in, eager to talk to him.

“Have you looked into everyone I’ve ever encountered on a case? Specifically women?” Spencer asked. “I told my lawyer and Emily that I remember a woman being there and helping, she must know me from a case too, like the other prison escapees he’s helped?”

“On it pretty boy, any specifics about her that you remember?” Penelope asked over the sound of her keyboard clicking away.

“Long brown hair, but it’s probably different now,” he added. “Everything else is dark, I didn’t see her face or any other features.”

“Alright, call me anytime Spence, I miss you,” Penelope said softly, changing her tone to a more sensitive one. “Take care of each other, my loves.”

“Love you,” they say at the same time. Looking at each other awkwardly after she hung up, leaving them to sit with their words alone.

Spencer was leaning so close to her she could feel his body heat radiating off him. Spencer placed his hand on her shoulder as he stood straight, towering over her as she looked up at him.

“I have patients to talk to, but I brought chess for you to teach me later,” she smiled up at him.

“Can’t wait,” he beamed a smile back.

She felt his hand rub the back of her blue scrubs lightly, pulling away as he walked back around to his desk. She watched him with careful eyes, wishing he would have stayed longer.

—

Normally at 4:30, Y/N would bring Spencer a tray of whatever the kitchen was serving her patients for dinner that night. Tonight, however, she walked into her office at 5 pm on the dot, closing the clinic for the night and putting all her attention on Spencer.

“So,” she smiled as she leaned against her office door, excitement radiating out of her. “A little birdie told me that you really like Indian food, Tandoori chicken to be exact…”

“No way?” He gasped as he turned around in his chair.

She nodded with a cheeky grin, “homemade so I could sneak it in.”

She took her lunch box out of her mini-fridge, opening it up to show him the 2 Tupperware containers. One for him, the other for her. She took the lids off and dished it onto 2 plates she keeps in the cabinet above the fridge.

Spencer grew more and more excited as she warmed it up, filling the room with a familiar smell. He was so happy, “I don’t know how to thank you for everything you do for me?”

“Come here,” she said softly, watching him walk towards her carefully.

She wrapped her arms around his middle, holding him in a hug. He carefully placed his hands on her back, holding her against his chest as he snuggled his cheek into her hair again.

“I’ll take hugs as payment from now on,” she pulled back from him as the microwaved beeped.

Taking a plastic spoon from the cutlery jar, she opened the microwave and handed him a plate. “Did you want to stay in here or go to the break room? I never use it cause I don’t have any co-workers, but it has a couch and a coffee table?”

“Okay,” he smiled. Taking the plate from her and waiting for her to warm up her own meal before taking a bite.

He was ever the gentleman.

Y/N reached back into her lunch box, taking out the package of naan bread, seeing Spencer’s eyes basically roll into the back of his head. “You thought of everything?”

“Bread is my life,” she laughed.

When her food was ready, she placed it on top of the chess box and led the way down to the break room. Spencer holding every door for her.

She flicked on the lights in the break room, watching them strobe before making that awful powering up frequency. She groaned, putting her food on the table before turning on a few lamps instead.

The room went from bright and anxious to relaxed and personal, the amber glow bouncing off the cream walls, it was nice. As nice as it could be in a prison. She never thought she’d be having a date at a prison.

That’s basically what this was, a date.

She made him dinner, they were going to play games, he was going to sit right beside her, close enough to kiss. She really wanted to, she’s thought about it a lot, his pink lips were perfect and she just wanted to see how they’d feel between her own.

But she wont.

“Dig in honey,” the name rolled over her tongue like it was always meant to.

She felt his eyes on her right away, realizing that she called him honey in a situation where he wasn’t crying, where he wasn’t vulnerable. She said it as a term of endearment, she couldn’t stop the embarrassment form settling in her veins.

She sat beside his softly, picking up her dinner and pretending it didn’t happen. “Thank you,” Spencer cut into the awkwardness.

“You’re welcome,” she said softly. Feeling like she could flip inside out at any moment.

From the corner of her eye she saw him take the first bite, closing his eyes as he appreciated the moment. His shoulders settled as he chewed, she could swear he almost moaned as he ate it. She has had the food in the cafeteria before, she understood his reaction.

“That good?” She asked, teasing him softly.

He nodded, silent as he took it all in. He took another bite, and another, she felt like he was going to get the hiccups at this rate but it was too cute to stop. He was like a stray dog eating inside for the first time in months, it made her happy and then a little sad.

He stayed quiet the whole time. Crossing his legs as he sat on the couch, the plate pulled in close to his chest as he shovelled spoonfuls of food into his mouth. She sat there admiring him as he did so, falling more and more every time she glanced at him.

“That was delicious,” Spencer said as he stood, placing his plate on the counter across the room. “Are you done?” He asked, taking her plate as she reached it out to him.

“Yeah, thanks,” she watched him carefully, always wanting to help her in whatever way he could.

He didn’t sit on the couch when he came back, instead, sitting on the floor on the other side of the coffee table, taking the chess set out and beginning to set it up. Not wanting to miss a moment of the freedom he felt when he was with her.

“So, chess is pretty easy to learn,” he said, looking up at her through thick eyelashes as he spoke. “Do you know any of the rules yet?”

“Um, I know where they all go, I know that you can’t go through other pieces and the horse gets to jump?” She tried to remember all the way back to grade 4, the last time someone explained the rules to her.

He was so soft with her, explaining the rules and showing her what to do. His hand would lightly brush over hers occasionally, eventually, he’d just guide her hand over the pieces that she should move. It was so nice to just be alone with him, knowing they were both allowed to be happy.

The room was mostly silent, only the sound of Spencer's advice and her giggle as she still wasn’t grasping the concept of the game.

“I just like, don’t care about the rules?” She couldn’t stop giggling at the fact she wasn’t picking up on anything he said.

Spencer laughed, it was deep and hearty, right from his soul, “then how do you want to play?”

She picked up the queen and moved it to a random spot, “I want to put this here and fight your guy. That’s why I don't get this, what is my XP? What are their skills? I was raised on Pokemon, honey.”

He made his way back to the couch, sitting closely beside her. “Well sugar pie, do you have any other games you want to play?”

She couldn’t stop herself from leaning in and pressing her lips against his. His hands wrapped around her waist on instinct as they connected.

It was everything she imagined. Soft, gentle, refreshing. Like a cold glass of ice tea on a hot summers day. She wanted more, never letting up as she kissed him.

Spencer was the one to pull off first, “shit,” she whispered, covering her mouth with her hand as she stared at him, horrified.

He laughed, smiling at her softly. “It’s okay,” he promised, “I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

She doesn’t stop him from pulling her back in, holding her hand on his cheek as he kissed her again. Hungrier than before, Spencer’s tongue was on a mission. He tastes like dinner, but with his own Spencer difference.

Kissing him felt like a fairytale coming true.

She forgot where they were, his hands on the back of her scrubs and her hands in his hair as their mouths clashed. She started to lay back on the couch, pulling him down on top of her.

“We can't,” he pants against her lips. Regretting it as he pulls away from her.

“Sorry, this was unprofessional I know,” she tried to play it off.

Spencer pulled her back in, flush against his chest once more. “No, I don’t regret it. It’s just, I’m not ready.”

“Oh,” she says softly. Then it clicks, “oh, oh my god, Spencer I’m so sorry I forgot. I didn’t mean to push you into anything,” she worries, running her hands over his arms softly.

He shakes his head, “you didn’t. I want to, believe me, I just don’t think I can handle the after part…”

“I cried for 3 hours after I had sex again, after everything,” she told him in complete honesty. Not even Savannah or Derek knew that.

“You don’t have to-“

“I want to,” she assured him. “You shouldn’t have to be the only vulnerable one here, I want you to know about me.”

“You don’t have to tell me the details, I don’t want to think about someone hurting you,” he whispered, his eyes innocently studying her face for how she was feeling.

“Okay, so here’s everything else,” she was still holding his face in her hands. Rubbing her thumb over his cheeks. “I had 2 moms and a little sister, and I was raised in Boston. I met Savannah in 2004, I worked with her until a few years ago. She’s my best friend, Derek is like my big brother.”

She gave him the basics, “I don’t have a dad, my mom used the same donor for me and my sister, so I’ve never really felt safe around men because I never knew many.”

“Understandable,” he smiled softly. “what’s your mom like?”

“She died when I was 26,” she pressed her lips together awkwardly. “I haven’t talked to her wife since then, my other mom, she remarried not long after. I think she was cheating on my mom when she was going through chemo.”

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer whispered.

“I can relate to a lot of the stories I know about you already. My mom was my world, I don’t know my dad. I’ve been hurt by people, I’ve lost a lot of myself while trying to help others,” she brushed her nose against his softly. Letting him know she wasn’t pulling back any time soon. “Who you are is not what you did, or what you’ve been through.”

He kisses her again softly. Breathing in through his nose lightly, his hand on her back pulling her in closer and closer. He didn’t want to let her go, and she was more than happy staying in his embrace forever.

He pulled back softly, “I lied to you.” He whispered against her lips.

“When?” She asked, scared to know the answer.

“I do remember you from Derek’s wedding, he told me about you a long time ago. I told him I was ready for dating again when you told him about Mark,” he couldn’t look at her.

“That’s not a huge lie,” she smiled softly. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking at you all night, with that little blond boy. You two were so sweet, Mark got really mad at me for staring at you actually.”

“Derek told me when he hurt you, he came to my apartment right after so he wouldn’t go and kill him,” Spencer’s voice was so low she had to stare at his lips to understand him. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she shook her head softly, kissing the tip of his nose. “Thank you.”

“I don’t want to go back to my cell,” he whispered as he pressed his forehead against hers.

Breaking her heart in the process.

She kissed his cheeks and his lips a few times, peppering kisses to his soft face to make up for it. “We can’t do this again until you’re free,” she whispered.

“I understand.”

“So you better think long and hard about this woman you remember so I can track her down and shove her in that cell instead,” Y/N’s stern voice made him smile.

“Thank you,” he replied again, hugging her the way he promised he would thank her from now on.

—

For being 9 pm on a spring night, it was rather warm in the Vermont parking lot. She left the prison a while ago, not able to leave Spencer’s gravitational pull yet as she sat there, staring at the prison thinking about him alone in his cell instead of pressed against her chest for the rest of the night.

Thinking about the feeling of Spencer’s hands on her body and his tender lips. Her hand over her mouth as she remembered how his bottom lip ghosted over her own, the anticipation was enough to light her on fire.

She took out her phone and called Derek, knowing he would put her on speaker if they were already in bed for the night. Really needing her best friends right now.

“Hey kick-ass, how are you doing today?” Derek’s voice was overly cheery, “Hey!” Savannah added in the background.

“I’m in love with him.”

Chapter 6

She barely slept anymore. Waking up at 6 am every morning without her alarm clock, her heart physically aching to return to Spencer's side after a night without him. She felt like a love-sick school girl, wanting to be with him all day even if they had nothing to say. Just looking at him was enough to make her happy.

A few weeks passed. Weeks filled with smiles and laughter, singing and reading, inside jokes and shared jello cups. She was so madly in love with him, hugging him every morning when he arrived and every night before he left. Keeping her word, kissing him on the cheek every so often instead.

She started a routine of picking up a coffee and a donut for Spencer every single Thursday, worried that he probably thought about his case all night, yet again. Which only kept her up worrying all night about him, wondering if he was doing okay all alone.

Only getting sleep when she remembered that he had a photo of her, his mom, Derek and hank with him. He’d be okay.

She walked into the infirmary to find Jerry and Mike waiting for her with a guard. Mike bleeding all down his face while Jerry held his clearly broken hand.

“You two are going to be the death of me,” she sighed. Putting all her things in her office before coming back to care for them.

She excused the guard, telling him she had it from here. They wouldn’t put up any more fights with her, they looked up to her like a momma bear, and they were her terrible cubs.

“It is 7:33 am, who the fuck did you have to fight this early?” She whisper yelled at them. Not wanting to wake Leo in the care ward, “who is worth this?”

“You don’t want to know,” Mike said under his breath.

“Well clearly he’s not here, is he dead or in violent crimes? If you two fucked up our plan of me helping you during parole next year, I’m going to be pissed,” she tried her best to entice the answers out of them.

“It was Shaw,” Jerry said softly. “He was planning to hurt the new guy, he’s all fake buddy-buddy with him.”

“Excuse me?” She panicked.

“He’s been talking to Milos at night in the locker room, Wilkins lets him out of his cell and into gen-pop,” Mike carried on the story as she tried to clean the blood off his eyebrow.

“What are they going to do to Spence?”

“Spence?” Jerry teased her, poking her side. “I didn’t know he had a nickname already. Why haven’t we met him yet?”

“I’ve kept him locked away to be safe, I’m going to find a way to keep him here at night,” She said softly. “He’s best friends with my brother, I can’t let him get hurt.”

“So you knew him in freedom land?”

She nodded, “a little.”

“All you need is a bandaid,” she changed the subject as she reached into her kit. “And Jerry I’m going to have to set your fingers back in place, if you scream in my face, I will kick you in the nuts.”

They laughed at her fake tuff guy act, never actually being able to hurt them. They were her buddies, giving her a big hug after she finished with them. Getting them both a pudding and telling them to stay put for the day if they wanted to.

Spencer found her in the lab when he arrived, she knew it was him when the door opened, no one else had a passkey to get in. She was writing down some numbers on a chart when he wrapped his arms around her from behind.

She dropped her pen and turned around in his grasp, holding his face in her hands immediately as she pulled him into a quick kiss.

“I thought you said I couldn’t do that again till I’m free?” He asked softly. Kissing her a second time as he finished.

She smiled against his lips, “you’re free when we’re alone.”

He kissed her harder. His hands around her waist as he picked her up slightly. Twirling her around as they kissed, she laughed against his skin. Unable to stop herself from smiling as she held onto him.

She kissed him one last time as he put her down on the floor, “I have a coffee and donut for you in my office.”

“You’re too good to me, Sugar Pie.”

“Anything for you, Honey Bunch,” she bit her lip as she smiled at him again. So absolutely overwhelmed with love for him.

“I actually have a serious question to ask you,” his tone changed, making her concerned.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m still trying to figure out more about that night, and I think I want to try exposure therapy,” he explained. “I was wondering if you’d help me get high, so I can remember what happened in the same mindset.”

“Okay,” she nodded softly. “I can book you in for the night here, say you’re under observation, and I’ll stay here with you.”

“Are you sure?”

She kissed him softly again, looking up at him with a smile after. “If you’re sure about it, I’ll help you. But we need some ground rules.”

“Of course,” he agreed. Letting go of her as she stepped back, leaning against the counter now.

“No kissing, nothing like that, we’ll do it in my office so you can be alone and then later you’ll sleep in the observation room. Leo is in there, he’s harmless and sleeps all night on his morphine anyway,” she explained. “I’m not going to take advantage of you, I don’t want you to regret it. It’s going to be hard to sober up again once you get a taste of euphoria in here.”

He nodded along as she set the rules, “those are good. Thank you.”

“They drugged you with heroin, and while I know where to get some, I’m not letting you do that,” she laughed. “I have Dilaudid in pills and liquid morphine.” Letting him pick his poison.

“The pills will be fine,” he said softly.

“Alright,” she smiled. “And if you want, when you get out I can take you to a meeting? You’ll need to talk to someone other than me, someone who gets it.”

“You’ll stay with me after all this?”

“As long as you let me,” she felt her heart grow 3 sizes at the way his puppy dog eyes stared back at her. “Go have your breakfast and I will come to see you soon, okay honey?”

His smile was glorious, she could feel the love radiating off him as he looked at her. It felt wonderful, knowing at that moment her feelings weren’t one-sided. That he wanted her just as bad as she wanted him. He was going to be good to her.

—

She had mike and Jerry help her move the couch from the break room and into her office, allowing them to meet Spencer, finally. It was awkward at first, two big muscle men telling him how much they also loved their Sugar.

“Should we tell him?” Mike nudged Jerry.

“What?” Spencer asked softly, sitting at his desk on the other side of the room, really not enjoying their alpha energy.

“Shaw, Milos and Wilkins are all secretly buddies, they were planning to hurt you and so Mike and Jerry beat Shaw up in the yard,” she scrunched her face as she explained it, not ready for his reaction.

