#sanitized reply: it helps me to keep an open mind and see things from different perspective

[sepetajmikolikomehoces]

Had a job interview today and made the cardinal mistake of mentioning I like to write in my freetime.

Because of course

OF COURSE

The follow-up question was: "Oh, really, what do you write?"

THE FEAR. THE ABSOLUTE FEAR THAT MY BRAIN WOULD NOPE OUT AND I'D SAY THAT I'M CURRENTLY WRITING RPF FANFICTION FEATURING OUR ESC CONTESTANT FROM 2023

Thank god, I managed to give an answer which did NOT betray my terminal brainrot. Or indicate that I seem to have a tendency to make people cry. Or scream. Or both.

(the interview in general went well, so fingers crossed I get positive news from this)

[xjoonchildx]

greedy | myg x reader | chapter one: you like milkshakes?

summary: being a loner has never bothered yoongi until now.  until you.

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: mafia AU, pining, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 4.3K

notes: confession, i am struggling these days with my insane attraction to min yoongi.  this guy has it all.  looks and talent and mystery and sweetness -- he’s the total package. so i really wanted to give him a story in this AU that i’ve come to love so much and i truly hope you guys enjoy it.  

i also hope you guys know how much i appreciate every single one of you. i see your reblogs and comments and likes and i try to answer every one because it truly makes my day.  you guys make my day.

i could not post this fic without shouting out the amazing @hobi-gif because honestly, if hope didn’t read it, did i even write it? and i’m sending major love to three people who are such a source of laughter and support for me, @ladyartemesia​ @ppersonna @taetaewonderland. you guys keep me in stitches.

this fic is a continuation of the Guarded Series but can be read as a standalone piece! Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05

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

Yoongi had fucked up.

He’d misread the massive man’s approach, tracking him in one direction when the guy was actually headed in another.  That’s how the asshole managed to catch Yoongi off guard with one meaty fist to the face. 

It didn’t matter that it was hundreds of pounds of fat -- not muscle -- behind that punch.  It was wielding more than enough momentum to blow up the side of Yoongi’s face like a bomb. 

That’s the night he landed in the ER at Songdo at nearly two in the morning, pressing gauze to his bleeding face.  

That’s the night he found himself chuckling inside an empty exam room, reading triage paperwork that made him sound like some kind of war hero instead of just an idiot who got caught looking the wrong way.

That’s the night he met you.

“Rough evening, Mister Yun?” 

Yoongi had looked up from the floor just as you’d breezed into the room, tablet in hand.  That moment marked the second time he’d been caught off guard that night.

“That looks like it hurts,” you’d murmured sympathetically, eyes raking over the bloody mess on his face.  Your gaze was clinical -- professional -- as you assessed his grossly swollen eye and the half dozen bleeding cuts that surrounded it.  

But then you’d stopped looking at him -- and stepped back to really look at him.  

Yoongi had taken one look at your enormous, dark eyes and your soft, sweet face and he was dumbstruck.  He’d blinked back at you with the only eye that could still move.  

“You’re a doctor?”

“Nope,” you’d replied casually, turning to reach for a pair of latex gloves. “I’m a janitor. But I’ve always wanted to give this medicine thing a try. You don’t mind, right?”  

Your eyes had sparkled then, bright with humor -- and Yoongi couldn’t help but grin despite the pain pulsing from the left side of his face.

“Here’s the deal, Mister Yun,” you’d said, pulling on your gloves.  “I’m a resident.  And I’m more than qualified to handle the -- situation -- on your face, but if you feel more comfortable waiting for the attending, I’m happy to step back.  Good luck seeing him before sunrise, though.”

“Nah,” Yoongi had chuckled.  “I think I’ll take my chances with you.”

“Good call.”

You’d leaned in close after that, gloved fingers firm under his chin as you turned his face from side to side.  You’d smelled fucking amazing.  The light, fresh scent that lingered on your skin sure as hell beat the disinfectant odor in this place.

“What happened to you tonight, Mister Yun?”

“It’s a funny story, actually.”

“Oh, great,” you’d said dryly.  “‘Cause it turns out, I love funny stories.”

Yoongi had flinched when you’d peeled the gauze back, exposing the angry wounds to the air.  But he’d forced himself to sit dutifully still as you got to work cleaning the caked blood off his face and eye.

“Thing is, I work for the circus,” he’d started, hissing under his breath when you swiped across an open cut above his eye.  “One of the elephants got rowdy while we were practicing a number tonight and just kicked me right in the face.”

You’d stopped dabbing at his eye then, one brow raised and a cynical slant to your mouth.

Yoongi liked that you knew he was full of shit right away. 

He liked that you’d played along anyway.

“God, I hate when that happens,” you’d said with feigned outrage, cutting your eyes at him as you dropped a piece of bloody gauze on the tray at his side.  

“I know, right?”

That’s when Yoongi had won a real smile from you, wide and genuine.  That's when Yoongi made the mistake of looking at you for just a moment too long.  

He knew it by the way your smile fell away as you cleared your throat and turned your focus back to his damaged face.

“Well, I have good news for you Mister Yun,” you’d said after a while, eyes scanning the freshly cleaned wounds.  You’d run your gloved fingers gently over one particularly deep slash over his eye and Yoongi felt a shudder run up his back.  “I’m pretty sure you’re going to live.”

“Well, that is good news.”

There was that smile again.  

It seemed like no time at all before you had him all patched up -- cuts sanitized and sealed with skin adhesive; swollen eye cleaned and medicated.  Yoongi had felt a strange kind of disappointment as he’d watched you gather your supplies, pull your gloves off and drop them in the trash can near the door.

“You’re all set, Mister Yun,” you’d murmured. “Watch out for those elephants, okay? I’d hate for them to ruin a perfectly nice face.”

Then you were gone.

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

Thing is -- Kim Namjoon is a rules guy.

It doesn’t matter that he runs a criminal organization -- or that the men in his employ are gangsters in custom ties and suits.  He expects dirty work done clean because that’s what sets the Gajog apart.

Rotate hospitals.  Use fake names.  Pay in cash.

All of those protocols are in place to keep any one of the Gajog from drawing unwanted attention.  Truthfully, Namjoon’s operations usually run so neatly his men rarely have to seek treatment for anything beyond the occasional black eye or broken bone.  That’s why he’d rather trust his men to legitimate doctors in legitimate hospitals than hand them over to some back-alley hack.

Thing is -- shit has gotten a lot more heated of late.  

An audit of the Gajog books has turned up millions in missing won, stolen over time by street-level guys all over the city.  Yoongi and Hoseok are the ones on the front lines, tasked with confronting those men -- getting them to pay and getting them back in line.

Sometimes they play ball.  Sometimes they don’t.

Tonight is one of those nights.

Yoongi knew the moment they arrived at the crumbling warehouse in the Nowon district that shit was probably going to get messy.  Their contact was fucked up -- sloppy drunk -- and belligerent from the jump.

After that, everything was a blur.

At some point during the scuffle, Yoongi heard his hand crunch under the heavy weight of the man’s steel-toed boot. The pain was still flaring hot from his knuckles when Hoseok finally took the guy down.  

Right now Yoongi should be at Asan or Gachon or any of the other half-dozen hospitals in the city.  He should have dragged his tired ass and bloody hand across town because those are the rules.

But instead -- for the second time in a month -- he’s sitting under the sickly fluorescent lights in an empty exam room at Songdo at nearly three in the morning.

Hoping to see you. 

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

Yoongi is gingerly flexing his aching fingers when a light knock sounds at the door.

It was a long shot that you’d be here tonight -- and an even longer shot that you’d be the one treating him. But when the door to the exam room opens, it’s you on the other side.

Yoongi’s pulse picks up in response.

“Sorry to keep you waiting tonight Mister -- ”  you stop dead in your tracks, eyes wide on his before darting back down the tablet in your hand.  You scan the screen slowly then look back up, gaze critical.

“ -- Mister Woo.”

“Yeah, sure,” Yoongi replies casually.  “It’s no problem.”

You approach him slowly then, disbelief etched into your delicate features and Yoongi takes in every detail.

It’s like he’d forgotten how pretty you are since the last time he saw you.

You’re nothing like the flashy women who like to hang around the usual Gajog haunts.  You’re the kind of pretty that doesn’t cost hundreds of thousands of won a month to maintain.  The kind of pretty that doesn’t come off at the end of the night. 

Yoongi swallows thickly as you eye him, lips parted like you’re about to fire off a hundred different questions.  But you don’t.  

You play along.  

Again.

“Right.  Let’s get to it then, Mister Woo,” you say carefully, slipping on your gloves.  “What happened to your hand?”

“Well, you see, I’m a hot air balloon operator.”  

His mouth quirks into a smile and your eyes flash in response.  

“Wind was nuts today and the basket came down on my hand.  I think I might have broken something.”

“Hmm,” you murmur.  “Hot air balloon operator, huh?”

Yoongi winces when you take his hand between your gloved ones, gently applying pressure to each knuckle.

“Yeah.”

“That’s an interesting way to make a living, Mister Woo.”

Yoongi chokes down a groan when you press against one particularly sore spot.  You back off the pressure, turning to make a note on your chart.

“Well, I’m an interesting guy,” he whispers.  

You look up at him then, dark eyes focused and intense.  

“That you are.”

You’re looking at Yoongi like you can see inside him and the scrutiny makes him squirm.  He lowers his eyes to the floor and keeps quiet while you clean his hand and apply ointment to his cuts.

“Mister Woo, it looks like most of these are surface abrasions, but the knuckles concern me.  I’m going to have to send you for an X-ray.”

“Yeah, okay.  It hurts like hell.”

“I bet it does,” you say quietly, typing into your tablet.  “Someone is going to come and take you back when they’re ready.  I have to go check on some other patients, but I’ll be back when we have some images to go over.”

“Sure,” Yoongi breathes.

You take another long look at him before standing to leave and Yoongi wonders for a moment if he’s made a mistake. Maybe he’s misread you like he misread that brawler who caught him with the nasty punch all those weeks ago.  

You could be off to flag a security guard.  Or leaving to call the police.

He really should have just followed protocol.

Yoongi sits in the quiet of that exam room waiting -- ready -- for trouble that never comes.  Because when a knock finally sounds at the door, it’s not the Korean National Police.  

It’s the X-ray technician.

Maybe he didn’t misread you after all.

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

It takes hours for you to come back.

“Mixed news tonight, Mister Woo,” you say upon your return.  “You have hairline fractures in three of your knuckles, which explains the pain.  Unfortunately, that means I’m not going to be able to do much for you beyond wrapping your hand.”

Yoongi nods.  “Got it.”

“And you should probably lay off the ballooning for a while,” you say under your breath as you lay out your bandages.  “Just a suggestion.”

“Good idea,” Yoongi chuckles.  “Safety first.”

You fix him with another one of those long, indecipherable looks before getting to work on his hand.  But you don’t say anything and the longer the silence stretches on, the antsier Yoongi feels.

“So…” he exhales, clearing his throat, “... you like milkshakes?”

“Everyone likes milkshakes,” you return evenly.  You don’t take your eyes off his hand or the flexible material you’re carefully wrapping around his sore knuckles. 

“Lactose intolerant people don’t like milkshakes.”

“Lactose intolerant people like milkshakes as much as the rest of us,” you argue.  “They just can’t tolerate them.”

“What are you, some kind of doctor?”

Your lips quirk with the threat of a laugh you manage to suppress but Yoongi catches the expression before it disappears.  You seem to relax after that.  He does, too.

“Dijeoteu has the best milkshakes in the city.  Ever been there?”

“Can’t say that I have,” you admit, taping off a bandage.  

“It’s not far from here.  Open twenty-four hours.  I hang out there sometimes.”

“So you’re a milkshake-drinking hot-air balloon enthusiast,” you murmur, inspecting your handiwork closely.  “Anything else I should know about you, Mister Woo?’

Yoongi scratches the back of his neck with his free hand.

“Not really.  That about covers it.”

You hum thoughtfully under your breath as you finish wrapping the bruised knuckles.

“All done.  How does it feel?”

“Better,” Yoongi admits.  “Thanks.”

You gaze at him then, thoughtful -- expression soft with something that looks almost like concern.  Yoongi drops his gaze down to his bandaged hand.

This is the part where you’ve finished -- the part where you leave.  

This is the part where he should say something to you but he has no idea what or how.

“I would say come back soon, but this is a hospital and that seems wildly inappropriate,” you announce, voice breaking clear through his stupor.

You turn back to him just as you’re walking towards the door, and for a moment Yoongi thinks you’re going to give in and ask him any one of the dozens of questions that must be swirling around your mind.

But you don’t.

“Try to take care of that hand, Mister Woo.”

Yoongi nods.

“Thanks, Doc.”

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

YOU

Doctor Lee is on his Houdini shit tonight, apparently.

The ER is packed -- waiting room crowded with crabby patients -- and you are, once again, running yourself ragged to get to every last one.  Lee is, once again, nowhere to be found.

“Page him again,” you call out as you pass the charge nurse outside an exam room.  

A quick scan of your tablet confirms the toddler behind this magic door has been vomiting all night.  You shut your eyes and wish a slow, violent death on your absent attending.  Vomit is the single worst phenomenon in medicine.

“I’ve paged him three times,” Nurse Ko calls back.

“Page him again,” you repeat, forcing a smile and pushing into the room.

Thirty minutes and one change of scrubs later you are checking charts on the next patient in line.  You pat the pocket of your new scrubs and realize you’ve left a half-eaten energy bar around here somewhere.  

No chance you’ll get that back.

Lee picks this moment to reappear, back from doing God knows what.  He strolls down the hallway like a man with nothing on his to-do list.

“You paged for me?” he inquires casually.

“A few times, actually,” you mutter.  “I’m getting killed out here.”

“Relax,” Lee purrs, condescension dripping from his tone.  “We’ll get it done.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from firing back the half-dozen nasty responses that spring to mind. There is no we when it comes to Doctor Lee.  He’s always been flighty and inconsistent, but these days he’s practically a missing person.  You’re still not sure how hospital management hasn’t figured out that he’s making his resident run the overnight ER.

“There’s a guy down the hall who says he swallowed a magnet,” you say, waving a hand in that direction.  “If you can pick him up I can get to this head trauma.”

Lee sighs like it’s a major inconvenience that you’ve asked him to do his job.

“Yeah, I’ll grab it.”

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

It’s nearly four in the morning by the time you have a chance to catch your breath.

You walk out to scan the waiting area and to your relief, there are only a handful of patients yet to be seen.  Then your eyes land on one young man -- slumped into a chair in an oversized coat, hat pulled low over his eyes.

You freeze.  

The man in the chair must feel your stare from across the room because he straightens, giving you a better look at the face hidden under the brim of his hat.  You let go of a breath you don’t realize you’ve been holding.

It’s not him.  

It’s not the mysterious man with the fake names and the bogus stories and the insanely handsome face. You shake your head as you look back down at your tablet, silently chastising yourself for even entertaining the thought.  

You shouldn’t still be thinking about this guy and you know it.

But it’s driving you nuts that you can’t figure him out.

He’s never tried to play you for pills and that seems to be the only thing people lie about these days. But if his problem isn’t drugs it’s certainly something because no one lands in the hospital that many times, with that many phoney stories unless they’re up to no good.

So you ignore the nonsensical disappointment you feel when the guy in that chair is not the guy. 

Because deep down you know he’s either in trouble -- or he is trouble.

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

Your pager goes off for a second time and you silence the alert, tossing it onto a nearby blanket.

It’s not like you’re hiding out in here -- not really. 

It’s just that you’ve already had one patient cough up blood on your sneakers and another swing at you when you refused to give him narcotics, so this night is off to a spectacularly bad start.

Besides, Doctor Lee could use a taste of his own medicine.  

This week has been the worst, by far.  You’ve been seeing at least three patients to his every one and you’re exhausted.  If there’s any justice, he’s walking into the exam room where the infant with explosive diarrhea is waiting to be seen -- you check your watch -- right about now.

The door to the linen closet cracks open and you groan, hiding your face in your hands.

“What, you thought I didn’t know about your little hiding place?”  Nurse Ko asks with a grin.  “I find everyone’s hiding place, eventually.”

“Haven’t found Lee’s yet,” you gripe. 

“Yeah, well he’s sneakier,” she laughs.  “Here, I brought you something.”  

She tosses a granola bar at you and it lands in your lap.  

“Thanks,” you sigh, ripping it open.  You take a bite and Ko leans against the doorframe.

“I don’t page you for my health, you know.”

“I know,” you whine around a mouthful of dried oats.  “I just needed five minutes.”

“Well, I’ve got a guy out here who says he’ll only see you.  Doesn’t want Doctor Lee and says he’ll wait as long as it takes.”

A piece of the granola bar lodges in your throat and you cough around it, spluttering while Ko looks on, amused.  She waits for you to collect yourself.

“Is he -- ”

“ -- hot? Yes. Very,” Ko smiles.  

Your cheeks flame with embarrassment at both the observation and the fact that it’s coming from a woman in her sixties.

“I was going to say young,” you grumble, standing and dusting your hands off with a towel.

“That, too.  Come to think of it, I know I’ve seen him here before.  You have some kind of admirer, jagiya?”

You flush.

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

“Good evening, Mister Kim.”

You hope the air of nonchalance you affect when you enter the exam room is enough to mask your jitters.  

Your mystery patient looks back at you with those dark eyes and a half-smirk that makes your heart trip in your chest.  You take a steadying breath as you look down at your tablet.

Get it together, girl.

“What brings you in tonight?” you inquire lightly.  “Sword-swallowing accident?  Lose a fist fight with a bear?”

Your mysterious patient chuckles under his breath.  

“Where would you get a couple of outlandish ideas like that, Doc?”

You look up at him just as the teasing smirk on his face becomes a full smile and heat blooms in your chest and face.  You force yourself to tear your gaze away.

“I dislocated my shoulder.  Did you know I work air traffic control at Incheon?”

You shake your head with amused weariness as you make notes on your tablet.

“Crazy night.  One of the planes nearly slid off the runway and I threw my shoulder out trying to get it back on track.”

“Did you save it?”

“Saved it and all 227 people on board.”

“Bravo, Mister Kim.” 

“Just doing my job,” he shrugs.  

You set your tablet down on the exam table with a thump, eyeing him as you reach for a pair of gloves.

“The charge nurse says you asked for me.”

“I did,” he admits.  “You never told me what your favorite kind of milkshake is.”

You cock your head to the side as you look at him.  

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mister Kim,” you murmur, feigning ignorance. “According to my records this is the first time I’ve ever seen you.”

“Oh, yeah.  Right,” he chuckles.  

“You need some help getting undressed?”

“Yeah,” he admits, slipping one arm out of his leather jacket.  You lean in to help him pull the other side off, compelling yourself to ignore the way he smells like soap and sweat and man when you’re this close.

“It’s strawberry.”

You blurt the words out, anxious to give your brain a task that doesn’t involve analyzing this man’s smell.  Something about the mischievous twist to his mouth tells you he knows you’re flustered by his nearness.  

“I would have guessed chocolate,” he muses, reaching one hand down to grab the hem of his shirt. He drags it up his abdomen and you will your eyes to stay on his face -- refusing to give him any indication that you have more than a clinical interest in what lies underneath.

“Everyone likes chocolate,” you argue, taking over when he can’t get the shirt up any higher.  You push it over his head and carefully work it off his shoulder.  “I don’t want to be like everyone else.”

“Mission accomplished, Doc.”

He gazes at you then -- chest bare and eyes sharp beneath those inky lashes --  and you feel a bolt of awareness run the length of your spine. You pray the heat you suddenly feel all over your body is not manifesting in damning spots of color on your face.  

You remind yourself to get back to work. 

He sucks a breath between his teeth when you press gently against the inflamed muscle and tissue.

“My shoulder’s been shit for years,” he confesses.  “I screwed it up when I was a kid and it hasn’t been the same since.”

“So this happens to you from time to time?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, then I’m going to have to refer you for an MRI,” you say, and he groans when you press into his shoulder again.  “There could be a lot of scar tissue in here, but I won’t be able to know what’s going on until we get some clear scans.”

Your eyes flick back to his.  

Every word that’s ever come out of this man’s mouth is a lie -- but there’s something that feels honest about the way he’s looking at you right now.  Something that makes you feel seasick, unsteady.

“Turn to the side for me,” you say quietly, and the thin paper that lines the exam table rustles as he complies.  The relief you feel when he pivots away from you with those eyes and that look is whole-bodied.  

“For now, the best I can do is probably pop -- “

Your words trail off as your eyes lock on a wound that sits just a few inches from his spine, just above the line of his jeans.  The edges are white and soft with age -- the area long-healed -- but the trauma is unmistakable.  

Textbook.  

The anger you feel as you stare at the wound doesn’t make any sense.  

But you feel it anyway.

“Is it still inside of you, or did they pull it out?”

“What -- ”

“-- The bullet Mister Kim,” you interrupt sharply.  “If it’s still in you, I promise it will come out the second they load you into an MRI machine.  The hard way.”

The muscles of his back flex as he stiffens.  Tension bleeds into the lines of his body and into his voice when he finally speaks.

“It’s out.”

Neither of you says another word.

The room feels hollow now, painfully quiet without talk of elephants or hot air balloons or milkshakes.  The two of you work together silently to crack his abused shoulder back into place.  Somehow he manages to endure that pain without making a sound.

In the end, it’s you that has to speak first.

“That should hold you for now,” you say tightly, standing to toss your gloves in the trash.   You grab your tablet to make notes.

“You mad at me, Doc?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you mutter, fingers flying over your screen.  “I don’t even know you.”

“Then why does it feel like you’re mad at me?”

You tear your eyes away from the screen to find his.  

There’s no teasing or humor there anymore.  He looks boyish and unsure like this, peering back at you with somber eyes from beneath long black bangs that have fallen into his face.

“No more stories, no more bullshit.  Tell me who you are.”

The words are out of your mouth before you can think better of them -- before you can consider how stupid it is to interrogate a complete stranger with a now confirmed history of violence.  Before you can consider that you have no right to the anger that now streaks white-hot through your veins.

“I can’t,” he breathes quietly.  “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head in disgust.

“Are you dangerous?”

Before he even speaks, you get your answer.  You get it in the way color erupts across the bridge of his nose and cheeks.  The way he looks away from you and down to his hands.

“I guess that depends on who you ask,” he whispers.

“I’m asking you,” you fire back.

He doesn’t answer.

You stand there for what feels like an eternity, waiting for him to say something in his defense. Waiting for him to pull another gag and tell just one more ridiculous story.  But the seconds tick by and he says nothing.

“A nurse is going to come by with a sling. She’ll help you get dressed, too,” you say tightly, walking to the door.

You don’t know why your heart feels like it seizes in your chest when you turn to give him one more look.

“Take care of yourself, Mister Kim,” you say quietly.  “And don’t come back.”

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

Glossary:

Dijeoteu: dessert

Jagiya: sweetie, sweetheart

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

Tag List!

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[maeve-writes]

Beautiful Hell

Inspired by:  Beautiful Hell by ADNA 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes (tfatws) x Reader (experiment/mutant!Reader) Rating: 18+, Minors DNI Warnings: Angst, fluff, smut, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk. Summary: Your past shows up in an unexpected way thanks to Bucky Barnes. You just wanted to be... normal, not caught up in the life of a hero or worse, and yet you’re drawn to him, addicted to him even. You thought that part of your life was over, but your relationship opens up a whole new chapter that you’re not sure you’re ready for. a/n: Unbeta’d, any mistakes are my own and please forgive me. I have not written anything that wasn’t work related in about three years, so I’m a little rusty. This is just a dip of my toe back into the water. I’d like to continue this if there is any interest! Thanks for reading!

There’s very little that makes you upset these days. You have a great job, a cozy apartment, and wonderful friends. It’s taken a long time for you to find stability and even longer for you to accept that it was okay to have it. Most of that struggle was on your own, but you eventually found others like you that were dealing with the same inner turmoil and you’ve grown.

The group still meets twice a month, but now you run it. You see the same pain and anger in the eyes of strangers that you once held, you’ve been in their shoes and you want to help start their journey of healing and self discovery. You would never turn someone away who wanted help, who sought out the chance to better themselves, but six feet of muscle and adamantium shuffles into the recreation room of the local Boy’s and Girl’s Club, and you bend the already folded aluminum chair in half. 

The squeak of the metal catches his attention and his brow knits together. His eyes dance between your face, the chair, and back again. “Cheap material,” you say weakly with a lift of your shoulders. You watch as he puckers his lips in thought and his hands are shoved into his jacket. 

One of your regulars, Sarah, takes the chair from you and tries to right it once more, but finds it more difficult than you played it up to be. “Set up the rest, I’ve got this,” you tell her, happy to tear your attention away from the man. You reset the bars of the chair and unfold it, placing it on the floor to see if it will act as it should. It’s a little wonky, the bend leans it too far back, but it will hold you - it’s a chair.

You sit among the circle and begin. People sip their coffee and share their stories for the week. The new people introduce themselves, including him, but everyone already knows his name. He didn’t share this time, but you could tell he wanted to from the way his jaw clenched and the uncomfortable shifts in his sheet. You were like that once, you know just how he feels.

Two hours pass and the crowd slowly trickles out. You start the clean up, the putting away of the chairs. You move around the room and do your best to ignore his eyes burning into you - into your soul. “You could at least help clean,” you tell him without looking up from the sink against the far wall where you now stand. “Chairs still need to be put away.”

It takes a few beats, but you hear his heavy footsteps fall behind you and the eventual scrap of metal as the chairs are being folded. There’s a steady rhythm to his method, a clink of his metal arm against the chair, the screech as the chair is closed and his footfalls to the corner to put it away.

You finish your last coffee pot, drying your hands and turn to see the wonky chair in his hold. “Cheap material,” he repeats, looking down at it before he bends it back and forth. You see him trying to mold it back into better shape than you had earlier as your face grows hotter by the second. When he deems it “good enough,” he brings it over to join the others. “Who are you?”

“No one,” you reply instantly. 

His head snaps around, blue eyes burning, “You’re a horrible liar.”

“Not true,” you counter, “I’ve lied to myself for years.”

He turns to you fully and crosses his arms over his broad chest. He doesn’t find your attempt at what he thinks is a joke funny. “Who are you,” he asks again, his voice becoming clipped and impatient. 

You tell him your name, your full name but it does not ring any bells to him. It wouldn’t, not in a way he would realize. “You saved someone years ago, not as… you, but as,” you pause and wave the towel you used to dry your hands, “you know.” You try your best to ignore how his body tenses up and you continue, “You killed his wife and his unborn son. You changed him. Changed everything, really. Somehow, I got caught up in it all.”

His hardened stare quickly shifts into curiosity and you force yourself to look away before you crash into the stormy blue. “They pumped us full of all sorts of stuff. A lot of us didn’t make it. I can still hear the screams if I try.” You grind your teeth to make yourself stop falling into that abyss. “But my dad raised me by himself, he taught me how to survive, how to be strong. He always told me: Girl, if you’re gonna go down, go down swingin’. And I forced myself to keep going, no matter what they did, I wasn’t going to let those assholes get the best of me.”

The towel was back in both of your hands now, pulled and stretched as you tried not to think about the pain and the loneliness that followed. “But eventually I was freed, just like you freed that other guy. I got a chance to be him now… but I didn’t take it.” The terry cloth ripped in half and your arms fell by your sides. 

