#then again it might be the NyQuil typing this

[sillyfanatic]

I think it’s a good thing that shadow can’t get sick bc I feel like he would get scurvy

[apprenticestanheight]

kindly asking for hoffman taking care of a sick s/o (but also not opposed to the same prompt for amanda,,)

Hoffman and Amanda taking care of a sick s/o headcanons

Okay!! This is coming out literal months after it was sent into my inbox and for that, I apologize! I am notoriously terrible at time management and I will procrastinate as much as the day is long.

Procrastination in accompaniment with a couple of personal issues and mountains of demotivation and anxiety as tall as mount everest are not the best cocktail and again, I am very sorry for how long this has taken!

I do have it titled in a way that might be a little confusing but, just to clarify, I did do headcanons and I did two separate sets rolled up into one fic just so that I could make it a little easier on myself because I could not, for the life of me, choose between hoffman and amanda for this. I don't write enough for either of them so this is kind of how I'm compensating for that lol

Fic type - this is very fluffy!

Warnings - the reader has a sinus infection/cold, so there's likely to be symptoms of that discussed, plus mentions of medication

oooookay!! To start, we're gonna go with Hoffman!

You wake up sick one random morning at the beginning of February and Mark is immediately like "oh NO, did I give them the sinus cold that's been going around work?" bc he had it like,, two or so weeks beforehand

and when you say good morning in a way that tells mark you're groggy but also sick, he calls in sick from work on your behalf and then calls the precinct to waste a few sick days to take care of you

After he's called in sick from work, he kisses your forehead both because he wants to and also to check for a fever. He finds that you're burning up, which is a bit of a surprise given the fact that, the minute Mark had adjusted, you'd practically stolen all of the blankets from him.

So, he kisses you on the forehead again and then leaves your apartment to grab the essentials: ibuprofen for the inevitable headache, a combination pack Nyquil and Dayquil to ease the fever and also help you function like a person during the day and get some sleep at night.

He also grabs chicken noodle soup and bread for toast, plus a few of your favorite snacks.

When he gets back home, he tosses one of his older NJPD sweaters into the dryer so that it comes out warm once the fever has broken, finds you in your bed with nothing but a stolen pair of Marks boxers and one of his button ups to act as clothes. A thick blanket covers your legs entirely and you've sat up in the bed, clearly trying to will yourself to function like you would if you weren't sick.

Mark is at your side relatively quickly with a Dayquil and bottle of gatorade in hand, kissing your forehead as you take the pills and thank him for running the errand.

Generally, Mark is absolutely the type of guy who just wants to make sure you have the time to rest. He takes care of the house work, makes sure that the windows are open so that you're still getting fresh air but aren't practically drowning in the wintery cold, does everything he can to make sure you're resting well.

that also means he's with you lots of the time--he'll lay down with you in bed for as long as you want, happy to kiss the top of your head and act as your anchor when a migraine sets in.

It also means kisses after you've taken your meds--you'll pop a Dayquil, sip some gatorade, and Mark will kiss your forehead or your cheek and then say nothing when you fall asleep against his shoulder twenty minutes later

he's generally very sweet and absolutely one hell of a guy to have around when you have a cold

okay! It's Mandys turn

Amanda is super clingy and has herself a few connections, so when she finds out you have a cold she uses those connections.

the biggest connection that she has is lawrence (I am firmly of the belief that they had a sibling dynamic and also that they were both only children) and she uses it the second you're asleep while sinus-infected and bedridden

she calls him up like "hi. my partner has a cold. I need a prescription for the best cold meds you have or at least a bit of advice please and thanks."

so, Lawrence kind of like,, he gives her the play-by-play, right? He tells her what over-the-counter meds work the best and gives her advice on how to help you

she follows it bc she wants you to get better. She gets you the good stuff and benadryl, which has the tendency to knock a person out as it were and the night-time cold meds were out of stock at the pharmacy she went to.

She even goes to walmart and gets you a heated blanket. she is the fuckin--she loves you so much that she's willing to spend the 2001 equivalent of modern-day $20 for one of the decent ones.

And then she gets home and kisses you on the cheek bc emotional support, and you thank her while she sets up the heated blanket

generally, Amanda is like--she's on top of your care. She makes sure you're always comfortable, bribes you with kisses to get you to take the buckleys or whatever it is that she finds when she checks another pharamacy after a bit of apprenticing one day

you also sleep a lot, and Amanda pretty much acts as your body pillow??

the minute you're tiredly pressing your face against her shoulder, she's just kind of happy to let you sleep as you please because she wants you to get better

generally, she's very attentive and is quick to get you what you need when you need it.

[wishing-stones]

Ren comes down with a fever! How would the boys handle it?

Ah, sick human time! Fortunately, most human illnesses can't get them sick, due to, you know, not having the correct tissues and cells to infect. Any sort of virus bounces right off of them.

Killer is the type to provide comfort and cuddles. They're feeling miserable, so he'll happily bundle them up and lay around and watch movies or tv or whatever else. He'd probably pass out at some point, but they probably do too. Gotta rest to get better! Dust is of a similar mind, and happily sits with snacks and cuddles up with them. Cozy sick humans have a sort of sleep agro that he'll take advantage of. (Cozy skeletons do too, so it's mutual.) He'll also gladly bring them things if they need it. Axe is making soup in abundance, as well as easy-to-eat, low-effort meals with more substance. When he's not cooking away, he'll sit with them in his lap all bundled up and watch tv. (He brings the electric kettle with him so that he can top up their tea when they need it) Cross is Mission Man. They need more tissues? On it. Another blanket? Be right back. He runs things to and from the kitchen, gathers whatever they might need, and might need to be forcibly made to Sit Down And Chill Out. He doesn't like those he loves being incapacitated, and he gets antsy if he can't immediately fix things. Makes him anxious. Baggs is the one administering medicine and keeping track of when they ought to be taking the next dose down to the minute. That DayQuil equivalent is being taken every six hours on the dot, and in the evenings, it's NyQuil instead. Depending on the severity, they might also be on a course of antibiotics or antivirals, and he is keeping a very weather eye on their condition if those ones come out. If they can corner him long enough, he might be made to sit and chill with them for a little while. Nightmare is not only making sure that they rest, but making sure that the rest of His Idiots™ don't burn themselves out taking care of a human who is only mildly incapacitated. Really. He makes sure that they sleep soundly and aren't bothered by fever dreams. He's generally on the night shift of keeping an eye on them.

They all have a moment of 'shit, what do?' (minus Baggs and Nightmare) before settling into their various self-appointed duties. Fortunately, this is for a week at most, maybe two if it's a more serious illness (bronchitis, pneumonia, etc.)

...Ren might have to shoo them all off if it gets to be too much every now and again. Seriously. They aren't dying, they're just sick.

[goldenempyrean]

Empyrean’s Advent: Day 4

Prompt: “Oh honey you look miserable.”

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Sick Reader

Wordcount: 878

[ Previous || Next ]

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿ ‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

“Oh honey you look miserable!” Wanda cooed as she came into your bedroom holding several plastic bags.

She wasn’t wrong either, you were currently slumped up against the headboard, your face flushed with heat. You had been feeling unsteady the night before, but neither you nor Wanda had anticipated that the next morning you would have woken with a raging cold, one so awful you were forced to spendable the majority of the day in a fever-fueled haze practically unable to leave your bed.

Beside your half-empty bottle of water, crumpled tissues littered your nightstand several of which spilling off and forming their own small mound next to the empty box laying on the floor.

“You’re back.” Your voice was a hoarse remnant of its former cheery tone.

Wanda smiled as she hung the coat she was wearing on the back of the door, “It was okay, abit boring without your sarcastic side-comments. Seriously it was so dull that we had to resort to looking at funny-shaped clouds for entertainment. Even Nat was bored, she even told me that when I got home I have to take super good care of you so that you can come back into work asap.”

You gave a small smile at that, “I’ve missed you.” You sniffled and rubbed your nose against your blanket, trying and failing to stave off the itch inside, “Hh-huh’tshhiew!”

“Aw bless you. ” Your fiancé cooed, “You been doing that all day?” She asked, glancing over towards tissue mountain.

“Yeah but I’ve mainly been sleeping.” You mumbled, pulling the blanket around you as your body shivered.

“My poor baby,” Wanda sighed, “I have some things that should help you feel better.” She said with a smile, giving the shopping bags in her hands a light shake.

On one of the bags was the logo of your local pharmacy, and you sat up to get a better view as she came to perch on the edge of the bed, opening the bag infront of you.

Wanda began to take out the first item but you stopped her, raising a hand in the air as your breath caught in your throat, sending you in a fit of chesty coughing, Wanda stared worriedly, hearing your chest rattle and she gently coaxed you to take a sip of water. It seemed to help, you finally stopped coughing however moments later your nose twitched sharply.

“Hup’Tshhiew! Hh…H-Hep’TSSHIEW!”

She pulled out a box of tissues from the bag and set the box in your lap, giving it a tap, “Bless you again. I figured you might need these so I picked up afew boxes, oh and they’re the type with the lotion in them too! It should stop your nose from getting all chapped.”

“Thank you so much.” You gave a relived sigh, opening up the tissues and taking some to blow your nose before watching intently as Wanda dived back into the bag.

She pulled out 2 bottles of colourful liquid, Dayquil and Nyquil and she placed them on your nightstand, “You should probably take some of that before you go to sleep, it’ll help soothe that cough of yours.”

“Oh sweetie you’re amazing,” You sniffled, leaning forward to kiss her. When she reciprocated you tried to move deeper she pulled away, kissing your neck instead and she didn’t miss the small disappointed whine you gave.

“We can do that when you’re better sweetie, as much as I love you Y/N, Im really bot too keep on catching whatever bug you’re down with.”

You yawned widely and sank back down into the bed, “M’kay, I don’t wanna get you sick either, you always so get whiny when your sniffly, it is kinda adorable though.”

“I do not get whiny!” She laughed in a fake-offended tone but moved up to tuck the duvet closely around you, “I have something else for you too.”

“What is it?” You peaked your head over the cover curiously, you must’ve looked like a burrito in that moment, your body snuggly wrapped in blankets while only your head poked out.

Wanda reached down to grab the small brown bag on the floor and pulled something out, “Have a look.”

Your curiosity was peaked, you looked up to see Wanda holding a circular takeout container, steam rising from it. Even through your heavy congestion, you could smell the distinct aroma of Italian chicken soup. And balancing ontop of the container was a cup and you easily recognised the Starbucks logo on the front.

“The Starbucks down the road is selling limited edition ‘Winter Hot-chocolate’ I thought it’d make you feel better.” Wanda smiled, helping you shuffle upwards a little so you could take a sip.

“Oh Wands.” You sighed happily and set the cup down, “Its amazing, everything is. Thank you.”

“No problem baby.” She kissed your forehead before you sunk back into the covers, “Do you want me to pour you a bowl of this?” She signalled to the soup still in her hand.

“Sure but first cuddles,” You patted the empty spot next to you, “Please?”

Wanda smiled and put the soup ontop of your drawers, she could always reheat it later if necessary, “Who am I to deny that request, especially when you’ve asked so nicely.”

✧*̥˚ Taglist! *̥˚✧ @somber-sapphic @lyak12 @natashamyl0ve @scrambled-brain-eggs @ceiestiaie @santana1437 @lovethewhumps @likefirenrain

[magicalgirlmindcrank]

I got so sick with a common cold on Thanksgiving I thought I had COVID again and passed the time binging the entirety of Dog of War as it existed and holy fucking shit. Good fucking god. My beautiful Princess with a disorder, you absolute fool of a girl. I am addicted to stoic soldiers having their walls broken down and becoming happy and fulfilled and DOW might as well have just slammed me full of Nyquil and pet my head while I slept for three days straight. Out fucking standing work.

