#you cna sit two foot away from me

[colorisbyshe]

having a clingy cat is cute and precious until it’s a heatwave and she’s still clingy as hell but also crabby about it

[ace-of-pythons]

-When Knockout was assigned to the Project Predacon, Shockwave was convinced that he would be hindered by Knockout's presence. He was right of course, but not in the way he thought. Shockwave is a naturally quiet person. He doesn't engage in small talk and when he does there is always purpose behind his words. Knockout on the other hand, doesn't stop talking or flirting. After some time, (quite some time), and many surprisingly insightful comments, Shockwave didn't hate K.O as much.

-One of the most difficult tasks required for Project Predacon, was the re-engineering and altering of the ancient CNA code. Shockwave was struggling with the correct line of code and was starting to tap his foot softly. Knockout had then come over, as his lab partner never taps or fidgets. "Oh what if you reversed the code and filled the gaps with know CNA?" Shockwave stopped what he was doing, looked at knockout, and for a minute, tried to gauge the right course of action, and landed on just patting K.O on the head. "Did you just pat me on the head?" "Was that not the correct gesture for thanks?" " No, maybe next time just give me a hug instead, yeah? Or a quick thank you?" "I see, I shall store that information for later use." "Just anything put patting me on the head, Shocks."

-Knockout eventually creates a program for himself to make his life simpler. He first started to notice that the fins on the side of Shock's face would move in accordance to his (very subtle) emotions. While finding this adorable, K.O also used it to read emotions better. A little drawing here, a line of code there, and Knockout had created the "Eyebrows+" software. What does it do you may ask? Well it takes K.O's line of vision, and any time that Shock's face is in view, it adds a comical eye brow above his one good eye (tm). Now Knockout has to stifle laughter every time he looks in Shockwave's direction. The worst time though, is undoubtedly when He started laughing when giving an update to Lord Megatron. Shockwave look like he was about to sprint out of the room at any second. This was also when Shock found out about it in the first place. He was not happy, but he also can't do anything about it.

- Shockwave isn't a very affectionate person, but Knockout hangs off of him at any possible time. He'll put his arms around his neck, lean against him, or sometimes even wedge himself between Shock's arm and the desk. In the occasional time that Shockwave is actually affectionate, the two will sit on the ground and K.O will sit in Shockwave's lap as he continues to work.

-Shockwave doesn't use nicknames but Knockout comes up with them by the dozens. Shocks, Shocky, Wavey, and even mi amore are all on the table. Glitch is also on the table when Shockwave ignores K.O.

-Knockout is a neat freak and will always keep the med bay as clean as possible. Often times he wonders how Shockwave finds anything. There are piles of stuff just hanging on tables and on the floor. Scrapped inventions, tools and spare parts are every where. Shockwave some how knows where everything is located, but Knockout still tries to clean up his very organized ("It's as far away from being organized as Megatron is to surrendering to the prime!") lab space.

-They also talk about how annoying Starscream is and how he hasn't been offlined by Megatron yet. Knockout taught Shocks how to gossip and now he won't stop. Its quite honestly the only bad thing about their partnership. At least to Starscream that is. Soundwave will sometimes listen in but he'll never admit it.

@sunstar-of-the-north

[idga-buck]

Some and Others, 1/?

Bucky wasn’t looking for a relationship, he was looking for a good night’s sleep, but when he found you he got more than he bargained for.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 5,758

Content: swearing, soft smut (18+ only), Bucky being clueless, IW and EG just didn’t happen? idk, everyone’s alive and living in the compound #classic, also me fitting in a bunch of information that probably wasn’t necessary for the first chapter but what’s a story without a sturdy foundation?

After a mission, Bucky is some kind of way. Steve is too careful with him, but he doesn’t exactly blame the captain. Plus as an uncommissioned officer, 70 years without promotion, who is he to disagree. Maybe he isn’t ready for a life of avenging. Certainly isn’t ready for the questions that will follow another sleepless night, so Bucky didn’t stay in. He went out.

His memory wasn’t what it used to be, but Bucky recognized your street the second he’d stepped onto it. He’d parked his bike in the grassy alley on his right, gotten coffee at the Caribbean supermarket across the street when he finally left that afternoon. Technology wasn’t his strong suit, despite his depth of interest in it. There was etiquette and a way to do things that were as nuanced as they were mysterious. Bucky often wondered if people just lived by their own set of rules, leaving everyone else in the dark and only interacting with the persistent few who engaged correctly. He didn’t have the patience for that sort of thing. Shuri reminded him of that more than he cared for, but in terms of debts owed, he could smile through her jokes for a lifetime after the second chance she’d given him.

Bucky Barnes was a ladies man… at some point in his life, but more accurately, his life had been colored with women stronger than him since the day he was born. His mother was the first to hold him, followed shortly after by the older sister who tried to sell him to the milkman. Luckily Mr. Spenser wasn't in the market for a throw away babe and Bucky got to grow up in a house dominated by women. His sister, his mother, his grandmother with the accent that was just gibberish outside of their living room, the two more sisters that were welcomed in after him, though he’d never dream of bartering them away for bubble gum. They were all loud, but kind and could always bring a smile to his face. Even still. Rebecca, the most distant in age, but the closest in spirit, was still living. His baby sister was all grown up to the point of growing back down, shrinking in on herself the way old women do. Bucky made regular trips to the Alzheimer’s care center, sitting with her and loving her as only a brother could. Though her recollection of recent history was gone, Rebecca Barnes could still pinpoint the exact moment that all her girlfriends fell in love with her brother, which made Bucky shake his head and laugh. Her CNAs were worried for her mind when Rebecca introduced them to her big brother, looking closer to a man in his 30s than a man from the 30s, but he assured them that she was correct. He hadn’t changed a bit, she told him with two wrinkled hands on his cheeks. In appearance, not as much as he should have, but in all the other ways people usually mean, Bucky couldn’t feel more disconnected from the man he was when Rebecca was all bright eyes and secret kisses under the corner store awning. Bucky had no problem leveling those boys with a stare back then, but now most of them wouldn’t think twice before using their canes as a switch across his shins just for cocking an eyebrow in their direction. Talking to his mother wasn’t possible anymore and his sister wasn’t in a state to give out girl advice. Shuri was on another continent. Natasha… was Natasha and he would never ask for her help with something like this. Wanda was usually awake late at night when he was, but she was still so young.

Bucky looked up from the street, noting your second floor windows were dimly lit. Golden squares stood out against the bricks, blackened by the late hour, and through the gauzy curtains he spotted movement. Without his mother to advise against it or Shuri to give him something better to do, Bucky reached for his phone and scrolled through the recent calls. You’d called yourself before he left, but thinking that he wouldn’t see you again, Bucky hadn’t actually saved the number. Something of a bad habit, he noted, scrolling through lines and lines of unrecognized and unsaved phone numbers, hoping he’d just know it when he saw it. He didn’t.

Until one appeared on its own, presenting him a choice. Answer or reject. A simple question with unknown consequences. Rejecting the call seemed safer, so Bucky pressed the red circle and resumed his search.

“Weren’t you a spy or something?” Your voice drew Bucky’s eyes up from his phone screen to the now open window above his head. You were leaning out a bit, the posture helping your voice to carry over the surprisingly still busy street.

“Somethin’,” he grinned, pocketing the useless device. Both hands secured in his jacket, Bucky tipped back on his heels to get a better look at you. “Gonna invite me up?”