“How?”

“After they cut that kid's throat, they wanted to get you to run heroin for them. But you ended up in here, we heard them in gen-pop last night saying they wanted to get you,” Jerry explained as he played with the bandages on his hand. “He won't be out of the violent offender's infirmary for a while.”

“Thank you,” he replied to them with a pressed-lipped smile. “I need to call my team about the case.”

That was their queue to leave, Y/N patting them on the back for the help, telling them they could stay with Leo or go back to the yard, she didn’t care. They just couldn’t be in her office for this.

Spencer looked a little pissed off. “I didn’t ask them to do that,” she said, defensively.

“I’m not mad at you,” he shakes his head softly as steps into her space. “You’re the only person I can trust in here.”

She placed her hand on his chest softly, “call Penelope. Take your time on the phone with the team.” She handed him her cell phone, “FaceTime them if you want. See their faces, it’ll be okay.”

He hugged her, a silent thank you. She ran her hands over his back as she pressed her face into his neck. Holding back every instinct to tell him she loved him as she pulled away.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Okay,” he smiled. Taking her phone, “how do I?”

She couldn’t help laughing, “here,” she dialled Penelope’s cellphone number and hit the FaceTime button.

Seeing her beautiful, bright and bubbly face smile as she answered. “Hey! Oh my god, hold on,” they watched as she got up and ran down a hallway.

Spencer was instant giggles and smiles, a side of him she’s never seen before. True, pure love. This was his family, these were his people. She could see herself fitting into his little world one day.

“Guys! It’s Spencer!” She yelled as she ran into another room.

“What’s wrong?” “Is he okay?”

Suddenly she turned the phone sideways to show all his co-workers. “Hi!” He waved to them.

“Spence!” Emily and JJ cheered, “oh you look so good.”

“I feel good, how are you all?” He asked softly, taking her phone and sitting down at his desk.

She watched him softly from the door, slipping out when she saw his attention was fully on his past life. She walked down the hall towards the lab, hearing his laughter through the walls.

—

She placed 2 pills in a plastic cup, taking an apple juice and jello from the fridge for Spencer. She placed it on his desk 20 minutes before his shift ended, giving him a little space to decide when he wanted to. He told her that he get’s cold when he comes down from a high, so she leaves a fluffy blanket and a pillow on the couch before slipping back out of the room.

She returned to the care unit, looking over Leo as he got ready for the night. Administering his meds and wishing him a good night. She closed his curtain, so when Spencer eventually went to bed he wouldn’t be disturbed.

When she finally settled into her office for the night, Spencer was in the dark. Sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. “Hey,” he said softly.

“How are you?” She asked softly. Closing the door behind herself. Locking it and making sure all the blinds were closed.

“It’s going to hit soon,” he said softly. Suddenly embarrassed and closed off, hiding from her as he laid down.

She didn’t want to bother him, sitting at her desk with her reports. The light from the computer is just enough to see what she was looking at. She glanced at him every few minutes to make sure he was okay.

He enjoys it at first, a blissed-out look on his face as his head is tossed back against the couch. She knows the exact euphoria he’s feeling, she understood perfectly why someone would want to escape like that.

Then his face changes as he starts to hate it, he mumbles to himself with his eyes squeezed shut, she could see him gripping the sheets as he tries to force himself to remember.

She’s uncomfortable watching it, feeling like an intruder. She tried to only focus on her work, flipping through emails and Twitter, scrolling through Facebook for the first time in months to preoccupy her mind.

He was like that for at least an hour.

She could hear his teeth chattering as he came down, just like he said would happen. “You okay, honey?”

“Y-yeah,” he tried to speak through the shaking. “C-can we cuddle?”

“Yeah,” she whispered, turning on her desk lamp before joining him on the couch.

She pulled him up into a sitting position, sitting where his head once was and letting him settle into her lap. She ran her hands through his hair, combing through the locks as she shushed him. Running her hand up and down his back in a tender motion, he snuggled into her leg.

“I’m not that high anymore,” he says softly.

“I know, it’s okay if you are. I’m not going anywhere tonight.”

“I love you,” he whispers.

It makes her stop. Her whole body stills at the words, he wanted to clarify so she’d know it wasn’t a spur of the moment thing. She closes her eyes and squeezes them shut, biting her lip as she tries not to burst into tears.

He felt it too.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, “sit up.” She instructs him softly.

She laid down against the couch then, waiting for him to snuggle into her side. Wrapping the blanket around them both as they found the most comfortable position.

“Sorry,” he whispered against the crook of her neck.

“It’s okay, it just feels wrong for me to say it back right now. I feel the same, believe me, Spencer.” She wanted to assure him to the best of her ability. “But you’re still an inmate in my care, I can’t. Not yet.”

“You don’t have to,” he pulled back to look her in the eyes, his own still droopy from how tired the drugs made him. “I’m going to love you regardless.”

She broke her own rules. Kissing him softly, holding him close to her, under the blanket where both their body heat was trapped. She had never felt safer in her entire life.

Spencer only crawling into that bed in the care ward when he woke up to her alarm the following morning.

Chapter 7

There’s someone banging on her office door just a little after 8 am. She was in the middle of putting a new pair of scrubs on over her long-sleeve undershirt, the banging on her door doesn’t stop until she opens the door.

“What?” She yells at them.

It’s Officer Wilkins. “Where is inmate Reid? We have a visitor for him.”

“No one is scheduled to see him today?”

“There is now. Where is he?” The man towered over her. Trying his best to intimidate her.

“Care ward. I’ll get him. You can go wait in the waiting room,” she pushes past him. Watching him stumble as he hits the wall.

“He’s not worth dying over,” he whispers under his breath.

She doesn’t leave Reid’s side as Wilkins attempts to escort him to an interrogation room. Y/N stands in the observation room as Spencer waits, cuffed to the table. Looking through the mirror at each other, only he couldn’t see her. He just knew she would be there.

“Mom?” Spencer’s shocked voice breaks her out of her thoughts as she sees Diana walking into the room.

A dark-haired woman she’s never met before escorting her in. Y/N whips her phone out to take a quick photo before running back to her office as quickly as she can.

Y/N: I need you to check on Cassie, Diana’s nurse. Someone I don’t know just brought Diana to the prison.

She attached the photo she took, setting her phone down to looking through the visitor's logs on her computer. Wanting to know the name of the woman accompanying Diana.

“I’m sorry,” the familiar voice says from her doorway.

She looks up at him from her desk. Wilkins is stepping into her space with a look of guilt, taking his baton off his belt.

“You don’t have to do this,” she backed up against the wall, trying to keep as much distance from him as possible.

“I have to,” his tone changed. Like a personality switch, his eyes darkened as he charged at her.

She ran around the desk, watching him follow. Punching her in the face, causing her to fall back against the couch, she didn’t want him to get on top of her. Dropping to the carpeted floor as he dove onto the couch.

She crawled on the floor towards the door as he tried to get up. Standing as fast as she could, roundhouse kicking him in the face with a grunt. Her foot hit his jaw at just the right angle, rendering him unconscious.

She reached for his cuffs as soon as he hit the floor, “Leo!! Help!” She screamed down the hall.

She heard bare feet running down the hall, followed by the sound of rubber on linoleum. “Sugar??” Mike and Jerry yelled as they followed.

“Watch him,” she insisted once the cuffs were on him. “Hurt him if you have to.”

She took the second pair of cuffs off Wilkins's belt before running out of the room, her lip busted and bleeding down her neck.

She ran down the hall towards Spencer, busting into the room and knocking the nurse to the ground. Struggling to get her onto her stomach, “stop struggling, who the fuck are you?”

“Get off me!” She screamed in return.

Y/N cuffed her and pulled her to her feet, pushing her against the stone wall.

“What is going on?” Spencer stood up, cuffed to the table so he couldn’t help.

“Wilkins just attacked me, Diana wasn’t supposed to be here,” she said over her shoulder in Spencer’s direction. “So I’ll ask again,” she whispered in the woman's ear as she pushed her against the wall harder. “Who, the fuck! Are you?”

“He knows me,” she spat out.

Y/N ripped her off the wall, making her look at Spencer who was shocked, speechless as he tried to remember her face. “Who is she?”

“She told me Cassie was fired, she’s been with me all morning?” Diana tried to explain, slightly freaking out.

“I sent her photo to Penelope, I need a guard,” Y/N said, hauling the unknown women into the hall with her.

—

The prison was put on lockdown as they tried to figure out this security breach. Wilkins and the nurse being held in prison custody as they waited for the BAU team to fly in.

Figuring out that her name was Lindsay Vaughn, Spencer remembered as much as he could about her. How he tried to save her dad, losing him to his carnal need to kill. Lindsay following closely in her daddy's footsteps.

Diana sat at Spencer’s desk, Mike and Jerry stand watch at the door. Y/N was sitting on top of her desk in front of Spencer, it was his turn to run alcohol over her cuts. Holding her face in his hands as he cared for her.

“I'm sorry,” he mouths the words at her. Not wanting his mother to overhear them.

She nods in response, unable to smile as the cut on her lips stings. All things considered, she could have been in a lot worse condition if it wasn’t for Derek and her training.

She wants to kiss him, she can tell he’s looking over her shoulder at his mom. Waiting to make sure she’s not looking before he leans in a little closer.

Pressing their lips together as silently as possible, his eyes still on her’s as they did so. It’s the most tender kiss she’s ever had, “I’m okay Spence,” she said softly as he pulled back.

“I’m still sorry you were dragged into this,” holding her against his chest softly.

From where she was sitting on top of her desk, she placed her head on his chest, holding him as close as she could, his cheek resting on her head. She wrapped her legs around him, not wanting to let him go, ever.

Needing the comfort he brought her, now more than ever.

When Derek and she started training again it was mostly to help her feel safe. To know what to do if it happened again. She didn’t ever expect it to, thinking it was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. That she’d learn from it and then she wouldn’t be in this situation again, being punched in the face by a man.

She started to cry, the throbbing pain in both her face and her foot taking over as the adrenaline dissipated, she was too overwhelmed to do anything more. He let her cry against him, rubbing his hand on her back as he kissed her forehead.

She couldn’t wait for him to get out of here, and she was going to leave with him.

—

Derek is the first to burst through the door. Wrapping Spencer up in the biggest hug she’s ever seen him give. Rocking Spencer back and forth in his grasp as he kissed Spencer's cheek a few times.

He pulled back, holding Spencer's face in his hands. Smiling so he didn’t cry, “they’re dropping the charges.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Nope,” Derek shakes his head adding, “You’re free.” Expecting Spencer to hug him again.

Instead, Spencer turns to Y/N and pulls her into a kiss. She’s startled at first, eyes wide open as Spencer’s hands find her waist and pulls her right up against him.

She can't help but settle against him. Holding his face in her hands as she kisses him back. He picks her up slightly, spinning her around with his face buried in her neck as she yelps.

Everyone in the room watching him celebrate with her in shocked silence.

He placed her back on the ground, kissing her one last time. “You did it, Spence,” she smiles at him.

“We did it.”

She hears someone clearing their throat. Both of them turning to see the Warden as well as the entire BAU team standing in her doorway. But they don’t pull apart, Spencer’s hand stays on her side as they wait to get yelled at.

“I quit,” Y/N said before he could say anything to her, “and I might sue.”

“I’m suing for sure,” Spencer added.

“We’re terribly sorry for the condition of your stay Doctor Reid. And Doctor Y/L/N, I’ll never be able to make it up to you. I’m incredibly sorry for what Wilkins did,” the warden tried to cover his ass from a bureau lawsuit.

“Too late for that,” Emily added. Stepping into the room more. “Doctor Reid will be leaving with us, now.”

“Understood,” the Warden hurried out of the room before any more damage could be done.

Everyone took a turn hugging Spencer then. A handful of them even hugging Y/N as well.

Emily wrapped Y/N up in a hug, rubbing her back the way she would all those years before. “Thank you, you have no idea what he means to us.”

“I think I do,” she laughed against her. “If that’s not weird?”

“Not at all,” she pulled back, looking at Y/N with her big beautiful eyes, her bangs pushed out of the way so she could take a good look again. “You two are good together.”

She smiled, “thanks Em.”

“We need to fill him in on everything, will you stay with Diana?” Emily asked.

“Of course, I’m just going to be packing up some things anyway,” she said as she turned to Spencer. “Have fun with your friends, honey.”

“Thanks, sugar,” he kissed her on the cheek before walking out. Everyone whistling and hollering at the boldness Dr. Reid had developed in prison.

They all filed out after him, she watched the door with a soft smile as they wandered down the hall, Spencer taking them to the break room so they could chat.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Diana’s small voice came from Spencer’s desk.

“Oh, Diana,” she smiled. “Can I give you a hug?”

Diana nodded as she walked over to her, wrapping her up in a hug, much like how Spencer would. She can imagine Spencer’s hugs once feeling like this, imagining him small and shy, holding her slightly. Unlike his more beefy, relaxed form since being in prison.

“He means the world to me too,” she says softly as Diana pulls away.

“You saved him, if he didn’t have you he might not still be my soft and sweet little Spencer,” Diana patted her shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for making him,” she laughed slightly. “He’s a wonderful man, I have a feeling you played a big role in that.”

Her smile was just like his. The smile of a mother, someone who was going to love him forever, maybe she’d love her too. Y/N felt a little emotional, this could be her family one day.

Chapter 8

There was a lot of information to process as she sat at the BAU round table.

Learning the entire plot of some women’s revenge against Spencer, just how much Wilkins and Lindsay were involved, the crazy scheme they planned and how terribly it would have ended if she wasn’t there.

Spencer, on the other hand, was visiting this Cat person in prison. The one who orchestrated it all, the one who was obsessed with Spencer, the love of her life, to the point she might be having his baby. He had some things to settle with her.

He was on edge before he left, going with Derek and JJ while Y/N stayed back with Diana. David Rossi had even offered to let them all stay at his guest house later that night, seeing as Spencer’s apartment was a crime scene.

Lindsay murdered Cassie, leaving her dead body on Spencer’s apartment floor. Ruining the place he was so desperate to return to.

She was a little out of it. Trying to think of everything that happened and everything she would have to do in the next few days. Compiling a list in her mind as the anxiety bubbled in her gut.

She needed a new job and a new place to live. First, she’d have to go back to Vermont to pack, and she’d have to find a way to support her boys on Parole. And Mike and Jerry.

She put her hands over her face and rested against the table. Overwhelmed with everything, her face still hurting, the lights were too much, she was tired.

Then she was crying softly.

“Hey,” Emily rubbed her back softly. “Shhh, it’s okay, what’s wrong Y/N?”

She sat up and wiped her eyes with a small laugh, embarrassed that her kinda ex-girlfriend was comforting her. “I’m stressed?” She answered, not even really sure herself.

Emily smiled while she nodded, looking so different now than she did back when they first met. Older, but in a beautiful way, gracefully becoming who she was always meant to be. “I get it, believe me.”

She remembered Derek saying she ‘died’ once. How they buried her casket and how pissed they were when they found out she was actually alive. Y/N only knew Emily re-born, as they called her.

She was always caring, always wanted to comfort and make people happy. It was the way she coped with hurting them all, but it carried on past the team. It carried on to strangers, victims, sometimes even unsub’s.

And most definitely Y/N.

There was a part of Y/N that wonders what loving Emily would have been like; if it would have felt half as good as loving Spencer. Or would it be better? She’d never really know, but she could imagine it would have been nice.

“How can we help?” Emily asked, still as wonderful as ever.

“I need a new job,” she laughed. “Can Penelope use her mad skills to find a reputable business in need of a doctor around here?”

“Are you moving back to Virginia?” She smiled at the thought.

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded, a smile growing on her face. “I’m kind of attached to Spencer now.”

“Good, maybe Derek can help you find a place, he has like, what 7? Right now that he’s fixing up?” Emily threw out ideas. “You’ll get the ball rolling soon, it’ll all be fine.”

“Thank you,” she said softly. “For not giving up on him, I know you would never but, I was worried he had lost all hope and you never did. Thank you.”

Emily hugged her again, not saying anything. Y/N knew there was nothing to thank her for, this was a family. They would kill for each other if they needed to.