<3<3<3

Glad you liked it so much! Princess' journey has been really fun to write, and these binge type comments are always so lovely to get. She's definitely acting very very irrationally this last chapter, not that she wasn't foolish in other ways before.

We've been working hard on the next chapter, and hope to have it out new years week! It's the juicy juicy climax~

[therealbattleangel]

A sick fic with any paul dano character. I have extreme nausea and I want comfort please :)

How Random Paul Dano Characters Would React To You Being Sick

TW: Mentions of sickness (duh) but nothing much other than sweet sweet fluff

(Requests Open !)

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Klitz

He gives me the vibe of basically owning a pharmacy with how many pills he has at his house

"Do you need Advil? Or maybe Midol? Allergy relief? Nyquil? No you aren't going to sleep"

That sort of thing

So don't you worry about that

He will also get you anything

Need water? He's already in the kitchen filling a cup

Need a blanket? He's found 3,000 from around the house

He might be a little much but his heart is in the right place

Dwayne Hoover

Dwayne is like the exact opposite of Klitz

He doesn't know what to do and panics

If it was during his vow of silence, he would just run around the house, holding his notepad up with "help" written on it to any person he could find, hoping they would help you

The only thing he knows how to do is cuddle

So he will cuddle with you for as long as you want

And he will probably turn on one of his CD's or put on some crappy reality TV show to try to get your mind off of it

Edward Nashton

Poor baby thinks you are dying

"Oh no, my baby, my sweet, my angel, the only purity left in this world, what do I do?"

"Eddie, it's just a head cold"

Again, heart is in the right place

Since he didn't really have anyone to take care of him growing up, he doesn't really know what can help

So instead, he will just ask you every five seconds if you are feeling okay or if you need anything

He will probably get annoying quick but you love him so it's fine

But really someone calm this man down

Brian

With Brian, I get two vibes. Vibe one is "oh baby, don't worry. I'll take care of you" and the other is "you're sick? Ew. Stay away"

The second one isn't really that helpful

Like I feel like he is either on top of you 24/7 or is miles away from you, worried you will get him sick too

Even if it's something you can't pass onto him, he would still act like you have the plague

But he will deliver little goodie bags to you and quickly drive away before you see him

They have a variety of stuff in them from pain killers to your favorite snacks

He doesn't want to admit he cares but he does

He does a lot

Jay

I feel like you getting sick would be the only way to get him away from work

Like as soon as he heard you weren't feeling good, he would call everyone in the team and tell them he wasn't coming back until you were better

He's the type to keep you in bed, no matter what the sickness is

"Baby, I don't want you wasting your energy. You need to save it"

That sort of stuff

He will give you a lot of forehead kisses, though

He will make sure you are 100% comfortable before he leaves your side

Nick Flynn

I feel like he would go full house wife on you

Like yes he does the cooking, yes he does the cleaning

He will make you soup, clean up any sickness you make, give you drinks that he read online would help you feel better

"Nick, is this apple juice?"

"Yeah, I read online that it helps with nausea so drink up"

If it's something like a fever, he will check your temperature every few hours to see if anything has changed

He would also stop you from doing anything productive

"No, no work. You are sick and you need rest. Go back to bed and lay down"

He's a little bossy but it's for a good cause

Joby Taylor

Another one that panics

He would look through his entire house to see if anything could make you feel better

And, him being him, he would ask if you would like fast food or something like that

He thinks of what he likes when he's sick because that's all he knows

He will look it up and try his best to help you

"Okay it says here you should be eating plain foods like bread… Shit, do I have bread?"

He'll probably end up having to do a store run.

Or two

But he loves you so he will do anything he has to to make sure you are thriving

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

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this! This is much more different than what I normally do but I had a hard time choosing between all the different Paul Dano characters for this requests and instead, just grabbed a few of my favs.

[mamamittens]

Because I'm living my best life, a random selection of bath bomb related headcanons!

Some shippy vibes but they're vague enough to be platonic if you prefer. It is bathing though, so I guess if this is a strictly romantic/sexual partner thing for you, be advised. It's not quite so taboo over in Japan cause of bath houses though, so keep that in mind.

Marco!

Is amused at the presentation of an egg shaped bath bomb.

Wonders when he's expected to use it, the damn workaholic.

When he finally does use it, he's delighted but would never admit how long he stared at the water.

Thinks the body safe glitter inside looked magical with his fire and definitely preened in the egg yolk orange water for longer than necessary.

If you happen to join in this experience prepare for a very handsy time. Though if he's staring at the loofah in his hand or the water is debatable. He sort of loses track of time though, watching the water swirl and shine.

Just let him enjoy it.

If you let him lay on you there's a very strong chance he'll go boneless and take a short nap. Though he'll also do that if he gets to just hold you.

Very relaxing either way and I feel like actual relaxation puts this birb to sleep quicker than weaponized-medical-grade NyQuil.

Keep it to yourself and he'll probably find another bath bomb to try out himself! And maybe with you? 🤔

Ace!

Didn't get the point of it at first when given a black bath bomb.

Had to be convinced to use it and it takes twice as long when you say the words "self care"--edgy bitch 🙄

Is absolutely floored when it starts to dissolve and a dark purple galaxy erupts in the tub.

Gets impatient and tries to crumble it in his fist, ignoring the slight dye affect that lingers on his hands.

Literally just soaks in the tub for ages staring at the water.

If you're close, this is probably the best time to deep clean the dude.

Not that he's filthy but he definitely picks up dirt like a magnet. Soot especially.

And if you let him return the favor he'll feel less weird about it. Probably.

Won't admit to crying a little if you join him for cuddles (will kick you out if you're not already very close though, so choose wisely).

If you happen to go shopping with him on an island that sells bath bombs, he's going to give you a pleading look but refuses to admit he wants to do it again.

Thatch!

Is really confused at first when you tell him to take a waffle and drop it into the water.

The minute it starts dissolving into a honey colored swirl, he's all for it though.

I can't promise he won't drag you in too, though. Short of a fatal rivalry, he's more than willing to be close with the people he loves.

And he can finally get some help washing his hair. There's so damn much of it, please help this man.

The type to just... Dissolve in a tub with a massive, obnoxious sigh like 20 years just lifted off his shoulders, the drama queen.

He'll eventually get to the cleaning part of the bath but the water might start to get cold by that point, so be prepared.

If your not careful he'll start making them himself and just testing them out--with you, naturally.

You know. For a second opinion.

Whitebeard

He knows what a bath bomb is and just laughs.

Questions if this is a strange ploy by the nurses to get him to soak in a tub with chemicals for kidney stones (someone save this man's kidneys, they're weeping from the alcohol at this point).

But he's willing to use it as a special treat. A little shake up of routine if you will.

Now, mind you, it's gotta be fucking massive to work in his tub, but still!

Is crowing in delight when it turns his water into a literal anime-esque ocean blue. The real pretty bright teal shade.

Now it's like he's bathing in the ocean.

Without the risk of drowning. Or sea kings biting his ass.

If you're close like that, he's fine with sharing this experience. You... Might need a floaty though, unless you want to sit on him 😳

I'm just saying, a proper tub for this man has to be DEEP AS HELL.

But he's happy if you want to do the cute shit like help scrub his back. There's a lot of ground to cover for an old man.

If you happen to be nearby when he sees/receives another one he'll wink and ask if you wanna see what this one does too.

It will probably be one of the stranger bonding activities he's done with someone, though. Platonic or otherwise.

Feel free to ask for more (roasts are always on but I'm currently really looking forward to enjoying my own glorified bath time 💅) I just thought of them first cause mutuals and the idea was funny.

Or just general headcanons, they're pretty fun to think about.

@secretsnailor

@marco--the--phoenix

[startledstars]

I got covid lol

(and I’m unvaccinated)

here’s how it went:

the initial onset was sudden and rapid. I was at my family’s house the day after Christmas. At around 8pm (?) my back started to hurt. I drove home to lay down.

you know that feeling you get right before you fall ill? For me, it manifests as a certain type of warm, neutral smell. Like the kind you get right before you sneeze, but more lingering.

I got that pre-sick feeling, so I ordered DayQuil, NyQuil, and food to be delivered in the morning. I also took vitamin C, NAC, and Zinc.

About half an hour later (9-9:30pm?) I laid down as the fever set in.

That first night was rough. Headache, body pains, fever, and no medicine to take the edge off. I couldn’t sleep, so I listened to the Bible while praying pretty much the whole time.

I was still awake when the NyQuil was delivered at ~9:30am the next day.

I drank like, a lot of NyQuil that morning (because I needed to sleep.) I also took lots of vitamin C and NAC again. Due to a total loss of appetite, I drank smoothies instead of eating.

Sleep didn’t come easy that day or night. However, I could breathe just fine and barely coughed at all. The worst part was the lower back pain.

By the following morning, the worst was over.

I had the flu in 2019. It incapacitated me for three days. Covid was about 50% as bad as that flu. Comparatively much more manageable.

On New Year’s Eve (4-5 days after initial symptoms) I had a moment where I smelled a few things that weren’t actually there. Scents without a logical source one after the other over the span of a few seconds. As it happened, I realized that I’d be losing my sense of smell.

Less than an hour later, that’s exactly what happened. I drank coke, but it was like lightly sweetened carbonated water (as opposed to the syrupy caramel smell/taste I expected.) I ate a slice of pizza and could appreciate the texture of the meat, vegetables, cheese, and bread, but the taste was muted.

Even now, almost 10 days after the initial onset of symptoms and 5 days after losing smell/taste, drinking black coffee is almost like drinking water. Also, I can’t smell check my clothes to decide what needs to be washed; everything goes in the laundry now, even if I tried it on once and tossed it aside.

My appetite is almost non existent. I eat maybe half a chipotle bowl’s worth of food along with a small bowl of Cheerios. It’s hard to eat more than a few bites at a time.

I’m also exhausted. My limbs feel heavy. Small tasks like putting away water bottles leave me out of breath. On top of that, the insomnia is persisting. I can’t sleep for more than a few hours at a time despite being tired.

I used to have bad chronic fatigue a few years ago along with severe depression. Going downstairs to get a bowl of cereal once a day was my limit. I still struggle with these issues, but not nearly as much. Fatigue due to Covid is, comparably, much more manageable.

The good news is that every day, I feel a little better. I have a little more energy. I can sleep better and get stuff done. In a week or two, I should be back to 100% 😁

To summarize my personal experience:

Covid has sudden, rapid onset

The first day and a half are the worst

Early symptoms: fever, body ache, headache, eye pain. Like the flu but not as bad.

Late/lingering symptoms: loss of smell, muted sense of taste, fatigue

Supplements like NAC, vitamin C and zinc might help. They may explain my rapid initial recovery and relatively mild symptoms. I’ve been taking NAC for years; it is a supplement that boosts lung health and a healthy immune system. This may be why I had no issues with coughing/breathing.

Seriously, the flu was so much worse 😅

So again, from my personal experience as an unvaccinated person, Covid seems as dangerous as, or less dangerous than, the seasonal flu. This disease definitely exists. It is highly contagious.

But it poses a risk to the same sub population that would also be at risk from the flu, which has been around for years. I can see why the elderly or immunocompromised might be concerned about Covid, the same way they may be concerned about the flu.

I can not see why this is an illness that requires a “new normal” in the form of perpetual forced mark wearing, social distancing, and totalitarian government control.

Also, both my parents are fully vaccinated. They both got sick too, and their symptoms were just as bad as mine. I know at least three other fully vaccinated family friends who got sick.

So, threatening people with unemployment unless they take an ineffective experimental mRNA altering drug with unknown long term effects makes even less sense now than it did a few months ago.

Diseases like the flu evolve to be more contagious and less deadly each year. The Spanish flu, which killed 25-50 million, evolved into one of the strains of seasonal flu, which has a significantly lower death rate. The same thing may be happening with Covid. It wasn’t that deadly in 2020. It became even less deadly by the end of 2021. If the pattern continues, in 2022, there will be even less of a logical reason for all these mandates and restrictions.