You dared to look up at the man and you inwardly swore. His face was so painfully beautiful, full lips were in a pout and his eyes twinkled blue in their sadness, in their empathy. “They wanted us to be something and I wasn’t going to let someone else define me. I ran for years, scared and alone. I had to change my life over and over because I didn’t want them to find me, then I realized I was actually doing what they wanted… I was being someone I’m not.”

You crossed the room to the trash can nearby and not too far behind he followed. The two of you began to toss half-eaten pastries and empty disposable coffee cups. “So, I settled down here, started to go by my real name and took any threat that came my way.” You watched him sniff at an uneaten danish, “Cherry, I think.” His shoulder lifts in a ‘what-the-hell’ kind of way and he takes a bite. “It took about two decades for them to stop,” you finish, “and I was able to finally start to live my life.”

He silently offers half of the danish to you, which you decline. “And when the world went to hell in a hand-basket, you what, sat here and lived your life?” The blow was meant to sting and it did. He didn’t know if you were gone in The Blip but from your recoil, he got his answer. “I don’t know what they did to you, but you obviously have the ability to help people, you should use it.”

“I do,” you reply, offended. “This,” you wave your hands around for the second that evening, “helps people. Just because I don’t strap on leather and beat up bad guys doesn’t mean I don’t make a difference.”

Bucky stills completely, even his breathing, and he looks down into the trash can he has been pushing around for you. It looks as though he wants to toss himself in it. “You’re right,” he says with a heavy exhale, “that wasn’t fair of me. It’s just… the world is running low on heroes, they’re now relying on a guy in a bird suit.”

“I thought that guy was your friend,” you ask with a tilt of your head.

When the corner of his mouth tips up into a boyish smile, you mirror it with a toothy grin because of how infectious it is. “Yeah,” he nods, “I guess he is. But I just hate being the only muscle.”

“You’re plenty enough for this hemisphere,” you laugh and reach out to pat his shoulder, when you feel the muscle packed there, you whistle through your teeth, “and maybe the other one, too.”

He laughs and rolls the shoulder you tapped, tossing off your hand playfully. “Yeah, well it wouldn’t hurt to have more because getting hurt hurts.” You two exchange smiles and finish trash detail. He ties up the full bag and prepares to bring it out while you work on putting a new one in the can. 

You lead him out back to the dumpsters and he tosses the bag in after you open the heavy metal lid. When it falls closed again with a loud, ringing bang, you pull out a pack of sanitizing wipes and offer him one which he gladly accepts. “This might not be the right time,” he begins, eyes drawn to the large, smelly trash bin next to the pair of you, “but would you like to have dinner with me sometime?”

“Who knew you were so romantic, Sergeant Barnes,” you tease to hide your fluttering heartbeat that he can undoubtedly hear. Under the pale yellow beam of the streetlights you can see the flush forming on his face that mirrors your own. “I’m free tomorrow around seven.”

Bucky straightens to his full height and his eyes sparkle brightly when that boyish curl makes its way back to his lips. “Then it’s a date,” he nods as you both pull out your phones to exchange numbers and you give him your address.

“Don’t be late,” you warn him, tone playfully serious, “I get angry if I don’t eat before eight. Bad things happen if I don’t eat.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods with a low rumbling chuckle, “I don’t plan to disappoint you.”

Your face splits into a smile and you lead your way back in, “See you tomorrow, Sergeant.”

“Tomorrow,” he says, his eyes trained on your every move. “And it can’t come soon enough,” he adds under his breath.

x

Your day goes by in a blur. Work is stressful but rewarding. Even though you love your job, your mind was not completely on it. Just past noon you received a text: Just seeing if this works. I’m looking forward to tonight. Have a good day. BB

It is unclear if he does not really know how texts work or if it is his excuse to send you one, but either way it makes you giddier than a schoolgirl. You reread it several times, answer a few work related calls and emails before you finally answer back: It works! I’m also looking forward to tonight. My day was good, but your text made it better. Hope yours is fantastic! xx

You are hesitant to hit send, but if you are going to shoot your shot, then you might as well go all in. Your phone doesn’t even go to sleep before you get another text in return: I’m about to see the prettiest gal in town, my day will be more than fantastic. How do you feel about sushi and bowling? BB

Of all of the things to do, especially together, you would not think of Bucky Barnes to pick that as your first night out together, but you had a weakness for sushi and your competitive side could never say no to a game or two: I haven’t been bowling in years, but I’m sure I can teach you a few things. xx

Oh, sweetheart, you’ll be learning a thing or two before the night is over. BB

You aren’t sure if you guys are talking about bowling anymore and that thought lights a fire in your belly. With a shaky breath you send your last reply: I’ll be happy to learn anything as long as I get to call you Professor Barnes and I can stay after class for extra credit. ;) xx 

It isn’t until two hours after your lunch that you get your last reply from him: Looking up that reference sent me to the part of the internet that I’m still not used to, but I’m glad I did. You don’t happen to have a skirt and some of those socks that go up to your knees, do you? Don’t answer that, I won’t be able to make it through dinner. See you at 7. BB

You did happen to have just what he asked for and it was tempting to wear it, but you tucked the idea into your pocket for another time. Instead, you picked something more appropriate for bowling, a pair of navy skinny fit cotton dress pants with enough stretch to not rip when you bent over to toss a ball, a curve hugging camisole that was draped by a soft, cream colored cashmere sweater. 

After messing with your hair for an hour, you settled for a messy bun and just finished your makeup when your doorbell rang. You call out to him to “hold on” as you shuffle through your apartment, trying to wriggle into your loafers on the way to open the door. “Sorry. Sorry, sorry,” you apologize as you pull open the door.

He’s standing in the doorway dressed in a canvas jacket over a plain black shirt, dark jeans over his long, thick legs and his normal boots top it off. “You look gorgeous,” he says, forcing you away from your lingering gaze as it continues to travel up and down his body like he’s the one for dinner. “These are for you,” he presents a bouquet of flowers with an unsure smile. “They’re beautiful,” you say wistfully, taking the flowers and stepping aside to let him in. “Thank you.” He nods and stands near the door as you finish putting on your shoes. “Let me put these in water and we can go.” “Take your time,” he says and trains his eyes on you. They follow you through the apartment, to the kitchen as you look through your cabinets for a vase. When you bend over, his head tilts ever so slightly which you can see out of the corner of your eye, but when you turn to try and catch him, he just smiles innocently. “Need any help?”

“I’ll manage,” you laugh and eventually find a vase. The flowers are arranged not so elegantly into the glass, but you add water and place them in the center of your kitchen island. “Now, I’m starving and getting hangry.”

“Hangry,” he repeats. “That doesn’t sound good. I guess I should feed you before that happens.” He holds out an arm and like a magnet you are drawn to him and latch to it, maybe it’s because of the metal. Nevertheless, you walk arm and arm to the sushi hole-in-the-wall two blocks away, eating in a small booth in the corner to hide away from prying eyes.

You learn about Bucky Barnes for the first time. Like everyone else, you hear things from the news, from the internet, you try to shift through the lies and mess. But here you’re learning what he likes, what he’s learned, what he wants to learn. He doesn’t give his past up as freely as you did, it’s obvious he’s still coming to terms with it, but everyone travels at their own pace.

He learns about you, too. He asks you about things none of your past dates have asked. Hell, even your past boyfriends and girlfriends weren’t interested in half of the stuff Bucky manages to squeeze out of you. And you find it so easy to talk to him, so natural. You’ve only known him for two days, but it feels like decades.

Your hand slips into his when you leave the restaurant and head to the bowling alley. He laces your fingers together two blocks into your walk and you once again wrap your free hand around his arm. It pains you to move away when you have to go in and put on the bowling shoes.

“Before we begin,” he says to you as he watches you put your names into the computer, “let’s make a bet.” You finish entering the ‘y’ of his name and lift an inquisitive brow his way. “If you win, you can have one thing you would want from me.”

You twist in your seat and narrow your eyes, “And if you win?”

His tongue darts out to lick his lips, you watch it disappear with a pout, “I get a kiss.”

“You could just ask for one,” you laugh and slowly lean towards him.

Bucky, too, leans in and bumps noses with you, “Yeah, but it’s more fun if I work for it.” He sits back and winks, trying not to laugh at your deflated and deepening pout. “C’mon, sweetheart, you’re up first.”

You sigh heavily and pick up the bright green ball that you picked from the line waiting to be thrown. “Okay, if I win, then I get to wear that skirt and socks for you,” you say over your shoulder before you toss the ball down the lane. It rolls down the center and knocks down all ten pins as STRIKE flashes on the screen above you.

When you flop down in the chair next to him, he’s still staring at the spot where you stood moments before, gears still churning. “Hey,” you laugh, snapping your fingers in front of his face to knock him out of his daze, “are you okay?”

“Would it be wrong of me to lose on purpose,” he asks sheepishly. You roll your eyes and cross your arms and he lifts his own in surrender. “Okay, okay. I get it, that’s no fun. Just know, darlin’, I don’t go down without a fight.” He steps up and takes the same ball you used and chucks it halfway down the lane before it, too, knocks down all ten pins. He turns to you, a smirk plastered on his face.

As much as you loved to have fun, you loved to win more. “Is that how it’s going to be,” you asked, getting up to pass him on the way to take your turn.

He laughs, pressing close as you both slow when you come into each other’s orbit. “That’s how it’s going to be,” he nods and rakes over his lip with his teeth. A challenge is set and you don’t back down. Strikes and spares are thrown by the both of you in between lingering touches and whispered sweet nothings. 

In the hour you two have rented the lane, you managed two games and with one point over you, Bucky wins. He doesn’t claim his prize right there, it’s too public and there’s far too many people around. Instead, he offers to walk you home and you happily accept as long as you can wrap yourself around him once again, which you do.

You two try to take your time on the way back, enjoying the crisp evening air, but more so each other's company. The conversation from dinner continues as a flow of likes and dislikes between more sweet nothings. You’re lovedrunk by the time you’re at your front door and you don’t want the night to come to an end.

Reluctantly, you release him from your hold and he looks as disappointed as you feel. “Tonight has been wonder-” “I had such a great-” you both begin simultaneously and trail off together, ending in nervous laughter. 

“Thank you,” you tell him, leaning up to kiss his cheek, “for such an amazing night.”

“I should be thanking you,” he says, a hand timidly reaching out to rest on your hip. “I’ve been a little rusty at this kind of thing, but you made it easy.” His thumb traces the arc of your hip bone and you step closer to him. “But, you know, I might need some more practice.” You resisted to roll your eyes, but the laughter bubbles between the both of you. The distance closes by one of you, and you don’t care who, but you find your hands splayed across his chest, “I think I can help you out there.”

“That would be my second win of the night,” he grins down at you, his eyes trained on your lips.

“Speaking of my win,” he trails off. His flesh hand raises to your cheek and you instinctively lean into it. Your nose wrinkles at his chuckle but it doesn’t stop you from raising on your toes to close what little space there was between you.

You could sense his hesitation, the silent question of what was enough and what was too much. A small hum bubbled in your throat as you pushed your hands up his chest, nails scraping up his neck and into his hair. You could feel the shiver ripple throughout his body and his teeth came out to bite down on your bottom lip.

It was your turn to laugh now and he licked into your mouth in return, turning it into a whimpering moan. You could feel his triumphant smirk against your lips and you reward it with a tug of his hair. His hips instantly buck against you which throws you off balance, but he catches you with his metal arm winding around your back and pins you against him. 

Your tongues slip and slide against one another, the taste of his sushi and beer choice mixes with your own. Your nails once again claw along his scalp and cause him to growl into your mouth. He surges forward with you in his grip and crowds you against your door, reluctantly breaking away for air, “We should say goodnight,” Bucky whispered against your kiss swollen lips.

“You can tell me good morning when you wake up next to me tomorrow,” you shoot back and roll your hips against his, causing both of you to react with a strained moan.

“Are you sure,” he asks, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

“I’ve got a spare toothbrush with your name on it,” you nod. You watch him debate the issue with himself before placing one last chaste kiss on your lips before losing his grip just enough to let you open the door.

You two stumble in, Bucky pulling you back to him, his mouth kissing along your jaw as you try to lock up for the night. You barely got the deadbolt turned when his teeth sank into your sink causing you to cry out. He instantly licks at apologetically and turns his attention to getting you undressed instead.

When your sweater is pulled over your head, you push off Bucky’s jacket, both falling to the floor near the door. Shoes are next to go, sloppily kicked off near each other and once again you two are drawn back together, tongues dancing. Your fingers twist into the short brown locks and his hands snaked down to your ass. He lightly cups each cheek, using them to bring you as close as possible, and even though your bodies leave very little room for air to pass through you still try to move closer.

“Bed,” he breathes into your mouth. You give him a quick nod. With a happy groan, he squeezes you by your bottom, picking you up to carry you to your room, your legs instantly wrapping around his waist. 

Your small one bedroom apartment isn't anything special, but it is yours and it has the biggest, comfiest bed that you are in love with. Bucky easily guides you both there, not once breaking your kiss aside from grunting or growling from your teasing hair pulls or the rolls of your hips. 

He climbs onto the mattress with you still wrapped around his upper half, crawling up to the pile of pillows near the headboard where he eventually lays you down. His weight settles above you, and normally, you would welcome it’s warmth and comfort, but at that moment, you want it to be rough and needy. “Bucky,” you whine, this time the one to break the kiss.

Flushed cheeks and blown pupils, he looks down at you, boxing you in with his arms on either side of your head. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“You’re wearing too much,” you tell him as you try to pull off his shirt, it makes it up to his shoulders before it stops. His laugh shakes his entire body and yours, which makes you pout in return. 

“You’re wearing the same amount, doll,” he reminds you, looking down to see your breasts sway in your camisole. “Far, far too much, in my opinion.”

You roll your eyes and playfully slap at his chest, “Then do something about it.” He mutters something about impatience and sits on his knees between your parted thighs as he pulls his shirt over his head to toss it aside.

“Your turn,” he nods to your shirt while he works on the buckle of his belt. You hastily pull the top over your head and work on your slacks, wriggling out of them just as does his own. He sits back on his hunches and looks you over, laying spread out in a matching white lace bra and underwear set. Now at he’s down to his boxer briefs, you can see how big he his, how hard he is, and when his wandering eyes rest on your covered sex, you can see it twitch with anticipation. “Holy shit, you’re beautiful.”

You didn’t think your entire body could blush from embarrassment, but Bucky just proved you could. “That’s my line,” you return, taking in every inch of his exposed skin over hard muscle. Super serum or not, Bucky Barnes was a gorgeous specimen. When you two finally lock eyes once more, you both shiver. “Are you going to touch me?”

He lets out a shaky breath and reaches out to run a hand lightly over your damp panties, slick from your want for him. “I’m afraid I’ll never stop,” he replies honestly, instantly addicted to the needy whimpers you are giving him.

“I don’t think I would want you to,” you groan. “Please?” You feel his fingertips dance over the lace, tracing over the pattern and causing you to throb with need. “Bucky!”

“You need me, don’t you,” he asks, voice dropping to a low rumble that hits you right at your core and makes your toes curl. “You need my touch. Need me to satisfy that ache?” You nod desperately trying to sit up to pull him down on top of you, but he pins you down before you could rise. “Tell me,” he purrs.

“I need you,” you respond instantly. You’re rewarded with his fingers pushing the panties aside and begin to dance along the slick folds.

“You need what,” he goads. He finds your clit and rubs it once to draw a happy mew from you but stops much to your disappointment.

“I need you, Bucky. I need you to touch me, to kiss me,” you whine with a rock of your hips, trying to get him to move again, but he doesn’t. “I need you to taste me, to lick me, to fuck me.”

Smile on his kiss bruised lips, his thumb swirls around your bud and he sinks his middle finger into you with a groan. “You’re tight,” he hisses as he sinks knuckle-deep, “and dripping. Shit, you’re going to feel like heaven.”

You can’t focus on what he’s saying too much. The feel of his fingers pumping in and out of you feels good, feels right, but it’s not enough, even when he adds two or three. He works you open, your slick starting to run down his fingers, and he palms himself over his briefs.  “Bucky, please,” your voice cracks, “I need more.”

He nods, he has time to take you apart with just his fingers later, but it’s been so long since he’s been with someone like this, someone he’s felt like this with, he needs it as much as you do. When he removes his fingers from you, you whine at the loss but it cuts off into a gasp as you watch him lap and suck off your slick from his hand. Bucky freezes, eyes narrowing, and for a moment you’re wondering if you did something wrong. “What? What is it?”

“Trying to stop myself from eating you alive,” he says through clenched teeth, jaw visibly flexing with the effort. You blink up at him, confused, but he shakes his head and forces himself to remove his boxer briefs. “I’m having you for breakfast,” he decides.

“Uh huh,” you reply absently, your mouth watering as his cock bounces against his stomach when it’s free. It’s long, thick, and leaking, trying to hypnotize you and very much succeeding. 

“I’ll let you return the favor, sweetheart,” he laughs. His flesh hand spreads his pre-cum down his shaft and he pumps slowly while his metal hand pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb. “Still with me?”

Blinking free of your daze, you stare at his lustful gaze and nod. He moves closer, hooks your legs over the bends of his elbows and runs the head of his cock along your folds. Your hole twitches desperately for him, “Such a pretty little pussy, so needy.” Your hands wrap around his wrists and grip at him tightly, hard enough to make him hiss. “You’ve been a good girl, I guess I can give you what you want.”

He pushes in agonizingly slow, the head of his cock sinking in what felt like centimeter by centimeter. You clench around him, trying to draw more of him in, but Bucky takes his time to bottom out. When he is finally fully seated in you, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and apparently so did he. “Fuck,” you say simultaneously. 

Your legs are positioned around his waist and he once again frames your head with his forearms, which, in turn, pushes him further inside of you. “You feel so good, doll,” he whispers against the ‘o’ of your lips. “So warm, so tight, taking me so good.” Your hands find their way up his arms and into his hair. All it takes is one tug that has him growling, “And I’m going to ruin this pretty pussy so good that it’s going to feel me all week.” He rolls his hips back as slowly as he originally pushed in, “And I wanna hear you tell everyone who it belongs to while I do it.”

He snaps his hips forward driving you up the bed and further into the pillows, a cry getting caught in your throat from it. His pace is brutal, skin slaps against skin, and his mouth seeks out yours. The kiss is sloppy, but hungry, just as primal as his pistoning hips. You hold on to him the best you can as the bed rocks, headboard slamming against the wall. Your nails trail against his skin, egging him on and drawing sinful noises from love-swollen lips. 

His hips shift angles and eventually find that spot that makes you see stars. “Bucky,” you cry out breathlessly, uncurling your toes and removing your nails from his shoulder blades. He buries his face in your neck and marks you with his teeth and tongue as he relentlessly fucks towards your brink. “So… f-fuck- so close.”

“Cum for me then, sweetheart,” Bucky growls against your skin, snaking a hand between your bodies to work at your clit. “Show me how good I make you feel. Cum for me.” His thumb rubs over your bud once, twice and a white hot punch in your gut blossoms throughout your body as you let out a strangled cry of his name. 

You can feel yourself clamp around him, working him impossibly deeper, begging him to fall down into the abyss with you. And he does, hard. He chases his bliss with you, your name a mantra spilling from his lips as he spills inside of you. He doesn’t stop until you’ve both become too sensitive to handle anymore. He pulls out of you with a heavy sigh and falls next to you on the bed onto his stomach. 

“Holy shit,” you finally break the silence, “that was…”

“Yeah,” he agrees, his head turned to look at you with tired, blissful eyes. “Goddamn, yeah it was.”

You weakly reach around to search for his hand and eventually find it, he lances his fingers with yours. You don’t break eye contact when he leans over to share a few chaste kisses before collapsing again. “You’re fantastic, Bucky, and I want you to know that was the hottest sex I have had to date.”

His post orgasm bliss is shattered and replaced with a furrowed brow, “I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

“...but as hot as it is feeling you drip out of me, I need to shower,” you finish. You can see the relief wash over him and he nods in understanding. 

“I’ve got a good memory,” he yawns and taps at his head, “that image is stored right here.” You fight a blush and slide off of your bed to head to the bathroom when seconds later you hear him do the same. He shrugs at your questioning look, “No need to waste water, right?”

You laugh as you turn on the faucets only to be crowded against the wall and your mouth is covered with his once more. The water splashing against your bodies and the echoing sounds of your moans drown out the repeated calls to Bucky’s phone. Mission. Suit up. SW

Answer your damn phone. SW

It’s the green button. SW

Green button and slide right. SW

Dammit, if you blocked me again, I stg. SW

Man, what are you doing in Soho? Yes, I’m tracking you. OMW. SW

a/n: To be continued? 

[ushidoux]

Someone Else’s - Sakusa x Reader x Ennoshita

Summary: Ennoshita hasn’t completely moved on, but the love of his life has. NSFW. (~3148 words +/- due to editing)

A/N: I’m so sorry to Ennoshita stans. Also special thanks to @bokutosmommy for helping me bounce off ideas.

---

“Thank you so much, Ennoshita-san!”

Ennoshita smiled warmly as he helped the elderly woman he was treating off the examination table. She wobbled ever so slightly as she got onto her feet, and gripped tensely onto his arm but Ennoshita held her steady, reassuring her that she had him. 

“Oh, you truly are such a kind young man. And my, it is truly a shame that you haven’t yet been snatched up!”

He let out a small pacifying laugh - this topic was frequent during their sessions, and as sweet as she was, the old lady had offered up everyone from her grandchildren to her nieces around his age, and he truly wasn’t in the mood to politely look at another stranger’s picture off her flip phone on this particular afternoon. 

Especially not when the first thing that had come to mind when awakening this morning was the woman who had broken his heart, someone he had actually planned to propose to just days before she broke up with him before disappearing without a trace.

“I’m too busy working hard in order to take care of patients like you to think about dating!” He joked as he helped lead her out to the exit. As he walked her down, he snuck a glance at the clock in the hallway, noting that he was a couple minutes late for his next patient. 

He let out a sigh internally. The young man to be seen next on his list was particularly impatient and wouldn’t be happy to wait even for a second. He hoped that by the time he made it back to the room, the technicians had at least turned the room over and taken his vitals.

By the time Ennoshita made it back to the room, he could see that the professional volleyball player he had been working with for the past month had already arrived, and was sitting in the corner of the room with legs crossed and fingertips pressed together.

“Good afternoon, Sakusa-san,” Ennoshita greeted formally.

Sakusa Kiyoomi did not answer immediately, peering up at him with dark eyes over a white surgical mask. He then gave a brief nod and stood up, pulling off his jacket and draping it neatly over the back of the chair, before sitting on the examination table.

He now looked at Ennoshita expectantly. Ennoshita kept his face kind as usual - even though Sakusa did grate on his nerves just a little, doing his best to sympathize with his cold behavior. Patellar tendon injuries were common in volleyball players but they were also incredibly frustrating, and Ennoshita, having played volleyball himself back in high school, knew something or another about frustration. Plus Sakusa was known for being more than a little abrasive at baseline, at least based on what his old high school teammates had told him.

“Did you do the exercises?”

“Mm.” At least Sakusa was willing to follow instructions. 

The session went smoothly as usual, and because Sakusa made little effort to engage in conversation, Ennoshita found his mind wandering briefly intermittently.

It’s hard to believe that you were once part of the team that beat Shiratorizawa that year, Sakusa had told him flippantly the first day they’d met. Of course, he thought that; aside from the old ladies he worked with, Ennoshita wasn’t particularly outstanding and he was painfully aware of that fact. 

Even she had told him this right before he and his last girlfriend had broken up. She had been so harsh then, but even he recognized it was true. He was a safe choice, someone you don’t hesitate to present to mom and dad but don’t also brag about to your friends, someone who was dependable but you could never be desperate to be with. He had worked on that over the past year, attempting to be more outgoing, picking up a few hobbies that would make him “interesting” like mixed martial arts and salsa dancing. 

Maybe he’d impress her if they ever met again.

But for now, his life was pretty routine, unlike guys like even Sakusa before him who commanded attention (whether unwillingly or not) whenever they entered a room and were still entrenched in the fast-pace and exciting world of volleyball. 

“We’re done here, right?” Sakusa said, abruptly. 

Ennoshita looked at the time, and noted that the thirty minutes were almost up. “Yeah, let me go get the sheet for your next set of exercises,” he said, turning around to go through a set of folders on a shelf. 

While he rummaged, behind him, there was a brief knock on the door right before the door swung open and soft, light footsteps ran in.

“Omi, we’re going to be late!”

“I told you to wait outside, stop being so clingy,” he snapped back.

And Ennoshita turned around so fast he almost got whiplash - he could recognize that voice, your voice anywhere - and stared right at you, your arms affectionately wrapped around Sakusa’s shoulders while he was trying to shake you off with irritation.

You froze, the smile on your face fading, replaced with your mouth opening just slightly in shock. Ennoshita froze, the packet of exercises he was prepared to hand Sakusa slipping out of his fingers as he stood still, falling to the ground in a loud flutter.

“Chi-kun,” you whispered under your breath, your eyes wide and your heart thumping in your chest.

“___...”

You inhaled sharply, and reflexively your arms withdrew from where they rested around Sakusa’s neck, and while Sakusa had made a big deal of resisting your affection, the fact that you stopped so quickly at the sight of another man awakened a different type of discontentment in him.

“Why…” Ennoshita started, but the rest of his sentence died in his throat. Why were you here? Why were you with him? Why did you leave?

Why now?

“I… um… fuck,” you started, then stopped, shame now washing over you as you remembered how cruel you were before and how cruel you were being this very moment. You had no explanation for the fact that you had refused to answer his calls or texts, and barely offered him any type of closure aside from You’re frankly kind of boring, and I’m not sure I want to be with you anymore. 

And to see each other again, right in front of your boyfriend who was quite... particular? This wouldn’t end well. 

You found yourself rushing to leave the room, but suddenly Sakusa’s hand clamped around your wrist as you turned and he pulled hard, almost yanking you back to his side.

“Where are you going, babe?” He asked with a smirk, not looking at you but instead directly at Ennoshita who had in mere moments turned from unwitting ally to absolute enemy. He seemed to shake like paper, and Sakusa could almost read the unwritten history between you all written all over his face, and it made him angry. Maybe even furious.

Had his precious little girl also fucked this guy? Really?

Clearly so, because you never resisted his touch usually, in fact you craved it, and now you were all but worming your way out of his grasp which he kept like iron, obvious panic in your eyes as you pleaded for him to let you leave the room.

“L-let me talk to you in the car,” you half-whispered, half-begged.

“About what?” Sakusa replied coolly, his voice much louder than needed to be. 

The way you looked now to Ennoshita was like a trapped mouse and he could no longer bear it. Why couldn’t Sakusa be gentle with you? Didn’t he know you liked to be treated softly and with care? He had always treated you like you were gold, after all. 

Were you the girlfriend Sakusa complained about every so often? The one who was very sweet but overbearing? The only reason why he showed up to this place session after session after all instead of bearing the discomfort and heading back to the courts as soon as possible?