You shrugged and planted your palms against the window sill to lift yourself up. Even from that angle, Bucky was transfixed by your cleavage. Subtle under the tank top you wore, but he remembered it fondly. As if you could hear his thoughts, your arms snapped closed over your chest, bringing the colorful wings of a kimono with them, shielding yourself with floral patterns and defensive body language that made him take a step backwards. “You didn’t call…” you said and though accurate, your accusation made Bucky regret what he was about to do. After waking from the best night’s sleep of his life, he said he’d call you. No amount of self love could bring that much refreshment into his life and the feeling of waking up after a deep and dreamless sleep was enticing enough. The sex was good for a one off sort of thing, Bucky would even say great, but the sleep that came after… he hadn’t been able to replicate it yet. The lure of a good night's sleep and the softness of your body against all of his rough edges were too strong to stop him now. He was committed to this indiscretion, but before he could defend himself, you’d moved on, already smiling again. “And you just ignored my call.”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed and lifted in quick succession before he pulled the phone from his pocket again. Saved. And for good measure, he pulled it up to his ear again. You frowned, turning away from the window, presumably to look for your phone. The glass slid shut behind you and Bucky bounced on the balls of his feet while he waited for the metallic purr in his ear to be replaced by something even better.

“What are you doing?” You said over the line.

“Hey, it’s Bucky-“ he heard you stifle your own laughter with a choked ‘oh my god’ in the background. “Remember me?” You hummed and Bucky waited with his eyes on your window. When you didn’t return, he kept talking. “I know it’s late, but I was just in the neighborhood-“ another quiet giggle made him smile as he spoke. “You up?”

“Is this Bucky Barnes’ first booty call?” You asked.

“I guess it is…” he said, half his mouth curving up even though you couldn’t see it. “How’m I doin’ so far?” There was a pause and Bucky started moving toward your door on instinct. It was illogical to think something had happened in those few seconds, but after the day he’d had Bucky didn’t feel confident ruling it out. “Making me nervous out here, doll.”

“You’re doing just fine,” you assured him and Bucky leaned back against the door in relief. “I was about to go to bed… but since you came all this way-“ the end of your sentence was cut off by the loud buzzing in his ear as the lock on the door disengaged from above. Bucky stepped into the first hall, street lamp making the small row of Golden mailbox fronts glitter, and leisurely took the first few steps up. “Better hurry,” you sighed and Bucky stopped, foot hovering over the next step. “Door’s unlocked and I’m already naked.” Bucky was in your apartment and snapping all three locks into their closed position before you’d had the chance to hang up from his impromptu phone call.

You fucked him slowly that night. The rush he felt taking your stairs two at a time dissipated once he was in your bedroom. It wasn’t as frantic or fumbling as it had been the first time and Bucky was happy for the change. When he’d followed you home from the bar, it seemed that both of you had an understanding. One night only, so make it count. It was hard and fast, but so so good. Even the next morning’s repeat and the finale in your shower before he finally pulled away sated had been more like back to back sprints than whatever this gentle marathon was. As if you could feel the stress that Bucky needed to let go of, you moved carefully around him. Totally bare in the bluish glow of the bathroom plug in that lit the scene before him, you took your time undressing Bucky and placing his hands back at his sides whenever he tried to help move things along. When you dropped to your knees, leaving him open and vulnerable standing naked in the middle of your bedroom, he made a sort of wounded noise that made him want to bolt, but didn’t seem to bother you. If anything it spurred you on, drawing more whispers from his rosebud lips until he couldn’t take it anymore. For the first time in his life, Bucky begged for more attention. Not the teasing he did on street corners- come on, baby, you’re breaking my heart here- when a dame tried extra hard to resist his charm. This was real pleading as if he thought he’d die frozen in place without your heat to revive him.

He’d made the right choice. Bucky decided while lying across your bed, one hand twisted up in your pillow case while the other was splayed across your bare thigh, that he’d done the right thing coming to you for this. He could have gone back to that bar or a different one and gone home with another girl just like he had with you, but then he’d be missing the view from under you. Having a new girl everytime Bucky found himself feeling restless sounded exhausting. He’d also determined that his mother would be incredibly disappointed in him if he had rows and rows of unsaved phone numbers from girls that didn’t know they were being used. Finally and maybe most importantly in that moment, Bucky didn’t want to start over with someone brand new. He liked your crumpled linen sheets, liked the smell of ink from the printing studio beneath your apartment. While you rode him to mutual satisfaction, he liked the way your hips rolled sensually over his, liked the slick grind and the dull bite of your nails against his stomach. He liked that after your first, when he asked you to slow down again and extended his hands to you, you took each of them without hesitation. Supporting your weight on outstretched arms, Bucky got to enjoy your hands in his while you gasped out a second. If it had been your first time sleeping together, you’d probably be too prideful or embarrassed to admit that you were tired. He wouldn’t have gotten to hear that whine when you asked if he was close and he replied -smugly- not at all. If it had been your first time together, he’d probably be too prideful or embarrassed to ask you how you wanted him. He wouldn’t know how sweet it felt to have your back pressed up against his chest and he wouldn’t have known to turn you onto your side so he could slip in from behind you. Bucky was so comfortable in your bed with your knee hitched up over his hip, body totally open to his roaming hands. He made the right choice coming back to you and as he finished with a grunt, both arms wrapped around you tight while your arm was bent over his head, gripping his hair with the perfect amount of tension, he’d already decided to make it again.

The next morning, Bucky was refreshed, feeling like a brand new man. That was the feeling he’d been chasing last night or rather very early that morning, but the tightening in his lower body followed by ultimate release was a fine way to get there. Just like last time, he’d woken up alone only to find you in the bathroom, washing sleep from your eyes and fixing your face. His enhanced hearing meant he could listen to the tap running and the echoing “puh” of you spitting into the sink without having to open his eyes. Comfortable and naked against your pillows letting the familiar sounds tell the story of your morning routine. He didn’t mind waiting as long as you crawled back in beside him like last time. Bucky only peeked twice before he heard the zipper of your makeup bag close and the magnet on your medicine cabinet snap shut behind the mirror. You were back with him in a moment and he turned toward your scent, aloe fresh deodorant and sharp minty breath beckoned him closer and he hummed against your lips. If he cared to move, he’d swallow down the remainder of your mouthwash then swap cool kisses until his tongue tingled against yours, but he was so comfortable. Even more so once you’d laid across his chest, bumping your nose and chin against his until he opened his eyes. Bucky dropped his arms heavily across your back, keeping you planted against him, though you hadn’t struggled or made any moves to leave him. He couldn’t have that with someone new. If he swapped your number for someone else’s, he’d have to flirt and wade through the post sex awkwardness again. He’d have to go out more and hope his charm would work on another. He’d have to perform for them the way he had for you the first two times. The third, in your shower, was messy and wet and fun despite the soap in his eyes, which you wiped away for him while his hands were occupied by holding you up. He wouldn’t have that with someone new until he made it happen and frankly he didn’t want to make it happen. Not yet. Not when you were still cute and still into him and still happy to hear from him even at 2 in the morning when he looked like a creep under your window. Why trade all that just to say he could have another then another? Sex was good. That morning stuff was good too. If it was the orgasm that made him feel alive again, then the warmth of your bed and your lips drifting lazily down his chest was what made life worth living. One gal was enough for him. You were enough.

Bucky hadn’t even noticed that he was drifting off again until you spoke. He didn’t hear you, but he sure it didn’t matter and responded with some ta sentiment of his own. “Thanks. For this.”