But I have a feeling all this will continue. Two weeks to slow the spread turned into two years of tyranny with no end in sight. Especially on this website, I can’t shake the feeling that people want to lose their freedoms because they don’t want to be held responsible for their own lives. They want to be perceived as moral, heroic even, without actually standing up for anything. The mask and vax propaganda allows them to do just that. People want the simplicity that the pandemic narrative offers: you’re a good person if you wear a mask, take the jab, and don’t question the government. You’re a bad person if you don’t ‘do your part.’

People as a collective look for a reason to feel good about themselves while simultaneously searching for scapegoats to project negativity on. People can recognize this tendency in themselves, realize it makes them easy to manipulate, and adapt a more nuanced perspective of themselves and their fellow man.

But they usually don’t do this; it’s too much work.

This is incredibly cynical and I wish, I wish someone would prove me wrong. But it was never about saving lives, and most people know that on some level. They just don’t care, because they’re getting exactly what they want.

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

@sicktember Prompt # 9: I’m Not Sick

Title: First Date Fever

Fandom: Jurassic World

Claire arrives at Owen's bungalow for their first date, and finds him sick. He convinces her to stay and spend time with him anyway.

(Author’s note: Not a very popular fandom I know, but it’s one I’m very familiar with, and I have a soft spot for these characters. Set before the events of the first Jurassic World movie--my version of Claire and Owen's first date. You don’t need to know anything about the movie for this fic.)

Claire Dearing was not the type of girl to meet men at their homes before a date. That was far too personal and risky. First dates were always in safe, public locations. However, she had decided to make an exception for Owen, since his bungalow was actually on the grounds of the park, and she knew many of his neighbors, the locals who ran the park behind the scenes. Owen had insisted she meet him here when she had called him earlier in the day to confirm the date, and wouldn't be persuaded otherwise. Since this seemed to be a safer place to meet than the average guy's house, and since military-man Owen was cuter and more desirable than the average guy, she had agreed.

She parked her Mercedes to the side of his bungalow, smoothing her new sun dress and checking her hair one last time as she stepped out. She knew this dress highlighted her best features perfectly, and she was excited to wear it on an actual date rather than a work outing. However, her excitement faded slightly upon seeing the state of the shabby, almost derelict yard. She hoped he intended to make her trip out here worth it. She picked her way carefully to the door of the house, sidestepping odds and ends and being mindful of the mud, making a face as she did so. She knocked sharply, arranging her face once more in a smile, trying to recover her eagerness.

Owen took his time answering the door. When he finally appeared, yawning, Claire's face fell again. He was disheveled and haggard, dressed in a ratty tee shirt, with bags under his eyes and a flush across his cheeks. His hair wasn't even combed.

"Hey, you're here! You look beautiful," Owen croaked. "Just give me a minute and I'll be ready to go," he said with a sleepy sniffle.

"Are you… hungover or something? You really don't look good. You haven't even showered."

"Not hungover, not at all. Haven't had anything to drink all week," he said, clearing his throat roughly. "I guess I accidentally fell asleep after work, so I'm still kinda out of it. I'm really sorry...  I just need a few minutes. You can come in if you want."

"I'm fine out here… thanks. I'll just… wait."

"I'll be quick." He ducked out of sight again, closing the door. 

Claire sighed, flopping onto the porch swing to wait. She really hoped this date was going to get better fast.

Owen reappeared in record time, looking much better in a button-down shirt and chinos, though still very rundown and tired. "All set?" he croaked, shutting the door behind him. Before Claire could reply, he hunched over to sneeze twice into his elbow, directing the spray away from her.

"Sorry, dust," he muttered, swiping his nose with his shirt cuff.

Claire backed away from him, wrinkling her nose. "Are you ok, Owen? You sound like you're coming down with something. Or already came down with something."

"Nah, I'm not sick. Like I said, just dust. C'mon, let's get going."

He held out a hand to help her down the porch steps like a gentleman, and she almost took his hand to let him, attempting to forget the strange start to the date. That is, until he sneezed again unexpectedly, directly onto her outstretched hand. She drew it back in disgust, immediately applying hand sanitizer from her bag as he apologized, then blew his nose, which turned into a cough.

"Owen Grady, you are sick! Don't lie to me. Why the heck are you trying to take me out when you're contagious? Are you trying to get me sick too?"

Owen shuffled to the porch swing and sank down onto it, looking defeated. "So maybe I did come down with something. It came on strong yesterday, but I didn't want to believe it. Feel like crap now. But… I  didn't want to cancel our date. I've been looking forward to it for weeks. Had it all planned out and everything." He coughed wetly into his shirt sleeve.

 Claire leaned against the porch railing with a sigh. "Well I was looking forward to it too. But we can't very well go out while you're sneezing and running a fever."

"I'm not running a fever."

She scoffed. "Whatever you say. Have you even checked?"

He reached up and touched his palm to his own forehead. "Feels fine to me."

"Well of course it feels fine to you. You can't check your own fever that way," she sighed, exasperated. "Do you even own a thermometer?"

"Nope."

"Ugh," she huffed again. Against her better judgement, she moved to his side and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead for a moment before quickly stepping away again. "You're definitely too warm."

"We can still go out. I'm fine." 

"No you're not." 

He almost certainly didn't hear her statement, since he sneezed several times right in the middle of it. 

"Case in point," she said as he wiped his nose, looking miserable. "We can't go out tonight." Try as she might, she couldn't keep a note of regret from her voice. "We'll try again another night. I should go… but I hope you feel better. Make sure you get rest and fluids and all that."

"Or you could stay for a while," he croaked hopefully. "I was really looking forward to spending time with you. I know I'm gross, but we can still hang out."

Claire smiled in spite of herself, leaning against the railing once more. "And why would I want to do that?"

"I mean, I shouldn't be left alone if I'm so sick. I can't be trusted to take care of myself. Pretty sure I took Nyquil instead of Dayquil earlier which is why I passed out. I need supervision."

Claire chuckled as she made her way back to his side. He was adorably pitiful and she couldn't help but humor him, especially since he was indeed looking very sleepy. "I suppose since you have a fever, I should keep you company for a while. Just to be safe."

He grinned happily as she sat down beside him on the porch swing. The swing was small enough that their arms brushed together as they rocked. Owen played the part of host well, getting them both snacks and drinks (and medicine for himself, at Claire's insistence), then keeping the conversation flowing, asking about her work and life and sharing about his, congested and hoarse though he was. Claire was happy to contribute, and they chatted comfortably for a while, but he clearly wasn't feeling well and wasn't up for much conversation, pretend as he would otherwise. Eventually the conversation faded, until the pair was rocking in silence, enjoying the tropical evening. 

Claire had taken over rocking the swing, letting Owen relax. In fact, he was so relaxed he began to doze off beside her. Claire simply kept rocking, even as he slowly shifted to the side, until he fell asleep against her, his head pillowed against her shoulder.

She found she didn't mind him lying there. In fact, his limp weight and hot, feverish cheek against her were somehow comforting as the evening cooled and quieted. She would make him move to bed soon, but she wanted to rock for a while longer. She had never had a first date quite like this, but she found she didn't mind that either.

[popatochisssp]

I need memes for the new boys. Meme me, Poppy. Meme me.

As always, I am ashamed at how well-equipped I am to answer this question...

Meme Fluent: Ash (Undergloom Sans), Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus), Sunny (Gastertale Sans)

Can At Least Ask Where The Bathroom Is In Meme: Brick (Horrorfell Sans), Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus), Aster (Gastertale Papyrus)

Meme-blivious: Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus), King (Horrorfell Papyrus), Merc (Horrorswap Sans), Pitch (Horrorswapfell Sans)

Ash (Undergloom Sans): Very savvy and up on all the most popular memes, scrolling through memes is an activity very low on the ‘activity’ part and great for when he’s feeling a little too tired to do anything else. He’s very into tiktoks, which help him keep up to date on the latest meme songs-- some of which he might try to learn to play on his own. In general, he’s also into memes with funny or weird-looking animals (frogs, possums, axolotls, etc), no specific kind of meme, the presence of a goofy-looking creature in it is usually good enough to get a smile or a chuckle out of him.

Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus): Not all that up to date on the meme scene, he’s usually busy with other things... but! He really loves relatable memes, especially ones about procrastination or not being able to focus on work or having to do chores, everyday mundane irritations that everybody can relate to! He also thinks reading comprehension errors are great harmless fun (i.e., “my bad i thought u said moths”), just silly misunderstandings that make for confusing interactions until someone realizes.

Brick (Horrorfell Sans): Doesn’t always remember every meme, but he gets the gist of most of them. His favorites are the MS Paint memes, usually the more poorly drawn, the better (but a fan of pretty much every catcrumb image he sees, those chaotic little cats are great). He can also be caught laughing himself to wheezing and banging on the table over completely bizarre and out of context interactions--for some reason, they just hit right on the funny bone and he has no defense against them. (The ‘Nyquil Detroit Become Liquid’ post nearly killed him, but he would’ve thanked it.)

King (Horrorfell Papyrus): Not too interested in memes. He’s peripherally aware of them but rarely knows the latest trends or cares to know them. He does have a slight fondness for evil memes--ones about being evil or having an evil lair or just have the word ‘evil’ as an adjective in front of something else seemingly incongruous--he finds them silly and they can usually win at least a smirk out of him when he happens to come across one. If you want a laugh, though, find him some of those screenshots of old newspapers from the 30s-50s, formally written humor that still holds up even now (like The Windsor Star, Ontario, November 1, 1958, The Cincinnati Enquirer, Ohio, February 21, 1947, or Barnard Bulletin, New York, December 20, 1935). Sensible chuckles abound from those!

Merc (Horrorswap Sans): Not too into memery, he’s definitely got a lot of other things going on and isn’t always online. Still, he is a fan of stuff like one-time-i-dreamt and other accounts of peoples’ dreams or thought processes. He thinks it’s interesting, the little peek into the wandering, strange, and sometimes funny subconscious, or how people think about love and tenderness and nostalgia and remind others to appreciate those things, too. It’s a very niche, wholesome sort of enjoyment for sure... but not to worry! If you’re looking for something more mainstream and ‘haha funny,’ he also got very into the whole ‘Surprise! It’s cake!’ meme trend that was going on for awhile and is still delighted to find a video where a realistic object is cut into and turns out to be cake. He’s definitely going to make one himself, maybe as a social media marketing thing for his home business...

Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus): Very meme savvy and tends toward some of the maybe darker types of humor--stress and anxiety memes, introvert memes, et cetera. Animated text is a big one he likes, with enough of a mix of pessimist and optimist memes that he doesn’t come away from checking it actually bummed out or feeling bad, a fine line to walk to be sure. He also likes coding and programming humor! He’s still kinda teaching himself, so he definitely doesn’t get them all, but it gives him a little sense of accomplishment and community when he does, which he really likes.

Pitch (Horrorswapfell Sans): Not interested in memes, and a lot of them are heavily based on visuals which, unfortunately, he’s going to miss the context. Still, he does get a hell of a kick out of brazen and blatant misinformation--the smooth sharks post, facts-i-just-made-up, and the like--and finds it hilarious when someone insists something that is obviously untrue, especially if a lot of people aren’t getting the joke and are trying fervently to convince them of their wrongness. He’s also a little bit evil, so whenever he learns a new piece of whatever slang is popular and in at the moment, he’s going to use it incorrectly, or use outdated slang to induce cringe in those around him. ‘Totes yeet yo’? Yes. ‘That is so pog, as the kids say’? Of course. ‘It’s lit, fam’? Definitely, who do you take him for? The cringier, the better, he revels in the discomfort of others when he throws one of those babies out.

Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus): Definitely knows a little bit about memes, not always the latest trends but his base knowledge is pretty good, and of course has his favorites. He loves John Mulaney references and reaction images, they just Speak to him, y’know? Outside of that, he’s very fond of day-of-the-week memes, Tuesday Again?, Out of Touch Thursday, Fat Fuck Friday and so on. Aside from being a useful reminder of what the hell day of the week it is, he likes the consistency and recurrence of it, just a silly little moment to look forward to at some point like, “oh yeah, it’s el muchacho monday, nice!”

Sunny (Gastertale Sans): Pretty wise to the meme scene overall, loves the fun and creativity of it all. If you want him to absolutely lose his shit, though, show him a terrible picture of an animal--by which I mean, poorly photoshopped, blurred, in mid-panoramic, as long as the end result is an absurd or very screwed up image. Why are things like ‘buff half cat’ and ‘dog but very, very long’ his sense of humor? He has no idea, but the worse it looks, the harder he laughs. He has a bit of a fondness for ‘gotcha’s too, like a Rickroll but really anything where you go into it expecting one thing, and get trolled by receiving something else. (If Megalovania memes were a thing in his universe, he would be all over them, if that gives you an idea of the kind of gag he thinks is funny!)

Aster (Gastertale Papyrus): Aware of memes, but not all that invested in them. He likes corporate and office/business memes a lot-- the kind that roast bosses and unnecessary meetings, translate ‘polite’ corporate phrases, anything to do with emails--because they can be very relatable. He also likes seeing screencaps of people on Facebook or Twitter getting dragged for misinformation, or trying to act like a pompous jerk and getting shredded (for legitimate reasons of course, not just random unprovoked cyberbullying). He...may be involved in a bit of that sometimes himself: he may not be working in a scientific field, but he is half of a scientist, and just petty enough to spend a few hours of his free time looking up and reading through a few credible sources to cite in a strong and well-crafted rebuttal argument if someone is being especially, dangerously wrong about something. Not everyone has the time and resources to do it, so why shouldn’t he? 😇

[wulfies-kpop-fanfics]

One Photo → Mark Lee [8]

↳  Pairing: Mark Lee/Reader

↳  AU: Soulmate!AU - The first touch of two soulmates permanently scars their bodies.

↳  Warning: angst if you squint, I guess

↳  Word count: 2,294

↳  Chapters: Prelude | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | You Are Here! | 9

⁙ Summary: For an end of the year photography project, you’re tasked with taking a photograph for your favourite group, NCT127, and coincidentally, discover your soulmate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WEDNESDAY - 8 TWO YEARS LATER

The heart of Toronto would never compare to the magnificence of Times Square in New York, but the mass amount of billboards by the Eaton Center always managed to send you into awe during your nightly trek home from work. 

You looked up toward the billboards with a sigh as you waited for your streetcar, barely managing to squeeze out a smile as you saw Mark’s visage splayed along one of the electronic spaces. The night sky was too polluted with the city’s light to display any real stars, but Mark’s face was more than enough for you. For the past week, you had seen NCT127’s faces sprawled across that billboard, part of promotions for their latest global comeback. It was a brief respite as you waited for your streetcar home every night, to finally know that the day was over and that you could relax.

It had been such a long time since you’ve seen Mark in person. Even though you texted him every day when the two of you were awake at the same time and video chatted whenever he had five minutes to himself, it always felt depressing to be without him. To not kiss or touch or hug at all was torture.

Everyone knew that it was deadly for soulmates to be apart for so long, that depression would set in and even worse physical illnesses were a real risk. It was hard to be so far away and over the past year you had been let go from multiple jobs because you were constantly sick, and therein lies the problem. You simply couldn’t afford the solution to your problem. So, depression and illness it was. It took everything you had to keep your head above water, to keep your dream alive and know that one day your heart wouldn’t ache as much as it does at the present moment.

After a 20 minute ride on the streetcar, you entered your building and took the stairs up to your little hole-in-the-wall apartment, the bare minimum that you could afford after Rhiannon paid her last half of the old place’s rent. A single bed, bath and a tiny kitchen that housed a little chair and round table. Thankfully, there was enough counter space that you could place a tiny TV to watch Netflix on while you ate. You were lucky that the house had a large living room, which doubled as your studio.

The coffee table was one of the only things left from your old apartment, along with the tote of Marvel films you kept hidden below it. Atop the table now rested all of your cameras, a drawing tablet and cards that you got in the mail from Mark from time-to-time, instead of notes, binders and textbooks. Sitting against the wall across from the table was a small bookshelf and an easel with a large frame sitting on it, housing the last portrait you finished the night before, ready to be shipped to the buyer.

After… somewhat enjoying a quick pot of white cheddar mac & cheese and watching a rerun of Supernatural on your little TV, you head into your room and sit at the desk next to your bed. After starting your computer, you opened up discord and sat back in your wheely chair, waiting for Rhiannon’s status to change to green. Wednesday was the day that she had to be up early for her job, so that meant time for a 10-minute call before you went to bed and she went to work. 

Next to your computer was a copy of the photo you took two years ago, of your soulmate and all his friends beneath the shedding cherry trees in High Park. You smiled at it, the memory was fond but now faint in your mind. You reached forward to pick it up, but you stopped yourself. You knew that if you inspected the photo more, you’d only miss Mark and all your friends more. 

There were times where your apartment became so quiet that it reminded you how alone you really were. You had lived with Rhiannon most of your life, and that meant there was at least some noise going on at all times. Whether she had her headset unplugged when she was listening to music or watching youtube videos, she was clattering about when helping you wash and dry the dishes, or if she was walking around and tripped on nothing. She was always talking, laughing, or doing something that always let you know that she was there. Now, you had nothing.  

The silence is broken and you’re startled by the calling sound from discord, Rhiannon’s icon popping up on the top of your screen. You place your hand on your mouse and click the join call button, adjusting the webcam perched on the top of your desktop monitor. 

"Hey," Rhiannon was the first to speak, yawning and reaching back to pull her hair into a perfect, tight ponytail. 

"Hey," you respond, watching her closely and leaning your chin on your right palm. "How are you holding up?"

"I should be asking you that, Jesus, you look like the Hulk if he got the swine flu," she retorts, and even through the grainy quality you can tell she has sympathy written all over her face. "I'm doing great, we've got two cleanings today and a wisdom teeth removal, so that'll be fun." 

You scoff and attempt to smile, "I'm fiiiiine, other than the fact that I'm here and you're there, 13 hours in the future and at least one ocean in between us and an entire continent and a half. I'd say that constitutes abandonment."

"I got the getting while it was good and you know that," she stuck her tongue out at you. "You need to keep saving so that you can fly your ass out here." She squinted at the screen. "You really need to drink like… an entire bottle of nyquil, dude."

"If only it were that easy," you groan. "I don't even have a photographer's position yet. All I get is sitting at a desk and responding to emails… even with my head start, I can't find a good job and I barely make enough to keep living in Toronto." You stick out your tongue back at her for the nyquil comment. "As if I haven't been hiding a bottle of dayquil in my desk for the past week."

Rhiannon stopped what she was doing and leaned toward her camera. "You know why you can't get the jobs you want," her voice is soft, empathetic. "Mark is having trouble, too. He's been doing a lot of half days, so I don't know how they plan to do their tour with him being constantly sick." 

You looked away. "I can't afford to take any more time off… I don't want to lose this job. If I do, I'm not sure that I'll be able to make my rent."

"You're going to need to take time eventually,” Rhiannon stated firmly. "If you don't get at least some of your strength back you're going to end up in the hospital like I did. Remember?" 

You glanced back at your screen, watching Donghyuck wander around in the backdrop. You were beyond jealous that they got to live together. 

"Maybe. I just miss you. More than I miss having a clear passageway in my nose." 

Rhiannon smiled sadly at you. "I miss you too, everyone does. You'll be here soon, I promise. I gotta go, sleep well and drink plenty of water, okay?"

"Okay." 

Rhiannon waved at you before her screen went dark, ending the call. The call was shorter than usual, so you presumed that she had woken up late. You zoned out a little, acutely aware that the apartment had gone silent again. You didn't want to cry, to give up after surviving for so long. You had made it this far without letting everything get to you.

You knew that your deteriorating health was because of your separation from Mark and companies saw that as a liability, even though laws had come into place last year to protect separated soulmates from workplace discrimination. You felt a tiny ping of hope when Rhiannon said you would be able to move soon, but you knew she was lying to make you feel better. 

Feeling lethargic, you stand and make your way to the dresser in the corner of your room, stripping and throwing your clothes about the room. You open up a drawer and pull out a pair of sweatpants and the softest t-shirt you could find and slipped them on, wandering to your bed and slowly climbing in. You slipped off your glasses, placing them on your desk and reached forward to turn off your lamp.

You hugged your polar bear and tried to get comfortable, hoping to fall asleep quickly. You supposed you could call into work when you woke up; at least your manager was nice enough to understand when you needed a day off. You rolled over, tossed and turned, but sleep wouldn't come. Not while your phone was constantly buzzing. 

"What the hell," you mumble to yourself, untangling yourself from the knot of blankets you had tied yourself in to reach for your phone. Your lock screen lit up with a photo of Mark, one you had taken two years ago of him standing in Union Station. 

[Rhiannon (5)] 

She sure knew how to type quickly. 

Rhiannon: I'm on my way to work, I'll let you know when I'm there

Rhiannon: sorry our call was so short, I was running a little late

Rhiannon: I talked to Mark last night, did he say anything? 

Rhiannon: are you asleep already? It's been like 5 minutes 

Rhiannon: ok you're basically just ignoring me at this point

You: calm down bro I was getting in my pyjamas 

Rhiannon: I forgot how slow you get when you're sick, I could die of boredom waiting for you to respond 

You: hardy har 

Rhiannon: so have you talked to mark today? 

You: around lunchtime he woke up from a nightmare but I assume hes busy right now 

Rhiannon: Things have been pretty bad around now, I think you might have guessed that

You: Yeah, things aren���t really that great here either, but I’m more worried about Mark… have they given him time off? 

Rhiannon: Not much besides half days. He’s really been missing you. Maybe you should message him and see if he’s not busy

You: Yeah, maybe. I feel really guilty

Rhiannon: I know. I still could help you buy your plane ticket, you know. You: You know I can’t do that, I can’t take more from you than I have already. I owe you too much.

No response. 

You: Rhiannon I’m sorry 

You: Come on, you can’t have scrubbed in that fast!

You sighed, staring at your screen and still seeing no response from your best friend. You took a deep breath in and immediately regretted it when you began coughing up a lung, but at least you weren't upchucking your dinner. Instead, you decided to send a text to Mark.

You: mark, you there? 

You close your mind for a moment, thinking that maybe going to bed even later than usual would just make you more sick in the end, but you really needed to know what was going on. 

Mark: yeah I'm here babe, what's wrong, can't sleep? 

You: no not really… do you have time to talk for a bit? 

Mark: yeah, my legs gave out during our first practice so I'm taking a break

You: I'm sorry

Mark: it's not your fault (Y/N) 

You: it kind of is, we're both dying because I can't afford to move 

Mark: (Y/N), we're not dying, and it's okay, you'll be able to move soon

You: face it you know that we are… I haven't felt this horrible in a long time and I've thrown up three times today 

Mark didn't respond right away. 

Mark: why are you putting yourself down so much 

You: I just… have a lot of regrets right now 

Mark: what do you mean

You licked your lips and rolled over in bed, wondering if you should tell him.

Mark: are you okay? 

You: no, I feel like this would make you hate me 

Mark: I could never hate you and you know that. Tell me what's been bothering you.

You: For the past while… Rhiannon’s been offering me money. It’s honestly not much because everyone’s struggling nowadays, but it would be enough for me to fly to Korea, and I’ve felt so guilty about it that I kept saying no and she stopped offering

Mark: You mean that you could have been here faster? You: and now I feel that saying no was a really bad idea… and I.. I can’t afford anything, barely even food and now I hear that you’re even more sick than I am and I feel terrible

You: I don’t know what to do

Mark: It’s okay, (Y/N), really. I know how hard it is to take money from someone else, I’m not mad at you

You: Really?