“Let’s go see Penelope,” Emily replied as she pulled away. Standing and extending a hand for Y/N.

The BAU offices were so interesting, many people running around to get jobs done before the end of the day as the main team chilled. It was like any other office she was in; controlled chaos and hierarchy.

Diana was sitting with Penelope in her office, flipping through a scrapbook while eating a jello cup. It made her smile to see it ran in the family.

“Hey,” Penelope cheered as she noticed them.

“I was just going to ask for some help with something, I see you’re busy,” Y/N awkwardly commented on the situation.

“Oh, we’re not,” Diana said. “I was showing her photos of Spencer. Would you like to see them?”

“I’d love to, um while I’m here, Penelope would you be willing to help me search for a good job?” She asked a lot mousier than Spencer would have if he was asking her for something.

“Of course, what are we looking for?” She wheeled to her main computer, cracking her knuckles as she got ready to look.

“Um, anyone hiring a GP close to here, I’m willing to go all the way to DC for work,” she explained. “I just want a place where I won't get punched again,” she tried to laugh at the trauma.

“The sanatarium is hiring, they’ve got good ratings and not a lot of patient complaints, they’re looking for a physician to care for the elderly members of the program,” Penelope explained as she clicked through screen after screen of info.

“That would be nice,” she smiled towards Diana. “Did you like the one you were at?”

“Oh yes,” Diana mused. “I had many friends there, I miss them and the social aspect. For a bunch of loons, I really loved the company.” She laughed at herself.

“I send the link to you,” Penelope smiled. “Now let me see his little baby bum again that one is my favourite, he’s so funny,” she leaned back in close to Diana.

All the pictures were priceless. Seeing Spencer grow up, page after page, every award and accomplishment displayed proudly. It made her miss her family, the love that a mother could bring to her life.

She got a little emotional, trying to nonchalantly wipe the tear off her cheek as she watched Diana flip a page.

“Are you okay?” She asked softly.

Y/N laughed, “yeah I just miss my mom.” She scrunched her nose so that the tears stayed in, waving her hand in front of her face as she tried to blink the tears back.

“Where is she?” An innocent question opening the floodgates.

“She had cancer,” Y/N cried softly. Not noticing as Emily and Penelope left the room. Giving them a space to bond.

“She died when I was 26,” she explained.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Diana placed her hand on Y/N’s back as she rubbed her softly. “Do you have any other family?”

“My moms are gay, well. After my mom died I stopped talking to her wife, yes she raised me but she hurt my mom too much for me to love her like a parent,” Y/N unloaded her trauma onto Diana, it must be genetic to find comfort in the Reids.

“Spencer never had a father either,” Diana related to her. “After William left it was just us, and Spencer stepped up to being the man of the house. He’s always been thrown into situations where he has no control but he needs to make the decisions. You’re probably the best person he could be with, he doesn’t have to take care of you.”

“Cause I baby him,” she laughed as she wiped stray tears off her cheeks. “He’s pretty wonderful, you did a fantastic job. Both of you did, look at the love you have. This is a perfect family.”

She gestured to the book of photos, seeing the love beaming off Diana’s face as she held a 12-year-old Spencer in her arms. Braces, on his face, thick glasses, long hair. He was adorable.

“You’re welcome to join,” Diana offered softly. “I’ve always wanted a daughter.”

“Why didn’t you?” She asked softly.

“Why have more when you can stop at perfection,” she smiled, the same wonderful smile Spencer had.

“That he is,” she agreed. “Thank you for him.”

“Thank you, I mean it when I say you saved him,” Diana’s serious look making Y/N cry again.

“I know,” she cried. “And I’d do it again.”

In a heartbeat.

—

Rossi had 3 rooms ready for use in his guest house. Only 2 were ever used during their stay. They spent a few nights recovering together, helping Diana into a new routine for a few days while trying to just spend as much time as possible together out in the real world.

Rossi’s property was huge, never-ending even. He had lake access, ponds with ducks, fields and fields of long grass topped with flowers. It was like a dream getting to explore it together.

Happiness hit her like a freight train, smacking her in the chest and knocking the wind out of her.

She blinked and suddenly she had been waking up in Spencer’s arms for a week straight. Going on adventures together, waiting for him with a coffee outside his NA meetings, holding him all night long.

He had a hard time adjusting to a real bed again, it was too soft. He spent most of his time with his head on Y/N's chest, letting her rub his back slowly as she kissed his head, helping him drift off to sleep every single night. Causing her to fall deeper and deeper in love with him.

Every day beside him was a blessing, no longer was he a dog trapped in a cage. He was free, running with her through the fields like wild horses.

She woke up with him still snuggled into her, arm around her waist, legs tangled together, his face right in the crook of her neck. His hot breath on her skin being the thing that finally woke her up.

Absentmindedly running her fingers through his hair, eyes still closed as she woke up. Snuggling her cheek against the top of his head, causing him to pull her in tighter. Both of them slowly coming alive again.

“I love you,” her voice coarse from sleeping with her mouth open, dry as she licked her lips. It was the only thought that came to her mind. Not even realizing it was the first time she’s said it to him.

Spencer kissed her neck softly, “I love you.”

She couldn’t believe the happiness she was feeling, almost positive that even in her saddest moments she still loved him just this much. He was everything, even under all the scares and trauma, he was the most wonderful person in her whole world. And she was beyond blessed to be holding him in her arms.

The sun was barely up yet, having fallen asleep around 10 pm last night, they were up way earlier than they expected. It was so nice, the deep orange light of the morning sun creeping through the window behind the bed.

“Do you want to go watch the sun come up?” She asked softly.

“Yeah,” he nodded softly. Sitting up with her to get ready.

They put on track pants and sweaters and shoes, grabbing a few blankets and heading outside. A few minutes of walking behind Rossi’s house led them towards a beautiful little pond, they laid out 2 blankets over the dew-soaked grass before cuddling on top of it.

The birds were performing for them, the clouds were cleaning into the most beautiful morning blue sky she had ever seen. She couldn’t help herself from holding him tighter against the blanket.

The sun shined on the water, casting beautiful pinks and oranges across the surface as it stretched into the sky. A few ducks followed their mommas in the May morning breeze, quacking in agreement as they swam across the pond. Playing a game of following the leader.

It was a dream, she was sure of it. It was all too perfect to be real.

Including Spencer, he laid there softly underneath her, holding her against his chest as she appreciated the world around them. His attention only on her, even after being locked up for 3 months. He would always choose her.

“I’m so happy,” she said softly. “You make me so happy.”

He kissed her on the forehead, pushing her back against the blanket so he could kiss her whole face as she laid there. Smiling as she held his sides, letting him smother her in affection.

When he finally stops kissing her, he brushes her hair behind her ear. Cupping her face with one hand as he looks at her. The sun casting a vibrant glow on the both of them as they appreciated each other for a moment.

“I don’t know how I made it so long without you,” he finally speaks. “But I never want to do it again.”

“Move in with me?” She replied without a second thought. “I need to find a place here anyway, and I doubt you want to go back to your apartment.”

“I already asked Derek for the place he was fixing on Wilmont, it’s close to the sanatarium, mom wants to be social again,” he filled her in on his plans. “We just have to sign the lease.”

“We?” She teased him.

“I love you,” he reminded her.

“Good,” she smiled as she pulled him into another kiss. “Because I love you, too.”

Spending time with Spencer was intimacy in its purest form. It was a relationship built on trust, respect, and mutual love. It was the first time in her life she felt truly in love, not mesmerized by the idea of it.

She trusted him when he said that he loved her. She believed him when held her when he talked to her about his day or the most random things his mind could conjure. When he’d just hold her, enjoying her presence without wanting anything more than just her.

Chapter 9

They arrived in Vermont early on a Saturday morning, heading to her apartment to pack everything up. It was just the two of them this time, flying in together, half asleep at the break of dawn.

Only bringing 1 bag with her essentials for the next 2 days, hoping to pack her whole life into a truck and pray it arrived in Virginia okay.

And she got to show Spencer her space. A personal side of her that he had no idea about. He knew her mind, her feelings, her trauma, but he didn’t know what her personality was really like outside of loving him.

He was surprised by the amount of stuff she had. Wandering around her apartment quietly as she started taping boxes into shape.

Rented white walls enclosed the space when she moved in, not being able to paint them or anything felt wrong to her. So she covered them in photos, artwork and posters. Bringing the space to life with a touch of colour.

Mostly neons, having an affinity for green and purple accent pieces. Not a single shade of blue to be found, getting enough of that at work over the years.

She had plants everywhere, an old record player and a million different albums spread across the living room. Her bedroom was a mess, the closet was even worse. The kitchen would be easy to pack, it was the stuff on the walls she was worried about.

“I’m probably not getting my deposit back,” she laughed as she started taking the paintings down.

“I didn’t know you went to Harvard?” He points at her medical degree on the wall as she takes it down.

“Yeah, let me guess you’re a Yale guy?” She teased him.

He scoffed, nudging her arm lightly. “CalTech and MIT actually, Yale was my safety school.”

“Mine too,” she smiled.

Spencer stood beside her and watched for a minute, “what should I do?”

“Pick an area and pack the way you would if this was your place, I trust you won't break anything.”

“Okay,” he nodded, beginning stacking all her books on the kitchen table.

They worked well together, they knew that already. She put on music, they moved around each other freely. Occasionally singing the words and dancing around to the good ones. It was a lovely day to just open the windows and clean.

Hours passed, pizzas had been ordered and destroyed, boxes filled every corner of the space as her personality was completely ripped from the room. Soon it was just them, a couch and the record player.

She got up and walked into the bedroom to change, feeling sticky and gross from the day. Not expecting Spencer to follow and sit down on the edge of the bed.

“Who knew packing boxes for 7 hours would make you so sweaty,” she jokes as she peels the shirt off her back. Standing in front of him in just her sports bra.

He turns away from her, making her laugh slightly. “Spencer, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” He asks as he turns back to look at her.

She nods softly, “do you want to shower with me?”

He’s speechless for a moment, staring at her with an open mouth, “yeah, yes sure.”

She can't help herself from laughing, taking his hand and pulling him into her tiny bathroom. She makes sure they both have a few towels, seeing him awkwardly stand by the door like he’s not allowed to move.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she reminded him. “Go as slow as you want.”

“I want to join you, but just to clean,” he made his decision.

“Alright, I have 3 different shampoos you can choose from,” she smiled, opening her cupboard and letting him pick. He smiled, appreciating how easily she made it a strictly business situation.

She took off her pants, watching him get undressed out of the corner of her eye. They had been much more intimate with each other already, getting naked in front of him shouldn’t have been as nerve-racking as it was.

She turned on the water, making sure it was the right temperature with her foot. She took a deep breath and just took the sports bra off, freeing her boobs after a long day felt amazing, replacing the fear of Spencer seeing her for the first time. She dropped her underwear to the floor and stepped into the shower, waiting for him to do the same.

Before she knew it, he was standing in front of her, naked. She didn’t know how to act, just laughing and smiling at him. He did the same, it felt kinda crazy that they were standing in a shower, butt naked as the water pooled at their feet.

“You have to pull the thingy up,” she pointed at the bottom of the shower behind him. “It might be cold when it hits you, here pull it up and hide in the corner, like I do.”

He followed her instructions, pulling the small silver plug up to redirect the water from the tub faucet to the shower head. Cowering into the corner with her, their chests pressed together as the cold water hit his back, making him gasp as she laughed.

She wrapped her arms around him, leaning against the shower wall as she held him against her, “hi,” she whispered through her smile.

He kissed her quickly before backing up under the stream. She watched the water cover his hair, making it darker as it spread through the long locks. She watched it drip down his body softly, her eyes travelling down as it did.

He had a scar on his neck and all the bruising on his chest was long gone. His skin was so pretty, he only had a small amount of chest hair, but it was the collection of freckles all over capturing her gaze the most. She reached out and rested her hand on his chest, seeing his eyes open as he ran his hands through his hair.

“Sorry,” she pulled her hand back.

“It’s okay,” he laughed slightly. “Here,” he reached behind her for the bar of soap, “if you want to touch me while I wash my hair?”

“Yeah,” she smiled. Reaching for the loofa on the tap behind him, standing directly in his space as she did so.

They switched sides, slowly turning so he would be out of the spray of the shower head. He put shampoo in his hands and rubbed it through his hair while she watched quietly for a moment.

She rubbed the bar of soap against the fabric of the loofa, watching it foam up and fill the small space with a soft cucumber scent. Running it over his chest softly as he massaged his scalp. She was so soft with him, mesmerized by how lucky she was.

He was beautiful and soft. He wasn’t big and buff like Derek, he was just a normal man with a love for chocolate donuts and jello. She ran the loofa over his tummy as she smiled, loving everything about him.

Loving every part actually while trying to avoid both eye and physical contact with specific sections of him. Not knowing if he was okay, wanting to respect his space, and appreciating that he was doing the same with her.

He laughed when she ran it along his side, ticking his armpit as he tried to wash his hair, soap dripping down onto his eyebrow. She reached up and wiped it off his face so it wouldn’t go in his eye.

“Thanks,” he smiled.

“Switch?” She said as she guided him back under the water, his eyes still closed from the fear of getting soap in them. Scrunching his face up in the cutest way.

The water cascaded over his body, washing the soap down him as she watched, her hair not even close to being wet enough to wash yet. She just wanted to watch the show, to look at all of him and appreciate the moment.

He opened his eyes once all the soap was gone, his hair longer than ever as it laid flat behind his ears, he looked so funny without a big curly mop of hair on his head, remembering he said it used to be like this at one point.

“Your turn?” He offered, taking the loofa from her and reapplying the soap to it. “Can I?”

“Of course,” she answered as he slowly ran the material over her.

He was so gentle, she watched his face as he washed over her. Biting his bottom lip in concentration as he covered her chest, arms and stomach, “um,” he tried to speak, she knew what he wanted.

She took the loofa from him and replaced it with a bar of soap, “rub it in your hands for a sec, and then use them it’s easier.”

He did just that, lathering up his hands before he placed them directly on her breasts. She let out a sigh, bordering on a moan, as he held them in his hands, massaging the soap in carefully. Thumbs rubbing over her nipples as he made sure to not miss a spot.

She was in heaven, tossing her head back against the shower wall as he ran his hands over her more. Exploring her as she leaned against the wall.

Down her stomach, past her belly button, washing her hips before dropping to his knees. Using the bar of soap once more to wash over her legs as she stared at him, amazed by the bravery he was showing.

The water getting in his eyes down there, he stood and pushed his hair back out of his face as the water dropped to the floor, “turn around?” He asked softly.

“Yeah,” she replied, turning to face the wall.

He ran his soapy hands all over her back, over her shoulders and arms. Paying special attention to her butt, which made her laugh, she was only a little ticklish there.

She was covered head to toe in bubbles, Spencer looked at her with a big grin on his face as he noticed his job was done. Helping her under the water to wash all the soap off.

She lifted her arms to run the water through her hair, feeling her boobs perk up as she did so. Spencer's attention being completely switched to her chest as he watched. “Pass me the gold shampoo bottle?”

“Y-yeah,” he said, grabbing it from behind himself and handing it back to her.

She stepped into his space, pouring the soap into her hand and rubbing it in. “They say if you lather it up it’ll apply easier,” she explained her little life hack as she rubbed her hands together.

Finally running her hands back through her hair in Spencer’s personal bubble. Her boobs pressing against his chest once again. He was breathing heavier as she watched him, hoping soap didn’t make its way into her eye and ruin the moment.

When she finally stepped back to wash the soap out of her hair, Spencer followed, pressing them together once more. Holding her by the waist as she continued to get the soap out.

Once the water ran clean, she rested her hands on Spencer's shoulders. Staring at him as the water ran down her back, his eyelashes covered in water droplets as he stared into her eyes.

He was beautiful like this, just himself.

“Are we ever going to be like a real couple?” He asked softly.

“What do you mean?”

He ran his wet hands over his back as he thought about it for a moment, “I would like to be with you, more than this, but-”

“You mean sex?” She smiled softly, trying her best to not tease him. It was a serious moment, but she loved him too much to see him struggle.

“Yeah, I just don’t know how I’ll react,” he admitted.

