#somehow going to the grocery store always ends up with me having a headache or becoming extremely irritable

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #395

I seem to be a bit deflated today, too.

I think it can be traced to today's early wake time. J wanted to go out in the airplane today, so I got up early even though I went to bed late. I had a dream that was... strange. I was at a grocery store that was also somehow a museum (I guess Mitsuwa almost fits that description)...? There was the grocery section, and like any grocery section, it has a florist section that also contains a handful of items suitable to be gifted to someone.

Among these gifts was a box that contained a big mug (bigger than my fancy glass one!) with a strange design on it. It was a white-and-rainbow-colored... dragon... ring...??? Flying over a verdant meadow. It was scaly and... tubular like a Chinese dragon. Except it had no head or tail. It was just... seamlessly joined together in a circle. Like ouroboros, but... not. Because ouroboros has a head and a tail and it's in a circle because it's biting its tail. This was just a single shape. It was weird.

You were next to me, and... in the dream, that felt... normal??? And you were dressed in normal clothes instead of your armor, and you said to me that the mug looks like it suits me, and that I should get it so that we can drink tea together for real.

There was more to the dream, but I forget it. I woke up with an aching sort of longing in my chest as J hugged me awake. I got dressed and ready, and J drove us to the little airport.

Unfortunately, it started to snow. Though the weather forecast was supposed to be good, it still snowed. So, we couldn't go up in the plane. That's all right, though; a drive with J is always nice!

When we got home, I made myself a breakfast out of the things we brought to Je's house when J and I went over there. I made myself an herbal tea, too; I figured the thing to do today is avoid caffeine; I wanna try to get my sleep schedule back on track...

After that... I did not much else. Energy levels are kind of low today. But I did manage to get these very cute pictures of Momma and Mogwai. I got a lot more pictures of Mogwai because he was being a lot more cooperative...

I played a lot of Hades after that, but I didn't do very well because... again, my energy levels are kinda low. I made it to the final boss a couple times, but... then I was dispatched in short order. My timing and reflexes weren't very great today, you see.

...And I seem to have a headache now, too. Hm.

...Maybe I'll go to bed early. Put on the fireplace, get nice and toasty, and nestle under the blankets. I gotta go into work an hour earlier than usual in any case; I'll be waking at probably around 6 or 7 in the morning. I want to make sure I have enough time to eat. Once I'm done with work, I'll have to get some supplies to make baked chicken leg quarters; Ja is popping by for a visit. And I gotta get some little mason jars, too, so I can give the confit garlic to my friends....

...Suppose I'll end this here, then. Though it feels a little too soon...

Hey. I love you a whole lot. Even when my brain is scattered and ouchy. So please stay safe out there, okay? Don't do weird things that'll get you killed. Promise me, all right?

Wish me luck for all my things, tomorrow, okay...? I'll be over here, wishing good fortune and growth and all manner of delightful things upon you, too.

I'll write again soon.

Your friend, Lumine

[ndulie]

A Letter from A Stranger: A Declaration of War

Dated 25 June 2023.

It offers me an opportunity in which I reluctantly declined.

---------------------------

The phone rang at exactly 12.00 PM. I was in the kitchen. Food preparation was almost always time consuming in my humble opinion. It was humid and hot that day. I had a glimpse of myself reflected in the kitchen window as I tried the sauce for the fried chicken. I looked like a mess. I needed to take a quick shower before taking my lunch.

It rang again some fifteen minutes later. I looked up my phone. Looks like I didn't save the number. Only several days ago when I got my headache. It sent a spiralling twist into my vision. The room went dancing and it took me bending up and down in the head. I didn't have time to answer the phone call. So I went upstairs and enjoyed my shower quietly. Water trickled down my ear down to my neck. It was cold and somehow the feeling brought me awake, as if I had been in a deep stupor.

A week later, I remembered it vaguely, I thought I recalled the last three numbers of the caller. It was the same number who called to offer me something yesterday and, maybe, a week ago. My heart went racing fast and I heard myself mumbling a phrase. It was a quote of someone famous, though there was nothing particularly interesting about the quote. It rhimed a bit, a journey of a lifetime started with a dime, whether you are a driver or a passenger.

Whatever took your interest would do. I had a debate with myself for half an hour before letting go of the idea. Sometimes I would like to imagine that the caller has prepared himself at least half a year before calling me. Maybe he was tall and rather muscular, with an ugly moustache covering his jawline. I would never understand what he would mean with anything he tried to offer me. Although maybe merely being interested in the offer shall do the trick. Nothing is as much of interest anymore.

His voice sounded hoarse in my ears. The conversation went short and as he stated his reasons for calling me, I imagined a long road, with soft grass on either side and as the road took on a hike, he pushed a certain term into my perspective. I swore I didn't understand and I was not interested. I said so to him and ended the connection.

And without any reason, I was feeling sad. I couldn't explain it. I wrote a note of everything that bugged me and what not. People talked about days, while sometimes it would only take an hour or less to have your life turned upside down. In my case, it was one phone call from a stranger offering something that I didn't even understand. All the windows opened to a greener landscape seemed to get knocked hard and shattered into pieces. I shall not cry.

Since then, I led pretty much a normal life. However, my mind was very much occupied. As if I had fogs clouding my ability to think clearly. I started very noisy conversations with myself in my head. Questioning what happened with the people around and answering them myself, pretending myself as a detective and ridiculing myself when the logic didn't pan out. There was one time when I promised to meet my mom at the grocery store. When I got there, she was in a middle of a heated debate with an old woman who lived right across the street. She hardly saw the nosy granny, but whenever they had the luxury there were almost always gossips coming out of their talks. My mom and me agreed that she was only jealous of us. The verb online shopping got into my ears and I couldn't shake the feeling that yet again the old granny was trying to sabotage my mom's shopping time to the store. Obviously, she wasn't alone, but what on earth prompted the shop keepers to act as her allies? This was when my skills as a private detective got into the test. I would make double scanning of the details and interviewed my mom with meticulous scrutiny, especially in her choices of words and if she would back up her first statements or if she would change the whole series of events happened within her conversation with the old granny, which was both got my okays.

Sometimes life did not work in black and white: people were complex beings. When things went complicated, I learned to know when to stop. I simply never really gave anything a thought. Things happened so fast and I did not know how to tell the truth from the lies. Having rows with thy neighbor was an everyday measle you needed to take care about. Now you had your sisters as your foes, a friend just lost his money to a scam (this is so not happening! I put my faith on a solid foundation and it was my friend from highschool who introduced me to this new investment.), a long lost brother come back home after a turbulent fight with mom (and not even a phone call for two years, when he knocked on my doorstep), and I couldn't have a good night sleep for weeks. All the while I was trying to keep something at bay. Just so I didn't have to give it a thought. They piled up bit by bit!

I can't breathe.

I thought I have told myself so many times about my condition. I read and re-read my notes: it was about an announcement. A very peculiar one, in my opinion. I should think that the announcement came too soon and I realized almost too late about the truth of the incident. If I could, I would like to acknowledge this to myself: maybe there's no relation whatsoever between the incident and the announcement. Times passed like a blink of an eye and suddenly I was right across the street where I needed to already decide if I should stay where I stood still or took the walk.

(tbc-)

-linda2024

[moonjade]

This might sound odd but does anyone else need to have things go in a certain way before they can do something? I’ll give an example since idk how to word it better. Before I go to sleep at night, I have to watch the same YouTube video at the same time stamps (I start watching in the middle of the video, around the 10:30 timestamp, then from the beginning of the video), then I have to lay on my left side for a few minutes, and then I can finally go to sleep (on my right side). I can’t sleep otherwise. I also have to have a fan going because I can’t sleep without it. But it has to be a certain sound and frequency. Is this normal or 😅

[fbfh]

I think you've horribly misread the situation [shitty roommate pt 2] - leo x reader

wc: 2.3k

genre: contemporary drama, you're definitly going to get second hand embarrassment, cozy fluff

pairing: leo x reader, attempted isabella x leo

reader: gender neutral, they/them

requested: hell yeah

warnings: mild swearing, roommate tries to steal your man once again, mentions of various mainstream vampire media (twilight, the vampire diaries etc.), brief mention of castlevania (even though i haven't seen it yet lol), breif mention of videogames and assassins creed, very mild delusion (roommate is secretly convinced leo is a vampire that's in love with her), attempted age gap relationship (she's 17 and leo's 19, he shuts that down real fast), very bad poetry

summary: You and Leo are both looking foward to spending a long weekend together, and Leo is determined not to let anything interrupt it, even if it means turning down your roommate's attempts to seduce him in the kitchen.

a/n: absolutley no hate or shade or judgement to anyone who has the same or similar traits as isabella!!!!!! at her core she's annoying because she's the antagonist, not bc of any isolated trait or traits

also she's shitty cause she keeps trying to steal your boyfriend?????

Edit: I forgot to mention before, but this is a college au where you're both still demigods, so you went to camp and on quests and stuff together

This weekend is going to be all about recharging. Recharging from the ridiculous back to back closing and opening shifts at work, recharging from having to redo that stupid project twice because your professor couldn’t decide on a clear way to define the criteria, and recharging from Isabella having her townie friend Regan over almost non stop to “completely shake up her look” as she put it.

Between the constant presence of someone you’d barely consider an acquaintance and Big Time Rush’s self titled album blasting on repeat out of her giant airpod shaped speaker, it’s been harder than usual to get in some effective self care. You have no idea how many more times you can hear the phrase “I’m going for Jade West meets Elena Gilbert, with just a little Buffy Summers” before you lose your fucking mind.

Thankfully, the hard part is almost over. There’s some minor holiday tomorrow on friday, so you and Leo both have a three day weekend ahead of you, which you intend to spend entirely together. You planned ahead, frontloading homework, chores, errands, and everything you could think of to remove anything that isn’t cuddling or playing video games and watching netflix together from your horizon.

This includes going straight from work to the grocery store to stock the fridge and get any snacks you and Leo want. You had texted him a while ago asking for anything he was craving, and head into the store with a concrete list. After a while, you circle around some aisles, avoiding the check out.

“I feel like I’m forgetting something,” you muse, knowing it’s untrue, but hoping to trigger a memory anyway. You can’t put it off any longer, finally checking out and heading back to your apartment. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t avoiding Isabella just a little.

You know bringing in all these groceries would be way easier with Isabella and possibly Regan’s help, but you just don’t have the social energy to talk to anyone, much less her, right now. By some miracle, you bring everything in yourself, and hope to get it put away before you see Isabella.

You turn to the freezer, putting away the ice cream. When you turn back around, you’re suddenly met face to face with Isabella, who has opened one of the boxes and is picking at a pastry.

“Hey girlie,” she says, elongating the hey.

“Hey,” you reply lethargically, putting the last of the groceries away. She looks at the pastry in her hand like she’s just noticing it.

“Sorry, I can’t help it, I’m italian.” She smiles, endeared by her own behavior. You have no idea what being italian has to do with asking before you open a box of your roommate’s food, but this really isn’t out of character for her. She brings up the fact that she’s half italian more than Lele Pons blames her behavior on being latina.

She’s wearing sweatpants that say chaser on the leg in red and gold varsity font, and a tight tee shirt that says “it’s okay to love them both” with silhouettes of the male love interests from one of the vampire shows she always watches. You collect the plastic bags to put in recycling, and see a piece of paper on the counter.

It reads as follows:

Drowning in my mind

No one hears me cry

Who was I before society

Before society put me in a pink dress

And handed me blonde hair dye

And told me to lose ten pounds or be labeled a freak?

The happiest people cry the most

Let the lyrics be your story

But I’m not like the other skinny blonde pretty girls

I’m

Different

-b.g. xox

You hold back a sigh.

“I think this is yours.” you say, handing it to her.

“Oh, it’s just some of my poetry I left lying around, that’s so embarrassing.”

I know, you think, you do that all the time.

“Did you read it?” She asks, hopefully.

“Nope.”

“Thank god, that would have been so embarrassing. My poetry is something really… deep, and personal to me.”

“Uh huh. Hey, I’m going to be doing a lot of self care this weekend, so-”

“Oh!” she interjects, eerily similar to Phoebe Buffay - you guess she’s been watching friends again - “I wanted to ask… is Leo coming over later?” Her voice is riddled with subtext, the expression on her face a little too invested in your answer.

“Uh, yeah. I told you the other day we’re spending the weekend together…”

She cuts you off again, a sudden, intense look on her face.

“When will he be here?”

You check your phone, scrolling through your recent texts.

“By 7 at the latest.” It’s around 6:40 now.

“Oh my god, I have to change,” she rushes back to her room, presumably digging through her recent additions to her closet.

You’re frozen for a minute after the interaction, left with a furrowed brow and the beginnings of a headache. You blink, then choose to reschedule processing why she feels the need to change for your boyfriend to a more convenient time. That’s enough of that for today. You don’t care what else happens, you’re not talking to anyone besides Leo for at least the rest of the day. You retreat to your room to finally shower and change into something comfy. As you pass by Isabella’s room, you hear her talking to Regan.

“...There’s something almost… supernatural about him.”

You bite back a laugh.

“Do you think he’s a…” Regan begins, ending the sentence with something too quiet to hear, but you’d bet almost any organ she said vampire.

So close. So, so close, and yet… here you are.

Not much later, Leo texts you to let you know he’s here. You read his text, and run out to hug him in the living room before even typing a reply. He picks you up, and spins you around. The embrace is warm and fulfilling and familiar, and you wish it would last forever.

“Hi, Sparky.” you murmur into his neck.

“Estrella…” he says, rocking you back and forth gently and pressing a kiss into your jawline, “I missed you so much.” He punctuates the sentence with another kiss, this one to your lips, and you smile more genuinely than you have all day. You’re about to agree when you remember the good news you’ve been saving to tell him in person.

“Guess what I got on sale for like, half off,” you start, excitedly, continuing at his invested expression, “the Assassin’s Creed bundle I showed you!”

“No way,” he starts, and you nod.

“I’ll go get everything set up, drinks are in the kitchen!” He watches you retreat into your room, disbelieving how he could possibly get someone as perfect as you to fall for him. He’s not going to question his luck. He grabs a couple caffeinated sparkling ices, and meets you in your room, setting down his bag and grabbing some comfy clothes to change into.

As you both get settled in, you fill each other in on all the ridiculous shit you’ve been through this week. You finally conclude the bizarre - yet somehow standard - Isabella escapades.

“So I will be avoiding all contact as much as possible,” you laugh.

“Yeah, no shit,” he agrees, “Consider me your human buffer.” You thank him, hugging him again and pressing a kiss to his lips.

The next couple hours are spent cuddling and finishing season 4 of Castlevania. Both reeling from the season finale, you agree this is a good place to take a break, get some food, and decide what game you should start with. It’s already 10pm, which most people would consider too late for dinner, but you have all weekend to fuck up your sleep schedules.

“Let’s review,” Isabella says, holding up two red lipsticks. She turns to Regan. “Which one?”

“That one,” Regan says, pointing to the one on the left, then turns to her list, and continues. “Here’s what we know; we’ve never seen him eat, and he never seems tired. He’s really smart-”

“Almost too smart,” Isabella adds, selecting black rose dangle earrings from her jewelry. Regan agrees, and continues.

“He’s almost hypnotically attractive, and his smile is a little too dazzling.”

“There’s something… supernatural about him. Like he’s not… all human.”

Regan writes this down.

“Plus he’s always wearing black and red, and those flowy button up shirts? It’s all adding up, Ree. That dream that someone was outside my window, the ring, everything…” She says, referencing the black and red cocktail ring she’d found with her stuff when she’d first moved, “I’m not saying it’s definite, just that… there’s a chance.”

“What about…” Regan says hesitantly, nodding toward your room.

“Please,” she scoffs, “he’s only with them to get close to me, like Damon and Caroline. Edward couldn’t have just approached Bella out of the blue, he had to infiltrate her friend group first, to seem less suspicious. Not to sound mean or anything, but they really don’t seem like the type someone… like him… would choose.” her voice gets dreamy when she mentions him.

In spite of having seen most mainstream vampire media almost as many times as Isabella, Regan still considers her the expert on these things, and decides not to point out that Edward didn’t infiltrate Bella’s friend group. Maybe it comes up in one of the retellings she hasn’t read yet.

“So, what now?”

Isabella sets down her lipstick, and turns to her friend.

“I tell him.”

Regan’s eyes widen.

“You’re going to tell him you know?”

“No… not yet. It’s too soon, we don’t have enough evidence. I’m going to tell him I know he’s in love with me, then once he’s secure in our relationship... we’ll see where it goes.”

She stands up, assessing herself in the mirror. She chose her outfit carefully; short red dress with black roses and black mesh collar, black rose bracelet to match her earrings, snug faux leather jacket, and black stiletto ankle booties with a very skinny heel, the zipper on the outside gold, not silver. She fluffs her wavy hair and turns towards the door. She looks back one more time, holding onto the doorway.

“Wish me luck.”

Leo enters the kitchen, seeing Isabella already there, leaning against the counter seductively. She’s wearing an outfit and jewelry this late at night that makes Leo wonder if she’s going to an emo tea party. He puts the takeout in the microwave. She’s still staring at him.

“Uh… hey.”

She lets out a dainty giggle, looking him up and down.

“... Hi.”

At a loss for words, and really wanting the awkward silence to be over, he continues, “Did you need something?”

“What I need,” she walks closer to him, tracing her finger over his collar, “is you.”

What the fuck?

His brain seems to stall for a moment, and she uses this opportunity to continue.

“I know why you’re here. I know that you’re only using them to get closer to me. I know-”

“Woah-”

“That you’re in love with me.”

Okay, double what the fuck.

She takes his stunned silence as shyness, and steps closer, putting her arms around his shoulders.

“You don’t need to play so coy, I-”

This time she’s the one that gets cut off. He grabs her arms and gently steps away, trying to make it abundantly clear that he’s not into this.

“Woah, okay, slow down. First of all, you’re 17 and I’m turning 20 in a couple months, so that’s a hard no. Second, I don’t know where you got this idea, but I am not dating them to get closer to you. We’ve known each other since we were like, 15, and have been through everything together. I’ve only known you for a couple months. I love them. Probably more than I’ve loved anything ever. I thought that was pretty obvious.”

He doesn’t want to be mean, he really doesn’t, but he can tell from the look on her face that she still thinks this is all part of some game.

“So why don’t I ever see you eat? Why are you so smart, and always up at night? I know what you are.”

He has to physically hold back a laugh. He takes a step back, and places his hands on the counter.

“Isabella, I have adhd. And I’m literally an engineering student. Why wouldn’t I be smart and have a shitty sleep schedule?”

She starts to protest, and he pulls out the reheated take out from the microwave.

“And for the record, I do eat.”

Exiting the kitchen quickly and retreating back to your room, he hands you your food.

“I got the game set up!” you say excitedly.

“Nice!”

You take one look at his face and can tell something happened. He sees this, and continues.

“I just had a very… interesting interaction with Isabella,” before he finishes the sentence, your head is already in your hands. You let out a groan.

“What did she do?” you mutter from behind your hands.

He pulls you into his lap, rubbing your back.

“I’m not totally sure,” you laugh, “but I think she thinks I’m secretly in love with her…” you’re both laughing before he can even finish the sentence.

“No…” you laugh, “no fucking way…”

“Believe me, I put an end to that as soon as it started.”

“Oh, I do.”

He runs his hand over your back, and you’re quiet for a moment.

“You know,” he continues, “I think getting our own place has definitely moved up the priority list.”

You couldn’t agree more.

[crackheadgeminibby]

appearances pt. 1

pairing: 40s!bucky barnes x female!black!reader

warnings: language, angst, mentions of racism a bit?

word count: 2.2k

part 2

a/n: watched the first avenger and my brain almost immediately felt the need to write this down so enjoy, friends!

i do not consent to my work being copied in any way, shape or form or reposted on any other platform

not my gif

Being a Black nurse in the United States in the 1940s was far from easy. Your parents had always taught you to take care of and protect yourself. As you grew up, you learned that people weren’t as black and white, no pun intended, as they had made you believe. As a near 20-year-old now, you still used their advice, but you did so with a grain of salt.

You had always felt the need to help people, which was why you had decided to become a nurse. Sure, it was hard, but you were a strong, determined woman that believed that nothing could stand in the way of your dreams.

And it was by doing exactly that that you had met the love of your life.

James Bucky Barnes.

He was an extremely handsome man. One that came to the hospital far too often to get his friend Steve checked on.

Bucky was a huge flirt, which you didn’t mind, it’s not like you spent that much time together. But after a while, you noticed that Steve always seemed to stay at the hospital slightly longer than the previous time. He always said that he wanted to stay to make sure that everything was okay or that he had a headache and he preferred to stay where it could be monitored. But somehow, Bucky always stayed right next to him.