Mark: I’m just disappointed that I have to keep waiting. You’ll be able to move soon, I promise, I promise, I promise

You: Are you going to be okay

Mark: As long as you are. Take care of yourself, okay? I’ll be there for you the second you land. Okay?

You: Okay. I… I should probably get some sleep now. Mark: Rest well, I love you

You: I love you too 

You sighed, placing your phone on your desk and turning over in your bed. It was time.

[kat-tamin]

i’ll find a new place to be from

Summary: You’re new to the building and keep finding desserts dropped on your doorstep, but who’s sending them?

Warnings: None

Ship: Kat Tamin x Reader

Word Count: 937

Title from: I Know the End by Phoebe Bridgers

You had only lived in your new building for a week the first time you opened your door to cookies. It was just a little blue, plastic bag with a few chocolate chip cookies nestled inside. Attached was a note: “Welcome to the building!” followed by a big smiley face.

Well, this was new. You had lived in the midwest all your life until now, growing up with stories of mean New Yorkers, and yet you still moved here. Those stories were not inaccurate. Yesterday, you said hello to the old lady across the hall, and she gave you a withering glance in response. The day before, you saw a fist fight at the bus stop.

But this, this was nice. You grab a cookie, careful not to crumble it, and sniff it delicately. Just because it was nice, doesn’t mean it wasn’t poisoned or drugged. Your mother told you to be careful.

But it smelt okay, a heavenly mix of sugar, flour and butter. Ignoring your mother’s voice in your head, you take a big bite. Instantly, you feel your knees go weak, and you have to lean against the door. It was the most perfect cookie you’ve ever had in your life. Who cares if it was poison if it tasted like this?

After finishing your cookie, basically stuffing it into your mouth, you look at the note again. Who was this mysterious baker of yours? A neighbour, most likely, but who? The mean old lady across the hall, apologizing for her behaviour? You let out a snort into the empty apartment. Yeah right. She was definitely not the type. But you didn’t know anyone else. A creepy neighbour who was interested in you? You shudder at the thought.

Every few days over the next month, you would come home to a bag of treats on your doorstep. It was simple cookies at first, but lately they have become more extravagant. Fruit tarts with delicate lattice tops. Layered squares of caramel and chocolate with a shortbread crust. Whoever was baking these was getting talented.

You loved these treats, but your mysterious benefactor was seriously messing with your diet. 

One day, about a month after getting your first package of pastries, you wake up with the nastiest cold. Your head feels like it’s being sawed in half, and your nose is all gross. You didn’t want to call out from work after only a month on the job, but you had no choice. Going to work sick was not the best thing to do when you’re a health care worker.

It’s 7:30 in the morning when you finally drag yourself out of bed. You usually were on the subway by now. You start filling up a kettle with water. A nice ginger tea with lemon and honey is what you desperately need.

You placed the kettle on the stove, when you hear movement outside your door.

Your heart leapt into your throat. It’s them.

Ignoring your achy body, you run across the room to your front door, and whip it open.

“Oh sh-!” A woman jumps, and presses a hand to her chest. “You scared me!”

It was not who you were expecting. It wasn’t a mean old lady, nor a creepy man. It was a young woman, around you age, with long hair in a ponytail. She was dressed professionally, in a grey blazer, and tight jeans.

Your eyes are drawn to the large box in her hands, identical to the one you received yesterday, which had perfectly frosted red velvet cupcakes. “You must be my personal chef.”

“I- yes.” The woman let out a breath, and nervously tugs on one of  herlarge, hoop earrings. “I make too much, and I saw you move in, so I thought I would…” She trails off, and meets your eyes for the first time. 

 They were a beautiful dark brown, warm and bright. They reminded you of the chocolate truffles she had brought you a week ago.

They were beautiful. She was beautiful.

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry. “Well, thank you for the desserts. I really appreciate them.” Your voice comes out in a weird rasp, making you wince, and touch your hand to your throat.

“You alright?” The stranger asks, her brows furrowing. “You don’t look so good.”

“Gee, thanks.” You roll your eyes, but give her a smile. “Just a bit of a cold. I’ll be fine.”

“Gingersnaps.” The woman across from you nods decisively. “I’ll make those after my shift tonight. They go great with tea. Or Nyquil.”

“Oh, you don’t need to do that.” You wave your hand, brushing off her suggestion. It was one thing to accept leftover baked goods, it was another for her to make them especially for you. “I just need some rest, and I’ll be fine.”

“I have all the ingredients already, so it’s no problem.” She shrugs, and holds out her hand. “I’m Kat, I live a few doors down.”

You shake her hand, and feel your heartbeat quicken at the warmth. “I guess you can call me your taste-tester then.”

Kat lets out a laugh, and your face splits into a grin at the sound. Suddenly, she checks the watch on the hand that’s still holding yours. “Sorry, I have to go or I’ll be late.”

Was it your imagination or was she slow to release your hand?

“Um, when you come later?” You take a deep breath, and take a chance. “Will you knock this time?”

She smiles, her eyes crinkling in the corners. “It might be late.”

“It’s okay. I’ll wait for you.”

AN: The first of hopefully many Kat x Reader fics. Thanks for reading, and feel free to give me feedback :) 

Picture from JGH’s instagram

[insomniac-dot-ink]

Lost Time

It was half past eight on a Monday and I was running late. I was known for being late as well as scatter-minded and it was an image I had been trying to combat since I was a young girl.

However, that didn’t change the fact that I had already missed the 8:30 train and the 8:20 one before that. I stood on the platform with the usual suspects of businessmen in charcoal dark suits, middle-aged moms on their way to the market with overly large floral-print tote bags, and a few highschoolers who looked just as late I was with a bruised-eyed emptiness about them.

I bounced on my heels as I waited and checked my watch every few minutes. I had been given several warnings so far about tardiness at my office job and while I wasn’t exactly thrilled about quality control work I was less thrilled about the prospect of being fired.

I texted my workplace friend about covering for me and then I checked my watch again.

For not the first time I missed university and the ideal of sleeping through whatever classes I didn’t care for and sneaking in a few minutes late to any lectures I actually did. My older sister kept insisting I was lucky I had gotten a job right out of college at all, but there was no helping it. It all sort of sucked.

The monotony was almost as bad as the knowledge that monotony was my future: pure predictable, clockwork knowledge of what I might be doing a month from now. And then a year from now. And the year after that.

I bounced on my heels and checked my watch for the third time. It was a leather watch with a round handsome face and a worn strap- my father had given it to me right before the Alzheimer's set in when I was around seventeen.

We hadn’t “lost” him, but we did lose the man I grew up with.

That was how I remembered that morning: thinking about Monday and work and my father’s watch which kept ticking much slower than I would have liked it to.

Maybe things would have been different if my work friend had texted me back faster or if I had woken up earlier or if I hadn’t bothered to wake up and go to work at all that morning.

I bounced in place and just as I was about to look down at my watch again a hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. “Ah,” I jumped and swung around to start shouting at whoever it was or the very least pull away from the stranger manhandling me on a public platform.

I hesitated when an old woman looked back at me. She was small, and had neat grey hair swept back into a tidy bun and a hunched back with wide, heavyset shoulders. She was lined with deep wrinkles and had clear blue eyes that struck me as somehow attractive and open.

She smiled mildly at me and her cool hand was still wrapped around my wrist as I faced her. I wrinkled my nose slightly as the scent of something like chlorine hit me over the head. It was a saturated sharp kind of chemical smell.

“Excuse me,” the old woman spoke in the same tidy manner as her look. “May I borrow some of your time?” I frowned deeply as I suspected she was about to break out a bible and start a pitch for either Jesus Christ or some new age church of cardinals or weed or paying them money or whatever.

I drew back, “I’m sorry.” I tried to glance at my watch but it was still in her grip. “I gotta get to work.” “It won’t take long at all. No trouble for you, I promise.” She said and her voice was similarly friendly, high-pitched, and reminded me somewhat of a cricket.

The chemical smell funneled through my system and I tried to politely hold my breath. “Sorry. The train is about to come and I really can’t miss it.” “We have time.” She said slowly. “It will only be for a bit and won’t cost you a cent.” I sighed heavily and looked around to check if anyone there noticed me being accosted by the elderly, but no one even batted an eye in our direction. “Are you selling something?” “No.” She said suredly. “I know this sounds a little forward, but I’m trying to find someone and I could use some help.” “Huh.” I blinked a couple times and chewed on my bottom lip; I weighed my options carefully for just a moment more and then met her syrupy blue gaze. “Just looking for someone, yeah?” I exhaled slowly. “Alright. Sure.” Her smile grew wide and candied sweet. She released my wrist and I swore a popping sound erupted through the air and sent a shiver down my spine.

“But I really can’t do it right n-” I didn’t finish my sentence as the train whooshed onto the platform and I stumbled backward. When I turned to tell the old lady I would have to help her later, she was gone.

I sniffed loudly and rubbed at my wrist before hurrying aboard my morning train and trying not to get stuck on any of the details. It was Boston, sometimes weird people talked to you.

And you tried to forget them. At least, at the time I hoped to forget her and get to work without being noticed or reprimanded again.

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

It was two months into December and I had a head cold like nobody's business. I hadn’t been able to breath out of my left nostril since the day before and I missed her dearly, as you would a best friend or lover.

Cold sheets of rain had been coming down in slushy torrents for days now and I had spent hours the week before helping move my roommate out. She had finally decided to go all the way with her questionable boyfriend and move in with him despite the old pizza crust smell and missing fire escapes in his neighborhood. But he had both a car and a netflix account.

I was happy for her up until I helped her move a couch in the pouring ice-rain and woke up the next day with the feeling of a balloon inflating in my sinuses. 

I went to work all the same in an effort to make management get off my back about the number of days I had missed. The world was a slow motion mess of dayquil and painkillers by the time I was finally able to head home in a daze. I produced kleenex after kleenex out of my purse as I traveled, like a magic trick where no one was impressed.

I was rocking gently back and forth in the train when my head pounded slightly and my nose cleared up for just a moment. I would have hit the air with my fist right then in victory if not for the sharp scent of chlorine that washed over me.

The uncomfortable sterile smell that reminded me of storms and sucking on copper pennies.

My eyes darted left and right to check if anyone had noticed, but the train was filled with pencil-skirt ladies on their phones typing away, school children with ipads out, and a homeless man softly snoring in one of the seats.

I massaged the bridge of my nose and hurried the rest of the way home with more kleenexes produced and thoughts of nyquil on my mind. I was surely too sick to be cogent I figured and becoming slightly delirious.

I slipped into my now one-person apartment, ate canned noodle soup, and tucked myself to sleep in my thickest sweatpants and sweater. It should have been over then, but it wasn’t.

I had dreams, and not the type of dreams I had ever had before. Dark shadows shifted and oozed under me, bright neon colors popped in my vision, stars exploded left and right and nonsense voices babbled in the distance.

It was like the confusing scene in Dumbo with the pink elephants singing except I didn’t even get to be drunk for it. And then the scent of chemicals came wafting through my head space and I exhaled from somewhere deep inside of me and everything went as blank as a canvas.

There was no proper way to describe it except the unclenching of every muscle in my body after a long day or letting go of a kite and watching it sail away with the wind. I let go of thousands of jumbled images and sounds and then I blinked again and I was staring at the night sky.

It was hard to process for a long hard second and harder to come to grips with the cold air against my flushed cheeks and the crevice moon up above. My muscles complained at me dully, but besides that my body was limber and I noticed I could breathe again.

I inhaled through both nostrils and when I sat up I realized I was in some sort of barren field. I gawked at the empty rows and dirt on my hands and the fact I could barely make out any city lights in the distance.