“Honey,” she cooed, rubbing her nose against his softly. “Sex doesn’t make us a real couple, first of all. And second, we have all the time in the world, so you take it as slow as you want. We can start little by little, I don’t mind waiting.”

“How do you mean?”

She smirked at him, “have you ever masturbated in the same room as someone else?”

He swallowed sharply, shaking his head softly, “no, have you?”

“No,” she whispered. “But it’s a small step. You can sit beside me, we touch ourselves, nothing overlaps unless you want it to. Ease into it. It would be another easy way to be comfortable with your body around me.”

“Okay,” he agreed.

She reached behind herself to turn the water off, tapping the silver plug with her foot to release the pressure, and stepping out of the shower finally.

—

They dried off, getting into their pj’s before laying on the couch in her empty living room. Listening to the Hozier album that was already sitting on the player and cuddling while their hair dried. Just enjoying each other's company, he was so soft and he smelled amazing, it was so nice to have him in her space.

“Did you still want to?” Spencer cut into the moment.

It made her smile against him, lifting her head off his chest as she went to stand up. “Come on,” she took his hand, helping him to his feet.

She pulled him in close, kissing his lips softly. Only planning to kiss him once, being drawn into his mouth as his hands wrapped around her back.

She held him in return, slowly making her way into the bedroom as they stayed connected, laughing as her back smacked the door frame and then at the way he fell into her bed with her on top.

Her music softly travelled in from the living area, they kept the lights off as they stripped out of their pants and got under the covers.

“How did you want to start?” She asked, turning to face him as she laid against the pillow.

“Can we just kiss for a while?”

“Absolutely,” she smiled, placing a hand on his cheek and leaning in.

She was laying slightly on top of him, holding his face in her hands as she kissed him. His tongue was soft, swirling with hers as they made out softly. He was very handsy, wanting to touch every single part of her once again like he didn’t get enough in the shower.

She spread her leg between his, sitting on his thigh as she rubbed against him. He bit her lip, squeezing her skin at the feeling. “I think I can do it,” he said softly.

“No,” she whispered, kissing his neck before getting off him. “I don’t want to hear I think. It’s a yes or it’s a no.”

“Okay,” he managed to bring reason back into his horny brain.

He took his shirt off, only in boxers beside her, tenting in them slightly. She took off her shirt as well, laying back against the pillow. He watched her breasts the whole time, licking his lips as he leaned on his side.

She ran a hand over her side, cupping her breast and tossing her head into the pillow more. “I’m starting without you,” she teased, her other hand slipping under the band of her underwear.

He laid on his back, bending his knees as he slipped his boxers off, she looked over at him with careful eyes. Genuinely curious about how beautiful he would look rock hard and begging for it.

She didn’t move her hand, just resting it under her underwear to entice him to start. She watched as he stroked himself softly, returning his attention to her smiling face.

She pushed her shirt and underwear off as well, scooting in closer to him so she was pressed against his side. Bending one knee so she could ghost her fingers over the folds as he watched her.

“I want to touch you,” he rushed the words out.

“Okay.”

He reached his left hand over, resting it on her hip before resting his hand on top of hers. She slipped it out from under his grasp, guiding his fingers to her clit as she stretched her legs further apart.

“Yeah, like that,” she encouraged him.

“W-would you?”

“Finish the sentence,” she instructed him. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

“Stroke me, I want it. Yes.”

She wrapped her fist around him, feeling his fingers swoop down to see how wet she was. “Oh,” she jerked her hips against his side, not expecting him to loop the wetness back up and rub her clit again.

He groaned as she stroked him faster, both of them staring at their own handiwork. She was fascinated with how big he was, being able to stroke up and down him so gracefully it was like she was always meant to. She licked her lips as she saw the pearl of precum drip out. Gathering it up with her thumb as she slid back down his length.

He was panting, trying to hold himself back as she kept jerking him off. Lightly touching her clit as all his attention focused on not cuming so soon.

“It’s okay honey,” she whispered in his ear.

Straddling his thigh then. His hand resting on her clit still as she ground down on him. “Is this okay?” She asked.

He nodded, “yes,” biting his lip so he didn’t explode right then and there.

He felt amazing on her, every time her hips ground down her clit rested right between his fingers perfectly to gain the perfect amount of friction back and forth.

She let herself go, bucking her hips and moaning as she stroked him with one hand. Resting the other behind her neck so he could look at her boobs perk up again, sending him so close to the edge he almost jumped out of his skin.

“Fuck,” he gasped. “C-an I?”

“Cum baby,” she gasped. Following her own instruction as she watched the cum burst from him, shooting up over her fist as she stroked him through it. Grinding against him as she whimpered, “fuck, I love you,” leaving her mouth.

Letting go of his dick as he started to whine, she dropped down against him with her face nestled into his neck.

She kissed him, over and over again. Peppering them against his skin for the best orgasm she has ever had.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close against his skin as he came down from the high. His chest heaving as he tried to calm down, only picking up again when she heard the sob.

“Shhh,” she whispered against his skin, letting him hold her tighter against him as he cried. “I love you, honey, it’s okay. I’m here for you.”

She felt the tears welling in her own eyes, overwhelmed with her feelings for him. “I love you so much Spencer,” she cried against his skin, the tears dripping down his neck slowly.

His hands ran over her back, they held each other while they cried.

Everything from the last week finally catching up with them both. They hadn’t taken a moment to talk about any of it, the fact he was even in prison or what happened after. They just moved on, pretending it was fine now.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered finally.

“Me too,” he pressed his hand onto her cheek, freeing her from his neck as she sat up a little.

Both of them still gross from the sex, pressing sweaty foreheads together as they took a moment. “I’m so sorry,” she emphasized, “are you okay?”

“I’m wonderful,” he laughed at the absurdity. “I’m crying because I love you so much.”

“Really?” She laughed too.

He nodded softly. Kissing her nose as she pulled back to look at him better. “I want to touch you but,” she laughed at the mess on her hand and where she rested it on his chest. “Can we pause for one sec?” She couldn’t stop smiling.

The two of them continuing to laugh at the situation as they cleaned up in the bathroom, laughing even harder as she sat to pee like they had been married for a million years already, laughing the hardest when it came out in dribbles from all the laughing.

Going through every emotion in the book as they coped with the insanity together.

Once they were clean they crawled back into bed. Resuming almost the same position as she sat down on his lap, holding his face in her hands like she wanted to. Rubbing her thumbs on his cheeks as he pulled her in closer by her hips.

“Tell me what you’re feeling?” She whispered.

“I’m happy, you saved my life and I can’t believe I get to do this with you,” he explained softly, moving his hands on her back. He talked with his hands, not able to say anything without them moving.

“You’re the best person I’ve ever known, Spencer,” she reassured him.

“Why?” He asked softly. “not in a pity party sense, I just want to know how you feel. You haven’t really told me, I’ve been waiting for you to open up, I thought maybe you were just like that because it was your job, but I want to know you more.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she bumped their noses together. “I don’t normally talk to people, even with Derek I’m really closed off. But I do trust you, and I want to, I just wanted to experience you when you’re free. I wanted to see if this overwhelming ache in my heart would dissipate as I was allowed to love you.”

She didn’t want to cry again. Blinking so the tears rolled back behind her eyes, licking her lips as her head tilted slightly. She just stared at his honey eyes, glossy and blown out. So absolutely beautiful.

“It got worse,” she laughed slightly. “I realized that now that you’re free you don’t have to see me every day, luckily you want to. But, now I think about losing you instead of keeping you safe.”

“Never,” he shook his head, face still cupped in her hands. “I’m never leaving you, you’re going to need a restraining order if you want to break up.”

She laughed, pushing the tears out, finally. Spencer kissed her cheeks, wiping the tears away with his lips. “Okay,” her voice broke as she tried not to cry anymore.

“I love you,” Spencer whispered. “You’re brave and kind, incredibly smart. You’re willing to do whatever it takes for the ones you love, you’re the only person I want to talk to every day.”

“I was going to say that about you,” she pressed their lips together finally, pushing him back against the headboard.

She laid her head on his shoulder, cuddling into him as she sat in his lap, “I have never loved anyone like this.”

“Me either,” he admitted as he pressed his cheek to her head. “Not even with Maeve, or Derek I know he told you.”

“And your mom,” she smiled. “She actually welcomed me to the family, said she always wanted a daughter. It’s nice to have a mom again.”

That broke him, he finally dropped the tuff boyfriend act he was putting up to hear her feelings, crying at his mother and the love of his life being close. She could tell he was a mamma’s boy, they had a bond Y/N wished she could have with someone. The closest she had to a Diana was Derek, as funny as that was.

She let him cry, not prying into it at all. Letting him take control of his emotions and the conversation. She ran her hands up and down his arm, soothing him softly as he held on to her.

“I was so scared,” is all Spencer says.

“I can imagine.”

“No, I mean about my mom,” he corrects her softly. “I thought the second she got her diagnosis that I ruined everything for her. She was going to forget me before I could even find a person to marry, let alone give her grandkids.

‘She was going to forget me,’ echoed in her mind as she wrapped her head around what he was saying. He was more terrified of losing his mother and missing time with her than he was about being in prison. He really put every ounce of his love into his family, it was beautiful.

“I applied to work at the sanatarium,” is how she answers. “They needed a GP and I need a job. This way I can see her every day, and you can go to work or teach or do whatever and know she’ll be okay. And old people seem nicer than cops and criminals.”

“I love you.”

She laughs, kissing his neck softly. “She’ll be okay, we’ll get her taken care of and who knows, maybe we’ll have more answers before a grandkid rolls around.”

It’s a risk, joking about having kids with him already. But she was ready for a life sentence with him, willing to stay in that god-awful prison as long as he was there. Including if he lost his case.

“You’re too good to me.”

“I try,” she smiled. “You’re pretty fantastic yourself, I didn’t just fall in love with your pretty face, sure you’re helpful and do what I say. But I love you because of what’s in here,” she ran her hand over his chest.

He just held her, silence encapsulating the room finally. The record stopped playing in the living room, no one was on the street at this time of night, the world stopped as she laid in his arms.

The Sunday morning sun was going to start coming up as she stayed up in his lap, both of them settling more against the pillow. She had no plans to get off him, he had no plans to separate from her loving embrace.

a/n: still working on an epilogue idk when it'll be done

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matthewtkachuk · 4 years

Text

feel something pt 1 - jj

On the outside, you’re a kook princess with a seemingly perfect life and a perfect family. The expectations are suffocating you, to the point where the only thing you feel is numb. You’re chasing different coping mechanisms in order to feel something. Until a chance encounter with a certain blond pogue you know you’re supposed to hate gives rise to a different kind of feeling.

Warnings: angst, toxic behaviour, poor coping mechanisms, drug usage, mentions of sex, mentions of suicidal ideations (brief), Rafe being a grade a asshole, shitty parents

Pairings: JJ x reader (eventually), Rafe x reader (slight), Topper x reader (slight)

Words: 3.1k

A/N: I accidentally deleted this, ugh sorry if you see this again!! I started off wanting to write a supremely angsty one shot, turned into a supremely angsty multi-chapter fic. This is a slow burn, babyy. Here’s the set up, let me know what you think! :)

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You stand teetering on the edge of the balcony railing, barefoot and facing the waves as they crash onto the beach. You’re not thinking about jumping. At least you’re pretty sure you won’t actually jump. Really you’re just looking for even a flicker of an emotion to stir up in your chest. Lately you haven’t felt anything more than mild annoyance at your parent’s constant bickering and pestering. You know you’re too young, but all you feel anymore is numb. You lift your left leg, balancing precariously on the right for a minute before lowering it and returning to the balcony and slipping your heels back on.

You don’t want to die, you just don’t want to live like this. Kook princess, paraded and practically pimped around by your parents, looking for you to find an advantageous marriage, have 2.5 kids and further accumulate your hoarded wealth. “Why don’t you date the Cameron boy? He’s quite good looking and your father would love it if you married his business partner’s son” and “The Thornton boy would be a good match, the family mansion is the largest” and “Jacob Kane’s father is a name partner at a successful law firm on the mainland”. Your mother’s incessant nagging about finding the perfect husband only further cements your lack of value as a human being, your usefulness tapped out at your ability to be someone’s wife.

You don’t understand the wealth accumulation thing, your trust fund probably equals the national budget of a small country already, and there’s no way anyone could blow through the entire family fortune in a single generation. At this point, it just feels like generating wealth for the sake of generating it. What good is money if it just sits in a bank account or investment portfolio, earning passive income and not being used for anything.

You recognize you’re very privileged, you’ve never once had to worry about where your next meal would come from, you have a closet full of designer handbags and red bottom shoes the value of which could feed several families on the Cut. But what’s the cost? You feel suffocated by the pressure bestowed upon you by your parents. You’re the eldest sibling, primary heiress to the Y/L/N family fortune and expected future successor of the family business. Truthfully, you couldn’t give less of a fuck about retail development or whatever it is that keeps your father so busy that he missed every single one of your piano and ballet recitals growing up. You like the idea of studying Shakespeare’s sonnets and soliloquies over learning about mergers and acquisitions and tax avoidance laws at college, but you know your father would sooner cut you off than let you pursue your own passions.

Sometimes you let yourself fantasize about leaving it all behind, running off to some college like Columbia, moving to New York and living in the city that never sleeps. With your 4.0 GPA and stellar extracurricular activities, you could probably get a pretty good scholarship. Or maybe Paris, where you would sit in a cute little café flirting with French boys and writing poetry by the Seine River. But it would be hard, and you’re too much of a coward to see if you could make it on your own without daddy’s money. Not to mention the little voice in the back of your head that sounds suspiciously like your mothers telling you that you’ll never amount to anything without their help.

Later, you’re wandering the party, both hands curled tightly around the cup you hold to your lips, eyes staring out at the crowd over the rim. Unfortunately, you catch Rafe Cameron’s eye as he’s sat around the coffee table with a freshly cut white line ready on the surface. He’s surrounded by the idiots he calls friends and more than one pretty little rich girl making eyes at him. The left corner of his mouth turns up in a smirk as he realizes you’ve sized up the company around him.

“Hey Y/L/N, want a line? First one’s on me, babe.” He calls out at you, but you just roll your eyes and keep moving forward. As desperate as you are to feel something, you’re not sure you can cross that line just yet. Partaking in the occasional joint or bong rip is one thing, but hard drugs is another. You don’t think trading in the empty feeling in your chest for an addiction is worth it. Seeing the blown out pupils of some of your peers, and the way they not-so-discreetly sniff and wipe at their noses you realize you’re likely alone in that assessment. “Your loss!” he calls out at your retreating form, and you don’t even bother to look over your shoulder. You know he’s not really interested in you beyond making you a customer and maybe a quick fuck.

You snort to yourself, wondering what your mother would think about the boy she wanted you to pursue offering you a line of coke at a party. Knowing her, she would focus on the fact that you had gained his attention and ignore the illicit substance.

Making your way through the cluster of bodies is harder than you had initially thought, everyone was on everyone. Every kook party ends up this way, a certain subset of the group coked out and the rest so drunk they can’t function, and you begin to wonder why you even bothered coming.

You’re not totally sure what you’re looking for, your best friend and Rafe’s younger sister Sarah doesn’t really associate with this crowd anymore ever since she started spending all her time with the less fortunate side of the island. Rafe had called it ‘slumming with those dirty fucking pogues’ the last time Sarah had partied with you. Maybe it isn’t right to call her your best friend anymore because not only does she not associate with this crowd, she doesn’t really associate with you either.

You know she’s hanging with Kie again, there are a lot of watchful eyes on the island and even more flapping lips. It’s kind of ironic, Sarah was the one who convinced you to drop Kie, and you had let her. Now the two of them were spending all their time together on some dilapidated boat named after the inhabitants of the Cut and you were alone at some lame party with a heavy weight on your chest and under your eyes.

Sighing deeply, you down the rest of the contents of your cup and grab a refill before turning your attention back to the crowd of people in the middle of the living room. As your brain starts to fog further with the familiar feeling four vodka crans give you, you let Topper put his hands on your hips and pull your bodies close together, your back to his front. A voice in the back of your mind wonders if you’re supposed to feel guilt over Sarah’s ex’s hands all over your body, but you don’t feel anything and Sarah clearly doesn’t give a fuck about you either.