“Thank you,” you corrected and he smirked at that, eyes still blissfully closed. “Hey, uh— Bucky…” You sounded nervous and he had to force his eyes open at the sound of your voice shaking around his name. You must have noticed his sudden concern and placed a hand soothingly over his chest. “I just…” you bit your lip and Bucky watched the wheels churn behind downturned eyes. It was sweet, the way you could flip from bold and sexy to this. An errant curl fell out of its place and he felt the desire to pull that twisty rebel between two fingers before moving it back to follow the part you’d intended all the up to his second knuckle. Your hair was the kind he wanted to touch over and over. Not because it was your hair per se, but rather because it didn't have that acrid home perm smell or a hundred little pins holding it in place like his sisters and the other girls he ran around with. They spent hours on their waves and rolls, but you flipped a fist full to one side, fluffing it with your fingers when you wanted his attention and damn if it didn’t work everytime. Before he knew it, a vibranium finger against your temple, following the curve of your ear. Your stunned look made Bucky chuckle. He even patted your cheek in encouragement. After a beat, you were gathered again. Another breath and you spoke. “I just wanted to say, I don’t really do this sort of thing.” His eyebrow shot up at that and you scrambled to correct yourself. “Not this,” you half laughed then gestured to his naked body and yours, hardly clothed. “The bringing strangers home from bars thing. I definitely wasn’t expecting to see you again- not that I didn’t love it- I just didn’t want you to think-“

“I think you’re amazing,” he said quickly to assure you he didn’t think anything else. He wouldn’t either. Couldn’t even imagine anything else after making an ass of himself at your first meeting. He’s felt so out of place and vulnerable and ridiculous trying to take you home the night you’d met, but you hadn’t made him feel wrong or silly for it. For that alone he was grateful. For the sex that followed, even more so. You’d met him with just enough teasing to keep him engaged, but not so much that he felt like he was an unwanted addition to your night and whenever his eyes drifted away like he wanted to run and forget the whole stupid idea, you gently guided him back, eyes and words making it clear that you wanted him too. It was a mutual feeling of desire, as simple as it was complicated. Bucky wanted to keep it simple though, if for no other reason than to keep seeing your awkward smile duck into his neck at the eagerness in his voice. He touched your face again and repeated himself. “I don’t think anything… just that I’m glad I met you… and I’d like to keep seeing you.”

You smiled at him and whatever silliness he felt in his confession evaporated. It was the right thing to say. You sighed and leaned in again like you were going to kiss him, before stopping short and looking up at him through your lashes. “I don’t think I can say no to you.”

“Then don’t,” he said, but it felt like begging again as he hoisted you higher up on his chest to kiss you again. The conversation was over and if you weren’t going to say no to him, then he wanted to start his morning with as many breathy yeses as he could get.

Random serendipitous encounters became less random and serendipitous with every passing week. Bucky was feeling lighter, yet somehow more whole. Boy, did he need that. A woman’s lovin’ will do that for you. He vaguely recalls one soldier or another making similar remarks while he was in Italy. Bucky’s blue eyes belonged to the nurses back then, as his own innocence slowly died with each body dropped by his own marksmanship. This new world, new century he now had to navigate was so different. His enemies weren’t always flesh and blood, even the ones that did bleed bled out in black and blue not Nazi red. Aliens, other worldsmen, some very human psychos with eerily familiar ideologies about who was of value and who was not. Bucky fought next to his friend, spilling blood of all colors when necessary, bearing the stains that Captain America couldn’t as a paragon of justice and honor. Then when the ringing in his ears got too loud, he sought you out. Over and over again. He never showed up unannounced and you always answered his call, even when you shouldn’t. You truly didn’t know how to say no to him and he truly didn’t want you to.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Bucky knew it wasn’t love, but he didn’t care. It felt good and it felt right and against his better judgment it helped him sleep at night, knowing you were only a half turn away, hugging your pillow, but content to wrap your arms around him instead as long as he asked. And he asked. When he wasn’t in your bed, it helped him stay sane, knowing that someone in the world was waiting on him, caring from a distance, maybe praying for his return. In the Big War, his mother prayed for him. His sisters too. In these mini wars, fought stealthily around the globe, he had you.

Rebecca was still blessedly alive, but his baby sister only remembered him when she saw his face. He would bet that you remembered him even as he schlepped through the mountains of Siberia for the last time. Always Siberia. Evil men must be allergic to sunlight. Sam had jokingly asked him why he always went back and Bucky had jokingly thrown the Falcon’s coffee away, leaving Sam’s hand empty and his mouth full of indignant teeth sucking. That briefing was blessedly brief and Sam didn’t need the rest of his coffee anyways. The flight via jet was longer, but not as horrible as it could have been. Steve’s sympathetic glances were unbearable. It’s the last time, Buck. Yeah, OK. The mission was a success, if you could call it a mission. Sam spun magnificently through the mouth of a cave while Bucky fired back into it, detonating the whole mountainside and leaving this particular Cold War remnant under an avalanche of snow and well kept secrets, never to be reborn. Steve dealt with the press. He had the face for it. Reputation too. Sam soaked up the due praise that came along with it, the next Captain America with his wings and his wit to carry avenging into the 21st century. Bucky, however, peeled off his heavily armed get up and peeled out of the compound without any formal announcement.

When Bucky left for long periods, most assumed he was doing what Steve Rogers would do. Ride around in his bike, traipse through the old neighborhood noting how much it changed. Captain America was the old man, the icon. He had the luxury of wandering. Bucky hadn’t gone anywhere without a mission in mind since the 40’s. He was a soldier, a weapon and while his mind could no longer be weaponized against him, Bucky was still the guy taking care of things that just wouldn’t wash out of Captain America’s shiny cowl. So when he left the compound, no one asked questions. At least not directly to him, something he was thankful for on the hour or so ride to your place. The Bronx apartment was considerably closer than a nostalgic walk through Brooklyn and he got a lot more out of it. He had no mission in Brooklyn, but you were waiting for him and that was enough.

This particular mission was no different. Steve asked him to stay on site and he declined politely as he could without actually stopping to talk to his friend. Natasha called out his hurried steps and followed him halfway to the garage before giving up at his request. It was glaringly obvious to Bucky how they got along so well. Steve and Natasha were quite the pair. Tenacious friends, like the kind of friends that never give up and definitely won’t let you give up on yourself. He saw it in her fierce allegiance and protectiveness over Clint. Now that Steve was huge and well connected in the Avenging community, Bucky supposed that made him the Barton to Steve’s Romanoff. They were insufferable do gooders too. Sure, Natasha had her fair share of red in her ledger, but once she was with the good guys, she was the best of them. Neither one would hesitate to throw themselves on a grenade or over a cliff if it meant someone else’s chance to live. They were do it or die trying people. Sam was… Sam was Sam. And when he spotted Bucky making a beeline to the exit, he just waved and shouted “have a good ride.” The wink was uncalled for and made Bucky question how much Sam really knew. He was a deadly intuitive little shit and despite Bucky’s best attempts not to even think it… one of the best people he’d ever known. Not that he felt the need to tell Sam that. He probably already knew it. Blessedly, Bucky ran into no other superheroes on his way through the compound. The garage, more like a hangar, was empty. Only the most expensive toys in Tony Stark’s arsenal and a high tech key coded workshop that Bucky felt so out of place in he kept a small tool box of his own so he wouldn’t have to wander through it. God forbid he go digging for a socket wrench and laser one of his fingers off. Anything was possible on Stark property.

Bucky zipped across the Hudson and sped toward the zoo, stopping at the deli on the corner and looking up two floors at the flat corner window. You weren’t waiting for him like usual. He’d pulled off the road once he got away from the compound and called you like he always did, giving you plenty of advance warning. It would be more gentlemanly to ask your permission before leaving home, but you hadn’t turned him down yet and if you ever did, he figured he’d keep driving anyways just to be away from everyone else for a while. Most times, when Bucky rounded the corner, slipping his bike into the space between your building and the overgrown lot next door, you found your way to that window, waving him up and putting a little something extra in his steps. You weren’t there, but you knew he was coming, so he made his way to the building’s entrance. A call, a buzz, a knock and Bucky was in your space again, taking a deep breath and inhaling the sweetness from your kitchen.

Your back was turned to him, having opened the door for him before rushing back to your place at the counter without a formal greeting, and Bucky watched curiously as you dropped little chocolate chip cookies onto a paper plate. You waved your fingers around after using your bare hands to pull them off the parchment paper and sucked your thumb between your lips to rid it of a rogue chocolate dripping. Bucky eyed the plate presented to him then looked up into your eyes.