I hadn’t left Boston in months and I didn’t remember getting off my couch that night. Or driving. Or walking. Or bundling myself up in my heavy pink coat and lying down in a field.

I flexed slightly and noticed a tingling in my fingers and dirt on my knees and palms. I had been doing something as well.

I searched my person for a moment and was relieved to find no injuries, but also no clues. My coat pockets were completely empty and my only guiding source of information was that I was in a field and I wasn’t sick anymore.

I even sniffed the air for chlorine, but there was nothing but faint winter chill.

I took a deep breath and stood up after a few minutes and began to walk toward the city lights. It was a long walk and I went back and forth in my head on whether to take myself to the hospital and ask about sleep walking disorders.

On the other hand I remembered my father’s long struggle with in-patient care, his empty gaze as more nurses talked to him in gentle tones, and wheeled him around the blank white halls. I remembered the tears as he seemed to lose my face and then my mom’s face and birthdays and places and names like party balloons being popped. The hospital smell made me nauseous just thinking about and it had only been one night. 

Just one night didn’t mean anything.

I ended up finding change in the back pocket of my jeans and taking the 6am bus home from Northampton all the way to my apartment. I didn’t sleep well for days after that.

--------------------- I chalked the first time up to a weird combination of flu medicine, stress at work, and maybe even losing my roommate that week. And for awhile it seemed like a dream that someone else had.

For awhile.

It was February when the feeling crept back in. I couldn’t explain it, but I started checking hallways before I turned the corner and examining strangers faces twice if they sat next to me. I put bowls of water by my door so I might step in them and wake myself if I started sleep walking again.

Or perhaps someone else would step in them on their way in. I tried not to dwell on that last thought- no matter how many times it nagged at me.

There was a sensation of sickness in my gut and I couldn’t get rid of it. It was February and I was sitting on my couch watching some nothing TV show my mom recommended to me and just like before, something unclenched.

The kite was released and I blinked and there was an absolute nothingness so fine that I could have drowned in it. Been eaten by it, been destroyed by it.

And I blinked once and I was standing in the grocery store holding an egg carton and practically gagging on chlorine stench lodged in my mouth. “Ack.” I dropped the eggs to the floor and they splattered like firecrackers on the Fourth of July.

I started breathing heavily and clutching at my chest, several concerned shoppers stopped and looked my way as I leaned on my cart for support. The cart was completely filled with cartons of eggs.

I ran outside only to find I was just a few blocks from my apartment building. I sprinted home and when I tripped my way up my stairs, wheezing and eyes streaming, there was a single spilled bowl of water on the floor.

I melted into the carpet and shook slightly as I looked at it. Something had been in my apartment. Or else I had kicked it myself during the weird trance.

But it didn’t matter either way. I couldn’t remember.

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

I finally went to the doctor with a complaint of memory problems and we met with a neurologist with iron-grey hair and a busy tie. He checked my pupil dilation and ability to track objects with my eyes. He tested my reflexes and had me remember colors and numbers in certain orders.

My mom came with me for the appointment and glanced at me every few minutes. She didn’t say anything, but I could read the thoughts on her face: it’s already got her too.

Maybe my mom thought she was cursed. But when all of my tests came back negative for any brain abnormalities she exhaled and I didn’t.

It got worse from there. I would wake up blocks from my house holding an umbrella I didn’t own, wake up with leaves and sticks in my hair, be walking down the street one second and then be in a completely different part of town on a park swing the next.

I started putting more bowls of water around my house and added bells and stacks of books and even a few stray mouse traps around the windows (one of which actually caught a mouse). Most nights there was nothing but gnawing silence and I waited and waited for the smell of ozone.

The smell of storms and pools and airplanes right when you get off. 

I blinked up at my dark ceiling and waited. It only happened once; I heard the bell: the chiming silver bell with all of my worst fears and highest anxieties pressed to it. I turned over in bed to grasp for my phone or a baseball bat or anything at all.

But then I unclenched. The world popped and the nothingness took hold with a profound sudden swallowing sensation.

And I blinked again and I was standing on the very top of a hotel building with cars honking down below and a fire exit open behind me. I looked down and I was holding a TV antenna in one hand and a spoon in the other.

“Goddammit!” I threw both of the items down on the ground and started pulling on my hair. “You can’t keep doing this to me!” I screamed at nothing, “I have a life! I never agreed to this.”

But somehow, I remembered I had.

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

I quit my job. I hated the endless spreadsheets and conference calls and management deadlines, so it wasn’t much of a loss. But everyone I knew asked “what’s next?” with big eager smiles and I stopped returning their calls after a while.

I stopped sleeping. I started prowling the streets like a cramped zoo animal with nowhere to go. It was late spring by then and the city was stinking with hot bodies and burning trash and my own simmering violent questions brewing under the surface.

What’s happening to me? I wanted to scream at someone, but didn’t want to have to return to the hospital. Why me?

There were no answers, only the endless strips of pavement and my red converse slapping against them. Fifth street: two young boys biking with matching helmets and noisily chewing gum that they blew into fat pink bubbles. Washington Street: cop pulling over a teacher with thick glasses and a hard look on her face as she got out of her vehicle.

South End: a busy farmers market with women in overalls selling backyard kimchi and a man with a beard almost down to his waist selling gourmet chocolates and homemade beer. Noisy, busy, yelling, laughing people that streamed past me and barely stopped to look at my blood-shot eyes and trembling hands.

I was well past the farmer’s market and on the seventh day of my trek when I heard it. A high, cricket voice that carried over the buzz of construction work nearby.

“No, no, not like that.” She spoke into a phone briskly. I turned on my heels and everything moved in slow motion and jerky fast images all at once. One second I was staring at an old woman with pleasing blue eyes and then I had her pinned up against the nearest wall with my forearm.

“Police!” She shouted without hesitation or even looking at me. “Police! Someone!”

I hissed through my clenched teeth. “Take it back.” I growled lowly. “Make it normal again.” Her lips peeled into a snarl and she leaned her head against the wall. “That’s not how it works.” And then the smell of chlorine slithered through me and I started to cough.

“No!” I held on with all my might- clenching and gripping and grasping for something I couldn’t name. “Not now! I need-” I gasped, “I need.” The old woman looked blankly at me, but with something that I might have classified as pity. Or despair. “Give it to someone else.” She said in a soft voice. “Pass it off.”

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

My hair was falling out in thin clumps and I kept wiggling one of my back teeth as it had seemed to have come loose. I had no idea what I had been doing for days by then and no matter how many traps I set it was always the same: crashing bowls and ringing bells and then nothing. Expansive, hungry nothing.

I stood at the train station platform and looked at my watch. I had forgotten to wind it and it had stopped ticking. I looked at it and I bounced on my heels and a young man in his very early twenties stood next to me.

He smelled strongly of aftershave and his suit seemed to swim around him despite being obviously tailored. He had coiffed golden hair and frantic eyes that darted back and forth over the platform.

He looked down at his watch.

I shot my hand out and took his wrist. “Excuse me,” I croaked and tried to get him to look me in the eye. “Can I borrow some of your time?”

[browneyedhimbo]

Second Chances

Prompts: “You should be kissed, every day, every hour, every minute.”

Summary: Second chances are hard to come by. Bucky never got to tell you how he felt before, so with a little encouragement he might be able to finally tell you.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader 

Warnings: slight angst, fluffy ending, friends to lovers type thing

Word Count: 1.6K

A/N: This is for @cosmicbucky‘s 300 writing challenge. Congratulations again hun! You serve them and so many more! ❤💕❤💕 This was written with me practically drunk off nyquil so if this doesn’t make much sense I’m sorry 😅 Hope you like it!  《Masterlist 》

It was calm, Bucky noted. There were no missions, no fighting, no yelling, and no trouble. He caught himself in a blissful serenity and he loved it. Trying to soak up every minute of it, he lay sprawled on the sofa of the common room with his nose stuck in a book. He loved these days, but it was missing something. Rather, someone. 

He shut his book and let it flop on his stomach as he reached for his phone in his pocket. He unlocked it and was greeted with the picture of his home screen that made his heartache and small smile turn to a frown. It was a silly selfie you took of the both of you, right there on that sofa. 

He sighed and screwed his eyes shut tight. He felt like such an idiot, a helpless useless dumbass. But most of all, he felt like a coward. The sound of his phone pinging made his eyes open slowly as he saw it was a message from you. 

Hey buddy! It’s nice out, try going for a walk. Who knows, you might end up meeting the girl of your dreams 🤪 Oh, and don't forget to smile!

He chuckled halfheartedly at the text. Only you would be on a lunch date with your boyfriend and send him a text telling him to smile. Whether it was telepathy or not, he found it endearing. His fingers typed as if they had a mind of his own and sent a message.

Hey! You know me, always smiling doll. I might take a rain check on that walk, workout room is calling my name

He didn’t want to take the walk, he didn’t want to meet anyone else. He already found the girl of his dreams but he couldn’t have her. He couldn’t have you.

He shook his head and sat up, swinging his legs over to stand. Hands found their way into his hair and he couldn't help but tug at it. The weight of his jealousy and the pain in his heart hurt him too much.

As hard as he tried, the tears started welling in his eyes and the lump in his throat grew. His leg started bouncing up and down as he tried to steady his breathing. His mind was swarming with thoughts, the loudest one being, “Are you really going to cry over this?” And he shook his head. Apparently he was.

+++

Wanda was tucked into a small corner of the kitchen drinking tea and scrolling through her phone when she felt this feeling of hurt wash over her, leaving goosebumps behind. Looking around she spotted Bucky on the sofa.

“Hey, um, Bucky?” She cautiously sat next to him. “Bucky what’s wrong?” He shook his head clenching his jaw, resulting in her putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I’m-” He inhaled a shaky breath, “I’m such an idiot.” He scoffed. “I couldn’t bring myself to tell her that day and now I don’t think I ever will.” The tears started rolling freely down his cheeks.

“What if I said you were wrong,” she countered gently, her hand rubbing soothing circles on his back. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He looked up to her, “She’s happy with Brad.” He spat out venomously.

“Men,” Wanda’s eyes rolled as she chuckled, “You’re all the same. All that testosterone.” She smirked, pulling out her phone from her back pocket. “IF you would actually watch her Instagram stories and pay attention to her twitter posts,” she trailed off, scrolling endlessly. Bucky would watch them, but his focus was on you. Your smile, your eyes, your hair, your-

“Earth to Bucky.” Wanda chuckled. “So you think she’s still whooped for this guy right?” He shook his head, why wouldn’t you? “Well think again.” She turned her phone to show Bucky a post of yours on Instagram. It was a picture of your boyfriend, Brad, with his back to you. The caption you put under it is what sparked anger in the bit of Bucky’s stomach.

Won’t even kiss me anymore 🙄

“He’s been getting distance with her.” Wanda smiled knowingly. “Maybe you should tell her.” She smiled, her eyebrows rising in slight amusement.

“But why would she want me?” He didn’t mean to say it out loud, it just fell from his lips. 

“Aww Bucky.” She cooed, bringing him into a side hug. “You could ask her yourself, you know. She never shuts up about you. At this point your name has left her mouth more than Brad.” She chuckled. 

“Oh.” Was all he could say, but his mind was screaming why.

“Hey did I forget to mention that they broke up?” Bucky’s face shot up from where he had it tucked between his arms. His eyebrows rose in confusion as his head tilted, bottom lip jutting out.

“But the picture…” He trailed off. 

“Was from two weeks ago.” She smirked. Bucky scoffed, not knowing what the hell was happening anymore. “That’s why she’s been in her room. She might’ve told you she was on a lunch date or that she was still seeing this douche only because she knows you’ll rip his head off.” 

Now things seemed clearer. His mind reflected over the last two weeks. The bags under your eyes, how they were always puffy. When he asked you about it you said they were either allergies or you couldn’t sleep. The way you carried yourself was a little different, your shoulders were more slouched and your smile didn’t really reach your eyes. But you still seemed yourself. But now that he thinks about it, really thinks, you were flirting with him more. He only thought you were joking.