“P-please let go of her,” Ennoshita eked out in a small voice, keeping his gaze down. “It’s just that s-she and I knew each other from before and… it must be very awkward-”

Sakusa suddenly cut in with a laugh.

“Shut the fuck up. I didn’t ask.”

Ennoshita looked up with shock mirroring your own as you both watched him in surprise. Sakusa let go of your wrist, and you subconsciously rubbed the sting out of the tender skin. He walked across the room, stopping right before Ennoshita who again tensed reflexively, and bent down to pick up the dropped packet.

“This was mine, right?” He confirmed as he rose to his full height, his smile again dark as he looked down towards Ennoshita. Ennoshita nodded slowly, and you could almost hear him swallow hard.

“I’ll just take what’s mine and leave then,” he said, now moving past Ennoshita to grab his jacket. Reaching into his pocket, he replaced his face mask then walking towards you, pulled out a second one to hand to you before gripping your hand firmly again.

“Thanks for all of your help!” His voice stunk of mock cheer. For you, he unwrapped the individually wrapped face mask and dangled it before you by the tips of his fingers.

“I told you to wear these, at least when you’re in the hospital. These people are disgusting.”

And with that, Sakusa walked out hand in hand with you, the love of Ennoshita’s life.

---

“Why did you do that, Kiyoomi?”

You had spent most of the ride back to Kiyoomi’s apartment in silence, but you knew by how tightly Sakusa was gripping the steering wheel and the furrow in his eyebrow that he was probably scowling underneath his face mask the entire time. Any other time you would have reached for his free hand, and maybe he would have scowled about the unnecessary physical contact and asked you if you had sanitized your hands first before begrudgingly accepting your touch, but you would have smiled anyway and gently stroked the palm of your weird, grumpy Omi.

Any other time. But right this very moment, he deserved the opposite of compassion.

Sakusa gave you a very brief, aggravated look, then turned back to the road before him. He scoffed, noticing your pursed lips and the crossed arms over your chest. You were practically as angry as he was, stewing quietly in the passenger seat.

How dare you.

“Oh, did I hurt your ex’s feelings? Is that why you’re upset?”

“Omi…,” you said in a small, yet stern voice.

“Don’t ‘Omi~’ me. He looked at you like you fell out of the sky. Like you were an angel from above. Not like the dirty slut you are-”

“Kiyoomi!” 

He scoffed, gripping the steering wheel even tighter with both hands now.

“Don’t act like you don’t beg me to call you that when you’re bent over and I’m balls deep inside your guts. What’s the difference right now? Aren’t you always my dirty slut? Do you want me to respect you now? Is that what he did? Give you respect? Who the fuck does he think he is?”

The blood was starting to rush to your face and you wanted to scream at him for being an asshole as usual, but you could tell he was only getting more riled up by the second. You bit your lip and held your tongue, ready to unleash the moment he parked. 

But before you could say a single word the second he turned off the ignition, now that you were in the quiet, covered lot outside of his apartment complex, he reached across to your side of the car, all but ripping off the mask on your face (and his). Jerking your chin to his with the tips of his fingers, he smashed your lips to his in a kiss that was so intense, you were sure it contained most if not all the violence he had held back just minutes earlier.

Minutes that felt like seconds passed as his tongue forced itself down your throat and teeth grazed against lips and you lost the ability to breathe and to think and you were mad on whose behalf? 

All that mattered was that you got more from Omi, you wanted more from your Omi, and now you had traversed the car’s console to straddle your Omi in the driver’s seat and you were now grinding against him, and he was now pulling away -

Oh, why was he pulling away?

Breathy pants now parted your swollen, red, wanting lips and your half-lidded eyes took in the lustful eyes staring at your lips and the half-smirk now on his visage, the one that made it obvious that he knew he had already won you over and you were absolutely powerless to him, that you were his.

You paused, your arms draped around his neck, waiting, knowing that if you didn’t stop now to start up again, once you were inside, you’d fuck in the car in this dim garage and who knows who would see you?

“Since I didn’t get to beat his ass, I’m beating your pussy up instead.”

---

You had really moved on.

Now that Ennoshita had seen you in the flesh for the first time in nearly a year, he realized how much he had been holding on to the possibility of ever seeing you again, in a future where he was something other than the boring and safe choice, someone you tolerated but your heart didn’t tremble for.

And to see you with one of Japan’s top aces... Someone who had been better than him for you before you even knew of his existence. It was unbearable to think about.

He continued to stare at the ceiling dejectedly. He’d been crying literally the entire way home from work, and now on top of being sad for the love that never was, he was doubly upset for how freely his tears flowed tonight. The fact that he couldn’t even stand his ground when threatened, that he had even flinched when Sakusa got close (Was he this much of a bitch? Did you see him? No wonder you dropped him.).

He let out a cough as phlegm stuck in his throat and rubbed his eyelids. He had been laying sprawled on his back ever since he came back from work, staring at the ceiling and he was pretty sure his eyes were puffy and red.

Pitiful.

He reached for his phone and considered making a profile on Tinder, his finger hovering over the program in the app store. That would have been the right move. Move on like you had.

Instead he pulled up his photo folders, and settled on his favorite picture of you. One where you were alone and smiling for him, your face tilted just so towards the camera, and happiness crinkling your eyes. He always loved your eyes.

Reaching over his end table for the lone bottle of lotion, he pulled down his underwear with the other hand, freeing his semi-hard cock. Maybe… just maybe if he could think of you as you were when you were his, like in this picture; if he could ignore the fresh memory of you looking at him with regret in your eyes, he could feel you again with him.

---

“O-Omi… Omi! Oh my… fuck, Omi!!”

You reflexively pushed at his face as you squirmed, then trembled then flailed wildly as Sakusa slurped the absolute life out of you, tongue circling and swishing and flicking everywhere from your clit to your vestibule to inside your vagina… In fact, at some point, you were sure he’d bit ever so slightly at your labia and you let out a yelp, only for him to stuff you quiet with two of his fingers, already sopping wet with the juices dripping out of your soaking cunt.

“Suck if you can’t keep your filthy mouth shut,” he scoffed.

You moaned through the taste of his fingers, the taste of yourself. Sakusa had a way of being even meaner in bed that lit a fire inside you; the abrasiveness only seemed to get worse the more horny he got. And yet, you knew right now he was so aggressive because of the mere fact that he loved you and his pride had been shaken just thinking that someone else had once claimed you as theirs. The very fact that, germaphobe as he was, he was so deep in your thighs that parts of his skin shone with your slick was already proof of that.

“You’re moving too much,” he said sternly, his grip tightening around your thighs. You muffled an apology through a full mouth, only to be attacked with a long stroke of the tongue on your core which sent a shockwave through you and had you at a loss for words.

“Is this how you moaned for him?” Sakusa stopped suddenly, his breathy words sending a shiver of cold through your spine as they landed on your moist cunt.

You shook your head frantically.

“Good,” he said as though it were business as usual, rising to drop his pants and let his cock spring free. Even his cock looked angry, tumescent, dusky at the head and at attention, and you could feel your core ache in anticipation already. 

He flipped you like a pancake on the bed, hooking one arm around your midsection (you were already too fucked out just from his fingers and mouth to move yourself unfortunately), and positioned you into a tripod position before lining himself behind your already semi-abused entrance.

“Stay still. I’m going to fuck you like every man you’ve ever had is slamming you all at once, you dirty, dirty girl.”

---

In the dim light of Ennoshita’s bedroom, all that could be heard were soft sobs and the sound of flesh stroking flesh, and soon there were cries of your name and the sobs grew louder and more pained until release which came out as a deep, guttural, desperate groan. He was aching for someone who no longer existed. A you from the past that no longer existed.

The you of the present moaned, sobbed, and convulsed, screaming Kiyoomis, Omis, Oh mys, Oh Gods, I love yous, Don’t stops, Never stops to Sakusa who pounded you relentlessly, slapping every inch of skin on your buttcheek, marking every part of your body with kisses, bites, pulling your hair, closing his fingers around your throat - doing anything and everything that Ennoshita could no longer do. He touched you in ways your ex never could, rough, then eventually soft the moment he finally, eventually, and to your relief, came inside you, coating your clenching walls with hot cum coming out in so many spurts. He unseated himself, and you could feel some volume of him spilling out of you immediately - he had come so much, probably more than he ever had before, and you expected him to immediately disappear to shower, but maybe there was something about his jealousy that made him both harsh and gentle for you today. 

He whispered your name as he lay beside you, his fingers intertwined with yours. He pulled you closer, and your pleasantly exhausted, sweaty, sticky face found its way into the crook of his neck. Your breathing evened, the room was now quiet, but the very air was loaded with the transient echoes of your sinful dance just moments ago.

“I love you.”

Your heart sped up. It was so hard for Sakusa to say something so frank, so honest and so vulnerable, but before you could say you loved him too - oh you knew, you were sure you did - he kept going, and with this he held you tighter:

“I don’t ever want to look at you like I lost everything. No matter what I say, no matter what I do, promise you’ll always love me, and you’ll always be my side. I will do my best to be good to you.”

And that’s when you realized that Sakusa’s greatest fear was Ennoshita’s reality.

[jtsfavslut]

Falling [G.D]

Description: Just when Y/N thought she was over Grayson, he pops back into her life, making her wonder if you could fall for the same person twice. Inspired by ‘Falling’ - Harry Styles. 

Warnings: None, Just sad stuff lmao!!!

Word Count: 4K+

Also a special thanks to cole [ @blazedgraysons​] for keeping up with my annoying ass questions while I wrote this, and for helping me and giving me advice I love you <333

   Her small feet carried her body down the familiar street, cars zooming past her as her body softly bumped into the others around her. The loud sounds from the environment being blocked away by the soft, yet loud music that was coming out of an old pair of Airpods she had gotten for Christmas back in High School.

This was Y/N's daily routine. Get up early in the morning, do her business in the bathroom, get dressed, and walk over to her favorite cafe. The Beachwood cafe had become Y/N's second home ever since she moved to L.A, spending most of her time there, before and after class.

A smile lit up her face as the familiar blue door came into her view, a content sigh falling past her lips as she got closer to the door.

The strong smell of coffee hit her nostrils as she walked inside, music being paused as she walked fully inside, giving her attention to the cashier that greeted her every morning, "Hi Y/N, your stuff is on your table," she smiled up at Y/N before pointing towards her usual table.

It was the one by the window in the corner of the shop, the bright yellow and blue floor illuminated her small journey to the table, where her coffee and breakfast sandwich happily waited for her to approach. She sat down, hand reaching into her Yellow Kanken backpack, another Christmas gift from high school that she dearly took care of, she pulled out a brown journal and a pen.

A journal filled with memories and random thoughts that popped in her head. Y/N thought writing things down was good for the mind and body. She believed that writing things down would help you keep your thoughts safely, and lock memories into place without overworking your mind. A pen that has been through many journeys on the same yet different page.

All pages were the same until the pen went over it, recording things until the end of time. They were all the same until she wrote down her thoughts for the day.

Her small hand gripped onto the pen as she wrote down her thoughts from the previous night, coffee cup in the other hand as she slowly sipped the liquid.

Last night I thought of him again, just until I drifted off. I don't know why. It hasn't happened in months. Nothing bad, just a memoir of all of our memories together. Like the time we broke into the school's pool one night. Where he pushed me in with all my clothes on, then he jumped in and we made out by the stairs. Funny how we never got caught since cameras were around us. Or when we had our senior trips to the mountains in Colorado, and how he kept sneaking into the girls' room just to be with me. We were lucky we didn't get caught again. I tried to not keep thinking about him. I know it's time to finally drop it and move on, but how? How do I erase all those memories from my brain? How am I supposed to just drop it and move along? Just how? I don't need or want to know why just how.

She softly slammed the notebook closed, right before she could feel a slight burning in her eyes and a rock starting to form in her throat. The subject of her and a past lover that she was still holding onto, still being a deep wound to her.

She thought about and remembered Grayson every day. After all, he was her everything during her entire High School life, and he still was…...sort of.  Grayson and Y/N started dating in the 9th grade, right about in the middle of the year. He asked her out behind the school's bleachers during lunchtime, a mixture of flowers from his mom's garden that she shyly accepted from him after she said yes. That was followed by their date to the movie theater, where he held her close to him every time she faked being a little scared, not that he could tell, and three dates after he officially asked her out where she said yes again, and that was followed by an accidental kiss, he was leaning towards her cheek when she accidentally moved her head to the side, causing his lips to land on hers. Neither of them complained, just smiled at each other and carried on.

They went on for 6 years, all of high school and two college years, where he decided to break it off because of distance. He went off on how being across the country from one another was hard, and the fact that the time difference from New York to California was 3 and 4. She didn't complain. Didn't give a reason as to why not, even if she had trillions of them. She didn't try to change his mind. She simply said okay, and wished him the best. She still loved him though.

The words that her grandpa had spoken replayed in her brain every time she questioned why she still thought about him; "You never stop loving anyone sugar, you just kinda love someone stronger. If you stop loving them, then you never loved them to begin with" She thought about that, and that made her feel better. Maybe there was someone out there who she would love more than she loved Grayson.

With a quiet sigh, she put her journal away, switching it with a book she picked up at the library a few days prior, yet read a million times.

To Kill A Mockingbird is a book she read many times in school, mostly everyone has. It's the one book from school she actually enjoyed, so she picked it up from the book shop down the street from her apartment before work one day, and didn't get to read it until now.

She opened the book with a small smile, the sensation of the book against her finger bringing nothing but happiness to her, and took her mind off whatever was bothering her. She lost herself in the book, almost done with half of the book before her alarm rang, signaling it was time for work. She left a 20 on the table after putting all her stuff away in her backpack and walking out of the shop and towards her job which was a paid internship at a local hospital downtown, all she did was watch and help out with minor cases like cuts, sprains, X Ray's and the occasional stuff like questioning. She entered the hospital, sanitizing herself and changing into her uniform, walking over to her area, that being the Pediatrics Emergency room where her boss, mentor, whatever you might want to call him, Dr. Reyez, and the rest of the team were waiting for her.

"Morning everyone," she chirped at the tired yet awake health care workers, who all had smiles on their faces. "Morning Y/N, you're going to be practicing by yourself today, can you handle it?" Dr. Reyez asked her, which she just nodded her head with a smile. There wasn't a single ounce of doubt in her brain.

"I'm pretty sure yes! And I can just reach out to you guys if anything, right?"

"Yeah, just page us if anything. Your first patient should be here soon, just go wait by the desk," Reyez instructed her and that's exactly what she did. She sat on the desk for over 20 minutes until someone came in with a toddler covered in rashes.

"Hi baby, I just need to ask you and mommy a few questions, yeah?" She sweetly and patiently asked the 5 year old as his mom was filling out some papers, to which he just nodded his head.

"Okay, Xavion, did you eat something new today? Maybe something you've never eaten?" She asked and both the mom and son nodded their heads.

"Do you think he was allergic to something?" The mom asked, causing Y/N to shrug.

"Well, it depends. We need to get an allergy test for him. It doesn't hurt or anything, we just scratch and pour a drop of the allergen over it and see how they react. Mom, do you happen to remember what he ate today for the first time?" She replied by recording some notes down on her clipboard before telling a nurse to get an Allergy Antibody Test ready.

"He ate everything that he usually does except for some broccoli I gave him," the mom replied and Y/N nodded her head before writing it down on her clipboard and walking them to the testing room.

Once the results came back around half an hour later, Xavion was, in fact, allergic to broccoli, and other things that Y/N had to explain to the mother. She got about 15 minutes of break time before Reyez called her another minor emergency.

"It's an 11 year old, possible breakage or sprain to the leg, you can handle this one right?" He asked and she nodded her head, "Good, they're in room 217, good luck," he added before sending her off to the room.

She quickly made her way over to it, grabbing her clipboard on the way, "Hi, I'm Dr.Y/LN, I'm going to be taking care of you guys today! May I have the child's name and date of birth please?" She nicely asked as she walked inside the room, quickly walking over to the desk area that was in the corner and placing her stuff down.

"Uhhh, Caleb Dolan, August 17, 2008," a deep voice that she could recognize from anywhere spoke as she turned around. Her heart dropped at the sight of Grayson in front of her. She tried to reassemble herself, after all, she couldn't make any mistakes right now, Reyez was trusting her and she couldn't afford to mess the opportunity up.

"Caleb, August 17, 2008," she mumbled as she wrote it down on her piece of paper, "Caleb, do you mind telling me what happened, babe?" She asked with a smile on her face. Her smile turned into a small frown as she looked up at the boy who happened to be in pain.

"Me and uncle Gray were practicing for the soccer game that's next and I fell on the mud and hit my leg really hard," he explained as she walked towards him nodding her head.

"On a scale of 1 to 10, One being okay while 10 being the worst, how would you rate the pain?" She asked, walking over to the walk to grab a pair of gloves, putting them on, and walking back towards him.

"Uhh a seven," he replied and she nodded her head.

"Okay Caleb, just know this might hurt a little okay? It's just protocol to check if it's dislocated, broken, or sprained okay?" She asked and he nodded his head, a few tears falling down his face from fear. Grayson quickly leaned down to wipe off his face whispering a quiet 'you'll be okay' as Caleb grabbed his hand.

"Can you try and move your ankle for me? Just try and move it," she explained and he muttered at quiet yes before moving his foot in a slow circle, she nodded her head before placing both hands over his ankle checking for any bumps, which there were none to find, "Luckily for you Caleb, it's just sprained! There are no bumps meaning it's not dislocated, and you can move it meaning it's not fractured! Just to make sure, we're going to need an X Ray' just to make sure there are no hidden surprises yeah? Dr. Lindsey will do those with you, and I'll be right here when you come back," she smiled up at the boy before Dr. Lindey moved him to a wheelchair and took him to the X Ray room, leaving Y/N and Grayson alone in painful silence.

"So this is what you do? This is where you work?" Grayson was the first to speak after a couple of quiet seconds,

She cleared her throat and nodded her head, placing her hands inside her white jacket, "Yeah. It's a paid internship so it's basically a job, what about you? What are you doing here?" She asked to make direct eye contact with him.

"Moved here after me and E graduated, looking for some roles and an agent," he spoke, his voice not as deep yet shakier than when he first spoke.

"Any luck with that?"

"Yeah. We've landed a few small roles here and there," he answered and she just nodded her head.

"That's good! I'm glad everything's working out for you," She gave him a genuine smile before continuing to fill out Caleb's paperwork.

"Listen, I know it's been 2 years but-," Grayson began to speak before Y/N cut him off. "-Grayson just don't. I'm at work right now, and it's enough seeing you after 2 years, but I don't really need this right now. I'm sorry," She apologized before leaving the room to get some papers before walking back in, thankfully Caleb was already in the room when she walked in.

"I'm going to wrap your ankle up with this and then you're good to go, buddy. Make sure you don't apply pressure on it for two weeks. And carefully when you're playing any sport, I don't want you back here," she said while wrapping his ankle up carefully. She gave Grayson the discharge papers, their hands touching each other for a split second before she pulled away waving them off before walking to where her team was.

"That guy was looking at you intensely," Reyez pointed out, earning a glare from her.

"Don't even start," she rolled her eyes before taking a sip from her water bottle that was on her desk.

"Wait is that the?" Jacob, one of the nurses, asked and she nodded her head.

"Yeah, that's him," she sighed, shaking her head.

"Holly shit Y/N, I knew you said he was hot, but girl? That man is hotter than-,"

"Mackenzie, don't you dare," Y/N joked towards her other co-worker, "God why do you do this to me? I was almost over him and then you put him on my path again? The universe hates me,"

"I'd go for it again if I were you," Mackenzie encouraged earning a glare from her.

"Alright, leave her alone before she starts to crumble, Mackenzie go fill out reports, Y/N go take a breather," Reyez ordered them around and they all nodded their heads, going on their way to do what they were told.

. . .

Soft snores began to quietly run past her lips as she drifted off to sleep, all before a feeling of suddenly falling down an empty whole woke her up. She shook her head letting out a quiet 'fuck' before turning to look towards the clocks on her nightstand, 3:30 AM being brightly displayed on it. Y/N let out a loud sigh, knowing she wouldn't be going back to sleep anytime soon.

Her mind suddenly clouded with knotted thoughts and notions, too many of them just to focus on a single one. She pushed her body up, just enough for her to reach over and grab the small yellow backpack that she lazily threw on the floor, pulling her journal and pen out before throwing it back on the floor.

She clicked the pen and opened the journal, blank pages waiting to be filled up, her hand delicately moved along the paper as she scribbled letters and words on the empty pages, thoughts clearing out of her head, one by one.

I saw him today. He looked different. He's grown. After it all, it has been two years. His voice is deeper too. He wanted to talk, but I said no. Maybe if I did, I would fall for him again, or something. I'm doing just fine, so why did he have to move here. Anyway, Reyez finally allowed me to take care of patients by myself today. It was fun, I liked it, I guess. Luckily I'm free tomorrow because I can't sleep at all now. Maybe it's the repeating thoughts of him running through my mind, or just simply the lack of melatonin in my body right now. I'll probably go to the park tomorrow, stop at the cafe first then make my way there, but anyway, I'm going to try and sleep now.

It was a quick entry, nothing special, just her major thoughts being written down, just enough for her to feel better. She got up from the bed walking over to the kitchen grabbing a water bottle before leaning against the counter and sipping it. She crossed her bare legs over each other, looking out of the big window in her living room. Her favorite part about the apartment? It was the window that looked down on bright LA city. Y/N could sit there for hours and not notice the time pass by, she knows this because it happened before. She left the kitchen and walked towards the window, propping her body down on the small couch she had in front of the window. She laid her head on her hand, watching the few cars that sped down the street, the small yet bright red lights disappearing into the distance as her eyes followed them until they could.

Her eyes softly closed as she laid down on the couch, drifting off into another universe. The next morning she woke up at around 8 AM, doing her daily routine, except she stopped at the Cafe, picked her things up, and made her way to the park. It was an old park, there was an old playground that seemed like it hadn't been used in years. She sat down on an old bench drinking her coffee as she watched the scenery.

She didn't take her notebook out, her mind not having any thoughts, or at least no thoughts relevant enough for her to write down. She just took her time to take her surroundings in. She admired how the wind moved the trees, yet they were so strong they didn't crack. The way the birds lifted off whatever surface they were, and drifted off into the sky. She admired the rare butterflies that randomly appeared just to disappear once again. She simply admired the earth, something that she didn't do quite often; Always being too deep in her thoughts to actually study the things around her.

"They're beautiful aren't they?" Grayson's voice spoke out of nowhere, making Y/N do a slight jump in her seat as her heart raced.

She brought her hand up to her chest, a sigh falling past her lips as she glared at Grayson who was chuckling, "You fucking scared me,"

"Sorry," he sighed, sitting down next to her.

They both let out sighs. Both knowing that there was no escaping the conversation that was about to happen, a conversation that was long due.

"You could, hmm, you could go first," she spoke after a few moments of silence, throat dried making her clear it in the middle of some of her words.

"I'm sorry about yesterday. You were working, and Ummm, it wasn't the right place or time to talk about things. I'm also sorry because I never gave you an explanation as to why we should've broken up. After all, you didn't ask anyway," He softly spoke. He thought every word through, studied each meaning before letting them run past his lips.

"I didn't ask because it's what you wanted. Your decision was clearly made. I mean, I don't think breaking up with someone is a spontaneous thought is it? Your decision was made, and if you felt like I was holding you back, then I had to let you go, if I loved you, then I think I did the right thing." Her words were careful too. And quiet, so quiet feeling that if she spoke too loud the things around her would break.

"I didn't want to break up. I felt like it was the right thing to do, you know? We were always so busy, and we made time for each other, but it was exhausting. And when you were out with friends, I felt like I was annoying you or something," he sighed and she shook her head, the thought of her ever getting annoyed at Grayson's presence being absurd.

"Oh God absolutely not," she chuckled, "I thought I was annoying you. Like I wondered if you talked about me, or not. I wanted to know if I annoyed you because I felt like I did,"

It was true. In her journal, multiple pages were filled out with her question herself on whether Grayson talked about her or not. Even after the breakup, she wondered if he'll ever need her. Most pages were about him, all of her thoughts revolved around him, always.

"I did. All the time, to the point where I said your name subconsciously," he smiled, remembering the conversations he had with his friends about her, and how great she was.

"I did too, well not say but write," she sighed, leaning her back on the bench.

"You wrote about me?"

"Grayson you know I did, that's a dumb question," She shook her head, taking a sip of the coffee that was somehow still warm.

"Do you still write about me?" He asked and she stayed quiet, not knowing whether she should answer truthfully or not.

"Honestly speaking, I do. I write about everything that comes to mind, so sometimes? Yeah," she sighed, knowing that it would be easier if they just told the truth.

Maybe this was the closure that they both needed, yet never got. Maybe this was going to help her fully move on from him, and have thoughts that don't include her.

Or maybe not. Maybe this would help them reconnect. Y/N left it all up to the universe. She was a firm believer that everything happens for a reason, and that you can't change your future since it's already written about. When she got home after a couple of hours she took a shower, lit on her favorite candles, and did the expected. She took out her notebook and wrote.

We spoke today. He told me the reason why we broke up. It wasn't an intentional meeting though, I was just admiring nature. I was looking at the butterflies I think. He randomly spoke. And I know it was long due and needed so I just told him to say it. It's better to just get it over with than to just keep pushing it back, I think. He told me why he wanted to break up, which right now, sounds like a valid reason. I just wonder why he didn't just say it back then. It would've saved me a lot of nights, don't you think? He now knows I write about him, and where I go to write about him. Maybe I shouldn't go there anymore. It sounds out of this world I know. But maybe, just maybe, I should just close that chapter in my life.

There are just too many memories of him at Beachwood. That's where he surprised me the first time he came to visit. And it's where I write about him the most. I could find another cafe near here, there's plenty.

I just wonder if we're ever going to see each other again. If I'll ever fall for him again, if that is even possible. Because I don't think you could fall for the same person twice, right?

That was the last page in her journal. All the pages filled with her delicate letters, her writing being eternal. Filled with on-going words until the end, where an unanswered question laid. The weight that was once on her shoulders began to fade, and for once in her life, the thought of her future no longer made her afraid.

 This is the first time I’m proud of a something I wrote, so if this flops, I will deactivate! Just kidding, sort of. Anyways, yeah, I feel like my writing has improved, and as always, if you have any tips, and/or constructive critism, please, please, please drop them in my inbox, and don’t worry, I won’t say your hurting my feelings lmfao!! 

Tag List:   @guiltydols @evergreendolan @ydolanssss @rhyrhy462 @resilientdolan @simplyxdolxstyles @simplyxdolxstyles​ {If you wanna be added to my Tag List, just let me know :) lol}

[mggpleasedontlookhere]

reid’s anatomy

summary: spencer gets a gunshot wound while working in the field and gets transported to the hospital you work in as a 4th year resident. 

word count: 2,325                                                                                             reading time aprox: 9 mins

masterlist

Gurneys, lights, flying commands, and patients. The trauma room was my favorite place to be, other than the OR of course, it felt like a second home. But nothing compared to the home I had when I laid in Spencer’s arms. 

I was currently working in the trauma room, triaging the patients as I did my rounds. I dismissed a few individuals that had minor injuries, while discovering various accidents that required solutions as small as stitching up a patient to booking an OR for an emergent surgery. 