After about three months of coming to the hospital at least four times a week, Bucky had asked you out. At first, you had thought he was fucking with you. A handsome man like him asking out a regular woman like you? Even after you said no? It had to be a trap. Or so you thought until Bucky had left to use the bathroom one time and Steve had convinced you to say yes to him. He seemed so earnest while talking about how much his friend liked you and talked about you often that you couldn’t refuse. So, you had told him yes but only if you went somewhere private and at night.

It wasn’t because Steve and Bucky didn’t mind the color of your skin that everyone else in town shared that feeling. And you didn’t need this kind of thing coming back to your parents.

And so, you had started dating. Sure, it was in secret and only Steve knew but you didn’t mind. Bucky called you a hopeless romantic, but you liked to say that your romance was like that of Romeo and Juliet.

The sneaking around was fun. At least, at first it was. But now, a year after your relationship had started, it was getting increasingly energy-consuming.

Today was your anniversary with Bucky and it just so happened that you had the day off from work. You were supposed to meet him in the park where you had your first date at sunset but until then, you didn’t have any plans.

So, when your mother asked you to go grocery shopping for her, you hadn’t hesitated to say yes. Oh, how you regretted it now.

You were currently walking back from the grocery store, bags of food in hand when you had first heard it. Bucky’s laugh, coming from near you.

You frown as you focus on it to find him. Your breath hitches and you feel tears pooling in your eyes at the scene in front of you. Bucky is leaning against a wall in a hidden alley, flashing his smile at a girl in front of him, his hand on her cheek. Even with her back to you, you could recognize her.

Dolores. Or Dot as people usually called her. She was Bucky’s longtime pursuit. Everyone thought they would end up married with a whole litter of kids. Childhood sweeathearts and all that.

Bucky looks up, spotting you, and you see his smile falter for half a second before it’s back up like nothing happened.

You bite your lip, trying to keep your tears in, as you turn around and walk faster towards your house. Luckily for you, your family lived near a large park, full of thick, tall trees that were essentially soundproof. As soon as you step foot in the park, tears are flowing freely down your face and sobs are shaking your body.

You hated that you were crying because of this. But what you hated even more was your complete inability to do anything. If you had had any kind of reaction back in town, an uproar was sure to happen. You didn’t want or need that and neither did your parents.

You let out a breath when you arrive at your house and see that nobody’s home.

You put away the groceries hurriedly before taking a hot shower. As you exit the bathroom, you see that the sun has set, making your room pitch black. You also notice that your family has made it home, hearing your father, mother and sister talking downstairs. You close your curtains and turn on your bedside lamp, not wanting a light too bright illuminating your room. You put your pyjamas on as you hear a knock at your door.

“Come in.”

Your mom opens that door and walks in, leaning against your desk before asking, “Already in your pyjamas? Did you already eat?”

You shake your head, replying, “No… I’m just not very hungry so I think I’m going to read a bit then go to sleep.”

Your mom nods slowly before answering, “Okay, good night then, honey.”

You mumble a “good night” to her as you get under your covers. You reach for the book sitting on your bed night table. You didn’t even remember the last time you had time to sit down and read.

You barely read a sentence before you hear a small noise at your window. You roll your eyes, knowing exactly who it was.

You set your book down and walk to the window, opening the curtains and sliding the window open just a smidge.

“What do you want, Bucky?”

Bucky cringes at your use of his full name. In the past year, you had only ever called him Buck or Baby, sometimes James when you were joking, but never Bucky.

Bucky smiles slightly at you, “Can I come in?”

You sigh, opening the window completely and turning around to sit on your bed. Bucky climbs into your bedroom and sits down on the edge of your window.

“So, how was your day?”

You look at him, mouth agape. Was he being serious right now?

You cross your arms across your chest and reply sarcastically, “Gee, Bucky, my day was great, thanks for asking.”

He bites his bottom lip before coming to sit down next to you. “Nothing happened with Dot. We were just talking.”

You sigh and shake your head, getting up to pace around your room. “I don’t care, Bucky. That’s not the problem. I just…” You stop in front of your closet, looking down at your feet, “I can’t do it anymore, Bucky. I can’t handle it.”

Bucky walks towards you rapidly, “No, no… Don’t say that, doll. I won’t see Dot again, I promise. I won’t talk to any other girl, only you. Just don’t say that please.”

You shake your head, looking up at Bucky.

“It doesn’t matter if you see her again or not. Or who you talk to. It just can’t work.”

Bucky stutters, trying to find the right words to say, before looking into your eyes, unshed tears in his.

“Why are you doing this to us?”

You glance at the floor before looking back into his eyes, biting your bottom lip, “Because, Bucky, it just has to be like this.”

Bucky shakes his head, “No but I won’t talk to Dot again, it’s fine.”

“God, Bucky, it’s not about-”, you start, practically screaming before Bucky puts a hand over your mouth, frowning.

“Keep your voice down!”

You rip his hand away from your face before walking back to your bed.

“It’s not about Dot, Bucky. Or anyone else. It’s about me.”

Bucky looks at you confusedly.

“We’re not going to go anywhere, Bucky. It’s not like we’re going to get married and have kids or something. It’s stupid to keep doing this when we have no future together.” You finish, throwing your hands in the air.

Bucky’s face contorts with an expression of hurt and slight anger, “You don’t see a future with me?”, he whispers.

You look up at him and despite every single cell in your body screaming at you to say yes, you shake your head at him.

You see a single tear fall from his eye before he nods his head dejectedly. He wipes it away angrily before walking back to your window. He makes his way on your roof but before jumping down to the ground, he fishes something out of his pocket. He slams a small, black box on your windowsill and says, “Happy anniversary, by the way.”

He looks at you one last time before jumping down from your roof. You feel some tears falling down your face before you walk slowly to your window. You take the box, exhaling deeply as you open it, feeling the air being sucked out of your lungs.

A modest but beautiful engagement ring sits in the center of the box, surrounded by velvet. Tears are now freely flowing down your face as you take the box and lay down in bed, staring at it for God knows how long. After feeling like no tears are left in your body, you close the box, tucking it in your bed night table drawer, before falling asleep.

The next morning, you wake up, stiff, dehydrated and with a headache. As much as you would have liked to stay in bed and cry some more, you had a shift at the hospital this morning that you absolutely could not miss.

You wearily get up from your bed, following through with your morning routine before walking to the hospital. As you look at your assignment for the day, you hear a small throat clear behind you. You whip around, seeing Steve right behind you, looking exhausted. He waves at you, muttering a “hey”.

You take him to his usual room and make him sit on the bed before getting the clipboard from the counter.

“So, what’s wrong with you today, Steve?”

“Nothing. I came to talk to you about Bucky.”

You swallow thickly before putting the clipboard back down slowly. You lean on the counter and cross your arms before nodding at Steve to continue.

“He came back home last night, sobbing. I could barely even understand anything from what he was saying except your name. What happened last night?”

You look away from Steve uncomfortably before biting your lip and answering quietly, “I broke up with him.”

Steve frowns in confusion before asking, “But why? I thought everything was going super well. Did he mess up the proposal or something?”

You feel tears rise in your eyes at the mention of Bucky’s proposal. You shake your head slowly before replying, “He didn’t make it to the proposal.”

Steve looks at you, even more confused than before.

You sigh, saying, “I broke up with him because it’s what’s best for him. He doesn’t need to be held back by me. Do you know what people would say if they saw us together, Steve?”

Steve looks at you, surprised, “Since when do you care about what people have to say about you?”

You shake your head, “Us.” Steve tilts his head in confusion.

“People wouldn’t be talking about me. They would be talking about Bucky and me. I’m protecting him. He doesn’t need to go through that kind of shit. If anything, I’m doing him a favor.”

“Why can’t you let him decide what he needs?”

“It doesn’t matter, Steve. It’s done. Bucky probably doesn’t want to see me ever again.”

“That’s not true.”

You feel the air being knocked out of you as you turn around to see Bucky in the doorframe. He looks drained, his face void of color and his eyes bloodshot.

“I love you more than anything else in the world. How could you ever say that I don’t want to see you?”

“Bucky…”

Steve gets up from the bed, walking towards the door, “I’ll leave you two alone.”

As Steve is leaving, Bucky enters the room and closes the door behind him.

He stands in front of you, slightly out of reach, with his hands in his pocket.

You exhale deeply before starting, “Look, Bucky, I can’t do it. It didn’t really hit me until yesterday that we’re not going anywhere together, it can’t work.”

Bucky clenches his jaw tightly, “Stop saying that.”

“But it’s true, Bucky. Do you really think that anyone is going to support us?”

“Steve does.”

You roll your eyes slightly, “Steve is literally the definition of good. He couldn’t be mean to me if he tried.” Bucky chuckles softly, knowing that you were right. His face becomes serious again before he replies, “Who cares about anyone else? There’s you and me in this relationship. No one else. So, no one else matters.”

You shake your head, “Bucky, we can’t just live with no friends and no family. What kind of life would that be?”

“It doesn’t matter because I would be with you.”

You feel your heart squeeze at Bucky’s words, “Bucky, we can’t. It has to be this way.” You look up at the clock behind him.

“I have to go, my shift started 10 minutes ago.” You walk towards Bucky, stroking his cheek. He leans into your hand before you kiss him softly. His eyes flutter shut as his hands grab your waist.

You pull away from him gently before saying, almost inaudibly,

“Goodbye, Bucky.”

hi @saiyanprincessswanie i would love it if you could read this! part 2 is coming in about a week though!🤗

[coldsandfluff]

Friday Night Fever (F/M, Original, Illness Care-Taking Fluff)

Wrote this little original F/M care-taking fluff fic inspired by something that happened to me when I was in college (basically, caught a cold, three friends came over unannounced and insisted on me coming with them to the bar until one of them noticed the thermometer on my nightstand and realized I really was too sick to go). I've changed all the characters personality/appearance (including myself) so that we are completely unrecognizable, and added more to the story of course 😚

So if you like group of friends, platonic to maybe romantic care-taking fluff and F/M illness, read on!

--------------------------------------------------------------

Annabel left the sandwich shop at the end of her evening shift, feeling the cold autumn air seep through her jacket. Darkness had blanketed the town hours ago, and college students were already filling the streets on their way to the bars to celebrate the end of the week. Not that they’d really needed a reason to drink, of course.

As she launched the trash bags in the large dumpster in the back alley, Annabel felt an uncomfortable shiver running down her back. She’d been feeling under the weather for a couple of days, downing vitamin C fizzy drinks to stave it off. What she’d hoped would end up being a little annoying cold was turning out to be more than she’d bargained for. She could feel the icy tendrils of a fever crawling on her skin, and all she wanted to do was slip under the covers of her warm bed and sleep all weekend.

Her phone pinged as she started making her way back to her apartment.

Finn: We’ll be there in 40 minutes. Zack wants to pick up some pregame vodka from the store first.

Annabel sighed. She’d met Zack, Finn and Alex at her second job—a fancy new restaurant in the heart of town where she’d been waitressing part-time for the past two months. They’d hit it off on opening day, when Zack had accidentally broken a whole stack of plates. No one had seen what had happened but the four of them. Zack had gotten his dishwasher’s apron stuck on the door handle, and his hands had slipped at the sudden pull.

The crash had been deafening.

Right before the owner had rushed in to ask what had happened, Zack’s best friend, Finn, had kicked the wheel of the cart where the plates had been sitting a few moments ago, giving Alexander and Annabel a knowing look.

They’d all told the owner that the cart was broken and had tipped over without anyone touching it. Somehow, the owner had bought the lie. That night, Zack insisted on paying them a round of shots at the bar, and a tradition was born: The four of them. Every Friday. With lots of alcohol.

It was the only time Annabel let loose. With her two jobs and college, she was struggling to find free time, but Friday nights had become sacred. There was nothing like downing drinks and letting the buzz take over, following her three new friends wherever they wanted to go. It was always an adventure. Especially with Zack at the helm.

But tonight, there was no way she could make it.

Annabel: Actually, I can’t come tonight. Sorry.

She walked past a group of friends laughing and hollering, wishing she’d felt as good as they did. But the headache growing behind her eyes wasn’t going to let up, and adding alcohol to the mix would only make it worse. Not only that, but her nose had started running in the past two hours. She’d had to go blow it in the restroom every half hour, getting herself banished from the front of the store by the manager. She’d washed her hands so often that her skin was almost raw.

Just like her nose.

Finn: Nah, you’re coming. Nobody cancels Friday night. Come on.

Annabel couldn’t hold a smile. She typed back, sniffling. Her sinuses were prickling like crazy, as if she’d accidentally inhaled a cloud of tiny fireworks. She stifled a sneeze in the crook of her elbow, mid-word. “Ehh—Ehh’KSHHeeww!” Her eyes watered from the force of it. She wiped the tears away and resumed typing.

Annabel: I’ll make it up to you guys next weekend. Drinks on me.

She grabbed a crumpled tissue from her jacket pocket and dabbed at her nose. Her apartment was only a few blocks away, beckoning her. As she crossed the last stretch of sidewalk to the entrance, she kept checking her phone.

No reply.

Shrugging, she unlocked the front door and took the stairs.

***

Back in her apartment, she made a beeline for the bathroom to the right and used toilet paper to blow her nose, finally free to make as much noise as she wanted. She winced from the roughness of it on her chapped nostrils, but it was all she had. She wasn’t exactly the planning type. Her idea of a grocery list was memorizing the first three items and hoping the rest would come to her as she walked through the aisles. Most often than not, she’d have to make a quick run at the convenience store down the street to get what she’d forgotten.

She gathered her thick curly hair into a bun and looked at herself in the mirror. It was enough to confirm that she’d made the right decision. Her eyes were glazed over, her skin was so pale that her freckles popped like they did in the summer. Except for that slight flush high on her cheeks, of course. She popped a thermometer under her tongue and removed her work clothes, leaving them in a pile in front of the bathtub.

Shivering from the sudden change in temperature, she covered her arms with her hands and ran to her dresser. Her warmest, softest sweater was the first thing she grabbed and put on, before throwing on a pair of comfy leggings and wool socks. The thermometer beeped.

100.8 °F. Figured.

She rolled her eyes and shuffled over to the “kitchen” of her studio apartment, which was the size of a matchbox and only contained a mini fridge, a microwave and an old sink. She poured herself some water and walked over to the bed, placing her glass and the thermometer on her nightstand. She would have brought over medicine as well, but she’d run out last semester after catching the flu going around campus, and had forgotten to replenish her stash. No matter. She could sleep this off. It was just a cold.

She suddenly sneezed twice in a row, as if her body wanted to protest her minimizing her illness, then got under the cover. Just as she was getting a little warmer, propping up her laptop to watch a movie, there was a knock at the door.

Annabel sat up, startled.

“Anna, open up!” a voice said behind the door.

Zack.

Annabel chuckled. Of course they wouldn’t give up that easily. She groaned, getting out of the warmth of her bed. She considered rushing to the dresser and putting on cuter clothes—they were her friends, but they were still boys, and she didn’t want to look like shit in front of them—but the thought of it was enough to drain her energy. Screw it. She walked over to the door and opened it.

“Finn told us you don’t want to come,” said Zack as he walked in. It was her friends’ first time coming up to her apartment. They’d usually wait for her downstairs. “So we’re here to change your mind.” He didn’t look at her, too busy checking out her place. He was dressed for the night—a buttoned-up shirt, navy blazer, jeans and dress shoes. His casual chic style always stood out in the local bars filled with broke college students, but he liked it that way.

Finn walked in after him, a crooked grin on his lips. “See, I told you you can’t cancel Friday night.” His shaggy blond hair half-covered his eyes, as always. Finn and Zack had been best friends since high school, and couldn’t have been more different from each other. At least physically. Finn was tall and lanky, Zack was smaller and worked out a lot. But they were both party guys, always ready for a crazy night—even though Finn was a bit more mellow than Zack.

Finally, Alex came in, and Annabel closed the door behind him. He had a sheepish look on his face, as if apologizing for the other two. He was a lot more like Annabel. Quiet, chill, along for the ride—whatever it may be. His deep brown eyes held her gaze for a second too long, and Annabel noticed one of his eyebrow raise ever so slightly. She bit her lip, feeling self-conscious about her appearance. They’d never seen her in such a state before. Thank god she hadn’t had the energy to remove her makeup yet.

“So this is where you live, uh?” Zack said, sitting on her desk chair and spinning it around and around. “I like it. Dorms suck.”

Before she could reply, Finn tsked. “Wow. So no love for your roommate, uh?”

“Dude, I love you,” Zack said, “but between you and an apartment all to myself, the choice is obvious.” He stopped spinning and turned to Annabel, crossing his arms over his chest. “So what’s so important that you can’t come with us? Do you have a date?”

All three boys turned to her. Annabel almost laughed. Could they not see the condition she was in? She cleared her throat. “No, I’m just not feeling well.”

Finn sat on the edge of her bed and examined her from afar. “Like what? Stomach thing? Flu?”

“Probably a cold, I guess.” Annabel could feel Alex’s gaze on her at her side. She glanced at him, then looked down, feeling silly. Now that she was saying it out loud, it sounded like a poor excuse. But she did have a fever, after all. She just didn’t want to start listing her symptoms.

Zack clasped his hands together. “You know what will make you feel better? Alcohol!” He grinned, as if proud of his solution. “Didn’t they used to give brandy to people when they were sick? We’ll make a special mix for your throat. Something with lemon and orange juice. You’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know, I already have a headache…” Annabel said.

“Just take a couple of Tylenol. It’s like a hangover in advance,” Finn said with an encouraging smile. “One time, I went out clubbing with an ear infection and everything was fine. Actually felt better the next day, weirdly enough.”

“I don’t know guys, I won’t be much fun if—” Annabel was interrupted by a fierce tickle deep in her nose, spreading like wildfire. She ducked to her side, away from Alex. “Ehh’KSSHeeew! ‘KSSSHeeew!”

“Bless you,” the three boys said almost in unison.

“See?” Annabel said, pointing at her nose and sniffling. “You want me to sneeze all over you guys all night?”

Finn shrugged. “We’ll bring tissues. Whatever.”

Alex walked over to the bathroom and grabbed the toilet paper roll from the counter, then handed it to her. “Here.”

Annabel ripped a piece off and wiped her nose. “Thanks,” she said, sheepish.

Alex’s gaze paused on her for a few seconds before he turned to the other two. “Guys, she’s obviously sick. Let’s just go and let her sleep.”

“It’s just a cold,” Zack said. “She’s young and healthy. It’s nothing.” He got up and put his arm around her shoulders. “Come on. Give it an hour, and if you’re not feeling better after a few shots, we’ll walk you home.”

Annabel considered it for a second, trying to fight the shivers. Maybe if she wore something warm and took a few shots, she wouldfeel better. Numb the pain a little, at least. While she pondered it, Finn laid down on top of her bed spread and locked eyes with the thermometer on her nightstand. He frowned and sat up, picking it up.

He looked at her, thermometer in hand. His voice softened. “It’s that bad, uh?”

Annabel blushed. Why did admitting that she had a fever feel so vulnerable? She looked down and nodded. “Kinda.”

Zack looked at the thermometer, then back at Annabel. He narrowed his eyes and put a hand on her forehead. “Ooof,” he said, a hint of concern slipping in his tone.

Finn got up. “Let me see,” he said, walking up to her and placing his own hand on her forehead. His eyebrows shot up. “Yikes.”

“Yeah, you need to be in bed,” Zack finally said, guiding her back to bed. “Why didn’t you say you had a fever? Jesus, Anna.”

She shrugged, sitting on her mattress. “I don’t know. I just get fevers with colds. I guess it’s normal for me.”

“Fevers suck,” Finn said. “Last time I had one, I stayed in bed for two days and everything hurt.” He walked over to the front door. “We’ll miss you tonight, though.”

Zack followed. “Hope you feel better. We’ll text you all the crazy shit that’s going to happen so you don’t miss anything.” He followed Finn out of the apartment, leaving the door open for Alex.

Alex watched them walk by, then grabbed the roll of toilet paper on the counter where Annabel had left it. He brought it over to her nightstand and gave her a sad smile. “Do you need anything?”

Annabel shook her head, relieved that she was going to be able to stay in bed. “I’ll be okay.”

He seemed to hesitate for a second, then nodded. “Let us know if you want us to get you food later. I know I can never sleep when I have a fever.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. Her nose scrunched up, overtaken by another annoying prickle. “Ehh… Iihh’KSSSHHeeww!”

“Bless you.”

Zack’s voice sounded from the hallway. “Alex, you coming?”

Alex snickered. “I guess I should go.” He walked to the door, then turned back. “Feel better, okay?”

“I will. Thanks.”

***

Annabel tried to sleep, but her fever and runny nose kept waking her up, leaving her floating halfway between dreams and reality. It was clear that she wasn’t going to get any rest in her state. She needed cold medicine.

It took her a long time to finally convince herself to get out of bed and go to the convenience store, but she managed to push the covers away and get up. She shivered, causing another tickle in her sensitive nose—it had only gotten worse in the hour since the boys had left. She ducked at the waist in an exhausting triple. “Ehh… Hehh’KSSSHeeeew! ‘KSSHHeeew! Hiihh’KSSHeeew!”