“Where is she?” He looked at Wanda, pure determination in his eyes. 

“She’s on the roof.” She smiled sadly, “Be gentle.” Bucky nodded before wiping his eyes and darting towards the elevator.

The entire ride he was trying to come up with a little speech, something to say to you so he won’t be as awkward. But his mind turned up blank. All he could think about was that he was getting a second chance. 

The elevator dinged, bringing him out of his thoughts. He took a deep breath, willing his nerves to calm down a bit before stepping out into the crisp New York air. He immediately spotted you leaning against the rail, looking into the horizon, a sad look adorning your beautiful features.

Slowly he started walking closer to you. The panic was slowly building up.  He thought about turning around and sticking himself in his room, but when does the world ever offer him a second chance?

“Hey doll.” He smiled softly while his right hand gripped the rail. He forced himself to keep looking at you. 

“Hey Buck!” You looked at him with a cheery expression. His heart melted at the sight.

“Can I uh, I want to, I-” He sighed looking at the view of the city. “Whatever happened with Brad? The uh lunch date?” Your jaw dropped and your eyes went wide. You completely forgot you told him you were on a date.

“We uh w-we cancelled last minute,” you lied. You hated lying to Bucky. He scratched the back of his neck, his chest heaving slightly faster.

“Wanda told me Y/N/N.” His soft steel blue grey eyes bore into yours. “Why didn’t you say something?” He asked so softly if you weren’t paying attention you might’ve missed it.

“I didn’t want you to worry,” you sighed. “Plus he wasn’t even interesting anymore.” You chuckled, trying to lighten things up.

“Yeah? How so?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“Well for one he wouldn’t want to kiss me anymore,” you laughed.

“You should be kissed, every day, every hour, every minute.” Bucky stated as if it were a fact. His words melted your heart and made puddy in his hands. It was the sweetest thing you ever heard and it brought the biggest goofiest smile onto your face.

“What?” His head tilted in confusion. “Wait did I just-” His eyes went wide as he paled. “Oh my g-I just. Fuck I didn’t-” He racked his fingers through his hair. “I-I mean it’s true but - oh god just shoot me now.” He mumbled, his head hitting the railing. Well so much for second chances. 

“What do you mean second chances Buck?” Shit, did he say that out loud?

“Well,” he started, “remember that party Stark threw last year for the children’s fundraiser? I was planning on telling you how I felt.” A blush creeped its way up his neck to his cheeks. “I was going to bring you up here actually and tell you. But before I could even get you alone I chickened out.” He looked to the floor dejectedly.

“Tell me.” You said, your finger lifting his chin so his eyes met yours.

“What?”

“Tell me how you feel.” You don’t know where this boost of confidence came from but there was no taking this back now. Bucky gulped. It was now or never.

“I love you. I know it might seem like a strong word but you’re my best friend. Ever since I met you I knew but the feelings just got stronger everyday and then seeing you with fucking Brad just hurt so much. But I never stopped loving you and since he made you happy-” Tears blurred your vision as you cut him off with a kiss. 

“You really should’ve said something at that party,” you chuckled softly, “I love you too Bucky boo.” He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips which you gladly returned. His hands snaked around your waist as your hands found a way to his neck, bringing him closer. 

“I’m gonna show how much I love and kiss you like you should,” he promised.

“I'll hold you to it Sarge.”

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Permanent tags: @becausewhyknotme @katbtracy @imma-new-soul​ @justmebeingtheweirdmeiam @officialtonystarkprotectionsquad @theladyoffangorn @itsunclebucky @mushyjellybeans @writing-for-hours-on-end  @this-kitten-is-smitten @agentpeggybarnes @fangirl-introvert @ninjabucky @cosmicbucky

Bucky Barnes tags: @sebbbystaaan @wemisshim3000 @dianadov @nerdy-bookworm-1998

[roswellwrites]

Kinktober Day 4 Fill - Sleepy Sex

Pairing: Brahms Heelshire/Reader (M/F)

Tags: Slasher x Reader, Brahms Heelshire x Reader, Brahms Heelshire, somnophilia, kinktober, kinktober 2019

Word Count: 2084

The first thing you became aware of as your body stirred itself into wakefulness was that you were no longer alone in the room.

You had been dealing with an unfortunate cold for the past few days, Brahms knew, but as you climbed into bed for the third time that week without giving him his goodnight kiss, he could feel any sympathy he might have had withering down to a sliver.

You had been neglectful of him as you recovered, purposely distant, something that annoyed Brahms to no end. Instead of following your usual schedule, you had chosen to ignore your chores and duties, confining yourself to your room, in bed and coughing as if you might decide to drop dead at any point.

Brahms smiled slyly under his porcelain mask as he thought of all the ways you would make it up to him soon enough.

He had entered your room through the main hallway, aware by now of every creaking floorboard, careful to avoid making any sound as he shut the door gently behind him. Brahms’s gray eyes strained in the dark, roaming the length of the room until they were able to make out the familiar shape of your bed, your body fully obscured by the ever present mountain of blankets.

His mask clinked gently against the top of your nightstand as he removed it, his eyes finding your face in the soft moonlight, as if making sure you were still sleeping before climbing fully into bed with you. The mattress creaked as he settled over your sleeping body, creaked again as he removed your heavy blanket, one knee on either side of your thighs now as his hands hovered precariously over your clothed chest. 

He had watched you take your cold medicine only a few hours ago and knew from experience that you were much harder to rouse while it was in your system. 

He intended to use this to his advantage.

Brahms lifted your sleep shirt slowly, hiking the fabric up until it rested just past the tops of your breasts. The larger man tilted his head at your sleeping form, biting back a mischievous giggle as he settled back against your thighs to watch the gentle rise and fall of your bare chest.

Just how far could he go without waking you, he wondered. 

His fingertips found the sides of your neck, squeezing gently, and he mused briefly at your vulnerability before his long fingers moved past the bunched fabric of your shirt. Brahms’s touch remained feather light as both hands found the swell of your breasts then, gentle at first, his gray eyes darting from the sensitive flesh under his palms to your dark lashes where they fanned delicately across your flushed cheeks.

Still you did not wake.

As if emboldened by this, he began to knead at your breasts in earnest, watching enthralled as your pliable flesh dimpled under his fingertips. He gave a sudden harsh squeeze, his palm flush to your hardening nipple, and your body gave a single restless twist beneath his spread thighs before once again falling still.

Brahms arced his back then, removing both hands from your breasts. He slipped one roving hand into the waistband of his pajamas, forcing the fabric down hurriedly as he pulled free the length of his cock. He began to groan softly as he worked himself in his hand, bowing his head low at the same time to drag the flat of his tongue across your hardening nipple. He wrapped his lips around the small bud, rolling it between his teeth playfully, so enthralled by the press of the delicate nub against his tongue that he did not notice when you finally did begin to awaken.

With a sleepy groan, you brought one hand to the back of his head, fingers burying themselves deep in his greasy curls as you pressed him closer to where you wanted him. You could feel him grin playfully against the sensitive flesh, mischievous but accommodating as he lavished it with his tongue and continued to suck.

You came to yourself slowly as pleasure flooded your system, groggy still from the medicine you had taken and not yet completely awake. “What time is it?” You moaned, turning your head in hopes of catching the numbers on the alarm clock on your nightstand. 

Brahms removed his mouth from you suddenly, catching your chin easily between his fingers and turning your head so your eyes found his. 

“Ah, ah,” the man teased, his voice high and childlike. “Eyes on me~”

You groaned, lifting one forearm to throw over your eyes as Brahms’s hand left his member and moved instead to your underwear, the thin fabric catching against your skin for a moment before sliding down your thighs. With your eyes covered, you completely missed the sly smirk on Brahms’s face as he brought the article of clothing briefly to his nose before tucking them away in the pocket of his sleep pants.

Brahms had the unfortunate habit of wanting to ‘play’ at the worst times, specifically times when you had a long day of chores ahead of you, or right now, right this moment, for example, while you were half asleep and struggling to fight off the unpleasantness of a cold.

You remembered taking your NyQuil the night before, remembered climbing under the cozy comforter that sat atop your bed before the medicine had fully taken hold, spending a half hour tossing and turning before you finally fell asleep.

Brahms, ever the opportunist, was quick to take advantage of your wandering mind, wrapping an arm around your waist and lifting you up and away from the comfort of your remaining blankets.

You found yourself on top of him then, dizzy with the way he had used his bulk almost effortlessly to flip the two of you into opposite positions. Your hands found his chest, one hand carding through the dark thicket of his chest hair while the other remained still against the rise of his ribs, bracing yourself against him. 

Had he always been shirtless?

You blinked at him, groggy from sleep and the medicine you had taken that had not yet worn off, content for now on your perch above him as you allowed your hands to wander. The larger man, clearly pleased at the attention he was receiving, preened, allowed his body to relax under yours, his dark curls splayed across your pillows and his large hands spanning your hips.

Brahms, you had learned quickly, was the type to initiate and then sit back, happiest when you did all the work and did it without complaint. 

Your hand found the base of his length as it pressed against your lower stomach and you wrapped your fingers around it, a smug but tired grin crossing your face when the man hissed through his teeth at the action. You could feel his abdomen muscles flexing under your palm as you supported your weight and allowed a brief moment for your sharp fingernails to dig in, leaving painful looking indents on the man’s pliable skin.

The man tensed as you sank down, his head thrown back against your pillows as you lowered yourself onto his cock. The fit of him inside of you was snug but pleasant and you watched patient and unmoving as his exposed face cycled through various emotions. The scars that disfigured him were barely visible in the room’s near darkness and you found yourself staring with unfocused eyes though you knew the action could be construed as rude. 

“Move,” Brahms rasped finally, voice deep as his hands found your thighs.

“Ah, ah,” you laughed, your voice strained in your own ears as you attempted to mirror his attitude from earlier. “What’s the magic word?”

“Please,” he whined desperately, his hips giving single aborted thrust upwards before falling still beneath you again.

Wanting nothing more than to get this show on the road, you gave a soft sigh of pleasure as you began to move, hips rising and falling above his own. Your pace was slow, having discovered immediately that you lacked the energy for anything quicker. You inhaled deeply through your nose as you worked your hips against his, doing your best to ignore the pounding behind your eyes as it threatened to grow into a full blown headache.

Brahms, for the most part, was patient, something that surprised you at first given that he was one of the most impatient people you had ever met. He was usually so quick to force his hips flush to yours during sex, delving his fingers into the swell of your hips and working you against him for his own pleasure.

This continued for some time, the steady push and pull of your bodies as you rode him. There was no harsh slapping of skin on skin, just the smooth slide of your undulating hips and Brahms for the most part taking what he got without complaint, giving only the occasional sharp thrust when he suddenly found your pace too slow for his liking.

“Don’t you want to be a good boy for me, Brahms?” You whispered suddenly against his pale throat, lips and tongue finding the sensitive shell of his ear. Your tongue was soon replaced with teeth as you bit down, gently twisting the flexible cartilage in a way that had Brahms groaning under you, his hips stuttering upwards responsively to meet your own. You could feel his hands as they moved from your hips to your thighs, fingertips pressing so tightly to your bare skin that you feared they may bruise.

“Yesssss,” he moaned, his voice hovering strangely between a deep growl and the voice he used when he wanted something from you, high pitched and reminiscent of a child. “Please, please.”

You took one of his restless hands in your own, guiding it between your bodies and pressing his long fingers insistently to your clit. You arched your back, head thrown back and mouth dropping in pleasure as he began to work his thumb furiously against the small nub, the resulting assault of stimulation causing you nearly to cry out.