“Honey can you move your toes for me please?”

In front of me lay my latest patient, a 5 year old boy who had been pushed off of a swing set and had happened to land on his ankle. His cheeks were painted red from the crying he had previously done, a thumb cemented into his mouth as he continued to suck on it for comfort. His mother sat beside him, panic evident in her eyes, although she kept an amiable expression to reassure her son on his well being. 

The boy shook his head frantically, earning a break in composure from the mother. She reached out and folded her hand over her son’s and held on tight to it, with a tight-lipped smile on her face. 

“You’re going to be okay Timothee, mommy’s right here sweetie”. The mother squeezed her son’s hands continuously, looking to me for answers.

“Your son- well Timothee here seems to have sprained his ankle” I explained in layman's terms, lifting up the boys ankle to locate where the injury occurred.  “The issue here is that he seems to have an eversion ankle sprain and has fractured his deltoid ligament, which is more uncommon than a inversion ankle sprain, since the deltoid ligament is close to impossible to fracture”. 

As I finished my description, the mother returned her attention to her son, massaging his head to console him. “We-well it’s just a sprained ankle right? It can heal. My husband has had multiple sprained ankles from how much of a klutz he is” She joked in attempt to lighten the mood. Despite her attempts, there was more news to deliver.

“I wish it was much more simpler than that” I sighed, motioning for the on-call nurse to come over. “Due to Timothee’s young age, my biggest concerns are the development of his bones, considering the fracture he had suffered and that the nerves responsible for motor skills in his legs might have been severed. In most adult cases, the individual is able to recover because the durability of the bone had been fully realized from age. But, Timothee here is at risk of deformation of his osseous matter” I doefully confessed, a small pit forming in my stomach while delivering his diagnosis. 

As the mother’s face dropped, I turned to the nurse telling her to call Neuro and Peds, then asked her to file the paperwork. I looked back at the small family with a sigh, placing his chart at the end of the bed. 

It was moments like these that make me envision the life I’m going to have with Spencer if we ever decided to have children together. Despite our young age, I couldn’t help up configure an idealistic future than only composed of me, Spencer, and 2 or 3 little children running around us in glee. 

“The nurse will be back with the pape-” 

I was cut off by sirens and a magnitude of shrilling voices shouting commands. These were the indications of an incoming trauma. I turned around to peak for a second with the possibility of wanting to check on another case, but the interns and 2nd year residents had beat me to it. 

My focus remained on the child in front of me, checking his vitals from time to time, while eavesdropping on the commotion behind me. 

“We’ve got a caucasian ma...federal...with a GSW in the thoracic cavity, with intercostal tears”. Most of the sentence was muffled by the loud wheels of the crash cart, residents fumbling around, and the attendings yelling orders at the scene. I turned around to witness the chaotic scene, only to be meet with heads full of hair and some that didn’t actually have hair at all. 

Geez, I wouldn’t want to be the guy with the GSW to his chest

In emergent surgery, GSW’s were the most lethal in the clinic as most of the time the patient is either too late or the bullet had caused multiple complications in the patient, causing distress in the body. The tricky thing about GSWs were that they were different every time, it was almost always a different procedure depending on the location. 

I nodded goodbye to the perturbed mother, earning a tight lipped smile and a nod back. I turned to walk towards the nurses station when suddenly I was paged to trauma room 3. I rushed over to the area, sanitizing my hands before walking in. A privacy drape hung from the lower abdomen of the individual, with nurses and residents scrambling to keep his vitals stabilized.   

I faced the trauma nurse as she explained the patients situation. “We’ve got a caucasian male, seems to be 25-35 with a GSW in his thoracic cavity with no exit wound, the bullet is possibly lodged in the pericardial cavity” She spoke in haste. 

“Push 10 of Norepinephrine and call Cardio” I stressed, rushing out of the room to find another resident to scrub into the surgery as I wasn’t finished with my rounds yet. 

On my way around the nurse’s desk I noticed a familiar face that sat glum and slumped over in his chair, well it was more like a familiar group of faces. My steps slowed in order to get a better view to confirm my suspicions, then shuffled over to determine what the occasion was. 

“Hey Morgan-hey guys” I furrowed my eyebrows at the group, my worry peaked at the numerous melancholy expression that they wore on their faces. Despite my observations, there was one face I noticed was missing from the ensemble. 

Spencer. 

A chill ran up my arm, which was usually an indication of something wrong. In spite of the unfavorable pit in my stomach, I was at my workplace where everything usually puts me on edge, so I pushed it aside. 

“Where’s Spenc-” 

My words faded out into an uncomfortable silence when Morgan lifted his head to face me and in his eyes were the deepest of browns, anguish pooled in his irises, similar to the look I gave to the mother of the patient I was treating previously. I glanced at the rest of the team, who wore a identical stares. 

My stomach had churned and twisted into knots. The chill that had ran up my arm traveled to my legs, all the way to the tips of my toes. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion, I could feel my heart still and my fingers twitch. The overhead lights of the clinic became overwhelmingly bright and a nauseating sensation began crawling up my throat. 

“Y/N-” Morgan began as I stared at him wide-eyed. He grabbed one of my hands and wrapped it in between his rough and sweaty palms, but I tensed in the midst of it, while adrenaline ran up my veins. 

“Reid, he’s...we-we were workin- I...he’s” 

Despite his attempts at an explanation, he wasn’t able to complete any of his phrases as I yanked my hand out of his grasp and bolted towards the trauma room. I heard my name being called in the background, although it became a voice of a phantom as my surroundings became impaired with the sounds of my heartbeat, the loud thuds my feet made as I raced towards the room, and the anxious thoughts that flooded my mind. 

I pushed into the room, only to see a bed was missing. I bee lined to where the residents were, pivoting around the various carts that decorated the room. “Where’s that patient with the GSW in his thoracic cavity? What resident was assigned on his case? What was his name?”. The words spewed out of my lips like a waterfall, earning alarmed looks from the residents. 

“Um, he was transported to OR 3″ One of them explained with naive looks on their faces. 

“Yeah, they’re in surgery right now with Dr. Burke and Dr. Montgomery” Another one added. 

“What’s the patient’s name? Do you remember?” I responded, prying them of all the information they knew. The residents peered at each other dumbfoundedly, looking at each other for answers as if they were taking their MLE exams again. 

“Dr. Y/L/N, no offense but you’re not on this case” One of the residents added with a condescending voice. 

“Dr. Mallory, if you don’t answer me in the matter of 10 seconds, I swear I will go to your senior resident and have you be doing scut for the rest of your medical career” I retorted. Fear was evident in all their eyes, I knew my eyes were brimming with multiple emotions, condensing into nothing but a fiery and aggressive tone.  

“Sp-spencer Reid, Ma’am” A quiet voice spoke up in the group. I nodded a small thank you to the individual and ran to the OR where they held Spencer. 

When I got into the prep room, I grabbed a face mask and entered the OR, witnessing a man’s body, the love of my life under heavy anesthesia and tubes wired up to his chest. Before I could speak, the attending spoke up and questioned me of my presence. 

“I-i was wondering if I could scrub in sir” I replied. “I-I, um, heard that there was in upc...incoming trauma for a GSW and I was wondering if I could scrub in” I repeated. 

“You already said that Dr. Y/L/N” 

“I understand sir, but I-” 

The attending than turned around exposing the sight of Spencer’s chest being retracted open. My entire body ached at the sight, the lifelessness of his body creating an image in my head that couldn’t compare to the images Spencer would see of his victims. I cringed and turned away, tears threatening to spill from my eyes, but I knew I couldn’t let myself go, especially if I wanted to be included in Spencer’s operation. 

“Dr. Y/L/N, with all respect, I know you’re one of the best residents we have in this hospital and I know you’re a phenomenal doctor” The attending explained, letting one of the other senior residents take over for a moment. “But, I also know who this is laying on my table. For this case, you’re not his doctor, you’re family, and I need you to trust that I am able to do my job, as you do yours” He concluded, signaling to one of the nurses to take me out of the OR. 

I nodded hesitantly, following the nurse out of the room, my eyes still locked on the individual that lay on the table. After the nurse had went back inside, I sat on the ground with my hands on my lap, staring at the abyss of the hallway. 

Our future depends on if a single man can maneuver his scalpel with enough wisdom and efficiency. The father of my future children lay on the cold metal table, where I used to find comfort and power in when saving someone else’s loved one. Who knew there would be a time where the roles were switched. 

Who knew that no matter how many years you’ve trained, how many books you’ve read, and the degrees you’ve obtained to save people’s lives, you could still be powerless against what life throws at you. The worst part is the irony that comes with tragedies. I spent a quarter of my life learning how to save people, yet I sit here purposeless when someone that I live for is struggling to stay alive. How malicious is that. 

Tears began streaming down my cheeks, although my expression hasn’t changed. The wetness that enveloped half of my face was the only thing that reminded me of the reality that I was in, keeping my consciousness grounded momentarily. 

I swear my heart pauses, everytime I hear a change in the monitor that indicated Spencer’s vitals or a command that the attending would spew out to the helping resident. I was completely fixated on everything that was happening in the room adjacent to me, disregarding the entire atmosphere that lay in my vision. 

It wasn’t until large legs halted in front of where I was crouched down. I didn’t bother looking up as my thoughts clouded my sensibility. The figure then sat down to my level, I could feel the individual’s eyes boring at my blank visage. I felt a large arm pull me closer to the individual, only this time I realized it was Morgan who had come to console me. 

Awaiting a pursuance of some sort of speech that’s supposed to bring me clarity or amenity. But to my dismay, only the loud presence of silence filled the gap of our exchange. That’s when my emotions began to seep into my skin, filling my heart with heavy matter, making it close to impossible to keep up my facade. 

A whimper escaped my lips while I laid on Morgan’s shoulder for the time being, only for the rest of my somber to follow. I cried in defeat, holding onto the clutches of Morgan’s shirt as he gripped onto the back of my head, massaging it in the process. 

I felt droplets hit the top of my head and a wetness forming rapidly. Weak sniffles emitted from the man above me, betraying his collected composure. We both sat here together with heavy hearts, waiting for what seemed like an eternity. 

We both sat in silence waiting to see if his colleague was alive and if my everything was still breathing. 

-

Pt. 2

A/N:

Pt. 2 coming soon! most likely tomorrow. I was going to write the whole thing today, but frankly, I just need a fresh mind.  

Part 2 out now

[atc74]

Heartbeat - Chapter One

Warnings: COVID-19, Croatoan, Fluff, quarantine (Each chapter will have additional warnings). 

Summary: Sam, Dean, and Y/N are sheltering in place at the Bunker, researching this new virus that has created a world pandemic. But what happens when one of your own is immune compromised?

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1630

Beta’d by: @amanda-teaches​ because she’s the best

A/N: I’M BAAAAACCKKKK, well, mostly :) I know I’m not the only one struggling with life right now, and writing has been hard. Thank you all for sticking it out until I was able to get something together for you guys. This is only temporary and will pass. Keep your chin up and try on your jeans every few days. 

Italics indicate flashbacks

Like Dean’s scent? Buy it here from @scentsfromthebunker!

“Son of a bitch!” Dean’s voice echoed throughout the halls of the Bunker. Y/N just smiled softly, shaking her head, and returned to her research. The state of the world was part chaos, part terror as a new virus spread far and wide, creating a worldwide pandemic, the likes of which have not been seen in a century. The medical community was calling it COVID-19, but the Winchesters weren’t convinced it was what they were saying it was. The way it spread screamed supernatural to them. 

They had been hunkered down in the Bunker for two weeks, but even Y/N noticed they were running low on the staples and Sam would only tolerate frozen vegetables for so long. She also needed to refill her prescriptions if they were going to quarantine themselves for the foreseeable future. She’d had the foresight to call in a three month supply earlier in the week and just got the text this morning that they were ready for pick up. 

Y/N was diagnosed in her mid-twenties with Multiple Sclerosis. She had good days and bad days. Growing up in a hunting family made things more difficult for her but she kept going despite the tingling, the weakness, and the numbness she had been experiencing. However, when she realized she was more of a liability than an asset, Y/N stepped down and became the go-to for information, quickly becoming an expert in most things in regards to the Lore. The guilt of not being able to contribute physically nearly crippled her when two of her brothers were killed on a hunt. Her mother was long gone, and now it was just her and her dad left. She had no other choice and called some other hunters, and old family friends; the Winchesters. 

Sam and Dean did not hesitate to lend their assistance, and with their help, they were able to neutralize the pack of wolves that had taken part of her family. The Winchesters invited her and her dad to stay with them in the Bunker permanently, and she accepted, not having much left. Her dad came and went, continuing to hunt either solo, or with others. It wasn’t long after she moved in that she and Dean married, unable to deny their feelings any longer. 

“Sammy! We need to make a supply run,” Dean announced, walking into the library, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Hey, honey. How are you feeling today?” 

“Pretty good today, Winchester.” She smiled up at her husband. “I already started a list.” 

“You’re the best. How’d I get so damn lucky?” Dean pressed a kiss to her lips. 

“I’m a sucker for that car of yours,” she giggled, picking up her notebook and pen to finish the list. 

“It’s always the car,” Dean smiled, shaking his head.

As Y/N finished the list, her left hand started shaking, her wedding band shining in the brightly lit room. Her mind drifted back to the day she and Dean exchanged vows. 

Y/N slipped the circle of silver over Dean’s ring finger, her damp eyes finding his. His verdant irises widened at the sensation he felt when she placed the ring on his finger. He brushed it off as nerves, combined with butterflies, but after a few pictures, and a few drinks, the sensation wasn’t lessening. If anything, it got stronger. 

“Sam, what the hell? I think my ring is cursed!” Dean exclaimed in a hushed voice, cornering his brother in the kitchen. Dean ripped the ring off his finger and the sensation went away. He shoved the ring at his brother. “Go get Y/N’s ring and fix this!” 

“Dean, the rings aren’t cursed,” Sam laughed, opening another beer. 

“It’s giving me a weird feeling man. Like it’s, and this is gonna sound weird, even for me, but I think it’s beating,” Dean whispered the last word, looking expectantly at his brother, waiting for a response, an explanation, anything.

“That’s because it is, Dean,” Sam shrugged, taking a long sip off his beer. 

“What the hell?” Dean said, looking down at the ring in his hand. Tentatively, he turned it over, inspecting it closely, seeing nothing but the heartbeats engraved in the silver, before placing it back on his finger. There it was...ba boom, ba boom, ba boom, just slightly faster than his own. 

“There you are,” Y/N smiled as she entered the kitchen, gliding over to Dean to wrap her arms about his middle. “I love you, husband.” 

“I love you, too, wife,” Dean echoed, kissing her soundly. 

Making his exit, Sam glanced over his shoulder at the bride and groom, a smile playing at his lips. He could relax a little for now; his brother was happy. 

“Hey, honey, um, this is gonna sound weird, but, I think my ring is … beating,” Dean swallowed thickly. It still sounded stupid even as the words left his lips. 

“Mine, too, babe,” Y/N told him. The perplexed look on Dean’s face prompted her to continue. “You know how I always worry about you on a hunt? When you don’t answer, or your phone’s dead, or smashed to bits by yet another monster? I brought the idea to Sam and we spelled the rings. Mine reflects your heartbeat, and yours, mine. This way, I’ll always know you’re okay.” 

“So, it’s not my imagination. I was beginning to think I’d lost my damn mind!” Dean revealed, looking relieved at the information Y/N had supplied. He glanced down at the simple ring, feeling her steady heartbeat inside of it. He smiled. “You’ll always be with me even when we’re apart. I kinda love this.” 

“I kinda love it, too, Dean. it makes me feel better knowing I can always feel you right here.” She held up her ring, wiggling her finger, smiling as it caught the light. 

“Babe!” Y/N called out, waving the list in the air. 

“Got it!” Dean dodged around the table, snatching the slip of paper from her fingers, slowing only enough to place a kiss to the top of her head. He scanned the list as he headed toward the hall leading to the garage. “Really?” 

“Yes, really!” Y/N laughed in response, knowing he hit the part of the list with the tampons and pads on it. “The joys of being married, babe!” 

“This part still sucks ass!” he groaned. “Sammy, get a move on!” 

Y/N grabbed her cane, slowly making her way to the kitchen. She was slightly worried as several times while they’d been gone, did the heartbeat in her ring pick up, like Dean was filled with adrenaline. Things must be getting worse out there, and she wanted to be able to see Dean as soon as he was home, to ensure herself that he was okay. As good as she was with research and theoretical information, she really was a tangible person and knew the worry wouldn’t ease until she had her arms wrapped firmly around him. 

She heard Baby’s engine and doors before she heard Sam or Dean. She waited patiently in the kitchen as Sam came in, arms loaded down with bags. “How was it?” Y/N looked up at Sam for confirmation, knowing Dean tended to sugarcoat information in an effort to protect her. She didn’t need protecting, she just needed the truth. 

“It’s not great. We had to drive over to Smithville to get everything we needed. It’s getting worse by the hour, Y/N,” Sam replied solemnly. “I think this is the last trip we’re making together. It’ll be better if I go alone. If I get sick, I can isolate myself. If you or Dean get sick, I don't know...” Sam stopped, taking a moment. 

“Sam, I’m sure you both took the necessary precautions. Dean’s a germaphobe by nature so I’m sure he is out there now, sanitizing his Baby already. He wore a mask, didn’t he? And gloves?” 

“He sure did. Got some strange looks and things got a little dicey at the liquor store, and the drugstore. I don’t know why people are still hoarding toilet paper and feminine hygiene products,” Sam said, a look of disbelief on his face. 

“It’s actually a psychological response to minimize risk. It’s an emotional contagion as well, so when it starts happening in one part of the country, that news spreads and it drives people, either by fear, anxiety, or panic, into doing the same thing. I get the toilet paper, since that is a need everyone has, but tampons, really? I don't know why I’m surprised by anything at this point,” Y/N chuckled a bit as she reached for one of the bags to help Sam. 

“No!” Sam pulled the bags back from her. “Sorry. It’s just, um, can you please go wait in the library until I get all of this unpacked and sanitized? Please?”

“Yes, I can. Thank you, Sam. I appreciate you and am thankful for your concern,” Y/N smiled as she rose to her feet and made her way down the hall. She loved Sam as more than just a brother and her best friend. He had become her physical therapist of sorts, designing different workouts for her to keep her body strong when the MS wanted to take it from her. Sam had also done extensive research on different dietary and nutrition plans that people with MS have had success with combating their symptoms. Dean was her emotional rock, while Sam became the physical one. She lowered herself into one of the recliners and picked up a book. She’d had enough research for the day and some Harry Potter was what she needed to take her mind off things.

Did you like it? The nicest thing you can do for a writer is reblog their work and tell them, and others, how much you like it!

The Whole Enchilada: @iwantthedean​ @dolphincliffs​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @meganwinchester1999​ @cherrycokegirls1​ @closetspngirl​  @roxyspearing​ @flamencodiva​ @blacktithe7​ @sis-tafics​ @just-another-busyfangirl @evansrogerskitten​ @amanda-teaches​ @hannahindie​ @wotinspntarnation​ @winchesterprincessbride​ @winecatsandpizza​ @kickingitwithkirk​  @wi-deangirl77​ @hobby27​ @mogaruke​ @gh0stgurl​ @alleiradayne​ @idreamofplaid​ @seenashwrite​ @manawhaat​ @crashdevlin​ @thoughtslikeaminefield​ @emoryhemsworth​

The Dean’s List: @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @maddiepants​  @adoptdontshoppets​ @supernatural-jackles​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @akshi8278​ @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​

[haltandcatchfiretothemax]

FEMSLASH FEBRUARY 2021 #10: In which Cameron tries to spoil Donna

[CN: food and eating mentions]

.

.

In January of 2021, Donna realized and voiced the obvious while watching television one day: “We’re really not gonna be able to have people over for Galentine’s Day, are we?”

Cameron didn’t always entirely enjoy the spectacle or debauchery that sometimes happened at Donna’s Galentine parties, but she was still sorry that it wouldn’t be safe or advisable to celebrate that year. Gently, she replied, “Not considering a Galentine’s video conference, then?”

“I guess I could do that,” Donna sighed heavily. “It won’t be the same though. And we won’t be able to give out gift bags!” she wailed. 

Donna looked forward to organizing a party for February 13 every year, but her favorite part of Galentine’s Day had always been making and giving gift bags filled with expensive indulgences to their friends, and Cameron had never really understood it. It was, in fact, one of the very few things that Cameron didn’t love about Donna, and she wasn’t sure why it bothered her. Donna certainly had the money for it, and what better way to spend your money than on giving nice things to your friends? But no matter how hard she tried, Cameron just couldn’t shake her discomfort with the gross materialism of it. 

Still, Cameron tried to be encouraging. “You could send care packages, couldn’t you?”

Donna thought about it for a moment, and then said, “Putting all that strain on the postal service just so I can send my friends expensive scented candles and handmade journals?” Her face collapsed into a look of utter despair at the very thought. “That just feels so ‘let them eat cake,’ doesn’t it?”

“You are not a naive and undereducated young queen who was bamboozled into inheriting a bankrupt and rapidly disintegrating monarchy,” Cameron said, patting Donna’s hand comfortingly. “And you’re also not a nameless, possibly non-existent princess in a non-fiction work by Jean-Jacques Rousseau, or Maria-Teresa, the Spanish princess who might have actually said that.”

With a bemused smile, Donna said, “I love that you just know that.”

“Yeah, well.” Cameron said, putting an arm around Donna. “Just because I have a reputation for being a princess-hater doesn’t mean that I actually hate them. I mean, look at who I married.”

“Cameron Howe, Defender of Princesses,” Donna said. “That has a ring to it? I’ll have to make you head of my queensguard when I inherit the throne.”

Cameron arched an eye brow at Donna. “Are you trying to tell me that you wanna play exiled gay princess and devoted butch lady knight?”

Finally and fully distracted from her galentine’s day disappointment, Donna laughed. And then she kissed Cameron.

***

Cameron got out of bed late that night and went downstairs for two hours. When she returned, Donna woke up briefly, and she said, “Hey? You okay? Where’d you go?”

“Never you mind,” Cameron said, getting under the covers. “I was making you some brioche to throw at the peasants.” 

“What?” Donna cried. Then she realized that Cameron was kidding and giggled. “Okay, okay. Keep your secrets.”

Curling up next to Donna, Cameron kissed her shoulder. Resting her head on her pillow, she said, “Good night, sleep tight, your royal highness.”

“Likewise, good Sir Cameron!” Donna said, falling back to sleep.

***

In early February, while Cameron worked on the requested Valentine’s Day decorations, Donna tried to come up with an alternate Galentine plan. She filled out cards and sent them early, and then she sent messages to everyone on her guest list to see if they might have time for individual video chats. She wound up scheduling early morning coffee with Tanya, an afternoon check in with Dr. Katie Herman, and cocktail hour with Risa and her partner, and also Cameron. She spent the next few days trying to come up with ‘something else.’ When she finally resorted to mopily looking through all of their saved and archived photos of past Galentine’s Day parties, she figured it out. 

Cameron woke up on the 13th to an email from Donna. While Donna fried eggs and bacon and poured mixed berry waffles, Cameron, sitting at the kitchen island, looked at her phone, and asked, “Did you email me this morning?”

“You, and many of our friends!” Donna chirped. 

Flatly, Cameron said, “If it’s a severed head, I’m gonna be very upset.” She clicked on the email with her thumb to read it.

The email said, “To my favorite galentine: while we can’t celebrate with our friends this year, we can give to others, and we also absolutely need to give as much as we can spare during this on-going crisis. So while I do love giving ridiculously priced candles and pens to our friends, this year, my gift is a donation in your name to Girls Who Code.” The closing of the email said, “With any luck we’ll be able to celebrate with our friends next year, but in the meantime: Happy Galentine’s Day! -xo DC.” 

And then at the very end of the email, there was an attachment, a photo of Cameron and Donna in the kitchen, preparing snacks, that Haley had taken at their first Galentine’s Day gathering. 

Cameron stared at the photo for a minute, and then asked, “Wait, did you make donations for everyone?”

“Yes, yes I did,” Donna said, as she opened the waffle iron. “To different places though, food banks, abortion funds and domestic violence support groups, bail funds, and Black and indigenous justice orgs.”

Overwhelmed by a rush of affection toward her wife, Cameron said, “I think that that was a great way to celebrate. Nice work, Boss.”

Donna’s blushed as she made their plates. “Thank you! I just hope it helps, somehow. Sometimes it all feels futile, you know? It feels less futile when you bring all your friend into it and then email them about it, though!”

They ate breakfast, and then before Donna could say anything else, Cameron said, “Okay, so, I’ve done something. Something that was meant to help cheer you up.”

“Oh?” Donna asked, intrigued.

Cameron got up from her seat, went around the island, and took Donna’s hand. Donna got up, and Cameron escorted her their living room couch, where Cameron had placed two large red gift bags. “You always said that everyone opening their gift bags together was your favorite part of all of this, so. I made two bags for us. It’s not the same as all of our friends opening our git bags together, but, it’s something?”

“Oh, Cam,” Donna frowned. “I love the pseudo but not-quite Gift of the Magi vibes, but, you didn’t have to do this.”

“I know I didn’t, but everything sucks so I figured why not,” Cameron said, picking up her bag and sitting down on the couch. Come on! Sit!” She picked up Donna’s bag, and handed it to her. 

Donna accepted the bag from her. She looked at it, and then said, “If this is a severed head, I’m also gonna be very upset.” 

“It’s not, it’s a gun rack,” Cameron deadpanned. “For the last time, sit, already!”

Donna sat down next to her, and with the bag in her lap, she started to pull out the pink tissue paper Cameron had crumped and stuffed into the top. “Okay, so what have we got first?” Donna reached into the bag, and pulled out a small plastic bottle. “Scented moisturizing hand sanitizer!”

“The white vetiver scent,” Cameron said, holding hers up. “I didn’t like it at first, but you were right, as always. Now it’s my favorite.”

“A luxurious yet practical item, and a fine choice!” Donna enthused. “What’s next?” She reached into the bag, and pulled out a large tube of aloe-infused hand cream. “Ah, an old standby, and another Emerson-Howe household staple.”

Looking at the tube that been in her bag, Cameron said, “I wanted to go with something fancy, but this stuff just works so well! I feel like we can never have enough of it.”

Reaching into her bag again, Donna felt some plastic wrap, and then pulled out a black and blush pink leopard print 100% silk face mask, packaged with its own silk case.

Cameron looked at her own navy blue and star patterned mask, and admitted, “This is the biggest splurge in here. But as long as we’re double masking….”

With a small sigh, Donna reached into her bag again, and found a set of silk scrunchies, with the same leopard print as her mask. “Oh, I was thinking about trying these! Thank you for remembering me talking about it.”

“What kind of partner would I be if I didn’t buy you the one thing you single thing you put off buying for yourself?” Cameron said. “You can try mine, too, I don’t think I’ll end up using them.”

Donna reached into the bottom of the bag, and found the next to last item, a small cardboard box. When she looked at it, it was a fresh tube of her favorite nude pink lipstick, which she’d been wearing since the late ‘90s, and had been meaning to repurchase. 

“I just got a drugstore lip balm for myself, nude rose is your color, not mine,” Cameron said.