Just then, another knock sounded at the door. Annabel frowned and made her way to the door, cracking it open.

It was Alex. Alone.

“Bless you,” he said with a shy grin.

Annabel let him in. “Aren’t you supposed to be out with the guys?”

He shrugged, closing the door behind him. “I thought you might need this.” He showed her a plastic bag filled with tea, tissue boxes, ramen, cough drops and—she gasped—cold medicine.

Alex chuckled. “So I was right. You don’t have any medicine, do you?”

Annabel laughed. “How did you know?”

“Your nightstand. You only had a thermometer on there. When I’m sick, I take Nyquil everywhere I go.” He handed her the bag. “And I wanted to make sure you had tissues instead of toilet paper. Your nose will thank me.”

Annabel touched her chapped nose, smiling. “That’s so sweet of you. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing.” He stood there for a second, as if not knowing what to say. “I’ll uh—I’ll let you rest.”

Before he could go, Annabel put her hand on his elbow. “Wait. Do you want to—” She stopped halfway through her sentence, her nose scrunching up yet again, her eyes fluttering. She spun around and sneezed, covering her nose with the sleeve of her sweater. “Hehh’KSSHH! Ht’Ksshht!” She turned back around, blinking away the tears and laughing. “Sorry!”

Alex laughed, too. “Bless you.” He held her gaze, then looked down. “What were you going to say?”

“Oh—I was just wondering if—maybe if you’d like to watch a movie with me. I don’t think I can sleep until the medicine kicks in.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted saying them. Of course he didn’t want to watch a movie with her. This was Friday night. What kind of college guy wanted to hang out with a sick, sneezy, nose-drippy girl on a Friday night instead of getting drunk with his friends. “Sorry,” she added quickly, “I forgot that the guys are probably waiting for you. I guess I’m kind of loopy from the fever.”

Alex took a step forward and placed his hand on her forehead. The gesture was so gentle, so soft, that Annabel closed her eyes, appreciating the coldness of his palm on her hot skin.

“You are definitely burning up,” he half-whispered, frowning. “I was wondering if the guys were exaggerating. Guess not.”

Annabel bit her lip. “I’ll be okay after I take the medicine. You don’t have to stay.”

Alex removed his hand. “I do,” he blurted. “I mean, I do want to watch a movie with you. And stay.”

“Are you sure?” Annabel asked through her blossoming smile. “Aren’t you worried you’ll catch my cold?”

“Actually, I have a confession to make.” Alex led her to the bed and placed the content of his bag on her nightstand. “Last Friday, I kind of had a cold. It wasn’t as bad as yours, pretty minor, but… Zack convinced me to come out anyway and I—I think I might have given it to you. You drank out of my glass and I didn’t have time to stop you.” He looked at her, his eyes wide with guilt. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Annabel laughed. “I can’t believe Zack didn’t rat you out earlier. It would have been the perfect example of someone going clubbing with a cold and ‘being fine’ anyway.”

“He probably knew it was partly his fault that you’re sick and didn’t want to admit it.”

Annabel shook her head. “Well, you owe me a Friday night.” She got into bed and patted the spot next to her. “That means I get to pick the movies.”

Alex grabbed the throw blanket at her feet and draped it over her. “That sounds fair.” He walked over to the other side of the bed and settled next to her. “But when you fall asleep, I can’t guarantee I won’t change it.”

“Deal.”

After taking a dose of Nyquil, Annabel started the movie, snuggling under the blanket. She wondered what kind of crazy adventures Zack and Finn were getting themselves into. She expected to feel FOMO, but instead, she shot a glance at Alex next to her, and realized she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Maybe it was the fever, or maybe it was Alex’s shoulder touching hers, but it felt like this was the start of a different kind of adventure. Maybe not alcohol-fueled, but Nyquil was pretty close.

All because they’d shared a not-so-secret cold.

And Annabel had a feeling it would be worth the fever. And the countless sneezes to come.

THE END

[amor-immortalem]

I Could Care Less (About You)

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

A/N: I wanted to write something around the time when Arella first got to the devildom. We all know Mammon didn't like the MC very much. It's my own thoughts that he was especially mean in those first few weeks up until they made the pact and I kind of wanted to explore that in terms of his and Arella's relationship.

It all started with small acts of kindness. Taking the fall for him when items would go missing so he wouldn’t get strung up from the ceiling, saving a plate for him when he was late for dinner, letting him copy her homework when he didn’t finish his in time. Mammon can’t understand it. He and this human hardly know anything about each other but here she is, doing little things that would make his life just a little bit easier. Hell, he’d even stolen multiple objects of value from Arella and yet she never ratted him out to his brother despite knowing damn well who did it. She just let it slide.

If he’s being honest, it scares him. Did she like him that much or could she possibly want from something from him? Mammon was sure she was gearing up to ask for a favor from him. He decided whatever it was he wouldn’t do it. He may have had the task of looking after this human forced upon him by Lucifer but he wasn’t about to sit back and comply with it.

The demon made sure to let the human know what an inconvenience she was to him almost every day- most typically whenever he had to cancel his own plans to escort her around town. She took it like a champ though, never seeming to let it bother her. She was so kind it was almost annoying. Maybe it really didn’t bother her. That must be the only reason she’s pestering him now. He did have to give her credit for her persistence though.

“Come on, Mammon! Lucifer left me in charge of the grocery shopping and I can’t go out alone or I’ll get eaten.” Arella said as she trailed after the Avatar of Greed. Having only been here in the Devildom for only a handful of weeks, she was still actually afraid that a lower demon might make a snack out of her.

“Ask one of my brothers ta take ya. I got plans and you’re not ruinin’ ‘em this time.”

Had any of the other brothers been home, Arella gladly would have asked one of them, but they weren’t- not even Mr. Shut-In himself! It was just her and her insensitive guardian demon.

“They’re not home, you know that.”

“I don’t give a shit, human! You got a phone. Just text ‘em. Now scram! I got a poker game ta get to and you’re holdin’ me up.”

“B-but-”

“Diavolo almighty,” Mammon groans as he turns to her, “I guess ya didn’t hear me clear enough the first time so I’ll say it again nice’ an’ slow for ya so try to keep up, ‘kay? I do not care about you. I hate the fact that I have to babysit ya. You could get eaten and I couldn’t care less. Infact, my life would be considerably easier if ya weren’t around. Got it?”

“O-Okay,” Arella squeaked under the intensity of the white-haired demon’s gaze. “Understandable, have a good night then.... hope you win a lot.”

“Whatever,” Mammon huffs with a roll of the eyes. “I don’t need your well wishes.” With that, Mammon turns and heads out the door.

As she watched him go, Arella bit her lip to hold back the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. Once she was sure the demon was gone, the human sank down to floor, quiet sobs shaking her small frame. All she wanted was just an hour or two out of his time and he wouldn’t even give her that. She had never felt so resented before in all her 21 years of life- not even when her mother was alive had it ever been this bad. Now, as she wiped at her eyes, it really set in that she was left with no other option but to do this alone- gods forbid she ask one of the others for help and then it somehow get back to Lucifer that Mammon wasn’t doing his job. She would never hear the end of it from the greedy demon.

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The trip to and from the store had gone smooth enough. No demons had really bothered to pay her any mind, not even when she slipped off one of the higher shelves and smacked her head on the shopping cart resulting in the ugly bruise that had formed on the outer edge of her right eye. Bruises were something Arella was used to covering up, so it would be a simple enough task. She only had a little way left to go before she made it back to the House of Lamentation, but nothing can ever be easy for Arella.

Standing at the gates, blocking her path, was a small pack of demons. She had seen them eyeing her up in the halls at RAD during the passing periods. As they turned to her, Arella panicked- her heart rate skyrocketing as her body screamed at her to run. She wanted to but her feet wouldn’t move. It wasn’t until her brain processed that they were moving did her body actually turn to run. By then it was too late, they were upon her in seconds, knocking her to the ground with a tackle as she struggled and let out a scream.”

“Lookit you,” the one she presumed to be the leader smiled as he brushed some of the hair away from her face. “You sure do look tasty. I wonder where we should start first with you... dark or light meat?” He took a hold of her wrist, pulling it toward his mouth. He was about to bite down when...

“Hey! The fuck do the five of ya think you’re doing?!” The Avatar of Greed snarls as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. He had been in a good night after having won nearly all the games he’d played tonight before decided to call it quits- now it was soured. “Ya know what? I’m feelin’ generous tonight, so I’ll give y’all five seconds to get off that stupid human before I gut ya and string ya up by your entrails.”

He only needed until the count of one and a change into his demon form before the pack of demons made the right choice and booked it. The Avatar of Greed let out an irritated sigh as he walked over to Arella and hoisted her up by the arm.

“You’re fucking lucky, ya know that, girly? If I didn’t come home when I did, you’d be dead right now. How are you that damn stupid, huh?”

“’m sorry, I-,” Her voice was small and a little bit slurred as she tried to get her footing.

“I don’t wanna hear any excuses, right now. Just get inside the house go lay down or somethin’- whatever it is that you humans do ta calm down.” He gave her a bit of a rough shove and she scrambled for the doors while he gathered up the bags she had dropped and brought them inside the house.

Arella made a beeline for her room and curled up under the covers. Her headache from the fall earlier was even worse and now her arm was hurting from the strength of Mammon’s grip when he pulled her up from the ground.

“I want to go home....” she sniffled quietly into her pillow. “I should have never done this.”

The human thought she’d find a place for herself on this exchange programme but now she thinks this was all a big mistake. She had no idea what exactly she was signing up for only that something in the back of her mind yelling at her to do so. These last few weeks had done nothing but to serve her late mother’s words as true: that she was trash and so deserved to be treated as such.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Out in the kitchen, Mammon is unloading and putting away the groceries that weren’t crushed or broken after the incident outside when he came across a bag filled exclusively with cup noodles. There had to have been at least twenty of them that she had managed to cram into the bag- all in his favorite flavor no less. A look of surprise crossed his face. He had only mentioned this in passing to her once before and he wondered how she managed to get her hands on them as this specific flavor was kept on the top shelf of that section. Not something that would be a problem for someone as tall as himself but for her? She was 4’11”! She would have had to scale the shelfs just to have even the smallest chance of reaching them.

Setting the package of cup noodles he was holding down, Mammon looked to Arella’s door before looking back to the noodles. Again, those questions rang in his head. Just what was her deal? He thinks, she’s always doin’ all these favors for me and never asks for anything in return from me. Well, no I can’t say that... She did ask one thing of me and that was ta go grocery shoppin’ with her because she was afraid ta go alone- for me ta do the one job Lucifer assigned me and I essentially told her ta fuck off. The demon thinks back to their earlier exchange- how he could see the fear in her eyes and the tears that were starting to form right before he left. Great.... Now I feel guilty... I should probably go apologize and see if I can get her to stay quiet ‘bout this whole thing...

Knocking on the door- something the demon hardly ever did- Mammon waited for a response. When he didn’t get one, he just let himself in. “Arella I-!” He stopped as there was there was a noticeable flinch from under the covers.

“I’m sorry!” She squeaked out, “Don’t hurt me.”

He raised an eyebrow at her response. Did she really think he was going to hurt her somehow? Well, all things considered, the demon can’t say he’s really all that surprised. He grabs the ends of the duvet and yanks it off of her, watching as Arella curls up and raises her arms to shield her head as if readying herself for blows that would never come.

Mammon knows that response all too intimately from the times where Lucifer would beat the ever-loving fuck out of him for indulging in his sin.

“Hey, calm down, okay. I ain’t gonna lay a hand on ya like that. Not only would Lucifer have my head, but I ain’t about beatin’ up on girls anyway.” He kneels down at the side of her bed and is horrified to see an ugly bruise marring the skin beside her eye. She does eventually calm down and pulls her arms away from her head after a few minutes of nothing happening. “Atta girl, now look at me,”

When Arella does open her pupils are dilated and now the demon is a little concerned. Humans’ pupils aren’t supposed to be that dilated, are they? That would mean... Mammon fishes his D.D.D. out of his pocket and shines the flashlight right in her eyes.

“What the fuck, Mammon!” Arella recoils as she hides her face once more and Mammon turns the flashlight off. “You’re such an ass!”

“I knew it.” He tsks, “When did you hit your head? Was it when those idiots tackled you to the ground or did you fall off one of the selves at the store?”

“I didn’t hit my head!” The human retorts, “I’m fine, my head just hurts.”

“Ya got a concussion, ya dumb human! Now out with it. Ya very obviously fell and I wanna know when it happened and how high you fell from!” For someone who couldn’t care less about her, he’s surprisingly concerned right now. If she slipped off one of the shelves at the store, he would be in hot water with Lucifer.

“I said I’m fine!” Arella abruptly stood up, swaying as she did, glaring daggers at the white-haired demon who looked up at her with a look of shock. Where did his docile little human go? “And what do you care anyway!? You said it yourself: You hate me and I’m just an inconvenience to you!”

“Now hold on a tick, I never said that exactly. You’re puttin’ words in my mouth. And you’re gonna fall standin’ on the bed like that. You’re already wobblin’.” he may not have said the part about hating her outright but at the very least he heavily implied it.

“Just get out of my ro-” She let out a yelp as she went toppling forward and the demon rushed to catch her. She landed slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“See I told ya you were gonna fall.” He huffed as he readjusted her while she pounded her fists against his back, struggling against his hold on her as he headed back out to the kitchen.

“Mammon, you put me down this instant! I’m not a sack of flour!”

“Stop being a brat and let me help ya!” The Avatar of Greed says as he places her on the island counter top. “Now stay there while I get you some ice for that bruise and some medicine for that headache of yours.”

Arella just sits there in shock of what he said. He wanted to... help her? That was new. She’s drawn out of her thoughts a few minutes later when she feels of bag of ice being pressed against the bruise. She let out a hiss as she tries to move away from it but it’s then that she notices his hand holding the other side of her face so she can’t move all that much.

“Quit squirming, will ya. It’s just a bag of ice.” He looks into her eyes before shifting the bag of ice over and running his thumb over the outside of her eye socket. “Doesn’t feel like anything’s busted in there. Ya got off lucky, kid... here take these.” he has a pill in his hand

“I’m not a kid,” Arella puffs her cheeks out in a pout. “Why’re you doing this when you said earlier that you didn’t care about me...?” she takes the medicine with a swig of water.

“Don’t get it twisted. I’m only doing this because if Lucifer finds out that you went to the store without me, I’ll be hanging from my toes for the next of the week. I’d rather not have a concussion of my own from getting dropped on my head when he decides I learned my lesson.”

“I won’t tell him if you don’t...” she says softly, “You don’t have to be nice to me. I know I don’t deserve it...”

“Huh?”

“N-nothing.”

“Now hold on there,” The demon says as he moves the bag back to where it was before, “You’re not gonna speed past that and act like ya didn’t just say what ya just said.”

“It’s nothing really,” Arella eyes dart around looking everywhere but Mammon’s. “Let’s just change the subject.”

“Alright, you can answer my earlier question then. How did you fall?”

“I slipped while climbing down from one of the shelving units at the store.... and smacked my head on the shopping cart.”

“No offense, but you’re kinda dumb. You were tryin’ ta get those noodles down, weren’t ya? You could have just grabbed whatever was at eye level or in your reach. You would have been an easy meal for a demon if you had passed out.”

“I know,” She sighed. “But that flavor is your favorite and I got everybody else’s favorites. It wouldn’t have been fair to not get yours.”

“It ain’t worth a concussion, short stack.” Once he’s sure she won’t move away, he lowers his hand from the side that isn’t icing the bruise and places it over hers. “Thanks though. And... I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I didn’t think you’d actually go out and try to get yourself eaten because I said I wouldn’t care.”

“I mean, that wasn’t my goal,” She sighed. “But I guess that’s the mess I got myself into huh?”

“Ya wouldn’t have if I would have done my job and gone with ya...” He scoots her over and then hops up on the island counter next to her. “I don’t get you, ya know...”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re too nice to me. I’ve been a jackass ta ya but you never seem to let it bother ya. You’re always coverin’ for me when I steal things from the house ta sell and you never said anything after I stole that necklace and other things from you. You save my plate at dinner when I don’t make it right away and you’ve lied right ta Lucifer’s face on multiple accounts for me... why? Why do you do these things?”

“I just wanted you to be nice to me. I know I just kind of got forced on you...  I thought maybe if I extended the olive branch first, we could be at least somewhat civil with each other... but no matter what I did, it didn’t change the way you treated me so I just kept pushing harder and harder to see if maybe...”

“I get what you’re sayin’...” he hummed. “Let’s start over then... I’ll look out for ya for the rest of the year if you’ll forgive me... It would be ta both of our benefit.”

She nodded as he hopped down from the counter. “Alright, let’s go then.”

“Go? Go where?”

“Back ta the store, some of the stuff ya bought got damaged when those demons attacked ya.”

“Oh... Alright... This isn’t some kind of trick, is it? You’re not going to ditch me, are you?”

“Nah, I won’t. And if anybody wants to eat ya, they’ll have to go through me, first. Got it?” he says as holds his hand out to her. She hesitantly took it and he tugged her along after him as they headed out. She hopes that maybe they could even become friends at some point. That maybe- just maybe- this is a turning point for them.

Find more writings on my masterlist

[oreomonsterhunter]

Sick Day

Pairing: Jackson x reader

Word count: 2270

Warnings: none

Synopsis: Jackson stays home sick (and not very willingly lol)

[ 6:00 am ]

Soft gray light seeps around the curtains as you ease into wakefulness.  You stretch your arms over your head, finally registering the chime of your alarm.  But when you roll over to turn it off, you stop, a mere inch between your nose and Jackson’s back.

You frown at him, not that he can tell, since he’s not supposed to be there.  He should be at the gym, or practice, or wherever the hell he needs to be after his ungodly alarm goes off every morning.  Baffled, you poke his shoulder.  “Jackson?”  He groans, and your frown deepens.  You sit up, leaning over him, “Are you alright?  Is your schedule cancelled?”  You squeeze his arm gently to elicit a response.

Jackson cracks his eyes open to look at you, blinking rapidly.  Then suddenly his eyes are comically wide and he’s not sliding but falling out of bed and stumbling to the bathroom.  “Shit, I’m late,” he says hoarsely.

You sit there, still a bit shocked and not a little groggy, and try to make sense of things.  Then you get your act together and go to turn on the coffee machine.  When you pop your head in the bathroom, you find Jackson squinting at his phone, toothbrush hanging out the side of his mouth.  You hip-check him out of the way as you grab your own brush.  “Stop getting distracted if you’re running late,” you mumble around a mouthful of toothpaste.

Jackson starts to respond automatically, and you choke on a laugh as toothpaste dribbles down his chin.  This, of all things, seems to cause a Jackson malfunction.  He stops there, blinking at his minty goatee in the mirror.  With a sigh, you spit and go to help him, taking the toothbrush away before he drops it.  You cup his cheek while you wipe off the mess with a damp washcloth, but then you frown, placing the back of your hand on his forehead.  “Holy—Jackson, you’re burning up,” you exclaim.  You take his face between your hands and stare him down.  “Talk to me.  What’s going on, how do you feel?”

He just blinks for a moment, before shaking his head.  “I just had a headache is all.  Snoozed the alarm.  I’m totally fine, I just need to get to the studio for practice.”

“Jackson, how do you feel?” you repeat, holding him still.  You sneak a glance at his phone, still unlocked to show you his recent search for natural headache remedies.

He looks sheepish now, “Well, my head hurts.”

You raise one eyebrow at him.  “You don’t say.  What else?”

He groans, dropping his face in his hands.  “I’m fine, I promise.  Just a headache.”

“If that’s all it is, take some pain meds and get out,” you challenge him, folding your arms in what you hope is an intimidating stance.  You know bullshit when you hear it.

Somehow the pose works.  That, or Jackson vividly remembers how you chewed him out for lying and threatened to roast him alive if he ever tried it again.  “My throat hurts a bit, and I’m definitely a bit congested.  All I need is some tea and a mask and I’ll be fine,” he starts, but stops just as quickly when your glare intensifies.

You rummage around in the closet and find a thermometer, which confirms your suspicions: a fever.  “Back in bed after you finish brushing, or I’m withholding any and all sexy activities for a month,” you threaten him into compliance.  And you would absolutely uphold that threat, because you know Jackson.  He’s always hounding you to stay healthy, but is a definite member of the “do as I say, not as I do” camp of idiots.  If you don’t lay down the law now, he’ll continue working himself to death, and then he’ll really be in trouble.  Plus he’ll end up getting the other boys sick, and Jackson is enough of a handful on his own without six other boys moaning and groaning.

In the kitchen, you gulp coffee while boiling some water for tea.  Your fingers fly, tapping out a message to Jaebeom, knowing he’ll pass along the message.

Jackson’s an idiot and he’s sick, if anyone asks him to come to practice I’ll end them.