The next morning you wake up with Topper’s hands around your bare waist. There’s a pain radiating against your skull and you have cotton mouth, but you quietly gather your clothes and sneak out of the room before the sleeping blonde can wake up and give you that regretful look he gets in his eyes every time you hook up. You know he still loves Sarah, in his own fucked up way and though you don’t regret where you woke up, you know you’ll just be annoyed if you have to deal with his issues this early in the morning with this bad of a hangover.

You’ve almost successfully left the large mansion, quietly walking through the living room to the front door when a voice remarks dryly, “Really, y/n? I thought you were better than my sister’s leftovers.”

Inhaling through your nose and out your mouth sharply, you spin on your heel to face Rafe with a blank expression on your face. He sits at the kitchen island, bare-chested with his hat on backwards, casually eating a bowl of cereal. The thought of why exactly Rafe is sitting half naked in Topper’s kitchen, eating Topper’s cereal briefly flashes through your mind but you decide you don’t care. “What do you care Rafe?” you ask, only half interested in his response. There’s a moment of silence, and you pick at your fingernails rather than meet his gaze.

“I’m just saying, I thought you were better than that,” he shrugs, bringing another spoonful to his mouth.

You roll your eyes, already tired of the conversation, “And who, pray tell, is better for me?”

“Me of course,” he smirks at you, and you huff out an annoyed laugh and raise an eyebrow silently asking him to explain. “Come on princess, I know your parents want you to marry up. ‘m your best option on this island”.

Mildly annoyed, you roll your eyes and turn back towards the front door, eager to leave this conversation behind. “C’mon baby, we both know how this thing ends, with you on my arm as the perfect trophy wife.”

There was a time those words might have brought butterflies in your stomach. Growing up best friends with Sarah meant you also grew up with Rafe, and you used to have the biggest crush on him. Forbidden by Sarah after a late night game of truth or dare, you didn’t use to mind when your mother would spout off about Rafe being the perfect boy for you. He used to look out for you like he did for Sarah. But that was a long time ago, and he no longer cared about either of you anymore and you had to admit you couldn’t remember why you had ever thought him anything but repulsive. That was before the drugs and the untethered rage that always rests just under the surface of his skin, ready to be unleashed at the smallest slight. You might have married the little boy with the gap toothed smile who once punched Jacob Kane when you were in the second grade and he wouldn’t stop bothering you, but this Rafe wasn’t good for anything beyond a quick meeting in the dark.

If you had been able to feel anything, you might have snapped back at him, but you had no energy and honestly all you wanted was to shower in your own shower and collapse in your own bed, so you ignored his comment and slipped out the door.

It was a quick walk back to your house, and you snuck in quietly through the front door hoping no one was home and your dreams of slumbering until the early afternoon could be realized. Unfortunately, your mother sat on the cream colored chaise in the sitting room, clearly anticipating your arrival. Her eyes quickly scanned your appearance, your manolos held by the straps in your right hand, your sex hair and décolletage you were sure was covered in bites and bruises caused by overeager lips, before sighing.

“Y/n, darling, you have to stop this silly behaviour and settle down. Boys aren’t going to want to lock you down if they’ve already had you.” She criticizes, effectively slut-shaming you. You roll your eyes at that, briefly wondering if the old wives tale was true and you’d end up with your eyes stuck like that. You decide you don’t mind, it would save you some time as your base reaction to most interactions is to roll them.

“I had a rough night mom, I’d like to go back to bed,” you tell her as you try to slip past her. A cold hand circles your wrist, stiletto tipped manicure digging slightly into the skin stopping you from moving any further.

“I’m serious, y/n, you’re better than this.” She throws the same words Rafe had at you. Exasperated and exhausted you rip your wrist from her grasp and head to the stairs. “We’re not done talking about this!” she shouts but you ignore her and continue towards your nice shower and bed.

Rolling over to an empty bed several hours later, you grumble as you try to identify the source of your wakeup call. Cursing as you smack your arm against your side table, you finally manage to grab your ringing cell phone. Seeing RC flash as the contact calling, you groan loudly, before hitting the decline button and rolling back over. A minute later your phone chimes again, indicating a voice mail.

You figure there’s no point in drawing out the inevitable, so you unlock the phone and listen the voicemail Rafe left. He’s invited you to hang out with him and his friends on his dad’s yacht. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you’ve sent him a text to say you’d be there in an hour. Despite there being no love lost between you and Rafe, you really don’t have any better options and maybe if you tell your mom who you’re hanging out with she’ll get off your back and not subject you to The Lecture. You and Sarah used to laugh and joke about The Lecture, about how being a Y/L/N means being perfect and obtaining a perfect husband. The two of you would mock your mother, exaggerating her southern drawl that slipped out as she lectured you on the importance of propriety and ‘leaving something to the imagination’.

As you slip on a navy sundress with a deep neckline, you laugh, thinking to yourself that there’s not much left to leave to the imagination. You take the time to curl the ends of your hair to create a bouncy wave and apply a few coats of waterproof mascara and lip gloss. The humid heat of the OBX keeps your makeup routine light in the summer.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” Shit. Your dad’s home, he knows you stayed out all night, and he’s pissed. You don’t think your mom told him the full story, because he’s not frothing at the mouth mad, just his typical disappointed mad.

“Rafe invited a couple of friends to hang out on his dad’s yacht, daddy,” you reply back, not meeting his eyes.

You can tell your dad disapproves, because the lines between his eyebrows are more pronounced with his narrowed eyes. As he starts to give you what you’re sure is an impassioned lecture, your mother pops up out of nowhere, gushing, “Rafe? Well of course you can go sweetie, isn’t that right hon?” she turns to your dad, a single eyebrow raised daring him to defy her. Your parents are the ultimate power couple, wielding power and guilt over each other almost as easily as they try to do to you.

He sighs, realizing the fight with his vengeful wife isn’t worth the lesson you’re not going to learn anyway and nods, “Alright, just be back for supper, we’re going to sit down as a family tonight. And tell Sarah we said hi.”

If either parent noticed your stiffened back, they don’t comment on it. You hadn’t told them that Sarah dumped you like yesterday’s news just yet. Why blow a perfect cover story? Again, the lack of guilt should probably concern you, but you’re more focused on the very expensive, very good quality wine that you know is waiting for you on the Cameron’s yacht.

An hour later, you’re sitting between a very uncomfortable Topper and a disinterested Kelce with a full wineglass in your left hand. Your right hand slides your sunglasses back onto your eyes to shield them from the harsh sunlight that beats down directly on your face.

You can’t find the energy to strike up a conversation with either of them, and they don’t seem very inclined to start one either, so you turn your head to the side and look out at the water until you see a familiar beat up boat approaching. You visibly tense as your eyes lock on your blonde former best friend laughing with her arm around John B as their stupid friends talk and laugh around them. “You okay, y/n?” Kelce finally speaks, noticing your change in posture.

“Never better,” you drily reply moving to turn your head back to the other side of the yacht, as if the other boat on the water didn’t exist at all. Your eyes briefly flicker to the other blond on the boat, taut muscles on display beyond the ratty cut-off tank top as the pogue known as JJ attempts to wrestle with his friend Pope. You feel a drop in your stomach that perplexes you as your eyes scan his sunkissed skin. Startled, you turn your head quickly and take a huge sip of your wine.

You anticipated some sort of confrontation, maybe a thrown insult, but their boat simply eclipsed the yacht and they continued on their way. You were annoyed by the concerned look that Kelce threw your way after they had left, so you downed your glass and grabbed Rafe’s hand and all but dragged him inside the cabin.

The second the door shuts behind you, you’re on him, mouths mashing in a hungry kiss. He smirks against your mouth and leads you into the bathroom and proceeds to rid you of your clothes.

As you’re letting Rafe Cameron fuck you in the bathroom of his yacht, your mind can’t help but think you’re fucking over Sarah, too.

“Fuck baby, you feel so good,” he praises in your ear as he thrusts into you from behind. You don’t even have the energy to fake a moan, you just lean your head back against his shoulder.

When he’s finished, you simply slip your dress back on, refill your glass and sit back between Topper and Kelce as if they didn’t just hear you hook up with their best friend.

You go to bed early that night after a “nice family dinner” that consists of back-handed compliments and your mother fishing for details about your time on the yacht. You don’t think she’d be too pleased about letting Rafe ‘have you’ before ‘locking you down’, so you keep it to a minimum. Both parents drill it into your head that as a Y/L/N, you’re held to a higher standard than your peers. Perfect grades, perfect life, perfect daughter. You don’t know how to tell them you don’t even feel human anymore, so you smile and nod as they pester and nag. Your little sister sits quietly the whole time, looking at you with an emotion you can’t quite decipher.

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imagine-loki · 4 years

Text

Return

TITLE: Return CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Six AUTHOR: theterrifyingtermite ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine that, at the end of Endgame, Loki comes back. Only one problem: this isn’t your Loki. RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS: Nothing too dramatic here. Four more to go!

Chapter Six:

I’m sorry, he had whispered once to her, suddenly, and with a misery she had not heard in weeks.

She had paused mid step, pulling him back when he tried to move away from her and led him off to the side of bridge, out of the way of other travelers.

What on Asgard did he mean?

There was hesitation in his posture as he leaned against the railing, reluctant in his tone.

Sorry because she was hidden away. Tucked out of the way, like a forbidden fruit incapable of being brought forth into the light. Like she meant nothing more to him than some private escape, or a fantasy-

He was always more dramatic the more melancholic he felt.

Lifting a hand, she worked her fingers through his hair, hoping her smile was comforting.

She knew she was more than a castaway toy. In time, they would know what to do about it and how to change it.

Until then…

She wrapped her arms around his waist, feeling the automatic rise of his own to return the embrace.

Until then, they could have this peace.

___

They were sitting at her table.

She and the God of Thunder.

“Hi, I’m Thor. Doctor Strange told me about you and explained everything,” he had said immediately after the door had opened. “Thank you,” was also blithely offered as he swept past her, setting down the large axe that had been dangling from his belt and hanging the hammer on a hook concurrently.

Her brow had furrowed. “I’m not sure he would be the best source,” she had muttered, following him as he meandered down the hallway. “What are you doing here?”

Thor had merely exclaimed, “Ah, here it is!” as he turned a corner and found her kitchen. “Light! And chairs! Precisely what we need.

“Oh, where are my manners?” He had pulled out a chair, waved a hand theatrically towards it as she trailed him into the room. “Do sit down. Do you need to put your feet up? Can I get you anything?”

Reeling, she had dropped into the offered seat, and then had watched as he went digging through her cabinets, chirping things such as “cups!” and “fizzy water!” until he was satisfied and had returned to the table.

He had set down three glasses – “Not sure which one is your favorite! Don’t people have favorites?” – and several of the afore-mentioned bottles – “Do you ever mix kinds for different flavors?” – before dropping into a chair across from her, folding his arms, and beaming at her.

And thus, they were sitting at her table.

She and the God of Wonder, blunder, hunger? her mind supplied rather unhelpfully, as she could do little else but blink at him in a mixture of bemusement and, if she were honest, annoyance, as he procured a package of cookies he had whisked out of nowhere.

“I have to say, I’m not sure I understand everything, and I was honestly overly excited and not listening entirely, but I am so happy to finally meet you.”

He was like a puppy.

A bouncing, energetic, full-blooded Golden Retriever.

Meanwhile, all she wanted to do was play the Snapping Turtle in the face of his unbridled enthusiasm.

Maybe it was the look on her face.

Maybe it was the fact that she had yet to really answer him.

Several more seconds of awkward silence, and the bubble of cheer that Thor had brought with him deflated rapidly.

“Don’t you have anything to say?” was the question, offered in a much lower tone as he drooped in his seat.

Did she?

Oh, there were so many things she had wanted to say. Things of the past; things that had haunted Loki every step he took. She had always wanted to take Thor and shake him into sense.

And yet, staring into the eyes of an elder, grieving brother, she could sense he had been doing what she had for the past five months.

Grieving.

Coping.

Though for him, it had been over five years.

Sighing, she reached out across the table, a hesitant smile quirking up her mouth as Thor’s face brightened immediately once more.

He quickly latched onto her hand, thumbing the back of it over and over and over again in a gentle, sweeping motion.

Watching his movements, feeling his grip tight and unyielding, she finally, really looked at him.

“Hi,” she breathed.

“Hi,” he grinned back.

___

But what if you just told him? She had asked him one day, as they sat in front of a fountain, eating ice cream.

Well, she had been eating hers, cup quickly emptying while her sober companion had been brooding instead of partaking, leaving his to puddle in the fading summer light.

A shrug. An incoherent mumble.

Loki, she had half-sung his name, nudging his shoulder with her own. If he was actually honest for once, why wouldn’t Thor forgive him? Why wouldn’t he understand?

But, no, it was far too complicated for that, apparently.

There was too much to get past.

He never would.

Never.

She had stared straight ahead at the dancing water, scraping her bowl clean of any chocolate-peanut butter remnants.

Silence. Then:

Would he not?

Setting aside her trash, and removing his from his hand, she had tucked herself under his arm as it wound absently around her shoulders. Well, he wouldn’t know unless he tried, would he?

There had been a sigh, and then his head had tilted to rest against her own. If he did, it would mean the end of the way things were. Things would have to change. They couldn’t stay the same.

Everything would have to come into the light or nothing at all.

There had been an opportunity for her to be hurt; to be angry that it seemed he wanted to hide her and keep her tucked away, out of sight.

But she knew it was because he was safe here. Things would change, but if it meant he was no longer hiding, then, well…

Still, she had persisted in return to his bemoaning, wouldn’t it be worth it? It meant no longer having to hide. To be whom he was.

Because, she had added after a quiet moment, reaching up to turn his face gently until he was looking her in the eye, he was worth loving just as he was.

___

They had talked the rest of the morning and all afternoon.

She had shared what she could; pouring everything Loki had told her out to Thor.

At first, she had a keen sense of betrayal, but she tamped down on that.

All she could do was tell him of her Loki.

Whether or not it applied to the one who had fallen into their universe was up to him.

They weren’t the same man.

Even if she wanted them to be.

In turn, Thor told her stories of Loki as a child, filling in the blanks of his perspective when one had been something her Loki had told her.

They laughed.

She cried.

Thor denied that he did, even if he sniffled once or twice and rubbed at his face.

In the end, she found herself eased into a pleasant state of forgiveness. Thor was willing to recognize where he had gone wrong, and she was already well aware of Loki’s own failings in communication.

It wasn’t difficult to see the depth of Thor’s hurt, and the pain his past judgments now caused him.

He had asked her of her pregnancy; quizzed her on things of which he was unsure, stared; eyes wide when she recounted the earlier months. Glowered, brows drawn as she hunched her shoulders and told him of the first few meetings with Loki.

But, as she made sure to point out, it had been drastically different after the brothers had spoken with each other.

Plus, she didn’t honestly think Loki would ever really hurt her. Panicking after a traumatic experience was only natural. She had come to realize the last time that he had been checking up on her – not the baby, but her.

As far as apologies went, it wasn’t all that great.

As far as all was concerned, she would take what she could get.

Cheered once more, Thor promised to come and visit her when he could, had made her promise to keep him updated through, surprisingly, e-mail.

When he admitted he had needed one to make accounts for video games, she laughed harder than she had since the Blip, the child wiggling in response.

When he asked rather sheepishly if he could rub her stomach before he left, she tried to roll her eyes.

Instead, she found herself nearly melting as he instantly dropped to a knee after her assent, placing a hand on the center of her stomach. He whispered for a moment in an otherworldly language, delight flashing across his face as he felt the infant kick.

His family.

As she was now, apparently.

Then there came an announcement that it was time for him to leave. She looped her arm through his proffered one as they made their way outside once more, Thor promising to look after her as best as he could.

“Make no mistake,” was what he finished with, turning back to face her – smile fading in brightness to something a touch more melancholic, “if you need anything at all, I will do whatever I can in his stead. I know it is not the same, but…” A shrug. “Please let me know. And if I see Loki again, I will try to get him to come check in on you more often. I believe in his heart he is a good man.”

A nod, and a smile. “I know.”

Waving, she watched as Thor spun his axe around, one more toothy grin flashing her way.

Definitelyagoldenretriever.