“I googled you,” you said proudly. Bucky nodded and said okay, like he knew what that meant. It sounded sexual, but he hadn’t seen you in a week and frankly, he was more interested in googling than cookies. “It’s your birthday, Bucky! Why didn’t you say anything?” You looked delightfully scandalized and held out two cookies for him, which he accepted with a half smile. They were warm and started to fall apart between his fingers, so he shoved both into his mouth before making a gooey mess of himself. While his mouth was full, you cleaned up your tiny kitchen and dropped the plate onto the coffee table in the living area, talking about how embarrassing it was that you hadn’t thought to look him up sooner, but how lucky you felt that you’d thought about it after he called. You wished you’d had time to make a cake, but wanted to be home when he arrived, so freezer cookies were the best you could do after work.

You weren’t dating. Not really. That was why Bucky hadn’t mentioned it. Steve and Natasha wanted to make a big stink out of it, but he wanted no part of that. He just wanted to see you and get some of that good sleep he only got in your apartment after wearing you out two or three times. Sitting on the couch next to you, he took another cookie from the plate. They were better than they looked and he planned to clear the whole dang thing before taking you to bed. Maybe he’d save a few for the refractory period. You’d need sustenance too. So Bucky took his fourth cookie, which made you smile even wider and pledge to leave the rest for later.

The truth was, Bucky hadn’t celebrated a birthday in decades. The last one he could remember being awake for was in the seventies. He waited outside the governor's mansion in Bermuda for hours, watching a dinner party eventually lull and disperse. The Winter Soldier had no clue of the cruel irony watching another man’s party on one’s birthday, the asset’s only focus was quickly killing the governor and his companion once they stepped out of the house for a walk. He’d spared the dog though, a massive and beautiful beast without a single aggressive bone in its body who loped away from the scene whining. You hated that story when Bucky confessed it. He hadn’t felt the need to go into much detail regarding his time as the fist of Hydra. At first because he didn’t care for you to know. It was a fling. Fun. What pieces he did remember from those days were anything but fun. After determining that he liked you, really liked you, Bucky kept his trap shut for fear of scaring you. You knew who he was in theory, but as long as he wasn’t relaying his bloodiest days to you like he was now, maybe you wouldn’t look at him like the monster he didn’t want to be anymore. To his surprise, you hated that he sat in a tree watching people eat and drink and laugh the night away on his birthday, regardless of whether he knew it at the time. However, you zeroed in on his attempts to spare the dog, filling in the blanks that somewhere deep within the Asset, he had maintained some of his humanity. Some of his Buckyness.

“I don’t know if that helps… or if it makes everything worse…” you said, hesitating to go on, but he caught your meaning. Was it better to think that Hydra succeed in wiping him clean, using only his body and latent memories, discarding his mind all together? Or was it somehow hopeful, to think that in all their trying to eliminate Bucky Barnes in order to free their Asset, some piece of him had remained intact? Bucky wasn’t sure he could stomach the idea that any part of him had been present during grizzly assassinations, nor could he ever fully shake the idea that he wasn’t. Either way, these conversations weren’t what he came to you for.

While you were still looking shy, wondering if you should have stopped him from telling his story, Bucky kissed you. It was sweet, not just from the chocolate on his breath. “Thank you,” he said softly, thumbing a brown smudge at the corner of your mouth. “For the cookies. For listening.” His eyes passed over each of yours in turn. “Thanks for being here.”

“Of course,” you smiled. It wasn’t as obvious as you made it sound, but he liked that you felt it was. “I could be around more, you know.” Bucky didn’t know what you meant, but that became clear in a matter of moments. You sucked in your lips and started again. “I know we haven’t talked about...uh, well, what this is, but you’ve been coming over for a while now and I guess…”

“You guess?” Bucky prompted you to continue, when you trailed off.

“I didn’t expect you to still be calling me, so I guess I’m asking,” you said. “Asking what we are now?”

“Oh.” Bucky hadn’t meant to say it like that, but it came out like that and your eyes widened immediately. He scrambled, grabbing your hands quickly and holding them both in a firm pile against your thigh. “Oh, meaning, I didn’t think that’s what we were doing here, so this is unexpected.”

“Oh,” you respond and Bucky imagines you meant it exactly how it sounded. Disappointed and the single syllable precursor to his being disinvited from your apartment. And your bed. And your everything.

“But, I like the idea,” he supplies quickly, but he can see your look is hesitantly hopeful. “Of more, I mean. Seeing where… ya know.”

“Yeah,” you smile and Bucky breathed out his relief. “So we’re together…?”

“As together as we can be,” he said, having no clue what he meant by it, but it seemed to be the right thing considering how you kissed him. You pulled your hands from his to wrap behind his neck and fit yourself into his lap. Bucky’s hands went to your thighs, spread wide over his hips, and he squeezed his way up the backs to your jean pockets, slipping his hands inside to squeeze again. “Here or…” Bucky pulled away to catch his breath and nod in the direction of your bedroom.

“Take your girlfriend to bed, Bucky,” you laughed, kissing him again and he stood with you still in his arms, legs clinging to his lower back. Girlfriend. Okay, Bucky decided in a snap. He could work with that. Especially if it meant chocolate chip cookies and birthday sex. Which reminded him and you giggled as he turned back around, hoisting you higher up on his torso with the vibranium arm below your butt and stooped carefully to grab the plate of cookies with the other before taking you and your cookies to bed.

His first relationship in the 21st century had surprised him. Come out of nowhere and nothing. One moment he was standing at a bar, nursing a beer that wouldn’t affect him at all while he listened to talk about your job before not so subtly asking about his, the next it was his birthday and he had a mouthful of chocolate chip cookies while you had a mouthful of him. It’s funny how fast life changes. If only he’d known just how quickly his new relationship would fall apart.

A/N: I’ve been cooking up this series for a while now and I thought, why not post the first bit and see what happens. First time writing for this fandom, so we’re diving in head first with a feckin’ long series and some foolin’ around. I do welcome tags if you’re interested.

Masterlist

[thatcnamomnwife]

Well, hello!

I really just wanted to check out this app because I don’t know anyone really who blogs here... maybe I could meet new people make friends I can chat with. I don’t work anymore and I have very little company. My ex husbands wife has come to visit and let our youngest boys play together and my family has come in and out to help keep things up in the house. I broke my leg in a car accident in October. I still can’t walk.

I laugh about it now because my two other siblings here have both been in worse car accidents and walked away with scratches. My brother was knocked unconsious and woke up and walked 2 miles home. I hit a tree to avoid hitting the back end of a truck that was stopped in a work zone and when I hit the break popped back and broke my ankle tib and fib... I knew I had broken it but was not aware of how bad it was. My EMT was wonderful in keeping me calm. I heard comments when I got to the hospital about it being really bad but I didn’t want to see the damage. They knocked me out and put me into surgery. I woke up with a fixater on my leg. The next night after I asked for pain meds 3 or 4 times in a row because the Dilaudid didn’t work, my assigned surgeon came in and examined my leg. I had compartment syndrome and needed a fasciotomy asap. so the next time I woke up I still had the fix and then my leg was completely wrapped. Every time I tried to do physical therapy I would. Bleed everywhere. I found out I had two huge gaping cuts in the side of my leg and 2 equally gaping cuts in the top of my foot. In the hospital I tried my best to keep up hope that this would all be over soon. My friends at work (I’m a CNA) got ahold of me and cheered me on the get better and come back to work soon. But here I am. It’s February and I’m still wheelchair bound and not walking. The way my surgeon fixed my leg set it to where my toes almost faced the ground and my ankle is now fixed as if its ready for a stiletto. I have worked hard to get to rotate my ankle and lift my toes a little bit and as my physical therapy has me working on the they are working on lifting this deep scar on top of my foot.

It sucks to have to depend on everyone else to get help. I can do some things on my own. But I can’t cook my own food by myself. I can do dishes actually but it’s really hard. I can move from place to place with my walker. But since I’m on one leg it’s hard and I wear out fast. I can’t go anywhere unless someone takes me. Sitting in a car is hell because I lose circulation in my leg easily. If I get annoyed with my husband or my kids get on my nerves I can’t just go outside.