Then to Jinyoung:

Can you check on Jackson this afternoon?  I have to go to work, but would love it if you could make sure he’s still breathing (and hasn’t tried to leave the apartment).  I made kimchi jjigae last night, so there’s leftovers if you want some ❤️

Your phone pings with two positive responses right away, and you nod to yourself.  Then you pour a good spoonful of honey in the mug, grab cold medicine, and bring both to Jackson.  “Drink this, take this, and go to sleep,” you say, shoving the mug in his hands.  “There’s clementines on the counter, plus leftover soup in the fridge.  Call me if you need me, especially if you start to feel any worse.  Jinyoung will stop by around lunch, and I’ll be back from work in time for dinner.  Text me your dumb loopy fever thoughts, okay?”  You finally take a breath after spouting off instructions.  You’re worried, but now you’re running late.  And if he takes a turn for the worse, you can call out of work for the rest of the day.

Jackson just smiles up at you, and you roll your eyes.  You can’t help but smile at your precious idiot—he’s already fever loopy.  “I love you,” he says.

“I love you more.”  You press your lips to the top of his head, then dash to the closet to change into your work clothes.

Even though it’s possibly the fastest strip show in history, Jackson wolf whistles between sips of tea.  You chuckle, jiggling yourself into a pair of pants, and he grins shamelessly.

“Ok, I’m off,” you mutter, collecting various odds and ends and cursing to yourself because you’ve definitely forgotten something.

Jackson calls your name as you start to close the bedroom door, and you turn back.  His smile softens, and you swear there are hearts in his eyes.  “I love you most.”

This time, you really do laugh, and you blow him a kiss goodbye.  He’s an idiot, but he’s your idiot.

[ 11:39 am ]

You knew he was going to text you incessantly throughout the day, despite any good intentions, if only because Jackson was not well equipped to be stuck inside an empty apartment all day.  Especially when he wasn’t feeling well.  At least the texts waited until around ten, when you assume he woke up again.  You’d kept an eye out for any bad updates, but hadn’t seen anything to worry you.

After back-to-back meetings, you finally sign off and take a minute to scroll through the memes, YouTube videos, and more.  Fortunately, your phone was on silent, because he’d sent you half the internet.  The spam tells you he feels okay, all things considered.

I miss you already.  I’ve gone through all of your Spotify playlists and now I’m bored

I would spam you with bad jokes, but those don’t work over text

Why don’t we have a dog?  Can you bring me a dog on your way home from work?

Why won’t the guys text me back...did you THREATEN THEM? BABEEEEE

Babe

BABE

BABY COME BACK

YOU CAN BLAME IT ALL ON MEEEEE

...princess please answer me I’m dying and I have no one

You can’t stop the smile, knowing he’s doing his best to keep you from worrying, but also that he’s probably stir crazy.  You quickly tap out a response:

I’m glad you’re feeling better, or at least pretending.  Tell me if you feel worse.  Are you drinking water?

He sends you a selfie of him guzzling the glass you left for him.  And finally stops texting, which makes you chuckle.  A glance at the clock tells you a special visitor should be arriving soon, so you turn back to your computer to get some more work done.

Within fifteen minutes, your phone buzzes again.  Jinyoung’s update is quick and to the point: a photo of an exhausted Jackson nearly falling asleep in his soup.  That’s enough to send you over the edge, and you laugh out loud, regardless of the thin office walls.

[ 5:49 pm ]

You lock the door behind and toe off your shoes, then pad into the kitchen.  You’d stopped by the store on your way home, picking up cold medication and a few ingredients for dinner.  Jackson gives you the scare of your life, when you round the corner and find him slumped over the counter.

“Jackson!” you gasp, nearly dropping the shopping bags.

He mumbles incoherently, lifting his head and blinking blearily at you.  “Hi princess,” he says with a weak smile.

Now you do drop the bags and round the counter to reach him.  You press the back of your hand to his forehead.  “Still burning up,” you mutter.  “Jackson, why didn’t you call me?  And Jinyoung didn’t say you were this miserable.”

He shakes his head at you, hair falling limp over his forehead.  “I’m just tired.  Apparently I took a nap after he left,” he says sheepishly.  Your frown deepens.  “It’s just a cold,” he tries to reassure you.

Rolling your eyes at him, you go back to the grocery bags and retrieve the cold medication.  “I’ll make dinner and you can go right back to bed, okay?  Drink some more water.”

Jackson obeys your gruff instructions, sitting and sipping water while you throw ingredients together for a quick stew.  He tries to offer to do the dishes, but you shoo him off for a hot shower.  But he doesn’t reach your limit of irritating until he tries to convince you to sleep in the bed while he takes the couch.

“Should I move out?  That’s the only way I can be sure I won’t get sick,” you tell him, hands on your hips as you stare him down.  Jackson reluctantly puts his pillow back on the bed, prompting you to grab your own, “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Now Jackson is the one rolling his eyes.  You huff out a laugh and watch his lips twitch, trying to hold back his smile.  “I just worry about you,” he says softly.

You can’t stay mad at that face.  Dropping the pillow, you sit on the edge of the bed, patting the space beside you.  When Jackson plops down, you bump your shoulder into his.  “I wish you would worry about yourself more.”

He knows what you’re getting at.  This isn’t the first time you’ve had this conversation—in the beginning, they were pretty fierce arguments.  The two of you are both stubborn, leading to stalemates more often than not.  Convincing Jackson to put his health before his work was one of those standoffs.

Jackson doesn’t say anything, but he bumps your shoulder back, so you know the message was received.  You smile at him, then poke his side playfully.  “I already told Jaebeom you’d be taking tomorrow off.”

He groans, falling back on the bed and throwing an arm across his face.  “I can’t afford to miss practice.  Comeback is only a few weeks away and—”

“And nothing.  You stay home until the fever is gone for twenty-four hours.  Or I’m taking you to the doctor, and they’ll tell you worse.”

He simply groans like the drama king he is, and you laugh while you take a blanket and pillow to the couch.

[ 7:24 am ]

You’re dragged into wakefulness by a crick in your neck, a sore throat, and a stuffy nose.  You groan, dragging one hand down your face in defeat.  Jackson wasn’t going to let this one go...you were in for an earful.  Rolling off the couch, you sniffle your way through your morning routine.  By the time you’ve called out of work, taken some cold medication, and sat down with your coffee, Jackson is also awake.

He does a double-take when he sees you, “Wait, shouldn’t you be at work by now?”

You grumble, sure he’s figured it out but wants to drive the point home.  “I’m sick.”

“I guess you should’ve moved out then,” he jokes, but his expression has never been more serious.  It feels like deja-vu, only Jackson is the one checking your temperature and muttering about tea.

“It’s fine, I’ve self medicated like a grown-up,” you say with a smile, but it probably looks more like a grimace.  “And I have coffee, go get yourself some tea.”

Ten minutes later, you’re staring down at a horrible green concoction.  “Jackson, I’m sorry, but what fresh hell is this?”

“Fruit, vegetables, and whatever else I could find in the fridge.  I didn’t put chicken in there, don’t worry.  I know how you feel about my shakes.”

You eye him up and down.  He doesn’t look much better than yesterday.  “You drink it.  You need to get your strength back for practice.”  Jackson pouts at you, and that’s when you figure it out.  “It’s not your fault I’m sick,” you tell him.

He scoffs, “Yes it is.”

You resist the urge to throw something at him.  Lovingly, of course.  “We’ll just have to agree to disagree then.”

“Fine.  But you’re drinking this,” he fires back.

You wince, peering into the cup again.  You’re not sure you can trust his ingredient list.  “Split it?” you ask, wearing your most angelic smile.

Jackson squirms away from you in fake disgust, “I can’t, there’s cooties!”  Then he ducks to avoid the pillow you hurl at him.

* * * * *

Masterlist

[destiniesfic]

132 Hours, Chapter 9

“Don’t kill Cardan.”

The Bomb cocks her head to the side. “I thought you didn’t like him.”

“I… don’t.”

Previous

Read chapter 9 on AO3, or read below:

The Bomb returns sometime later with a liter bottle of spring water and Tylenol. “Prescription strength,” she tells me, dispensing two pills into my open palm. “Good stuff.”

“Whose prescription?” I croak, sitting up. It feels like every ounce of liquid in me is squeezing itself out as sweat or something else. Masturbating only helps so much—the only thing that abates the worst heat symptoms is mating with an alpha. And since that’s not happening, it’ll just have to run its course.

Oblivious to my true suffering, she winks at me.

I throw the Tylenol back and wash them down with a swallow of cool water, then keep drinking. My mouth has grown so dry. But I wrench the bottle away from my mouth and say “Leave it” when the Bomb moves to take the pills back.

She gives me a look. “I’ll be back to give you more later, but I’m not leaving this with you. For all I know, you’d shut down your liver to make us take you to the hospital.”

I blink at her, wretchedly aware of the heat of my skin where my eyelids press together. I hadn’t even thought of that.

“Crap,” she says, fumbling in the plastic bag. “I should have taken your temperature first. Hold on, maybe we can still get it before the meds kick in.” She clicks her tongue. “Chemistry I like fine, drugs, sure—but nursing isn’t my area.”

“What is your area?” I ask. I don’t really feel like talking to anyone, but my curiosity is strong enough that I push through it. Anything to learn more about the people who’ve taken us.

The Bomb holds up her prize, a thermometer still in its plastic packaging, and grins at me. “I like blowing stuff up. I dabble in hacking. Basically, if there’s a wall, I want to bring it down.”

I shift in my blankets. It’s an endearing answer, but I worry that any positive feelings toward our kidnappers is budding Stockholm Syndrome. “This must be a boring job for you.”

“It was supposed to be, yeah.” She wrestles the thermometer out of the plastic and hands it to me. “You have a way of keeping things interesting. And Cardan’s a riot. I hope we don’t have to kill him.”

The beep of the thermometer turning on immediately after that statement makes me jump. “You said you wouldn’t,” I protest. “You said you’d take care of us.”

“I know. Our employer’s anxious about how much you’ve both seen and heard. But we can’t kill you, so there isn’t much of a point to getting rid of him. And between you and me, the Roach is very fond of him.”

“So—”

“Stick that thing in your mouth,” she says. “We don’t have all day.”

I glare but stick the cold tip of the thermometer under my tongue and wait for it to start beeping again.

The Bomb leans over, reading the lit-up display—red, already a bad sign. “One hundred point nine,” she announces. “No wonder you’re miserable.”

“No real danger though,” I sigh, pulling it out of my mouth and giving it a little shake. Would they really take me to the hospital if my condition deteriorated? Maybe I should consider trying to dehydrate myself. That’s the real danger of going through heat without a partner. I could do it, I think. “Forget” to drink, drive the fever higher. But our current circumstances are already precarious, and there are a million ways this might end badly for me. The headache is pulsing stronger over my left eye already, and the last thing I need is a full-blown migraine. I take a sip of water and silently will the Tylenol to kick in faster.

“We’ll keep an eye on you,” she affirms.

I wipe my hand on the back of my mouth, already feeling a little more like a person instead of a sweaty blob of hormones. “Don’t kill Cardan.”

The Bomb cocks her head to the side. “I thought you didn’t like him.”

“I… don’t.” I cap the bottle, looking down at my hands. My cheeks are hot again, which at least means some blood in my body has decided to circulate instead of pooling in my groin. “But I don’t think he deserves to die. He didn’t do anything.”

“Hmm,” says the Bomb, mulling it over.

I jerk my head up, but she’s smiling at me. Teasing. I flush again. “I’m just saying. I don’t see you guys as killers, anyway.”

Her voice has a dangerous edge to it when she asks, “You don’t?”

I shake my head to clear it. I may be sick, but I can’t allow myself to forget where I am and who I am with. The Ghost shot me already, and it’s easier than I’d like to imagine the Roach’s twisted features contorting further as he plunges a knife into someone’s back. “Maybe just you?” I offer.

“Well, you’re not far off. Murder is a messy business. I prefer to set the charges and wait at a safe distance. But we all do what we have to.” She shifts, and I must look worried, because she adds, “He’s probably going to be fine.”

“Probably,” I echo, and then sigh. “His family’s even more messed up than mine.”

“Well, your dad is Madoc.”

“My parents are dead,” I say.

“Oh,” says the Bomb. But no apology, no condolences. I kind of appreciate that. I learned a long time ago that no amount of apologies would bring my mom and dad back.

“And my sister—never mind.” I shake my head. I really must be addled if I’m spilling my guts to a stranger. Is this Stockholm Syndrome? Is this how it starts? “At least she’s not trying to kill me.”

“It’s another level of family drama,” she agrees. “The Kardashians have nothing on the Greenbriars.”

I try to work out why I feel comfortable around the Bomb. I think her frankness reminds me a bit of Vivi. She never bought into the pretensions of our new life—she wanted out as soon as she was in. And she talks about it like she really is outside of it. The Bomb is like that. She says what she means. She isn’t bowled over by anything.

“How can you do it?” I ask. “How can you do this kind of work for them? Is it really just the money?”

The Bomb blinks at me, her eyes large and luminous in the dark. Her brows draw together, and she looks past me. I seem to have struck a nerve, and for a moment I think she isn’t going to answer my question. Then, at last, she says, “It isn’t just that. The Roach and I—we owe them a lot. I think if… we might not be alive now, if not for what they did.”

“That’s worth kidnapping for? Maybe killing for?”

She looks back down at me. “I know you’ve had shit happen, Jude. I’m not interested in a competition there. But I think Madoc’s kept you from a lot of bad stuff, given you options. Some of us aren’t so lucky.”

“I know that,” I protest. How many Designation Equality Club meetings had Taryn and I attended in our time? Vivi was president for a little while, I think to spite Madoc. “I know it’s not all mansions and parties. And you know, bad stuff can happen in parties and mansions too.”

“Sure. We are the bad stuff.” She flashes me a grin, then says, “Just think about what could have happened if Madoc hadn’t been there to catch you guys. Where you might have ended up. What you might have done to get out of it.”

My stomach twists. I have, of course, thought about that, but it’s an alternate universe that I can’t look directly at, like a solar eclipse. It’s easier to think about two branching possibilities: parents alive, or parents dead with Madoc intervention. Thinking about Madoc never showing, about Taryn and Vivi and I getting put in foster care, maybe separated… it’s so dim and distant.

“I’m not interested in a competition either,” I tell her. “I mean, I am judging you a little for kidnapping us. I will judge you harder if you kill Cardan.”

“No one’s going to kill Cardan,” the Bomb says, patting my shoulder. “You should lie back down. I’m surprised you’ve been upright this long.”

I scowl, but my head is already beginning to feel swimmy, so I settle back into my blankets. “I’m really stubborn.”

“I got that.” The Bomb gathers up her things, but leaves the water bottle within reach. I am grateful.

Just before she can put her hand on the doorknob, I call softly, “If you kill Cardan, I’ll kill you.”

She looks back over her shoulder at me, looking oddly fond. Maybe a gang of kidnappers and thieves respects threats. “Yeah,” she says. “I got that one, too.”

---

Cardan somehow manages to con his way into spending a lot of time outside of the cell. I am not sure how long, because I am curled up toward the wall and barely notice the light from the window wax and wane. But as the day passes his scent starts to go stale and sour, and I pick my head up every time someone opens the door.

It’s always the Bomb, returning to give me more Tylenol or hand me fresh fruit—not fast food, therefore a luxury. It occurs to me then that they kept buying us stuff from a drive-thru or grocery store because they didn’t think they would have us for long and didn’t bother stocking up. But someone must have thought to buy one a bag of mandarins this time, because I am given a couple to nibble on after each dose.

“Boosts the immune system,” the Bomb says when she drops off the first one. She seems in a good mood, probably because the medication has managed to wrestle my fever down to a balmy ninety-nine. Achy and hollow, I just give her a nod. My hands shake when I peel it, but I can peel it, and I’m grateful for that. I have been so humiliated already, and I can probably take more, but I don’t want to.

I slip into a weird daze for the second half of the day. Even though the fever is gone and my cramps are easier to bear, I find myself cursing Cardan’s name. I am pretty sure his presence made my heat worse—just the presence of an alpha, a desirable one, has convinced my body that there’s a chance I might mate, so it’s punishing me worse for abstaining. The longer he’s gone, the more clearheaded I feel, to the extent that my head can clear. And I am angry, at him for intensifying my misery, and at myself, for being like this in the first place.

By the time he returns, any trace of sunlight is gone. He walks slowly, shuffling behind the Bomb. Even as she talks to me and I nod along, sticking the thermometer in my mouth, my eyes track his progress as he settles in his corner.

His hair is damp, his scent shot through with the floral soap from the bathroom. He showered before coming in. I am unreasonably jealous of him. My hair is plastered to the back of my neck with sweat, and my thighs are basically stuck together with dried—anyway, I haven’t left the room all day, not even to pee. I feel like a damp towel someone wrung out and left to dry over the side of a sink.

After I’ve taken the Tylenol, the Bomb hands me a paper napkin with two more pills folded in it. “In case you wake up in the middle of the night,” she explains.

“It’s night?” I ask.

“We sleep in shifts. If there’s an emergency, have Cardan pound on the door.”

“Why me?” Cardan asks. He’s assumed his usual posture, with his leg propped up and his arm balanced casually on his knee. I wonder if the Bomb notices the rigidity in his shoulders, the tension in the line of his mouth. I do.

“I don’t think Jude’s going anywhere anytime soon.”

I sniff derisively, which is a bad move, because I get a fresh whiff of Cardan and am forced to bury my face in my pillow to smother a whimper.

“Point taken,” Cardan says. “Night. Thanks…” I imagine the rest of his sentence curling up and dying at the novelty of him thanking anybody for anything, but he manages to continue. “Thanks for taking care of her.”

The Bomb dusts off her knees as she stands up. “No problem. If she dies, we’re extraordinarily screwed.”

“I know. Still.”

She nods, then leaves. This time, I hear her lock the door behind her. Cardan and I are once again stuck together, alone.

I turn over and curl toward the wall again so I don’t stare. It’s not like heat gives you night vision, but for a couple of seconds he seemed to be a crisp outline in the near darkness of our cell. I don’t want to be tempted. I don’t.

“How, uh.” Cardan clears his throat and tries again, awkwardly. “How was your day?”

“Sucked,” I mutter.

“Yeah.”

“Yours?”

“Sucked less, probably.” He pauses. “But still sucked. I, um, I wanted to check on you.”

“It’s okay.” I shift my head. There’s a twinge in my abdomen, but at least it’s not another full cramp. “Did you learn any neat card tricks?”

“Yeah, actually. The Roach says I’m a fast learner.”

“High praise from a career criminal.”

Cardan chuckles, and my heart jumps. I made him laugh. I don’t know why that affects me the way it does. It must be the heat, another weird side effect. “I should’ve brought the deck in. To show you.”

“If we get through this, you can show me another time.”

“Oh yeah?” I can tell he cracks a smile just by the way his voice picks up. “You’re still gonna want to hang out when we’re out of here?”

I press my lips together to keep from echoing a smile. “I don’t know,” I say to the wall. “Maybe I’ll be too busy with my cool new friends from college to make time for you. And maybe you’ll be too busy hanging out with the Roach. Although that’s honestly an upgrade from your normal crowd.”

“Ouch.”

“He’s not a douchebag alpha,” I point out.

“I don’t know what he is.” I can picture Cardan shaking his head. “I sat next to him for most of the day and I still don’t have a clue. He sounds like an alpha, but he doesn’t really look like one. He doesn’t smell like anything. He and the Bomb seem to have some kind of communication going, but I don’t know if that means they’re mated, or… just close, I guess.”

“I think the Bomb’s an omega,” I say. “Like me. We kind of had a moment earlier.” I screw up my face in thought. “It bothers me that I still can’t get a clear read on her scent, though. Especially now. That’s weird. What do they have to hide?”

“Maybe they’re all betas,” Cardan suggests. “They don’t give off the same pheromones we do.”

I snort. “That’s not possible.”

“Betas exist.”

“Yeah. They’re one in a thousand. The odds that there would be three in one place...”

“Impossibly low, yeah. You’re right.” He sighs. “Well, we’ve seen their faces, but maybe they don’t want to leave scent markers around so they can be tracked that way. That seems like a smart crime thing… to do.”

My lips twitch again. “A ‘smart crime thing?’”

“Oh, like you could do better.”

I snicker, but then the cell falls quiet. We have officially exhausted every subject that will keep us from facing our circumstances, and we know it.

“So,” Cardan says, “now what?”

I don’t know. I cannot imagine spending the night in this cell with him, like this. But I am supposed to be the one with the plans.” “Um, I guess we try to sleep.”

“Right, right. Will it hurt your foot if I take the pillow under it? I’d ask to borrow a blanket, but…”

“No, I get it,” I rush. The blankets are in no condition to be lent, but I’ve left him without any bedding and anywhere to sleep. “Definitely take the pillow.”