Gasping, she shielded her eyes at the explosion of light as the Bifrost opened up once more and swept him back to the place from where he had come.

Come to think about it, he never did say.

Not that it was any of her business.

Suddenly feeling oddly bereft and utterly alone, she crossed her arms tightly over the swell of her stomach, glowered briefly at the intricate design burned into her grass, and went back inside.

She was not going to start feeling sorry for herself now.

The rest of the evening passed by much more quietly.

Too quietly, almost.

Before the blustery entrance of her child’s Uncle! that had suddenly struck her, she had never noticed how quiet it was before.

Music, then, and she would carry on.

Five months and four days left.

She could make it.

She would.

___

What do you do when I’m not here? he had mused one night, flashing a teasing smile to her.

Twilight was approaching; the glow of the sun had long since faded.

A hand passed over her arm resting on the table between them.

Fingers entwined with her own.

Miss you, she had dimpled in response, earning a rare peal of laughter.

#Loki #Lover #Angst #Father #Others #Submitted fic #submission #theterrifyingtermite #chapter 6 #return

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spencer-is-amazing · 5 years

Text

Salvation (Michael Langdon x OC)

Pairing: Michael Langdon x Original Character

Word Length: 2k~

Warnings: None

Chapter 1: The End (x)

Chapter 2: The Beginning (x)

Chapter 3: Purple or Grey

Also posted on my Ao3 account! (x)

Wilhemina Venable lead Timothy, Emily and Julie through a tall tunnel that let to an open area, lit by a large fire that showed off just how massive the downstairs was.

Timothy inquired as to whether it was a fall out shelter, and Venable responded in a bleak tone, “It is now. For many years it served as an exclusive boys school.”

Julie was tempted to ask what kind of boy’s school was this deep underground and this strangely creepy, but Emily beat her to it, “What kind of boys school is subterranean?”

“The Cooperative, to whom we owe our eternal gratitude, took ownership and converted it once they realized what was coming.”

“The Cooperative knew the bombs were gonna drop and they didn’t make more? Try to save more people?” One look from Venable had Julie shutting her mouth.

“The Cooperative has plans far beyond the temporary cleansing fire of the bomb.” She led them through the main room downstairs, going through another passageway that led to a spiraled set of stairs. Julie would’ve been amazed under any other circumstances at the neat architecture.

“The Cooperative is not made up of nations or armies.” She paused at the base of the spiral. “It is a collection of the dozen greatest minds mankind has to offer. The visionaries.”

Julie couldn’t help herself, “Are you apart of the Cooperative?”

Venable ignored Julie’s question, and truthfully Julie hadn’t expected an answer, in turn explained exactly why they were there. She said technology was the problem, had led people to believe that they were equal, and it made Julie uneasy.

Venable sounded like one of those radicals who still believed in slavery and segregation and from the way there were people dressed in grey cleaning the floors, this would be a very uncomfortable lifestyle. Who even decided who got live in luxury and who scrubbed the toilets? Venable? The Cooperative?

She led the three of them into one room, “You are a purple.” The three of them were confused as Venable opened up a closet full of Victoria style purple dresses.

“The elite, the worthy.” Venable pierced Julie with a glare. “Those chosen to survive.”

Emily walked into the closet and pulled out a purple coat, scoffing at its ugliness. “I’m supposed to wear this shit?”

“In the Outpost, everyone must know their place.” Once again, she met Julie’s eyes. “The purple’s wear purple, the Grey’s, Grey.”

“Who are the Grey’s?” Venable called them the worker ants and said that they were here to serve, claiming they were grateful for the opportunity. It made her stomach turn to hear another human speak about others in such a degrading way.

Venable led Timothy to his room; closet full of purple suits and said much of the same that had been said to Emily before stepping out, leaving Julie alone with her. It was an awkward few minutes of silence.

“Am I a purple too?”

Venable’s face flickered in the light of the candle, “If it were up to me, you would have been left to the blast.” The terrifying woman tapped her cane twice. “If it were up to me, you’d be a grey.”

Julie held her breath, lungs whimpering for air but fear kept her still. Would she really throw her out?

“But lucky for you, the Cooperative is responsible for your survival. Now come, you should get settled in.”

The only sound that echoed through the underground cavern was Venable’s cane, taking her to a room that was much out of place from the others, as well as much larger. It felt so foreign, like attaching a prosthetic limb that was much more deserving of someone else.

There was a queen sized bed, a roaring fireplace, a massive closet which most likely held more purple clothes, and three couches that looked great for leisuring. But how did one leisuring when the world had burned and there were people deemed under her nose. It made her sick to be given all this.

Venable was on her way out when she spoke up, “The house rules are simple; you will address me as Ms. Venable, you may never leave the building and if you do you will not be allowed back inside.”

Venable tapped her cane, “Copulation of any kind is forbidden.” Not allowing sex in the end of times was pretty fucked.

“We dress for dinner, you’ll find your dinner wear on the left side of the armoire. Cocktails in the music room at 6:30, be prompt.”

She slid the door open; “There’s no excuse for tardiness when there’s nothing to do.” Julie flinched when the door slammed shut, eyes watering and lip trembling.

So this was her life now; living in Outpost 3 under the cruel thumb of Ms. Venable, following her rules and never seeing the cold light of day again. No one could blame her for wetting her pillow with tears.

Julie March left her room at 6:20, donned in a purple dress that belonged more in a 19th century novel than in 2020, but at least it was comfy so she couldn’t complain. A grey was a few feet away from her door and led her to the lounge hall, never making eye contact or speaking a word.

It was unsettling to say the least. But even worse were the people she was greeted to in the lounge area.

There was Gallant, a white haired flamboyant man-child who hated the repetitive song on the radio and had a liking for Coco’s hair, as well as being Evie’s grandson. And as for Evie, she was a bitter old woman who thought she deserved this so called ‘Salvation’ because she attended the Oscars with Natalie Wood.

There wasn’t much to say about the others; A white guy named Stu laid in the arms of his lover who’s name she still didn’t know, and a grey named Mallory complained to Coco that she deserved to be a purple.

Emily and Timothy came in after her and sat close, staring at the each other. So this was the end of the world, the last of civilization in one neat little box.

Gallant was making a fuss over Coco’s strange up do, and once more complaining about the song on the radio that played 24/7 and never changed or stopped.

A middle aged black woman who introduced herself as Dinah Stevens came near Timothy and tried to make conversation, while Gallant moved from Coco to asking Emily if anything was happening outside.

“It’s all gone. Everything.” None of them looked shocked, aside from Stu who couldn’t believe the word was dead in just two weeks.

Dinner was an awkward affair consisting of gelatin cubes with enough nutrients to keep the body alive, and conversation that made her want to tear her hair out. At least until Gallant grew brave enough to address her, as no one else had.

“So why do you get a special room? Everyone else is on the second floor but I saw you come from downstairs. In fact, what makes you a purple and not a grey?”

Gallant must have realized he was being to forward and backtracked, “Not trying to insult you or anything-“

Stu muttered “too late” and Gallant shot him a look before addressing her again, “I’m not saying you don’t deserve to be purple cause this whole system of who does and doesn’t is fucked in the ass, but just like, why you? I could do so much more with a bigger room.”

A lot of questions from a small-minded idiot, but she wasn’t mean enough to say that aloud. “To be honest, it’s just as surprising to you as it is to me. “ There wasn’t much else to say, so she stayed quiet, ignoring Evie’s glare at her side.

Julie used her fork to cut up her cube in four pieces, eating each one as slow as she could, even if the hunger was gnawing at her gut. A laugh nearly erupted when Coco ate hers in one bite and complained aloud that she wanted more.

“Fuck this bullshit!” Julie wanted to snort as Coco stood and spoke to the whole table, “With all the thought that went into this place, they don’t have a single bag of Pirate’s Booty in the pantry? For a hundred million dollars a ticket, I expect goddam Gordon Ramsay in the kitchen cooking us real food!”

Julie dropped her head when Ms. Venable came into sight, cane clacking on the ground. It was no shocker when she slapped Coco clean across the face, but the thing that did shock Julie was the short stout woman who was next to Ms. Venable.

It was akin to being slapped herself; she knew her.

At least, she thinks she did. Julie bites her lip in irritation, as she can’t place just where she’s seen here. It was like knocking on your own front door but no one answers, or like an autobiography with empty pages.

Her eyes closed and she traveled through her thoughts, avoiding all the happy memories of life before two weeks ago, and it was as if there was a fog in her brain, scrambling a few certain things she so desperately wanted to see.

“Are we boring you?”

Her eyes jolted open to find the whole table watching her, though the short stout woman was the one who had spoken to her. Julie shook her head and the stout woman gave her a soft smile that made her feel like a kid again.

Ms. Venable spoke of a carrier pigeon that had come, a message stating the there were in fact three other Outposts, but they had been overrun. That life outside these walls was nothing more than rotting corpses and hungry cannibals. They were it.

It was stomach curling to hear that after only two weeks like had all but been destroyed outside these walls; that there was nothing out there was cannibals and, she quotes, ‘canker puss monsters.’ Julie hoped she would never have to meet them.

A few other people walked in, dressed in black, and the tallest one leaned down to whisper in the stout woman’s ear.

“We have a problem.”

They had taken Stu and Gallant, claims of them having radiation spikes and Julie only assumed they were dead. They’d been allowed to leave after the two men had been dragged away, and Julie nearly vomited up her cube, but knew it would only hurt her in the long run.

She changed into her nightwear and paced the room, fire reflecting shapes on the wall. It was too early for sleep, and talking to the others would be as bad as being alone. There were no books in here and asking Ms. Venable if there was a library seemed too scary an option.

Were they supposed to do this for the next 18 months until they ran out of food, then what? Starve? Go crazy?

A sorrow filled chuckle filled the room but she refused to shed any more tears. It was acceptance or die.

A knock on the door brought her from her reverie, and Julie quickly slid it open, brows furrowing in confusion when no one was on the other side. Who the hell ding dong ditched in a damn fallout shelter?

“Hello?” There were no Grey’s, no Purple’s, no one. She was stepping back in when a flash from the corner of her eye had her sharply turning to the left, eyes widening at what she saw a few feet away.

It was a body covered in black latex, head to toe and in a pose that felt insanely nauseatingly threatening. “Can I help you?”

The figure stood there and this was something out of a horror movie to be honest. Only she would stand and talk to whatever the hell it was. “Hey!”

She yelled for it when the figure turned and walked away. Julie looked around, was she supposed to follow him? Or was this just some trick they were all playing on her for shits and giggles? This was such a scenario that you saw in movies like Scream, where you’re yelling for the girl to run away from the killer, but in Julie’s case, death might be better than life at Outpost 3.

With one last look at the much too large and painfully clean room, she closed the door and followed the figure.

Thanks for reading!

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stars-that-shine-at-night · 7 years

Text

Celestial AU! Mark Tuan x reader Shimmering Skies and Twinkling Lights ~Part 2~

A/n: I am so sorry for posting this so late. I tried getting this up as soon as I could, but I could never finish it these past few weeks. I was preparing for my host student. Long story short; she came, she went back, and now I have finished it.

The sun soon replaced the moon in the sky signifying the change of a new day...or at least your alarm clock did. You dreaded the obnoxious noise that interrupted your sleep. You reached up into the air to pop every joint in your body, hearing a relieving crack from your body. You turned your head to the left and you Mark lying next to you. That was right, Mark was the constellation Draco, who happened to crash into your apartment when he was banished from the heavens. Slowly you got out of your bed and started to get ready for work.

You pulled a pair of black slacks and a chiffon yellow button down shirt. Going to the restroom you started to apply your makeup. The golden rule of the office was less is more. Going along with rule you applied makeup that was very light and blended with your skin tone. You wanted to give people the feeling that you could be trusted with their money, loans, and transfers.

You saw Crescent sitting on the counter of your kitchen, you petted her head quickly before starting on hers and your breakfast. While you were cooking Mark lazily crawled out of bed, and walked into the kitchen.

“Morning.” You chirped, not bothering to turn your head away from the food you were preparing for both you and Mark. “You made me breakfast?” He mumbled, rubbing one of his eyes. “It’s not like I forgot you were here.” You said, as you slid a small side of eggs onto his plate. You placed both his and your plates on to the table, along with condiments you could put on your breakfast. In all honesty you were running out of groceries, so this wasn’t best breakfast either. It was a plate with a few leaves of lettuce, a wide slide of toasted break, grapes, and scrambled eggs. “I promise I’ll get you better food later. I need to buy more groceries.” You said as you started adding condiments to your meal. Mark smiled and looked at you. “It’s okay, I think this is perfectly fine. I may not look like it, but I’m not picky. I was human once you know.” You looked up at Mark as you finished a leaf of lettuce. “You were once human?”

“Yeah before I was reborn to Ceto and Phorcys. Everyone has past lives you know. When you are reborn as a god or goddess you can see your past lives, but if you were a god and you were reborn a human, you do not remember your past lives.” You listened to Mark and nodded your head interest. “So because I am human now, I cannot remember my past lives?” Mark pressed his lips into a think line, and nodded up and down. You brushed a hand through your bangs, “wow, this is just so fascinating.” You smiled.

“So after this life you will be reborn as a new person right?” Mark nodded once more. “If you are banished from the heavens you have to live as a mortal, and learn a lesson based off of your crime. You have to learn the lesson by the time your mortal life is up so you can re-enter heaven.” Mark said, as he spread some chocolate over his toast.

You looked at the time on your phone and scrambled for the door. “Oh my gosh I am going to be late. Mark, I promise I’ll take you to go get clothing and things you need after work or during my lunch time.” You slid into your heels and locked the door leaving Mark alone in your apartment. As you walked to the bus stop you started to think what Mark would need. He needed a phone....well you could give him you old phone with a new sim card that will save some money. Clothes, you can go buy that for him later, he doesn’t need that many outfits. Toiletries, maybe something that was a little more masculine, surely he wouldn’t want to use your floral scented body and share a toothbrush with you. The moment you left your apartment Mark stared at the door you slammed and laughed, “I guess somethings never change (y/n).” Mark picked up his plate and cleaned off your plate. he washed each plate, and placed them back from where he can assume where they came from.

While you sat your desk at work you couldn’t take your eyes off the clock, hoping it would be lunch time already so you can go back at least buy Mark one outfit. The poor guy was in the same clothing he crashed on to earth with, and slept in he probably wanted clean clothing.

“Excuse miss I-” A voice cut through your thoughts and you looked up. When your eyes met the young man’s in front of you he stopped talking, as if his voice got caught in his throat.

“Can I help you?” You asked the man. He was about your age, tall and thin, his hair was a jet black color, his bangs were swept to the left and curled exposing part of his forehead. No doubt this man was handsome, had you known him from somewhere? Maybe a long time ago.

“Sorry, I wanted to deposit some of my money into my savings. I just moved here I wanted to put some money away.” You smiled at the man, and pulled up his account. “Park Jinyoung?” You asked, clarifying if you had pulled the right account. The man just smiled, “Yup, that is me.” He said. You finished up transferring his money, and he left just like that. You were about to start on some more work, until you notice that Jinyoung forgot his ID card with you. You got up from your seat, and ran outside of the bank to look for the man. Looking left and right, you were able to spot his familiar figure, and ran as fast as you could in your heels.

“Wait sir, you forgot your ID card.” You said, tapping his shoulder. The man turned around and smiled. “Thank you for bring me, my card. I would have been in a lot of trouble with out it.” Jinyoung plucked the card from your hand. “Let me make it up to you, can I take you out one day?” You pursed your lip to make it look like you were giving his offer a thought. “mm maybe.” A coy smile danced a way onto your lips. Jinyoung pulled out his phone and handed it to you. “Can I get your phone number for when you say yes?” Mischief flickered in his eyes, reminiscent of young school boy. You typed your number into his phone, and handed it back. “I’ll get back to you on that one.” Jinyoung only smiled, “I’ll be waiting then.”

You turned to walk back to the bank, your heart was thrashing around wildly in your chest, your mind flicked images of Jinyoung’s handsome smile on replay. It ha a warm sensation to it, and it was familiar, like something you have experienced. You sat back at your desk and continued to work until your scheduled lunch break. The 1:30 shifted into position, and finally you were free, for a while at least. You grabbed your bag and skipped out of the stuffy bank and out into the open.