I spent the first month crying. Every day. I’m not kidding. I cried even harder Every appointment because my surgeon is a straight forward kinda guy. My home health nurse came in and saw that I was cracking and she suggested I act for a low dose antidepressant and I just gave and said yea. I’m tired of crying. Well it’s worked so far. I still get mad and throw fits and cry but I think that’s just me being human and besides that anyone in the medical profession is bound be make a horrible patient.

I am a lot better now. In fact despite the fact that my leg still doesn’t work, I’m in ok spirits. I miss my job, my residents, and most of my coworkers. I worked through what I feel is the worst part of COVID in my area and I worked while I had it. I was so proud of my self for not giving up in that mess. I miss the hard work. I wanna go back but I know I will never get to run around like I did before. It just sucks.

But in the midst of this whole crap show my husband and I got married in December! It was a beautiful low cost home wedding and my family couldn’t come because they were quarantined but we had our other loved ones there. I won’t lie I looked amazing in my wedding dress and my hair and makeup was gorgeous. Nothing has changed since we got married. We are still bickering at each other but at the end of the day I love him and he loves me. We have been through it all in these 6 years and I wouldn’t have him any other way. He’s lazy. He frustrates me but he is a good man and a good dad to our son. My daughters love him. My oldest calls him dad. And he has pretty much jumped trough hoops for them since he met them. We are all a happy family and I love my life. I just don’t like where I’m at in my life.

I have 3 kids. My oldest is 14 and she’s a type 1 diabetic. Shes a hormonal teen with diabetes. We have blood sugar issues every day. Hormones raging. She recently got grounded for not doing her chores and lying about her blood checks and she lost it over not being on the phone for a few days. But damn she is smart. She wants to be a mortician when she graduates college. She passes state testing like it’s nothing. And she’s a complete music lover. She was the 18th chair in junior all region choir last year. She was the youngest in her group to get in. So I brag on her a lot. My middle child is a lot of energy and she frustrates me. She’s 10 and she’s been stuck in this stage where she acts like she doesn’t have common sense. We’ve taught her how to use the washer and dryer several times and this kid still says she don’t know how to use it. She’s the one who argues even if she knows she’s wrong she will still try to make you think she’s right. She will agree to something one minute and then get mad about it later. She will not brush her hair and she does this on purpose because she claims is a part of her personality. She also recently told me she’s bisexual. She’s a good kid though. Teachers and kids at school love her she don’t get in trouble ever. And she’s also a smart kid! She excelled in school to the highest. I’m very proud of my girls.

My son is 4 and he is a big ball of adhd. He bounces off walls and he’s very violent. We have been trying to get him evaluated so we can get him on proper meds before kindergarten but It hasn’t happened yet. But he’s also a sweet kid. He is very smart too. He knows all of his colors and can count to 10. He knows his name. But he tells you he’s 400 years old instead of 4 lol.

My mom and sister are both life savers to me. They have taken care of me through this. When I need them they are there. My brother prefers to live his own life and visit at moms with me from time to time. But I love him. I miss him.

My dad left my mom when I was 13. He caught up with my half sister. Fell in love with his ex wife and moved away. I have seen him 4 times since he left and the last time I saw him was when I was 19 and pregnant with my oldest child. He’s never met my kids in person and he’s only spoken to my oldest on the phone once. 2 years ago he disappeared after planning to come stay on my moms property to get back on his feet and get proper medical treatment. He asked our side of the family for money (like $1000) and none of us had that. So he tried to make us feel bad and then never contacted us again. I’ve heard fromy step sisters that he’s been spotted here and there but we honestly Don’t know where he is, what he’s doing and if he’s even alive. I hate to say it but it doesn’t bother me anymore. I used to break down thinking about him dying and not knowing. Now I feel different. He’s been gone most of my life now.

I also have this best friend who is more than my best friend. She’s my soul. This girl has helped me through some of the worst parts of my life. She and I don’t get to see each other very often but we are always family to each other. She and I talk almost daily. I just love her.

That’s my family though. It’s a hot mess but it’s mine and I love it. At the end of every day I am blessed because I’m loved and cared for.

[sleepyskjolle]

PHARMA (Michael Myers x OC) // Chapter 01

A/N: So, I'm VERY new to writing fanfiction (although I've done a decent amount of RP-ing), so please be gentle with me - u -

I also wanted to make a point to not add any specific physical descriptors to our protagonist, June, so that she can be whatever you want her to be! So I suppose the story is kind of a mix between self-insert, original character, and x reader! Please feel free to tell me what you think! o u o

Summary: For June, any job was better than fast food. That of course included being hired as the specialized aide for Haddonfield's most prolific serial killer.

Set Pre-Halloween (2018)

November 21, 2017 Smith's Grove Sanitarium. Warren County, IL.

The walls of the office June sat in were just as stained and grungy as they were the first time she entered almost two weeks prior. She waited once again to see the head psychiatrist of this institution. The same institution that had loomed on the edges of her suburban hometown since the early 20th century.

Her fingers rubbed against each other in a simple pattern as she tried to calm the nervousness that was lapping at the edges of her consciousness. The ticking of the clock served as a melody for her fidgeting and it was starting to feel like she'd been waiting there an hour, although she knew that wasn't the case.

When the door finally did open, June turned to greet the doctor, a smile only crafted by years of customer service flashing.

"Good morning, Dr. Sartain, I'm sorry I'm a little early. I hope it's not a problem or anything." Apologizing for literally anything was another trait that had been beaten into the girl during her early years of employment.

The doctor just smiled back and physically waved her apology away. "There is no need for that, Ms. Jones. Promptness is a sign of a dedicated worker, and you are going to need dedication for the position you've been hired for." The small man makes his way around the desk and lowers into the well-used chair, immediately leaning onto his elbows to look at her more closely. His eyes are still kind, but his demeanor turns very serious very quickly. "You read the entire packet I gave you, correct? And the files?"

"Yes sir. I read over both pretty thoroughly, but I don't think I have any serious questions." Her fingers itched to fiddle again so she decided to clutch at the seam of her straight-out-of-the-package scrub top to quell the urge.

Dr. Sartain gave her a slightly incredulous look, pausing for a tense moment before speaking again. "And you are absolutely positive, Ms. Jones, that you want to take this job?"

June understood why he felt the need to ask. In retrospect, this was a dangerous thing, what she had signed up for. She didn't quite realize that when she signed the contracts that make it so the institute isn't liable if you get hurt. It became pretty clear though, when she had to go through a week of training and was told enough stories and shown enough scars to scare most anybody away. She learned a lot of ways to be safe though, and multiple ways to get away, as nobody was allowed to even detain the residents except for the guards, who usually sat half a compound away in their station. You weren't allowed to hurt a resident, even to protect yourself.

"Yes sir. I... I'm not afraid."

The doctor's intense demeanor switched off like a light and suddenly he was smiling warmly at her again and leaning back in his seat. "Good. You came at a good time too... He's been without an aide for a few weeks now at this point. Not that he necessarily NEEDS an aid, but most everyone that works here refuses to give him even decent care. At least in my professional opinion...” The doctor’s face betrays a slight bit of disdain for a split second “And, as I've explained to you previously, your position is sort of a last ditch effort to rehabilitate Michael."

Sartain coughs into his hand then begins to rise back up, using the desk for assistance.

"Come. It's time to introduce you to the nurses. Afterwards, we will let you meet your charge."

June follows the doctor without a word, nervous and a little bit excited, which always comes with a new job. She hoped the other orderlies liked her, naturally, but she was more worried about Michael. The doctor, and even the ones in charge of training, explained extensively just how many aides Michael had already gone through. Many either quitting suddenly and unexpectedly and the others being fired after a month or more of Mr. Myers showing no significant change. Apparently, Sartain had realized that he wouldn't be able to get through to Michael due to his distrust in doctors, or at least he assumed that was why. He petitioned to have this position made in an effort to find someone Michael could trust. So far, no luck.