There is silence, in which I can imagine him nodding, then the rustle of his clothes as he crawls over to take the pillow propped up under my leg. His hand skims my foot, and it’s like an electric current zings up my body. I hold my breath, waiting for something else to happen, but I just hear him move back to his corner.

“Do you want, um, my sweatshirt?” I offer.

He scoffs, “I don’t think it’ll fit, Duarte.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re such an asshole. To keep your arms warm, because you don’t have a blanket.”

There’s a longer pause than the situation calls for, and then he says, “Yeah, toss it over.”

I make myself sit up so I can unzip it, then ball it up and fling it toward him as hard as I can. I am not feeling very strong, but the room is short, so it lands at his feet anyway. He picks it up and buries his face in it.

“Oh, you pervert,” I scold, even as my stomach does a flip. I am surprised to find I’m not mad. I’m not even annoyed. What had I thought was going to happen when I threw it over to him? It’s saturated with my pheromones.

And my scent. Which he’s supposed to hate.

“I just,” he says, taking another sniff. There’s a fuzzy edge to his voice. “I thought it would help. Since we can’t—I don’t know, I just thought it would help.”

I force myself to lie back down and turn around and not watch, even though I am unbearably curious. My face is hot, and heat gathers between my thighs again. It’s just the pheromones. It’s just the circumstances. If my mind were less addled, maybe I could make more sense of all this, but I cannot.

A minute or so later I hear him shift again. “Yeah, it’s a good blanket,” he says. “Thank you, Jude.”

“Sure.”

Then all is silent again, and I think he has fallen asleep. It seems impossible that he could. I am so weary, but my arousal is skewering me like a hot spike, and I keep listening for him on the other side of the room. There’s no way I can seek relief with him here, and no way I can sleep like this.

“Cardan,” I say, breathily. “Are you awake?”

He whispers back, “Yeah.”

I shift. It’s like parts of my body flare to life at just the sound of his voice. “What do you think would happen if you came over here?”

“You don’t—want that, right?”

I don’t know what I want. I think I am closer to wanting him—to wanting at all—and then the memory of Valerian using his knee to try and wedge my thighs apart comes back. I pull the blankets tighter around me. “This sucks so much.”

“Yeah.”

“Less for you, right?”

“You think so?”

“I don’t know. Aren’t you flooded with adrenaline or whatever it is that theoretically enables you to keep thrusting for days on end?”

Cardan chuckles. “Wow. You must really be far gone if you’re willing to put me and ‘thrusting’ in the same sentence.”

My cheeks warm. “I meant ‘you’ as in ‘alphas.’ Don’t be dumb. And aren’t you used to this?”

“From—oh. The O?”

“Uh-huh.”

“No, that’s different. They alter it somehow, on a chemical level. All of the euphoria and adrenaline, none of the, uh… the aches or the erections lasting longer than four hours. You know, stuff you want to avoid if you’re not in rut for real.”

“Right, makes sense.” I hesitate. “So, you are? I couldn’t tell.”

“What?” He sounds incredulous. “Yeah, yes, I am. Of course I am. There’s like no space between us and no ventilation. It would be impossible for me not to be.”

“Alright, alright.” I squeeze my pillow a little tighter. “You just seem so…”

“So…?”

“Clear,” I finish. “And calm. Calmer than this morning, at least.”

Cardan is quiet for a second before he asks, “Remember this morning, you asked if I was afraid of you?”

My heart thumps. “Yeah?”

“I’m not. I’m afraid of me. I’m afraid of… of...” He grasps for words. “I’m afraid of all the stuff I want to do. Because I’m coming to a realization that’s very painful and you can’t laugh, but I am, and it’s, it’s important—I don’t want to be like Valerian. Or like my brothers. Or even like Locke. I want to be different. I don’t know if there is a different, but I want to be it.”

I am so bewildered that I don’t reply. For as long as I have known Cardan, he’s never been anything other than a bully, a terror, delighting in other people’s suffering, reigning from the top of the food chain. He always seemed to enjoy being an alpha, relish it. I can’t make heads or tails of what he’s telling me now.

Is he saying he doesn’t want to hurt me? He’s never cared before.

But I think about him tucking the blankets around me, gingerly propping my foot up on the pillow this morning, and I wonder.

“It wouldn’t be like Valerian,” I whisper, but he must have fallen asleep, because he says nothing.

Next

[weasleydream]

A rough day

After what feels like years without posting, I come back to you with a little something i’ve written ages ago because i still haven’t found the motivation to write but i promise i’m working on it 

I hope you’ll enjoy!

Masterlist 

(photo not mine)

“Please, do something, my head, it hurts!”

The patient, Mr Rale, was complaining about his head since the first hours of the day, whereas the sun hadn’t even showed up and when I was still in my bed. Since I had arrived at St-Mungo’s, about seven hours ago, he had emptied five vials of potion against headache on his own and was still acting like a man on his deathbed. 

“I’m sorry, sir.” I said for the millionth time. “I can’t do anything more than to give you a potion, it would be useless.”

“You’re not a healer, I want someone competent!” he hissed. 

He hadn’t stopped making these comments to me since the second he had seen me in his room. Three days ago, Lory, a friend of mine and an usually very patient nurse, had left his room screaming she would gladly kill him if she could. My superior hadn’t even fired her for the simple reason that she was the ninth nurse quitting in two weeks because of our dear Mr Rale. The guy had been bitten by a werewolf, and, if I could only imagine the pain he had gotten through, I also knew for a fact that the pain didn’t last more than a week. That was what Remus Lupin had told me back in my last year at Hogwarts when I had told him I wanted to be healer and I had timidly asked him what it was like to be bitten. 

“The first 24 hours are the worst,” he had said. “You feel like a fire slowly spreading in your body, and the pain is at its peak where you’ve been bitten. The sensation slowly decreases within a few hours, and a week later, the pain has disappeared. The physical one, anyway.” He had added with a bitter tone. 

Since the beginning of the year, when I had begun to work at St-Mungo’s, the most technical thing I had done was asking a baby to get out of the way as I was dragging a housekeeping cart. Nevertheless, that didn’t prevent my superior from almost begging me to take care of Mr Rale, promising me I wouldn’t be the clean lady anymore if I took care of him until he was healed. 

I had promised myself I would be an exemplary nurse, a smiling and comprehensive woman… No need to say it was before I met my patient. 

“Arrange my pillow for me, it’s really not comfortable.”

With a groan that had almost become my only way of communication with him, I obliged and helped him sitting. I hit the pillow a bit harder than needed, just to calm my nerves, and laid Mr Rale back. 

“The bandage is itching me a lot, I think you should -”

“Yes, I’ll change it.”

I gave him my back to roll my eyes, my hope to become a true healer not forgotten, and started to get his bandage off. His left shoulder was coloured in a strange mix of black, purple and yellow, and the marks of the werewolf fangs were still visible, forming a nasty wound. I applied a potion to disinfect with an infinite delicacy, but he still found something to complain about. 

“I told you I don’t like the smell of this potion.”

Fighting against the urge of smashing the vial on his head (I had heard the werewolves had hard bones, it would be the occasion to test it), I didn’t reply and quickly made him another bandage. Despite the unpleasant comments he threw to me between two dramatic moans, I was relieved to notice Mr Rale was getting tired. At least, when he was sleeping, he wasn’t rude. I glanced at my watch and sighed. Only one more hour and I would be free until tomorrow. 

_ _ _ 

After a quick passage at the grocery store - where I fell in front of the entrance before realizing that I didn’t have enough money - I finally arrived in front of the door of the apartment in a muggle street George and I had bought after the war, when Fred and Angelina had started dating. I managed to hold my three bags with one hand while looking for the keys… and heard one of the paper bags tearing itself up. 

“Bloody hell!” I shouted as the apples rolled down the few steps in front of the door. 

The latter opened as I was kneeling on the ground and revealed an amused George. Usually, I would have melted in front of his neglected appearance, he was just so cute with his tie loose and his messy hair… But today was definitely a bad day and he accidentally stepped on my hand when he tried to help me. 

“Bloody hell!” I repeated much louder than before. 

“I’m sorry Y/N I didn’t want to- let me see your hand, I’ll-”

I didn’t let him continue his rambling apologies and rushed inside, abandoning my bags outside. I threw my wand on the kitchen counter and it fell on the floor before rolling under the oven. 

“Fuck!”

I got on all fours and reached for my wand only to hit my head against the handle. The tension of this horrible day made something break in me and when he came back with the bags and all the apples, George found me sitting on the floor, rubbing my head to ease the pain and weeping like a baby. 

“Oh, come here baby…” he whispered as he sat next to me and pulled me against him. 

I hid my head in the crook of his neck and he began to murmur sweet things I was unable to understand. I just perceived the purr of his voice and the vibration somehow helped me relax. By now, I was sitting between his legs, and mine were wrapped around his waist. George slowly put his right hand on my cheek and wiped a tear with his thumb. 

“Please, tell me what’s wrong.” he begged. “Tell me how I can help you.”

“You can’t, I’m alright, don’t worry love.” 

George made his I-don’t-believe-you face and wrapped once more his arms around me. 

“Prepare for immediate takeoff!” he warned. 

He didn’t let me time to react and got up, still carrying me like a child. One of his arms moved and went to support my butt while the other tightened me against him. 

“What are you doing?”

George didn’t answer and carried me in the bathroom, where he delicately let go of me. With a wave of his wand, candles appeared and decorated the room. I was beginning to understand what he was going to do when literally all my thoughts became crazy as his hands travelled on my back. George was standing behind me, his breathing lightly tickling me as he was kissing my neck. His hands were now firmly holding my waist under my shirt, his soft touch warming up my skin. 

“You know I love you, right?”

His voice was becoming hoarse and made me shiver. Unable to do anything coherent, I nodded and sighed when I felt his hands lifting my shirt up. He made it pass above my head, threw it on the floor and kissed each part of my skin he could reach. I tried to turn toward him but he didn’t let me. 

“Let me help you relax, love.”

A few minutes later, we were sitting in the bathtub, me between George’s legs, his arms around me. The water was hot enough to make all my muscles relax and I let out a sigh of contentment. 

“Better?” asked George. 

“So much better… Thank you love.” I whispered. 

“Can you tell me what was bothering you?”

I told him how bad my day had been and when he heard I was getting angry, George massaged my shoulders, helping me stay calm. After a few jokes and a pleasant massage, I eventually fell asleep and George only woke me up when the water had become too cold. After this well deserved nap, he made me sit on the couch with my favourite book on the knees and got back half an hour later with pizzas. We ate quickly as I was still exhausted and joined our bed to cuddle. 

_ _ _ 

“Don’t you have something for my stomach? It hurts!”

I rolled my eyes and smiled as brightly as possible. It was gonna be a rough day, but in the end, George always made it better.

[wastelandcth]

voicemail - cth

summary: calum’s tired of hearing his calls go straight to voicemail. 

author’s notes: this is based off of ahora te puedes marchar - luis miguel. i grew up listening to this song and its been stuck in my head ever since tiktok brought it back. i hope you enjoy! 

warnings: mentions of breakup ups, sad calum, mentions of alcohol. 

masterlist

Calum was sick of hearing her voicemail message. It's all he had heard when he tried calling her for the past three weeks. At first, he had blamed it on the distance, he'd been away on tour for the past three months and time zones were difficult to navigate at times, but at least he had tried to call and talk with her. She'd simply said goodbye to him at their airport and had proceeded to act as if she'd never met Calum before. 

It had been three months of Calum sending her pictures of his travels and sending updates about where they were, what they were doing, and that he missed her. It had also been three months of silence, of not knowing where she was or what she was going. For all Calum knew, she had disappeared off the face of the Earth and was never coming back. They'd been in Paris when Ashton finally convinced him to call her and put an end to whatever game she was playing. That was two months and one week ago, now Calum was sick of hearing the voice mail message he'd almost memorized from hearing it for the past week. 

"Hi! Sorry I couldn't get to the phone in time! I'm probably super busy but I'll give you a call back as soon as I can! Bye! I love you!" 

Calum's jaw clenched as he heard the all familiar beep of her answering machine, a sigh leaving him before he hung up and set his phone down on the couch of the green room in whatever country he was in that day. He was out the door before even Ash could come and get him this time, his daily ritual of calling her with the hopes that she would answer and tell him that she'd been far too busy and something else that would make everything okay. But with every voicemail message he left, Calum felt his love slipping farther and farther away from her. 

Calum remembers when he first fell in love with her. They'd been seeing each other for around eight months, dates filled with sweet kisses, and looking up at the stars. It had been the best eight months of Calum's life, he had never felt so free and so happy than in those eight months of being with her. 

They'd been at the beach cafe he had first met her at, she'd been telling him a story about her family vacation where she had ended up on the beach alone and too drunk to remember where her hotel room was. She was halfway through her story when Calum's mouth opened and the words escaped him before his brain could even stop him. 

She was the woman of Calum's dreams and he wasn't going to let his fear of love stop him from having something he could cherish with her. He would walk through hell and back for her and he was willing to throw caution to the wind ready for whatever love had planned for him. 

Tour buses were a safe haven for Calum. He was away from the screaming crowds and the fans that always seemed to want to pry into his life. He was alone in his bunk, the darkness that enveloped him, and his mind helped him shut off the memories of her and how his heart felt like it was breaking one day at a time. After much begging and giving Ashton a promise that he was okay, he was alone on a tour bus his mind empty as he closed his eyes and tried to let the hum of the engine lull him back to sleep. 

Lately, Calum's dreams had consisted of a voicemail message, and the last time he had seen her, wrapped in one of his hoodies with tear-stained cheeks. He kept hearing her voice, echoing in his mind, telling him to be back soon and to bring her snacks. When he woke up, Calum felt like his eyeballs were going to explode, the pounding headache he'd gotten before he was on the bus still present. He was sick of having those stupid dreams of her voice and her smile and he was sick of thinking about her every day. So the only thing he could think of was to call her one last time. 

"It's me again, I know you're probably sick of hearing me. You're probably sick of me telling you that I'm sorry for doing something wrong that I don't even know what it is. I just, I called to say goodbye. I'm guessing that's what you meant when we talked last, that goodbye meant you didn't want to hear me anymore. I loved you when I left, I loved you when you didn't answer my phone calls, I loved you when you started posting on Twitter about your family vacation again. I loved you when I saw that picture of both of you at the beach, kissing. I loved you, I pushed through my fears and let go of myself for you. And now I lost everything because of something that you won't explain to me. I gave you my heart, I gave you my soul and you threw it away like it was nothing. Shut me out and pretended that I never cared about you and...But I know I'm done now, I know that you didn't know how to love me so now you can leave and I can leave and we don't have anything else to talk about. So I guess this is goodbye, have a nice life, I hope he makes you happier than I ever could." 

Three years ago Calum would've never imagined he'd be sitting at the same beachside cafe where he'd given his heart away. Three years ago Calum was on a tour bus numb to the world as the voicemail message hurt his ear and his brain. But things were different now, he was no longer crying himself to sleep. His heart didn't feel like it would break in half whenever he drove past the cafe. Especially today, when he had walked in holding her hand and sighed in relief when the entire place didn't explode. It wasn’t until he heard the basita call out a familiar name and his entire body tensed up.

Calum was in a bad place when he met her. He'd been locked in Ashton's guest room for six months before he even decided that going out to the grocery store would be a nice chance for fresh air. Being on the road for almost a year and then coming home to LA where all the memories of her were still in his house was not something he had prepared himself to handle. Two days into being back home, Calum found himself with a packed bag and Duke in his arms at Ashton's front door. He had laid down in the guest bedroom that day and had never gotten back up. 

"Do you think vanilla or regular oat milk would be better for banana bread?" she asked him while holding up to cartons of oat milk. 

Calum was in love with her smile since that first time he saw it. He doesn't even remember what answer he gave her, just remembers that he looked at her for way too long and probably freaked her out. But he somehow ended up with her phone number and before he knew it he was kissing her during the middle of a crappy superhero movie he really regretted suggesting they watch. 

When Calum saw her for the first time in three years, he felt like he was going to explode with anger. She looked like she had the day Calum her saw her last. She still had the same long hair she always complained about, still wore the gold hoop earrings that he had gotten her for her birthday, and she was still wearing that damn hoodie. 

His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white and it took everything in Calum's power to not walk over to her and tell her everything he'd been through since she'd left him. He watched as she paid for her drink and walked out of the coffee shop without noticing him. But with a deep breath and his coffee in his hand, Calum walked out to his car and drove off. She might've changed overnight, but it had taken Calum years to change and now that he had, he wasn't going to let his past ruin a good day. 

The text message notification had been on his home screen for three hours. He'd been staring at it every five minutes for the past three hours. He hated seeing it on his screen, hated that she thought she could just text him after three years of radio silence, and expect him to answer. His hands had stopped shaking an hour after he'd gotten the text message but every time he read it over, the anger built in his chest and he had to pace around his living room and groan out loud before he managed to sit back down and start the cycle all over again. 

"You look good. I like the blonde curls. We should meet up, talk about us? I miss you." 

He couldn't help but roll his eyes, three years of radio silence and all he got was a compliment and a proposition to meet up again. His fingers moved faster than ever before as he typed out his reply, all the anger, and resentment of the past three years falling off his shoulders in a matter of seconds. He hadn't even noticed when his fingers had stopped moving, his heart was racing and his breathing was uneven. His eyes scanned over the paragraph that he'd seemingly been holding in his chest for the last couple of years and with a simple tap, it was gone.  

Calum really loved his girlfriend. He loved the fact that after he deleted and blocked the phone number he had hoped to get a notification from for so long, his girlfriend showed up with his favorite Italian food and a bottle of wine. He loved that she held him close while they watched reruns of The Simpsons and she ran her hands through his curls. He loved that she was willing to cancel their date night and just hold him close because it meant that he found someone who loved him just the same. 

[gublersmessss]

Fix It | S.R.

summary — a stupid, stupid little reaction from you is how the day starts. when spencer leaves for work, you leave to get out of the house, right into the wrong arms. it isn’t until a phone call is made to garcia that they even realizes you’re missing...

warnings — some language, angst, mentions of blood, mentions of death (unsub death), mentions/usage of drugs (xanax, forced.) Some hurt feelings & just a touch of fluff. Mostly angst.

word count — 3.1k

listen to — you broke me first by tate mcrae & no time to die by billie eilish

a/n — ah my first oneshot on this blog! enjoy & my inbox is open!

You groaned. There’d been a sharp, throbbing pain in your left temple for the past twenty-five minutes, driving you up the wall. Standing still for a moment waiting for the vertigo to subside, you grab your bottle of ibuprofen off the kitchen ledge. You popped them into your mouth before taking a quick swig of the icy water in your water bottle.

You heard papers shuffling behind you, knowing it was Spencer. You’d been dating Spencer for about a year now, and only just moved in together. The small apartment you shared was extremely cozy, the only downfall was the heater had been broken the entire time of living there, leaving the winter months brutal. Luckily for you, Spencer loved his scarves and blankets, letting you take them whenever you needed.

His hair was partially in his face, and you watched as his nimble fingers came up to push a piece behind his ear as he was hunched over, trying to straighten out some papers in his satchel. You eyed him as he straightened his spine back up, looking at you with those soft hazel eyes.

“You alright?” He asks, rubbing his hands together. You saw his eyebrows furrow with concern as they ran over your face. You nod and turn away from him, taking one more ibuprofen.

“How many was that y/n?” He asks again, this time his voice a little higher, still waiting for your words. He inches closer to you as you put your water bottle down. You placed your hand on your head as the throb continued, harder this time.

“I’m fine, Spencer! Okay?! Is that what you wanted?!” You said, a lot ruder than you intended. You hadn’t intended it at all. You saw his face fall, and it broke your heart on impact. He had an open mouthed frown across his lips and he nodded, putting one hand on the opening of his satchel, one hand on the strap. He nodded softly and looked down at the mismatched socks that peeked out from under his pants.

“I got called in. There’s some papers I have to sign from Hotch. I’m sure I’ll be home by dinner time.” He tells you with a quieter tone before approaching you slowly, softly grabbing your cheeks with his hands and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I hope you feel better.”

You nod and just like that, he’s out the door. You knew he loved his job, and you were supportive of him. He was a borderline genius, and you’d seen first hand just how well he can get when talking to an unsub. You’d seen him out in the field, you could just tell he loved saving the lives that he could.

It was already about noon when you went back to your shared room, rummaging through your dresser, looking for some warmer clothes you could wear to go out grocery shopping. You chose your warmest jacket, along with one of Spencer’s favorite purple scarves.

-

Your gloved hands grip the handle of the shopping cart, pushing it down the darker, less inhabited aisle 12, paper plates and napkins. You glanced down at your list looking at what was next to get, a new fork. The one that was yours somehow got stuck down in the garbage disposal, sending Spencer into a laughing fit when you lost it. You smiled to yourself at the memory and heard a deep chuckle beside you. You got the chills, and it wasn’t from the cold.