Donna snorted. “That was probably the best way to handle it. Thank you for knowing my color.”

“That’s the end of what’s in my bag!” Cameron said. “There’s one more thing in your bag though, because we only need one.”

Donna found the last item. A copy of the Criterion release of Portrait of a Lady on Fire, Donna held it up and said, “Oh…as I recall, you liked this movie better than I did!”

“Yes,” Cameron agreed, “but, you said that you liked it, and that you wanted to try watching it again at home. Which I thought we could maybe do sometime this month.”

Donna smiled at her. “Honestly, I would love that. It’s a date.”

Donna was about to lean in and kiss Cameron to properly thank her, when her phone, forgotten in the kitchen, rang.

“Ack, that’s probably Tanya!” Donna jumped up. “We’re supposed to ‘have coffee’ together!” 

“Go answer, then!” Cameron said. “I can clean this up and I can take care of the dishes, too.” 

“This was perfect and I love you!” Donna hurriedly kissed her, before rushing off. Already half way to the kitchen, she called out, “Happy Galentine’s Day!” behind her.

“Hard same, have fun, tell Tanya I say hi!” Cameron shouted after her.

[t-tatsumaki]

i love your writing sm!! i saw that your requests are open so could i request for some enemies to lovers fluff with sakusa and f!reader? it can be either a scenario or hc (whichever you prefer/think would work better!!) thank you so much 💖💖💖

— Starry Night

Where Sakusa and the reader hate each other. But all that hatred was transformed into love, with the moon and the stars as witnesses.

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyomi x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: some curse words, omi being a bitch also the reader being a bitch, everyone is a bitch

Word Count: 1980

A/N: thank u so much!!! here you have your precious Sakusa sgshsh I really had so much fun doing this also I made the two points of view from Sakusa and the reader I hope it doesn’t bother you also I feel that this is so cliché I’m sorry 😅

It’s not that you hated him, you just didn’t like his behavior at all. He looked at people as if they were some king of germ or toxic and never approached to anyone unless if they seemed extremely clean or had the same sense of hygiene like him. But in the other hand he was a good boy in his way, good marks and sometimes (that seemed exceptions) he was nice with someone who wasn’t from his volleyball teammates.

So went you two were paired in physics project you felt like soon a murder would take place. He didn’t say anything the first day, you explained in what did you wanted to focus on the project and gave some ideas. But all that Sakusa did was rolling his eyes to every word that you said, until he spoke to you saying “If you want to fail go on with your project, my idea is better” he pushed before continued “and the next time bring some sanitizer, I don’t want someone with germs near me”

Oh boy he was digging his own grave. But you were a person with unlimited patience or that’s what you thought, but it wasn’t in his case. He got on you nerves, and the same went for him. You two couldn’t stand each other, and if you two happened to be talking the most probably thing is that it would turn into an argument full of curse words “you little annoying germ get out of here” he said everytime he saw you, you didn’t hesitate to reply him too “shut up you curled maniac”

And that was a little summary about your first year. So when summer break arrived you felt the most happiest person ever, until you arrived at home and looked at the house who was beside yours ‘oh yes that dumb lives there’ you thought before entering to you house. The first days were amazing, in you life you felt so in peace, no one was there to annoy you, in particular, that bitch with black curled hair. Calmness reigned at your house, you didn’t want to admit it, but you missed in some way Sakusa’s annoying ass, until one day your mom entered at your room with a creepy wide smile ‘something is wrong’

“The son of the neighbors will be staying this week with us because they’ve some business trip and they didn’t want to left him alone” your mom made a pause before continuing “he is such a nice kid, he told me that he was comfortable staying here because he knew that the house was very clean” she said to you while putting a hand on her right cheek “so don’t be an ass and treat him well. Did you understand?” And with that statement she left the room.

You looked at the closed door, thinking about what she said ‘he said that he would stay here because the place was clean’ that sounded so familiar and annoying at the same time, and then something inside your head made click. But it couldn’t be, he wouldn’t have the balls to stay here, didn’t he? No, no and no, it was impossible that he agreed staying in someone’s house, and if he did he wouldn’t agree if it was specially yours. Many thoughts crossed your mind before you listened the front door ringing. You got up from were you where and went to the entrance corridor. ‘So it was true, he agreed to it’. That annoying germ brat would be staying at your place a whole week. You couldn’t see his whole face because of his mask (which he internally was grateful because he didn’t want you to see him smirking)

Sakusa looked at you and bowed. He always said to himself that he hated you so much, or that’s what he wanted to think. The last week before the summer break Sakusa found himself looking at you during lessons. He didn’t know why, but that day he thought that you looked beautiful, your hair was tied in a high ponytail which made stand out some of your features, from your beautiful (e/c) eyes to your lips. Which he found absolutely amazing, he saw that you took care of them a lot, putting sometimes between lessons a little bit of lip balm. He also focused on your hands, they were pretty and surprisingly clean. Then just the thought of him holding your hand popped on his head, which made him furrow his eyebrows.

That pain on his chest and his cheeks getting blushed everytime he saw you couldn’t mean what he was thinking. No, no, no and totally no. He repeated on himself that he hated you, and you were another person with germs like others. But in some way you looked so clean, and also he remembered in that project that you two did together where he asked you to have sanitizer if you wanted to work with him, he thought that the next day you couldn’t appear and probably asked the teacher to change partners. But it didn’t happen, you brought the sanitizer and you puted some on you hands in front of him. He made that he didn’t care, but that really touched him in some ways, because in the other protects that he worked on, all his partners left him, because they thought that he was a maniac, which he didn’t care because they all were all anti hygienic people with whom he didn’t like to get involved.

But there he was, standing in front of you at your house, in which he would stay a whole week. At first he wasn’t sure to stay because probably the house would be plenty of germs and bacteria. But it was your house, and seeing how clean you were he supposed that your house would clean too, but beforehand he talked with your mother which told him that he shouldn’t concern because she always liked to keep the house clean, because yes, she was a cleaning maniac. So she assured him that the house would be always clean.

But for him just the thought of staying on the same place as you a whole week made him feel things that he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to admit that he liked you, probably he could see how you were in your natural environment and probably you could do something that disliked him and with that he could get rid of that feeling. That day he went to the guests room who was next yours ‘I’m so lucky’ he thought sarcastically, he would be near you, but far at the same time. He was mad a frustrated, he didn’t wan to feel like that, but he couldn’t do anything, he liked you, and with that there wasn’t a way back.

You in the other hand, you didn’t talk to him. It felt so unrealistic but at the same time so nice. Why when you saw him your heart seemed to skip a beat. Why? Or better. Why him? From all the boys that you know, from all of them you had to like Sakusa. You knew that he hated you, but you couldn’t help to feel in different way of him. You didn’t know why you liked him. He was so frustrating and rude, but also you always seemed to see a good side of him.

You either didn’t know when it all started, everytime you saw him you felt a pressure in your chest. You always stated that you hated him, at first you did, but that hate transformed into liking and since then you couldn’t stop thinking about him, and how beautiful he was without the mask.

The same day that he arrived you couldn’t sleep. You were rolling side to side on your bed, thing that didn’t went unnoticed by Sakusa, who neither couldn’t sleep. You listened that someone was knocking your door, ‘What does my mom want now’ you thought while you got up to open the door, but instead of seeing the petite figure of your mother, a tall figure was standing now in front of you. Sakusa has his curled hair a little messed up, his face without expression looked at you in a way that you couldn’t describe. But above all, he looked amazing. You wanted to tell him, but the only words who came from your mouth was “What do you want”

“I can’t sleep because I keep hearing you moving on your bedroom” he said looking around your room and then stoped to look into your eyes.

“It’s not my fault that I can’t sleep, just put some earphones” you proposed him “Also I didn’t want to bother you anyways so I’m sorry if that’s what you wanted to hear” you said before trying to close the door, but his hand intervened your action, you looked at him surprised. Was he looking at you like he was worried? No, no, no, that’s impossible, Sakusa Kiyomi only worries about himself.

“When I can’t sleep I go to the backyard to take some fresh air, probably that will work, just don’t get your ass full of germs sitting on the ground and grab something to put on the ground” he said before living to his room. Your mouth was open and you eyes where more widen than you could imagine. ‘Who was that dude and what he did with the real Sakusa?’

Following his advice you went to the backyard with a thin blanket on your hand. You’ve to admit it, Sakusa was right, you felt so in peace and so calm, it was a dreamy sight, the starry sky with the moon, the fresh air softened your muscles. Until you felt a hand on your shoulder, you were about to shout when you saw that it was Sakusa “For gods sake you almost gave me a heart attack” you said looking at him while he was taking a sit next to you “Sorry I didn’t meant to” he said, you looked at him surprised “Is there any problem?” He asked you avoiding your gaze “Yes, I mean, Who are you and what did you do with the Sakusa who hates me?” You said to him “I thought that you were the one who hated me” he stated “Of course I don’t hate you, I mean, I used to, but now is different” you said while looking at the sky “What did changed?” he asked looking at you, his gaze was intense “I... well you are... uhm really nice and I like y- well... I don’t know how to say it...” before you could finish your heard “Yeah, I like you too” this time you looked at him directly, and you were grateful because thanks to the moonlight you could see a light blush on Sakusa’s face.

Without saying anything the both of you approached to each other unconsciously, until you felt your arms brushing each other, Sakusa rested his hand on top of yours, it was a nice feeling, his hands were so soft like velvet. Both of your faces were centimeters apart, your gaze meet his, and without any warning Sakusa cut almost the whole distance making both of your lips almost touching each other. Your nose was filled with a lavender scent, it was so fresh, so clean.

And then it happened, without hesitation you kissed him, resting your hands on his broads shoulders and his other hand on your waist. It was so unreal, it felt just like a dream. The two of you armonizad with each other just a like a symphony. There was no one there, just him and you, two souls who hated each other ended up falling in love, and only the stars and the moon were wittnesses of that magical encounter.

[a-lockman5]

Dirty Little Secret {Devi x Paxton}

A/N: Hooray! So after about 8.5K, I cut this one off. I like the way it ended, and it was fun to imagine a future Daxton. Thank you so much to the person that requested it! I am throwing around the idea of working on a part 2, so if I get at least 5 “upvotes” for a part 2, I will take it on.

Summary: Devi wasn’t interested in dating anymore. She wasn’t hurt or messed up from a previous relationship. She just wanted to meet a guy that made time stand still. It just didn’t happen. That is, until a man from her past walked into her office.

Warnings: Fluff, drinking/alcohol abuse, time-jump (Devi and co. are in their late 20s), forbidden love, taboo, mild burns, sexual themes - nothing explicit

Don’t forget, request/ask is open!

And check out my MASTERLIST

“Debbie, you have a new patient today,” the office manager, Barb called out, thrusting a folder into the air.

“It’s Devi,” she swiped the folder from her, “you know, like that grandson you’re always going on about.”

“Oh, sorry, dear. I keep forgetting.”

“It’s alright, Barb, thanks for grabbing this,” she turned away toward her own desk. I’ve only been working here for two and half years. Why should you have caught on by now?

Devi Vishwakumar didn’t know what she wanted for the future when she graduated nearly nine years ago. She had spent her high school career with two things on her mind: having a love life and getting to Princeton. She’d managed both. After dating Ben Gross for the entirety of their junior year, Devi and he ended things amicably largely because being friendly rivals was much more fun and somehow resulted in less legitimate fighting. Senior year, she enjoyed the company of another classmate named Tyler Herron. He was academically minded, but still a jock in his own right. He played for the soccer and basketball teams, and Devi found she received common invites to parties that previously she thought only came from her friendship with Paxton Hall-Yoshida. Eleanor and Fabiola continued to prove they were the best friends anyone could ask for, but she also learned to love Shira and Zoey. Though they often seemed more superficial than Devi thought to care for, their aspirations were just as real as Devi’s and they had minds made for business and marketing. When time came for graduation, Devi felt more seen and cared for than she ever thought she could, and that’s what she said in her valedictorian speech. She also couldn’t help throwing a jab at Ben for beating him out, but to be fair, he insinuated letting her win in his own speech.

When she arrived at Princeton the following fall, Tyler forged his own path to MIT. Devi had no intention of bringing a boyfriend into college with her and was not at all hurt when Tyler felt the same way. She did wish she’d beat him to the punch, but at least they too split mutually and were able to be friendly on social media. Being single gave Devi the opportunity to focus on what was most important – her future.

Her mother made it very clear to her, she was to pick a college major before arriving for her first semester. Not having a plan is lazy. Are you lazy, khanna? Even when her mother was thousands of miles away, Devi could hear her loud and clear in her head. Though, she found she was right. Devi had to be prepared to make decisions for herself otherwise all the work she’d put in to get to Princeton would be for nothing. She chose Biology and pursued it relentlessly.

By the time she was graduating with her bachelor’s in biology, she’d made plenty of friends during that time who helped her choose to further pursue Physical Therapy. It was funny, she often thought, how she spent so long working to move across the country for her favorite Ivy League school to then end up back in her backyard for graduate school. The University of Southern California had one the best PT programs in the country, and Devi was proud to have studied there. Her final fieldwork was assigned at OSMC, Orthopedics and Sports Medicine Calabasas. After a thrilling experience, and impressing her Clinical Instructor at every turn, she was asked to stay on after graduation. Naturally, Devi accepted.

OSMC was not only the most exclusive orthopedic surgery and rehabilitation practice in Southern California, but it was also where she felt most at home. Outside of having a coworker who passively refused to learn the correct pronunciation of her name, she was in her element every day. Plus, she got to meet some really cool people. Professional athletes, actors, stuntmen, they all came to OSMC for physical rehabilitation. Legally, she wasn’t allowed to tell anyone else that she’d personally worked with Dylan O’Brien, Diego Boneta, and Mookie Betts. She liked to remind herself of those things regularly though. Living in the LA area also allowed Devi’s relationship to improve with her mom, who finally voiced how proud she was of Devi… when she first started working. Now, she was worried that Devi would never settle down.

Devi had begged her mother not to place her in an arranged marriage when she was still studying at Princeton. The conversation actually took place at Kamala and Prashant’s wedding ceremony. It wasn’t that she didn’t think it could work – Kamala and Prashant proved that love could flourish from being set up. Devi wanted something different though. She wanted what Nalini and Mohan had. They met when they were children, and never wanted anyone else. She wanted to meet a man and feel the electricity that could make her forget her own name (like Barb seemed to do every day). Heart softened by the reminder of how Mohan had swept her off her feet, Devi’s mother agreed. That was six years ago. More recently, Nalini reminded her daughter regularly that all of the handsome driven Indian men in her age range had already been swept up, so she was on her own. She also made it very clear that grandchildren were to be in her future.

Did her mother’s constant badgering sour Devi on dating? Maybe a little bit. Did she get guys to buy her, Eleanor, and Fabiola drinks when they out only to ditch the same guys at the first opportunity? Absolutely, but what woman hadn’t done that? It had been a long time since Devi saw a man that made time stand still, and Mehcad Brooks was treated in her therapy gym.

No, Devi was not the romance obsessed teen she once was. Honestly, it’s better this way. Now, I can focus on my career, she thought. She pulled up her schedule on her laptop and noticed she didn’t have an appointment for three hours. “Hey, Barb? What time is that eval coming in?”

“Scheduled in thirty minutes!” She called back.

“Who ya got, D?” Amir, one of the physical therapy assistants, asked. “Someone rich or someone famous?”

“Go ahead and take a look, you’ll probably be seeing them next week,” Devi replied going to grab a mug of coffee.

“Hey, another Olympian. Paxton Hall-Yoshida!”

“Devi, oh my gosh, are you okay?” Hannah’s voice sounded like it was a hundred miles away. Devi didn’t come back to reality until she felt a damp towel being pressed into her arms. “Here, there’s coffee all over your leg. I don’t want you to get burns.”

Hannah was their rehabilitation technician. She helped keep things picked up, sanitized, and would provide physical assistance if they needed another set of hands during a session. At the moment, she was saving Devi from second degree burns, and cleaning up the broken ceramics from the coffee mug she’d just dropped. Hannah was right too; Devi chose the wrong day to wear a skirt and had drenched her right leg in hot coffee.

“Hannah, I’m so sorry! I don’t know what came over me,” Devi told her pressing the towel on her knee and calf with one hand and crouching down to help pick up the pieces of her mug with the other.

“Devi, I love you, but please don’t help. We don’t want you to cut your hand open,” she laughed. Devi was known to be a little clumsy. “I have a pair of scrubs with me if you want to wear them today.”

“You are a lifesaver, Hannah. I don’t care what Amir says about you!” she called over her shoulder, heading into the locker room to change into Hannah’s scrubs.

Okay, Devi, get your shit together. Maybe it’s not even the same guy. Except, of course it was. How many Paxton Hall-Yoshida’s were Olympic Swimmer’s for the US team? One. There was one. One Paxton Hall-Yoshida that Devi had routinely made a fool of herself in front of when she was in high school. Paxton Hall-Yoshida that gave her the best first kiss a girl could dream up. Before she started dating Ben, Paxton was all she thought about. Now, she was supposed to treat him? God, I feel like I’m fifteen again! she thought, kicking the lockers angrily. She had to get a grip. She had exactly twenty-two minutes to handle the situation.

After changing quickly into the burgundy colored scrubs, Devi found herself in her boss’s office. “Makayla, is there any way I can give my eval to one of the other therapists?”

“Why?” She tapped her acrylics on the desk impatiently. Makayla was notorious for being in all the gossip of the clientele in their practice. Devi knew she had to be careful telling her too much. If she knew Devi and Paxton went to high school together, the questions would never stop until Devi ended up with word vomit about both of their personal lives.

“Uh... I just spilled hot coffee on my leg, and I am feeling pretty tense from that still.”

“Alright, Devi, I’m going to level with you. This particular client asked for you specifically. Apparently, he knows one of your previous clients, and they were a satisfied customer. He will not be happy if he works with another therapist. Are we going to have a problem?”

Devi swallowed her argument about conflicts of interest and gave her boss a tight-lipped smile. “No problem. I’m flattered, obviously. Thanks.” She rose from her seat and began to back out of the office. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help,” she gave a small wave and didn’t notice the way her foot caught on the door frame until it was too late.

She screwed her eyes shut, waiting for impact. It’s a reflex to reach your hands out toward the ground when falling in order to protect your head, but instead it often results in one of the most common fractures. Devi knew her bottom and back could take a fall and so she resisted the urge to catch herself, but that didn’t mean she was looking forward to meeting the floor.

Except she didn’t hit the floor. “Woah!” she heard man’s voice shout before she was caught by a strong arm. “Good thing you got my good side.”

When she opened her eyes, there he was. Holding her in mid-air with one arm, Paxton Hall-Yoshida smiled down at Devi like Christmas had come early. He gingerly aided her back to a standing position, and she tried to ignore how he bit his lip and smirked at her. Man, he had not changed a bit, except that somehow, he looked stronger and more handsome than the last time she’d seen him.

“Oh, thank goodness. We didn’t need Danni getting hurt again!” Barb giggled from behind the front desk. Devi opened her mouth to correct the office manager again but didn’t manage to get the words out before Paxton.

“It’s Devi,” he told Barb. “D-e-v-i; it means goddess.”

“Oh!” Barb smiled like it was the first time she’d heard Devi’s name. “Well, thank you, young man. This goddess is your physical therapist today.”

“Lucky me,” he grinned. “Lead the way, Dr. Vishwakumar.”

It was all Devi could do to stop the heat from coloring her cheeks as she led Paxton through the therapy gym to one of the exam rooms in the back. No one interrupted them or disrupted their course. That was an expectation of working in an office with so many VIP clients. Professionalism came first, and Devi kept blasting that in her head. Be professional. Be professional.

Once they reached the exam room, she stopped at the open door and gestured for him to enter ahead of her. She tried to stop herself from checking out his backside, but the high school sophomore in her won the battle. And just like when they were in high school, this boy – nay – this man had an amazing way of filling out clothing that would otherwise be loose fitting. God, he looked good.

When she looked up, she was glad his back was still to her. For the first time, possibly in her entire life, Paxton didn’t catch her in an embarrassing moment. “So, Mr. Hall-Yoshida, why don’t you take a seat and” –

She was cut off by his soft laughter. “Come here, Devi,” he said, pulling her into a hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

She found herself returning his embrace, and it actually helped her relax a little. “It’s good to see you too, Paxton,” she told him when she pulled away a moment later. “How long has it been?”

His eyes squinted over her shoulder as he thought about her question. “Ben Gross’s Christmas party 2022, right? Eight years?”

Somehow, in that moment, it felt like yesterday. “Yeah, that’s right. The one party at Ben’s that didn’t end with me in the deep end of the pool,” she grinned.

His eyes raked over her for a moment, so intense that she chose to turn away and grab his chart to distract herself. Then he laughed again. “At least sometimes it was on purpose.”

“Yes, not all of us are as graceful in the water as the Paxton H.Y.” she smiled up from his paperwork. “Alright, we could catch up for hours, but we have to get your evaluation done. Tell me what’s going on with your shoulder.”

Paxton smirked, but nodded and did not argue with moving on into the session. He explained his sudden onset of pain during a training session. Sharp pain. He noticed more during strokes or overhead activity. It was difficult to sleep on that shoulder, but otherwise, if he wasn’t using it, he didn’t have pain. Everything Paxton told her confirmed what the orthopedist had diagnosed: shoulder impingement syndrome. Just to cover her bases, Devi confirmed positive results for Neer’s and Hawkins’ tests.  He demonstrated mild weakness in the affected shoulder, and pain seemed to onset just at approximately 100 degrees of flexion.

“Okay, looks like you saw Doctor… Matthews? Did he explain this to you?”

“Not really… he said I’m pinching a muscle in my rotator cuff?”

“Kind of, more like a tendon,” Devi said grabbing a model off the counter. “So, you know how this is a ‘ball and socket’ joint so to speak. Normally, you have full range of motion and the ball rotates in the socket without any pain or stiffness,” she explained demonstrating the normal range of shoulder flexion. “Right now, you have some inflammation in the space between the ball and socket, so whenever you raise your arm above shoulder level, there isn’t enough space for the joint to rotate normally. Because of that, you pinch that tendon, it hurts and causes more inflammation, and then the next time you raise your arm, you’ll pinch the tendon, it’ll hurt and cause inflammation, and so on.”

“So… every time I raise my arm… like on every stroke, I make it worse?” he asked, his forehead furrowing.

“Not really, but you’re not making it any better. Every time you raise your arm above shoulder level, you’re basically reinjuring it. Don’t worry though, we can fix it.”

“Dr. Matthews didn’t think I would need surgery.”

“Oh, god no, and I would never do surgery. A – out of my scope of practice, B – can you imagine me with a scalpel and a living, breathing person? Bad idea.”

She smiled when he started laughing. This was Devi’s favorite part of her job. She had many A list clients walk into her office, and there was always a level of fear that they wouldn’t be able to reach 100% again. Sometimes, it was true. Devi liked being able to alleviate that fear and make people as comfortable as possible though. Paxton was no different. He’s just another client, she told herself, and continued in her explanation.

“See the reason it keeps happening is because you’re not giving the inflammation a chance to go down. Between swimming, lifting, and day to day activities, your arm goes over your head a lot. First thing we have to do is, limit that.”

“So, I can’t swim?”

“Not unless you can do it with your left arm by your side,” her head tilted in sympathy. “It’s not forever though. I want you to keep your arm below 90 degrees of flexion – below shoulder level for four weeks and I want you to complete these exercises every day, two to three times per day,” she pulled her pre-assembled shoulder impingement program out of a binder. “I want you here twice a week and we’ll follow up on your progress.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged. “If you seem like you need more attention, then we’ll add a session weekly. Honestly, Paxton, this is a really common injury, especially for swimmers. It’s known as ‘swimmer’s shoulder.’ You’ll be back in the pool in plenty of time to qualify for 2032.”

He smiled warmly at her, and she could see his stress deflating. “Thanks, that is really good news.” He stood from his seat and advanced toward her before catching himself, “Can I hug you again?”

She grinned. “As long as you keep your arm below 90 degrees.”

She saw a spark in his eyes as he thought of a retort, but his expression changed to his easy smirk and he nodded. “Deal. Thanks, Devi,” he said as he pulled her into him.

“So, we’re done, and I can go?” he seemed nervous.

“Yeah, I have another patient in,” she glanced at her watch, “thirty minutes? Wow, I thought this was a quick one.”

“What time do you get off?”

“My last appointment is from 4:00 to 4:45 this afternoon.”

“Let’s get dinner tonight. Are you busy?”

Was he asking her on a date? No, just as friends to reconnect. Still, she had to keep things professional. Dot the T’s, cross the I’s – “What?” Nailed it.

He exhaled in a gentle laugh, his right arm reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “I, umm, I asked you to have dinner with me.”

“Like a date?”

He stared at the floor, another laugh escaping him. “Yeah, Devi, like a date.”

To be honest, she was a little angry with him for this. “Paxton, I can’t.”

“Devi, come on. It doesn’t have to be a big thing. It doesn’t even have to be a date! Just two friends, catching up.”

She opened the door, attempting to usher him out. “That would be hugely unethical, Paxton. If you wanted to ask me out, you shouldn’t have handpicked me to be your therapist. I can’t date one of my clients.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but then closed it again with a nod. “You’re right, I’m sorry, Dr. Vishwakumar. I didn’t mean to offend you. Thanks for all your help today. I’ll see you next week,” he told her. It would have seemed respectful or sincere if he hadn’t smirked the whole time. He was already at the front desk, presumably scheduling his next appointment when Devi reached her desk. He turned, his eyes settling on her immediately. “Oh and, Dr. Vishwakumar, you look good in that color,” he said with a smile that made her knees weak.

“Devi, he was flirting with you!” Hannah rushed to her side once he was gone.

“Lucky me,” she grimaced, pulling her phone from her desk drawer.

*We’re getting drinks tonight.. Actually we’re going out. Get hot.*

***

“So why are we going out tonight?” Fabiola asked, pouring shots of tequila in her kitchenette.

Fabiola had a cozy apartment in Koreatown. After receiving her degree in mechanical engineering from UC Berkeley, she received an entry-level job at Aldrin Corp. Within a few years, and some well-timed retirements, Fabiola was promoted to Senior Project Engineer. It was a job that was made for her. She often said she felt she was more hands on than previous SPE’s she’d worked for, but it also gained her the respect of her subordinates and made meeting deadlines that much easier. Her salary allowed her to not only afford this apartment near downtown LA, but to keep saving. Devi thought even with Eleanor climbing the ranks in her own field, Fabiola would be the first to have a suburban home like they’d all grown up in. For now though, she’d have the apartment closest to the clubs, and would be their pre-game hub.

“Yeah, you’re lucky you picked tonight. I had an early table read this morning, but I don’t have to be on set again until Sunday,” Eleanor agreed, touching up her eyeshadow.

“You will not believe who walked into my office today,” Devi groaned, leaving the bathroom to meet Fabiola at the counter. She swiped a shot off the counter and downed it with a wince.

“What about the salt and lime?” her friend asked in outrage. “I cut fresh lime for you!”

Devi grabbed a wedge and bit the flesh out and Fabiola nodded curtly. “I’ll use the salt for the next one.”