Would she be any different?

The trek to the nurse's station was mostly uneventful, other than the intense security check they had to go through just past the doctor's office, at the entrance to the ward. Sartain assured her it would be swifter once she was given her clearance card but June knew that it was important that the residents weren't given access to anything that they could use to harm themselves or others. At Smith's Grove, careful was an understatement.

Most of the nurses were older and gave the girl just a side glance before returning to their work. The ones closer to her age, and a male guard that was chatting and flirting with a younger employee, greeted her with big smiles. There were too many names to remember immediately but the nametags would help.

One CNA, a younger guy named Nate, shook her hand and wished her luck. After that, it was like everyone remembered just why she was there. She mumbled a quick "thank you" as Sartain began to lead her further down the hall, watching the concerned eyes follow her until she was out of sight.

Dr. Sartain pulled her back from the distraction with his thick accent, "Michael should be in the cafeteria by this point, eating breakfast. This will be a good time to introduce you, while there are guards watching. Just in case, you see."

The ward was sort of maze-like, but there were signs indicating the cafeteria was close. The rusty looking red doors came into view and Sartain asked if she had the itinerary on hand. June's fingers slipped into her pocket in search of the folded paper, just to make sure.

"Yeah. Yeah, I've got it." They pause just outside the doors and he points through the rectangular window at an old man sitting alone in the middle of the large room. There were plenty of other residents already up and scarfing down their breakfasts but there was a wide berth around the one they were watching. The man, who had to be Michael, was staring out the nearest window. His breakfast sandwich sat half-eaten in his grip.

June's gaze breaks to look for some bit of affirmation on the doctor's face, her arms crossed to prevent her fingers from worrying her scrubs into oblivion. "Do you think he'll like me?"

"Hm... Well, judging by past trials, it's likely he won't take to anyone. But... it's possible, Ms. Jones. No one really knows what's going on in that grey head of his. No one ever has." His eyes turn back to Michael before hers. "Look. He knows."

Her attention snaps back to the old man in the cafeteria and he is glaring at her. From this angle, she can see the dead eye and the scars around it, just like she read in the file. The look he is giving her is curious and intense and it takes a moment before June comes to her senses and flashes a smile, raising a hand to wave at him. His head cocks to the side slightly before he turns back to his sandwich.

"That's a good sign, Ms. Jones. You haven't sparked his ire yet, at least. Let's test the waters..."

The door doesn't make much noise but as soon as they step in the room, all eyes are on the two of them. All except for Michael, who is suddenly engrossed in the last few bites of sandwich he's holding.

They have to skirt around a few of the guys that are sitting in the aisle but there is barely any movement going on in the room so it was easy enough. The two finally halt just in front of the table Michael is sitting at. Moments pass and he still isn't giving any sign that he even knows they are there. And she knows he does.

There is no change, even as Dr. Sartain begins to address him. "Good morning, Michael. There is someone I would very much like to introduce you to. Do you think perhaps you could take a break to meet her?"

Silence. The scrape of a plastic spork against cheap foam and a bite of apple makes its way to the old man's mouth. Soon it feels a little bit like his chewing is the only sound in the room.

June glances around and catches the guards looking their way. They must be used to this.. The silence swiftly becomes deafening and she feels like she needs to break it.

"My name's Juniper."

The strong jaw that was making easy work of that apple stops in place. She can see the muscles and tendons tense beneath the skin. Even Sartain is watching her now. "I usually go by June, though..."

She throws her foot over the bench and slides into the seat in front of him. There was no going back now. June is a foot away from the deadliest serial killer to ever grace the beautiful state of Illinois and her biggest worry is if he'll like her. Probably another product of employment in the fast food industry.

"I'm your new aide and I would really appreciate if you could maybe write down the things that you do and don't want me to do. I have ADHD and sometimes its really hard for me to remember things if I don't have a list. My uh… my little brother has autism too and sometimes he doesn't like being touched and sometimes he does. So if there is anything like that for you, I want to know. It's really nice to finally meet you, y'know!"

His head doesn't move even a millimeter but slowly his eyes rove over to the girl, although only one of them displayed any awareness. She's having problems deciphering how he feels about her just through his gaze, but June continues to smile at him, awaiting a response. Or anything really.

Eventually it comes. Although it arrives in the form of Michael standing and picking up his trash before turning on his heel and walking to the exit, throwing away the garbage, and leaving without a word.

When he's out the door, every bated breath in the cafeteria releases at once and suddenly it's as if nothing ever happened. She takes a moment to scan the room in awe before turning to face the doctor again. He's looking at her in a similar manner to how she was purveying the room, like something out of the ordinary just happened. June wonders if that was the wrong thing to do and she fucked up her chances at keeping this job but her worries melt away when his visage of confusion shifts to one of approval.

"Very good, Ms. Jones. You know, you may just be the right person for the job. Let's go fetch your clearance card and nametag and then we'll throw you back into the ring after lunch.”

“C-cool!” She knew how unprofessional the word was even as it slipped past her lips and the girl mentally berated herself for it as she unwove her legs from the bench. This wasn’t fast food anymore. This was the big leagues. Like, the “$20,000 more a year” leagues.

Her new employer simply gave a small chuckle, setting her at ease again.

“Yes, Ms. Jones. VERY cool.”

_________________________

June was allowed to watch the hustle and bustle of the residents during the period between breakfast and lunch from the nurse’s station. Nate, when not checking on his assigned residents, sat close to her and made small talk.

They were near the same age and she had remembered seeing him in passing during her junior and senior years. They bonded over making fun of old classmates and teachers. Even as they chatted, her eyes were always on the lookout for HER resident. She hadn’t caught sight of him since their meeting in the cafeteria and she wondered if he was avoiding her on purpose. Nate seemed to pick up on this and their talk shifted.

“He’s always like this at first, so don’t worry too much about it.” It was nice that he was trying to reassure her, at least.

She notices that her fingers are fidgety again and wonders just how long they’d been doing that. It takes a few seconds for her to debate whether she should voice what she’s really thinking.

“Is he really all that bad? I mean… I know about the babysitter murders. Trick-or-treating has been basically illegal in Haddonfield until just a few years ago. We ALL heard the stories about the boogeyman growing up. But since then?”

Another pause while Nate parses out his response. “Well… I haven’t ever seen him like that. But some of his previous aides got really freaked out and quit all of a sudden. And Nettie,” he nods his head towards an older nurse doing paperwork in the small office across the hall, “she’s told us all some pretty crazy stories from back in the day. Said he used to be really dangerous. But I’ve never even seen a resident give him a mean look. They simply don’t mess with him. It’s kind of crazy, really…”

June isn’t sure how to respond. Dr. Sartain had assured her that Michael hadn’t hurt anyone in “quite a while”. He said they had even brought in cats to spend the night with him a few times and every single kitty came out of the room in the morning just as it had been the evening before. Before she musters up another query, Nate stands up from his chair and scoots it back under the desk.

“Hey, I gotta go real quick. It’s lunchtime and they’ll get rowdy if we don’t start rounding em up.” He turns to another employee that had been reading on the other side of the station. “Cass. Hey Cass. It’s time for lunch.”

The other girl, Cass, rolls her eyes as she slides her bookmark back into the tacky romance novel she was halfway through. She grumbles an audible, “this’ll be fun,” before picking up a clipboard and pen and pushing past June on her way out of the nurse’s station. Nate shoots her an apologetic look before grabbing his clipboard and leaving her there alone.

She can hear them shouting “LUNCHTIME” down the halls and all of a sudden, doors are slammed open and then the passageways are stampeded with the footfalls of eager, hungry men. Many of them take the time to ogle the new blood a bit on their way but it’s obvious that most of them are more focused on their bellies because none of them bother for too long.