You looked up and saw a man. He seemed to be in his mid-twenties, maybe late-twenties. He had on a black t-shirt, a working shirt, so he was a worker. No name tag. And combat boots unlaced over his black pants.

“Something funny sweetheart?” He asks. He takes a step closer to you, digging his hands into his deep pockets, and you immediately went rigid. This is why you almost never went out without Spencer. He always taught you red flags to look out for with people, how some can seem so nice and genuine and then brutally murder someone. Everything about this man was off. He smelled bad. Extremely bad.

“Oh, no.” You chuckled and pulled on the strap of your purse, holding it right against your neck, as far on you as it can get. You began pushing the basket down the aisle towards the front of the store. You felt your stomach drop when you heard his clunky boots following right behind you, almost pulling off the back of your shoe he was so close.

You saw a hand with a rag come around your front and trap it onto your nose and mouth, pulling your back against his body. You tried to fight back or even make a noise but everything went black so soon.

-

When you came to, you were sitting in a chair. It was dark, literally pitch black. You tried to move your hands and feet to stand up, but low and behold, no movement. You looked down to see what was stopping you, but it was too dark to even see your hand. You tried to scream but the rag that was stuck between your teeth prevented you from it. It tasted horrible, like some type of chemical. Definitely wasn’t good to keep your tongue on it.

Oh how you wish you never left that god damn apartment. You wish you never acted out on Spencer like that. Spencer. What if you never saw him again!? Those were the last things you said to him, you yelled at him. You looked up at the ceiling, seeing no light coming down from any cracks. Were you in a bonker?

*Spencers POV*

I finished all the paperwork for Hotch, just some aftermath from the previous case still had to be done. I nodded at him and left the office, walking back into the bullpen. My desk had so many papers on it, so many it drove me crazy.

As I sat down in my chair, I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. I sent y/n a text, letting her know I just had to clean up and then I’d be home, and I'd help her make dinner.

My fingers tapped at the edge of my desk as Garcia waved at me from across the room. Smiling, I waved back at her and waited for a text back from y/n. Normally she would reply within seconds, especially if she was already home. Unless she’s gone to the store to get things for dinner.

When I left the building, I began getting worried that I hadn’t heard back from her for fifteen minutes. It seems so bad to be worried after only that long, but when she always replied so fast, this worried me terribly.

I went back to the apartment. It was locked, that was good. Means she could just be asleep, she did have a headache after all, would make sense to rest, right?

“Y/N?” I called out, setting my satchel down by the door. I cranked my head around the wall of the kitchen, not seeing anything on the counters. But what caught my attention was the wind blowing through the open window in the living room, leading out to the fire escape. My hand gripped the gun in the holster against my hip, I pulled it out and aimed it in front of me. Turning around the corner of the living room quickly, my eyes caught sight of my favorite purple scarf on the table with a note stuck to it. I raised an eyebrow and walked slowly to the note, looking behind me before I reached it. I opened it and read it.

‘Paper plates, napkins, salt & pepper, soup.’

This was y/n’s shopping list. I flipped it over and on the back was someone else’s handwriting. Messy, written in a hurry. Whoever’s handwriting it was, they looked to be disorganized. My heart began to race as my eyes scanned on the paper.

‘If you want your precious angel alive, come alone.’

“Shit.” I grabbed my phone and dialed Hotch’s number, and as I put it to my ear the lights went out.

-

*Your POV*

A man came into the room. The light from outside was absolutely blinding, but it ended as soon as it happened. You whimpered as he kneeled in front of you. He had a pill in his hand, and in the other hand a bottle of rather cloudy water. You saw his eyes, they were deep dark brown, almost black. They looked so lifeless, like a shark lurking in the water searching for a wounded seal.

“Must be thirsty huh.” He says, his voice making you shake and clench your fists. He laughed at your attempt to move, but he shook his head.

“Ain’t nobody going to hear you out here! Not even that scrawny lover boy of yours.” You furrowed your eyebrows and knew he was talking about Spencer. He looked over your shoulder, smirking at something that you could not see. You scrunched up your nose at the stench on his hands as he came up and pulled the rag out of your mouth. You grimaced as he caressed your cheek. You tried to move away but he ticked his tongue.

“Your girl sure is beautiful Dr. Reid.” The man said, and you looked up at him, trying to turn your head but he grabbed your cheeks, making you pucker your lips.

“Don’t look away from me. Believe me. You don’t want to see him like that.”

You feel tears prick your eyes as he tells you this and he quickly brings the hand with the pull in it up to your lips. You struggle against him as he shoves the pill down your throat. He pushed your head back and forced you to drink water, you coughed and choked until you finally got it down.

“Why are you doing this?” You scowl, and he shrugs, smiling at you. What a psycho.

“Want to watch the show?” It’s as if he completely changed personalities, now all cheerful, giddy almost.

Before you could answer, your chair is turned around and you see Spencer sitting in a chair on the opposite side of the room. There is a shiny chain wrapped around his body, keeping him still against the chair. He sees you from across the room. His eyebrows raise as he sees you stuck to the chair.

“Y/N?! Oh my god, are you okay?!” He says, moving against the chains, not budging one bit. He has a gentle line of blood coming down his temple, and his hair is completely messed up. He sees your eyes get more and more hooded.

You try to reply, but everything starts spinning.

“S-Spence..” The man pulls your hair back, yanking your neck back, making your throat exposed. You can just barely hear what is going on around you as you get sleepy. You can see the ceiling, your eyes finally adjusting to the dark. It looks like the ceiling of a barn, very well maintained if you can’t see sunlight. But then again, maybe it was dark out already.

“Dan come out here! Grab a bat.” The man tells someone, and you don’t see but you hear some footsteps coming up behind you.

“Ralph, please don’t hurt her. She didn’t do anything! Hit me instead, please.” Spencer’s voice rings out, raspy and aching for water. He knows him?

“Oh? Tough guy huh?! Don’t want us to hurt this precious baby do you?”

You just about can’t move, you feel so tired but you can still see and hear what’s going on. You could barely feel anything until you feel the cool metal of a blade pressed against your neck. Not pressing hard until Spencer speaks again.

“NO! Please don’t! If you want to kill someone, just kill me!” He just about sobbed. The man above you looked down at you, looking at your glazed eyes.

-

Garcia sat at her desk, tossing a lollipop back at JJ who was sitting at the chair behind her.

“Have you heard from Reid? He’s never been this quiet. I’m starting to miss his smart ass remarks.” JJ says, unwrapping the candy as Garcia dials his number to his phone without even saying anything.

It rings a few times until he, no, someone answers.

“Who in the hell is this.” A man's voice called out, and Garcia and JJ both sat up straighter.

“Spencer?” Garcia asks, reaching her arm behind her to get JJ to sit next to her. When she moves forward, they hear a thud and hear you scream in the background.

They both jump and JJ immediately runs out to get Morgan and Hotchner.

“Oh you must mean the Dr. Spencer Reid! Oh yeah he’s here with us! We’re just having some fun with y/n as well! Enjoy never seeing them again!” He says as he hangs up just as the men come into the office.

“I-I- Sir we were just thinking about him so we called him, b-but..” Hotch cuts her off.

“Track his phone. There’s a GPS installed and if the unsub wasn’t smart enough to remove it, we can find them. Text me the address Garcia.”

“Yes sir, on it.” She turns around and begins typing.

They leave the BAU in their SUVs and floor it as Morgan’s phone dings with the location.

-

You feel numb, and your heart and brain both seem to flutter with the effects of the pill. Your head drops and you open your eyes to see Spencer with his head hanging down, fresh blood in his hair. There’s a man standing behind him, wiping the blood off of the tan baseball bat with a rag.

“S-Spence..” Your voice is raspy, aching something horrible.

“I’m sorry.” You tell him, having your hair yanked back again, giving you a clear vision of him. He has tears running down his cheeks as he’s breathing heavily against the chains holding him down. There’s blood coming from his lip as well, and it quivered as he looked across your whole body.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you this morning..” Spencer’s mouth fell open and his eyebrows pinched upwards, his eyes swelling with tears as you mumbled.

“Aw how cute! You’re sorry for yelling at him? Is that why you're sorry?” The man got down close to your face, his nose pressed against your cheek as you clenched your teeth. But his attention was drawn away at the sound of a closing door outside the barn.

“Go check that out.” He tells the other man, and he grabs a handgun instead. Pressing it tight against the side of your neck as he hurriedly untied your hands and ankles, forcing you to stand up. You were walking towards Spencer, and you tried reaching out for him when you were pushed to the floor right in front of him. Your chin hit his knee as he looked down at you, still trying to break out of the chains, but that's when the gun is removed from you and pressed right against his temple.

“You’re not going to want to do that.” Spencer says, looking at up Ralph. Ralph just moves the gun, pointing it directly between his eyes. He holds it there while attempting to tie your hands back together behind your back. You wanted so desperately to fight back, but whatever he gave you had you almost completely immobile.

“Stop talking to me.”

“I’ve studied people like you Ralph. You don’t want to kill people. You have compassion deep down. But your past..” He paused as the fun pressed right against his forehead, he shuddered lightly at the coldness of it. “Your past doesn't define you.”

His sentence was punctuated with a gunshot from outside before the door busted open, as you turned your head you saw Hotch and felt set free.

“Shut up!”

“Drop the gun.” Hotch says, in the calmness his voice always is. Ralph turned to him, pointing the gun at him instead. You can see his hand shaking, and hear his breath shaking just as bad. You twist your body and kick your foot out, tripping the man. Thinking you succeeded, waiting for Hotch to run over and kick the gun out of his hand, instead he reaches over and hits you sharply over the head with the butt of his gun.

“NO!” Spencer cried as he watched your eyes close, and the blood flower on your forehead.

That moment, Hotch shot Ralph right in the middle of the eyes. He falls and Spencer moves violently in the chair desperate to get out and save you. Hotch runs to him and gets the key out of the man's pocket, undoing the chains as Morgan runs to you as well, checking your pulse.

“I NEED A MEDIC!” He yelled into his mic, flipping you onto your side, undoing your hands and you open your eyes at the feeling of hands touching your face. Much softer after getting beat.

“Y/N, Y/N i’m right here okay?! We’re getting an ambulance, you’ll be okay.” He kisses your forehead softly as your eyes flutter open and closed slowly.

“What.. What did he give me? I'm so tired.” You say, bringing up a hand to press against your forehead. You look up to see Hotch digging in the man's pocket, pulling out an orange bottle with a white label.

“Xanax. It could have been so much worse but we will get you help. You’ll be okay.” He tells you and Spencer is still hovering over you. You bring up a hand to touch his lip, not directly touching the open wound there but caressing his cheek lovingly.

He smiles down at you and holds your hand that’s on his face.

“You shouldn’t be sorry. I shouldn’t have gone in to do those goddamn papers, I should have just stayed home today and made dinner with you.” He tells you, his nose scrunching as he sniffs his tears back.

“Let’s just get out of here. Then we can make dinner.”

-

Taglist — @blissfulparker @railmereid

[pain-somnia]

ssm 2k20 day 1: stuck with you Title: us and these walls Rating: M (for sexual content) Disclaimer Day’s Notes: this prompt was selected by my patrons on Patreon and I decided to make it a modern au...a quarantine au lmao so here’s a smutty quarantine au for y’all I hope it’s enjoyable. As a heads up SasoObi is mentioned often throughout the fic and it’s a minor pairing...well it’s Sasori/Obito/Third Kazekage but they’re background. I mostly put them in there for Kitty who made me fall in love with SasoObi lol this is super late but I hadn’t planned on any of my entries to be long and I failed ‘cause this is long. This fic was almost longer than it is.

us and these walls

It started with a couple of White Claws. And it ended with Sakura in the wrong bed and severely under dressed.

Sakura woke up with a start, giving an unattractive snort before clutching her aching head. The throbbing around her eyes delayed her in realizing that there was an arm slung around her waist and something hard poking at her ass.

No, Sakura grumbled inwardly. No no no no.

She already knew exactly who was in bed with her. There was only one person that she had been stuck with for the past two weeks in her cousin Sasori’s house.

Obito, Sasori’s husband, had a younger cousin that she was always grouped up with at family events because he was the closest to her age, only being eight months older than her. Other than sitting next to each other at brunch or at holiday meals, the both of them didn’t really talk much to each other. Not that Sakura didn’t want to.

Sasuke Uchiha just made it so difficult to get to know him as anything other than Obito’s ridiculously hot cousin.

Two weeks ago, Sasori had asked Obito to call Sasuke over to fix the sink in the kitchen. Sakura wasn’t sure what it was exactly that Sasuke did for a living, only that he had remodeled parts of the house before Sakura moved into her cousin’s house and he may or may not have also been the bartender in the blurry photos Ino had sent her one night many weeks ago.

Because Sasori was the way he was, Obito had called Sasuke at eleven at night and for some reason the man had responded and was awake at the time. Instead of letting him go home, Obito begged Sasuke to stay the night in the guest room.

And then the quarantine order was issued.

Somehow, Obito was able to convince Mikoto Uchiha that it was best for Sasuke to remain at his house for the quarantine. Somehow it had worked and of course Sasuke had no choice but to listen to his mother. And somehow the two of them ended up stuck living together alone because Sasori had packed his and Obito’s bags and took off.

Whoever the fuck the man that went by the moniker “Third” was, Sakura had to assume he was loaded. The morning of the second day of quarantine all she had was a note left by her cousin about where he and his husband went off to and three days later there was a post to his Instagram about how he and Obito were living it up by the pool at their boyfriend’s mansion.

It was no wonder Sasori had ditched her. She wasn’t that surprised he had. Sakura felt more betrayed by Obito.

Warm breath fanned against her temple and the arm slung around her waist pulled her in closer. Sakura adjusted herself so Sasuke’s cock nestled between her thighs instead of digging into her behind and Sasuke released a content sigh, curling around her more.

God.

This wasn’t like her. She didn’t have casual sex. Sakura had been suffering from a three year dry spell ever since she had ended her last relationship. Sakura wasn’t the kind to go out and find someone just for the sake of hooking up. She could almost hear Ino and Karin chanting in her head, “One of us. One of us. One of us.”

“Anything we need to do today?” Sasuke mumbled into her hair. Sakura tensed up. She hadn’t noticed that he had been awake.

“We already went shopping yesterday for groceries and the essentials.”

She and Sasuke tried to stock up on everything they needed the day before. They had almost ended up going home with nothing when a middle aged man without a mask on got too close and Sasuke opened up a disinfectant spray they were going to buy and sprayed him in the face.

They had also stopped at the liquor store because nothing said essential like alcohol.

Which is exactly how they ended up in their current predicament.

Sakura wasn’t sure how to take Sasuke’s behavior. He didn’t seem to mind that they had woken up naked and spooning and was even nuzzling her hair. She wasn’t opposed to the bit of affection but she would have preferred it happened when she wasn’t feeling nauseous and had a headache.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Sakura mumbled, disentangling herself from Sasuke’s hold and rushing to the hallway bathroom.

She was dry heaving and spitting up bile for all of a few seconds when she felt Sasuke’s presence next to her on the floor. He stroked her hair, pulling it back away from her face until her heaving stopped.

“Thanks for putting pants back on.”

“Yeah. Here.” Sasuke handed her a black shirt that must have been the one he had been wearing the night before. Sakura pulled it over her head and tugged it so it covered her until midway down her thighs.

Sakura was grateful that Sasuke had the mind not to turn the light on in the bathroom; the open bathroom door casted a strip of light from the hallway.

“So…” She opened the conversation, not entirely sure what it was that she was trying to say. She blanked out, not having an actual thought beyond her ass being cold from the tile floor and so she shifted so she was sitting on the fluffy bathroom mat.

“Do we, uh, need to get anything?”

Sakura scrunched up her nose in confusion. She was too hungover for conversation. Sasuke looked at her pointedly, raising a brow and it finally dawned on Sakura what he was getting at.

“Oh, no. No. I’m on the pill.” Sakura averted her gaze, chewing on her lower lip in discomfort. “And I’m clean.”

“Same.”

The both of them sat on the bathroom floor in silence for an awkward amount of time before Sasuke cleared his throat and said he needed to make a call.

Well, this is shit, Sakura groaned inwardly, pulling her knees to her chest and running her hands down her face.

.

.

Sakura kept herself busy with preparing orders for her online store. She was fortunate enough to be self-employed but there was going to be a delay with her orders because the mailman kept missing her scheduled pickups.

“Do you think Sasori would kill me for this?” Sasuke asked her, putting down his drill.

Sakura looked up from her sewing machine and up at the racks Sasuke had made for her bolts of fabric. He wasn’t able to go to any of his jobs and ended up using his free time on small projects in the house. Sasuke had helped her organize everything by creating a proper work studio in the spare room that was originally Obito’s exercise room. Sasuke had moved all of the equipment into the garage.

“Oh, definitely.” Sakura went back to stitching the pair of tulle panties with an embroidered butterfly motif. “But you put a nifty set of cubbies in his mud room.”

Sasuke moved around her to measure for a set of shelves she had wanted.

“You’re making panties?” He raised a brow at Sakura’s current project.

“Yeah they’re a parallel set to that dress.” She pointed at a mannequin with a tulle sundress with the same butterfly motif. “My shop’s name is Naughty & Nice. That’s the nice and this,” she lifted the finished pair of panties, “is the naughty.”

“Those are too cute to be naughty,” Sasuke scoffed.

“Well I also have those.” Sakura pointed to a different mannequin dressed in a custom leather harness.

“Huh.”

“Yup.”

That was how the past two weeks had gone. Sakura would work and Sasuke would exercise or keep busy making improvements to Sasori’s house. Sometimes Sakura would find him playing video games, speaking to his friends over his headset.

Sasuke had to break his lease with his landlord. It was the loudest Sakura had heard him as he argued with the man about granting him an extension to pay his rent the following month. It hadn’t sounded good and the man couldn’t be reasoned with.

Unfortunately for Sasuke, his parents thought it would be better if he continued to stay at his cousin’s house. Due to the kind of jobs his parents had—police captain and nurse—they thought it would be safer for Sasuke to stick to the house where the only other occupant didn’t leave unless she absolutely needed to.

Sasuke had placed a majority of his belongings in storage and brought over his cat and anything he thought he would need and the guest bedroom became his.

At some point Sakura became curious about his finances. He had no job that she knew of that he could do from home, but he still had money for all of the takeout that he had been ordering until Sakura had put an end to it and told him that she would cook enough for the both of them as long as he helped provide the groceries. She was used to cooking for three anyway and Sasuke ate enough to make up for Sasori and Obito.

They were the only two occupants of the house and had to work around each other. It forced them to communicate beyond the uncomfortable small talk they were accustomed to.

Sakura found it easier to carry discussions without the presence of their family members, especially that of Mikoto Uchiha who always gave her soft yet sly smiles whenever she stood or sat closely to Sasuke. It was a calculative expression she was used to seeing on her older cousin whenever he wanted something and knew he was going to get it.

As much as she wouldn’t have minded to get to know Sasuke better, Sakura was sure that whatever his mother wanted to happen wasn’t what Sasuke wanted. They had worked well together and cohabitated amicably, but the closest they got to anything beyond that was a drunken tryst that she wasn’t even sure was going to be repeated sober.

.

.

He fucked up. He had fucked up.

It started with simple boredom. Sasuke had been stuck living with his cousin’s husband’s pretty cousin because Sasori couldn’t be bothered staying in his own house during a quarantine and had blackmailed Sasuke into playing babysitter.

They had been watching a marathon of slasher films and decided on turning it into a drinking game. Sakura curled up on the small extension of the L shaped couch with her pack of White Claws and Sasuke laid out on the other end with a pack of Ithacas. Somehow that had ended up with Sasuke joining Sakura on the extension and his fingers curled inside of her panties, stroking her as she clutched onto his arm and released high pitched cries of joy.

He’s not sure how they got to a bed, but he wouldn’t doubt it if he had just thrown her tiny body over his shoulder and carried her to the guest room that had become his temporary room.

That wasn’t how Sasuke had planned on dealing with Sakura and his ridiculous crush on her that wouldn’t go away.

It hadn’t taken much convincing for him to come fix the kitchen sink in the middle of the night. Besides Sasori blackmailing him because of his OnlyFans account, Obito had sweetened the deal by mentioning that if he stayed over he would be fed a free breakfast. Obito was a mediocre cook but free was free and he would be able to spend some time in Sakura’s company without his mother hovering with her knowing smiles.

He hadn’t expected to wake up to the smell of something cooking and walking into the kitchen to find Sakura wearing nothing but a baggy cream colored button down cable knit cardigan that hit mid thigh and a pair of black thigh high socks.

Sakura hadn’t expected him either. She had thought she was home alone because of a note from Sasori explaining that he and Obito had taken off to their boyfriend’s place. Sakura had called Sasori immediately for answers, but he didn’t pick up his phone.