“So, who was it?” Eleanor asked, gliding out of the bathroom to join them. “Was it Sebastian? I know he’s almost 50, but I don’t know how you didn’t go home with him at the last premier party.”

Eleanor was a successful actress. She wasn’t a leading lady yet. She was gaining a lot of clout though. Enough clout to be at premier parties with Sebastian Stan… and Amandla Stenberg… and Tom Holland. Her phone was full of A-list stars and she was not legally obligated to keep her mouth shut about any time she spent with them. She very thoughtfully brought Devi and Fabiola to her premier parties as her guests, and that meant that they met a lot of A-list stars too.

“It was not Sebastian Stan,” Devi rolled her eyes, “and I’ll remind you, he texted you the next day asking you to thank me for calling his driver to come get him, remember? He was plastered and did not need to wake up with a stranger in bed with him.”

“Yeah, he’s really shy and private about his personal life. That fruit basket he sent you was intense.”

“Hello, losing focus,” Fabiola redirected while refilling Devi’s shot glass. “Who came in today?”

Devi groaned as she remembered her obligation to patient privacy. “I can’t tell you. Stupid HIPAA. What I can tell you is, he asked me out at the end of the session.” Eleanor and Fabiola grinned at each other before turning their grins on Devi. “What?”

“You wanted to say yes!” they said in unison.

“What? No, I didn’t. I’m dreading seeing this guy again next week.”

“No, you’re not! You’ve told us tons of stories of your patients flirting with you and your coworkers. Never once has it prickled you to the point of wanting to go get hammered in a nightclub.”

“Fabiola’s right! You’re fantasizing about getting with this guy in the exam room like on Grey’s. God, will that show ever not be relevant?”

“The point is the reason this has you tweaking is because you know you can’t do it.”

“Shut up, you guys suck.” Devi said, preparing a salt strip on her wrist for another shot.

“So, give him to another therapist so he isn’t your patient.”

“I tried before he even walked in, but Makayla said he asked for me specifically. She said something about how he knew another satisfied client.”

“Why is your job so sexual?” Eleanor laughed to which Devi glared. “Sorry, I’m sure all of your clients are satisfied.”

“You’re the worst,” Devi laughed, grabbing a lime wedge and thrusting the saltshaker into Fabiola’s hand. “Now are we pre-gaming or what?”

After more than enough shots resulted in finishing off the bottle in record time, Eleanor called for a car. The girls piled in, giggling a lot more than they had been a half hour prior. Fabiola insisted on controlling the music, though no one argued. Fab had an excellent knack for reading the energy and picking the perfect soundtrack. At least normally. This time, what she thought to be a great throwback jam, took Devi back eight years to a time that would only increase her anxiety to think about.  2022, Ben Gross’s Christmas Party.

***

“Coyote girl!”

“Hey, Trent,” Devi smiled meeting him and Paxton by the punch bowl. “You didn’t dip your balls in this again, did you?”

“Come on, Devi, I’m in college now. Would I do that?”

She looked between Trent and Paxton: Trent attempting to look way too innocent, Paxton analyzing him just as much as Devi. Suddenly, he turned to Devi. “You know what? I brought a bottle of Jack. It’s in the fridge. I’ll share with you.”

Devi smiled in gratitude as Paxton led her inside. “So, you’re drinking?”

He smiled. “We get a break from meets during Christmas break, so I figure once or twice won’t hurt.”

“David!” she heard as soon as she and Paxton entered the kitchen. The moment they started dating, Devi told Ben that the ‘nickname’ bothered her. He almost never used it anymore, but he was obviously drunk. “Wait, no sorry. Devi!”

“What’s up, man?” Paxton fist bumped Ben. “I don’t trust Trent, so Devi is drinking my stuff. Cool?”

“Cool, man, and thanks for the heads up. If you don’t trust Trent, I don’t trust Trent.”

Ben and Paxton had reached a relationship of friendly acquaintances by the time Paxton graduated. It had been a necessity when Ben tutored Paxton in order to meet the requirements for his swim scholarship to Stanford. At the time, it brought Devi mixed feelings. Being a few years removed from the drama of her sophomore year, it was nice they could all just hangout without it being weird.

“So, Ben, I gotta know. Why are you having a Christmas party?” Devi asked. “You don’t celebrate Christmas.”

“True, but you can’t throw a party over winter break without accepting that people are going to call it a Christmas party, and expecting half the guests to wear ugly sweaters whether it’s required or not,” Ben explained, only slightly tripping over his words. “I just steer into the skid.”

Devi and Paxton grinned at him before laughing. “Hey, whatever. It’s a dope party, and you guys are just too sober to appreciate it,” he accused good-naturedly, pulling a bottle of Jack Daniels out of the refrigerator. “Get moving and come find me when you’re on this level. Unless I’m with Emma, then come back later.”

“Emma?”

“His girlfriend. She’s wicked smart, and she even convinced his parents to be at parents’ weekend. They’ll probably get married,” Devi told him as Ben went back outside.

“I’m sorry, do you go to school in New Jersey or Boston?” he teased.

“What?”

“You’re turning into a New Englander, Vishwakumar,” he told her, taking a pull of the Jack. He stepped in close enough to her that she could feel the heat radiating off him.

“I am not,” she laughed taking the bottle from him and taking a pull of her own. She coughed a little as it went down causing him to smirk. “I don’t usually drink whiskey.”

“Here,” he turned to the fridge and grabbed a soda. “Chase with coke, it helps.”

Just as she went to open the can, a group of people came in, immediately crowding them because they were going to use the island for a game of quarters. At least, that’s what she was able to glean from the drunken shouts of her old classmates. She felt an arm wind around her waist and looked up at Paxton – her chest practically pressed against his.

“Hey, you want to catch up to get drunk or catch up with a friend?” he leaned down to speak in her ear.

“How about both?” she smiled, grabbing the bottle of Jack and slipping through the crowd with Paxton close behind.

“Devi, come on! Catch up!” she came back to reality to have Eleanor thrusting one of the mini fireball bottles she’d shoved in her purse into Devi’s hand.

“I hate fireball,” she groaned.

“Fireball!” her friends shouted, and they all downed a bottle.

“Ladies, we’re here.”

“Okay, okay, one more for the club,” Devi insisted.

With a cheer, all three girls shot another small bottle of fireball. After tipping the driver, Eleanor led them past the line and walked straight up to the bouncer.

“Ladies,” the man smiled. “You on the list?”

“Eleanor Wong,” she stated her name with a flutter of her eyelashes.

He was silent as he skimmed his clipboard. “I don’t see it…” he trailed off, looking up at Eleanor, “but hey, aren’t you in that new spy thriller with Michael B. Jordan?”

Her eyes lit up, “Yes! Shot for Death! Tom keeps saying I’ll get used to being recognized, but it’s such a rush! Oh, here he is now,” she held a finger up to the stout but muscular man as she answered a phone call. “Hello darling,” she said with a flourish. “We’re outside, but he says I’m not on the list. Could you?”

Within seconds, Tom Holland popped his head out the door. “Mal, they’re with me. They’re under my name.”

“My apologies, ladies. Head on in, and I can’t wait to see you on the big screen again, Ms. Wong.”

“Thank you!” she blew him a kiss as the girls hurried inside.

Tom and Eleanor greeted each other with a hug as Devi and Fabiola wandered over to the bar. When Eleanor first made friends with some prominent stars, Devi was star struck regularly. As she got more into her career, and treated more and more celebrities, she began to get used to being in their presence.

“Drinks or shots?” Fabiola shouted over the music.

“Shot for me and then I’m going to dance.”

“Yes, girl!” Fabiola pounded the bar, gaining the attention of one of the bartenders. “Can we get three B-52s?”

“Make it four and put it on my tab,” a man’s voice called from beside Devi. Her initial thought was that Eleanor and Tom had caught up to them, but it clicked almost immediately that the accent was distinctly American. And then it clicked again that she would recognize that voice anywhere.

“What are you doing here?” she wheeled around on him.

“I’m out with some friends. What are you doing here, doctor? Are you following me?”

“Paxton?” Fabiola caught his eye past Devi.

“Hey, Fabiola,” he grinned. “Good to see you!”

“Same,” she smiled back. “I didn’t know you were in town?”

“Yeah, I’m home for some physical therapy,” he shouted gesturing to his shoulder.

It took Fabiola exactly no time to connect the dots, and Devi could feel it. Instead of looking at either of her current companions, she accepted the shots from the bartender with as much gratitude as she could muster. Devi carefully pushed a shot to her left and then to her right, clutching the remaining shots tightly.

“I’ll go give Eleanor hers.”

“Nope,” Fab cut off her escape and plucked the extra shot out of her hand. “I’ll do that. You take yours and go dance!”

“Oh, I’ll cheers to that,” Paxton said, leaning forward so she could hear him. “Come dance with me.”

Maybe it was alcohol from their successful pregaming clouding her judgment, or maybe it was the way she could lose herself in Paxton’s gaze just as easily as when she was fifteen years old, but Devi couldn’t stop herself from nodding and clinking her glass against his as they downed the shots in unison. He smirked at her, grasping her hand gently and leading her to the dancefloor.

It was crowded already, but so many of the people here loved that paparazzi never got in, and they could cut loose. Devi loved that atmosphere. Under the flashing lights, music pumping so loud you can’t hear anything else, dancing with friends, or a guy she would be way too nervous to talk to otherwise – it all just made her feel alive.  She felt that same adrenaline as Paxton kept his left hand firmly on her hip but did not pull her into him. Instead, he left just enough space between them for things to be innocent.

As the beat dropped on a new mix, Devi felt Paxton’s hand like an anchor. They locked eyes for a moment, and she swore she could feel the energy crackling between them. The corner of his mouth quirked up, gaze never leaving hers. This man asked her on a date that morning. The man she’d so desperately wanted as a teenager – the man that she nearly idolized and seemed so unattainable in her youth was the same man in front of her, the one looking at her like pure sex. The thought had a laugh bubbling up in her that she couldn’t stop. Full belly laughter overtook her as she bounced and swayed to the music and just lost herself.

She wasn’t sure how much time past, but at some point, Eleanor and Fabiola joined them. The music had shifted from EDM to a mix of the most beloved hip hop music from ten to fifteen years ago. As intended, that shift had more people pouring onto the dancefloor, and having any space to breathe was impossible. To Devi, it was perfect. The beat was pulsing so loud, it felt like her own heartbeat, and the familiar music was lending to everyone’s closet-love for karaoke as people around her belted the lyrics. Then she felt two hands at her hips pulling her slightly backwards to dance against a man’s chest. Normally, she didn’t mind dancing with strangers. As long as they didn’t get too handsy, she didn’t even mind the approach this guy took. Tonight, things felt different. Her eyes flew open, and immediately met Paxton’s. His look was calculating. He wasn’t going to stop her if this was what she wanted.

The thought brought an easy grin to her face as she reached a hand out toward him. His lips twitched into a crooked grin, but he met her hand and spun her into him. In that moment, time stood still. Devi didn’t notice who had approached her before Paxton’s rescue. She wasn’t sure if Fabiola and Eleanor were still on the floor with them. All she knew was that her back was pressed against Paxton’s chest, and it felt like she belonged there. They swayed to the music together, and she felt his left hand rest on her hip again. His other hand swept the hair off her right shoulder, and she felt him press tighter against her.

“What do you want from me, Devi?” he asked, his breath hot on her neck.

“You’re not dating anyone?” she asked disbelievingly. “Not at all, not even one-night stands?”

They were sitting in Ben’s theater room on the floor passing the significantly less full bottle of Jack between them. It was nice. It was easy. The awkwardness of what happened in high school long behind them.

“Hey, I have never had a one-night stand,” he pointed at her. “Have you?”

“Well, no, but I’m me and you’re you,” she laughed.

“What does that mean?” his eyes narrowed at her good-naturedly as he took another pull from the bottle of Jack and passed it back to her.

“I just mean, one of us probably has people lining up to sleep with them, and the other one is me,” she shrugged.

“Why would you even say that? Have you looked in a mirror?”

“Come on, stop, I didn’t mean” –

“I’m serious, Devi. You are a very weird girl, like that’s your brand, but it’s hot. You’re hot. If you really think guys aren’t interested in you, you’re not paying attention.”

“Stop,” she waved him off, cheeks burning hot red. “You don’t have to do that.”

He was scooting closer to her until their thighs were touching, and his gaze was searching hers looking for any hesitation. “I know. I don’t have to do anything. You know what I want to do?”

Her skin tingled under his stare, and she shook her head ‘no.’ Her stomach somersaulted when he reached a hand up to cradle her jaw. “I want show you how beautiful you are.”

Devi turned in his embrace, draping her hands around his neck. Paxton’s head immediately fell to the crook of her neck, and she played with the hair at the nape of his neck as she leaned into his ear. “I want you to show me how beautiful I am.”

His head snapped up and he pulled back to look her in the eye. His jaw had gone slack, and he was looking at her with such curiosity that it made her second guess herself. Maybe he wasn’t interested after all. Maybe he’d just been swept up in not seeing her after so long that morning. Maybe he just wanted to see if he could still get her to fall at his feet. Maybe this was just a game to him. She started to unwind her arms from him to escape her embarrassment when he pressed one of her arms down to stay in place around him. His other hand was firmly pressed against the small of her back.

“Let’s get a drink,” he suggested, waiting for her confirmation. When she nodded, he took her hand off his shoulder, pressed a kiss against the back, and led her from the dancefloor back to the bar.

“What are you drinking?”

“Whiskey sour,” she told him.

“Thought you didn’t drink whiskey?” he grinned.

“Things change.”

When their drinks were made, he nodded to a staircase, and she set off toward it with him close behind. The upper room was a quieter atmosphere. Tables and chairs, booths, a pool table – it was a great offset from the chaos downstairs. He placed their drinks down on a booth, and she slid into one side expecting him to slide in opposite her. Instead, he slid in next to her.

“Paxton, look I’m sorry if I misread things, I just” –

He placed a hand on her knee. “No, don’t do that. You didn’t misread anything. Just tell me why you said that exactly?”

***

Devi woke to the feeling of a hammer slamming against her skull. She could feel the sunlight piercing through her eyelids, making her roll over and press her face harder against her pillow. She heard a toilet flush, and that prompted her to inspect her surroundings a bit more closely. Blearily, she moved to a sitting position as the faucet in the bathroom ran. It was her apartment, that much she could tell. Maybe Eleanor and Fabiola decided to come back here? Fabiola lived closest to the club. That was why they pre-gamed at her place. Why would they come back to her place? Was she the only one coherent enough to call for a ride? With the way she felt this morning, that was unlikely. No, so who was using her bathroom and whistling as they walked down the hallway?

She grabbed her phone off the nightstand and unplugged it from the charger. She had a few unread messages in her group text with her friends.

*Let us know when you wake up this morning, we want to hear all the dirty details!*

*Also, avocado is a great hangover food!*

The dirty details? What did Devi do? So much of the previous night was a blur. At least she has clothes on – one of her dad’s old t-shirts and a pair of pajama shorts. That had a to be sign that she didn’t do anything too stupid. So, who was out there?

Only one way to find out, she thought, hoisting herself out of bed. She stepped out of her bedroom, and immediately smelled eggs. Devi padded down the hallway to the kitchen, and there was a steaming cast iron skillet sitting on a hot pad at the breakfast bar. No one was in the kitchen though.

“Hey, you’re up!” a voice cheered from behind her. Devi whirled around to the living room, to see Paxton on her couch carefully stretching one arm over the other shoulder.

“Jesus! Paxton, what are you doing?”

He tilted his head at her with a quizzical look. “I’m doing my shoulder exercises. You’re the one that assigned them.”

“Not that!” she couldn’t help but holler at him. “What are you doing in my apartment?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but then closed it again. His arms fell to his sides. “You actually demanded that I come here.”

“What?” her eyes went wide as she did her best to recall the events of last night. “Did we…?”

He started laughing as he stepped past her and behind the breakfast bar. “I knew you were too drunk to remember. No, we did not have sex. You were mad at me for that last night by the way.”

“No…” she trailed off taking a seat at the breakfast bar.

“Oh yeah, I told you I was going to take the couch, and you said you’d been waiting like ten years to see whether or not I stuff my swim briefs,” he smirked. “I don’t, in case you’re still wondering.”

“Oh my god,” this new information and the headache still throbbing against her skull was enough to make her vomit. Instead, she just dropped her head to the counter, the pressure soothing against her forehead.

“Come on, it’s not that bad. It was cute… in a very Devi way,” he brushed her arm gently. “Sit up, you need to eat.”

She shifted her head slightly to meet his eye. “I yelled at you for not showing me your dick, and you stayed the night and made me breakfast.”

“Yeah, I had to make sure you were okay,” his eyes warmed to hers. “Now, sit up and eat.”

She obeyed and smiled when he pushed a loaded plate toward her. “This looks awesome.”

“Yeah, I had to work with what you had, but I call it a southwest sweet potato hash,” he told her proudly. After loading up his own plate, he came around the breakfast bar to sit next to her.

“So, anything else I should know about last night?”

“Well,” he paused to swallow a bite of food, “what’s the last thing you remember?”

She thought about the events of the previous night, as Paxton hopped up again.His energized movements distracting her, she asked, “Are you not hungover at all?”

“Based on what you told me, I had a lot less to drink last night than you did, so no, I’m not,” she heard him reply. She was staring at her plate because too much movement made her nauseated.

“You didn’t happen to make” –

“Coffee,” he cut her off happily, placing the mug in front of her, “and here’s some Tylenol. I was looking for blowfish or something but doesn’t look like you have any.”

She gratefully took the little pills from him and threw them back with a swig of coffee. “I used to. I stopped getting hungover for a while too.”

“Why’d you go so hard last night?”

“I think you know why,” she said with a glare.

He pursed his lips in a pout before choosing to ignore her implication and coming back to sit with her with his own cup of coffee. “So, what do you remember from last night?”

“I remember dancing with you on the dance floor.”

“Anyone else? Eleanor, Fab, some dude that I’m pretty sure was Lucas Hedges?”

“Okay, yeah. Some guy started dancing on me, and I wanted to dance with you instead,” she replied casually, continuing her breakfast.

“Nothing else? You don’t remember going to the upper room to talk about what happened at Ben’s party?”

“We talked about Ben’s party?”

“Well, yeah, funny thing is, I didn’t remember that,” he told her with a nostalgic grin. “Like I remembered it, but I thought I dreamt some of it.”

“What? Like what?”

“Well you were gone when I woke up, and never said anything about it so I thought…”

“You thought you dreamt making out with me?”

“Well, see so that’s all we did? It’s hard, because when I’ve dreamt about it since then…” he trailed off, the tips of his ears turning pink at his own admission.

“You’ve dreamt about it since then?”

“Not like a ton… it’s not like I’ve dreamt about you every night for the last eight years, that would be kinda creepy probably. Just any time something reminds me of you, it seems to come up… high school, something about Gross in the news… seeing you on social media… it’s not that weird.”

“Paxton…”

“I mean, whatever, I know I’m going to dream about last night for a long time,” he winked. She didn’t understand how he could have so little shame. Then she remembered she had enough to go around. “You made it your mission to remind me of every dirty detail of that night at Ben’s.”

“We made out last night?”

“We started to, yeah. Instead of getting hot and heavy, you ran off to the bathroom, and I found you with your head in a urinal. That’s when it was time to go home.”

“And that’s what you’re going to dream about?” she scoffed.

“No, I’m going to dream about you pawing at my zipper yelling about pringle cans.” He settled into a close-lipped smile, but it didn’t hide the mirth in his eyes.

“Oh my god,” Devi groaned, slipping off her stool to flop over onto the couch.

She could hear Paxton laughing. Soon, he was settled on the couch with her. She turned her body just enough to catch his eye, and he patted his lap. She rolled her eyes but stretched out so her head was on his thigh and she was looking up at him. His features were soft, gentle, caring.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” he told her softly, one hand carding through her hair. “I don’t mind when you act like you like me.”

“I’m not acting,” her eyes fell shut, feeling his fingers stroke her scalp could lull her to sleep.

“Yeah?”

She hummed an affirmative. She was pretty sure if he kept scratching her head like that, she’d say yes to anything. And of course, she liked him. She was never able to truly deny that fact. Even when she’d had boyfriends, she’d be lying if Paxton wasn’t always lingering in the back of her mind. How could he not be? His appearance was god-like. He was beyond hiding behind words – if she was honest, that was her favorite part – he wasn’t afraid to be real with her. And he never gave up on her. As rocky as their friendship had started, as often as they lost touch, here he was telling her, he still thought about her.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she almost whispered.

“Me too.”

She felt his hand trace the edge of her face, and couldn’t stop herself from leaning into his touch, and pressing a kiss to his palm. Somehow, it was comfortable, intimate. She felt like she was born to be here. The same thought she had eight years ago came back to the forefront of her mind: It’s always been Paxton. At that realization, her eyes popped open. He’d leaned his head back, eyes closed; he looked as close to dozing off as she felt moments ago. His lips formed a peaceful grin, just slightly curved upwards, and his two small moles pinning opposite corners of his mouth were barely shadowed by the growth of his facial hair overnight. His long eyelashes curled naturally in a way, Devi thought, women would kill for. She always knew he was hot, but she never really took the time to notice how beautiful he was.

Before she could stop herself, before she could think twice, Devi leaned up and pressed her lips to his. And time stood still. Just as she was going to pull away again, his hand found hold in her hair, and his lips moved over hers with fervor. She wasn’t sure who opened to the other first, but in a flash their tongues were dueling for dominance. Instead of admitting defeat, Devi pulled his bottom lip between her teeth and bit down. He, honest to god, whimpered in response. She smiled against mouth before he swallowed her smile with one, two, and then three slow languid kisses. He pulled away, pressed her to his chest that she could feel was heaving. When she looked up to meet his eye, they were closed again, but he wore the most breathtaking smile she’d ever seen.

“Mm... I want to take my time with you,” he told her, pressing another kiss to her lips. She blushed at his implication. “God, I am not going to forget this any time soon.”

“Mood, my guy. Big mood,” she agreed, sitting up next to him.

He turned so he was halfway facing her, and his left hand took refuge on her thigh. “Can I ask you something?” he asked, waiting for her nod before continuing. “Okay, I don’t want to pop this, like, bubble we’re in right now, but… what does this mean going forward?”

“Paxton…” her eyes softened. She knew what she wanted, but with her job, how could she…

“Devi, listen. I know it’s my fault that you’re my therapist. I know that I made this difficult, but I really just wanted to see you, and now? I know one thing for sure, I really don’t want to wait another eight years to kiss you again.” he sighed, and repositioned again so he was fully facing her, clasping her hands in his. “I’ll wait for four weeks if it’ll make you happy. I’ll be your dirty little secret if that’s what you want. Just don’t turn me down. Let me take you to dinner, bring you flowers, make you soup when you’re sick. Give me a chance to sweep you off your feet.”

“Honestly, I’m stuck on ‘dirty little secret.’”

He smirked. “Lingering looks… shirtless assessments… secret dates… secret hookups,” he told her sensually, pausing between each suggestion to press a kiss first to her lips, then the corner of her mouth, her jaw, and finally ended by sucking her earlobe into his mouth and dragging his teeth over it. She shuddered under him, and felt him smile against her neck. “Do you like that idea?”

“Oh, fuck yeah.”

[edourado]

Together, ch iv

Here’s chapter four, because I need something light and fluffy, to help me stomach the world. I’m sad, I’m angry, sick to my stomach, I am legit losing faith in humanity, I burst out in tears at any given moment. And I don’t want to lose my mind, so here’s me coping. 

This is nothing, its a silly piece of fluffy fanfiction, but it’s for George Floyd, for Ahmaud Arbery, for João Pedro, a 14 year old black boy from Rio who was shot by police while playing inside his home, for every black individual who died because they were black, for their families, for the protesters. This is nothing, nothing, nothing, but it has a little of my heart in it, so it’s for them. 

I hope it makes you smile.

------- 

It wasn’t long until Frank got cabin fever. 

Staying inside all day was not at all like him. How long had he been spending most of his days outside, moving, doing something, or just looking at the people walking around the street?

To Karen’s amusement - and delight - he cleaned the entire apartment, top to bottom, and was even able to remove the touch stains on the light switches. He did something to the fridge, and by the time he was done, the shelves and the door were gleaming as if had just arrived from the store, brand new. 

But the apartment was not big enough to keep him entertained for long, so he started ordering things online to improve on little stuff, like the shelves she needed for her shoes, since she had needed to make room for his, or these fancy magnets to install on bottom of  the doors, so they would stop banging shut whenever it was a little windy. He spent a whole afternoon on the phone with David Lieberman, deciding on the best cameras to install around the place.

Reading only took him so far. He went through four books before he found it hard to keep still, and it was even worse with Netflix. 

Then, one day, the masks they bought from the neighbor from two floors down were ready, and she texted to let them know she had left them at their door. 

“I thought they’d be much worse”, Karen said, after they wired the neighbor the money and collected the neatly packed masks. “These are good, look!”

She put one on and they were, indeed, much better than they both had expected. Not fancy or in any way tech advanced, but a simple cloth mask that covered mouth and nose without leaving gaps. All of them black. 

“I think I’ll order more”, Karen mused, while Frank put one on. As far as masks go, this was not the worst he had ever worn, not by a long shot. 

That night, Frank lied awake in bed, his finger twitching, unable to sleep. They had cooked a big dinner together, looking for something to do to spend the time and use the things they had on the pantry, trying to avoid spoiling food. 

Karen had also stayed awake for longer than usual, but now she breathed slowly, sleeping by his side, and Frank had given up keeping his eyes closed, and now stared at the ceiling. 

After what seemed like forever, he looked at the window and noticed that the sky was starting to become a tad lighter. When he checked his phone, it told him it was 4:34 in the morning. With a glance at Karen, he got up, careful not to wake her. 

After silently dressing, Frank picked up his phone from the bedside table and carried his shoes to the living room, stopping to pick up one of the masks they had washed before starting on dinner. The radiator had dried them all completely, leaving them warm and crisp feeling. 

Closing the apartment door silently behind him, he locked it and then moved quickly down the stairs. 

He couldn’t take a proper breath in, with the mask covering his mouth and nose, but the fresh air that made it through his lungs when he inhaled deeply were enough to make him feel better already. Looking at the empty street before him, Frank set off for the first jog he had in years. 

Ever since he came back from his last tour, he favored other ways of exercising. Jogging was neither possible nor efficient after the whole mess, but it felt good, it felt natural, to run without hurry and from nobody, not chasing anybody. Run for the sake of running. 

He was on a break by the river, almost an hour later, when his phone pinged. 

“Ok”, said Karen’s text, in reply to the one he had sent her before he left the apartment, letting her know he was off for a run. “Have fun”, and then, almost as an afterthought, “Be careful. Don’t touch anything and don’t take off your mask.”

“Yes, ma’am”, he replied. 

Frank ran for a good while. Not counting the time, or the miles, or his heartbeat, he just ran, took breaks, walked and then ran some more, looking as the morning made the city brighter, noticing how strange it the streets looked, so empty, even this early. He ran and he wished he could take off his mask, but he didn’t, happy that at least he was able to breathe some fresh air and not see any walls around him, for a change. 

The sun was up when he turned to make his way back, at 7:15.