“Mark, I’m back. Are you hungry?” You announced as you opened the door to your apartment. You came to see Mark lying, belly down kn the floor, playing with Crescent. “Wait how are you playing with her? She doesn’t let anyone touch her.” Mark looked at you with his doe eyes and held up his hand. It was covered in nicks and scratches of various shades of scarlet. “We kind of had our issues getting to know each other, but I can get anyone to bow the mighty dragon.” Mark joked, getting an amused snort from you. “Come here. I’ll clean up those cuts and we’ll get food, deal?” Mark sprung to his feet. “Deal!”

“(Y/n) that hurts.” Mark whined, flinching from your touch as you dabbed his cuts. “For some mighty dragon, you are acting like a mighty gecko.” You snickered, as Mark pouted. jutting out his pretty pink bottom lip. “Finally.” You said, wrapping one last band aid around Mark’s slim ring finger. “Kiss in better.” Mark blurted out, you gave Mark a confused look. “Seriously?” He only stuck his finger out towards, rolling your eyes, you leaned forward and pecked one of the band aids on his hand. Heat rushed to Mark’s cheeks and distant memory flashed in his mind.

It was her, and him, the very friend he betrayed. It was the day where she had sworn to protect him. She brought his hand to her lip, sealing their pact, even if touching each either was forbidden, they were in love.

“Jeez you’re such a baby.” Your voice sliced its way through Mark’s thoughts and he was brought back from the past. “Come on lets go.” You turned around and started to head out of the door. Mark followed you out of your apartment, and onto the bus. The two of you sat down at a small restaurant, where it wasn’t too busy. You usually came by yourself to this restaurant when you wanted quiet, or you wanted to escape reality. The owner was a sweet middle aged lady, Mrs. Yoon, she treated you like her own child and talked to you when you were lonely.

“Nice see you again (Y/n).” Mrs. Yoon said as she placed two menus on the the table you were sitting at. “Nice to see you too.” You smiled. “Oh I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.” Mrs. Yoon said when she saw Mark sitting with you. “He’s not-”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Mark.” Mark interrupted you, shaking Mrs. Yoon’s hand. “Oh aren’t you polite.” Mrs. Yoon gushed, you rolled your eyes. “Aww yeah isn't he?” Your tone sickly sweet as you reached over and squeezed Mark’s pale cheeks. “My jagi is the cutest one there is.” You said as you tugged at Mark’s skin, and finally letting him go.

“Anyways,” you cleared your throat. “We’ll an order jap chae, dakalbi, and kamja jeon. With tea too.” Mrs. Yoon wrote down your order and walked off to kitchen. Mark pouted and rubbed his red cheeks. “You didn’t have to rub that hard you know.”

“You probably have felt worse. Like when Minerva threw you or when Hercules killed you?” You smirked. “Hey I was only doing the job Hera assigned me when he killed me, and besides I tried.” Mark stated with a ‘matter of factly’ tone

You and Mark sat together at your small table in comfortable silence until Mark broke the peace.

“So what are your interests (Y/n)?” You smiled and faced him. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, you know a lot about me. I minus well get to know you.” Mark shrugged. “Fair enough. I liked archery a lot through high school. I use to practice out where my family lives. We lived in the country side, so there was plenty of room to fire arrows; and there was plenty of distance between us and the city. My family and I would stare up in to the night sky, and we would be able to see most of constellations. My grandma would tell me about each and every story between each star that was laid in the vast darkness that was the night.” You smiled warmly at the old memories, but it faded quickly. “I had to move to the city because I had the opportunity to go to school in Seoul. I would be the first girl in my family who got to attend one of the best schools. My family heavily encouraged, so I couldn’t let them down.”

“And you didn’t move back after school?” Mark asked. “Curious aren’t you?”

“Well...by the time I finished school I realized with my major, it wouldn’t get me that far back at home, but it would help in the city. So I stayed and got a job at the international bank, where I could use what I learned. My family understood me, and they’re proud of me.” You looked around the restaurant, thinking about a topic to talk about. “The girl you love...the one you almost killed for, what is she like?”

Mark looked you straight in the eyes, and from his peripherals, he saw Mrs. Yoon coming with your food. “That’s a story for not other day.” He winked. “Okay, here is your food...” Mrs. Yoon started to place down all the little plates and bowls filled with delicious foods. “Thank you.” you said, smiling, and Mrs. Yoon excused herself so you could enjoy your meal. It was enlightening to eat with another person for once, even if you and Mark ate in silence, his presence was enough to fill the lonely feeling in your heart.

After you finished your meal, you payed for the meal, and left the restaurant, waving goodbye to Mrs. Yoon one last time before you stepped out of the door.

“Okay, time to look for some clothing for you.” You murmured, lips pursed as you looked at each window to see if there was something inside to buy. You dragged Mark into a store and started browsing through the racks of clothing, “If there is something in here that you like and is in a reasonable price, go ahead and buy it.” Mark found it endearing that you actually wanted to help him find clothing. If this was punishment, he wouldn’t mind spending it forever with you.

“Even now, you still won’t give up Mark Tuan.” The figure that was watching from the window chuckled and walked way. Even though he was walking away now, fate will bring you to him in some of the most cosmic ways.

#got7 scenarios #mark tuan #im jaebum #jackson wang #park jinyoung #choi youngjae #kim yugyeom #bambam #mark tuan scenarios #kpop #kpop scenarios #mark tuan fluff #got7snet

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ladycumberbunny · 7 years

Text

Keep Me Warm

Sherlock Holmes was freezing. Wondering around a small backwater town in Eastern Europe, in the middle of January, in a homeless mans disguise wasn’t the best of ideas; even if it was necessary.

Sherlock shivered in the helicopter as it made its way to the secret government hanger where a small plane would transfer him back to London for the night. Mycroft arranged a briefing in the morning to let him know where he was to go next. After ten months of undercover work, Sherlock was satisfied with the way Moriarty’s network was starting to crumble.

“Coming up on the hangar, Mr. Holmes! The plane is ready for take off as soon as you get there! Should be less than an hours flight until you are back in London!” The pilot said loudly into his mouthpiece, making Sherlock wince at the sudden loudness coming through his own headset.

He nodded to the pilot, clenching his jaw against the cold that was still threatening to creep deep into his bones. A headache was starting to press behind his eyes; the kind of headache that builds in the sinuses and could only be caused by prolonged exposure to the cold air. Sherlock flexed his long musicians fingers against his thighs as the helicopter started its descent towards the helipad.

One thought was on Sherlock’s mind as the pilot expertly landed the helicopter: getting to the only place in England where he could get warm. Because there was only one place in Europe where he knew he would be welcomed with open arms and no questions.

Molly Hooper’s.

Sherlock kept the thought of Molly Hooper's tiny warm flat in his mind as he boarded the small plane and buckled himself in. He thought of a decent hot meal and a whole pot of his favorite tea, thought of sitting on Molly’s small broken down sofa with her, organizing his mind palace while she lost herself in mindless television.

True to the pilots word, the flight only took forty-two minutes to get from the hangar back to London. Nodding to the small planes pilot as he made his way down the short flight of steps to the Tarmac, Sherlock pulled his dingy windbreaker tighter around him and started making his way towards Molly’s street.

Sherlock walked for over an hour, sticking to alleys and side roads to avoid being seen. 8:30 in the evening didn’t leave the main streets empty enough for him to make it to Molly’s as quickly as he would’ve like, especially in the freezing rain that began to pour from the clouds. When he finally walked out of an alley a block from her complex, he threw caution to the wind and hurried down the street, pulling his wool cap down more securely over his ears.

Molly Hopper was sitting on her sofa, in her most comfortable pajamas, glasses perched on her nose, and a bowl of mango sorbet in her lap.

It had been a long day at the morgue; a fire at a retirement home had ensured that. Molly, along with three other morgue technicians, had spent the long sixteen hour shift performing autopsies on over thirty elderly bodies. Every time she would finish with a body, an orderly would wheel another one in.

Molly had just settled on a rerun of her favorite television program when she heard the unmistakable sound of the lock on her door being picked. Glancing at the clock and realizing it was almost ten o'clock at night, Molly started to get worried. Grabbing her mobile and the cricket bat she kept next to the sofa, Molly waited with her thumb hovering over the emergency number on her phone.

As the door swung open, Molly raised her cricket bat just as the raggedy man in the doorway raised his hands.

“A cricket bat? Really, Molly?”

The unmistakable smooth baritone voice of Sherlock Holmes greeted her ears like a favorite song.

“Sherlock!” She exclaimed, dropping the bat and her mobile on the armchair. “I gave you a key! Why didn’t you just use it instead of picking my lock? And when you are wearing a disguise! I could’ve bashed your brains in!”

“Not likely, Molly.” He said, a ghost of a grin quirking up one corner of his mouth. “With your size, plus the size and weight of the cricket bat, in comparison to a person of my size and weight, I say it would’ve been easy enough to overpower you in seconds. Especially since you would’ve been coming straight for me with no element of surprise.”

He was fully grinning now, looking down at her, his eyes twinkling. Molly tried her best scowl at him, but the edge of her mouth betrayed her, fighting to curl into a smile.

“May I come in?” Sherlock asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh! Of course! Yes come in!” Molly said, rushing to grab the door and shut it behind him. Sherlock stepped into the short hallway and pulled the damp wool hat off of his dark curls, running his hands through them. Molly noticed his shivering and swept her gaze over him; he was soaked to the bone and shivering.

“How long have you been walking around in the rain?” She asked, frowning as she watched him stuff the wool cap into the pocket of his dingy windbreaker.

“About and hour,” Sherlock replied, wiping at his wet face with the cuff of his jacket.

“Why don’t you go take a hot shower and I’ll make you something to eat. Maybe a spot of tea as well?” She asked gently, smiling at him. He just looked at her curiously for a moment, before he nodded and removed his jacket. Underneath he was wearing a jumper riddled with holes and pair of dark jeans in much the same shape. He kicked off his muddy trainers and handed Molly his sodden jacket.

“Do I still have spare clothes in your bedroom?” He asked, pulling the jumper over his head an handing that to her as well.

Molly nodded and balled up the wet clothes she was handed. “I’ll just pitch these in the bin and start something to eat, then.” She said, gently giving Sherlock a nudge on the arm to get him moving towards the bathroom. He just nodded again and stifled a yawn, heading towards the back hallway.

Molly watched him enter her room and emerge a few moments later with a stack of fresh clothes. Sherlock smiled at her agin as he disappeared in the bathroom. Molly smiled back and then pushed through the swinging door of her kitchen, dropping the wet clothes into the bin on her way to the fridge.

Sherlock stood underneath the hot spray of water, letting the heat work its way into his sore and cold muscles. Seeing Molly Hooper’s face had done more to warm him up than any amount of time spent in the hot shower did.

Realizing his feelings for Molly had been something of a surprise to him. At first, Sherlock put it down to the fact that she was the one person besides Mycroft who knew that he was alive and well when everyone else in the country believed him to be dead. Molly was his one normal connection to his beloved London; so of course he thought of her often. She was forbidden to contact him in any form while he was out of the country, but Sherlock would occasionally send her short texts from a burner phone when he was stuck during the case, using her as a sounding board, or (he was embarrassed to admit) when he was lonely.

The texts soon morphed from the occasional Interesting mould in this motel, I will get a sample so you can analyze it for me. to You would enjoy the morgue I just broke into, they have the most interesting display of diseased organs. to I read the headline about the accident on the M5 as I was passing a news vendor. You should treat yourself to a hot bath tonight. I suggest the lavender bath salts to help you relax.

As always, Molly came up with a clever solution to the problem of the one sided conversation. She started to keep a journal, writing the date she received the text from Sherlock, copying the text itself into the journal, and then writing her response underneath it in a different color of ink. When Sherlock would show up at her door, either freezing, bleeding, or starving, Molly would push him towards the shower, patch him up, or place a plate full of food in front of him. Once he was taken care of, she would hand him the journal, bid him goodnight, and go quietly to bed.

Sherlock looked forward to his brief visits to the pathologist’s small flat, just so he could read her responses to his texts, or (if she didn’t hear from him for a couple of days) the account of her day at work. She would include precise details about interesting autopsies, or make her observations on some experiment he had asked her to preform at the lab.

As the water started to cool, Sherlock scrubbed his hair and body before turning the water off and grabbing a towel. As he rubbed the towel over his hair, the smell of food and the sound of Molly’s quiet singing came seeping under the door. Sherlock smiled and pulled on his fresh clothes, his stomach rumbling and his heart beating fast.

Molly just finished loading a plate with pasta and placing it on the kitchen table when Sherlock walked into the kitchen wearing trousers and a dark green dress shirt.

“You know you could always wear jeans and a jumper when you’re here, you don’t have to dress up just for me.” Molly teased, smiling cheekily at him.

“Your jokes still haven’t gotten any better, I see.” Sherlock commented, rolling his eyes but grinning at her so she knew he was joking.

He sat down and tucked into his pasta, Molly was at the sink washing up the few dishes that had accumulated there throughout the day, humming softly to herself. The whole scene was so domestic that Sherlock almost cringed. Or he would have if he wasn’t so content.

He was content to be back in London, even if it was only for twenty four hours. He was content to be in clean clothes, in a warm flat with a hot meal in his stomach. He was content to be at Molly Hoppers cramped kitchen table, watching her wash dishes in her atrocious flannel pajama pants with hearts all over them. How many times had he wished for this very thing while he was kneeling in a flooded ditch, wearing week-old clothes trying his best to avoid Moriarty’s goons.

Once Sherlock had finished his pasta, he took his plate to the sink, picking up a dish towel and drying the finished dishes, placed them in the correct cupboards. Molly dried her hands and picked up the text journal off the counter.

“I’m off to bed. I made the bed in the guest room up with fresh linens while you were in the shower.” She said, handing Sherlock the journal.

He looked down at the small leather notebook in his hands and thought for a moment.

“Would you be going to bed so early if I wasn’t here?” He asked.

“Well, no. I planned on having some cocoa and reading the new science journal that came out today before I headed to bed.” Molly answered, cocking her head to the side.

“Would you….would you like to sit on the sofa with me while you read?” Sherlock asked, barely meeting her gaze. He held up the journal. “I would like to catch up on some reading myself.”

Molly’s smile could’ve melted the whole of Antarctica. She nodded, grabbing his hand and leading him into the sitting room.

“Give me just a mo to get the cocoa and I’ll be right back!” She said, smiling again. Sherlock couldn’t help but smiling as well, watching her practically skip to the kitchen to get the mugs of hot cocoa.

Two hours later found Molly asleep, curled up next to Sherlock with her head on his chest. Sherlock had finished catching up on Molly’s responses in the text journal around the same time Molly had dozed off. He lay the journal on the coffee table, pulled the blanket off the back of the sofa. Wrapping the blanket around Molly, he draped his arm across her shoulders, content to have spent his time with the warm pathologist. Letting her sunny disposition sink into his bones, Sherlock Holmes smiled, warm and content.