At least, that’s what her flushed face and drawn down brows made it seem like. He hadn’t been paying attention to the phone calls she was trying to make but to the curve of her pert breasts that peeked from the v-cut of her cardigan. Sakura hadn’t been wearing a bra and he just wanted to drag his tongue up her sternum.

He was distracted from those dangerous thoughts when he received a phone call from his mother about the quarantine orders and how Obito had already told her that Sasuke was staying at his house. Sasuke didn’t have much room for an argument, especially considering his landlord Kakuzu wouldn’t give him an extension for his rent and Sasuke had had enough and broke his lease.

He cursed Kiba for moving out to live with the blondie he had been dating for the past few months and had only made it official a month ago. Kiba had been mostly staying over there and using Sasuke’s and his place for storage so it had made sense for him to officially move in but that had left Sasuke with paying the full rent on his own because he refused to move.

That decision was biting him in the ass now that he couldn’t bartend or go do some jobs as a contractor. He was heavily relying on his not safe for work accounts where he posted nudes for pay.

And speaking of not being safe for work…

It was three days after the drunken bedroom incident and Sakura needed help taking photographs for her online shop.

When Sakura had told him what she did for work he had been impressed that she had owned her own business and at how talented she was. When she told him that usually Sasori modeled her prototypes and she took the photos for her site, he was slightly disturbed. Looking at Sakura wearing her dresses and her lingerie, he couldn’t imagine Sasori wearing the same things and it looking as well as it did on her.

There may be some bias though. He was actually attracted to Sakura and he and Sasori were more enemies than they were friends and unfortunately related because Sasori was married to Obito.

“Move your arm back like this,” Sasuke instructed Sakura as she posed in a tulle panty and bra set that left nothing to the imagination. The butterfly patterns tastefully covered her nipples but didn’t do much to completely hide the small, pink thatch of hair between her thighs.

He was supposed to be focusing on showing off the lingerie to advantage, but his eyes kept drifting to the small bruises scattered on Sakura’s inner thighs and the red blooms of kiss marks that made her body look well loved.

“I can edit those out,” Sakura remarked shyly when she noticed where his gaze was directed. “I do it for Sasori for my site. He prefers keeping them though for his personal collection of photos.”

“I didn’t need to know that about Sasori.”

Sakura laughed at his discomfort and took her camera back from him. “Thanks again for the help.”

“Any time,” Sasuke muttered, watching her walk through the living room and down the hall to her bedroom.

.

.

Sasuke had the terrible━wonderful━habit of going without a shirt and exposing his tattoos when he was stuck inside all day.

It had been barely five days since their drunken mistake and the hickeys all over her body and bruises on her inner thighs and hips from the rough pounding she must have taken had yet to completely heal. Which also meant that the scratch marks on Sasuke’s shoulder blades, the hickeys all over his neck, and the bite mark on his left shoulder were still visible as well.

They hadn’t discussed what had happened. They spent the first day in an awkward state of avoidance and kept to their respective areas in the house. The second day had them going back to normal and just silently agreeing not to mention it.

But the curiosity was there now. It was there when they shared meals. It was there when he walked in from the garage after working out. It was there when he lazily strummed his guitar aimlessly. It was there when she finished her yoga routine and he was waiting to use the living room to watch or play Call of Duty.

It was there when they sat around reading in the living room and drinking tea. It was there when he made sure she took proper breaks instead of keeping herself hunched over her sewing and embroidery machines. It was there when she randomly heard his drill or hammer or the dragging of planks of wood and other materials into the house when he found something to fix or improve.

The curiosity became a yearning when she found him laid out on the couch, watching some aquarium building show. Sasuke just looked so cozy and she just wanted to curl up with him. Or straddle him.

Straddling him was definitely a favorable option.

Sasuke was immediately on alert, body stiffening under Sakura as she settled herself over him, straddling his hips. His hands slid across the sides of her bare thighs and over her small cotton shorts, until he gripped her hips through her thick oversized pullover.

He watched her warily as she pressed her hands on his stomach. His abdominal muscles twitched under her fingers as she slid her hands up his stomach.

“I was thinking…” Sakura’s cheeks heated up as Sasuke’s hands slid under her sweater and he took hold of her waist, his thumbs massaging circles on her skin. “Do you want to try it sober?”

Sasuke sat up faster than Sakura had expected him to move. In lieu of an answer to her question, he gripped the back of her neck, fisting her hair still damp from her shower, and pulled her closer to slant his mouth over hers.

There had been heated stares and what Sakura had hoped were looks of longing. Here was proof that she had been right.

Sakura sighed contently as Sasuke palmed her breasts, squeezing and fondling her with his large hands. Pulling back for air, Sasuke laid his forehead on hers, looking her directly in the eye as he continued to massage her flesh and tug at her nipples and roll them under his thumbs.

“You sure about this?”

“Absolutely.” Sakura cradled the back of his neck with both of her hands and pulled his mouth back to hers. Using her hold as an anchor, she fell back slowly, guiding Sasuke to follow her and nestle in the cradle of her thighs.

Sasuke pulled back, giving Sakura room to remove her sweater. It had barely been tossed aside when he returned to her, pressing kisses to her stomach and trailing his mouth up to her breasts, sucking on the underside of them before rolling her nipples with his tongue.

While Sasuke laved at her nipples and sucked on the flesh of her pert breasts, he worked on sliding her shorts off. When he didn’t find anything under them except for skin he looked up at her, head cocked quizzically.

“I planned to be out of them so why bother putting on undergarments?”

“Next time,” Sasuke pressed a kiss to her knee and then the other, “let me take them off.”

“Next time,” Sakura’s breath hitched as he gave her clit a flick of his tongue, “huh?”

The look Sasuke gave her was all heat as he sucked one of her nether lips into his mouth before working her with his tongue. Sakura sank her fingers into his thick, black hair and wondered if he had done this for her the other night. If he had it was a shame she couldn’t recall it or had a heads up to just how wonderful Sasuke’s tongue was. Her fingers tightened their hold on his hair, keeping him in place as her thighs trembled around his head. She cried out, high and sharp, when Sasuke pressed deeper into her, his tongue working harder as he alternated between strokes and suckling on her hardened little nub as if it was his reason for existing.

Sakura’s ankles locked behind Sasuke’s shoulders as her hips grinded against his mouth to chase the wave of her orgasm. With a keening cry she collapsed back onto the couch, her chest heaving from exertion. As she tried to control her breathing, Sasuke made his way back up her body, pressing kisses and nips to every bit of skin he could. Humming with satisfaction, she cupped his face in her hands and pulled him back up so she could kiss him hard, tasting herself as she rolled her tongue against his.

“Take off your pants,” Sakura panted, sliding her hands down to the waistband of Sasuke’s sweatpants.

Sasuke shook his head and licked up her sternum with one sure lick, pressing his tongue hard between her breasts. “Turn around.”

His voice was a low rumble, vibrating against her breastbone, and causing a shiver to run down her spine. He used a hand to guide her to turning around until she was stomach down on the couch. With her back exposed to him, Sasuke pressed open mouth kisses down her spine. She flinched when he reached the center of her back, the spot surprisingly sensitive. He palmed her ass with both hands, massaging the cheeks before biting down on a fleshy area.

“Hey!” Sakura squealed at the sensation. He chuckled against her, sliding a hand between her thighs to where she was softest.

“I think you liked that.” He stroked her with his fingers, spreading her folds and dipping his middle and ring fingers inside of her. “I know you liked that.”

“Hmm, maybe I did.” Sakura pressed her cheek to the couch cushion and lifted her rump higher in the air and rocked her hips from side to side teasingly.

Sasuke sat up on his knees and grabbed her by the hips, pulling her closer to him. He pressed his hips against her and rocked back and forth, his clothed, hardened length digging against her core. Sakura moaned softly against the couch cushion as Sasuke grinded against her in alternating rhythms.

“Just put it in already,” Sakura pleaded.

“Fuck,” Sasuke hissed as she rocked back against him. “Do you want me to go get a condom? I think Obito has some in the master bedroom.”

“Don’t bother,” Sakura panted. “Don’t make me wait.”

“Alright.”

Sasuke stood up and pulled his sweatpants and boxers off. He helped her turn back around and settled himself between her legs. Bracing himself on one forearm, Sasuke licked his fingers and rubbed the tip of his cock before taking himself in hand and gave himself four quick pumps before guiding himself inside of her wet heat.

Sakura moaned at the fullness as he stretched her pleasantly. She cupped his face in her hands once again and kissed him wherever she could reach with her mouth—his chin, the corner of his mouth, his upper lip. She hadn’t realized how empty and aching she was feeling until this moment.

“You good?” Sasuke asked, keeping still but adjusting her legs around his hips for her comfort.

Sakura nodded, wrapping her arms under his armpits and clutched his shoulders. She tilted her hips up and rolled them until he began to thrust.

She didn’t know if this was how they did it the other night, but she was enjoying it. Sakura expected him to grope at her breasts and her ass as he pounded into her, but Sasuke kept to a steady pace and with his forearms caging her head, he wrapped her hair around his fingers and kissed her languidly. It was so warm and affectionate she almost forgot that it started as her just wanting a fuck on the couch to figure out if it was as good as she had thought it would be and to make up for being robbed of the experience by her inebriation.

“Harder,” Sakura demanded and without missing a beat Sasuke gave her exactly what she asked for.

He sat up on his knees and lifted her legs straight up so that her ankles crossed behind his head and he thrust harder, holding onto her knees to keep her in place. One of his legs slipped onto the ground so that he could brace himself with his foot and make sure they didn’t fall off the couch.

“You feel so good,” he praised her, kissing her left inner ankle.

“Yeah?” Sakura smiled mischievously up at him and squeezed the muscles of her core, causing Sasuke to falter in his movements. She giggled at his expense but choked on air when he readjusted his footing and thrust particularly hard into her.

Sasuke pushed her knees up into her chest and held her there as he set a punishing pace, hitting her repeatedly in a spot she liked. Her staccato cries of joy filled the room, drowning out the sound of the television.

She fell apart again and Sasuke slowed down his thrusting in favor of feeling her flutter around him and kissing her lazily. They lay like that, him still inside of her, and they exchanged kisses.

“Your turn,” Sakura murmured against his mouth as he stroked her side, brushing her ribs with his knuckles.

“Flip over,” Sasuke ordered, voice low and causing her stomach to clench in anticipation. Settling behind her, Sasuke chased his finish, his chest pressed to her back and panting in her ear.

They both collapsed on the couch and Sasuke turned on his side so that he could pull Sakura against him. They lay in a boneless sort of manner and sated, intertwining their legs and their bodies slick with sweat.

After a moment of silence, Sakura spoke up.

“Well that was definitely better sober.”

Sasuke snorted, his silent laughter rumbling in his chest and vibrating against Sakura’s back.

.

.

He was supposed to be getting some water. Somehow a trip for water turned into him making out with Sakura. She was seated on the kitchen island and he stood between her legs, one hand pressed to the small of her back and the other cradling her face.

“I’m supposed to be making dinner,” she whined but made no move to pull away. She gasped when Sasuke slid his hand between her thighs.

“We can order pizza.”

.

.

She couldn’t remember what her question was. Not with the way Sasuke moved underneath her, breaking her rhythm and holding her hips down to meet his every thrust. He had her crying out and collapsing onto him, weak to his relentless pounding.

Sakura panted, struggling to catch her breath after they both came, as Sasuke rubbed her back soothingly.

“Yeah, I’ll change the bulb in the hallway closet.”

That was the question? Sakura frowned against Sasuke’s clavicle. Well, alright then.

.

.

“Shut up!”

Sakura hid her face in her hands, trapping the heat radiating off of it with her palms.

“Tell us everything,” Ino insisted. Karin nodded vigorously in agreement from her window on Sakura’s monitor.

The three of them were using Zoom to video chat and it was supposed to be wine and movie night, but it had instead turned into a gossip session now that Sakura admitted to them that her three year dry spell had ended during the quarantine.

“We keep fucking,” Sakura whined, pulling her knees up to her chest and falling sideways on her bed. “He’s like the fucking energizer bunny: just keeps going and going.”

Karin snorted, earning herself a glare from Sakura. “How is that a bad thing?”

“It’s not.” Sakura chewed on her lower lip. “We hang out and do other stuff too.”

“Like what?” Ino asked, blowing on her nails. She had taken out her nail polish and had given herself a pedicure as she waited for Karin to pick their movie and their change in plans hadn’t stopped her from continuing.

“We watch movies and take care of Obito’s garden and his plants. I’m teaching him how to cook.” Sakura sighed and groaned softly under her breath, “We take naps together and just...cuddle.”

Besides sex being added to the list of their activities, the only change to their cohabitation was that sometimes they curled up in Sasuke’s bed just to sleep together or hold each other as they lay in the comfort of the blankets. It sometimes led to sex, but that wasn’t the goal. They simply liked being together and exchanging kisses between the sheets and listening to music.

It was sometimes more enjoyable than when he was making her come like a train. Sometimes. Alright, always. Coming was nice but she had a drawer of toys for that. She couldn’t cuddle and joke with her vibrator.

“Now that you’re boning him,” Karin smirked at her, “do you think you can introduce me to his older brother?”

The three of them burst into laughter, Sakura burying her face into her pillow to drown out the sound.

.

.

When Sasuke had remodeled Sasori’s master bathroom, he had found a bath to install that would fit his cousin’s tall frame perfectly inside. It was for that reason he knew he and Sakura could both fit comfortably, considering he and Obito were the same height.

“This is nice,” Sakura sighed, settling between his legs and resting her back against his chest. “I thought Sasori had locked his bedroom before leaving to Third’s.”

Sasori had in fact locked his bedroom, but Sasuke had picked the lock so that he could use the master bedroom for the setting of his photos for his OnlyFans. Sasuke had money to make and he needed privacy and also didn’t want to get into Sakura’s way while she worked and took care of the house.

Things had been good so far between the two of them. They hadn’t discussed what they were doing, but Sasuke was enjoying being trapped in the house with Sakura. Her affection for him even traveled outside the walls of Sasori’s house. She would hold his hands as they walked down aisles when they went shopping for things they couldn’t order or when they went for walks around the neighborhood.

Now they were taking a bath together. Sasuke had used the large bathtub for some photos, carefully placing bubbles to cover his penis, but then making them dissipate with a flap of his hand to take uncensored shots for his Patreon tiers that involved full nudity.

It was as the water cooled and the bubbles became flat that he thought about Sakura and if she would want to relax with him.

When he suggested a bath to Sakura, her eyes lit up and she found all of the candles in the house, played some soft music, and prepared the bath with scented oils and bubbles.

“This has got to be a fire hazard.” Sasuke gestured around the room at all of the candles. Their flames reflected against the tiles of the bathroom, creating a nice ambience.

“Shhhh.” Sakura kissed the inside of his wrist, and snuggled into him more. “Don’t be a killjoy.”

Sasuke leaned back and closed his eyes. This would probably be a little better if I were high, he sighed inwardly. He should have rolled a joint before they got into the bath.

“Would this be considered a date?” Sakura asked, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

“Some people would consider it a date. I would rather be clothed during most of a date.”

“I don’t mind,” Sakura chirped. “You’re exactly how I would want you to end up anyway.”

Heat that had nothing to do with the bath traveled up the back of Sasuke’s neck and settled in his ears.

“If the world wasn’t so fucked up right now, where would you wanna go?”

“Hmm…” Sakura hummed one thought, her knees swaying from side to side. “For a walk in Old Town to get some ice cream. Maybe check out the hibachi spot and then watch the boats on the river.”

“I don’t even like ice cream and that sounds good. Just to be outside.”

Two months had passed since the quarantine had begun and Sasuke was beginning to feel restless. He didn’t usually care about going out, only really went out for work, but now that he was forced to stay inside all day, every day, he just wanted to go out and do something.

After the quarantine was over, he and Sakura were going to need to take a road trip just to feel normal again.

“My friend Karin got tested and her results were negative so she’s going to come over and give me a haircut.” Sakura tugged at the ends of her long hair. “I procrastinated getting one and then everything was shut down.”

Sasuke huffed air out of his mouth and blew at his bangs. They had grown long enough to fall to his chin. “You think she’d mind giving me a haircut too?”

.

.

Sakura couldn’t stop giggling. She rubbed the back of Sasuke’s head, right at the nape where Karin had shaved his hair so it was a close crop. She had buzzed him into an undercut before Sakura and Sasuke could say anything about it.

“I just needed a trim.” Sasuke scowled. Karin had done a really good job and the hairstyle looked great on him, but Sasuke had only wanted to take care of his unruly bangs. “If I put my glasses on, I’ll look like a wannabe Skrillex.”

Sakura snorted, curling up in his lap. “His undercut is on the side like Karin’s. Yours is on the back.”

“Whatever. Don’t you dare give her my brother’s phone number.” Sasuke ran his fingers through Sakura’s new bob cut and kissed her forehead. “Anything you wanna do before bedtime?”

For the past few weeks they had tried to make sure they were preoccupied so that they wouldn’t get bored. Sakura was still attempting to teach him to cook but she has better results teaching him yoga.

“We could have a Lord of the Rings marathon?” Sakura wrinkled her nose in thought. “I can work on some crochet crop tops while we watch.”

They had settled into a comfortable, domestic routine. Sakura was enjoying living with Sasuke and didn’t care about Sasori and Obito having ditched her. She was kind of glad they did. She was especially glad for it the week before when Sasuke made her ginger and honey tea and always had a hot water bottle ready for her when the cramps got really bad. Sasori had the weird idea to feed her liver whenever she was on her period. He never cooked it, always handing it to her raw.

It was nice living with Sasuke. Sakura wasn’t looking forward to when Sasori and Obito returned and ruined the tranquility they had.

She prayed things wouldn’t change when they were around other people. That they wouldn’t go back to how they used to be when they sat awkwardly next to each other at holidays.

.

.

Usually a morning person, Sakura was always first to wake up out of the both of them.

She woke to the feeling of him pressed against her back, erection settling against her ass and warm breath puffing against her nape. His arm wrapped around her body and held to her chest as her fingers were laced with his.

“Sasuke.” Sakura attempted to separate their limbs. “Sasuke. We fell asleep on the couch again.”

Sasori’s couch was ridiculously comfortable and with the wide extension sticking out to make its L shape, Sakura found herself falling asleep on it often. During the quarantine she always lay there when watching TV or movies which was pretty typical from pre-quarantine life, but now instead of selfishly taking up the best spot, she was sharing it with Sasuke who was surprisingly cuddly.

“Sasuke,” Sakura whined. The more she tried to pull away, the more he clung to her. She disentangled their legs and he bit down softly on the back of her neck. “I have morning breath and, dude, I definitely need a shower…”

“Like I care.”

Sasuke was talented at distracting her. One moment she wanted to get ready for the day and in the next all she wanted was to roll around in bed all day. Sakura made no protest when Sasuke helped her remove one of the shirts she kept stealing from him and pulled off her sweatpants and tugged her panties off. Thanks to Sasuke, she was spending an incredible amount of time naked on Sasori’s couch.

“I was supposed to,” Sakura’s breath hitched when Sasuke bit the inside of her left thigh, “be making breakfast.”

“This is preferable,” he murmured against her folds, burying his face between her legs.

During the weeks of their cohabitation, Sakura had discovered that Sasuke liked going down on her more than he enjoyed when she returned the favor. He apparently liked to take advantage of the fact that she could have more than one orgasm in a single round of sex and even though getting blown was nice, he didn’t like the recovery time or how sensitive he became afterward.

Sasuke was in the middle of getting her to the first orgasm he wanted to give her when the front door opened. Not that Sasuke or Sakura had noticed.

“Oh my God,” Sakura sighed breathily, sinking her fingers into Sasuke’s hair.

“Oh my God!” Obito cried out, snapping Sakura out of her pleasure induced daze.

“My couch!” Sasori hissed, eyes narrowed in distaste.

Sakura sat up, almost kicking Sasuke in the face, and saw both her cousin and his husband and a giant man almost half a foot taller than Obito on the other side of the couch.

“Oh my God,” Sakura moaned softly in horror, grabbing the throw she kept on the couch and wrapping it around her body. Sasuke straightened himself and took a seat next to her, bare as the day he was born, cock hard and hair mussed, with a shiny smear on his chin from the activity that had just been interrupted.

“Holy shit, Shisui was right.” Obito stared in awe at Sasuke’s crotch, only snapping his attention away when Sasori slapped his arm and shot him a look of disgust. “What? I thought he was exaggerating how big it was. Oh, fuck. I owe him one-fifty now.”

Sasori rolled his eyes and made his way to the kitchen, calling out behind him, “Please tell me you mean a dollar and change.”

Obito rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “No. Hundred fifty.”

“Hello.” The giant man waved at Sasuke and Sakura, flashing them what in a normal situation would have been a charming smile if it weren’t for the severe lack of clothing and what he had walked in on. “I’m Third, It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand. He put it down as soon as he realized they weren’t going to shake his hand. “We came over because Obito has been raving about your cinnamon chip scones and Sasori said that you could teach me to make them for him.”