There was a bakery one corner away from home, and the smell of fresh bread lured him in. A man in uniform, a mask and gloves told him they just took a fresh batch out of the oven, and Frank bought a few, along with cheese and two cups of coffee (which they had at the apartment, but he figured these people were risking themselves to provide food for the neighborhood and try and keep their business alive, so what’s two cups of extra coffee?)

“Thank you so much for your support” said the guy, handing him the bag and the cup holder through a window. 

“Thank you”, Frank replied, happy for this little slice of normal. “You guys open tomorrow?” 

“From seven to seven.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Name’s Frank.”

“I’m Ray. See you, Frank. Have a good day.”

He walked the rest of the way, and had to balance his purchases in one hand while taking the key from his shoe, towing said shoes off and unlocking the door, walking in in his socks.”

“Frank?” Karen called from the bedroom.   

“I’m here” he called back, starting the new strange process of cleaning the things he brought home with him. 

After putting the warm bread on the designated bread basket and disposing of the paper bag, he transferred the cheese to a clean container and the coffee to the coffee pot, where Karen had not yet pushed the button to brew. 

After his shower, he walked to the bedroom, feeling much, much better than he felt before getting up this morning. 

Karen was still in bed, phone in hand, and smiled at him when he walked in. 

“Hi”, she greeted, and he walked to her. “Enjoy your run?”

“Hmm”, was his answer, lying down half on top of her, kissing her gently, closing his eyes when her hands caressed his hair. “I brought breakfast.”

“I can smell it”, she said, softly. “That show we wanted to watch is available on Netflix. Wanna eat on the couch and watch it with me?”

He made them egg sandwiches and brought it to the couch while she cued the new show on TV, and when he settled down to watch it, he didn’t feel restless or that itch that made him want to get up every five seconds. 

What a difference, a run made. 

.:.

He came back to the apartment on the fourth day with croissants and the usual coffee, sweating profusely, since he had not made any stops this time, nor did he walk, and the jog was just straight up sprinting.

“Kare?” he called from the kitchen.

“I’m here!” she called back, and he saw her hand waving at him through the window. She was in the fire escape. 

He had to deal with the sanitizing of the shopping and then a shower, so it was a few minutes before he walked to the living room window. 

Before he got to the ledge, she popped her head inside and smiled at him. 

“I got you something.”

When Frank ducked to climb out to the narrow fire escape, he saw what she had gotten: a hammock. 

Cream colored, she had tied it on the iron bars above head, it hung a good few inches above the floor. She had placed two throw pillows in it, plus a heavy blanket. 

“You’ve been feeling so cooped up, I thought this would maybe help a little.

Turning to her, Frank smiled and moved to kiss her. 

“You didn’t have to do that”, he said, a hand caressing her hair. 

“I wanted to. I’m only sorry it took so long to arrive, I ordered it almost a month ago.”

Frank looked at the hammock, swaying lightly in the wind, and thought that this small act, this simple purchase for his benefit made him a little more sure that she meant it, when she said she loved him. 

It was silly, he knew that, but there still was a little part of him that expected her to wake up one day and realize that all she thought she felt for him was nothing but the thrill of the danger, the forbidden, the very ill advised act of rebellion, or even misinterpreted feelings of concern and worry and gratitude.

The fact that she didn’t run away from him after they slept together for the first time, or asked him to stay after the second third fourth and so on, asked him to move in, gave him a key, made room for his things, made room for him, bought him a hammock. It all told him that yeah, she was serious about that love. 

“Maybe we can have breakfast here?” he suggested, and she beamed, nodding. 

“So you like it?”

“I do”, he said against her mouth. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Settle in, I’ll get the food.”

 They ate the croissants and drank the coffee while sharing the hammock, after adjusting the height a little bit. 

“This is so good”, she said around a mouthful of warm croissant, taking a sip of coffee, looking out at the street below them. 

Frank watched as the morning light caught in her hair, how it made her eyes shine just a tad bluer, accentuated the few freckles she had on her nose.

“Yeah, it is”, he agreed, squeezing her foot under the blanket, thankful that, if he had to be stuck inside, at least it was with her.  

[disastrousjest]

Confessions of 2020..

(tw: covid mention, mental health mention)

I wanted to post a little something that might put out some insight for my followers, friends, mutuals alike. With the recent battle I had with some personal blogs attacking me over some posts I made because of the images, regardless of the purpose of the post. I just wanted to let everyone aware of why that sent me over the edge and why I handled it the way I did. Please note: I will not be apologizing for what I said, I do feel as though those that tried to reach out to me did not realize the purpose of the post. And while I understand now I should just tag things like that differently, I will not be apologizing for stating the fact that this is a rp  blog and I do not appreciate personal blogs attacking me over something like that. That being said, I will not be bullied off tumblr or this account. Because I love JJBA and Joseph Joestar. So for future reference, if you don’t like my content, unfollow it. Don’t bother sending me nasty remarks because I do not have the time for those types of things.  But I wanted to open the doorway to some insight for you all who have been paying attention or who just might care to know why I came off so incredibly outraged by that little bit. Because to me it was just the topping of a whole bunch of bullshit as is 2020.  This whole shithole of a year began in March. I got promoted at work to salary. That’s 35k a year my friends and that’s a hell of an upgrade for someone who barely makes a living wage right now and came from a working poor family. I really thought my life was gonna turn around. For once my fiance and I wouldn’t have to struggle so hard and we could afford to do everything we talked about doing. Well guess what--2 weeks after the announcement of my promotion my work place shut down because of Covid-19. Nothing new, lots of people and places were shut down. So fine, it pushed back my transfer and such. That wasn’t a big deal.  Enter June 2020. We re-open and my manager calls me into his office to talk to him about said mentioned promotion. They are suspending it, means it could be pushed back until we could lift the restrictions. Understandably so, I would just have to keep my old position, an hourly one, until they were called back. Now the months pass, June becomes July and enter August.  I find out about a week before the company announces it at the start of August, the position I was promoted to has been eliminated indefinitely. There is a chance they could come back, but right now they have no idea when or if that’ll happen. Which means that whole part of my department no longer exists at my place of work. I mean it’s a good thing I had my hourly position to fall back into or I’d lost my job. But that salary raise? Gone. 

Rewind back to July. I get very very VERY sick. And have to test for covid-19 the first time. Only because I am so sick and have a roommate with asthma I have to quarantine myself for 14 days. So 14 days I am locked in my bedroom alone, sleeping alone after 3 years of being with someone in bed. My meals are being left at the door for me and the only room I am allowed to enter is the bathroom, but only after it has been sanitized. Only for my results to come back negative. And now... we enter September 2020. Two major things started in September. The first, our old, senior dog became very ill. Started losing weight, wasn’t eating, losing hair, etc. So we knew his time was coming soon enough. Mid-September, I wake up one morning while our dog is dying mind you, and I cannot move my body from the waist down. Every time I tried, I’m greeted with a shot of pain straight up my spine that feels something like a hot poker being stabbed right through my spinal cord. Very very painful. I end up bed-ridden for a day or two because I cannot move. So once the pain subsides, I go see a chiropractor. Shocking (not really) announcement that my sway back--to which I was diagnosed with 10 years prior from a bad car accident--has gotten worse. What does  that mean exactly? Well--my spine bends in like a S for those who don’t know, which means my lower back dips inward deeper inside my body and my tail bone curves out. Now along that dip there are 3 or 4 vertebrae that are especially messed up. The bones have become staggered out of place on top of one another, just from the muscles pulling the bones out of shape since my spine doesn’t flex the way it’s supposed to anymore. (And it hasn’t for years). The pain before this was tolerable, it would ache from time to time but never like this. Now I am crippled more or less.  Here’s what that means: my mobility became extremely limited. At first in the am when I woke up I couldn’t move from the waist down for the first hour or two after I woke up. Then when I was finally able to move, I had to use my forearms to literally drag my lower body upright (still painful). Once I was able to manage that, I had to gage how strong my legs were to support my weight. And at first walking wasn’t terrible, but as the treatments began--doctor appointments, spinal adjustments, and physical therapy--to correct my spinal issue, nerve damage became clear. So now on top of this horrible pain, I had to deal with weak legs. Because of nerve damage, my right leg especially became weak. On days my back would hurt especially bad, my right knee would collapse out from under me. Which meant falling to the ground and not being able to stand up or walk for sometime there after.  Now imagine dealing with not being able to support your own body, not being able to hardly walk and your dog dying at the same time. So while I”m trying not to focus on the fact that my mobility is limiting me on what I can and can’t do, my fiance is upset about this. Our dog (then weighed about 100 or more pounds) could no longer walk either. His back legs and hips were giving out as his health declined. I did not have the strength in my own legs to help carry him because his weight hurt me too much and would cause me to collapse. I had to watch my fiance struggle with this practically all by herself while I sat on the floor, only able to use my arms to help with what I could because my legs and back were too weak to do the work.  This carried on into October. Our dog passes away and that alone is hard for me. I still kind of wonder if I wasn’t so weak when he got sick if I could have helped prolong his life just a little longer. I couldn’t hardly look at him when he passed and I couldn’t look at anyone else. I was very angry that my legs and back had failed me. They had failed everyone. So yes, that weight still lingers over me. It was so bad that when it came time to take turns digging his grave, I struggled with the shovel. Because I couldn’t stand up or be bent over to move the dirt, I got on my hands and knees and I took that shovel in my hands and used my arms and shoulders to dig. I wasn’t going to continue to be useless because of my limited mobility. I felt I already let him down and everyone else by not being able to help take care of him while he was still alive and sick. This was the least I could do.  November comes. Things are calm now, for a while. Not bad. I finally get some braces to help with my back issues (which still continue). I keep on with my physical therapy, trying to heal and help my fiance through her mourning over the dog. My mobility slowly begins to improve, though the doctor informs me it will be a very slow process. Small steps he says. But he is still confident he can fix my spine without back surgery so I can walk again, like a regular person. The limit I am able to stand and walk increases with the help of my braces and I begin taking herbal supplements and drinking herbal teas to increase the rate of my recovery. It seems to be working better than over the counter medication. The rest of 2020 seems promising.  Here comes December. On the night my fiance and I decide to go out on a date to celebrate our 5 years together. I get a phone call from work. One of my co-workers tested positive for Covid-19 and I was exposed. I am now suspended from work without pay until my test results come back negative. A real mood killer for the night. It gets better, we get home and despite the dinner being pretty somber the rest of the night seems fine. We watch movies and spend time together, finish wrapping gifts for Christmas. Then we realize the cat is missing. He’s been missing all day and all night. Nobody has seen him.  Two days prior, I had taken my cat to the vet because he was sick. Again, weight loss, losing hair, etc. I was worried he may be sick. Well it’s cold outside and here it’s been snowing so it’s very cold. I set something of mine outside and a literbox for smell. And then a plate of food. ....that was almost 4 days ago. There’s been not a sign of him. I called the county shelter and they didn’t have him. My fiance suggests he was sick so... maybe he got out of the house and went somewhere to die. My gut tells me he’s not coming back. And my heart is breaking, again. Again. I am wondering if I did something wrong. If I would have kept a better eye on him, I knew he wasn’t  feeling right. I somehow feel like I let him down.  And  then I logged into tumblr and saw those comments. Those asks people were sending about the damn images I posted for the 12 days to Christmas. And they just kept coming. I deleted the other ones, I stopped replying to them and finally just deleted the post. The Christmas spirit had been sucked out of me. I feel as though the world has began to mock me for believing the year could get better back in November. I know one thing, the holiday won’t be as bright this year. Not for me. I hope everyone stays safe and has a good holiday. Maybe 2021 will be more promising, but I”m not banking on it. Not anymore. Thanks for reading.  I hope you all understand now why I have been so slow with my replies lately. As my mood goes up and down because I have been struggling with the weight of all this and depression, just trying to hang on from losing hope that for one I will be able to walk again normally and then just the loss of my animals... everything. I can’t write and I refuse to send bad quality responses and starters for you all. I hope this puts some insight  on why I was so horribly upset the other day.   So thank you to all my friends and everyone who has been so patient with me on all my blogs. Jotaro (dmgdstar) and Johnny (rotatingstar) and this one of course. I will be catching up to everything very soon. I’ve already made a good dent in them.  Your patience is always appreciated. 

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

Scars That Heal || Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader Series

• Ch. 1: Please Don’t Go, Girl •

- 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗘 𝟭𝟵𝟴𝟵 -

     The final bell at Derry High School rang, doors flung open and a mix of disorderly students had spilled out into the halls like sheep. Books were being hurled into the trash, lockers emptied out, papers were strewn all over - summer had officially commenced. Swept up among the madness is Bill Denbrough, Richie Tozier, Stan Uris, and Eddie Kaspbrak.

     Eddie was abnormally small for his age, his inhaler holstered in his medicine-filled fanny pack to his left, Stan. A tall boy with curly blonde hair and wore a kippah, next to him was Bill, a young gangly boy with a stutter. And Richie Tozier, who wore glasses and was notorious for being a trash mouth. He was Eddie's best friend.

     In that same moment, one floor down, Y/n L/n flooded into the hallway with her classmates, exhaling in relief. She scanned the hallways and glazed over the many figures of the crowd hoping to catch sight of a familiar head of fiery red hair that belonged to her best friend. Beverly had excused herself near the end of class for a smoke in the girl’s bathroom, naturally, that was where she was headed to find her friend.

     Y/n weaved her way through the hallway stuffed with people, walking on her toes hoping to get a better look above the mass of heads. She passed through the stairway, cringing at the sudden influx in volume caused by the echo from the rowdy students in the stairway. That's when she spotted Greta Bowie.

     Y/n cursed under her breath as she saw the 13-year-old bully heading for the top of the stairs. She got a bad feeling in her stomach and she immediately knew where Greta was headed.

     Beverly and Y/n were the bully's favorite victims, particularly Bev. And Y/n had an inkling Greta was looking for her Beverly too.

     Y/n sprinted up the steps after her, the swarm of students blocking her way. Up ahead, she saw Greta reach the landing of the second floor and she shoved herself past one of Richie Tozier's friends, who turned to glare at her.

     At that moment, two rambunctious boys who were racing down the stairs, and much too absorbed in their interaction hadn't seemed to realize they were obstructing her path. And blocking Greta out in the process.

     She huffed. "Do you mind- Hey!"

     Rather than stop, the two boys blew past her on either side, their shoulders crashing into hers as they sneered. Her heart leaped into her throat as she felt herself lose balance. She lost her footing and was sent tumbling backward down a few stairs and onto the landing, a few students slowing her fall. Luckily, she hadn't made it far up the stairs. Had she, and Y/n would have left the school in a wheelchair, or worse.

     "Fuck!"

     Laughter erupted around her and she lay there, the wind knocked out of her. The two boys never even acknowledged the damage they had caused and they were well on their way to the exit of the school. Figures.

     "Hey, are y-y-you, o-okay?" Y/n peered up and saw four boys hurrying down the steps towards her.

     One of the boys, Richie Tozier, she recognized. At Derry High School, it was almost impossible not to know about the trash mouth, but she also had a handful of classes with him. They had even been partnered up once at the beginning of the year.

     Y/n had a hard time figuring out what he actually sounded like that day, he kept switching between so many different accents.

     "I'm fine," She sat up abruptly, wincing and hissed in pain, clutching her elbow.

     "You sure?" Asked the curly-haired boy, who was peeking his slightly over his friends. "That was some fall you took."

     "You know toots, when people come barreling towards me, I usually get out of the way, but you know, that's just me." Said Richie, readjusting his glasses.

     Y/n rolled her eyes, huffing. "Ever learn how to shut up, Tozier?"

     "Nah, still trying to crack that one."

     Eddie, who had been unusually quiet, hesitantly brought his hand out to her to help her up. She took it gratefully, forcing a smile, still wincing from her fall. And Y/n muttered a thanks.

     The poor hypochondriac boy realized what he had done and quickly reached into his fanny pack, grabbing his pocket-sized hand sanitizer. He squeezed a small amount into his palm and quickly rubbed it into his hands frantically, though a small blush resided on his cheeks.

     Y/n would have taken slight offense to the kid's actions but she was far too distracted by the fact that Greta had gotten away.

     She was probably terrorizing Beverly right now, Y/n thought.

     "Are you sure you're okay? That looked like a really bad fall." Stan asked.

     Y/n forced another smile as she rotated her ankle wincing. "Yeah, I'm fine thanks. Look I rea-"

     Eddie, whose voice finally caught up with his brain, began speaking rapidly, cutting her off unintentionally.

     "You should take extra precaution with your ankle for a while. Did you know over one million stair related injuries occur every year, and people who have them, statistically speaking are more likely to experience another incident due to injury from the first fall?"

     Y/n blinked a few times, still trying to catch up with his words. Richie and Stan smirked at one another and Bill looked between his friend and the baffled girl before him. Bill remembered how it was hearing Eddie speak for the first time. It took him a couple of weeks before he could hold a conversation with him without asking him to repeat himself.

     "Uh, yeah, I think I heard that somewhere, thanks. I'll keep an eye on it. Uh, listen, thanks for the concern, and the help, but I really gotta go," Y/n said quickly, not as fast, but close to, Eddie's speed.

     The unexpected response triggered a few raised eyebrows among the three boys, and a small smile formed on Eddie's face.

     Y/n nodded and gestured to the top of the stairs behind them.

     "Excuse me," She said, pushing her way through between Eddie and Stan.

     Eddie and the rest of the boys turned and watched as she squeezed through the flood of students like a fish swimming upstream. Eventually, they saw her [b/t] figure disappear into the crowd at the top of the stairs.

     Without his eyes leaving the spot through which she disappeared, Eddie spoke up.

     "Hey, Richie, who was that?"

     Richie looked between his best friend and the stairs.

     "Y/n L/n. Why? You want to get in her pants?" He chuckled.

     Eddie's face scrunched up and he shook his head feverishly, though it didn't stop Richie from noticing the pinkish hue creeping up on Eddie's cheeks and Richie suddenly regretted his joke.

     "Aw, nothing to be ashamed of Eds. We're happy you're finally going after a woman that's not your mother!" Richie said, plastering on a smirk.

     Eddie then launched into a lecture about the nickname and the four boys continued downstairs.

     Meanwhile, at just past the top of the stairs Y/n approached the bathroom just as Greta and her posse were leaving. They were snickering and Greta met Y/n's eye and burst into laughter, her friends following suit.

     "Oh, crap." Y/n took off into the bathroom.

     "Beverly?"

     Y/n didn't need to hear a response to figure out where her friend was. She winced when she saw the water pooling out from the far right stall. Mixed into it were various pieces of garbage that were floating amongst it.

     "Beverly? It's me, come on open up," Y/n knocked softly on the stall, and she took a step back when it swung open.

     There Beverly stood, her legs and the end of her dress soaked and dripping. Beverly looked at her best friend, a deadpan look on her face. She held her drenched backpack out away from herself, it swung slightly where the handle was hooked around her finger. There were wet napkins and paper towels that still clung to her backpack.

     "Shit, I'm sorry. I tried going after her, but I... guess I fell short." Y/n chuckled weakly at her own joke, but quickly shook her head. "Never mind. Here, let's get you dried off."

×××

     "Best feeling in the world,"

     Stan emptied the contents of his backpack into the trashcan in the courtyard, his friends did the same.

     Richie turned to his friend, putting his backpack back on.

     "Yeah? Try tickling your pickle for the first time."

     Eddie, who was used to ignoring the cheeky quips from Richie, turned to the others.

     "Hey, what do you guys want to do tomorrow?"

     Richie looked to Eddie, answering as if it was the most obvious thing in the universe.

     "I start my training."

     "Wait, what training?"

     "Street Fighter."

     "Is that how you wanna spend your summer? Inside of an arcade?"

     Without missing a beat, Richie replied and shrugged.

     "Beats spending it inside your mother," he turned to Stan, waiting for a high five.

     Without a thought, Stan forced Richie's arm down, and the conversation continued.

     "What if we go to the quarry?" He asked.

     Bill leaned slightly on the trashcans as he replied.

     "Guys, we have the b-b-ba-barrens,"

     An awkward silence fell over them and Stan nodded in understanding. "Right."

     At that moment, Eddie caught sight of a woman standing on the sidewalk, her eyes puffy from crying. They were accompanied by bags under them, and she waited with the police. She scanned the entryway, hoping to find a familiar face.

     Eddie nodded. "Betty Ribosome's mom,"

     The boys all turned to follow his eye.

     "Is she really expecting to see her come out of that school?" Stan asked sadly.

     "I don't know," Eddie muttered. "As if Betty Ripsome's been hiding in Home Ec. for the last few weeks."

     "You think they'll actually find her?"

     Richie answered immediately, with a slight scoff.

     "Sure. In a ditch. All decomposed, covered in worms and maggots, smelling like Eddie's mom's underwear."

     Eddie cringed and began sputtering. "Shut up! That's fricking disgusting."

     "S-she’s not dead." Bill urged. "S-sh-she's just m-missing."

     Richie adjusted his glasses nervously, and he felt a twinge of guilt knowing he hit a sore subject with his friend. Bill was still insistent that his own younger brother was still missing. After his little brother's disappearance months ago, still hoping he was out there somewhere.

     "Sorry, Bill. She's missing."

     Another silence fell over the four friends. They began walking away towards their bikes.

     "You know, the Barrens aren't that bad," Richie began. "Who doesn't love splashing around in shitty water?"

     Richie was stopped in his tracks, a hand had reached out and grabbed his backpack, and before he knew it he was thrown into Stan and the two boys fell in the grass.

     Patrick Hockstetter kneeled over Stan. He wore a wicked grin and was waving his kippah in his face. "Nice frisbee, flamer."

     Stan reached desperately for it, but Patrick kept it well out of his reach. "Give it back!"

     He rose to his feet and tossed the kippah straight into an open window of a passing school bus. "Fucking losers!"

     Eddie was too distracted to notice Belch Huggins creep up behind him. He burped into his face, causing him to gag profusely and Belch gave him a shove.

     Henry Bowers, the leader of the little gang and the one who knocked over Stan and Richie, stormed passed the boys. Bill went red in the face with anger and he shouted after them.

     "Y-y-you, s-s-s-suck, Bowers!"

"Shut up, Bill!" Richie warned.

     But it was too late, Henry and his friends stopped in their tracks, turning around to face the stuttering boy.

     "You suh-suh-suh-say something, buh-buh-buh-Billy?" He asked, feigning a stutter.

     He stalked towards him, towering over him menacingly.

     "You got a free ride this year 'cause of your little brother. Ride's over, Denbrough."

     Henry caught the noise of indistinct radio chatter and he looked past Bill, at his father, the chief of police. The scruffy man took off his glasses and glared at his son. Henry tried to shake it off but he backed up slightly.

     "This summer's gonna be a hurt train, for you and your faggot friends."

     Henry licked his palm and wiped it across Bill's face. Patrick snickered and three bullies retreated the car, where their other friend Victor Criss was waiting.

     Stan and Richie joined Bill and Eddie's side, glaring after the Bowers Gang.

     "I wish he'd go missing," Richie muttered.

     Eddie nodded. "He's probably the one doing it."

×××

     Ben Hanscom grabs the handles of his bike with one hand and carefully moves it out of the rack. He was balancing a diorama of the Derry Standpipe in his other hand. He looked around the courtyard briefly, seeing the noiseless chatter of students around him as his music blasts in his ears. Completely unaware he and his bike were blocking the stairs.

     A now somewhat dry Beverly Marsh stood on the stairs waiting to pass. Y/n, who had helped her dry off in the bathroom, had promptly realized she never had the chance to clean out her locker. The duo decided to meet each other at their shared apartment complex. To kick off the summer break, Beverly was going to stay at Y/n's apartment for the night, and get a much-deserved break from her father.

     Beverly prickled at the small obstacle. She was impatient from the day's events and to get home and grab a change of clothes before her father got home from work. Eager to disappear to Y/n's next door. But the boy blocking the stairs didn't seem to know he was even doing it.

      "You gonna let me go by?" Beverly asked, bringing him out of his stupor. "Or is there a secret password or something?"

     Ben turned suddenly, and when he saw who it was before him, his stomach did flips and his heart was aflutter. He harbored a crush for the girl, ever since he first laid eyes on her in class. She never failed to make him blush, just with a simple look.

     "Oh," he turned his head down to the ground quickly to hide his scarlet face. "Um, sorry,"

     "Sorry's not," She trailed off when the diorama he had been holding fell to the ground, and he scrambled to pick it up. "password."

     Just as he had picked up his diorama, his bike fell to the ground. She felt a wave of guilt for being snarky, he was clearly sorry and at this point she knew, he had enough on his plate. Someone they both had to worry about. Henry Bowers.

     "Henry and his goons are over by the west entrance, so you should be fine," she eased, and Ben looked at her taken aback.

     "Oh, I wasn't--"

     "Everyone knows he's looking for you," she nodded.

     Ben sighed and shied away. She smiled and took a few steps forward, grabbing the headphones off his head.

     "What you listening to?"

     Ben was in shock, but he stood still waiting for the inevitable teasing she would bring. But instead she smiled brightly, making his heart pound faster and he could feel his face grow hotter.

     "New Kids on The Block," She took the headphones back off.

     "I don't even like them. I was just--"

     "Wait. You're the new kid, right? Now I get it."

     His heart sunk.

     "There's nothing to get."

     "I'm just messing with you," she assured.

     She placed the headphones on top of his head, and he promptly grabbed them, wrapping them around his head as best he could with one hand.

     "I'm Beverly Marsh"

     "Yeah. I know that 'cause we're in the same class. Social Studies. And you were..." he trailed off, and shook his head slightly. "I'm Ben. But pretty much everybody just calls me..."

     "The new kid," Beverly finished, nodded in understanding. "Well, Ben, there are worse things to be called. Let me sign this."

     She stepped forward, grabbing the yearbook she had spotted sticking out of his backpack. Bev eagerly opened it up to the front and her face fell seeing nothing but blank pages save for the word typed in black ink, 'Autographs'. Grabbing the pen from her belt, she bit the cap and held it between her teeth as she signed her name, unknowingly being watched in admiration by Ben. His eyes just poking up from the book.

     She recapped the pen and handed the yearbook back to Ben. "Stay cool, Ben from sosh class."

     "Uh, yeah," He turned to watch her leave, smiling brightly after her. "You too, Beverly."

     As he watched her walk away, she called without turning her head, acknowledging his response. "Hang tough, new kid on the block."

     Ben smirked at her clever reference to the boy bands' song, and a big stupid grin formed on his face. He chuckled, shaking his head softly, not believing his luck and her kindness.

     He called back out to her, moments too late. "Please Don't Go, Girl. That's the name of another New Kids on the Block song,"

     His words trailed off, knowing he had been too late. Hopefully, she hadn't heard it, he thought. And it seemed she hadn't. He shook his head, ashamed but relieved she hadn't heard it. Nevertheless, he had a new firm hand on his bike and diorama, determined not to drop them again and he walked his bike to the entrance, his headphones trailing behind him and his heart still aflutter.

     Who cares that no one else signed my yearbook, he thought. When the only person he actually wanted to, did.

+++

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[holdin-out-for-a-hero]

Rookie (Leon Kennedy X Reader) Chapter 10/?