June herself is pulling out the package of tuna and crackers she had brought for her own lunch as the last stragglers file through. Her thumb gets caught on the lip of the plastic as she tries to open it and the ensuing cut is little, but a drop of blood begins to form from the slit. Out of instinct, she mumbles “shit” and brings it to her mouth. Her tongue is putting pressure on the little wound and the sharp pain is starting to fade when something tall looms just in her peripheral.

Her eyes jolt upwards to see him standing still as death in the hallway, still facing towards the route to the dining hall. His head is ever so slightly tilted in her direction, his good eye flickering between her own eyes and the finger still suckled in her mouth.

Within a millisecond June’s thumb is retracted and she gives Michael a smile and a nervous wave with her other hand.

“H-hey! I hope you have a good lunch!” She begins to explain herself, “I just, uh… I cut my finger on accident and I…”

He doesn’t let the girl finish her rambling, turning his head back and continuing on his trek towards his lunch like she wasn’t talking at all.

He gets to the end of the hall and turns the corner before her mind finds itself again. “Uh, okay… rude…” Maybe he just needed time to warm up to her, just like Nate said.

June’s eye catches the offending tuna package once more and then her attention is turned back to how hungry she is. And Lord knows with her new “friend”, she may need the strength in the coming hours.

_________________________

After lunch, Dr. Sartain fetches her again, to ferry her to Michael for the last time. After this, she would be on her own. June doesn’t bring up what happened at the nurse’s station.

She waits just beside the doctor as they walk up to him in the common room. He’s standing and looking out one of the many large windows that line one wall of the decently large room.

“Michael, June is here to see you again. She’ll be with you the rest of the afternoon, so you must be on your best behavior so you don’t scare her off.” The old man continues to stare out the window and gives no indication that he’s even heard the doctor speak. Sartain turns to her and whispers “good luck” before making his exit.

It takes a couple of minutes for June to make her way up to the window, near Michael, but far enough away as to not make him uncomfortable. She sneaks a few glances at the tall man and also tries to pinpoint just what it is he’s watching. They are on the third floor and the view spans a pretty wide area, even overlooking the parking lot. A few people are coming and going, mostly what looks like employees and the others most likely visitors. His eye follows one and then moves on to the next person. And then the next. ‘Ah. So he’s peoplewatching,’ June thinks to herself.

A few minutes of watching with him and she notices just how quiet the man is. Barely exuding a sound besides the rhythmic breaths that accompanies most humans. He really is a mystery.

Not really knowing what to say, she lets almost half an hour pass in silence before her legs begin to ache from standing still for so long. June moves to sit in the chair just on the other side of Michael and she grabs a magazine from a nearby side table to flip through. She doesn’t want to push Michael too much and is sure just letting him get used to her presence is the correct way to go about it, at least for the first day or so. Some of the other men in the room begin to whisper to each other. After awhile, she peeks over the top of the Good Housekeeping in her hands to see a few younger looking guys watching her and talking amongst themselves. Within ten minutes, they are standing close enough to speak to her but still not incredibly close. She sees them nervously eyeing Michael, who hasn’t moved a centimeter.

Maybe she should say hi? That’s polite, right?

“Hey, what’s up? You guys need something? I can go get a CNA...”

One of the boys, the one that seems to be the leader, steps just a tiny bit closer, eyes moving from her to Michael. Then from Michael to her.

“Nah, we’re good, miss. We just wanted to meet you. My name’s Russ. We just don’t get many new people around h-here.”

One of the other two men, who looks to be a bit older, is flashing her a weird smile. He nudges his way up so he’s standing beside Russ instead of behind. “We definitely don’t get many pretty girls like you.”

Russ jabs his elbow into the other man’s side and June isn’t really sure how to respond. “Oh, um… Thank you?”

Russ opens his mouth to say something else but the younger guy cowering behind him gets his attention and points behind her. June turns to look as well and it seems Michael has turned his head in their direction and is glaring at the boys. The flirty guy curses under his breath and Russ, who looks absolutely terrified, starts backing up. “S-sorry for bothering you… sorry…”

They abscond without another word and huddle around a small table in the opposite corner of the room, looking back at her direction every now and then. She moves to glance back at her charge and their eyes meet.

Silence. Then he’s looking out the window again, ignoring that she’s even there.

So she goes back to reading the interview with Jaime Lee Curtis she was engrossed in when they were approached. She couldn’t help but to sing that digestive yogurt jingle in her head.

A couple of hours pass by uneventfully and by 3 o’clock she’s read every article in every magazine in a five foot radius. June’s eyes are a little sore from the reading and she wonders just how Michael can stand in the same spot like that for that long. When she stands, one of her hands moves to settle against his shoulder. Just a small gesture to get his attention. The muscles beneath her hand tense just slightly at the touch.

“The doc told me to leave at 3 today, so I guess I’ll be on my way. It was nice meeting you though. I hope I didn’t annoy you too much...” Her hand falls back to her side. “Have a good rest of your day, okay?” She waits for a response but it never comes, so June makes her way back to the nurse’s station to gather her things, yawning along the way. Sitting around doing nothing had really taken a toll on her today.

Nate is packing up when she gets there so they head out together, chatting about what they are going to eat for supper that night all the way up until they have to split up to get to their cars.

June opens the driver side door but gets a shiver down her spine before she can climb in. Realization dawns and then her eyes are looking back up at the massive, decrepit building, searching the windows. It doesn’t take long to find him and when she does, he’s looking back at her. It’s the same spot he was in when she left him but this time his gaze stays on her, instead of flickering to and fro. There are more than a few people leaving right now but he’s just watching her.

‘Maybe that’s a good sign…’

She waves once more but as she suspected, he doesn’t return it. The wind is chilly though, and she doesn’t wait for long.

‘It wasn’t a BAD day,’ June reminds herself on the drive home.

“Beats McDonald’s ANY day…”

[richonnejustdesserts]

Yuletide Medicine (25 Days Of Richonne Tumblr Exclusive) by @blacklitchick

The joy of the Holiday is lost on both Rick and Michonne until the right medicine transforms their Christmas Eve.

It had seemed like the altruistic thing to do when Rick volunteered to take his aunt’s shift as a Salvation Army bell ringer after she came down with the flu. Most didn’t want the Christmas Eve shift, but the magic of the holiday season was lost on Rick that year. His kids would be two states away from him when they opened presents on Christmas morning. He figured it was better to do some good instead of moping around his empty house. But after two hours of ringing that annoying bell in icy temperatures, he was over it. The multiple looks of annoyance and aggravation he received as last-minute shoppers rushed past him and his frozen fingers made him want to pack it in early. The three dollars he collected after being on duty for two hours didn’t seem worth the hassle.

He tossed the bell and red apron into the bucket before reaching up to pull the Santa hat off his head. A split second before his hand touched his head he heard a small gasp and scream. His reflexes kicked in as he saw a body fall towards him from his peripheral vision. The new weight in his arms wasn’t as much of a shock to his system as the most beautiful yet haunting pair of brown eyes he’d ever seen, staring up at him.

It took it her being in waves: her dark skin, the long locs cascading down her shoulders from under a white knit cap, the matching white peacoat, the way her mouth slightly opened as she took in quick breaths that floated up into the air like smoke. The seconds ticked away as their eyes bored into each other’s and people continued to rush around them.

The small pellets of precipitation that began hitting his face jerked Rick out of their intense trance. His voice was soft yet rough as he opened his mouth. “You OK?”

The woman still stared up at him. A look of he couldn’t decipher crossed over her features before she shook herself and cleared her throat. “Umm..yes…I think so. I tripped over something on the sidewalk. Th…thanks…” The soft yet warm timbre of her voice trembled. She closed her eyes to regain her composure. When she opened them again she smiled up at Rick. Her whole face lit up. He took in a sharp breath as she looked even more beautiful than he first thought.

“Thank you,” she began again, “for catching me. Falling onto an icy sidewalk wouldn’t have been fun.”

Rick smiled back at her. “No. I don’t imagine it would have.”