You waited for a few moments, your walls fluttering around his leaking member until his hips began to stutter beneath your own. With great restraint, you lowered your hand to find the base of his cock before he could press into you again. Brahms whined at this, hips rising insistently as they tried to meet your own, displeased as you prevented him now from thrusting back into your slick heat.

With a small grin, you began to pump your wrist along his length, quick even strokes that had Brahms arching off the bed with a soft gasp, any complaint he had dying on his lips. He came quickly after that, his fingers finding your wrist and squeezing hard, watching transfixed as his seed spilled over your delicate fingers.

You lifted your hand from his weeping cock, moving them so they hovered above his flushed face, dripping fingers spread tantalizingly as you pressed the digits to his spit slicked lips. “Open.”

Brahms opened his mouth immediately, obediently sucking your cum covered fingers into his mouth and lavishing them with his tongue.

“Good boy, Brahms,” you purred, brushing his dark greasy curls away from his forehead with your free hand. You pulled your fingers from his mouth then, reaching behind you to wipe the dampness on his striped pajama bottoms as you moved from your position over him. 

His arms came around your waist as you lowered yourself to lay beside him, shuffling backwards until your back was flush to his bare chest, his chapped lips finding the back of your neck and biting gently at the flesh he found there. You could feel the snaking of his palms as they moved to your thighs, dancing along your hips before traveling to your waist. Your shirt was still rucked up, setting atop your breasts and he took advantage of this, pinching one nipple gently between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Brahms,” you said softly, the word ending on a sigh. Your eyes were already closed as you began to drift off to sleep. 

“Yes?” He asked, his voice slipping into its usual falsetto. You could feel as his hand stilled against your breast for a moment, moving as if to pull away before you lifted your own hand to meet it, pressing it again to your tender flesh. 

“Do what you want but don’t wake me up again, okay?”

You could still feel his mischievous smile against the back of your neck as you dozed off.

[ninjaaa-go]

I took NyQuil instead of DayQuil and am about to pass out Seamista

This one was really fun to write! I hope you enjoy!

——————

When Mermista woke up at four in the morning with a stuffed up nose, a headache, and broken out in a cold sweat, she knew it was not, under any circumstance, going to be a good day.

But, she wasn’t about to get up and do anything about. Not at four in the morning. It was too early to feel like crap, too early to really feel like anything aside from exhausted and annoyed at having been woken up. With a groan, she buried her head under a pillow and tried to fall back asleep, sore throat and headache and all. Though, there was measurably more tossing and turning than actual sleeping. One moment it was too cold, blankets tugged up to her chin, and the next Mermista was kicking them down with a vengeance. She swore whatever wretched cold this happened to be was coming after her sleep specifically, and anything that got between her and sleep was a serious horror she was never in the mood to deal with.

Eventually, though, Mermista woke up to sunlight streaming through a crack in the curtains and stinging at her eyes. So, she figured she must have dozed off eventually. Even if she somehow managed to feel worse than the first time she woke up. It was only the ungodly bright sunshine that made her wrench back the sheets and actually get up, only to stumble across the room and pull the curtains shut. All but falling back into bed once the room was set back in darkness, as it should be, Mermista was fully prepared to sleep through the rest of the day and hope that by the time she woke up again, she didn’t feel like she had been hit by a truck anymore. A long shot, but a girl could dream.

In any case, she almost did just that, but the nagging feeling that she was forgetting something kept her up. Pinching the bridge of her nose, Mermista tried to ward off the headache blooming behind her eyes and brush off the weird feeling. It was a Saturday, and that meant not leaving the house unless there was a fire or a tornado or something. Saturday’s were for coffee and youtube in the morning, magazines and sweatpants in the afternoon, and popcorn and mystery flicks at night. Or maybe, if she was feeling particularly adventurous, a trip to the beach or aquarium to relax the day away.

But, lately, Saturday’s had meant Seahawk. And that was what she was forgetting. Seahawk. Right. She had a date with him planned.

Forcing herself to roll over and check the time—still before she was supposed to leave, thank god—she reached for her phone. She typed out a quick text, just to tell him she was sick and not coming, before dropping it to the blankets beside her.

There, that was everything. Though, with little luck passing out for the rest of the day, Mermista counted the minutes ticking by until she decided it would be better to just get up and do something, even if that something was just lounging on the couch. Getting up, she made a halfhearted attempt at breakfast, just a banana that was already sitting half-ripe on the counter, and retreated to the couch to scroll social media. Not before grabbing an entire box of tissues, though.

As the minutes rolled by into an hour, the lack of response from Seahawk was starting to nag at her. Normally, he jumped at the chance to talk to her, text her, whatever, usually with way too many smiles and hearts and things. And, though she would rather die than admit it, maybe it was kind of endearing. And maybe she kind of missed it when he didn’t get back to her. And, just maybe, she might have been a little worried about him. Which, in hind sight, was stupid, because she was the one surrounded by tissues and fighting with the blanket she dragged out from off her bed. He was fine, probably off looking for buried treasure at the beach—because, yes, he actually did that—or committing arson on someone’s boat—because, yes, he actually did that, too.

Swallowing the last of her water, though it felt more like shards of glass with her throat acting up, Mermista set the cup down harder than she probably needed to, somehow annoyed with Seahawk when he wasn’t even there. But, really, she was annoyed with herself for thinking about him, worrying about him. That so wasn’t her style, and she was not about to let him turn her into someone who was all sappy and lovestruck. Even if she did sort of like him.

She did her best to shove the thought from her mind, instead pulling her knees to her chest, wrapping the blanket tighter around her legs. She just had to get rid of this cold, then she could find Seahawk and tell him off for ignoring her texts.

Sometime around lunch, or like half past three, which may as well have been lunch to Mermista, she detangled herself from her blankets and pillows and braved the natural light in the kitchen for some food. Though, first, she rummaged around for something to take the edge off the cold, pulling out whatever cold meds she could find. With a quick glance at the box, she took one pill out of the blister pack and swallowed it, grabbing a glass of water at the sink. And, without much more thought to it, she went about trying to find something for lunch. Soup sounded like too much effort, considering she didn’t have any of the canned variety, and her fridge was looking kind of barren. There was a box of leftover Chinese takeout, though, and she figured that would do.

Warmed up, it tasted decent enough, even if she was sniffling between every other bite. But, it was halfway through picking at less than sticky rice with her chopsticks that Mermista crashed hard. All of a sudden, the tv background noise she had on seemed blurred and fuzzy, and it was way too much of an effort just to keep her eyes open. Even if she’d been kind of sick and out of it all morning, this was a whole new level of wiped out, and Mermista was not thrilled. She was about to curse her stupid cold when a thought dawned on her. Climbing over the back of the couch to peer into the kitchen, she caught sight of the box still lying open on the counter. And, sure enough, NyQuil was written across the front, mocking her. Great. She’d taken that by mistaken instead of taking the extra second to look for the box that listed non-drowsy as one of the effects and not just skimming for all the usual cold busting stuff.

Swearing under her breath, Mermista crumpled back to the couch, what was left of her food effectively forgotten. And that was when the doorbell rang. Resolved to just ignore it, she buried her head under a pillow, attempting to block out the sound when it rang a second time. Then it rang again. And again. And again until whoever was at the door decided they just weren’t going to stop until she dragged herself up from the couch and answered it. Well, too bad for them but she was absolutely not in the mood to deal with some obnoxious salesman or whatever.

And then her phone started ringing too, and that wouldn’t stop either. It was only after the third time through her ringtone that Mermista actually picked up her phone and glared at the screen with all the venom she could muster. It was Seahawk’s name that flashed back at her, just as insistent as he ever was. Suddenly, with that, all the pieces clicked together. That was why he hadn’t answered her texts. Instead, he just came straight to her door, not willing to take no for an answer. And lucky for him, all the noise from the doorbell and her phone both ringing off the hook was enough to pry her away from the couch, if only so she could tell him to knock it off.

Across the apartment, she pulled the door open, and all the cacophony finally stopped. Instead, Seahawk met her with the biggest grin, shoving a bag of all sorts of convenience store junk into her hand. There was everything from bottled coffee and magazines to medicine—the non-drowsy kind, because apparently Seahawk actually paid attention to that sort of thing—and cold compresses. Before she could even say anything, he pressed a cold sports drink into her other hand, easily inviting himself in and shutting the door behind him. Mermista was still processing, or more like falling asleep on her feet, when Seahawk turned back to her.

Without so much as a hello, he launched into a speech with all his usual theatrics.

“I just couldn’t bear the thought of you suffering here all alone,” he started, like she might have been tortured in a jail cell or something instead of stuck at home with a cold. “So, like any good boyfriend would do, I brought every necessity you might possibly be in need of. And, of course, my company, which is arguably more valuable than anything else.”

Self important remark aside, if she wasn’t so tired, Mermista might have pointed out that what he did was way above any normal person’s response. The only thing she usually got from people if they knew she was sick was a get well text, not half a convenience store. Instead of mentioning that, though, she just ran a hand back through her hair, pushing the messy strands away from her face. Right, she was still in the tank top and knit shorts she had slept in, having forgone her usual clothes and hairstyle. Some kind of heat rose to her cheeks at that realization, and she busied herself with cracking open the sports drink, taking a sip of it.

Though, when she didn’t offer any kind of response, exasperated or otherwise, something in Seahawk’s expression shifted. He looked... worried, almost? Since when did Seahawk worry about anything? He was more the type to drift from place to place, finding trouble but always happy go lucky and good natured.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, all low and quiet without any of his usual bravado. And if Mermista got kind of misty eyed at how sweet and genuine that was, it was all the fever’s fault.

Though, clearing her throat, blinking away the wave of emotion, she just tried to explain everything in a way that made it clear she wasn’t dying or anything. Because, with how hard it was getting to stay awake and on her feet, she figured she kind of gave that impression.

“Yeah, it’s nothing. I just accidentally took NyQuil instead of DayQuil and I’m seriously about to pass out,” she offered, yawning just after she got the words out.

As soon as he heard, Seahawk looked immensely relieved, then brightened up. “Oh, is that it?” he questioned mildly. “In that case, I won’t bug you. You should just sleep,” he said. Yet, he made no move to leave like Mermista had been expecting. Instead, he just kicked off his shoes and wandered farther into her apartment, leaving her standing in the entryway, a little bewildered. Though, when he made it clear he had no plans of turning around, she just followed him in, dropping the bag of stuff he had brought somewhere along the way. The drink, though, she kept.

“Seriously, what are you doing? I thought you were supposed to be leaving me alone,” Mermista said. With all the confidence of someone who owned the place, Seahawk had made himself at home at the opposite end of the couch from all of the crap Mermista had kept piled up beside her all day. Chopsticks, tissues, a phone charger, to name a few, all thrown on top of the queen sized blanket. God, she really knew how to make an impression. Though, at least, she hadn’t been expecting anyone over. In any case, Seahawk was the one in the wrong here, already lounging with his jacket thrown off over the arm.

“I said I wouldn’t bother you. I won’t,” he assured, though Mermista had her doubts. “But, I couldn’t possibly leave my princess in her hour of need,” he declared with a sweeping gesture.

“Right,” Mermista replied with a halfhearted roll of her eyes. Still, she settled back in her spot on the couch, keeping her legs bent up just enough to give Seahawk some room. Unlike him, she did actually have some understanding of what personal space meant.

Though, once she got comfortable, she realized this was what she had been missing all day. That low current of unease nagging at her, it was gone now. And all it took was a dorky smile from a certain space invading, self proclaimed pirate. Even if that fact in itself was irritating, right now, Mermista was thankful for it. Because, eyes falling shut, she thought she could finally get some peaceful sleep. Hearing him shift ever so slightly on the couch, the quiet rhythm of his breathing, it was all comforting somehow.

So, maybe she was just a little too much in love.

But, today, she was sick and tired and allowed just a little indulgence. When she woke up, she could go back to being prickly and try to salvage her image. That, though, was a problem for later Mermista.