@bluegreyme asked for a cute fluffy sherlolly fic complete with hot cocoa in the winter. Buuuuut….this fic kind of got away from me. It’s still a bit fluffy, and I hope you enjoy it blue :) (This fic has not been beta read, so any and all mistakes are my own)

#Sherlock #Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock fanfiction #sherlolly #Molly hooper #Molly #sherlolly fanfiction #mollock #mollock fanfiction #ladycumberbunny writes fanfiction

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wasalwaysagreatpickle · 4 years

Text

Monday 14th March 1825

7 1/4

12 3/4

Came here, to Mrs B- [Barlow’s] room, at 8 20/60 – saw Jane off to school – from 8 3/4 to 10 10/60 wrote, read over, wafered and directed 3pp and the ends of a letter to my aunt, Shibden, - to thank my aunt for her last letter and my uncle for the remittance of £70 to Mrs B- [Barlow]’s agents Messers De Lisle [Janvier] and De Lisle London - said I had waited to be present at a seance at the Deaf and Dumb Institution on the 24th instead and should not therefore leave here till the 25 or 26th instead should, at all rates stay one day at Boulogne and 1 or 2 in London – letter 3pp and the 2 first crossed from IN [Isabella Norcliffe], Langton chiefly to repeat her request for ‘8 pounds of the small green dried oranges which come from Marseilles’ – she mentioned having heard from Miss V- [Vallance] an account of a most extraordinary mortality among the sheep in Kent – ‘they hear constantly of 1500 and 2000 being lost within 2 days the disease is the rot, and no cure had yet been discovered it is caused by the dampenings of the earth but does not appear to be the same kind as attacks over in Yorkshire, as they scarcely shew symptoms before they drop down and die and when opened the whole of the passages from the mouth to the liver is filled with small fish quite flat and 1/2 an inch long which injure the liver and cause their death they are thought to eat the spawn by feeding in damp and marshy land. Thousands of sheep and lambs have been lost within these last 3 weeks. It is said that this disease has just been discovered in heifers. Miss V- [Vallance] says that, if it continues, there will be almost a famine – meat is considerably advanced and all articles are very much higher – people will not purchase mutton ‘unless they ascertain from whence it comes and it is in some parts of East Kent prohibited entirely’ … in London I must not forget to hear a little girl of 4 years old, who plays on the harp most wonderfully. She is called the infant Lyra-Hart (Milne) has heard her and says it is astonishing she plays entirely by ear…

Just skimmed over my letter (from IN [Isabella Norcliffe]) and Mrs B- [Barlow] and I then set off at 11 35/60 to see the prison of the conciergerie at the Pal[ace] de Justice, it is only shewn from 10 to 12 to those who have tickets of admission – the chapel behind which is made the entrance to the formerly dark, damp cells when Marie Antoinette and the princess Elizabeth were confined separated only by a wall, though they did not know they were so near is therefore interesting the cells there now turned into an expiatory chapel, are particularly so - lighted and ventilated as they now are Mrs B- [Barlow] could still scarcely bear the cold damp floor – what must it have been during the revolution? –

We next went to the bureau belonging to the Sainte chapelle and the archives, all which one of the clerks, who was writing there, very civilly shewed us the fine old architecture of the chapelle up to the windows is entirely hidden by the archives beautifully arranged on shelves partitioned into little square compartments having a remarkably neat appearance – A gallery all round divides the archives into 2 stories - the large painted glass gothic windows are magnificently fine – the finest in France there is a church underneath the chapelle in which by the way out the end of one of the tables, is the stone under which lies the poet Boileau but it is not shewn – it is filled with archives – From here, we ascended the winding staircase in one of the towers which brought to the suite of apartment or galleries whose walls are entirely lined with the archives of the parliament of Paris and the courts of legislation and judgement which succeeded it from the time of St Louis to nearly the present time – the archives of the last few years are arranged in one of the towers – the whole story in the roof of the building and the story immediately under this, are filled with these archives beautifully arranged according to their subjects and dates and in a state of excellent preservation – no damp can reach for all the shelves are placed at least a couple of feet from the walls – in the criminal part are ranged all the proceedings against all those who suffered death among the rest we noticed those against the famous robber Cartouche, against Raffian, and Damien who assassinated Louis XV, and of… the famous poisoner mentioned by Madame da Sweviné in her letters – our commis shewed us the very coat, white stock (like my Uncle’s at present) waistcoat and smalls, in which Damian committed the murder. He shewed us all the proceedings against Joan of Arc and the order of the Pope to have the square or Place at Rouen planted with trees in memory of poor Joan –

He shewed us also the collection of letters written by some of the kings of France to the Parliament, among w[hi]ch we saw the autographs of Charles V, very good – Louis XI and Xii, bad; Henry ii, pretty well; Francis I, good; and Henry iV, written with a y, good – only one letter in the collection written by Henry iV - after this our commis shewed us the oldest [?] they have – 4 volumes 4[tomes] (in Latin), about a.d 1240 on temps de St Louis – the writing of this [parched] and for 2 or 3 centuries like that of our old papers in England of this time – but the writing we saw for a.d 1[6]00 and afterwards is really in what we should call a good, plain English hand of the present day – much more like English writing than what the French write now – For fear of accident, all the originals of the archives (on paper) are kept in one suite of rooms and copies of them all (on parchment) bound up in large 4[tome] volumes, in another suite – all the procès verbaux against all the victims of the revolution, are kept in cartons, arranged according to the dates – the process was short – a short printed form filled up pro re natâ in MS - anyone who suspected the loss of a friend in Paris during the revolution might ascertain the matter here – Mr Edwards, the book seller at H-x [Halifax] might know whether his brother was guillotined here or not.

Our commis took us through one of the towns on to the roof of the building looking over the marché des fleures, for a remarkably fine view of the city – of Vincennes, Père la chaise etc. but it was so cold, Mrs B- [Barlow] could not bear it, and the man himself seemed as if he could not bear it much better – it was not he who could shew us the vaults under the grande salle where Louis ix had his kitchen, but we might see them by applying to the person who had charge of them – curved on account of their architecture – we gave our guide 3 francs for his patience and civility, went for a few minutes into the criminal court from which, being hot and crowded, we soon retired and went into the court of cassation – both good rooms – in the latter about 32 lawyers in their robes – about 28 sitting round the avocat general (attorney general) or his substitute – just spectation there and the room very hot – when we entered a man before the court for having written a romans said to have a tendency against religion and morality – to be imprisoned 3 months and fined 300 francs – then came another poor man a book seller, charged with surreptitiously selling a book forbidden prohibited by the police – when asked who was his avocat, the man said he thought his case so simple, he could be his own avocat, and said the little he had say apparently very well, though trembling and much inwardly agitated – however he told us he was condemned to 6 months imprisonment – it was for selling the 10th volume, I think, of some work giving an account of Napoleon in skile, etc –

On going out met the Countesse de Fumel in the court, waiting with some ladies to get into the carriage – she took my hand and held it all the while, we returned I thought of doing much more, but Mrs B- [Barlow] finding herself so cold and tired yet she was quite knocked up we made the best of our way home to get back at 2 1/4 – she had a little hot broth and water and soon went to bed – the cold stone floors had given her cold and the hot court of cassation had brought on a bilious head ache – sat by her till 4 1/2 then went chez Hernandez Bouriat, pharmacien, rue du Bac, no 56, for a bottle such as I had before had of Planche – found he had charged me almost twice as much as he ought – 4/12 instead of 2/10 – How can one always guard against cheatery when it is practised at s[u]ch a respectable looking shop as this – and by a man professing to be druggist to the British embassy! – staring some at book shops and others did not get home till 5 3/4 – Dinner at 6 1/4 – Mrs B- [Barlow] sat up to dinner but went to bed directly afterwards and I wrote all the above of today –

tired and unwell as she was on coming home she put my hand to queer as ssoon as she was lain down and I began to grubble and after a little her working I gave her the excitement I stood up to work her better and latterly looked at her as I was doing it she being nothing loth –

Tea came at 7 3/4 but I was writing and Mrs B- [Barlow] was asleep, and we did not take it till 9 1/2 – Fine, cold, frosty day – F34° at 11am and 33° at 9 40/60 pm at which hour I had just done the above

Ɛ (two dots underneath) O (no dots)

#anne lister #1825 #paris 1825 #maria barlow #anne lister code breaker

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its-lifestyle · 5 years

Link

In the lunar calendar, the seventh month (Aug 1-29 this year) is often known as the Hungry Ghost Month.

During this time, some Chinese people are extra careful to avoid engaging in “dangerous” activities, such as staying out too late or going to “watery” places, such as lakes and waterfalls.

To protect themselves, some families appease wandering spirits by conducting roadside prayers at night and presenting food offerings to them.

At this time of the year, too, ghost stories abound.

The forbidden room

Fifteen years ago, Mark Kwan (not his real name) went back to his hometown for a vacation.

His aunt decided to drop by the family’s rented home.

The property in George Town, Penang, was used as a house, a shop and a storeroom by four generations of his family. Eventually, it was abandoned as it was dilapidated.

Kwan, an events manager in his 40s, said: “My mother told me that there was a room which was kept locked up and even had a grill to prevent people from going in. It was my late great-grandmother’s room. But there was something in the room, even before my great-grandmother’s time. One could hear noises of things being dragged around the room.

“I have been to the house a few times. Once, the ceiling board fell on me.”

But nothing could prepare him for the day when he bolted out of the room.

He said: “We were visiting the old house which was eventually used as a storeroom. My aunt sent me to that dark room, lit only by a light bulb, to retrieve some old coins from a dresser.

“When I opened the drawer, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I immediately looked into the dresser mirror but saw nothing. I thought what I felt was a figment of my imagination.”

As he continued searching for the coins, he felt another tap on his shoulder. He turned around and, from the corner of his eye, he saw a hand. He quickly emptied out the contents of the drawer into a plastic bag.

As he got ready to leave the room, he felt the third tap – and fled for dear life!

Kwan said: “My aunt was aware of the ghost in the room so my mum was astounded that she didn’t tell me about it but had sent me into the room.

“I wasn’t actually scared but just had a feeling that I needed to leave quickly. Thankfully, I still had the sense to take everything before leaving. I got a treasure trove of coins and trinkets from that visit!”

The faceless ghost

Eleven years ago, accountant Matthew Chen (not his real name) went on a tour with his girlfriend, now wife, to Vietnam. They had booked a room in a budget hotel in Ho Chi Minh City.

Nothing creepy happened when they checked in. They stayed the night before travelling to Hanoi for a few days.

“On the return trip, we had the misfortune of staying in a haunted room,” said Chen, 44.

“The room looked ordinary. There were two beds. Next to the door, there was a small round coffee table with two chairs. Facing the main door was the toilet and the windows where you could see the neon signs outside.”

Usually, Chen would leave the toilet light on at night. But this time, he did not, as the room was bright enough with the neon lights outside.

That night, he slept on the bed further away from the main door and closer to the windows, while his girlfriend occupied the other bed.

“I placed my spectacles on the bedside table and went to sleep.

“Later that night, I felt something pulling at me. I struggled hard to wake up but I could not open my eyes or move,” he recounted.

“I felt a ghost pressing down on me. I began to scold, curse, swear, and invoke the names of God and Buddha. Finally, I manage to wake up,” he said.

“I felt cold, and my hairs were standing on ends. My sixth sense felt a presence in the room.”

Chen could just make out “something” seated on the chair closest to the main door.

“It was a woman in a light green Vietnamese traditional dress (ao dai). She had long black hair and sat facing my direction. Without my spectacles, I was unsure if she was looking at me or out the window. The woman had no face!”

Chen kept staring at her while using his right hand to search for his spectacles.

“When I couldn’t find it, I turned around to look for it. When I put my spectacles on and turned to look at the chair, the woman had vanished.”

Somewhat dazed, he wondered if it was just a dream.

He said: “I thought of waking my girlfriend up but she was asleep.”

Chen then got up and switched on the toilet light and the television.

“Then my girlfriend woke up and told me she had had a nightmare.”

Fortunately, it was their last night in the city before the tour group flew out the next morning.

At the airport, he told the tour guide his room was haunted. Another traveller in the group concurred as she had stayed in the same room on the first day the group was in Vietnam but had not dared to bring it up.

“I admonished her for not telling the tour guide so that none of us in the group would get that room on the return journey,” he said.

Well, the creepy encounter did not just end there. The following day, Chen had a fever which lasted a few days.

After he recovered, his uncle brought him to see a medium. He was advised to do a cleansing ritual.

He said: “The medium gave me some yellow papers to burn at home. I had to walk all around the smoke, then go to the nearest crossroads near my house to burn another pile of yellow papers and walk encircling the smoke.

His uncle also bought him a Tibetan dzi bead for him for protection. He brings it along with him whenever he travels.

She wanted a ride

The incident that occurred 33 years ago is still vivid in his mind. It was around 5am when charcoal supplier Choo Long Meng, then 28, met a ghost.

Very early that morning, he had left his Desa Aman flat in Cheras, Kuala Lumpur, to meet up with his parents in Pudu for Qingming (Chinese All Souls Day) prayers.

Soon after he had left the car park and made a U-turn, he could see that the road was clear. Then suddenly, after 50m, a woman appeared in front of him and gestured to him to stop.

“I wound down my window. The woman asked in Cantonese, ‘Where are you going?’ She wanted to go to Taman Connaught in Cheras but I told her that I was not heading there,” he recounted. She shook her head and moved away.

The woman seemed normal. But what freaked him out was that she had long hair, was dressed in a long white dress, and was carrying a baby wrapped in white cloth. She had blood oozing from her mouth.

Soon after, he had the jitters and quickly wound up the car window.

Choo said: “I blasted music from my cassette player and drove off. I kept looking to the back seat to make sure she was not hitching a ride in my car!”

He was shaking and stuttering when he related the incident to his parents; they were speechless.

After Qingming prayers at Sg Besi, Kuala Lumpur, he told a neighbour in her 50s about his encounter.

“I told her I was going to die,” he said.

The neighbour comforted him saying, “No, you’re not.” She told him not to be afraid and that she could help appease the ghost so that she would never attack him.

He paid her about RM30 for joss sticks and incense papers.

“That night, my neighbour performed the prayers and asked me to stay indoors,” he said.

He was relieved that the ghost never returned to haunt him and that he is still alive.

Sinister cloud

Three years ago, marketing consultant Kareno Zainal Abidin, had an unusual encounter of the ghostly kind.

It took place in his apartment in Gombak, Selangor. He had lived there with his family for 14 years and nothing strange had happened until that day.

That fateful night, Kareno, 44, had returned home after midnight.

The air in his room was hot and humid. “I walked to the window and opened it. Then I sat on my bed, and I saw a strange cloud of smoke entering through the window. It had a pair of eyes like those of red saga seeds. I was paralysed by fear at this unusual sight,” he said.

His bedroom light was not switched on. As he had left the door ajar, the bedroom was partially lit by the light from the kitchen.

Instinctively, Kareno started reciting verses from the Quran, and felt his strength returning.

“Instinctively, I used my hands to push the smoke cloud away. Strangely, the cloud felt like a mass and not thin air. I then took a deep breath and exhaled, using my breath to try and blow the cloud away at the same time.”

As soon as the cloud was out of the window, Kareno quickly closed it.

After the harrowing experience, he went to wash his face. He sat down in the hall to relax and read the Quran for peace of mind before returning to bed.

Kareno said: “I did not wake my wife as she was fast asleep in the room.”

That night, he was sure that he had encountered an entity for the first time in his life! Fortunately, the scary episode did not occur again.

30-day haunting

It was the eve of National Day, 15 years ago. Traditional Indian dancer Sri Ganesan, in his 50s, went to see a young businessman one night for sponsorship for his upcoming dance show.

Two days later, he heard about his death and attended his funeral.

He heard that the businessman, who was 12 years his junior, had been attacked by a group of gangsters.

“He had gone to a pub on the first floor of a shoplot for drinks. He invited me but I did not join him,” he said.

It seemed someone called to meet him downstairs. When he went down, he was attacked by his assailants sometime past midnight,” said Sri Ganesan.

After returning from the funeral, Sri Ganesan felt as if an entity had followed him home. He could feel his body turning icy cold, now and then, as if a presence was nearby, whether in the day or at night. He was scared out of his wits. He believed the businessman was haunting him.

“Sometimes, I felt someone was in the front passenger seat as I drove home,” said Sri Ganesan. “There were times when I looked at the rear mirror and thought I saw a fleeting shadow on the back seat. Was it my imagination or was it the ghost of the businessman?”

At home, he could feel the chills when he saw the dead man’s face in one of his dance photographs. When he looked again, it vanished.

“I also felt someone sleeping next to me or sitting by my bed,” he said.

The only time he did not feel a ghostly presence was when he was taking a bath or in the toilet.

“The black thread from the temple which I wore for protection did not keep the ghost away,” he said.

After 10 days of ghostly encounters, Sri Ganesan confided in a friend who also knew the late businessman. The friend then informed him that the family of the dead businessman decided to hold a 30-day prayer ritual for him.

The Indians believe that the prayer ritual is to appease the soul of the dead which still lingers on earth even after burial or cremation. It is only after the ritual that the soul would find peace and leave this earth.

“Strangely, exactly after 30 days, I did not feel afraid anymore,” he related. “I did not feel any presence around me. It was a big relief.”

from Family – Star2.com https://ift.tt/31vQE3m

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