“You could have called first,” Sasuke drawled, bending over at the waist to reach for his sweatpants and boxer briefs.

“You could have not been fucking on my couch!” Sasori’s voice carried in from the kitchen, followed by the slamming of cupboard doors.

Sakura rolled her eyes and stood up, careful to keep the throw wrapped around her body. Leave it to her to be caught by her cousin, his husband, and their boyfriend getting eaten out in the early morning in the middle of the living room.

“Come back in one hour and I’ll teach you how to bake anything you want,” She told Third, craning her neck to be able to look him directly in the eye. “But you gotta take them with you.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

Much faster than she expected someone of such great bulk to move, Third was escorting Sasori and Obito━who had already found her homemade yogurt and was eating it━out of the house.

“Are you really going to be teaching their boyfriend to bake?” Sasuke asked, yanking his pants up and following her as she walked to her bedroom. Sakura snorted and shook her head.

“I can teach him over FaceTime. We’re changing the fucking locks.”

.

.

Day’s Notes: There’s a high chance I may revisit this AU because I used some AU ideas of mine and mashed them up to make this fic and I’m very attached to my OnlyFans Sasuke AU. I have so much to write for it.

[stuckonjbbarnes]

Hi! Minific request! E with Bucky?! 😁 Thank you!!

Missing You

Prompt: Sharing a Drink/ Bucky Making Breakfast and Surprising You

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 868

A/N: Big thank you to @sweater-daddiesdumbdork for giving me a plot to work with.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

To say that it had been the longest week of your life would be an understatement. Your boyfriend Bucky had left for a mission early Sunday morning and you had planned to bury yourself in work. Which ended up being a lot harder to do than you had thought. You spent all day Sunday cleaning. Not that the two of you were particularly messy. But there just wasn’t any room in your tiny apartment, facing Central Park, so any extra clutter made the place look like a tornado ripped through it. After putting things away, you set about doing some laundry and cracked open your laptop to get a feel for your week, it seemed busy enough.

Monday went about as well as Mondays go. First thing in the morning, you Skyped with your editor and publisher for your weekly meeting. You were well into writing your second book in a series you never thought would see the light of day. After that meeting, you went downtown for some lunch and met with the photographer to give inspiration for the book cover. It was well into the afternoon when you got back to your apartment. Plenty of time to miss Bucky.

Tuesday, you rolled out of bed, not having slept very well. Around noon, you pulled your laptop out and began drafting the next chapters, attempting to reach your word count. The first round got completely trashed. The second didn’t really look right and you felt a headache pressing at your temples.

By Wednesday, you were over it all. This wasn’t the first time Bucky had left without knowing when he’d be back. But it was one of the few times where he couldn’t be in contact with you until the mission ended. You weren’t the clingy type but it would’ve been nice to hear something, see even just a simple “Hi” or “Miss you” text.

Diving back into the worlds that you’d created in your mind, you found your writing rhythm again. You didn’t realize you had worked through the night and into the next day until you pulled back from your laptop with a yawn, rubbing at bleary eyes. You were meant to meet your best friend Paisley for lunch and you did and she pointed out the bags under your eyes, how withdrawn you seemed and promised she’d come around and mom you if you didn’t take care of yourself. Because" that’s what best friends do" she had laughed and you knew she meant well, you just missed Bucky a little extra this time. That evening you attended a book signing and reception, plastering on a smile.

You spent Friday out in town. You stopped by a local farmers market, followed by a quick trip to the grocery store and after putting everything away, you took a trip to central park. The fresh air and people walking their dogs always brought you peace. So you sat on a bench and pulled out your laptop, connecting to a hotspot and continued writing well into the evening. By the time you got back to the apartment all you wanted was some Chinese takeout and a warm bath. Both of which you got.

For the first time all week, you let the exhaustion press in on you and you fell asleep quickly. The bed was soft and warm and you didn’t dream but you felt good. The smell of bacon and something sweet, drifted into the bedroom and your eyes popped open. Someone was in your apartment and they decided to cook before they robbed you. Grabbing the metal baseball bat (that you typically kept by the bed when Bucky was gone) you tiptoed down the hall towards the kitchen slowly raising your weapon to defend yourself.

“Goodmorning, sweet girl.” You dropped your bat with a clank and raced to hug your boyfriend, who still had his back to you at the stove.

“Bucky.” You breathed into the material of his blue henley, somehow he’d taken a shower and put on pajamas without waking you up.“You’re back.”

“And you brought a weapon to breakfast.” He chuckles, turning to wrap his arms around you.

“How was I supposed to know you weren’t a burglar?”

“Because I was making breakfast.” He smiles and you squeeze him a bit.

“Burglars get hungry too, you know.” You pour yourself some orange juice and sit at the table, waiting for Bucky to set the two plates down. Rubbing your face you let out another yawn, earning another chuckle from Bucky as he finds his spot at the table.

“Do you ever sleep when I’m gone?” He’s teasing but you know there’s a little worry mixed in.

“I try…it’s hard without you. Especially when you can’t talk to me.”

“I’m gonna to buy you melatonin.” He vows, taking a large gulp  from your cup of orange juice. “Knock ya right out.”

“Hey!”

“Wha?” He asks, biting into another strip of bacon.

“What do you mean what? That’s my orange juice.”

“I leave for a week and suddenly we can’t share a drink?” He chuckles and you dig into your food, playfully pouting. But you could never actually be angry, you missed him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Permanent Taglist: @mermaidxatxheart @sebbbystaaan @valkyriesryde @donnaintx @geeksareunique @mypassionsarenysins @buckysmischief @my-drowning-in-time @mushyjellybeans @honeyvbarnes @captain-kelli @babblingbonky @pinknerdpanda @supernaturaldean67 @impalaimages @piper-koko-barnes-rogers @this-kitten-is-smitten @hopingforbarnes @dumbubblegum @murdermornings @constantaking

Bucky B Tag: @aikeia

[sneezyminniejo]

Hi, can I request a sneezy Jimin with cat allergies? Thank uu

This 100% got away from me, but I hope you enjoy

You Don’t Always Outgrow Things

The seven members of BTS had decided it was time to get another pet. They loved Yeontan, but felt bad about constantly leaving him at the dorms alone, so they decided to get him a companion. They didn’t feel like they could properly accommodate a second dog, so they decided on getting a cat.

Jimin was super excited at the prospect of getting a cat. He hadn’t been able to have a cat nor a dog when he was a kid because his parents were allergic. Truthfully he was slightly allergic to cats when he was kid as well, but he hoped he was one of the people that outgrew his allergy, so he never felt the need to tell the others about it.

A couple hours after they had gotten the cat moved into the dorm and settled, it was becoming apparent to Jimin that he hadn’t outgrown his allergy. His nose had been getting itchy, and his eyes had been watering a bit as well. Because he didn’t want to disappoint the others with the bad news, Jimin decided that he was going to try to play off his symptoms as the beginning of a cold until he could buy some allergy meds.

“Heptschh, hetschh.” Jimin had sneezed for the fifth time in two hours and he could see some looks of concern beginning to form on the other members’ faces. Jungkook got up and grabbed a box of tissues, bringing it over to the third youngest. Meanwhile Yoongi had disappeared into his room. “Here hyung, you sound like you could use some tissues.”

Jimin gratefully took the offered tissues and began to blow his nose. By the time he had finished Yoongi had reappeared holding a thermometer. “Open up Jimin-ah. You’ve been sneezing a lot today, and you might be getting sick. I want to take your temperature to see if you have a fever.” Jimin wanted to protest at getting his temperature taken, but he knew it was either that or admit to his allergy, so he just went along with it.

When the thermometer beeped, Yoongi was quick to take it and look at the reading. “98.4, If you are getting sick, it might just be a cold. How do you feel?” Jimin sighed before speaking. “I feel okay hyung. At the moment it’s pretty much just in my nose and sinuses, probably just a head cold.” Jimin lied, but Yoongi and the others accepted the answer. Seokjin had disappeared at some point and came back with a tray of tea for everyone.

Things weren’t getting much better as the afternoon progressed. Jimin found himself constantly rubbing at his nose in an attempt to quell the ever present itch, and every so often he’d break out into small fits of messy and itchy sneezes. The others were getting more and more concerned about Jimin’s well being, but no one really wanted to press the matter, except for the second youngest.

“Jimin-hyung? Do you want any medicine? It might help with some of your symptoms.” Jimin was only able to nod before pitching forward into a tissue for the upteenth time that day. “Heh-tschh. Me-medicine wou-would be gre-heptschhh great Tae-ah, thank you.” Yoongi was about to get up to look at their medicine stash, but Taehyung stopped him. “I’ve got it hyung.” Taehyung quickly left and returned shortly with the medicine and a glass of water. Jimin quickly took it after Taehyung explained that it was merely a decongestant and painkiller for the headache he had most certainly developed from all the sneezing.

After a little while, Jimin’s headache began to fade along with a small amount of the congestion. He knew however, that unless he could get his hands on some allergy meds, his symptoms weren’t going to get any better anytime soon.

Namjoon and Hoseok had decided they wanted to go to the store to grab some groceries, as they had completely forgotten to shop for themselves when they were getting the pet supplies. Jimin asked to go with, and even though the two older members were hesitant to let their sick dongsaeng leave the dorm, they couldn’t resist his puppy dog eyes.

At the store Jimin tried to sneak a box of antihistamines into their shopping cart, but was caught by Hoseok who turned to the cart at just the right time. Hoseok looked extremely confused, but before he could ask anything, Jimin cut in. “They’re for Jungkook, he asked to grab some on our way out.” Hoseok merely nodded knowing that the pollen count was supposed to get pretty high this week. To be on the safe side he grabbed another box and put it in the cart along with the box Jimin had grabbed. They also picked up a few more boxes of tissues for Jimin’s sneezy cold and apparently Jungkook’s impending allergies.

When they arrived home, the trio began to unpack the bags. “Jungkook, here’s the antihistamines you requested.” Hoseok called. Jungkook came out of his room looking confused and was about to say something before he caught Jimin giving him a pleading look. “Right, thanks hyungs. You all are life savers.” Jungkook took the medication and went back to his room.

Now that Jimin was back in the environment with his allergen, his sinuses were burning again. He needed to get the medication from Jungkook. He was almost at Jungkook’s door, when his breath began hitching. He managed to make it to the door before he couldn’t hold back anymore. “Heh-itschh, heptschh, hep-TIEW.” The last one ended up being louder than the other ones, as he hadn’t been able to stifle the force of it. Jimin was able to hear a slightly muffled ‘bless you’ from Jungkook on the other side of the door before it opened.

Jungkook gave Jimin a sympathetic look as he walked into the room. He also didn’t feel like partaking in any smalltalk, so he got straight to the point. “Okay, hyung. Why did I pretend that I asked for allergy meds? I have plenty right now.” Jimin sighed before plucking a tissue from the nightstand and blew his nose before responding. “I don’t have a cold Kook-ah. I’m allergic to cats.” 

Jungkook stared at Jimin, dumbfounded at the revelation. “So your plan was what exactly, secretly take antihistamines and if anybody asked why we were getting more you were going to say they’re for me?” Jimin nodded, a blush creeping up his cheeks out of embarrassment. “Hyung, you need to tell the others, we can’t keep the cat if you’re allergic.”

Jimin’s eyes became wide at that statement “No, everyone was so excited about the cat. I don’t want to disappoint anybody. Let me see how I fare on the meds first, and if I don’t get any better then I’ll tell them.” Jungkook really wanted to tell Jimin was being stupid, but he looked so determined to make it work, he decided to let it slide. “Okay hyung, if the meds aren’t working after they kick in, I’m telling the others.” Jimin agreed to that quickly and took the meds and left.

Now that Jimin was properly medicated, he was doing significantly better. He was still sneezing occasionally, but not nearly as much as earlier. However, he was still sneezing at least once every half hour or so and Jungkook decided that that wasn’t good enough, especially since the plan was keeping the cat. Jungkook decided to call a group meeting.

Everyone looked very confused once the meeting started, because normally they’re only called if there’s a problem that needs to be addressed. “So Kook-ah, why did you call a meeting?” asked Seokjin, genuinely concerned that he had somehow missed tension amongst his dongsaengs. Jungkook got straight to the point. “Jimin hyung has been hiding something, and I feel that it needs to be shared. If he doesn’t say anything I will.”

All eyes turned to Jimin, who was subconsciously rubbing at his  nose. He was so preoccupied with it and how to formulate his answer, he didn’t notice the cat jump onto his lap. But he certainly noticed when the cat’s tail brushed under his nose though. “Heptschh, het-ischh, hicktiew,itshchh, ngxt.” Taehyung was quick to offer some tissues to the slightly older member.

Once Jimin finished blowing his nose he started speaking. “Jungkook’s right, I have been hiding something all day. I’m not sick and I don’t have a cold.” The other members were about to cut in with their own objections, but Jimin held up a hand signalling for them to wait. “I’m allergic to cats. I was really hoping that I had outgrown the allergy, but I clearly haven’t. I didn’t want to disappoint you guys, and I don’t want to get rid of the cat.”

Namjoon sighed as he weighed their options. The easiest and quickest fist of course, would be to take the cat back to the shelter, but he knew Jimin would beat himself up over it. The second option was to leave things be, which Namjoon didn’t really think was viable based on how symptomatic Jimin was. Before he could ponder any more options, Hoseok chimed in.

“Jimin-ah, what if we schedule you an appointment with an allergist? You can probably get an allergy shot or some prescription allergy meds that will be more effective than what we bought at the store.” Jimin nodded excitedly at the idea, and Namjoon was quick to call their manager to schedule an appointment.”

The appointment had managed to be scheduled for the next day, and the doctor gave Jimin a shot saying that if that didn’t resolve his symptoms to his desire, he should take some over the counter meds as well. When Jimin arrived home, the first thing he did was go find the cat to see if the shot was working. To his glee, Jimin’s symptoms had almost entirely disappeared. “Now that that’s taken care of we still need to name the cat.” said Jungkook. Jimin smiled widely and said “Seokyeong, because she’s like a beautiful little flower petal.” All the members agreed happily.

Yeontan warmed up rather quickly to his new playmate, and they soon became best friends. It soon became rather normal for the members to find both Yeontan and Seokyeong curled up together on the same bed. They would also play with each other throughout the day, which relieved all of them, because it meant they succeeded in finding their pup a playmate so he wouldn't be alone so much anymore.

[snowdice]

Gaps in His Files (Part 11) [Relabeled; Refiled Series]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan/Patton

Characters:

Main: Logan, Patton

Appear: Remy, Virgil (but only in the epilogue)

Summary:

Logan Berry has learned many things the last 10 years: a lot of math and physics, a bit of humility, and how to be a hero being just a few. Through his education, his experience teaching, and his exploits as the superhero Bluebird, he’s changed in a lot of small and large ways. He has recorded these changes in well-organized documents and files. He’s even had to create two new file designations: a red one for files about his moonlighting at Bluebird, and a light blue one dedicated to his boyfriend, Patton.

When Bluebird is targeted by a memory device and all of those 10 years of progress suddenly disappear, Patton Sanders and Logan’s extensive files are left as his only resource to get those memories back. But what is Patton supposed to do when there are clear gaps in his files? And what does he do when he is one of them?

This is set 25 years before Sometimes Labels Fail though it’s story is completely independent of it and it is not necessary to read that one first.

Notes: Superhero AU, memory loss, past child abuse, past child neglect, unhealthy ideas about ones place in relationships, emotional suppression, self-deprecating thoughts, medical procedures mentioned, very brief unhealthy views of sex

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Logan had not lied to Patton this morning. He was not going to go to the university today, but… he didn’t think he was going to find any answers in this apartment. And he did want answers now. He had always wanted to get his memories back of course, but something a little more urgent had been niggling in the back of his mind since yesterday to the point of a headache.

He’d spent the first hour after Patton left searching around the apartment. The two of them had fallen asleep either on the office floor or in the living room the last few nights while going through Logan’s files in the hopes that those would return his memories. They hadn’t; Logan was beginning to think they wouldn’t. There was something missing from the files that Logan could not determine. The files they were reading were extensive, but heartless: noncontextualized receipts, detached notes, and aloof reports. Logan was all for facts most of the time, but his notes gave little insight into meaning. Perhaps if he got his memories back, he should reevaluate his filing system’s configuration. He knew by now he wasn’t going to find anything within those pages.

So, instead of continuing to read through old receipts, he decided to investigate a room he hadn’t been in yet: the bedroom. The blinds were thick and had been closed tight keeping the room dark enough that it could be night. He’d left them closed and flipped on the light. Like most of the apartment, there weren’t many decorations. There was just a large bed, carefully made that took up most of the large room and a nightstand with only a reading lamp on it. The only thing that seemed out of place was the suit he found in the closet covered in a white plastic bag. When he unwrapped the suit, he found it was not something Logan would ever think to wear. He much preferred plain black suits over the honestly rather gaudy golden one he found inside the plastic cover. He was unsure why he’d apparently purchased such a thing especially since he seemed to have a perfectly functional black one in the closet too.

Then he’d laid in the bed that he knew he must have slept in every night for years judging by the way the right side molded to his body. The sheets had smelled weird somehow, though not as though they’d been spoiled, and he’d found himself rolling toward the other side, his hand finding a pillow in the center of the bed. He’d felt something like a tearing in his chest and found himself curling around the pillow so he could hug it to his chest. For the first time since he’d woken in this time, he’d been absolutely certain that something of his memories must still be in his head because this… this was something like a word on the tip of his tongue he couldn’t quite capture.

Part of him had just wanted to go to sleep in this strange, but not strange bed, curled around that pillow, but the other part had forced him to his feet.

He’d gone back to the main room and found his wallet. He dug out the receipts there before spreading them out on the kitchen counter in chronological order.

He was going to retrace his steps from the week before the incident.

Most of the receipts were places on or around the college campus. He decided to avoid the ones on campus, staying true to his word, but planned to work his way out using the university as the epicenter.

The first place he went was a coffee shop which according to the address on the receipts was only a few blocks from where his office building was. It was called ‘The Hideout’ and was the source of multiple receipts. He was easily able to find it on foot.

The second he walked into the shop, he was hit by a wave of déjà vu so strong that he felt he might get a nose bleed. It was as though he’d walked the path to the cash register thousands of times in a dream.

“Hey Logan!” a cheery man said. “I haven’t seen you or Patton in days. I was getting worried.”

“I have been ill and am still recovering,” he replied. “Patton has been caring for me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m glad you’re feeling well enough to be out and about. Do you just want your usual coffee or are you eating?”

“I’d like a turkey sandwich,” he said.

“One turkey sandwich, no tomatoes,” the man said, “and a coffee with two sugars, don’t tell Patton.”

Logan gave him a tight-lipped smile and handed him a twenty-dollar bill, adding another receipt from the establishment to the pile in his wallet.

He sat at a corner table and the sight of the calm coffee shop both made him want to relax and want to jump out of his skin. There were ghosts dancing in front of his eyes: little wisps of figures that weren’t there and conversations that weren’t happening. His head hurt.

He ate the sandwich and drank the coffee, the taste as familiar and unknown as the rest of this place. The man at the till waved to him when he left.

The next place was a small bookstore that he walked around for half an hour and the grocery store on the corner. Each prickled familiarly at the back of his skull but did not give him quite the pounding headache as the coffee shop had.

He felt like a ghost haunting his own life.

There were a few other places he found himself, a couple of fast food restaurants and a juice bar in a gym that didn’t seem to affect him at all.

Last, he ended up outside a tailor’s shop farther from the university than anything else. He had a feeling this had been the source of the new suit in his closet. He didn’t go inside, just stared at the mannequins in the window for a long time before he walked away.

He got back to his apartment a bit past noon. Perhaps he should not have been surprised after yesterday that there was a figure on the couch. Logan froze. Patton did not react for a moment to the sound of Logan entering the apartment and Logan wondered if he’d fallen asleep sitting up with his head in his hands.

“Did you go to class?” he asked after a few long moments, still not moving.

“No,” Logan answered.

After enough time that Logan started to shift uncomfortably, he removed his hands and gave a sharp nod. “I’m glad to see you aren’t dead.”

“Would you like to know where I went?” Logan would like to tell him, especially because now it felt like the missing memories, wherever they were in his head, were slamming into whatever figurative wall the memory gun had erected in his mind.

Yet, Patton said, “no. Not right now.” He got to his feet then. “What would you like for lunch?”

He was not hungry as he’d eaten recently, but he wasn’t going to say that. “Anything is fine.”

“I’ll make buffalo chicken tenders,” he said and once again Logan was stricken that the man with an expression on his face that on lesser men meant Logan was about to be cold-cocked would put forth the effort to make one of Logan’s favorite lunch time foods.

Logan wanted his memories back and not even for himself. He just wanted to remember how to wipe that expression off Patton’s face and wondered why on Earth future him hadn’t bother to write that down.

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AO3 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Epilogue