Words: 2631

Warnings: None

A/N: Sorry it took so long! I had the draft written for over a month before I got around to editing it

You looked down at the Licker's body before you; Its blood and tissue stained your clothes and the floor below. Disgusting. Although the sight before you was truly revolting, you took an audible sign of relief. They're better dead and gross then alive and slightly less gross. Killing the lickers wasn't easy, it required a lot of planning and a rather dramatic gesturing argument with Leon. Your plan was to call them over, and take one out each. Leon wasn't too happy to see those things again, but without a plan of his own, he gave in.

"You're a good shot." He said, still breathless from the adrenaline rush.

"I know," A small smile formed on your lips

"Like a REALLY good shot." he exclaimed "You killed that thing mid-air!"

"My father taught me," the smile on your lips fell away. You missed your dad. And everyone else, too. But this was not the time, you thought.

Leon stepped over both of the carcasses and then waited for you. You took a large step over the first carcass, but then your foot slipped in the pool of blood. Leon tried to catch you, but failed. Instead of falling onto the tile floor, though, you fell face first onto the second licker's corpse. A fate truly worse than death.

"Are you ok?" Leon asked, helping you up. Feeling the blood and goop on your face, you immediately felt like throwing up and crying. Leon wiped away the gore with his gloved hand as you tried hard to swallow what was coming up your throat.

"Do me a favor and shoot me," You said. He chuckled. "I'm not kidding."

"After we get that sample" he held your wrist and the two of you started walking down the hall. Those words stung, though you realize they shouldn’t have. Leon just couldn’t stop thinking about Ada, could he?

"She's really got a hold you, huh?" You remarked under your breath. Leon turned to you.

"This is for the government. This is so raccoon city never happens again. You know it’s the truth.” His words echoed though the hall, they stung as well.

"Never mind, forget I said it."

The two of you walked in an uncomfortable silence, around a corner, and down another hall.

"Would you feel better if I let you kiss me too?" Leon spoke up, that devious grin on his lips.

"No!"

You eventually found the nap room. And yes, it was a literal nap room. The right side of the room had a few pods built into the walls for sleeping. Most of them were open, except for one. A decaying hand dangled out of the only closed pod, dripping blood onto the floor. Was this the person who never checked out of the nap room, Wayne Li?

Leon slowly opened the pod because he too was curious (and he was running low on bullets and really hoped this person had a few with them). The body slumped out of the pod, falling face first on the floor and making a sickening splat sound. You couldn't look at it, not after the noise it just made, so you looked into the pod instead. There, you found a journal. Flipping through a few pages, you confirmed your suspicions. This was Wayne Li, and apparently he had a god complex. Man, scientists are really big headed, you thought. Was it wrong to insult the dead like that? Probably.

"Yes!" Leon whispered.

You looked over. He pried a gun from the dead man's hand and a package of bullets from the lab coat pocket. You noted how wrong this looked, two people stealing loot from dead bodies. And two cops, no less. It's funny how a zombie apocalypse can completely change your values. Then you noticed the blue flashing chip on his wristband. A security chip, high clearance, no doubt. So you took that too.

The two of you continued through the lab, entering a large, central area. It had a bridge that led to an elevator and a platform that you assumed would activate the bridges to the other parts of the lab. You looked down below the bridge, darkness shrouded the bottom, if there even was one. A fall from there would definitely be deadly, you though. But now is not the time for your fear of heights.

"Ada said it's in the west area," Leon said, you looked up at him. “You’re holding onto that rail pretty tight.” That was when you noticed your white knuckles.

Leon held his hand out to you and his eyes met yours. Slowly, you uncurled your fingers from the rail and grabbed his hand. He smiled at you, leading you across the bridge and to the platform. He needs to stop being so nice and cute all the time, you thought, because you could tell you were falling for him fast.

Leon scanned Ada’s wristband against the sensor, but unfortunately the security level wasn't high enough for the West area. He scanned it against the other sensor, and it unlocked the East area. Hopefully you'd find a higher clearance chip somewhere in the East area.

The two of you walked to the very back of the lab and scanned your wristband against the door's sensor. You were not prepared for what was inside. As the double doors slid away, all you could see was green. Though most of the foliage was behind a glass, it looked as though it was pouring out of any crack it could find, leaving stray vines hanging from the ceiling and coming up through the floor. Then you saw it, how could you have missed it? Right in the middle of the room, a man in a hazmat suit was pressed up against the cracked glass by whatever plant was overtaking the lab. A purple light flashed from the man's wrist. Your heart sunk. As much as you didn't want to retrieve the wristband from that death trap, there was no other chip: you had already checked the rest of the lab.

You looked over to Leon, and he to you.

"Well, you know what that means," he chuckled nervously. You groaned.

"Could this night get any worse?" You asked. Yes, it could. And it would.

You and Leon fought your way into the chamber with a can of gasoline and a lighter you found. Then you realized you couldn't reach the guy with the wristband, so you fooled around with some of the lab stuff and accidentally sprayed pesticides into the entire chamber. Luckily that solved your problem, and the corpse fell to the floor of the chamber. All the while, you were collecting emails and records from the computers around the lab. And now, with the wristband and a newfound fear of bushes, you headed towards the west area.

You held your wristband up to the door, and it buzzed open. This side of the lab, or at least what you had seen of it, was way different from the first side. There was a sanitation station at the entrance along with a cart full of hazmat suits. You could tell that whatever was in this side of the lab was probably not something you’d want to mess with.

You were right. The west side of the lab was far more interesting that the East, and not in a good way. The files you found on the computers detailed the disturbing experiments carried out on real human beings, and pods on the wall held some of their “successes,” which were mutated mounds of flesh and body parts. This, you knew, would haunt your nightmares for a long time.

The two of you reached the back of the lab, where one vial was left in a large centrifuge. Leon picked it out of the container. He observed the label, noticing the large letter G.

"That was easy," he said, looking back to you.

"Don't speak too soon, I have a bad feeling about this," you replied. As if on cue, the intercoms played a message:

"Attention: Unauthorized removal of a level 4 virus detected. Facility lockdown initiated. Self destruct sequence will begin when lockdown is complete."

Leon's heart sank when he heard the message. Of course this would happen, because nothing was gonna be easy in raccoon city. In fact, nothing has been easy all night. He questioned whether the universe wanted him to make it out alive since so many curveballs have come his way.

"Let's find Ada!" He said to you as he ran down the hall. You followed behind, trying to keep pace with him. You entered another platform room that led to the other side of the lab, running across the metal and praying to God you would be fast enough. You were so close to the next door, getting closer, and closer.

Then the ceiling behind you fell in. And a familiar face rose from the dust. Or rather, what was left of his mutating face. Birkin.

"You again," Leon clenched his jaw, glaring back at the creature that just wouldn't die. He raised his gun. Then the door behind him beeped open

"Move. He's mine!" A woman's voice yelled. You looked around. It was Annette. She limped in front of Leon, holding out a strange gun of her own. "This has to end."

She shot him. Not with a bullet, but a strange acid or serum. Whatever it was, it had Birkin writing on the ground in pain.

"What's going on?" Leon said, but it fell on deaf ears. Annette took another step forward towards the creature.

"Sorry William, you gave me no choice," She said to it. The creature stopped moving, and Leon walked around the creature with his gun trained on it. You walked behind him, pulling out your own in the process. When Leon was content it wouldn't be getting up any time soon, he squatted to take a better look at the monster in front of him.

"You called this thing 'William,' why?"

Annette didn't acknowledge him. She shook her head, looking down.

"It shouldn't have ended like this," she whispered.

"Shouldn't have ended like what?" You spoke up.

"It's Umbrella's fault, this whole mess!" She seethed. You don't know if she was answering your question or not, she didn't seem like she was listening.

"You're Umbrella too." Leon said.

"Yeah, and YOU made this virus," you added.

"William and I made the virus, but we never meant for this to happen!" He voice cracked as she yelled and you notice the tears running down her face.

There was a pause in the conversation. Annette's fierce eyes burned into your soul as she tried to control her ragged breathing. This took you by surprise, because in your first interaction with her, she didn't act very human. But now, you could feel her guilt, and you could feel her loss. Whoever William was, he was important to her.

"Tell us everything that happened— every detail," Leon said calmly and firmly. He definitely had the mannerisms of a cop, you thought. She took a couple deep breaths, and began to speak.

"The government was onto Umbrella, they have been for a while now," she paused, putting together her thoughts, "William was going to turn G in to the government for immunity. Umbrella heard about it and sent their special ops team in to take him down. When they raided the lab, I knew what they were there for, so I ran to find William," she choked down a sob, "I was too late, they had shot him and he had just injected himself with G.”

"So this is your fault? You created this monstrosity?" Leon accused.

"We made the G-Virus, but we never intended for this to happen!" She replied in a venomous tone.

You were listening to them argue, when you saw something out of the corner of your eye. Something moved, something in William's direction. It took you a second to piece together what was happening, it was a second too long.

"You could spin it anyway you want, you're still responsible,"

The monster rose, grabbing Annette with its clawed hand. He squeezed her tight, as she struggled to get out of his grasp. Then, he threw her against the opposite door. Her body crumpled to the ground.

The creature turned, looking at you with its many eyes. Then, it lunged at you, trying to grab you too. You screamed as you fell backwards into the floor, your abdomen grazed by it's claws. Your stomach burned as you felt your shirt grow wet, you looked down to see the tear that traveled from your bra to top of your pants.

"Y/N, get out of the way!" Leon yelled. Then you saw its claws coming at you again. You backed away as quickly as you could, though the shock of your wound kicked in, making it hard to focus on anything but the searing pain.

"Over here you ugly bastard!" Leon yelled, trying to get William away from you.

Anette slowly got up from the ground, holding her bloody side. Using all the strength she had, she trudged over to a control panel and pressed a button.

"He can't get away," she said to herself.

Suddenly, red flashed through the room and the platform you were on descended to the bottom of the lab. The lights, the pain, and the panic disoriented you.

But then you saw Leon. He was using the last of his shotgun shells to take down the monster, to keep it away from you. And then you realized:

You had feelings for him.

You had only known him for a night, but what had happened—and is still happening— in that night would surely keep you bonded for life. Maybe it was an adrenaline-fueled infatuation, you didn't care. You knew how you felt.

The platform was floor lever now, so you stepped off, one hand clutching your bleeding stomach and one hand wielding your gun.

Whatever it was, it was getting too close to Leon for your liking.

"Hey ugly! Over hee-ere!" You yelled in a sing-song voice. The creature turned around, stomping over towards you. Thank God you were a good shot.

"What are you doing?!" Leon yelled.

"I'm not letting it hurt you!" You yelled back.

"But that's what I was doing for you!"

Then you thought of a plan.

"Leon, divide and conquer!" You yelled.

So the two of you bombarded the creature on both sides, filling him with bullets and trying to light him on fire with your gasoline and lighter. Don't get me wrong, though, this was not a fair fight. William was fast and had inhuman strength He tore equipment from the ground to throw at the two of of you like it was nothing. You were also at a disadvantage with your injury, making your pace slower. Still, somehow the two of you remained unscathed. And by the grace of God, you defeated it. As you watched Williams body crumble to the floor, you made a note to go to church again after all this was over.

"You still in one piece? How’s your stomach?” Leon asked, walking past William and over to you.

"It’s just a scratch,” you replied, looking down at your would. The bleeding had stopped, and it looked like it was already scabbing up.

Leon grinned at you, still breathing heavily. That stupid smile of his. Perhaps it was best that you never got to work with him, because you knew if you had seen that smile at the precinct, you would have fallen helplessly in love. You could even hear Marvin yelling at you for it.

“Then lets get going”

[1heartfanfics]

Criminal Minds 4x24

SPOILERS: This is an alternate scene to 4x24 where Reid gets exposed to anthrax. 

“Morgan don’t come in here!” Reid shouted. 

“What? Hey, kid let me in,” Morgan pounded on the glass. What the hell was the kid doing?

“No, Morgan-” 

Derek cut him off, “Open this door right now Reid.”

“Morgan,” Reid said seriously, putting his hand flat up against the glass. Derek took a step back, raising his hands as if to say ‘okay fine’. Then he looked behind Reid and saw the shattered test tube on the ground, white powder spilling out onto the floor. Immediately he looked up to the vent on the ceiling to check for exactly what he was afraid of. Air flowing.

“Shit Reid, what did you do?” he sighed. 

“I screwed up Morgan. I screwed up,” Reid shook his head, gaze moving to the floor. 

“Hey, kid, it’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna call Hotch and then we’ll get an ambulance and get you out of here,” Morgan said, trying to remain calm.

“No. I’m gonna stay right here,” Reid said firmly.

“What? Like hell you are,” Morgan scoffed. 

“Morgan I’m already exposed, and I’ve got a few hours before symptoms start, I might as well stay here and work the case,” he explained. 

Derek sighed, “I don’t like this.”

“I know, but the cure is probably here somewhere. This is my best bet and you know it,”

Morgan leaned forward, placing his fist on the glass near where Reid’s hand was. His heart was pounding and he felt like he was having trouble breathing right. This kid was like his little brother, if anything happened to him...

“You go call Hotch and tell him what happened and I’ll look around in here, see if I can find anything helpful,” Reid said, sounding calm despite the fear in his eyes. 

“Okay right,” Morgan said, taking a deep breath. Pull it together, the kid needs you, he told himself. “I’ll be right back, you hang in there okay?”

Reid nodded and gave him a wry smile. Morgan gave him a nod back then headed down the sidewalk to the SUV and dialed Hotch. 

“Morgan, anything?” Hotch answered.

“Yeah, we’ve got a situation though,” Morgan said. “Reid knocked over a tube in the lab. White powder on the floor, air flowing. But the guy’s in there, dead,”

“So he’s not our guy but someone who knew him was,” Hotch said.

“Hotch, did you not hear what I just said? Reid’s exposed,” Morgan exclaimed. Hotch can be so unfeeling sometimes.

“Yes, I heard you. Get him out of there and to a hospital. Hopefully what we took this morning will protect him enough,” Hotch said.

“He wants to stay, work the case from in there, since he’s already exposed. Said they can’t help him at the hospital,” Morgan explained.

“True, the cure is probably in there with him somewhere,” Hotch agreed.

“Yeah that’s what he said, but Hotch I don’t like this,” Morgan sighed, pressing his other hand to his leg to still it’s shaking. The kid is about the only thing that gets him shaken up anymore.

“I don’t like it either, but Reid’s right. Let him do his thing, he’ll figure this out. I’ll get medics there standing by for whenever Reid can get out of there. Meantime, get back to the station and-”

Morgan cut his boss off, “I’m staying right here Hotch. Not gonna leave the kid in there by himself like this.”

“Okay, keep me updated,” Hotch said before hanging up. Wow, he’d expected that to be a lot more of an argument. He forced himself to take a few deep breaths, then walked back over to join Reid. 

“How we doing Reid?” Morgan called through the door, rapping on it with his knuckles. 

“I found what looks like a dissertation paper that someone was working on, the handwriting is definitely different,” Reid said.

“So he was working with a student?” Morgan asked.

“Most likely. That would make sense, someone he was kind of, mentoring,” Reid broke off to cough.

“Kid, you okay?” Morgan asked, leaning into the glass as much as he could, hand cupped over his eyes to see in. God he wished he was in there with him. Reid was already starting to look sweaty and shaky. He didn’t have as much time as he thought he did. 

“Yeah, fine,” Reid lied, stubborn as always. 

“Okay, is there a name or anything else we can use to identify this guy?” 

“I don’t- I don’t know,” Reid said, stumbling and catching himself on the counter.

“Alright, okay, that’s okay. The rest of the team will figure it out, but you gotta find that cure okay?” Morgan said, fighting to keep his voice steady.

“I, I don’t know. I can’t think straight,” Reid broke off into a coughing fit again, hand gripping the edge of the counter tightly.

“Hey, come on kid, the Reid I know wouldn’t give up, he’d keep looking and figure this out,” Morgan said, bordering on desperation.

Reid sighed, “Okay, okay let’s see.” He pushed away from the counter and walked shakily back over to the lab station. “It’s probably in something conspicuous, that no one would expect right?” 

“Right. It would probably be a common object that no one would think to look at. But you aren’t just anyone, you’ll know it when you see it Reid,” Morgan said, trying to stay positive. 

As he watched Reid fumble around, papers flying onto the ground in his frenzy to find it, he heard the ambulance pulling into the drive. Thank the lord, he thought. Reid was running out of time and they both knew it. 

“Inhaler?” Reid asked, holding it up.

“Maybe, yeah. That would work,” Morgan agreed.

“Let’s hope I’m right,” Reid said, leaning against the door for support. 

“Medics!” Morgan called, waving an arm to get their attention. “Get him outta there!” 

“I don’t feel so good Morgan,” Reid said, his face now ashen gray, hair matted to his forehead with sweat.

“I know kid, we’re gonna get you out of there now, just try to hang on,” Morgan replied. 

“He’s in there?” the sanitation team came up behind him and started setting up a tent for Reid.

“Yes. And get that inhaler in his hand sent to the lab for testing immediately, he thinks it’s the cure,” Morgan ordered. 

“Yes sir,” the leader of the team nodded as everyone set to work. “You’ll have to go stand back at your vehicle until he’s being sanitized,” he added.

“Alright Reid, I’ve gotta go away for a minute but I’ll be back as soon as I can okay?” Morgan turned his attention back to Reid, who nodded, but didn’t really seem super comprehensive anymore. He was fading fast. 

Morgan walked back down the path to the SUV and waited, pacing back and forth anxiously. He sent the team a message saying that Reid might’ve found the cure and was being prepped to be taken to the hospital, as well as everything he’d found out about the partner. Then he just had to wait until he was given the all clear. 

As soon as he was notified that Reid was out and in the containment of the tent he jogged over to where they were hosing the kid down. Reid glanced up at him and gave a sad smile. He actually looked a little better than he had earlier, maybe it had just been nerves getting to him. 

“How you doing kid?” he asked.

“You should go back to the station, help the team,” Reid said.

“Not a chance Reid, I’m staying right here,” he shook his head.

“Morgan. They’re about to take off all my clothes and scrub me down, you really want to be here for that?” Reid told him dryly. 

“I’ll turn around. But I’m not leaving you,” Morgan said firmly. 

Reid sighed, “Thank you.”

As much as Reid didn’t want to admit it, he was terrified. He could feel the chemicals shutting down his body, getting closer and closer to dying every second. It was only a matter of time before the symptoms set it worse than they already had. 

“I”m right here kid,” Morgan said, turning around as he promised, to spare both of them the awkwardness. 

Once Reid was completely cleaned and covered, Morgan followed him into the ambulance, hopping up to sit on the opposite side as the doctor who’d accompanied them. 

“How are you doing Dr. Reid?” the doctor asked as soon as the vehicle started moving.

“I feel fi, fine feel, I fore fine, fe-” Reid choked on his words, unable to get them out. His eyes went wide, panic stricken. His hand flailed towards Morgan, searching for something to grab onto as he was taken with a coughing fit, blood splattering down on the blanket covering him. 

“Reid? Reid hey, stay with me,” Morgan said desperately, grabbing the kid’s hand in his own to help hold him steady as the doctor wiped the blood away and pulled an oxygen mask over his face. 

“Try to stay calm Dr. Reid,” she told him as she began putting an IV to give him something for the pain.

“No. You can’t give him narcotics,” Derek said once he realized what she was doing.

“He’s in an extreme amount of pain,” she protested, looking shocked. 

“I know. He wouldn’t want them,” Derek sighed, hating to see the kid in so much pain but knowing Reid would never forgive him if he let her give him drugs.

Morgan watched in fear as Reid writhed and struggled the whole way to the hospital. He finally faded into unconsciousness as they pulled up to the ambulance bay, and he was actually grateful, as much as it scared him. At least he wasn’t suffering for the time being. 

“Is he gonna be okay?” Morgan asked, hopping down out of the vehicle as they carted Reid into the hospital.

“We should have the results back from the lab soon and hopefully that’ll be the cure. Otherwise I don’t know agent, the cipro you all took this morning obviously isn’t effective,” she told him honestly. 

“You’ll have to stay here agent, sorry, we’ll come get you as soon as he’s stable and in a room,” a doctor informed him, pushing him back from the hallway they were carting Reid down. 

Morgan nodded, feeling tears come to his eyes. He quickly swiped them away before dialing in the team. 

“How’s Reid?” it was JJ who’d answered first, the rest of the team patching in quickly after.

“He got a lot worse on the way to the hospital. They just took him away but if this cure doesn’t work...” he choked out, voice cracking.

“Oh god,” JJ breathed out.

“The cure will work, we have to believe that,” Hotch said, the level headed one as always. 

“It has to,” Prentiss echoed. They were all scared, he could hear it in their voices. Even Hotch.

“Keep us updated Morgan,” 

As soon as he hung up the phone there was a frenzy of people running around him and down the hallway. Oh god, did something happen? Just as he was about to take off down the hall, rules be damned, the doctor from earlier grabbed his arm. 

“We got the lab results, the cure works. Your friend will be fine, come with me,” she said, out of breath from running. The two of them took off down the hallway along with everyone else who was desperately trying to save the few other patients who were left. 

When they got to Reid’s room, she quickly injected the anecdote into Reid’s IV, then gave Morgan a pat on the shoulder, before heading out of the room to tend to the other patients. Morgan sunk down into the chair next to Reid’s bed, having never felt so relieved. He’d really though they were gonna lose him for a minute there. 

He quickly called the team to let them know that Reid was going to be fine, then settled into the chair. He was not going anywhere until the kid woke up, he’d stay right by his side. 

[janelevy]

Jealous Reesker? maybe confessing their feelings after one is asked out by someone else? Thanks!

Sarah knows it isn’t fair to claim somebody when she’s never even made a move yet, but she can’t help it. Ava is hers, damn it, or at least she wants her to be— and that’s enough to satisfy the idyllic little fantasy world she’s built up in her head. One where Sarah knows how to confess her feelings, and Ava feels the same way, and they’re happy girlfriends driving to work together and singing the same songs and going to try every new café that opens in the blocks surrounding Med.

But that fantasy world doesn’t exist, and it never will, because Sarah can’t speak or make eye contact with Ava without feeling like she could throw up. And, for all she knows, Ava is probably repulsed by her and only works with her on consults when she absolutely has to and can’t pass the job off to someone else. 

Sarah remembers when she watched Ava perform a surgery for the first time. It was on Sarah’s patient, a child who was brought in by her parents after showing symptoms of mild psychosis. Then out of nowhere, the seven-year-old fainted soon after adding chest pain and a blood-laced cough to her list of grievances. Cue emergency surgery with the CT surgeon on call— a Dr. Bekker.

If she was asked to paint a picture of that scene from memory alone, Sarah could. Every last detail is etched into her mind: the look of keen concentration in Ava’s eyes, accompanied by a surprising nimbleness and ease in the way her gloved hands commanded the scalpel and other tools. Of course Sarah has always harbored a deep admiration for surgeons, but this one was on an entirely different level. Sarah wanted to know her better. For a while she was able to use their mutual connection to the seven-year-old patient to keep meeting up with Ava, but once she was discharged, Sarah became determined to find other ways to hear Dr. Bekker’s silky accent, to see that golden-brown hair dripping down her shoulders like heated caramel, to smell that perfume under layers of hand sanitizer. Eventually, her efforts to always see her developed into a strong friendship.

But that just couldn’t be enough for Sarah, could it? Of course not.

It’s the end of a long day when Sarah catches up with Ava outside. She feels her aching muscles perk up immediately upon spotting her friend, and she hoists her bag higher on her shoulder before making a beeline for her. However, it’s only when Sarah is within hearing range that she notices Ava isn’t alone. She’s talking to somebody who’s hidden behind one of the building’s pillars.

Out of politeness, Sarah decides to leave Ava be for tonight and adjusts her path so she’s once again heading for the parking lot. But then a snippet of Ava’s conversation snags onto Sarah’s ears, and she freezes a few feet away, risking a glance over her shoulder.

Ava’s talking to Crockett Marcel, one of the night shift trauma surgeons who filled in the hole Connor left when he took the Mayo Clinic job. Sarah likes him well enough, but she’s only run into him a handful of times and thus doesn’t have enough familiarity to fairly assess his character yet. But a quick once-over of his body language now makes the back of Sarah’s neck prickle. He’s leaning on the column, a lopsided smirk drawn on his lips. Those movements are as obvious as him plainly stating to Ava, “I’m into you.” The hand he rakes through his hair the very next second is just icing on the cake.

“… anyway, since you’re off Wednesday, I was wonderin’ if you wanted to have lunch with me. Y’know, I hold a record for assembling a po’ boy in under thirty seconds, and my po’ boys are pretty delicious—”

“So I’ve heard,” Ava responds. “I’m sorry I missed your crawfish boil last week. From what I heard it was a lot of fun.”

“And delicious,” Crockett supplies.

“But I’m afraid I’ll have to miss this date as well,” Ava says. Her voice is even as it always is, never once dipping into regret or a sincere apology. That alone makes Sarah all the more curious. She loves that Ava doesn’t bother to entertain him with an excuse— but at the same time, that leaves Sarah wondering what that excuse is.

Crockett clears his throat. “Oh, well I’m sorry to hear that. Another time, then.”

“Another time,” Ava replies.

Before Sarah realizes it and can cover up her obvious eavesdropping, the conversation is over and Ava’s expensive Nikes are stepping in her direction.

“Hello,” Ava says to Sarah’s back. “What’re you up to, Reese cup?”

Sarah spins around and judging by the bronze glint in Ava’s eyes, they both equally know the answer to that question. Why else would Sarah be standing in the middle of the sidewalk alone? Hot shame creeps up Sarah’s neck in a blush, and she pushes her curls forward to hopefully cover it up.

“Uh, hey,” she answers between steadying breaths. “Just… walking to the parking lot. You know how it is.”

“I suppose I do,” Ava chuckles. “Well, I was on my way to do the same. Care to join me?” She holds out her arm, and with a touch of hesitation Sarah accepts it, linking them together.

They only make it about five paces before Sarah can’t suppress her envy any longer. Crockett’s drawl is clinging to her ears like pesky cobwebs, and it wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for that flirtatious tone he adopted towards Ava.

The trigger is pulled when Ava comments, “You’re being so quiet. Everything okay?”

“Actually, um,” Sarah brings them both to a halt and heaves a sigh. “I just— Dr. Marcel. Was he— are you two a thing?”

Ava stiffens. “So what if we are?”

“Because…” Sarah’s eyes flick to the ground, then back up to Ava. “I— I know it’s not my place, Ava, but— I think you could do better than him. And I don’t… I don’t like seeing—”

“Whoa, whoa, hold on. Sarah, when it comes to genuine Cajun cooking in Chicago, I doubt I can do better than Crockett,” Ava says.

Sarah feels her forehead crinkle. “You know that’s not what I’m talking about,” she mutters.

“Let me finish. When it comes to a relationship, he’s not what I want.” Ava lowers her voice probably in an attempt to soothe, and it works because Sarah quite likes that this conversation is theirs alone; nobody else can hear what they’re saying. Ava’s words are for her ears only.

“What do you want, then?”

Ava slides closer to her. “Who do you think, Reese cup?”

Rather than tiptoeing around it, Sarah takes a leap and leans in and kisses her. Ava returns the gesture wholeheartedly, and with that the question is answered.