The conversation trailed off as they caught each other’s eyes again. His gaze traveled to her perfectly shaped lips and back up again. Only a man roughly pushing into him while trying to get into the store they stood in front of broke the spell. Rick grabbed onto the woman tighter so she wouldn’t slip from his grasp.

“It would probably be a good time to let me up,” the woman said as her hands clutched onto his forearms.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Rick mentally chided himself for being so enamored with a stranger as he helped the woman to her feet. When she tried take a step she started to fall again before Rick caught her. “Steady now,” he said.

“Ouch…shit…my ankle.” Her voice was tinged with shock and pain.

Rick could see her right ankle had already started to swell in her suede heeled boots. “Looks like the fall was nastier than we thought.” He gestured across the street. “There’s an Urgent Care in the hospital over there. Let me take you to get checked out.”

The woman pulled away from him while almost falling again. She steadier herself by grabbing onto the red bucket. Tears frame her lashes as she shook her head vehemently. “No. I’m fine. I mean I don’t know you. I just need to get home and wrap and soak my ankle.” She tried to take another step, but couldn’t put any weight down on the ankle. She cried out in pain as the tears broke away from her lashes and ran down her face.

Rick grabbed onto one of her shoulders. “Oh, hey, hey. Shh, shh. Don’t cry. It’ll be OK. It’s probably only a simple sprain.”

The woman shook her head again. “I know but…,” she sighed, “I’m supposed to be on stage tomorrow dancing the lead in The Nutcracker. But now,” she gestured towards her ankle,” it’s probably not going to happen. Would have been the only highlight of my Christmas.”

Rick took in her graceful body. It made sense she was a dancer. Even her fall was elegant. “You never know until you have it checked out. You may be good to go for tomorrow’s performance. We’re go over to the Urgent Care and it’ll be fine.” He reached into his back pocket to pull out his wallet. “Here’s my ID and badge. I’m a Sheriff’s Deputy. Rick Grimes. You can trust me.”

The woman stared at his ID then looked closely back at him. “You work for Sheriff’s department?” Rick nodded. “So does my sister. She’s a deputy too. Do you know Sasha Williams?”

He crossed his arms and tilted his head as he put the pieces together. “Sasha’s your sister? She’s one of my good friends in the department.” He smiled. “It all makes sense now. That means you’re Michonne Williams. Her ballet dancin’ sister she’s always braggin’ about and praisin’.”

Michonne smiled showed her slight embarrassment. She knew how sister could go on and on with the praise. “That would be me.”

“Now you really have to let me help you. If I have to tell Sasha I left her injured sister in the cold on Christmas Eve she might punch me in the jaw.”

Michonne laughed. “Yeah she just might.” She sighed and wiped at her eyes. “OK. Take me over to the Urgent Care.”

Rick nodded. “OK.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and helped her limp slowly across the street.

****

Almost two hours later, Michonne maneuvered herself back into the waiting area on a pair of crutches. She was surprised to see Rick still sitting in the same spot she left him when the CNA wheeled her back to the exam rooms. He quickly stood when her saw her.

“You’re still here,” she said.

“Of course. I wasn’t gonna leave without knowing you were all right.”

She smiled. “Thanks, Rick. You’re quite the gentlemen. I called Sasha when I was back there and she confirmed that I was in very good hands.”

He smiled back. “Good. So what’s the verdict?”

Michonne eased her body down in a waiting room chair and Rick sat beside her. “It’s not broken, thank God. It’s a sprain like you said, but a pretty bad one. I won’t be doing any dancing tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Me too. I guess that’s why I started crying out there. I’m not quite feeling the magic this year. Only thing I had was dancing.“ She tossed her locs behind her shoulder and shook her head. “This is the first Holiday season since my marriage ended. I had our son, Andre, for Thanksgiving so my ex gets him for Christmas this year. First time I won’t see my Peanut’s face when he opens his gifts. I was looking forward to tomorrow’s performance because I knew it would feel good to bring some joy to the people in the audience even if I wasn’t feeling much myself. Now I won’t even have that, you know.”

Rick patted the knee on her non-injured leg. “I get it. My ex-wife has the kids this year. That’s why I was out here in the cold ranging that damn bell. Tryin’ to do some good while feeling low.”

Michonne put her hand over his. “Looks like we understand each other Deputy Grimes.”

“Looks like we do.”

Their eyes met again in what was beginning to become a habit for them.

Michonne broke the trance first this time as she focused her eyes down to her ankle. “I was out there rushing to find him a gift before him and his Dad leave for Savannah tonight. UPS lost the gifts I ordered for him. I wanted him to have at least one present to open from me in the morning.” She looked at her watch. “They leave in about an hour. I probably won’t make it in time.” She looked back into Rick’s eyes. “He may not think about me at all tomorrow.”

Rick stared back. “Well, we can’t have that. I happen to know that this hospital has a pretty nice gift shop. I’m sure we can find somethang for him there.”

She knitted her brow. “You think?”

“I know.”

“Do you know what ten-year old boys like for gifts?”

“Being that my son was a ten-year old only two years ago, I think I can make an educated guess.”

Michonne smiled at him. “Well, OK then.”

He smiled back. “OK.”

***

A half-hour later they sat in front of the large window in the hospital cafeteria, watching the snow that had been threatening to fall all day blanket the streets. Michonne’s foot was propped on a chair as they sipped hot chocolate.

“I know I keep thanking you, but Andre really is going to love this virtual reality game you picked out. He’s still so young, but already a technology wiz. This is right up his alley.” Michonne patted the wrapped box in her lap. It was just their luck the gift shop was offering free gift wrapping with all toy purchases.

Rick nodded at her with his lips slightly upturned in a smile. He basked in her appreciation. “I was happy to do it. I’m also happy you ex agreed to stop by here on their way out of town so you can give your son the present.”

“Yeah. Me too. Mike’s a wonderful man. A great father. And wasn’t a bad husband. We just weren’t meant to go the long haul in marriage.”

“Same with my ex-wife. I used to see divorce as a failure, but it doesn’t negate all the good the relationship brought to you. And it doesn’t mean you won’t ever find that type of happiness again. Or even somethang better.”

Michonne sipped her hot chocolate and nodded at him with a slight smile on her face. “Sometimes an ending is a beginning in disguise.” She pointed across the street. “Looks like your Salvation Army bucket is filling up with snow. Should you go rescue it?”

Rick shook his head. “Nah. My shift was a bust. I’ll just make a donation in my aunt’s name, and never volunteer again.”

“I have to admit though,” she said as she turned her attention to the top of his head, “the Santa hat looks better on you than it does Kris Kringle.”

He snatched it off with an embarrassed grin. “I didn’t realize I still had that on.”

Michonne laughed and looked back to the wintery scene outside the window. “You know they say if you witness the first snow of Christmas Eve all your wishes for the new year will true.”

Rick raised an eyebrow at her. “Really?”

She smirked at him. “No. I just made that up.”

Rick laughed. “Not a bad sentiment though. I have a few wishes I wouldn’t mind comin’ true.” He held the Styrofoam of hot chocolate in both hands as he looked down as his worn cowboy boots then back up at Michonne’s smiling face again. “You know there’s this restaurant about ten miles from here that makes a great pot roast every Christmas. It’s ‘bout the only place that’s open around here on the holiday.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“I won’t be dancing so my Christmas plans are non-existent at the moment. Since Sasha is working tomorrow, and our family is in Texas, I was thinking about hibernating in my apartment, eating frozen pizza and binging on 90s romcoms. But now that pot roast is an option I may have to reconsider.”

“It’s the best in town. Great apple pie too. The place has a jukebox that plays old Christmas songs. It’s the right medicine to get over the yuletide blues.” He winked at her.

Michonne laughed. She held up her cup of hot chocolate to “clink” it with his in a toast. “Maybe this Christmas won’t be so bad after all.”

Rick’s smiled big and bright enough to rival any holiday decoration. “I know it’s looking up for me.”